11

  One drink ended up becoming two. The light in the sky dipped lower, casting a warm dark blue haze over the landscape. The air was cool with slight breeze blowing through the autumn-colored town. Leaves scattered like flower petals across the market. Laughs could be heard all throughout the small town, as the tavern lights brightened up the streets.

  “It almost feels surreal.” Omar laughed, drinking a small glass of water. His brother Malakai sat next to him while Rhea and Martinez sat on the other side of the booth.

  Malakai leaned into the booth, sipping some blue rum. “And he continued to mock the King, too. The prince nearly came out with a guard! I tell you, Niko, had I not been there, we might have had to use the raid money to bail him out,” Malakai joked, reminiscing.

  Omar laughed heartily, almost spitting out his drink. He slugged the glass in his hand, looking at his reflection in the water. What he saw looking back at him simply made him feel more lost. Should I go with Malakai? Or is Father right…?

  “That will be a time I will never forget.” Omar bitterly smiled. “But…” He placed his drink onto the table and dug some divis out from his pockets. He fiddled with the coins before slamming them on the table. “Well, I hate to leave, but I must deliver this letter and return home. An infamous villa party is happening tonight. I’m hoping I can at least catch the tail end of it.” His brow rose, motioning to the exit.

  Malakai sighted with disappointment but gave a hollow grin. “I understand. You have your duties.” Malakai got up from the booth and walked him to the door. Omar waved to Rhea and Niko as the pair of brothers exited the establishment.

  “Forgive my indulgence. I won’t join you at the villa. I just…can’t,” Malakai wavered. Malakai’s discomfort was easy to see as he picked at his fingers restlessly. “Come see me again before we depart. Whatever you decide, know I will give you my support.” Malakai offered his hand.

  “Thank you. I hope when we meet again, you will tell me what really happened between you and Father.” Omar accepted Malakai’s hand. Omar looked at his brother, who was now staring back at him sternly. He could only give an unsure nod.

  Malakai walked away, heading back to the tavern. “Until then.” And then, with a swift shut of the door, Malakai was gone.

  Omar paused and stared at the cobblestone beneath his feet. He untucked the letters from his belt and held them tightly. The town was asleep, and the roads were quiet. A water stream flowed through the town freely, unbothered by the cold winds. Omar walked along the stream peacefully.

  “The world was in perfect harmony. The air smelled different. Waking up didn’t feel like a drag. I miss walks like the ones I took back in this day. All before that moment…”

  “Pst,” a voice hidden among the shadows whispered in Omar’s ear. “Marshall’s boy?”

  Omar turned around, alert. Nothing in sight stood behind him. He turned back to the empty shops around him, searching for the face behind the voice. “Who’s asking? Who are you? Where are you?” Omar tensed.

  A small shadow yanked Omar behind a table. It was a camouflaged elf, whose ears poked from the shadow cloak that hung to his body. He stayed visible to only Omar but hid himself to the rest of the town.

  “Listen very carefully, boy. There is no time!” the frightened shadow chanted. “The hollowed ones march for Edindale. Inform your father the Mystic Tree is no longer sacred. He will understand.” He snatched the letters from Omar’s belt. “The College of Champions offers safety should you seek it.”

  Omar tried breaking away from the shadow elf. “Who are you? What do you speak of?!” Omar broke free from the elf’s grip and stood away from the table. The elf looked startled and ran away out of sight once more.

  Omar’s questions were answered as he heard a sudden explosion somewhere in the distance. The ground shook tremendously, splitting into two violent tremors. Omar turned his head to see the slight green glow in the sky.

  West of Eisenburg, his home, witnessed a travesty that night. Dense smoke could be seen in the distance. The herd of animals screeched and barked in agony. Deep sorrow swept over Omar, as he immediately knew his home was no more.

  “It’s too late!” the shadow elf screamed. Omar turned away from the smoke, searching for the voice again. He didn’t see the elf until he saw a galaxy-like portal appear out of thin air. “Run, boy!” the elf yelled, as he dashed through the portal to become nothing more than a memory.

  Omar didn’t hesitate. He hurried forth towards the explosion. Grabbing his horse that had been tied up by the tavern, he made no haste. When he made it to his home, Omar ran directly through the fire, but it was too late. There were no living bodies in the house, for the flames had overcome everything. All Omar could do was sit and watch the villa burn to nothing but dense ashes.

  When the fire finally fizzled out, Omar walked through the house to find anything he could preserve. Nothing was saved. And the corpses were all unidentifiable. Thoughts kept flooding through his mind. I shouldn’t have stayed so long. I shouldn’t have been too late. I shouldn’t have gone back before the massacre. I regret so much... My mind still troubles me remembering how things turned out. Only in another life should I seek retribution, for I have failed in this life.

  …

  Omar had drifted asleep outside the villa but then awoke to a startling voice. “I ask you, child. Do you seek eternal glory? Or power thy mortals cannot match? Maybe strength as mighty as a god’s?” the eerie voice whispered in the winds. When Omar looked before him, he realized that it was the Demon God Dragni in the flesh.

  The Diborn army marched in the distance, holding thousands of mighty soldiers. Dragni held the Cocoon Blade in his hand with a conniving smirk and examined the boy carefully. “My lord, is this one of the vessels you speak of?” the Demon God asked his blade.

  Silence fell around the burning villa. The party goers were now all but ashes. The Mystic Guild members of his father’s group withered away in the fallen debris and blood stained pavement. His family was missing, outside of his father who stood right in front of him, bloodied and battered. If death looked like anything it would be Darius. His face was beaten into a rocky road, with colors of the rainbow sparkling around the bumpy bruises. His arms scattered with blinds of cuts and scrapes. One of the strongest men in the world looked like a weakling now.

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  The blade groaned, its scrying eye followed Omar’s will to free himself from the binding magic. It laughed. It laughed harder the more the boy struggled. He reached for his blade, but the vines tightened. Dragni watched in awe, as his five Diborn Generals watched behind him, amused themselves. They were all Shardbearers, easily noticed from the glowing energies around them. A tiger man, a vampire, a serpent man, a red ogre, and a burning woman.

  “Yes. The Marshall Dynasty, protectors of the world order. Keeping our power stripped away all over the world. How does it feel to now have yours stripped away, oh, knowledgeable mortal.” Dragni’s hand was forced by the blade to move its eye and sharp end of the blade at Darius’s throat. Omar wept silently. “Father…”

  Darius laughed. His demeanor didn’t falter. “To think the blade of power feared a mortal. Truly I tell you, power is in knowledge.” He nodded, welcoming his demise, opening his neck up.

  “Oh?” The blade’s echo murmured. “Does your child have knowledge of what they are?”

  Darius turned cold. His head dropped shamefully to raise it any higher than the blade allowed. He bit his lip in disgust spitting out the thought.

  “What is he talking about?” Omar freed his shoulders from the bind. “Father?!” he demanded an answer. The binds grew tighter once more, but Omar’s anxiety gripped him even tighter. His face melted in fear, while Darius continued to prepare for death, rather than face the truth.

  “My son… I have failed.” Darius sighed. Dragni and the blade both grimaced in excitement. A torture rose from within Darius. Part of him wanted to confine this truth even after death. Another part of him couldn’t bear to keep it a secret any further. His body shivered, and the binds behind his back loosened up.

  He quivered, raising his head up to Omar, sobbing like two giant waterfalls coming down below his eyelids. “I have failed you and your brothers,” Darius moaned.

  “Long ago, this very blade at my throat rose to power. All those years ago, Altira made this blade to keep the world safe. Her sister Sheiva decided on vengeance and turned this blade to its own power. It destroyed millions of lives. But three ancient powers from the existence of man sat amongst the gods. While they watched the mortal realm die out, the powers merely sat on the sidelines,” Darius explained. His voice trembled the further he told his tale, but nothing could stop the truth from coming out.

  “To defeat the blade, a mortal who resides in the heavens stole these powers. The Purifier, Elysium, and Primus. Powers so great, only a soulless man could obtain their power, as it would rip a mortal being to pieces. I took these powers child. Used them along with the Mystic Guild to defeat the blade. We hid them far away. But when I became Chronicler, I learned many things, so to protect the powers further, I made all of four of my boys…Diborn.”

  Gravity could fall into the abyss, and it would remain mute on the hill beside the villa. The flames were silenced by the truth, washed away into the back of existence. Omar was blank. He could only look back at his father, who waited restlessly for a response from his son. Omar’s body began to shake from the shock.

  Omar’s voice crumbled. “Jai and Malakai, too? We’re all Diborn?” Omar stared bewildered at the five generals behind Dragni. He observed the blade’s glaring red eye and Dragni’s tall stature. His eyes whimpered. “We’re the same as these monsters?”

  “Yes,” Darius answered. The old man looked weak lying helplessly on the torched grass.

  “You are power,” the blade announced. “You are nothing like the vague mortal lying in front of you. You are power. An elite. A vibrant phantom waiting to be unleashed. Only on my will, shall you be set free.”

  “Free?” A blank expression wiped over Omar’s face. “Free from what?” His eyes glared at Darius. “Tell me the truth, Father.”

  “Omar… my sweet child. Awake from this darkness. You are human, not a monster!” Darius shouted.

  Dragni laughed along with the blade’s cold chuckle. Dragni grabbed Darius and made him look at what stood before him. Omar’s bindings came off on their own, and his ascension towards the two was frightening. His movements forced a new profound peace that rested across his face. He enjoyed the flames circling around him. The chaos and the torment. This was not the same son Darius had raised. This was pure evil.

  “Am I father? After all your lies, what reason do I have to trust you? There is no suffering through the blade. But there is with you,” Omar’s voice echoed, sounding possessed.

  His movements cackled with his bones snapping at each step. Omar cracked his knuckles as his body tightened as he inched closer to Darius.

  “You are human, child.” Darius muttered.

  Dragni handed over the blade to Omar. He accepted it graciously as the Cocoon Blade’s energy resonated all around Omar, creating a faint red glow. The five generals watched in awe, while the blade sucked the power out of Omar. A sharp blue light shot through the blade’s eye. Omar winced at the pain, but it was futile. He held firm as the blue hues disappeared and left the eye of the blade. It had turned dark black, instead.

  The obsidian glow exploded like two lasers into the eyes of Omar. Darius watched the agonizing pain of two razor blades scrape Omar’s once soft blue eyes. Now, they were red, becoming black embers burning in a fire. Omar fell to his knees gripping the blade tightly.

  “Now… you are free,” the blade welcomed Omar. His eyes opened and his onyx eyes were born. This was the sign of a true Diborn, and it would follow Omar for the rest of his days. He would no longer have any sight of color, for all around him would be shades of gray.

  Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pounded the ground in refusal to accept this new fate. Darius watched his son rise to his feet, continuing to cry out in misery, “Why? Why, my child…? It shouldn’t have been this way. I have failed you…”

  “Father,” Omar called to Darius.

  Darius lifted his head, and a blade quickly entered through chest. Omar turned and twisted the blade deep into his organs, making sure there was no chance of Darius surviving the blow.

  “I… I–I’m sorry.” Omar struggled going in and out of consciousness. He watched his father slowly lose his life. His breathing became slower and weaker. Omar tried to let go of the blade, but its cocoon wrapped around his hand. He winced using his free hand to grab Darius who was falling into the blade.

  “Omar…” Darius called to his son. Omar managed to extract the blade from his father’s heart and toss it to the side. He held his father in his lap.

  “I’m here,” Omar consoled, but it wasn’t good enough. Dragni picked up the blade and his other five generals followed behind him. They regrouped while Omar tried to cover the gaping wound.

  “What of the child?” Dragni asked the blade.

  “My lord–” a sudden voice approached Dragni and his Diborn Army. It was Shay, who remained hidden behind his hood. “It would be wise to leave the Diborn. We hold the Phoenix already and Buhamad is not coming. Perhaps he can be of use elsewhere?”

  The blade murmured in thought. “Throw him to the wolves. Let him rot in the front lines of the Pale. Should we need his shard, we will gouge it from his soul. Let him be a monster.” The Diborn all bowed in respect. Dragni retrieved the blade as they hurried away into the distance, teleporting into the unknown.

  Omar waited for the Diborn to leave, before he turned back to his father. Darius barely had any breath left, but he did have just enough to hold his son’s hand. He smiled at him. “You are no monster.” Darius promised with a small tear running down his cheek.

  “Hold your breath. It will be–” Omar attempted to comfort his father, yet Darius interrupted.

  “Child. I am not long from death. Listen,” he coughed out. “The Mystic Guild and I failed. Youthfully we trembled. But that is why I gave these powers to you all. I have hope for the future if it’s in your hands. And in our family’s hands. We are one in life or death. Become the change you seek of this world,” Darius coughed again, as his eyes faded slowly. He slowly handed a journal to Omar.

  “Be better. Become the hero we all believe you to be.” And just like that, Darius’s eyes fell shut. Omar collapsed, and his voice screeched throughout flame-ridden villa for hours.

  “To this day, am I the monster who killed my father…or am I human?”