The wingless king, p.1
The Wingless King, page 1
Copyright © 2024 by K.C Wassem
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact K.C Wassem, k.cwassem@gmail.com
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by David Garcias
Edited by Tabatha Chandler
Map by K.C Wassem using Map Effects
Scene breaks by Torie Beller
First edition 2024
For my family, for always believing in me.
Prologue
1013 A.E.C.
It had been snowing for several days, bringing an endless winter. The cypress trees groaned, burdened by the weight of the ice and snow that clung to every branch. Seeking refuge from the sharp gusts of wind, Aiden leaned his aching body against the cracked walls of the church. The frigid air nearly shook him to his core, piercing his bones through his winter robes. Aiden shifted slightly against the wind, his ankles brushing against the burgundy hellebores that littered the icy grass. With a sigh, he looked into the dreary sky as if anticipating an answer from the heavens.
Positioned high up in towering buildings across the way, a young child sat perched upon a frosted windowsill. With one hand supporting his rounded chin and the other pressed gently against the azure-stained glass, his fingertips traced the paths of the falling snowflakes. As the powdery downfall intensified, the child’s fascination seemed to be overcome with boredom, compelling him to withdraw his finger. At that moment, as their eyes unexpectedly met, an unfamiliar chill coursed through Aiden.
The waif had arrived weeks ago, clinging unrelentingly to his mother's side. Aiden found himself unable to shake the memory of that peculiar night, the events replaying in his mind. The boy's mother had arrived on the church’s doorstep during twilight. Aiden was struck by the young woman's stunning beauty from the second he laid eyes on her, his breath catching in his throat. Without a word, he ushered her inside the church. She tentatively entered, clutching her son as if someone would rip him from her embrace.
It was difficult for Aiden to get a read on the pair, as neither the woman nor her son had uttered a single syllable throughout the first night. So, Aiden had summoned Enid, his handmaiden, to ensure their comfort. As the High Priest, Aiden's commands were law.
The Church of Caelestis served as a haven for prayer and a sanctuary for those seeking solace. The church welcomed all who entered without judgment or hesitation. Many people lived in the residential buildings lining the church’s estate, and throughout their small community, curiosity brewed regarding the mysterious woman's arrival. Still, Aiden refrained from pressuring the woman into speaking and expected the same from everyone else.
After three days, she finally said her name, Emeryn. Her name was like honey on his lips.
“You can rest at ease here, Emeryn,” Aiden assured her. “I may not know what you are seeking sanctuary from, but I promise that within these sacred walls, you are safe.”
Her cheeks blossomed like a red rose. “What makes you think I am hiding from something?” she whispered. Emeryn’s eyes instinctively shifted to her son. The small child, hardly even six years old, sat at her feet, playing with a small, ragged bear that Enid had kindly given him.
There was no doubt that there was something strange about Emeryn's son. When Aiden focused his Sight on him, he noticed a distorted Aura, as if a presence shielded the child. The Sight was a rare gift bestowed upon a select few. It allowed its bearers to perceive beyond the ordinary. However, it was only when the boy fell ill that Aiden could see beyond the strange Aura. Then, he noticed the violet hue plaguing the child's irises, an anomaly he had never encountered before.
Even so, Aiden couldn't discern any malevolence in the boy. Demons of great power could conceal themselves among humans with certain abilities, but the boy's nature seemed benign. As the child recovered from his illness, his Aura once again became distorted. Nevertheless, the High Priest couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that there was something truly extraordinary about him.
“Is it true?” Emeryn had asked. “True evil cannot enter the holy grounds of the church?”
Aiden vividly recalled the sensation of her touch on that fateful day. His eyes softened, and he grabbed Emeryn's hands without thinking. He held her soft palms against his as if they'd known each other for years.
“Yes. These walls were built with ancient materials and holy crystalline that I perform blessings on routinely. True evil cannot enter without extreme difficulty. And even if you cannot trust anyone else in the world, I hope someday—you can trust me.” And this was true. Protective jewels and stones adorned the walls with murals depicting scriptures, including the tale of Adamus and Eden, the first two humans.
Aiden had often seen Emeryn strolling along the magnificent walls of the church, her fingers brushing past the embossed artwork. He couldn't help but be captivated by her, a compelling force drawing him closer. Aiden had developed a deep affection for this young woman, desperately hoping she would remain by his side indefinitely. Her beauty was unparalleled in Aiden's eyes, but it wasn't just her appearance that ensorcelled him. Tenderness emanated from her, a warmth that calmed his restless soul. Aiden was confident that her heart overflowed with goodness, devoid of malicious intentions.
Yet, Emeryn kept her son far from everyone, and Aiden couldn't help but wonder why. He would toss and turn at night, wondering how the child's eyes glistened like raw amethyst, as if stardust glimmered inside him. How much did his mother know? And would she tell him the truth if he asked? Aiden was drawn to the answers to the point of obsession.
Winter soon turned to spring; the snow melted, and flowers filled the land. Colors of sunset bloomed all around the rolling hills, and sweet scents carried on the afternoon breeze. Aiden's longing for Emeryn's presence had not been in vain, for she finally appeared before him on the day of the Spring Equinox celebration. She burst into his study, her cheeks full of color. Peonies and lilacs decorated her hair, carefully woven into a delicate braid that encircled her head like a crown.
“I know you see it,” she said breathlessly. The smell of celebratory wine lingered on her breath. “I know you have the Sight. I have heard rumors about you.”
Aiden tried to hide his surprise that she knew of his gift.
“Yes,” he said calmly. “So, are you aware of your son?”
Emeryn's eyes welled up with tears, and she slumped into a chair.
“Yes,” she sighed.
“Do you know what he is?”
“No.”
A sour taste filled the inside of Aiden's mouth. She was lying. This lie appeared well-hidden and vital for her to keep. He could feel the heaviness in the room as her eyes bore into him.
She stood up, stumbling slightly in her drunken state. “Let’s not speak of this ever again,” she snapped. Her intensity surprised him, as he had not even witnessed this side of her before. Her eyes softened. “Please.”
A realization struck Aiden, reminiscent of his countless hours immersed in his studies. What if the boy's presence within the church was not merely a coincidence? What if he held the key to everything Aiden had devoted his entire life preparing for? The notion dawned upon him that the boy could be the long-awaited missing piece, the answer to unraveling the mysteries that had consumed him for so long.
one
"When the wind underneath was stolen, the sound of the choir carried a noiseless blunder, the righteous sin. 'Tis the carelessness of mankind, and brevity of human life."
—Book One of Metanoia
1025 A.E.C.
He was finally free. This was where he belonged and where he had always longed to be. His fingers grazed the clouds, and the wind kissed his face. The zephyrs gently ruffled his hair as he touched the heavens. He was laughing, and the stars were laughing with him. And there, in all its glory, he saw it radiating above him, the brightest star in the sky. He reached out to grab it and claim it as his own. He was so close, but the moment his fingers brushed across the light, his hand faltered. He was sent hurtling into the depths below. Deeper. Farther. Until he couldn’t see the light anymore. Was this the last time he’d see the sky? Who was crying? Was it him? Who…was…he?
A cold voice pierced through his mind.
“Sedate him again.”
No, he pleaded silently.
He didn’t want to sleep.
A sharp, searing sensation shot through his arm, spreading its claws with a familiar grip. His body froze, immobile, as if all connections between his mind and muscles had been severed. The darkness called, pulling him toward its depths and threatening to consume him entirely. A fleeting moment of recognition flashed through his mind as if he had arrived exactly where he was supposed to be. It didn’t take long for him to surrender to the darkness as it enveloped him like an old friend.
“Wake up,” a velvety voice spilled across the void. Whispers flooded the abyss from all directions. “You must wake up. You are stronger than this.”
But he didn’t want to wake up. He longed to remain in the darkness, to let it consume his entire essence until nothing was left. What did it matter? He didn’t even know h
“Seren.” The voice transformed, seething with anger, its tone sharp as glass. “Seren, wake up!”
That’s right. Seren. That was his name.
The world transformed as light flooded in, blinding and overwhelming.
“Welcome back, Seren.”
But this voice was different. There was nothing warm or comforting about it. It was condescending and cruel.
Through the murky haze of black spots, Seren fought to discern the slender figure looming above him. It took every ounce of effort to pierce through the shrouded veil of darkness. Then, like a fragile mirage, the man materialized before his eyes. Under the unforgiving glow of the lights, the man’s sharp, angular features came into focus, resembling a cunning fox. His pale complexion contrasted starkly against the artificial illumination, and his piercing gaze met Seren’s.
“Who are you?” Seren coughed. A dry rasp escaped his throat, each syllable cracking painfully.
“Interesting,” the man mused. “This again.”
A bout of rage surged within Seren’s chest, like a feral creature awoken from a deep slumber. He instinctively jerked forward, only to be abruptly halted by the icy grip of steel bands. Pain radiated from his wrists and ankles as he fought against the restraints.
How long had he been struggling against them?
“What is this?” Seren asked, his voice quivering. He pulled against the restraints again, feeling the color drain from his face.
“Going somewhere?” the man sneered.
Seren’s head whipped around as realization dawned on him. He and the strange man were not alone. White-coated figures, engrossed in their tasks, surrounded them. One woman caught his attention, her hand reaching for a beaker on the counter, causing its contents to surge and froth with vibrant, fiery hues. Scientists? Seren couldn’t believe his eyes, nor did he want to.
These scientists moved with eerie indifference, their impassive expressions devoid of surprise or curiosity, as they occasionally cast glances in his direction. It was as if Seren’s presence, bound and captive, was an inconsequential backdrop to their work.
The foxlike man muttered incomprehensible words under his breath while he focused on a glowing blue device in his hand—a Holographus. Seren shook his head as if trying to expel the thought. He shouldn’t even know what the device was called, let alone be in the same room with these people.
“What is this place?” Seren managed.
Seren received brief, lazy glances from the crowd, but a young man with tousled, golden locks stood out. His perplexed expression, etching deep furrows on his forehead, betrayed an anxious energy that manifested in restless fidgeting. Their eyes briefly locked, but the young man’s gaze darted away instantly as if evading Seren’s stare like a criminal fleeing the scene.
“Where am I?” Seren repeated. Though he already knew the answer, he couldn’t help but voice the question aloud. There was no mistaking it. He was in the Godless City. The evidence was sprawled before him.
Countertops lined the walls; each flooded with an assortment of test tubes and syringes, their contents varying from empty to some containing remnants of a bluish liquid. Somnia. A shiver traveled down his spine as he somehow recalled the madness the drug could induce. Was this what these crazed scientists had been subjecting him to? Was this even real?
Seren’s eyes swiveled upwards, locking onto a security camera with its lenses fixated perfectly on him. How many unseen watchers sat on the other side? The absence of windows and the singular steel door further reinforced the notion that escape was impossible. This place was meant to confine him. His heart pounded in his chest frantically.
“Can someone answer me?” Seren demanded.
The strange man tore his gaze away from his Holographus, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he shifted his attention to Seren. The screen's projection temporarily appeared, providing Seren with a glimpse of the glowing words.
Subject Zero: Male, 18 years old.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” the man snapped. “I don’t have time for games.”
“Enjoying myself?” Seren sputtered. And to think he was accusing him of playing games. Was this man insane?
The young man, who had been discreetly stealing additional glances in their direction, hesitantly sat up from his seat. “Uhm, Doctor Lumen?” he stammered. “Forgive me if I am overstepping, but wouldn’t it make sense if he’s having amnesic side effects? It’s a miracle he’s still alive. Nobody has ever survived this amount of Somnia before.”
Seren tensed at the words. So, they had been pumping him full of drugs. Was that why his head felt so heavy?
The doctor remained fixed on Seren, not acknowledging that the young man had spoken to him. “Seren, we have known each other for quite some time. You’re hurting my feelings,” Lumen purred. “I am not in the mood for your silly little antics.”
“I’m not playing games,” Seren said through clenched teeth.
Lumen let out an exasperated sigh as if the conversation was boring him. He leaned forward, his platinum hair falling around his yellow-rimmed glasses. “You may have forgotten your sad, pathetic past,” he said. “But I know you have not forgotten me.”
Seren flexed his hand, clenching it tightly as if he could feel Lumen’s skinny neck under his grip. The tension in the room thickened with every passing second.
“I guess you’re not very memorable,” Seren replied bitterly.
Lumen leaned forward, his face hovering inches from Seren’s. His piercing gaze locked onto Seren, their breaths almost mingling. “Wouldn’t that be convenient?” Lumen whispered. “To forget all your sins?” His fingers tapped on the metal surface of Seren’s confinement. “I think we both know the truth. You and I aren’t much different.” A strand of Lumen’s long hair brushed against Seren’s bare shoulders. “Weren’t you the one who called me a monster?”
Frustration boiled over within Seren, surging through his veins like an electric current. With a sudden, desperate lunge, he propelled his body forward. The gurney’s entire frame shuddered violently under the force of his attack, the metal legs screeching in protest as it wobbled on the floor.
An unmoving pillar of calm, Lumen’s eyes, cool and calculating, met Seren’s with a faint, knowing glint. A subtle smile curled at the corners of his lips, revealing a confidence that seemed to say, “You can try, but you won’t escape.”
“I want to know why I’m in the Godless City,” Seren spat. “I don’t belong here.”
Feigning a frown, Lumen’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, do you think so?” The doctor took a step backward, casually tucking his hands into his pockets. “You’re starting to sound like a sniffling child.”
Once more, Seren lunged forward, demanding, “Tell me!”
The room seemed to freeze, scientists pausing at his outburst.
“Ah, there it is,” Lumen remarked, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “There’s the anger I was waiting for. I was starting to think you’d gone soft on me.” Lumen paused, savoring the moment, and took a deliberate step toward Seren. “Tell me something, boy,” he continued. “How does it feel? To be reduced to nothing more than a rat in my lab?”
Seren’s struggle intensified, his muscles straining against the metal cuffs. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead as he writhed against his restraints.
Lumen’s grin widened. “Oh, you’re quite the fighter, aren’t you?” he taunted. “But those cuffs won’t break, my dear Subject Zero.”
“Get me out of here,” Seren gasped. “I don’t belong here.”
“Is that all you can say?” Lumen asked. “Besides, you sure you don’t belong here, Seren? I’d say you deserve to be here. This is your judgment.”
Seren froze. He felt as if a knife had twisted into him. Judgment.
“I miss our talks, Seren,” Lumen said softly. “But unfortunately, those will be coming to an end. You will soon be of no use to me.” He turned to the young man who was, yet again, staring in their direction. “You, take the subject back to the Cerulean Room. I am done for the day.”
“William,” the young man said quietly.
