Chapter 4

Irving, the first prince of the kingdom of Thermalk, stood above a bloodied and battered Auron, his foot pressed against the second prince and his sword held high, poised to deliver the final blow. This was the moment Irving had been dreading, the moment where he had to choose to kill his brother or spare him and risk losing his only lead to Her.

Irving stared down at Auron through the slits in his helm, pondering if he should spare his foolish brother, the same brother that had drastically changed nine years ago when he first "saved" that red-haired witch. As he pondered on the question of leaving him his life or not, a weak harsh chuckle echoed out from between Auron's lips.

"Do it." Auron's voice came out barely audible as he gasped for breath. "Just like how you killed Othrese."

"Othrese?" Irving asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Othrese is still alive. He is sitting on the throne as we speak."

Auron's chuckles cut off at that and for the first time, his eyes focused on Irving. "Right," Auron's voice seemed to become quieter and weaker as he spoke, "that was three returns ago when I thought the throne was the answer."

Irving wanted to question Auron, to demand to know what he meant, but quickly changed his mind. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted from his mission any longer.

"Where is she, Auron?" Irving asked his voice coming out harsher than he had intended it to.

"Define who 'she' is-"

"The witch!" Irving shouted, interrupting Auron. "That red-haired witch you saved during the battle of rights!"

"Oh," Auron said with a weak laugh, "you mean her. I don't know where she is, but you will never find her."

Irving, in a fit of rage, brought his sword down, plunging the tip of the blade into the blood-soaked ground, inches from Auron's face. Releasing the pommel of his sword, Irving grabbed Auron by his blood-drenched tunic and pulled him in close.

"Are you an idiot!?" Irving shouted in anger, his voice reverberating off of the distant mountains and bouncing back to him. "You abandoned your king, your country, and worse of all, you angered the Gods by going against their will."

Irving's anger and resentment for his brother burned hot in his veins. He had no desire to kill his brother but was being forced to appease the Gods who demanded his blood.

"Going against the Gods will?" Auron asked, his voice building strength with every word he spoke. "What do you know of the Gods will? Everything I do, everything I have done, all the lives I have taken was for their will."

Irving opened his mouth ready to deny his words when Auron, his hand moving swiftly through the air, took hold of Irving's sword and brought it across his throat. Blood sprayed Irving's face, some managing to get into his mouth. Horrified, Irving stood in place starring at his younger brother as the crimson blood that was once held back by the skin and muscles in Auron's throat sprayed forth.

Irving starred, unable to do anything for the smiling lifeless body that once housed his brother's soul. A savage primal scream tore through the silence. It was such a terrible scream that for a moment, Irving would have sworn he was under attack. But that didn't make sense, he had killed all of Auron's followers, excluding the witch who was hidden and all of his men were dead.

He was alone in this blood-drenched battlefield where not even the crows dared to venture. That was when he realized, the terrible scream that continued to cry out in anguish was his own.

"If..." Irving shouted to the heavens as he fell to his knees, grasping for his brother's body, bringing him closer to hold. "If this is what you wanted if this is your will, then I want no more of it."

Irving stayed curled up on the ground, his brother's lifeless body held close for several hours as he whimpered and cried for the brother he had lost. As he lay on the ground, his tunic and armor were long ruined by the blood that seeped into every crevice, the sounds of footsteps approaching could be heard. Irving didn't bother to look up and see who it was that approached him, he only said one sentence.

"Feel free to kill me for I have already lost all that I care for."

"Kill you?" Her voice, the witch, shook a bit with what Irving assumed was sorrow, or possibly rage. "Death is too good for the likes of you, Irving Thermalk. No, I think maybe turning you into a vessel that is forced to fight the very Gods you so serve would be better."

Irving didn't move, he couldn't, the hours of sobbing and crying had sapped all of his strength from his body. He lay where he was and accepted whatever fate the witch had decided for him. Mysterious and powerful words were spoken above Irving's broken body and the air trembled and cracked with lightning.

Irving blinked and found himself standing on a battlefield, one he knew had been won. A man lay bleeding at his feet, Michael, a soldier who had given his life to protect the first prince.

Irving blinked again and found himself beside a fountain as a pair of girls giggled at something that had amused them. Another blink and Irving found himself glaring at a merchant who had once thrown Auron out of his shop. He blinked again and found himself waking up in his childhood bed.