A Throne Built On Lies

Messages That Shouldn’t Exist.

Next time Caelion was not hesitant.

When the pull set him free of the underworld, he came back in his messenger incarnation--Lioren Thale--standing again in the heavenly world.

This time he was prepared.

He fiddled with his sleeves, and brought himself under control by breathing in and out, as he passed into the lower corridors.

“Control oneself, “Caelion said to himself. “No mistakes.”

The recollection of the moonlight caressing his skin was still fresh. The pain. The shift.

He would never allow it to recur.

A train of messengers came by him, with closed scrolls.

One of them spoke. “Relay station is congested to-day. Council insists upon more circulation.”

Another added, “Something about yesterday report.

Caelion slowed slightly.

Good.

That was a shift in attention already.

He walked towards the relay chamber.

There was a lot of traffic in the message hall.

The scrolls were floating in the air and were sorted and redirected by some divine markers. Messengers went to and fro, taking up tasks and delivering them throughout the kingdom.

Nobody gave him any particular attention. That was just what he wanted.

Caelion moved to one of the center tables and picked up a stack of messages to be sent out.

He glanced through them.

Routine orders.Council updates.No significance.He set them down.Then took another set.This one was scored differently. Restricted. He paused. Then stole it. An approaching messenger looked at him. Those are higher level transmissions.

Caelion didn’t look at him. “I was reassigned.”

The messenger frowned. “By who?”

Caelion replied. “Council directive.”

The messenger hesitated.

Then nodded. “Right. Don’t hold up delivery.”

Caelion gave a short nod. “I won’t.”

He turned away.

Caelion, now alone towards the farther end of the room, laid the scrolls aside, and opened one.

The contents were usual. It was not about that. Caelion shut his eyes a moment. Focused.

The dark within him roused. Not visible. But present. He laid his fingers on the scroll.

“Well, we shall see, “he said to himself.

Dark energy passed through his hand. Subtle. Controlled. It had slipped into the message. Altering it. Not substituting all the content.

Just enough.

A phrase.

A sentence.

An out of place thing.

Caelion drew his hand in.

The scroll resembled it.

But it wasn’t. He took another up. Repeated the process. Then another. And another.

Now something new was carried in each message.

Something wrong.

The initial response was quicker than he anticipated. A scream was heard on the other side of the room.

“This isn’t correct!”

Caelion didn’t look up immediately.

He kept working.

A second voice came after. “What’s wrong?”

The messenger of the first, bore a scroll. “Look at it, look at it, this message.”

Another messenger leant over. “It is not in standard format.”

Caelion finally glanced over.

The message was non-secret.

The extra line that is present.

The dead are looking on.

The second messenger scowled. “Who wrote this?”

I do not know, the first replied. “It wasn’t here before.”

More voices joined.

More scrolls opened.

More reactions. Confusion spread quickly.

Caelion returned to his business.

Unbothered.

Focused.

The actual pandemonium began in the council hall.

Kaedros Halvek threw a scroll onto the platform.

“This cannot be, “said Kaedros sternly.

Lysithea Vorn came forward. “Explain.”

Kaedros indicated at the message. “This was brought to my very chamber.”

Lysithea read it. Her face did not alter--yet her eyes grew keen.

Selmira Noctis next talked. “That’s not an official message.”

Kaedros sighed. “Obviously.”

Here came another god, shaken at sight.

“It is not the only one, there is more, “he said.

Lysithea looked to him. “Clarify.”

The hands of the god were trembling and he was holding his own scroll in the hand.

“I got this an hour ago, “he said.

Lysithea took it. Read it. Then paused.

Kaedros frowned. “What does it say?”

Before she could, the god answered.

“It says…”he swallowed,”truth buried alive never remains buried.”

The room was as silent as a grave. The look of Selmira came down a notch. “Who gave these transmissions?”

No one, another god said hastily. “These aren’t from the council.”

The god who had spoken just now withdrew in a flash. His respirations were irregular.

“They are spying, “he said to himself.

Kaedros turned sharply. “What?”

The god shook his head, and withdrew still further. “The dead—”

“Control yourself,” Kaedros snapped.

“They’re watching!” the god repeated, louder now. “You buried it—you buried everything—”

“Enough,” Lysithea said sharply.

But the harm was done.

The room was moved. Doubt.

Fear. Uncertainty.

Eryndor Vale was yet to speak.

But now—

He stepped forward.

Calm.

Composed.

As always.

“Silence,” Eryndor said.

The room obeyed, and obeyed.

All attention turned to him.

Eryndor glanced at the messages a moment.

Then at the council.

“The transmissions, “he said, are a consequence of instability.

Lysithea just slightly narrowed her eyes. “Explain.”

Eryndor looked back at her. “The after-effects of the curse which has just been broken.”

Kaedros clasped his hands. “Are you saying Caelion is behind this?”

Eryndor was not afraid. “Yes.”

The room went quiet again.

Selmira spoke carefully. “He was proved dead.”

Eryndor nodded once. “Once the corruption was irreparable.”

Lysithea was keeping a close eye on him. “Define irreversible.”

Eryndor’s tone didn’t change.

“The curse was not broken, it found a new vessel. It stuck to him.changed him.”

Kaedros frowned. “And to execute him was your solution?”

Eryndor looked at him. “Not execution. Containment.”

The term subsided.

Selmira gazed at Seris. Seris was on the border of the room. Silent. Still.

Eryndor replied, “Seris Alune was a Guard of Realms, and the choice was to be made.”

Kaedros studied Seris. “And did you concur with that?”

Seris didn’t look up.

“Yes, “said she quietly.

Her voice didn’t shake. But there was a sort of emptiness in it. Eryndor spoke once again.

“The corruption that you are seeing today is the result of that instability. That is all.”

Lysithea didn’t respond immediately. She re-read the messages. Then at Eryndor.

“”You are sure? “ she inquired.

Eryndor gazed.

“Yes.”

The room remained quiet. They did not dare to challenge him.

Not yet.

Caelion was at the other extreme of the room, observing. Listening. Every word.

Every lie. His expression didn’t change. But his hand clenched a bit at his side.

“And so that was the story, “he said to himself.

He walked off before anybody could see him lurking around. The work was done. For now.

The sky was already beginning to darken. Caelion saw it as soon as he entered the outer corridor.

Night approaching.

His body responded instantly. A faint pull. Uncomfortable. Unstable.

“Not yet, “he thought to himself.

He hastened up.

The farther he was taken away out of the main halls the greater the attraction.

“Now,” he muttered.

The world changed once more. Sharp. Instant. He was pulled back.

The underworld. His true appearance was restored at once. The weight. The shadows.

The connection.

Caelion drew himself up, with one breath.

“Killed to contain,” he thought to himself.

The shadows didn’t respond. But other things did. A scroll appeared. Very close to him.

Midair. Caelion frowned.

“I had not ordered any thing.”

The scroll remained. Waiting. Slowly, he reached for it. Opened it. One line. Written in dark script.

“You’re getting too close to the edge..moonlight boy.”