Page 18

“You will not be welcome back in Lephyrin until you’ve found the entrance to the lost kingdom and rid us of that beast once and for all.”

Without another word, Draevyn left the room, feeling like the disappointment his father believed him to be, as Atlas followed after him.

He strode through the corridors of the castle, his anger surging once more, blatant for all to see as the torches lining the halls flared as he passed. Atlas’s shadows simultaneously worked to snuff them out.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” his brother asked as he remained two steps behind him.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Draevyn growled. “The king wishes for me to remain out at sea. Never to return home until I defy the gods and find a non-existent entrance to a kingdom that disappeared centuries ago.” He let out a breathy, hate-filled laugh.

“And is that what you wish?” Atlas asked.

Draevyn stopped in his tracks as they arrived at the entrance to the gardens that were encased within the castle walls.

“It’s never mattered what I wish, Atlas. I’ve always loved the sea, prefer it honestly, but to be told to never return home because of an impossible hunt…” He shook his head as he took his first step into the garden.

“You know why he never wants you to be here, Drae,” his brother said, following him.

Unsurprisingly, the gardens were filled with more females from the other kingdom, all gawking at Atlas as they passed. However, whenever their stares glanced towards Draevyn, fear clouded their eyes.

“And why is that?”

“It’s because of your gift granted by Irah.” Atlas chuckled. “Childish, really. Meanwhile, he flaunts you as Lephyrin’s protector to those outside the castle walls.”

Their father loathed being human—only seeing it as a sign of weakness in a world of gods and magic-wielding beings.

In his insatiable hunger for power, the king had bartered his own sons’ souls when they were just infants to the malevolent god that ruled over them with a flaming fist. The coward offered his children as a sacrifice, demanding to be bestowed gifts by Irah himself.

Irah deemed their father unworthy and placed the gifts upon Atlas and Draevyn instead, leaving their father speechless and resentful toward his heirs—until he decided he could use his sons as his kingdom’s weapons.

The king of Lephyrin went through extraordinary measures to ensure the entirety of the realm believed that was exactly his plan when he went to Irah’s temple all those years ago. He would never allow the other kingdoms to know he wasn’t deemed worthy.

Atlas had been gifted Irah’s shadowy tendrils of darkness—where Draevyn was bestowed with his fierce flames and the rage that came along with them.

Their mother, when she was alive, never forgave the king for what he attempted to do. And neither had Draevyn, for if he never had this gift , his mother would still be alive.

One day, when Draevyn was only nine years old, he was hiding from his father in his mother’s personal chambers. When the king found him there, he attacked her for defending her son and hiding him away for being scared.

The first crack of his father’s hand on the queen’s cheek had her letting out a screech of agony as she used her body to shield Draevyn behind her. He screamed, begged, and cried, but nothing would stop the king’s fists from slamming into his mother’s face.

“ He is to protect Lephyrin one day. You will not make him soft! ” the king screamed at her before gripping her by the throat and throwing her against the stone wall. Her hazel eyes had met Draevyn’s as the king continued to berate her, seeming to plead with him to run away.

Perhaps he should’ve. But he couldn’t leave his mother alone with the monster his father had become. And then a single tear slipped down her cheek as she whimpered beneath him, taking his relentless assault.

In a desperate attempt to save his mother, Draevyn lost control of his flame, setting fire to everything in the room.

He didn’t know how to stop it, and couldn’t put them out.

With each ravaged breath, the flames grew, consuming everything in sight.

The more Draevyn panicked, the more his parents screamed, the larger the blaze surged, nearly engulfing the room.

The king ran from the room just before part of the ceiling collapsed—but not before a lick of fire raced up his forearm, mutilating its flesh. But Draevyn and his mother became trapped inside, suffocating from the smoke.

Draevyn screamed for her, trying everything he could to lower the flames, but he could hardly see with the tears lining his eyes. The blaze rose and flared alongside his emotions.

The king returned several minutes later with Atlas in tow, and Draevyn would never forget the look on his brother’s face as he took in the scene. Atlas had managed to snuff the majority of the fire out with his shadows before the guards took over.

But by then, it had been too late for the queen.

“ It’s okay, my boy ,” were the last words his mother ever said to him.

She was brought down to the infirmary with the best healers of Lephyrin working to save her life, but there was nothing they could do. She succumbed to her injuries that night, and nothing was ever the same again.

That was the day the king no longer looked at Draevyn with love in his eyes but with fear and hatred. And shortly after, King Rowe started using the velsinyte cuffs on his own son without anyone’s knowledge.

He had just been a boy. A gods-damn child trying to save his mother from her abusive husband, learning to wield the blaze that he was still barely able to keep at bay.

Draevyn remembered the surging panic, the tears stinging his eyes, and the disgust in his father’s stare as if it happened only yesterday, instead of eighteen years ago.

He knew it would haunt him for the remainder of his life.

The heavy, magic-absorbing cuffs were often used as punishment, or if his father believed Draevyn’s emotions were surging too greatly. The king stated it had been to protect everyone around him, making his son feel like the demon that Irah placed within him—the Phoenix the realm made him out to be.

Upon reaching their twenties, the king spread fearful rumors of the immense power the brothers possessed, cautioning that those who dared challenge the Lephyrin crown would be met with the wrath of King Rowe’s Phoenix—his fire-wielding son who loved nothing more than to burn his enemies alive, or those who dared to cross him.

Draevyn hated it, and he hated him —his monarch and sire.

However, in the world of gods, men, and beasts, they all had a role to play.

His purpose was to serve as the king’s monster and weapon.

It wasn’t until Draevyn challenged him on the reckless use of his power that the king sent his son out to sea, after his father searched and searched for those gods-damn velsinyte cuffs he loved so much—only to find they had vanished.

And now, they lay at the bottom of the sea.

“Are you listening to me?” Atlas said with a laugh, snapping him out of his trance.

Draevyn blinked. “Afraid I missed it. What were you saying?”

“How about you go clean some of that seawater out of your ears, Drae?” He shoved at his brother in a way they used to when they were just kids running around the castle, playing tricks on the staff, and ignoring their mother’s pestering to behave.

“What I said was, he’s just jealous of your gifts. The stubborn old bastard. Sometimes I’m jealous of them, too. I wouldn’t mind playing with a little fire every now and again.”

A quiet chuckle left Draevyn. “If we could, I would trade gifts at any moment.”

Atlas grabbed his arm, and their stares locked. “That day wasn’t your fault, Drae.” He pursed his lips before offering him a smile. “Besides, you’re much more responsible than I would be if I were to possess that power,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Draevyn gave his brother a look as they exited the gardens on its opposite end. “You’re the most responsible moron I know,” he heckled.

A loud laugh left Atlas. “I missed you, brother. It hasn’t been the same around here since Father sends you out to sea so much. I know you prefer to be out there most days, but sometimes I swear he may still fear you.” He shook his head as if it would shake the thought from him.

Draevyn opted to change the subject. “So, responsible moron, what’s this he spoke of regarding you taking a wife?” He cocked an eyebrow at him as he gestured to the ladies, who were pretending to be looking in any other direction than where they were.

“Gods, don’t remind me. They all flocked here for a fun little masquerade, and I’m to choose a bride by the end of it.” He rolled his eyes.

“Annoyed you’ll finally have to be tied down?” Draevyn mocked.

Atlas huffed through his nostrils. “A bit of that. And a bit of the fact that it must be done on that night. I would rather court a few beautiful women before deciding, but Father has insisted on forming stronger alliances, though I cannot fathom why it matters. Rymelle’s kingdoms have been at peace for centuries. ”

“Indeed,” Draevyn said as he scratched at his beard, but he knew if the other kingdoms heard of him searching for Maerinys, it could put them all at odds. “And why the masquerade?”

“Tradition of other kingdoms, apparently. They all wanted to ensure every daughter had a fair chance.”

Draevyn snorted. “Interesting.”

Atlas shot him an unamused look. “Yes, well, they believe it would be more fair to the ladies and kingdoms if I were to pick someone not entirely for beauty.”

“A tragedy, really.”

“Indeed,” Atlas groaned. “Will you be staying for the ball?”

“It appears I must.” Draevyn scratched at his beard and smirked. “I’m not sure what will become of you if I leave you here to the women who’ve been eyeing you like you’re their last meal.” He winked.

“Nothing of decency, brother, that I can promise,” Atlas admitted with a menacing smile. He sighed a moment later. “But if you insist…how typical of you to ruin my last bit of unmarried fun.”

“I’m sure you still have time for plenty of it,” Draevyn said with a laugh as they stalked up the staircase that led to their shared wing of the castle.