Arthur
couldn’t fathom what he was witnessing. One moment, he had been
bonding with his brother, sharing stories under a celebratory sky.
The next, he was watching a nine-foot creature devour him.
The
monster was crouched, one arm locked around Trysten’s neck, but its
focus was on Matthew. It watched his reaction as it ripped Trysten’s
arm from its socket with its teeth. It enjoyed seeing him so
helpless. It was toying with him. Arthur’s stomach churned, but he
couldn’t look away. He saw the sunken despair in his brother’s
eyes. The feeble grip still trying to hold onto his dagger. It was
futile.
He
couldn’t blame Matthew for being frozen. Maybe, In that moment, he
had simply given up.
When
Arthur turned his gaze back, his breath caught. Trysten had spotted
him. His brother stared straight at him, wide-eyed, bloody lips
mouthing a single, silent word.
Arthur
stumbled back behind the wall. The movement was quiet, but it was
enough. The air shifted.
The
creature paused its feast. It stood, throwing Trysten’s body aside
like rubbish, his body crumbled against the wall. It was naked, a
pale, skeletal mockery of a man, impossibly tall and thin. Only then
did Arthur see the massive sword gripped in its hand.
It
sniffed the air, then slowly turned its head in his direction.
“H-Hungry...”it
growled, its voice an irregular glitch. “Meat…? MEAT
It
was at that moment Matthew made his move. As the creature focused on
Arthur, he scrambled to his feet and ran. The thing reacted
instantly, a blur of motion cutting off his escape. It was a predator
playing with its food.
Arthur
could have fled. The path behind him was clear. But something in his
spirit rebelled. Was he really okay with living while his brothers
died like a coward? He had already seen someone he loved die and he
wasn’t able to do anything. This time it would be different.
Ignoring Trysten’s final command, he stepped fully out of the
shadows.
His
bravery...or foolishness didn’t end there.
“H-hey!”
His voice faltered, but it worked.
The
creature stopped. It whipped its head around, and its face twisted
into a menacing grin that stretched its features unnaturally,
exposing rows of sharp teeth. It wasn’t a Flo beast. Everything
about it was wrong.
Arthur
saw Matthew stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes for a single
second before he turned and fled down the opposite alley. A shaky
exhale of relief escaped Arthur’s lips.
It
didn’t last. The creature’s grin vanished, replaced by a freakish
frown, its eyes burning with fury. Its growls deepened, becoming more
animalistic. Patches of grey fur sprouted on its skin, and a part of
its face began to stretch and elongate.
Chills
coursed through Arthur. He had to manually will his legs to move. He
turned to run, and fell onto ground. He tried to get up, but fell
again. Looking down, he saw why. His right leg was gone, severed
cleanly, lying in a bloody trail a few feet away. The monster hadn’t
even moved, its head merely cocked, its sword glistening.
Adrenaline
numbed the pain, but not the terror. He turned, dragging himself back
toward the alley entrance, the creature’s slow, deliberate
footsteps echoing behind him. His brother was dead. He was crippled.
And his other brother had deserted him. As the rain fell harder, his
movements slowed, his breath growing shallow. He was losing too much
blood.
The
creature seemed to enjoy his struggle. As Arthur stretched out a
hand, there was a flash of steel. His right arm was severed from his
body.
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This
time, he screamed. The pain was overwhelming. He rolled onto his
back, tears mixing with the rain, staring up at the monster looming
over him almost cackling. His vision blurred. With his last shred of
strength, he whispered a final prayer.
“Gods...blind
Freya from this horror.”
His
world faded to black.
…
A
muffled voice called his name in the darkness. He was dead, wasn’t
he?
ARTHUR.
His
eyes snapped open in a panic. Instead of being greeted by the sight
of the creature looking down on him, he was instead floating in a sky
of endless golden clouds. It was beautiful. Was this the afterlife?
He looked down, his arms and leg were restored however his body
exuded a glowing, ghostly translucence.
The
realisation hit him again. “Ah,” he whispered. “I’m dead.”
In
the void, he couldn’t help but throw a tantrum. What was he
supposed to do now? As the rage built up, another form shimmered into
existence besides him.
Trysten.
His
brother looked at his own hands, at the impossible surroundings, and
finally at Arthur, his face a mask of confusion and awe. “Arthur?
Where...what is this?”
Before
Arthur could answer, a voice boomed behind them, powerful and
feminine.
“Arthur
and Trysten Ren of Leria.”
They
turned. There, manifested in the golden void, was a massive bird
engulfed in brilliant flames. The Phoenix of Legend.
Awe
rendered Arthur speechless.
“I
have chosen you both as candidates to wield my power,” she said,
her voice resonating through the cosmos of this place. “The knight
who fought with valour, sacrificing himself for kin. And the brother
whose courage and love are unparalleled. Both of you are worthy to
be my vessel.
Arthur’s
heart leaped. “Does this mean...we can both go back?” He croaked.
The
Phoenix let out a deep, sorrowful sigh. “Alas, the mantle can be
borne by only one. A choice must be made.”
The
hope that had flared in Arthur’s chest shattered. He looked at
Trysten. His brother’s expression had hardened into grim resolve.
However, Arthur had already made his own resolve.
“Give
it to Trys-” he began.
“No!”
Trysten’s voice cut through the void, loud and clear. “You always
do this. You have always put others before yourself, never caring
what happens to you.” He looked down, a memory surfacing. “I
remember you taking the blame for me when we were boys. You let
Mother believe you broke those vases.”
Arthur
recalled the beating, the way a maid had to interfere, the harsh
words.
Trysten
tried to smile. “What kind of example would I be setting if I took
this from its rightful heir?” A knot tightened in Arthur’s chest
as Trysten turned back to the Phoenix with a knight’s finality.
“There is no choice.”
“Brother-”
Arthur pleaded.
“It
was always you, Arthur,” Trysten interrupted, his voice thick with
emotion. “You were always the better of us. You never lost your
pure heart. I only found mine at the end..” He looked Arthur
straight in the eye, his gaze filled with immense pride. “This
power...it needs little brother.”
“But
i-” Arthur started, but the Phoenix interrupted.
“I
am sorry, but you must decide quickly.”
The
clouds beneath them parted, revealing a birds-eye view of the
alleyway, frozen in a grey-scale image. Arthur saw Trysten’s broken
body causing Trysten to wince at the angle he was thrown in. He saw
the monster poised over his own mutilated form. But then, his ghostly
heart clenched. A little girl stood in the narrow passageway he had
come from, terrifie but resolute.
“Is
that…”
“Yes,”
the Phoenix confirmed. “Your sister never left. When she saw your
brother run out from a different entrance she chose to look for you.
I fear that at this rate, that thing will turn to her once it is
finished with you. This space cannot hold you for long. So...what
will you decide?”
Trysten
turned to him. “You hear that? Your sister needs a hero.” A
heavy, final sadness settled over Arthur. “That means...you will
die.”
Trysten
didn’t Argue. Instead, he faced the Phoenix. “My decision is
made! My brother will do great things as your vessel!”
It
hurt. Trysten was the knight, the obvious choice. Arthur was the
nobody.
“Go,”
Trysten said, his voice shaking with the effort to stay strong. “Show
that bastard of a creature who you are.” He stood straight as he
could trying his best to put a ghostly hand on Arthur.
“I
bestow upon you a title. You will become a beacon for the people.
Your name will be known and recognised far and wide. For your
bravery, your kindness and your goodness. People will tremble at the
name of the Rising sun of Leria. Arthur Ren.”
The
title landed on Arthur’s soul, a weight and an honour he had never
imagined.
“And
tell that I’m sorry.” Trysten’s voice trailed off.
“Now go, before I steal all this power for myself.”
Arthur
wrestled down the urge to bawl, uttering a single, steadfast promise.
“I will do my best, sir.”
He
turned back to the Phoenix, his face set with steely determination,
his voice clear and strong.
“Do
you have a name?”
