Page 23 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)
Caellum
A nxiety racked Caellum’s body, causing the keys in his hand to clang together as he tried to unlock the mahogany door.
With a deep breath, he tried again with a click that set his teeth on edge.
He turned the key and nodded to the two guards, who were to wait at the end of the hallway rather than outside the door to allow him privacy.
They bowed and faced away, guarding the only entry point into the room.
The door didn’t budge when Caellum pressed his hand against it.
He tilted his body and slammed his shoulder into the door, which gave way with a billow of dust. Covering his mouth with the crook of his arm, Caellum coughed into his tailored jacket and waved his other hand to clear his vision.
He paused on the threshold. He was always forbidden from entering his father’s study.
In fact, the entire hallway was off-limits to Caellum and his siblings.
They would make up stories of what their father did in here.
They would even pretend his unkindness was a pretence to save the realm from monsters—anything to justify the pain they endured.
What would his siblings say now if they knew how close that was to the truth?
Darkness shrouded the room, with the heavy green drapes hiding the sunlight from outside.
Caellum had spent the entire morning with the lords prior to venturing up to the study, though it had felt like forever.
The lords all approved the rulers’ plans, all except Lord Ryon, of course, who asked question after question.
His presence alone made the day feel like a drag.
But the day was still young as sunlight slivered from below the curtains.
Caellum strode for the drapes and dragged them back, allowing sunlight to flood the room.
He paused at the walled garden below. His father’s study was on the highest floor of the castle.
As a child, he had never considered what it overlooked.
Ivy, creeping past both sides of the glass, cast shadows across the room as Caellum turned, taking it all in.
It differed little from the rest of the castle, but something, other than its décor, made it feel darker.
A deep wood coated every inch of space: the floor, walls, and ceiling.
As it was so high in the castle, it lacked the vaulted height the other floors had.
As with most rooms in Antor castle, all the furniture was various shades of green, an array of forest, emerald, and sage.
Caellum was grateful for Sadira’s arrival in Garridon.
At least the castle’s common areas now had other colours to brighten the space.
Leather-bound books filled one wall of bookcases, while his father’s successful hunting trophies hung above the fireplace.
Caellum grimaced at the dead deer watching him.
On the opposite wall was Wren’s desk: a large mahogany beast with a deep leather top—also green, of course.
Caellum wondered if his ancestors on Ithyion had always stuck religiously to decorating their spaces in the realm’s colours.
He began clearing the stacks of glasses from the desk, some lifting with papers still stuck to the bottom.
After clearing the desk, Caellum finally walked around to the table and pulled the chair out, taking a seat.
Journal. Where would my father hide a journal?
He paused as he lowered into the chair. Staring back at him were seven small gold-framed portraits of Caellum and his siblings.
He rubbed the light stubble on his chin.
Were they here for show? Yet nobody ever entered his father’s study, so who would he display them for?
Perhaps some part of him remained inside his corrupted mind.
Caellum cleared his throat and looked away from his siblings.
“I’m looking for answers,” he mumbled, as though they were truly there, alongside him.
He did not know what answers he expected to find but thought only of the journal Sir Cain mentioned, begging to be found and read.
There was a chance his grandfather’s journal was discarded long ago, but perhaps he could find some useful information to use in the future—anything that might offer insight into the mind of Caligh’s victims to prevent it from happening again.
A chaotic jumble of papers, ledgers of finances, and letters to the other Lords regarding trade deals were splayed on the desk.
Caellum paused while rifling through a stack between his father and Lord Ryon, who appeared to question his father as much as he did Caellum.
Once the papers were stacked on one side, he examined the remaining items on the desk.
A pipe sat on a silver tray to his right, beside a small trinket box.
Caellum flipped the clasp and opened it up to find three pins within, each no larger than the pad of his thumb.
Caellum turned over the first pin and ran his thumb over the head of a wolf.
The second held a symbol he recognised, matching the one on the Wiccan book owned by Sadira’s grandmother.
He squinted at the third; it was a similar shape to the Wiccan symbol but its lines curved differently, and it was too faded to discern any other differences.
The three pins felt cool on his skin as he held them flat against his palm, trying to understand their symbolism.
Perhaps they once belonged to lords—symbols for those who held settlements?
Caellum placed them back in the box and kept it aside, intending to take the box with him when he left the study.
His father’s feather quills were lined up neatly, though dried ink marred the tips of some.
Other than the trinket box, there was nothing unusual about the items on the desk.
Caellum turned his attention to the cupboard door on the right-hand side of the desk and opened it to find nothing but a dagger, a blanket, and blank parchment sheets.
He gave up on the cupboard and the three drawers on his left.
Below it was a cupboard full of more glasses and an empty decanter.
Caellum did not need to sniff it to know its contents.
The middle drawer was empty, while the top contained rolled parchments.
No journal. Caellum pulled the string from one parchment, which cracked as he unrolled it.
He was careful laying it out. He traced his finger over the inked names and lines, pausing at a soaring hawk etched at the top.
Names branched off at different points, filling the entire width and length of the scroll.
The early names were faded, but as Caellum scanned the long parchment, with the top falling over the side of the desk and pooling in ribbons on the floor, a familiar name appeared.
Balfour. Caellum skipped to the end, where seven names were scrawled along the bottom: Aurelia, Dalton, Kieran, Halston, Caellum, Edlen, and Eve.
All Balfours. A family tree. Caellum rolled the parchment back up to the top again, squinting at each name.
He tried to make out the earlier calligraphy, far more faded than that of him and his siblings, but failed.
Securing the string back around the parchment, he set it by the trinket box and decided to look at them later.
Caellum sighed and sat back in the chair, resting his elbows on the carved arms. He placed his fingers together in front of his mouth and stared at the room.
The family tree was interesting, and the pins raised many questions: why did his father have them?
What did they mean? He had not realised the extent of the Balfour family line, though it did not matter.
Neither items were the journal he came for.
A gentle knock sounded on the study door, and Caellum knew at once who it was.
“Come in,” he called, smiling. Golden hair peeked from around the corner, followed by a face that lit up every room.
“Am I interrupting you?”
When Caellum shook his head, Sadira entered and closed the door.
Caellum offered her his hand, drifting his eyes over the pale pink fabric falling over her curves, scattered with embroidered butterflies.
When she leaned down to kiss him, he gripped her waist with one hand and clasped her neck with the other, holding her in place to kiss her back with fervour.
“Hello,” she murmured. She pulled back with flushed cheeks, looking down at him. Caellum smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear .
“Hi,” he breathed. Sadira surveyed the desk while Caellum’s hand remained on her waist, pulling her closer.
“Have you had any luck?”
Caellum shook his head and gestured at the desk.
“A long family tree and these odd pins.” Sadira reached for the open trinket box. “One bears the same symbol as your Wiccan book.
“So, it does.” Sadira hummed, tracing the engraving.
“Remember what the two Wiccans said in Albyn. My great grandfather, Lyra’s father, worked closely with the Mordane royal family.
Perhaps that is why this pin is here with the symbol.
Maybe it used to be hers.” Caellum smiled up at her, admiring her intelligence.
It was a clever deduction, but why would his father keep them?
“What do you think about the other two?” he asked, and Sadira squinted at the faded symbol and the wolf.
“We could take them with us to Albyn and ask them again? Athena at the apothecary may also know.” Caellum nodded in agreement and looked around the room again. “You checked everywhere?”
He nodded, prompting Sadira to look around the room herself. She paused at the still open drawers on the left-hand side of the desk and removed herself from Caellum’s side to stoop before the drawer. She inclined her head to look underneath the middle drawer.
“What are you doing?” Caellum chuckled. Sadira grinned and smacked her fist against the underside of the drawer. Something popped inside.
“False bottom.” She smiled, brushing the dust off her dress. She stood back up, lifting a piece of thin wood from the drawer. Caellum leant forward as Sadira grinned, retrieving two leather-bound notebooks with frayed strings.
“How did you know?” he laughed, taking the tanned book from her hands.
“Soren and I had one in our bedroom growing up. We hid sweets from the market in them to eat at midnight.” Sadira’s smile wavered, and she cleared her throat, placing the other journal down for Caellum.
Mentioning Soren had him recalling Sir Cain’s comments about her manic state before the battle.
He wrestled with whether to tell Sadira, unsure if doing so would cause her further pain when she had asked not to speak of her sister. He squeezed her hand before she let go.
“Stay. You can read one of them. I would love your company.” Caellum tugged her towards him, prompting Sadira to giggle as she fell onto his lap. Accepting a journal, she rested her head against his shoulder and opened it.
“This one is Jorah’s,” she said, tracing the name on the front page.
“I suppose this one may be my father's then,” Caellum said, unravelling the tie. The name on the front page confirmed it. He wrapped one arm around Sadira to hold her in place as they both began reading.
If anyone is reading this, then I have either lost my mind or passed away. I’ve started this journal out of fear for the future and the impact it may have on my family.
Caellum looked up at Sadira, who was reading the words over his shoulder.
Her fearful expression matched his. Aurelia is but five years old, Dalton is four, Kieran three, and Halston one.
If the Wiccan owner of the apothecary is right, Hestia carries my next son, Caellum.
I hope I get to know you; I truly do. But if I do not, then please know I would have loved you.
I hope whoever reads this also has my father’s journal, for this is where my fear begins.
I have told nobody of the horrors in his mind.
He is possessed, and I believe I know the man behind it.
His journal talks of a carefree man, who, for all my life, was a close ally of the Mordane royal family.
One day, that all changed. Yet he did only one thing before his entries descended into madness.
He visited the Historian in the Neutral City to ask about three pins found in his family heirlooms. When he returned, he was changed.
I never intended to be king, but here I am on a throne of lies he has passed onto me.
Only after finding this journal have I started questioning who made him take this throne—what changed him.
His entries become confused, chaotic, darkened. I fear such a fate may befall me when I return from the Neutral City. I intend to document my mind for as long as I can on these pages. If I change, if I become anything like my father did, please tell my wife and children I am sorry.