Chapter 90: The Sun Rises, But Our Spirits Fall.

Chapter 90: The Sun Rises, But Our Spirits Fall. It is said that when the sun rises, it does so to bring light and to banish the darkness. Sunlight comes after darkness has claimed the land for hours. And when it comes, it brings warmth. The cold disappears, and the fear of people is dispelled. Evil works that thrived under the moon would vanish with the appearance of the sun. This may be what people have come to believe, but is it the truth? Does the sun remove the troubles we bear? I have come to a realization that when the sun rises, not everyone loves it. Some people prefer to stay in the night so they may finish things they started, and others wish the sun would remain where it is so a new day never comes. They wish for the night to stretch as long as it can so they can stay hidden from the world, for it is easier to hide in the shadow of the night than to face the world. It may be that this is what Aramith felt when the very first light of a new day came. He wished the sun would retreat. What if he had gone back instead? Would he have made a different choice? A better one? Or a worse one? Gebreth once told him during training that when you are fighting and you get injured, don’t think of how you would have defeated your opponent if you were at full strength. You must accept the fact that you are now what you are. Whether injured or not, you still have to face your opponent. He accepted those teachings and wondered when he would have to look back on that and face an opponent. He never imagined that the first opponent he’d face... was reality itself. How could he have expected reality to strike first? The blow was so cruel, so final, he could only dwell on what might’ve been, had this never happened. "It’s time," the voice of Deadlock one cut through his thoughts. He sounded emotionless, perhaps the effect of being a cold-blooded killer. "Come on, let’s go," Mozrael nudged him. While Aramith sat, thinking endlessly of what was going to happen, Mozrael spent the night shedding silent tears. Regret. Lynnor was still unresponsive, her movements robotic and lifeless. She stood up slowly and walked out first. Aramith and Mozrael followed after. Arms shackled behind them, they moved in a single file, afraid to even look up. None of this felt real, and Aramith wondered if he would wake up and it would all disappear like a bad dream, but none of that happened. The balconies, corridors, and paintings on walls...all felt familiar and foreign at the same time. He couldn’t even look up due to shame. And though the soft warmth of the morning sun touched their skin, it still felt cold. The walk was long and slow, but no one was surprised. Everyone within the walls of the palace had already been alerted of what had happened, and today, Henndar was going to announce it all to the people. Anyone who showed any bit of support to them would have no choice but to join them. All guards, soldiers, maids, and servants who had once known them had to look away or frown upon them. As they reached the gates, Aramith felt a cold draft, though not even a hair was lifted by any wind. He raised his head and immediately regretted it when he looked back. He felt his heart twist in pain when he saw Lia looking at him. She sat in her wheelchair with Kesha standing by her side. Kesha hugged her elbows, rubbing her hands as if cold. She didn’t even look at Aramith- she couldn’t. Aramith knew he deserved it, but why did he have to see such a painful sight before leaving? Lia looked so alone in the distance- even with Kesha by her side. He didn’t want her to see this. How he wished she wouldn’t see him. What killed Aramith inside was her soft smile. Why was she smiling at him? That was the ’everything is going to be okay’ smile, but he knew everything was getting worse. This was terrible. Cruelly enough, his silent wish was granted before he even wished it. Lia was blind. How would she see him and Mozrael? But he never knew she was blind. This was another painful generosity fate had granted him. As they were about to exit, Lia raised a hand and waved him goodbye. His heart sank deeper. "I deserve death," he muttered. Mozrael turned just as the gates shut and was spared the sight. "They’re gone," Kesha muttered through clenched teeth. She still refused to face forward. Lia finally dropped her hand. "Did they see me?" She asked. Mozrael didn’t see you, Kesha wanted to say, but she wasn’t cruel enough. "They both saw you, and they smiled. I’m sure they at least feel better that they could see you," she lied. Lia could tell it was a lie, but this was a good lie. She forced herself to believe it, just like she’d made them believe she could see them. Dawn’s first light crept across the palace courtyard, gilding the marble in pale gold. Word had spread through the city: an urgent summons. By the time the crimson banners fluttering from the ramparts caught the sun, a restless crowd had already gathered. Nobles in fine silks, grizzled veterans in tabards, commoners with wary eyes. A hush fell as Henndar appeared on the dais, flanked by the Deadlocks’ silent forms. He wore his customary red robes, but today there was no flourish, only the heavy stillness of his decision. His face was shadowed by the rising sun, and the crowd leaned forward, curiosity warred with dread. Whispers rose like wind through dry leaves. "What’s happened?" One asked "I heard there might be a war coming." "War?" "Didn’t you see the blazewood path? Someone’s getting banished. I’m sure it’s going to be some ministers." "Who told you that? I heard the prince and the first princess are going to be banished." "Prince Aramith...Princess Mozrael... banished?" "Fate at last caught that Damned boy." "Hey, don’t talk like that." "What? The boy had nothing special about him, and now we hear he’s going to be banished." "But you shouldn’t talk like that. It’s wrong." "This is mercy, not cruelty." "But they’re children. What could they have done?" "Who cares?" "Maybe the rumors aren’t true." Henndar lifted a hand. Every murmur died on the spot. "People of the Vermillion Kingdom, I come before you not as a warrior today, but as your king and as a father. This dawn, I bear news that cuts deeper than any blade." "A grave choice has been forced upon us. My son, Prince Aramith, and my daughter, Princess Mozrael, have defied my explicit command, choosing to shield a known exile, one who has broken our laws and stained her hands with blood. In doing so, they have placed personal conviction above the welfare and unity of our realm. In public session before foreign delegates, they placed personal loyalty above the laws that bind us all." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "I have weighed their punishment in private, for blood is thicker than paper proclamations. I could have ended their lives with a single decree. Yet mercy demands sacrifice of its own kind. Therefore, they shall be spared death, though not spared consequence. They will be stripped of title, confined to exile beyond our borders, and as the sun rises, they will depart under guard to begin their new lives far from home." He waited a moment, taking a deep breath, then continued. "This is my final act of generosity toward them: to grant them life, though it be a life without the comforts of royal station, without the lands they knew, and without the privilege of return." A tense silence followed. Some bowed their heads, accepting the king’s mercy. Others shook their heads in whispered disapproval. "Just punishment!" "They should have known better." "Mercy? More like pride." "But how could they do that in the presence of foreign delegates?" "I pity the children, but the king is right." "Banishment at dawn... It’s too cruel." "He didn’t even wait for a day to pass.""Outcasts forever, then. Let this be a warning." "For protecting a killer... they deserve worse." A low murmur of outrage swelled at the mention of sparing their lives, only a select few pitying them and wishing for a better life for them. Henndar raised his hand, and the path leading away was flanked by flames. The trail burned bright red, dangerous, and disturbing. Beyond lay the fabled Blazewood Path: a carpet of ruby-red leaves, customarily prepared for a banished soul. Once stepped on, they ignited to ash and were reduced to dust. This was to show that the path one took when leaving the lands will disappear, and you will not have the opportunity to return any longer. At the path’s start stood the Midnight Ember Carriage; unassuming from the outside but cavernous within, warded against escape, its polished obsidian panels inscribed with binding alchemy formations. Within, Deadlocks waited silently at each corner.