Marked and Cursed (Part 3)
It was the dawning of winter, with the air filled with a biting chill and the wind whispering through the noon hour. Along the meandering path of Mountainkeep, adorned with its nine sinuous bends, two figures strode with purpose. This path, renowned as the Lion's Road, owed its name to the majestic lion sculptures that adorned the apex of the railings on either side.
Those two figures were Illuen D'Harven, the sovereign of Illuthar, and Illaine De'Grace, the esteemed high priestess of the sacred Orion Temple. They were siblings who didn't see each other for a while.
The king, known among the knights as the High Commander, strode purposefully ahead, his hands clasped behind his back, paying no heed to his elder sister.
His once-golden hair and mustache, now partially tinged with gray, along with his slightly disheveled beard, complemented the intricately crafted matte gray chainmail armor that seemed more suited for a battle-hardened warrior than a mere king.
The ethereal melody of the armor's delicate links created a subtle jingling symphony in the wind as he continued his measured strides.
Fashioned from the rare and coveted paladium metal, this chainmail was a masterpiece handcrafted by the skilled Galanadel elves. It possessed a remarkable lightness, unlike traditional armors, producing minimal noise, while boasting an impenetrable weave and unrivaled durability. The metal plates, adorned with mystical runes, had been imbued with an array of enchantments.
After they paced aimlessly for a while, Illuen broke the silence, his voice laced with a sense of authority. "For the span of four years, we have toiled to forge unity among the denizens of this realm, Illaine. Yet, throughout this significant time, you have been absent from the gatherings of the esteemed Council of Nine. Both Chaz and Erk harbor resentment towards your absence."
"As our sovereign, you are well aware of my aversion to the intricacies of politics," Illaine replied, his lips curling into a smile.
"I am your brother, Illaine. No need for formalities between us. Now, pray tell, what has befallen you?" inquired Illuen, fixing his sibling with a resolute gaze.
"What tidings have reached your ears, dear brother?" Illaine queried.
Illuen halted his stride, drawing closer to the ornate railing. He extended his hand to brush against one of the lion sculptures adorning its pinnacle, his gaze fixed upon the sprawling cityscape that sprawled beyond.
"The mines nestled within the Charlotta Mountains hold great promise. Initially, they could serve as beacons during our expeditions. Admittedly, the presence of toxic dust poses certain challenges, but they can be overcome," Illuen began.
"I do not seek counsel on that matter, Illuen," Illaine interjected as he approached the king.
"I have bestowed rewards upon the valiant knight aspirants who discovered these mines, Illaine. You wished to dispatch them covertly on an expedition to the heart of the northern realm, accompanied by two unseasoned nobles. Without hesitation, I endorsed this decree. What more do you desire of me?" Illuen retorted.
"Why do you not inquire about the reasons behind my actions, my dear little brother?"
Illuen heaved a profound sigh, realizing it had been an eternity since Illaine addressed him as "my little brother." Such a term was reserved for weighty discussions.
"Why did you orchestrate this clandestine expedition, Illaine?" he reluctantly inquired, already bracing himself for the response.
"We have unearthed the trail of a lost deity," replied the high priestess, her voice brimming with fervor.
"According to our findings, Artisan vanished alongside the Pagancity three centuries ago, Illaine. Our duty was supposedly fulfilled," Illuen contended.
"No, it is far from over, Illuen." The aged woman's voice cut through the air with unexpected sharpness.
Furrowing his brow, the king turned his gaze upon her. Despite a mere fifteen-centimeter gap between them, his shadow seemed to envelop her entirely.
"As the high priestess of the Orion Temple, Illaine, you possess a unique vantage point to comprehend the grand tapestry. Embrace the truth, for I have severed the pact with Orion," the king's tone matched the forthrightness and gravity of his stare.
"The Supreme Orion did not sanction such an act. You still harbor power. With a mere touch, you can beseech his aid and stand with us," she implored.
"The very fate of the world hangs in the balance!" she cried out.
The king merely laughed. "The world's fate has forever teetered on the edge of peril. Share something novel with me."
"I dare say one of the knights might bear the mark of the Seven," Illaine murmured under her breath.
Illuen inclined his head, running his hand through his locks and sweeping back the cascading strands that gracefully framed his forehead.
"Our discourse concludes here, Illaine. I did not summon you to indulge in your fixation with the seven heralds," the king proclaimed, pivoting toward the fortress gate and striding away.
Illaine chased after him, clumsily gathering the billowing and fragmented folds of her trailing gown. "You were the chosen ones. The remaining four will soon embark on their quest to find you," she whispered.
Abruptly, Illuen halted and turned back, his frustration palpable as he confronted his sister. "Malore has perished. I witnessed it with my own eyes. That cursed Laneth has vanished for four long years. Rumor has it he offended one of the Ancients, and in retribution, the man banished Laneth from this realm or perhaps eradicated him, paying the price of being branded a rebel by his people. Which triumvirate do you speak of, Illaine?"
With each uttered word, the woman's stature seemed to dwindle beneath the weight she carried. The burden upon her was so immense that the high priestess ultimately succumbed to her knees. The White Shadow loomed nearby, still and silent. It had unveiled itself when her brother's grasp faltered, manifesting its raw might.
Illuen fell into silence, observing his sister's descent to the ground. For a fleeting moment, he contemplated extending a helping hand to aid her rise. But he swiftly dismissed the notion. He turned his back and resumed his determined stride toward the castle gate.
"The gods shattered the pact ere I did, Illaine. Never let that escape your memory," he reminded his sister, as though anticipating her comprehension.
"Then why does the White Shadow persist, standing beside you?" Illaine pondered.
Truly, she had relentlessly sought the answer to this question throughout the past four years. All she could do was clutch onto hope, believing that she drew closer to its revelation.
* * *