The flames had barely died down in the air when the Mysterious King exploded out of the burning crater. His cloak streamed behind him like wings of a phoenix, and his eyes were still fixed on the titan golem whose burning chest smoldered with the intensity of the impact of the blow his sword had struck.
His feet left glistening prints in the sand as he walked.
The Golem bellowed—a noise like mountains crashing against each other—and lifted its enormous arm to strike.
Nevertheless, the King had departed.
He charged in a blur with an inhuman speed for a man of his bulk, and in a single ascending slash, his huge sword scored a searing line along the Golem's forearm. Stone shattered into shards.
The demigod tripped but did not fall.
Etreuf pulled Lyssara back behind the exploded dune, his gaze never having left the fighting. "Who is he, in truth,"
Lyssara remained silent.
She gripped the hilt in her hand tightly. Her gaze was not upon the King in awe. but in fear.
Meanwhile, Adam completed his ritual. Sigils etched into the sand pulsed blue and gold, casting a containment circle about the battlefield. He breathed, "It should hold back the golem for me for a couple minutes—but if it's in a rage."
Above him, the Mysterious King fought like a storm in a human body.
His dagger whirled like a fang encircled in flames to slice through vulnerabilities as he danced between massive fists. Once, he even sprang onto the back of the Golem, drove the dagger into the crevice between two of the runic hinges, and used it as a pivot to send himself flying—back onto the earth with his greatsword like a falling star upon the golem's neck.
The earth erupted into flames and sand.
In the midst of the tumult, Etreuf confronted Lyssara. "He told me to keep you in check. Why?"
She gazed down. "There are things you don't know."
Etreuf's voice hardened. "Start talking."
She stopped.
"When I was little," she started, "my father—Valtherion—hid something inside me. A seal. A song. Something old. I don't know what it is, but the Mysterious King. he knows. He has been tracking me ever since."
On the battlefield, the Golem, fractured and broken, sent forth a horrific gout of power. Runes on its body burst into gold flame. It boomed and slammed fists together, and a shockwave was produced which shattered the sky.
The Mysterious King did not flinch. His cloak was burned away. His skin was charred.
But he smiled.
"You are tough," he told her, but "not nearly as fascinating."
And with his final blow of his mighty sword, he sliced through the runes that ruled the golem's mind—those seeded by Nadrath's music. Fire flared in the flesh of the demigod, purifying the corruption.
The Golem staggered and stopped—its form freezing, crouching as if it had fallen into prayer, its light dying.
Silence descended upon the desert again.
Half dead, Nadrath weakly laughed.
"You stopped it. but the melody. it still resonates like."
Etreuf stepped forward and grasped the collar of Nadrath. "What song?"
Nadrath coughed up blood,
The golem was just one note. in the symphony your world will soon be able to hear.
He died smiling.
The Mysterious King tucked his dagger away.
Turning our attention to Etreuf and Lyssara, he said:
This was the warning. What we do next has already begun. The fire in the battle had burned itself out, but the air continued to be heavy with the scent of burnt stone and the resonance of the dying tone of Nadrath. The golem stood frozen, cracks down its massive shoulders, its chest weak—but still alive.
The desert wind returned.
It whispered over the dunes as if the ground itself was softly breathing.
The Mysterious King stood upon a ridge of black glass, looking across the horizon. His greatsword felt cool. He had no cloak, burned off by fire. His voice, when he finally did speak, was low—but it was clear.
I did not come here to rescue Zyrion.
Etreuf stepped forward. "Then why?"
The King's mood changed. "I'm here for a meeting. With your king—Siro Al'Vahir. He requested I come. He mentioned that the pieces were in motion again. and that Lyssara may hold the key."
Lyssara's face went pale. "Why me?"
The King looked at her. And for the first time since his arrival, his flames diminished.
"Since your father has been looking for you. All over the world."
She breathed in sharply. "My father is alive?"
The King leaned forward. "Not dead, nor yet at rest. Obsessed. He's overthrown kingdoms in pursuit of you. And the leader of the quest. is the man he trusts above all else."
He took another step further. "His right hand. That one, Kalaron the Silent Flame. A man strong enough to be king—if he did not worship your father like a god."
Lyssara's gaze faltered in shock.
The King's expression darkened. "Your father arranged for you to marry him."
Silence
The wind began blowing again.
Elliot moved ahead.
He positioned himself between Lyssara and the King, his fists balled.
"You are telling me to go back," he answered.
The King looked at him. "Yes."
You can't keep her for yourself.
"I'm shielding you and not her," remarked the King.
His tone hardened. "You have no idea what's in store. You have no idea what that man—Kalaron—is capable of. You have no idea about the curse that accompanies her blood. If you are with her, all you will ever know is sadness."
Elliot didn't flinch.
"I don't care," he broke in. "I will defend her—no matter what. If the enemy were invincible, I'd—"
He raised his head, eyes shining dimly.
"transcend the meaning of invincible."
The Mysterious King was silent for some time.
He tilted his head, hardly enough to hide his face.
One single tear streamed down his cheek.
And then he smiled.
I wished all along that I could say that. Long ago.
He stepped back, sword slung across his shoulder again, tone casual, as if it had all never happened.
We need to go. It's not that the golem's dead. It's. sleeping. And it's a light sleeper. He disappeared into the desert at once, flame licking at his heels.