Whilst Gallagar raced to the epicenter of the city, his lightweight robes clung to his drenched form and speculations cleaved to his mind, seeking to rend it apart. It couldn't be, it just couldn't. The monolithic statue loomed in the distance, one that had borne witness to the passage of countless cycles. Carved from the weathered meld of minerals, this age-old monument had become an emblem of both time's merciless march and the enduring hope that one day, the Electus would emerge. The foundations extended deep into the rich soil, anchoring it to the earth like an unchangeable sentinel. It was here that the Electus was prophesied to arise, a sacred communion with the earth that would seal their destiny. The civilisation of Dorindale was built upon that providence. It was foretold, so it was believed in.
Soft moss adorned the figure's limbs, lending a flair of natural grace to its stoic form. The statue itself was a marvel, its visage engraved with meticulous detail. The face, chiseled by a hand guided by reverence with eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the cosmos which the fate of man were etched upon. The only thing absent was the jewel that was located in the center—one that could only be extracted by the Chosen himself.
Gallagar's mind fractured from disbelief. There he stood, at the place where the people of Dorindale knelt at the stone feet of their coming savior. Gallagar drew out the gem again to hold it in the air like a spyglass to compare the dimensions. And it was a perfect fit. The dead nobleman removed the gem from stone; something only the Electus could do.
And Gallagar killed him.
"You there!"
A glint of dark blue sent him rushing. And that was how he found himself running for his life. The only soldiers reinforced in dark blue armor belonged to the king's elite regiment; the Avangard. They were entrusted with duties beyond the capabilities of mere men. They were the most lethal and ruthless. And now they were hunting Gallagar. Lights were flaring as torches were lit, heads poking from doorways as curious figures spilled onto the streets. And like a flitting shadow, flickering in and out of existence as Gallagar navigated the labyrinthine pathways, a talent honed through years of thievery and evasion. But this time it was different. Gallagar wasn't being pursued by common city guards, but elite soldiers.
The air ripped from his lungs as a brute force rammed him to the ground.
"On your feet!"
Gallagar gripped his arm, feigning hurt. When the Avangardian came to haul him to his feet. Gallagar's elbow smashed into his face and he took off running. From every street and direction, blue flashed everywhere until he was being crowded into a corner. The same beast in armor that bull-rushed him came to the front. The soldiers seamlessly split away in unison. Without word or warning, he grabbed him by the lapels and jerked him forward, and the gem fell from his pocket to roll and land by his feet.
A woman warrior pointed at the gem with reverential recognition.
"The Sunshard," she said breathlessly. Her eyes flew up to gawk at Gallagar, appraising him anew. "It is him we seek."
There I thought I would be slain for my treacheries. Turns out, I was the only one who knew of them.
She dropped to her knees and fully bent over with her hand lapped over the other on the ground. Her forehead met the back of her hands that were above her knees. A ripple of dark ensued as all the Avangardians dropped into the crouched position with a reverence reserved for deities. Shock kicked Gallagar's jaw loose, so it hung to his knees. A cluster of the king's most fearsome soldiers bowing to a scoundrel. All except one, the one who held the prime rank, who glared back at him with a tumultuous glower that spoke of untold abhorrence.
"Take him," he ordered, his words almost coming out as growls.
The midnight-blue tide rose, and the soldiers stood to their feet simultaneously.
And in seconds, Gallagar was flanked by two blank-faced soldiers.
"Might I ask where you're taking me?"
"To the king," the woman warrior answered.
~
The palace was constructed from pristine white marble quarried from the distant mountains of Roshfor, glistening like a star in sunlight, its towering spires and domes reaching for the heavens. A fusion of opulence and heavenly splendor.
Gallagar was escorted to the throne room with only three Avangardians. His neck nearly broke in search of the end as the ceiling soared to disorientating heights, adorned with intricate frescoes that depicted the history of the realm in vivid depictions. Sunlight streamed through massive stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the varnished floor.
At the heart of the throne room, atop a dais of the finest onyx. Seated upon the throne, the king was a vision of regal authority. His royal apparel adorned with rich embroidery that boasted tradition and the vibrancy of his reign. A bejeweled crown graced his brow, and in his audience, one could feel the weight of his presence.
"Your Majesty," the bear-like soldier greeted, his thunderous voice softened by veneration. "We bring to you the one who brought gem from stone and breathed life into what was dead."
"That might be a slight exaggeration," Gallagar mumbled.
"Let me see you, life-bringer."
I know how to hold my nerve even if I had a losing hand. And yet in that moment he felt rattled by panic's whips. Every lash of alarm and anxiety made him twitch and tremble as he took a few cautious steps towards the king.
"That's enough," the bear man grunted.
The king stroked himself thoughtfully with a beard that flowed like a river.
Gallagar thought he would see right through his lies, his piercing gaze that could cut through mind and thought.
"This is cause for celebration."
The bear man didn't like that.
"Your Eminence, but—"
"Over a thousand years have passed since the Oracle of Omnis," said the king, his voice resonant and firm that could very well sway the fate of nations. "We know that with the coming of a savior is a devastation that we shall need saving from. And you know what that means."
He bowed his head to him with begrudging deference.
The king looked back at Gallagar, and he nearly flinched.