“Open this cage at once!” Lord Jyris ordered, his gaze hardening as he clicked his claws against the golden rings on his fingers.
“The White King—” the warrior began to protest when Lord Jyris silenced him with the following words. “I will take her to him myself.”
In no time, he had taken Xinora to the throne room. It was large and tall, adorned with gold and giant menacing statues.
“Father!” She rushed out of Jyris’s hold immediately, her bare feet hitting the smooth that glimmered golden as a result of the floating candles above.
The White King’s eyes brightened, and in a flash, he was in front of her, pulling her into an embrace. He seemed to have flown there, but it was too quick. His wings had sprouted from behind him as quickly as they had vanished.
He acted with perfect precision.
He was wearing an open silver flowing robe, his silver crown on his gray-haired head. He was enormous and from the gap between his robes, faint white scales protruding from his skin could be seen.
At contact, the memories of him rushed through her mind and she remembered every moment.
“Child.” He buried his nose into her silver hair, taking a deep sniff. Then he pulled away and frowned. “Who did this? Jyris, who was the warrior?”
“Your Majesty, I don't—” Lord Jyris started to speak but the White King continued, his gaze now on his daughter.
“I ordered them not to hurt you,” he said with a frown, his blue eyes trying to find the spot she was bleeding from.
“It’s not my blood, Father,” she said, too happy to care. “By Ina, you will not believe that the Vessel Holder gave it to me willingly, in exchange for a blissful death to finally meet her dead lover.”
A smile graced the White King’s lips. “You are not a High Being, you cannot grant that.”
“Well, the Human does not know that. I do feel sorry for her but she has fulfilled her purpose. She is better than I am. There is no greater fulfillment than one in fulfilling one's purpose.”
The White King smiled, impressed. “You still remember.” Then he pulled her along to a table in the center of the Throne room. There were ashes on the glass surface, he grabbed a handful and sprinkled it on her hair, marking her forehead with it.
The doors were thrown open and he turned his attention to the one who stepped in immediately.
“Dogori! Come, my daughter is here and she remembers everything. It is owed all to your perfect work, of course.”
Dogori soon joined them. Lord Jyris greeted him and he acknowledged it. Dogori was a wizard, dressed in black robes and a black blindfold tied over his eyes. The colour he was clothed in was a sharp contrast to White King. In his hand was a staff that was taller than he was which seemed to be made out of different tree branches twisted together.
“It is a good day, your Majesty,” he said, stopping in front of them. He certainly couldn't see them, despite that, she felt like Dogori’s gaze lingered more on her.
“Indeed,” the White King replied. “Bring the stones and let her touch them. The Process must begin.”
He pulled out a small sackcloth from his robe while he spoke. “My condolences, Lord Jyris. Another grief has struck your home, I heard of Ka'el’s death.”
Jyris smiled. “Ka’el is not part of my home.”
The White King took the sackcloth from Dogori and handed it over to his daughter. “The Stones of Prophecy,” he said to her.
She pulled them out quickly and immediately, the stones flung into the air, glowing as they assembled quickly like a puzzle running out of time. But just as quickly the stones had exploded. The White King held his daughter as she staggered back, frightened. Before the stones would scatter to the ground, Dogori used his magic to wrap them up into the sackcloth and tucked it back into his robe. He seems to look sharply at her, a piercing gaze even through his blindfold.
Tension filled the air and Dogori stepped forward, now holding her hand and sniffing her air. There were no memories at this contact.
He slammed his staff against the ground, and then he went around her, sniffing like a mad dog. Before he could do another round of sniffing, Jyris was in front of her, stopping the movement of Dogori's staff as he walked around the White King’s daughter with his own outstretched sword.
The White King laughed, pulling his daughter from the situation. They both stayed there, sword against staff, waiting for the first one to back down.
“Enough, Dogori. You are scaring her, you know she easily gets frightened.” Then he cupped her face in his palms, lovely. “She most likely hasn't settled properly in the body yet. We should wait till the Blood Moon to seal it. Right, Dogori?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he bowed to the White King and was the first to step away.
Then Jyris stepped away too, sheathing his sword.
The tension in the air still remained thick.
“How many days is it till Blood Moon?” His daughter asked with urgency.
“Five days. It will be our final battle and our people will finally know peace. The Rebellion will not be ready; they’ve already been weakened, and victory is assured.”
“Five days?” She asked, stunned. “The war will happen after only five days?!”