THE FORSAKEN LAND OF GENèSE | LOST KINGDOM

  600

  Solvanel hit the watchtower's roof and rolled, absorbing the impact.

  The Essaifamè rose into the sky, carrying what remained of Wilhelm the Backbreaker and Oedipus the Peeping Tom.

  It was right for them to call him a dreamer.

  Ever since that night, he dreamt of making them scream for what they'd done. Wilhelm for what he did to him and the little girl. And Oedipus, for what he’d done to Odette.

  That dream was impossible until he found a way to get rid of the crown.

  Under the effects of his grandmother’s paralysis, the wolves weren’t able to howl.

  So, for now, he settled for watching their flames writhe and be crushed between sharper teeth.

  Their innards splattered on the rooftops below.

  Horrified, the experienced mercenaries, Albus and Sula, threw up the contents of their stomachs. Saint was speechless. He would never call him a child again.

  He didn’t care that the crook was vibrating disapproval against his spine.

  The shepherd smiled, beaming in this lightless land.

  For this was the trumpeting of a heaven—a justice divine. And he was the conductor of this melody.

  An object thudded beside him.

  A strange curio, blue and shaped like a scarab, was rolling down the slope.

  “Catch it, kid! Don’t let it fall!”

  Its outline shared a striking resemblance to the ones that made up the barrier’s composition. Solvanel leapt over the edge, securing the item with one hand while holding on with the other.

  The composition was a long read, so he skipped past the rest for now.

  Blue Scarab's Husk (Exhausted)

  Basic Barrier Manipulation

  The holder can create, enhance, and dispel weak barriers.

  Solvanel squeezed the gemstone husk.

  The barrier fell.

  He swung into the watchtower, landing beside the stele.

  The hum of the silver bar was louder than his crook’s.

  There was a thread of light connecting the husk to the metal of myth.

  He ran his fingers over the surface of the scarab gem.

  So, this is what they used to make the barriers.

  The gem created barriers which were maintained by the divine metal. Silver, if they legends were true, was an endless source of energy. Deciphering the connection between the two was beyond the youth, but one thing was certain. With this gemstone serving as the catalyst, it was no wonder the barriers were weak.

  It was nothing like what his grandparents used for the village.

  Saint dove into the entrance while the mercenaries remained stunned by their comrades' shared demise. Albus and Sula noticed too late. They tried to slip in after him, but Solvanel was watching through the floor. The barrier reappeared after the nearest flame made it through.

  Their fists hammered the air. “Come on, Sainty-boy! Lower the barrier before this thing wakes up!”

  Being this close to the watchtower put the two of them within arm’s reach of the shadespawn. Beauty of the Feast had been rendered immobile by the barrier’s backlash, but the corpse was standing right by the entrance when it occurred.

  Saint pointed up. “Sorry. Not my call.”

  “Right, the kid!” Albus said, a darting gaze between the monster and the young man. “Get up there and make him let us in!”

  He fake-pondered for a moment, weighing options that were set in stone.

  The monster wasn’t interested in the mercenaries before, but they definitely forfeited that privilege by preventing her from taking him as her concubine. If the beast regained control now, these men would be ripped apart in a heartbeat.

  “Hold on.” He cupped his mouth. “Hey, kid! Some nice ugly ladies are on our doorstep, saying they need a place to hole up for the night. What do you say, we feeling generous, or what?”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “No!”

  The slightly older youth shrugged. “Sorry. The homeowner has a pretty strict ‘suck-for-sheets’ policy, and I don’t think you guys are gonna pay.”

  “So that’s how it’s gonna be.” Albus spat. “I knew you was a vermin! Only thing missing from your body is the tail and the squeak!”

  The youth snorted.

  This, coming from the man who betrayed his leader. Then was betrayed by his comrade. Then was going to sacrifice another one of his comrades just so he could get rich.

  When Saint explained how to break the barrier, he said that whatever was impacting the invisible wall needed to contain shade material.

  Albus told his comrades that they needed Beauty of the Feast to wear the steel man’s gauntlet. What he failed to mention is that half the monster’s body needed to be coated in organic material.

  That’s why the Backbreaker was instructed to take that many risks during the battle, playing the most dangerous roles. The giant was planning to sacrifice one of them to cover the beast in blood.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Laugh it up while you can. Don’t forget your little boyfriend still needs an antidote for the poison. And now that you betrayed me, he’s gonna die in your arms while choking on his own guts.”

  He reached intp his pockets, intending to drive the point home by showing the antidotes. But they were empty—the mercenary’s taunts, just as.

  “Don’t bother.” Saint showed his hand, revealing three vials between his fingers. “Figured I’d keep them safe for you. But I dropped a number of them during the fight.”

  “You! How the hell did you get a hold of those?”

  “Oh come on, Al. I thought you weren’t just a pretty face.”

  The mercenary’s jaw fell low enough that he could lace his boots with his teeth, realization dawning on his ugly mug. “When you pinned me to the wall, that wasn’t you losing your cool. You used it as an opportunity to get into my pockets...”

  “He’s after the bounty.” Finished Sula, gravely.

  Albus slammed his palm against the inside of the barrier, his voice cracking with disbelief. “Damn it! After everything—I kept your secret! I was gonna give you a way out! I swear! You think I’d sell you, knowing where you came from?”

  Saint dropped one of the vials.

  SMASH!

  The shatter synergized with their terror, causing them to jolt in the way that the would if the beast had suddenly regained control.

  “Look,” continued the escapee, trivializing the protest. “I don’t know about a ‘quicksilver’ or why the rest of your friends were scared of me. Before this, I was in paradise: drinking, sleeping, and barely waking up to do it all over again.

  “The only persona I have is the me of today and the one I left behind. Up till now, I only cared about getting out of this place alive. Going back to the high life until finally killed me.”

  Saint's eyes sharpened. “But you just had to figure me out."

  He took a single step forward. A centimeter away, separated by a pane of air. Close enough to feel the heat of his breath on the barrier. “It’s worse than me not being able to trust you. I can’t even let you live. Because if you make it back to civilization, you’ll either sell me out for a pouch or try to blackmail me with the information. And I’m not giving a chance to throw me back in hell.”

  Albus narrowed his eyes. “So that’s it? You never cared about the kid?”

  SMASH!

  Saint dropped the second, confirming, “Not the kid. Not the bounty. Not even justice for all the people you’ve hurt. The only thing I have left in this world is myself. That means everything I do—every decision I make—is for me. So, in case anyone else has figured out who I am…”

  Silence.

  The final vial was held—a delicate suspension between his finger and thumb. The lesser giant scoffed, calling his bluff. “You wouldn’t.”

  SMASH!

  Just like that, the dreamer’s last hope of salvation shattered.

  Albus Feroce, himself, had committed a multitude of atrocities things in his life. A number that were it stacked upright, his pillar of irredeemable sin would jab the almighty in his ribs.

  For the sake of coin, he’d burned homes, torn families in half, and laughed through executions. But he’d never seen anything quite like this. If he had no face to wear, he might have admitted something terrifying.

  That this unremarkable, smirking, lackadaisical youth might be a worse man than him. Saint kept his smirk. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  It was a needless question, for the answer was elusive and prematurely supplied.

  But if it did require an answer, it would have been interrupted all the same.

  A great rumbling spoke into the ground.

  It sounded like the wails of a thousand famines—empty bellies’ rolling thunder across the abandoned kingdom—clearing rooftops of settled dust. Rattling window panes in their nooks, a poorly emulated chorus of insect plagues, ravenous chitin mandibles and plates clicking in celebration of farmer’s answered prayer, his field bearing sacrifice in abundance—food for the endless buffet.

  From his perch upon the watchtower, Solvanel saw its purple and green core, a parasite rippling in the dead man’s abdomen.

  ‘This is not the quaking of the earth.’

  Beauty of the Feast.

  A being who claimed to devour mountains and polish the land plates clean.

  The rumbling was coming from its stomach. Opening chord to the maestro’s masterpiece, reserved for a banquet at the lady’s abode.

  And it was echoing back to the shadespawn.

  A sea of flames ignited under his feet. Parched and famined voices harmonizing a single dreadful groan. Soldiers marching to the beat of the commander. Or rather, nobles strolling hand in gloved-hand to the venue.

  Those who were drawn by the promise a night of resurrection after a period of loss. Her lady’s esteemed guests who had responded to the call…

  The residents of the city who fell to the lure of the demoness' treasure. The thousands that made up the bloody mound.