The Sibling

Prologue

Aeroveth breathed out softly, raising his hand to brush the snow from his beard. His breath puffed away in a little white cloud, blending with the gray backdrop of the dreary winter morning. The young king of Fal-Crag felt out of place in the north. In Heatherhold, the northernmost of the five kingdoms, there wasn’t much out there when you went further up than Sagetangle. It didn’t help that Aeroveth’s crew, a small group of around 15, seemed far better suited to the cold climate than he. He had hired a group of northerners to lead him towards the Spire. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, a soft and smooth language that Aeroveth couldn’t understand. He shrugged, turning his gaze forwards. He was a king. He didn’t have to bother himself with northerners.

Today was the day. Aeroveth had spent the evening burning precious candles to look over the map, pointing his guides to their final destination. He had kept it secret until now, pointing to a new place on the map each day. Aeroveth had to act confident, but he knew that any one of these men could run back to Sagetangle and betray him. If they did, he would be dead before he could say “Valkanov”. Any loyal northerner would kill him as soon as they had a chance, because what Aeroveth was trying to do could put the entire world at risk. 

It was noon before the Spire came into view, a huge and thin tower that stretched into the horizon. Aeroveth was sweating through his thick clothes, the sun making his eyes water as the light bounced off the snow. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore, and he felt a quiet sense of dread at seeing the Spire. It stood in the center of a huge plain, Aeroveth and his group on a small hill looking over it. There was no cover in the field, not that there was much anywhere in this vast tundra. Aeroveth was used to the low bushes and creeping vines of the south. He was used to low, squat buildings and busy streets. Not this. Not nothing.

The sky seemed like it might devour them all, gaping gray blue as it was. Aeroveth slowed to walk through the field, his guides passing in front of him. They knew to keep moving. He started to shiver as soon as he stopped sweating. Aeroveth’s teeth were chattering by the time he reached the spire. The tension was palpable. He could taste it, and it tasted like blood. The actions that occured in the next few minutes could change the course of history.

“You have key?” Asked one of the guides. Jurgigh. At least, Aeroveth thought that was his name. Tahalik was a difficult language and its names were hard to pronounce.

Aeroveth nodded, pulling off his pack. It was light compared to his guides. He held the maps, the key, all the essentials. And coins. And several expensive knives. The other men carried the food. The key was enormous, heavy iron. He could feel the cold through his gloves, hand trembling as he raised it towards the door.

“Wait.” Said Jurgigh. “We get ready.”

The guides positioned themselves around the door, crossbows raised. It felt too quiet for such a momentous moment. It was always too quiet in the north. The key turned slowly, with a loud click that echoed throughout the valley. The guides breathed softly. Aeroveth sucked in and pulled the door open. It creaked loudly. It was made out of metal, shiny and contrasting against the black rock of the Spire. When it lay fully open, Aeroveth took a slow step forwards, peering into the darkness. He moved to enter, but someone grabbed his shoulder. One of the guides, with bright red hair and a broad, squarish face.

“Edshi goes first.” Jurgish said, gesturing towards the man.

Aeroveth nodded. He was too important to risk himself. He knew that, he had just gotten caught up in the moment. Finally, he was here. He wanted to rejoice, celebrate, scream at the top of his lungs. But the king didn’t scream, so he stepped back politely and let Edshi go ahead. The noise started the second Edshi put one foot into the building. It sounded like footsteps, but heavy and too fast to be human. Padded paws slapped against the smooth stone. Aeroveth’s guides pushed him aside and formed a half circle around the door. Edshin took a step back, turning to look at Jurgish. He opened his mouth, but Aeroveth never heard what he said. Because it was at that moment that the bear exploded through the door,

A huge white bear with bright golden eyes crashed into Edshin and slammed him to the ground. His ribcage collapsed and his chest caved in as the bear dragged a claw across his face. Blood sprayed across the snow as the bear looked up, roaring so loudly that Aeroveth had to cover his ears, collapsing to the ground as he scrambled away from the bear. Crossbow bolts fired, and two of the guides drew swords, charging into the fray. Aeroveth climbed back to his feet, glancing around him for help. There was no cover in the huge open valley. There was nowhere to hide. The bear had torn apart two more of his men, and the battle had been thrown into chaos. The bear was bleeding, the men were bleeding. Aeroveth groaned. The bear pushed the men further away from the door, and Aeroveth ran towards the only safety he could see.

Once he had passed into the Spire, Aeroveth spun and slammed the door closed behind him, twisting the key as fast as he could. Only seconds later the full weight of the white bear slammed against the door. Aeroveth cursed, glazing around but seeing nothing in the darkness. He lifted his fingers to the wall, feeling his way along the rough stone. The hallway wound upwards, and Aeroveth stumbled up the stairs. By the time he reached the top of the spiral stairs, he felt as if he had walked for hours. His hands were covered in thin jagged cuts from the sharp rough rock. Aeroveth collapsed at the top of the stairs, letting himself fall to the cold stone floor. He shivered for a moment, feeling his tears freeze to his cheeks. 

Aeroveth was cold. The final steps that brought him to a small door were the hardest of his life. And the most hopeless. Without his guides, Aeroveth wouldn’t make it home. And with the huge white bear waiting just outside the door, he would die before he could even try. Aeroveth felt for the doorknob, and when it opened he started backwards as light spilled across his face. He wasn’t blinded, because the light was only a soft warm glow, like that of firelight. It gleamed around an ornate wooden cradle covered in tiny  dragon carvings. The entire room felt whimsical, with painted orange walls and a mosaic covering the floor with an image of a white dragon breathing fiery tendrils towards the crib. But there was no light source in the room. No fire, no lanterns, no candles. The only light came from the cradle. 

Aeroveth inched forwards, leaning over the crib and staring down at the child within.

“Shhh” He whispered softly, lifting the glowing child into his arms. The girl had furious red hair and a round, pensive face. 

She cried, but she did so quietly, shifting in Aeroveth’s arms. She radiated heat, and he pulled her close as he turned to leave. The child was glowing, but he tried to ignore that. He knew what he couldn’t focus on it right now. Aeroveth glanced back towards the room, scanning for anything of value. He snatched a soft leatherbound book off of an otherwise empty wooden shelf. Aeroveth tucked the book in his jacket and hurried out of the building. 

When the young king of the south reached the metal door of the spire, he heard only silence. Aeroveth pulled the child close and placed the key in the door. He had been awake for far too long. He wasn’t thinking straight. He had no plan other than to run and hope, for when he looked in the fiery child’s eyes, he saw hope and he saw danger. The door opened with a clang and Aeroveth glanced around. The scene was horrific. He covered the child’s eyes, even though she was far too young to notice the blood. It was everywhere. Sprayed across the snow, dripping from fifteen different northerner’s bodies. There were limbs and guts spread out and torn up all around the body of the enormous white bear, who had died with a shining sword through its skull. 

Aeroveth leaned over and vomited, falling to his knees and staining his pants with blood. A shadow appeared behind him, casting a muscled silhouette over him and the fiery child. Aeroveth turned, wiping his face, just in time to see Jurgigh. The man had climbed onto his feet, wiped the blood from his brow, and raised a thin shiny blade.

“Why?” Whispered Aeroveth.

“For the north.” Jurgigh spat, shoving the knife through Aeroveth’s left eye. He fell to the ground, and from the body of a king, Jurgigh lifted the baby of a goddess and walked swiftly away from this valley of death.