Flora’s mind drifted back to her conversation with Mara in the subterranean cave just days prior. Doubt gnawed at her. Could these six kings, rely distinguished by hair and eye color, truly vanquish a monster empowered by eons of existence and cunning enough to mimic a god? They seed ordinary, human, no different from herself, an Anika.
Veiling her trepidation, Flora countered with a question. “What if the kings falter against Sang-je?”
Mara’s response was curt, dismissive of the very possibility. “That’s unthinkable.”
“But why such certainty?” Flora pressed.
“Haven’t you witnessed a king hunt a lark?”
Flora’s knowledge of such hunts ca solely from books. Live larks, let alone a king’s pursuit of one, were beyond her experience. Mara’s disdainful click only stoked Flora’s growing irritation, which she barely managed to suppress.
“A lark ceases to exist when its core is destroyed,” Mara explained. “And kings possess the sight to discern this core. Regardless of size or strength, a king’s Praz can demolish it, ending the creature.”
“Then the kings can see your core as well?” Flora countered.
“Naturally they can—don’t speak of such bad luck!”
The kings will vanquish the monster in the Holy City, Flora thought. If the rumors held truth, and Sang-je’s miracles were nothing more than sorcerous illusions, then the frightened monster had used sorcery to mask itself as human. No matter its cunning, it was rely a lark – no match for the kings’ prowess. There was a flaw in this logic, though. Flora couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but a disquieting dissonance lingered.
The weight of her decision settled on Flora’s shoulders. Ever since concluding the situation had tipped decisively, nightmares plagued her sleep. What fate awaited those who believed in Sang-je, who followed the monster disguised as a god? What of the priests, knights, and devotees who obeyed in blind faith, believing they served a divine will, not a puppet for power-hungry manipulators?
The kings wouldn’t concern themselves with such matters. Their own kingdoms demanded their attention; they couldn’t babysit the Holy City indefinitely. Chaos would inevitably engulf the city, but surely soone, perhaps the noble families, would rise to restore order. After the initial turmoil subsided, the truth would co to light, the past picked clean.
“No one knows what I did,” Flora muttered, her anxious eyes fixed on an empty corner. “All that matters is ending that monster.”
The creature’s vile deception had shaken her. Everything was its fault. If it vanished… no, for a truly perfect solution, all the priests present in the sanctuary that fateful day would need to vanish too.
A knock on the door, followed by a voice, startled Flora. “Anika Flora, I’ve left your breakfast.”
A mont later, she opened the door to find a al tray abandoned on the threshold. Picking it up, she carried it inside, a newfound urgency pulsing through her. “I need to co back after dinner too, starting today.”
The elders in the underground cave were masters of sorcery. Flora was determined to seize this opportunity, to learn everything she could. Perhaps, deep sleep brought on by exhaustion would finally quell the nightmares that plagued her.
***
Eugene delved into the intricacies of the teleportation spell Flora would utilize. Teleportation was an advanced form of sorcery, its complexity escalating with distance. Thankfully, with the ticulous notes detailing dark room sorcery and Flora’s own residual magic, Eugene had achieved a high mastery of the spell itself. However, acquiring the necessary activation energy remained a hurdle.
While Eugene, with her vast resources, could procure any rare or expensive material, the situation for the wanderers wasn’t as privileged. Fortunately, Aldrit erged with a solution.
[A base form of the spell?]
Aldrit elaborated, [The elder suggests constructing the departure and arrival spells in separate forms. The departure spell would be simpler but expendable, while the arrival spell would be robust and intricate. The departure spell would draw its activation energy from the arrival spell, a form of sorcery often used when transporting multiple individuals to a central location.]
Ah, so the arrival spell acts as a central station, with multiple departure points converging on it, Eugene grasped.
[Understood,] Eugene wrote. [I’ll handle gathering the materials for the spell installation. Anything else?]
[Crucially, the arrival spell cannot be disrupted during activation. Even a drop of rain or a gust of windblown sand could throw it off,] Aldrit warned.
Then we need a proper station, with walls and a roof, Eugene concluded.
[Got it. Inform the elders of our decision to use this base form of sorcery. You take care of the construction.]
[Yes, Your Highness.]
Following Eugene’s orders, a flurry of activity erupted in the desert outside the stone gate. Workers compacted the ground, laid wide, flat stones, and erected sturdy walls. The project beca a spectacle. No structure so substantial had ever been built in the desert, and its future seed precarious considering the approaching lark season, notorious for its destructive swarms.
“Whispers abound about construction in the desert,” Dana announced, entering Eugene’s quarters. Eugene looked up from her tea with a questioning glance.
“I wouldn’t dream of prying into state affairs,” Dana continued with an awkward smile, “but… curiosity runs rampant.”
News of the Holy City’s lockdown and the brewing Holy War hadn’t yet reached the faraway capital of the Hashi Kingdom. While rumors had spread, they lacked weight and failed to capture the public’s attention. Instead, an air of excitent crackled through the city, fueled by the anticipation of the soon-to-be-born heir. Compared to previous years, social gatherings of all stripes – parties, tea parties, balls – had skyrocketed, and every invitation landed on the palace doorstep first. However, these weren’t addressed to Eugene, but to Dana.
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