Celestial Bodies (The Black Arts of Vexora)

2. Chapter 1

2

Chapter 1

Julen

Julen’s heart raced as the hissing winds grew deafening, racing past him and tossing about his dark curls.

The cadet before him curled his fingers in an inviting beckon, summoning more and more gusts of wind to meet him at the dusty center field. Murmurs of anticipation filled the arena as winds from every direction weaved about the spectators and rushed toward him. A rust-colored torrent of dust swirled with frenzy, then settled as the cadet gained control and shaped the wind into a dense boulder with smooth arm movements.

His eyes narrowed, focusing on the target before him. The sweat on his forehead glistened under the sun.

The cadet released a guttural scream that echoed off the arena’s walls and launched the boulder at a line of enemy dummies thirty feet away.

Contact.

The dummies exploded, bits of wood and stuffing scattered about the field as the crowd released a thunderous roar.

Julen’s gut coiled as the cadet, who had been incredibly shitty to him throughout training, took a bow and rejoined his comrades. One of the most prized abilities in Lapistra was manipulating wind into ammunition. Second to ammunition was wielding a wind barrier. Julen had hoped to follow someone who could do the latter. Why do I have to follow him?

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the next cadet in the Manifestation Showcase is Julen Zephyrus, Prince of Lapistra!”

No . A bomb went off in Julen’s belly. Don’t get sick . Don’t get sick.

Julen froze. His legs trembled, and cold sweat dripped down his back.

A nearby cadet whispered with disdain, “You’re up, Prince .”

Thanks for the support, asshole. Julen forced himself to move, inching towards the center of the field.

He had to succeed. For his father. For the entire territory. Failure wasn’t an option.

The day had been an endless series of successes, making Julen even more nervous. The cadets threw wind as dense as boulders or as sharp as arrows. Others conjured barriers thick enough to stop a cannonball. Everything the territory expected of Lapistrean men. Everyone delivered. The bile crept to the back of Julen’s throat as he whispered a silent prayer to the Mother Planet.

Julen didn’t know what he would summon. He hadn’t successfully conjured anything during training. He couldn’t do that today. Not in front of his father. Not in front of the nobility—he’d be the laughingstock of the entire territory, or worse, a pariah. Would he even be in line for succession to the throne? The future king of Lapistra had to manifest some kind of power.

Julen reached the dusty circle at the center of the field. His hands shook as he raised them.

Please, let something happen…

He shot a glance at the thousands of eyes piercing him like knives with their gaze. The mountains loomed over the top of the stadium like the talons of a monster reaching for the sky. The world began to spin.

I should run . Just run away and never look back.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. A new line of enemy dummies arrived.

Instructor Lupan approached. “You can do this, Your Highness. Remember what we discussed. Find the emotion. Find what stirs you inside. ”

Julen nodded. “Something that creates a frenzy.”

Lupan gripped the sides of Julen’s arms and locked eyes with him. “It can be anything. It can be infuriating or energizing. Just…find something.”

Julen’s body quivered. He wanted to make his father proud… for once .

He closed his eyes and searched for the emotion. Visions of his life raced through his mind like streaks of lightning. Images of his father’s brutality throughout the years bombarded him. His throat closed, and panic consumed him. He had no control of the images. They slipped away as fast as they came, a barrage of moments that made his head throb.

Everyone is waiting. Do something. DO SOMETHING . Julen dug deep, summoning every molecule inside him to stir and create the spectacle that was expected of him. He wound his arms back and curled his fingers.

A soft breeze! It’s something! He could feel it! Capture it! Control it!

Hours and hours of training had led to this moment. His heart pounded, and his skin tingled.

Julen took a breath, clenched his eyes shut, reeled his arms back further, and pushed…

The tragic gust of wind that stirred the dust at his feet nearly broke him. He couldn’t believe it. It was worse than a nightmare. Every fear he had for this showcase came to fruition in a moment.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry in front of them.

The silence of the arena was haunting. Julen thought time stopped. Then, the soft chuckles began. He had to try again. It couldn’t end like this. Please, help me, Mother Planet…

Summoning every ounce of strength he could, he pushed deep into the depths of his soul, aching to conjure something, anything !

Another tiny gust of wind.

The laughter from the cadets behind him echoed in his ears. His father’s furious face emerged from the crowd. Beside him, his mother, Queen Lauta, looked devastated.

Run away. Run away. Run away.

???

The cacophonous jubilation that filled the changing room faded as cadets raced to reunite with their awaiting families, leaving Julen alone. The stark white walls seemed to close in on him as he cradled his head between his legs, feeling his gut twist in knots. The cold bench pressed against him while he stared at the gray stones of the floor.

Not a single cadet had matched Julen’s dreadful performance.

He hated his father—it didn’t have to be this way. Julen needed more time, but King Haligran forced him to do this showcase despite the evidence that the training wasn’t helping. Julen begged for another year to master his abilities, but his father wouldn’t hear of it. He said it was Julen’s responsibility not to be a blight on his homeland. No pressure.

Julen burned with rage. If he ever did master wind manipulation, he’d use it to destroy this whole damned territory.

The door creaked open. Julen’s breath hitched, and he clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear witness to the look on his father’s face.

Lupan cleared his throat as he crept into the room, and Julen exhaled .

“The general has, regretfully, made the very difficult decision not to extend an offer to join the military. I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

The planet stopped spinning. It’s not like Julen really wanted to join the military, but as a member of the royal family, not joining the military was unheard of. His father, King Haligran, was one of Lapistra’s most renowned warriors. Julen was supposed to follow in his footsteps, to be a symbol of Lapistra’s might. To lead the charge and be the warrior the territory craved. He had to join.

“Does my father know?”

The door flung open, slamming against the wall. Julen’s stomach flipped as the room rattled.

Haligran stalked in, narrowing his gaze on his son. An icy pang of fear froze Julen in place. He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

“Get out, Lupan. I’d like a moment with my son.” His father spoke with a deep timber that could shake the planet’s core.

As Lupan neared the exit, Haligran called out, “Don’t go far, Lupan. I’d like a word with you, too. ”

Lupan swallowed hard enough that Julen could hear it from across the room.

Haligran’s hideous face quaked with fury. He drew closer to Julen, who shook like a leaf in a storm. Built like a wall, his father stood before him, his bald head aglow under the candlelight. Splotches of red fury peppered his pale face as he approached Julen.

He had that look again—contempt mixed with rage. Julen’s mind returned to his youth when his father found his paper dolls…

“How could this happen? HOW?!”

Julen couldn’t speak, his eyes darting, holding back tears.

“ANSWER ME!”

Julen wanted to scream. He looked up at his father and couldn’t suppress his scowl. You did this to me.

Haligran snarled, “Don’t you dare sneer at me!” and jolted forward. Julen crouched and draped his arms over his head.

“Haligran!” Queen Lauta entered. “Not now.”

Moments later, Glacia Cunnis, Julen’s fiancée, stepped into the room, flanked by her parents. No. Did she see it? Isn’t she at school? As if this day needed to be more humiliating.

Julen shivered at Glacia’s disdainful expression. Her dark brown eyes zeroed in on him.

Julen’s parents had announced the engagement at a lavish gala hosted by the Cunnis family four weeks ago. It was the first time Julen had heard the news, and from the look on Glacia’s face, it had been her first as well.

Neither of them wanted this marriage. Julen couldn’t blame her. Whispers of Julen’s “softness” had circulated since puberty. Who would want to walk into a marriage with that rumor circulating?

It would be so much easier if he could be honest with Glacia. Perhaps establish an “understanding.” But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t know if she’d even care. Julen was a homosexual. He’d known since puberty, and he also knew he had to conceal it. Homosexuality was illegal in Lapistra, and if anyone found out… He couldn’t think about that.

Once news spread about his progress—or lack thereof—in the training intensive, poof! A wedding! With rumors about his sexuality swirling and the looming threat of a disastrous performance at the showcase, his parents must have believed that an arranged marriage would mask one of Julen’s shortcomings and, hopefully, overshadow a potential failure at the showcase.

Silence filled the room. Not a soul knew what to say, but Glacia’s mother was always an endless source of mindless chatter. Naturally, she felt compelled to break the awkward silence.

“I am sure nerves are to blame, Your Highness. It must be daunting for you young men. We women, finesse our wind manipulation in private ! Such a spectacle of power is unbecoming for a demure lady. I could never imagine having so many watch me as I manifest. I’d feel naked! It must have been nerves.” Her eyes crept toward her daughter, and her tone grew sharp. “ Right , Glacia?”

Glacia rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother. Nerves.”

What a warm marriage we’ll have. Glacia’s parents didn’t share their daughter’s loathing for this engagement. Who wouldn’t want their daughter to become a princess?

Julen could feel the room waiting for his reply, but he had nothing to say.

It was Queen Lauta’s turn to break the silence. “There are refreshments at the castle. We had planned a celebratory soiree…”

Glacia’s mother plastered a look of regret on her face. “Oh, my gracious Queen, your generosity is limitless. Unfortunately, we must decline. Glacia needs to return to school. I do hope you understand.”

“Of course,” Queen Lauta replied, “let me walk you to your carriage. Coming to Julen’s showcase, Glacia, was so good of you. I know how busy you are with your studies.”

Glacia nodded with reverence, and then her eyes fell on Julen. They brimmed with hatred. She curtsied and forced out, “Prince Julen.”

Just before leaving, Lauta turned to look at Julen. He could have sworn he saw a flash of sympathy. She looked like she had before she suspected his truth—before the intoxins consumed her. It vanished as quickly as it came.

She left, and Julen sat alone with his father standing before him.

Haligran spoke through clenched teeth. “Get up. ”

Julen’s stomach sank, that bomb of panic from before once again exploding inside him. He couldn’t move.

“NOW!”

Haligran’s yell jolted Julen to his feet. He fixed his gaze on the floor, trying to avoid looking at his father.

Haligran strode to the corner of the changing room, where a candle flickered. He gripped it by its glass holder and turned to Julen. “I couldn’t be more than twenty feet away. Blow it out.”

The stale air in the room filled Julen’s lungs as he took a breath to steady himself. Lupan’s instructions echoed in his mind as it darted from one memory to the next. Find something. Prove him wrong.

A soft breeze cooled Julen’s skin. Please, let this be it. His arms wrapped about the breeze, attempting to grip it as if it were corporeal.

Julen moved fast. He had to control it. He reeled back and snapped his hands forward. His eyes opened, and he saw his father standing on the other side of the room, gripping the candle. The flame flickered as if to mock Julen.

Julen’s outstretched arms shook before him under his father’s scorn.

Haligran cupped the flame with his hand as he moved closer. His voice pelted Julen like hail. “Now, I’m five feet away. Blow this damned flame out. Now.”

Julen stared at the flame. He couldn’t move.

“ DO IT! ” Haligran’s bellowing voice pounded Julen’s ears like drums.

Julen couldn’t look up. He couldn’t look at his father.

Haligran strode to Julen with a speed that made him cringe. He held the candlestick a foot away from Julen’s face.

He said nothing; he just waited. Julen closed his eyes. Rage and terror warred in his body.

They stood there like that for what felt like an eternity until Haligran threw the glass candlestick across the room. It shattered against the wall. He shot a fist-sized gust of wind at Julen’s left rib cage, which sent him clattering to the ground, gasping.

Haligran slowly lowered to the floor and spoke in a low, husky tone. “When my father learned that I leaped from my horse during a jousting training, he beat me with a broom handle until I passed out. Tell me, son , would you even survive if I did that to you?”

Haligran stood again and stared down at Julen’s crumpled body, still gasping for air. “I think not.” With that, Haligran left the room.

Finally, alone, Julen couldn’t hold back his tears. Pain throbbed in his side. He yearned for comfort, for even the faintest sign of affection. One person had ever offered it: Souzie.