Chapter 55 Sariel
SARIEL
S ariel sat beside a burning fire, its warmth his only comfort.
Redemption and Atonement lay nearby, salvaged from the capital’s collapse.
His siblings surrounded him, their harsh faces lit by the fire’s orange glow.
They gathered a third of the way up the mountain path, off a little diversion that ended with a ledge, a lonely red oak, and a majestic view of Racliffe burning in the distance.
“It is not a question of forgiveness,” Aylah said, arguing with the others. She looked radiant in her golden armor, fine plate worthy of the woman who had given herself the moniker Crownbreaker. “It is a matter of assurance. I thought we were already in agreement.”
The rest kept silent, each hesitant to meet their sister’s iron gaze.
Faron stood behind Sariel with his arms crossed, guarding him, as if there were any chance of Sariel fleeing with his wrists and ankles bound in steel.
Stars above, he could barely breathe after the beating Faron had administered.
Eist paced nearby, their flowing gold robes fluttering in the faint midnight wind.
Calluna huddled against the red oak, curled up in a ball with her knees to her chest and her hair hiding her face.
As for Eder, he lay on a pile of blankets on the opposite side of the fire, having said little beyond incoherent mumbles since he and Sariel were both smuggled out of the Tower Majestic amid the chaos.
“And what is it you have agreed upon?” Sariel asked amid their awkward silence. “Is destroying my kingdom and burning my capital not enough?”
“You speak as if we took joy in the devastation,” Eist said. They gestured to the burning in the distance. “To imply it was our intention is an insult, dear brother.”
“Forgive me. I’m sure you marched upon Racliffe with only kindness in your hearts.”
Aylah reached down to grab Sariel by the jaw, her blazing eyes alight with radiance.
“And you insult us with your willful blindness,” she said. “All of us united against you, and not once did you consider you might be in the wrong? Stars above, how could you live with yourself, knowing the state you left Eder in?”
Sariel tried to meet her gaze, but she wielded the one weapon that could pierce the armor about his mind.
What he had forced upon Eder had been cruel, but it was also necessary.
That was what he had told himself. No matter his promises, Eder would not have stayed hidden during the purging of the sinful and the enforcement of the cleansing laws across Kaus.
Eder would have returned, the vanished regent now a savior.
War would have followed, and the Anaon Kingdom would have been fractured for an untold number of years until Sariel succeeded. If he succeeded.
“I did what needed to be done,” he said, his bluster robbed by his inability to match her gaze.
“As must we,” she said, and let him go.
More silence. It was common among them, for they knew one another so well.
They could sense one another’s emotions and read one another’s faces as clearly as one observed words written on a page.
Radiance crackled among them, further heightening that communal sharing.
The anger and ire among his siblings further worried Sariel.
He knew they disagreed with his kingdom, but to feel it so vehemently…
“A blood oath,” Calluna said from underneath the tree. She peered at them from above her crossed arms. “We cannot endure a war like this again. Make him swear it in his flesh.”
Sariel looked to his family, realizing what they desired. It was something often discussed but never tried. Were they truly so desperate?
“A blood oath,” he echoed. “Surely you jest?”
“Would you rather we inflict the same cruelty upon you as you did Eder?” Aylah asked. “Perhaps three decades rotting in a gibbet above a cliff, to be eaten daily by crows? You should consider this a blessing that we seek not to punish but instead ensure a better future.”
“And what would you have me swear?” he asked.
“To never again rule a kingdom,” Eist said, still staring at the capital. “No crowns. No thrones. We are not meant to rule.”
“We are the only ones deserving to rule,” Sariel snapped, already tired of this argument. “How can any of you not see that?”
“Because we see the death it has caused,” Faron said. “And we see the schism it built between us. That cannot repeat itself, either. We are family . We must remain family.”
Of course softhearted Faron would believe thus. He was content to battle in the humans’ wars for the pleasure of it, but thrones were ever tedious and unwanted by him.
“One more vow,” Eist continued. They finally turned, their beautiful face hardened with resolve. “Radiance must never be given to humanity. It is meant for us, and us alone.”
“And so the contradiction remains,” Sariel said. “We coddle humanity, claiming them capable of ruling themselves, but we also fear them and deny them knowledge of our radiance. Neither a yoke, nor enlightenment. It is a joke I have no heart to tell.”
“Is that why you taught them how to wield radiance?” Aylah asked. “You think them better than they truly are?”
“I taught them how to wield radiance as a reward for their willingness to turn against their own broken souls and accept my better way. It is earned trust, akin to a parent toward their child.”
“Such pride you still exhibit,” Eist said. They approached, their head tilted slightly as if they found Sariel terribly amusing. “Despite everything, you are not broken. Commendable, if it were not born of foolishness.”
They knelt before him, so close Sariel could smell the lavender bathed into their robes.
Their voice deepened, and Sariel was suddenly held prisoner to their speech.
Eist was the strongest of them all when it came to lacing their words with radiance, granting them a power that shook even the others’ resolve.
“Your kingdom was in shambles before any of us took up the sword and staff,” they said.
“Your people loathed your reign. You fostered no love. You built no loyalty. The sins you thought to deny continued all the same, for fear is no way to change a heart. You are a failure , Sariel. All you accomplished amounts to naught but ash and shadows. Humanity has not been elevated, and even if we immortal had abstained from the inevitable rebellion, someone else would have answered the challenge to shatter your shameful edifice. If you are still blind to this truth, then there was never hope for your success. To be so ignorant is to be a painter who sees but one color and decries as false the existence of all others. I have not dragged you from your Tower Majestic out of spite or hatred, Sariel, but out of pity .”
Sariel’s insides withered. He looked to his siblings, each hailing from a different region of Kaus, guiding the various nations of the island into a unified Rebellion of the Broken.
For them to have built their army so easily, and his every lord and vassal to turn against him at the first opportunity…
But it was more than that. He was not blind to his failure. He read the reports his advisers delivered. The crimes continued. The sins and deviancies did not slow. His iron grip failed to hold a single heart, and high in his tower, he had struggled for answers that never came.
Sariel closed his eyes, and he let it all crumble to dust. His kingdom was in ruins.
His cleansing laws were broken and scattered, as were his dreams. He might hold no faith in humanity, and no regrets for the actions he had taken, but he still held faith in his siblings.
If they were this united against him, then he must have erred somewhere, and badly.
“A blood oath,” he whispered. “So be it. Unbind me, and bring forth the blade.”
Faron was quick to do so, the iron manacles unlocked and discarded.
“You vow nothing we don’t all believe in,” Faron said, pocketing the key. “This is for the best. None of us should rule, and none of us should give humanity a weapon as frightening and powerful as our radiance.”
Sariel accepted the offered dagger, and he turned the soft leather hilt within his fingers. A shadow of his pride returned, and he addressed his siblings before making the cut.
“I will swear these vows, but only under one condition,” he said. “All of you shall swear the same.”
Faron scoffed. “We’re not the ones who built a cruel kingdom.”
“And yet you insist you share in this belief,” Sariel argued.
“You say none of us should rule. No crowns. No thrones. Yet if you believe it so ardently, why am I the only one to suffer this humiliation? Let it not be a curse but a shared promise among equals. Or are your convictions not so commonly shared as you claim?”
“I’ll do it,” Calluna said before the others could argue. She brushed a bit of hair away from her face. “I’ll swear it. I’ve never desired a throne, and humanity is much too fickle and short-lived to be trusted with our gifts.”
“A promise among equals,” Eist said. They exchanged an unspoken glance with Aylah and Faron. “My convictions are neither hypocritical nor cowardly. I will share in this vow.”
The other two nodded in acceptance. That was good enough for Sariel. He settled onto his knees and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. Once ready, he held the dagger over the fire, letting it heat the blade. He repeated the words of the vow, ensuring all others heard and agreed.
“No crowns. No thrones.” He withdrew the blade from the flame. “Radiance shall never be given to humanity.”
Sariel lifted his arm. He didn’t know how, but he saw runes glowing upon his flesh already, awaiting the carving. They only needed his blood drawn, and radiance pulsed into them to make them real.