Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
She raced from her house the night of her parents' funeral.
Her feet were bare, and her eyes wet with tears.
The night was just dark enough for me to easily slide unnoticed into the shadows.
She wouldn't be able to see me unless I wanted her to. I hadn’t seen her since the car accident.
She fascinated me. It started out, first, as pure interest: observing an heir growing up and living in this other realm—still, a royal whom I had been having strange dreams about, even without meeting her.
I needed to know who she was. Her life was so different from any other royal heirs before her.
We were alike in that way. I had been locked up my entire life and never experienced court life, or much of any life for that matter.
She had a life, but she didn't appear to have a soul. Once her parents died, and their soul-shielding had been broken, her melody was set free, and it was the most beautiful melody I had ever heard, which is what made me believe that she was, in fact, the one whom prophecy had foretold. I heard of the prophecy of old through one of Hava’s songs.
I shook my head, not letting emotions gain control over me.
And I remembered:
I didn’t know how to get out of those dungeons.
I knew the tales of the Dungeons of the Mist, a most wretched and horrible place under the twisted mountains of Haleston.
I did not want to become familiar with those dungeons.
I wondered, if Tarick and my father hated me so much, why I had never been sent there.
It was said that the Traitor King Falcon himself had created the Dungeons of the Mist himself.
The traitor lived so long ago which made me wonder if he had ever been real at all–or a made up story to scare children.
Moments were passing, precious moments. If I went up and out through the palace, I was sure to be captured.
I looked at the mirror. The mirror was cracked and warped, and I wondered why it had been hung there, down in the dark of the dungeon’s hallway.
As I focused on my face I held my breath.
I’d never seen myself before so clearly.
I was surprised at my reflection—I looked so much like him, like my father.
As I was taking in my filthy appearance, I heard my name, like an echo, behind me.
I turned around and saw nothing but the stone wall and the small hallway, darkened without a fire to light it.
I took a torch near the passed-out guard, whom I had taken care of a few moments earlier and peered down the small hallway before me. It smelled even more vile.
The dungeon gates opened with the top of them scraping and screeching of metal on stone; an all too familiar sound from above me.
I ducked into the small passageway, holding my breath and dousing the light of the flame.
I walked backward in order to see any oncoming guards or soldiers.
The voice came closer, but I still kept moving, slowly, placing one foot in front of the other until I could no longer hear anyone.
The silence felt fake and manufactured. I covered, then uncovered, my ears, and I couldn't even hear the usual noises echoing.
I was tempted to light the candle in order to figure out where I was, when I started to hear the howling, and that was when I knew, when I understood, that I had just stumbled upon the Dungeons of the Mist.
Blast it all.
I tried to turn around, to walk back—but there were endless corridors and hallways.
The screaming became louder; it was as if hundreds, or even thousands, of people were being tortured.
The air was thick with death, and something else was there that made me want to vomit.
The floor was slippery, at times, and at other moments, it was covered in filth of some sort– Sticks?
But I knew it was not sticks making those sickening snaps beneath my feet as I walked.
It was when I was about to join in with the screaming that she appeared before me.
“Cadian,” she called to me.
I blinked because I wasn’t sure if I was truly seeing someone’s ghost in that hell of a place, or if I was actually seeing a living human being.
All around her, the cave glowed with a green-blue light, her face masked by a cloak.
I kept my focus on her, I didn't want to see what I had been walking through.
“Hello?” I called.
The lady walked closer to me, raising a hand, her long finger pointing at my chest. “The Ancients have need of you, Cadian, son of the Embran king.” Her voice was so melodic and familiar as she spoke, and there was no way it could have been.
I had only been around a handful of people in my entire life—and I was certain that if I had ever met her, I would never have forgotten.
“Need of me? I am a soulless. No Ancient would want to do business with, or bless, me.”
“It is no fault of your own that you do not have your soul. It was taken from you, but you can have it back.”
“What? How shall I have it back?”
“You must listen, Prince. You must listen, and you must remember what I say.”
I turned, trying to make out her face, but I couldn't. It was as if she were trying to keep herself hidden from me. “I will.”
“You have been through much in your life, dearest. We have seen it, and we are not happy about what you have had to suffer, but—even so, you have been formed into who you were always meant to be.”
“What does that mean, exactly? All those beatings? The Ancients let them happen for some reason? That is not the way things should have been.”
A second figure appeared at that moment, a dark cloak also shading his face from view.
“Violence is not the answer. Many fathers have mistreated many sons in similar manners–it is not what the Great Creator ever intended,” the masculine voice said.
“The Ancients are bound in many ways; they follow laws, given by the Creator. A human being’s right to choose what they do, whether that be good or bad, it is not something Ancients can control.
” She paused. “You have two paths before you, Caidian, Prince–two paths, and this choice will be the deciding factor for you.”
“Two paths? I see one, one where I die right here.” I looked around.
She walked closer and placed a hand on my shoulder, her hood still covering her face. The man was silent behind her. There was something electric about her touch; she buzzed, as if every single molecule in my body reacted to her.
I looked up, trying to make out her face, but still, it was hidden in the hood’s shadow. Who is she? I thought.
“Two paths, prince. On one path, you truly become soulless. Take the other, and you find your soul.”
I was listening. I wanted a soul more than anything.
“How do I claim my soul?”
“You have tasks to accomplish. It will be a long and difficult process, but you are a patient one. The inner strength you have is unlike any we have seen before. This is one reason why you have been chosen.” She moved her hand away, and I missed the sensation of her touch instantly.
Who is she? What is she? Before I could ask those questions, I needed to know how to save myself, how to find my soul.
“What do I have to do?”
“You must rid a new realm, called Earth, of the corrupt before the corruptor can steal the powers from their souls.”
“Earth?”
“It is another realm, also made by the Creator, similar to Terra–and some Terrans have made their homes there. Unfortunately, Earth is not familiar with our ways. They have a long way to go before they can be blessed with melodies; however, many Terrans who have gone to live upon this Earth end up corrupting their souls because of the realm's dangerous ways. The ways of Earth are different for those who have soul’s melodies, and although we knew the risk was great—we sent many others there in an attempt to keep them all safe. But many have fallen to the corruptor.”
The things she said confused me. Another realm? Sending people away from Terra? I would do whatever it took to find my soul. I would save who I must and travel any distance, even to another world.
“How will I save them?”
“With this.” She held out a metal chain with a black crystal pendant, dangling from it.
“This is a midnight crystal, and it can only be used by an heir of Terra, which is you.” She was quiet for a moment.
“You are the only one who can complete this task, Heir Prince. We need you. There are other midnight crystals just like this on the Earth, and you must find them so that you can save your people.” She clutched my hands in hers as she placed the crystal inside them.
Her hands were so soft and warm, and as she touched my bare skin, she made my entire body buzz again, and I wanted her to never let go.
“How?” I asked as she moved away from me, the rock cold within my palm. I wanted her to touch me again. The feeling of her skin upon mine was one I had never known before, and I liked it, even craved it; I needed it.
“Find the crystals; find the corrupt of your people, and relieve them of their souls’ melodies. As you do this, you will eventually stumble upon a way back to Terra, and you must return. I am here, ever waiting for your return, prince.”
“I don't understand—I know very little about–everything, anything. You see—I have been kept from even knowing Terra and from its people for most of my life.”
“Terra is crumbling. The ancient heirs are becoming corrupted. In order to stop it, we must defeat the corruptor. It will take many hands to defeat him—including your hands, Prince Cadian.”
I watched as her head dropped to her chest, and then lifted back up, and she peered up into the ceiling. I listened to her intently as her voice changed. So beautiful and captivating was the sound of her voice in song. The words she sang were similar to those I had heard Hava sing:
When souls do wear their open shields,