Gravity of Obedience E-Book

Brian A. Mendonça

• Herausgeber: BookPop Media
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Symphony of Crowns and Gods
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 388

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

He was raised to obey a god who demanded blood. She was chosen as the key to his kingdom’s survival. Together, they’re running out of time.

Prince Thane never questioned the will of Zann-Xia-Czul—until a mountain ritual revealed a truth too terrible to bear. When tasked with securing an alliance through marriage, he’s thrust into a world where faith is tested by forces beyond his island’s shores.

Thane’s people believe his royal blood holds power that could save them from an evil sorceress. Yet the prince carries secrets of his own: doubts about the god who commands him, and a dread certainty that obedience alone cannot protect what he loves.

As time draws nearer to his wedding ceremony, Thane must confront horrors hidden beneath peaceful formalities while unraveling a conspiracy that could ignite war between kingdoms. Some vows are meant to be broken. Some faiths are meant to fracture. And some crowns demand a price no ruler should pay.

When duty clashes with conscience, and gods whisper truths that may be lies, Thane faces an impossible choice: submit to the traditions of his faith, or risk everything to expose a deception that could shatter multiple worlds.

Gravity of Obedience is a burning fantasy tale of heightened stakes, the burdens of blind devotion, and the fragile line between salvation and sacrifice—where the cost of rebellion may be too much to bear alone.

Will his faith save his kingdom? Or will it drown everything in blood?

Find out in the thrilling sequel to the highly acclaimed Wedding of the Torn Rose.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2022 by Brian A. Mendonça

2nd Edition Copyright © 2023 by Brian A. Mendonça

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published by BookPop Media LLC

Edition 2

ISBN 978-1-956918-07-6

24.6.4.1R

1st Edition date of publication: April 15th, 2022

1st Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-956918-03-8

1st Edition Print ISBN: 978-1-956918-04-5

Cover design by Fay Lane (https://faylane.com/)

Symphony of Crowns and Gods Official Website:

https://www.theauthorbrian.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, religions, cultures, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A NOTE ON SERIES THEMES:

Symphony of Crowns and Gods is an intricately woven fantasy series filled with unexpected twists and turns. This narrative explores a rich and complex world, including sudden transitions to themes and motifs that may provoke strong emotions or discomfort for some readers. These elements include, but are not limited to, dark magic, violence, moral complexities, psychological manipulation, trauma, and crises of identity. Characters in this series must overcome the darkness within themselves and confront the harsh realities of their world to ultimately discover their inner strength and resilience. Their journeys will not be without their scars.

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CONTENTS

1. The Ascension

2. The Demand

3. The Loyalty Circle

4. The Next Command

5. The Miracle of the Ages

6. The Crimson Knight

7. The Darian Kingdom

8. The Wedding of the Torn Rose

9. The Blood of Royals

10. The Whisper of Zann-Xia-Czul

11. The First Loyalty Circle

12. Somnius

13. Epilogue

Book 3 Chapter Preview

Note About the Preview Chapter

Prophecy of Tears and Sacrifice Scene Preview

Prophecy of Tears and Sacrifice

Books by Brian A. Mendonça

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GRAVITY OF OBEDIENCE

SYMPHONY OF CROWNS AND GODS

BOOK TWO

BRIAN A. MENDONÇA

1

THE ASCENSION

The sun crept over the horizon. With it came warmth and light, peeking between the clouds and through the Temple of White’s glassless windows. Sitting cross-legged on the black marble floor with his head bowed, Prince Thane wrinkled the corners of his eyes slightly as he took a few deep breaths. Then he jerked upright and inhaled deeply, as if making up for lost air, before suddenly exhaling with all his might.

In front of him, smoke from various incense sticks meandered between a trio of obelisks. Words in a foreign language he couldn’t identify covered each of the pillars from top to bottom. Despite their resemblance to the Throatian language, the scripts were meaningless to him. Even Cereene, who was highly knowledgeable about the old texts, couldn’t decipher the hieroglyphic writing. Thane’s father seemed to know the history and secret significance of the obelisks and the writings, but he refused to share the details whenever Thane asked.

Outside, the bells tolled from a nearby Loyalty Circle, declaring the completion of another sacrifice. A Son See’er had grown closer in their faith.

“Sheiaa Kaaduul,” whispered Thane.

He continued his meditation for another hour, finding inner peace in the rising heat of the stone floor until Elder Hrodspire’s arrival interrupted him.

“Prince Thane, I’m sorry to trouble you again about this,” said Hrodspire, bowing to the obelisks and then to Thane. “Your mother, she’s⁠—”

“I know she’s worried,” Thane said, “but Father told us not to disturb him on his pilgrimage. We know this. He might be late, but he’s not in danger.”

Often loose-lipped, Hrodspire relished being the first to share the latest gossip and tales. Perhaps spreading hearsay had become his preferred entertainment in his old age. “But it’s been two weeks longer than ever before. Compared to the rest of our island, the icy winds of Mount Sephorr grant no accommodation. He must have run out of food days ago.”

“Then he’ll fast as needed until he completes his quest,” Thane replied. “When he’s finished praying, my father will return. Why do you and my mother persist in over-analyzing his actions and making a fuss about nothing?”

“It’s not about questioning,” Hrodspire said. “Like the other Elders, we’re concerned for his safety.”

“Which Elders, specifically, Hrodspire?” Thane snapped.

“Several of them, I’m afraid.”

Thane scowled. “Send them all to a Loyalty Circle. It will remind them of Zann-Xia-Czul’s protection and the consequences for those who lose their faith.”

Hrodspire gulped, perhaps finally realizing that he was bothering him. “I intended no lack of faith, my prince. This might be a test for our king, or maybe even for you.”

“A test, old Elder? I doubt it. You’re reading far too much into this.”

“I apologize, Prince Thane. Please forgive my intrusion. But I urge you to talk to your mother soon. It will reassure her.”

Both of Thane’s parents, as the highest-level Son See’er Vrai, had already proven themselves during their trials in the Loyalty Circles. The Throatian queen was stronger than Hrodspire acknowledged. It was nearly insulting that he would suggest she was someone who would needlessly worry about her husband. There was no point in wasting further breath on the Elder. Thane had come to the Temple of White for meditation, not to indulge in pointless conversation.

“You’re forgiven,” Thane said. “Now go.”

Undisturbed, he closed his eyes again and continued his meditation until midday, when he finally rose from the floor. Blood rushed through his numb legs, painfully easing the cramps he’d developed while praying. Near the exit where he’d left his brown leather sandals, he lit a stick of incense, letting it burn over a small metal bowl on the ground. Satisfied, he gave a final bow to the obelisks and left.

Outside, the winding path down the grassy hill led to where the highest castes of families lived. Being royal, rich, or powerful correlated with one’s devotion to Zann-Xia-Czul compared to others who lived on their island. Through growing loyalty or faltering faith, individuals moved throughout the rings of society as instructed by their god. Zann-Xia-Czul could read their minds, ensuring no secret stayed hidden.

The Asche house, standing nearest to the temple, served as a constant reminder of the expectations laid upon them. Homes without doors signaled to other Son See’ers that a family had nothing to hide. After all, their island’s small stone huts embodied their religious principles: mindfulness, transparency, and sacrifice.

Thane stepped into his single-room home through a tall archway. No one was inside, and the kettle was absent from the stove, prompting him to turn around and resume his walk down the gravel path away from the Temple of White. A quarter mile north of his home, amidst the huts scattered about the hill, he found his mother kneeling beside a small river.

“Shivanna Adul, Mother,” Thane called to her.

Urith Asche, standing taller than any other female Son See’er Vrai, shifted toward him, clutching her kettle. Sunlight reflected off the lengthy scar on her face as she nodded. “Shivanna Adul. I’m at peace, though I don’t know for how much longer. Your father has never been gone for this long.”

Thane took the kettle, carrying it for her as they ascended the hill. “I’m certain he’s spending his time in isolation productively. Elder Hrodspire mentioned last week that we were lagging in our annual harvest. Father is likely praying about that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Urith said, “but I sense something else is amiss.”

“I’ve never believed those rumors about Mount Sephorr. If our god can read our thoughts and intentions from anywhere, why would he only communicate with Father while he’s on top of the mountain?”

Urith jabbed his shoulder, causing some of the kettle’s water to splash onto the grass. “It’s not your place to question it,” she growled. “Your grandfather, and his father before him, said the same. Tradition outweighs your imagination.”

“Sorry,” Thane said, rubbing his arm.

They returned home and brewed tea from some nearby yellow wildflowers. As it steeped, Urith unstrapped her sword from the wall and grabbed a whetstone from the cupboard. She grunted as she sat down and began sharpening her blade. Tiny sparks flew as she angrily ground stone against metal.

“Are you planning to carry that up Mount Sephorr and look for Father?” Thane asked. “You know it’s forbidden.”

“I’m going to contribute to a Loyalty Circle.”

“As if you haven’t been going there every day lately.”

“It keeps my mind off things. Don’t you get any ideas about climbing Mount Sephorr either.”

“I’m not the one who’s worried about Harkbin,” said Thane. “And believe me, I’d rather climb any mountain other than Mount Sephorr. Give me heat and humidity over a blizzard any day.”

“Watch your tongue,” Urith said. “You’re not too old to be punished by your mother. I won’t hesitate to make you kneel on broken seashells again until you learn respect.”

In silence, Thane took the kettle from the fire and poured their drinks. He sat down beside her and stared at the bear pelt strung across the wall. A month ago, his mother had downed the beast with an arrow, finishing her hunt with her blade. Their family savored the meat for weeks until his father announced his need to begin his journey up the mountain earlier than usual.

The impulsive decision to ascend so early was likely the root of Urith’s concerns; Harkbin rarely deviated from his routines and rituals. She had packed him some bear meat, and that same night, he’d ventured off without even informing the Elders.

“I’m going to the Loyalty Circle now. Do you want to come?” Urith asked through a mouthful of smoked rabbit jerky.

Loyalty Circles were perhaps the most poorly thought-out demand of worshipping Zann-Xia-Czul. While it was clear their god required blood sacrifices, Thane couldn’t understand why animals weren’t suitable for their rituals. It made no sense for a god to want his followers murdering each other. Indeed, the Breeding Farms kept the Throatian population steady, but it never appeared to grow beyond that. Neither the Elders nor his father could answer why only human blood was acceptable either.

Thane watched the steam rise slowly from his cup. “I’m going to White Boar’s Landing to check on my new armor. The craftsman is behind schedule and I’m curious why he hasn’t contacted me about it.”

“Why not just send a Son See’er? You needn’t do such trivial fetch quests on your own.”

“As if I would allow a mere servant to touch it,” Thane scoffed. “They’d cover every piece of the suit with their greasy fingerprints. The artisan imported most of the materials from Wargonne in the Darian Kingdom. It’s going to be the most spectacular suit in the⁠—”

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight then.”

His mother downed the rest of her tea in a single shot and wiped her face with her arm. She set her cup down on the table next to a pewter handbell, which she then picked up and rang so loudly that any Son See’er within a quarter mile would hear her summons. A moment later, a young servant girl appeared and carried Urith’s armor and weapon for her as they left down the hill.

Thane took a while longer to finish his tea, then headed down a separate road toward White Boar’s Landing. Off in the distance, ships came and left from the beach. Various crates of food and other supplies were stacked neatly along its piers, and the crews hastily sorted them to prepare for trade. The squawking of gulls clashed against the sound of ocean waves as Thane entered the bustling market. Son See’ers made their way past him, nodding in greeting as they carried wares to their carts. Foreigners from the Silent Deserts paid him no mind, unaware of Thane’s royal status.

The laws and their enforcers prevented strangers from delving into the Throatian culture or venturing further into the island beyond the port’s gates. Similarly, merchants who conversed with outsiders were only taught enough Common Tongue to do their trading, nothing more. Therefore, there was no exchange of culture. Thane suspected the restrictions were for hiding Throatian religion from other nations. Human sacrifice likely wasn’t acceptable in other ways of life. Some of the sailors that came through White Boar’s Landing lacked the physical aptitude required to survive a Loyalty Circle. Chances were the sacrificial arenas were exclusive to their island.

Zann-Xia-Czul used his magic to enforce the secrecy of religious matters. When Thane was a child, Hrodspire told him stories of how their god summoned thunderstorms for over a hundred days straight. The nonstop wind and rain engulfed the island, forming a barrier of cliffs around it, leaving White Boar’s Landing open as the sole means of entering the country. Despite the restrictions, the port flourished with carts, shops, and trade.

As he entered a small armor and weapons shop, the elderly smith Thane had commissioned several weeks ago appeared through the rear door. The man quickly set the box of scrap metal he was carrying onto a nearby workbench.

“Shivanna Adul, my prince.” The armorer grinned, wiping his spot-covered hands on his apron. “Thank you for coming.”

“Shivanna Adul, Son See’er,” Thane replied. “How is my armor? Is it ready?”

The man scratched his head and glanced at the door. “Alas, it is yet incomplete. I’m still waiting for the material I need to glaze the surfaces. Without it, the armor will easily scratch.”

Thane lifted his shoulder in half a shrug. “So, it is out of your control until you have the missing component. How much longer will you need once it arrives?”

“I’m expecting it here in a few more days. Making the protective coating will be easy, and then I’ll paint the surface with it. Once it all dries and hardens, you’ll have the greatest armor I’ve ever crafted. Would you like to see what I’ve done so far?”

Although he hadn’t answered Thane’s question or given a timeframe, seeing the progress was at least worth checking on. “Yes, I would.”

The armorer rubbed some sweat off his forehead, and his hand left a streak of greasy polish behind. “It would be best if you tried the main parts on now while it’s still possible to make adjustments. I tailored everything as we planned, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure everything’s comfortable.”

He led Thane to the back room, where various tables and shelves displayed partially completed projects. A pearl-white breastplate and matching helmet sat on a mannequin, glistening and beautiful. Thane knew they belonged to him and couldn’t contain his grin.

“Yours is easy to spot among the rest of them, isn’t it?” the craftsman commented. “Since you gave me creative freedom on the design, I’ve taken inspiration from the Temple of White and our island for the color and style.”

Thane lifted the armor off the display. It was the lightest cuirass he’d ever held. His eyes closely traced over its intricacies. Someone had meticulously painted pale blue fish across the snow-white suit. Lines of the same color curved between the fish, mimicking the ocean waves. Fish held no significance to him, but with this new armor, perhaps they could become part of his reputation and identity. As the craftsman had promised, the suit was unique and beautiful. The texture, however, felt no different from glass or seashells.

As he held the armor in front of him, he kept his eyes unblinking. “Will this truly protect me? It feels too light to block arrows or heavy blows.”

The man nodded and pointed his wrinkled finger at the breastplate. “Your curiosity honors me, my prince. You asked for powerful protection, but with feather-like weight. I’ve made it exactly as you requested. Even without the scratch-resistant seal, it can defend you just as well. Still, it is best we do not compromise its beauty by testing it yet.”

Thane slid the armor on and tightened the straps. After he finished adjusting the parts for his upper body, he moved on to his new leggings. Although every piece was solid, the complete kit was as light as cloth. He would be able to dash quickly in a fight, almost unfairly fast. Best of all, everything fit perfectly.

“Your work is astounding. How did you make this?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t reveal my trade secret,” the man said, idly twirling a small hammer in his hands. “You have my word; this is the finest armor you’ll ever own.”

There was something unsettling about the man. Perhaps he was nervous because his prince had shown up to his shop unannounced, and the project wasn’t yet complete? Nonetheless, it wasn’t worth pressing the man further—at least not until the armor was finished and it was time to ensure that everything was crafted as it should have been.

“Thank you,” Thane said. “What about the other pieces?”

“Everything else is in my storage drawers, but they are of the same quality and beauty. You’ll have all the parts when it’s done, of course.”

“Then I’ll come back next week to collect the armor. Thank you for your diligence. I’ll ensure you’re paid as we agreed and that your See’er rank rises.”

The armorer dropped his hammer. “My See’er rank? Prince Thane, you are too kind! Such is worth more than all the gold you could give me! Thank you, my lord. You are so much more flexible than your father. So much⁠—”

“Best not to compare me to him,” Thane warned. “Until next time, Shivanna Adul.”

“S-Shivanna Adul,” he stammered. “Thank you again for your business!”

Thane returned to the calmest area of the pier, avoiding the hustle and bustle of the day traders. Wandering alongside the docks, his eyes drifted out to the sea. As the ocean’s waves caught his gaze, Thane yearned to leave the island and explore the world.

Although his father and ancestors had decreed that Son See’ers never leave their homeland, they had never justified why. Despite Thane’s devotion to his god, he sometimes worried that some of the required practices and instructions might have been misinterpreted. Whenever he asked his father about why everything had to be done a certain way, he was told to trust and obey the Throatian traditions. Those who were less skeptical than Thane attributed anything out of the ordinary to “the will of Zann-Xia-Czul.”

“Only through me does our god give his orders,” Harkbin had told him. “Beware of your private thoughts, for Zann-Xia-Czul sees everything within our minds. He always knows when the Son See’ers doubt his ways and calls them to be tested.”

Naturally, being tested, according to Harkbin, meant being killed by lightning; there was neither a trial nor a chance to object when someone’s faith was in question. Zann-Xia-Czul simply gave Harkbin the names of the Son See’ers who were unworthy of sacrifice, and they would be lined up in a field together. Harkbin would read them their faults and sins, then magical lightning rained from the sky to perform the executions. It was a dreadful fate, but perhaps less painful than bleeding out in a Loyalty Circle. Thane sometimes worried that excessive questioning might cost him the favor of Zann-Xia-Czul. However, Hrodspire had once counseled that small doubts were often forgivable so long as they didn’t lead to action.

A nearby shout interrupted Thane’s contemplation of his god’s nature. He glanced over at several guards who were running toward the gateway leading to the island’s center. Had someone breached the perimeter? He jogged to where the men and women were gathering. Whatever incident was transpiring seemed out of the ordinary.

“What’s happened?”

“There’s a fire on Mount Sephorr,” a middle-aged guard said. “We suspect it might be your father calling for help.”

Dark smoke lingered near the mountain’s summit. The cause of the blaze, which seemed larger than a mere campfire, appeared to have consumed at least a handful of trees.

“It couldn’t be a message!” one of the younger guards added. “The king knows it’s forbidden for anyone to ascend, even for a rescue. We can’t violate the sacred orders.”

“Shut up,” the first guard said. “It’s not your job to whine and complain.”

“I’ll seek the Elders’ counsel,” Thane said. “If my father is truly in danger, they might bend the rules. Assemble your troops and prepare to ascend—I might instruct you to search for him.”

The men shared nervous glances. None dared to challenge his direct order, even if it contradicted the commandments of their god. Finally, their leader stepped forward.

“Yes, sir,” he said, pounding his fist on his chest. “Shivanna Adul.”

* * *

Thane returned home in search of his mother or any of the Elders. However, upon arrival, all the nearby huts were vacant. Chances were they were all still at one of the Loyalty Circles. The next most likely spot to find anyone relevant was at the Temple of White, so Thane hastened up the road to where he’d spent the morning praying.

As he approached the massive stone building, Hrodspire trudged out to meet him halfway, huffing and puffing.

“I saw you ascending the hill, my prince,” he wheezed. “Are you aware of the fire? It’s raging on⁠—”

“But is it from my father?” Thane scowled. “What are the details?”

He slowed his pace, allowing Hrodspire to keep up with him as they walked toward the Temple of White. Frowning at their reduced speed, Thane moved as quickly as Hrodspire could follow.

“Elder Kaelgeth saw several lightning bolts strike the top of the mountain,” Hrodspire said. He took another moment to breathe. “Therefore, it’s most likely that King Harkbin is in danger.”

As they crossed beneath a large archway, Thane’s heart faltered. “Would Zann-Xia-Czul have a reason to harm Father?”

The Elder scratched at the last remaining gray hairs on his head. “Come. Your mother and Kaelgeth await us. They’re praying by the obelisks.”

After removing their sandals, they entered the main worship room where Urith and a middle-aged man in a purple hooded robe were kneeling before the three obelisks. The man next to her was Elder Kaelgeth, the Temple of White’s keeper. Like Hrodspire, the island’s sun had withered his skin over the years, leaving behind various brown spots and wrinkles. Such were the marks of the highly ranked Son See’er Vrai—it was extremely rare for anyone to live long enough to approach the age where one would die of natural causes. Elders, hand-selected by their peers, served Zann-Xia-Czul and the island for life.

As Urith arose from the ground, Elder Kaelgeth greeted them with a silent nod. She turned a quick bow to the pillars and blood dripped down her armor onto the white marble floor. The mess didn’t worry Thane at all, as he knew none of the blood was hers.

“Thane,” she said, “this time, we cannot let tradition limit us. Someone should ascend Mount Sephorr and find your father.”

Kaelgeth, spotting the blood on the ground, removed a polishing cloth from his robe and started wiping up the mess at her feet. Though the Elders were ranked higher than most other people socially, the royal family was still the highest, and it was his job to look after the religious structures and monuments.

“Respectfully, my queen,” he said, “you cannot climb. We permit only the Throatian king to approach Zann-Xia-Czul on Mount Sephorr. The laws clearly forbid it.”

The scar covering most of her face bulged as she growled back at him. “We must make an exception! My husband, your king, is likely in danger.”

“It’s not our decision,” the keeper of the Temple of White countered. He rose from the floor and pocketed the bloody polishing cloth. “You dare question the command of Zann-Xia-Czul?”

Hrodspire rested his hand on Kaelgeth’s shoulder. Whenever he laid his wrinkled hand on someone in that manner, it signaled that whatever he said next was not to be disputed. “Queen Asche may have a point, though for the wrong reason. An exception is necessary, and in this case, I propose allowing Prince Thane to ascend.”

It couldn’t be right. Mount Sephorr, the massive, snowy summit that dominated nearly a third of their otherwise tropical island, was sacred. Kaelgeth was correct that the rules were simple: only the king could climb the mountain. Everyone else, the Elders included, couldn’t.

“Me?”

“You think so, too, Hrodspire?” Kaelgeth asked. “And why should we allow Prince Thane to break the law?”

Hrodspire chose his next words carefully. “Because Thane might now be the king. There’s a strong possibility King Harkbin is already dead. If that’s the case, Thane can rightfully ascend Mount Sephorr.”

“Explain yourself,” Urith barked. “There’s no way my husband is dead!”

“Kaelgeth, you saw the lightning with your own eyes, correct? You didn’t learn of this from another Son See’er?” Hrodspire asked.

“Correct. There were several strikes, but no sound.”

“Then you can understand the implications here,” Hrodspire said, staring firmly at the queen. “Pardon me for considering the worst possibilities, but acknowledging this is the only way to allow Thane to search for his father.”

Thane glared at the Elder. Suggesting his father was dead meant only one thing: Zann-Xia-Czul, their god, had killed him with lightning.

Before he could utter a word, Urith closed the distance to Hrodspire, her face scowling inches from his, and gave him a slight shove. The old man wavered in surprise, then shrank back from her.

“Harkbin would never turn against Zann-Xia-Czul!” Urith yelled. “I should kill you where you stand for even suggesting such a thing!”

“Calm down,” Kaelgeth warned. “The Temple of White is no place for violence.”

“I don’t like the idea of Father being dead either,” Thane said. “Still, we must acknowledge the possibility. Lightning without thunder means our god created it. We can’t deny it happened, but we have to figure out why.”

“I agree with Prince Thane,” Hrodspire said, still cowering. “I propose we grant him provisional kingship until we learn the fate of King Harkbin.”

“Seconded,” the queen grunted after a moment that was thick with silence and scowls. She turned to Kaelgeth, who was straightening his purple robe. “Will the Elders let Thane ascend?”

“I don’t believe there’s enough evidence,” Kaelgeth said. “Nonetheless, despite my personal disagreement, I’ll permit it in my capacity as an Elder.”

Thane nodded. “We need to understand what happened. If ascending Mount Sephorr is the only way, I’ll do it.”

So long as there was a chance his father was alive, he would take it, no matter how steep the climb.

“Very well,” Hrodspire proclaimed. “With two Elders and the queen present, we hereby grant you the temporary privileges and powers of the king. This proclamation will either expire or extend upon your father’s return. Shivanna Adul, Thane Asche.”

“Be safe, my son,” Urith said. “Return to us unharmed.”

“Shivanna Adul,” Thane said. “With any luck, I will be back with Father soon.”

* * *

Thane jogged to the foot of Mount Sephorr where the trail began. He looked back toward the Throatian huts that dotted the neighboring mountains, wondering if it would be his last time seeing them. If Zann-Xia-Czul truly did not want him to reach the mountain’s peak, death by lightning was inevitable.

Ascending Mount Sephorr presented its own challenges. Wild bears and other predators thrived there, unchallenged by hunters. Armor was a necessity, yet Thane opted for his old, rusting suit instead of the new set. The craftsman had warned that risking scratches before he’d applied the final coat of protective paint was not worth it. Thane agreed with him. After all, what was the point in having such an elegant white suit if there were a chance it would become battle-scarred in its first use?

“I look more like a commoner than a prince,” Thane muttered, glaring down at his chest. “This isn’t proper attire to meet my god.” His old armor set had suffered from years without polish, slowly deteriorating under the sea breeze. Despite the metal surface’s cloudy appearance and patches resembling brown sand—results of his neglect—it would still offer him protection.

As he ascended Mount Sephorr, the dirt path gradually transitioned into snow. Shivering, he pushed forward through the freezing wind, higher and higher, toward the summit. As his shoes filled with the iciest moisture he’d ever encountered, he quickly developed a strong disdain for snow. His armor offered no warmth, and since he had encountered no wild beasts, he discarded it in the sleet. It would provide little protection against a lightning strike anyway, and Thane ultimately didn’t want anyone to find his body dishonored by such attire, should he die there.

After trudging up the hill for three hours, he took a break, sitting down on a cold log. Though he’d seen plenty of squirrels, rabbits, and other game so far, Thane opted to eat the jerky he’d brought instead. Despite their religious mandate to consume raw meats, he preferred the taste and dry texture of the jerky over any cold, squishy, and lifeless alternative. Supposedly, centuries ago, the earliest Throatian people struggled to digest uncooked meats, but Zann-Xia-Czul had continued requiring it anyway. Enduring the hardship of their meals served as a test, leading to adaptations in their bloodlines that enabled future generations to follow these practices without falling ill. However, in the snowy ranges of Mount Sephorr, raw meat would resemble the taste of an animal’s corpse even more than usual. The relentless cold surrounding Thane was unyielding, and he had no desire to partake in consuming uncooked meat.

“I should have brought more clothes,” he growled. It was too late to make up for his lack of proper planning. He would need to endure the weather until reaching the summit. The fires at the top would help him warm up. He stood and resumed his journey.

As the intensity of the wind gusts increased, they pierced his lungs and caused his nose to run. Amidst the cold, he picked up a subtle hint of smoke. At least he was nearing its source now. Another series of zephyrs blew past him, and the sound of chanting echoed off in the gales somewhere far up the road. His father was nearby.

Thane’s heartbeat surged as he broke into a run. No longer weighed down by the armor, his energy had been renewed. The onset of sunset and ensuing darkness soon caused the path to become unclear. Thane could see nothing, so he let the chanting sounds guide him through the mountain’s forest.

“Shivanna, Shivanna, Shivanna…” the voice echoed against the howls of the wind. As Thane neared the summit, he confirmed that the chanting voice belonged to his father. The repetition meant only one thing: the king was in danger and begging for peace.

The path ended, and Thane found himself in a clearing dominated by a large, white, stone plateau. Surrounding it were eight vast trees, ablaze and smoking, as if they were sticks of incense. His father knelt in the plateau’s center, both hands extended in the air as he chanted to a cave’s dark opening. Whatever was inside likely held greater significance than the burning timbers surrounding the plateau.

“Harkbin!” Thane called out, still balking at the strange surroundings.

The Throatian king, either ignoring him or unable to hear him, continued his chanting unbothered.

“We have to go now!” Thane said. He coughed heavily as smoke filled his lungs.

With his father remaining undisturbed, it prompted Thane to climb onto the plateau and run towards him. Thane grabbed his shoulder, but Harkbin fearfully shoved him away. What was going on?

“No, you cannot trick me with these illusions!” Harkbin yelled. “Zann-Xia-Czul, I’ll pray here until this is right!”

“Father, it’s me!” Thane yelled. “I climbed Mount Sephorr. I’m really here!”

Harkbin lowered his arms and turned to his son. His face was gray with ash. “How did you…? It’s forbidden. Our god… h-he would have—No, wait… You coming here could have been his intention. But that would mean⁠—”

“What’s happening?” Thane asked. “Why are the trees on fire?”

“They’re omens of what’s yet to pass,” Harkbin said. “We’re all in great danger. You shouldn’t have come, Thane. You really shouldn’t have come…”

“Why not? We need to go home. When did you last eat or drink anything?”

“Since our god didn’t strike you down during your ascension, you’ve confirmed your role in this,” his father replied tearfully. “I’m so sorry, my son.”

Before Thane could respond, Harkbin turned back towards the cave, raising his arms again to resume his chanting. It was the first time Thane had ever seen his father truly afraid of something. His delirium was likely from a lack of food and water. Yet could Zann-Xia-Czul be living inside that cave? What had they discussed to cause Harkbin to lose his normally unshakable composure?

Thane placed himself on the ground beside his father and gazed at the cave’s entrance. Perhaps now he could finally have a conversation with his god and understand the reason for Harkbin’s mysterious behavior.

“Shivanna Adul, Zann-Xia-Czul,” Thane said, raising his arms in worship. “Please tell me what’s happening. What’s this⁠—”

“Quiet, you twit,” Harkbin said, shoving his elbow into Thane’s ribs and knocking him over. “Zann-Xia-Czul only speaks to me. You haven’t the right to question or command him!”

“Please!” Thane begged, ignoring Harkbin’s reprimand. “I need to know what’s happening.”

“Thane, know your place!”

The prince’s eyes narrowed as he studied his broken father, his king.

“What did he say to you?” Thane asked, pushing himself from the ground. He looked over at the trembling shell of a man upon whom his people relied on the most. “Everyone’s been worried about you. We need to return home and talk about it.”

“I can’t go yet.” Harkbin shook his head, his voice cracking. “The plan needs to change. Otherwise, our island will become⁠—”

His king’s despair and refusal to return home were unsettling. He wished he could do something—anything—to make his father understand the danger of their situation. Somehow, there had to be a way of getting through to him. But first, he had to figure out what was happening, even if not why.

“What plan?” Thane asked. “What did Zann-Xia-Czul ask of you?”

Turning away, Harkbin said, “The Loyalty Circles... we need more. Far more than we have now.”

“That’s nothing worth fretting about,” Thane said. “We’ll have the Son See’ers build more of them and increase our Breeding Farms, too, if needed. It’ll take time and effort, but⁠—”

“You don’t understand,” Harkbin interrupted. “Yes, we need more sacrifices, but they won’t be enough. If we can’t increase our yield, Zann-Xia-Czul can’t protect us.”

“What?”

“The blood supply—it’ll be too low. There’s not enough of it!”

His father wasn’t making sense. The traditions of Loyalty Circles and Breeding Farms were nearly as old as the island itself. So long as they made expansions and gained enough resources, the infrastructure supporting their population would accordingly scale.

“Why does he need blood at all?”

“We have no place questioning his needs,” Harkbin retorted.

“Did you see him?”

“Who?”

“Our god.”

“We humans aren’t fit to see him. We are just⁠—”

“Did you ever actually lay eyes upon Zann-Xia-Czul, yes or no?” Thane snapped.

Despite never setting foot on Mount Sephorr before, he sensed something was terribly wrong and out of the ordinary. The crackling of the burning trees echoed in the background, and he swore he could hear the snowflakes hiss as they landed among the flames.

“No.”

Throughout Thane’s life, his father, the Elders, and everyone else in power had insisted that Zann-Xia-Czul existed in physical form at Mount Sephorr’s summit and forbade entry to anyone but a Throatian king. Why hadn’t Harkbin ever witnessed their god if the ordinances were indeed accurate? Was there something their people were missing? Regardless of the possibilities, everything would be unclear until Thane could meet their deity directly.

“We have to verify the truth,” he said. “We need to confirm whether Zann-Xia-Czul is legitimately a god. Why else would he need the blood?”

“How dare you!” Harkbin exclaimed. “Have you no faith?”

“It doesn’t add up!” Thane said. “He needs us to bring him more blood but won’t explain why or show himself. Even at Mount Sephorr’s summit, why must he hide? Something is wrong here. He might just be a Lucidian. His powers bear resemblance to the rumors about those people.”

“No, Thane! You’re wrong!”

“He’s obviously been living alone up here the whole time,” Thane said. “I’m going into that cave.”

“Don’t!” Harkbin reached out to stop him, but Thane was already running across the platform toward the entrance.

“Stay where you are, Father,” Thane called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Though the cave had an enormous opening, he guessed the cavern inside was shallow, given the nearby cliff. He peered through the entrance and saw only darkness and faint shadows. Going inside was the only way to discover Zann-Xia-Czul’s identity.

Thane grabbed a burning branch from the nearest tree and held it in front of him. As he approached the cave’s entrance with his new light, a bolt of lightning shot from the sky and sizzled through the snow where he was about to step. The strike narrowly missed him, clearly a supernatural warning.

He froze, and his eyes darted upward. The lighting was magical, but was it truly a god’s power? He’d heard rumors of a group of humans far across the sea who’d learned how to use magic, but that their powers were weak. Being so close to his god’s presence, yet denied a meeting with him, made Thane hesitant. The prince considered whether the entity he worshipped was only a fraudulent sorcerer after all.

“Zann-Xia-Czul!” Thane bellowed into the cave. “My faith in you wavers! Show me you aren’t merely a Lucidian! Prove to me you are truly a god!”

“Shut up, you fool!” Harkbin yelled. “You’re not thinking clearly!”

More lightning bolts rained down, this time forming a circle around Thane. Despite his upper body’s uncontrollable shaking, his legs found the strength to sprint toward the cave again. The attacks were magic, but they were only warnings.

“Thane! No! Our god isn’t a Lucidian!” Harkbin’s warnings were useless; Thane was already in the cavern’s mouth.

“I need proof!” the prince yelled, his determination preventing any desire to retreat. “Lucidians use their own blood to make their magic. We can’t know who Zann-Xia-Czul is unless we see!”

He carefully extended his torch as he stepped into the cave. The flame’s light reflected off the back wall, proving the interior was shallow—only fifty feet from end to end. Zann-Xia-Czul was in there somewhere, but where? There was no evidence of anyone hiding inside.

As Thane neared the rear wall, the floor disappeared from under him. He jerked backward and fell onto his backside, accidentally dropping the burning tree branch into the dark pit. The dwindling light, reduced to a distant pinpoint, momentarily cast a glow on the pit’s edges. Several seconds went by before the light winked out completely and he heard the torch thud on the ground below. Thane gasped, for if he’d taken another step, he would have died.

Embarrassed, he crawled over to the edge and peered down below. Even though the torch had extinguished just a moment ago, the pit’s bottom now glowed orange as growing flames climbed higher and higher at an alarming speed. He rolled back again and the fires rapidly subsided, narrowly missing his head.

“You’ve proven you have magic,” Thane called into the darkness. “That much is clear. But who are you really?”

He tried to look down the hole again, but fire erupted from the bottom once more, blocking his efforts. Suddenly, a scream shook inside his ears.

“WHITE ARMOR CANNOT PROTECT YOU FROM A BLACK STORM. OBEY ME OR YOU’LL PERISH WITH THE REST.”

Thane quickly turned around, but nobody stood behind him. He swore that someone had yelled directly into his ear. Few people were aware of his new armor—only the armorer and perhaps the Son See’er Vrai that served him. Thane’s suspicions of Zann-Xia-Czul being a Lucidian were put to rest. Though none of his questions were truly answered, Thane concluded for now that whatever hid within the cavern was, at the very least, a reclusive yet powerful magical being. A real god or not, it was too strong to challenge.

“I understand,” Thane called out, trying to hold his composure and conceal his faltering voice. He’d been tested but spared. “I remain your loyal Son See’er. Thank you for showing me the way.”

He held this position for a long while, waiting for acknowledgement, but Zann-Xia-Czul did not say another word.

2

THE DEMAND

Blood poured from his legs onto a small mountain of shattered seashells as Thane reached his fourth hour of meditation. Despite the thousands of cuts along his knees and shins, it was hardly a painful punishment. Kneeling on broken shells was nothing new.

His parents’ method of discipline, applied whenever he disobeyed, had been far more uncomfortable during his childhood. Back then, his nerves were unaccustomed to the stern reminders of obedience and compliance. Now that Thane was in his early twenties, the suffering barely felt different from kneeling on bare ground. Resting on broken manilla seashells was less physically painful, but more embarrassing because all the Elders would know of his disrespect and corresponding punishment.

“Rise, my son,” Urith commanded as she entered the Temple of White’s cathedral and glared down at him. “Do not wipe your knees.”

“As you wish, Mother,” he replied. His hands instinctively reached to dust the shards off his legs, but he caught himself and stopped. “How is Father?”

Taking her time, Urith retrieved a new bundle of incense from the obelisks’ bases and carefully set it next to the half-burned sticks. She lit the new sticks, placed them among the ashes, and then bowed. The lavender fragrance filled the spaces between the obelisks as she coughed from the smoke.

“He’s still shaken by everything he saw, including what you did at the cave,” Urith said. “However, a bath, some bone broth, and a tankard of mead are speeding his recovery.”

Those things would ease his father’s body from the hike, but the source of Harkbin’s strange behavior came from whatever he and Zann-Xia-Czul had been discussing before Thane arrived. Never had he seen his father so upset. In a best-case scenario, rest and some reassurance from their god would relieve his unusual state of panic and frenzy.

“Did he say what Zann-Xia-Czul wants us to do?” Thane asked. “I’m still unaware.”

“Your father has spoken of nothing other than his disappointment in your blasphemy.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Thane sighed. “When I approached the plateau and didn’t see our god, it gave me doubts. But in the end, Zann-Xia-Czul spoke to me! His words sounded within my mind!”

Urith nodded her approval. “Perhaps he forgave your moment of weakness. Maybe he recognized your role as the future Throatian king.”

“We have no way of knowing,” Thane said, waving some of the incense smoke from his eye. “I now respect Father’s pilgrimages more than ever. Mount Sephorr is very, very cold.”

A cough echoed behind them as Hrodspire entered the cathedral. At his side was Valenti, another Elder.

“Shivanna Adul, Prince Thane and Queen Urith,” the woman said, holding a large, dirt-covered book. “I apologize for our tardiness. There was an incident at one of the Breeding Farms I needed to resolve.”

Disruptions and altercations were commonplace in the daily activities of the Breeding Farms. Regardless of sex or gender, compelled procreation led to a mixture of emotions and strife among the people involved. Above all else, their duty sustained the island’s population and refined the bloodlines to only Zann-Xia-Czul’s most loyal. The Elder’s direct control over the birth rates was necessary, as the Loyalty Circles demanded so many deaths. Aside from the Son See’er Vrai, the Elders, and a few other exempted families, most of the population followed a simple pattern: birth inside a Breeding Farm, proving themselves in a Loyalty Circle, and then contributing to the cycle’s repetition.

Elder Valenti managed every aspect of the Breeding Farms, including selectively pairing Son See’ers to reduce the spread of any inherited diseases. She also ensured smooth execution of everything, from planning to childbirth, regardless of the participants’ pleasures or displeasures. In situations where neither of the paired Son See’ers desired to fulfill their duties, complications arose and Valenti needed to intervene.

“Was it another Son See’er Fohh?” Urith asked her.

“Indeed. We moved him to Loyalty Circle Fourteen. While there’s no room for false worshippers within our bloodlines, he’ll serve Zann-Xia-Czul in life or in death.”

Urith grinned and gave her a light tap on the shoulder. “Your delay was justified, Isola. Well done.”

Meanwhile, Valenti narrowed her eyes at Thane. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, my young prince. Your temporary appointment as king had limits.”

“I wasn’t even considering my title,” Thane said. “I sought the true face of our god, but now I recognize my skepticism as a problem.”

“Proof isn’t the foundation of religion—faith is,” Valenti continued. “It’s best that⁠—”

“I’m certain Thane understands the concept now,” Hrodspire said as the prince held his tongue. The Elder gestured to a doorway at the other end of the cathedral. “Come, let’s all sit together and wait for King Harkbin’s arrival.”