Chapter 4 - Embers of Defeat

The air in the center of Valtheon's fortress was heavy with the aroma of burning candles and incense, and a slight mist permeated the stone corridors. Built on a foundation of magic and wolves, the kingdom of Valtheon was a place where people valued authority and where long-standing customs were carried down through the ages. That power, however, had been put to the test today and had once again failed. Verron, the chief warrior of the realm, stepped through the creaking doors into the throne room, his footsteps resonating off the cold stone floor. His muscles tensed with strain, he moved with the strength and grace of the wolf that was inside him. As he went, his armor, which was damaged and covered with blood and muck from combat, clinked. He knelt in front of the grim-faced thrones occupied by King Babek and Queen Sylara. “Rise," the king said in a deep, serene voice that was tinged with disappointment. Knowing that the news he was carrying would not be well received, Verron stood with his head slightly bent. His gaze strayed to the queen, who was staring at him with a glare that appeared about to burst. Dangerously, the queen's eyes flared. She growled, her voice like the crackle of a flame, “Tell me, Verron, how did the battle turn out?” “We…lost, my queen. Again,” Verron said, his voice tight with shame. Queen Sylara scoffed, her fingers gripping the arms of her throne so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Lost?” she repeated, incredulously, “How? How is it that we, a people of magic and strength, keep losing to the likes of Arcanis?” “They do not practice magic! Kaveh has forbidden it in his kingdom! His sons, those whelps, fight without the power we command! So tell me, Verron, how are you and our forces defeated by an army of magicless men?” Her words stung Darius, but he was at a loss for words. He had repeatedly asked himself the same question. How could Valtheon's powerful werewolves lose to an army devoid of magic, without spells to empower or shield them? Despite the fact that it was illogical, their kingdom continued to suffer humiliating defeats. He started to speak, “I… " but the words became stuck in his throat. How could he respond? He was aware that the queen would become enraged and the justifications would fail. Unable to make an answer, Verron remained in silence, his eyes downcast. Queen Sylara stood swiftly from her throne, the fabric of her gown swirling about her like a storm. She didn’t even look at him as she walked out of the room, her heels tapping hard against the stone floor as she made her way to her quarters. He clenched his fists in despair, feeling the weight of the queen’s scorn weighing down on him. The king, however, remained cool, but his countenance reflected the disappointment he felt. He dismissed Verron with a sweep of his hand, and the chief warrior bowed deeply before making his way out of the royal room, his heart heavy with the failure that clung to him like a shadow. Queen Sylara paced restlessly in the royal chambers, her hands clenched at her sides, her mind racing with frustration and rage, how could Arcanis, a kingdom devoid of magic, keep winning? How could her people, with their age-old spells in addition to their wolf strength, keep losing? She thought about her sister, Sonya, who was the strongest witch Valtheon had ever encountered. No one in the kingdom, or anywhere else, had been able to match Sonya's power, which made her a force of nature. Until she was taken away from them one day. King Babek came in, his face gentler than it had been in the throne room, when the door knocked. He was fully aware that his wife's rage was rooted in more than just the battles she had lost. He walked carefully toward her, his hands extended in a peace sign. "You need to relax, Sylara," he whispered softly, “It won't help us to be angry” She didn't look at him, but she stopped pacing. She couldn't take her eyes off the tapestry on the wall, which was a detailed portrayal of Valtheon's triumphs in a bygone era when their adversaries were afraid of their might. "Babek, how can I remain calm?" Her voice trembled with anger as she snapped. "How is it that a kingdom with no magic defeats us with all the magic we have? Arcanis ought to have fallen long ago, but they still stand strong and taunt us with their triumphs. It's unbecoming” He stepped forward to put a hand on her arm, but she withdrew because her grief was too heavy on her mind. "And I can never forget," she added, her voice now lowered and bitter, "Sonya, my sister... She was all the lands' most formidable sorcerer. She was killed by Kaveh because they were afraid of her strength” With anxiety, Babek furrowed his brow, "That's not something you know for sure," he remarked warily, “There is no evidence linking her death to Kaveh” With her eyes blazing with unshed tears, Sylara shot back, "There is no proof that he wasn't" "Babek, I am sure that he was behind it, she posed too much of a threat to him, so he had her killed” “To his kingdom of magicless treasure. He feared her, and now he wants to destroy us in the same way that he destroyed her” “Mark my words Babek, I will answer blood for blood” she vowed.