"He LIVED! The Cursed One lived!" one of the cultists shouted. A blade arced toward him, but Siir, Rol's wife, intercepted the attack with her own blade.
"I taught her well!" Rol couldn't help but admire her skills. But she was being overwhelmed. He didn't know when he bolted forward—the gate was still closed, but he leaped over it. With the hilt of his blade, he smashed away those surrounding her and pulled her to safety.
Seeing him, her heart skipped a beat. She looked down. "You will explain this!"
'Boom!'
'Boom!'
Dol's use of weapons roused the guards to attack the cultists again. "Side with us, husband. Be on the right side of history. Please!" Siir begged.
She couldn't fight for their cause with his hand firm on her arm.
Some foolish cultists turned to attack him, but a smack sent them away.
Rol hesitated, until the first blood was drawn—an old woman fell with a large gash on her neck. The fight was real, but even the well-armed guards were hesitant to kill their fellow kin.
Dol's subordinates immediately grew angry and assaulted more aggressively.
"STOP!" Rol's voice echoed throughout the place. Everyone fell into a trance before glancing at him.
"It's over. Dol, drop that weapon."
"I know you're a weakling. A traitor to our cause." He turned to his people and said, "Kill him—he's with them!"
More than ten people came at him, and to Rol's surprise, the cultists who had once been attacking him now stood before him, ready to fight for him.
His eyes grew wet, his heart almost bursting with emotion. He was supposed to be the one protecting them, not the other way around.
With sorrow, he released his wife's hand and moved. To her, it was a blur—he passed the ten men in the same manner, leaving them unconscious with blows from his hilt, so fast they didn't see what happened.
Dol turned the tube weapon at him and fired. Rol's blade cleaved the ball in half, and it exploded upward. With glaring ease, he broke Dol's legs and held him by the neck.
"I said it's over," he muttered, before throwing him away like the rag doll he was.
The alien boy was behind the gate, watching with a calm gaze. They looked at him too, and the cultists quickly knelt and looked down.
The guards hesitated but also knelt. Rol glared at the boy. He possessed raw strength, but this alien... was not something he wanted to face.
There was the sound of clashing deeper inside the settlement. He turned and ran there, finding the rest of the ruling leaders approaching with their weapons. He avoided them to reach his father.
His father had antagonized the alien. He feared he won't wouldn't be spared as he had been. He feared the alien would kill his father.
Reaching the building, he found unconscious guards with broken joints on the ground, and a man—tall, with a skinny body but veins making a mystic pattern across his skin fighting four powerful people at the same time.
"Rol! Come help us. He is Shadow—he's the one behind the writings. He supports the cultists," Mol shouted as he dodged a punch. "He broke the glass table!"
Now it made sense to Rol. As the man saw him looking, his speed increased. He reached one of the fighters with a decisive attack to break him, but the four coordinated and pulled back.
"We can take him together. Rol, don't stand there!" Solon shouted.
"It's over, Rol. You can't stop him," The man spoke, his voice calm. "You are strong, but... Look what he made me—do you think the giver of this power will be weak?"
The man shouted again, "I can bend steel with my hands! I can crush stone with my fists! Resistance is futile!"
"The Cursed One will never fight us!" Rol said, and the man frowned and angrily replied, "Don't get your hopes up..."
"Silence! You don't even know who you serve!" Rol said, his hand running through his hair, his emotions chaotic, resonating with the sound of explosions from the gate.
He looked at his father and said, "It's over. Fighting is futile."
"Are you mad, Rol?" Mol shouted. "Has he corrupted your mind in seconds of visitation?"
"Look around you, Father. Look at the people. The table no longer holds the will of the people."
It was then they looked around. The people were just standing and watching—a child at the corner, standing with a bakery owner, eating bread and watching. In fact, he had been cheering for his father the whole time.
"They can be bent again!" Mol gritted his teeth.
"Finally, for the first time, I've heard you say something foolish in my life." He turned to the man with the vein designs and said to his father, "I can match him in strength, but you can't match the hundreds that are kneeling before the Cursed One now."
"That boy doesn't care about your schemes. He is an inevitable force that will be and has been. He created a single individual that was more than enough to break our flow. Just stop fighting!"
"You've been with them from the beginning," Solon groaned. "Your wife has corrupted you from our course."
Rol didn't answer when a voice that silenced the world reached them like a whisper of dreams.
°"Kneel!"°
Vael, the veins-bulging man, knelt. The people—everyone—knelt except the ruling leaders. They immediately moved to attack Vael. "Die!"
'Clank!'
Rol sent the attack back. Solon stepped back. Mol also didn't move—they knew Rol; the boy was a freak of nature. "My boy, why would you betray me?" Mol said in a pained voice.
"We betrayed the people first!" Rol calmly said. "That boy is beyond anything I've ever felt!"
°"Listen to your heart!"°
The world became silent and listened. Dreams boiled to jump out of their minds, and they all began to tremble. Blood seeped from their skin and noses as they breathed in.
The effect was immediate. They recalled, felt stronger and healthier. Their minds became refreshed, reverence filled their hearts, and they began to sing from the insight of their blood as one.
Eiran frowned, confused, as the song resonated with something somehow.
/Bloodsong of the Crimson One\
(Sung by the entire people in unison, as if remembering a truth buried in their blood)
•Zai'ehna vohr, zai'ehna vel…•
/He came in light, he came in veil\
°Crimson eyes, oh flame of Thorne,
We cast you down when you were born.
Luma-lips, breath of Yul,
We feared your light, and fed the cruel.°
°Hail the One in silvren thread,
We named you curse—but we were dead.
Shaya-voice, soft and true,
From chains you healed, though we struck you.°
•Zai'ehna vohr, zai'ehna vel…•
°You walked through fire, we made your hell.
Now blood remembers, now flesh repents,
We lift our souls in recompense.°
°Heir of stars, in white you came,
Our savior bound, without a name.
Now rise, O Flame, now rise, O Light—
Let Crimson Dawn devour our night!°
Everyone was in a trance. Dol, Mol, and those in denial were the only ones silent, but their blood resonated with it. They wanted to be included, but their sins held them back.
An old woman with a sharp but soft voice rose again, her eyes closed and hand on her chest.
The singer sings
~>We saw the eyes—crimson flame,
The Crowd echoed
~>>Thought them curse, but we were shamed.
~> White the hair, soft the face,
~>>Innocence draped in royal grace.
~>His lips like bloom, his voice the sky,
~>>We chained the light, and watched hope die.
They sighed collectively, a calmness returned before the singer sang again.
~>From his pain, the healing poured,
~>>But traitors rose and kept the horde.
~>He gave the weak their strength anew,
~>>They ruled with lies—our guilt, it grew.
The whole town voice rose, even Dol began to whisper it.
~>>>Crimson One, O child divine,
Forgive our fear, your pain, our crime.
We see the light, we lift our plea,
Unchain our blood—come set us free.
Then they whispered or sung softly:
He walks in white, with eyes like flames…
The one who came, though none knew his name…
***
Eiran stood. He had wanted to make some speech about them being inferior, that they were unworthy of his attention, but this quelled it.
His emotional anguish from being detained for months was sated instantly.
He walked among those now kneeling before him, not caring to even look at those who had attacked him, until he stood at the raised platform before the Ancestral Building.
His full royal uniform had returned. He stood the same way he had come to them first. The people gathered and stared at him, even those standing on the rooftops.
He spoke in a normal voice: "I'm here to aid you. What do you desire of me?"
The people were in a trance as they stared at him. What did they want? Did they even know what they wanted after these days of hardship?
"I have only two weeks to be with you. Think hard and give me your answer."
There was resignation in their eyes. He wasn't here to stay. All those weeks they had been suffering, and now they were supposed to tell him what they wanted.
The song they had sung came to them with understanding. It started with misunderstanding. They thought he was cursed. No—the blood rain came, then he came and made it worse, but he was here to help them.
A man—lanky but with a deep voice, eyes like he recalled things he had long forgotten—came forward.
"My Lord, Moldread and his people are consumed by greed and fear of you. They hold onto power even though they know the truth. But they are on the right track—we need a single ruler, one who can help us harness the treasures we have here!"
Moldread is the full name of old ma Mol.
The man was kneeling, but as he spoke and the people heard him somehow agreeing with the Moldread they scorned, they scowled but didn't say anything.
"Do you speak for everyone?" Eiran asked accusingly. "Is that what the collective wants?"
People didn't even understand him well. They shook their heads, some whispering "no." They abhorred Moldread and his deeds so much that they couldn't see the end goal.
Old man Mol slumped down, defeated. 'Where did it go wrong?' he thought, and immediately he remembered Gole. 'The moment I made Rol kill him, we were on the wrong path.'
He closed his eyes. Rol stood beside him, and the gaze of the people was stern—they would tear the man apart if he let them.
The kneeling man sighed and understood he hadn't used tact in his speech, and now people looked at him wrongly.
"Young one!" The Misfortune Teller was at the front, staring at Eiran all this time. Her voice made them halt their breath in fear of what she would say.
Even so, for once she had been right and wrong, but many did not hate her as much—especially the cultists, as she was their very founder. The day she saw the writing was the day she began to whisper and gather people under her.
Despite Dol and Moldread's scrutiny, they couldn't find anything wrong. Even though she was watched day and night, she still whispered her truth.
"Your enemies are tainting the worlds. Many will abhor you. Many will see you as a calamity—both the intelligent and the beasts!" she spoke. As always, she spoke of misfortune.
Eiran's eyes on her were not judging but observing.
"But you also have ancient enemies. They walked the earth before you did. They stay silent until you show. They have forgotten, but they will remember... you..."
Eiran raised his hand and stopped her. This was not what he wanted to hear. She became silent before she added, "We don't know what we want!"
His gaze returned to her.
"You are here to learn about us, know our history, understand our traditions, and become the road by which we go beyond our confinement!" she added.
"There is a Hall of Fathers—a hall that contains all our history, but it requires a strong will to dwell inside," the first man who had spoken added.