But am I even capable of all that? Is that really the right thing to do, or am I like my father—too blindsided by my own ideologies?
“I’m contemplating the weight of responsibility,” I correct Tanis. “There’s a difference.”
“You’re wondering if you’re doing the right thing,” he says. When I don’t respond, he continues: “Your father would never question himself like this, you know?”
“A ruler should not doubt himself,” I reply absently, checking each doorway as we pass for hidden threats. Unlike Tanis, I am at least trying to pay attention to the dangers we might face.
“That’s why you’ll be a better king than him,” Tanis replies. “Doubt is natural. We all do it. The real difference is what we do with our fears. Do you let it consume you, questioning ourselves and situations over and over again, or do we just try our best?”
I grit my teeth. I’ve made so many mistakes.
“What if my best isn’t good enough?” I ask him, voice low so that the other warriors stalking behind us don’t overhear. Thankfully they stand back slightly, given Tanis and me room to maneuver, but close enough to intercede if a battle starts.
“You will make mistakes. You’ll never be perfect. But you can try, nonetheless. That’s all that anyone can ever ask from you, and no more. It’s all you should ever expect from yourself. If you do your best, then you’ll be doing good enough.”
“Since when did you become so wise?” I joke, throat tight.
Tanis just grins and shrugs. “I had to watch you do stupid stuff, and I chose to actually learn from your actions. Of course, since I am wise, you’re welcome to come to me for advice. I’m always happy to straighten you out when need be.”
“You just want an excuse to punch me when I do something stupid,” I reply, trying my best to quell my laughter.
“Eh,” Tanis replies. “I think we’re supposed to punch each other once every so often. That’s what brothers do, isn’t it? Get into fights. It’s like a rite of passage or something… Hey, what’s wrong?”
“No, I just got some dust in my eye,” I snap, turning my face away from Tanis so that he can’t see me rapidly blinking the…dust away. “Where’s the closest bathing station? I just need to wash my face.”
A commotion ahead draws our attention, breaking us out of our friendly banter. More males round the corner, weapons raised. Unlike before, these warriors wear the distinctive armor of my father’s personal guard—shining metal, pristine in its strength and superiority. Their luminae pulse with aggression - they won’t be so easily swayed.
“Stand aside,” I call out.
Their answer comes in the form of raised weapons and curled, disgusted lips. So be it.
I spin my spear, settling into a fighting stance. Behind me, my supporters do the same. The corridor fills with the harsh glow of battle-ready luminae.
This is it. The moment I truly declare war against my father. Every blow struck here will echo through our history. But I’ve seen what becomes of people who hide in darkness, who let fear rule their actions.
I think of Maya, of her courage in the face of darkness. Of how she fights not for herself, but for others. She makes me want to be better. To be worthy.
“For the light,” I roar, charging forward.
The corridor erupts in chaos.
Metal clashes against metal, the ring of weapons echoing off stone. The elite guards are skilled - they wouldn’t be protecting my father otherwise. But my supporters fight with conviction, with purpose. We aren’t just following orders; we’re fighting for a future we believe in.
I duck under a slashing blade, my own weapon spinning to deflect another. My opponent is strong, his armor gleaming in the pulsing light of our luminae. His strikes are precise, calculated - everything I was taught a warrior should be.
But I’ve learned there’s more to being a warrior than perfect form. Like having a reason to fight and even exist. That burning flame inside your soul, your very purpose of existing, pushing you forward when darkness falls around you, choking and blocking any sight of hope. You can be your own light and strength in those moments if you believe enough.
I feint left, then drive forward as he moves to block. My shoulder slams into his chest, disrupting his balance. Before he can recover, I sweep his legs. He crashes down, weapon clattering away.
“Yield,” I command, holding my spear to his throat. His luminae flare with defiance, then dim in resignation.
Around us, the fighting settles. Most of the elite guards lie disarmed, some nursing wounds but none fatal. My warriors stand victorious, yet show restraint. Now is not the moment of victory; we still have a throne to take. They understand what we fight for.
“The throne room lies ahead,” Tanis announces, checking his own opponent is securely bound.
I nod, straightening. I turn to my companions, reminding them of our goal. “Remember - we bring change, not vengeance.”
The massive doors to the throne room loom before us, metal surfaces etched with our history. How many times have I passed through them, seeking my father’s approval? Now I come seeking something far more important - our people’s future.