The Shattered Crowns

Elys struggled to stay afloat as the relentless waves pummeled him and Akash, driving them beneath the surface again and again. Salt stung Akash's eyes, the roaring current tugging at his limbs, but he refused to loosen his grip on Elys' thick fur. The massive saber-tooth tiger surged forward, his powerful muscles straining against the current as they pushed toward the shore.

At last, the two broke free of the water's relentless grip, collapsing onto the gray sand of the riverbank. Their breaths came in shallow gasps, the chill of the water sapping the strength from their bones. The waves continued to roar behind them, but for the moment, they were safe.

Akash rolled onto his side, hacking up seawater that burned his throat and lungs. He wheezed, drawing in greedy gulps of air as black splotches clouded the edges of his vision. It felt like every muscle in his body had turned to lead.

Elys lay sprawled beside him, his once-lustrous crimson fur now slick and matted with water. Akash reached out a trembling hand to rest it on the tiger's flank, feeling the steady rise and fall of his companion's chest.

"Good job, buddy," Akash rasped, his voice barely audible over the distant crash of the waves. He lay back, his head resting against Elys' soaked fur as he let his gaze wander to the horizon. Slowly, the sound of faint bird calls reached his ears, their chirping a sharp contrast to the chaos they'd just endured.

His eyes traced the unfamiliar landscape before him. "Is this Lorian?" he murmured to no one in particular.

The land stretched out before them in harsh beauty. Jagged rocks jutted skyward in bright, sunlit hues, their sharp edges stark against the smooth desert sands that scattered endlessly toward the horizon. To the west, massive mountains loomed, their peaks disappearing into the haze. In the far distance, a city rose like an obsidian fortress, its towering emerald-and-black walls gleaming in the light. The wind that howled over the sand dunes was silenced as it hit the impregnable structure. Only a handful of spires peeked above the city's walls—dwarfed, but defiant.

Akash blinked at the sight, exhaustion giving way to a mix of awe and unease. His eyes drifted downward, following the labyrinthine rivers that snaked out from the sea. The once-raging waters had fractured into smaller, calmer streams, which wound their way inland like veins of shimmering silver. Beneath the outcrop of rock on which the city sat, nestled in the shadows of towering cliffs, was a small, unassuming village.

The village looked untouched by the grandeur above it, its structures huddled together as if seeking shelter from the elements. The gray silt of the riverbanks coated the area, softening the edges of the wooden homes and reed fences. Life pulsed faintly in this quiet settlement, almost hidden in the shadow of the powerful city above.

Akash pushed himself up with a groan, every movement drawing a protest from his battered body. His hand brushed against the hilt of his blade, still miraculously strapped to his side. Relief flooded through him as his fingers curled around it instinctively. He forced himself upright, his back cracking in protest, and lightly patted Elys' flank.

"Come on," he muttered. "We're not done yet."

The tiger rumbled softly in response, shifting his massive frame to allow Akash to lean on him as they staggered toward the village. The cold water had sapped their strength, but determination burned bright in Akash's chest.

"We need to find Mirak and Daenys," he said, his voice firmer now. "They have to be somewhere close." His eyes flicked back to the village nestled by the river. "Hopefully, someone there knows something."

Elys nuzzled his hand, his low growl vibrating through Akash's palm. Akash smiled faintly, running his fingers through the tiger's soaked fur. "We'll find them, Elys," he promised. "I'm not giving up."

The pair limped toward the small village, the towering city of obsidian and emerald looming far above them in the skyline. As they neared the outskirts, gray silt clung to Akash's boots with every step, the damp ground pulling at him like a living thing. His hand drifted to the mask covering his face—a fragile, mechanical device puffing out small bursts of steam as it struggled to regulate his breathing.

The last reminder of home.

The thought clung to him like the silt beneath his boots, heavy and persistent.

Farmers worked the fields along the riverbanks, their woven baskets overflowing with produce. They carried them on their heads or loaded them onto shaggy beasts of burden that plodded slowly along the dirt paths. The creatures—thick with fur and sporting broad, curling horns—seemed as weathered and resilient as their owners. The farmers paused to glance curiously at Akash and Elys as they passed, their eyes lingering on the strange pair. Whispers trailed in their wake, though no one spoke directly to them.

The village itself was humble but lively. Its wooden homes were reinforced with reeds and coated in a fine layer of windblown sand, giving them an aged, weathered appearance. Children darted between the houses, their laughter carrying on the wind as they played. The adults worked with quiet efficiency, some tending to livestock while others haggled over goods in an open-air market. The sandy ground blew freely through the streets, unhindered by walls or barriers. Only the farthest edge of the village had any real fortification—a stone foundation that backed up to the cliffside.

As Akash and Elys approached the village's entrance, a man passed by with a rickety cart in tow. The cart was pulled by one of the shaggy, horned beasts Akash had seen earlier. He stopped to inspect the creature—a bulky, fur-covered animal that towered over even Elys.

The man eyed Akash warily, his voice gruff. "Come to sell, stranger?"

Akash shook his head, his focus elsewhere. "I'm looking for two people—a girl and a boy, about my age. Have they come through here?"

The man scratched his chin, his expression skeptical. "Could be. Lot of folk are here for the festival. The Inquisitor's in town, and he always draws a crowd."

Akash's mask hissed softly as he exhaled, his muscles loosening despite his growing frustration. "Thanks," he muttered, brushing past the trader.

"Wait," the man called, his tone shifting. "That mask—what is it? Never seen anything like it."

Akash paused, turning slightly to study the man. His own face was partially obscured by a device covering his eyes, likely to protect against the sandstorms that swept through the region. The contrast was stark—functional, simple, and nothing like the intricate gift Akash wore.

"Nothing important," Akash said curtly.

The man huffed. "Bet it's worth a pretty penny. Tell you what—how about a trade? Information, some coins, maybe even a nice shawl."

Elys growled low in his throat, and the beast pulling the man's cart let out a nervous grunt. The man raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright. No need to get hostile. My Woollark doesn't like your cat much, and I don't fancy the trouble."

Akash moved past him without another word, his mind already focused on the next step. If this man didn't recognize the mask, he probably hadn't seen Daenys or Mirak.

Akash pressed deeper into the village, Elys walking at his side, his crimson coat a sharp contrast to the pale sand and weathered wood of the settlement. The open market buzzed with life, a mixture of traders hawking their wares and villagers moving from stall to stall, bronze coins clinking as deals were made. Despite the hum of activity, conversations quieted and curious gazes followed them. Elys's sheer size and presence made the crowd part like ripples in water, though a few bold children pointed in awe at the tiger.

The houses here were tightly packed, their wooden walls stained by years of silt and sand. Brightly colored plants with long, hanging leaves grew from rooftops, their blossoms spilling down like nature's attempt to soften the harsh edges of the village. The air carried the mingling scents of spices, roasting meat, and damp river mud, all combining into something simultaneously inviting and foreign.

Elys sniffed the air, his growls fading into a curious rumble. Akash reached down to pat his flank, a habit born from years of trust between them. The tiger's presence was grounding—a reminder that, no matter how far from home he was, he wasn't alone.

Akash approached a vendor, her skin deeply tanned from years spent under the relentless sun. Her hair was woven into intricate braids, and her colorful shawl fluttered as she adjusted a display of woven baskets. She noticed Akash's approach, her dark eyes narrowing in interest as they flicked to his mask and then to Elys.

"What can I do for you, stranger?" she asked, leaning on her stall with a practiced ease.

"I'm looking for two people," Akash began, motioning with his hand. "A girl about this height, white hair. And a boy, shorter than me, with black eyes."

The vendor tilted her head, considering. "Can't say I've seen anyone like that. Friends of yours?"

"We were separated," Akash said simply.

The vendor clicked her tongue. "If anyone's seen them, it'd be in the center of the village. The Inquisitor's hosting some kind of festival today—whole town's gathered there."

Akash frowned. "The Inquisitor?"

"Big man from the city," the vendor explained, gesturing toward the towering emerald-and-obsidian fortress visible in the distance. "He comes down every so often to remind us we exist beneath their shadow, though they don't often care unless it suits them."

Akash let the bitterness in her voice pass without comment. He hesitated, then asked, "Do you know where I can stay the night?"

The vendor leaned closer, her gaze turning shrewd. "The Lazy Woollark's your best bet. Decent enough for strangers, but you'll need ten xzennig at least."

Akash furrowed his brow. "And if I don't have any?"

She laughed, though there was little warmth in it. "Then you're out of luck. Unless you want to trade that mask of yours. I'll give you thirty xzennig for it."

Akash's hand drifted to the mask instinctively, the cool metal a reminder of the hands that had crafted it. The hands he was searching for. His voice was colder than he intended. "It's not for sale."

The vendor held up her hands. "No offense meant, stranger. But coin's king in Reem. You'll need it if you plan on staying alive."

Akash turned away, nodding curtly. "Thanks for the information."

"Anytime," she called after him. "If you find some money, come back. You'll need food sooner or later. Best fruit in all of Reem, right here."

The village center was alive with movement. A fountain dominated the space, its cool water spilling over carved stone into a shallow basin. The crowd gathered around it was thick, their chatter and laughter blending with the rhythmic clapping of hands and the strumming of stringed instruments. Dancers twirled in the open square, their brightly colored fabrics swirling like autumn leaves caught in a breeze. Akash stayed to the edges, Elys close at his side, his golden eyes scanning the crowd.

As they moved deeper into the throng, the festive atmosphere began to shift. The crowd hushed gradually, the clapping ceasing as people turned their attention to the center of the square. Akash followed their gazes, his eyes landing on a podium that seemed out of place in this humble village.

The platform was a monstrous display of wealth and power, its edges adorned with elaborate carvings of snakes intertwined in ornate patterns. At its center, a golden throne gleamed in the sunlight, its high back wrapped with the figure of a five-headed serpent. Each of the snake heads bore gemstones of different colors, their facets catching the light like staring eyes. It was a symbol of dominance that clashed harshly with the modest surroundings.

Sitting upon the throne was a man who exuded authority. His tanned skin contrasted with the heavy gold rings that adorned his arms and fingers. Tattoos coiled along the length of his arms, curling up toward his neck. Despite his relaxed posture, there was a tension in the way he surveyed the crowd, as if he could command silence with a single glance.

The crowd knelt as one, heads bowed. Akash hesitated, glancing at Elys. Neither moved.

The man on the throne rose slowly, his every motion deliberate. His voice rang out, silken and cold, carrying across the square like the hiss of a blade being unsheathed. "The Gods have turned their eyes from Titan. The river does not flood. Let this be a lesson."

Murmurs of unease rippled through the kneeling crowd. A man near the front spoke out, his voice trembling but loud enough to carry. "And how many more children must we sacrifice to your tithes? How many more must we bury before you 'divine' your answers?"

Another voice joined, angrier. "False prophet! You claim to hear the gods, but all we hear are lies! The King of Reem abandoned us, and you've turned your back with him!"

The murmurs became louder, a simmering boil of resentment.

The Inquisitor remained still, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. When he raised a hand, the noise stopped as if snuffed out by an unseen force. His voice was soft, but the venom in his words carried all the weight of a lash. "Jiras."

A man stepped forward from the side of the platform. He was lean but muscular, his frame hardened by years of violence. Gold feathered pauldrons sat on his shoulders, and a large gem was embedded in the center of his chest plate. Scars crisscrossed his visible skin, each one a testament to a life lived on the battlefield. His khopesh gleamed as he unsheathed it, a blade curved and wicked.

The crowd recoiled as the Inquisitor gestured toward a man who had surged to his feet. The man was stocky, his face lined with years of toil. He stood defiant, his voice shaking as he shouted, "You took my daughter in the last tithe! Where is she? Will you take my son next?"

Before he could finish, Jiras moved like lightning. He slammed the man to the ground with a calculated strike, the hilt of his khopesh driving into the farmer's back. The man groaned but continued to struggle as Jiras pressed a boot into his spine.

The Inquisitor's smile widened. "Make an example of him."

Jiras bowed his head. "Of course, Inquisitor."

The crowd's fear was palpable as Jiras raised his blade. Akash felt his pulse quicken, the weight of his sword at his side suddenly heavy. The farmer's cries cut through the air, desperate and raw. "I just want my daughter back!"

Akash gritted his teeth, anger surging through him. This isn't justice. This is cruelty.

Before he could think, his body moved. His sword flashed as he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Seems a bit extreme to kill someone for asking about his family."

All eyes turned to him.