Chapter 08: The Wrath of Atlantrice
Thunderstorms preceded the coronation ceremony and prepared for a longer stay. There was not a glimpse of sunlight for days. The fields lost their glory, almost everything destroyed. Families remained huddled inside their homes, afraid of the sudden course and the unfavourable possibilities of the future. They had seen none of the viciousness of the land; knew not the ordeal which brought its wrath. From dawn to dusk, I received time to time the news of destruction. Atlantrice had sworn to take revenge and I knew not to give up without a fight.
Since the morning of my ‘supposed triumph’, I noticed my Father struggle with restlessness. By the lines etched onto his forehead and the worried glances he directed towards me, it seemed I had something to do with the aggravation. It took him quite some time to address the issue, and it was only after I had retired for the night that he came for me. I had just changed into a normal set of clothes and was alone in my old chambers when he knocked.
“A private word with you.”
He waited a short while after the door closed. “Zlikovac, this is grave. The land.”
“I did not expect this outcome.”
“Neither did I.”
“I did not want to come into terms with what it indicates. I did not want to accept it. But, now…”
He stared directly into my eyes and the intensity didn’t waver.
“I must ask you, Zlikovac. Are you, the true King?”
“No, Father. I am not.”
“How is it possible…? Oh, God. Then… Heroj?”
“Heroj was the choice, I concluded. But he is dead, Father.”
“How could this happen…? It is unbelievable…”
“Yes, I am not the King. But why should it matter now?” The sudden flashback waltzed into repugnance. “Whoever comes out alive has to be the King. Whether he is the chosen one or not.”
“Zlikovac! You don’t understand what this means!”
“I do, Father. Believe me, I do.”
(To be continued)