My first few days at the capital is spent hiding inside my chamber. Under Galland's instructions, I cannot leave my room for the news of the zodiac prince reborn made quite a stir in the king's court as well as the Magi Order. Elvira's company helps me overcome boredom with her childish antics and funny rhetoric but even that is not enough to ease my restless mind. Everything feels strange to me. I still can't believe my life has changed overnight. The breach, the night crawlers, the dark king, my new found role as the gatekeeper, I feel choked out in this entangled mess. From the small window in my room, my thoughts wonder into the land beyond the city walls and to my village, my family and my irreconcilable worries of what might have become of them after the breach. I just want everything to go back to normal.
"We've been invited to the throne room to meet the king," says Elvira one morning. She can see the confusion and anxiety written all over my face. "Look, I know this is new to you but you gotta have to start taking it all in, okay? To say that your world is about to change is an understatement," she continues.
"I don't understand, there is nothing special about me, this great power to vanquish evil is just not in my bones, I'm pretty sure of it. How did even Galland know?" I ask.
Elvira looks at me and hold both my hands. She leans forward gracefully, her long, elegant frame bending at the waist as she brings herself closer. Her back arches in a fluid motion, creating a gentle curve that accentuates her height. She smiles warmly, her eyes sparkling with kindness and interest. Her kinky hair fashioned into long dreadlocks, brushes softly against her shoulders, and her voice, though gentle, carries clearly as she speaks. Her tone conveys a genuine desire to understand what I am going through. She makes me feel seen and valued. I can't imagine going through this without her.
"I was with Galland, we were scanning the woods tracking the nightcrawlers for weeks since the breach. We know they were hiding in the woods, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. I have never seen a nightcrawler. I only read about them in books of old. Hell, I was nervous. And then we heard a scream followed by a stream of bright white light exploding in one side of the forest which led us to you. We were afraid we didn't make it in time but when we arrived, the nightcrawlers were gone, all turned into piles of ashes that took their form before they were all wiped out. Though what's left was a faint trace, there's no mistaking what killed the nightcrawlers was a powerful magic, even stronger than the strongest Astron mage both living or dead. And then we saw you suspended in the air as if entranced, or possessed. I saw it with my own eyes, the markings in your arms, ancient runes that spell the symbols of the twelve elemental spirits, and then you fell on the ground, unconscious," she looks into my eyes as if to see if I understood what she had just said. All I can do was shake my head in disbelief. "You are the zodiac prince, a god-incarnate as the prophecy foretold. People have been waiting for you to free them. You hold the power of the stars, the first light of creation itself, you are destined to lead us to the many wars to come."
"But I don't have the markings you spoke about, look…" I rolled my sleeve to show her there's nothing in there.
"You cannot control your magic yet that is why it can only manifest when your life is threatened. You have to train under a master to tame the twelve elemental spirits of the zodiac, once you've tamed them, their markings will appear in your arms symbolizing a blood contract has been established between you and the spirits. Only then will you have the ability to use their powers or to summon their physical form."
"A blood contract?" "Yes, the great spirits only answer to the zodiac prince who has the ability to open the twelve celestial spirit gates."
"This does not make any sense at all, why me? There is nothing special about me."
"You are heavily mistaken, you have the blood of the old king running through your veins, the twelve elemental spirits chose you. You cannot run away from your fate and from the king's summon you silly little boy," she pinches my cheeks playfully.
"The king?"
"Yep, the king himself, king Ragnar the V. Prepare yourself for we head to the throne room with haste, we do not want to make the king wait, don't we?" She snaps her fingers. The door to my room opens, the maids enter bringing clothes and leading me to the washroom to clean my filth. Elvira supervises my bath. She makes sure all the dirt, the dead skin, the nails, the ungroomed hair are removed so when the maids are done and she is satisfied, she signals for them to dress me up with a clothing she deems suitable for a royal audience.
"Look at you young buck, you look like a royalty," she giggles. I look at myself in the mirror. I transform into a totally different person right before my eyes. Gone were the tattered, farm boy clothes, replaced by the splendid attire royalty wears: a deep velvet doublet in rich royal blue, embroidered with intricate gold threads that wove patterns of dragons and lilies. The doublet fit comfortably, the fine fabric feeling almost foreign against my skin. I wear a white silk shirt underneath, its billowy sleeves gather at the cuffs with delicate, jewel-encrusted buttons. Around my waist, a wide belt of supple leather cinches my frame, adorn with an elaborate golden buckle.
The trousers were tailored to perfection, made from the finest black satin, and tuck neatly into knee-high boots of polished black leather. Over my shoulders, a deep crimson cloak line with ermine drapes elegantly.
As I stare my reflection, a whirlwind of emotions surge within me. My mind struggles to reconcile my previous image to the new one. I feel a sense of detachment, as if I was watching someone I do not recognize.
A carriage ferries us to the Burlington castle, the royal residence. It stood majestically against the backdrop of a cerulean sky. The castle's towering walls rise high, the structure exudes an air of impregnable strength. Its massive wooden doors reinforced with iron bands and studded with heavy bolts. Flanking the entrance are two cylindrical guard towers, their narrow arrow slits and crenellated tops providing a vigilant watch over everything that enters.
The castle's façade was adorned with intricate carvings, depicting scenes of heroic battles from the great war of the races in a distant past, mythical creatures, and regal figures, their details softened by centuries of weathering. A grand courtyard lay beyond the gates, surrounded by the main wings. Each wing showcases the distinctive architectural styles of different periods, from the austere, fortress-like keep with its rugged stonework to the more refined, gothic elements of pointed arches and flying buttresses that supported the chapel.
Topping the structure, high-pitched roofs of slate or clay tiles varied in hue from dark grey to reddish-brown. Tall chimneys and turrets pierced the skyline, some crowned with flags bearing the royal emblem.
The throne room was a magnificent expanse, grandiose in both scale and decoration. Its vaulted ceilings soared high above, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting the map of the kingdom of Ganduana. Massive chandeliers, wrought from gold and crystal, hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow that reflected off the polished marble floors. Stately columns lined the room, their surfaces carved with winding patterns.
At the far end of the room, raised upon a dais of several steps, stood the throne of King Ragnar V. The throne was a marvel of craftsmanship, fashioned from pure gold and encrusted with precious gemstones that sparkled in the ambient light. Its high back was ornately carved with the symbols of the five great races, while the armrests were shaped like fierce lion heads, their eyes gleaming with embedded rubies.
Seated upon the throne was King Ragnar V. His presence is formidable, his posture rigid and commanding. He wore a robe of deep crimson, trimmed with ermine, that flowed down the steps of the platform like a river of blood. A heavy, jewel-encrusted crown rested upon his brow. His eyes, a piercing blue, locked onto me as I entered the room, his expression hard and unreadable. His jaw set in a stern, unwavering line. There was no warmth in his gaze, only a cold, calculating scrutiny.
The members of his court stood in silent attendance. Nobles dressed in luxurious silks and brocades, knights in polished armor, and advisors draped in scholarly robes—all turned their attention towards me.
Among them are the leaders of the Magi Order, their ranks indicated by the elaborate patterns and symbols on their robes, ranging from the star-embroidered white garments of the Asteri to the more intricate and dazzling yellow attire of the Astron.
As I crossed the threshold into the throne room, all conversation ceased abruptly. The silence was palpable, a heavy blanket that fell over the assembled crowd. All eyes were upon me, but none more intensely than those of King Ragnar V. His hard expression did not soften as he continued to watch me with an intensity that made the vast room feel smaller and the air thicker. The weight was overwhelming, a tangible tension that seemed to crackle in the silence.