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Morning was just beginning to arrive at their campsite. Pink and orange streaks filled the sky. The air was heavy with mist. Karnak turned back to his king and gave him a small smile, ignoring the silk scarf in his trembling hands. In the dim morning light, Timosia’s regal figure appeared smaller. Lost, almost.
If Karnak closed his eyes, he could still see every single feature of his king, from the moles on his swarthy skin to the fire that burned in his magenta eyes. He had fallen asleep to his lover’s face countless times. Today would be just like every other night.
“Don’t keep them waiting,” Karnak urged.
Timosia wavered. Although he was king, why did he feel like the most powerless man in the world now? Timosia looked at Karnak, drinking in his purple curls and blue eyes, now black in the dim morning light. Then he looked down at the purple silk, embroidered with intricate wave patterns. He remembered how Karnak had embroidered the scarf by the light of the kingdom’s fires as they fled. When asked about it, Karnak smiled and said that it was meant to be a victory banner.
Yet, why did the victory banner feature only motifs from Karnak’s homeland? Timosia had never asked, too busy convening with his generals and fighting back against his kingdom’s invaders.
Now looking down at the cloth, it was as if Karnak had known his fate long before Timosia did. The waves were joined by sharks. Then freesia flowers. Then seafoam. All of the elements embroidered by Karnak’s hand seemed to laugh at their beholder. This had been no victory banner. Instead, this had been a reminder of home in his final moments.
Timosia’s mouth was dry as he looked down at his consort.
Karnak rested on their bed, feet barely touching the dew-kissed grass.
“Just a little longer,” begged Timosia. “I’m allowed that, aren’t I?”
Karnak gazed back out at the dawning sunlight, his gaze growing distant.
“You can’t lose your generals’ loyalty,” he said softly.
But it still wasn’t a no.
Timosia closed his eyes. Karnak had arrived to his kingdom on a palanquin alongside his sister as twin offerings from their vassal kingdom. The streets had been littered with rose petals. The air smelled of incense. People flocked the streets in their best clothes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the twins. Timosia had never seen his kingdom covered in such beauty.
And yet, the holy twins, bedecked in their homeland’s splendor, shone brighter than any jewel in Timosia’s kingdom. They were alike, yet different. Chloris was trained in dance and music, her voice as bright as the sun. Karnak had been trained with militant priests, quiet yet whose eyes were filled with light when he laughed. One would be sent to the temple. The other would be consort. They would go where their new king bid them without protest.
Defying the kingdom’s expectations, Timosia had chosen Karnak as his beloved consort.
Now, Timosia looked down at his hands in disgust.
“This won’t solve anything,” he hissed.
“But you must keep your crown,” urged Karnak.
Despite his appearance, Karnak was as wise as any of Timosia’s advisors. He whispered in Timosia’s ear long into the night, detailing his studies in military and political history. In the day, he had eventually won the courtiers over with his humor and dry wit.
And yet, when Karnak’s distant cousin descended upon Timosia’ kingdom, all blame fell upon Karnak and his sister. Upon hearing that his sister had been murdered, Karnak had shed his affability and vowed revenge. The same night, he had wept in Timosia’s arms.
“There must be another way,” pleaded Timosia.
Karnak looked at the ground, his feet tracing the dewy grass.
“There is no other way if you wish to live.”
As King Vector’s forces drew closer, not even the palace was considered safe. As their capital burned, Timosia’ court fled. The invading army pursued them relentlessly, bringing destruction wherever they went.
And now there they were. A month into their flight, low on morale and supplies.
“I never wanted our final moments to be like this,” whispered Timosia.
“And I had thought that my final moments would be on my knees, praying to a deaf god,” countered Karnak. “Every moment with you has been stolen from the Fates. They have come to collect their dues.”
Their kingdoms worshipped the same gods, yet had different emphases. Yet these slight differences contributed to the people’s fear of Karnak.
“What’s the use of being king if I still have to answer to the likes of smallminded men?!” snapped Timosia.
Karnak laughed, his laugh dry and humorless.
“A king is only a man that the gods have briefly smiled upon,” he said. “Your people can live without a king, but you cannot live without them. Once they find out that you have red blood and tears, the illusion is broken.”
Timosia looked down at his lover, stunned. Each word felt like a deep stab into his chest. All of his life he had been raised to think that he was holy. And yet, he had bled the same red blood as everyone else.
“I had thought that we could run away to a land across the sea. We could find new names, new lives…,” he said, trailing off.
Karnak shook his head, his smile sad.
“What good is a king in peasant’s clothes? What good is a disgraced consort in heathen lands? We don’t know a thing about merchants’ work or farming.”
The quaint fantasy was torn apart piece by piece in Karnak’s long fingers, as if he was undoing unruly stitches in his embroidery. They knew of war. They knew of hymns and diplomacy. Karnak knew of art and religion. Nothing that would help them survive alone in foreign lands.
Timosia clenched the silk in his hands. It was large enough to cover an entire man. He clenched his teeth. The faces of his generals filled his mind. Their faces were cold, their voices devoid of emotion. So much for being his brothers by blood.
“When did you know?” he asked huskily.
“This was the only way my life could end,” said Karnak, finally looking at the scarf. “Did you not see it in your brothers’ eyes?”
Timosia remained silent. He remembered Vermai and Mevidea’s cold gazes the night they forced him to comply with their demands. Their fellow generals stood behind them, silent as stone.
His kingdom or Karnak. He could not have both.
Timosia took a step forward, the silk stretched out in his hands.
“And you won’t fight against this? What of your revenge for Chloris?” he asked.
Karnak’s brow creased at the mention of his sister.
“My allies have abandoned me. There is nothing I can do,” he uttered, eyes roving over the purple silk. “This is the only way I can see her again.”
Karnak leaned back onto their bed, closing his eyes as if he were about to sleep.
“When you show them my body, promise me that you will not cry,” he instructed.
He raised his head, offering his pale neck to Timosia. He wasn’t even wearing his prized necklace, passed down from his ancestors. The emptiness of Karnak’s skin made Timosia’s chest tighten. He had never taken the necklace off, not even in bed.
“Why aren’t you fighting?” uttered Timosia, his voice thick. “You always said you could have been a general…!”
“I know when I have lost,” replied Karnak simply, his eyes still closed.
Steeling himself, Timosia drew closer, raising the silk to his consort’s neck. If he chose to spare his lover, he would be a king without a kingdom or army. His lands would be separated between his brothers after they tamped down King Vector’s invasion. His achievements would be erased, his name maligned for all of time. And yet, Timosia knew that if he had spared Karnak and abandoned his people, King Vector was assured victory. His brothers were too conniving and cruel to truly lead an army.
Timosia ran his eyes over Karnak’s body. He wore a simple robe of white. Only his wedding band adorned his hand. And yet, he looked as beautiful as the day Timosia had first set his eyes upon him.
“Let me see your eyes, one last time,” he whispered.
Calmly, Karnak looked at Timosia. In his gaze, Timosia saw the calm sea and streets littered with roses. He heard the music of the temple and the cheering of his people. He saw Karnak alighting from his palanquin, dressed in robes of blue and white, a crown of freesia flowers on his head. If he could be reborn and relive those days over and over again, he would.
“I hope we meet again,” choked Timosia.
Karnak placed a hand on Timosia’s cheek. His hand was cold, as if he had already joined the heavens.
“There will be a day where the Fates’ designs are tangled once more. We will meet again then,” he promised.
They held each other’s gaze until Karnak rested his hand. It was then Timosia realized that Karnak’s hand had been shaking. His throat felt as if there was a hand wrapped around it. Tears blurred his vision. Kings must not cry. The blood roared in Timosia’s ears.
He briefly looked out at the sunlight. Out of all the sleepless nights that they had spent together, this was the one night he hoped would never end. Once the sun rose, he would have to leave this tent and face his brothers and army awaiting outside, Karnak’s body in his hands. Despite his prayers, the sunlight continued to crawl into their tent.
“Next time, the world will be kinder to us,” promised Timosia.
He wrapped the scarf around Karnak’s neck and pulled, despite the screaming in his ears.
*
“Damnit, Ryoga. God fucking damnit,” cursed Thomas softly.
Ryoga lay in his arms, his body still warm. His eyes were barely open, slowly losing their light. The remains of their duel remained scattered around them. In the distance, Thomas heard sirens. He couldn’t tell if they were imagined or not.
“So much for your promise,” muttered Ryoga.
Every breath seemed to be a struggle, every word a herculean effort. And yet, Ryoga still had the nerve to joke around. Thomas gritted his teeth.
“Don’t do this to me,” he choked.
“I have every right,” whispered Ryoga.
Thomas bit his lip. He wasn’t wrong. However, he hated whenever Ryoga was right. He briefly ran his hands through Ryoga’s hair. Although he had never done that as Thomas, the action was as familiar as looking in the mirror. As Karnak and Timosia, they had lain like this countless times.
If only they had more time. Instead of fighting, they could have spoken. Surely, they would have reached an understanding. All he wanted was Ryoga in his arms, his heart beating against Thomas’. He wanted this life to work. He truly did.
“You could have won,” insisted Thomas. “Why didn’t you play your trap card?”
Ryoga’s eyes slid over to where the remnants of his final hand lay. His words were slow and measured.
“I wanted more time to knock some sense into you…,” he murmured.
Typical. He had grown too confident, thought he had sunk his teeth too deep into his prey for it to escape. It was too bad that the shark had picked a fight with a lion on land.
“Idiot,” said Thomas.
His voice trembled on the final syllable. A part of him had genuinely hoped that Ryoga would beat him in this duel and save him from this madness. He had never asked to be king, to lead his fellow Barians into war. Thomas had been trying so hard to be good, to do the right thing before Durbe revealed the truth.
Why couldn’t he just live one life in peace instead of being thrusted into others’ wars left and right?
“There won’t be any hell or heaven for us, will there? We’ve interfered with the Fates far too many times…,” murmured Thomas.
He looked up at the sky, as if for an answer. Ryoga let out a dry and raspy laugh.
“Foolish. You’re the King of Hell,” he rasped.
Thomas furiously shook his head, despite knowing the truth. He, Emperor Timosia of the Barian Throne, was Lucifer incarnate. Head ruler of Barian World, where wayward souls were sent after leading a life of sin. Only their god, Don Thousand, outranked him.
“Then why can’t I have you?” choked Thomas.
Ryoga’s body began to glow with a magenta light, his skin turning transparent.
“Take it up with Astral World,” said Ryoga as his body disintegrated.
Fragments of Ryoga were an ethereal light blue. They filled the air, kissing Thomas’ skin with their warmth. Thomas reached out his hands, trying to catch as many fragments of Ryoga as possible. They slipped through his fingers and fluttered into the sky. Briefly, he heard the sound of the ocean and Ryoga’s distant laughter. He balled his hands into fists and howled into the silent skies.
The wheel of fate continued to spin.
*
“To the King’s health,” declared Vermai, raising his goblet towards Timosia.
Mevidea soon raised his glass, green eyes glittering in the fire.
The rest of Timosia’s generals followed suit. Uneasily, Timosia lifted his goblet and took a sip. The arbor wine seemed kissed by the flames of war, smoky and stuck in his throat. He looked at his two brothers. Vermai, with his long silver hair and armor the color of emeralds. Mevidea, with curly pink locks and armor the color of blood. They had been instrumental in maintaining his rule, and yet there was no other moment he wanted them dead than now.
“I will not mince words,” began Vermai, voice cutting through the night air like glass. “After much deliberation, we generals have come to you with an ultimatum.”
Timosia sat up straighter, his skin prickling. The unpleasant wine now tasted like ash in his mouth. He set his goblet down and narrowed his eyes.
“What do you ask of your king?” he asked, emphasizing his title.
He had beaten his two brothers in the ceremonial trials fairly and earned their father’s crown. The final word and decision was always his. Always.
At Timosia’s sharp glare, Vermai briefly looked away. Then, he regained his courage and faced his brother.
“You must choose between saving your country or your consort from across the sea,” declared Vermai.
Timosia bared his teeth, digging his nails into his skin. A king must not lose his temper, especially now, he heard Karnak say.
“And what does that mean?” growled Timosia.
Mevidea now looked at Timosia, his usually sunny features cold.
“We will not march alongside the invader’s kin,” his younger brother said.
Timosia stood up, sloshing the wine in his cup. He stared at the goblet and then dashed it across the room.
“I could have your tongue for that,” he snarled. “Karnak has done more for our kingdom than any of you could possibly know. He has sworn his life to our lands.”
Vermai sneered, blue eyes filled with contempt.
“Then we will not march under your banner. We will march under our own. Kairos!” called Vermai.
His lithe squire hurried out, unfurling a banner of blue and green stags on a black background. Upon seeing the banner, Timosia nearly tossed his dinner plate upon the offending fabric. He looked at his generals for any dissenters, yet was faced with identical icy stares.
“Traitors!” Timosia yelled. “The lot of you!”
Vermai shook his head.
“We only wish to save our kingdom, a vow you yourself once took,” he said.
Timosia growled and stormed away from the dinner table. When he headed towards the tent’s exit, two soldiers barred his way.
“I am your king!” roared Timosia. “Out of the way!”
The soldiers remained still.
“We won’t allow you to leave until we have heard your decision,” said Mevidea.
Timosia looked at the soldiers, whose faces were devoid of expression. His heart pounded in his chest. His breath was caught in his throat. He turned back to face his generals, who remained at the table. Just who were these men? They surely couldn’t be the same people he had laughed and danced with!
“If we live to reclaim our kingdom, I will have ALL of your heads,” vowed Timosia as he stormed back towards his table.
“With what authority and what force if you choose your consort?” countered Mevidea. “There is much hatred for Karnak in our armies. You will have no one left to command if you choose him.”
Timosia’s mouth was dry. He balled the tablecloth in his hands. How could they not see that Karnak’s anguish over their kingdom burning was genuine? Did they not see him fight alongside them on the battlefield? Did they not see him rail against his cousin’s marauding forces, condemning them for their barbaric practices?
“He must be provided for, even in exile,” began Timosia, his voice thick.
Vermai and Mevidea looked at Timosia with stony expressions.
“He must die for us to follow you,” said Mevidea. “We cannot risk having a spy in our king’s ear.”
Mevidea’s words felt like a stab to Timosia’s heart. He had once loved Mevidea, his gentle words and laughter often a balm on weary days. Where had the little boy with the rosy curls and gap-toothed grin gone? When did Mevidea become so cruel and bloodthirsty?
Timosia held his brothers’ gazes for as long as he could. His head ached. Had he been too busy to notice the treachery that had been brewing beneath him? They waited for his answer as a pack of vultures awaited upon the dying breaths of a wounded sheep. The fires illuminated their faces in a grave light, darkening and elongating the shadows around them.
If only Deneb was here. The image of the gray knight filled Timosia’s mind. His heart ached. Upon Chloris’ grisly death, Karnak had forced him to return to his own kingdom for his own safety. Now, Deneb seemed to be the only general with integrity. He would have been able to speak some sense into this room of killers. Even if he didn’t, he would have been able to take a few traitors to the underworld before he himself was subdued.
“Look at yourself…,” choked Timosia. “You are no better than King Vector’s forces.”
The generals’ expressions did not change.
“Succumb to the invaders alongside your lover as a penniless and nameless ghost or reclaim your kingdom alongside your brothers,” said Vermai.
Timosia leaned back in his seat.
“We will be here all day, perhaps even long enough for the Mad King to find us if you force me to negotiate with you in such a manner,” breathed Timosia.
Vermai matched his brother’s posture, silver hair gleaming in the firelight.
“We did not make this decision lightly. We arrived here tonight knowing that we may not leave here alive,” he said gravely.
Timosia bit his tongue. How could he make this choice? It was like being asked to give up his eyes or his ears. Karnak, with his astute mind and gentle caresses. Karnak, with his deep blue eyes and soft laugh. His kingdom, with a million souls and counting, now burning beneath King Vector’s army. The dead laid heavy in his mind, their faces often haunting him at night. He could not reduce his kingdom to a graveyard, its earth salted and its people reduced to bones.Yet, he could not have the blood of an innocent man on his hands…
He looked down at his hands. Then back at his table of traitors.
“The devil take you all,” he hissed.
His beautiful Karnak, dead at his hands. How could he live with himself if he had to do this?
*
Thomas collapsed to his feet, his vision blurring. Blood roared through his ears. He was going to be sick. And yet, he knew it wouldn’t help him. Nothing would, even if he had coughed up his own heart. Above him, Durbe stood, the Barian crest in his hands.
“Your brothers have already been awakened to their true memories. I am sorry if the truth is painful,” murmured Durbe.
Thomas’ mouth felt like it was filled with blood. Yet, when he ran his tongue over his teeth, there was nothing. Ryoga…Did they truly share a life together, thousands of years ago? And that final promise of his…had he actually said that? Admittedly, he had always felt drawn to the prickly duelist, but the possibility of romance between them had always felt like a pipe dream.
“I…is Ryoga a Barian too?” asked Thomas.
Durbe shook his head, his expression pained.
“He, alongside Tsukumo Yuma and Tenjo Kaito, were claimed by Astral World and are now their strongest soldiers in our war.”
Our. Already, Durbe had claimed Thomas as part of his world, even before Thomas had accepted the fact. He looked up at Durbe, his vision spinning. Durbe split into four versions of himself, undulating back and forth. He appeared almost heavenly, with his four sets of eyes and four sets of limbs. A merciless messenger of truth.
“And you want me to lead this…holy war?” coughed Thomas.
Durbe nodded.
“You were our Emperor and we could never take your crown away from you,” he intoned.
His features were grave. Thomas’ throat tightened. Takeittakeittakeittakeittakeitpleasefuckingtakeit, he thought. His mind was sprinting at a breakneck pace. He almost wished he could drill a hole in his head like the Incas did to exorcize evil spirits. Or, in this case, the screaming voices in his head. Michael would have surely approved.
Leadership never came easy to him. At first, life on the stage seemed glamorous until he was thrust into the limelight. Now, the all-consuming need to remain at the top, to be loved, clawed and scratched at every waking moment. He never wanted to be entrusted with the lives of others. He couldn’t even take care of himself, from the endless onslaught of nightmares to the constant urge to run and hide.
Somewhere far, far away, where he could choose a new name and choose a life of his own. A small workshop by the sea, perhaps. Thatched roof, whitewashed walls and a small garden. They were stupid, impossible dreams he knew, but he had always held them within the depths of his heart. As long as he bore his name and this face, he would be known across the globe.
“I have been searching for you for decades…,” said Durbe. “I can see that look in your eyes. You never belonged in the human world, did you? Return home to us.”
Could Durbe read his mind as well? Just what kind of unholy alien was he? No matter where he went, he was unhappy. He was only loved when he wore his mask. He had to make himself palatable. He had to make himself loveable.
Durbe raised his hand and placed it on Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas flinched in response. Durbe’s touch was warm. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone touched him like that. Not even from his brothers.
“There is no need to hide anymore. You have always been our leader, no matter what. You proved your might in our ceremonial battle and we respect your strength,” said Durbe.
“What battle?” uttered Thomas.
“When you ascended to Barian World, there was a tourney. The mightiest would be crowned our leader,” explained Durbe. “You beat Vector and claimed your crown.”
Brief flashes of such a battle filled his mind. Thomas shook his head. It couldn’t be true. He was no fighter. All he wanted was to love and be loved.
“Don’t…,” choked Thomas. “Don’t lie to me.”
Durbe shook his head, his hold steadfast.
“If I ever lie to you, I will cut out my own tongue myself,” he vowed.
Durbe’s words sent a jolt through Thomas’ body. For a moment, he was transported back to the distant, dreamlike kingdom’s throne room. Tapestries lined the walls. Bright morning sunlight shone through the tall windows. He, dressed in ceremonial regalia, a crown of laurels perched over his head. Durbe in armor, kneeled before him. There was steel in his eyes, despite his mild mannered expression.
“If I ever lie to you, I will cut out my own tongue myself.”
The same cadence, the same words. Soon, the memories vanished and Thomas found himself back in his family living room. He looked at Durbe in stunned silence. His body felt frozen in place.
Durbe’s expression remained unchanged. He pulled away and turned towards the door.
“In the end though, the choice is yours. Say my name whenever and I will come to you, I promise,” he said, vanishing through a portal.
Left in silence, Thomas stared at the place where Durbe had vanished. He had spent so long running from the signs and visions, from the ruins to the sigils at the Kamishiro mansion. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life running.
He looked around at the empty living room of the Arclight mansion. There used to be so much laughter and warmth here. And yet he knew that the carefree boy that had once run through these halls was long dead. He had put him into the ground himself.
“Durbe…,” uttered Thomas.
His voice echoed forlornly off the wood panels. Thomas swallowed. He gripped his coat.
“Durbe, I accept,” he declared.
For a moment, he thought he sounded commanding. Kingly, almost. He held his breath, peering into the shadows. For a moment, there was nothing. Perhaps he had hallucinated the encounter then. The past lives, the battles, the beautiful Ryoga who had died at his hands. Without these Barians, he could have just been a normal boy with a highly active imagination.
He remembered sitting with his father by the fireplace, watching as the flames licked at the artificial logs. His hand was warm as he rested it on Thomas’ head.
“If you wish to perform, it will be a long path upwards. Do you think you have the strength to achieve your dreams?” his father asked.
Thomas had answered without hesitation, his eyes burning.
“I’ll do it! I’ll do it all!” he had said.
If only he possessed that level of confidence now.
Thomas shifted. The shadows began to undulate. A familiar silhouette reemerged from the gloom, eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. He reached out his shadowy hand and Thomas grasped it, despite the shaking in his own hands.
*
“Ch…Chloris…?” choked out Karnak.
The court had hastily gathered after the third nightbell. In the distance, smoke drifted into the dark skies. Despite the late hour, everyone was wide awake. Ser Deneb shook his head, his face gray. His hands were balled into fists. Bits of blood stained his cheek and polished armor.
“There was nothing left of her,” whispered Ser Deneb, his voice shaking with anger. “I could only find this.”
Karnak reached his hand out. Timosia noticed that it shook. With both hands, Ser Deneb placed something in Karnak’s hand. When Karnak looked down at the lone gold bead, his face seemed to cave in. So deep was his horror, anger and hatred at that moment that Timosia could barely recognize his beloved. Karnak clamped his fist around the bead, as if he was facing an entire army intent on taking it away from him.
“We came to your kingdom under the banner of peace and fealty, having spent more of our lives living here than in our home country…My sister and I sent aid to the villages ravaged by our bastard cousin…And in return, my sister is dragged from her holy perch and torn apart like carrion?” whispered Karnak.
He whirled back on Timosia, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Never had Timosia seen such rage in his consort’s eyes. His blue eyes blazed with fury, his body shook. Karnak’s muscles rippled as he stood before him.
“What shall you do, my King? How will you avenge my beloved Chloris, who only danced and healed for the gods?” snapped Karnak.
Timosia’s mouth was dry. Never in a thousand years did he think his own people would turn on Karnak or Chloris in such a manner. To do it in such a savage way was something he had thought only the Mad King’s army was capable of.
“Of course there must be a punishment…,” began Timosia.
“Death,” snarled Karnak. “Every participant must be put to death in the same manner that my sister was.”
There was a stir in the throne room. Vermai and Mevidea exchanged looks. Even the guards furrowed their brows. Ser Deneb remained steadfast, his gaze dark.
“Chloris was a princess that my homeland entrusted to you! This breach of trust must be punished!” continued Karnak. “What would you do if your own child, who you entrusted to another, was murdered in such a manner?!”
Karnak’s voice bounced off of the stone walls. Timosia briefly eyed his court. Wariness filled his courtier’s expressions. There, the foreigner rages in all his dangerous fury. Timosia bit his tongue. No matter what he did, they had never fully accepted Karnak and his knight.
“She will not even have a funeral, her spirit forced to wander the earth until her body is whole again…,” added Ser Deneb, voice quivering with rage.
He looked at Timosia and kneeled.
“I agree with my liege Karnak that the punishment must be swift and equal to what befell the young princess.”
“Do not be so hasty to listen to the counsel of two men,” interjected Vermai, his voice like steel.
All attention turned to Timosia’s brother. Vermai’s eyes were cold as he regarded Karnak and Deneb.
“I understand your desire to avenge your princess, but we cannot fall to despotism in these times. Our people’s loyalty and morale is paramount in times of war,” said Vermai.
Timosia glared at his brother. He had always been suspicious of foreigners. No matter if he supped with the knight or battled alongside him, Vermai continued to view Ser Deneb as an interloper.
“Then what do you suppose we do?” growled Timosia.
“I will find the instigators of the mob and have them hung,” replied Vermai.
Deneb and Karnak glared at Vermai.
“That…,” began Karnak.
“Will not be enough!” said Deneb and Karnak.
“Your network of spies have amassed a multitude of enemies. How would we know if you only hung your own enemies?” hissed Deneb.
Vermai remained nonplussed.
“I see our mistrust of one another runs both ways. You could, perhaps, accompany me…”
Immediately, Karnak placed a hand on Deneb’s shoulder. They exchanged a mutual look of understanding. Deneb glared at Vermai. He took a deep breath and composed himself.
“I think we are all rather heated from the night’s event. Shall we return at dawn, when our minds are clearer?” he asked.
Mevidea stopped cleaning his bloody sword. He regarded Deneb with wary eyes.
“I agree,” he added. “A man cannot think clearly right after a battle.”
He dusted himself off.
All eyes turned to Timosia, whose ears were roaring with blood. He could barely see in front of him. Even Karnak, only a few paces from him, was a blurred visage.
“Agreed,” uttered Timosia. “Thank you for your efforts, Ser Deneb, Mevidea and Vermai.”
His brothers curtly nodded and retired to their quarters. After a few moments, Ser Deneb took his leave as well. Timosia turned to Karnak, whose face continued to be incandescent with rage.
“Let us return to our bedchambers,” called Timosia softly.
In silence, they walked through the halls leading to their beds. Once the door closed behind him, Karnak whirled back to Timosia and gave him a baleful look.
“These bastards should be slaughtered!” he snapped. “Why do you defend such animals?!”
“They are my own people!” protested Timosia.
“They are not people!” roared Karnak. “What human being would dare tear open the doors of a temple and slaughter an innocent maiden?!”
Timosia had no answer for that. He tore himself away from Karnak’s gaze. His memories of Chloris were sparse, yet he could imagine her screams as the mob tore her apart. He winced.
“LOOK AT ME!” demanded Karnak. “How dare you listen to your own brothers, who have never loved us, over me or Ser Deneb?! They must have secretly celebrated this!”
“My brothers aren’t monsters!” snapped Timosia.
“Vermai would have killed Deneb if he accompanied him! You know it!”
“Karnak—”
“Chloris was the wittiest, most brilliant and talented woman I had ever known! And those animals—”
“Karnak—”
“How could you just stand there and allow her murderers to get away like that? Are you celebrating as well?!”
“That’s enough, Karnak!” roared Timosia.
Karnak’s eyes widened. The depths of his eyes appeared like baleful pits in the dark night. His lips were stretched into a thin line. Timosia’s stomach twisted. Then, Karnak grabbed his arms, sharp nails digging into his skin. Before Timosia could push him away, Karnak buried his face in Timosia’s chest. A sob escaped his throat.
“We promised each other that we would die together and be buried at sea on the same day,” choked Karnak. “Did you know that she loved nothing more than taking care of our flightless birds?”
Timosia stilled. Then, he hesitantly ran his hand down Karnak’s back. Karnak let out another sob.
“I loved her more than anything. I thought that one day, when she was old, she would have a temple filled with birds. She could do no wrong…”
Timosia leaned his head against his bedpost. His most vivid memory of Chloris was when she had first arrived to his kingdom, all those years ago. He remembered the bright red flowers that adorned her hair, the headdress weighing equal to what must have been the treasury's heaviest crown. Her smile was confident and he remembered being struck by her sharp teeth. She had accepted her position as priestess gracefully, warmly congratulating her brother on his new position as consort.
What did he truly know of her, this innocent maiden who had been sent off to a foreign country to die?
“She will be avenged, she has to be,” hissed Karnak. “Even if it kills me.”
At Karnak’s words, Timosia’s heart twinged. He held Karnak close. Karnak looked up at Timosia, tears glistening on his cheeks.
“It is no longer safe for us though. Ser Deneb must be sent home,” he said softly.
Dismay filled Timosia’s expression. He could always count on Ser Deneb to provide him with an unbiased opinion. The loss of him would mean having to contend with his brothers with only Karnak. But, Timosia was not Ser Deneb’s master. Karnak was, the two having been raised side by side since birth.
“A…are you sure about this?” asked Timosia.
Karnak nodded.
“I cannot have another one of us die,” said Karnak. “At least one of us must live to tell our story.”
“You’ll live,” said Timosia quickly.
Karnak shook his head, giving Timosia a sad smile.
“The most dangerous place is by the side of the king,” he said softly.
He pulled away from Timosia, the same sad smile on his lips.
“I must bid farewell to Ser Deneb now. You should sleep.”
In spite of Karnak’s words, Timosia waited for him until dawn.
*
Thomas stared at the crest on the Kamishiro fountain. A nervous chuckle bubbled up his throat.
“What’s so funny?” snapped Ryoga, rubbing his neck. “Did the jellyfish’s venom get to you or something?”
“N-no…I just…I’ve seen that crest before,” said Thomas, trying to keep his voice light.
Ryoga gazed at the crest indifferently.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…,” echoed Thomas.
Ryoga kept his gaze on Thomas, eyeing his uneasy posture and twitching expression.
“It’s just my family crest. Relax,” said Ryoga. “You’ve probably seen it in one of your fancy genealogy studies or whatever you nobles get up to.”
In the distance, Thomas saw Yuma and Michael approach. He forced a mask of calm over his face, swallowing the fear that was slowly constricting his throat.
“Haha, probably. We could be related,” said Thomas, injecting false joviality into his voice.
That was the crest he had seen in his memories as the king of a distant country. It had belonged to the one he had loved, yet was powerless to save. He would recognize that crest anywhere, so frequently was it embroidered on the scarf he had used to strangle his beloved.
“IV! Shark! You did amazing!” shouted Yuma.
“Thomas! Flawless job!” called Michael.
Thomas gave the two a grin and thumbed towards Ryoga.
“It was really generous of Ryoga to allow me the opportunity to show off,” chuckled Thomas.
“Shut up…,” muttered Ryoga.
Thomas playfully elbowed his rival.
“Truth hurts.”
He should hear himself.
“Anyways, you should get some rest,” said Thomas.
He glanced at the mansion behind them.
“Why you don’t live here beats me. The beds are probably nicer than anything you’ve got,” he added.
Ryoga shrugged off his comment.
“You should get some sleep too. It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Thomas’ smile faltered. He held Ryoga’s gaze. Yuma and Michael continued walking away, blithely chatting about school. A twinge of envy filled Thomas’ chest. Ryoga’s expression hardened and he followed Thomas’ glance.
“Spit it out,” he hissed.
Thomas turned to Ryoga and his mask fell. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who immediately saw through his pretenses.
“You’re gonna think I’m crazier than I already am,” he said.
“You’re the craziest guy I know, so there’s no competition there,” retorted Ryoga.
“Thanks,” grunted Thomas.
He took a step back and bent his knees, just in case Ryoga would attack him for his next words.
“I’m starting to believe the visions in those ruins were real. Your family’s crest belonged to someone in those visions…,” began Thomas. “It was…someone dear to the king.”
Ryoga’s expression remained unchanging. He looked away from Thomas and towards the fountain.
“I know,” said Ryoga softly.
Thomas jumped.
“You do?!” he exclaimed.
Ryoga shifted his jaw. He gritted his teeth and glared at Thomas.
“Whatever happened between them is the past. They’re dead,” he snarled.
The gentle touch of a warm hand. Lips coated in plum juice. Music played by deft fingers. Running his hands through purple, silky locks. It felt so real. And yet…
Thomas gazed at Ryoga in slack-jawed shock.
“You’re not the only one who gets weird visions,” said Ryoga in a softer tone. “But you can’t let them control you.”
Thomas’ mouth was dry. Did Ryoga not hear the pounding in his heart? Did he never, ever think about after, once all this Barian nonsense was finished with? After all this, they could finally find themselves and each other? Even if he didn’t love Thomas, did Ryoga ever think of him?
“But still…,” breathed Thomas. “Aren’t I someone in your future?”
Ryoga blinked. He looked at Thomas, his expression unreadable. Unease filled Thomas’ chest. He couldn’t help but think of the face Karnak had given him the moment before his death.
“I don’t think so,” said Ryoga.
He may as well have killed Thomas then and there.
*
The kingdom was alight with color, flowers decorating the streets and stores. Timosia could see the Poseidon procession from the palace, where he awaited the blessed twins. On the dais beside him, Mevidea’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. He had just polished his favorite red armor and it almost blinded Timosia with its brilliance. The entire court was out on the palace veranda, awaiting the arrival of the twins. Timosia surreptitiously glanced at his reflection on the marble floor.
He didn’t look too sleep-deprived, thank goodness.
“Look at that! I can hear the music even from here!” exclaimed Mevidea.
“Now, now…,” chided Vermai. “We must not get too excited…”
Mevidea stuck his tongue out at his older brother.
“I hear Princess Chloris has eyes the color of a blazing sunset and can dance as if she was underwater,” he said.
“Her ability with poetry is impressive,” added Vermai, a small smile on his lips. “But what piques my interest the most is her knowledge of navigating by the stars.”
“I think both twins are impressive,” added Timosia. “Prince Karnak is said to have never been beaten in battle with his spear.”
“Would anyone dare fell a prince?” asked Vermai, a glint in his eye.
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” asked Timosia as the trumpets heralding the procession’s arrival sounded off.
“Presenting the blessed twins of Poseidon!” declared the crier.
They were greeted by a bevy of musicians and dancers, all dressed in shades of silver and gold. The smell of incense filled the veranda. The flurry of color and sound filled the air, infecting Timosia with its joviality. Rose petals were thrown into the air. Fire eaters caroused around, delighting the courtiers. Horses pranced about, galloping in time to the music.
Treasures from Poseidon were paraded about, from a roasted goat-fish to a platter of exotic fruits. Chests laden with jewels soon followed, the kingdom of Poseidon vowing their fealty for another reign. Timosia’s head began to hurt at the brilliant scene, wishing that he had been able to find more sleep last night.
The dancers circled about, waving their feathered fans in the air. A fire eater appeared in their midst, blowing out a plume of fearsome flames. Mevidea clapped in delight. Timosia hid his wince behind a grin.
“Ah! The twins! I see them!” said Mevidea, pointing in the distance.
The covered palanquins were carried in by four men each, led by a knight dressed in brilliant silver armor. Gold and pearls decorated the palanquins, the white silk on them rippling in the summer breeze. Timosia forced himself to focus on the rippling silk, drowning out the rest of the performances. By the end of today, he would be a married man. The thought of it was almost too fantastical to believe.
When the palanquins finally arrived, the knight approached Timosia and his brothers and bowed.
“My name is Ser Deneb, a Sworn Knight of the Poseidon lands. It is my duty to protect your chosen consort with my life,” declared the knight.
“Hail, Ser Deneb,” said Timosia, rising.
He approached the palanquins, his eyes running over them. One was adorned with red flowers. The other with blue.
“The most dearest treasures of Poseidon stand before me,” declared Timosia. “May you prosper and bless our lands.”
He had recited the ceremonial declaration all night. His voice rang across the courtyard.
“Please, take your time in deciding,” said Ser Deneb.
Timosia lifted the curtain to the palanquin with the red flowers. A pair of equally blazing eyes met his. Princess Chloris gave him a winning smile, dressed in a heavy crown of red flowers. She wore a gown of blue and white silk, a necklace of gold around her neck. Strands of pearls were draped across her body. She offered him her hand.
“Your highness,” she said, bowing her head.
“Princess Chloris,” said Timosia.
He took her hand and led her into the sunlight. A hush fell over the court as they beheld the beauty. Chloris glanced over Timosia’s court and the gardens with bright eyes.
“The stories do your kingdom no justice,” she said, stepping into the center of court.
Before Vermai and Mevidea, she curtsied, her gold anklet catching a ray of sunlight. It seemed with each move she made, the sound of tinkling bells followed. Timosia snuck a glance at his brothers. Even they seemed mildly impressed by the princess’ appearance.
“Please allow me to present to you the sacred dance of the αρνάκι priestesses as gratitude,” said Princess Chloris.
“By all means,” said Timosia, sweeping his arm across the courtyard.
The music began, a collection of reeds, chimes and drums. Chloris gave him a smile that made his chest tight. She seemed to make everyone feel seen with her smile, as if they were the only ones in the world.
A rehearsed performer, he noted. As the music began, Chloris closed her eyes and gracefully lifted her arms. She evoked the image of a swaying willow. Every step was perfectly in time, each move imitating an object in nature.
Timosia was never one for dances. His eyes kept on wandering towards the closed palanquin with the blue flowers. What would Prince Karnak offer? A poetry recital? A song?
He looked back to the court that was clearly entranced by the princess’ dance. Her anklets jingled with every fluid step. Even Vermai seemed captivated by her dance. And yet…
Timosia snuck back towards the closed-off palanquin. He brushed the side with his leg.
“Are you much of a dancer, I wonder?” he asked softly to the silk curtains.
Beside him, the curtain shifted.
“I have been compared to a capricorn,” came his reply.
Timosia let out an unexpected snort. The voice was rougher than he had expected.
“That makes the two of us,” he said. “Then what will you show my court?”
“You’ll just have to wait until my sister finishes her dance,” replied Prince Karnak.
“How long is her dance?”
“Not too long.”
In silence, they waited for Chloris to finish. When she did, a silence filled the courtyard. Then, thunderous applause. Chloris met the court with a bright smile, sharp white teeth glistening in the sun. She took a bow and was ushered towards her seat of honor. Glances lingered upon her as Ser Deneb cleared his throat.
“And now, I present Prince Karnak,” he said.
Before Timosia could lift the curtains, a porcelain hand parted them. Karnak stepped out into the sunlight, blue eyes holding Timosia’s gaze. Immediately, it felt as if time had stopped. Timosia’s heart beat loudly in his chest and his breath felt shallow. A similar crown of flowers adorned Karnak’s head. He wore a tunic of dark blue and white with an eyecatching gold chain. Around his wrists were strings of pearls. Then, he bowed. He offered Timosia his hand.
Slowly, Timosia took it. It was warm to the touch. As if he was floating on air, he led Timosia to the center of the court, where he bowed before Timosia’s brothers. Then, he turned back to Timosia and gave him another bow.
“I have heard various tales about your prowess in battle, King Timosia. May you do me the honor of a duel?” he asked.
Over the shocked gasps of the court, Timosia smiled. In the background, Princess Chloris stifled a laugh. Karnak looked at his sister and mock-frowned at her. The court held its breath, awaiting their king’s decision.
“It would be an honor,” said Timosia.
Karnak grinned.
“You may choose our weapons,” he said.
“Very well. The spear!” declared Timosia.
Karnak’s eyes filled with surprise and then delight.
“A true challenge then!” remarked Karnak.
“A man of honor does not defang his opponent out of fear of losing,” said Timosia, beckoning his servants to deliver their weapons.
Karnak bowed to him, a smile on his lips.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered under his breath.
Warmth filled Timosia’s chest. He knew who he was going to choose.
*
“Kamishiro Ryoga-kun?” asked IV.
Ryoga immediately jumped up. No way. IV, THE IV, was talking to him?! He awkwardly pointed to himself.
“Me?” he asked.
Surely, there must have been a mistake. And yet, IV was approaching him with a smile that could rival that of the sun’s.
“Yes, you! I’ve been dying to learn about you!” said IV.
He took a seat next to Ryoga, much to the envy of other duelists. He smelled like expensive cologne, like the kind Ryoga’s father sometimes wore. His clothes were excellently tailored. They must have been made just for him. When would Ryoga be able to have such luxuries?
His stomach did a small flip as IV looked around at the breakroom. He nodded in approval and then turned back to Ryoga.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” asked IV.
“Y-yeah. Y-you?” asked Ryoga.
IV beamed.
“I am! It’s always nice to be back in Japan to duel,” said IV. “That reminds me! Ryoga-kun, have you ever seen the Oceanographic Museum in Monaco?”
As if! Ryoga and his sister never had time to travel, ever since their parents died. Ryoga gave IV a nervous, lopsided smile.
“No…But it sounds interesting,” he said.
“It’s truly splendid! One day, when you become a more famous duelist, you should definitely go! The Europe Grand Prix is sometimes held there. The aquarium has sharks, a whole lot of them!” recounted IV.
Ryoga scratched the back of his head, his cheeks heated. When would he ever have enough time or money or fame to travel? It felt like he was at the bottom of a looming mountain. Sure, he was well known enough in Japan but…
Before anything though, he had to save his sister. The memory of Rio in her hospital bed made Ryoga’s brows furrow.
“Yeah…I’d love to,” he said slowly.
“Maybe one day I’ll see you there! I’m sure you could teach me all about marine life!” added IV.
“M-me?!” choked Ryoga.
IV nodded.
“Why not? They’re starting to call you ‘The Prince of the Ocean,’ you know!”
Ryoga shook his head at the ridiculous title. He wasn’t the prince of anything. He was just a kid who needed to save his sister. Maybe, one day, he’d catch the bastard that had set her on fire. He looked down at his scuffed shoes. IV’s shoes were so shiny. One day, he’ll have shiny shoes and tailored clothes and then he’ll show those bastards all.
“Ha…It’s a bit silly, isn’t it?” scoffed Ryoga. “I don’t look like a prince, nor do I act like one. I’m more like a lone shark.”
IV looked at Ryoga, putting two fingers beneath his chin. His gaze burned Ryoga’s cheeks. What did he see in him? Probably his chipped nails and dark eyebags. Hair he hastily brushed out in the morning. Clothes he had purchased off the rack on sale.
“I don’t know…I think you have potential,” said IV softly.
Ryoga’s heart skipped a beat.
“You do?” he asked.
IV smiled.
“Honest. I do.”
Ryoga looked down at his feet again, his vision swimming. IV was probably just being nice. He was always so kind to every single one of his opponents. And yet, it sounded like IV had truly meant it.
“Th…thanks,” mumbled Ryoga.
IV’s d-gazer let out a chime. He jumped up, flustered.
“Ah! Sorry! I forgot something I had to do. My brother’s gonna give me an earful…,” chuckled IV. “See you around!”
IV quickly got up, walking out of the room. Ryoga watched until the door closed behind him. He turned to where IV once sat and paused upon seeing his deck, perched on a potted plant. Ryoga stilled.
“IV…You…”
He thought of Rio in her hospital bed, her entire body covered in bandages. He remembered receiving the call and the deafening sirens. He looked down at his hand, where her two rings were worn. They were all they had in this world. He had to win this tournament. He looked around at the now empty breakroom, the next duel already announced. Ryoga’s throat tightened.
As if moved by an invisible hand, the deck spilled across the floor.
