Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Voice of Winter

  “Your Majesty, we are receiving reports from as far as Delnore, monster attacks are rising, they’re even invading cities, this is turning into the worst season seen since the Steel Winter, and deaths are piling up daily,”

  The King of Night was at his desk, a mountain of paperwork, allocations, and calls for aid continually piling up in front of him, “Send word to the Central Guildhall that they must swear in more Winter Hunters, we need a bulwark if the Winter is going to move against us this fiercely,” he said.

  “Sir, Mythis, Tycolm, Denore, every major city has sent a bulletin, they say shadows are coming in the night and decimating Hunters, if the reports are correct, the Order of Hunters has fallen, and the people are left defenseless,” he said.

  “Goddess damn you, my family has seen the world through every winter since the first! We will not fall to the death and destruction of monsters under my watch! There must be Hunters left, the Order has taken losses before such a thing is always expected in Winter. Are you telling me that the Order itself is in jeopardy?”

  “Your son has dispatched his Dark Stalker troops, they’re holding the monsters from the cities, but the people are wary of them. They have trusted their safety to the Winter Hunters generation after generation, to see them dispatched so mercilessly by these alleged black shadows has caused people to worry,” the aide said.

  “The Dark Stalkers are well trained, they will do what they must, perhaps this is indeed the time for their oath, maybe people should turn to them when the night is at its darkest,” King Gailech slumped in his chair, “I request my son see me, privately,” he added, “We’ve much to discuss, and even more to prepare for,”

  “As you wish, your majesty,” the Aide left the King of Night to his work as he fetched that Prince of Night.

  Edmund entered his father’s office alone, “Father,” he bowed his head.

  “I prayed that it would not be my or your generation that sees this day, but this is the day we live in,” King Gailech sighed.

  “I know father, I understand. We’ve no one but ourselves to blame, it was a matter of time before it finally happened. The Winter without end has returned, and it falls on us to be stewards of the people. I’ve been preparing for this, I’ve read all the ancient texts, it’s why I rebuilt the Dark Stalker order, this is the work of my life, preparing us for this long and treacherous season of darkness,” Edmund said.

  “Goddesses guide us,” King Gailech stood to look his son in the eye, “I’m so sorry that this is the world I’ll have to leave you, a winter that never ends, be strong, my son,” he reached over his desk and put his hand on Edmund’s shoulder, “I will do what I can while I breathe, but Winter will come for us all eventually, there's no saving anyone now, there's just servitude, doing what we can to make what little life the people can have bearable,” he looked to his boy with love in his eyes, love not returned though. Edmund always had such cold eyes. Even growing up the King had noticed the Prince’s lack of care or concern for things that were good in this world. He thought it was just a survival strategy growing up knowing it was his duty to see the land through its darkest periods.

  “Father, I have readied myself for this duty my entire life, I do not fear the old writings as you do, I have known this day was coming,” he said, reaching to his belt and pulling out a steel dagger, he held it up, “Winter is here, the real winter, every cold season before this has been prologue to the great journey humanity will find itself in, when it sees a time that only the strong can survive in,” he looked back to his father, “The Winter Hunters can’t save us from this, no one can, it is up to humanity as a whole to grow in this winter, prove it can thrive. The harshest conditions breed the strongest progeny,” he said.

  “Boy, I am proud that you do not fear your responsibility, but you must understand that there are gentle souls in this world, we must be stewards to them, guide them,” King Gailech said, “What are you thinking, what glory do you think you can find in a winter that never ends, death and misery are about to befall our land, ours is the duty to mitigate it as much as we can, for as long as we can,”

  “But if Winter never ends, it will all be for nothing. If winter never ends defending the weak is an anathema,” his hand moved so fast, King Gailech could barely even feel the steel dagger pierce his skin, the blade was that sharp. He grabbed his son’s shoulders, “Boy, what are you doing, don’t be foolish,” he gasped as the blood dripped from just between his ribs.

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  “I’m doing my work, Father, I will see a new humanity born in this never-ending winter, a stronger humanity, one that needs not to rely on Goddesses or blessings,” he twisted the knife and the king of Winter clutched his son’s arms tighter, falling over, “Edmund, what-ahh” King Gailech strained as he felt the knife twisting in his guts.

  “This is mankind's destiny, no longer will the weak play in the sun, this is winter and only the strong will survive,” Edmund leaned in to whisper in the King’s ear, “Father, trust me, what I do is for all people of this land, there will be bloodshed, there will be death, but in the end, we will prove that we have no need for any deities blessing,” the King’s body fell limp and lifeless, and Edmund pushed his father off his blade and onto the ground.

  Edmund was an orphan now, yet another orphan of the Winter. He took a deep breath, kept his composure as he cleaned his blade and slid it back into his belt. Outside, two of his Dark Stalkers were making easy work of the King’s servants and attendants. The old order would be wiped away after this, and the season of a Winter never ending would have its ruler. The only ruler that was capable and strong enough to see the birth of a new humanity without the goddesses' blessing. He made his way out of his father’s office and through the halls of Kal-Dovean. His Dark Stalkers, with their work done ridding the world of yet another false hope that spring could come, joined him as he made his way to the dungeon.

  “The castle is cleared of any observant to the Goddesses my lord,” the Dark Stalker on his left said.

  “We are the Steel in the Darkness, and we fight under your command, King of Night,” the one on his right said as Edmund made his way to the dungeon. Deep in the forgotten basement of Castle Kal-Dovean. He came to his private quarters, the room where he let no one else enter. “I need to be alone, my father has died,” he said, his voice calm and commanding, “The last trickle of the Sun Blood must be wrung from this world, the time for humanities reliance on the Goddesses’ blessings must come to an end, and it will end tonight,” he closed the door behind him and looked to the floor of his private quarters. Astray all around it were countless books of prophecy and stories telling of never-ending winter, ancient texts written in runes and secrets.

  Edmund brought his bloody dagger up to his palm and cut a slit in it. “You have listened to me before, you’ve shown me the way to free us of godly hold,” he held his hand out and let his blood drip on the ancient scrolls he had collected in a lifetime of traveling the land and learning the ways of ruling in the cold. Over a dozen winters he was tutored for his destiny. He learned from masters both good and dark the ways to communicate with the true nature of the world.

  “Let your role in this world end, leave us in the winter and leave us be,” he wrung his hand and let more blood fall, a shadow appearing before him.

  It grew and grew, an inhuman body forming out of it as it spoke in an ethereal and damning voice, “You would break the balance of Goddesses?” the shadow asked.

  “I just want the world returned to us, we don’t need them anymore,” Edmund said, “We’ll be stronger without them,” he said.

  “The Sun Blood lives, and there is still a Winter Hunter,” the voice said.

  “Kill the Sun Blood, let the Hunters fail, humanity must turn to those who stalk the dark,” Edmund said.

  “Are you worthy to speak for humanity, to break the truce under your own accord?” the shadow grew and began to curl around the room, surrounding Edmund.

  “I am the King of Night, duly appointed in the Goddesses' own agreement, I am the man to see the new humanity born. One not spoiled in the trappings and decadence my ancestors offer for their obedience, I am the one who will see us to our true potential, humanity born in suffering, just as I was” Edmund had a faint thought of his mother.

  She was a beautiful woman, who loved her child. It was a Spring day when she died. An illness came to her that no Druid or healer could find a cause or cure for. The Druids tending to her in her last days said that sickness like this was the will of the Goddesses. They said that she would be taken by them and by their will. Edmund grew to hate the Goddesses for that and wanted nothing more to do with them after they took his mother. His father had accepted the loss, and he mourned for the appropriate amount of time, but when the next winter came he threw himself into his duties. Edmund remembered that Winter remembered finding solace in the cold snow. The Goddesses took his mother, it was their will the Druids said. If that was their will then Edmund wanted nothing more to do with them. He wished for a world where the Goddesses would have no influence anymore, and he wished for a world where his fellow man would no longer rely on the whims of deities that could just slaughter innocents by their will. No more worship, no more Goddesses, that was the world that Edmund wanted to build.

  He flicked his blood-stained hand across the ancient spells written on the parchment below him, “You told me you would free us from the Goddesses, now do it, kill the Sun Blood, bring the eternal winter and the next form of humanity!” he commanded.

  Outside Tycolm, the creatures of winter were gathering. Spider Folk crawled out of their nests, Ursalings woke from their daytime slumbering, Wood Scrapers began to move through the roots of the trees under Tycolm and Knifewolfs left behind their easily killed prey of dear and foal as the Voice of Winter commanded them to their roles as the terrors of the season.

  An army of death was making its way to Tycolm, all with the unified Voice of Winter in their simple beastly minds.

  “Kill the Sun Blood.”