Page 13 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

“Where did she go?” Caellum asked, holding Sadira’s hand. He appeared more relaxed than the others, his shoulders and jaw not as tight. He understood.

“I don’t know,” Larelle replied. “I imagine somewhere that reminds her of him.”

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” Nyzaia asked, impatiently shifting from foot to foot. “How can we do anything when the one person with all the answers is gone?”

A deep chuckle sounded from Osiris, and Larelle finally turned to face him.

He did not look as though he had been involved in two battles.

His neatly pulled back hair showed no sign of dishevelment, and no blood marred his pale hands.

His dark velvet jacket, impeccably tailored, was still as dark as the night sky, without a speck of sand.

The only colour was the intricately woven amber thread weaving swirls throughout, adorned with a sunlit floral pin.

“I can help,” he said.

“Be grateful you haven’t yet been detained,” snapped Larelle.

“Why haven’t I?” He tucked his hands in his pockets and offered a lopsided grin.

“I’ll happily detain him,” Nyzaia chimed in, flexing her knuckles.

“Like you need any more physical outlet,” muttered Sadira.

“Maybe we should take you in for questioning too, princess,” Nyzaia said, redirecting her aggression. Larelle frowned. She was missing something. Nyzaia was riled up more than normal.

Sadira lifted her chin. “I have nothing to hide.” Caellum released her hand and braced it around her waist.

“Do you mean to tell me you were clueless about Soren working for Caligh this entire time?” Nyzaia challenged.

Larelle glanced between the women with wide eyes, while Osiris’s eyebrows rose, mirroring her surprise.

While Soren’s wish for the Garridon throne had always been clear, Larelle had suspected nothing more sinister.

Bile rose in her throat as she realised a close confidant of Caligh’s, who wished to conquer not only Garridon but the entire kingdom, had been in her home, close to her daughter.

“Where is Soren now?” Larelle asked.

“Sir Cain has her detained by one of Sadira’s trees,” Caellum said. His voice was quieter than usual, his eyes distant. Sadira looked at her feet while they discussed her sister's vile betrayal.

“I’ve requested she be a prisoner of Keres.

” Nyzaia’s voice rose. “She is the reason Kazaar is dead and was detained on Keres’s soil.

Not to mention, I am the most skilled at retrieving information.

” There was no need to question the particular skills Nyzaia referred to.

Larelle looked at Caellum for confirmation, who simply nodded alongside Sadira .

“Nyzaia can have her,” Sadira said, looking up at Caellum, whose focus remained on his feet.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I wish to have nothing to do with her.” Caligh’s words returned then, taunting Caellum about his control of Wren, his father.

The king’s quiet aura now made sense. How could one begin to process such emotions?

“It appears you’ve had more than just Caligh working against you from the inside,” Osiris finally spoke again after hearing of Soren’s betrayal.

“Vlad,” Larelle called, and the blonde captain stepped forward. Drying blood and orange sand splattered his pale blue uniform. “Have the commanders guide the armies back to the tents.” Larelle did not want anyone else to listen to their upcoming conversation.

“And the enemy soldiers, Queen Larelle?” Vlad asked, glancing nervously from Osiris to the copper soldiers. With smiles on their faces, the men behind Osiris muttered to one another and clasped each other’s forearms.

“They will cause no harm,” Osiris said. “They swore a binding oath when they joined my army. It is because of that oath that my debt to Caligh extended to them, putting them under his control, too.”

“How am I to trust that?” Larelle asked, narrowing her eyes. “The moment our soldiers are gone, you could have us all taken.” Osiris smiled.

“Who gave you the talisman?” he asked plainly.

Larelle was taken back to the cave, how certain Osiris had been as he peered among the rocks, how open he had been in revealing the other rulers searched for the missing halves of their talismans.

He had been slow to snatch the talisman from Larelle when she had taken it.

In fact, he was the one who dropped the stone to begin with.

Osiris smirked as she looked him up and down.

“I also steered the creatures away from you during the battle.”

Larelle glanced at the other rulers for their thoughts, but Caellum still stared at the floor while Sadira looked only at him.

Nyzaia shrugged. Alvan, though, the only other person she trusted, appeared sceptical.

His face was neutral, but he scanned Osiris, as though trying to get a measure of him.

“I can take him if they try anything,” Nyzaia said.

“So can I,” Farid said cooly from her side as blue flames licked his arms. Osiris stepped from the pale glow cast from Farid’s wings and moved towards Larelle. There was something about Farid’s flames Osiris did not like, and it offered Larelle more confidence in her decision.

“The soldiers can stay,” Larelle said, meeting Osiris’s eye. Vlad began shouting commands, and the Novisian soldiers retreated up the dune, rejoicing. They clapped one another’s backs with grins, oblivious to the shared feeling among the rulers that this war was far from over.

“ Athenios!” Osiris shouted. Larelle jumped at the sound of clanking metal as the copper soldiers stamped and drew their legs together.

“Rethea ai wyeth sylen!” he bellowed again.

The copper soldiers marched into a formation before turning back towards Myara.

When they reached three quarters distance from the ocean-side settlement, they stopped, though their joyous chatter carried on the wind.

“You speak another language,” Nyzaia said, eyeing Osiris closely.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” he smirked. “It is the language of my homeland.”

“And where is that?” A crash of thunder echoed across the sky as Larelle asked the question. Dark clouds rolled in. Osiris pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“I cannot say.”

“You are related to Caligh. Is it the same place he is from?”

Osiris nodded. “Once. But my grandfather has called many lands home under different names and different bodies, like the Historian on Ithyion and Novisia. There is a chance he will take a new name and body now we know the one he uses. ”

“How is it possible for him to change body and name?” asked Nyzaia, tossing a dagger from hand to hand.

“It is part of his power,” Osiris answered.

He raised his hand before him, allowing his shadows to form a playful ball that danced above his palm.

“He can control minds and use them for his bidding, like he did with my soldiers, despite their allegiance to me. In some cases, he can take someone’s entire body.

” The ball of power on his palm twisted with glowing amber threads.

“Your power is different.” Larelle gestured to his hand, prompting a smile from him before he locked eyes with the queen.

“It is a variant, yes. I cannot control people to the extent he can. I only alter minds.” Osiris allowed his shadows to fade.

“And can you do anything else?”

“Perhaps.”

Larelle rolled her eyes. He was an infuriating man to pry information from.

“Caligh called himself a general; is that his true station?” Farid asked, a tactical question.

“Yes. He was once a general, though he has not technically been so for two hundred and seventy years.”

“Just how old are you?” Larelle asked.

“Too old for you,” Osiris winked, and she scoffed. Alvan fidgeted from his place beside Caellum and Sadira.

“If your grandfather was a general, what are you?” Nyzaia asked. Osiris took the pin off his jacket and passed it between his fingers, watching them all as though debating what to reveal.

“A prince.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed, and Larelle shot her a warning look. If he truly was royalty, they should not risk offending other lands whose assistance they may require.

“Last I recalled, my mother was a queen, which makes me a prince.”

“And your father?” Caellum finally spoke, and Osiris looked at him. Larelle could sense pity in his dark eyes, now void of gold rings.

“He is currently an unwanted custodian of sorts.”

“What does that mean?” Larelle asked. Osiris shrugged, examining the pin in his hand.

“My mother is dead, and I have not taken the throne, so my father still rules the land.” Osiris cleared his throat before meeting Larelle’s gaze.

Her face softened at the grief he so desperately tried to hide in his expression.

“A genealogy lesson on my family and land will not help you move forward. In some way, Caligh will return, whether that’s here or somewhere else.

He may no longer have my army, but others are still indebted to him, and he can easily call them into favour.

Make no mistake; he will call them in to get to Elisara. ”

“Now we are finally getting somewhere,” Nyzaia exhaled. “What does he want with her?” Osiris and Arik shared a glance before Osiris straightened.

“I am… limited in what I can say.” He glanced up at the unusually dark clouds, almost black like Osiris’s shadows.

For a moment, Larelle glimpsed lightening skitter within it.

“She holds Sitara’s essence, although that much she has already shared.

That power, combined with all of yours, is enough to look for—” Lighting crashed onto the desert sand, and everybody jumped.

Osiris muttered under his breath. “Your lands are not the only lands under threat. We did not know he was already here in disguise. You were all meant to have more time before he attacked, more time to—” Lightning crashed again.

“Okay! I understand!” He bellowed at the sky.

The rulers all looked at one another. Nobody understood what was happening.

Something prevented Osiris from revealing too much, though Larelle could not think who or what.

She recalled the way the gods' speech had been jilted and filled with riddles. Was the same force stopping Osiris? Perhaps someone far more powerful from Osiris’s lands controlled what he could share.

What do you know of Thassena? That was what he asked Larelle during her capture.

It had to be one of the other lands he referenced now .

Eresydon and Asynthos, Arik had mentioned too.

“What is stopping you?” Larelle asked. Osiris let out a heavy sigh.

“My lands are cursed. There is only so much I can say before my words have consequences.” Osiris was interrupted whenever he discussed the rulers, Novisia, and Elisara. What did those from his land, and potentially others, know of Novisia? Why would they be cursed not to speak of them?

“This curse… is there a way to break it?” Larelle asked, and he nodded.

“ We can break it?” Osiris nodded again, glancing upward.

“It is linked to why Caligh wants Elisara and why he has invaded other lands in the past.” Both Osiris and Arik nodded this time, with Osiris smiling like a proud teacher.

Larelle tried to recall more and gain more information.

“People are waking up, their memories resurfacing. They will not be prohibited from speaking to you,” Osiris said cautiously.

“When you were crowned, the prophecy began and undid powerful magic keeping thoughts and history at bay.” Thunder rumbled overhead, and a light spit of rain begin to fall and dot the sands.

Larelle clenched her hand to pause it, but the water disobeyed.

She kept her face calm, unwilling to reveal any weakness to Osiris, despite his help.

She flicked her finger and was relieved when a drop of her own water coated her thumb, but only when she saw a droplet run down Osiris’s cheek did she see it for what it was.

Blood. Blood fell from the clouds, an omen of warning for Osiris.

“The fate and survival of your kingdom determines not just your destiny, but that of all lands.” The blood fell heavier now, urging Osiris to leave.

He beckoned Arik to follow before they strode away from the rulers.

With one last glance at the sky, Osiris halted and spoke quickly, as though reciting something he had known for years.

The veins on his neck became more prominent as he clenched his hands and spoke in hurried breaths.

“What once was hidden can again be found. Listen to the land and understand you are bound. A reverse, a reflection, a sister, a mirror, find the truth beneath you and all will be clearer—” He reached for his throat, coughing and spluttering as bloodied water poured from his mouth.

Staring at Larelle, he pressed his hand to his mouth to catch the falling water.

This was not her doing. She peered up at the skies, and thunder rumbled overhead. Perhaps their gods were the cause.

“I have received a final warning. I must leave,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

He clenched one fist around the pin on his jacket.

“When you need me, I will come, Larelle Sevia Zerpane.” Larelle opened her mouth to correct him as he added Riyas’s surname to her own but stopped when he strode towards her.

Feet shifted behind, and she knew it was Alvan.

“How will I find you?” She tilted her head up to look at him. His hands were cold as they reached for hers. Turning her palms, he dropped the amber flower pin onto her skin, and she closed her fists around it.

“Zarya will know how,” he said, smiling. He turned again and walked to his armies. Larelle clenched the pin tightly, fighting back the rising fear for her daughter.

“ Dehparh!” Osiris called. In the distance, his soldiers straightened into formation, and with a flourish of his hand, Osiris blanketed them, himself, and Arik in a fog of quickly dissipating shadows, leaving only the wet sands of Keres behind, and a cloud of uncertainty hanging over the rulers yet again.