Tale of Four

With a foot bouncing, Tristan stared at his door and waited. Hours had passed, and it was nearing midnight. Despite wanting to sleep, the chameleon’s words had kept him up. ’Another hour. If no one comes...’ His thoughts were cut off when a small silver figure slid under the door.

”Follow me. Quietly.” Azikial said before turning around. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself, Tristan followed behind, making sure to make his footsteps and light as possible. Following through the halls, Azikial slid under the door of one of the rooms. Tristan knocked and rested his hands behind his back.

”Enter.” Brandon’s voice echoed out, and stepping in, he closed the door behind him before turning around and seeing Brandon standing to the side, coldly looking at him, his monocle hiding his left eye. Tristan fell to his knees, seeing the person next to him.

”Your grace.” His voice shook, saying that, not expecting Anton to be sitting in the room. Even without facing him, he felt the gaze of a predator staring at his back, each moment dragging on for an eternity as that cold glare pierced into him.

”My children have mentioned you. Mary has mentioned you. Brandon has mentioned you.” Tristan heard the chair creak as Anton leaned over, ”Look up.” Tristan did as told and raised his head, meeting Anton’s gaze, ”You have stayed hidden for years, and now all of a sudden you show yourself? Everyone suddenly having your name on their lips.” His finger bounced on the armrest. ”Did you believe with my rise, you finally had an opportunity to gain power?”

”Your grace...”

”It matters not.” Anton cut him off, ”Stand.” Tristan slowly rose, unable to believe his legs didn’t give out. ”Merge with your bird. I do not wish to delay.” Tristan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Throughout his body, he felt Annabell’s warmth, freeing her from the cage she resided in his body, letting the two become one. Opening his eyes, a pair of glowing orbs stared back at Anton.

Tristan fought the urge to cover his mouth, looking at the king in this state. Unlike everyone else, Anton was different. He didn’t look human; instead, what he truly was was coming through. ’He’s constantly one.’ The sight was horrifying, Anton looking like a large spider’s nest rather than a human, hundreds of small creatures crawling throughout and over his body, nestling within his organs, climbing his bones and gnawing on his muscles. ’Impossible.’

’Tristan.’ Annabell’s voice spoke in his mind as a wave of warmth shot around him, calming himself down, ’He... he... It’s a perfect merging. Even we couldn’t do that. He isn’t himself anymore, but he isn’t the spider either. They are both the same.’

Anton narrowed his gaze, seeing Tristan’s horrified look, but didn’t mention it. ”Speak.” Tristan took a deep breath and lowered his head, not wishing to look at the man any longer. Slowly, he recounted everything Annabell had said to him, making sure not to miss a single detail, even including Annabell’s desire to spy on Lady Blackwell. Anton silently sat, his index finger slowly bouncing as he listened. Finally, when Tristan finished, he gave a single half nod.

”Separate and summon it.” Tristan nodded, and his normal eyes returned, smoke coming out of his body forming into Annabell. The dove quietly flew atop his head and stared at Anton with a wary gaze. ”Annabell. Go to Lady Blackwell’s tent. You will take Azikial with you.” Anton turned to Brandon. ”You will agree,” Brandon said, nothing, bowing his head.

”Your grace.” Anton’s head snapped back to Tristan as he cried out in panic. Sighing, the king’s eyes softened slightly.

”I understand your fears, our summons are the things we hold most dear, but I need information. You have done a great service so far and will be rewarded, but your mission to the throne isn’t over.” Anton leaned forward and interlocked his fingers, his usual aloof coldness returning, ”Unless you are disobeying a command from your king.”

Tristan clenched his fists and resisted the urge to grind his teeth. With a deep breath, he placed a hand on his chest and bowed, ”Your will is my command.” With a nod, Anton turned to the chameleon hidden in the corner. It sighed and skidded forward, standing before Tristan, looking up at the dove.

”Come down.” Annabell made sure to let her displeasure be known about the situation, flapping her wings in annoyance, but didn’t fight against it, landing on the floor. Azikial climbed onto her back, and from his body, a silver smoke spread out across her body, allowing her to blend in with the colours around and turn invisible to the naked eye. ”We still make noise in this state, so stay silent when we approach.” Azikial made sure to say. Brandon opened the window, and once both he and Tristan sensed they were gone, he closed it.

--------------

”Can you stop moving around like that?” Annabell snapped as she flew through the air, struggling to stay stable with the added weight on her back.

”I am not moving. You simply can’t fly.” Azikial snapped back,

”My flying is perfect, you stupid lizard.” Azikial rolled his eyes and watched the festivities below. Even this late in the night, the tournament grounds didn’t rest; a few tents still filled with light and noise as people drunkenly walked around, holding one another, a few slipping into unoccupied tents.

”I know you may struggle because you’re an imbecile, but it is vital we do not make a sound. If we are caught, there will be serious problems.” Azikial said as they closed in on the large tent flying the Blackwell sigil. Around it, guards wearing the colour of Brigdeway stood, making sure nothing could approach, not noticing the dove and lizard above.

”There are arcane powers in there,” Annabell said, ignoring Azikial’s mocking. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly dove down, slipping through the opening at the top of the tent. Gliding in, she looked around at each room that was separated by thick pieces of wood, hammered into the ground.

Landing atop one, she shook, trying to get Azikial off her, the lizard clinging on, wondering why the dove was trying to sabotage them before they even found anything. ”I need to stay on, you fool.” Saying as quietly as he could, Azikial slapped her head with his tongue. Annabell’s head spun, staring at the creature before huffing and walking towards the disgusting power she had felt before.

Even Azikial went silent, no longer breathing. Annabell walked, the sound of people talking getting louder, the smell of blood thicker. Annabell nearly cried out in disgust, but remembered the warning of silence and held her tongue as she jumped atop another wooden wall and peeked over with the lizard. Both their eyes widened in horror and shock as they saw Lady Blackwell with a Magi.

Azikial didn’t look at Annabell, focusing on the sight before him, but could feel the bird quivering in fear, obviously able to see more than he could with her special eyes. ’Brandon. Your fears might be true.’ Telling himself, the lizard blinked, burning the sight into his mind.

”My lady.” The Magi said softly as the sound of squelching liquid echoed. In his hand, he held Lady Blackwell’s arms and dragged a needle coated in blue herbs down her arm. ”We are almost done.” Lady Blackwell turned her head, with a thin, seductive smile on her lips; her pale, wax-like skin shimmered in a bath of blood.

”It is fine.” Her pale eyes looked to the ceiling, ”Have I received word from Bridegway?”

”The Princess is almost ready to be unveiled.” The Magi carved thin lines into her arms, leaving behind a blue liquid. Finished, he put the needle down, turned around, grabbed a thin metal tube, and dropped one end into the bath. Grabbing a knife, he cut a small incision into one of her veins, centred around the thin blue marks on her arm, and carefully slipped the other end of the metal tube in. Lady Blackwell didn’t flinch as she closed her eyes and leaned back, drops of blood falling from her loose black hair.

The Magi stepped back and lifted a hand over the tube. A power flowed from his hand, and with it, the bath of blood bubbled, followed by the blue liquid in her arms. With everything complete, the blood flowed inside her body alongside the blue liquid in her arms. The process was slow, taking twenty minutes, but once done, her bare body was free to be seen. The red of blood mixed with her pale skin as she rose. Across her body, numerous scars littered her stomach and chest, each one looking like a wound worse than any that could be received in battle, injuries impossible to survive.

To Azikial and Annabell, it felt like they saw a being that didn’t belong in the mortal world. A wraith, as told in the clergy’s teachings, one who devoted themselves to blood and horror. Lady Blackwell slowly moved forward, not acknowledging the cold breeze that hit her bare body. The Magi bowed and kept his head low the entire time, not daring to look as Lady Blackwell opened a brown chest. From it, she took out a small statue and placed it between two white candles before falling to her knees.

The two animals’ gazes turned away from the woman and focused on the statue. It was a masterpiece, one that, if sold, could likely buy a person a small piece of land. Its grey colour lacked any life but was amply made up for by the beautiful appearance of a being, one that couldn’t be distinguished from man or woman, standing, holding a robe wrapped aorund their head, flowing down their body, held by up with their shoulders, in their left hand a sceptre, the right one, outstretched, a drop of liquid falling from their finger.