CHAPTER TWO
The Dark Prince
The night was silent as the moon reached the center of the sky above the Zubhra Mountains that surrounded the mighty city of Tír na Angelus. Cain moved like mist through the trees down to the city he once called home. So many years had passed since he had walked those streets with his brothers. But tonight, was the night of his return.
His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults as he reached the giant white gate of the city. It glowed so brightly beneath the light of the full moon that anyone who didn’t know of better would swear there was a fire inside the stone.
“Open the gates! Your Prince has returned!” Cain yelled at the top of his lungs.
“Who are you trying to fool, stranger?” a guard yelled from above the gate. “The Prince of Tír na Angelus is a boy of five.”
Cain removed his hood. “I am not Prince Alexander; I am Prince Cain!” he shouted.
“Prince Cain?” the guard shouted in astonishment. “We thought you abandoned our great city.”
“I’ve heard a rumor that my father has grown ill. I’ve come to say farewell before the Shepherd King takes him,” Cain said.
“Of course, My Prince!” the man vanished from sight, and a second later, the gate creaked and a groaned as the guards opened it with their magic.
Cain glided forward, turning his body sideways to squeeze through the open gap. He paused for a second to take in the majesty of the city he had once called home before he set off down its streets. No matter how much he despised his family for the wrongs they had done to him, he had always missed Tír na Angelus. There was no city like it all the world. Everything about it was a testament to the greatness of the people of the blood of Angelus. From its golden streets to the buildings so tall they could scrape the bottoms of clouds. Only the flying city of Moondrake was said to have taller buildings.
Cain was still busy marveling at the grandiose city when suddenly there was a flash of magic energy so bright it turned night into day for a few seconds. Shade is me, was that Milara? he wondered. No, it can’t be. Not even my overachieving little sister could grow that much more powerful in two-and-a-half years. Unless I’m too late and father has already died.
With a renewed vigor Cain maneuvered through the crowds of people still hustling and bustling about despite the late hour. He was in such a hurry he almost bowled over a woman with long ashen locks that fell to her waist.
“So sorry,” the woman said in a velvety voice he recognized with a flood of dread.
Cain quickly made sure the hood of his cloak hid his face. Of all the people he could have run in to, he had ran into Milara—literally.
“It was my fault, Your Grace,” Cain said, forcing his voice down an octave or two. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. So sorry.”
Before she could inquire about him—his sister had always had an annoying habit of wanting to get to know the people of the city—he sprinted away and around a corner. The unfortunate run-in did at least confirm that the power he had sensed earlier was not Milara, and thus his father was likely still alive.
Good, Cain thought. He would have to visit whoever had produced that flash of energy as well, but not before he saw his father. The old king was at the northern point of the city where The Room of Final Days stood on the cliff that overlooked the ocean. Like the rest of the city’s buildings, the ebony of the pillars and door-frames contrasted with the pure white marble walls laced with gold.
Cain hesitated for a second as he reached the front door of The Room of Final Days. He had not expected his sister to waste too many resources to guard a man who was already as good as dead, but he had not expected to find the building completely unattended. It was more than a little suspicious, but in the end, Cain just shrugged and sauntered through the front door. If it was a trap, he felt confident he could handle it.
There were no more guards inside the building than outside. The only person in sight was a beautiful woman carrying a jug out of the bedroom and placing it on the table in the middle of the entrance hall. She was tall and slender with an ample bosom and curvaceous hips. She wore a dress that fit tight to her body and was scandalously short. On her feet, she wore a pair of laced leather boots that reached up to her calves while leaving her toes exposed.
Cain prepared to attack before she could shout for help, but he paused as she looked at him with her piercing blue eyes, a shade that was nothing like the usual ice blue of Angelian eyes. In fact, it was a shade he had never seen before. They were so beautiful and otherworldly.
“You’re not Angelian, are you?” Cain said to her, keeping a wary eye on the dagger the woman had in her belt.
“No, I’m not,” she admitted.
“Where’s everyone else? The servants, the guards, surely it’s not just you here,” Cain said.
“Of course not, your father is here as well,” she said.
“You know who I am?” Cain said, summoning a flame into the palm of his hand.
“Of course, I do. It’s my job to know,” she said with a condescending smile.
“Who are you?” Cain asked.
“Melpomene. But you may call me, Mel.”
“Are you all right out there, my dear?” the King’s weak voice called from his room.
Cain looked in the direction of his father’s voice, and when he turned back, the woman named Mel was gone.
It doesn’t matter at this point. I've already won, Cain thought and walked into his father’s room.
King Able’s withered body had deteriorated immensely over the last two-and-a-half years. The corruption from the curse had reduced the once-mighty king to nothing more than bones wrapped in papery skin. He looked at Cain with dull eyes that had once been ice-blue but were now gray.
“Hello, father,” Cain said in a sneer.
“Cain? Is that you, son?” the king asked. Cain stepped closer and Able said, “It is you. My son. I have prayed that you would show up so I can make amends before my death. Thank goodness.”
“‘Thank goodness?’ No, father.” Cain forced as much malice into the last word as he could manage. “Nothing good has brought me here. The exact opposite, in fact.”
The king looked puzzled, but before he could ask what his long-lost son meant by these words, Cain went on. “I’m here to take what is mine. You might have given her my crown, but the power of the royal line will be mine.”
“This is why you returned?” The King asked with obvious disappointment in his voice. “I am sorry, son. I have already willed them to your sister. When I die, they will pass to her.”
“Ah, but father,” Cain gave another crooked smile. “There are other ways for the power of an Angelian to be passed down. They can be willed, given, or taken. All three end in your death, so I won’t be picky. You can either give them to me freely, or I’ll take them.”
“Son, please, I—”
“Times up,” Cain interrupted his father and slammed the dagger into his heart. “By right of conquest, I claim your power. My power.”
King Able blew out his last breath, and with it also came the magic power of the royal line, reaching back all the way to Angelus Primus, the first king of Tír na Angelus.
The magic tore free of Able like a tornado of light that reached a hundred feet into the air. Pain wracked Cain’s body and he screamed as the power entered him and set his being on fire. It was as if his blood boiled and his bones shattered. He had known taking the power by force would be a more violent and painful process, after all, he had taken William’s power in this manner. But that had been worth it, and so too was this. After everything the old bastard had put him through, he deserved to die like this.
Cain had no idea how long it took for him to absorb all the power. It might have been a century or merely a few seconds, but when it was over, the pain that had filled him was abruptly replaced with ecstasy as he felt his new strength course through his body.
Let’s test it out, Cain thought as he allowed the wings made from the crystalized disks of his magic aura to take physical form. Cain spread the six wings and shot into the sky. He focused all his new energy on increasing his speed and he flew through Tír na Angelus like a shooting star. He reached the courtyard before the royal quarters in seconds. As he landed, he left a deep gash in the ground.
Strange, Cain thought. I remembered it being a lot more breath-taking. It seems, smaller, less impressive now.
Cain stopped moving as he felt his sister’s magic presence on the other side of the double front doors of the building. The doors exploded out and smashed themselves to bits behind him. Milara stepped into the courtyard and froze. As her eyes fell on Cain, her intimidating stare faltered, and a look of pure shock fell over her.
Cain couldn’t help but smile. “Hello, sister,” he said.
“Cain? What are you doing here?”
All right, time for a bit of theatricality, Cain thought before he said, “Isn’t it obvious. I'm here to kill you.”
“What?” Milara said, clearly unsettled by the casualness of his voice.
“I’ve already killed our father and taken what belongs to me. Now it’s your turn.”
“I don’t understand. I thought we had made peace.” Tears filled Milara’s eyes. “Damnit Cain, he was our father. How could you?”
“He deserved it,” Cain said. “Just because he was our father doesn’t mean his sins are any less real. And how great his sins were. Greater than I ever knew.” Cain stopped himself. His sister did not need to know everything. “The last time you and I fought, it was for the crown. You beat me that day, but I’m no longer as weak as I was then. I’ve been to places your nightmares can’t take you, learned magic you can’t even dream of, and now, you are the only person who has the potential to get in my way. Though, just to be safe, I think I’ll destroy the rest of Tír na Angelus once I’m done with you.”
“You want to kill everyone in the city? Are you mad?” Milara looked disgusted, but still, she refused to attack him.
“Yes, if I kill them all and become the last of the blood of Angelus, no one will ever be able to stop me.” Suddenly, something made perfect sense to him. “When I arrived in the city, I sensed someone use some pretty impressive power. Was that your son, what’s his name, Allen? I’ll definitely need to kill him once I’m done with you.”
That did the trick. The blue of Milara’s eyes flashed and seemed to transform into something between gas and liquid as she sent a gust of wind at her brother. Seeing this as a perfect opportunity to prove his power’s superiority, Cain sent his own gust of wind at Milara. The two invisible walls of air collided, and one swallowed the other before it slammed into Milara and threw her back through the open entrance of the royal quarters. Using his magic to augment his speed, Cain raced to the building and barely managed to stop in time as a blast of flames in the form of a snake shot out at him. The flaming serpent snapped and missed. Cain brought his two palms together in front of his chest and stopped when they were a few inches apart. A wobbly sphere of water formed between the palms of his hands. He thrust it forward, and the water dispersed into a round, hollow sphere he used to cage the fiery snake his sister was controlling from the shadows. Cain closed his left hand into a fist, and the water sphere closed around the snake. Smoke and steam filled the air as the two spells exploded.
Seconds later, the thick veil of steam parted and Milara charged through the hallway vaporized water, head first with both arms stretched out behind her. Water collected in her trailing hands and froze solid to form two stalactites. She reached Cain and slashed at him with her ice daggers.
Cain evaded every move his sister made. He ducked underneath a stabbing thrust then formed the rune signs of dhaesí magic with his fingers, pressed the fingers to his throat and let go of a banshee scream that stunned Milara for a moment and shattered her ice daggers. With his sister stunned by the scream, Cain flicked his wrist and a stone pillar shot from the ground, hitting Milara with a loud thud and crack as her ribs broke. Cain stepped forward and struck the rock pillar with his fist, sending his magic energy into the stone and causing it to blast apart. The explosion flung Milara through the air and against a nearby wall.
“Those little tricks might have been impressive when we were children, sister, but you’re nowhere close to me now,” Cain said. He came to stand over Milara and saw she was unconscious. Time to end it.
Cain held out his hand, palm open to Milara. He concentrated and allowed his magic energy to flow out of him and into his hand where it took the form of a dark blue substance, somewhere between liquid and lightning. The smell of ozone filled the air and Cain shaped the magic energy into a pentacle key, the magic of the septim wizards and their voynich ancestors.
“Now, I will be the last and most powerful being in all of Anarchos.”
“Mom!” The scream came from the door to the royal quarters.