The Exiled King

Lirya’s body weakened and numbed. Her eyes fluttered shut and only small wisps of breath left her mouth. Where the vampire had bitten her, an unceasing throbbing pain sharpened as a tingling feeling began to invade her toes and fingertips. Then, she felt nothing. Her finger twitched as she tried to move, but she felt nothing but the ache in her neck.

Frozen in shock and unable to comprehend, Jason, Leus and Haverik looked on in horror. Vampires, as they now saw that the stranger was, were creatures of the Abyss. They were mid-class monsters rarely seen on Dargon—and certainly not by four youths who had never explored the world. The bloodsucking monsters were myths—bedtime stories told by mothers to scare a child into behaving.

Lirya… felt nothing. Not even the pain at her neck, where she’d been bitten. Instead, she felt strangely light…

Lirya’s spirit rose from her body and peered around in shock. She looked through her hands and frowned, convinced it was some sort of illusion, until she saw her body.

I’m a ghost?! She thought incredulously, W-What happens now?

All of a sudden, she felt a growing ache in her body, not unlike the feeling of pricking your finger with a needle—but all over your body. The pull of the Ether strengthened and Lirya felt unconsciously pulled towards some place, somewhere. Her form faded as she gave way to the pull, but she fixed her eyes on her newfound friends as she faded away. To her surprise, she saw Jason looking straight at her, his auburn eyes burning.

His mouth opened and he mouthed, “I swear we’ll find you, Lirya! No matter where you may be—where you may go! Wait for us!”

She gasped, then her body faded fully and the scene before her blacked out. Suddenly, she found herself in a long, grey brick-tiled tunnel lit with eerie green lanterns hung at intervals.

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He was seeing things again… strange apparitions appearing out of people’s bodies. Jason was convinced he was crazy. The first time he’d noticed was when he, himself, was the apparition. Now, Lirya appeared. Considering the fact that she might just be able to see him, like he’d seen them in the dungeon, he looked at her apparition and mouthed a promise. The apparition gasped, then faded away.

“No!” Jason jumped, his arm stretched as if he could pull the spirit back. He stood and lowered his arm slowly, his eyes wide.

“Jason, what is it?” Leus touched Jason’s shoulder, subtly reminding him that there was still a danger in the house.

Jason took a deep, steadying breath, then he and Leus turned to face the vampire, who stood straight, peering at a rapidly closing wound on his stomach. Dried blood caked the flawless skin under the torn and bloodied clothes and cloak. Satisfied with the result, the vampire looked up at the others before gently lowering Lirya’s body to the ground, removing his cloak, and flinging it onto her body.

He wiped the blood from his chin with a swipe of his arm and stepped towards Jason, Leus and Haverik, who stood a bit behind the others.

“S-Stay away from us!” Jason hollered, backing away.

The vampire frowned, but stopped.

“Say… you’ve awakened as a Guardian, haven’t you, Boy?” The vampire said, then he switched his gaze to Leus before finally landing on Haverik, “And you too?”

He muttered, “The end of the Golden Age is fast approaching, then. Perhaps I should dispose of these children—and pass the gift on to someone more worthy?”

The vampire raised his voice and addressed the boys, “You boys, awakened Guardians—what family relations do you have? Answer me now!”

Haverik jumped at the vampire’s harsh tone, but answered quietly, “I only have an old drunkard of a sire, mister vampire.”

The vampire glared but said shortly, “My name is Vesan—and you’d best remember this. Now, you—what of your family?”

Jason followed Haverik’s lead and answered truthfully, “I’m an orphan, sir. I was raised by my adopted father.”

Vesan sighed and grumbled under his breath, “Has the line of Guardians truly fallen so far? One’s got no parents and the other’s got a drunkard for father!”

The numbness of fear gave way to fiery anger and Jason cried, “Why did you kill Lirya?! What did she ever do to you?!”

Vesan pointed to his torn clothes and smooth skin beneath, “I sustained a small injury and required sustenance to heal. Your friend just happened to invite me in. In other words, your friend was just unlucky. The predator eats the prey—you don’t care when your house cat eats a mouse. It's the same thing, isn’t it?”

Jason stepped forward boldly, grabbing hold of Vesan’s cloak.

“It’s not the same! We form bonds with people—would you sacrifice those you care about? Parents, siblings, children—is that how you see people?! As a means to the end?!”

Vesan pried Jason’s hands away and said coldly, “You overstep your boundaries. Watch your mouth, boy, or I will send you to the Ether regardless of whether you are a Guardian descendant or not!”

He continued, “I’ll let this pass once and I will not harm you any more this eve. I shall take my leave now.”

With those words, the vampire turned on his heel and strode out into the howling storm, leaving behind him the madly swinging door in tune with the howling winds and a room of unsettling silence.

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Sickly green algae clung to the walls of the tunnel, illuminated by the similarly green lanterns. Murky water covered the ground obscuring the tiled brick path in places and a chilling wind blew through the tunnel, filling the place with eerie whistling. When Lirya looked back, she saw nothing but darkness and only a light at the far end of the tunnel. Around her were similar spirits trudging forward towards the light slowly. Lost for what to do in such a situation, Lirya followed the spirits.

However, as she continued forward she was pulled through the wall at the side and she found herself falling through the emerald skies of a dark land. Wind whistled in her ears and stung her eyes. She screamed, but as she flailed and her body turned around, she could see nothing beyond the clouds.

Where did I fall from, then? She wondered briefly, but as she got closer to the ground her curiosity was overwhelmed by a steadily growing fear. Even she knew that a fall from such a height would surely shatter bones and end her life—although, she pondered, she was quite certain she had already died once. Could she even die again?

The world spread beneath her was a dismally dark and gloomy grey-green world, but to Lirya, the world was beautiful.

For a moment, the wonder she felt fought back the fear and she whispered, “Beautiful.”

Just once, in a voice carried away by the winds, then she closed her eyes and prepared herself to accept any fate that befell her.

To her surprise, her landing was rather… soft.

“You… are the first person to ever call my kingdom beautiful,” A voice said, and Lirya opened her eyes.

The man in front of her eyes had sunken and ashen skin, long dark hair and piercing emerald eyes. His ears were pointed and he had them pierced with a long chain that had a small ruby teardrop at the end. He wore soft black and green robes paired with silver jewellery and he appeared to have caught Lirya and held her floating in the air through some strange magic.

“Am I dead?” She asked, and he snapped his fingers, undoing the magic and dropped her in response.

She cried out and braced herself for a shock that never came. Her body hit the ground and continued through it, then she was gradually pushed back upwards. She felt herself being lifted and saw the stranger smiling.

He said, “Yes, to answer your question: You are dead. Welcome to Heresh.”

Heresh? Where’s that? Lirya wondered, and bluntly asked the stranger that.

“Heresh is the parallel world to the Ether—but spirits who arrive here are reborn as undead, rather than staying in the Ether for all eternity. We are in charge of tracking down and eliminating any and all escaped spirits and threats to the order in the Ether. It is our job to make sure that all souls make it to the Ether safely… which brings me to my question: You are a spirit yet you ended up in Heresh—are you friend or foe?”

Lirya peered at the stranger, “Hmm… I don’t know—but I don't really want to have to fight you. How about we become friends? What’s your name?”

The stranger introduced himself as Naghren, and explained that Lirya was a rare occurrence. Undead destined for rebirth are transported by the magically imbued winds of Heresh straight to the fortress at the centre of Heresh. No spirit should have been thrown through the skies of Heresh like Lirya had been. Naghren said that Lirya had been lucky he’d been on a stroll through the kingdom when he felt the disturbance in the winds and he had found her before she got herself lost or extinguished her spirit flame, which would have ended her life permanently.

Naghren offered her his hand, saying, “Come, child. I’ll take you to the palace and we will discuss things further.”

She tentatively took his proffered hand and, with a spark of emerald magic, large dark wings unfurled from Naghren’s back. Perhaps they had once been majestic, feathery wings, but now they hung in tatters, a shimmering green membrane holding them together.

When he saw Lirya’s gaze upon his back, he hid his wings, curling them close to his body, and sighed, “Avert your eyes, child. My broken wings don’t need your pity. I need them only for strong magic, like the one that will bring us to the palace.”

In a harsh tongue, Naghren barked out words of magic, “Au, ai rahn e Heresh, sentae aum, selumun e renai. Seka aumin umi sinu.”

I, the ruler of Heresh, beseech you, spirits of power. Send us to the palace.

Immediately, the world twisted around them. Lirya gripped Naghren’s hand tightly as she clung onto her only lifeline. It lasted barely a moment, but it was enough for the fear to choke her with an iron grip and steal her breath. Her stomach turned and she struggled to refrain from emptying the contents of her stomach all over Naghren’s feet.

Instead she peered around and saw that they were standing on a balcony overlooking the dull landscape.

The palace itself was a large winding structure built of a deep brick and had towering spires that were topped with sharp tips. The building was as lifeless as the surroundings.

Naghren brought Lirya to a splendidly furnished throne room. It had a large blood-red carpet leading from the doors to the twin thrones set upon a raised dais. Naghren strode up to the first and sat comfortably in it, beckoning for Lirya to sit in the one next to him.

He peered at her, then said, “so, little bird, you who flew into my little kingdom through my skies… what should I do with you? I cannot turn you—you are an anomaly that should not exist. By ancient law, I ought to end you. Yet… I find myself strangely reluctant.”

Lirya frowned, but suggested that she could help him with something—something that his undead could not. She was familiar with the concept of no such thing as free help given. There was always something desired in return—even if the person sometimes didn’t even know it.

He hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind.

“Then, little bird, tell me your story—tell me stories. Stories of your life, your world. I want to know,” Naghren said quietly.

“Have you never been to Dargon?” She asked, and when Naghren nodded, she replied, “Well… my life isn’t all that interesting, but I can tell you about our legends! I can tell you about our gods and about all the magical things and creatures that are in our legends!”

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“We have to leave,” Leus muttered.

A full day had passed since the eventful night. At a loss for what they should do, they buried Lirya’s body near the shack with some hovels they found inside the house and said the appropriate prayers. With grim determination, Jason packed up his things and mulled over his thoughts. How were they, three youths, able to journey to a parallel world to find Lirya’s spirit? And what would happen if they did find her? Would she be able to return?

Haverik sighed, “So… what’s the plan?”

Leus replied, “As I mentioned previously, seeking help from the elves would be my suggestion. But I do still have doubts as to whether they will answer our call of aid. Tensions are brewing and humans and elves have never truly been at peace. If they turn us away, we will have no place to go.”

Haverik looked away uncomfortably and quietly muttered, “I haven’t been completely honest with you. My father is a drunkard, but my mother… She was an elf. My father told me little about her—only that she was of elven nobility and her name, Dethemina,” He looked directly at the two and said, “Maybe… if I found her… she would welcome her son…”

Leus shrugged, “Anything helps. We don’t have much choice. If you are alright with this, then we depart, Jason.”

Jason smiled, “Sure.”

I’ll find the elven bastards who slew my father and I’ll seek vengeance for him! He thought, all while keeping a smile on his face, But of course I’m not going to tell my companions—this is not a face I want them to see… To them, I am the perfect Jason. Imperfections must be hidden away. No one likes imperfections…

And so their paths split, one descending into eternal darkness, and the other heading into the unknown. A troubled road, fraught with betrayal and despair lay ahead of them both.