Upon the Shore of the Karnor Sea

I rested my hand on the cold porcelain basin of my bathroom sink as clean, hot water eased away the last of the glass slivers buried within my knuckles. When I was absolutely certain I had removed every last shard from my hand, I dried my knuckles with a fist full of cotton swabs, disinfected the wound, and left it unbandaged to heal on its own.

I could have used my kinetic magic to conceal the scrapes until they healed. It was a simple alteration, or spell, that would have cost me nothing, but I preferred to deal with bleeding knuckles the old-fashioned way by letting them bleed. It was a reminder that despite my magic, I was not invincible, that at the end of the day I was still merely human.

I took a moment to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. An average man of slightly above average build stared back. He was, as far as anyone was concerned, Korean. In fact, that's who he introduced himself as to anyone not in the know about the world of magic. He was actually Sempronian, a bloodline that could be traced back to a handful of Korean families who migrated to Nivandor from Earth hundreds of years ago to escape the First Intergalactic War. He always wondered if that simply left him being fully Korean, but no one seemed to be able to give him a straight answer.

His short black hair had yet to be washed. His dark brown eyes were still heavy with sleep. He wore a pair of blue pajama pants and an old beige t-shirt. He was clean-shaven, lightly tanned, and sleep-deprived. He had recently lost weight from irregular meals, not good for someone whose entire career centered around being in top physical and mental shape. Emotionally, he was hanging on by a thread. He remembered better days, and he longed to see them again.

He looked down at his hands. He noticed an old silver ring adorning his left ring finger. A half-carat quasar adorned the band, an ocean blue gemstone almost identical to an aquamarine in shape, texture, and color. The magic it contained was immense. Activating it allowed its wearer to instantly travel to his protectee, who carried its twin on a necklace she kept hidden in her pockets, no matter where they were in the universe. He smiled. Priscilla had long since made her feelings clear about him, that she wasn't interested in him in that way at all. Yet it was she that suggested he wear the quasar on his left hand to ward off potential distractions, as if his line of profession wasn't deterrent enough. The life of a cheon-sa was more than that of a mere bodyguard. It was a full-time, lifetime commitment of dedication and servitude only nullified by death or extreme betrayal. Even then, the covenant technically was still in effect. It was a contract that was basically marriage with none of the benefits for the cheon-sa, for now, there could be no other woman in his life. It was a choice he had willingly made.

I walked over to my closet to search for the letter the Empress had sent me detailing the debt she promised to repay. While I wouldn’t necessarily need it to prove she had promised to repay her life debt, having it would certainly help us get past the front door.

I combed through the mounds of old clothes and other never-used but possibly necessary luggage wrapped in blue plastic bags, Search as I might, the letter was nowhere to be found. I chewed my lips. I went through the entire walk-in closet a second time before I noticed an old pillowcase sitting in the corner of the closet. It was stuffed with something that caused it to bulge like a pregnant cow.

Found it! I thought.

When I removed the pillowcase from the object, it revealed an old leather backpack darkened from age. It was the backpack Eleanor had bought me at the port city of Tarsus located on the northeastern tip of the Karnor Sea, the week before the magistrate burnt her at stake ten years ago for being a mage.

I sat down on the wooden floor with the bag and embraced it as a child would a cherished stuffed animal. This was the last, tangible proof I had that Eleanor was once a living, breathing person, and it was in my possession once again.

I sat there in silence, thinking about how differently things could have turned out if I had the magic I had now back then, how I could have easily overpowered the lone Night Hunter that arrested us at the city walls. He was armed with a musket at the time, but we had the jump on him. It was Eleanor that suggested we try and slip by him unnoticed so we wouldn't have to kill him. I knew in my gut that we should have taken him out then and there, but I, too, wasn't ready to have to take another man's life who wasn't trying to kill us. We nearly made it out the gate before the man noticed us and held us up at gunpoint. By then, there was nothing either of us could do.

Priscilla's right, I thought, clenching my fist. Some vengeance would be good for my soul.

I perused through the backpack's various pockets in search of the Empress's letter. To my delight, I found the letter safely tucked away in the main compartment. The royal seal, made of crimson wax, was still affixed to the lip of the carefully opened vellum envelope. I extracted the letter from inside and unfolded it with trembling hands. It was a single sheet of aged paper covered with neat, precise handwriting, like that of a trained scribe.

Dearest Titus,

I have secured the throne following my husband’s assassination with the help of your mage guild, the Dawn Watchers. I would not have survived without them, for my enemies are without number and are quite fond of their assassins. I’ve put down no less than twelve assassins within the past two years alone, some by dumb luck, others by the diligent watch of your guild. I swear that the next assassin who tries to kill me will be personally burnt to a crisp by the royal blade, Invictus.

I understand they forbade you to take part in this godforsaken war, but I hear from your colleagues you much desired to come to my aid. I thank you for your courage.

I have not forgotten the great lengths you and Eleanor went through to ensure my safe arrival at the Golden City. I still think fondly of the many nights our desperate band slept under the stars or shared a warm meal together in a rotting inn beside the King's Highway. As uncertain as those days were, I do miss being able to see the world in the company of friends who would not hesitate to give their life on your behalf not because they are paid to do so, but because they cared for you.

For that, I offer you repayment in the form of a royal debt, and I do not give this lightly. Yes, you have an Empress indebted to you. Should you ever have a chance to visit the capital, my capital now, ask for anything within reason, and it shall be granted to you, even up to a province. For Eleanor's sake, I feel that at least that much is owed to you.

I have much to do in terms of rebuilding the empire, chiefly, to outlaw the unrestricted hunting of mages, but I will most certainly make time to meet you. Show this letter to my servants, and they will bring you to me immediately.

Also, I understand if you are still grieving Eleanor’s untimely death even now, but should your heart seek again the company of another woman, I can arrange for you to meet one to your liking, whether she be a commoner or a noble. All of my court knows of your fearless deeds, Sir Titus, and there are a number who long to meet the man behind the myth.

I do hope to see you at least once before an assassin's blade finds me.

I write this with my own hand,

Empress Sera

I remembered when the Empress was just beginning to learn how to write while we were trekking across Nivandor to get her to the Golden City. Her shorthand had certainly improved leagues since she started. The throne had yet to tarnish her humor, though it was clear the stresses of rule were getting to her. Twelve assassination attempts were nothing to sneeze at.

“See you soon, your Highness,” I said.

I stopped. For a moment, I thought I heard Eleanor screaming again. I looked around me in alarm, only to remember that was impossible. It took me a moment to realize that the sound I heard was probably just the memory of her screams echoing throughout my mind, as clear and as terrible as they were ten years ago.

“Go away!” I said loudly. "By the blood of the Forgotten King!"

The screaming abruptly stopped. I held my breath as I waited for the screams to return. I was only met with the low humming of the minifridge beside my bed.

I didn't know much about the Forgotten King, no one seemed to anymore, really, but I knew that his name worked wonders in a cinch when dealing with the demonic, something even the most powerful of magics seemed to have no effect on. Voices were nothing new, I've been hearing them since Eleanor died. Yet the name of the King frightened them more than Priscilla frightened me.

I shook my head as I tried to calm my racing heart in between my labored breaths.

The good news was that the voice was gone for sure.

The bad news was that the rest of my day was probably ruined.

As I returned the letter to its envelope and tucked it away in the safety of my knapsack, I began to wonder if I was making a mistake saying yes to the trip. Nivandor devoured the weak and the mighty alike and did not discriminate in the misfortune it dealt. A trip there was not guaranteed to end the way we wanted it to. And yet, going to Nivandor was the only way to secure justice for Eleanor.

Stop, I told myself. You’ll be fine.

I closed the backpack and tossed it onto my bed.

I began packing for my trip.