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Chapter 1

Richard

Darkness. It was all I had known since my capture. Left to rot in a lightless dungeon. Cold, tired and hopeless. My throat was raw from calling for help, with only the weight of my bonds to remind me I was alive. The memory of my misfortune still haunted my mind, the simple trip between towns that had turned into a living nightmare. It had been a good day, our caravan had moved faster than we had planned and we had only a day of travel left before we reached the next town. The chiefs had been in high spirits as we made our camp on the tallest hill, boasting of the profits we would make and the products we would get. We had joined on their boast, certain that nothing could stop us.

But fate had other plans.

Their attack came in the middle of the night, swift and relentless, taking the lives of many of my friends in the first strike. I took up some weapons along with my fellow merchants, ready to repel the raiders to our last breath but somewhere along the line, something hit me from the side. My vision blurred as a large form charged my way. Death reflected in those green eyes. And then, there was nothing. I woke up in this damn dark cell, thick manacles wrapped around my wrist and ankles. I twisted and turned, pulled and cursed. But my only reward was the clinking of the heavy chains and the chafing of my skin. Not one to give in, I searched the room as best as I could. The cold smooth stones had held few secrets for my hands and not one tool for my escape. Desperation coursed through my veins, fear closing around my throat as I cursed the raiders to the depths of the earth. Their cruel faces flashed in front of my eyes, my mind committing them to memory so, one day, I could have my revenge. Now, I only waited, glaring into the crushing darkness.

Suddenly, the silence was broken. A muffled tap of wood on stone came from far away, marking a steady rhythm as it grew in strength. My body froze, my muscles tensed, my breath refusing to come out, and my heart pumped blood frenetically while I prepared to face my captors. A bright blue light pierced the edge of my vision, forcing a hiss out of me. I turned my face away, shielding my eyes with my hands. But even the extra protection couldn't hold against the light's intensity. They would not be denied. The orb's brightness left me dizzy, nausea setting in my empty stomach. Then my muscles went slack against my will. My arms fell uselessly at my sides; a creeping coldness settled in my torso. Robbed of strength and the only source of protection I had, I was helpless to do anything as the orb got closer, its presence soothing my fears.

The orb's brilliance increased with time, the color bleeding into the walls as the orb came to rest in front of me. The purest blue covered its surface. Its light pulsed and shifted, awakening something in me. As if it was following a command, its colors shifted slightly, with each tap of the stick bringing a new shade into being. The orb called to me, drew me in. It changed into a thousand shapes and colors, never letting my eyes get used to it. It hung there for an eternity before it slowly started to move around the room, tracing forms into the air. The ephemeral figures fading in scant seconds. A calm voice whispered my ear, the words jumbled and broken, yet confident. My eyes followed the orb's paths with deep interest, absorbing the shining shapes it made. Circles, letters, numbers, symbols. Each and every one of them in time with the voice's words and all engraved in my mind. So I watched, enthralled by the orb; basking in its light until it faded into nothing. The all-consuming darkness creeping back in full force, reclaiming its stolen domain as tears accompanied me into sleep.

My dreams were restless that night. They haunted me with the gray shadows of masked men, clubs and knives swinging my way. Dread squeezed my heart whenever the jeering laughs were thrown my way. One hit would send a ring of gold flying from my head, another would shred cloth and the next would send me tumbling to the ground in pain. The shadows would pick up the elegant gold ring, holding it in front of my eyes, before they crushed it under their feet. An unnerving laugh rang in my ears, sickly green flame licking at my skin. A glint of metal appeared at the edge of my vision, a sudden dryness spreading around my throat. I woke up with a start, sweat matting my skin and shivers running all across my body. The dream would come every time I closed my eyes, a hundred different plays of shadows with a single end.

The orb would return often after that, becoming my only way to count the “days" in my prison. It would come, always in the same way, teasing me with its radiance before it left me with a thousand images I could only vaguely remember. Three visits made a day, one for morning, one for noon and one for night. Before I knew it, I yearned for our meetings. Its light my only respite of the oppressing darkness. The voice it brought, my only companion in the never ending night. The grim spiral of my thoughts was of no help, delving into subjects that twisted my stomach seconds after they surfaced.

I loathed the orb but I needed it. I didn't want to be alone, I couldn't stand to be alone but, above all, I didn't want to feel this creeping cold inside of me. One day, driven by a strange compulsion, I started to talk with the orb, replying to the voice's questions. However, in the low points between visits, no matter how hard I tried, I could never remember what I'd said or what the voice had replied. I was just left with a vague feeling of happiness and calm.

I counted eight days in this way, the routine soon becoming second nature. However, one fact haunted my mind. In all the time I had been imprisoned, not even once had food or water been brought to me, nor had I felt the need to relieve myself. And yet, my body wasn't failing as it should, wasting away in the pitch-black cell. There was no complaining from my stomach, no infernal headaches, stinging pain or overwhelming nausea. In fact, I felt healthier than ever. All the wounds I had suffered were well on their way to healing. It was a strange set of circumstances, one that defied all I had come to know while I traveled with the caravan but it betrayed the supernatural angle behind this whole affair. Worry should have been plaguing my thoughts, the horrors of magic and its demons still firm in my mind. Yet, a thick fog clouded my thoughts, hanging upon every memory and idea while it lead me back to the light and its promises.

The dream I had that night was different from all the others, clearer and sharper, wandering in my mind even after I woke up. It had all started with a set of oak doors that appeared before me. At least four times my size and ten times as wide. Its surface carved to depict a group of knights guarding a regal figure at the top. The regal humanoid shape was covered in a set of gaudy clothes: a jacket with long flowing ends attached to his wrists and a pair of baggy pants that tightened over its ankles. A lupine muzzle pointed up towards an orb held in its left paw while the other held a rod whose end was fashioned like a behemoth's head. The beast's eyes lit up as my eyes fell on them, gleaming like fiery rubies. All the carvings bursted into motion. The knights, cast from head to toe in bulky armor, fought back against jagged crystal like shapes, fire and thunder clashing against shields. A flare of golden light bursted from the orb, thin golden rays spreading from the noble holding it to the knights. Their eyes shone blood red, their weapons swinging with purpose through their enemies. A loud rumble crossed the room, the figures coming to a stop as the doors parted on their own.

A granite hall was revealed behind them, leading to a circular room at the end. Thick pillars supported a roof that rested on a height ten times my size. Rows of knights guarded each pillar. Their faces hidden behind a darkened gray helmet, a lone spot of color coming from the single yellow cord that hung from their breastplate. I walked inside, confident and secure in my step. Halberds and spears shot forward the moment I crossed the door, forming a tunnel of weapons that hung high over my head. Shields clashed against the granite floor, their fronts facing the center of the tunnel. A pleased hum left my throat as I walked down the tunnel, greeting each pair of knights by name before continuing on my way.

I threaded into the circular room with easy confidence, elaborate pictures of dragons and behemoths greeting me from the ceiling. Orbs of ivory lights hung from the walls, trapped in brass containers, banishing any shadow. On the far side of the room was a crowd of nobles, their expensive clothes doing nothing to hide the agitation in their manners. The sudden silence that filled the room when their eyes fell on me betrayed their nervousness. Beside me, a gorilla herald tapped his wooden staff on the floor with purpose, his powerful voice announcing my entrance. At once, all the nobles bowed, a murmured “your majesty" leaving their lips. I gave them a single nod of acknowledgment before I made my way to the ebony throne that rested at the opposite end of the room. It was a simple thing with regal straight angles and thin carved lines running through its surfaces.

I sat on the throne with practiced elegance, the warm surface filling me with an otherworldly wisdom. With a gracious gesture I bade the nobles to rise and approach. Two blurry figures approach behind the throne, staying at the edges of my vision. One clothed in long flowing robes that reminded me of the night's sky while the other sported a polished set of chainmail. They greeted me, their voices faint, as if they were coming from behind wall, and took their places at my side. At my command, one of the nobles approached me. She was a dragon, scales of a shiny brass and eyes of an icy blue. Her torso, fat but imposing was barely contained by a shirt of a deep maroon fabric. Frills of white traced patterns of lines all the way down to a pair of harem pants that seemed ready to burst. Her tail, thick and heavy, hovered a few centimeters above the ground. Still and tense, as was required in polite company. She stopped half a dozen of steps away from me, her gaze fixed on my eyes when she spoke, a shade of fear tinting the icy blue orbs.

“Your grace, as a representative of my fellow noble siblings, there's a matter we must broach upon these hallowed halls." She began, her words coming almost like a song with her soprano voice. A flowery gesture was enough to procure a scroll from her sleeve, the paper unfolding in her claws of its own accord. “This was delivered to each and everyone of the nobles, present or otherwise. For your grace's pleasure, I shall now read it:

“ 'The time has come you of noble blood. The age of ruin that has plagued this realm shall be no more. The false rule of the wicked throne will come to an end. The true heirs of these lands shall surface from the hideouts you and your ilk have forced them into; freedom shall now rule supreme and the false idols shall be smashed to bits. If you desire to survive the coming storm, if there's any light shining in your corrupted souls, join us and surrender the Usurper. Or your heads shall be cut as swiftly as the Usurper.' Signed, The Circle of Light.

“In all cases, these notes were left in our sacred sanctums, in our studios or our very rooms in this castle. They overcame all our security to plant these notes," the dragon declared, electricity crackling at the edges of her fangs, “Your majesty, surely you understand. One time is luck, two is skill but this? This is a threat. We, your humble cousins, beg you to hunt down the culprits behind this hideous affront."

The figure to my left moved forward, his robes trailing behind him in a bundle of starry fabric. His face turned towards me an unspoken question in his eyes. A firm nod was enough to give him permission to speak in my presence.

“My lords and ladies, our king, in all his wisdom, has already moved to investigate such threats. He's very concerned about—"

“Then what about the attack at Rerienne's Markets last month or the burning of the Church of the East just a week ago?" The dragon interrupted, her tail flicking madly behind her. “The Circle claimed responsibility for both of those too."

“Like I said, we're investigating such matters. I have a feeling we shall find them out sooner rather than later. There's no need to fret about it," the robed figure declared, his voice still muffled.

“With all due respect Archmage, we need more than your reassurances given the latest attacks."

I rose my voice, my tone strict and heavy as I said, “Then you shall have mine cousin. It was my lack of foresight that allowed my fellow countrymen to be hurt."

From among the crowd, an elderly panther with a noble air stepped forward, her black fur sprinkled with the white of age. Her hands gripped a cane tightly between her paws. The nobles parted to make way for her trembling steps while a pair of younger panthers helped her to stand near the dragon. She bowed her head in thanks when I granted her permission to speak.

“Your majesty, though I'm sure the late events weigh heavily on your mind, it is my belief that yours is not the guilt for the deaths that transpired," she said with a gentle voice. “After all, none among us can claim to have heard of this Circle of Foolishness before. So please, I beg you not to place such a burden upon your shoulders."

“My cousin, your heart is as big as our rivers but I'm afraid that's a request I cannot grant," I replied, seeing sadness cloud the panther's eyes. “As our draconic cousin has told us, action must be taken and I swear to all of you, it will be taken. I won't fail you all a second time."

My words had barely left my mouth before a silver light bathed the room, washing away all other forms in it but for a single humanoid, their crimson skin and blunt snout peaking out from their cloak of shadows. I rose to my feet with a start, a shout rising up in my throat when something hit my chest, golden chains sinking into my flesh. The searing touch of metal wrapped around my heart, sickly green flames spreading throughout my body before all faded to black and I woke up screaming. My hands shot towards my chest, the chains and flames still haunting my mind. Scared, I looked down where the phantom touch of the nightmare remained and saw nothing but sweaty bronze skin.

Today is going to be different, my instinct told me. And it was confirmed when, along with the light and the tapping of the cane, came the soft sounds of steps. Careful, measured and light. They drew towards my cell. Following the appearance of the blessed light, a form showed beyond the bars. The light shone behind him, shrouding most of his features, but his tall humanoid frame and the way he leaned heavily on a cane. With a wave of a feathered hand the door opened. A pair of blue orbs floated into the room, settling on the far corner of the damp cell. A thick mist held to his feet, making his loose robes look like an angel's garments. The mage held himself with confidence as he shuffled into the room, black feathers tinting blue under the magical brightness. Wise green eyes settled on me, a sliver of pity and power clear in his gaze.

“Good morning my king, How are you faring today?" he said with a squeaky voice, his body bending into a courteous bow.

I glared daggers at the bird man, gritting my teeth to keep myself from making a mistake. As much his nonchalant words rubbed me the wrong way, but my shackles reminded me what was at stake. I took a deep breath, transforming the raging fire of my anger into a simmering flame.

“I am not your king. Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" I asked with a rough edge to my voice, struggling to keep calm.

“My apologies my liege, it seems your memory hasn't recovered yet. I'm your ever humble servant Dax Ilintri and I'm afraid this isn't the first time we meet this week." The crow man replied, giving me another elegant bow. His chest puffed with pride as he rose again, a noble shine covering his ebony feathers. Under his magical light, his features evoked a prick of nostalgia, like a vision from a long forgotten dream.

“As for the reason for your stay in this dreadful place, it's a necessity given the nature of your curse. I'm sorry to say my king that you were kidnapped while touring your lands. Your guards were killed to the last man and you were taken hostage." He said with a heavy voice while tongues of flame erupted from the tip of his cane, his eyes narrowing in anger. “At least, that's what we were led to believe."

“They wanted neither money nor power, only revenge. Like the vermin that they were, they sought not to carry it out by their own hands against their aggressors but to use you, our king, as a proxy. I'm afraid such a brazen act never crossed our minds and so we were left helpless when the attack came. They were desperate I'm sure, however, they were also resourceful and so with their last of their strength they weaved a despicable curse into your soul. When we found you, our relief was short lived, your condition critical and the curse was already running its course; our hearts split in sorrow and happiness, your beloved knight in particular took it quite hard. The poor chap always places so much on his shoulders, it is like he believes the whole world would fall if he didn't get up every morning. He reminds me of his father all the time, that old bull was set in his way as well, nothing could get him to change his mind, not even the late king. Father and son would get in such arguments all the time, but they would always make up in the end, I guess to them it was just a way to show their love. Oh, I'm rambling once again, my apologies your grace, I know this must be quite the shock. However, let me assure you of two things: You are our king and I swear on my title as your Archmage that I will break this curse."

“What curse? What are you talking about? I don't feel any different."

“My king, do you know the best way to destroy the heart of a kingdom?"

“Killing the king?"

“For a short time, yes. But as you well know, a king can always be replaced, this is particularly true in our country. The death of a king would only give them a momentary respite, a brief window of opportunity. All would be meaningless in the end when the new king rose to power and obliterated them, like the Trakons on the fields of Yaracuy, perhaps with a more thoughtful application of explosions. On the other hand, symbols are a different story, because they share a direct relationship with the object they represent, both in the mind of the people and the astral; the fate of one is tied to the other. Specially when they are defiled by the enemy."

“What has that to do with me?"

“Your curse is a most insidious one, I'm afraid. I haven't seen many of like it in my life, let alone seen one as powerful as yours my king. This curse twists your body, your mind and your soul, robbing you of the three things that make you, well, you. Like the stories of the marauder ghosts in the north, who robbed travelers of their faces, you were left empty but unlike them, you were filled with someone else. The current you, most likely an unfortunate soul. A dark art indeed and one we had thought lost to the ages; I wouldn't have shed tears if such foul practices had never resurfaced, for it requires a heavy payment in blood." His eyes seemed to glass over for a moment, staring into a far away place. His body sinking under the weight of the years. The noble air gone from him. Instead, he seemed lost and tired. “A form of torture really, more to us than to you. As I said this isn't the first time we have had this conversation, though it has been the least violent by far. But don't worry my king, I was not made Archmage for my beauty, I swear to you I shall dispel the curse even at the cost of his life."

“How can you be so sure that I'm your king?" I asked, desperation seeping into my voice, raising to my feet. “This could be just a big mistake on your part. Look, I'm sorry about your king, but I'm not him. I'm a human, a merchant. Everyone knows the king is a wolf!"

His beak clicked close. Tension hanging thick between us before he said, “I can only tell you that we know for sure it is you. Even if your memory is gone and your body is changed, your soul is still there, inside of you. There's no doubt about it."

“Then, if I'm your king— I command you to release me at once. That's an order, Dax!" I demanded with a deep voice, using my best impression of a leader's voice. My arms cutting the air in front of me, the clicking of the chains adding to the dramatic effect. The crow stood there calmly, a pitying look adorning his face, like a father dealing with a difficult child.

“Nothing would make me happier your grace but I'm afraid I can't do that, not for a while at—"

“I don't care about that! I'm not your king! Release me! Take me back to my family!" I shouted, the chains growing taut when I advanced towards the mage. Cold metal bit into my skin, leaving only a few centimeters between us. His eyes flashed gold, arcs of lighting dancing on his feathers.

“I'm sorry my king, it seems it was too early for this once more. I hope you'll forgive me." He said seconds before a sharp pain pierced my mind. A foreign presence wormed its way into me, their tendrils expanding inside my mind. They wrapped around my consciousness, warping it, changing it. Their influence spread quickly, spreading a mix of drowsiness and detachment across my body. My rage was extinguished in one fell swoop while my body collapsed like a puppet whose strings were cut. My knees hit the floor hard before I toppled to my side. Darkness took hold of me a couple of seconds later.

The next thing I knew, memories were rushing through my mind. A flower of emerald flames, hate-filled eyes, scarlet smooth skin. Screaming young faces, metal drenched in crimson blood. Silver fur covered my hands, blood and grime marring its shine. A purple mist coiled around my body, chilling my skin wherever it touched. A dagger sunk into my chest, shaking me to my core. Dark shapes shifted all around me in a macabre dance, hellish laughs coming from every direction. The scent of death plunging deep into my nose. A black liquid burst from the ground, swallowing me in its cold influence as it drained me of life. The presence of the crow mage settled in my mind, cold and surgical, delving deeper into me. A whirlwind of emotions assaulted me: anger, despair, fear, sadness, sorrow. They consumed me as the invasion progressed. But, out of nowhere, a thin stream of refreshing feelings broke through: happiness, relief, tranquility, love. The clash of emotions consumed me until I couldn't tell one from the other. When oblivion came, it was a blessing.