Hakan
CLIP CLOP. CLIP CLOP.
The steady rhythm of the horses' hooves was the first sign that our seemingly endless journey was finally coming to an end. I leaned closer to the small carriage window, pushing aside the embroidered curtain. My breath hitched the moment the horizon opened up before me.
"WOW…!"
The word slipped out in a whisper, half-breathless, half-disbelieving.
NEIGH!
The horses came to a gentle stop, their cry echoing through the warm air.
Before me stretched the breathtaking sight of the Tayar Kingdom—nothing like the threatening wasteland I had been warned about. Golden domes glimmered under the high sun, their curved surfaces catching light like flames on polished metal. Pale marble buildings, carved with intricate patterns, rose proudly from the earth. Water—clear and shimmering—flowed through man-made streams, forming pools that reflected both the sky and the grandeur surrounding them.
So this is the Tayar Kingdom…
The words hung in my mind, dazed and reverent.
A bitter memory flickered.
Back in Brion, the rumors had been cruel:
"The Tayar tribe are savages."
"They live in mud huts."
"They eat birds raw."
Lies layered upon lies, spoken so often they sounded like truth.
Yet the sight before me—this paradise of harmony and wealth—shattered those prejudices into dust.
"We've arrived," a deep voice stated.
I turned. My companion—tall, dark-skinned, and radiating a strength that seemed carved from the sun itself—gave me a faint smile. It was firm, steady… grounding.
CREAK.
He pushed the carriage door open. His leg, wrapped in gleaming leather sandals, blocked a flash of sunlight as he stepped down with the controlled grace of a warrior.
STEP.
He extended a hand toward me. Warm. Solid. Reassuring.
BUSTLE BUSTLE.
The moment my feet touched the golden stone walkway, the air enveloped me—heavy, vibrant, and alive. Voices layered over each other, street vendors calling out, fabrics fluttering in the desert breeze, and the clatter of metal and pottery merging into a living symphony.
"It's so bright I can barely see…" I murmured, shielding my eyes.
The sunlight reflected off every polished surface—gold, white stone, glass—so intense it felt like walking through a dream made of radiant fire.
But it wasn't just the brightness.
A scent—strange and overwhelming—wrapped around me. A blend of sharp spices, sweet desert blooms, heated sand… and something raw, fiery, almost primal.
My head pulsed.
"THIS SCENT IS MAKING ME FEEL A LITTLE LIGHTHEADED… DIZZY…"
My vision rippled. The domes tilted. Colors swirled.
I swayed.
GRAB!
A strong hand caught my arm before my knees could give out. His grip was steady, warm—an anchor in a world suddenly spinning out of control.
"Are you okay?" His voice, usually calm and distant, now carried a sharp edge of concern.
I forced my breathing to slow.
A Tayar guard stepped closer, observing me with knowing eyes.
"People with a high affinity for Earth energy take longer to adjust to the Fire energy of the Tayar Kingdom," he explained.
Fire energy.
So this searing sensation…the pressure in the air…the dizzy intoxication—
It was the land itself.
I swallowed hard and straightened.
"I'm… fine," I managed. Even if my body protested, I refused to appear weak.
---
The dizziness faded just enough for me to take in the towering gates of the royal palace. Gold filigree adorned every arch. Sunlight refracted off gemstones embedded into the stone pillars, creating a halo of dancing lights.
The King beside me—my towering, intimidating escort—glanced down and asked quietly,
"What are your thoughts after seeing the Tayar Royal Palace?"
I hesitated, then answered truthfully.
"It's very different… from what I've heard."
His expression hardened.
"The Brionians refuse to acknowledge the Tayar tribes as equals. To them, we are nothing but savages." His voice deepened, carrying centuries of resentment. "But the Tayar is prosperous—the wealthiest and most beautiful nation on the continent."
I looked up at the palace again.
The truth was undeniable.
"I'll be living here from now on…"
The realization felt heavy—like stepping into a story I'd never volunteered for.
"GREETINGS TO HIS MAJESTY, OUR ESTEEMED KING!"
The shout erupted the moment we stepped into the procession path.
FWOSH!
The escort moved in unison, their steps slicing through the air with military precision.
I glanced around. The court attendants—tall, strong, dark-haired—stood like carved statues of dignity.
The maids, however, came from many races—humans, elves, beast-tribe, and others I couldn't name.
Then the whispers began.
WHISPER. "Who's that woman by the King's side?"
WHISPER. "Is she Brionian?"
WHISPER. "What's wrong with her face? Is she ill?"
Heat flooded my cheeks.
After the dizzy spell, my face must have been a blotchy mess. The redness around my eyes, the uneven complexion, the exhaustion—it all made me look fragile and out of place among these regal, powerful people.
Maybe I should have healed my face before coming here… This is so embarrassing…
I kept walking, spine stiff, heart fragile.
---
The air was thick with desert incense and sharp spices—nothing like Brion's clean, crisp wind. Even as awe curled inside my chest at the magnificent palace rising before us, something about the atmosphere felt heavy… watching… ancient.
A figure stepped forward.
Draped in layers of dark, flowing fabric, they wore a stark, bleached bovine skull over their head—its hollow eye sockets and curved horns making my stomach tighten. Thick golden chains, braided and layered, wrapped around their arms and wrists, clinking softly with every subtle motion. The turquoise beads cascading from beneath the mask swayed like a curtain of shimmering eyes.
"WELCOME BACK, YOUR MAJESTY," an attendant whispered reverently beside me, bowing toward my companion.
But I was frozen—captivated and unnerved—by the masked figure's ominous presence.
I leaned closer to the dark-haired man at my side and whispered, barely audible, "IS SHE A CLERIC? SHE LOOKS SO DIFFERENT FROM THE CLERICS I'VE SEEN IN BRION."
He answered only with a quiet hum, giving nothing away.
The masked figure's attention shifted.
They turned their head—slowly, purposefully—until those nearly hidden eyes beneath the blue beads fixed directly on me. An ancient, unblinking stare.
My breath thinned.
The priest—because I could now tell they must be a high-ranking one—took a step forward. Then another. Chains chimed. Beads rattled. The air itself tightened.
"YOUR MAJESTY…"
Their voice was deep, steady, vibrating like stone.
"…YOU'VE BROUGHT SOMEONE WITH EARTH ENERGY ALL THE WAY HERE."
JOLT.
The statement hit me like cold metal. My heart lurched violently. Earth energy—my energy—something I had never spoken aloud. How did they know? How could they see?
My cheeks burned. My fingers twisted around each other.
"BRING ME THE FRESHLY DRAWN WATER," the priest commanded without breaking eye contact.
An attendant hurried forward with a wide, shallow bowl filled to the brim. Water sloshed dangerously as they lowered it into the priest's waiting hands.
SPLASH.
The priest dipped their fingers in. Droplets spilled over the sides, landing on the sun-warmed stone.
The atmosphere grew thick. Heavy. Ritualistic.
With slow, deliberate steps—STEP, STEP—the priest approached me.
My feet moved back instinctively—STEP, STEP, STEP.
The skull mask lifted.
Beneath it, a deeply wrinkled face emerged—age carved into every crease, eyes bloodshot yet piercing, lips pressed into a solemn, severe line. Gold bracelets caught the sunlight, flashing in sharp contrast to their shadowed expression.
"REACH," they commanded, raising a hand dripping with cold water.
My pulse spiked.
"I'M SCARED!" I cried out, stumbling behind the dark-haired man as instinct clawed through my chest. His hand immediately came down onto my shoulder—firm, steadying, protective.
DRIP.
DRIP.
Droplets pattered onto the stone as the priest continued forward with unyielding purpose.
I peeked out from behind my companion, trembling. "WHAT?" I managed to stammer.
His voice was calm, almost indifferent but reassuringly certain. "THAT WATER IS FOR PURIFYING ANY BAD LUCK THAT OUTSIDERS MAY HAVE."
Outsider.
Purifying.
Bad luck.
Every phrase twisted into a knot in my gut.
The man's tone softened slightly as he added, "SHE MEANS NO HARM. SHE'S SIMPLY WELCOMING YOU INTO THE KINGDOM."
Even knowing this, the ritual felt overwhelming.
The priest began their work without waiting for my resistance to settle. MUMBLE MUMBLE—strange sacred words rolled from their lips as cold droplets touched my skin. DRIP. DRIP. The water slid down my forehead, dampening my hair as their hand moved with practiced precision.
Tiny shadowy wisps—disturbingly like miniature ghosts—SPLASHed away at the water's touch. The purification wasn't just for tradition. It was… real.
Oddly, the coldness eased the burning flush on my face.
When the priest withdrew, I exhaled slowly. "I THINK THE WATER HAS HELPED TO SOOTHE MY RASH A BIT."
My companion nodded once toward the priest. "GOOD WORK."
The priest stepped back with a final, solemn bow.
"THE PURIFICATION CEREMONY IS OVER. PLEASE PROCEED TO THE MAIN PALACE."
Relief washed over me as I straightened my white dress. The fabric felt cool against my skin, settling softly as I walked forward. The dark-haired man placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently.
JINGLE. JANGLE. JINGLE.
The gold chains around my sandals and ankles chimed with every step, echoing faintly against the palace stones as we approached the vibrant red carpet.
At last, the massive doors loomed before us.
CREEEAK.
They opened slowly.
What lay beyond seized my breath. A BURST of light and color—overwhelming richness and gilded extravagance.
"I CAN SEE GOLD EVERYWHERE."
Red velvet curtains.
Shimmering walls.
Golden motifs curling like sunfire across the ceilings.
It was opulence incarnate.
My journey into this world had only just begun.
The massive palace doors groaned open—
CREEEAK—
revealing a hall so blindingly radiant it felt as though light itself had taken physical form.
Gold.
Gold on the walls.
Gold on the ceiling.
Gold woven into the tapestry-like murals.
Gold even embedded into the pillars that stretched skyward.
My breath caught.
"I CAN SEE GOLD EVERYWHERE."
My modest sandals, despite the delicate gold chains wrapped around my ankles, suddenly felt insignificant. Each step I took sent a soft JINGLE, JANGLE, JINGLE across the velvet-red carpet unfurled before us.
Then—
A graceful woman in a flowing purple gown swept forward, flanked by attendants. Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like ink, and her confident stride radiated authority and beauty.
Her eyes shone with relief as she reached my companion.
"YOUR MAJESTY!" she cried, throwing her arms around him.
He returned the embrace with a firm HUG, his previously composed expression softening with muted relief.
"I'M RELIEVED THAT YOU MADE IT BACK SAFELY!" she exclaimed.
Then her warmth turned sharp—prideful, almost fierce.
"DID YOU SHOW THE POWER OF THE KING TO THOSE DESPICABLE GRAVE ROBBERS FROM BRION? I'M INCREDIBLY PROUD OF YOU."
He smiled politely, pulling back.
"I'M GRATEFUL FOR YOUR CONCERN, GIARET."
Giaret lifted her chin, confidence radiating.
"I WASN'T WORRIED. THERE'S NO WAY YOU WOULD LOSE."
But then her gaze slid to me.
Her eyes swept over my white dress, my pale and travel-worn face, my blonde hair still damp from the purification ritual. The disdain that curled her lips was unmistakable.
"IS SHE YOUR TROPHY?" she asked, voice dripping with contempt.
The gathered women whispered among themselves—
MURMUR… MURMUR…
Giaret's eyes narrowed as she looked at me from head to toe.
"WERE WOMEN FROM BRION ALWAYS THIS UGLY AND DIRTY? SHE NEEDS TO BE CLEANED."
My breath caught—my cheeks flamed.
I felt small. Exposed. Judged.
"I–I AM…!" I tried to speak, but humiliation choked the words.
Before I could finish, he stepped forward.
His hand came to rest on my shoulder—a protective claim.
"I'M SORRY FOR NOT INTRODUCING HER SOONER, GIARET."
He drew me closer.
Every woman in the hall leaned forward.
Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
Then came the sentence that shattered everything.
"THIS IS MY WIFE WHOM I BROUGHT OVER FROM VELK."
A gasp rippled through the hall—
Haaah—?!
Shock. Confusion. Bewilderment.
Giaret's eyes flew wide.
"DID YOU JUST SAY WIFE?"
My heart thudded—
DU DUM. DU DUM.
Wife?
Me?
Surely he misspoke. Surely—
But he continued, unshaken.
"THE QUEEN'S THRONE CANNOT REMAIN VACANT FOR AN EXTENDED PERIOD OF TIME. LUCINA WILL BECOME QUEEN ONCE SHE BEARS MY CHILD."
Time stopped.
My breath vanished.
A child?
Queen?
Me?
My companion's words crashed into me like a tidal wave. My knees nearly buckled from the sheer shock.
Giaret sputtered, recovering only enough to lash out, "ARE YOU SERIOUS, YOUR MAJESTY?!"
But before she could continue, her eyes locked on the dark streaks in my hair and on my skin—leftover smudges from the washed-out dye.
Her expression sharpened with alarm.
"ARE YOU HURT SOMEWHERE, LUCINA?!"
I blinked, startled.
He reached for me immediately, lifting a strand of my hair to inspect it. His brow furrowed in recognition.
"OH, THE DYE…"
He waved a hand casually toward Giaret.
"IT'S NOT BLOOD. IT'S JUST HAIR DYE. SO THERE'S NO NEED TO WORRY, GIARET."
Sure enough, the purification ritual had nearly erased the disguise I'd worn for so long. What remained was my true hair color—silver-blonde, shimmering faintly under the golden hall lights.
Giaret froze.
"NO WAY… DID SHE ALWAYS HAVE SILVER HAIR?"
Another woman behind her gasped softly, "SHE'S STUNNING! SHE POSSESSES AN AIR OF ROYALTY, AS IF SHE WERE A QUEEN HERSELF!"
The shift in the room was instant.
Whispers of mockery became whispers of awe.
But I stood there—speechless, trembling—caught between the heavy weight of his bold declaration and the wide-eyed recognition of the women around us.
Everything had changed.
Irrevocably.
Uncontrollably.
And I couldn't go back.