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Once, a long time ago, they said there lived a gentle dragon who grew lonely with time. She flew about the abyss, with nothing to entertain herself with. So, she created the earth, the skies, and the creatures that roamed it. However, the people feared the dragon, for if she showed the slightest hint of a laugh, she would accidentally flame all of them, killing them instantly.
So, they locked her up. Seven sorcerers cast spells on her, never letting her see light again, but the legend said that if the spells weren’t renewed every thousand years, she would escape.
The end of all would come.
Not everyone believed the stories, though. I, however, was not so foolish as to turn a blind eye, though dragons were myths, stories to tell to children to make them behave. Whispers of dragons lurk around every corner, magic slithers around every bend, and it all goes by unnoticed as the dragon continues to wait for someone to set her free. I know the time is coming. I can feel it even through the earth beneath which I am buried. I know that he will come soon to set the dragon free, and that all must flee when he does so.
For, the humans that the dragon had created went evil, almost like an apple rotting after sitting out for too long, and their hearts turned dark and cruel. The creatures the dragon had made with magic slunk off into the shadows, desperate not to be seen, as she slept.
None knew of where the dragon had been imprisoned, for a dragon’s power amounts to thousands of universes’ destruction if in the wrong hands, and to fall into those hands of humans would be devastating to all of the world.
None knew, but seven. The seven sorcerers who locked the dragon away guarded their secrets with a ferocity that followed them to their graves. In the Final War, all seven perished, driven to madness by their solitude.
Now, the secrets are buried in ash.
In blood.
In shadow.
But, not for long.
Aryn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was nervous—that much was for sure. The shouting reporters outside of his house were setting him more on edge than usual, especially at a time like this. He grabbed his olive green trench coat from the hook by the door and pulled his hat down from the rack.
Show time.
The door creaked open, and people instantly surged forward, snapping pictures and asking him questions.
“Mr. Lumiere,” one reporter, a small man with a graying moustache said. “How are you and your sister coping with your parents’ recent deaths? Are you going to take your father’s position as head of the Lumiere Company? Surely you could do something about the—” Aryn held a hand up to silence him, and a hush fell over the ocean of people.
“My sister and I are doing fine quite fine, thank you,” he said warily, beginning to push his way past the ever-surging mob. It was hard enough with his parents’ deaths affecting the company, not to mention Cecile and himself, but with a constant swarm of people at his door, Aryn could barely get anything done.
His parents had been wonderful people, his father firm and steady, and his mother much softer—she helped deal with diplomatic issues that involved the company. As children, Aryn and Cecile had gone with them to most of their meetings, if not only to eavesdrop from the large black doors that marked the company’s conference room. The Lumiere Company mostly controlled the entire city of Ur, seeing as the Council that led the city was comprised mostly of members from the Lumiere company. His father made it a point to brag about this to others, including to Aryn himself. Thinking about his father, Aryn felt a pang of sadness as he hoisted himself up onto the ivory carriage that waited for him at the end of the gravel path leading back to the mansion.
“Where to, Mr. Lumiere?” the coachman asked, tipping his hat as Aryn sat down.
“The Lumiere Company’s building, thank you,” he replied, smiling sadly at the graying man.
It was always so dark in this city, almost as if a blanket covered the sky, and poured the dirt and ash onto the roads if only to punish the people who dwelled there.
That’s ridiculous, Aryn thought, banishing the thought from his mind. Why would we be punished?
He sat back cold, uncomfortable seat, watching snow drift past his face. It was as though he was walking through the stars, free from all of his troubles on this God-forsaken world. But, the clatter of the horses’ hooves and the whispers and gasps of baffled onlookers pulled him back to reality. Aryn pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. He kept it shorter than what was considered “tasteful” here, but he didn’t mind. Celine was the only one he felt the needed to impress, and hers was the only opinion in the matter he really cared for, if he was being honest. His dull brown hair barely compared to her curly red locks, though, and her dark blue eyes made her look a considerable amount like their father. Aryn had eyes that were orange, and they had just seemed to appear, not from his mother or his father.
The carriage came to a screeching halt, and Aryn looked around, suddenly losing his train of thought. The large, prison-like building he had seen so many times before stood right in front of him, but now it looked more threatening than ever. Two towers stood, one on each side of the massive building, and “LC” was written in bronze on the tower to his left. Lumiere Company: the most powerful of the seven companies. Aryn stood solemnly, thanked the coachman, and stepped down into the snow. The flurries around the building suddenly made it look even more ominous, and shadows seemed to lurk around every corner, staring into his very soul as he approached the massive doors reluctantly.
He needed a plan.
After all, it was quite unusual to waltz into your father’s former company, attempting to declare yourself as the head of it. He hadn’t wanted to resort to such methods, but his father had told him earlier in the year, “If I am to die, you must keep the Lumiere Company out of the grasping hands of those who would use it for evil. Take possession of what is rightfully yours!”
Aryn had laughed at this and replied, “How would you die, seeing as you’re the most powerful man in the world right now?” It was too bad that he hadn’t realized that that would be the very reason that he had died.
Not many people had their parents die oh-so-coincidentally on a ship that was headed through the most peaceful waters on the earth to the next country over for diplomatic matters that could help both of the countries tremendously.
He still remembered that day.
“We’ll be back before you know it,” his father had said, kissing Celine’s forehead gently as she threw her small gloved hands around his neck. She was only nine.
“It’s only for a few days, Aryn, so please look after your sister,” his mother had agreed, giving him a brief reassuring smile.
“Father, mother, what if you never come back?” Celine had cried, being slightly more over dramatic than usual.
Aryn had smirked at this. “Then you would have to deal with me for the rest of your life! You would clean the house every day, and if you ever forgot to serve me dinner, then I would eat you instead!” he teased, poking her belly and making her squeal with laughter.
“But you couldn’t eat me, Ary!” he frowned at the nickname. “I would be the finest delicacy in all of the world, much more than you would ever deserve!” She could hardly keep from falling over in a fit of giggles.
Aryn gave her a glare, but one that wasn’t too convincing, apparently. Celine burst into another fit of laughter.
“Don’t worry, Celine, darling. We’ll be back before that could ever happen. Just watch your brother and make sure he doesn’t eat any other children while we’re away, alright?” her mother smiled and stroked back Celine’s red hair, out of her face.
But, they didn’t come back.
It seemed like some horrible cliche that had plunged both Aryn and his sister’s lives into chaos and sadness. When the news came of their parents demise, Celine had cried out and ran sobbing into her older brother’s arms, but Aryn hadn’t believed it. His parents wouldn’t have abandoned him so easily. They should have come back.
Why didn’t they come back?
Aryn trudged through the snow up to the foreboding doors that awaited him. He stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the familiar Gothic designs on the stone, then pushed it open, letting an icy wind blow through the company. The room he stood at the entrance of looked similar to a court room. A thin trail of light pooled in from a skylight at the ceiling, and a large desk stood about twenty feet from him.
There was an angry looking woman, stout as she was small, sitting at the desk, and her hair splayed out all about her, though it looked like she had tied it up earlier that day, but later attempted to pull it all out from stress or dealing with idiots who had stupid questions. The woman shot him a bone chilling glare that made Aryn gulp in nervousness before continuing.
“You look particularly lovely today, Ms. Amber,” Aryn said with a small, polite smile. Best to stay on her good side.
Ms. Amber took a ragged breath, scowling even harder than before. “What do you need, Mr. Lumiere?” she asked, her voice strained and obviously trying not to shout. She seemed to be trying to not kill him for disturbing her, and Aryn took a step back.
He regained his posture and cleared his throat. “I wish to speak to the company,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he was.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Well, no but—”
“Then, you can’t speak to them right now!” Ms. Amber bolted up. “You may not disturb them unless you have a valid reason. Some mere boy—”
A voice stopped her suddenly. “Amber, I think you may have disturbed this entire city with all of that yelling. That is quite enough, thank you.” A man with dark hair and bright blue eyes stepped from the shadows, and Aryn let out a breath he hadn’t known that he had been holding.
“Kouser, thank the gods,” he muttered. The man, Kouser, turned to smile at him.
“Hello, Aryn. I assume you have business to discuss. Surely you wouldn’t burst in uninvited with no good reason.”
“I do, and—”
Kouser held up a hand to stop him. “Amber, if you please, make Mr. Lumiere an appointment for right now to speak with me. Push any conflicting appointments back as necessary.” She began to protest but was stopped by an icy look that Kouser shot her. “Now.”
Ms. Amber smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, and waved Aryn through with what sounded like a muttered curse on him and his remaining family. He shivered at the thought and followed Kouser hurrying more than he had before.
The two man walked down one of the seven corridors leading off into the building, their footsteps echoing eerily off of the gray walls. Kouser was quieter than usual, and he stared silently ahead, Aryn feeling increasingly more uncomfortable.
“Why are you here, Aryn?” Kouser asked suddenly, making him jump.
“I want my father’s old position as head of the company. I want what is rightfully mine,” he replied, running his fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry, old friend, but that is the one thing I can’t give you. The Council would have my head if I even considered giving the title to anyone as young as you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t care, the position should be passed down to me, so that I can continue my father’s work, no matter how young I may be. My father led this company, and with him, they began to heal the broken city all of us call home. Since his death, it has done anything but. I want to make Ur a better place, and I want the ash to scatter, the shadows to be diminished, or do you not want it to be a good place—” a hand seemed to come out of nowhere and hit him across the face.
“You have no right to say such things, and no right to the position. Your father may have tried to make the city a better place, but he did more than he let you know. You know nothing when it comes to the Lumiere Company, and you are arrogant for thinking you do,” Kouser snapped, his entire mood changing suddenly. “You know nothing.”
Aryn regained his posture once more. “Good evening, Mr. Selev,” he said, addressing Kouser coldly.
“Good evening, Mr. Lumiere.”
Aryn left, then storming off through the hallways. How dare he insult me so. Arrogant? What right does Kouser have to call me arrogant? Of all of the nerve… Aryn looked up from his thoughts and realized that he didn’t know where he was, or where he was heading. He was in another corridor that looked exactly like the one he had gone through with Kouser, but now doors led off to his right and left. He stood at the mouth of the hall and seemed to grow colder as he stared into the darkness. There were seven doors, three to each side and on at the far end of the hall. Aryn took a step further into the hall and peered through the first door on his right, eyes widening in anticipation, but of what he didn’t know.
It was a plain door, and it looked to be made out of steel or some other kind of metal , and a long window was in the center, the glass coating some kind of wire netting. Where the handle should have been, however, there was an orange disc about the size of Aryn’s palm, a fire emblem, that was taking its place. Aryn, as if some outside force was controlling him, reached out and touched the disc unconsciously. He yelped and jerked back reflexively, cursing the echoes that sounded around him. He felt the need to run, to escape, but didn't know why he felt that way. He stayed, however, and glared at the door, trying to fathom what had happened. The disc hadn’t hurt him, or done any harm to him, necessarily, but he had had the oddest sensation.
He had been burning on the inside.
Aryn wasn’t even sure what that meant, but for a moment, when he had made contact with the disk, it had seemed as though there was some amount of power inside of him that he had never known about that had wanted to explode. He hadn’t let it. Aryn stepped away from the fire door again, and turned reluctantly to continue down the hallway. The rest of the doors were quite similar to the first one, all of them opening to the same room and all of them had the strange discs replacing the handles. Aryn kept track of all of the emblems in his head: fire, water, I’ll assume earth, and air, a white triangle. Light, possibly? And what about the indigo one, it’s a flipped version of light, so let me guess… Darkness.
He shivered as the word passed through his mind. There was quite a lot of darkness in the world right now, and he seemed to be the only one looking to subdue it. Aryn continued onto the last door, the feeling of uneasiness inside of him seeming to grow even more than it had when he had first entered this building. The last door seemed bigger than the rest, and it was a darker color too, perhaps made out of a stronger metal. As Aryn gazed at the disc on this door, he saw that it was blank. The color of the disc was so dark of a black that it seemed to make his entire being go cold, the very thought of it seeming to make him quiver with fear. There was something inside of the room.
Aryn looked through the door of the room and into the shadows of the corner, trying to see exactly what was there. It wasn’t a bed, and there wasn’t a bed in this particular room, but there was something there, not looking at—
Aryn froze as two large bright green eyes flickered open, and the woman in the corner of the room stood shakily and looked straight at him. She had black hair that was in a braid that hung over her right shoulder, and she was dressed in a once-fine evening gown that perfectly fit her slender form, the dark colors faded and dull. The woman stood there silently for a moment, defiance seeming to radiate off of her, but she fell to her knees, letting out a gasp of pain. She stayed there, unmoving, after that, but Aryn’s blood ran cold as he heard something he didn’t expect. She spoke… in his mind.
Why are you here, sorcerer?
He looked at the woman, and blinked. “Are you the one who is talking to me? Who are you? I just was coming to—” She focused on him again, her eyes meeting his.
You came to conquer a kingdom, did you not? Do you enjoy war?
“No,” Aryn replied, a bit more shaken up. “I came to help this company do what my father couldn’t and what is is refusing to do now: to bring the light back. And what do you mean, 'mortal?'”
Not a warrior, but a leader. You and I have the same purpose. These people have become corrupt, and I lay here, helpless. I can’t lift a finger towards them, and they have complete power over me. I can do nothing more than abide by their every wish. You, sorcerer, can, though.
“Why haven’t you tried to escape—or to fight? I dislike war more than anyone, and yet I know that imprisonment is the worst fate that there is.”
You are wrong. There are far worse fates.
“You’re right. If Celine was ever threatened, I would probably bend to anyone’s will.”
Who are you, sorcerer?
Aryn thought for a moment. “Sorcerer? No, I’m not even sure what you’re talking about. I could ask you the same question though.”
My name is Fae.
Aryn felt a shiver go through him. He recognized that name, but wasn’t sure where from. It was itching at the back of his brain, trying to remind him, but he just couldn’t remember. “Hello, I’m Aryn Lumiere,” he replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Aryn looked down at Fae, who was now attempting to stand unsteadily once more. “You don’t need to do that, you’ll just fall again,” he said, a slight strain in his voice.
Be quiet, I can hear them coming.
“Who can you hear coming?” he asked. Fae did not reply, rather she stood stone still inside of her cell, looking a lot like a cat about to pounce on some prey. “Why are you in this cell? Who put you here?”
Be quiet, her voice hissed, and for the first time, Aryn noticed that as she spoke, her mouth didn’t move. They’re coming. You need to leave, sorcerer, if you are to survive this. Run—Now! Aryn was startled by the ferocity in her voice and jumped, making a full on sprint back through the hallway despite all of the questions pouring into his mind.
Who—or what—was she and why had she been locked in such a place? What were all of those discs on the doors? Why had he felt as if he were burning from the inside out, and why was all of this in his father’s old company? Did he really know that little about his family and their past?
A large crash sounded behind him as Aryn barreled through the hall, just as he ran into the main corridor, and a woman screamed. It was probably Fae, and realizing this, Aryn turned around and saw another muffled shape, large as it was wide, running after him. Its horns glistened with what he hoped wasn’t blood, and it looked like a bull's head on the body of a man.
A minotaur.
Aryn whirled and hurtled on through the corridors, hearing the hoofbeats behind him that only caused him to run faster. Minotaurs weren’t real, though. They were just stories—made up creatures that frightened children and tended to linger in your head for just too long…
The beast behind him bellowed and Aryn felt the hairs on his neck stand up. It was getting closer—too close for comfort, at least. He pushed himself harder, ignoring the ache in his legs and the breaths that were becoming shorter and more ragged as the chas progressed. There was something in the hallway up ahead.
Two people stood, oblivious to the threat at hand, talking. Aryn recognized one right away: it was Kouser. He suddenly couldn’t hear the minotaur behind him anymore, couldn’t feel the hoofbeats shaking the very earth. Aryn pulled to a stop and pressed himself up against the left wall. He decided it would be better not to be seen for the time being. If only he could get close enough to hear what he was saying though…
“...the girl, though I may have angered her older brother,” Kouser's voice echoed down the hallway. “I called him arrogant for believing he knew more about the company than us, but I was only trying to get him off of our track, Tiar, you know that.”
Tiar, the other man, shook his bald head. “Kouser, it would be better if you didn’t make contact with the Lumieres at all. If the boy were to find out what really happened to his parents, the press would be on us in days, hours even! If we had to take care of another generation of leaders for our company, despite it being a “tragic accident,” a “horrible coincidence that they died in the same year as their beloved parents,” I’m sure someone would see a connection in the deaths, and trace it, ultimately, back to us. Our company would be dead, and I would hate for something to happen to you as well, Kouser, so keep your nose out of things it doesn’t belong in. Now, go fetch that pet of yours, Foe or whatever her name was. Its nearly time,” he replied, pointing down the hall to where Fae was.
I need to get out of here. These men—my father trusted them? They ended up murdering my parents… who trusted them? Aryn was shaking as he attempted to conceal himself in the shadows. If he was caught now, he could end up like his parents, and Celine would have no way of knowing what had happened. He watched the two men nod at each other and go their separate ways, Kouser heading back in the direction of Fae and Tiar in the opposite direction. He stepped out of the corner after he could no longer see either of them and stood there in shock for a moment before continuing on his way. He somehow managed to find his way out of the building and looked back at it with a particular distaste, shivered, and climbed back onto the carriage that would take him home.
He mumbled the destination to the coachman, and sat numbly, not thinking, not even watching the dark buildings passing by, as he waited to arrive. They had killed his parents. Why had they done such a thing? The sense of betrayal in him grew, and he felt mournful.
I need to get my mind off of it, Aryn thought, or else it will engulf me. His thoughts moved to Fae. Who was she? And why was she in a cell in the company? Should I have gone back after the minotaur-thing attacked me? Why did they put her in that cell? Aryn felt his sense of betrayal immediately overwhelmed with a feeling of guilt. He just left her there, with no protection. In a cell, in the middle of a company of murderers.
He stopped thinking after that, and moved to watching the snow drift by his face once more, heard the clatter of the horse's’ footsteps, and the shadows dancing off of the city around him. Before he knew it, he was back at the manor, and he could see everything from the spires that reached up to the giant tree in the yard that had been an excellent sanctuary as a child. He stepped off of the coach, gazing intently at the entire premise, then crunched through the snow all the way to the front door. Aryn threw it open, stepped inside, and hung his coat and hat back up where they were supposed to go, then walked drearily to the lounge. The fire was blazing in the fireplace, and the maroon chair that always sat by the window was dragged up next to it. Over the back of the chair, Aryn could see just a bit of red hair.
He walked up behind the chair and grabbed his sister’s shoulders, shaking them and saying,
“Why did you move the chair, Celine? I am going to eat you for moving my chair!”
She giggled and replied, “Your chair, it’s not yours! In fact, I left your chair exactly where it was! Just go check. Go sit down right about…” she pointed back by the window, “there.” Aryn frowned deeply and stalked over to where she was pointing.
He sat down on the floor, and asked, “Did you shorten it a bit? I can’t seem to see out of the window!” Celine let out another burst of laughter, her blue eyes sparkling, but her smile faded after a few moments, tracing a bit of dreariness in her brother’s eyes.
“Ary, are you alright?” she asked quietly. He nodded, standing.
“I’m just tired, that’s all, Celine. Nothing to worry about,” he gave her a reassuring smile, but she got up and walked over to where he was, approaching him with a concerned expression.
“I know you’re not, but if you don’t want to tell me you don’t have to,” she replied slowly, her green dress glimmering in the light from the window. Aryn nodded.
“Alright, fine. If you want to make me feel better, you could go and get me some tea,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
Celine’s face seemed to light up. “And then you’ll feel happy?” she asked.
“Sure,” he replied, grinning at her.
Celine skipped out of the room, obviously pleased that she could help, and Aryn’s thoughts began to wander again as soon as she left. Celine looked like she was doing better, but she seems to still be sad, droopy almost. He sighed and leaned on the window frame. Then, he began to grow angry thinking about Celine. They did this… They made our family broken. They hurt Celine… He trusted them and they killed him.
Suddenly, he was speaking aloud. “He trusted them and they-” Heat flowed through him, and Aryn felt once more as though he were going to explode with all of it inside of him. He fell to his knees and arched his back, staying stone still on the floor and waiting for the heat to go away. What is this? He thought, bewildered. Why is this happening? His thoughts flashed back to the hallway, the discs, and Fae. I wonder where she is now—if she is alright...
He could still see her large green eyes looking defiantly at him, her dark dress somehow shimmering in the shadows, her voice in his head. What was she? Fae…
“Why are you on the ground, Ary? I brought you some tea,” a small voice said from the door. Celine was back. “Come sit by the fire: it’s a lot warmer than over there by the window.”
“Celine, you need to know something,” he said, making a split decision, and standing back up and regarding the pounding headache and blackening vision as he stood with a particular distaste.
She perked up, her eyes focusing in on him almost immediately, and she looked curious. “What is it?” she asked.
“Our parents,” he started. “Their deaths weren’t an accident. Kouser planned it all and-”
“Aryn, stop. I know how upset you’ve been since mom and dad died, and at the company. Don’t think I didn’t notice you constantly cursing them when you thought I wasn’t looking for not trying to stay on the good side, but that’s no reason for you to blame one of our family’s oldest friends for the deaths of our parents!” her voice sounded extremely grown up for a nine year old, so much so that it startled Aryn when she spoke. “You need to go get ready. We have the party in an hour, remember?”
Right, Aryn thought. The party. The party was a tradition held by the Ur’s leaders every year for the “unity and happiness” of the people in its community. It was always the biggest event of the year, and usually occurred around Christmas time. It had totally slipped Aryn’s mind.
“But Celine-”
“No, Aryn. Go upstairs and get ready, I’ll send Weldir to help you if you’d like, but drop this stuff. Its been hard enough already with mom and dad gone, and I don’t want to hear some conspiracy you have about murder.”
“You should go get ready, too. No need to mother me, Celine,” he replied, heading for the door and leaving his younger sister staring after him, unsure of what to think of their conversation.
Notes: Aryn- pronounced ARE-INN
Kouser- pronounced KOO-ZER
Weldir- pronounced WELL-DEER
Found cool dragon picture on google somewhere...
This is just part of a story I'm working on.
I appreciate feedback! (Sorry if it was longer than you expected... If you read it all the way through, good for you!)
So, they locked her up. Seven sorcerers cast spells on her, never letting her see light again, but the legend said that if the spells weren’t renewed every thousand years, she would escape.
The end of all would come.
Not everyone believed the stories, though. I, however, was not so foolish as to turn a blind eye, though dragons were myths, stories to tell to children to make them behave. Whispers of dragons lurk around every corner, magic slithers around every bend, and it all goes by unnoticed as the dragon continues to wait for someone to set her free. I know the time is coming. I can feel it even through the earth beneath which I am buried. I know that he will come soon to set the dragon free, and that all must flee when he does so.
For, the humans that the dragon had created went evil, almost like an apple rotting after sitting out for too long, and their hearts turned dark and cruel. The creatures the dragon had made with magic slunk off into the shadows, desperate not to be seen, as she slept.
None knew of where the dragon had been imprisoned, for a dragon’s power amounts to thousands of universes’ destruction if in the wrong hands, and to fall into those hands of humans would be devastating to all of the world.
None knew, but seven. The seven sorcerers who locked the dragon away guarded their secrets with a ferocity that followed them to their graves. In the Final War, all seven perished, driven to madness by their solitude.
Now, the secrets are buried in ash.
In blood.
In shadow.
But, not for long.
Aryn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was nervous—that much was for sure. The shouting reporters outside of his house were setting him more on edge than usual, especially at a time like this. He grabbed his olive green trench coat from the hook by the door and pulled his hat down from the rack.
Show time.
The door creaked open, and people instantly surged forward, snapping pictures and asking him questions.
“Mr. Lumiere,” one reporter, a small man with a graying moustache said. “How are you and your sister coping with your parents’ recent deaths? Are you going to take your father’s position as head of the Lumiere Company? Surely you could do something about the—” Aryn held a hand up to silence him, and a hush fell over the ocean of people.
“My sister and I are doing fine quite fine, thank you,” he said warily, beginning to push his way past the ever-surging mob. It was hard enough with his parents’ deaths affecting the company, not to mention Cecile and himself, but with a constant swarm of people at his door, Aryn could barely get anything done.
His parents had been wonderful people, his father firm and steady, and his mother much softer—she helped deal with diplomatic issues that involved the company. As children, Aryn and Cecile had gone with them to most of their meetings, if not only to eavesdrop from the large black doors that marked the company’s conference room. The Lumiere Company mostly controlled the entire city of Ur, seeing as the Council that led the city was comprised mostly of members from the Lumiere company. His father made it a point to brag about this to others, including to Aryn himself. Thinking about his father, Aryn felt a pang of sadness as he hoisted himself up onto the ivory carriage that waited for him at the end of the gravel path leading back to the mansion.
“Where to, Mr. Lumiere?” the coachman asked, tipping his hat as Aryn sat down.
“The Lumiere Company’s building, thank you,” he replied, smiling sadly at the graying man.
It was always so dark in this city, almost as if a blanket covered the sky, and poured the dirt and ash onto the roads if only to punish the people who dwelled there.
That’s ridiculous, Aryn thought, banishing the thought from his mind. Why would we be punished?
He sat back cold, uncomfortable seat, watching snow drift past his face. It was as though he was walking through the stars, free from all of his troubles on this God-forsaken world. But, the clatter of the horses’ hooves and the whispers and gasps of baffled onlookers pulled him back to reality. Aryn pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. He kept it shorter than what was considered “tasteful” here, but he didn’t mind. Celine was the only one he felt the needed to impress, and hers was the only opinion in the matter he really cared for, if he was being honest. His dull brown hair barely compared to her curly red locks, though, and her dark blue eyes made her look a considerable amount like their father. Aryn had eyes that were orange, and they had just seemed to appear, not from his mother or his father.
The carriage came to a screeching halt, and Aryn looked around, suddenly losing his train of thought. The large, prison-like building he had seen so many times before stood right in front of him, but now it looked more threatening than ever. Two towers stood, one on each side of the massive building, and “LC” was written in bronze on the tower to his left. Lumiere Company: the most powerful of the seven companies. Aryn stood solemnly, thanked the coachman, and stepped down into the snow. The flurries around the building suddenly made it look even more ominous, and shadows seemed to lurk around every corner, staring into his very soul as he approached the massive doors reluctantly.
He needed a plan.
After all, it was quite unusual to waltz into your father’s former company, attempting to declare yourself as the head of it. He hadn’t wanted to resort to such methods, but his father had told him earlier in the year, “If I am to die, you must keep the Lumiere Company out of the grasping hands of those who would use it for evil. Take possession of what is rightfully yours!”
Aryn had laughed at this and replied, “How would you die, seeing as you’re the most powerful man in the world right now?” It was too bad that he hadn’t realized that that would be the very reason that he had died.
Not many people had their parents die oh-so-coincidentally on a ship that was headed through the most peaceful waters on the earth to the next country over for diplomatic matters that could help both of the countries tremendously.
He still remembered that day.
“We’ll be back before you know it,” his father had said, kissing Celine’s forehead gently as she threw her small gloved hands around his neck. She was only nine.
“It’s only for a few days, Aryn, so please look after your sister,” his mother had agreed, giving him a brief reassuring smile.
“Father, mother, what if you never come back?” Celine had cried, being slightly more over dramatic than usual.
Aryn had smirked at this. “Then you would have to deal with me for the rest of your life! You would clean the house every day, and if you ever forgot to serve me dinner, then I would eat you instead!” he teased, poking her belly and making her squeal with laughter.
“But you couldn’t eat me, Ary!” he frowned at the nickname. “I would be the finest delicacy in all of the world, much more than you would ever deserve!” She could hardly keep from falling over in a fit of giggles.
Aryn gave her a glare, but one that wasn’t too convincing, apparently. Celine burst into another fit of laughter.
“Don’t worry, Celine, darling. We’ll be back before that could ever happen. Just watch your brother and make sure he doesn’t eat any other children while we’re away, alright?” her mother smiled and stroked back Celine’s red hair, out of her face.
But, they didn’t come back.
It seemed like some horrible cliche that had plunged both Aryn and his sister’s lives into chaos and sadness. When the news came of their parents demise, Celine had cried out and ran sobbing into her older brother’s arms, but Aryn hadn’t believed it. His parents wouldn’t have abandoned him so easily. They should have come back.
Why didn’t they come back?
Aryn trudged through the snow up to the foreboding doors that awaited him. He stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the familiar Gothic designs on the stone, then pushed it open, letting an icy wind blow through the company. The room he stood at the entrance of looked similar to a court room. A thin trail of light pooled in from a skylight at the ceiling, and a large desk stood about twenty feet from him.
There was an angry looking woman, stout as she was small, sitting at the desk, and her hair splayed out all about her, though it looked like she had tied it up earlier that day, but later attempted to pull it all out from stress or dealing with idiots who had stupid questions. The woman shot him a bone chilling glare that made Aryn gulp in nervousness before continuing.
“You look particularly lovely today, Ms. Amber,” Aryn said with a small, polite smile. Best to stay on her good side.
Ms. Amber took a ragged breath, scowling even harder than before. “What do you need, Mr. Lumiere?” she asked, her voice strained and obviously trying not to shout. She seemed to be trying to not kill him for disturbing her, and Aryn took a step back.
He regained his posture and cleared his throat. “I wish to speak to the company,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he was.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Well, no but—”
“Then, you can’t speak to them right now!” Ms. Amber bolted up. “You may not disturb them unless you have a valid reason. Some mere boy—”
A voice stopped her suddenly. “Amber, I think you may have disturbed this entire city with all of that yelling. That is quite enough, thank you.” A man with dark hair and bright blue eyes stepped from the shadows, and Aryn let out a breath he hadn’t known that he had been holding.
“Kouser, thank the gods,” he muttered. The man, Kouser, turned to smile at him.
“Hello, Aryn. I assume you have business to discuss. Surely you wouldn’t burst in uninvited with no good reason.”
“I do, and—”
Kouser held up a hand to stop him. “Amber, if you please, make Mr. Lumiere an appointment for right now to speak with me. Push any conflicting appointments back as necessary.” She began to protest but was stopped by an icy look that Kouser shot her. “Now.”
Ms. Amber smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, and waved Aryn through with what sounded like a muttered curse on him and his remaining family. He shivered at the thought and followed Kouser hurrying more than he had before.
The two man walked down one of the seven corridors leading off into the building, their footsteps echoing eerily off of the gray walls. Kouser was quieter than usual, and he stared silently ahead, Aryn feeling increasingly more uncomfortable.
“Why are you here, Aryn?” Kouser asked suddenly, making him jump.
“I want my father’s old position as head of the company. I want what is rightfully mine,” he replied, running his fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry, old friend, but that is the one thing I can’t give you. The Council would have my head if I even considered giving the title to anyone as young as you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t care, the position should be passed down to me, so that I can continue my father’s work, no matter how young I may be. My father led this company, and with him, they began to heal the broken city all of us call home. Since his death, it has done anything but. I want to make Ur a better place, and I want the ash to scatter, the shadows to be diminished, or do you not want it to be a good place—” a hand seemed to come out of nowhere and hit him across the face.
“You have no right to say such things, and no right to the position. Your father may have tried to make the city a better place, but he did more than he let you know. You know nothing when it comes to the Lumiere Company, and you are arrogant for thinking you do,” Kouser snapped, his entire mood changing suddenly. “You know nothing.”
Aryn regained his posture once more. “Good evening, Mr. Selev,” he said, addressing Kouser coldly.
“Good evening, Mr. Lumiere.”
Aryn left, then storming off through the hallways. How dare he insult me so. Arrogant? What right does Kouser have to call me arrogant? Of all of the nerve… Aryn looked up from his thoughts and realized that he didn’t know where he was, or where he was heading. He was in another corridor that looked exactly like the one he had gone through with Kouser, but now doors led off to his right and left. He stood at the mouth of the hall and seemed to grow colder as he stared into the darkness. There were seven doors, three to each side and on at the far end of the hall. Aryn took a step further into the hall and peered through the first door on his right, eyes widening in anticipation, but of what he didn’t know.
It was a plain door, and it looked to be made out of steel or some other kind of metal , and a long window was in the center, the glass coating some kind of wire netting. Where the handle should have been, however, there was an orange disc about the size of Aryn’s palm, a fire emblem, that was taking its place. Aryn, as if some outside force was controlling him, reached out and touched the disc unconsciously. He yelped and jerked back reflexively, cursing the echoes that sounded around him. He felt the need to run, to escape, but didn't know why he felt that way. He stayed, however, and glared at the door, trying to fathom what had happened. The disc hadn’t hurt him, or done any harm to him, necessarily, but he had had the oddest sensation.
He had been burning on the inside.
Aryn wasn’t even sure what that meant, but for a moment, when he had made contact with the disk, it had seemed as though there was some amount of power inside of him that he had never known about that had wanted to explode. He hadn’t let it. Aryn stepped away from the fire door again, and turned reluctantly to continue down the hallway. The rest of the doors were quite similar to the first one, all of them opening to the same room and all of them had the strange discs replacing the handles. Aryn kept track of all of the emblems in his head: fire, water, I’ll assume earth, and air, a white triangle. Light, possibly? And what about the indigo one, it’s a flipped version of light, so let me guess… Darkness.
He shivered as the word passed through his mind. There was quite a lot of darkness in the world right now, and he seemed to be the only one looking to subdue it. Aryn continued onto the last door, the feeling of uneasiness inside of him seeming to grow even more than it had when he had first entered this building. The last door seemed bigger than the rest, and it was a darker color too, perhaps made out of a stronger metal. As Aryn gazed at the disc on this door, he saw that it was blank. The color of the disc was so dark of a black that it seemed to make his entire being go cold, the very thought of it seeming to make him quiver with fear. There was something inside of the room.
Aryn looked through the door of the room and into the shadows of the corner, trying to see exactly what was there. It wasn’t a bed, and there wasn’t a bed in this particular room, but there was something there, not looking at—
Aryn froze as two large bright green eyes flickered open, and the woman in the corner of the room stood shakily and looked straight at him. She had black hair that was in a braid that hung over her right shoulder, and she was dressed in a once-fine evening gown that perfectly fit her slender form, the dark colors faded and dull. The woman stood there silently for a moment, defiance seeming to radiate off of her, but she fell to her knees, letting out a gasp of pain. She stayed there, unmoving, after that, but Aryn’s blood ran cold as he heard something he didn’t expect. She spoke… in his mind.
Why are you here, sorcerer?
He looked at the woman, and blinked. “Are you the one who is talking to me? Who are you? I just was coming to—” She focused on him again, her eyes meeting his.
You came to conquer a kingdom, did you not? Do you enjoy war?
“No,” Aryn replied, a bit more shaken up. “I came to help this company do what my father couldn’t and what is is refusing to do now: to bring the light back. And what do you mean, 'mortal?'”
Not a warrior, but a leader. You and I have the same purpose. These people have become corrupt, and I lay here, helpless. I can’t lift a finger towards them, and they have complete power over me. I can do nothing more than abide by their every wish. You, sorcerer, can, though.
“Why haven’t you tried to escape—or to fight? I dislike war more than anyone, and yet I know that imprisonment is the worst fate that there is.”
You are wrong. There are far worse fates.
“You’re right. If Celine was ever threatened, I would probably bend to anyone’s will.”
Who are you, sorcerer?
Aryn thought for a moment. “Sorcerer? No, I’m not even sure what you’re talking about. I could ask you the same question though.”
My name is Fae.
Aryn felt a shiver go through him. He recognized that name, but wasn’t sure where from. It was itching at the back of his brain, trying to remind him, but he just couldn’t remember. “Hello, I’m Aryn Lumiere,” he replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Aryn looked down at Fae, who was now attempting to stand unsteadily once more. “You don’t need to do that, you’ll just fall again,” he said, a slight strain in his voice.
Be quiet, I can hear them coming.
“Who can you hear coming?” he asked. Fae did not reply, rather she stood stone still inside of her cell, looking a lot like a cat about to pounce on some prey. “Why are you in this cell? Who put you here?”
Be quiet, her voice hissed, and for the first time, Aryn noticed that as she spoke, her mouth didn’t move. They’re coming. You need to leave, sorcerer, if you are to survive this. Run—Now! Aryn was startled by the ferocity in her voice and jumped, making a full on sprint back through the hallway despite all of the questions pouring into his mind.
Who—or what—was she and why had she been locked in such a place? What were all of those discs on the doors? Why had he felt as if he were burning from the inside out, and why was all of this in his father’s old company? Did he really know that little about his family and their past?
A large crash sounded behind him as Aryn barreled through the hall, just as he ran into the main corridor, and a woman screamed. It was probably Fae, and realizing this, Aryn turned around and saw another muffled shape, large as it was wide, running after him. Its horns glistened with what he hoped wasn’t blood, and it looked like a bull's head on the body of a man.
A minotaur.
Aryn whirled and hurtled on through the corridors, hearing the hoofbeats behind him that only caused him to run faster. Minotaurs weren’t real, though. They were just stories—made up creatures that frightened children and tended to linger in your head for just too long…
The beast behind him bellowed and Aryn felt the hairs on his neck stand up. It was getting closer—too close for comfort, at least. He pushed himself harder, ignoring the ache in his legs and the breaths that were becoming shorter and more ragged as the chas progressed. There was something in the hallway up ahead.
Two people stood, oblivious to the threat at hand, talking. Aryn recognized one right away: it was Kouser. He suddenly couldn’t hear the minotaur behind him anymore, couldn’t feel the hoofbeats shaking the very earth. Aryn pulled to a stop and pressed himself up against the left wall. He decided it would be better not to be seen for the time being. If only he could get close enough to hear what he was saying though…
“...the girl, though I may have angered her older brother,” Kouser's voice echoed down the hallway. “I called him arrogant for believing he knew more about the company than us, but I was only trying to get him off of our track, Tiar, you know that.”
Tiar, the other man, shook his bald head. “Kouser, it would be better if you didn’t make contact with the Lumieres at all. If the boy were to find out what really happened to his parents, the press would be on us in days, hours even! If we had to take care of another generation of leaders for our company, despite it being a “tragic accident,” a “horrible coincidence that they died in the same year as their beloved parents,” I’m sure someone would see a connection in the deaths, and trace it, ultimately, back to us. Our company would be dead, and I would hate for something to happen to you as well, Kouser, so keep your nose out of things it doesn’t belong in. Now, go fetch that pet of yours, Foe or whatever her name was. Its nearly time,” he replied, pointing down the hall to where Fae was.
I need to get out of here. These men—my father trusted them? They ended up murdering my parents… who trusted them? Aryn was shaking as he attempted to conceal himself in the shadows. If he was caught now, he could end up like his parents, and Celine would have no way of knowing what had happened. He watched the two men nod at each other and go their separate ways, Kouser heading back in the direction of Fae and Tiar in the opposite direction. He stepped out of the corner after he could no longer see either of them and stood there in shock for a moment before continuing on his way. He somehow managed to find his way out of the building and looked back at it with a particular distaste, shivered, and climbed back onto the carriage that would take him home.
He mumbled the destination to the coachman, and sat numbly, not thinking, not even watching the dark buildings passing by, as he waited to arrive. They had killed his parents. Why had they done such a thing? The sense of betrayal in him grew, and he felt mournful.
I need to get my mind off of it, Aryn thought, or else it will engulf me. His thoughts moved to Fae. Who was she? And why was she in a cell in the company? Should I have gone back after the minotaur-thing attacked me? Why did they put her in that cell? Aryn felt his sense of betrayal immediately overwhelmed with a feeling of guilt. He just left her there, with no protection. In a cell, in the middle of a company of murderers.
He stopped thinking after that, and moved to watching the snow drift by his face once more, heard the clatter of the horse's’ footsteps, and the shadows dancing off of the city around him. Before he knew it, he was back at the manor, and he could see everything from the spires that reached up to the giant tree in the yard that had been an excellent sanctuary as a child. He stepped off of the coach, gazing intently at the entire premise, then crunched through the snow all the way to the front door. Aryn threw it open, stepped inside, and hung his coat and hat back up where they were supposed to go, then walked drearily to the lounge. The fire was blazing in the fireplace, and the maroon chair that always sat by the window was dragged up next to it. Over the back of the chair, Aryn could see just a bit of red hair.
He walked up behind the chair and grabbed his sister’s shoulders, shaking them and saying,
“Why did you move the chair, Celine? I am going to eat you for moving my chair!”
She giggled and replied, “Your chair, it’s not yours! In fact, I left your chair exactly where it was! Just go check. Go sit down right about…” she pointed back by the window, “there.” Aryn frowned deeply and stalked over to where she was pointing.
He sat down on the floor, and asked, “Did you shorten it a bit? I can’t seem to see out of the window!” Celine let out another burst of laughter, her blue eyes sparkling, but her smile faded after a few moments, tracing a bit of dreariness in her brother’s eyes.
“Ary, are you alright?” she asked quietly. He nodded, standing.
“I’m just tired, that’s all, Celine. Nothing to worry about,” he gave her a reassuring smile, but she got up and walked over to where he was, approaching him with a concerned expression.
“I know you’re not, but if you don’t want to tell me you don’t have to,” she replied slowly, her green dress glimmering in the light from the window. Aryn nodded.
“Alright, fine. If you want to make me feel better, you could go and get me some tea,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
Celine’s face seemed to light up. “And then you’ll feel happy?” she asked.
“Sure,” he replied, grinning at her.
Celine skipped out of the room, obviously pleased that she could help, and Aryn’s thoughts began to wander again as soon as she left. Celine looked like she was doing better, but she seems to still be sad, droopy almost. He sighed and leaned on the window frame. Then, he began to grow angry thinking about Celine. They did this… They made our family broken. They hurt Celine… He trusted them and they killed him.
Suddenly, he was speaking aloud. “He trusted them and they-” Heat flowed through him, and Aryn felt once more as though he were going to explode with all of it inside of him. He fell to his knees and arched his back, staying stone still on the floor and waiting for the heat to go away. What is this? He thought, bewildered. Why is this happening? His thoughts flashed back to the hallway, the discs, and Fae. I wonder where she is now—if she is alright...
He could still see her large green eyes looking defiantly at him, her dark dress somehow shimmering in the shadows, her voice in his head. What was she? Fae…
“Why are you on the ground, Ary? I brought you some tea,” a small voice said from the door. Celine was back. “Come sit by the fire: it’s a lot warmer than over there by the window.”
“Celine, you need to know something,” he said, making a split decision, and standing back up and regarding the pounding headache and blackening vision as he stood with a particular distaste.
She perked up, her eyes focusing in on him almost immediately, and she looked curious. “What is it?” she asked.
“Our parents,” he started. “Their deaths weren’t an accident. Kouser planned it all and-”
“Aryn, stop. I know how upset you’ve been since mom and dad died, and at the company. Don’t think I didn’t notice you constantly cursing them when you thought I wasn’t looking for not trying to stay on the good side, but that’s no reason for you to blame one of our family’s oldest friends for the deaths of our parents!” her voice sounded extremely grown up for a nine year old, so much so that it startled Aryn when she spoke. “You need to go get ready. We have the party in an hour, remember?”
Right, Aryn thought. The party. The party was a tradition held by the Ur’s leaders every year for the “unity and happiness” of the people in its community. It was always the biggest event of the year, and usually occurred around Christmas time. It had totally slipped Aryn’s mind.
“But Celine-”
“No, Aryn. Go upstairs and get ready, I’ll send Weldir to help you if you’d like, but drop this stuff. Its been hard enough already with mom and dad gone, and I don’t want to hear some conspiracy you have about murder.”
“You should go get ready, too. No need to mother me, Celine,” he replied, heading for the door and leaving his younger sister staring after him, unsure of what to think of their conversation.
Notes: Aryn- pronounced ARE-INN
Kouser- pronounced KOO-ZER
Weldir- pronounced WELL-DEER
Found cool dragon picture on google somewhere...
This is just part of a story I'm working on.
I appreciate feedback! (Sorry if it was longer than you expected... If you read it all the way through, good for you!)
| Credit | Google for the picture. |
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