Chapter 4: 28 years old

CHAPTER 4

PHILIP

28 YEARS OLD

Anguished screams pound into my skull, setting my mind on fire. In front of me, all I can see is a shimmery haze coated in vermillion. Blood seeps from my fists, dripping down to the ground like poisonous rain.

Hatred swells in my chest, tainting every breath in and out. No longer do I smell the scent of rotted decay and death. Oh no. I smell only retribution.

It burns through my nostrils like fire. It sears my throat with every ragged cry. It turns the men in front of me to ash. No longer do I see them as humans. They lost that right the moment they betrayed the House of Godwin.

Curling my hand back into a fist, I plant it into the face of a soldier racing toward me. His hand grips a long spear as deadly menace splits his face in two. Years ago, I might have been afraid. I might have crouched behind Master Balcom and let him dispatch those who opposed us.

But not anymore.

Those days of childish fear are long behind me. It’s as if I cannot even remember them. Even now, splintered memories pierce my brain, threatening to make me sentimental, to remember those who betrayed us in a kinder light.

It’s agony shoving them away. Until now, Briar had been my only solace. I fought and bled to keep her safe. And for what? Glancing up at the high turret, I seek out a flash of brown amidst a sea of red, desperate for some sweet memory to overtake me.

But she’s not there.

There seems to be no trace of her anywhere. No doubt the bastard king is hiding her away, keeping my prize away from me—the wife I swore I’d come back for. Though I had not seen her in ten years, her soft voice and gentle smile were my rock, my comfort.

Now, she’s a millstone around my neck, threatening to bring me low. Try as I might, I cannot remove her from my brain. It’s as if a part of me resides in her, a part I will never get back until I choke the life out of her body. It’s the only way to be rid of this ache in my chest.

I was supposed to return to praise and fanfare, people shouting their thanks and adoration as the Holy Wars came to an end at my hand. Briar was to be waiting for me, chaste, demure, the picture of a bride waiting for her prince to wed her.

But that’s not the sight that greeted me.

Bodies still lay strewn across the castle's steps, their blood running down into the streets in crimson rivulets. Wings in order of the rainbow decorate the trees, swaying with each gentle breeze—the last of the good witches. As of yet, their bodies have not been found, but they’re not at the forefront of my concern.

Inside, my thoughts are a maelstrom. Part of me wants, no, needs, to make sure Briar is safe, but other part rages and bellows at the betrayal witnessed today. Even if she wasn’t the mastermind, she’s still part of the plot. That much is clear.

The letters in her hand begging me to come home. The trinkets she lured me with. The love she declared, even though she never really knew me. Then nothing. All communication stopped. All promises of our wedding day vanish.

But she was well. The spies confirmed it. Never once did Briar falter, but she did help stir up chaos and confusion. All the facts and data pound in my brain as I run my blade through yet another agent of betrayal.

Kendrick’s soldiers still surround us, their eyes glinting with their bloodlust. If only I’d come sooner. If only I wasn’t so distracted with the war… a diversion created on purpose if my theories are correct, at the behest of Kendrick, but continued on by the lies of Briar.

I should have been home. Because of me, my people lay slaughtered in their homes, their innocent lives snuffed out for no reason other than hatred. With my father nowhere to be found, it’s assumed he’s also dead. Which makes them my people now.

Who am I kidding? I considered them mine from the moment I realized my father was inept, and it was only a matter of time before I took over. I just never imagined him failing this badly.

My servants, my soldiers, my countrymen lie cold and still, their mouths agape in a twisted scream that will never be heard again. Tears threaten to burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Now is not a time to mourn. Now is a time for revenge.

There will be time to bury the dead once I’m seated back on the throne where I belong, my precious Briar chained to my side for all to see. Sneering, I look again up at the towers, my body twitching as I seek her out. I can feel her pulsing through my soul as if her heart beats with mine.

Each breath she takes, I take with her. She’s near. I know she’s near. With a savage roar, I tilt my head up to the skies and unleash an unholy howl. Everyone stops for a moment, their bodies quivering as the sound ripples through the courtyard.

Let them be afraid. Today will be the last day they breathe my air.

Lifting my sword, I aim for the heart of the next man to fall at my feet. His lips twist into a sneer as he bellows out to the heavens. “Abomination,” he cries, lunging forward.

I slide my sword alongside his and smack it to the side, deflecting the blow. Abomination? As if my brain unlocks all the memories I’ve long suppressed, images float before my eyes.

The witch.

The curse.

Abomination.

Shaking my head to clear the vision, I step in closer, grabbing the front of his armor. “Explain yourself,” I roar.

Heat licks up the side of my face as I stare the man down, noting the shifting expressions of horror as they flash over his face. The acrid stench of urine assaults my nose as the coward whimpers and shakes in my grasp.

“D- Dragon born,” he sputters, lifting his sword once more. “Abomination.”

The metal hilt clangs against his gauntlets as he quivers before me, attempting to find some measure of bravado. I have no time to piece through his words. Not with all this chaos whirling about me like a storm.

Tossing the traitor to the ground, I slam my foot against his wrist. The satisfying crunch of bones beneath me sends a thrill racing up my spine. The soldier howls out his pain, his cries joining those around him as my men slaughter them just as effectively as they razed our kingdom.

I wish I could say I found no pleasure in his pain, but I cannot. Breathing in, I take in the stench of his agony, letting it slither through my veins, becoming one with me. With a twist of my heel, I crush the remaining delicate bones until there’s nothing left.

My lips twist into a feral snarl as I press the tip of my sword against his throat. Each swallow is shallow, not quite enough to have him impale himself on my blade. Leaning in, I put weight on the sword, pushing in just enough for a thin line of blood to slide across his neck and into the ground below.

“How say you that I’m an abomination when you’ve destroyed innocent men and women? You are the abomination.”

With a choking cough, he presses himself further into the ground to escape the inevitable. Though I want him dead, I want answers even more. So far, no one has dared to speak to me, even when asked directly the meaning of this invasion.

I lift, giving him a slight reprieve. “Answer me, Kendrick scum.”

His lips tilt in what can only be a smile if he wasn’t in so much pain. “Born of a human and a dragon. You are to be exterminated. Never will you sully our princess with your demonic seed. The witch has foretold this. You may think to win, but you will lose. Your kind will always lose.”

The man speaks gibberish. He must be mad with delirium. Pulling the sword away from his neck, I aim a bit lower—his heart. Deep inside, I know it’s foolish. I should just stab him through the neck and be done with it.

To get to his heart, I’d have to go through his armor, expending far more energy. However, the irrational side wants to know his heart will forever be severed. With a betrayal this massive, I feel the intense need to answer in kind.

Pushing the sword down, it eases through his armor like a warm knife sliding through butter. Shocked, I watch as it pierces him, drawing a ragged cry from his lips.

Must be the adrenaline rushing through me. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now. With a snarl, I lean forward even more, until the sword goes all the way through him. He gasps and writhes for a moment as his life force bubbles up from his lips and eases out onto his face.

With a sneer, I twist the sword, reveling in the sounds of death as they waft up from his body. He looks at me, his eyes wild as his lips move, trying to form words. But it’s all for naught.

All too soon, he lies still, his face going slack. Just as he deserved. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to revel in the joy of seeing him look so shocked, even in death. Snarling, I yank my sword out of his chest and move on to the next casualty. Though the battle still rages, we seem to have the high ground.

Next to me, my brothers-in-arms fight to the death, beating back the hordes of soldiers, but still they come. Wave after wave they slam into us, taking full advantage of our weary, haggard state. Adrenaline keeps me moving, keeps me pressing forward when all I want to do is collapse.

If only I could make sense of this all. The idea that the king is a dragon is preposterous. From everything I’ve known about the man, there’s nothing ferocious about him. If anything, he is every bit prey and not a predator.

No doubt it’s some lie the evil witch planted in their heads, turning them against us. But what is her end game? Is it just to keep Briar away from me? My heart stutters as more memories pour in, overwhelming me until I fall to my knees.

She cursed Briar, threatening to cause her death. It was only by means of the good witch that she’d survive. My head throbs as I piece through the puzzles, trying desperately to figure things out.

“Head in the battle, boy,” a familiar voice cries out behind me.

As I turn, about to greet my old trainer, my jaw goes slack. A sword pierces through his armor from behind, coming out from his abdomen. With a feral scream, I pull Master Balcom toward me, shielding him with my body as I run the soldier through.

I cannot even take time to draw out the bastard’s death properly. Master Balcom is worth far more than retribution. With a loud grunt, I pluck the spear from his back before helping him shuffle toward the castle. After just a few moments of searching, I find an alcove hidden behind some brush. Thankfully, no traitors wait for us.

His breath rattles in his chest as he limps over, groaning as I help him to the ground. With another glance behind me, I prop him up against a wall and turn, prepared to defend him with my life.

“Philip,” he rasps, his words nearly drowned out by the clanking of metal.

Turning, I watch as he struggles to pull off his armor. For the first time since coming home, the few tears I’ve kept at bay slide down my face, burning my skin in their wake. Before me sits a shell of a man, an apparition of the man who once taught me everything I knew.

“I’m sorry, Philip. I tried. I tried to warn them. I-”

“Shhh, old friend,” I mutter, taking in the scars of old and the wounds from the current battle.

They crisscross over his body, telling a dark story of his life. Each mark tells a tale of bravery and passion. But none of that matters. The only injury that needs my attention is the bloom of blood from his abdomen. Frantic, I look about, spying some old rags hanging from the side of the castle walls—Godwin banners by the look of them.

Fitting that the heraldic signs and colors he fought so hard to protect are the one thing that might help save him. Wadding them up, I hunch down and press them against his wound. I grab his hand to hold them, but it just falls limp by his side.

His face takes on a gray, ashen color as his breathing slows. Until now, I never thought we could lose. How is it that the House of Godwin would have its greatest ally ripped from them?

Choking back a sob, I sit next to him, holding firm pressure with one hand while the other keeps a firm grip on my sword. No one will hurt him further. Not while I’m here to keep him safe.

“Philip.”

That one word. My name on his lips as blood stains the delicate skin of his mouth. It hurts far worse than any pain I’ve felt thus far.

“I’m here, Master Balcom.”

Beside me, I feel his hand shifting, as if he wants to reach out and hold mine. But to give him this wish, I’d have to either drop my sword, thus leaving us defenseless. Or, I’d have to drop the fabric staunching his wounds, causing him to bleed out far faster.

Neither is a good option for me.

As if he can sense my dilemma, his lips quirk up into a soft grin. “It’s okay. My time was never promised to me to begin with. Grab my necklace and lift it off of me.”

My heart wrenches in two as I let the bloody rags fall away to do as he asks. From beyond the trees, the fight still rages on, but somehow, it doesn’t breach the barrier. Time is ours for the moment.

The chain is cool against my fevered hands as I help ease it from around his neck. A large ring with a seal etched into it dangles down. At first, I think it’s my father’s, but the longer I look at it, I know it’s something far different.

Instead of a graceful deer and peaceful laurels, a dragon stands out in stark relief. Flames drift from behind the ferocious beast, and I cannot tell if he’s the one causing them or if they’re attacking him. One thing’s for certain, however. It also doesn’t belong to the House of Kendrick.

Their seal is that of a crow, its talons outstretched and menacing. Such a stark difference between the two houses, and yet, neither will stand after today is done. We will become something new, a beast rising from the flames of victory. Much like the dragon on the seal.

Did Master Balcom know? Was he somehow able to see into the future and predict this day? I search the older man’s eyes, looking for something to reveal what he knows, but he merely smiles at me like he used to when wanting me to puzzle something out on my own.

Soon, his smile droops as a cough brings more blood welling to his lips. “Philip, my time grows short. I was hoping to have this talk a long time ago, but it never seemed right. The man you call father is that in name only. It was not his seed that gave you life. I am that man.”