Page 46 of Sundered By Fate

Malekith's eyes locked onto Aric's, a mix of fear and longing twisting his features. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could answer, a loud noise echoed through the dreamscape—a harsh, discordant clang that made Aric's head throb.

"No!" Aric cried out as he felt himself being pulled away from Malekith, the dream dissolving around them. He reached for Malekith one last time, their fingers brushing as the vision faded.

"Aric—" Malekith's voice was a raw cry of anguish, echoing in the void.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

Aric awoke with a start, the dream slipping away from him like water through his fingers. He reached out, as if he could catch the threads of it and pull them back to him, but they were already gone, dissipating into the cool darkness of his chamber.

No, he thought with a surge of frustration. He was so close, so close to getting the answers he needed, and now?—

A shadow fell across him, a dark shape looming over his bed. Aric's heart leaped into his throat as he scrambled back, trying to summon his magic—but it was no use. The wards they'd placed on him here in the human realm held strong, stifling his power like a too-tight band.

"Aric Solarian," a voice intoned. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "By order of the Lord Regent Valerian, we are to escort you to the throne room immediately."

Aric blinked up at the figure above him, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light. It was a guard—a palace guard, clad in their formal black and gold uniform. Two more stood behind him, grim-faced and silent.

"What is this about?" Aric demanded as he shook off sleep's lingering embrace and pushed himself upright.

The lead guard didn't answer at first, simply moving back slightly to allow Aric room to rise. Then finally: "I'm afraid I cannot say. Only that our orders are to bring you before Lord Valerian at once."

Aric's stomach clenched. Whatever had happened during that tribunal earlier—it seemed Lord Valerian had reached a decision, and Aric had a sinking feeling it wouldn't be in his favor.

"Very well," he said tersely, shoving aside any hope of returning to Malekith's dream for now. "Lead the way."

Eleven

Aric fought the urge to pace as he waited in the elegant corridor outside Lord Valerian's private study. The guards on either side of the door watched him with impassive stares, and he forced himself to stand still, willing his heart to stop pounding in his ears.

He could still feel the faint, fading edges of the dream clinging to him like mist—Malekith's presence so near and yet agonizingly out of reach. He cursed the timing of this summons; he needed answers, now more than ever, and he doubted Valerian would be forthcoming.

But what choice did he have? He was here, in Valerian's city, at the mercy of human politics and intrigues that felt hopelessly tangled and foreign after so long away. But he'd faced demons and dark magic without fear; he could face whatever machinations the Astarians had in store for him. And if nothing else, perhaps he could learn something useful before finding a way to speak to Malekith once more.

The guard to his left finally spoke up, calling out through the door. "My lord! Aric Solarian has arrived."

The words had barely finished echoing off the high ceilings when the door swung inward with a gentle creak. Valerian stoodframed in the entranceway, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his dark eyes swept over Aric appraisingly.

"Aric," Valerian said warmly, holding out a hand. "Thank you for joining me on such short notice. I apologize for disrupting your rest."

His eyes said otherwise—that sharp glint of calculation lurking behind them—but Aric forced himself to match Valerian's smile as he took the offered hand. "Of course, Lord Regent. I am yours to command."

The little chuckle Valerian gave was disarming in its warmth. "I assure you, I have no intention of commanding anyone tonight—at least not yet." He released Aric's hand but lingered close, guiding him with an arm over his shoulders into the room. "I thought we might take a walk through our fair city instead. I imagine it must look quite different than you remember."

"A walk?" Aric tried not to sound too incredulous.

Valerian ignored it if he noticed. "Yes, quite different indeed." He withdrew, calling out to someone beyond Aric's sight with brisk instructions for preparations before turning back to him with that relentless charm.

"Shall we?"

Despite himself, Aric found himself smiling back.

The palace's corridors were like a labyrinth of polished marble and gilded woodwork, but Valerian navigated them with ease, pointing out ancient statues and tapestries as they walked.

"This, for example, depicts the Blade of Sun's Dawn, wielded by our first Mage High Lord during the founding of Astaria." Valerian gestured to a massive sword encased in glass. "It's said he called down the very light of the gods themselves to banish the demon hordes from our shores."

Aric stopped to admire the craftsmanship, his mind spinning with the ancient magics it must have channeled. "Even as a replica, it's remarkable."

"Indeed," Valerian said, watching him closely. "We take great pride in our heritage." With a glance over his shoulder, he leaned in closer. “Don’t tell the Pureblades, but I’ve had it imbued with a great wellspring of magic and blessed by the Light’s priests. Not as powerful as the original, of course, but I like to imagine it bears some of the original’s strength. In spirit, at least.”

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