Flashbacks

Somewhere in the Ardennes Forests, 568 AD.

Imari and Leila sat huddled by the campfire, their eyes darting around nervously. They were on the run from the witch hunters who had been hot on their heels for days.

Only God knew how they kept finding them, as they always cleared their trails, and made sure to leave nothing that could trace back to them.

The crackling of the flames was the only sound that broke the silence of the dark forest. Imari stared into the fire, lost in thought, before finally turning to Leila. "You know, I read something interesting the other day."

Leila looked up from the small pile of twigs she was gathering. "What was it?"

"It's about King Solomon," Imari said, his voice low. "Did you know that he was a blue-blood?"

Leila's eyes widened in surprise. "King Solomon? The wisest king to ever live? A minãri?"

Imari nodded. "Yes. It's said that he was granted his power and wisdom from God, as well as his blue-blood status, making him the first blue-blood without ancestry, and without the accompanying flaw that comes with being blue-blooded."

"In fact, he was probably the first varenthain without a flaw. Although I don't know if he can even be called a varenthain if he doesn't have our ancestry."

Leila shook her head in disbelief. "I've never heard of such a thing. How is it possible?"

"I don't know," Imari said with a shrug. "But it just goes to show that there's always an exception to the rule."

Leila frowned. "But if King Solomon was a blue-blood, why isn't he remembered as one of the elite?"

Imari looked at her incredulously. "Are you kidding me? King Solomon is one of the most celebrated figures in history! He's remembered for his wisdom, his wealth, and his power. He's practically a legend!"

Leila looked down, ashamed of her ignorance. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend."

"Father didn't let me read much." She pursed her lips, her fingers fiddling with the twigs.

"It's okay," Imari said, his tone softening. "It's just that...sometimes I forget how little the red-bloods know about our history."

"Always going on about war and power. They let the thing in their blood define them." Imari said with a grimace on his face.

"No one is probably in that damned castle. They're off instigating war and probably running into battlefields with their loins wet."

Leila sighed. "It's not our fault. The silver-bloods have always kept the knowledge to themselves. They don't want us to know about the blue-bloods and the power they possess." She paused.

"Or at least, The power they possessed."

Imari nodded in agreement. "That's true. But at least we know now. And who knows? Maybe there are other unflawed blue-bloods out there, hiding."

"Hiding Like us."

Leila smiled, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Maybe there are."

The two sat in silence once again, lost in their own thoughts.

Leila's furrowed brows broke the silence, "Why do all varenthains have to be flawed? What's the point?"

Imari's red eyes glistened as he shrugged, "I don't know."

"My father always avoided the question, telling me I could never understand."

"And you know how mother is. She stopped talking to me ever since she found out….about us."

As Imari played with the sand, watching the grains slip through his fingers onto the blades of grass, Leila's gaze became distant, lost in thought.

"Aunty never cared. She always said I wasn't a true gold-blood. I didn't have the pride." Leila's frustration turned to anger as she spoke, "All of them. Vain bastards."

Her eyes began to glow brightly, and her fists clenched as she promised, "I'll show them. I'll show all of them what pride really is."

"Hey, hey, Leila!" Imari walked to her side, crouching before her huddled knees.

"We'll show them." He said, his eyes glowing brighter as he put his arms around her, the silence of the forest now comforting.

Top of Form

Present Time

Rikil Hargreeaves and Vanor Trevisi sat in the drawing room of Rikil's mansion, located in the heart of the forest. Their golden eyes added an air of dignity to their beautiful visages, The light from the windows illuminated the room, giving it a warm and inviting glow.

Vanor looked around the room, taking in the elegant Victorian decor. The room was adorned with chandeliers, antique furniture, and paintings that depicted various scenes from Zaniber, the lost city. He took a sip of his brandy and savored the taste.

"Rikil, you have truly outdone yourself with this mansion. It's a fine tribute to our home."

Rikil nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Vanor. I wanted to honor Zaniber in my own way."

They fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, before Vanor spoke up again.

"You know, sometimes I wonder what really caused the destruction of Zaniber. Was it the war or the death of Leila?"

"I've heard this so many times." Rikil chuckled, his golden eyes twinkling with intelligence.

"What makes you think it was Leila's death?"

Vanor swirled the brandy in his glass, deep in thought. "She was the heart of Zaniber. She and the Tarien boy were war heroes. Her death would have shattered the people's morale, and without her, the city would have fallen."

Rikil leaned back in his chair, considering Vanor's words. "I see your point, but I think it was the war that truly caused our city's downfall. The enemies were too many, and our people were outnumbered."

"They couldn't accept our existence, claiming we were mistakes, an error in God's perfect creation."

"Those damned witch-hunters." He stared at the brown liquor in his cup, his gaze wistful.

Vanor shook his head. "Stop it, Rikil."

He sighed, the air becoming heavier.

"The people of Zaniber made our city great. They were strong, united, and proud. The war may have weakened us, but it was Leila's death that broke our spirit."

"Did you know Leila personally?" Rikil asked, his gaze twinkling.

"I did. She was brave, proud, a true gold-blood. Imari - The red-blood used to be around her all the time, smart man he was." Vanor said, his sad smile reflecting the weight of the years on him.

"We had a few laughs together at the bar that Hilaina used to run. Perhaps he was the only red-blood that I could have a normal conversation with."

"I don't know what ever happened to him. He vanished right after Leila's death."

Rikil sighed, a silence falling. They had both lost something precious in the destruction of Zaniber, and they both mourned the loss in their own way.

"You know, Vanor, I often dream of Zaniber. I dream of the people, the food, the music, and the art. I dream of a city that was once great and is now lost to us forever. A piece of history forever lost, a piece of history that will never be known."

Vanor smiled wistfully. "Yes, I dream of it too, my friend. But we must remember that the spirit of Zaniber lives on in us. We are the ones who built the city, and we must keep its legacy alive."

They clinked their glasses in a toast to Zaniber, the air tinted with a hint of melancholy.