All that is hidden come to light, all that is broken come into light.
“It’s almost morning. They’ll discover that we’re gone anytime soon,” Gen said in a hushed tone as they scampered about the deserted streets of the city, searching for the exit. The sky was turning orange like a gentle fire rising into the blue.
Then they heard the sound of metal and heavy leather boots on the cobble. Quickly, they hid from the patrolling soldiers in a cluttered alley. They were both crouching down behind some crates when Gen lost his balance and bumped into the stack of crates behind him, causing the top one to topple over and let loose a heap of papers.
Holding their breaths for fear that they’d alerted the soldiers, they waited for a few tense moments and watched the vanilla-toned papers waft down onto the ground. There was silence from the streets save for the echo of wind.
“What is this place?” Gen finally asked, picking up a piece of paper with words and numbers inscribed, then looking at the building.
“It’s the archive,” Jovin said, eyes trained on something above him. He was right next to the side door, and there was a sign plastered across it that read just that.
He stood up, and Gen followed suit. But then he reached for the doorknob. Gen stopped him.
‘What are you doing? There could be someone in there!” He said, alarmed and wide-eyed.
“The answer to my family history is in there, I have to look,” Jovin replied, looking at Gen earnestly. Gen saw the cracks in the brown of Jovin’s eyes, and in the cracks were what looked like flames. Small but constant flames - the desire to resolve 19 years of tormenting dubiety, to reconcile his broken past, and obtain grounding after being adrift for so long.
Gen knew how important it was for Jovin to find his roots; it was all he had ever lived for.
“Okay, but we can’t take too long. We have to leave before they find us,” he relented.
Jovin turned the knob slowly and the door opened with ease. In the dim and dusty room were rows upon rows of heavy shelves, but there was no one in sight - neither guard nor caretaker. They reasoned that the lack of security was due to the valueless historical papers.
Jovin went for the first shelf and began pulling out tomes and flipping through them. He wasn’t the best at reading, struggling with the little that Pa and Ma had taught him. In the feeble light of the cobwebbed lamp, the words looked hollow and heavy.
“What are we looking for?” Gen asked, pulling the next tome off the shelf. It was caked with dust. He gently brushed the cover with his hand before opening it. The crisp pages were covered with rigid script in a faded brown ink.
“My parents’ names - Augustus and Mallary.”
“This shelf seems to be about crops and agriculture,” Gen noted, returning the fourth book of the same topic, “Maybe we should try another.”
Jovin agreed, they couldn’t possibly look through every single book when the dark hours were waning. They had to be strategic.
“The exile of Kelv,” Gen read aloud the title of the book in his hand, getting up from the bottom shelf. He allowed himself a few solemn moments to flip through the record even though it was irrelevant to Jovin’s search. 8000 men, women, and children were driven from their homes into slavery that day. That was after the murder of 2000 by spears and grenades. In the pages of the account were the screams and cries of the helpless Kelvians smothered by the reigning terror of wolfskin and metal.
An hour or so passed and they were still looking. They’d skimmed and perused censuses, criminal records, merchant registrations, official documents, mergers, and relocation reports among other irrelevant papers to no avail.
Gen didn’t know what made him take a second look at the shelf about the Galvigon warlords after they had well moved on but that was what he did. There, in one of the leather-bound books about the family, was a portrait of the peculiar soldier who had visited them in prison earlier.
“Delirus Alyoff. He’s next in line to the throne. His father Zavus is currently in rule.”
Flipping a few pages forward, he landed on a page with some dates.
“Jovin…”
Gen wasn’t sure if Jovin should see this, but it was the missing piece in the puzzle of his past. When Jovin stared uncomprehending at the page for a few moments too long, Gen read the words aloud through trembling lips.
Y2359
Augustus, firstborn and heir to the Galvigon throne, and his wife, Mallary, wanted for treason.
Y2368
Led by Zavus, both traitors hunted. Key was never recovered.
The account fell upon the chamber like a grenade, sending shockwaves that rippled far into the unexplored depths of his past. The cracks grew and spread like wildfire. The flames leapt like a devourer’s tongue.
The book lay limply in Gen’s hands, as if the gravity of history had been drained from it and transferred onto Jovin’s cowering frame. As reality sank in, his breaths got increasingly erratic and he began shaking his head. He didn’t know where to place his hands. He didn’t know where to plant his feet. From his lips came no fathomable words. With wide eyes and a twisted mouth he backed away from Gen.
Looking for solace he found none within nor outside himself. Out of the shadowy prison of his past came the first emergence of feeling, and memory; the creature was breaking free. And it hurt. Like claws down his chest it brought him to his knees clutching his head.
Flashes of the past, of that fateful night, hit him like lightning bolts. Until it became as clear as if he was reliving it.
The air was still. Crickets chirped their nightly melody and the grass was slightly damp beneath the palms of his hands. The moon was round and bright, glowing bigger than past days. He was captivated by it like always, well into the night he would stare at it not wanting to go to sleep.
This night Pa came running from afar, swishing through the grass like a dodging animal. Taking Ma aside he whispered, “They’ve found us. Tell Jovin to run. They cannot know of our son.”
But Jovin had heard their conversation. He watched Ma wring her hands nervously and anguish overtake her soft eyes.
When she turned and caught him staring, confused and afraid, she began to cry. Walking over to where he was and picking up a bag and some items along the way, she knelt down in front of him and placed the bag over his head. Wiping away his tears as she did her own, she smiled, taking his face in her hands.
Pa came over and crouched down before him too. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a necklace with a key that Jovin hadn’t noticed before. Removing it from himself, he tied it around Jovin’s neck, then tucked it into his shirt. Pa then held him firmly by the shoulders, his eyes bearing all earnesty. The intensity of his gaze frightened Jovin.
“Run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back, no matter what you hear. Just keep running…We love you,” Ma said, trying hard to mask the trembling in her voice.
“Ma…,” he shook his head, not knowing what to say except to cry out to her, hoping that would change her mind.
Something made Pa look back. He surveyed the sounds and movements of the night for a few moments, then stood up swiftly and stiffly all of a sudden.
“Go,” he said, hardening his voice. When Jovin stood rooted to the spot, he repeated himself, this time more harshly, “Go.”
Jovin ran. Towards the Lusiah forest in the distance he bounded. When he heard a commotion from behind him, he hid behind a rock in a panic. With his back against the rock he remained silent and still, heart beating rapidly behind his ribcage and in his ears.
Then came the brandishing of metal, and Ma’s scream. He knew he shouldn’t have - Ma said not to look back, but he peeked.
To his horror he saw black shapes, wolf skin upon their backs, advancing upon Pa and Ma’s silhouettes. Down came the spears as the midnight wolves howled, their blood-curdling cries mixing with Pa and Ma’s.
Jovin scrambled back into hiding, back against the rock. For a few moments, he sat quaking and whimpering, clamping his hands over his mouth to suppress his cries.
Then with nothing but the innate instinct to survive he continued running, a curtain of tears blurring his vision. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to run as far as he could. He didn’t stop, not till his legs succumbed to exhaustion.
At last, he found himself on the other side of the forest in dawn’s blinding light. With the golden dew upon the land it was as if everything that had transpired in the night had never happened. The world didn’t stop to mourn, nor did it slow to lament the savagery it had witnessed. The whispering trees, wandering clouds, and leaping shadows continued unstirred.
There at the edge of the forest he sought refuge in a large burrow and hid there for days on end.
The concealed being was trauma. Now released, it turned rage.
With tear tracks down his face and bloodshot eyes, Jovin stood up, a hand reaching for the dagger under his coat. The brown of his eyes had turned a shade darker, and what was once hardened with restraint was now hardened with hatred.
Gen looked at him uneasily. He had sensed the change in his friend. But it wasn’t as much a change as it was an unveiling of what had always existed; an awakening of that which had lain dormant for years.
In a flash, Jovin was at the door.
“Where are you going?” Gen asked worriedly, picking up his bag from the ground and hurrying after him.
“I’m going to kill him.” That voice was not Jovin.
If Gen couldn’t keep up with Jovin then, he definitely couldn’t keep up with him now. Fueled by surging anger, the wayfarer stormed out of the archives into the dawning light, undeterred by the threat of patrolling soldiers. Gen could do nothing to stop him. It seemed as though he knew exactly where he was going, not stopping even once to survey the area. It was a wonder he’d gone unseen so far.
Gen tried to follow as closely as he could. But the fear of getting caught kept him from running in the open. Darting from wall to wall and corner to corner, it wasn’t easy to keep Jovin in his sight. Then he realised that Jovin was actually following some soldiers in the distance, thinking they’d lead him to Zavus.
And he was right. The soldiers were heading into a building with braziers on either side of the entrance. The flames danced, casting high shadows on the stone pillars. Above the flames were black flags that were beginning to come alive in the brisk morning air. Once limp with the heavy spell of night, the wolf-emblemed cloth now arose with the red dawn.
Knowing he couldn’t just let Jovin walk to his death, Gen abandoned caution and ran after him.
From the entrance of the facility, Zavus and a horde of soldiers emerged. Jovin met the warlord right there in the middle of the path with his dagger poised above his shoulder. Immediately, a dozen spears were aimed at his throat.
Gen approached the group from behind, hands held up in surrender as the sea of soldiers parted and directed their spears at him too.
“I’m here for your life, Zavus,” Jovin didn’t miss a beat; he was unfazed by the perilous situation he was in.
Zavus was a grim-looking man - salt-and-pepper hair slicked back from his sharp ears and broad forehead. He was battle-scarred, dark-eyed, stalwartly built. The mesh of metal rings encircling his neck and the long cape of wolfskin down his back furnished him with an air of formidability.
“Who is this trespasser who dares challenge me?” He said, stern but not entirely hostile. He was rather intrigued by Jovin’s apparent foolery. Was this some insubmissive Kelvian or revengeful Gunthian? He’d made many enemies over the years.
“I am the son of Augustus,” Jovin stated.
The expression on Zavus’ face quickly changed. Lips downturned, nostrils flared, brow furrowed; an involuntary reaction to this news.
“I remember everything, what you did that night 19 years ago. You murdered my parents in cold blood!”
As Zavus raised his hand to give a command, the cluster of rings decorating his fingers caught the light and the wolf tattoo on the inside of his wrist was revealed. But the soldier beside him sprang into action before he could complete his command.
“Stand down,” Delirus ordered, walking over to Jovin’s side. The line of spears retreated, making way for the young successor, “This demands investigation. If this man is who he says he is, we need to make things right.”
Zavus contemplated for a few moments. “Fair enough. Until then, he stays in prison, along with the other one,” he said, referring to Gen.
The soldiers moved to seize them. Again, Delirus interrupted.
“I shall personally see to that,” he said, holding his gaze steady. Zavus was visibly displeased, but eventually hardened his jaw and waved him off.
With that, Delirus led a few of his soldiers and escorted Gen and Jovin back into prison. Quite strangely, Jovin hadn’t resisted the arrest this time. But there was still something off about him.
As the metal gate closed on them and the soldiers left, Delirus stayed behind. Jovin walked right up to the grille and stared him down.
“I will return with a satisfactory answer. I promise.”
His upper lip quivered ever so slightly. And there was sympathy - no, it was penitence, in the grey of his eyes. After a few moments of silence, he slipped into the shadows and disappeared down the hallway.
Through the tunnels he went till he reached the exit. “Do not let anyone near them,” he ordered the soldiers under his command who were standing guard.
---
“He must possess the key and has come to reclaim what is rightfully his,” the aged advisor told Zavus, worry in his voice.
“What should we do?” the warlord’s wife asked urgently.
Zavus sat brooding on his seat in the middle of the room. Then he struck the arm of his chair in anger, his rings rapping against the wood.
“The riches of the mountain in the hands of that treasoner’s son! He has no right to the wealth of our people! His very existence is a dishonour to our clan…,” he exploded, then resumed his posture by the arm of his chair, resting his forehead on his clenched fist.
“…I’ll take the key off his dead body if I have to,” he added under his breath, tone dripping with malice as a shadow darkened his brow.
Soon after, Delirus arrived, storming into the facility. He offered no greetings nor pleasantries to the warlord on the throne.
“What have you done?” He demanded, jaw taut with ire.
“Only what was necessary,” Zavus replied without hesitation.
Delirus’ lips twisted in anger and he shook his head.
“There is no good in you, none at all,” he spat, but there was pain in his eyes, “I thought-I’d hoped, that at least you cared for your family. I tried to reason that everything you did was for us...but you would even kill your own! You’re a cold-blooded murderer!”
His mother came to him in an attempt to placate him.
“Did you know about this too?” Delirus asked, knowing deep down but still hoping with all his heart that it wasn’t true. When she averted her eyes and kept silent, Delirus knew she’d been selfish. Thoroughly disappointed and grieved, he pulled his arm away from her grasp.
Taking one last look at his unrelenting and unrepentant father, the young heir’s eyes glistened with rueful tears. He walked out of the room in anguish and defeat, head bowed and with a sour taste in his throat.
When he was gone, Zavus beckoned two soldiers over, “Keep watch over him. Don’t let him leave his room. I don’t want him interfering in this matter.”
---
Back in prison, when Jovin had made certain there were no keen eyes or ears lurking, he walked over to a corner of the cell and began tapping on the bricks on the floor.
Gen eyed him cautiously. There was no telling what was on the wayfarer’s mind. He’d been capricious of late, the wild flicker in his eyes immensely disconcerting.
“Jovin…what are you doing?” Gen began tentatively, afraid of pushing him over the edge.
Jovin suddenly stopped what he was doing. But it wasn’t a reaction to Gen’s question, rather, he’d found what he was looking for.
“This is what he wants,” he said without turning to look at Gen. Only then did Gen notice the key in his hand.
“It’d be a torment for him to never be able to find it,” he continued, an appalling deviousness overtaking his voice.
He lifted up the loose brick and wedged the key in the space underneath it. It was a scheme of sleight and though not undeserved, coming from Jovin it was deeply unsettling.
---
Delirus paced about his room, dragging his feet through the rubble and ruin of his world. He remembered Pa going away for a few months when he was five. He had clung to Pa’s leg, asking him not to go. Pa crouched down, tousled his hair with a smile, and explained that he had ‘important business’ to attend to. It’s for your future, my son. Then he stood beside Ma and reluctantly waved goodbye to Pa and his group of soldiers. Months later he stood by the city gate at dawn awaiting Pa’s return. When he saw him again, Pa was a different person. Like the dark stains on his garb, a kind of darkness had stained him. The light in his eyes had gone. He had become aloof and grim.
That day he trudged past his eager young son without so much as a word or hug. And to this day the brutal tension remains.
Feeling his emotions reach a boiling point within him, Delirus pushed some items off his desk and cried out in frustration. After almost two decades of blame and crippling incertitude, the truth had come to light. And in truth’s brilliance was the revelation of darkness untold.
He wasn’t going to let his father make the same mistake again.
As he approached the doorway of his room, two spears - one from either side of the frame - suddenly emerged with a metallic clash, blocking his exit.
“What is the meaning of this?” Delirus asked, angered.
“Sorry. Orders from His Majesty.”
Delirus closed his eyes and lifted his head in exasperation. When he opened his eyes again, they reflected a piercing determination.
---
Meanwhile, Zavus and his men made their way to the prison. When Delirus’ guards tried to stop them from entering, Zavus simply gestured with his head, ordering his men to kill. Without batting an eyelid, he continued into the prison with his hands behind his back as the spears and bodies fell behind him.
Gen and Jovin sat quietly in their cell as the footsteps grew louder. Soon, Zavus and his men appeared before the gate.
“Where is the key?” The warlord demanded.
Jovin laughed humourlessly, “I knew it. That’s what kills you inside. While you go about claiming others’ lives, this one little thing is what holds yours on the line. And for that, you can continue to suffer.”
Zavus looked ready to explode, the veins on one side of his face protruding like lightning had struck his skin. “Search him!” He commanded his men, and they came through the gate. As they grabbed Jovin and patted him down, the wry smile remained on his face.
“I’ll never tell you where it is, not even if you kill me,” he challenged, the fire of defiance growing in his eyes.
Without warning, a sinister grin crossed Zavus’ lips. Jovin’s face fell. “Oh I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to kill him unless you tell me.”
Immediately, the soldiers seized Gen and a spearhead was pressed against his throat. Gen froze, not even daring to swallow for the blade was poised for drawing blood.
Seeing Gen in danger brought him back to why they travelled across the lands and came here in the first place. Torn between vengeance and brotherhood, his own vendetta and the greater quest, the inner conflict was almost too much to bear. Agonisingly lost, Jovin’s resolve crumbled.
But at that very moment, a soldier ran up to Zavus from the hallway, flustered and face white with terror. “Your Majesty, a dark cloud has overtaken the city wall! The…the t-thing, it's devouring everything in its path! We’ve already lost four infantry units. It’s now headed for the civilian quarters!”
Without missing a beat, Zavus turned on his heel and left. His soldiers released them and followed, but not before locking the cell gate. Gen was a step too late to the gate.
Jovin remained standing where the soldiers had left him, staring vacantly at nothing in particular. Was he about to sacrifice his friend to satisfy his own thirst for revenge? Did that thought cross his mind? He was afraid of the answer. Ironically, the darkness had come in time and saved him from manifesting the darkness of his own heart.
“Let us out! We need to get to the mountain!” Gen shouted, tugging at the gate with all his might. He continued at it till his throat was raw and his hands red from wrestling with the grille.
The light coming through the grated window suddenly dulled, casting muted shadows across the uneven stone floor. Gen collapsed to the ground in defeat; they were back where they started, counting down the hours to their demise.
There was then the sound of keys jingling. Delirus appeared, bruised and walking with a slight limp. He hurriedly unlocked the gate and freed them.
When Gen and Jovin stepped out of their containment, unexpectedly, the young heir dropped to the ground, kneeling before Jovin.
“I’m sorry for what my father did. I can’t ask that you forgive us-”
“Your father’s sins are not for you to bear,” Jovin said, his voice measured and void of emotion. He looked down at Delirus with what could be pity, but the bitter taste of resentment rose in his throat and dashed against his gritted teeth.
They were both victims of one man’s doing. Two innocents haunted and tormented by the guilt resulting from one harrowing incident. A nightmare bathed in moonlight for one. A red dawn of acrimony for the other. Both never knew what went wrong. Both lost their fathers.
Gen helped Delirus up and thanked him.
“Go, head north and you’ll find the gateway to the mountain” Delirus said, then looked wistfully at Jovin who had his back turned. Gen knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun the darkness, especially not in his injured state. But there was little that could be done. Their only shot was getting to the mountain and holding on to hope that the eternal light of Tirips could reverse the damage.
Gen nodded, and they left their physical prison only to step into another - the domain of the tenebrous cloud. As they picked up the pace, Gen noticed Jovin moving off course.
“We have to go. If we too are overtaken by the darkness, we let hope die with us,” Gen said, grabbing him by the arm, just as hue and cry arose from around them. He then noticed the blade peeking out from under Jovin’s sleeve.
“Don’t take on someone else’s wrong and make it your own. It’s wrong for you to decide whose life to take, just as it was wrong what Zavus did.”
It was an ironic reversal of roles - that Gen would become the voice of reason while Jovin succumbed to his reckless pursuit of revenge.
“He showed no mercy to my parents! Why should I show him any? I have to avenge them!” Jovin rasped. He appeared on the surface seething - breathing erratic, eyes red and wild, but the undercurrents were of profound brokenness. He was lost. He was drowning. Chained at the ankle to the burdens of his past. Gasping for air as he sank deeper and watched the surface disappear. But where he was, his feet didn’t find ground either. He was alone, engulfed by the darkness and coldness of the depths. The weight of reality filled his lungs. Every breath he took was painful, a burning sensation searing and twisting his insides.
Jovin’s grip on the dagger tightened, the veins on his hand bulging and throbbing.
“Killing him won’t change what happened, it won’t make you feel better. It’s okay to let go.”
Gen was neither being flippant nor dismissing his pain. In fact, it was probably what Jovin needed to hear - that it was okay to face the one who wronged him and his family with inaction; that there was no expectation on him to get even.
Jovin stood shaking, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. There was a war going on inside of him, tearing him apart from within. It was a fierce and long-drawn battle. Then, at the high noon of the confrontation, a blinding force swept across the landscape and all became silent and still. In the aftermath, it wasn’t clear which side had won. But in the wasteland of smoke and wreckage, something stirred. From beneath the broken pieces, he rose, slowly but surely.
Letting out a quivery breath, he released the blade and it dropped to the ground with a clatter.
Gen placed a firm hand on his shoulder, and even though he was still shaking, it was the trembling of a soul washed over by a flood of relief.
After a few moments to regain composure, the boys made a break for the gateway.
---
Delirus hobbled out of the prison and saw Gen and Jovin disappear into the northern quarter. Without a minute for relief, he saw from his left Zavus and his men beginning to give chase.
Ignoring the pain shooting up his left leg, Delirus threw himself onto the warlord’s path.
Zavus flashed him a piercing glare and drew his spear. “You let them go,” he spat, acid in his voice.
Delirus moved closer, till the tip of his father’s spear was at his throat. He stared him down, cold and hard, unfazed. “If you want to get to them, you’d have to kill me first…if you can do it, like you did your brother.”
---
Gen and Jovin reached the gateway to the mountain just as the dark cloud engulfed the walled city. It swirled like a hurricane around the arched columns but went no further. The inky tendrils hissed at them viciously but could only lap at their feet weakly like a receding tide.
A warm breeze swept past and wrapped around them.
The boys glanced up at the towering rock behind them. A sense of awe descended upon them and left their once heavy hearts now heavy with reverence. There was something about the mountain that kept the darkness at bay.
Face claim for Delirus: Sam Claflin
(LONG) Author’s note: This chapter took me forever because I was trying to do it justice by giving it depth and intensity. I will most likely be revising it in the future; there are just so many scenes that deserve more detail, every moment can be further explored depth-wise, breadth-wise, thought-wise, emotion-wise!!1!
When I planned my chapter titles well at the start of my writing journey, Heir of Warlords was meant to refer to Delirus. Jovin’s parents were simply ordinary Galvigon folk who despised their way of life and ran away. But as I got to writing about the key in chapter 8 and started thinking about the later chapters and about Jovin’s history, God just made everything fall into place like bam it was a single spark that illuminated everything.
I initially planned for the previous chapter to end at the archives and for this chapter to start with the flashback but then I noted to myself: no. let the chapter title take meaning gradually. Start with looking through the archives. Hope that made for greater impact when all is revealed.
I’m reminded of the story of Cain and Abel after writing about Zavus and Augustus! 1 John 3:12 (TPT) says: “We should not be like Cain, who yielded to the Evil One and brutally murdered his own brother, Abel. And why did he murder him? Because his own actions were evil and his brother’s righteous.”
Jovin’s flashback is a nod to my favourite episode of BBC Sherlock ‘The Hounds of Baskerville’ which explored the topic of trauma, environmental (in the case of Sherlock it was man-made) factors, and altered memory. The music from the video clip is supposed to set the tone *melancholic vibes*
This chapter is based heavily on scene changes because I feel that both Jovin and Delirus needed the airtime, hope that doesn’t throw you off too much! It helps to picture the cuts cinematically I guess! That’s the way I write anyway, visually and cinematically.
Fun fact I stumbled upon when writing the scene about Zavus barging into the prison to confront Jovin. Body language central says: The most common reason that someone will stand with their hands behind their back is that they are feeling in control and they are happy to show it.
I have no words to explain but in my mind Zavus looks like a mix of Mads Mikkelsen and Ewan McGregor.
IDK how or why or in what proportions but that’s the vibe ~
And finally, there was a ridiculous scene idea I had to work through but I’ll share more about that in the author’s note of a later chapter😉