”What does it take to become a Monarch? Whatever answer I give you right now, you won’t understand until you become one.” ~Denis Irista

  Kristel had been staring at the door for the longest time. The name Judiciary Knight Verdim Solfey was embossed in bronze over the steel door. The office, from her perspective right then, looked more like a prison than the room of a high-ranking Iristan officer.

  She thought of what to say; how to comfort a parent who had lost two of his children in an unimaginably cruel twist of fate. Verdim had locked himself inside his office after hearing the news of Ashtine’s death, and Smyl’s betrayal.

  Kristel wished Katherine was around, or even Frein, or even Frill, someone to accompany her to try and convince the Judiciary Knight to partake in the Ritual of Peace before everything was too late. Her responsibility and pride as the future Monarch had denied her that assistance, and now she stood all alone in front of this door that seemed so massive and hindering, denying any entry.

  Finally, she sighed and knocked twice. “Verdim, may I come in?”

  “It’s not locked, Princess,” a low voice responded.

  Kristel opened the door slowly, its hinges creaking. Verdim’s office was well organized. Books and old records were well placed in a shelf at a corner of the room. A wide office table stood at the center, topped with well stacked papers and other writing materials. Behind the table was a shelf of liquor bottles, two of which were at the table, empty. No wineglass.

  In front of the table were two high-quality chairs for the guests, while a bigger one stood behind for the Judiciary Knight. The man wasn’t seated, however.

  Kristel’s eyes panned on the other side of the room, where the swaying of window curtains barely hid Verdim. He looked over the High Palace’s backyard, where the Ritual of Peace was currently being prepared.

  “Fena died when they were born,” he began as Kristel closed the door behind her. “She was beautiful, always smiling, always a free spirit. She loved nature; she even claimed she could talk to animals and plants. I believed she could.”

  Verdim snickered at his own words. Kristel saw him holding a picture frame but said nothing, staying exactly one step through the door. The knight’s eyes swayed between the frame and outside the window.

  By the sounds of it, she concluded that Verdim knew nothing of his wife being a faunel. He probably also didn’t know that she was still probably alive out there somewhere.

  It was just a guess. Frankly, she hadn’t had the chance to discuss this thought with anyone yet. And so, she held back her words. Until she could clarify things with her friends, she shouldn’t make false claims in front of someone. Especially, not when the person involved was currently mourning.

  “We were overwhelmed with joy when we knew we were having twins. When they were born, I think she knew it was her time… She made me promise never to blame the kids, and I tried not to. I tried my best not to.” Verdim sniffed, wiping his tears with his big fingers.

  Kristel wanted to say things to comfort Verdim. That everything would be alright. He didn’t know how Ashtine died, but he knew Smyl had betrayed them. His words somehow said he had pieced the puzzle.

  “When the first Hollowing Storm came, I searched Fena’s grave. I didn’t find her there. She was gone. I wished I could’ve seen her one last time and burned her to peace myself.” Verdim’s grip on the frame tightened, and his forehead curled, showing his regret. A sound of something cracking echoed within the room.

  This little snippet solidified Kristel’s theory. Fena, if she was actually a faunel, had escaped her grave through under the cover of the Hollowing Storm. The Princess carefully and desperately tempered the desire to brainstorm with her friends. This was not the time for it. More pressing matters needed to be done first. And she was not about to disrespect those who she had failed to protect.

  “Ashtine’s waiting,” she said finally. “She’ll wait for you, until you’re ready to meet her one last time.”

  Kristel met his eyes as he turned to her. She could feel the transformation of sadness inside him slowly turning into demands of justice. His Siffera flared with a tempered rhythm. Nothing close to anyone she knew who was actually strong, those that defied the traditional norm. But she could see him on the verge of breaking through. For someone so experienced and old, he wasn’t anywhere done trying to improve.

  If only you would stop drinking yourself to sleep… Everyone who spent time with the Judiciary Knight knew he had never stopped mourning for his wife’s death. But things were probably about to change.

  “Yes,” he said, placing the picture frame of his family on the table. A crack on its glass disfigured Smyl’s face. “It’s time.”

  Four hundred thousand and thirty-two had been the last census of Eastrise Region before the Nightmare Incursion had completely eradicated all life from within it. Princess Kristel had asked Frill to prepare candles for everyone who had perished, including those who had helped them in their rescue operation.

  The backyard had turned from a stage of practice, into a place of sacred ritual. Candles stood in gilded frames, flowers in full bloom surrounded the platform, and a gazebo lined with royal tapestries shielded them from the sun.

  The Princess, her family and friends, more royal figures, and other authoritative personnel gathered in front of the ritual candles. They all wore something humble and fit for the ritual: formal, nothing fancy, and dark colors. They waited for the entire attendance to assemble in silence before beginning the ritual in earnest.

  “Today, on the three hundred and fortieth day of Monarch Denis’ Calendar, under the future rule of Princess Kristel, we mourn the lives we lost from the Nightmare Incursion that devoured the Eastrise Region.” Judiciary Knight Verdim’s voice sounded far from his usually booming tone. It was gruffer, more restrained.

  In the middle of the surrounding candle assembly were two unlit bonfires. Kento Valmas lied in one, while the other was left empty. Ashtine Solfey’s body was taken by her traitorous brother. But Maffelyne’s account, along with her Blessing and vengeful demeanor, made it clear that she was telling the truth. They had also found the Sky Knight’s bloody badge on the ground exactly where the Guard Knight had pointed it.

  While there was no body to burn to prevent the Hollowing Storm from raising it, they would still not leave Ashtine out of the ritual under the speculation that she had somehow survived. It would be completely disrespectful to her and her family.

  At their requests, Verdim stayed beside Ashtine’s bonfire, and Venry took the side of his stepfather. Kristel had no reason to deny them.

  “Let the fires we light today guide us towards remembering our loss, and honoring the memory of our departed so that they may find eternal peace.” Verdim Drew a flame and hovered it atop his fingers. Venry wordlessly did the same. They simultaneously lit their respective bonfires. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, followed by a masking scent that made the foulness of it tolerable.

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  While the burden for the burning was taken away from her, it was Princess Kristel’s duty to light the candles representing the lives lost. Her father, in his advanced age, could no longer fulfill such a task. They were ceremonial candles, demanding concentrated effort and a fair deal of meiyal before expressing a dim bluish light.

  Kristel began as the others watched with patience. She nurtured a hundred candles in a single batch while making sure each of them were equally bright. It took her about three hours to light a hundred thousand of them.

  Lighting each batch of candles weighed heavier on her than Art fatigue. It was impossible for her to reach it now, but the weight pressed on her mental strength instead. The very action of lighting the candles was an admittance of her failure, and she relived it a hundred-fold every time she lit a batch.

  When she was done with the second hundred thousand, her hands were shaking. Six hours she had been there, going through each candle and rewinding the deaths she could never prevent. She tried to breathe, but her own lungs denied the air. Her eyes ached, and tears kept flowing.

  Her knees gave in as the number of lives she had failed to protect and save became an etched reality in her existence. A burden that every Monarch must carry. Evanclad didn’t even need to tell her that.

  Gentle fingers wrapped around her hands. Kristel’s whimpering and constant shaking made it difficult to raise her head. When she finally saw Frill and Katherine’s faces, her whole world collapsed.

  “I’m so sorry,” the Princess cried, her hands clinging to her friends. “I’m sorry.”

  They embraced her, pushing Kristel’s emotions out of control.

  “I can’t do this anymore!” she said, her voice breaking. She dug her face in Frill’s bosom, praying never to emerge again. “I’m really sorry. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be the Monarch anymore. I don’t want to be the Princess anymore.”

  She didn’t care if the other officials or representatives heard her. She cried her heart out, and she didn’t care.

  “Kristel.” Frill’s voice echoed softly amidst her cries. “Without you, Irista Nation would’ve been overrun by the Nightmare Lands by now.”

  “I didn’t save anything,” Kristel said. “Frein and Katherine saved Irista Nation.”

  “You know that’s not true, Kristel,” Katherine said gently.

  Despite this, Alphazzel’s words echoed inside her head like poison.

  “I’m nothing,” the Princess repeated. The confidence she had been carefully building, even with the help of Evanclad and his Destiny, had endured cracks during the Incursion. The Ritual of Peace made it crumble.

  “My Princess,” Frill began, her embrace pressing Kristel closer to her chest. “When Liona died, you and everyone being there for me saved me from a path I would’ve surely regretted. And I think, you arriving on Eastrise on the day the Incursion hit made all the difference.

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re nothing. Maybe we owe our lives to Katherine and Frein. But I believe the very reason why they’re here, why they saved us, why we’re still alive because of them, is because they believe in you. I don’t care what Brymeia told me,” she continued in a whisper. “I don’t care about this Law of the First Monarch or World’s Chosen. I care about you, my dear Princess Kristel. I believe you’re the reason why we were saved.”

  Kristel’s mind raced through her memories. The times when Frein had urged her to lead on, the moments when he and her friends had given her courage, the times she had questioned why Frein did what he did. If he really wanted to, he could’ve left when he said he would. And yet, he had changed his mind.

  The realization came to her like a well-fitted glove, and she began to understand what Frill meant.

  She slowly raised her head, eyes widened with more shock than realization. Frein was preparing something. Something more valuable than his own life, something very few people—probably only Frill first—had realized. She turned to the center of it all. Katherine.

  The look made the Lady of the Void understand. She kept her expression under control, despite visibly struggling to do so. She didn’t want to admit it.

  “He left us no other choice now, didn’t he?” Frill said.

  Kristel rose to her feet, eyes looking for the next candle. “No, he didn’t.”

  Katherine scratched her head. “I know this is somber and all, but please don’t talk like he’s already gone.”

  Another three hours went on. Without food, without rest, the future Monarch caved in once again after the third hundred thousandth candle was lit. She succumbed to exhaustion, but it was different this time. She breathed slowly and meditatively in order to recover faster. The other officers and authoritative representatives had lost their patience and had left. The remnants of the Cross Irista, along with a respectable few, remained patient.

  Princess Kristel urged herself to finish the rest, ignoring the physical exhaustion. She was still full of meiyal, but even with her Siffera exerted to its highest level, the burden of the dead was still too much for her to handle. She lit the final batch on the twelfth hour.

  “May the lives of our departed forever light our path,” Verdim said. The people who stayed repeated the mantra, but Kristel was too tired to even stand anymore.

  One by one, the people left after they had had their fill of the mesmerizing lights. The candles would remain lit for five days, fulfilling the full week cycle of Brymeia. They would never be used again.

  “You lost a city a day after your coronation. Some Monarch, you are. Tryvinal would’ve done better.”

  Princess Kristel recognized the man. Malmar Emir, a representative of the common people and first of those who had given their allegiance to Tryvinal. He was clad in a black robe, hiding most of what he wore, save for his boots made with fine leather. Long hair ran down to his nape, showing a proud face unaffected by a scar that ran across his nose.

  Frill was furious. “Tryvinal bet—”

  “Tryvinal died long before I was inaugurated as your Monarch. His body was under the spell of our enemy. The Tryvinal you knew then, was mere a puppet implanted by the masterminds who want to take Irista Nation.”

  Kristel had no evidence, nor did she see it as truth, but this was the only way she knew how to persuade the nonbelievers to her side without stepping on their pride.

  “I should’ve known the truth earlier.” Kristel made a bow, prostrating herself in front of the man. She tried to stop her fists from shaking, but her own rage wouldn’t let her. “I’m sorry. I truly am.”

  When she finally raised her head, Malmar had turned a way. “I see. I’m sorry. I take back what I said. The common people will always show support to their Monarch. But remember that we’re always watching.”

  As the representative started walking, Frill stretched out a hand. “Time to rest, Princess.”

  “No.” Kristel took the hand and struggled on her feet. “There’s still so much to do.”

  “They can wait,” Katherine said this time. She gave a nod to Frill before leaving the Princess in the Aria’s careful hands.

  Princess Kristel had no more strength to argue. She struggled as she climbed the spiraling stairs to her chambers, her shaking legs forced her to rely on Frill.

  “You’re returning to Veli Manor today,” Kristel stated, but it was more of a question in reality.

  “Only for a few nights,” Frill answered as she helped the Princess sit on a bed that could fit five or six of her.

  Testra entered the room, lying on the floor beside the bed. Kristel looked at her yuma and weakly tapped the bedsheet. Testra understood and moved beside her.

  “I think it’s time I take a look at Liona’s Spatiera,” Frill continued, fixing the bed and activating the dim meiyal-crafted torches on the walls. She vanished into the bathroom and emerged with a basin of water, and started wiping away Kristel’s sweat.

  “Can’t you do it here?” Kristel had never opened someone else’s Spatiera. She couldn’t even open her own properly until recently.

  Practitioners were allowed as many people as they wanted to have rights of access to their Worldspace. This was traditional practice, and was mostly used among family members and close friends in case something unforeseen happened to them. Kristel had the rights for Frill, Lor, and Liona’s, and she had given them the rights for hers. They had all agreed at the day of Liona’s burning, that it was Frill who would reopen Liona’s Spatiera for the last time.

  Two things were required to accomplish this. First, would be the owner’s crystalized meiyal, to serve as a sign of their consent. Second, would be the beneficiary’s crystalized meiyal stored inside the owner’s Spatiera as a symbol of agreement.

  “It has to be at Veli Manor.” Frill finished cleaning Kristel and gave her a fresh set of clothes. “I’ll ask the servants to bring you something to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Kristel threw herself on Testra’s side, grabbing a blanket and making herself comfortable. “I want to sleep. Wake me up when you return.”

  There was silence for a while. An eerie and guilty silence. But Kristel refused to look.

  Gentle fingers moved the hair away from her face, and a soft kiss pressed upon her forehead.

  “You’re due for a haircut, Kristel. I’ll be back before you know it,” Frill whispered. “Rest well.”

  The sound of her door closing made Kristel painfully aware that Frill had left. She dug herself deeper into Testra’s fur, and no amount of the yuma’s affectionate nuzzling could stop the Princess’s muffled cries and screams.

  Until the door opened again.

  “Sis?”

  Kristel didn’t reply. She didn’t move. Someone climbed on her bed, and she knew exactly who it was. There was a subtle sob, and Kristel’s sisterly instincts immediately kicked in. She turned around and embraced Scuti as they both cried themselves to sleep.

  See you on the next release!

  Shall Allren

  God Of Hell!