Page 220 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

Queen Lusia throws her shadows across the room in distress, while King Labyrinth sits on his throne, deep in thought. How are they to stop these creatures—these partners of theirs—when they do not even know the first thing about this weapon they’ve acquired?

“We’ve failed,” King Labyrinth speaks in dismay. The unspoken question hangs in the air.

How are we to stop them now?

For the last ten years, they have been trying to discover a different means of generating this weapon. A power source that will work as well as the child who carries the destiny of destruction.

“Lucian was always our answer,” Queen Lusia says, attempting to convince herself that they had not lost so gravely.

“Do you believe we could keep Lucian subdued long enough?” King Labyrinth speaks the obvious.

“We still hold the Soul Ruby,” the queen says. Yes, they do hold the most powerful of the Soul Stones. However, it has undergone such rigid experimentations and manipulations that the various pieces of the once-glorious stone are now lackluster in comparison.

“We’ve already tried that,” King Labyrinth says in dismissal, believing his wife to be speaking of using what’s left of the stone to power the weapon.

“Perhaps it could have an affect on Lucian. Weaken him, as with the Arcanes.”

It is the best chance they have at powering the weapon before the Arcanes do. The moment the child is used will mark one step closer to the end of their glorious reign.

The destruction of all lesser planets.

The destruction of their own, quite possibly.

It pains King Labyrinth deeply to harm his nephew. Despite the common opinion, the king loved his brother dearly. Many pieces of him lie within Lucian.

With that in mind, he says, “I suppose it is our final option.”

On the other side of the universe, Wendy Estridon sits close to the tree that once was Azaire Wendigo, looking over the crater in the world she has caused and cannot fix. Then she holds a knife to her skin, but cannot find the heart to use it.

Lilac Aibek and Calista Contarini lie together. While both know that it will only be for a short time, each of them makes vows of forever.

Leiholan Kepa tries to walk with his new prosthetic leg and when he fails, he rips it from himself and throws it at the wall. He, like some others, feel that he is missing an intrinsic part of himself.

And Lucian Aibek makes a despairing trip to a woman he has not missed, wondering why a name he’s never heard fits so comfortably on his tongue.

Cynthia Constance sits like she always has, as though unaffected by the Arcanes and those lost.

“If we have claimed our victory so easily, I don’t believe it to be over,” she says, which Lucian has been thinking.

He does not sigh or act disappointed. He does not sugarcoat what he says next. “No, it’s not. These are vicious, evil creatures down to the very soul I doubt they carry. A victory I can’t remember has to be a mind game.” And who better to play one on than your child?

“There are pieces of history that I have never told you,” Cynthia says carefully, cautiously. She has always been rather keen on Lucian resolving his own questions, believing it to create depth of character, strength, and a worthy partner. But she sees now, very much so, that her partner is straying from their task.

That she is losing him.

Lucian always expected she had withheld information, always believed that losing your children may be a bigger loss than losing parents you can hardly remember.

“In the old stories of The Rising, it wasn’t thought that the orphia who go to the void are forgotten. It’s that the Phoenicians are.”

“The Phoenicians?”

“The creatures the Arcanes were genetically modified from.” Cynthia pauses, weighing her options. She wants Lucian on her side, for he is to her what she is to him—the only person who understands the vendetta.

“The true story goes that when the Phoenician rises again, it will bring about the rise or demise of the Arcanes.”

Lucian gives her a quizzical look as he weighs the likelihood of what Cynthia is implying. The name almost rolls off his tongue.

“You’re saying you believe we have forgotten someone?”

Cynthia nods, pleased with Lucian and herself. “I am almost certain of it.”

---