Chapter 4
Reen Kyong
Ash falls onto my skin as I make my way toward the castle. Nate and Carter stand at their posts, facing forward but nodding their heads as I pass through the black iron gates. Their watchful green and blue eyes monitor my movements until I move beyond them.
Ashen bones litter the stone steps. Some have turned to dust after too many boots have crushed them. Nothing but powder lies beneath me.
Alad complains that someone should tidy it up, but King Ragan never responds. I often catch him mumbling about how much he enjoys leaving the castle grounds and seeing the bones of the enemies who wanted him dead.
We don’t question King Ragan’s motives, yet we wonder whether Walkyer or Emmerton would better suit the crown.
But as I cast my sight on the tower, all hatred for King Ragan fades when I see Mother tending to her plants.
Her earth powers reveal a hint of life in Flesh.
Even knowing they don’t thrive in this kingdom, it’s nice to see some colour before the drab greys, blacks, and charcoals vividly show, drowning us in ashen darkness.
Plagued by nightmare-induced dreams.
When I first entered the Kingdom of Flesh, I thought dragons inhabited the land thousands of years ago.
I thought they scorched the earth until it reached a state where nothing could grow.
A foolish tale I spun upon entering the castle with Mother.
And here I have remained since, only leaving when King Ragan sent me out on orders for me to hunt and kill.
As I enter the foyer, the water fountain against the wall next to the double, L-shaped wrought iron staircase comes into view.
I gaze at my reflection. Sharp, piercing red eyes stare back at me before I turn right, avoiding the stairs and head toward the wide double doors leading to the Throne Room.
The doors look new because they are. A month ago, King Ragan burned the entire Throne Room when a commoner requested a pay raise. The man explained that farmers needed more money to buy fresh grass for their livestock.
Irritated, King Ragan set him on fire and burned the doors with him. Alad made new doors a week ago and usually kept them open to avoid incidents. But someone had closed them now, and this makes me speculate.
A meeting? It’s too soon to entertain his sex workers. Unless he’s unwell and in desperate need of satisfying that urge, in which case, I doubt I could bear entering the Throne Room without the overpowering need to grab his throat and let his skin dissolve between my fingers.
With a deep breath, I push the doors open and enter without care or regard for whether there is an actual meeting or if he’s fucking his dolls.
King Ragan is in his seat and lifts his head.
Those dark, bloodshot eyes burrow into me as I head down the crimson trail rug, ignoring the bodies near the structured pillars lining the throne chair—organs, crisp flesh, and crimson stick to the soles of my shoes with a fleshy sound.
Limbs lay all over the place, telling a story filled with terror from a mind gone mad.
I must have missed one hell of a party.
Walkyer stands near the steps leading to the throne, fists clenched, glaring at his father. Irritation, frustration, and anger are a few of the many emotions painstakingly visible on my younger brother’s face. His hatred for his father knows no bounds, and he struggles to hide it from the world.
Walkyer has icy blue hair braided into a ponytail, while the rest falls over half his face. When those glistening eyes snap at me, I glare at the fierce oceanic blue swirling like a storm inside.
He’s pissed, and I don’t want to get on his bad side, considering he’s stronger than I am from element alone. However, I am better than him in everything else, and that’s no brag. I am better. He and everyone in Flesh know it, and that’s where the hatred stems from.
His lip curls into a sneer. My presence here annoys him. “We’ll finish this discussion later,” Walkyer says through gritted teeth.
I tilt my head and murmur, “Evening, brother,” as Walkyer turns to leave. He doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect him to. I didn’t say it out of kindness. I enjoy teasing him.
Once my younger brother exits the throne room and distances himself from the stench of decaying bodies, King Ragan fixes his gaze on me. “Reen, did you capture the smuggler?”
“Astin has prepared a cell for him.” I glance at the door on the right as it opens. Grimacing, I ignore the women entering and continue. “When did you want me to kill him?”
“Midday Saturday.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on the silk fabric draped over him. “And I’m killing him.” His grin broadens with a sinister edge as he says, “I’ll put on a show for all of Eraminia to see.”
I want to ask him why, but women wrapped in thin, see-through mesh, sparkling lace, and glistening jewels emerge from the right-side door, giggling and animated. They dance suggestively, and every curve moves with conviction as they gaze at the King.
I turn away and leave when a woman sits on his lap.
Once I’m outside, the doors closing behind me, Alad waits at the entryway near the staircase.
Deciding to find out what’s going on, I head toward him when I see Walkyer storming out of the estate through the floor-to-ceiling window.
There’s definite tension on the castle grounds.
Knowing Walkyer, he’ll head to the infamous Crimson Hotel, well known as the “Lovers” Hotel. A hotspot for single elemny to hook up.
Everyone in the Kingdom of Flesh knows Walkyer enjoys visiting the Crimson Hotel.
However, he typically goes out on weekdays until he finds the one.
So far, he has returned empty-handed. I’m not sure why he is so desperate to seek or find love.
It’s a hassle. I’ve seen it. Nothing is new except for the torture, torment, and caring for another life besides your own.
“Prince Reen,” Alad says upon noticing me. “Do you know what transpired between King Ragan and Prince Walkyer?”
“No. Nor do I care.”
Alad grimaces, and the lines on his dark brown skin crinkle as he watches Walkyer leave the castle’s confines in search of what he believes is love.
Uncaring, I head up the staircase toward the castle’s main entrance.
The doors to the entryway open, and the inside glows a vibrant red, revealing a hallway bathed in crimson and gold.
My reflection emerges on every inch of the surface, along the metallic golden walls and the glistening, smooth crimson tiles.
Legend has it that a battle occurred within these halls. Blood of fallen enemies stained the ground so torturously and horrifically that the previous king glossed over the tiles, transforming them into a masterpiece. I would have called it nonsense had I not witnessed the madness of King Ragan.
Over time, kings lose their sanity, and in their wake, they can cause the world to crumble beneath everyone’s feet.
I want to be as far away as possible when that happens.
I head up two more flights of stairs and down a dimly lit hallway drenched in grey shadows from the flickering orange lanterns. Mother’s maid stands outside her door. She claps her hands together and presses her lips inward as she glances at me.
“Let me in,” I demand.
“U-uh… Prince Reen,” she says, her silver eyes avoiding contact with me. It’s uncharacteristic of her, considering air elemny are stern and confident with their words. I’ve seen her bark orders to her underlings without batting an eyelash, but here she is, a blubbering, sweaty fucking mess.
“Is there a reason you’re outside her door instead of being with her…or carrying out her wishes?” My voice grows deeper and more irritated.
“She’s not feeling well and has asked me to prevent anyone from entering today.”
I arch my chin and say venomously, “Lie to me again and I will fucking kill you.”
All colour in her tanned skin fades as it drains away, leaving her as if she’s nothing but a shell filled with fear and undying terror. She’s aware of what I’m capable of. I’m not a Knight of Eraminia for no reason. If I see fit, I can kill her with no one batting an eyelash.
She looks behind me, back the way I came, and considers fleeing. She might cover a mile before I find her, given that she’s an air elemny, but will she take the risk of the chase?
The chase is more terrifying than accepting one’s death. The terror and heightened anxiety from every noise someone makes can push them over the edge, expecting me to be lurking around every corner, waiting to strike.
I lean to the side and block her view of the stairway before I step towards her.
Heat ripples across my hand as the latch of the bolt clicks and the door swings open.
The maid steps aside as Mother peers out.
After noticing me, she opens the door wider.
Shrugging past the maid, I enter. Mother gently closes the door behind me.
“Why are you holed up in your room?” I scan my surroundings. There’s a reason she’s in her room. Not just because it’s the only livable space with a flourishing garden, but it’s the only place King Ragan doesn’t go. By law, he cannot enter my mother’s quarters without an invitation.
I’ve never seen her accept one, nor does he request one. They are strangers living in proximity to each other who share a tether. It shows me that not everyone should be tethered.
“You’re growing colder, Reen,” Mother sighs as she sits in her armchair overlooking the greenery draped over the windowsill and curtains.
I grunt my response as I lean against the door. “Why are you avoiding my question?”
Green eyes flicker towards me, revealing a hint of withdrawal and a near-pleading expression. Yet she’s too proud to ask, so she averts her gaze instead.
My finger taps against my arm at the thought that she isn’t answering and would rather be in a mood.
With that thought, I push off from the door and move further into her room.
Silky silver curtains sway in the ashen breeze.
Vines and potted plants filled with rich, saturated colours bring life to the other side.
I distance myself from anything that my touch might harm.
They will coil and die from the heat radiating off my skin.
Mother sighs as she places her hand on her forehead. “I’m not feeling well today, Reen.”
My eyes narrow.
“Are you analysing me?” she asks. When I don’t reply, she huffs out a breath. “You promised, Reen.”
“I find it difficult not to when you keep spouting bullshit.”
Her narrow, slanted eyes flicker to me with irritation before she closes them and ponders whether she wants to share the truth. It doesn’t matter to me either way. It’s not as if I can do anything, especially if King Ragan bothers her.
Mother leans back in her chair and says, “You should settle down soon, Reen.”
Avoiding and changing the topic I dislike most, hoping to catch me off guard. She doesn’t want me prying into why she wants me to leave her alone today.
I drop my arms to my side. “No.”
“Why not? You cannot stay a knight forever.”
“Very well, let’s play a game then, shall we?” I settle on her bed and glare at her, and she glares back at me. “I’ll answer if you answer one of my questions. The game ends when one of us refuses to answer.”
Mother contemplates, playing with her emerald hair as she stares out at the smoke-filled land of Flesh. A small part of me knows she will accept. I’m aggravating her to the point of stubbornness.
“I’ll go first, then. That’s how the game works. I agree, so I’ll ask first,” she says, surrendering to her emotions.
I incline my head and smirk.
“Why don’t you like my husband?” she says.
“Besides the fact that he tore us from our home when I was two, there’s also the bonus of him—”
“Okay,” Mother says, interrupting me before I can finish my lengthy list of reasons, “it’s your turn.”
“Why didn’t you stop him that day?” I raise my brow and grimace. “Since we’re on this topic, we may as well dig a little deeper instead of picking at the flesh like crows on a carcass.”
“You’re cruel,” she says.
My smirk falters, and I reply, “I never claimed I wasn’t. I’m merely adapting to my surroundings—as you said.”
Mother turns away and snaps, “The game is over. Leave.”
Once again, I’m disappointed with the outcome as I realise the game ended earlier than I had hoped.
I leave her be, heading out of the castle and towards the sea of worthless elemny, yearning for the itch I’ve felt since entering the throne room. I hoped seeing Mother would prevent the frustration, but it seems to have worsened as I seek someone to sink my claws into.