6

  “My father once explained that the Chronicler of Eurafalia and the Chronicler of the Lotus Wars were the same. Everything accounted for in this world was to be recorded by that individual, who was given all the keys the world had to offer. Power is more deadly than any blade. For my father said, ‘The man who holds the title as Chronicler of this world shall be the one to either destroy it or enlighten it.’ Now that responsibility has fallen upon me, the lost Prince of the Pale turned Diborn. This is such a fate our world has fallen into…

  Even after I watched the fate of the world’s last Chronicler.”

  …

  Omar scoffed, “For the last three years, I have been on this ridiculous crusade my father forced me into.” Magnus continued to read the letter over Omar’s shoulders.

  “Do you really think that this world is in more peril in your hands than in the hands of the Specters?” Magnus raised his brow and poured the two of them a brew of black tea.

  The snowscape mountains of the Pale had hidden Omar and Magnus away from the destruction of the cities and countries surrounding them. The snowstorm had turned into a blizzard that was going on for days now. The wooden door to Magnus’s cabin nearly blew open from the strong winds, and the frosty air would often kill the fire and cause the windows to crack like eggs.

  All the Venslerik Clan were used to these winters. They would hibernate like animals in their mountains and remain unseen until the spring. Magnus offered Omar a coat, but the Diborn refused, and cradled his legs tightly around his chest while resting a cup of tea in his gloved hand.

  “I don’t know.” Omar sipped on the tea. “Magnus, if I am being honest, I have no idea what I am doing. All I know is I must find Malakai. With him, we can save this country. My family has been torn apart without him.” Omar dropped his head. “Mother and Maeve have returned to Belkos. But I need to rebuild it all somehow. I can’t see how I can do that without Malakai.”

  Magnus rubbed his thumb along the handle on his mug. His eyes fell stern at the fireplace burning brightly before them as he lost himself in deep thought. Snowy ice had completely covered the windows, allowing little to no light in Magnus’s cozy living room. Magnus looked at Omar, fire illuminated the sorrow on the young man’s face. The Viking could only sigh at the sight. He sat back in his chair analyzing Omar who was sat on the floor in a ball. “Your home was destroyed, Omar. And it wasn’t by you. Nothing that happened that night was because of you. You need to remember that.” Magnus crossed his arms. “That night, you… changed. You could hardly recognize me, one of your closest friends from before this crusade. You weren’t… you.”

  “It was hard to remember you with all that beard you had.” Omar gingerly stroked his bald chin. Magnus chuckled to himself.

  “Yeah, yeah. Sure…” Magnus sipped his drink, derailing the conversation. He understood Omar did not wish to discuss that night any further. “Do you know anything about your father's work? What did he actually do?”

  Omar looked at the tome Magnus had thrown to him a night ago. It was a delicate and clean tome that had the power to withhold its pristine shape through decades of wars and refuge. The book's pages appeared a tiny bit tattered, with tiny annotations added in them. Omar had taken the time to count the pages earlier, and the history of all Eurafalia from his father's ten years as the Chronicler accounted for a total of seven thousand pages. If this tome fell into the wrong hands, anyone could have information on anything they desired.

  “He was a Chronicler…” Omar answered quickly. Holding up the tome, he said, “This was his.”

  Magnus turned to the fireplace, and noticed the flames were beginning to fizzle out from the cold. He walked over to start it once more and reached into a small lockbox that rested above the fireplace, grabbing a purple object out of the container. As Omar squinted his eyes to see what it was Magnus was holding, he realized it was a small lilac stone. It glowed precisely the moment it touched Magnus’s fingertips. Magnus brought it over to Omar and dropped it down like a hammer onto the center of the coffee table.

  “He was much more than a Chronicler. He gave bits and pieces of the blade to you.” Magnus ensued. Omar picked up the small stone and toyed with it in his hand.

  “Well, yes. He said he collected bits of the blade. He always ensured the power of the Lotus Blade would remain divided. He said that If there were too many shards together, it would be too dangerous.” Omar explained.

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  Magnus sighed. “Your father, Omar, was the former leader of my clan. There were otherworldly leaders who created the Mystic Guild to protect the order of the Lotus Blade and stop it from spreading. Your father was one of them. But that balance has now been broken for whatever reason. The guild has fallen. And the Specters have arisen to new heights. I believe it has something to do with your father.”

  “The world isn’t in darkness as you say, Magnus. The Specters have been silent, yes. But the only dangers I have found in my journey are Shardbearers like myself.”

  Magnus chuckled. “That is where you are wrong. They are like you and I. They are regular folks that are forced to work in the shadows. Your father, Darius, instructed you to stay with King Phizer. Did you not find any Specters there?”

  Omar crossed his arms. “King Phizer knew I wasn’t Malakai, so he put me in the front lines. He wanted me dead and out his way. That man only likes those of his kind. I couldn’t stay there any longer. And I’m not going back.”

  “Ah, tough shit. You know you’ll have to eventually.” Magnus laughed, moving towards the cracked window. He glanced out of it to see the stormy skies. The winds blew across his chiseled features as time slowed down. “So, these three years have been a waste then?”

  Omar fell silent. The low and contemplative voice of Magnus awaited a response, but Omar couldn’t give him one. Magnus paused, considering his own question. “For four years, you have had this letter, yet you do not fight to understand what your father sacrifices his and his comrades’ lives for.” He scoffed. “What in the bloody hell is the matter with you?”

  Omar ran his hand across his hair. Frustration became evident in his response. “How have I not done anything? I have tried to understand my purpose. Yet, all my father has given me is a blank check with his values on what is right and wrong.”

  Magnus stepped closer, the flames of the fireplace contrasting the chill response of Omar. “And you still have done nothing.” Magnus shrugged. “You can’t expect your father to give you the answers to his regime. Your immaturity still shows, Omar,” Magnus retorted.

  Omar’s anger was rising, contemplating the weight of Magnus’s words. “So, what should I do?! I am a Diborn. The Specters outnumber me. My father is no good. I have no allies. This path is forsaken to me…”

  Magnus offered his hand without speaking further. “If you ask, brother, you shall receive my alliance. No man wishes to walk the path alone,” he said quietly. “Let me walk with you. Let those who wish to fight against the Specters join you. War is coming. And the world needs as many of us as possible to uphold the peace. What say you, my friend?”

  Omar stumbled in his mind. The hand gestured good faith, and it still puzzled him. He had walked the path for so long alone that help seemed strange to him now. Omar sighed, nodding his head. “For the good of this realm.” He grabbed Magnus’s hand and shook it firmly.

  “Let’s get some rest during the winter. We’ll start work early this spring.”

  Omar looked up at Magnus, smirking. “Diborn do not sleep.”

  Magnus’s chin lifted with a slight nod. “Forgive me. I had forgotten you folk are sent to the Voided Realm when you rest.” He halted himself. “What is that like?”

  Omar walked over to the small cot that sat beneath one of the cracked windows. The fire brimmed and reflected from his black eyes. He sighed, unsure how to answer or describe it. Omar caressed his thumb against the soft wool blanket atop the cot, staring deeply into the flames. “It’s a prison,” he muttered. “All Diborn wake up in the realm of dreams while you humans sleep. We are forced to relive what it is we have done in our pasts, whether that be killing a loved one, eating someone alive, or worse. We live our greatest sins when we shut our eyes for sleep.”

  “By the gods. That’s pure torture!” Magnus unlaced his boots and walked over to his cot in silence. He plopped onto the bed before wrapping himself in cozy, fleece blankets.

  “Dad, you awake?” Magnus’s daughter, Liona, knocked loudly on the door before barreling inside. She took off her hood that had been blanketed in thick snow. Curly brown ringlets gently dropped to her side, contrasting the pale snow covering her overcoat. The light from the flames illuminated her flushed red cheeks. Her freckles danced under her olive-green eyes. She had a bright, youthful smile.

  “Hey, Omar!” Liona grinned. She ran up to him sitting upright in his cot and hugged him tightly. Omar sat stiff and uncomfortable by her touch. “Have you found Jai, yet?” she eagerly asked, pulling up a chair.

  “Liona…” Magnus sighed.

  Omar dropped his feet from the bed and hung his shoulders. “He is still up there. I should hear news when I enter the Void.”

  “Please, let me know when you see him,” she begged. “I–I miss having him around.” Her eyes shined a watery reflection.

  Omar nodded, but Magnus’s head tugged with anxiousness. “Liona. What did you need? You begged to stay with Lucy tonight, and now you’re home.” He rolled his eyes.

  “I wanted to ask about Jai,” she sassed. “But I also came in here because some of the other vice captains of the clan wanted to know our plans for winter.”

  “And I told you yesterday, if you even listened. We would discuss that later,” Magnus whiffed.

  “Ugh, whatever.” Liona got up and walked to the door. “It was good seeing you, Omar.” She smiled. “Dad, I will see you when I see you.” She slammed the door.

  “Kids…” Magnus dropped on his bed. “Don’t ever have any, Omar. Especially not a daughter.”

  Omar smiled. “I didn’t realize she was still waiting on my little brother to come home.”

  Magnus turned over in his bed and sighed with a grimace. “I very much wish she didn’t like boys at all. Out of all the ones she could choose, she chooses Jai Marshall. You know he is the worse of you all.”

  Omar turned over the cot. “Right.” His face compressed with a pale grin. “He’s the worst. Sure…” The light inside the cabin dimmed, along with Omar’s eyes. Another night in the Void would soon follow.