~ 30 ~

The Roles We Play

I felt the moonlight on my back and saw the stars glittered in the sky. I beat my wings against the dark space, seeing the hints of bushy treetops below. I remained in a slow glide as my scales seemed to darken, blending in with the night.

It seemed like I was always in a state of constant emulation.

Wait until Nightfall before entering the Village of Nukar from the East.

I recalled the words of the king and the way he spoke them without moving his lips. The way his eyes bore into my own. It wasn't a command or request. Not a given order or a plea from a man on his knees. Rather the king spoke instructions, and his voice matched the content.

The princess hadn't shifted from my shoulder. Her heels dug into my scales without breaching skin; my hide had been thick enough, I guessed. Her hand remained on the side of my neck as she looked outward. The only sounds between us were the winds and the occasional flap of my wings.

Some moments were better left to silence.

I pulled my wings flat against the winds, halting my glide, flapping silently to collect myself. Bushes wrestled from my wind strokes. Holding position, I looked over the forest top, seeing stone walls rise across a square parameter. Torches stood lit across the walls' catwalks. Strangely enough, there was not a guard posted.

That's not right.

The princess shifted on my shoulder, coming out of a trance, not speaking, still, but trusting me with the task at hand. The walls collected into a towering gate with tall, tight wooden doors. One had been pushed back. Before it stood a man on a horse.

A cloaked man, on a noble horse, in a place not native to him.

Is that...

I checked over the gate to see the village, composed of a few tall buildings, with a wharf set on the edge of the contained land. Sharks and giant sea creatures hung from ropes attached to poles across the boardwalk. The village itself lacked much else—like it was a pit stop for sailors set for more fantastic places.

And it all looked empty.

I looked down to see the cloaked man. He held up a hand, one that glowed red, scarlet pinpricks swirling around his palm. The dots fluctuated, dimming while others burned, then reversing the order. It wasn't an attack. No malice was in the gesture.

The voices in my head didn't speak up, so I trusted in myself for once, beginning a slow descent into the clearing beyond the forest. The land opened with hills and grass a mile before the gate. I slowed into the clearing, dusting the blades of grass away, seeing pebbles roll out from beneath my approaching feet.

I touched the ground with the lightest quake, shuffling to adjust myself. I loomed over the cloaked man, who watched my approach without reaction. Controlled and composed. Even if I tried a surprise attack, it wouldn't take him off guard. And somehow, I'm sure, I would be the one knocked down.

"You're one of your word," the cloaked man said as his jaw peeked out from his cloak, covered in stubble. "I confess my final doubt was such."

I raised a palm to my shoulder, offering it to the princess who, with hesitation, stepped aboard. "Why wouldn't I?" I asked with a touch of confusion, lowering Astria to the ground. She hopped onto the pebble path. "There wasn't much of a reason not to. If you're trying to test my character, try hitting me with a harder request."

"I have a feeling, young one, that if the request were noble and fair, you would be willing to do plenty more." He pulled his cloak back over his shoulders, revealing the face of the king. "You're the kind to doubt your ability. It prevents arrogance but stunts your potential. Take or disregard my advice, but hear it first: it's better to walk a fine line than it is to be on either side of it."

My eyebrows narrowed, and my face concentrated. I nodded slowly, carefully, as though my soul had just been looked at.

"T-Thanks."

The princess had stumbled between us during our talk, looking either way at the two of us, confusion tingling with sadness, which meant the beginning of rising anger. Questions popped in her head, too many openers and directions. All she could trust was for her mouth to speak the most important one first.

"Y-You two... planned this?"

Zinnine the King lowered his hand, embers of red burning around it, caught in a constant swirl. "The fault is not with your friend. I told him to reach this village from the east once night began. He only did as such in the hopes that the path would be easier for the two of you."

Astria's eyes and mouth opened and closed simultaneously. "But how... you two..."

Zinnine raised his red-burning hand. "Family trade, I'm afraid. You have the power as well. I'd always wished it skipped you—skipped all of you." Zinnine's arm fell and hung without strength in his first show of weakness. "But even if none of you were terribly blessed, death came anyway. A king is supposed to be proud in seeing many bear his last name."

He sighed, and his head shook. "But nothing hurt and shamed me more."

"W-What... what are you doing? What even is this!" Astria burned within, stomping forward, pointing at her father. "You were done with me today, remember? Disowned me in front of the kingdom! Said horrible..." She swallowed, never pressing such a matter to her father—in previous fear of being wrong or unjustified. "Forget it. What do you—"

"I have never hated myself more in my life than in each ticking second within that moment," the father spoke with a quick slowness, a complexion of emotions emboldening his tone. "In truth, I always hate myself for whenever I'm around you, for the terribleness that I must bear upon you."

Astria slid her foot back with her other, standing in shock in confusion, transfixed on the man that was her father. It was as though at that moment, he had stopped being a role. Some figurehead. Something beyond human. At this moment, he breathed like we did, trembling.

And coarse weakness scratched his voice.

"It's... time," Zinnine said with his voice riding atop a sob, "for you to know the truth."