• Understanding Will Follow

"My former Senior Marshal," Bellunder said. "You recognize him."

Spheris scowled. "I almost didn't."

The marshal's skin was entirely in an ugly, rotting color of purple, and his eyes and nose were dripping an inky liquid. His entire body seemed stiff and eerie. Then that smell. What was it? It was so strong and revolting, and reminded him about the infirmary.

"What happened to him?" he asked.

"You." Bellunder simply replied.

"What?" Spheris's eyes darkened in plain disbelief.

"You don't remember?" Bellunder gazed at him. "After he shot you, you rested for a second, then opened your eyes once again. My marshals say a dark smoke filled the entire corridor and they all feared they were going to die. But you only killed him. They say you plucked his shadow from the ground and forced it inside him. Almost like you... possessed him with his own shadow."

Spheris felt his stomach churn.

Possessed him with his own shadow? The idea seemed absurd, yet the sight before him left little room for doubt. Horror and disbelief danced in his expressions as he stared at the abomination before him. He could hardly believe it.

How could someone have the power to twist and corrupt another's existence in such a macabre manner? How could he have the power?

Was he that dangerous? That powerful?

"If you are wondering if you are that powerful to do something as devastating as this, the answer is yes." Bellunder uttered. "That is why I asked you whether you are now aware of what you have become a part of."

He closed the coffin, turned around and walked towards the door, Spheris following closely. "An intricate existence. Humans wielding powers of Gods. The Incarnates wield the Old, and you, the Avatars, wield the New. Powers that should not even be in the hands of mortals. It is not just about the Abyss, or the Five Wings, or the Heaths where you come from. There is a magical world embedded in ours that we don't understand yet. Bearers with powers so great that they live in kingdoms they created themselves."

"Expanded Realms," Spheris said, remembering Grengo's teachings.

"Morgander, [Weaver of Dreams] and Qurshock, [Star Beyond The Realm]. Utopians. The Mystiqarium is larger than you know, Spheris Arnadel." He turned back to give him a grave gaze.

"Nobody has ever survived the Abyss," Spheris said.

"True. But imagine if you did. You possess a skill that no Avatar before you has ever wielded. Moreover, you have proven your ability to survive. While others have spent their lives within the sheltered confines of the luxurious melburn walls of a bastion, you have fought for survival in the forlorn wastelands, making you the most adept for this challenge. While they may have trained to understand their powers, you already possess the vital skill of survival—which is paramount. Understanding will follow."

He reached his hand to open the door, but stopped when Spheris spoke.

"I had a friend some years back in the Heaths. His name was Jorod."

Bellunder perked a brow, wondering where this was going.

"He was malnourished, like most Heathians are. But he was an old man, which was fascinating to me because I realized that meant he had spent his entire life hungry. I used to wonder how he lived that long, and finally one day he told me. He said he was waiting for his son who went into the town promising to return with food. But it had been years since his son left." Spheris raised his head to the Duke. "I had to tell him that his son was dead, most likely killed by your order for stealing. Jorod didn't take it likely. He hated me for saying that even though he knew it was true. One day, I saw him get beheaded in the town square by one of your men. He was caught stealing from a carriage that brought food to the towns."

Spheris's gaze darkened, his mouth shaping to show his pain and dismay as he spoke.

"He didn't steal because he was hungry. He stole because he wanted to die... the same way his son did. That... is how life is in the Heaths."

Bellunder turned fully to face him, a half-glare flickering across his features. "And what is the point of this story?"

"You are trying to weaponize my perseverance in the Heaths to your advantage. A suffering that you and the other Dukes put me through, and you praise it like it was a talent I was born with. No, I'm a survivor because you made me one."

"Is that so?" Bellunder remained indifferent. "Then I guess I deserve a thank you."

He pulled open the door and stepped into the corridor. "Come on, the Ceremony is about to begin."

Spheris huffed, not letting the Duke's disregard get to him. He followed him through the now empty corridors while the two marshals joined them.

"Father!" a voice cried behind them.

Spheris and Bellunder pivoted. There was a boy standing before them, anger and devastation inscribed on his face. He had blonde hair and was wearing blue regal clothing, almost the same as Lord Bellunder's.

Spheris raised a brow. Was this Bastopher?

"Bastopher, I asked you not to come here," Bellunder boomed.

Yes it was indeed him.

"Is this him?! Is this the Heathian scum who took my birthright?!" Bastopher's voice trembled with rage.

"Son, refrain yourself and return to your designated seat in the stands."

Spheris gazed at the Duke's son. It was now clear why he and Nero were best friends. They both seemed to have that erratic uncontrolled rage and they both had the same physical appearance, even though Bastopher was much leaner.

"Let him face me, father," Bastopher cried out. "Face me!" He lunged at Spheris, but the two marshals held him back. Never did Spheris imagine that marshals would ever be defending him.

"Father, he cannot do this to me! He cannot simply take what is rightfully mine and walk away unpunished! Let me face him, father!"

"Take him to his chambers," Bellunder ordered the marshals, who promptly complied, leading the protesting prince away.

Bellunder said nothing as they resumed their walk. Eventually, they arrived at a box-like structure. It looked to be carved from sturdy enchanted woods and a mechanism that was surely powered by Spellforce.

Bellunder stepped in. "It's an ascendor," he explained. "Get in. It will take us down to the center stage."

Spheris carefully stepped into the structure. The marshals stationed by the sides pulled a lever, setting the ascendor in motion. With a slight jostle, the contraption slowly began to descend.

"Do not bother yourself about my son," Bellunder said. "I will handle him."

"I was not bothered," Spheris replied.

"Good."

There was silence for a short while as the structure descended slowly, but it didn't take long for Bellunder to speak again.

"You might be angry with the world, angry with me, angry with the Gods because of the life you were forced to live." he said. "But it is your life, and you have to make the best of every situation that comes your way."

Spheris didn't respond. His arms folded themselves.

"Will you do that, Spheris?" Bellunder asked.

Still no response.

"Turn around," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Witness this."

Spheris reverted his regard, and what he saw completely left him dumbstruck.

The Dome was alive with energy, filled to capacity with enthusiastic commoners who packed every seat, their voices blending into a deafening roar of anticipation. He had never seen anything like it. The gold, the brown melburn stones, the beautiful design of this giant structure—it was a mind-blowing spectacle.

There were five corners of the arena and each had tube-like structures akin to the one the ascendor that was carrying Spheris was lowering on. Above each of them were the distinctive insignia of the five wings, towering above the crowd like sentinels of ancient power.

The other Avatars were already on the squared stage, their fathers, the Dukes of their respective wings, standing beside them.

The crowd cheered and yelled. Inside the ascendor, Spheris couldn't discern the exact words they were saying, but he could feel their enthusiasm.

"It is a glorious sight, is it not?" Bellunder asked. "The Continental Dome."

"It is," Spheris muttered.

At last, the ascendor gently touched down upon the stage, its doors creaking open.

A hushed anticipation fell over the crowd, their voices fading into silence as all eyes turned towards the newly arrived figures, eagerly waiting to see who it was.