14

  Fate Strikes Again

  The journey to Solaria's grand temple felt surreal, as if the very air carried the weight of divinity. The temple itself was a marvel, its gilded spires piercing the night sky, illuminated by the soft, shimmering light of Lees and Zae. As the Emberfall company approached, Alyc couldn't help but feel small beneath the towering arches and intricate carvings of gods and celestial events.

  The dining hall they entered was nothing short of magnificent. Its vastness stretched beyond what Alyc had imagined, with ceilings so high they seemed to touch the heavens. Murals depicting the gods Solarios blazing with golden fire, Lunarious with her serene silver glow, and Terranus, sturdy and unyielding danced across the ceiling, their stories intertwining with the Skyburst’s epic tale. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, radiant light, reflecting off the silver and gold inlays of the long dining tables.

  Alyc’s breath hitched as she took it all in. She reached out, brushing her fingers along the edge of the polished table nearest to her. "This is... incredible," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the murmurs of awe from the other Emberfall competitors.

  “It’s something, isn’t it?” Durk said, standing close behind her. His tone was lighter than usual, a rare moment of softness that Alyc cherished. But as she glanced at him, his expression seemed thoughtful, almost distant.

  They moved to their designated table, where the rest of the Emberfall competitors, minus Prigo, were already settling in. Vienna sat at the head, her presence radiant. Though she wore no crown or insignia, she didn’t need them her quiet confidence and poise as the Divine Champion spoke louder than any adornment. The Divine Council was seated nearby, their dignified silence lending an air of gravitas to the celebration.

  Despite the grandeur of the hall and the camaraderie among the competitors, Alyc couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Prigo was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the High King or Erik. The empty seats at the king’s table felt like a shadow over the celebration.

  Durk, noticing her unease, leaned in slightly. “Don’t dwell on it,” he murmured. “It’s their night, not ours.” He gestured toward the competitors, who were already laughing and toasting their victories.

  Alyc nodded but couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of tension that seemed to ripple just beneath the surface of the night’s festivities.

  The dining hall buzzed with the lively energy of Emberfall’s company as they gathered around the long table, their shared camaraderie lifting the mood. Alyc, her eyes alight with excitement, leaned forward eagerly.

  “So, Vienna,” she began, her voice brimming with admiration, “that duel with Jesta how did you stay so calm? It was like watching a dance, every move so precise. Did you know you’d win?”

  Vienna chuckled softly, setting down her goblet of mead. “Confidence is one thing, but certainty? Never,” she admitted. “Jesta’s one of the most formidable opponents I’ve faced. Every strike of hers was calculated, every movement deliberate. I had to stay patient and wait for the right moment.”

  Alyc’s brow furrowed as she thought back to the duel. “Was there ever a moment where you thought you’d lose?”

  “Several,” Vienna replied with a wry smile. “That’s the thing about battle you can’t let fear or doubt consume you. You focus, adapt, and trust your instincts.”

  Durk nodded approvingly, lifting his mug. “Smart advice,” he said. “Listening, Alyc?”

  She rolled her eyes playfully. “Always, Dad.”

  Brook, seated nearby, leaned back in his chair with a booming laugh. “If we’re talking about memorable moments, how about the Wind Trials? Two dips in the water and I looked like a drowned ox!”

  The table erupted in laughter, Alyc included. “You did give the crowd a show,” she teased.

  Brook grinned, unfazed. “At least I stayed honest to my strengths or lack thereof,” he added with a wink. “But hey, if you ever need a lesson in resilience, I’m your guy.”

  “Or in how not to jump,” Bregund quipped, earning another round of laughter.

  Alyc couldn’t contain her curiosity. “What about you, Jesta?” she asked, turning to the Selenian warrior. “That move you pulled with the Wirefang Gretch running up its whisker? How did you even think of that?”

  Jesta smirked, swirling her mead thoughtfully. “Combat isn’t just about brute strength or speed,” she said. “It’s about using everything in your environment. That whisker was just another weapon it just didn’t know it.”

  “Agility, awareness, and knowing how to read an opponent,” Jesta continued. “You’ve got a sharp eye, Alyc. Maybe one day, you’ll give us all a run for our money.”

  Alyc’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, but she grinned. “You’d better watch out then.”

  Durk, visibly more relaxed than usual, watched his daughter with a quiet smile. The tension that had clung to him for years seemed to ease as the table filled with laughter and banter.

  “Any tips for me, Brook?” Alyc asked, turning her attention back to the large warrior.

  “Strength and durability, kid,” Brook said, flexing his arm exaggeratedly. “You’ve got to learn how to take a hit and keep going. No one wins every fight, but the ones who can endure always stand a chance.”

  “And if that fails,” Bregund chimed in, “get creative. A little misdirection never hurts.”

  Alyc listened intently, soaking up their advice like a sponge. She couldn’t help but marvel at the different perspectives each competitor brought to the table. Their experiences and insights felt like treasures, lessons forged in the heat of battle.

  The night wore on, and the table grew even more animated. Mead flowed freely, and the stories became grander with each toast. Durk, usually so reserved, joined in the merriment, his laughter deep and genuine. Alyc couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so at ease.

  As she looked around the table, Alyc felt a warmth that went beyond the flickering light of the chandeliers. For the first time in days, the weight of the Trials seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of shared triumphs and stories. It was a moment she would carry with her a reminder of what unity and resilience could achieve.

  The lively conversation at the table ebbed and flowed like the tide, laughter ringing out as stories from the trials were recounted. Yet amidst the revelry, Durk’s gaze lingered on Alyc, a softness in his eyes that was rare for the battle-hardened swordmaster.

  Alyc caught his expression and tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her sharp gaze. “What is it, Dad? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Durk hesitated for a moment, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug. Finally, he let out a soft chuckle, his voice quieter than usual. “You just look so much like your mother.”

  The words caught Alyc off guard, freezing her mid-motion. Durk rarely mentioned her mother. It was almost an unspoken rule, a part of their past cloaked in silence. She leaned closer, her tone careful but eager. “What was she like? You hardly ever talk about her.”

  Durk leaned back, his features shadowed in thought. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, tinged with both fondness and sadness. “She was... remarkable,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “She was hardheaded, funny, and brave just like you. She had this way of lighting up a room, making everyone around her feel like they belonged, no matter who they were.”

  Alyc’s throat tightened at his words, her heart swelling with a mixture of longing and pride. “She sounds amazing,” she said softly.

  “She was,” Durk replied, his smile faltering for a moment. He stared into his mug, the memories clearly both a comfort and a burden. “I don’t talk about her much because... it hurts. Even after all these years, it’s not easy to face the fact that she’s gone.”

  Alyc reached across the table, placing her smaller hand over his. “It’s okay, Dad,” she said gently. “You don’t have to tell me everything now. But... I’d like to know more about her. I think she’d want me to.”

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  Durk’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the mask he usually wore cracked, revealing the deep well of emotion beneath. He nodded slowly, squeezing her hand. “Maybe on the journey home,” he said, his voice thick with resolve. “I’ll tell you more then. About her, about us. You deserve to know.”

  Alyc’s eyes lit up, her excitement tempered by the solemnity of the moment. “I’d love that,” she said earnestly, her voice trembling with gratitude.

  Durk chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, and ruffled her hair in a rare display of affection. “Alright, alright, kid. Don’t get too excited. It’s just a few stories.”

  But to Alyc, it was so much more. For years, the void left by her mother’s absence had been a quiet ache in her heart, one she had learned to live with. Now, the prospect of learning more about the woman who had shaped so much of who she was felt like a gift beyond measure.

  The moment stretched between them, a shared understanding that needed no words. Around them, the laughter and chatter of the table continued unabated, but for Alyc and Durk, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them.

  As Durk released her hand and took another sip of his drink, Alyc couldn’t help but smile. For all the trials they had faced, for all the dangers and uncertainties that lay ahead, this was a moment of connection she would carry with her forever.

  The dining hall’s warm camaraderie shifted the moment the doors swung open. Prigo’s presence was a cold wind against the glowing embers of their celebration. Alyc’s smile faltered as he strode into the room, his movements deliberate, his eyes scanning the crowd before locking onto their table. The competitors’ laughter dimmed, and the buzz of conversation softened as heads turned to watch him.

  Prigo’s smirk deepened when his gaze fell on Durk. He moved with unhurried precision, his boots echoing against the ornate floor. The tension followed him like a shadow as he stopped behind Durk’s chair and leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

  Durk’s posture stiffened for a fraction of a second before he turned to glance at Prigo, his expression calm but unreadable. Alyc’s chest tightened, her instincts warning her that something was amiss.

  “What’s wrong?” Alyc asked, her voice low but urgent.

  Durk turned back to her with a reassuring laugh, though it felt forced. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “Nothing,” he said, his tone light. “The King wants to see me. Probably to commend me for Emberfall’s victory. Stay here with the others, alright? I won’t be long.”

  Alyc’s unease didn’t subside. “Do you want me to come with you?” she offered, her brow furrowed.

  Durk chuckled, shaking his head. “No need, kid. This is formal business. You’d be bored to tears.”

  Prigo stepped back, gesturing toward the door as if to allow Durk to lead the way. “Shall we?” he said, his smirk sharp and calculating.

  Durk nodded, rising from his chair and patting Alyc’s head lightly, an old gesture that usually brought her comfort. Tonight, it felt more like a goodbye. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” he teased.

  Alyc forced a smile, but as she watched Durk and Prigo exit the hall, her unease grew heavier. Something about Prigo’s demeanor gnawed at her. The way he’d entered, the words he’d whispered, the smirk that lingered it all felt wrong.

  The warmth of the dining hall now seemed distant. The laughter and chatter faded into a dull hum as Alyc’s thoughts churned. Her instincts screamed at her to follow, to ensure Durk’s safety, but doubt held her in place.

  “Where’s he off to?” Brook asked, his voice casual as he leaned back in his chair, unaware of the undercurrent of tension.

  “The King,” Alyc murmured, her gaze still fixed on the door.

  Brook shrugged and raised his mug. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be back with a new medal or some fancy title. You know how these things go.”

  But Alyc wasn’t so sure. The air around Prigo had felt dangerous, and her father had always taught her to trust her instincts. She glanced around the room, noting that everyone else had returned to their celebrations, oblivious to her growing anxiety.

  Her heart raced. If something was wrong, she couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. Making a quick decision, Alyc slipped from her seat, keeping her movements subtle. “I’ll be right back,” she said softly, but no one paid her much attention.

  As she approached the doors, her mind spun with possibilities. She didn’t know what awaited her beyond the dining hall, but she couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in her chest.

  With a deep breath, she pushed the doors open, stepping into the cool night air. Prigo and Durk were nowhere in sight, but she caught the faint sound of footsteps echoing through the quiet streets of Solaria. Determined, she followed, her resolve hardening and her heart beating faster with each step.

  Alyc moved swiftly through the quiet streets of Solaria, her heart hammering in her chest. The twin moons, Lees and Zae, cast their soft, silvery light over the cobblestone paths, painting the grand city in shades of blue and gray. Normally, the sight would have filled her with awe, but tonight, the stillness felt oppressive, the shadows stretching like silent watchers.

  Ahead of her, faint footsteps echoed. She stayed close to the walls, her figure blending with the shadows as she followed Durk and Prigo at a safe distance. Every now and then, she caught a snippet of Durk’s voice, low and even, but Prigo remained silent. His silence unnerved her. Prigo always had something to say, whether it was a sharp retort or a smug remark. But tonight, his quietness felt calculated.

  Her mind raced with questions. What could the King possibly want with her father at this hour? And why had he sent Prigo to fetch him instead of summoning him directly? Every step deepened the knot in her stomach, her instincts screaming that something was wrong.

  The streets grew quieter as they moved away from the temple and the lively din of the feast. The laughter and music of Solaria’s celebration faded into the distance, replaced by an unsettling silence. Alyc’s pulse quickened. She considered turning back, letting Durk handle whatever awaited him. He had told her to stay behind. He’d always handled everything. But something about Prigo’s demeanor and her father’s calm acceptance gnawed at her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this time, he might need her.

  She ducked behind a corner as Prigo glanced over his shoulder. Holding her breath, she pressed herself against the cool stone wall, waiting until the sound of their footsteps resumed before peeking out. The two figures continued down the narrow street, their pace unhurried yet purposeful.

  Finally, they arrived at the Emberfall stables, a familiar structure that loomed in the moonlight. Alyc crouched low as she watched them enter, the heavy wooden doors creaking shut behind them. She hesitated, her breath fogging in the cool night air. The rational part of her told her to wait, to let her father handle whatever was happening inside. But her gut pushed her forward.

  The stables were quiet, save for the occasional soft whicker of the Thyndar’s within. Alyc crept to the side of the building, her steps careful and deliberate. A stack of crates leaned against the wall near a narrow window, and she climbed onto them, her fingers gripping the edge as she hoisted herself up. Her heart pounded as she pressed her face to the glass.

  Inside, the dim light of a single lantern illuminated the stable, casting long shadows over the hay-strewn floor. Her father stood near the center, his broad back turned to her. Prigo was circling him, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Alyc’s stomach tightened.

  Then she saw them the King and Erik Alistar emerging from the shadows like specters. The sight of them stole her breath. What did they want with her father?

  Alyc flattened herself against the crate, her pulse racing. She had no idea what she was stepping into, but she couldn’t turn back now. Whatever was happening in that stable, she had to know.

  Alyc held her breath as she peered through the narrow window. The stables, dimly lit by the flickering glow of a single lantern, felt far removed from the lively world outside. The soft rustle of hay and the occasional snort from the Thyndar’s were the only sounds apart from the tense voices within. Durk stood at the center of the stable, his broad shoulders relaxed, exuding the same calm confidence that Alyc had always admired. But the scene felt wrong off.

  Opposite him, High King Desmond Alistair and High General Erik Alistair stood in stark contrast. The king’s face was carved into a mask of cold authority, his piercing eyes fixed on Durk with an intensity that made Alyc shiver. Beside him, Erik sneered, his posture rigid and his arms crossed over his chest. The air inside the stable was thick with tension, and Alyc could feel it even from her perch outside.

  “A fine victory tonight, my lord,” Durk said, his deep voice carrying the same pride he had displayed all evening. “The kingdom should be proud of what our champion has accomplished.”

  The warmth in Durk’s words was met with a sharp, cutting response. “Enough, Durk,” the king said, his tone as cold as the wind outside. His voice echoed in the confined space, slicing through the quiet like a blade. Durk hesitated, his friendly expression faltering.

  “My lord?” Durk asked, confusion evident in his tone. Alyc felt her stomach knot as she watched her father’s demeanor shift. Something was very wrong.

  The king took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving Durk. “Do you remember where your loyalties lie, Durk?” he asked, his voice steady but laden with an edge of menace.

  Durk blinked, clearly taken aback. “With Emberfall, my lord. Always,” he replied, his voice firm but laced with confusion.

  Erik scoffed, the sound dripping with disdain. “Spare us your false devotion,” he sneered. “We know the truth.”

  Durk’s brow furrowed, his confusion giving way to indignation. “The truth? What truth? I’ve served Emberfall with everything I have. My loyalty has never wavered.”

  The king’s lips curved into a thin, humorless smile. “Lies have a way of festering, Durk,” he said. “Whispers of betrayal reach even my ears.”

  Alyc’s breath hitched. Betrayal? Her father? The accusation felt absurd. She gripped the edge of the crate tightly, her nails digging into the wood as she leaned closer to hear every word.

  “Betrayal?” Durk repeated, his voice rising slightly. “My lord, I don’t understand. I’ve dedicated my life to this kingdom to you. I have no interest in politics, let alone betrayal.”

  Erik took a step forward, his sneer deepening. “You expect us to believe that? You, the great Durk Halcyhon, with no ambition? No desire to claim what isn’t yours?”

  Durk’s jaw tightened, his calm beginning to crack. “I don’t know what you’ve heard,” he said, his voice low and controlled, “but it’s lies. My loyalty is to Emberfall. To its people. To its king.”

  The High King’s eyes narrowed. “And yet, whispers of your name speak otherwise. Whispers of a man too respected, too admired. A man who could rally an army if he chose.”

  Durk’s fists clenched at his sides, his frustration palpable. “Respect is not betrayal, my lord. I’ve given you no reason to doubt me.”

  Alyc’s chest tightened as she watched the exchange. Her father’s words were calm, but his posture betrayed his unease. The accusation was baseless, but the king’s demeanor suggested that reason wouldn’t prevail.

  From her vantage point, Alyc caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Prigo. He had been silent throughout the exchange, his steps slow and deliberate as he circled behind Durk. Alyc’s unease deepened as she watched him, her instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong.

  Inside, Durk’s voice grew firmer. “If my loyalty is in question, then let me prove it