Arvad walked through the giant walls that towered over the ancient stones. The paintings spoke of some faceless legends. Some had names while some had nameless tales. They came together to show the rich history of the Great House Aeron. The generation of heroes from the past centuries.
However, he did not have time to celebrate his ancestors' glory. The small hands behind his sleeves were tightly clenched while his body trembled from time to time. He had a strong feeling of nausea and an urge to faint.
The horrendous scene of execution had not left his mind. The dangling arm which had no wrist. The dripping blood, which made a small river through the cracks in those stones. The terrifying expression on his father's face while he flew down his throne like a ghost.
Despite that, the memory which throbbed like a parasite in his mind wasn't the rolling head of an evil man, or the burning crimson flame.
Instead, it was the flying token which penetrated every barrier, came this close. Close to….
'Ahhhhhh!'
The helplessness he felt when the token was close to his father's head. The roller coaster of emotions had left him wet in his own sweat. The horrifying possibility burned like oil in his heart.
He remembered the lesson of his teacher. The enemies they faced. Who were as tall as the dragons of legends. The immortals in the fairy tales he had listened to as a child.
'What if… what if that token was not stopped in time?'
He suffered with this question but the answer he waited for never came, like the memories of the mother he never met. Instead, the question got confusing and blurry by every step he took. They felt heavy against the dark stones, as dark as the history of the Siara Continent. Dark as the times House Aeron faced.
For the first time in seven years, he felt the genuine thirst for strength. The will to ascend higher, and face the enemies, shoulder to shoulder with his father.
Taking a few small steps, he walked up to the balcony which had looked at the Aeron city for centuries.
With its grim eyes, it had witnessed the barren land turning into a prosperous city-the great walls stretching for hundreds of kilometers as it expanded-rows upon rows of buildings lining up the ancient street.
The intricate dance of commerce and desire-it had seen it all. Even the invasion, destruction, drought, and storms. The infinite cycle of creation and destruction.
It had accompanied his ancestors on the glorious days, and comforted them on the gloomy ones.
Now, Arvad stood there gazing at the vast expanse of land which ran along the endless horizon. The weight on his small shoulders seemed to have increased by a huge margin.
The boundless suppression almost drowned him into a fit of craziness. However, the words of his father echoed in his mind.
Everything is in a constant sprawl
Of rise and fall
Be it a gentle breeze
Or the mistress moon
Even the tyrannical empires are so
Nothing is eternal
Not even the shining stars
And the all-encompassing blue sky
And the man who must witness it all
Through evil or through blood
Is the Heir to throne of Aeron
"Arvad, remember even the heavens is nothing but a cage, built upon layers and layers of illusion."
Unknowingly, he had started reciting it as a poem. The momentary feeling of suffocation was swept away by the broadness brought along by it.
Now, when he looked at it once again, the city did not seem to sway him. Even its prosperity and long borders could not outrace his thoughts that were millions of miles away. The boundless sky did not seem to be his limit.
Arvad raised his hand, and peeked at the gentle rays of light mischievously peeking through the gaps of his finger, and a confident smile found its way back on his lips.
Strangely, the smile had some sign of similarities with his father's. The same which held disdain for the entire world.
The aged trees along the balcony trembled as if acknowledging their king. As he looked at the bustling city, the scarlet sun above his head made his shadow on the ancient stones, and he appeared robust for a fleeting second.