WebNovels

Chapter 12 - The Last Thunderborn

The air in the cell was stifling.

QAYS sat on the cold stone floor, hands clasped, while LAREM leaned against the wall, tightening the bandage on his leg. SERAN gazed into the silence of the stone as if waiting for something that would never return.

On the seventh day, the door burst open… and in stepped Lord HELCAR, his face taut, his eyes drowning in a mixture of insult and regret. Behind him stood a herald clad in the colors of the Sultan's court, followed by guards bearing royal seals.

In the palace hall, a messenger had once stood before HELCAR, his face tightening as he spoke:

"He disobeyed wartime orders, and now you wish to set him free?"

The herald retorted, "Do you intend to rebel?"

HELCAR trembled and fell silent.

Back in the prison dungeons—

HELCAR (voice strained):

"An order has come from the capital. A special pardon. You're free to go."

A stout guard unlocked the cell door.

No one moved.

HELCAR (looking straight at QAYS, voice weighed down by swallowed pride):

"I never meant for what happened. I thought… I was protecting the city. But it seems I was… blind."

Then, lowering his voice, as though the words themselves were heavy:

"If you want a price… name it now."

QAYS rose slowly and stepped forward until they stood face to face.

QAYS (quietly):

"I want nothing… but history will see to your payment."

HELCAR took a step back, turned, and left—shadowed by the weight of defeat.

Journey to the Heart of the Sultanate – The Road to Gasteda

Hours before sunset, a carriage adorned with the Sultanate's crest—the Royal Lightning—rolled out, drawn by four white stallions, driven by a silent knight clad in silver-engraved armor.

Inside the carriage, QAYS, LAREM, and SERAN watched the long road stretching through hills and autumn-colored plains.

LAREM (mocking tone):

"A week in prison, and now they welcome us like heirs to the throne."

QAYS:

"Perhaps because one of us… truly is."

He had yet to fully absorb the words of the elder in the palace of Cenca, but something inside him had begun to shift—not pride, but an old sense of responsibility, flowing in his blood without his consent.

Questions gnawed at his mind throughout the journey:

"Why did his mother hide her lineage?"

"Did his father know?"

"And what did this kinship mean to the current Sultan?"

Arrival at Gasteda – The Heart of Power

At dawn the next day, Gasteda's walls came into view.

From afar, the city looked like a massive crown resting upon a mighty river. Its towering walls formed a ring, carved from dark, ancient stone that pulsed with an unseen spirit. The gate facing incoming travelers loomed high, draped in dark banners, with lines inscribed upon its walls in a language unmistakable—the language of time itself.

The moment you crossed the threshold, a warm clamor greeted you: the shuffle of feet on stone, vendors' calls, the laughter of maidens, the debates of scholars, the creak of cart wheels over dirt, and the murmur of water flowing through channels that cut across the streets.

The city did not merely rise from the earth—it grew toward the sky. Domes stood like the backs of small mountains, minarets pierced the clouds, and its markets sprawled without clear boundaries, blending like verses in a long poem.

Scents followed you everywhere: perfume clinging to the robes of passersby, smoke from roasting meat, the musk of parchment steeped in ink, and spices from the farthest seas. From beneath the shadows emerged tales—a magician promising gold, a scribe selling verses for a loaf of bread, a boy sprinting with a patched manuscript, and eyes that watched.

Not a labyrinth, yet it felt like one; for each alley led to a different world. In one place, silence reigned and thought spoke; in another, dances laughed and secrets melted. No two homes were alike—some built from knotted wood, others from baked clay, others with walls that seemed born of both earth and fire.

The city seemed never to sleep. Soldiers stood at every corner, banners swayed like the spirits of kings.

The carriage passed through the great gate, where a small procession bearing the royal family's emblem awaited them. Without a glance to the right or left, they were led straight to the palace.

The Royal Palace – The Beginning of the Bloodline's Revelation

After weaving through the bustling streets, passing under the shadows of markets and minarets, it rose before them—not as a building, but as an idea made stone. The city seemed to shelter beneath its presence.

The palace… had no need for a name. It was enough to say: There—behind those towering walls—dwelt the one who held both shadow and scepter.

It stood at the city's heart as the sun stands in the sky. Its walls were unlike anything around them—smooth stone sheathed in a faint golden sheen, like sunset light touching the river's face. Every wall bore intricate carvings, geometric at times, floral at others, laced with verses, sayings, and wisdom from ages past, inscribed in a script as fine as silk thread.

QAYS entered through a colossal gate of teak inlaid with bronze, carved with two opposing dragons and beneath them a lock that could only be opened from within. Around it stood guards who did not smile, their eyes glassy, their stances like pillars. His companions were not permitted inside.

The first sight was a vast courtyard paved in white marble veined with sky-blue, at its center a fountain casting water upward in an arc before it fell softly, as if whispering. Around it rose columns with spiral capitals, supporting a wooden ceiling painted in warm sunset tones.

The inner chambers felt like another world entirely.

The walls were clad in mosaics, no pattern repeating itself twice. Colors merged—the emerald green, crimson red, gold, and deep black. Each corner bore a stained-glass panel, each telling a story: a knight, a bird, a star, a flower, an unblinking eye.

Long, dark rugs ran down the corridors, muting the sound of footsteps. Now and then, a silk curtain would stir without wind.

In a high-ceilinged hall scented with cedar and oud, an elderly man stood, wearing a green robe embroidered in silver—lightning, an eagle, and a mountain.

The Elder (majestic voice):

"Welcome to the house of the Sultanate… grandson of Arkaniss' granddaughter."

QAYS stood stunned, at a loss for words.

SERAN (softly):

"Blood does not vanish… it only waits to be awakened."

The man stepped closer, placing in QAYS's hand a pendant engraved with intertwined lightning on one face, and a finely etched family tree on the other.

The Elder:

"Your mother was the granddaughter of Arkaniss the Thunder, the first Sultan. She hid her lineage, choosing to raise you in NARAN, far from the struggles of rule. But she could never keep you from returning."

QAYS (whispering):

"Why now?"

The Elder:

"Because light is only revealed in the deepest darkness… and the land has grown dark enough."

More Chapters