The wingless king, p.27
The Wingless King, page 27
“What have you done?”
“Seren…”
An embrace encircled him from behind, abruptly pulling him away from the vivid memory. The touch was warm and comforting. It was Mila, pressing herself against Seren’s back, her hair brushing against his cheek.
“It’s over, Seren. You’re safe now. Try to take a deep breath,” she reassured him, gently wiping a tear from his face. “You’re crying.”
“Am I?”
How strange. Warm tears were running down Seren’s face, falling into his lap. He allowed Mila to wipe them away, feeling too dazed to mind.
“The trial is over,” she said.
He surveyed his surroundings, realizing they were in her room. “How...?” Seren whispered.
“Well…” Mila paused, taking a deep breath. “I used my magic,” she finally confessed. “I was careful not to let anyone notice. Your eyes began to change, and I was afraid others would notice. If my mother expects you to be more than human, then nothing good could come from it.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I had no choice but to take extreme measures. I stopped your heart long enough for you to lose consciousness. I was able to bring you to my room before you…changed again.”
In a quiet, almost defeated tone, he asked, “Does that mean I failed?”
“My mother has granted one last trial,” she answered with relief. “You remembered something, didn’t you, Seren? You look so broken…”
They faced each other for a moment, her warm brown eyes looking deeply into his. She reached out, her hand brushing the tendrils of his hair.
“Why does your hair change?” Mila murmured. “It looks like starlight.”
Seren froze as her other hand found his cheek.
“What’s going on, Seren?”
“Don’t pretend to care about me now, Mila,” he said icily.
She withdrew her hand, looking hurt. “Seren...”
“Just don’t,” he interrupted her. “There’s no audience to deceive here. We don’t have to pretend.”
Mila remained silent as he turned his back to her. He felt her presence as she settled on the bed beside him. He couldn’t bear to look at her and certainly didn’t want her to see him cry any longer.
They sat in heavy silence until the gentle rhythm of Mila’s breathing indicated that she had fallen asleep. It was clear that harnessing her magic drained her of energy, leaving her exhausted. He turned back toward Mila. Her hair cascaded across her arms, framing her face. Each subtle breath Mila took caused her long lashes to kiss her flushed cheeks. She was beautiful, scars and all.
Why had she protected him? Twice at that. Perhaps it was simply ingrained in her nature, a reflection of the goodness her brother had attested to. Regardless of her true feelings toward him, the fact remained that she had selflessly come to his aid.
He couldn’t resist the urge and reached out, his fingertips brushing a stray strand of Mila’s hair away from her cheek. As he observed her peaceful expression, he couldn’t help but wonder how long she had held him and stayed, attempting to calm him. What had he said?
Seren’s fingers traced his lips as he thought of their kiss. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, betraying him. Warmth filled his cheeks at the mere thought. Mila’s lips had been so soft, and her breath hot as it coalesced with his. He shook his head, feeling stupid for allowing his mind to wander.
He approached the mirror hanging on her wall and stared back at the stranger in the reflection. Silvery-white hair. Eyes of an inhuman color. His fingers traveled upwards as he touched his hair, feeling its unnatural softness. He took a deep breath, realizing he had let his Aura fall away, exposing his true self to Mila. He had been too vulnerable.
As his fingers touched the surface of the glass, he watched in fascination as the strange violet shade slowly transformed, replaced by the familiar green color of his mother’s eyes. His hair faded back into its inky-black color, besides the one stubborn strand that refused to change.
The seal was supposed to control his Aura, but it was fading, and his control was slipping away.
Seren stepped backward, falling into the bed with a loud sigh. His eyes drew upwards to the captivating expanse of stars above. He lifted his hand, his finger hovering underneath the brightest star.
“Is this who I am?” he whispered.
Who was he? He was Seren, the apparent son of a God and a murderer. Wasn’t he the one destined to cleanse the Veil, as he had always been told? A reincarnation of a Goddess meant to save the world? He let his hand fall and clutched the blankets tightly, his heart racing in his chest. With his eyes squeezed shut, he tried to calm himself, urging a deep breath. He wanted to scream.
He had seen the truth. He went to the Godless City on his own. He had turned his back on the Gods, hadn’t he? He had run. Seren reached under his shirt, feeling the horrific scars beneath his fingertips. Why had he chosen to share his wings with Lumen when he had been too afraid to show even Aiden? He was a fool. Everything that had happened was his fault.
Cleanse the Veil.
Seren couldn’t. He didn’t know how. He had failed Aiden, and yet, all he longed for was to be with him now. To be... home. But it wasn’t home, was it? Not without his mother.
He needed Aiden’s guidance, his wisdom, and the unwavering belief Aiden held in his ability to cleanse the Veil. Most of all, he needed Aiden’s forgiveness. He had to overcome the final trial set by the Queen, no matter the cost. And perhaps he could uncover a way to free Mila from the binds that held her. When it was all over, he would find his way back home.
And if you fail?
The doubt crept in. Hadn’t he always failed?
“I’m sorry,” Seren muttered. He clutched his head in his hands. “I can’t do it.”
Seren was the child who had always cried. Who angered too easily. A boy with a love for the stars and the sky. The one prophesied to stop the Sundering. He was Seren, the failure.
“Seren?”
He felt Mila’s hands on his back. “I can’t,” he choked. “I don’t know how.”
“Seren,” Mila whispered again. Her arms wrapped around him just as before. “I know. You can talk to me.”
“I can’t. I just…can’t.” He took a gasp of air, his body shuddering. “You wouldn’t understand.” A sob ripped through him as he tried to fight the agony.
Mila grabbed his face, pressing her forehead against his. Warm tears traced his skin as she held their heads together, his tears pressing against her cheeks.
“Breathe, Seren.”
This time when she said his name, a calm overcame him as if she was pulling him out of the deep waters of his sorrow. His shoulders fell limply, and he collapsed into her, their lips grazing.
Mila let go of him, their foreheads separating as they moved apart, but their shoulders remained pressed against each other.
“Did you remember who you are?” she asked softly. “When you did the trial?”
“Yes,” he uttered.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to remember that way.”
Seren took a deep breath, finally feeling as though the suffocating weight was being lifted. “I needed to remember sooner or later.”
“So…” Mila trailed off. “Was Kitsune right? Are you the son of a God?”
“I wish it were that simple,” he said shakily.
“Oh.” Sensing that he wouldn’t elaborate, Mila turned to face him. “We should talk about what’s to come tomorrow. I don’t know why my mother is allowing you another trial, but I have a strange feeling. She even said you’ll attend the gala before I am crowned queen. I’m not sure what she has planned, but I can’t promise that I can keep you alive.”
He exhaled and forced a smile. “Your mother is kind of crazy, you know that?”
Mila returned the smile and rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“So, what happened to you killing me?” Seren asked. Their shoulders were still touching, and their legs were pressed against each other.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary anymore.”
Seren leaned toward Mila, his hand overlapping hers. She tensed as he neared, her brown eyes giving away unease.
“What about kissing you?” he asked.
“W-what?” she stammered.
“Will kissing you be necessary again?”
Mila’s face flushed with color. Despite clenching her fist, she didn’t withdraw her hand or move away as he inched closer.
“You have a lot of nerve. That trial really did mess with your head,” she breathed, her eyes tracing the curve of his mouth.
Seren pulled away seconds before reaching her lips. “I’m only teasing you.”
Although, truthfully, he wanted to kiss her again and again until he forgot everything else.
twenty-two
“The trinity of items, holy in might, only wielded by the one they call the Half-Light.”
—the Seer Diaries of Felix Amos
1025 A.E.C.
The servants dressed Mila in a sheer purple gown that cascaded elegantly down her figure, showcasing her shoulders and back. As she attempted to conceal the scars on her back with her hair, the two Sisters, introduced as Aria and Rhiannon, reassured her that her beauty remained undiminished. Delicate gold snakes were embroidered along the hem of her dress, while matching bracelets adorned her wrists.
Meanwhile, Seren sat awkwardly, a mere observer, as the Sisters applied makeup and fastened exquisite golden pins into Mila’s hair. Finally, a small golden crown embedded with black diamonds was carefully placed atop her head.
Aria ran her fingers over the dark circles beneath Mila’s tired eyes, her expression filled with concern. She applied a cool rag to them, offering a momentary relief. “You’ve pushed yourself to the limit, dear Princess,” Aria murmured.
Rhiannon quickly interjected, casting a protective glance at her sister. “Nevertheless, you are absolutely radiant,” she proclaimed, her voice carrying a subtle warning. “You possess the grace and strength fitting of a queen.”
“I don’t want to be queen.”
The clatter of hairpins falling to the floor jolted Seren’s attention toward them. Both women stiffened at her declaration, exchanging anxious glances. A hushed silence fell upon them as they gathered the pins and continued to arrange Mila’s hair. Aria’s fingertips delicately grazed over the bruises, still marking Mila’s neck.
“We understand,” Aria murmured. “We have been by your side, dear Kamilah, for countless years. Our duty has always been to care for you since you were a mere child. And your brother, too. His death pained us.” She tenderly cupped Mila’s face, her touch imbued with nostalgia. “A part of me has always wondered...” But Aria’s voice faltered as if the words struggled to reach her lips.
“I don’t know how to sever the bonds,” Mila said in a monotone. “I’m sorry.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Rhiannon slapped her sister. Aria winced and cradled her reddened cheek.
“We are forbidden to discuss such matters,” Rhiannon hissed. “I apologize, Princess.” She bowed to Mila, sweat forming on her forehead.
“No need to apologize,” Mila assured her kindly. “On another note, will Seren also be dressed for the gala?”
The attention of both women shifted toward Seren, causing him to squirm uncomfortably in his seat, feeling a sudden bout of self-consciousness.
“Yes, it does surprise me, to be honest. It’s unheard of for a Beloved to attend a gala,” Aria mused. “It makes me wonder what plans the Queen has in store.”
Rhiannon slammed her foot on the ground. “Quiet down,” she growled, shaking her head.
Aria frowned but chose to focus on handing Seren neatly folded clothing, the gesture signaling the end of their interaction. “It seems we’re finished here. We wish you the best, Princess. The next time we see you, you will be our queen.”
Rhiannon and Aria rose from their seats and made their way to the exit. Aria disappeared behind the door, but Rhiannon paused, her hand lingering above the handle.
“We are not born evil, young Beloved,” she whispered. “Nor are we born with a hatred for men. If anything, we are cursed, bound to the will of the Queen, just as she is bound to Lilith. I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to tell you.” With those cryptic words, she disappeared, closing the door behind her.
Seren stared at the regal attire in his hands, its accents matching Mila’s outfit once again. He traced the outline of the golden buttons. Taking a deep breath, he started peeling off his clothing.
“I’m afraid, Seren.”
Mila’s back was turned to him, and Seren could see the slight tremble of her shoulders. He adjusted the collar of his shirt, his hands slightly unsteady.
“It will be alright, Mila,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure if he believed his own words. “Even if you become queen, I will find a way to get you out of here. I promise.”
Mila turned toward him, her eyes welling up with tears. “Please, don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she whispered. “You won’t be able to forgive yourself if you’re unable to follow through.”
Her words sent a pang of worry through Seren’s heart. He knew that she was right. And he also knew that she was thinking of the promise she had made to her brother. Empty promises couldn’t be made when the stakes were so high, and her future hung in the balance.
Taking a deep breath, Seren strode across the room to her, reaching out and grasping Mila’s quivering hands. “Mila, I promise you this,” he said, his voice steady. “I will do everything in my power to face the last trial, to overcome every obstacle that stands in the way.”
He could see Mila searching for the truth in his words. A flicker of hope began to replace the doubt in her gaze. She squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“You don’t know when to give up, do you?”
Before he could respond, a knock echoed on the door. The doors opened, revealing Iris, dressed in a stunning blue gown that showcased the Sanguine markings on her chest. She respectfully bowed to Mila upon her entrance.
“I will accompany you both to the gala,” Iris announced. “Please, follow me.”
Mila and Seren followed Iris, staying side by side. Mila seemed tense, her body rigid. He gently placed his hand on her back, feeling her relax slightly at his touch. As they approached the grand doors to the throne room, anxiety began to bubble within him.
Iris pushed open the grand doors, revealing the breathtaking gala before them. The room had transformed beyond recognition, adorned with Sisters dressed in exquisite attire, engaged in lively conversations and graceful dance moves. The sweet melodies of a symphony filled the air. From her throne, the Queen locked eyes with Seren upon their entrance, withholding a greeting as she whispered something to a court member at her side. A vermilion snake rested on her shoulders like a piece of jewelry.
Something about Queen Omaira seemed different. Seren’s eyes drew toward the crown perched atop her head. It was a magnificent creation, a striking combination of weaving black snakes and shimmering red rubies. The very symbol of power and authority that would soon be passed on to Mila.
“Do at least pretend to enjoy yourself, Princess,” Iris hissed between them. “Mother is watching.”
Without waiting for a response, Iris turned and walked purposefully toward the Queen, her graceful figure cutting through the crowd. Left behind, Mila and Seren exchanged worried glances, silently sharing their mutual apprehension.
As he glanced back at Omaira, he couldn’t shake the feeling of her pressing gaze upon him. It was obvious he was the sole male presence amidst the splendor of the gala, a rarity amongst the Sisters. Their curious glances and whispers hinted at their unfamiliarity with such an occurrence. He couldn’t help but feel the weight of scrutiny settle upon him.
“Shall we, Princess?”
Seren extended his hand toward Mila. She raised her eyebrows in question but, without hesitation, placed her palm in his. They stepped into the center of the grand room as the Sisters parted to create a path for them. He firmly rested his right hand on the small of Mila’s back, guiding her. As the melody of the music filled the air, their bodies moved in synchrony.
“You know how to dance?” Mila asked, her voice filled with genuine surprise.
“Apparently so,” he chuckled. He pulled Mila in closer and dipped her, their faces momentarily close. “I may have a few hidden talents. I can also play the harp if you’d believe that.”
Her lips curved into a delighted smile. “So, you can dance, play the harp, and wield a sword? You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Unable to contain his smile, he replied, “You have no idea.”
“So,” Mila whispered, her head leaning against his shoulder. “What is it like to remember who you are?”
Seren’s hand tensed, causing Mila to wince. “There simply isn’t time to think about it,” he said hoarsely.
He twirled Mila across the floor, memories of his mother flooding back. His heart ached as he remembered her touch and patient guidance while teaching him how to dance. It was a bittersweet memory but one that he would hold dear.
“It’s almost worse,” Seren whispered, “to remember. I would rather only think about being here with you.”
He yearned to erase it all from his mind once more, a desperate desire to avoid dwelling on any of it at this moment. The weight was overwhelming—too much for him to bear. The thought alone threatened to unravel his composure; he feared it might unleash a torrent of emotions beyond his control. What if... a part of him had chosen to forget?
Mila pressed herself a little tighter against him. “Tell me something good,” she said. “A memory that makes you happy.”
“Okay,” he said in defeat. “My mother taught me to dance. I remember when she would tease me and show me the proper steps. She had said that someday I would need to know how to share a dance with someone I truly cared for. Although she never spoke about him, I think my father danced with her.”
Her hand tightened against his. “She sounds lovely, Seren.”
