The Stormrunes Assembly's chanting of incantations drowned out Elira's silent cry for help as she stood in the center, inheriting their ancestral power. "Your Imperial, something is wrong with the orb..." Her voice trembled, barely audible. The Stormrunes' chants grew louder.
With desperation, she summoned her strength, her voice rising above the din. "Dareth..."
One of the elders moved toward her in alarm, his face twisted in concern. "The gods are angry. Tempestys doesn't find her worthy. She must have gone against the law of the gods!" His voice shrilled with warning.
Yet, as he reached out to take the orb away from her, an unseen force arrested his movement, and he fell back. Dareth's smile faltered, his lips compressing into a thin line. He stood up from the throne, his eyes burning with intensity.
"The gods don't find her worthy..." One of the elders repeated.
"Has that ever happened in this family? What are you doing? Continue with the rituals. It's five minutes to midnight. We must complete the rituals before her 18th birthday," Dareth roared, his voice echoing off the walls. The candles on the altar flickered, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the assembly.
"Your Imperial, the Assembly of the Stormrunes cannot continue with the rituals..." One of the elders announced, his voice laced with trepidation. Dareth's gaze swept across the elders, his eyes daring them to defy him.
"I will do it myself!" Dareth retorted, striding toward Elira. He placed his hand on her head and began to chant the incantation for the rituals. "Tempest hear my power, Stormrunes blood, my ancient call..." The air seemed to vibrate with energy, the runes on the orb pulsing with an otherworldly power.
Elira's eyes locked onto Dareth's, tears welling up in her eyes. "Dareth, my head burns so much. It hurts so much. Is the ritual supposed to hurt like this?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Endure it. We have two minutes left..." Dareth whispered back, his voice filled with sympathy. Elira's face contorted in pain, her skin growing hotter to the touch.
"I...can't..." Her voice trailed off, her body beginning to sway.
"You have to. If you don't inherit the ancestral power today, you can't have it anymore even if you see the storm god face to face. What's a Varyn descendant without their powers?" Dareth's words were a desperate plea, his eyes locked onto Elira's.
The elders exchanged worried glances. "A Stormrunes ritual isn't supposed to cause any discomfort," one of them announced, suspicion etched on their faces.
Suddenly, Elira's body gave way, and Dareth moved with lightning speed, catching her before she hit the floor. "Elira!" he called out, his voice cracking with worry. He gripped her ritual robes tightly, rubbing his hand on her forehead. Her skin burned against his palm, her breath shallow and her eyes unfocused.
The floating candles began to flicker violently.
"This can't be happening. We have to stop it. We have to stop it or calamity will befall this family," the leader of the assembly shrilled, his eyes wide with fear.
"Elira, open your eyes!" Dareth whispered, his voice urgent. The runes around the orb glowed red instead of blue, alarming Dareth and making him gasp in surprise.
The leader of the assembly took a step forward, his face pale. "Your imperial, I told you the gods have refused to pass down the princess's power to her. I told you, Your Imperial."
Dareth's gaze turned icy, his eyes blazing with anger. "Spare me that, Arkon. The orb wouldn't have glowed at all if the gods really found her unworthy." His voice was a low growl, his jaw clenched in frustration.
Elira struggled to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. "Dareth...my head hurts so much..." She tucked onto the collar of Dareth's robe, her eyes fluttering closed.
"Her pulse is faint. Summon the royal physician.", Dareth ordered the guard who hurried out of the room.
Dareth's face etched with worry as he sat beside Elira in the royal infirmary. His eyes filled with concern, as he kept checking if her pulse was back to normal.
At just 20, he became the King of Sirevale chosen by Tempestys, the storm god for reasons unknown. He was a king and a warrior. As a storm warrior, Dareth was used to battles, but nothing mattered to him more than his sister's well-being. He had been waiting for this moment for years, Elira gaining her powers, marking her transition to adulthood. This often meant weaning in their family. It meant he could finally let his guard down, and stopped worrying about protecting her all the time.
"What happened? What's going on?" Dareth sprang to his feet as the royal physician entered the room, his eyes demanding answers. He paced impatiently,
"Your Imperial, we've conducted a thorough healing assessment," the physician replied, his gaze avoiding the king's. "We've been unable to determine the cause of the princess's condition. I recommend consulting the mage from the royal apothecary..."
Dareth's expression darkened. "Are you admitting your incompetence?" His voice reverberated through the infirmary.
The physician swallowed hard. "Your Imperial, I—"
The leader's urgent announcement cut him off. "Your Imperial, I can't feel her pulse anymore!"
Dareth's gaze snapped to the princess, "We need to transfer her to the apothecary. Now."
"Where's the mage?" The Leader of the Stormrune assembly demanded, his impatience growing as they arrived at the apothecary.
"Your Imperial, the mage is in the inner chambers, performing rituals," the apothecary's attendant replied, his eyes darting nervously between the king and the princess.
"Bring him here now!" Dareth's voice was low but sharp, laced with authority. The attendant bowed hastily and hurried away.
Elira's complexion was fading to pale, her neck's hollows growing more pronounced. Her lips looked parched and dry, and tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead. The leader's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression somber.
"I've never seen Tempestys punish anyone and their health decline like this..." The leader's voice trailed off, his eyes still on the princess.
Dareth's gaze turned icy, his fists clenched in anger. "What did you just say? Say one more thing about Tempestys punishing Elira, and you'll face my wrath. She's innocent!"
The leader's voice trembled as he bowed. "I apologize, Your Imperial."
Just then, the mage emerged, his face lighting up as he saw the king."Your Imperial..." However, his expression shifted to concern as his gaze fell on Elira. "Oh weary spirit, what troubles you so..."
"Mage, that's my sister, Princess Elira," Dareth said, his gaze fixed on the mage. "Where do you see a weary spirit?"
The mage's eyes snapped back to the king. "Your Imperial, what happened?"
Dareth's expression was tense. "I should be asking you. I don't know what happened."
The leader stepped in. "The Princess collapsed during the ancestral ritual."
The mage's eyes widened. "Ah Ah! Today is her 18th birthday, isn't it? She collapsed during the ritual?"
Dareth's patience was wearing thin. "Arkon, get out of the room!" he ordered, pointing to the door. The leader bowed hastily and left.
The mage turned back to Dareth. "Did the leader say Tempestys hadn't chosen her?"
Dareth's eyes narrowed. "Is her condition associated with the storm god?"
The mage's response brought relief. "No. The ritual was half-done. She received half of her sigil. If the storm god was furious, she wouldn't have the sigil at all. She has half of the powers, so..."
Dareth's impatience grew. "So why did she collapse?"
"There's a spirit clinging to the princess..."
King Dareth's laughter was loud and mocking, his eyes never leaving the mage's face. "Why do I have so many quacks as officials?" he scoffed, running his hand through his long hair. "You can't find the cause and now you're blaming a spirit?"
The mage interjected "Your Imperial..."
But Dareth cut him off. "So a being that doesn't exist is clinging to my sister? Spirits don't exist. What are you talking about?"
The mage attempted to explain again but Dareth's anger only grew. "Do everything in your power to wake the princess up!"
The mage hesitated. "But, Your Imperial, we need to summon the spirit's true form to understand why it's attached itself to the princess, especially on a day like today."
Dareth's expression turned menacing. "Mage, are you looking to find your way to exile?"
The mage quickly fell to his knees, his voice trembling. "I deserve to die, Your Imperial."
Dareth's gaze lingered on the mage before he spoke. "If you die, no one will heal my sister."
The mage scrambled to his feet. "I'll prepare some herbs and potions, Your Imperial." He scurried into the inner chambers.
The mage fed Elira with the herbs and the potions.
"Her pulse is back but it's still so faint", Dareth informed the mage, as he placed two fingers on the princess' wrist.
The mage kneed hastily again. "Your Imperial, the herbs and potions can only sustain the princess for some days. We have to sunmon the true form of the spirit. You have to transport the Princess Elira back to her chambers so she can properly looked after by the maidens."
"I will arrange for that. And concerning that spirit you keep talking about, there's no thing as such. ", The King replied.
After the princess had been brought back into her chambers, Dareth sat beside her, deeply disturbed with concerns for her.
He stared on as the light from her seal kept fluctuating. If the light of a seal wasn't stable, it would only drain the pearls of a Varyn, especially one who just gained their powers.
"Elira, why has this happened? On even a day like this? Open your eyes, please"
At that moment, a blood-curdling wail pierced the air. The cry was loud enough that Dareth crouched, covering his ears. His eyes widened in recognition, his mind racing with dread. "Damn it all! Damn this cry! ," he cursed under his breath.
He knew that cry. It was that same cry that had been tormenting him in his sleep for some days now.
As if summoned by the cry, Elira's eyes snapped open, her eyeballs dark. A thick, black ichor trickled from her nose.
"Elira...", Dareth called out, his face lit up. Seeing her eyes, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Elira... Your eyes", he trailed off, now wiping the ichor off her nose with the back of his hand.
"What is this?"
"She's here," Elira whispered, her voice low but tough. "The doomsday is here! She's here.".
She slowly pointed to a far corner in the room. Dareth looked back but could not see anything.
"What are you talking about? Who is here?"
"She is here!", Elira muttered before her eyes dimmed shut yet again...