#20: Realms Part I: Chosen One.
Meeting destiny, provoking reality.
We are back with the twentieth issue of Root Synthesis! Today’s entry is Part I of my new serialized story: Realms. How many will there be? Great question. Will I post a new one every week until it is done? I haven’t decided yet. What is it about? Read for yourself!
“This ends now.”
Braccus unsheathed the Sword of Mountains and felt power course through his veins. The divine steel illuminated the darkened halls of the supposedly impenetrable Obsidian Fortress. The cragged walls of the keep had blighted the realm of Hendshire for centuries, and the source of its unnatural strength had poisoned the hills and the fields below. Once lush farmland had decayed into a desolate waste of dead brush and salted earth. The people starved while Emperor Clangdon reaped the bounty of the realm in opulence, killing all who dared oppose his might. The tyrant’s quarters were mere paces away, and Braccus, the Chosen One, was eager to fulfill his destiny.
The other members of his party urged a measure of caution.
“Brac, wait a second. We need to take stock and plan. That last set of guards nicked Pelton pretty good, and Clangdon is like nothing we’ve gone up against before. We’ve come too far to throw it all away now. Give us a minute to heal up and prepare.” It wasn’t fair that Della was forced to be the voice of reason at every step of their quest, but if not for her the world would have been doomed years ago. She was willing to deal with Braccus’ insufferable ego and impulsive behavior if it meant saving her family, but she couldn’t wait to be rid of the man.
“I just need a minute, I’ll just - ARGH!” Pelton stumbled and clutched his arm as his blood poured to the floor in a river. “It’s fine, just a minute.” Della began the healing ritual.
“No.”
“Braccus, you’re not-”
“No Della. I am the Chosen One. Not Pelton. Not you. Me. I met the terms of the prophecy. I was ordained by the Order. I found every single artifact needed to break Clangdon’s dark magic and restore light to the realm. And I will save us all.”
Della wheeled about with fire in her eyes. “Bullshit Braccus, you couldn’t put your boots on before leaving the house if not for Pelt and me. How dare you. After everything we’ve done for you, you want to cast us aside now? When you need us the most?! When the realm hangs in the balance?!”
Pelton collapsed.
“Nonono, Pelton wake up.” Della resumed the ritual.
“Heal the boy and start planning the apology you will make upon my return. My blade will taste justice this day.”
“Braccus, wait! The amulet! Don’t forget the amulet!” Pelton began convulsing, demanding her attention once more.
Braccus made no indication that he heard her as he unleashed an incomprehensible battle cry and sprinted toward the emperor’s chambers. Years of hard travel, narrow victories, and fate-changing revelations had all led to this very moment. Braccus felt his destiny pulling him forward faster and faster. He could taste the fame and wealth that awaited him upon slaying this one last monster. He would wear the glory until the end of his days. He was the hero of the realm.
Braccus burst into the ornate chambers with sword aloft. The holy radiance that had so clearly lit the hallway met a barrier of darkness through which no hope could pass. He quickly scanned the high-ceilinged room for his quarry, unable to see beyond the black veil that floated unnaturally before him. He felt the presence before he saw it.
A dark shape slowly rose from the shadow, towering above him. The darkness itself seemed to wrap around the figure in cords of massive musculature, each limb nearly double the size of Braccus himself. Braccus gasped as he felt fear - true fear - for the first time in his life. As he stared up at the impossible frame of the emperor, vine-like tendrils sprouted forth from the shadow, each darker than the void of oblivion and covered in long, menacing thorns tipped with glowing red barbs. They bound his wrists and ankles with the speed of a whip and the strength of a vice. The barbs pierced through his limbs, spilling his blood and forcing him to drop his blade. Braccus snarled in rage and pain as the tendrils roughly drew him high off of the ground until he hung eye level with the emperor.
Clangdon's scarred face was expressionless as he wordlessly hefted a spiked mace the size of a maple tree into the air with casual ease. In this moment, Braccus realized he had forgotten the amulet. The emperor had crushed countless waves of would-be usurpers under the might of the massive weapon, and without the sacred protection of the amulet Braccus was simply the next insect to be obliterated. Utterly defenseless, he screamed in horror as the mace came crashing down to end his life.
He awoke under a blinding light, unable to move. A reedy voice floated from somewhere to his left.
“Yikes. Death by mace. The audience is not going to like that one big guy.”