SacredOrderOfTheMagi

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           The entire area was of the deepest darkness either had known; they were too far away for any light to reach them now.

            Only Syldra’s scales gave them any light at all in this eternal and complete darkness.

            The water was perfectly still, the beating of Syldra’s wings unable to stir it. It possessed a depth like no other, not only a physical depth but of a different level; a depth of the soul.

            It was completely bottomless, as though it were the sky in this upside down world.

            There were pillars dotted around the area that supported the city above but  there appeared to be no end to them once they descended below the surface of Pandemonium Lake; the lair of all evil.

            There was a lonely ripple, gently drifting along the surface of the lake; they all noticed it but said nothing.

            Jared and Jason paid it no attention but Syldra tensed.

            “That ripple was made by movement.” she said. “And not my own.”

            Jared said nothing, he was lost in his thought.

            He was sure that this was what he wanted to do; to go home. There was nothing for him anymore, even his love had abandoned and rejected him, why should he stay?

            But yet, he wasn’t sure at all, it may be what he wanted to do now but was it what he should do? He had had enough of helping others but still, there was a sense of wrongness in leaving that was equal in strength to the pain of staying and he was too torn between the two thoughts to possibly say a single word as the shadows grew mass.

            They were like snakes, slithering along the top of the lake towards them but they were joining and merging with each other, gaining more and more of a physical form.

            They were the beasts foretold that lurked here and Syldra knew it.

            She reared back slightly, gaining more altitude as she opened her mouth and summoned her strength.

            A jet of fire flew forth and blasted into the amassing shadows before them, obliterating them easily and illuminating most of the area, revealing a chilling fact.

            They were surround on all sides by the beasts. Where one was destroyed, three more took its place, rising from the depths beneath them.

            Syldra reared again, this time shooting a stronger blast of fire that streamed out around them, in a constant torrent of flame.

            But Jared didn’t even notice.

            He was thinking of Sarah, how much pain she was in at the moment and how she had left him when he had tried to help her; how that made him want to go home so much.

            How he was running away.

            How he was leaving not only her but everyone else.

            He was leaving them all behind.

            Sarissa; though she was ill tempered and a total brute had cared for them the most and essentially saved them. She had been there very chance she had and cursed them every time they went somewhere without her.

            Tulla; their friend if only brief, who had always worn a great and untroubled smile whenever they were around. Whose glasses of tea by the fireplace seemed to warm their soul and rouse their spirits. He had told him how to achieve what he wanted, whichever path he had wanted.

            Sarah; how he loved her so much and yet he was leaving her. It pained him, regardless of the fact that she had left him first, but he couldn’t bear to think of it.

            He was leaving so many of them, even Ashi the pup had been left back at the temple and though Jason had said nothing of it, Jared was sure that Jason was thinking about it.

            He was leaving them all, and he wasn’t sure why. Was it even the right thing to do? Probably not; but it was what he wanted to do – or so he hoped.

            He wanted it all to stop! He couldn’t think of it any longer, whether or not he was doing the right thing, or if he was being selfish. Whether or not what he was doing was for short term or the long term plagued him; what if everything he was doing was wrong?

            Syldra’s flame was pouring all around them, keeping the shadows at bay as she crossed the lake, to whatever may be at the other side.

            Within a few moments there was a light, far off in the distance that was not from Syldra’s flame.

            It roused Jared from his thoughts, allowing him freedom from the many things that mentally plagued him for he knew this light.

            It was familiar, he had seen it before and he knew the instant he had seen it, that it was the mirror from his home; the mirror that could take him home.

            Syldra reared and cried out in ferocity as she dove forwards; her flame stronger than ever.

            “This is it.” breathed Jason from behind him and they plummeted towards the mirror that sat atop a small stone platform.

            Syldra deposited them on the platform and gave a final burst of flame towards the lake, but the shadows had retired, as though they were afraid to go neat the light of the mirror.

            She returned to her egg promptly, without a word to Jared who was still lost in his thoughts before the mirror.

            “I can’t go through.” Jason said, but it sounded far away to Jared, barely able to rouse him from his thoughts.

            “Why not?” asked Jared sternly. He could not return without someone else.

            “Because only the king, the one who possesses true royal blood can cross safely.” he replied. “That’s you, not me.”

            “Nonsense!” retorted Jared. “If I’m in it, it’ll be open, and that will give you the ability to cross through.”

            Jason was silent, he didn’t want to argue; not now. He wasn’t even sure if this was what he wanted to do, he was Roan and Jason after all and he owed himself to both worlds, but he wouldn’t leave Jared behind, regardless what he wanted; it was the right thing.

            There was a screech behind them and they spun to face it; a massive shadowed figure approaching rapidly, but it was not one of the beasts of the lake.

            A large demonic black dragon landed heavily on the platform before them, a dragon with Mallunun atop.

            He dismounted quickly and the dragon disappeared into a blackened egg that he placed in a pack of his own.

            “Well now, what do we have here?” he asked rhetorically. “The king to be entering an area that’s off limits to all save those with royal blood, thereby the king.”

            “I have the royal blood in my veins Mallunun, not tainted like yours.” retorted Jared angrily. “We’re going home, back where we came from, through this mirror.”

            “Through the mirror you say?” repeated Mallunun. “No that wont do at all.”

            “And why not?” asked Jason. “Then we’ll be out of your hair and you’ll be king without opposition.”

            Mallunun sneered at them both as Jared placed his arm through the mirror slowly, as though getting ready to leave. The solid became a liquid but retained its form.

            “Who’s to say you wont return unannounced and attack me?” asked Mallunun.

            “Get real.” retorted Jared. “Why would we ever return or want to see you again?”

            “Well I can guarantee you’ll see me again.” replied Mallunun. “And I don’t doubt you’d kill me when you saw me, look through the mirror.”

            They turned to face the mirror, Jared’s arm still within its mass. On the other side they saw Jared’s sister’s room, back in their own world, but it was not their sister that they saw; it was Mallunun.

            Or more precisely; Martin.

            He held a sword in his hand and he was prodding the mirror curiously, the blade entering past the surface but he himself was not crossing through; Mallunun couldn’t cross by himself without Jason being in the mirror because it would probably kill him for possessing impure blood.

            “Martin!” cried Jason in response.

            “So you see,” began Mallunun “You can’t leave, and I must kill you. You are flanked on either side so I suggest giving up.”
            “I just wanted to go home.” breathed Jared as he thought about everything that happened and whether or not he truly wanted to go home.

            He thought of how Sarah had been in so much pain and how much pain it had caused him when she left and he realized something.

            The woman he loved needed him, she wanted him to follow her, and if he left, giving her the pain that she had given him, it would be far too much for her.

            Leaving was a fix, it would get him away from the pain but it was not a complete fix; it was temporary.

            The pain would catch up to him and he would be eternally plagued with the notion of returning but he’d never be able to face everyone if he returned; he would destroy himself if he returned.

            “You know what?” he said, facing Mallunun.

            “Hm?”

            “I was being selfish.” stated Hycindathaul. “I was running away and not doing what I knew to be the true answer. Too often we run away from our destiny and thereby ruin our chances of happiness.”

            Mallunun said nothing; he merely stared at Hycindathaul who stood tall and looked Mallunun in the eye.

            “I can’t leave.” he said simply and in the next moment he had grabbed Roan’s shoulder and pushed him straight through the mirror.

            Roan landed softly on Jared’s sister’s bed but Hycindathaul wasn’t finished. Martin was surprised by Roan’s unannounced arrival and it gave Hycindathaul the perfect opportunity to grab him.

            He gripped his sword arm and yanked him through the mirror, throwing Martin into Mallunun, the two colliding and falling backwards.

            But in the next instant, they’d both vanished in a puff of smoke and in the next, they stood once more; this time as one.

            They had joined and reformed their soul; just as Hycindathaul and Jared had done, but there was one difference; Jared and Hycindathaul had completely merged into one being and no longer fought with each other.

            Mallunun and Martin were fighting within the same body for supremacy, whether they wanted to or not.

            “Bit of a burden to fight me and yourself at the same time, eh?” shot Hycindathaul as he drew his blade that burst into the strongest of flames in response to his stalwart soul and his drive for success.

            “You’ll regret those words!” cried Martin, the inexperienced fighter and Hycindathaul charged.

            He swung wide, the attack meant only to cause Martin to dodge, which he did and in turn forced him into the corner of the platform as Hycindathaul raised his blade over his head and swung downwards with great force.

            All at once Martin’s sword was in the air and blocking Hycindathaul’s, the next moment it had burst into a bright white flame that darkened the surroundings.

            The battle had drawn out Mallunun’s soul which was more adept at fighting.

            Hycindathaul leapt backwards as Mallunun thrust his blade forwards. He replied with a thrust of his own but continued with a side slash after spinning once.

            It was a weak and seemingly useless attack that Mallunun blocked easily, laughing out loud but Hycindathaul grinned as he leapt backwards, behind the ring of flame that had formed when he had spun.

            Mallunun’s eyes stared at it in question as Hycindathaul touched the ring with his blade.

            “The flame of Justice.” he said sternly and the circle erupted like a cannon of flame, a torrent of heat and retribution that shot straight towards Mallunun, whose eyes were wide with terror and fear.

            “The light of the damned!” he cried and a similar burst of white flame erupted from his sword and collided with the cannon.

            They both shot continuous streams of flame towards each other but Hycindathaul didn’t have to remain motionless for the ring to continue the stream; Mallunun did.

            He lunged forwards, through his own stream of flame, burning his flesh in the process, straight towards Mallunun.

            His blade plunged through his enemy’s chest, sealing the outcome of the battle, in a crimson signature.

            “That is how crime pays.” he said sternly as Mallunun fell to the floor. “I’m not running away from my destiny, I am the king of Alsymok and I have just delivered it from your grasp.”

            He, Hycindathaul, Jared, had finally fought Mallunun and emerged victorious – as the king of Alsymok.

            He couldn’t leave his best friend behind and promptly pulled Roan back through the mirror; the choice to stay or go was his own.

            Sarah’s wooden town on the outskirts of Alsymok, mere miles before the Expanse, was being rebuilt.

            The villagers had suffered a great many losses. Not only had they lived with an intense oppression for so many years, they had lost loved ones in the town, the mayor, and now they had lost Sarah’s father, who had been their hero and always seemed to be the one that could rally them and raise their spirits; mending that which had been broken.

            They suffered a great and terrible loss, but they had gained much. They had brought themselves into a position free of evil, and they would live their lives happily – as happily as they could at least.

            Sarah wasn’t sure if she could ever be happy again. Her father was dead, by Mallunun’s hands as it had been his assassin that had killed him, all merely to delay the fight between himself and Hycindathaul.

            Hycindathaul…

            How she missed him, he was her equilibrium and she was pained by leaving him, she had cried a great many tears already and finally her body seemed at the point of breaking, where any more pain, physical or emotional, would destroy her completely.

            She wished she could have taken back those words she had said, her anger at him for not understanding; it wasn’t his fault, he just wanted to help her and she knew it, but now they were separated and she feared he would return to another world; a place where she would never see him again.

            A great wind picked up, stirring her lovely hair across her face and drying the tears on her cheeks as she continued to sulk.

            The ground shook as something hit hard but she didn’t even both to look up from her sad state of misery.

            Someone was approaching but she didn’t care; they had all tried to raise her spirits but none could, none but Hycindathaul could ever put that smile on her face. She was a fool for thinking it, but maybe, just maybe there was a chance that he had returned to her; despite the things she had said.

            Thinking she was a fool, she looked upwards, straight into the face of Hycindathaul who smiled awkwardly at her.

            “What sort of an unmarred beauty sits in the middle of a dirt road and cries all day to herself?” he asked and she leapt into his open arms, tears streaming down her face again – both his and hers.

            “I was selfish.” he said. “My destiny is with you.”

            We have all been selfish at one point or another, compelled by greed or some silly little thing to do something that benefits us immediately, solely for that reason.

            I’m sure we’ve all had moments in which we wonder if what we’re doing is greedy or the right choice; if what we’re doing helps us in the immediate or in the long term.

            There was a great man, who wrote a great book about a boy and an alchemist, who said somewhere in the book, either the introduction or the synopsis that he had seen so many people in his life strive for their dreams, and come so close to reaching and fulfilling their personal legends and then make some silly little mistake or series of mistakes that they lost their dreams completely in the midst of their mistakes.

            We’ve all been at points in our lives when we’ve been torn between two choices, whether or not one was a selfish choice and one was the right choice, it doesn’t matter. But during these times of trial we must remember, that we all have dreams and wishes as to what we want for ourselves, and we all have wants; this is just another part of humanity.

            But it’s whether or not; the choices we make are for what we want at that moment when we decide, or what we want overall. Never forget that your greatest opposition, your most difficult challenge in achieving your dreams and your own personal legend, is merely yourself and your own imperfections.

            Hycindathaul was a king and Jared was a poet.

            Hycindathaul was a strategist and Jared was a pacifist. Hycindathaul was a ferocious fighter, and upholder of the law, when Jared was a timid and weak individual who had never willingly fought in his life.

            They came from opposite sides of universe, but they merged into one for a simple reason; their soul was the same.

            The kind of personality you have means nothing when it comes to your soul. You may be a timid person who doesn’t know how to fight and never speaks up for the wrongly accused, but that’s not to say that somewhere deep down in your soul you feel the burning desire and passion to help them, to reach out and fight their battles with them.

            In the story of Hycindathaul and Jared, there are times in which they act on principle; such as when they engage the thugs in Sarah’s hometown.

            They knew that there was no chance they could best that many of them but honestly, whose soul could ever allow them to knowingly step away from such malicious and sadistic people and say “Sure, go right ahead and kill this harmless old woman who merely enjoys spending time with her kittens! We don’t mind!”

            Evil breeds evil and even if you are the malicious person performing the acts, the reason why you are able to do these things, it’s because your soul has ceased speaking to you. You have ignored it far too many times for it to have any confidence in you at all and will therefore refrain from ever trying to tell you the difference between good and evil.

            Pain always has a mental affect, whether it starts as physical or emotional. Jared experienced the pain and rejection when the anguished and confused Sarah pushed him away.

            He was in pain because she was in pain and all he wanted to do was to help her, but because he was so consumed with trying to help her, he couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to be kissed.

            It was frivolous and silly, but it’s perfectly understandable to me, for someone to act like Jared had; trying to kiss her to bring her back to the moment when they were having so much fun with each other in the river.

            But it was after he had experienced that pain, that the true moral of the story comes into play.

            The entire time before hand he had been trying to decide whether or not to stay; to return home where he felt the safest and where the world didn’t matter nearly as much to him as it did where he was at the time, or to stay and become king with all of that responsibility and pain.

            He wrongly attributed his pain to the world and made the choice to return home.

            Pain blinds us and it blinded him. He thought that it would disappear if he returned and it would for the most part; but not forever, as I stated in the story.

            That was why he was making the selfish and wrong decision; because he was trying for a quick fix only for himself.

            When he decided to stay, and confront Mallunun to fulfill his destiny, he was thinking of the future and how we must fight the immediate battles without running away, in order to achieve what we truly want.

            In this case, it was Justice, and his love; Sarah.

            I said earlier that running away from something only makes it stronger. If something was strong enough already to make you want to run away from it, why would you ever want to make it stronger?

            Most of your opposition is only as strong as you make it, never back down and in this sense; it pays to be resolute like Lyne Swiftcall, the hero.

            Running away can be the greed’s choice, and will almost always be the temporary fix that leads us into the wrong decision and delivers us from our dreams and desires.

            Only when we can best our own selfishness, our fears, our greed and thereby ourselves, can we ever hope to reach out and grab hold of our dreams.

            Never allow greed to decide for you.

True Flame

Introduction:

            Perhaps the scariest of my three questions plagues some of us constantly, I doubt there is a single soul in their right mind that has not wondered of or contemplated this question for it is of such a great stature that there is no definite answer.

            A very great man, once said that every question possesses a power that is lost in the answer, which may explain why this is such a terrifying question that can completely consume some of us.

            The question is relative, and there is no real way to answer it; it is merely a knowing, a trusting of yourself and listening to what your soul has to offer.

            After all, if we do not listen to our soul, what use is it to us? And if we have no soul, what are we for surely we are no longer human and our lives are thereby wasteful.

            It’s such a strong question, without answer, that it invokes countless other instances of itself in various forms and tenses, never allowing you to forget it until you’ve come up with an answer to this impossible question.

            I’ve left it until last because it is by far the most powerful of the three questions and I believe it has influenced man kind the most.

            It walks hand in hand with wondering if what you’re doing is the right thing and feeling completely desolate and hopeless, but it’s even greater than them both combined.

            What would you do, if your entire life, everything you have ever said and done, was based solely on a lie? If your entirety, the very person you are, was molded from lies? Surely we would doubt the world around us, we would doubt ourselves! What happens when you start to doubt yourself and your origins? What happens when you realize that a dream that may have shaped who you are today, all throughout the past, was a lie? Could you ever even return to a simple state of being as you were before hand? How could you not contemplate the fact that had you known all along you would not be where you were and you would not be who you are today.

            But what happens if the answer is yes? Can you even admit to yourself the true answer even if your heart knows the truth? Can you walk with your back straight and your head held high if you realize you’ve been living a lie? Can you even taste the sweet gifts of life such as love and friendship, happiness and joy? Or does the entirety of the world become a blackened battlefield and your eyes are opened for the first time to glimpse the true disfigured ugliness of the world in which no sunshine could ever fall upon?

            Bear that in mind as you read through this next story…

Prologue:

            The sky was black all across the plains as thunderclouds brewed overhead. Ominous crashes of thunder and lightning broke out across the area sending chills down the spines of the soldiers. It was a thunderstorm but there was no rain to fall on the cursed fields of this fated battle.

            The gods would not allow even the slightest drip of melancholy rain to fall on the god forsaken faces of the man slaughtering soldiers who fought for justice.

            Justice; what a trivial term.

            On the battlefield it meant nothing; what mattered was that your blade struck and theirs didn’t.

            Justice was something to be discarded along with faith and hope in the midst of battle. It was a tattered banner that whipped about in the devilish winds that picked up and disappeared almost at the same instant.

            It was a dying beacon of a light house. The dying light that saves a ship from retribution; but it meant nothing in battle.

            Tybalt Trueflame was a soldier like any other on that darkened field. He was the commander of his band of soldiers and they followed his will without question; even to these foul lands in which only the wicked ventured willingly.

            “Orders, Sir!” offered a nameless soldier on the battlefield as he presented a letter to Tybalt. It was cold and heavy, but everything was cold and heavy these days; including his heart.

            Tybalt spat in disgust as he took the letter and looked at it.

            It bore the kings seal; what a superficial thing that was. Tybalt viewed the seal cynically; the very symbol that they had followed and gone to war for, now seemed to be darkened; its light drained away.

            The very seal seemed darkened now, vile and foul like the rest of the god forsaken grounds around them.

            He opened it, knowing who it was from before even reading it; it was not from the King.

            Tybalt had commanded his troops to war at the king’s request and here they were, in the middle of their pandemonium of wretched torment and apostasy.

            He read the letter slowly and carefully, making sure to reread the one sentence he knew before he had even brought out his troops.

            He had been right, his entire world was based on nothing more than blind ignorance and now he had committed acts far worse than those he had persecuted, all because he had failed to see what had been in front of his face for so long.

            His arm fell to his side as he looked up at the clouds in contemplation. His grip lessened and the letter slowly drifted to the ground as the drums of war began to sound all around them; the enemies were advancing.

            God bless them, he thought. God bless those fools for standing for the truth when no one else dare.

            And as he thought, and the enemies approached, Tybalt merely stared upwards at the ominous clouds of fate. They parted only slightly and a thin ray of sunlight fell down on the plains on that day; a thin ray of sunlight moments before it began to rain.

            Halsyo Trueflame was crouched in a narrow trench. He was in the midst of war in the center of a darkened plain with a dark storm brewing overhead.

            Despite the danger and gruesome task he was to undertake with his battalion he was happy; he was a captain now, just as his father, Tybalt Trueflame was.

            Captain of the Guard, Halsyo Trueflame, of one of the noblest families in history was now awaiting the opportune moment to strike as he rallied his troops for war.

            He firmly gripped the cold steel of his blade, the family heirloom; Trueflame. It reacted with passion and truth and shone greater than the sun in the midst of battle, turning to flame and conquering opposition.

            He would use it to secure their victory and return to the king, for it was in his name that they fought this battle, this very war today. With his banners sailing in the wind and his seal on their breastplates they knew their place in the world; to carry out his orders without fail.

            “We are few…” called Halsyo as he addressed his men. “We are few indeed but united we have strength greater than many. We are the hand that shall wield the shield that defends our homelands against these beasts that seek to overthrow His Majesty! We are the hammer and that will strike them against the anvil and forge our victory!

            “We are those who will never waver in our battles of truth and justice, and we will win!”

            As he screamed the final sentence he leaped out of the trench with his soldiers behind him and charged straight towards the city in front of him.

            The horns of war were sounding and the other captains were charging with their battalions as well.

            As they charged the darkness began the melt away and the light began to grow anew. Trueflame, the sword now firmly gripped in Halsyo’s hands was igniting and bathing the battlefield in justice.

            He wondered if his father was proud that he had come so far for the king and the nation, if his father would smile at him if he found out that Halsyo had become the Captain of the Guard, just as his father was before him.

            But the thought distracted him. It depressed him, though he wasn’t sure why and he shoved it from his head.

            Instead he began reciting his family’s creed in his head.

In a world of chaos our, flame burns true

In a world of evil, remember our virtue

Where our flame dies out and our bodies wither

Our spirits ascend and our legends continue.

            The soldiers were advancing through the city and battles were being fought on all sides. Halsyo himself had been separated from his platoon and was left to fend for himself as he carried out his orders.

            It was a city of rebels. A city where the inhabitants directly opposed the nation, the king had told them this himself.

            Suddenly there was a sound in a house to his immediate right. There was a hurried rustle and the slam of a door; that was all he needed before he acted.

            He slammed through the front door, his blade drawn and the fire casting devilish shadows all around the wooden house.

            There was a man in the center of the room, an elderly man much older than Halsyo but his face was something of malice; it was evil.

            Looking at the face of this man, Halsyo knew that he was evil. That he opposed the nation and by that, he was a target and needed to be dispatched.

            “The king is the true evil!” cried the man as Halsyo charged forwards, stabbing his blade through the old man who merely stared deep into the cores of Halsyo’s eyes.

            His final moments were dedicated solely to peering deep into Halsyo’s soul, just to get one glimpse of the kind of person his killer had been.

            That look would haunt Halsyo for the rest of his life. The piercing gaze, the solemn face, and the look of recognition on the dieing man’s face moments before he died.

            The old man, would haunt him forever, mere seconds before his death, while Halsyo’s blade was still lodged within him and he had looked deep into Halsyo’s core, the old man had smiled at Halsyo.

            It wasn’t a snicker or a sneer, nor was it pity. He wasn’t smiling because he pitied the enemies or even because he would see loved ones soon.

            No, he smiled for a different reason, a reason Halsyo would contemplate often and never truly stumble on the answer.

            But the old man had smiled at something hidden in his soul and he would never find out what it had been; that glimpse of recognition.

            The body fell to the ground with a thud and Trueflame immediately ceased to glow. The room was plunged into darkness and Halsyo was left merely standing alone in that room with the body of an old man who, in his last moments, seemed to have found out more about Halsyo than he knew himself.

            There was a trapdoor, he knew, but he could not bear to search for it, he needed to exit the house as soon as possible.

            It was just one of those things he needed to do. He couldn’t help it and rushed out of the building, trying to push the thoughts of the old man out of his head but failing miserably. As he shut the door and began walking away he noticed a devilish light from behind him.

            It illuminated the streets and the buildings, the soldiers and the sky; it was a torrent of flame.

            The house he had just left was bursting at the seams with such intense fiery retribution, that it looked strikingly similar to the jaws of a massive demon; fire brimming from the seams of its mouth.

            There had been a trapdoor, but it was no use to try and search it now; anyone inside would surely perish in the flame.

            His heart was cold and heavy for the first time in his life but he couldn’t figure out why. He had dispatched an enemy soldier who plotted against the nation and therefore the king; he had done his duty and in that sense, he was an honorable soldier.

            But his heart pained him deeply and he clutched at it. It beat slowly, with a sorrowful tune. It’s melancholy sound echoing across the barren hills of death around them, combining with the souls of soldiers once living and retuning to him with such a force that he could no longer carry the weight of his sword.

            He sheathed it with the last of his strength and throwing down his pristine breastplate along with the king’s emblem he walked slowly back out of the city, towards where his platoon should be.

            For some reason, the hero wasn’t much feeling like a hero.

            It was a long time before the storm had finished and yet not a bead of rain had fallen; the omens had been dark today.

            He awoke with a start, clutching at his heart in pain. He half expected to see an assassin atop him in his bed with a dagger plunged hilt deep into his chest but there was no one. Even his wife had left the bed already.

            He dressed slowly, taking extra care over meaningless details. The meticulous often became the meditative.

            Today was to be a festival of victory for the soldiers of war; they were to be honored for bringing victory to the nation and those who gave their lives for the cause were to be mourned and thanked accordingly.

            But more importantly were the promotions and awards that would follow; the soldiers would march from the gates of the city all the way to the palace where they would stand before the king himself who would watch them from a balcony above the courtyard.

            They would be called for awards and promotions, bringing honor to their families and receiving rewards for their accomplishments but they were never addressed by the king himself; such menial tasks were beneath him.

            Instead the king would have an advisor or public speaker perform the ceremony and give the trinkets out and the rest of the city would watch in awe, just as they were supposed to.

            They would all watch the soldiers and the children would dream of joining their ranks one day while the women dreamed of having husbands as valiant as they. The city was expected to look up to the soldiers and by god they did a fine job of it.

            It wasn’t that long before Halsyo had finished dressing in a fine white shirt and beige pants with Trueflame strapped to his belt, but it had been longer than he expected.

            He was forced to rush as he left, running out the door and down the streets to reach the city gates in time. Any captain that wasn’t present in time to lead his own platoon didn’t deserve the position. Only those who could follow the rules without any thoughts of their own were respected. Only those who became tools of the state were permitted their humanity.

            He turned the final corner as the horns began to sound and flawlessly positioned himself in front of his platoon without detection.

            They all marched in tow, one foot in front of the other at precisely the exact same time. The state acted in unison, it acted as one entity that was ruled by the king. Individuality was shunned; it was what got you killed.

            The women and children looked onwards in combinations of awe and envy as the soldiers marched slowly by. The men looked perfectly straight, their sights never wavering.

            They looked only where they were told, stepped only when told to, and turned only where they were lead. That was how they marched the entire way to the palace where they lined up; each platoon in a perfect square with its captain in front.

            The way the ceremonies went was simple. The peasants would gather around the courtyard first, and then the soldiers would enter. The nobles would follow afterwards and finally the king would make his appearance when everyone else had arrived and was watching his balcony anxiously.

            The speaker would address the soldiers as one, and then call them forwards starting with the most honored and prestigious families and working their way down the least significant.

            At midway through the awards, when the awards had been given to most of the noble families and prestigious people, the king would take his leave and the speaker would continue to award the commoners.

            “Halsyo Trueflame,” called the speaker. “Captain of the Guard and head of the Trueflame Household, husband to the His Majesty, the Lord Donnovitch’s own cousin, Lady Larissa. Please step forwards.”

            He was surprised beyond reason and his eyes opened wide; he had been called first! His family was noble, everyone knew that, but it was not the most noble! Perhaps one of the other houses brought shame to themselves, Halsyo hadn’t done anything deserving of such an advance, had he?

Somehow he managed to make his feet move and walk towards the speaker. His entire body was shaking all over in excitement; if he were able to keep such a prestigious position his children, once he settled down to have them, would be born into honor!

“Sir!” shouted Halsyo so all could hear him once he reached the speaker. He gave a salute and stood tall with his back straight.

“Halsyo Trueflame, Captain of the guard, head of the Trueflame household and wedded husband of the Lady Larissa,” began the speaker. “The state, by rule of His Majesty, Lord Donnovitch himself, has taken into consideration your performance on the field of battle from which you brought victory to the nation and has deemed you worthy of reward.”

The state always loved their long and drawn out speeches, reminding the audience that it was by their decision that the awards would be distributed, as though they were doing the soldiers a favor.

“Due to your excellent leadership of your platoon and your unwavering courage once separated from them on the battlefield, the state, as ruled by His Majesty, Lord Donnovitch himself, has decided to award you and your family with three thousand gold pieces and two hundred acres to support the Trueflame Estates.

“Moreover, your family shall be listed as nobles and your children made aristocrats. You will be placed as one of the direct council of the state once the awards have been distributed.”

One of the council was an immense honor; no one save the king himself and other council members could argue with anyone that was part of that group. The only problem with the council was that they never debated or decided on anything at all, they were merely the men that the king directly addressed when he wanted something done, they were not people to debate with, but merely people who could carry out orders unwaveringly; the king didn’t need debates, he needed compliance.

“Do you accept these conditions?” asked the speaker.

What a joke. You had to accept, if you didn’t you would be stripped of all honor and your family would most likely be murdered to defy the state. To refuse something from the king was to refuse the state, implying they were not generous enough and thereby insulting them and dishonoring them. Such a thing was the unthinkable, which was why every soldier would comply, regardless the conditions.

“I wholeheartedly accept these conditions.” agreed Halsyo. “I will use these generous gifts to aid the state.”

Such a promise and commitment was to be expected, if he merely accepted and said nothing he would be thought of as greedy and thereby looked down upon being disgraced and dishonored.

Honor was everything in the world.

Halsyo was given a golden medallion and dismissed. Giving a deep bow he returned to his platoon but he received no congratulations. No one was to speak in the celebrations unless directly spoken to, such was expected of the honorable.

Instead they were to wait endlessly until the king took his leave and only the awards to commoners remained, then they were allowed to socialize amongst themselves and do as they wished.

Halsyo took the time to leave, he was excited just enough to forget the odd pit that had been building in his gut.

His wife Larissa, cousin of the king and his personal confidant approached him.

She wore thin blue silk gown with silver slippers. Her gown was embroidered in gold that matched the color of her long hair that draped down her back.

She was a beauty as far as any man could tell but there was one unmistakable yet indefinable characteristic about her.

She had a face of angels and a figure of a goddess; she was the essence of beauty and was far more appealing than any maiden; as was evident by the amount of eyes that watched her daily.

But when they looked upon her, they weren’t captivated by her beauty; they felt they should be and so they stared. They gazed upon her figure but merely felt they should find her attractive.

In the secrets of the alleyways it was often debated, what it was that kept people from truly finding her a beauty and though much talk was horribly shunned upon, even by street urchins and beggars, there were ultimately times when a drunken fool would say too much and bring into question her soul reflected in her complexion being tainted and turning away the looks of men.

But such thoughts couldn’t be further from the honorable truth and the drunkards that spoke like that often ended up beaten and left for dead outside the city walls.

No man, save one of higher reputation, could talk down to a noble; and there weren’t many higher than the King’s cousin.

She smiled at him as he approached and she kissed him on the cheek, as was a sign of respect before talking.

“You have brought our family honor.” she announced with an overly loud and sophisticated voice so that everyone nearby could hear her. And of course they did, for no one dared to speak over her or ignore her words; nor did they dare eavesdrop on her conversation and so it was by her speech that the city people found themselves in a state of awkward limbo, halfway between eavesdropping and half between ignoring a noble.

The social ladder was always a battle where only the strong survive the slaughter.

“But I performed not for personal gain.” replied Halsyo as he should. “I fought for the glory of the state against those who sought to befoul it.”

“And rightly so,” she continued “as is expected of such nobility as we posses; to set examples for all beneath us.”

The two walked off as though they were actors departing a stage and began the return to their estates.

Halsyo left her soon afterwards in an attempt to find a comrade of his he had not seen in the previous battle. His most valued friend since childhood; Taeron Izzik, would surely enjoy his company and they would walk the battlements with joy, laughing at each other’s comedies.

They had always acted as an equilibrium for each other; one providing counsel for the other in their time of need. It was Taeron who Halsyo had sought when he had slain his first foe, and it was Halsyo who Taeron fought when he had succeeded his father as head of the household.

But he was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t on the battlements or in the streets, in his estate or the town square. It seemed as though Taeron Izzik had up and left the world behind him.

But Halsyo knew Taeron far too well, and knew that at times like this when he was no where else, he could only be in the highest tower he could find, and that’s where he looked.

Sure enough, Taeron had hidden himself amongst the towers of the state. He was leaning against one of the battlements as he looked out across the lonely plains surrounding them; the distant war torn lands that they had fought on side by side in the name of the state to conquer it.

“Have you ever felt like a caged bird?” he asked before Halsyo had even said a word.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you ever felt something was wrong but you weren’t sure what?” he asked. “Like bird that chases away a predator to protect it’s eggs, but enters a cage in the chase and overtime, it forgets about the eggs.”

“What are you getting at Taeron?” asked Halsyo as he stood beside his friend and looked out at the distant horizon and it’s promises of better days to come if you could just somehow grasp it.

“I’m just being hypothetical.” he said “But have you ever wondered what it would be like, to throw open those cage doors and spread your wings? What it would feel like to soar over the plains and return to your nest, to the land where you’re not tainted by lies?”

“Taeron,” began Halsyo sincerely as he lay his hand on Taeron’s shoulder. “What is this all about? What lies are you talking about, and what would you run from?”

“It’s nothing, Halsyo.” replied Taeron as he turned to leave but Halsyo held onto his shoulder.

“I feel it too.” he said quietly. “But watch what you say, others may not be as understanding about matters concerning the state.”

Taeron nodded to him in understanding and they continued to look out over the plains together for a very long time.

Eventually day turned to dusk and the stars appeared in the sky.

“You know,” began Taeron. “Some people say they can read the stars.”

“I’ve heard as much.” replied Halsyo as he gazed the sunset.

“I wonder what they’d say.”

“What what would say?” asked Halsyo.

“The stars.” replied Taeron. “I wonder what they’d say, the stories they’d tell and how they’d tell them.”

“I’m not sure.” replied Halsyo as he clumsily tossed the question aside. “But do you see those stars over there” he asked pointing, with his pinky “the long tail, there?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“It’s a dragon,” he explained. “The long tail is the body and the big cluster at the top is the head. Its name is Trueflame and it’s like a deity to my household.”

“I see.”

“Apparently, he’s thousands of years old and offers advice to the members of our family.” continued Halsyo.

“Has he ever appeared to you?” asked Taeron but Halsyo shook his head slowly.

“I’m not sure why though.” he said. “Maybe I’m not doing anything wrong?”

“Don’t count on it.” chuckled Taeron and Halsyo began laughing as well at the idea that he was perfect.

The two laughed endlessly through the night as the city slept, unaware that in a short time, their façade of peace would be broken again with reasons more trivial than the last time.

Halsyo was standing, lone upon a cliff with no inkling of safety. He found the winds scuttering around him and disappearing as mere phantoms of the torrents they once were.

            The cliff had no visible bottom and merely turned to a dull gray, the image of the cliff gradually fading into the fog below.

            He seemed to be teetering on the edge, contemplating the plunge but he was not sure what it was he was supposed to do.

            There was only one thing that he was really thinking about at that moment; this was a dream. It was a dream and oddly enough he was well aware of that fact. He knew that right at that moment he was really asleep in his bed in the middle of the night and currently, was dreaming this dream knowingly.

            Slowly the fog seemed to turn red and a figure ascended towards him. It grew larger as it approached him but its body was still wrapped in the dense mist that seemed to cling to it.

            It rose to the top of the cliff and levitated before him, though the mist was still all about it, clinging to it like tar as bits of it trailed downwards, receding into the larger mass that it had emerged from.

            “Who are you?” asked a voice emanating from the mist. The very air around them seemed to pulse with this beings voice, echoing across the area and returning from every direction.

            “Halsyo Trueflame.” he replied, inspecting the mist in hopes of determining the beings identity.

            “What is the king?” asked the voice and Halsyo was perplexed.

            “The ruler of the state?” he replied unknowingly. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

            “Then who am I?” asked the voice once more as the fog continued to trail downwards. The remnants all about the being’s body seemed inexhaustible.

            “I cannot see you.” replied Halsyo quite defensively. “How am I to know who you are if I cannot see you?”

            “Fool!” cried the voice. “You know me more than you could imagine, you’ve seen me every single day since your father passed away when you were seven!”

            “You know my father?” Halsyo had longed to live up to his Father’s stern expectations; to be an honorable man of the state and though he had achieved it, he felt loneliness with a sense of failure whenever he thought of it. His father would never be able to recognize his achievements; his father was dead.

            “Tybalt Trueflame was a great man.” said the voice. “I spent more days with him, than you have been alive.”

            “Who are you?!” cried Halsyo in anger. “You speak of me, you speak of my father and claim to know us both but you will not show me your identity! Who are you?!”

            “Fool!” cried the being once more. “Have you not yet recognized my feel, my cold steel blade and solid grip?! Have you forgotten the feel of your own blade?!”

            Halsyo stared back in confusion but there was a cracking sound from below him; the cliff he stood atop, the place he was teetering on the edge of was crumbling away and he would soon be lost to the abyss below. If he did not decide soon, his choice would be made for him.

            “I am Trueflame!” roared the being as the mist exploded and a massive dragon emerged. It’s powerful wings flexing and extending in one fell swoop, clearing the area of all remaining fog. “I am Trueflame, the very sword you wield in battle, the sword your father used for so many years!”

            Halsyo attempted to bow in honor but found it impossible as he would surely fall if he attempted to bow.

            “Have you fulfilled your dream?” asked Trueflame suddenly and Halsyo looked back up at the levitating monolith of power.

            “I have followed in my father’s footsteps and fulfilled his expectations.” he said calmly. “I have fulfilled my dream.”

            “And do you feel any sense of accomplishment at all?” asked the dragon immediately afterwards.

            Halsyo was taken aback and could not answer immediately. He thought about the question for a long time until he reluctantly shook his head.

            “Would you like to hear the untold story of your father’s final battle?” asked the dragon and the devilish torrents of wind began to pick up again.

            Halsyo nodded.

            “To begin, your father hated his position as captain of the guard.” said Trueflame and Halsyo nearly fell backwards from the cliff.

            He tried to say something, anything, just something! It couldn’t be true, his father was the most honorable and respected man in the state save the king himself and none could compare, he loved his title; everyone knew that!

            “But what’s more,” continued Trueflame, “is that your father was his own killer on that field of battle.”

            “No!” cried Halsyo and the sheer force of his scream almost sent him tumbling down the pit; as his bow had nearly done. “My father died defending the state and its honor, he gave his life for His Majesty, Lord Donnovitch!”

            “Don’t be ignorant!” roared the dragon. “Your father died for what he believed in, and he died knowingly! I know because it was I that ripped through his heart when he wished it!”

            “Shut up!” cried Halsyo angrily. His father couldn’t have committed suicide, there was no way! He would never abandon the others by killing himself when they fought under the king’s banner!

            “You fool. What is justice?” asked the dragon rhetorically. “Can’t it be fake?! Is it something worth fighting for when you can’t be sure it’s truly justified?!”

            “I don’t care!” screamed Halsyo in pure agony as damned tears began to drip from his cheeks and fall into the abyss of horror that awaited him; his pandemonium.

            “Find the others!” cried the dragon. “Find those who know me and your path shall be made clear and your father will acknowledge your achievements!”

            Halsyo’s head shot up and he stared at Trueflame in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were wet but he cared not; his father would acknowledge his achievements! He took a sudden step backwards as he stared at the dragon in awe and the front of the cliff gave way.

            If he hadn’t stepped back, he would have fallen into the abyss; never to be seen again by any living man in his right mind.

            Sunlight streamed through his open window and Halsyo shot upright in his bed. He was covered in sweat and his heart was racing; he had not been dreaming, it had been the world of his soul.

            The light glimmered on something metallic in the corner of his eye and without looking he knew it to be his sword; Trueflame.

            It spoke to him, even now, though it did not use the language of men, but of the soul; he fought a fierce argument inside of him without speaking a single word.

            The birds chirped outside his window, ignorant of what his world had become. Ignorant of the fact that the state’s greatest and most wondrous hero was a fake, that he had not died defending the state but merely taken the coward’s way out.

            That’s what suicide was; the cowards way out, or so the state would claim. Every being in the town at that moment would agree that suicide on the field of battle was the coward’s way out.

            Once more Larissa was not by his side; she had risen before him again.

            “It’s for the best.” he muttered as he got dressed, staring intensely at the sword lying casually on his dresser.

            It was a good thing she had left early, else wise she would have seen his sweat and questioned his dreams; wondering what had caused him to suddenly awake in terror. This way she would be oblivious to his disturbing dream and would not have the opportunity to manipulate him with it.

            He had no bloody idea where he was going; there was nowhere to go. The world seemed dark and barren to him, nothing mattered save his all too vivid dream and the fact that the basis of his dreams was nothing more than a coward and liar.

            There was nothing to do and no duties to attend to; the day was a holiday to the residents of the state, to fully celebrate and enjoy the return of the soldiers but he doubted he would enjoy today.

            Wandering the town grimly without a destination he sunk deeper into his thoughts and his oppressive depression. His smile turned to a scowl and the people he passed began to avoid him.

            Trueflame had finally appeared to him – that was an honor, but it was for the wrong reasons. Instead of bringing him joy and pride, Trueflame had brought him pain and depression, all because he knew the truth of his father; maybe not knowing the truth was better.

            As he thought that, Trueflame fell to the ground noisily. The blade had heated to such an immense level of heat, it had melted through his belt and the sword, sheath and all, had fallen to the ground; Trueflame was trying to speak to him and he knew immediately what he was trying to say.

            If he had known the truth sooner, he would not have based his life on a lie; the truth, whether painful or not, was the only acceptable answer.

            There was no wind, and the sun was blisteringly hot; bearing down on everyone. The entire city seemed a stagnant pool of sweat and filth; the streets crawling with it and the people burdened with it.

            He was sweating from the heat but the wind would not relieve him; but he cared not. He didn’t care of anything, not even where he was going – but he was going somewhere; somewhere he could think and be alone.

            That someplace just happened to be the top of the tower he had found Taeron the night before.

            “What’s with this damn heat!” he cursed as he sat himself down against the battlements and closed his eyes.

            The wind tickled his face lightly but it did nothing for the heat, it just made him aware that it would not relieve him and thereby frustrated him even more.

            He was grumbling incessantly by the time Taeron arrived coincidentally and plopped down beside him.

            “So, I can assume you’re not doing too well…” sighed Taeron as he discarded one of his two shirts to cool down.

            “Tell me about it.” retorted Halsyo in frustration. “It’s this blistering heat.” he said but his voice wavered when he tried to avoid mentioning his dream. Taeron looked at him momentarily, catching the waver but he said nothing; he appeared to be distracted himself.

            “I know; the sun itself seems to be challenging us.” he said as he looked away; he was obviously hiding something – they both were.

            An awkward silence thundered past them, leaving the area around them with such an absolute silence that their eardrums were thundering; even the wind had completely vanished and the birds halt their songs.

            Neither dared move – they hardly breathed in the silence; neither wanting to break it for fear of what they might say, what they might tell the other, and what they might ruin.

            They knew if either of them spoke, the topics they were avoiding would come spilling forwards and neither would be able to hold back. Their secrets would spill forth and their wavering confidence called into question, but it was becoming more and more compelling.

            It was Halsyo who broke the silence.

            “I had a dream last night.” he announced and Taeron looked at him in question with a somewhat fearful look; afraid that his secrets would spill forth as well.

            “I had a dream last night.” Halsyo repeated, as though tasting the words before continuing. “Trueflame appeared to me and showed me the truth I had been oblivious too.”

            “Oh?” asked Taeron but it meant nothing; he had merely forced the sound as was expected in the conversation, he would have said nothing if he had the option.

            “My father was a liar.” stated Halsyo angrily. “My life has been a lie. Trueflame told me that my father had hated being a captain and that he wasn’t killed in duty; he was killed by his own hands! He took the coward’s way out and took his won life, in the middle of that battle!

            He was no hero!” cried Halsyo angrily and tears began to well up in his eyes. He looked away in shame. “I have been following the footsteps of a liar.”

            Taeron merely stared at his friend, unable to speak, unable to leave, unable to act. Moments passed as the tears streamed from Halsyo’s face and they both contemplated what had been said, both regretting speaking at all.

            “He rose from flame and asked me what the king was.” muttered Halsyo as he rambled on.

            “What?” asked Taeron suddenly wide eyed.

            “The stupid dragon.” replied Halsyo. “Trueflame, came out of the fog and asked me what the king was! Then he asked what justice was and told me to find the others who knew him; that they could show me my path or something stupid like that!”

            He started to turn away again but Taeron caught his shoulder.

            “What?” he asked, spitting the question out.

            “I know where you can find them.” replied Taeron. “I know where you can find the people who believe in Trueflame.”

            Halsyo didn’t even have a chance to say another word as Taeron grabbed him and pulled him back down the tower.

            The two wandered the town wearily, the sun beating down on their backs. Silence seemed to follow close behind and neither were able to strike up a conversation; it wasn’t the time – it was never the time!

            Taeron led them to a large stone building built in the shade and opened the large wooden doors.

            The building looked like a ruined cathedral of sorts; a building of religion for one of the lesser religions that the state had irradiated while erecting their own right church.

            “At least it’s cool.” muttered Halsyo as they entered and the heavy doors slammed behind them, echoing throughout the building and gaining the attention of those Halsyo had failed to notice.

            The area was practically bursting with people ranging from all walks of life. There were old and there were young, men and women, even the disabled were in attendance.

            “Where are we?” he asked but Taeron said nothing.

            They walked forwards and were met by a monk in brown robes. He bowed slightly and Taeron returned it but Halsyo did not; he was the noble, they were not.

            “Welcome to the Sanctum of True Flame.” said the monk and Halsyo cocked his head to one side in question.

            “This is where the followers of Trueflame meet.” explained Taeron. “It’s a church of sorts but we do not preach.”

            “And you are part of this Taeron?!” asked Halsyo in astonishment.

            “I am indeed.” he replied but Halsyo could think of nothing else to say. He could not condemn his best friend for participating in a religion other than the official church appointed by the state; but he could not ignore it either.

            “Why have you brought the Captain of the Guard?” asked the monk.

            “He is Halsyo Trueflame.” explained Taeron. “Trueflame has sent him to us.”

            “But how do we know he can be trusted?” asked the monk but Taeron shook his head.

            “Give us a moment will you?” he asked and Halsyo nodded.

            The two walked off to continue their conversation in private as Halsyo wandered the building by himself.

            He was left in awe; there were paintings and sculptures everywhere of Trueflame.

            They all bore exactly the same dragon that had been in his dream and he knew that this was exactly where he was supposed to be if he wanted to find the truth before plunging off the cliff and entering the abyss.

            He was roused from his thoughts by the sound of Taeron’s voice as he spoke to the monk not too far away.

            “I understand.” he had said.

            “And will you be riding to the next battle?” asked the monk sternly.

            “I must…” replied Taeron, clearly troubled by the question.

            “But it goes against everything we stand for!” shot the monk in a hushed voice. “If you ride to war, you ride against us.”

            “I could never ride against you.” retorted Taeron. “I know the truth.”

            “But what good is truth if you’re going to ignore it and ride to war?!” the monk was obviously getting angry.

            “But what if I merely rode to war,” asked Taeron “and didn’t fight?”

            The monk stared daggers at this.

            “If you would take it upon yourself to determine the truth and support it then merely do nothing, you are no worse than those we oppose!” cried the monk. “At least venture to the Keep of the Dragon, its doors are always open to our members!”

            With that the monk bowed quickly and stormed off, leaving Taeron alone and looking deeply troubled.

            “Everything okay?” asked Halsyo as he approached curiously.

            “Everything is fine.” he replied. “Brother Hollan wants to talk with you, he’s waiting at the table.”

            Halsyo nodded and left Taeron to his thoughts as he went in search of this Brother Hollan. It wasn’t hard to spot the only monk in brown sitting at the only table in the building.

            Halsyo sat down opposite of him and they gazed at each other, expecting the other to say something completely astounding but neither dared speak.

            Ultimately it was the monk who spoke first.

            “You are Captain of the Guard.” he said somewhat rhetorically and Halsyo nodded. “What do you think of the king?”

            “His Majesty?” asked Halsyo. “He has brought power and wealth to the state and directs us against those who wish to destroy our peace.”

            Brother Hollan nodded slowly and Halsyo could tell he was choosing his words carefully.

            “How is it, that we can be sure of this?” he asked carefully but Halsyo merely tilted his head.

            “What do you mean? Can’t we merely tell from looking around?”

            But Brother Hollan didn’t answer him. Instead he sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a few moments while he rubbed his temples.

            “There is another battle for you to fight.” said the monk and Halsyo nodded. “Will you fight?”

            “Of course.” replied Halsyo instantly. “It is my duty and honor to fight under the king’s banner.”

            “Why do you fight?” retorted the monk. “What compels you to carry out the king’s orders?”

            Halsyo took a moment before answering this.

            “Because we must seek justice.” he said.

            “And what justice is that?”

            But Halsyo didn’t understand, or more precisely, he couldn’t understand.

            “Is it possible for someone to be wrong, and thereby wrongly accuse someone?” asked Brother Hollan, to which Halsyo nodded but before Hollan dare continue, he took a deep breath and waited many moments before looking Halsyo in the eye with all seriousness.

            “Then could not the king’s justice be falsified?” he asked and Halsyo immediately jumped back, as though burned from a fire but the monk continued on. “Could it not be so that the king was wrong, and thereby your sense of justice is wrong?”

            “Cease!” cried Halsyo in fear. Hollan was picking at the dam and if he continued to do so, the entire lake behind it would come crashing through.

            But Hollan would not stop.

            “What if those you murder on the battlefield are wrongly accused?!” he cried and his eyes burned with passion, they burned with the flame of truth. “What if you are fighting on the wrong side?!”

            Halsyo found himself running. He was running as fast as his legs could take him, straight out of the building and through the city streets towards his home.

            That night Halsyo did not sleep; he could not. He stood before his lonely stone window in his cursed estate and gazed longingly at the precious moon twinkling in the midnight sky.

            He was still at the window, silently starring when Larissa awoke.

            “Have you been there all night?” she asked dryly.

            He nodded silently.

            “What’s on your mind?” she asked and he turned slowly to face her, debating if he should open himself to her and risk her manipulating him with it.

            She had been appointed as his wife by the king; it was not his choice. Of course everything he did near her and everything he said to her would be twisted and used to manipulate in the eyes of the king. He could not refuse the cousin of His Majesty.

            “There’s something…” he began shakily and she ushered him to a chair, playing the role of a concerned wife.

            “Tell me about it.” she urged. Her face was almost perfect; but he knew better than to trust her look of sincerity and concern; he always knew better than to take a mask for real – at least he hoped he did.

            “I encountered a church yesterday.” he said. “That did not adhere to the faith of the state.”

            “That is against the law!” she cried but he raised his hand to make her wait. God how he wished it was more simple, he was risking all of their lives by telling her but he needed to tell someone; if he didn’t tell her he’d burst.

            He just needed to find a way to make her believe they were innocent.

            “Larissa,” he said sternly “wait. These people are trying to protect the state.”

            “How so?” she asked, it was obvious she didn’t believe him.

            “Let me explain to you what I saw.”

            She nodded and readied breakfast for him as he spoke.

            “In the interest of the state, they were all coming together against treason. They were using Trueflame; the dragon that has guided my family for eons, as their deity. They believe that the king is corrupt.”

            There was the sound of glass shattering; Larissa had dropped a plate and the pieces had gone everywhere.

            “The king?” she repeated quietly. “Corrupt?” her hands went to her face in shock immediately.

            “They say there is a Keep of the Dragon where the majority of their cult reside.” he continued slowly. “But trust me Larissa, these are not bad people! They just think the king is corrupt and are trying to defend the state, their actions are justified for the wrong reasons!”

            “I understand.” she said and then promptly left. She had said she needed some air but his gut made him believe differently.

            He ate his breakfast silently as he contemplated the next battle he would fight; the one this evening.

            Later that day he had readied for war and suited in his best armor with Trueflame by his side; the blade seemed unusually heavy today but it was probably because Halsyo hadn’t slept the night before.

            The king had addressed them directly from high atop a balcony; always higher than they and Larissa hadn’t shown her face since their last conversation.

            Halsyo regretted the conversation greatly but he pushed it from his mind; he had a war to fight and the lives of his men to protect.

            Taeron was part of his unit this time; Halsyo’s last promotion had garnered him a larger unit and Taeron had requested a transfer specifically to be under Halsyo’s command.

            They rode side by side, rather than Halsyo leading, but neither spoke a word for they knew what had happened and what was inevitably to come during the battle ahead.

            Everyone else behind them were getting wary from the abnormality in social normality that Halsyo was exhibiting by riding beside one of his soldiers.

            A captain was supposed to lead the group, what’s more, a noble was always first, Taeron was neither and yet Halsyo rode freely beside him and allowed him at his side.

            People began to whisper and wonder why the captain would allow such a thing when they weren’t even conversing or explaining things to each other; they merely rode in silence.

            Eventually Halsyo turned around and told them to get over it because they couldn’t understand the entire situation; that was all it took for them to close their mouths and carry on silently but Halsyo regretted it.

            It seemed he himself was part of the problem; by ordering troops and receiving such immediate and complete compliance, he felt and odd similarity to the king and a sense that he was denying them their humanity.

            Their band rode on in absolute silence, even the thudding of the horses’ hooves seemed to do nothing against this heavy oppression of silence; nothing could, even when they made camp.

            The soldiers spoke sparingly, only to change shift or to speak a few hushed words before turning in for the night. Halsyo’s heart grew heavier with each league they rode onwards; he began to feel more and more akin to the king and soon enough he knew that he had to say something; the silence could not continue.

            “Someone say something!” he cried suddenly and pulled the reigns to stop his horse. The others had to react quickly so as to not trample him but eventually they had all stopped before him quietly to ensure they did not miss an order.

            “Don’t be so concerned!” he shouted. “Don’t worry about not being able to hear me, feel free to talk amongst yourselves! Don’t worry about me getting mad at you for talking, I can’t deny you your humanity! There should be freedom of speech but it doesn’t seem like it these days!”

            He was growing angrier and angrier; almost yelling at his soldiers as though they were the ones that had put this moral burden on his shoulders, as though they were the state itself.

            Taeron laid his hand on Halsyo’s shoulder and he quieted down realizing that he was coming far too close to throwing everything away.

            They continued to ride, but this time there were small bits of hushed conversation behind him.

            Most were too afraid to speak but at least some were still talking; that was at least some improvement. Throughout the journey, more and more voices arose behind him as they grew more comfortable with the idea of free speech and soon enough the entire band of men were laughing together and telling stories for all to hear; the oppressive silence was no more.

            They made camp noisily on the plains that night as a storm began to brew overhead. They didn’t seem to care that they were making their last camp before battle; that they were on the outskirts of the renegade village.

            Halsyo ate sparingly but delighted in the light hearted stories that were told by the fire; it seemed they had weakened the monopoly of nobility and that, at the moment, seemed to be a good thing.

            There were a few songs and dances but mostly it was stories that were told before the soldiers took to their beds. If anything, the village on the horizon would think they were mere travelers, delighting in their company; not a band of soldiers soon to lay waste to their homes and families.

            Morning dawned and once more the oppressive silence was about them. There was a sense of awkwardness in the air, as though the soldiers were already fighting a battle inside themselves; whether they should hold onto the freedom and individuality they had experienced the night before, or become soulless fighters in the war to bring victory quickly and efficiently.

            No one was able to speak up and give their opinions though, and so they all fell into suit as soulless dolls to be controlled by the mastermind of this play they performed; His Majesty, Lord Donnovitch.

            The horns of war sounded and the trumpets blasted across the plains, each soldier taking up their arms and charging into the village that the king had labeled as opposition.

            Halsyo’s men took a back road into the village. It had been a strategy to prevent escapees from fleeing and thereby rebuilding their forces but they all hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone on the way.

            They passed burning buildings and tried to ignore the stench of blood and death all around them and block out the sounds of terror piercing the night sky.

            Soon enough they encountered resistance and armed civilians ambushed them wielding makeshift clubs and axes.

            The soldiers engaged them immediately and battle broke out but Halsyo could not find the strength to draw Trueflame from it’s sheath, nor could he find the strength to tear his eyes off of Taeron.

            They stared helplessly at each other; somehow knowing that the time had come to part.

            “Don’t…” croaked Halsyo helplessly but Taeron shook his head solemnly.

            “I must…” he replied as he began backing up. Halsyo reached out an open hand, as though to grab his friend that was already too far away.

            His hand closed around nothingness and fell to his side as Taeron slipped around an alleyway corner into darkness.

            “Sir?” asked a soldier once the enemies had been dispatched. “What happened to Taeron? What are your orders?”

            Halsyo had no orders; he had no purpose, no soul.

            He fell to his knees, with his hand still clenched tight, as though just maybe, he had managed to catch Taeron, and if he were to open his fist, Taeron would disappear entirely.

            “Leave me.”  he said. “I need to do something – alone. Carry out the mission yourselves.”

            The soldiers looked at each other in disbelief but dared not question his authority and soon rushed off leaving Halsyo on his knees starring into the darkness of the alleyway.

            The clouds darkened and what little sunlight he had left dissipated, plunging him into eternal darkness.

            Trueflame seemed to wiggle in his sheath and begin to glow; it was speaking to him.

            It was giving him its flame; it was showing him the truth and he knew that regardless of whether or not he could meet success, he needed to continue or he would never be able to find the truth; he needed to find Taeron.

            Slowly, the hulking figure rose, carrying the flaming blade in one hand and clutching a fist in the other.

            With a resolute heart he plunged into the darkness of the alleyway and took off through the streets of the town in his search for his one true friend and the truth that the state had struggled so hard to hide from him.

            The clouds grew heavy overhead and soon the town was plunged into a vicious downpour that began to sooth the fires that dotted the area.

            Halsyo would not stop until he found Taeron.

            He passed civilians and those he would normally have fought and killed but though he terrified them greatly as he bore the seal of the king he merely nodded to them and raced passed; Taeron came first, and then the truth.

            No more blood would be spilled by his hands until he knew the truth.

            He suddenly spotted a familiar figure ahead of him dart around a corner and immediately doubled his pace; he would find Taeron.

            “Taeron!” he screamed and rushed onwards.

            The flame from his sword grew more intense than he had ever remembered as he bounded around the corner in hot pursuit of his friend, his comrade, his companion.

            The gates of the city loomed up before him and he knew that Taeron was trying to leave; trying to escape to the Keep of the Dragon.

            He burst outside as lightning cackled overhead and the thunder boomed about him, echoing across the plains.

            Taeron was in front of him; facing away but no longer running.

            “Don’t follow me.” he said sternly.

            “I must!” cried Halsyo in return. “I cannot let you leave!”

            “You will fight me in the name of the state, then?” asked Taeron.

            “I will not fight you.” he replied sternly. “Not in the name of the state, or in my own name.”

            “Then why have you come?”

            “I have come because you are my friend!”

            Taeron turned to face him and the lightning cracked once more, illuminating his face and showing Halsyo just how emotionally tormented Taeron truly was.

            “What do you want?!” he demanded and Halsyo took a symbolic step forwards.

            “I want to know the truth!” he cried. “I want to know the truth!”

            Taeron stared straight at Halsyo and even at such a great distance he could see the fire light up in Taeron’s eyes.

            “You know the truth!” he retorted. “You are just afraid to accept it! Why should I tell you what you already know?!”

            “Because then,” began Halsyo as he took another step forwards and reached out even though Taeron was much too far away to grasp, “then neither of us will bear the burden alone.” he said.

            Taeron turned his back quickly and began walking away but his voice rang out once more; this time with fire and passion, with fury and solace, fear, anguish, sadness.

            ‘The king is corrupt!” he cried and his voice boomed across the lands as the thunder. “He strips you of your individuality and hordes the power for himself!” Taeron’s voice cracked across the sky, searing into the ground as the lightning itself. “That man is no king! He is a murderer of the innocent!”

            Halsyo had known, deep in his heart, he had known and done nothing, nothing but base his life on a lie.

            He could do nothing but merely watch as his friend walked into the light, into the truth and leave him in the cold, dark storm.

            In the distance the clouds would lighten and the light would spill forth, illuminating the lands that Taeron walked, but they would not yield for Halsyo or anyone else who was afraid to walk into the truth; the clouds would not part for those that slaughtered the innocent and fought this war in the king’s name.

            The light would not come.

            The band of warriors had returned in the same ominous silence and had presented themselves once more for awards.

            Halsyo was called first once more and this time given one hundred acres for his family’s estate and had been designated Warmarshal, but he couldn’t focus.

            They carried on with the awards for quite some time but the king did not leave at the midway interval; this surprised most of those who were present and Halsyo looked up for the first time during the assembly.

            There, far above their heads in the king’s personal balcony was His Majesty, Lord Donnovitch, and his cousin, Larissa; Halsyo’s own wife who stood by the king’s side.

            She had sold him out and told the king.

            He cursed loudly and a few of the soldiers stared in awe at him, half terrified and half curious at the outburst.

            The king stepped forwards with his arms out wide as he addressed the people.

            “My loyal subjects!” he cried and Halsyo found himself silently laughing in sarcasm. The king couldn’t even call them his people or citizens, they had to be subjects, as though they were sciences to be tamed and put to use.

            “I have heard first hand accounts of a traitorous group of individuals that oppose the state!” Halsyo suddenly looked back at the king; his eyes wide in fear.

            “They seem to have been led by one Taeron Izzik!” cried the king. “He has deserted us in this last battle and has fled to their war base which they call the ‘Keep of the Dragon’.”

            Halsyo cursed again, surprising those near him even more.

            “But worry not!” continued the king. “We have dealt with this problem swiftly and efficiently, not only have we eradiated the opposition here, we are going to march to war this very evening and destroy their base!”

            Halsyo nearly fell to his knees in the midst of the assembly. The king had said that they had dispatched the opposition that was already in the city’s walls; that meant that he had found and destroyed the church of Trueflame, that all of those people who stood for the truth had died merely because Halsyo had told Larissa.

            He cursed the wretch and he curse himself for ever agreeing to marry her, though he had had no choice.

            He rushed from the town square the instant it had ended and raced through the streets to find the church.

            Throwing open the doors he stormed in immediately but stopped short as he saw the total carnage that had taken place recently.

            Every tapestry had been burnt or ripped and every soldier smashed; every church pew was overturned and every door broken down.

            The pillars were crumbling and there was blood everywhere. He could feel the lingering pain and anguish that he had caused.

            It bore into his flesh, it stabbed at him; pinching him, cutting him, burning him. He couldn’t breath; it was smothering him.

            He fell to his knees as the tears welled in his eyes and he cried out in anguish as a lone figure lumbered towards him out of the darkness.

            It was a boy; he was merely a teen. He was covered in blood and was limping severely; his left leg had a large gash and was bleeding profusely.

            Halsyo stopped crying and looked up in despair at the lone survivor, hopelessly trying to find some way to atone for what had occurred.

            “I know who you are.” said the boy. “You are the one who killed my father.”

            Halsyo could not respond, he was completely overwhelmed and could merely listen to what the boy had to say.

            “In my village, you came and killed him because you thought he opposed the state. He was just an old man and you had to kill him and light out home on fire with your flaming blade.”

            The image of the dying old man Halsyo had killed before returned to him. The image of the man who had looked into Halsyo’s soul and smiled moments before his death; the old man who seemed to represent the very beginning of the end for Halsyo.

            “But you know what?” asked the boy rhetorically. “He couldn’t’ve lifted a weapon if he wanted to. He just wanted people to be happy and you went and killed him.”

            “But…” croaked Halsyo but the boy interrupted him.

            “Don’t you say a word.” he said. “I’m going to finish what I have to say, whether you like it or not. My father spent his last minutes hiding me in the cellar before you killed him and I saw everything.”

            The boy wasn’t even yelling; he was resolute, not angry.

            “The thing is though, it’s the truth; the king is evil. He ordered you to attack out village because a few of us thought he was taking too much of our crops and we were suffering because we wouldn’t have enough for winter.

            “He seemed to think that by telling him our concerns, we were opposing him and the state and decided we needed to be taken out; it wasn’t even about the food! It was about power! He couldn’t stand being wrong or anyone opposing him so he ordered us all killed, and you carried it out.

            “I am the soul survivor and my only purpose in life, has been to open your eyes so I came here and joined this church to find you but do you know what I found instead?”

            The boy paused for a moment but he did not want Halsyo to speak.

            “It was because of you that every single person who even dared to trust their instincts or dare to follow what they believed in were killed! Every single person that had came to this church because they knew something was wrong and wanted to fix the situation were all slaughtered because you were too afraid to follow in their footsteps! You couldn’t bear that your own king was evil and so you’ve been slaughtering the innocent!”

            The boy was screaming now and Halsyo could no longer look at his face. He stared at the ground as the guilt washed over him.

            “You are worse than those you have persecuted, far worse.” the boy’s words hit home and Halsyo knew he was right. “What use is a defender of justice if their views of justice are wrong?! What use is a man who is too afraid to see what is right in front of his eyes?!”

            The boy could stand it no longer, and in that instant he had drawn a dagger from his pocket and plunged it hilt deep into his own heart.

            The boy dropped to the floor; instantly dead and Halsyo sprang to his feet as a cry erupted from his lips.

            He rushed to the boy’s side and caught him in mid air.

            “You’re right.” he sobbed. “You’re completely right, I’m a fool and I’ve been too afraid to seek the truth.”

            His tears were falling onto the boy’s cheeks as he continued to speak.

            “But I want you to know…” he sobbed “…You won’t be forgotten. I will always remember that you gave your life so that you would not have to live a lie like the rest of us. I will run no more.”

            Though he felt anything but heroic, Halsyo laid the boy down and tried to walk calmly back to the town square to ready for another war.

            That evening he rode out as the Warmarshal at the head of the army. No one spoke, not even the captains as he led them towards the fabled Keep of the Dragon.

            No one even dared ask him what their strategy was, but it wasn’t like he had one; he was merely going to find Taeron and tell him what he was going to do. The others were merely following the wrong man; plain and simple.

            Slowing to a halt he turned around and addressed the others.

            “I am going to go alone.” he said. “I will speak with them and return to you, then we will decide what to do.”

            They saluted him quietly as he rode off; it was pointless to tell them that he was going to speak with those inside, all they needed to be told was that he was going alone and they would have waited for him but this way seemed to give them their humanity back.

            Taeron was waiting for him at the door with his blade drawn.

            “I knew this day would come.” he said. “I just hoped it would be different.”

            Halsyo dismounted before replying.

            “And why is it that I can only act one way?” he retorted. “I will not be used by the king.”

            He took Trueflame from his belt as it glowed strongly and handed it to Taeron.

            “What are you doing?’ asked Taeron quietly.

            “I am Warmarshal now.” replied Halsyo. “I will bring the soldiers back and I will not be made a fool of; I am a man, not a puppet.”

            “They will kill you!” cried Taeron. “They wont allow you to defy them!”

            But Halsyo merely smiled; a true and genuine smile as the noon sun shone overhead.

            “So be it.” he whispered and left.

            He returned to his soldiers promptly and explained to them that there was no one inside the keep, that there were none left to fight and that they were returning.

            No one dared to question his judgment and so they all rode back to the city so that Halsyo could face his destiny at last.

            It wasn’t long before he was apprehended for treason and the entirety of the population called to the town square for his public execution.

            He was to be hanged; but he had known that from before he had met Taeron.

            His arms were bound in rope and he was brought onto a large wooden platform in front of the large body of people that had gathered to witness the death of a noble.

            The king himself was present and made a public show of spitting at Halsyo’s feet but he merely nodded back, as though to say “And the same to you, too!”

            The executioner loosened the noose and was about to place it around Halsyo’s neck when someone from the crowd cried out.

            “Let him give his last words!” they cried and the King spun to face them.

            “Telling a king what to do?!” he retorted. “If I knew who you were, you would be up here as well! But I suppose I could oblige and grant your request; if you want to hear what this traitor has to say, than listen.”

            The king turned to face Halsyo briefly before addressing him.

            “Speak your final words and beg for forgiveness, Traitor!”

            But Halsyo could only smile at the crowd; he owed no attention to the king.

            “My family,” he began solemnly. “It has been made clear to you that I am a traitor and I’m sure many of you believe it, the King himself has told you this and we all know that he can never be wrong. That we mere humans could never compare with the judgment of the royal blood the king possesses and our imperfection hinders our ability to see the truth; but that is exactly why I am here.

            “I am here because I was blind and could not see the truth! Do not misunderstand!” he cried. “I did not cross the state wrongly believing that I was doing the right thing! I followed the state wrongly believing I was right! I followed the kings orders to war and slaughtered the innocent because I thought he was right but what divine powers does he possess?! What gods came down to the earth and granted him the ability to never be wrong?! When can you ever remember that the King was wrong?!”

            Halsyo was screaming now and he would soon be forced under the noose but he had already accepted his fate.

            A cloud of mist was forming behind his back as he spoke and the guards found themselves unable to stop Halsyo from talking.

            “Can any of you tell me when it was that a god came down and granted this mere human we call king the power to take away our humanity and use us as tools to further his own goals? Every single man can be wrong and can it not also be true that the king is wrong? If that were so than we could merely be fighting for a corrupt sense of justice, we could be the ones that oppose peace and the ones we slaughter the true heroes in this battle!

            “I for one have seen the truth and will follow this fool of a king no longer! He sends us to war because a farming village can give no more of their crops without starving during the winter! What gives any human the right to take another’s life?! What deems one more important to willingly kill another?! There is nothing on this earth that grants us that right to take another’s life and there never will be, yet this fool of a king that we so foolishly follow will always send us to fight in foolish wars as long as he is in power!”

            The mist had grown and soon it began to flow outwards and take on the form of the massive dragon Trueflame at Halsyo’s back.

            “There are only two things that I have yet to say!” cried Halsyo passionately. “I beseech you all to take up this fight that I leave to you when I am gone, to cease this madness and restore this city to what it once was, for I leave you now.

            “I will not be used by the king and the state; I would rather take my own life than live a lie as I have done for twenty seven years!”

            The bonds around Halsyo’s wrists burst from Trueflame’s might and he reached to his side.

            He had given his blade to Taeron to keep, but Trueflame’s spirit could never be completely contained in one blade alone and so Halsyo drew from a sheath made of mist, a flaming blade of truth.

            “It is up to each and every one of you!” he screamed. “Never relinquish your humanity!”

            And with that he plunged the blade straight through his heart and met the same fate his honorable father had so many years ago.

            So what do we do if our answer is yes?

            What can we do if our answer is yes?

            Do we commit suicide as Halsyo did so willingly? Do we end our lives just to escape from a lie?

            What I urge you to consider, isn’t the medium in which Halsyo used, but the goal he strived for.

            He attempted to rectify his situation and escape his lie, and that meant ending his life. But I assure you, you can end your life without ever dying.

            It’s such a sickening question and predicament that more often than naught, some of the world’s greatest individuals, as you may very well be, are lost simply because they cannot conceive any exit from their predicament.

            But I assure you, there is nothing more sacred and worth protecting than your life and your humanity, do not allow lies to tarnish your being because they cling to you like tar, regardless if they’re so called “white lies” they will stick to you and you will never be able to escape them.

            But if you were not the one to spin this wretched predicament, if you were not the one that lied but instead the one that was lied to, there is a way to remove this sickening tar and it is simple.

            You must end your life without dying.

            If your life is based on a lie, what good is it? If it was based on a lie it is a lie itself, and if you are living it what good are you? You are merely a lie and there is nothing worse in our life than being a lie itself.

            I have a few questions I need to ask you, but do not worry, they are not scary and will not invoke fear deep within your being, they are much more simple and have definite answers.

            Firstly, what is more important that your well being and humanity? What is more important that your life?

            Nothing is more important that your humanity and never forget that!

            That is why a business meeting or project is in no way grounds for backing our of rectifying your situation.

            A great man once said there is no better time to face your personal challenges than when there is simply no time to do so and he was completely right for a very simple reason.

            They are not important enough to stop you from achieving this; do not allow them.

            If you get fired, so what? At least you’ll be happy and be able to start anew, this time without living a lie.

            If someone is angry at you for not having time to make them dinner one night, who cares? It’s your life on the line! What’s more important; someone being fed for a night, or your very life?

            Though, do not merely ignore all social ties, because they themselves act as mirrors and show us our own humanity, explain to your boss that you are in a horrible predicament and need to restart your life. Tell whoever wants you to make dinner that you can’t because you’re in the middle of a crisis and that they need to make dinner.

            The world is not always as evil as it appears and you’d be surprised how often you may find a glimpse of beauty when you admit your pain and anguish; the world will make time for you to restart your life.

            How you will restart your life is up to you but the very first step is always beginning.

            After that comes the part where you must truly discover the lie and find out the truth, who you are, where you want to be, and what you will strive for.

            Always strive, always have a goal, it makes us move forwards.

            To strive for your goals is to be human, never forget it.

            In this world of ours, there are many, many troubles and unlimited instances of pain. No matter who you are, you will encounter them and if you don’t, you are not human, and have already lost the battle that so many of us fight.

            Whether you’re lost in the clutches of hopelessness and despair like Etsuko or living a lie like Halsyo, there will always be a time when you can move forwards.

            Trueflame is inside of us all, and I don’t mean to sound like some religious preacher. He was a medium for truth in Halsyo’s case and he is inside us all in the sense that we all have a soul, we all have a heart, but most of us have forgotten how to listen to it.

            Its voice has grown so quiet and timid, so afraid of rejection that it doesn’t dare speak to us anymore. That is always a good place to start because once it has been roused, nothing can shine brighter than your heart; there is nothing more powerful than your soul.

            We all can’t sit around on deserted park benches, clutching fluffy toys and waiting for Lyne to show up and fix our lives.

            He represents our hearts and souls, for if you kindle their flame and bring them to life, you’ll find their strength, their hope, their sheer resolve to be strong enough to fight your way back from the fringes of the complete hopelessness and infinite despair that don’t appear to be as infinite and complete as they were.

            We’re not all kings like Hycindathaul; most of us live the timid life of Jason, but that doesn’t stop us from aspiring to be more like Hycindathaul.

            Regardless of whether or not we are Jason, Hycindathaul is still inside of us, strong and true; knowing what should be done.

            What use is a question, if you’ll run away before finding the answer? If it was strong scary enough to run away from, don’t give it more power by running away, walk forwards into your destiny and make the choice.

            We don’t always have to be right, but we should always have the right intentions, just as Hycindathaul and Roan had when they encountered the thugs.

            There were times when they knew they cold not win but it’s not about the choice itself, it’s about why you make the choice.

            They could not allow themselves to give evil the chance to rear it’s had any longer and entered the fight they knew they could not win.

            So regardless of whether or not we’ll make the right choices, we all need to try to make them for the right reason and eventually, they will be the right choices.

            Every question possesses a power that is lost in the answer, running away only makes them stronger and harder to face.

            Don’t give them that chance and fight back!

            Three questions don’t seem very scary right now, do they?

            They’re nothing to keep you up all night and hide under your covers or consume your mind day in and day out; they’re just questions.

            They may have been terrifying at one point, but as long as you know how to deal with them, they’re not that scary anymore.

            Kind of like an old coat in your closet when you’re half asleep. It may look like a monster but once you get up and investigate, you realize it’s just an old coat.

            Do not fear the questions, use them as guidelines.