Anarand’aris, Year 4.310 in the Age of Last Hope

  7th of Yumtal in the Windy Season

  D’al Vorat, County of Amalay, Realm of Kiriador

  I sprinted toward the song, summoning all the strength I could muster. The distant, melancholic melody suffused the air with a heady blend of longing, fear, and temptation. Ahead, the nocturnal forest unfolded as a half-forgotten dream, its shadowy branches clawing at the air like the restless hands of nameless phantoms. A cold wind swept past, brushing my face with whispers of long-forgotten promises.

  ??? dan liadar tir sana k’alano, ru sal radianoni’mii ke’vileno ???

  ??? o atri sorono galati eleda esied’iradanno ???

  Come, beloved, and gaze into my eyes, the melody whispered. They hold the color of a sapphire sky.

  The words, sung in the ancient tongue, resonated in my mind, awakening forsaken memories. They carried a tender invitation, laced with a subtle yet irresistible command. The very air pulsed with their meaning, drawing me toward the song’s source, tempting me to uncover its secret.

  Ahead, a dim scarlet glow pierced the darkness. The twisted silhouettes of the trees, where the light seeped through, resembled a blood-drenched gateway to Aartókh-Dággaras.

  ??? dan liadar tir sana k’alano, ru bao lansa’mina ke’binado ???

  ??? o atra per’innog enno asa ulani’tamadol ???

  The melody deepened, weaving a tapestry of ache and yearning around my mind. It felt both intimate and inescapable. Its words curled through the air like a lover’s caress. It filled me with strength beyond my own.

  A final barrier stood before me—a wall of tightly entwined branches and brambles. Careless, I plunged through.

  The forest fell away, and I emerged into a clearing steeped in otherworldly beauty. Across the dense carpet of moss, jagged stones and gnarled roots jutted out like ancient, weathered bones. The air was thick with the scents of damp leaves, tree sap, and freshly disturbed soil.

  Mist clung to the ground, catching the scarlet glow in countless droplets that resembled fresh-spilled blood.

  ??? dan liadar tir sana k’alano, ru asa salisuni’minani ke’nasmao ???

  ??? o atri bognu galati eleda alerid’karidan ???

  The melody was inside me now, resonating in my bones with a promise I couldn’t ignore. As I could not ignore the light ahead. Its source was deceptively small—no larger than a closed fist—yet brilliant. It appeared motionless but within it, a core of scarlet pulsed like something alive.

  A crystal orb.

  It sat upon an altar at the heart of the clearing, its surface worn smooth by centuries of rain and wind. The colors of the world drained around the orb’s glow. The trees, the stones, even the sky—all of it faded to washed-out gray shadows. Only the scarlet light remained.

  It seared into my vision.

  It called to me.

  ??? sana azur’din enno liadar’min, ru kalit’din enno ???

  ??? sana meeru’dina enno liadar’min, ru roshta’dina enno ???

  ??? sana dan ree’vedeo, este ’moritan ran’alano ???

  The song whispered of life and death, of passion and pain. A tapestry woven from threads I dared not unravel. Because its meaning was dreadfully familiar, feeling as though it had always been there, waiting for me to remember.

  To remember her.

  With an effort, I tore my gaze from the orb—to finally look at her motionless figure.

  She was kneeling before the altar, wrapped in heavy scarlet robes, the melody spilling from her hidden lips now reduced to a soft, wordless hum. Sensing my gaze, she rose with an ethereal grace and turned to face me. From the shadowed depths of her hood, unseen eyes locked onto mine.

  A force beyond reason compelled me forward. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to turn back. Yet my feet moved of their own accord, as though bound by invisible strings.

  I took a hesitant step.

  Then another.

  The closer I drew, the heavier the air became, burdened with unspoken promises. It was suffused with an overwhelming presence, suffocating in its intensity. I thought I almost saw the physical manifestation of it—a moving web of ethereal crimson tendrils coiling around us.

  Then, somehow, I was a breath away from her. And, as if possessed by a will of its own, the robe slipped off her shoulders.

  For a painfully long moment, my heart stopped at the sight of the gorgeous, naked body unveiled before me. Her graceful curves and delicate forms radiated an otherworldly beauty, as though woven from the fabric of the most sacred of dreams.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  My gaze traced the entirety of her, lingering on the enchanting, luxuriant waves of the waist-length crimson hair… only to halt in bewilderment at the white mask concealing her face. Not a single feature marred its flawless surface, and the small eyeholes, paired with the slightly larger mouth opening, only deepened its eerie blankness.

  My hand glided over her mist-dampened skin, toward the delicate hollow at the base of her throat. There, it lingered for what felt like a torturous eternity.

  The air between us pulsed, charged with desperate desire.

  Unthinking, I reached out. A voice screamed in my mind, begging me to stop. But something primal and unyielding had taken hold. It whispered that the answers I yearned for lay behind that featureless surface.

  My eyes sought her face even as I tore away the mask. And when they found it, the enchantment gripping my mind shattered, like a lumin-crystal struck by a lightning bolt.

  A scream reverberated through the trees. And it did not belong to me alone. Two voices intertwined in it—one filled with abject horror, the other laced with hurt and fury.

  The sound echoed, raw and violent—then shattered the silence of my bedroom.

  For a fleeting, vertiginous instant, I hovered between realms. The darkness seemed to take on a life of its own. It swelled beyond control, ready to burst forth and spill its nightmarish shadows.

  My pulse thundered. Sweat trickled down my forehead, stinging my eyes. It was sheer madness, and yet I could almost catch a faint trace of her scent in the air. The melody of the song lingered in my ears like a fading whisper from the spirit world.

  “By Azur’s light,” I groaned, running a trembling hand over my face in a futile effort to wipe away the sweat.

  Even without the adrenaline surging through my veins, the night remained unbearably warm. The silk sheets clung to my damp skin, their texture smooth, clammy, and suffocating. The sensation was too familiar. It reminded me of her passionate embrace and more. Pain. Violence. Death.

  I could not bear it.

  I threw the wet sheets aside and rose swiftly. Still, the walls of the bedroom seemed to close in around me, heavy, suffocating. I needed air. Dizzy, I stumbled toward the balcony, ignoring the lumin-crystal lamp on the nightstand. Instead, I let Ria’s silver moonlight, generously spilling through the wide-open windows, guide my steps.

  Outside, the night wind felt like salvation. Still unusually strong for the late Windy Season, it carried the faint scent of fish, the brine of lake water, the acrid tang of fresh tar, and the distant murmur of the northern harbor. It could not silence the lingering echoes of my dream, but at least it gave me something else to focus on.

  With my hands resting on the railing, I gazed at the painfully familiar lights of the city sprawling beneath the castle. From here, the entirety of D’al Vorat lay before me, unobstructed, and even on ordinary nights, this view brought me inner peace. The sense of being home, where everything was in its rightful place, was a precious thing, a rare comfort indeed.

  Tonight, I found myself appreciating it more than ever.

  “Ra’maen.”

  The name left my lips unbidden, carrying with it a tidal wave of emotions: anger, hate, longing, and a bitter ache I had tried for a decade to forget. It sent a shiver through me, despite the night’s warmth, leaving a bittersweet taste on my tongue.

  “Ra’maen… why do you haunt my nightmares again now, after all this time?”

  No one answered, of course. Yet, for an agonizing moment, I couldn’t suppress the need to hear her voice. It was a cruel reminder that some wounds never truly heal, despite the passage of time. With that thought, my fingers traced the scar at the base of my neck, only to withdraw, trembling.

  “Why now?” I whispered into the empty night.

  The futile question hung in the air for an instant before the wind swallowed it whole.

  An acute need suddenly gripped me: to head to the study and pour myself a strong glass of di’erae, though by my own standards, it was far too early for any alcohol.

  Ah, what harm could it possibly do? I thought, striding purposefully toward the door.

  The sudden flap of wings overhead made me freeze mid-step. My gaze darted upwards toward the night sky. The sparse stars left wide gaps in between, ample space for a predator to lurk and maneuver, hidden within the endless expanse. Years had passed since the last gah’ardar attack, a vile mutant from the Faithless Lands, yet the chaos and destruction it wrought still made people glance warily at the sky. In my current state of mind, I half-expected to see the winged horror of twisted flesh descending upon the castle.

  After several tense moments, however, I finally spotted the vague silhouette of something high above. The source of my unease turned out to be a large bird. From what I could tell, it was heading straight for my balcony.

  Soon, the bird dipped low enough to catch Ria’s light, its feathers igniting in cool, orange-yellow flames.

  An Amber Hawk! I mused, surprised. This was no ordinary bird, drifting through time and space; it was a viliehar, a messenger.

  The hawk descended toward the stone railing, its wings beating steadily to slow its momentum. The wind stirred by it brushed against my face, carrying the scent of wild air and distant stormfronts. It prompted me to close my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, its sharp talons were already gripping the edge of the railing. Its wings folded gracefully, a faint shiver running through them.

  The hawk inspected me, tilting its head to regard me with one unblinking eye, then the other. A moment later, it let out a soft, expectant cry.

  “Viliehar v’alano (Welcome, messenger),” I said softly, extending my right fist toward it.

  The hawk eyed me once more, its amber gaze fearless, then hopped lightly from the railing onto my arm. Its talons gripped my naked skin without piercing it. That was part of its magic. A small black box was fastened to its left leg.

  “Is this for me?” I asked, though it was merely a formality. Viliehari never err in finding their intended recipient.

  The hawk let out another cry, watching me with a hint of impatience.

  I smiled and carefully unfastened the box. “Thank you. You are free to hunt upon my lands.”

  The hawk gave a final cry and, with a few powerful flaps of its wings, soared into the night. I gripped the box tightly. A sudden irrational fear surged through me at the impossible thought that the sender could be Ra’maen herself.

  Sentimental fool, I chastised myself, staring at the small object.

  Absurd as it was, it took a surprising effort to open my palm and look inside. A moment later, I exhaled in relief. The seal bore the crest of my brother, Arin Vorat. Still, it was odd for Arin to send a viliehar. I hadn’t even known he possessed one. Why hadn’t he simply used a comm-disc, as he usually did?

  With a mix of curiosity and unease, I broke the seal with my thumb and carefully unrolled the note. The moonlight provided enough illumination to make out the writing. As expected, the text was encrypted, the handwriting unmistakably his. Yet, what truly caught me off guard was the cipher Arin had chosen.

  Both the dream and the thought of di’erae vanished from my mind. Arin had used the most intricate cipher known to the Vorat Family. Unlike him, I required the codebook to unravel it, a task I knew would take considerable time and focus.

  I hurried back into the bedroom, seized the first robe within reach, and all but sprinted toward the study.

  Hey, thanks for reading this far!

  I hope you've enjoyed the story until this point and I'd like to hear your thoughts about it. Also, I am trying a new, more contemporary style in my English writing and I am curious to hear some feedback about it. So, let me know in the comments below!

  Boris Khan