Page 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

VOLAN

M y spear leads as I move through the corridors, Tanis at my back. The stone beneath my feet no longer feels familiar – instead, it’s cold, hostile. Like the kingdom itself rejects my presence. My own home has become a battlefield, one where life, death, and freedom hang in an unstable balance.

Ahead, two guards round the corner. Their luminae flare in shock, catching sight of me. One raises his weapon while the other turns to flee – no doubt to raise the alarm.

“Stand down,” I command. The words echo off the metal walls, firm and unyielding.

The first guard hesitates, his spear wavering. His companion freezes mid-step. Their luminae pulse rapidly, betraying their uncertainty. They’ve spent years following orders, trained to obey without question. Yet here I stand, their prince, giving them a direct command that conflicts with everything they know.

“Your king has betrayed us all,” I tell them. My voice carries the weight of truth, heavy as the spear in my grip. “He cowers in darkness while our people suffer, and I will no longer stand by and watch idly. Will you stand with me? Will you help me lead our people into the light?”

The guards exchange glances. Their weapons lower slightly. They know our king’s not well, hasn’t been for a long time. They want change, even if they are slow and hesitant to admit it.

A flicker of movement catches my eye – more guards emerging from adjoining corridors. Within moments we’re surrounded. My muscles tense, ready for battle, the sound of my heartbeat in my ears as my body prepares to act.

If they choose to fight, I’ll give them one they’ll never forget.

“What’s happening?” one guard demands, luminae flashing with alarm.

“It’s time for a change of rule. It’s time for our people to stop hiding and start becoming who we are meant to be,” I reply, voice loud enough that everyone present can hear. “The question is whether you’ll be part of it.”

Silence hangs in the air, an impressive feat with so many warriors gathering together—each ready to sacrifice their lives in battle. I don’t want to fight them, but I will if I must. These are males I’ve grown up alongside, trained with, fought beside like the brothers I never had.

The first guard steps forward. For a heartbeat, I think he’ll attack. He certainly holds his weapon before him, and his face is a stern expression of concentration.

Instead, he drops to one knee.

“My prince,” he says. Then, with more conviction: “My King.”

One by one, the others follow. Their weapons lower, their heads bow. My chest tightens at their show of loyalty. These males aren’t just following orders – they’re choosing to believe in something better; a new life for all of us.

“You don’t have to kneel,” I tell them, moving forward to clasp the first guard’s shoulder. “Stand with me as equals.”

Tanis shifts beside me, a constant shadow at my back. His luminae pulses with approval.

“This is why I choose to follow you,” he says quietly, once again reaffirming his decision. “You see us as more than just warriors.”

His words strike deep, reminding me of Maya. She saw me – truly saw me – not as a prince or a warrior, but as a male trying to do what’s right. I betrayed that trust. The pain of it burns through my chest like molten metal.

“We move for the throne room,” I announce, pushing aside my personal anguish. There will be time for redemption later. Right now, my people need me. “Anyone who stands with the king stands against their own people. Show mercy where you can, but do not hesitate to defend yourselves.”

The guards fall in behind us as we advance. More join with each corridor we pass, our numbers swelling. Word spreads ahead of us like wildfire – the prince moves to claim his throne – by lawful right, and by force.

Yet with each step, doubt gnaws at me. Am I any better than my father? He too once thought he was protecting our people. When did fear transform him from protector to tyrant? Will I one day look in the mirror and see his face staring back at me?

“You’re brooding again,” Tanis comments as we enter yet another corridor. I stare down its darkened length, lit by the warm luminescent glowleaf. Dotted occasionally along the walls are the harsh glare of artificial light; a reminder of just where we came from. Each room we pass was one used by villains for nefarious purposes; some for their own enjoyments—often at others’ suffering—and some simply for vile creations such as the medicine we so strongly rely on today.

This is where my kingdom began, formed out of bloodshed and pain. But it doesn’t need to be where it ends. We led the charge to victory once before, when we drove our slavers off the planet, and we can do so again—only this time I hope that it will result in alliances with our fellow tribes rather than further alienation and competition.

But am I even capable of all that? Is that really the right thing to do, or am I like my father—too blindsided by my own ideologies?

“I’m contemplating the weight of responsibility,” I correct Tanis. “There’s a difference.”

“You’re wondering if you’re doing the right thing,” he says. When I don’t respond, he continues: “Your father would never question himself like this, you know?”

“A ruler should not doubt himself,” I reply absently, checking each doorway as we pass for hidden threats. Unlike Tanis, I am at least trying to pay attention to the dangers we might face.

“That’s why you’ll be a better king than him,” Tanis replies. “Doubt is natural. We all do it. The real difference is what we do with our fears. Do you let it consume you, questioning ourselves and situations over and over again, or do we just try our best?”

I grit my teeth. I’ve made so many mistakes.

“What if my best isn’t good enough?” I ask him, voice low so that the other warriors stalking behind us don’t overhear. Thankfully they stand back slightly, given Tanis and me room to maneuver, but close enough to intercede if a battle starts.

“You will make mistakes. You’ll never be perfect. But you can try, nonetheless. That’s all that anyone can ever ask from you, and no more. It’s all you should ever expect from yourself. If you do your best, then you’ll be doing good enough.”

“Since when did you become so wise?” I joke, throat tight.

Tanis just grins and shrugs. “I had to watch you do stupid stuff, and I chose to actually learn from your actions. Of course, since I am wise, you’re welcome to come to me for advice. I’m always happy to straighten you out when need be.”

“You just want an excuse to punch me when I do something stupid,” I reply, trying my best to quell my laughter.

“Eh,” Tanis replies. “I think we’re supposed to punch each other once every so often. That’s what brothers do, isn’t it? Get into fights. It’s like a rite of passage or something… Hey, what’s wrong?”

“No, I just got some dust in my eye,” I snap, turning my face away from Tanis so that he can’t see me rapidly blinking the…dust away. “Where’s the closest bathing station? I just need to wash my face.”

A commotion ahead draws our attention, breaking us out of our friendly banter. More males round the corner, weapons raised. Unlike before, these warriors wear the distinctive armor of my father’s personal guard—shining metal, pristine in its strength and superiority. Their luminae pulse with aggression - they won’t be so easily swayed.

“Stand aside,” I call out.

Their answer comes in the form of raised weapons and curled, disgusted lips. So be it.

I spin my spear, settling into a fighting stance. Behind me, my supporters do the same. The corridor fills with the harsh glow of battle-ready luminae.

This is it. The moment I truly declare war against my father. Every blow struck here will echo through our history. But I’ve seen what becomes of people who hide in darkness, who let fear rule their actions.

I think of Maya, of her courage in the face of darkness. Of how she fights not for herself, but for others. She makes me want to be better. To be worthy.

“For the light,” I roar, charging forward.

The corridor erupts in chaos.

Metal clashes against metal, the ring of weapons echoing off stone. The elite guards are skilled - they wouldn’t be protecting my father otherwise. But my supporters fight with conviction, with purpose. We aren’t just following orders; we’re fighting for a future we believe in.

I duck under a slashing blade, my own weapon spinning to deflect another. My opponent is strong, his armor gleaming in the pulsing light of our luminae. His strikes are precise, calculated - everything I was taught a warrior should be.

But I’ve learned there’s more to being a warrior than perfect form. Like having a reason to fight and even exist. That burning flame inside your soul, your very purpose of existing, pushing you forward when darkness falls around you, choking and blocking any sight of hope. You can be your own light and strength in those moments if you believe enough.

I feint left, then drive forward as he moves to block. My shoulder slams into his chest, disrupting his balance. Before he can recover, I sweep his legs. He crashes down, weapon clattering away.

“Yield,” I command, holding my spear to his throat. His luminae flare with defiance, then dim in resignation.

Around us, the fighting settles. Most of the elite guards lie disarmed, some nursing wounds but none fatal. My warriors stand victorious, yet show restraint. Now is not the moment of victory; we still have a throne to take. They understand what we fight for.

“The throne room lies ahead,” Tanis announces, checking his own opponent is securely bound.

I nod, straightening. I turn to my companions, reminding them of our goal. “Remember - we bring change, not vengeance.”

The massive doors to the throne room loom before us, metal surfaces etched with our history. How many times have I passed through them, seeking my father’s approval? Now I come seeking something far more important - our people’s future.

“Ready?” Tanis asks quietly.

My answer comes as I slam the doors open, striding forward with determination.

The throne room stretches vast and cold, illuminated by the collective glow of dozens of courtiers’ luminae. They cluster along the walls, pressing back as we enter. Their lights pulse with fear and uncertainty. Males and females both; individuals that us warriors should have been protecting, not letting them fend for themselves.

And there, upon his raised throne, sits my father. His face betrays no surprise at our arrival. His own luminae are hidden beneath layers of formal robes, as always.

“So,” he says, voice carrying across the silence. “The misguided son returns.”

“I return to claim what you promised me,” I reply, striding forward. My warriors spread out behind me, weapons ready but not threatening. “Or have you forgotten your word about ceding the throne?”

“To one worthy,” he snaps, lips curling up in a snarl. “Not to a fool who would destroy everything we’ve built.”

“Built?” I laugh, the sound harsh. “We’ve built nothing, father. We’ve only hidden, trapped in a prison of our own making. We could have left with the other tribes. We could have sought out new lives. Instead, we cowered in darkness, letting our people suffer, while we clung to power that should not be ours.”

“I protected them! I’ve protected you! It’s all I have ever done.” My father roars, surging to his feet. His robes fall open, revealing luminae pulsing violent red. “You know nothing of protection, of sacrifice! I watched them die - all of them. My mother, my brothers, my friends. The outsiders took everything from us!”

Understanding floods through me, and I look upon my father with new eyes. All these years, his fear has ruled him. Ruled us all.

“We’ve become what we once hated,” I tell him. My voice softens, hoping that he will hear me this one last time. “We cage others. Force them to fight. Take their freedom in the name of protection. How are we any different from the pirates that once enslaved us?”

“It’s necessary,” he insists, but doubt creeps into his voice. “I’ve created order from the chaos. I’ve given our people hope and safety.”

“No.” I take another step forward. “You took away their hope and safety, allowing fear to dictate your action. You’re so afraid of the light that you’ve forgotten how to see it.”

I notice how his guards surround him, inching closer to protect him should I attack.

“You’d give it all up, risk everything and everyone? All of this because of one human female?”

“For hope,” I correct him. “For a future where we don’t have to hide. Where we can be what we were meant to be - protectors, not jailers. Up there, on the surface, is where we should be. Making sure something like this doesn’t ever happen again. We should be protecting the other tribes and helping them rebuild.”

The courtiers watch in complete silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. I can feel my warriors behind me, ready to act at my command, but I hold my ground. This isn’t just about taking power—it’s about changing the very heart of our kingdom.

“You all believe this?” He asks, disbelief crossing his face as he gazes at me and my hastily raised army. It seems like he’s only now starting to really understand what’s happening - the limits he’s pushed all of us, me included, to.

His voice is strained as if each word costs him dearly as he speaks, “You just don’t understand what I’ve saved us from. The outsiders… If you do this, you don’t know what they’ll do to you, to our people… They took everything from us.”

For the first time in my life, I see past the crown to the broken male beneath. He’s not a tyrant - he’s a survivor who never learned how to stop surviving. The realization softens something in me, even as it strengthens my resolve; we will not be dictated by our past traumas, not anymore.

“I understand all too well,” I interrupt, not uncaringly, taking another step forward. “I’ve seen what fear does to us. What it’s done to you. To all of us.”

Hope is such a fickle thing, but I can’t help but desperately wish that he will do the right thing, by our people… and by me.

“How many souls have died in our pits, because we forced them there? How many tribes have we forced into submission? We call it protection, but we’re the ones they need protection from.”

The courtiers murmur, their combined luminae casting shifting shadows across the walls. My words strike truth they’ve long ignored.

“Even though she’s an outsider, Maya showed me everything we could be,” I counter. “She fights for her people despite her fear. She seeks truth despite the cost. She showed me that true strength isn’t about hiding from what we fear - it’s about facing it. Our people are warriors, protectors, and it’s time that we actually protected.”

All these years I’ve wanted his approval, needed it like I needed air to breathe. Now, standing before him, I realize I don’t need it anymore. What I need is for him to understand. “Being hurt doesn’t mean we have to hurt others. Being afraid doesn’t mean we have to let fear rule us. I know this is hard, but you need to step down as king. We are asking you to step down. We—I don’t want to fight you. I just want our people to be free of this darkness we’ve wrapped ourselves in.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. I watch as emotions battle across his face—anger, fear, pride... and beneath it all, a terrible weariness.

“Father, please,” I beg him. “I can do this. We can do this. Together.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t move. I see the war in his usually stoic face - pride battling fear, love fighting against decades of pain. Then, slowly, he stands. His hands release their death grip on the throne. One by one, he unwraps the layers of robes that hide his luminae. They no longer pulse; his inner light burned out. A male that’s sick, pushed beyond our natural limits until his body is giving out. He’s been suffering just as much as I have, perhaps more so, in his misguided attempts to lead us.

He steps down from the throne, approaching me, steps weak and unsteady. His own body faltering, collapsing under the years of grief and misery.

“All I’ve ever done is try to protect you,” he says, voice reedy and quiet. Tears glide down his cheeks unchecked. “You’re all I have left.”

“And you did,” I tell him, stepping closer. In this moment he looks so fragile. My father, the man that held power over all of us, ready to collapse into my arms.

My chest aches with a confused tangle of emotions - relief, sadness, lingering anger, and underneath it all, a small boy’s desperate love for his father. I reach for him, not as king to subject, but as son to father. I gather him close, for the first time noticing the lack of muscles on his body, once hidden beneath layers of fabric, now exposed to all.

“You did your best to protect us, and I love you for it.” I whisper into his ear, words meant only for him.

“I tried to be a protector, but I couldn’t. I’m not. I can’t.” Sobs wrack his body.

“You did your best, and that’s all I can ask from you,” I tell him, grateful for heeding Tanis’ own advice. My father has tried, and his only fault was not stepping aside when it was time.

Despite all the pain and confusion he’s inflicted upon me over the years, he has been a decent king. He’s led our people through a coup, a social upheaval that changed the very face of the planet, and crafted out a kingdom that by all means shouldn’t have survived at all. Our world was at its darkest moment, and he guided my people through it. His policies weren’t always healthy for us, but they kept us alive. But there’s light now, the blacks turning to gray, and it’s time for a new generation to carve their paths forward. We are ready for the next step now—to stop worrying about simple survival and to actually start living, embracing life.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t lose me,” I tell him. “You’ve taught me well. You can watch me thrive instead.”

My father leans back, searching my eyes. He nods, and in that one moment it’s like all the weight over the years suddenly catches up to him. He collapses at my feet, and I’m barely able to hold him.

“The throne is yours. Lead them better than I did,” he whispers. “I’m so proud of you, son.”

His concession hangs heavy in the air. Words I’ve spent my life waiting to hear.

Around us, the throne room is lit up bright with the combined glows of luminae. It’s not a celebration, there are no cheers or shouts. The room is solemn and quiet, warriors and courtiers watching the moment that crown passes from father to son. They watch their King fall and their prince rise. We stand at the precipice of a new age, a bright dawn stretching out before us, as long as we take the steps to embrace it—and our bodies glow with the same hope.

Our peace is disturbed when the throne room door bursts open. A warrior staggers in, weapon weakly clutched and dragging beside him as he struggles to stay on his feet.

“The arena,” he gasps. “The beasts are loose! All of them!”

My father’s grip tightens, desperate to keep me in place. “I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t command this…”

No one needs to voice how bad this situation is; these beasts are deadly, each beast taking a team of warriors working together to subdue. To have them all free to wreak havoc at once…

“We must secure the area,” I state, already moving towards the doors.

The blood drains from my father’s face.

“The tangler,” he breathes. “I ordered it brought to the arena cells...”

My pulse thunders in my ears. It’s true then; he really managed to secure a Tangler. A near impossible feat; how could he possibly think to contain the creature that made the very tunnels we have lived our lives in? It’s a beast beyond comprehension. Deadly. And now loose in the heart of our city.

“Secure the area!” I call out to the surrounding crowd. My first command, as a king, and it’s a desperate one. “Aid any you find, regardless of tribe or species. The beasts do not discriminate in their prey - neither shall we in offering protection.”

“Forgive me,” the king mutters, cold fingers digging into my arms. “The female - your Maya - I placed her in the arena cells.”

Ice floods my veins. The arena cells. Where Maya is imprisoned. Where I let her be taken, all because I didn’t defend her.

I don’t wait to hear more, already running. I don’t wait for acknowledgment. I don’t wait to see if my father protests or if my warriors follow. I’ve spent too long waiting, too long calculating, too long playing it safe. My mate is in danger, and I will rescue her.

Maya may never forgive me. She may never trust me again. But I will not let my betrayal be the last thing between us.

I run.