Muscles tensing along every inch of my body, I dragged my eyes away from the devastation, and looked ahead, unfortunately for me, the view of my horizon did not improve.
The vibrant colors of lush mountains, shimmering seas, and endless bright skies that normally extended over our lands slowly turned darker and darker. The landscape became duller, grimmer, until the bright turquoises, greens, and browns of Caelisium were nothing more than a distant memory. The sun hid behind woeful clouds, and a dense wave of fog extended over us.
This place had been robbed of any form of life, and once we fully crossed into the Outlands, I swore even the chilled wind cried around us.
Here, war was not only a story of what our people went through… it was a vicious reality.
My arms instinctively tightened around Evie, who sat in front of me, her body rigidly wound. “I’m sorry,” I whispered against her ear, placing a kiss on her cheek.
I hated that she had to be here, but most of all, I hated that she was doing it for me.
She didn’t answer, and something told me it took all of her might to remain strong through this.
As the fog shifted before us, a clearing of blackened earth tarnished by the stench of spilled blood long ago greeted us. That wasn’t all. Large craters carved the land, marking the fall of Dragons fighting for freedom, along with the remnants of the skeletons of our warriors. A sea of bones was scattered throughout the battlefield—too many bodies to ever bring home.
Evanna’s head instantly turned away, her eyes shutting tightly, as though that would erase the flames burning through her, and the losses they’d all suffered. Losses that drowned her heart and soul every day because many of her loved ones, and our people, were the bones that blanketed the ground. And although she, too, had fought Raithian, she had survived when they didn’t.
Pain and rage burned through me with the atrocious sight, but I didn’t look away like the others did. No. I forced myself to take it all in. I could never forget what Raithian owed us.
There would be no forgiveness for him.
No redemption.
Only the same kind of pain he had caused us.
Tharion’s wings tilted suddenly, taking us away from the battlefield and deep into what I could only describe as a graveyard, though it once might’ve been a robust landscape of bushes, flowers, creeks, and trees.
The Forsaken Valley.
It extended from a dip in the skirt of the nearest mountain, its sight almost as daunting as the battlefield had been. The fog curled and swayed around our boots like snakes the second we hit the soil, our weapons instantly extending in our grasp. The in between wasn’t freed land, it technically belonged to Raithian’s kingdom right now, so encountering some of his sentries was a real possibility.
My thoughts were echoed by the way Kingston’s form coiled for battle, resembling a lion about to pounce. His feet crisscrossed before him while he stealthily searched the area before us for threats—his spear gripped in one hand and a sword in the other. I’d seen the kind of damage he could cause with a spear, and that was just during training. I didn’t want to imagine what he could actually do by wielding double weapons.
His race was chosen by the Devenish Family because they were natural-born warriors, after all.
The area suddenly glowed red, and I turned to find Tharion’s fire lava simmering its way up to his throat under each scale, in preparation for any attack. So much for staying invisible. I couldn’t fault him though. Evanna’s pain wasn’t the only one filtering into my soul. He, too, had lost beings he loved in those battles.
Exchanging a glance with Asher and me, Kingston signaled us to follow. The immediate coast was clear, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be danger ahead. Flanking Evie, who gripped her spear before her while she walked—poised for battle—Asher and I began to move.
The deeper we got into the valley, the more our weapons lowered, realizing we were, in fact, alone, and danger would not reach us today. Still, with each step, the dread within me increased, followed by a pang of sadness. A few ornate, iron benches were strewn along the pathway, like a bomb had exploded and thrown them every which way. Some of them were even half stuck into the soil, missing legs or armrests that might never be found.
Broken tiles from a small stone fountain crunched under our feet, the remaining basin—where I imagined birds once bathed—lay cracked against a dead tree trunk, its brittle and charred branches swaying in the chilled breeze as they hung on for dear life. No leaves, dead or otherwise, carpeted the ground.
Something harsh met my boot, and I winced, bending down to pick it up. As my thumb brushed away years of muck, a wooden figure was uncovered. A toy. A small carved Dragon, cracked along the head and missing a wing. The sight turned even more eerie by the red glow that illuminated it all.
“This was a park once,” I half whispered, half gasped, taken aback by the remnants of the life that inhabited it centuries ago, right next to the shadow of so much death.
Glancing at me, Kingston nodded, his gaze continuing to search for immediate threats even though his weapons returned to his hips. Asher and Evie retracted their spears and put them away too.
“Are those…?” My question faded when I hooked my spear to the belt, instinctively walking towards the new trail forming before me.
“Statues, yes,” Evanna answered while I stared at the figures lining the path on either side. “This is the March of Kings,” she whispered. “My parents passed the legend down to me once, like their parents did with them, but I never knew where it was.”
“I heard stories about this place too,” Asher added, curiosity coloring his words.
‘But never had the chance to see it’, his silence meant to convey, and I understood why they had never come here prior to today.
“After their coronation, each king was meant to walk among his ancestors. From the first one to ever rule to his predecessor,” Kingston explained, motioning from the sculpture all the way at the back of the trail to the one right in front of us. "It was a way to commune with them, each step reassuring his commitment to respect the past, honor the Sky Gods, and safeguard the future of Caelisium. Once he reached the beginning of the path, his statue was added.”
The statue in front of us captured my attention.
Overgrown vines had slithered and captured the stone king, but I could still see part of his chiseled features and body; he’d been someone great. Pulling out the dagger Harrison gifted me from the back of my belt, I swung through the long-dead plants, cutting him free. The young face that greeted me was kind of familiar, but not entirely recognizable.
“Is that—?”
“No,” Kingston interjected, gesturing to a pile of rocks directly beside it. “That one is the Warlock’s. It was destroyed by our people after his first act of malice, before they were forced to submit.” He walked to my side. “This is Angus Devenish III, Princess Keira’s grandfather.”
My gaze lifted from the shattered stone to the man standing tall before me, and I was glad that I could learn something else about him, even if in this place. As my gaze followed the statues on each side of the trail, I realized they were father and son, standing beside each other and giving each other strength. More importantly, they were all smiling.
The March of Kings wasn’t a show of power, superiority, or of the greatness each ruler possessed. Getting to stand beside their father and among the kings of the past was an honor, an accomplishment they never took for granted, and it showed in their expressions.