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Theocratic-Monarchy: SunSide
21st Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
The thrumming of rainwater rapping against the window wall spreads across the Theater. Zar-Lo breathes deeply as Frona completes her descent, leaving the stars and moons to illuminate the sky with their solemn sparkles.
The storm rages as the heavens weep over the kingdom, and the king stands alone, soaking in his domain as it unwittingly sleeps on the edge of a new era.
“Tonight,” he whispers, as if the nine Members of the Assembly stand within earshot, “I enshrine the legacy of what she and I built. Tonight, I end ages of exhausting sycophancy—eons of endowment—in exchange for paltry shreds of respect.”
As droplets slam the glass, he ignores the voices that have all but replaced the headaches.
Bring us what is owed to us, Faerie. We have an agreement. Bring us the sacrifice. We are starving.
He ignores them and continues. “Tonight, I step into the era of my sole guardianship over this world, as it always should have been. And I do it all for her, whose memories sustain my essence, despite its enervation.”
The doors creak open and the Facilitator enters. Zar-Lo’s eyes remain on the city below as he listens to Saith’s footsteps approach.
“Is it done?” he asks.
After a moment of hesitation, and perhaps defeat, Saith replies, “No, Father. Alba and her colleague have crossed into SunSide. They’ve likely reached the diplomatic chambers by now.”
To Zar-Lo’s surprise, he feels nothing but the constant exhilaration of his plan’s inevitable success. “So be it.”
“And what of her potential enlightenment to the Final Act’s contents? If my daughter has revealed the truth, Alba will ensure your name has ‘Murderer’ etched alongside it.”
“Do you remember what I told you the day of the execution? Kings are illusionists. And history is our greatest illusion. Nothing that is written cannot be rewritten.” He turns to face Saith. “Bid farewell to your daughter. It is her final night.”
Saith’s gaze moves to where his arm once was, and back to the MegaFather. “I remain committed to you, and to this dynasty, as I always have.”
“I know. Once we’ve managed the chaos and the streets are cleansed of dissent, we can turn our attention to finding the girls and forging the changeling. It has to be perfect, Saith. Authentically organic, from skin to bone to blood. The ancient ones cannot know that it wasn’t made from my loins.”
“It will be. They’ll believe it to be your offspring. With Vy-Ro and the Bravers searching the forest, we cannot be far from the twins.”
A soft snicker escapes the MegaFather’s lips. “The twins. They think they’ve outsmarted us, but it isn’t the sharpest in the room who survives.” His eyes narrow on the forest. “It’s the most desperate.”
Saith’s eyes shift to the ore desk and his eyebrows rise as if a thought has occurred to him. “Speaking of desperation, how was your day with Vy-Ro? What have I missed?”
Zar-Lo hesitates, knowing that the answer to his subordinate’s question will distress the
Facilitator. He spits the information out as quickly as he can.
“That spineless igni Courtman returned, shouting accusations in the Castrum.”
Saith shakes his head. “I’m surprised. I told him to stay away for his own safety.”
“Well, now he’s dead.”
There’s a long pause, in which Zar-Lo is painfully aware of Saith’s staring. “Please, Father, tell me you didn’t—”
“I did,” Zar-Lo admits. “You threatened to do the same.”
Another long pause. Saith must be biting his tongue. “Not in broad daylight. Were there witnesses?”
Zar-Lo shakes his head. “Only Vy-Ro. The body was taken offshore on the igni vessel, which now rests on the ocean floor.”
Saith exhales deeply. “Anything else happen while I was gone that I should know about?”
Zar-Lo weighs his next words carefully. “This won’t be easy to hear, Saith.”
“What is it?” There’s genuine panic in his tone.
“Believe me, it was never my intention for anything to happen to her.”
“To whom?”
Zar-Lo turns to lock Saith’s gaze. “Saimiza has made her radiance-return.”
The color slowly begins to drain from Saith’s face. His jaw falls slack and his nostrils flare. “What happened to her?”
“I was hoping she’d be able to subdue the presence of the ancient ones in my consciousness. Evidently, I was wrong.”
Saith steps backwards, as if Zar-Lo has physically pushed him. A layer of moisture spreads across his eyeballs and he attempts to blink it away, but tears begin to form. “Father, I’d like to be dismissed for the night. I can resume my duties in the morning.”
Zar-Lo hesitates to allow Saith a reprieve on such an auspicious night, but he sees the Facilitator wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “Alright, Saith. Rest tonight and return before the suns rise.”
“Thank you, Father,” he says with a quiver. The pixie turns and begins to exit the room, but Zar-Lo’s voice stops him.
“I understand you’re about to lose your daughter and your aunt on the same day. You’re welcome to mourn tonight, but when your eyes open in the morning, they should be dry.”
Without another word, Saith nods and leaves Zar-Lo alone in the Theater. The MegaFather turns back to the window wall and watches the raindrops hammer the streets, envisioning rivers of red blood flowing into the gutters.
The king stands, ready to celebrate a night of death and rebirth.