82 Destiny

The archmage went up a couple flights of stairs before making a turn to the right and going down a long corridor. The faint light of two torches gave the place a gloomy feeling. Arawn felt like he had entered another dungeon.

At the end of the tunnel, there was a slit to look through. The archmage stopped by it and turned to Arawn. "It's been awhile," he said in his familiar calm voice.

"It has," Arawn answered with a strange sense of deja vu.

He felt like he was reenacting a conversation that had already happened. Before the archmage even opened his mouth, he knew what he would say.

"You have been well, I hope? Did you learn anything interesting?"

And there they were, the words he had expected. They were the exact same ones he had heard a thousand times while living in the castle. Even the archmage's intonation was the same.

For a moment, Arawn felt like he had returned in time. There was no one but them in the unlit room. A whole world existed beyond the surrounding walls, but none of it mattered inside. For all they cared, they might be the only people alive.

The king's booming voice broke that illusion. Somewhere out in that world that might not exist, he spoke about the noble character of Ayersbert and Mairya's treacherous ways. His speech received constant appreciation from the crowd which shouted and cheered whenever he paused.

"You didn't visit me once after sending me out," Arawn said once he returned to his senses. If the archmage had really cared about his well-being, would it have been too much to make a single trip outside in ten years?

"I did not," the archmage said, not denying the statement. He then nodded and motioned with his hand at the slit in the wall. "Do you want to see what is happening outside?"

Arawn took a step forward, then paused. There was something unnatural about the wall. It looked earthen made, like the whole construction, but he could feel a sense of repellance. It reminded him of the way onyx made him feel.

"We've enhanced the structure with onyx to ensure no rogue mage can bury all the nobles and the king," the archmage said without any accusation in his voice. "Do you distrust me that much?"

Trust was a commodity that was swiftly becoming a luxury item. Arawn had thought it was as common as lettuce in the outside world, but time and again, his expectations were struck a heavy blow. He wanted to trust the archmage—he really did—but a part of him just refused the mere idea of putting unquestionable trust in anyone anymore.

"Was I really brought up only to be used for this event?" he asked in a quiet voice.

His eyes were on the archmage's face, watching his every muscle, but there was nothing. The man didn't even blink an extra time.

He instead pointed at the slit again. "You should really take a look. Your companions are about to make an entrance."

Arawn listened, trying to determine how true that was. The crowd was screaming at that moment. At first, he thought it was mindless shouting, but he soon found a rhythmic pattern and teased out the words from it—Death!

His heart frosted over. Was he too late?

Uncaring of the possible trap, he rushed to the slit to take a look outside. Were they still alive? He couldn't be late already!

It took him a moment to get a grasp of what he was seeing. The small stage he had seen before was nowhere to be found. Instead, the ground had been leveled into an extremely large and somewhat circular arena. Around it, large tribunes had been raised. They swam with color and so many people Arawn's vision blurred a little.

Most of the crowd was sitting, but those at the back had already stood up. They were chanting for the death of Mairyans with crazy fervor. Each word was followed by loud claps and stamping to make more noise.

Once Arawn finally got over his shock at seeing so many people, he zeroed in on the couple figures in the distance that received everyone's attention. They had been dragged out by guards and moved to stand in line to face the king.

The group was on the other side of the arena, but that didn't get in the way of Arawn recognizing them. Rain, Betty, and Val stood closer to each other than the rest of the criminals and seemed to be talking. Their hands were handcuffed with onyx, but their feet were free.

'They're still alive.'

Arawn breathed out a sigh of relief and was about to turn when another person caught his attention. He had ignored him in the crowd, but Mutallu's dark skin was just too different. It set him apart.

'What is he doing there?'

It didn't make any sense. Wasn't Mutallu one of the children saved from starving on the streets? How could Corwal allow him to be executed for sport?

To make sure he didn't miss anyone else, Arawn scanned all the criminals. They came from different walks of life, with some wearing rags and others some noble attire. None of them, however, seemed to have had it easy in the last couple weeks.

Another teenager caught Arawn's attention. The boy stood with his back to him, arguing with a guard about something, but his words didn't seem to have the right effect. The guard slapped him and forced him to face the king's stand.

"Eliot!"

Arawn was about to whirl around to demand an explanation from the archmage when he noticed the ether surrounding him. It wasn't under his command, and it had silently creeped around him while he was looking outside. Both his legs had been entrapped by the ground.

Worry flashed through his heart, and he called upon the ether himself. It came sluggishly, however, as if not hearing his call. He felt like he was pulling it from some narrow, deep hole in the ground.

It had never happened to him before, and his mind froze for a moment. Ether was his. No matter how exhausted or out of it he was, the ether came to him with eagerness. This was an unchangeable fact.

Upon being noticed, the earth rose with a whoosh, rippling around him like water. It covered his legs, torso, and hands in half a breath's time. Before he could even understand what was happening with the ether, he was encased in an earthen grave.

Only his eyes remained uncovered, and he could see the archmage looking at him with his calm expression. There was more ether around the man than Arawn had ever seen around another person. The white particles buzzed like drunk bees, unable to stay still or fly in a straight line.

The earth turned Arawn around and made him face the world outside. He was then incorporated into the wall.

He tried to fight it, but without movement of his hands, the little ether he had gathered was motionless. It couldn't cut the earth and free him.

"This is your destiny," the archmage said from somewhere behind. His voice was barely audible through the layer of earth separating them.

Arawn's heart raced as he looked ahead with unseeing eyes. He was trying to move his hands and feet, but both were encased in rock. No matter how much he struggled, it was to no avail.

Fear started to set in his heart. He fought against it, but the inability to move his own body was debilitating.

He was stuck in a wall. The rock held him tight, and he had no way to free himself.

"Welcome to the show," a familiar voice said from an unexpected direction.

Ready to grab on any straw of hope, Arawn shifted his gaze to the left. Corwal sat on a ledge, watching the arena below with a bored expression. He had changed his clothes and cleaned himself, though that hadn't been able to do anything to his haunted look.

"Don't even bother asking me for help. I'm not an earth mage."

But he had a sword! If he only helped Arawn free his hand—even a single finger would do!—he could cut himself out of the wall without any trouble. He just needed some kind of motion from his own body.

Ether could not be materialized within other substances, and it was still if not sent out with motion. Its edges may be sharp, but that meant nothing if they couldn't be moved. And materialized ether could not be moved.

"Don't act stupid," Corwal said, turning to face him. "You know I'm not here to help you but make your life more miserly."

Arawn probably had some weird expression at that moment, since Corwal chuckled and spoke again. "I was ordered to ensure you turn into a beast, but I don't think that's necessary, you're going to change either way."

'Am I?'

How was everyone so sure about it when he had no clue how it even happened? Hadn't he been human for many years? Maybe he could no longer even do it!

"When you do, can you do something for me?"

'What?!' Arawn demanded with a sudden surge of anger.

This was no destiny, fate, or reason for existence! Everyone was just forcing him into their plans without giving him a way out and calling it nice names to make it sound better. Like puppeteers, they held the strings attached to his limbs and pulled on them as they wished.

They knew how he would react to any situation, and so they used it against him. His attachment to his traveling companions, his mixed feelings toward the archmage, and even his friendship with Corwal were all being exploited to ensure he didn't deviate from a plan they had set up for him.

And that was what it was. A plan, a scheme, and not some destiny or fate!

"Make sure you go for the king first. Kill me, and go straight for him."

The furious thoughts in Arawn's head came to a sweeping halt. He blinked a couple times, trying to ascertain that he had understood the words correctly. Did Corwal just ask to be killed?

With a faint smile on his lips, Corwal leaned back on his hands. He was sitting at the ledge, his legs hanging over empty air. "I'll have to defend that vile bastard, so just drop me off here or something."

He thought for a moment, then turned to Arawn with a strangely clear gaze. "Don't worry about killing me. Hounds don't survive losing their king, so it doesn't matter if you finish me off or not. I won't live much longer after he's gone."

The thousand questions in Arawn's head had barely formed when a scream distracted him. He looked down into the arena.

While he had been busy with getting trapped, the criminals had run over to this side where the keys to their handcuffs were hung on a number of earthen spikes. The people pushed at each other, fighting over the dozen keys and stealing them from one another.

Their hurry was explained soon by the screech of rusty iron gates being raised. On the other side, two gates opened, releasing two black bears. They growled at each other and prepared to fight among themselves when some person screamed upon being pushed down.

The animals noticed the commotion in the distance and realised there was easier prey. As if of one mind, they rushed toward the still handcuffed humans. Only one or two people of the fifty or so had freed themselves by then.

In an instant, Arawn understood why he was trapped yet still allowed to see the proceedings. The king wanted him to see his companions fight for their lives, and then die while he could do nothing to help them. If there was really anything that could force him to change into a beast, it was torture like this.

"I tried to teach you, but you didn't listen. Not only you, but even your ether form is not unstoppable. Did you really believe that the king and the archmage would have no way to trap you after studying you for years?

"You're still so naive. But once you massacre this crowd, don't blame yourself too much. Learn from it instead. Leave Ayersbert and start anew, and never again trust anyone in power. They're made up of lies and deception rather than flesh and blood."