Rain trickled like the slow ticking of a clock against the window. Soft music orchestrated its way through the laboratory while fingers plotted courses and computers hummed through calculations. The symphony of sounds had been a constant companion in the last few months. The room was lit with flashing digital screens and electric lights. Outside, gray clouds huddled close to the earth and let the sun sleep behind a continuous curtain. It was a day for resting inside next to a cozy hearth or a time for busying oneself with chores left behind on brighter occasions. The King of Ilgrath would never let the weather thwart his hunt, however. With a mere few weeks left to the season the monarch had but one excursion under his belt. One hunt and no game to show it; a defeat he was not willing to accept. With his life's work so close to completion, Endymion understood his father's need to escape into the woods, into a world much simpler than what theirs had so swiftly become. Understood he did, but the young prince did not appreciate being left behind.
His mind traveled to their testing facility miles east in the flatlands and the closely guarded rocket cradled in its depths. It would soon carry the dreams of the last four Ilgrathien kings far above the clouds and into a mostly unknown world. The current king had done everything he could to instill the same vision in his only son, but not every seed came to fruition. Endymion did come to love the smell of books and the joy of watching new ideas grow from small sparks to giant blazes, but he was still a young man. While his father dreamed of soaring above the clouds, Endymion only wished to leap through the woods trailing elk or to chase different game altogether. How many opportunities he missed to join his friends at festivals and meet ladies of equal daring he could not even count. There were so many things he wanted to do here on the ground. The Heir of Ilgrath had never spoke ill publically of his forefathers' mission, but he had made it clear there were other causes worth his considerable time.
The prince stretched back in his chair, running his hands through a thick mass of ebony locks. He was long overdue for a trimming and even longer overdue for a break from the pixilated screens and streaming data. His legs felt like lead bars when he strove to stand. Across the room an expansive picture of their prize loomed on the wall. It was the clearest picture they had of their mission's goal and still many mysteries were left to ponder. Miasa, the small companion moon of their planet, hung suspended against a black void. Scientists had long been perplexed by the hazy silver sphere with no discernible features. Every probe sent to Miasa except one had been destroyed in the atmosphere; no scans could penetrate whatever gases covered it. A new, stronger alloy machine had been able to punch through the haze, but it malfunctioned before much could be sent back to Earth. The readings were very strange.
A sudden, familiar pressure pushed against Endymion's eardrums. The drone of an engine straining to land reverberated through the stone walls and floors. An airship was descending with haste into the King's Courtyard. A cloud of dread fell upon the prince's shoulders. It was much too early for his father to return. Racing to the window, Endymion watched as the metal bird lurched to the ground. Almost immediately the doors were thrust open and the king's brother, Prince Erasmar, was the first to emerge. His face conveyed grim urgency and Endymion felt his heart drop. The monarch of Ilgrath was laid across the arms of several nobles and servants, his body covered in dark cloth. From this distance, his face could be seen as ashen and still.
The crown prince wasted no more time. Footfalls echoed off the hard floors like thunder. Idly he saw several others in the halls and paid no heed to those whose shoulders he brushed. He knew each brick and stone, each new column of metal and wires that ran through the palace and had long figured out shortcuts to escape enraged nursemaids. A chaotic flurry of servants, guards and nobles clambered in his way and without much warning he soon collided with a hard skull.
"Endymion!" said a raspy voice the young prince knew well. It belonged to Prince Ehran, his eldest uncle. He smelled of the wood and leather of books and continuously seemed to be coughing the dust of ages and knowledge past from his old lungs. Thick glasses could not hide the unhealthy blue glaze over his left eye, nor could the unkempt hair camouflage the long scar down his face.
"Y-your father!"
"I know, I saw! What has happened?"
"I know not, but they are taking him to the King's Tower. Go, I will meet you soon!"
Endymion wasted no more time and began a steep ascent to his father's personal wing. The King's Tower was the oldest structure in the castle proper. Every ruler in Endymion's line had claimed it as their sanctuary and strength. The crown prince's great-grandfather had made it even more fortified by making the upper doors only accessible by fingerprint scanners. As he rounded the corner, a litter of people blocked his way to the tower's main elevator. Nobles, reporters, nurses and statesmen, all were trying to find a means into the king's life, one way or another. Endymion did not try to wrestle through them, but bypassed towards the stairs. All three hundred and twenty steps waited for him, but the adrenaline in his veins pushed him forward.
At the summit, Endymion felt as if his legs had been set aflame but with each moment cold dread tightened its hold on his heart. The secure doors of his father's private apartment were thrown asunder, letting nurses and staff rush in and out with supplies. The careful gaze of the King's Guard touched him briefly yet the worried son paid them no heed. Inside the rooms everything seemed too calm, sounds muted to dull thuds. When he reached the threshold of his father's personal infirmary, his feet seemed to stop obeying. He feared what lay in the next room.
"Nephew."
Bright green eyes focused Endymion back to reality. They belonged to a man who seemed to glide instead of walk and whose smooth, deep voice could calm political tempests- and often did. Every mannerism spoke of well breeding, education and dedication to being a gentleman, all of which he had tried to instill on Prince Endymion throughout the years.
"Uncle Erasmar, tell me what has befallen my father?"
"Come inside, Endymion. Take care of your expression. You are the heir apparent of Ilgrath; wear your status as a mask, for you and them."
Endymion did as instructed, letting his trepidation slide out of his lungs with a steady exhale. Tethered to his uncle's side, the young prince entered the chamber of the king. Guards in dark clothes and nurses in stark white parted their ranks for them like pieces on a board. The King of Ilgrath seemed smaller to his son, even though his chest was bare and a blue covering was strewn across his legs. Blood blossomed across his skin like a devilish fungi, glistening in the light it was never supposed to see. Hoses, syringes and monitors were the king's counsel now. Endymion felt his stomach rise.
"Doctor Hilva, explain to Prince Endymion what has happened to our king," Erasmar ordered.
"His gun misfired and blasted apart in the process. I have removed the larger pieces of shrapnel and as you can see there is much tissue damage. King Endari was felled from horseback and I am currently trying to ascertain any other injuries, especially internally." Doctor Hilva answered quickly and seemed more interested in getting back to the task at hand instead of explaining to the adolescent prince. Endymion understood and wanted to leave the doctor to his work, but he had to know one thing.
"Will…will he live?" The nurses and guards, even his uncle, stopped their words and motions at Endymion's question.
The lean doctor looked him in the eye for the first time. "The hunting party was swift in their return and we've halted much of the bleeding. If there are no serious internal injuries, I am confident King Endari endure, Your Highness."
"Thank you Doctor Hilva. Let us leave them to their work, Endymion." Erasmar led him from the room and far out into the apartment until they could no longer hear the cacophony of voices and machines. Endymion let out of breath he didn't even know he held and fell back, hoping there was a wall to catch him.
"Your father is a strong man, the strongest of us all. I know he will survive this nightmare," Erasmar encouraged. Endymion felt a hand like an anchor on his arm. "I just think…how much worse it could have been."
This was not something Endymion expected to hear, nor could even understand. "How could it possibly be worse?"
"He was using your gun, Endymion."
The ticking of a clock was loud in the surprised silence that followed. The young royal could only think of the memories he had of his father. It didn't feel like enough and would never be enough no matter how much time they had together. His father's clock may never chime again. He could never forgive himself if he was the reason.
"There is nothing to be done but wait to see the prognosis. I will go and issue statements to the press. I want you to remain here and keep calm, Endymion. Everything will work out in the end."
With a quick squeeze of the shoulder, the elder man moved to leave.
"Uncle Erasmar!" Endymion called, much too loudly. "Thank you."
Erasmar's eyes softened. "Anything for the family."
Endymion hardly knew how much time passed. Everything seemed to slow, every moment an ache. The young prince knew he should be doing something; he should be the one standing strong in front of the cameras and holding the hands of his citizens. He should be standing vigil over his father or investigating the accident. He could do none of these things, however. Fear griped him and would not let go. Endymion was not ready for this. He was ashamed of his cowardice.
Both his uncles came and went, sometimes sitting with him for a while or offering him quick words of comfort from the threshold. Doctor Hilva announced he would need to perform surgery as shrapnel was embedded inside King Endari's chest and tissue needed repaired. Three hours later the doctor came to speak to them all and announced his ministrations were a success and the ruler of Ilgrath was stable. Everyone in the room cheered except for Endymion who collapsed into the couch finally relieved of the tension holding him in place.
Prince Ehran touched him gently on the shoulder and offered a smile. Erasmar was already standing and discussing needed politics and delegations until the king would be at full strength again. Endymion did nothing, but reclined his head back and let his eyes slip closed. He meant to just rest for a moment and regain his nerve to face the crowds. Yet now that his father was safe, the weight of consciousness slipped from his mind and he fell fast asleep.
He dreamed of a strange place. An ocean of grass stretched endlessly around him, but it was the color of a bright summer day. An emerald sky loomed close above and he felt overwhelmed by the upturned world. Endymion knew this place was wrong, but for some reason it still felt real, as if the grass beneath him actually scratched against his calves or the sweet wind truly moved through his hair. He pivoted like a top, trying to find anything to gain purchase on, but everywhere he looked was the same; full of color, but empty of anything. He was alone.
"Endymion." Two voices seemed to overlap, pulling him in opposite directions. Yet the more familiar one brought him back to the world where the sky was blue. Erasmar towered over the prince holding a smoking tray. Endymion immediately felt the grumbling of his stomach as food was placed before him. Even though his muscles were sore from sleeping far from his bed, he ignored their protests and set to devouring the fresh bread and cheese.
Erasmar chuckled. "Yes, I thought you might be ravenous. The nobility and citizens are placated, the army assured of the king's strength and the crown prince is now well fed. All is now as right as it could be."
Between mouthfuls of food, Endymion offered his thanks and they remained in a peaceful silence until he was finished. "Father is all right?"
"As much as can be allowed under the circumstances. Why do we not go and visit him?"
Endymion stretched his cramped limbs and followed his uncle into the hall. The King's apartments were now emptied which seemed odd considering the hustle and bustle swelling the space the long hours before.
"Oh, go on ahead of me," Erasmar suddenly announced at a junction. "I meant to grab your father's state ledger before proceeding downstairs. I will be with you shortly."
The solo walk to the infirmary seemed to stretch, trepidation growing in his heart. He knew his father was stable, but Endymion's last memories of the monarch warred within. He could not bear to see his father so undone again. Two living pillars of steel and flesh stood before his father's door and the guards nodded at him in respect. Endymion reached forward and pressed his hand to the glowing blue pad that barred the door from entrance. It whirled and clicked and the door swung open as it scanned his fingerprints.
The King of Ilgrath was cocooned in white sheets. His face was clean and serene as if Endymion was just walking into a bedchamber and not a medical ward. Only one tube of clear liquid tethered him to the Earth now and a machine beeped happily by his side.
"He looks peaceful," a voice said. Endymion turned to find the two guards absent, but his uncle's tall form filling the threshold. "Adjust his pillow, Nephew? It looks like he must have moved."
Endymion did as he was instructed, reaching over his father in the hopes of making him more comfortable. He wondered when he would see his father's hazel eyes again, wondered how long before the king swept down the hallways with the country trailing in his wake. The prince let his finger linger against his father's rough cheek, feeling memories of a lifetime etched in such a simple gesture.
"Perhaps you should rest again, Endymion," his uncle suggested.
"I'm too restless now."
"Perhaps then you could take a ride through the forest and clear your head? I would like to have a press conference with you present at nineteen hundred hours and want you to be up to par."
"It would be nice to see the sky," Endymion remarked.
"Take the back elevator down to the stables and stay well hidden from the gentry and citizens. Seeing you roaming about might bother them, but I do think you need some fresh air."
With a nod of assent, Endymion took his leave from the bedside of the king. He paused beside his uncle. "Thank you for all you've done. When I return I will do my duty."
Something passed through Erasmar's green eyes, a fleeting string Endymion could not grasp before it was gone. "I know you will."
The prince made his way towards the oldest parts of the tower. Hidden behind cobwebs and secrets was an ancient stairwell meant to whisk the royals to parts of the palace for affairs of all natures. Endymion had spent many hours mapping out the cold corridors in his mind, using them to escape duties or create mischief. His footfalls were small drums against the worn stone. He came to a fork in the tunnels deep beneath the castle and decided to forgo the stables. There was another beast Endymion wished to tackle tonight.
The motorcycle roared down the long stretch of paved road as Endymion lost himself in the wind. The sleek, black machine made him nothing but a blur to those that caught a glimpse. There was a freedom in being nothing but a dashing shadow against the night, of being something without form or purpose. Little traffic blocked his way and let him accelerate down long stretches until his vision tunneled and the world beyond lost its solidity. The hazy full moon gleamed like glowing silk on the pavement and cast a surreal shine on the rolling mountains nearby. He took a side road cutting through their embrace, a twisting ride that would push his skills. The horrors of the day became passing memories in the night. The roar of the engine vibrated through his bones, but it was serene inside the confines of his helmet and with the sounds of his steady breathing. A twist in the road brought an end to that, however.
As Endymion turned the corner he almost stumbled upon a forlorn vehicle straddling the side of the road and his lane. He pulled on the brake and for one terrified moment thought the motorcycle might buck him from his perch before he managed to come to a pause. The prince took a moment to catch his breath before he surveyed the scene.
A large truck painted in blues, purples and gold sat wounded and lopsided as one of its tires was shredded and useless. Skid marks showed Endymion the blow out must have been sudden and startling for the driver. The vehicle reminded him of a circus act or a gypsy's elaborate artwork. Sure enough, as Endymion thought these things a maiden in plum and sunshine came from around the other side with her face covered by a veil and long, dark hair running in waves down to her waist. She held a tire iron in one bejeweled hand and at seeing him, raised it to her chest defensively. For a few moments they stared at one another without a word before Endymion cleared his throat.
"Do you need assistance?" He dismounted and removed his helmet. The woman seemed to relax as she saw his face which was the opposite of what he expected. He was surprised she didn't gasp and bow which meant she didn't know who she stood before.
"I would appreciate it, sir," her voice deep with a smoky accent he could not quite place. They worked quietly as the sky grew darker and the world began to settle in for the night. Endymion knew he should hurry as the press conference grew nearer yet he took comfort in the laborious job and his exotic company. She had removed her shapeless shawl to reveal a tight fitting dress with ample cleavage and he couldn't help but stare. As she handed him a bolt her breast grazed upon his shoulder and he almost dropped the tools. He caught her glancing at him with approving black eyes, but there were also tentative and secretive glances behind the ever present veil that he couldn't understand.
"All finished," he announced and stood back to observe his work. The woman came up to him and laid a soft hand on his arm. He could feel the warmth through his shirt and stirred at her touch.
"How could I ever repay you?"
A thousand different ideas ran through his adolescent mind. Endymion reached out to her exposed neckline. Her skin was soft under his thumb as he left a lingering caress upon her collarbone. The gypsy made no move to stop the young heir as he let his finger fall down the smooth line of her shoulder. When he ventured to the prominent mound of her chest she gently held his hand and begged him follow. The inside of the vehicle was just as he imagined. Translucent, shimmering curtains hung from the walls like draping tree branches as candles made them dance and sway. It seemed impossibly large inside with a full round table with a work place covered in things he didn't know, a settee and an ample kitchenette. He would need to take several steps to reach across the width of the van. To the other side draped a heavier purple cloth that must have held her sleeping quarters which admittedly he was eager to see.
Yet the woman led him to the table that held a singular item on its glossy surface. It was a metallic, hollow heart gently cradling a large gemstone of ruby coloring. He couldn't believe it was an actual precious gem for its size for no gypsy could be so well endowed. The point of the heart seemed too precarious to stand on its own, but it defied gravity in front of his eyes all the same. His mysterious host sat down at the table and as she did so her dress shimmered. Endymion realized there were small embellishments woven into the fabric he could not see in the dark of night. She shone like the stars as she moved and he felt compelled to follow.
"Since you did me a service, I will repay you with something I rarely give freely. I would be honored to read your fortune for you," she offered.
Endymion scoffed, the tantalizing atmosphere broken. "I do not believe in magic, my lady. I thank you for the offer, but I will take my leave."
His feet scratched against the wooden floor as he pivoted, his desire diminishing as the distance between them grew. The cold reality of the past hours settled back on his shoulders like a pestering spider web. He tried to shrug it off as he reached for the door.
"If you go, your father will die." His hand shook with a sudden anger, yet he did not depart. The eyes he turned upon her mirrored the ominous shadows dwelling in corners.
"Tread carefully, woman."
She seemed unperturbed by his reaction. "It's what I have seen."
"You think I am compelled by your words? Every news station blares my father's condition constantly. You are a cheap conjurer meant to deceive those of lesser bearing."
He watched her shoulders twitch at such a statement and knew he had displeased her. Something moved beside his feet and with some alarm he looked down to see a fog seething above the grain. It moved around his legs, its touch cold even through his garments. Endymion looked up to see the woman's dark stare latched upon him so fiercely he was for the first time afraid.
"There are many that besmirch the name of magic, I know. Yet wise men do not stand in the rain and say it is not wet. If it is more proof that you need, then so be it."
With grace, her hand unfurled above the table and against logic the artifice began to rise on its own. It hovered above her hand, seeming to await orders from its mistress. The woman no longer focused on the prince but on something unseen within the glistening gemstone.
"You have a scar on your upper right arm. For years you've told everyone you fell in the stables, but you were really playing with your father's sword. Your father could tell from the injury regardless, if you must know the truth. He was disappointed with your lie."
"Woman-"
"You had a dream tonight of a very strange place where the sky was ground and the ground was sky. There were two people calling your name."
The fog continued to collect, obscuring her figure momentarily. Endymion hesitated, his right foot ready to seek her out while the other ready to run. "How could you know that?"
"There are worlds you do not yet know of and powers that will be yours someday," she said from afar.
"Powers?"
"It is your destiny," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.
Endymion gasped, yanking his body around but she was nowhere nearby. When he turned back the mist had cleared and she was perfectly poised in the chair with the medallion back to its original place.
"How can this be...I don't-" Endymion lost hold on speech, staring at her with bewilderment.
"Do you trust me to read your fortune now?"
Endymion pushed himself towards the vacant chair, his limbs straining for a moment before he accepted its embrace. He took one more unsteady breath. "I will listen to your words."
Her dark eyes lingered on him briefly before settling on the device between them. He witnessed the ruby gem flicker in and out like a candle flame and felt his heart skip a beat at such a thing. The air collapsed around him and he felt it then – real magic was happening here. Somehow he knew it with all his being, as if a song was resonating within his chest.
"You have a great destiny ahead of you, Prince Endymion, and an even longer journey. You will be betrayed and broken by blood, but you will rise to higher heights than all the kings before you. To do so, you must collect five stones and master a sixth…"
She opened and closed her left hand five times and each time a different gem appeared. "Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite, Beryl and Jadeite."
"Stones?" he repeated.
"The sixth stone," she whispered and opened her right hand. A brilliant, golden light flowed forth, so bright he could not see anything against her palm. "Has no mortal name, but from it all magic on this world flows forth. Many pull from its endless well, but only one is destined to claim it. It has and always will be yours yet it must be earned. There will come a time when you must choose between two paths- to tread underground or to chase the falling sky."
"Where do they lead?"
She closed both her hands, returning the cabin to its quiet dark. He was stunned to see a sudden sadness take over her eyes and wondered, not for the first time, what she must look like under the veil. Or why she seemed familiar when he knew they could not have met before.
"To beginnings and endings. I cannot tell you a future that has not been written. All I can reveal to you is that your future diverges at that exact moment and once you walk upon one path, you cannot return to another."
The room lost most of its heaviness and the candles seemed to burn brighter. The gypsy relaxed back into her chair and whatever presence seemed to inhabit the strange medallion between them was gone. Endymion rubbed his hands against his pant legs as if he were trying to smooth out his nerves.
"Is that it?" he asked.
The woman quirked a fine eyebrow. "Was that not enough?"
Nervous laughter escaped the prince's lips. "I suppose you are right. That was…enlightening."
"You should go now for your arduous journey is just beginning."
"I don't know what has transpired here tonight. I felt…I don't know what I felt. But thank you." He rose and gave her a gentleman's bow before slowly moving towards the door. Yet when he reached the end of the room her voice made him pause again.
"Endymion…" The way she whispered his name was like a soft plea to a cherished loved one. He faced her, finding the mysterious mistress mere inches away. Her fingers brushed against his cheek but the pull of her deep eyes moved him even more. There was a sadness again but also longing and something else- regret. Endymion placed his hand over hers in comfort.
"When I told you your father would die if you left without hearing my reading, I did not tell you the whole truth." She took a long breath, the thin veil lifting as she exhaled. "The truth is, he is already dead."
He retched her hand away from his face, unbelieving. "What?"
Endymion heard the door slam open behind him and a powerful hand seemed to pull him from the cabin and toss the young man to the outside world. He landed in the rubble on the side of the road with a grunt and rolled quickly to a stop. The prince of Ilgrath hustled to his feet and look around like a wild animal for his prey. The colorful truck was nowhere to be found, not a skid mark or misplaced pebble to show evidence it was ever there at all. Endymion wanted to search for her, but there was no time. With a flip of his wrist he opened his comm. The small device beeped with static for a moment before his uncle's face filled the small screen.
"There you are!" Ehran cried. He looked stricken, the pale scar down his face standing out even more as if the blood was drained from his face.
"My father-"
"You must leave Ilgrath as soon as possible! I wish you had abandoned this comm earlier, but I have managed to block your beacon from him for this long. It keeps bouncing around the city, a trick you know well I think, so it won't raise too much suspicion but-"
"Uncle Ehran!" Endymion shouted, garnering the older man's full attention. "What's happened?"
"You mean…you don't know? How could you not know? You've been on the news for the last twenty minutes!"
"I…I've been out of contact with the world. I had to get away."
"Oh, I see. I-well I don't know how to say this but-"
"Uncle!"
"He's dead, Endymion. Your father is dead."
Endymion lost track of the next few moments, for when his uncle's voice stirred him once more he found himself kneeling on the crumbled ground, his palms pressed painfully into its embrace.
"My baby brother is gone." Ehran's voice shuddered with emotion.
"But he was recovering." Endymion heard himself say.
"Endymion, he…he was murdered." The heir apparent yanked his wrist up to his face and stared at Ehran with eyes lost to madness.
"How could this be!" he demanded.
"The authorities have claimed you committed this crime. The two sentry guards were found with their throats cut and a chamber maid was found critically wounded to the abdomen. She is stable and has corroborated your involvement. They are currently looking into your gun to see if it was sabotaged and I have no doubt they will find it so."
"I…I didn't…"
"I know." Ehran's strong proclamation brought Endymion back a ways from the brink and he saw a fire burning in his uncle's eyes he had not seen in a long time. "It's Erasmar. I know he is behind this. Currently he is proclaiming that this must all be a misunderstanding and you be brought back secured yet safe. But I know my brother and I know this is just the beginning of what he has planned. There was always a darkness in him, but I never…"
Endymion realized his uncle was shedding tears and knew his eyes were not far from joining. Ehran cleared his throat and continued. "I have no doubt some accident will befall you before you ever reach this palace. You must go. Ride to the nearest town and abandoned this comm. Leave it somewhere populated, but do not be seen. Then ride far from here. Go to your mother's and rally her and Ginova's support. Run to anyone you think you can trust outside this kingdom."
"I…I-" A seething hatred was clawing its way inside Endymion's ribcage that threatened to drown him in vengeance and sorrow.
Ehran seemed to understand his mind. "Do not waste time on revenge. There will be a day when I know you will right this unspeakable wrong, but there is no path to follow now that could end in success. I will stay here and do what I can from the inside. You must find a safe harbor. Please Endymion, I beg you. I cannot lose you as well. I love you, now go! Go!"
The screen turned black. The anger inside the prince spiraled around a great, growing emptiness in his heart. It hurt to breathe and he closed his eyes, imagining a different world would be there. His father was gone. Memories replayed on the dark screens of his eyelids. He could smell the smoky wood from when Endari used to read tales to him next to the fire. A ghost hand touched his back, reminding him of his father's guiding hand when Endymion learned to ride horseback. For what seemed a lifetime he could not rise, but his uncle's words resonated within his mind. Go! he had said.
So Endymion went. He drove recklessly through the mountain pass trying to escape the past closing in on his heels. The engine roared yet could not quiet the raging inside his mind. Tears burned the corners of his eyes and blurred his vision. He did not care. The world had lost its meaning and if the void accepted him tonight then so be it.
Yellow lights in a valley below signaled a nearby town. Endymion knew the name once, but his newfound grief buried it. He switched off the motorcycle and its blaring headlamp to coast to the outskirts. Not many citizens were out on the quaint, cobbled streets. Endymion used the long shadows of night to the first pub he could find. Glancing through windows distorted by time, he was surprised by what he saw. Much of the town must have been crammed into the smoky place. Where rowdy patrons and loud music once reigned, a heavy silence consumed the place. Like flowers towards the sun, the people all had their faces turned towards a large projector.
"…a day that will never be forgotten," the newscaster's voice could be heard from an open window. "The palace authorities have now concluded that Prince Endymion's gun was sabotaged. This seems to confirm, yet again, the prince's involvement in this tragedy. Prince Erasmar now has Inquisitors going through Prince Endymion's personal effects to look for any more evidence."
The screen cut away to a recording of the older royal and Endymion's heart flared with resentment. "By searching through Prince Endymion's room we hope to find something to either disprove or prove his involvement. We at the palace still pray for a peaceful resolution to this horrible night. We have lost our king and do not wish to lose his only son as well."
If Endymion had not heard Ehran's prophecy, he might have believed Prince Erasmar's worried scowl or heartfelt proclamation. Endymion replayed the last twenty-four hours in his mind, trying to recall all the moments with Erasmar. He now recognized that fleeting look in the last moments of their final encounter. Guilt. Yet it had not been enough to turn him from such a wicked intent.
"Breaking news from our new prince regent in the unforgivable murder of our king," the newscaster trumpeted. The screen again showed Prince Erasmar, but by the shaking camera and fresh new coat of arms on Erasmar's shoulders, Endymion knew it must be live.
"I regret to inform our citizens that Prince Endymion's involvement can no longer be denied no matter how my heart disagrees. Analysis of the video footage from the infirmary shows the prince in the act of regicide." His uncle's clear face cut away to a grainy black and white film. From a high perch, the camera looked down upon the king in his tomb of white cloth. A man walked across the screen and it was easy for Endymion to recognize himself. His image paused at the head of the bed. Endymion remembered this. It was after his father's successful surgery. Next he had turned to see his uncle in the doorway off camera just as he did on the video. But what further transpired did not match his memory. The pixelated Endymion reached across the bed to steal the pillow from under his father's head and use it to smother him. The video cut away as one of King Endari's feet twitched in protest, but the wanted effect was created.
Those in the bar shouted and cried in outrage and vengeance. On the screen Erasmar paused to seemingly collect himself and languish in the cries of his newly inherited people. When he raised his eyes again, they were solemn yet determined.
"This shall be righted. King Endari was a great man with an even greater vision. He guided this country to an unprecedented time of prosperity and growth and has been taken from us unjustly. Those responsible will be punished no matter their position. This I promise you."
Endymion agreed. There would be justice. He ripped the comm from his wrist and tossed it to the rooftop. He backpedaled up the sloping road, his feet quiet clicks against the stone. His ebony steed awaited him and Endymion turned on the motorcycle's economy mode to diminish its loud engine. When he was long gone from the town he let the animal loose from its cage. The land of Ilgrath gave way beneath him until the rocks and roads became unfamiliar.
Endymion stopped at a precipice in the road and turned back towards the center of his homeland. There had been many excursions that had taken him on journeys outside his birthplace. For days, weeks, months, he traveled to places for all types of different reasons. He always knew when he would return, however. The sun was rising against the far horizon, frosting the tops of the mountains in gold. It was beautiful. He didn't know when he would return this time.
Endymion turned to the road ahead and didn't look back.
