28. Clara
28
CLARA
H er third eye burned. Bruises peppered her cheeks, and her lip was busted. Her stomach growled from the lack of food from the stress of planning her next moves.
For the first time since she was forced in a prison, she was seeing sunlight through the grand windows, albeit through men with light blue robes, hoods covering their faces. These men were not holy; they did not serve the gods. They served the Pythia: a woman she now knew with certainty was a fake oracle of the gods.
And this fake oracle would subject Drakonis to the worst torture and imprisonment if she won. I will see her upon that wall before him. She was not one for violence, but she would make sure both King Ragnar Nordskov and her godfather rained chaos from the sun and skies.
Drakonis… did he think himself abandoned? He had sent servants to her room before. She had half hoped that after their interlude in the gardens he would attempt to visit her himself. She was certain that the Pythia kept him away with the help of Prince Kazimir.
She was foolish to believe that Kazimir would listen to reason. Her pity when they last spoke fell on nothing but deaf ears and someone with a hopeless future.
The group stopped. Clara rolled her shoulders, muscles popping, clearing her mind. The soft clink of metal clasping her wrists, and attached collar around her neck, echoed as she was forced to stand.
“I have promised the dragon royal family an Heir today,” the Pythia said, hovering nearby. Her dark brows furled, and her pink lips pursed. “You will give them what they ask.”
“I will not give you what you want,” Clara answered.
“Child, you will give me what I demand. If you do not, not even the King of Oceanus will save you,” the Pythia threatened.
“Not only will he save me, but my siblings will also destroy you,” Clara said. The ruins, and glimpse of Drakonis’s fate, had changed her more than she realized. She was no longer afraid of Kazimir, and that bravery extended to the Pythia too.
The Pythia smirked. “Your sister is a broken being, not long for the underworld, your elder brother is nothing but a puppet, and your youngest a fledgling. I have nothing to fear.”
Clara sucked in a breath then spit upon her. The Pythia used a handkerchief to dab the saliva away. Had she had access to her hands she would have received a slap.
She would take any insult, but not her siblings. This wretch knew nothing of her family’s strength.
A hooded figure took hold of her chains. The Pythia raised her hand, half smiling at Clara, then slapped her across the cheek.
As soon as I am released you will pay. Clara thought. For every slap, she would return it threefold.
“Be lucky I had to make you somewhat presentable. Otherwise, I would have whipped you within an inch of your life for your insolence.” Her long bony fingers grabbed Clara by the chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “I demand you thank me for my generosity.”
“I would sooner cast myself into the River Phlegethon.” She had seen Hades’s river of fire and misery. She had walked through it, holding Drakonis. She would gladly do it again. “And while I am there I will watch as the Ferryman takes you into the Underworld’s depth and casts you in the Tartarus.”
“Such disgusting words.” The Pythia’s hand laid on Clara’s crown, her thumb pressing into the iris of the third eye. Clara’s body tensed as the pressure built. She fought the scream. She would not give this monster the satisfaction. “Do not trifle with me young one. I have tried to be kind to you, yet you ignored my messages, and have been silent about your findings. You will give me the Heir.”
“And what will you do when you have found him?”
The Pythia smirked. “He will be my weapon. My island was attacked once, and it will never do so again.”
A swirling fog was caressing her mind. She fought back the images but did not miss the screams. Ghost like blood tears fell from the Pythia’s eyes and a red line along her throat. Clara blinked then smiled. The woman would die a horrible death, and that gave her joy.
Elly, give me strength. Clara thought. Elisora had gone through the worst tortures and lived to find her true love and family. She would do the same. She would make her sister proud.
“You are late.”
The Pythia released her, looking over her shoulder. Kazimir stood with a high collard kymu of deep purple. A golden vest fell over his shoulders, stopping at his thighs, a gleaming silk belt tied around his narrowed waist. No one bowed, and it did not escape Kazimir’s notice.
“My apologies, your highness,” the Pythia said with a mock smile. “It seems you were right about this one causing trouble. She was what I expected. A Katsaros child through and through.”
“I do not know a famous family by that name.” Kazimir, dismissed her comment looking right at Clara. “But I know this one, and somewhat of her sister.”
She felt his eyes raking over her. His skin paled as he looked over her face and the chains that bound her. He stepped closer raising a hand. Clara reflexively flinched. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he caressed the side of her face. The coolness of his fingers felt good against her bruises.
“There are many that have been searching for you.” His voice was unusually tender. She did not see the fear in his eyes from before in his room. Instead, she saw a resolution. A finality. His thumb grazed her lip, and she stepped back. There was only one male that was allowed to touch her in this way, and it was most certainly not Prince Kazimir.
“You could easily have told them where I was your highness,” Clara spat. “After all, you were the one that called these rats to the palace are you not.” His eyes widened at her crass words. There was no more politeness, nor respect. “I asked for your help, and you do the opposite.”
“You know nothing of my plans,” Kazimir said.
“I know you intend to destroy your family through a disgusting purification. It will be a relief when Drakonis stops you.”
“Drakonis?” Kazimir smirked. “He has tamed you well with his poisonous words princess. Maybe you should have chosen your allies better.” His hand left her face. “Release her from her chains.”
“I apologize, your highness, that is not an option,” the Pythia answered. “They are there to bind her magick. We cannot release them until we force the vision.”
“I am puzzled Lady Pythia,” Kazimir said. “First, you come here at my invitation, your retinue blatantly disrespects and undermines me, and then you tell me you must have this one to make me the Heir of Phaedrus.”
Make Kazimir the Heir? It is not someone that is chosen by others, but by Phaedrus himself. Did Kazimir not believe her when she had said as much?
“Are you not one of the gods yourself? The vessel of communication from them? Why must we force Lady Clara to have such a vision?”
Clara wanted to laugh. For once, she and Kazimir were of the same mind.
“The Heir was created by the great Phaedrus himself. He, who is not a god. Phaedrus gave her the original vision, and I have reason to believe this woman has spoken to him.”
Clara’s snorted. Oh yes, she had spoken to him. His disappearance was suspicious, but she had no time to find out what happened. She only wanted to stop his plan and save Drakonis.
“I am aware,” Kazimir said. “This is your final chance, Clara. Join me or meet your fate. What is your answer?”
Like all her answers she gave him silence. Both Kazimir and the Pythia were fools. They thought they could manipulate the Fates? How laughable that they would threaten her after she had already seen their deaths.
“Wench you will speak!”
A hooded man grabbed her by her tangled hair, pulling it as hard as he could. Clara grunted, squeezing her eyes shut. As quick as the pain happened, it disappeared. Kazimir swiped his hand, towards the guard and clean through his neck. His body went limp then collapsed to the ground, his decapitated head rolling towards the wall.
“Your highness, I would ask you do not harm my retinue,” the Pythia said with her arms crossed. There was no empathy in her voice.
“You have no command over me in my domain,” Kazimir answered. “Now release the woman from her chains. My family will not see her like this.”
The Pythia stared him down then nodded. Power rushed through her body once her shackles were gone, and a familiar whisper caressed her mind. She fought her weariness. Had Drakonis been there she would have fallen in his arms, but sadly he was not.
“Come.” Kazimir extended his hand. Clara did not take it. “You dare disobey me too?’
“You have chosen your destiny,” she said. Clara wanted to vomit when she thought of touching the hand that would bring about so many deaths. Before she had pitied him, but now she felt nothing. He was putting his trust in absurd radical beliefs and allying with the worst of living kind.
“I can change my destiny when I wish to.” He grabbed her fingers, tucking them into the crook of his arm. He forced her to fall in step with him as they approached the doors to the Great Hall. Would Drakonis be there? How would he feel if he were to see her on Kazimir’s arm? Her heart ached. He would feel more dreadful than she had when she saw him surrounded by noble women.
I’m sorry my darling, Clara thought.
“Is it not better to be on my arm than in chains?” Kazimir asked.
“You do not wish to know my answer,” Clara answered. Her feet became rooted as the doormen bowed. Kazimir held his hand up, making them pause.
“This is your final chance, Clara. Make me the Heir. Help me create my world and I will set you free. I will give you all that you wish and forgive all the misdeeds you have taken while here.”
“I cannot make you Heir,” Clara said. “I can only reveal that which Phaedrus has decided.”
“Then tell them all that I am the chosen one. If you do that then father will choose me as the Crown Prince, and I can let Drakonis live.” His head was becoming closer, his hot breath fanning her cheek.
If only she could. If only she could make it to where the Heir was but a myth like everyone had told her before. But she could not. Drakonis was already half transformed. Her words would only be confirmation of that which others may have already noticed.
“The gods have made it to where I cannot lie,” Clara said.
“I will give you back over to the Pythia if you do not help me.”
Clara met his eyes. “Drakonis could have helped you find a better destiny.” She started. “He loved you. Very much. And you betrayed him that night when you pushed him over the cliff.” Kazimir tightened his grip on her.
“You are just like the others,” Kazimir replied. “Everyone gushes over my brother, looking over my true power.”
“A silver tongue is what you possess and I a golden one. Do with me what you wish but know that I would give anything to make you the Heir and fight the great evil coming. Then you could rot in the Tartarus once you were destroyed for all your misdeeds.”
“You’re a fool.” Kazimir pushed her behind him. Two hooded men grabbed each arm. “You cannot say I didn’t give you a chance.”
The doors opened, and the emperor and empress sat wide-eyed as Kazimir entered, followed by the Pythia and a wounded Clara.
“Kazimir! What is the meaning of this?” Konstantin stood. Yelena held a hand to her mouth, and another on Konstantin’s.
“I told you father; this one has played us. She has long found the Heir and has kept it a secret.” He looked behind his shoulder, and the hooded men threw her to the ground. Clara caught herself on all fours. She winced as her bruised knees hit the mosaic floor. “I have asked her master to come so that she may reveal all to us.”
“This is dangerous,” Yelena said. “This is not how we are to get answers Kazimir.”
“Mother, this is the way we must get answers from those that are loyal to the gargoyles.”
The Pythia walked behind Clara, raising her head, by pulling her hair back. Clara’s eyes took in the familiar surroundings. She was once here to deliver a message, danced with the man she loved above all else, and now she was here trying to fight against his destiny. She may not live to see the next sunrise, but she would save him somehow.
“Clara. Fulfill your part of this overarching destiny,” the Pythia said. “It is the will of the gods.” In the corner of her eye, she saw movement but could not decipher it. Not as the Pythia touched her forehead, digging through the skin to the iris of her third eye. She pressed, building pressure in her skull. “Show us child. Show us the Heir of Phaedrus. The one that will rise above all warriors to defeat the greatest evil this land has ever seen.”
Clara’s screamed. The floating flames along the domed roof flickered. Tears ran like rivers down her face. Her body glowed as if she was the one of the grand statues at the Ruins. Color drained from the world, becoming the sepia that brought her only nightmares. Ghosts with familiar living faces surrounded her.
In the darkest of days, the Great Triumvirate will bring peace to the continent Ipeiros.
She saw herself speaking. Her words began to fade in and out.
The seed of enemies past will birth an age of darkness that will engulf all life.
Instead of King Nordskov, King Rasmussen, and Prince Drakonis other beings appeared: Gavril, Konstantin, Kazimir, Alastair, and Drakonis. They rose in the air, a wind making their figures look angelic.
Grab your swords, grab your spears
To the land of death we go
To fight for freedom
To fight for glory…
For Phaedrus!
The chant was poison to her ears. She couldn’t do this to Drakonis. But the pressure on her eye was too much to bear. Something snapped in her. An electric current zapped the Pythia, making it so she could not touch her.
From death and destruction will come pieces of the ancient one cut down by Kronos…. pieces will come together giving rebirth to the indestructible
All will be enslaved or perish except the one that cannot die. One infused with the powers of death and life
Her own voice was fading and becoming hoarser. A voice that she even could not recognize. A great wind, like a tornado lifted her. Gavril’s figure melted and became that of a small dragon. With a kid like roar, it flew up into the flames casting sparks in the great room. The emperor, Konstantin, morphed into a headless dragon, turning to an oil. All that remained were Alastair, Kazimir, and Drakonis.
From hellfire we’re born
And through greed we are contained
Hear our voices
Hear our song
Clara grasped her eye. The vision of the undead monster filled her mind. “STOP!” Clara yelled. In the distance, she heard her name. Her heard thudded. Drakaina filled the room. Women warriors with great scaly tales, beautiful naked bosoms covered in gold and jewels, and weapons strapped to their scaled backs. They were the ones who would take away her darling love. Take away his destiny.
They circled around the figure of Alastair. He neither disintegrated nor burned but became covered in similar armor.
Our hero has come
He is our chosen one
Your soul is returned
And has become our salvation
Death will not defeat you
Rebirth will save you
Clara tried to force her arms up, but they dangled at her side. She had to stop the vision. She did not want to give the Pythia or Kazimir what they desired. She didn’t want to destroy Drakonis’s life.
Kazimir’s and Drakonis’s forms floated until they faced each other. The difference was laughable. One a grand warrior who had lived, and fought, during the dark days, only to be spat at by a laughable prince who ran from what the Moirai’s fate.
A snake like figure, the same as her original vision, wrapped around the two princes. The wings were powerful and glittery silver, with light blue runes engraved in its body, its tail wrapped around their ankles looking down at the two princes with is grand scaly head. This was it. This was when it was going to pick its master.
“No…” Clara whispered. “Please…Phaedrus.”
Endless tears stung her cheeks. Strong arms wrapped around her, and warm breath against her neck.
“My Clara…” her spine stiffened. Phaedrus was here. “We must let fate take its course.” He whispered. “We cannot keep him in the dark forever. The world needs him.”
“No…. Don’t.” She projected the image of him pinned to the wall. She had to push off his awakening as long as she could.
“He will awaken no matter if you let this vision happen or not.” Phaedrus answered.
She heard screams. Chaos was erupting. White flames formed a circle around her. Her heartbeat sped up and sweat covered her body.
Was this civil war already beginning?
“Let him reveal himself when it is safe,” she begged. “I cannot ruin his life.” Something told her she was the key to his awakening. It was the only reason that she would be guided here by Phaedrus and the gods to find him.
“You are doing no such thing.” White strands of his hair fell over her breast as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I have dreamed of you since the dawn of my people’s time. You are my prize. The reward for my success. The sooner we let him take my place the sooner we can be together.”
“I desire none but him,” she said. Clara shook her head, pulling away. One arm wrapped around her waist and the other over her third eye. “I will not do this! I cannot do this!” She screamed. White flames flickered, the wind making her hair whip around her body.
“Just as Drakonis cannot fight his destiny, neither can you. In time, you will understand,” Phaedrus said.
The two figures of Drakonis and Kazimir disappeared. This time she saw only Drakonis. His awakening appeared again, this time in more detail. He was on his knees, holding his chest and roaring. His already pale skin, and black hair, were turning white. Horns as grand as the Gargoyle King protruded from his forehead and large wings sprouted from his back at least ten feet in width. He did not look weak, but like a python ready to strike.
“My pet, when his destiny comes, Drakonis will die. He will become pure hellfire, a weapon for Hades. He will become a power that none in this world can control.”
“He cannot…die.”
“He must.” Phaedrus said. “I will ensure he is not captured, to fulfill your desire. He is already half transformed. If I release his chains, then his change will be seamless. He will become more powerful than any warrior in this realm.”
As if from cue she heard a grand roar. It was one she recognized. Drakonis was here. He was trying to get through Phaedrus’s flames. She had to stop this.
“You no longer rest within him?” Clara asked.
“No.” Phaedrus answered. “I have returned to Hades side. I will come again when it is time to collect you.”
“I will not go with you. I will not desert him.”
Phaedrus smile was sad. She could see the remnants of the man he was rumored to once be. A kind soul who just loved his people. One that started as a gargoyle only desiring freedom without violence.
“You will learn to love me,” he said. With his final words, he faded away, taking the image of the undead Drakonis with him.
She could not stop the vision. The flames began to thin but the image of a dragon wrapped around Kazimir and Drakonis still remained. If she was taken away, the vision would stop. There was only one she knew that would not be harmed by fire. But to call upon him would take her away from Drakonis forever.
Her heart ached.
“I’m sorry,” she said with quivering lips. “I love you more than any other my darling.” Images of his smile and laughter filled her mind. The short courtship where she was only Clara and he only Drakonis. They were memories she would lock in her heart and always remember. It was only a shame she could not tell him as he had told her.
“Lord…Nero,” she whispered.
Once the flames disappeared, she felt another pair of arms wrap around her. “Clara! Clara it’s me. You’ll be alright. You’re safe.”
It was her beloved. But now was not the time. She screamed and pushed away from him.
“LORD NERO!” she bellowed.
“Get her!” the Pythia screamed. “Make her finish the vision!”
She was about to scream his name again. He had said to call him, and he would always answer.
Doubt was erased as red flames shot at the hooded figures approaching Clara. Gasps filled the room as Nero, fully armored and glowing stood behind the Pythia his fist buried in her back.
“If you do not want this woman dead you will step away from my princess.” Nero declared.
The sclera of the Pythia eyes were reddening, purple veins darkening by the second.
“Y-you cannot do this!” she said. She was failing at hiding the fear in her voice.
“And you failed to realize you were torturing the sister of Queen Elisora Nordskov, the greatest, and strongest, monarch next to my king.”
“That bitch is no queen.”
She gasped as Nero squeezed her heart. “I have been itching to burn that temple of yours for a while now. It’s interesting you harbored a dark sorcerer and now you do this.” His red eyes narrowed, his wicked smile growing as he raised another hand, a fireball forming. “Now step away. I make no faux threat.”
One stepped closer to Clara and was cut down by Drakonis’s sword. He stood as a pillar of strength. He was always there for her, but now she could not allow him to be anymore. When it was clear that none other were approaching, Nero removed his fist from her back and threw her across the room like garbage.
“We will have our revenge for this!” one of the hooded men yelled.
“Take it up with King Nordskov. He will be happy to hear about how you tortured his beloved queen’s sister.”
“Tortured!” Drakonis’s eyes widened. He looked at Clara. She could feel his eyes analyzing every broken and bruised part of her. He growled then looked back at Kazimir. “This was part of your plan.”
Kazimir stepped back as Drakonis stepped forward. Clara took his distraction as an opportunity. She jumped from the ground and ran to Nero, grasping the front of his tunic.
“Clara?” Drakonis questioned.
“Please, Lord Nero. Get me out of here.”
“No, Clara!” Drakonis sheathed his sword as he ran towards them. Nero wrapped an arm around his waist and arched his wings, jumping into the air.
“I warned you Drakonis,” Nero said. “She was to be protected. And look at her now.”
Silent tears streamed from her eyes as she held on to him by wrapping her arms around his neck. “Please. Don’t scold him.”
Nero did not acknowledge her. Drakonis said her name again. With a breaking heart she answered his call.
“You were right Drakonis.” She could not look at him as the disgusting words left her lips. “I do not belong here. And a human…could never love a dragon.”
Sensing the moment was right, Nero waved his muscular arm, casting a fan of red flames. In the chaos he finally flew through the window, taking Clara away from not only her enemies, but the greatest love she would ever know.