CHAPTER TWO

The Universe birthed Light. And Dark grew envious.

*Xru'lar*

✽✽✽

The queue is long. Too long.

The Suns-Hall sees its largest crowd since the Hi'er-Kvi'mrn wedding.

Xru'lar sits next to his brother, Zyr'h, in front of the xau'we, the funeral-stone, upon which Ruh'vi lies awaiting her xau'kyvn, the traditional funeral of the Ytai. Notable dignitaries from all over Ytean arrive to pay their respects. Iro'va, Xru'lar and Zyr'h's father, stands at the other end of the xau'we hands tied at the back. It isn't for Ruh'vi the Ytai Royals descend in droves to offer condolences. It's for Iro'va; the man who commanded Ytéan's war against the Soe. It always pays well to be on the right side of the greatest warrior Ytean currently knows.

Zyr'h sighs. Xru'lar glances at him sideways. Zyr'h's cheeks are red, shoulders slumped, and eyes strained close. His lips tremble, crushing the tears that are surely halfway on their journey to his cheeks. Xru'lar trains his eyes back to the line of dignitaries, biting the insides of his cheeks. Xru'lar and Zyr'h's relationship is weary as the last fibre of wood holding the branch to its tree in vain. Xru'lar keeps his eyes, burning as they are, open for the moment he gives them rest, the shadows take over and visions from that night haunt him. Instead, he studies the crowd and names the races he spots - his people the Ytai, the Scr, the Ut'zrn, and even the Soe with whom Iro'va established peace-treaties. Xru'lar eventually stops observing people on noticing furtive glances his way and whispers very much about how he caused this.

Lh'ean and Iro'h are setting, soaking the glass-walled Suns-Hall golden. Every corner-room of the Main-Palace is built to capture the rise or set of the suns. The Suns-Hall and the Throne-Room spreading East-South-West are the most magnificent. Paint-stained glass-panels line the rooms, glass-domes cover the high arched ceilings. Um'rei-Hi'er has no Ruling Holy-Entity. They revere the suns.

The crowd erupts into rustling chatter and fragments, letting an entourage proceed ahead. Only family of the passed gets through to the front. Xru'lar catches Ruri, her partner, and his grandparents marching forward, tailed by their Guards. Roé Kvi'mrn bows to Iro'va. Ruri cares not for formality when her sister lies dead on the xau'we, and goes straight to her. She traces the xau'kyvn-avn drawn on Ruh'vi's hands and neck and kisses her cheek before placing a bunch of im'zur flowers in her clasped hands. The heady fragrance of the im'zur permeates the air, overpowering the peppery-smoke of incense characteristic of the Suns-Hall, serving to remind all Ruh'vi came from Um'rei-Kvi'mrn. Ruri drapes herself over her sister, hugging her, weeping. Xru'lar is comforted that Ruh'vi is patched up as much as the Xlo'quan - the Healers - could manage. Ruh'vi's parents kneel before the xau'we their tears silent. Zyr'h watches Ruri too, angry she arrived late. But Xroui'lm is half the world away from Izarn. The remaining guests resume offering their respects.

The suns have long left by the time Ruri lets Ruh'vi go. 'Come, boys,' she tells Xru'lar and Zyr'h.

'D'vo,' No.

Ruri glares at Iro'va.

'Only children are exempt,'

'They need a break, Ru'n Hi'er.'

'They're not children,' Iro'va's voice goes low with warning.

Ruri doesn't heed it. 'I'm their O'ht now,' she stands in front of Iro'va; a challenge.

A Queen, Xru'lar hasn't seen before bows and gets out of their way even though she hadn't spoken to Iro'va.

Ruri's volume wanes, but Xru'lar hears her anyway. 'He's drawing attention.'

Xru'lar doesn't miss the sliest half-glance Iro'va manages at him because that's what Xru'lar's good at - observing people.

Iro'va grits his teeth. He nods at Ruri and continues receiving the Royals.

'Boys,' Ruri directs them out.

Xru'lar doesn't want to leave Ruh'vi's side. He wants to protest to stay. But he understands the subtleties of Ruri's motives. So, he goes. Zyr'h walks beside their aunt. Xru'lar, gaze down, follows them at a distance, a ripple tailing its wave. He hears what people say, clearer now, as he walks past them.

'It's because of him.'

'Poor Ruh'vi, all because she wanted to keep him.'

'Cursed child doesn't even look upset.'

'He'll destroy Ytéan as he did her.'

Xru'lar wants to shout that they're lies. But they aren't. He follows Ruri out of the Suns-Hall after glancing at Ruh'vi. The last rays of the suns lighting the altar wash away the horrors wrecked upon her; the light is cruelly satiny-golden, soft. None arriving to offer condolences have an inkling of how demonic the sight of her shredded skin, broken bones, and pooled blood was. Sadly, it's how Xru'lar remembers her days later. And, likely, forever.

In the hallway stands Roé Ru, who gave her respects at dawn. Xru'lar knows not why she's there until she calls out to Ruri and bows. The Utzrn Official working for Um'rei-Ru is beside the Ru Royal. Her survey crawls over his skin as cold-knots and fills his lungs like Xroui'lm's white sands. He clears his dry throat but only manages to make the air choke him. The Utzrn's daughter, about his age, is next to her mother. She smiles sweetly. Xru'lar doesn't return it and is relieved when Ruri fractures the meet, leading them away.

Roé Ru A'ed is in Izarn to ask Iro'va to fight for her. Her land, Xzia'on, is threatened by four surrounding Royals, and Iro'va is known for the toughest wins. The negotiation, as all critical ones, happened in the dyr fields at suns-rise. Ytai believe it brings favourable outcomes. Xru'lar doesn't understand what is favourable about Iro'va declining the request and losing Ruh'vi to Ahst that night. While everyone blames Xru'lar for Ahst gaining access to the Palace, he wants to turn it on Um'rei-Ru. After all, Iro'va rejected their request for help. But none will believe it. Ahst going after Ruh'vi's is his fault. It doesn't help that Iro'va and his Tv'orm found him kneeling by Ruh'vi. Though Iro'va hasn't openly blamed Xru'lar, he's had difficulty meeting Xru'lar's eyes.

The Ceremony-of-Respects concludes two days later. Iro'va is exhausted at its end. He's seated for the xau'kyvn; frame wilted as crops under inter's touch. The funeral is a private ritual with only immediate family present.

Xru'lar stands alone at the entrance of the Courtyard-of-Burning, a satellite to his family. The pyre is aflame in rare light-magenta; the colour of Ruh'vi's soul. The Tv'orm are chanting blessings and will do so until the fire dies. Xru'lar wishes the fire will take him too. And incinerate the dark in him. It's a distant dream.

* * * * *

The Universe birthed Light. And Dark grew envious.

Dark - Ahst - eradicated several life-planets Light - Ance - created in defiance. The Holy-Entities are said to have created devices known as the Ávo as a measure to keep life-planets safe from Ahst. It's also said the Ytai and other species have used the devices for destructive purposes. But that's a different story for a different time. Ahst is now after Ytéan. He has been for centuries, obsessively, because each time Ytéan defeats him. But this time Ahst was clever. He chose himself a vessel before Ance could intervene, bettering his chances.

Xru'lar is Ahst's vessel.

Xru'lar has upon his wrist Ahst's mark. Any day, Ahst will possess him, kill Ytéan's Defender, and annihilate Ytéan. People fear him; they can't predict when it'll happen. It keeps them forever on edge. Everyone treats him as Ahst's puppet. Everyone trusts Xru'lar to obliterate Ytéan. Everyone believes it.

Everyone except Xru'lar.

Xru'lar has tried and failed to let people know of his hatred for Ahst. It pains him that people think he let Ahst kill Ruh'vi. A mere mark doesn't make him Ahst's. Xru'lar doesn't will it. But the very mark defines his life, and the only person in the whole world who credited the good in him to out-conquer the dark is gone. Because Ahst wants to agonise him into submission. A submission Xru'lar will ever offer.

* * * * *

The door is open a slit.

Xru'lar hears Iro'va's and Ruri's hushed voices. This isn't the first of such, but it's the first that he interrupts them. Iro'va notices him and clears his throat. Ruri, sitting opposite Iro'va back to the door, swivels around, sighing on spotting him.

Xru'lar bows putting his right hand over his heart. He doesn't often visit his father's office, but he's familiar with the tall shelves of books, art, and weapons hung on the wall behind his personal table. One wall is glass and views Dea'ra, the largest of the seven rivers running through Izarn. The adults wait for him to speak. His throat is parched, voice ossified. It feels like he hasn't spoken since birth. Ruri leaves after bowing to Iro'va. It eases Xru'lar slightly, and he sits. He wonders where Iro'va derives his patience as he watches his son struggle for words, nary a scratch of annoyance on his stoic face.

'O'ru, permit me to train.'

Iro'va exhales loudly from his nose, crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back. His lips sketch a grim line. Xru'lar doesn't like Iro'va's countenance, but he's determined. He's weak. He can't protect those he loves as he's now.

'I want to fight Ahst, O'ru. I don't want to hide any longer.'

'The Tv'orm don't permit it.'

'O'ru, please.'

'Xru'lar,'

Xru'lar stiffens. He's well acquainted with that tone.

'I leave in three days.'

'Where?'

'Xzia'on.'

'You refused,'

Iro'va swallows hard, eyes flipping to Dea'ra. He's quiet for numerous moments; the wait digs its claws into Xru'lar's bones.

'Ru A'ed agreed I fight with her, not for her,' Iro'va explains, still looking out. 'Your ht'zru-Ruri, and I feel its best you and Zyr'h live in Xroui'lm in my absence.'

'O'ru,'

Iro'va's eyes flit to Xru'lar cutting his dissent. 'It's best we leave Izarn; the memories are raw. Your routine resumes in Xroui'lm.'

Xru'lar stands clearly dismissed. He doesn't move.

'I can't give what you want, Xru'lar.'

'I only want to train.'

'I know,' his voice, surprisingly soothing, only infuriates Xru'lar.

'I am weak because you keep me so. I don't wish to be.'

Iro'va dips his chin in silent agreement.

'I am not Ahst's.'

Iro'va stands.

Xru'lar fumes barging out. The greatest warrior of the world refuses to train his desperate son. He wants to deny it, but at times like this, he can't. Xru'lar is convinced Iro'va is terrified of him like all of Ytéan.

The feeling coagulates in his heart.  

✽✽✽