The Great War: Chapter 10
Belief
Samuel is led down a long, dimly-lit corridor, Devin behind him and both of their father’s in front of them. He’s never been in this hallway before, as he doesn’t remember any of the castle halls being decorated with carved runes and old wood-and-cloth torches. Wizards have come a long way since then, with their torches being nothing more but small wooden sticks topped with small Firelight globes, which burn much brighter than regular fire and last as long as a wizard’s magic.
And yet the royals and their personal guards follow a single Pyromancer as they light the hallway before them, igniting the torches as they pass them.
Apart from their footsteps, there is nothing but silence as fire crackles behind them. Despite the fire, the hallway is cold and ancient, the walls covered in some sort of black ink, runes painted with thick brushes. Spots of this ink dots the floor as well, implying that the runes didn’t dry fast enough to keep them from dripping. Though, sadly, he’s not an Enchanter, nor learned much about Enchanting in the first place, and thus has no idea what the images may mean.
Finally, the five wizards enter a small room with a door. The Pyromancer steps to one side and stands in the dark shadows, watching the royals wordlessly.
“Normally,” Cero begins, adjusting the clasp of his cape as he turns to face Samuel, “this place is only revealed upon the coronation of a new ruler. However, with this war underway…” The king pauses, taking in a deep breath. Samuel can’t help but frown in confusion at his father’s brief waver in his composure.
“The Spirit wishes to be officially acquainted with you, Samuel.”
“You talk to the Spirit?” Samuel asks.
Devin mutters something under his breath, but Samuel only catches “exists”.
“The royal family is allowed to seek guidance on occasion,” Cero replies, turning away from his son. He gestures to the door, inviting Samuel to open it.
“And me?” Devin speaks up.
“Of course you can enter,” his own father replies. “However, unless He permits it, guards do not normally see Him.”
Devin lets out a small sigh without further comment.
So Samuel steps up to the wooden door, his best friend right behind him as always. Taking a deep breath, he opens it and steps through the doorway.
There is another room beyond the door, sunken just enough to require a small staircase to take Samuel down to the floor. There are no torches in this room, casting the walls in heavy, cold shadow. In the middle of the room sits a dais carved with the same runes painted all along the hallway that led him here.
Samuel steps off the stairs and moves aside to give Devin room to enter as well. The moment Devin stands at Samuel’s side, the door to the room closes.
Even though the room remains unlit, the two can still see the dais before them, the stairs behind them, and each other’s figures in the dark.
“Did you know this was here?” Samuel asks his friend, his voice echoing in the small space.
Devin shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. This is new to me, too.”
“I wonder if your mother has been here.”
“I doubt it. She spends all her time with the other priests and Ferris to ever disappear into a place like this.”
“I wonder what the Spirit will be like.”
Devin simply folds his arms, and Samuel can just barely make out a scowl on his face.
“Do you think you’ll see Him?” Samuel can’t help but ask.
Devin lets out a doubtful hum. “Only one way to find out.” He waves a hand towards the dais. “After you, your Majesty.”
Samuel steps up onto the raised dais and stands in its center, assuming that’s what he’s supposed to do, and… waits for something to happen. He was expecting something to happen instantly, such as Devin disappearing and the room fading away. And yet he’s left standing on the dais in confusion.
“Did He change His mind?” he wonders aloud, turning to Devin.
Devin lets out an amused huff and half-grins in the darkness, stepping up onto the dais to join him. “If He won’t see you and won’t see us, then I guess He did.”
Samuel can’t help but fold his arms, his gaze landing on the door for a short spell. Does it have a lock on it? He didn’t notice one before. Then again, they could have placed a rune on it to act as a lock.
The two wizards stand in the center of the room, staring at each other in silence. And… nothing continues to happen.
“Father?” Samuel eventually decides to call. The word buzzes in the air, yet is met with silence from the other side of the door.
He turns away from Devin, a surge of electric panic rushing from his chest to the rest of his limbs.
“Father!” he calls again, his anger growing by the moment, still to no response.
There’s a quiet chime of metal being spun through the air, and Samuel turns back to his friend to see that Devin has drawn his scythe, also eyeing the door to the dark room with a scowl, reflecting Samuel’s frustration.
“I can probably open it,” Samuel assures him.
“That’s if these runes don’t dampen your magic,” Devin replies flatly.
Samuel nods. Devin, as always, has a point.
“Let me try, at least.”
“I’m not stopping you, am I?”
The prince storms to the door, his mind racing. He knows that him and his father never truly see eye-to-eye, and Samuel hasn’t been staying in the castle often since he helped expand the infirmary tent in Eros. They have their differences over the war with the Guardians. They’ve hardly spoken since splitting the battles and the public between themselves.
But Killian would never leave his own son in this room like this. Their relationship is much different than Samuel and Cero’s.
“Father!” Samuel calls again as he bounds up the small flight of stairs. Before he can receive a response, he easily pushes the door open with both his hands to see his father, Killian, and the Pyromancer that lit their way, all standing on the other side, staring back at Samuel expectantly.
“Is something wrong?” Cero asks him upon seeing Samuel’s distress.
“Could you not hear me?” Samuel bites back.
The king just shakes his head. So either one of the numerous runes blocks sound… or his father is lying.
“What did the Spirit tell you, Sam?”
A cold hand places itself on Samuel’s back, and he hears Devin whisper to him, “Let’s go.”
“He told me to keep praying,” Samuel replies bitterly, turning away from his father. He and Devin stride away, leaving the stunned adults far behind.
“The Spirit wants to meet me,” Samuel scoffs to himself, shaking his head. He’s sitting on his bed, which was prepared for him for the night. At first light, the two will return to the refugee tents at Ica. “What a fantasy.”
Devin stands guard by his bedroom door, silent.
The prince turns to face Devin and continues, “So the Spirit of Light is allowed to do whatever She wants, then?”
“Apparently so,” Devin replies.
Samuel lays on his back and sighs in defeat. “You’re probably waiting to say ‘I told you so’.”
“Why would I say that?”
“Come on, Dev.”
“Do you want me to say it?”
Samuel’s gaze grows distant, and a moment of silence passes between the two of them.
“I don’t want to be that kind of wizard,” he sighs at last, “I really don’t. I like to believe that there was some sort of good reason behind why He didn’t save my mother. I like to believe that He is somehow helping us in this war, if indirectly. If Light exists, so does Shadow…” He trails off as doubt creeps into his voice.
“Shadow does exist,” Devin says.
Samuel chuckles back. “I’m surprised you say such a thing.”
“It’s a part of our history,” Devin replies casually. “The first wizards were blessed by Shadow. The early beings of Astria worshiped a pantheon of Shadow’s children. Without Shadow then we wouldn’t even exist.”
Samuel turns onto his side to look at Devin, his expression tired and deflated.
“This trip wasn’t worth anything, was it?” he asks.
“I wouldn’t say it was all bad,” Devin answers. “Now we know about that dais. We can always try again later.”
“Mm…” Samuel hums. He turns away from Devin, so now he’s staring at the prince’s back. “You can leave now.”
“Good night, Samuel.”
“Rest easy.”
Devin quietly leaves Samuel’s room, the door clicking softly shut behind him as he stands in the tight hallway. The Firelights flicker weakly as the Pyromancers also begin to wind down for the night.
He stares at the wall opposite Samuel’s door listlessly, lost in his own shaken thoughts. He doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever know why, but he heard His whisper:
Dream tonight, little one, and hear Me.
I will tell it only once, so remember Me.
When Asandra rises, speak of Me.
And with your prince, find Me, and be Blessed.
He looks into a nearby dwindling Firelight, wondering if he’ll ever get to sleep. And if he does magically manage to fall sleep, maybe he shouldn’t forget to keep some ink and paper next to him, just in case.