The Gathering- The Rise of a King
Chapter 2

Each life time is recorded by the council, living records of the Ethic and Essuna of that time. These have been called The Journals of the Diaes. Millions of them have been written and used to solve many problems that have arisen. However, each one holds extremely sensitive and personal information of the lives of the Ethic and Essuna, and so it is forbidden to read the current Journal while it is still in progress. This law was passed long ago, when Essuna herself learned of the council’s endless knowledge of her life, and she demanded that something be done to give her privacy. The council had been reluctant, but understanding, and they passed the law under severe penalty.

Since then, each Journal had been numbered and cataloged in a building that once stood in the vast field beside the palace, but it burnt down almost seventy years ago, taking nearly half of the Journals with it in its fiery blaze. Among the lost records was the original, the documented life of Ethic, the Dark Lord of Luthian, and Essuna, the Goddess of Light. Within those treasured pages were not only terrible secrets as well as shocking truths, but also the very curse that concealed Ethic’s terrible soul. The spell that Darch had created to condemn the Dark Lord, his son, to a powerless, mortal life, doomed to be reborn endlessly to the same fate.
With the Journal’s disappearance, those documents were lost to the council, putting them in a terrible disadvantage as the threat of an attack from the Dreathians, Ethic’s followers, increased. They had been dormant for millions of years, nearly destroyed during the Great Wars, which were their last stand after the death of their Dark Lord.

The Dreathian Influence had begun to show itself in odd places about three-hundred years ago, during the Diaes age of Owen DragonOak and Issle Redgrave. There had been interesting reports of spies and raiding parties all across Luthian, but as quickly as they began, they disappeared again.  Until, of course, Owen and Issle wed and had a child, who turned out to be of more consequence than anyone had expected.
The child was the outcome of an Ethic and an Essuna coming together, conjoining their darkness and their light into one being, and the child was what the Dreathian’s had been waiting for. Her blood was a key to the Underworlds, a string of demon infested worlds that were far below Luthian. These worlds were opened, and only Ethic’s blood could close them.

Because of that terrible incident, Owen’s sacrifice of his life and Issle’s heart breaking demise, an Ethic and Essuna have never been allowed to wed, though they are always drawn to one another. As an effect of the fashion in which Owen died, Ethic’s soul was sent to the after life rather than being reborn. The cycle of the Diaes had ended for him, and he was now, supposedly, at rest. To come back to a living form would have been impossible, but somehow he managed to become Eden, and that was what made Darch wonder.

He must have grown to great amounts of strength to be able to create his own passage back into existence. Somehow, his powers must have regenerated, and he used them to reincarnate himself once more, although they were not strong enough to free him of his cursed existence. But what was his motive to return? What had driven him to come back now, and was it simply a coincidence that the Dreathian’s were slowly returning once more?
Yes, more reports were resurfacing. Glimpses of stalking groups of parties just outside city limits, and sightings of what people claimed were Rezkees. These creatures had once been Dreathian men and women, a race mutated into existence in a last desperate attempt to survive in harsh conditions. Now they crawled like animals, skin wrinkled and grey, eyes large and yellow, teeth jagged and rotten; the perfect beast to send out at night to spy and kill.

And as Darch passed these thoughts in and out of his head, sitting in the old study, a room he once spent everyday in while learning from a great man, he sighed. It was very early morning, and Darch had not even thought about sleep. The key to the future sat open in front of him, an ancient spell he had found in his search for answers, and now he had to master it. It would mend history, secure the future, and save them all from possible destruction. All he had to do was master it, learn its power, and channel its command to fulfill its purpose.

“What are you doing awake?” Luthious asked, standing in the door frame. The elf slowly looked over at him, a bit of surprise filling his eyes.
“What are you doing up?” He asked in return, looking his friend over. “Do you know what hour it is?”
“I was asleep.” He sighed, moving to the chair across from Darch at the table. “However, I woke up and just knew that you were awake somewhere, probably up to no good, and it kept me awake worrying.”
“You were worrying about me?” Darch raised an eye brow. “Because I was awake as well?”
“Do not think so highly on yourself. I simply do not wish you to do something foolish.”
“It is that notion that is foolish.”
Luthious gave him a suspicious glare from across the table top, looking him over carefully. “I must disagree. You have found yourself in trouble countless times before.”
“And yet everything I have done, trouble or not, has resulted in something with great importance to the Council, Netherith, or perhaps even Luthian.”
“You give yourself too much credit.” He scowled. “You cannot keep going behind the Council’s back! We will dismiss you.”

Darch stood, sighing. “The Council chooses to not see the importance that my actions hold. If I were to present them accordingly, they would be voted out without thought. I find it much easier to act first, and ask for their permission later.”
His friend bowed his head, feeling as though he was talking to a brick wall, and the horrifying defeat crept into him like possession. After a long, silent, nearly awkward moment, Luthious whispered. “Do you truly plan to go ahead with this?”
“Yes,”
“You do realize that you are tampering with The Fates, correct?”
Darch turned his eyes up to the grand ceiling, closing them in thought. “I like to think that it is The Fates that are guiding me to do this.”
“But what if you are wrong? What if The King of Legend really is just a story?”
“Well,” The elf took in a breath, glancing back down at Luthious. “I am making it a reality.” He turned to leave, but stopped as Luthious cautioned him once more. “Have you thought about what it shall do to him?”
“What do you mean?” He asked scornfully.
“After everything, will this be what he wants as well?”
“I am more concerned with how Luthian will benefit. If there are any harsh feelings, he will accept it in time.” And with that, Darch stepped from the old study, the parchment rolled neatly in his hand.

__

This day was warmer, she told herself. It was a fine day to sit out in the sun, she tried to convince. But when she pulled herself out into the light, her eyes sensitive from earlier tears, she immediately wished to crawl back into the stone walls of the palace. The Gardens, with their sunken beds, high hedges, lovely benches and cool, refreshing ponds were far too happy for her. It did not seem right, Evelyn reasoned, for someone as grief stricken as her to enjoy herself in such beauty. Her pain, without doubt, would poison the bright colors of the flowers, turn them grey and dead, and suck dry the pools and tarnish the benches. This was no place for her. Not yet; not as it once had been.

However, her heavy feet were tired with the endless walking, and her body sore from the depression that weighed her down. So she slowly made her way to one of the stone benches, carved many years ago and weathered by the elements. This would be a place to rest, she said, only until she felt well enough to make her way back inside.
There she sat, one arm supporting her, her body slacked forward. This was how he saw her, his beautiful sister, being dragged down by invisible chains. Robin slowly came forward, swooping down to pluck a lovely lilly from its stem, and then revealing it in front of her with classic surprise. Evelyn glanced up at it, and then her head bowed even lower, as though the gift saddened her.
“Evey?” He asked, sitting beside her.
“You should have left it, Robin.” She mumbled. “Was it not beautiful then? Now it shall slowly die.”
He gave the lilly a melancholy glance, placing it down on the bench beside her. “I do wish to see you smile once more, Evelyn.” He told her with a full heart, gently taking her hand. “He would have wanted you to smile.”
“How can I smile when he left me here? He stole my happiness, and now wishes for me grin. Alas, the only face that caused such glee was his own, and he stole that as well.”
“What good is it to be angry now?” Her brother asked. “What will it accomplish to weep and curse when the battle has already been lost?”
“Because,” She looked up into his blue eyes, watching as the bright sun played cheerfully on his bright skin and short, yellow hair. “There is still the war.”

“Only on the inside,” He shrugged. “There is more beauty, Evey. You simply have to rediscover it.”
“He was beauty.” She whispered, almost to herself. “Without him everything seems so dull.” A sigh lingered in her throat, and it made her voice whimper. “I dream of him every night, and wake thinking that I will see him laying beside me. It is all false, however. He is still with me, haunting my every moment; sleeping and awake.”
“He shall always be somewhere within you, and that is good.”
“No, it isn’t.” She sobbed. “If he wished to leave me alone, then why won’t he take every moment we shared? Why will he not steal the memories, the touches, the words and the promises? Why take himself, but leave me with all of these...”

“Because he loved you, and he wishes you to remember everything you shared, and carry it so that your love will not be for nothing.” Robin went to gently touch her back, but Evelyn stood on her weary feet aggressively, fists clenched. “No!” She yelled. “He did not love me! If he did he would have made things right rather than hurting himself! I could have been there, Robin! I could have  mended him...”
“Eden was very ill, Evelyn. There was nothing anyone could do.”
“I could have found something...” She held herself highly, staring down at him. “And now I feel cold and sick each day, knowing that I will never love as I did then. I will never see him, touch him, hold him.” Her arms clasped her waist tightly, her eyes burning with salty water. “This pain shall kill me as well, Robin; I feel it eating at me even now.”
Her brother stood quickly, taking her delicate form in his arms and cradling her against him. She cried heavily into his chest, her arms curled between them, his hand running down her hair gently. “You know Eden would want you to move on, Evey.” He softly said, tightening his comforting hold on her. “He would wish you happy again.”
“I cannot forget him, Robin.” She moaned. “I cannot even begin to comprehend a life without him beside me.” Her voice dropped. “A piece of me is missing, and I shall never recover.”

Robin pulled her from him, a smile cresting his elfish face. “But you already have begun!” He beamed. “Here you are in the sun! You are speaking, and expressing what is deep inside of you! Do you not feel better?”
Evelyn looked a him, her large, blue eyes sinking. “No. I feel worse.”
“In time,” He smiled even more. “Soon, I promise, you will be feeling better.”

Evelyn sighed, feeling herself go limp again. The only things she knew would make her feel better was his eyes; his touch; his love, but those did not exist anymore. Her Eden, her passion, was dead.
“You shall see!” Robin continued to promise things he had no control over. “Soon you shall be in the sun each day, laughing lightly and dreaming of joys to come.” He nodded, as though very pleased. “You are making so much progress, Evey, though you cannot see it.”

Evelyn let her eyes tilt down, her tears pouring over the rims, and her breath shaking. “I wish I could see what you can, brother.” She mumbled, mindlessly studying the tiled walkways.
“You can if you look.” He reached out to touch her hand, but she stepped back, excusing herself quickly before walking away.

Robin paused momentarily before sitting back on the bench, watching her step hastily towards the palace.

__

Sarah sat in the study, watching as Luthious pawed through the old shelves, looking at the bindings of books that had most likely been stationed there for years. He seemed very intent, running his hand over each in turn before pulling a random one free. He had taken two from the shelves, both identical, leather bound with silver details. Only the two seemed to be present in the room, yet Luthious quickly looked over the shelves once more to confirm it.
Sarah picked up the one that was closest to her on the table, its leather cover charred and curled. It had been burnt. The other was in better shape; only the edges of its pages were damaged.
“Luthious,” She called to him, shifting the heavy book between her hands. “What are these?”
“Journals of the Diaes.” He mumbled, returning to the table. “Darch has decided that each one must be collected.”
“It is burnt?” She asked him, picking up the other one and flipping its pages quickly. Luthious nodded. “They were all kept together in a building that burnt down many years ago. Since then the Council has had no place to keep them all together, so odd ones have drifted between rooms and most likely lost.”
“Why find them all now?” She wrinkled her nose, putting them beside each other. “Doesn’t it seem a little late?”
“Darch has decided.” Luthious rolled his eyes. “And he is the Leader.”
“I am sure he has a very good reason for it, Luthious.” Sarah shrugged. “I simply do not see it.”
“Well, it is probably for the best. These books are extremely important. They hold history that most could never comprehend.”

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes full of confusion. Her hands had been running over the cover of the less damaged one, and she slowly picked it up, opening to a random page. Almost immediately, Sarah felt as though her entire body was trapped in a haze and her head spun. Her eyes fogged and she started to hear a voice. No, many voices, and as she looked around to try and see the people, she heard one grow louder. It was that of a young man, laughing raucously in time with a group of laughter, and then the smell of pipe smoke and cooked food began to drift into her nose and throat.

Luthious was watching her as her eyes shifted strangely around the room, and he snatched the book away from her, watching her face shift back to its normal expression. Once she had realized what he had done, she looked at him expectantly.
“Are you all right?” He asked, slowly placing the book back on the table. Sarah nodded, looking down at the Journal. “What are these books, again?”
Luthious placed a hand on the one she had drawn her attention to. “They are documented lives of Ethic and Essuna, this one being the Diaes Age of Owen DragonOak and Issle Redgrave.”
“Do you think,” Sarah smiled innocently. “I could borrow this one? You know, only for a short time.”

“I do not think that is a good idea.” He shook his head. “There are things in these pages that should only be known by the Council.”
“I shall give it right back!”
“Why do you care about it so much?” His eyes grew narrow.
“When I opened it, I could hear and smell what it was saying! I was just about to see as well if you hadn’t stolen it from me.”
“I do not think it is appropriate for someone of your age.” He stated strictly, staking the two books together and shifting them to his side of the table.
“What does that mean?” She gasped, looking over at it.
“It is the documented life of a married couple.” He looked at her, about to add something more when Darch strolled through the door and each of them looked up at him.

He held a bundle of papers in his hands, but a stack of three books, identical to the Journals already on the table were floating at waist height behind him. Luthious stood to greet him, but Sarah simply watched the floating books. It was rare when she saw Darch using some magical trick, but the stacks of books that occasionally followed him was by far her favorite.
Luthious began to say something to the elf, talking about Council business that Darch only half listened to. He placed the papers on the table, and then turned to retrieve the books. He looked over the other two with Luthious continuing to talk uselessly, and then he paused, looking up at Sarah who sat pleasantly on the other side of him.

Her and Darch looked at each other for a moment, and as though he could sense that something had happened before he had entered, he shifted the books around and tossed her the less damaged one.
“What are you doing?” Luthious broke off from his previous sentence, indicating towards the Journal that Sarah now held. Darch looked at his friend briefly, continuing to shift things. “What do you mean?”
“She should not be reading that.”
“Why ever not? She is a grown woman, no?” Darch shrugged. “Besides, it is hardly of use to us now. When she is finished she shall return it and it will once again be in the Council’s hands.” Then, almost under his breath, he added, “Its very incapable hands.”

“Well,” Luthious sighed heavily, looking the table over. “We should most likely report to the Council’s Meeting Hall.”
“What ever for?” Darch asked, flipping a page mindlessly.
“Have you not been listening to me?”
“No,” He stated cooly, reading something over. Luthious paused a moment before repeating himself from earlier, taking a breath to perhaps gather himself. “Edmire has called a meeting. There seems to have been an attack on a small fishing village.”
“What?” Darch looked quickly up at him. “Where? By what?”
“If we get to the meeting perhaps we shall find out.”

The elf immediately let the papers he was holding fall to the table, and he walked briskly from the room. Luthious paused momentarily to nod a goodbye to Sarah, but then he too was walking out the door.
When they finally made it to the Meeting Hall, mostly everyone was there. Edmire was standing tall, looking over the vast room as she called people to order. She seemed to have a certain authority that rolled off her in the form of her smug smile on her elderly face.

Darch walked through the room, closer to the long table that each member was shifting towards. He stepped around it, walking quickly to Edmire, whose seat was planted beside his. “What is going on?” He asked once within range of her, and she gave him a sideways glance. “You mean you do not know, Lord Darchen?” She let her smug look stretch. “I thought that you would be the first to know, being the Leader of the Council.”
“Simply tell me, Edmire.” He commanded, and she rolled her eyes, but did not speak again to him. Instead, she addressed the entire hall, because the council had quieted and taken their seats. “As most of you know,” She gave a side glance to the elf. “the fishing village Emmi, which is on the coast of Spring near HardStone, has been attacked.”
“By what?” A voice called from one end of the long table. Another one rose, this time from the other side. “Are we under attack, Edmire?”
“No, of course not.” She shuffled, sighing heavily. “It would be impossible for anything to attack Netherith.”

Darch rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, because that statement was completely ridiculous. In truth, it would not be so difficult to attack anywhere in Luthian if one had a great enough force. There had been no need for a substantial army in over three-hundred years, so no city, no matter how influential or powerful it was had a system to counter act any attack. In fact, even though Netherith was indeed the most powerful city in Luthian, an attack on it at this point would be very easy to pull off.
Darch felt a small smile of mockery slip onto his face, whether it was because of Edmire’s selfish statements, her lack of knowledge in their military situation, or the fact that he also had not given much thought to what would happen if Netherith did have a crisis.
He knew, however, that if he tried to speak about building a larger army, Edmire would curse him and somehow convince the rest of the council that it was silly. She would say that there was no need to prepare for the impossible, though it was far from that. In fact, Darch felt that it was inevitable. “Do we know what it was that attacked it?” Darch finally asked, calmly looking over at the elderly woman, who refused to completely acknowledge him.

There was a pause in the hall, and then Edmire spoke. “We do not know exactly what attacked. The reports are very... inconclusive.”
Darch quieted a soft, ridiculing laugh. Noral, the third in command, looked up at Edmire, whom had him wrapped around her boney finger. “Do you think it could happen again, Edmire? Is there any danger?”
“No, of course not. This was simply an animal attack or a raiding party of bandits!” Edmire smeared her pursed lips into a thin smile. “Besides, it was only a small village. Nothing has been lost.”

Darch looked at her slowly, unbelieving her poisonous words that slithered from those wrinkled, thin lips. She was dismissing this far too easy! It was no secret that Edmire only cared for herself and her positions in society, but could she really be so inhumane as to forget about these poor people? He stood, looking at her again before addressing the fourth in command. “Lithen,” He said. “I want you to send aid to Emmi, please. Edmire,” He turned to her. “If there is no other pressing business, I do believe we all have work to do.”
She looked at him, finally truly admitting that he was alive, but her expression was not kind. “Of course,” She snuffed, and Darch dismissed the Council.

Luthious was waiting for him around the table as everyone left the great hall, and Darch fell into step with him. “This was no simple animal attack...” The elf grumbled under his breath. “We need to keep very close attention to this. Sightings of many things have been reported, and what people may think are animals could be something very different.”
“You mean...” Luthious whispered. “you think this was Rezkees?”
“It is very possible.”
“What do you say we do?”

Darch paused in his steps for a moment, flashing strategies through his mind. There were many thing they could do, though most were not logical at this moment and would only drain their resources. In fact, to be most efficient, there was nothing to do now. The best strategy was to watch and wait, like the Dreathian’s had been doing for centuries. “We keep doing what we have been doing.”
Luthious let that sink in. “Does that somehow include what you have been doing behind everyone’s back?”
“As of now that is our best luck in rising above what is coming.” Darch began to stride away, ready to busy himself in what needed to be done.
“Darch!” Luthious called, watching as he walked farther away. “Be reasonable!”
But his friend paid no mind to  him.

__

Evelyn was sitting silently in her room, an open book open loosely in her hand, but she did not read it. She thought about her day in the garden and how she felt out of place there, like she would never again love the things she use to. However, perhaps her brother had been right. Maybe things were getting better, even if she couldn’t see it. Evelyn took a breath, feeling it fill her lungs as she slowly tried to smile. Weakly pulling at the muscles on her face, the only smile she managed to develop was nothing more than a slight curve, which felt terribly out of place. A forced, fake smile was all it was. A wall to cover her pain, and she immediately dropped it.
It was now dusk, and a storm had covered the beauty of the sun that she had awoken to earlier. Now it was raining and the purple sky was twisting with the promise of a dismal night. But was the rain so bad? It washed the earth clean and watered the plants and animals. It helped start new life, and cleared the world of its clutter, carrying it away to make room for something better. It made a new beginning. Perhaps the rain could do the same for her.

Evelyn let the book slip from her fingers, laying askew on the floor as she stood and stepped over it, walking towards the doors that led to her balcony. She grasped the handles, swinging the pale white, windowed doors open, feeling the blast of cold, wet air hit her face and body, and she closed her eyes to its fresh smell. She was no longer completely numb; She could feel the coolness, the small droplets of rain that found their way into the doors.
Evelyn slipped her feet from the small slippers she wore, leaving them behind as she stepped forward, onto the cold, wet stone that created the platform of her balcony. The wetness rushed over her, in her hair, on her clothes, and in her face; She could feel it slowly seeping through the fabric of her clothing, kissing her skin gently, and washing away her agony.

Evelyn then let her lips curl into a soft, genuine smile that made her whole face warm. For that moment she felt nearly whole, almost herself. It was one more step to her recovery, and it felt glorious. As she basked in this new found freedom, though small, she stretched her hands up, allowing herself to take up more of the rain.

This was a beautiful feeling for her, to be able to feel the cold and wet. Evelyn slowly brought her arms close to her, curling them against her chest as she took in a deep breath, the water dripping into her open mouth. As she did this, another sense crept up, slithering up her spine and settling at the nape of her neck, where it tingled and made her shiver. Her eyes opened cautiously, and Evelyn knew this feeling of being watched.
Turning, she let her eyes scan her side and then slowly behind her. She could feel the presence of someone else, standing close, watching her back as though he was spying. Quickly, Evelyn spun to face whoever it was, but froze immediately, feeling her body sink into a terrified state.

Standing only paces away, wet from the rain, as Eden, his eyes dark and his body hunched. He was looking at her through a tangled curtain of his brown hair, his mouth parted with heavy, noisy breathing. His stance was unnerving, tilted forward, feet braced for anything, head tilted down. Evelyn’s body shook at the sight of him, knowing that this thing could not be the man she had loved. That man was dead, and now a creature stood before her.
She moved back slowly, but gasped as she felt the cold railing of the balcony press against her back. She gripped it, not letting her eyes leave the thin, boney apparition of her love.
He twitched to her soft noise, his body shivering as his hands mangled themselves into fists, and then exploded out towards her as his feet sprang into a sprint.

Evelyn screamed, turning her back to the dangerous charge of death, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her head, and her hands gripped into the stone railing so fiercely that her nails ached. She leaned forward, ready to feel cold hands and arms rip at her in only seconds, her whole upper body dangling over the edge as she winced in terrible anticipation. She was sobbing, holding herself like that for moments, and then taking a deep breath when nothing attacked her.
Flinging her eyes open to see the great height in which she dangled, Evelyn flew herself up and around, gasping as she looked at the otherwise empty platform. Her body shook, her heart pounded, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Nothing was there, and yet her body was so weak from the fear that she slowly sank down against the railing, curling up in the cold rain as she stared at the nothing before her.