6 Evanescent

There hasn't been an exaggeration on his part. When he claimed that he won't be back for the night to the girl in his chamber, he had pledged it like a promise. But there wasn't a sign of warrant from him that I would be there right along with him on his excursion. We were on foot since the morning, he often disappeared into an edifice for hours imploring me to do my heart's will after he was gone. But would find me no matter how far or in throng I was.

I would suddenly find him standing by my side judging what I was doing.

Looking at a compass, gazing at a fountain, sniffing a pastry or breathing in general.

His disguise was neater than mine, while I suspect anyone in the city would recognise me from the trial, he was much more prone to the blunder than I was.

He was a prince.

And I had to keep reminding myself of such lunacy as I watch him eat, look or move.

He had his scarf wrapped around the Lower role of his face and often shoved his gloved hand inside his pockets, which was odd since he could simply remove it to mingle without such inconvenience.

When he had asked me for my preferred dish in a Serai, I had looked at every single pitcher of sweet and sauce jars with regard so high, that I know he saw the sparkles of stars in my eyes as he in all but quietness refused to ask me more and got me one of everything there was.

"What a thoughtful big brother you got their lad" a big lady who sold them to us smiled plumply, good thing I was literally deemed speechless with the savoury halfway down my mouth, the flavour of orange and berries melts in my tongue.

I didn't anticipate the Ezdan to answer, so I chewed faster so I could be polite to the lady whose hands were blessed with such charmed craft of baking.

"Not a brother" he drops some coin in a fancy case and flicks his gaze to look at the woman dead in the eye "If I had one, I wouldn't have been the last resort"

My mind is a drone with various outcomes. When I walk along him- I am excessively aware of his presence and when he is not- it was his behaviour that invades my thought. It has been this way since the night of pond, the more I run from him the closer our fate entwines. And I am scared, I am utterly terrified of what it could mean.

Centuries ago Antar hung on the brink of annihilation. A war almost lost to a vicious Rixilian king whose language of peace was silencing a tongue that spoke and slicing the eyes that testified his sins. He had Antar surrounded, scarring and digging their lands, filling hearts with hostility, robbing and tarnishing the dignity of women and abducting children into slavery- a history that still causes the Rixilians to plummet their magnificence and fight fair.

All a heard and read tale- because Caelum and his bunch of defectors appear every inch the guilt-less hoarders that one would expect from a realm as theirs.

But the past didn't die there- It was when the Antarian Sarkim who raised his call for help, he offered something to the union of other settlements that had put them into a state of wary.

He promised to let their Generals rule the designated corner- he knighted them to be the Lords and Lady's of his principle territory, to be the supreme of four corners he owned- and to maintain peace until the order was broken.

A pact that stood unified with the shift of influential Armins migrating to a shattering country, led by Marmoris of West, Amorist of East, Saga of South and Morana of North. They came with their soldiers, leverages, scholars and strategy, they stitched the torn seams of Antar, healed the wound and set fire to the rot that ate through. The king of Rixile was bought to his knees- beheaded and paraded for the public to see and disgust over. His daughter took over the throne and never claimed the Rixilian soldiers who fled the war.

Not even the innocent curators and domestic work hands who were forced to join the war, Antar, which is an overnight victory leapt its fortune- in a quest to save his kingdom, their Sarkim had changed their future, from ruins to a rise that cannot be threatened or revolted.

With the intervention of Lords and Ladies, the cross marriages between their Armins and civilians, and it's political involvement- hundreds of years later the lines blurred. Those once who represented their emperor, began to bow to the one who ruled Antar.

An Antarian Sarkim.

But it changed, the very foundation of it when the said heir of the realm was deemed to be a being of doom. A cursed prince whose end would swivel the spine of their kingdom. And the pattern is not an impossible task to execute someone who seem to have no regard for his safety.

He didn't care.

I stare at him as we sat in the shadow, it was a theatrical play enacted by actors that we were watching, or he was watching. He bought us the ticket- trekked to the shadiest nook like a possum, and took off his coat and scarf. He didn't speak, he didn't ask, but often he would stare at the colossally high ceiling - while I contemplated him. I saw him with a candid curiosity that he seem to ignore in a precise and learned etiquette.

But after an hour deep into the woman wailing on the stage at the loss of his strong-hearted lover to a witch in a coven, I hear him.

"You have questions" he states, there's barely a motion of his limbs or emotions when I twist myself to latch onto his words.

"Yes," it was surprising, the sheer boil of boldness in me. But I need to know what his intentions are. And If acting and counterfeiting as an annoying lad could get me to it, I might as well commence implementing one.

"Why are we here?"

A distinct sob from the actress circles.

"If I wished to make you aware, I would have"

A scowl sets on my face. And I lean slightly to get a better look at him.

"Is this an outing Your Highness, am I the errand boy that Sir Slantis feels you think of?" I happen to forget and realised the aggressive glitch of my tone, but made no progress to rectify it. Because before I could apologise- his eyes obtained a twitch of interest, his lips pulled down in an almost smile- a decepting, nefarious smile I would have been if he would let his thoughts mime his actions.

"Sounds something that Hann would imply" he shifts into a comfort, tossing a glance towards the ceiling again.

"So is it true sir? Am I to be your servant? Is this what I am now?"

A roar of laughter from the audience cuts my question, as if they laughed at my misery. If the circumstance would have differed I might have been occupied to its pinnacle by how fascinating the new world's entertainment prospects were, but with this man- I had no intention of belonging. I am everywhere and nowhere in the mean. I am spinning in the storm he is.

Gray and silver storm.

Like those eyes of his.

"People laugh at different things in different stages of life, I can't stop him from forming an opinion" his jaw ticks, and I suck in a breath at how mad he looked under the staggering waves of shadow and light.

"So I am your servant" I declare.

"You are hope" I braced. Staring at my knuckles as I suspect him to read me the rest. And he does. "After what you demonstrated in trails, the tale of your existence has been spreading among the civilians in course of a wildfire"

There is silence, both in the theatre house and in me. I am stilled, am dazed.

My voice trembles when I Whisper-

"What do they want from me?" He isn't sympathetic, he is- platonic. He stretched his fingers and fisted them. His attention is elsewhere.

"They speculate that you are some sort of remedy" his eyes finally meet mine and there is steel in them. And there is a seriousness that grips the voice in me "They think that you could be the saviour of their world when I am gone"

What I respite to believe in was ridiculous. But I search for a range of sadness or anger or anything humane in him. But failed to understand.

So I made a mistake by smiling against his anguish.

"Are you jealous of their beliefs sir?"

It's a mystery as to what has me causing these adamant replies, but I know I want to watch him do something about it. I want to crush his mightiness, his untouched ego and the arrogance that I knew existed layers deep down in him. I want to be the first, if not whatever I am to strip his guards away, have him crumble- feel and regret like a human would.

I want to know that he is sorry for what happened to us- I want his father to see him this way.

My thoughts scared me so much that when I looked over him, I felt a rip in my heart.

What was happening to me?

What are these thoughts?

If I was a moon, he was the eclipse that engulfs me. He always has, in my dreams.

In my nightmares.

But nightmares don't look like they belong in the garden of heaven, or sound like a devil's mischief.

Not like him.

"Far from jealous Tommy" he exhales, closing his eyes "I am tempted by the idea"

"Idea of what?" I shuffle in my seat as the velvet screen gets veiled for the last act "Death?"

There are cheers and applause, there's us, and there's also a bitter response-

"Wish it's that easy" he tilts with a twitch of his lips "What I am tempted by is the impression of trusting you"

***

Dusk came sooner than it does every day, after the conclusive conversation with him I looked up to inspect the top corners of the windows, the sun didn't pour in rays as it had earlier when we came in. And as the audience lined out - the place became bigger and bigger- elaborate with red seats and a large stage. All empty except for two girls and a few men who don't seem to follow the retiring process.

Was there another show?

Is that why the Prince beside me seems to have his eye etched on the stage still?

Today I had realised what a foolish person I had been, naive to think ahead of myself. I should have anticipated this dead end, these people were raised to direct a nation. What's a lie of a young girl who is blind to the book of their new world to them. They can uncover me in their sleep if they tried.

New world they call it after we Heliens had left.

Rules of their society have changed, mangled and became something modern, a world raced with the duet of invention, modernisation and tradition was a lethal medley. And I am losing the little colours of mine within the combust of brilliance Antar is.

And he was the center of it.

The change.

Does he know? Is this what this is? His sick need to conduct me himself? Bury me without a name to my tomb, have me vanish without dignity?

Wincing I open my mouth to ask what he was waiting for- why aren't we leaving? But before a term left me his hand clamped my mouth while the other held my shoulder- sliding us both down to the carpeted floor between the pillars of seating. He crouched with me.

His lips puckers as in sudden the once dimmed luminous in the room diluted, leaving only the moon to alleviate our vision. His brows pull down as he warns me, removing his hand off my mouth. And in such a strange event I managed to mentally appreciate the gentle fabric his glove seem to be made off.

I could be going mad.

There is no other conclusion.

I peek through the splinters of wood, I saw them, the group of people who had stayed behind. It's them the Ezdan had his focus on.

They get up from their seat and walk towards the green room, they disappeared into it as we sat there in the same spot. After what felt like a long stream of minutes the Ezdan examined his shoulder, within seconds he was on his feet and form while I had comfortably housed my moments of peace in here. Seemingly I struggled to get up and he supposedly helped me by fisting a bunch of my shirt as he pulled me to my feet.

"We need to be quick and quiet, can you manage that?" He asks, trekking his path through the maze-like stairs. Dodging the inlets and edges like how I dodge through good fortune. With meagre say in what's taking place, I honestly answer.

"I am quick- but may I know what might happen if I fall short?"

We reach the costume room they had gone into- there's pile and puddles of every attire that could mare a character to be rich or poor. His eyes are locked into a door that's mounted by, his steps hurried but classy. He wore his coat-

"You may go" he is concealing his face again with the scarf. It's different than what I have- or was probably given

It's red as a ruby.

"I am not leaving you" I defend, pitching and scoffing hard. This seem to garner a high reactive frown from him, he even halted his movements to stare at me.

"Why would that be?" His voice is silky, almost like he was prying to know my answer. So I take a bold stance, craning my neck to provide him with my utter honesty.

"Because I happen to not know the way back to base and I demand to know what do you predict is the outcome of me unknowingly helping you escape without a guard or your oath in the company? I am young sir, but not stupid" I am breathing, sweating and awaiting a hit of anxiety to chunk me. But he only moves after opening the door, revealing a staircase in hideous darkness.

"You first Tommy" he crossed his arms and tilts his head in gesture.

"Why do I have to go first, sir?" I demand, his eyes fall to where I nervously wipe my palm in my trousers. A contrary to my stubborn form.

I was throwing tantrums. Glad I am an imposter, because in honestly acting like I am now is pathetic for the image of an adult girl.

He shrugs with one shoulder. Leaning by the frame.

"I admitted to not owning you my trust"

I hate him. I don't have a word that justifies what he makes me feel. But there hasn't been a single sober thought with him around.

"What am I to do? Tickle your ankles, Your Highness?"

He slips his hand into his pocket and tips to stare at his shoes.

"Is that your prime strategy for an attack?" In the dimness, his disappointment shone brightly. I swallow the dry air.

"If I am short on weapon and stamina, I would resort with a hope that my opponent might lack immunity to tickles"

The trick of lights play and it convinces me that there was a look of consideration that swarmed him, and soon he blatantly admitted with-

"It's smart, but by doing so- you admit your weakness. You could only implement such tactics if you had experienced its intensity" he paused and I meet his eyes for a fleeting second to see him encourage me to start first, I obeyed this wise- but as I pass him, "If I admit to not trust you, you earn a reason to not trust me either Tommy"

There's a chuckle that threatens my lips, it's a sad one and he makes me lead first, the stairs are unforgiving with a pungent smell of smoke that kept getting stronger with each ascend.

I see luminous, lanterns with the fire lit in an empty barren hallways, the walls are wet and mouldy. Red with paint and mud peeling. The Ezdan comes to stand by my side and watched the scene with a sense of familiarity.

There is a window next to us and he positions to stare out, wind blows his hair in the cold night as he commands.

Not asks or states, but orders.

"There's a grinder vast enough, get yourself to the roof" I blink at him, then I nod without a cause. Simply throwing one leg over and then another. He peeked his head through the window to inspect if I have settled.

I look down, the distance to the ground makes me dizzier than I ever have been even with a starving body. But I have journeyed over mountains and terrains, this shouldn't bother me-

"Focus, it drizzled this evening. You might slip" he provides, gasping I press my back to the wall- it was trails ad trees and nothing that could define a peaceful landing if I were to fall.

I am glaring at the sky since I can't bear it at him. A list of certain profanity encircled my mind that suited him, but I waste no further minute- the sooner he gets to what he wants, which probably should be some delinquent, royal misconduct and get out from here.

He joins me as I sat there tending to my scraped skin on the semi open terrace, I realised we are right above the ceiling he kept glancing towards religiously the whole night. There are unswept gravels and trash particles, it churns, scratching under his boots.

The wind is quiet and breezy here, not as angry as it had been in my quest up.

He moves the path with knowledge until he reached into the slant of a chimney, I look over my shoulder- a view of keld greets me- from here I could see the mountains I came from, when I turn, the Ezdan had one of his knee bent and rest upon the sill- nearing his peculiar form I tried to see what piqued him-

It wasn't a chimney he was staring down at, its a panel of glass to a room beneath, and in the cabin I see people. I see the girl. One of the two- she is young, though tall and fit, her face shines with youth as the light in the room kissed her bronze cheeks. Her hair is short, unevenly cut but styled to be such. I see a desk, a lit candle, some letters and a chair. And a hazy shadow of a person standing by. She is looking at him- as he read.

There's nothing much I saw of him, all that him, is his voice carried by the breeze. The hollow lane of this fake chimney aided to raise his echo- when I heard , I knew it wasn't the voice of a man who implores for harmony.

"What did you find on him?"

The girl cowers as she speaks-

"I am afraid nothing has been found on the boy, sehnoir" her gaze is low, afraid and tired. As for the man, I cannot see him, he was far too in the corner for me to see- but relieved was I to not. Because what he said next makes me feel like a mouse trapped in a wolf's stomach.

A fancy verb used by helians to justify the raw dread.

"A boy won against a Dragon- and you say there's nothing you could find on him?"

I am playing in my thoughts and getting lost on my own, it's a maze and it's a land of free sky. I can understand him and yet I am in denial. And in whirl it began to fit, the hostile gazes of fighters in base, General slantis and his warnings, the heir and his indications. It was bound to happen, Antar is not a community of Ivyaki with hollow threats and people with food and skills for wages. This is a political realm which pulsed with power, wealth and war.

And what happened with me, and what I did in the arena had teased the whiskers of beasts lurking in dark.

I have read enough to know what he spoke of. There are people who wished to know about me- for good or for bad. But they are meddling my past-

A past that's doesn't exist at where they search.

"I heard a rumour milling around the Underland sehnoir" the girl stutters, addressing him as master in kelds dialect. "The boy is said to have been taken under protection by the crown, it is also suspected his mentor to be a high blood since none of his information has been easy to obtain"

There is a laugh, the man's laugh. Cunning and calm. I shiver.

I shivered because I could feel it again. The cold of ivyaki- and it isn't a mere hallucination. Not when I saw a mist kiss the air in our breath. I look at the Ezdan to find him quiet, colder than what I was sensing- whiter than the man's laugh below. No colours tainted his blank canvas.

He knew what was happening, he was waiting for it as he looked down. Not sparing my soul a glance. I mimic him to see the girl shrill a cry and fall to her knees. As if something made her knees do that- lose their feel. Freeze its flex.

"You have been of great service Janice, pity I have no room for those who were once good at their job" she chokes, squeezing her neck with her own hands as if to break something. Her mouth opens wide, her wheezing slow- her pupils dilates. She looks up, at us. But she is not perceiving. Her eyes are sad and the wind is tight.

It chills my bones.

But it's the effect around that I feel, the real thing that's being sculpted was her.

Even her cries are frozen- her tears crust and a cloud of vapour dances and dies, it dies with the last breath on her lips.

With a gasp I stumble, my legs are weak, and my heart has lost its control as it frenzied. I yearn to peel an inch of my skin to wake me up from my nightmare, but it was no better- my nightmares are real too. They become a reality soon. And I am seldom prepared for it either.

I am small, too fragile for this mission.

I was wrong.

Ivyaki was a land of plague by birth, but the real world was worse- they are worse because they chose to be this.

Whoever is down there has gifts, but they curse it upon their people.

Ruthlessly.

So so much pain as the girls gaze haunts me.

I lift my gaze to look at the Ezdan, he was looking at me already. And at that moment I knew he didn't lie.

Trust is a price, it's a joke. The lack of it seems to portray his conscience in a clear light.

And tonight I found something in common between us- something that he wanted me to know and witness rather than making me trust him.

The very aspect of faith he seem to detest.

Danger and death looms upon us both.

And it's our choices that will change the course.

I am not to be forgiven, but I still try. If you are still here...you guys have real patience. 👼

I will be quick from now on. It might not be a promise but sure is a commitment.

Have a nice day :) and ignore the typos and errors- unedited.