9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
My legs dangled over the castle parapet, a sense of complete and utter numbness settling into my bones. It was strange because I didn’t think I should feel numb. Normally I would be a drooling puddle of panic in a situation like this. Yet when I glanced over at the long drop that would inevitably result in a painful death, there was simply nothing there. It was as if my body had reached its capacity for emotion, and now I was officially tapped out. It would probably be kind of nice if it wasn’t for the whole trapped in a different realm thing.
Still, I admired the landscape before me, amazed at how far I could see. Situated on the coastline atop a vast hill, the castle nudged right up to the edge of a steep cliff. A grand bay twinkled in the morning light off in the distance, but none of the boats moored there were leaving the docks. Probably hindered by the thick fog that concealed any traces of the sea beyond.
Staring out at the ocean was one of my guilty pleasures back home. I would take the train out to Montauk, to the very tip of Long Island, so I could feel like I was surrounded on all sides by nothing but water. I never liked the beach—the heat, the people, the sand, any of it—but I loved the sea with a passion deeper than its darkest depths. It was open and endless and lacking any of the weight of the city. My mind was always quieter around large bodies of water.
Turning away from the shoreline and the oppressive fog, I surveyed the rest of the castle. Servants rushed around the main courtyard below, the females clad in plain gray dresses and males in matching long-sleeved tunics, their arms full of trays and linens. Courtiers dressed in fine sleeveless tunics and dresses that showed off the tattoos everyone seemed to have lingered around the fountains, engaging in private conversations away from the servants.
Neither sun was anywhere near its peak, so the diamonds only twinkled faintly, though in a few hours I knew they would become hazardous to the eyes.
Beyond the courtyard, the pseudo-rose garden stretched out for at least a couple acres to the right of a cobblestone path. Past that, tiny cottages with thatched roofs were sprinkled throughout the copse of oak trees.
To the left of the road, a grandiose coliseum sank deep into the ground with the entrance just outside the palace. Rows and rows of seats descended into the earth, and the pit at the bottom was littered with boulders and small blast craters.
And surrounding all of it—the palace, the garden, the arena—was a massive outer wall stretching over twenty feet high. The only break in the defensive structure was the imposing front gate where the cobblestone road led away from the castle, twisting and winding until it reached a sparkling walled city that spilled down the side of the hill like a jar of glitter tipped on its side.
There appeared to be even more buildings beyond the far side of the town, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I would have plenty of time to explore later. I had no intention of sitting around for twenty-eight days trying not to worry about Jenn.
My heart ached as I was reminded of what she must be going through. God, she probably thought I was dead. The thought gutted me. If our roles had been reversed and she was the one who disappeared, I didn't think I could survive it.
Jenn was strong though, and she had friends she could lean on. We paid rent two days ago so she’d be fine until I got back, hopefully with a bag of diamonds in tow. Still, twenty-eight days of not seeing her smile, hearing her laugh…
The scuffing sound of boots behind me broke up my pity party.
“I suppose you’re ready to take me to the dungeons?” I said dramatically, sliding off the wall.
Dey’s eyes widened in horrified shock. “Where would you get such an idea?”
“It was a joke,” I replied dismissively, walking past him toward the stairway. “You know, since I’m being held here against my will. Like a prisoner.”
“I know this is difficult for you, Rain, but you are not a prisoner. And I can assure you that we would never put you in the dungeons.”
“Right. Because I’m a princess.”
Dey followed me down the twisting staircase. “I actually came to bring you to the library. King Verren has asked that I explain a few things while he meets with his advisors. He will join us there shortly to answer all your questions.”
“All?” I asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
“Well, as many as he has time for. We are honestly not trying to withhold anything from you. I promise.”
I wanted to believe him, but the way they parceled out information like I was a dog getting treats made me a tad distrustful.
Damp, musty air clung to my skin as we descended into a darker part of the castle. Halfway down a dimly lit hallway, we came to a small, unceremonious wooden door.
Despite it looking considerably less opulent than the rest of the castle, I still expected the library to be an expansive room filled with numerous shelves of books. Instead, the space was actually similar to my father’s personal dining hall—warm and cozy with a hearth off to the left. The only difference was that luscious rugs covered most of the wood flooring here.
What surprised me the most, though, was the lack of actual books. I figured a palace this size would have a library with tens of thousands, yet the few shelves on the right wall held a couple hundred at most. The rest of the room was filled with small tables, upholstered chairs and a desk in the back buried under a mountain of scrolls.
I moved further into the room, and another ceiling mural unfurled above my head, this one composed of interconnected scenes that appeared to tell an overarching story.
“This is what King Verren wanted you to see before he spoke with you,” Dey said as he moved up beside me. “He thought it might make your conversation a bit easier.”
“How?” I asked, studying the mural. “I don’t know what it means.”
“I can help with that,” a voice chimed in as a door at the back of the library opened. The male looked to be about my father’s age with extra gray peppered throughout his short and neat wavy brown hair. He crossed over to the desk, his brown robes making a slight swishing noise as he moved.
“You speak English.” My mood perked up at having someone new who could understand me.
“Of course I do, Raynella,” he replied cheerily. “Who do you think taught everyone else?”
“Oh, so you’re the scholar. The one who can impart knowledge.” His robe fit what I’d envisioned in my mind, but that was about it. For some reason I had pictured a Gandalf-looking guy with a white beard down to his waist who leaned on a twisted staff clutched in gnarled and shaky hands. This guy looked more like my high school algebra teacher.
He sketched a little bow and said, “My name is Corym, Princess, and I am at your service.” He walked over to a group of three chairs and gestured for us to join him. “Now, would you like to know what the mural is depicting?”
At last, someone eager to answer questions. “Absolutely,” I replied. “Dey said it was going to explain some things.”
“I imagine it will, yes.” Leaning back in the chair, Corym rested his head on a small pillow attached to the seatback that supported his neck as he gazed at the ceiling. “This is the origin story of Vitaea.”
I took in the first image depicting islands with glittering orbs underneath. Above the planet, three humanoid beings were encased in a glowing nimbus of bright yellow light. I found myself sinking into the chair, a feeling of relaxation settling into me as Corym’s melodic voice washed over me.
“In the beginning, the Gods created many worlds and bestowed upon these worlds a source of power that granted the inhabitants unique abilities. In creating Vitaea, they gifted our planet with healing so we could live long lives in a peaceful paradise. Each island was given its own Source, buried deep underground with hundreds of ley lines distributing the power throughout the land so all could bathe in the gift of the Gods.
And for a time, there was harmony in all of Vitaea.
Then the World Walkers came. Fleeing their own dying planet, three of these Walkers escaped to our island of Rivella through a rift, each bringing with them their retinue of non- magical slaves they had stolen from other worlds over the years. Their humans.
The Walkers sensed the pure strength of the Rivellan Source and knew that it could hold so much more power than this planet was born with. Each Walker ripped a hole into an uninhabited world and funneled the magic from that planet's Source directly into the Rivellan one, flooding our world with new abilities. The first to a world of elemental magic. The second to a world of mind magic. And the third to a world of creation magic.
Believing they had now created a perfect existence, the Walkers built a black stone palace over the Source and sent their humans to live among the Rivellans to tell them of all the Walkers had done for this world.
There was no peace in Rivella, however, because the creation magic began to overload the ley lines. It filled our people with power we could not control, many being driven mad or harming others with their unbridled abilities. Our populus began aging faster, unable to heal the damage from this raw new magic. Many attempted to flee to other islands, but the Walkers created a thick mist to encircle Rivella and filled the waters with terrifying sea creatures to prevent them from abandoning their utopia.
As the Rivellans began to slowly die off, the magicless humans thrived, their children unaffected. Rivellans feared that soon the humans would overpower them by sheer numbers alone. So a king from the Diamond Court traveled to this Onyx Palace to beg the Walkers to close the rifts and save his people.
Two of the Walkers were offended that their gift was being shunned and refused to address the king's demands. They believed, given enough time, Rivellans would adapt and grow to handle the power.
The king did not believe they would survive long enough to evolve, so he turned to the third Walker, the one who had opened the creation rift. This Walker actually sympathized with the king, believing no one should have to watch those they care for suffer. So he offered a solution: He was unable to close the rifts as they had grown permanent from remaining open for so long, but he could condense the hundreds of small ley lines into three central lines that would connect to each of the three Rivellan courts. A cascade of power would emanate directly from their palaces, the strength of the magic fading the further away one got, allowing weaker Rivellans a safe place to live.
The solution was only meant to be temporary, as he believed the Rivellans should all have their full magic again once they adapted. He told the king that one day a powerful Rivellan would be born, one that was strong enough to hold all four types of magic within them. And when that happened, they would be able to separate the ley lines and restore the power of the Source to all.
And so the Walker created a terrible forest around the Onyx Palace, filling it with vicious creatures to protect the Source until such a time as the child was born. He told the other Walkers of his plan and begged them to leave the castle, to protect his slaves and watch over Rivella. Once alone, the remaining Walker merged the ley lines and allowed himself to slip into a death-like sleep so he could hold tightly to the condensed power for as long as needed.
It is rumored he still slumbers deep within the Onyx Palace, waiting for the chosen one to restore the ley lines and release him from his prison.”
I sat quietly, taking in the final image above me of a black castle with a figure sleeping below.
“Okay… “ I said, trying to figure out how to respond and landing on what I egotistically considered to be the most important thing. “What exactly does all that have to do with me?”
“Actually,” Corym said, standing and walking over to his desk, “it has everything to do with you. The mural depicts what is believed to be the full story. That we are all forced to wait here until magically a person appears with all four abilities. A somewhat fruitless plan since creation magic has all but died out over the millennia.”
Corym removed a key from around his neck and unlocked a drawer. He pulled out a scroll and handed it to me.
I unrolled it carefully, afraid the aged paper would fall apart in my hands. “I can’t read this,” I said, holding the fragile papyrus gingerly with the tips of my fingers.
“Of course, apologies,” Corym said. “That scroll contains the rest of the story which has been withheld from all of Rivella since the time of the first Diamond King.” He paused, as if letting anticipation build. “Would you like to know what it says?”
I was pretty sure I didn’t.
“Yeah, okay.”
Corym clasped his hands together and settled back against his desk. “The scroll details the rest of what occurred between the Walker and the Diamond King. How they decided that the fate of their magic could not be left to chance. The Walker called upon his most beloved human, a silver-haired female, and placed a dormant kernel of his Walker magic into her blood to be passed through the generations. Within the king, he placed a kernel of his stolen creation magic. He said that one day, when the two came together, the powerful child would be born. Only this descendant of the king and the silver-haired female would be strong enough to stand before the rifts and separate the ley lines, restoring magic throughout Rivella once more.”
Tense silence filled the library after Corym finished speaking and he watched me for any response to his life-altering words.
I wanted to say it wasn’t possible. I wasn’t some chosen savior of a far off land. That was fairy tale garbage. I was just an orphan from Passaic, New Jersey.
But as my hand slid to the top of my head where the silver streaks that I religiously dyed would soon begin showing at my roots, I knew in my gut that I was the one who was wrong.