A Throne Built On Lies

Caelion Vireth’s hands shook as he walked to the boundary.

“State your hesitation,” said the guard who came in front of him.

“I have none,” Caelion answered.

The guard looked at him, and looked at the ground that was cleared, and was about to look at the sealed ground. The wall was trembling, weak, like it was being forced to contain something.

“This is no ordinary job,” said the guard. “You are still allowed to ask to be reassigned. Who issued the order?”

Caelion hesitated. “The word of the high court.”

That was enough and made the guard step to the side. Caelion stepped forward. The barrier answered very quickly and shook as though it knew him. The air was sharp and unpleasant with a low hum.

“When you cross, the seal will not hold,” the guard said hastily. “In case there is a mistake…”

“It won’t,” Caelion cut in.

He raised his hand. There was a light that flashed over his fingers, steady and under control. He did not wait to be further warned, but pressed his palm against the barrier. It parted. Not like a door. As though it were a tearing.

The first thing he heard was the sound when he stepped through. Whispers. Dozens of them. Impractical, superimposed, inseparable. Caelion stopped.

The earth on which he stood was false. Not solid. Not unstable either. It was as though it moved with each footfall, and was not to be trod upon.

“Keep your head straight,” he said to himself.

There was a small spot of light at his wrist…the badge of a Spellbreaker. It throbbed once, in response to the curse that followed. There it was. In the middle of the closed area. It was not like a curse. It resembled a tear.

Dark and jagged, hanging in the air. The zone surrounding it was curved a little, as though it did not obey the same laws as the rest.

Caelion sighed and walked nearer. The murmurs became more and more pronounced. He ignored them. Worse he had dealt with. At least so, he said to himself.

“Find structure,” he said to himself, more of a habit than a necessity.

He looked at it narrowing his eyes. No fixed pattern. No clear anchor. No visible source.

“No, no, no,”he said to himself.

Each curse was organized. A pattern. Something that might have been unraveled.

This one…didn’t. The whispering shifted. It was more evident: More concentrated.

“Caelion.”

He froze. That wasn’t possible. No curse talked so. “Caelion Vireth.” His jaw tightened.

Halt, he said sternly. You are not conscious.

A pause.

Then..

“You’re wrong.” The voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t echo. It talked as though it were right beside him. Caelion didn’t move. His heart beat increased, but his face remained calm.

“Determine origin,” he said.

The curse pulsed.

“I know you,” said the voice.

“That’s not possible.” Caelion hissed.

“You’ve seen me before.” The voice whispered.

“I haven’t.” Caelion replied.

A pause.

“You just don’t remember.”

The grip of the hand of Caelion tightened a little. This was not the way curses should act. They did not engage in discussions. They were not aware of names. They didn’t respond. He made another advance.

“Enough,” he said. “I’m ending this.”

His wrist sigil blazed even brighter. Light radiated in lines, and wrapped around his arm like veins. His hand was lifted to the tear.

“Disperse,” he commanded.

Nothing happened.

The curse didn’t react. It just… watched. Caelion frowned.

“That’s not possible.”

All the curses were a response to power. Every single one. He made another attempt, more forceful now.

“Disperse.”

The room in which the tear was moved slightly changed. But still it did not break. Instead, It laughed. Soft. Almost amused.

You suppose that you can dictate to me?

Caelion’s expression hardened.

“You are a construct. You don’t have will.”

“You’re wrong again.” The murmur was growing louder, near his ears. “You’re not like the others,” the voice continued. “That’s why they sent you.”

They have sent me since I can break it. Caelion attempted to defend himself.

No, no, the voice said. They have sent you, because you are able to hold it, you cannot break it, you can only hold it.or perhaps to contain it. Like a new vessel.

Caelion didn’t respond. Something was wrong, the first time. Not the curse. Him. There was a small amount of pressure which had accumulated behind his eyes.

“Stop,” he said , this time more sharply. I am not allowing you to play me.

The voice didn’t. You have been good with taking things in, Caelion, it said. Even in times when you are not supposed to.

Before he could think, his hand had moved. He touched the tear. As soon as his fingers touched it.Everything was different. The world snapped. He was away elsewhere.

A corridor.

Long. Dark. Silent.

His steps resonated with his strides, though he was not going anywhere.

What is this, he said. No answer.

There was a figure at the end of the passage. Tall. Still. Watching him. Caelion attempted to concentrate on it, but the picture changed, wobbling.

“Who are you?” he cried.

The figure didn’t respond. Instead….Another scene.

A woman. Light hair. Bright eyes. Reaching out. And do not believe him, he is not what he is not! The image broke. It was substituted by another one. Chains. Clinging to a struggling thing.

A voice…angry, furious…

“This isn’t justice!” The sound cut off. Caelion staggered slightly. What is this, he said again?

“Memory,” the voice said. “Yours.but you never knew. “

“These aren’t mine.” Caelion screamed.

“No,” it agreed.

“Then whose?”

“Yours…but you never knew.” The voice replied.

The world came to. Caelion drew a breath, and withdrew his hand. Now the tear throbbed, in response. His heart pounded in his chest.

“No, no,” he said, but his voice was not as steady.

His sigil flared on his wrist. He looked down. Light flashed on his skin. Thin lines. Spreading.

“What—”

Pain hit him. Sharp. Immediate. With a gasp he fell on one knee. The splintering was faint, and ran up his arm.

“It is not meant to be so,” he said to himself througj clenched teeth.

The voice softened.

“Now you understand. You were not sent here to break me, but to contain me.”

“I understand nothing.” Caelion forced himself to stand. The pain didn’t stop. It spread. Up his arm. Across his shoulder. Into his chest.

“Stop,” he said. But it didn’t.

“You’re breaking,” the voice said.

Caelion clenched his jaw. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m finishing this.”

His hand was up once more.

The lightning about his arm was unsteady, now. But still there. Still responding.

“Disperse,” he commanded.

The tear reacted this time. It went round and round, as though it were struggling. No, said the voice.

Caelion ignored it.

“Disperse.”

The earth trembled at his feet. The murmurs began to sound, high and far, and general, and deafening. The cracks in his skin glowed even more.

Stop, stop, the voice said, more decisively.

“Disperse!” The tear fell in. Not cleanly. Not smoothly. It struggled through each second of it.

But Caelion stood his ground. His light, which was his sigil round it, caused it to disintegrate.

Piece by piece.

Until… It was all over. Silence.

Complete, absolute silence.

Caelion stood motionless, gasping. The pain did not go away right away. But it ceased to spread. The fractures remained. Faint. Glowing. Wrong. His hands were gazed at. Then away back to the spot where the tear was.

It is done, said he.

And then there was nothing.The voice.Right next to his ear. No sound. No movement. Just silence.

Then. The voice…Right next to his ear.

“Thou hast not been born to serve them.”

Caelion’s body went still.

“You are not one of them.”