Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

The remaining Pandesian soldiers began to turn in panic and run, and Kyra watched with satisfaction as Anvin and his men hunted them down, the momentum finally in their favor. She knew that Anvin and her father’s men would fight brilliantly, and that soon enough not a single Pandesian soldier would remain alive on the mainland of Escalon.

Suddenly, though, a rumbling filled the air, and Kyra gripped the staff tight. She felt it humming in her hands as she turned and faced the bridge. She watched as there, on the far side, an entire nation of Pandesian soldiers, reinforcements, crossed the Fields of Ore. It was an unstoppable force, filling the world, and it marched for the Bridge of Sorrows bridge like a nation of ants.

They had already reached it, and as they mounted the bridge, Kyra could feel the ground shaking beneath her. It was like the weight of the world, thunderous, monotonous. She knew that if they reached her side, Escalon would be finished.

Kyra ran to the center of the bridge, knowing she had to be the lure. She had to let as many of them mount the bridge as she could, had to sacrifice herself, if that’s what it took, to save Escalon.

Kyra waited and waited, until the soldiers, marching like a drumbeat, filled the bridge, nearly reaching her. They drew their swords in perfect discipline as their commander shouted, and as a horn sounded, the thousands of men came charging right for her.

Kyra waited and waited.

Patience , she urged herself. Discipline. For your father.

Finally, as the soldiers were but feet away, Kyra raised the Staff of Truth high and brought it straight down, to the floor of the bridge beneath her feet.

There came a sharp cracking noise as she felt the tremendous power of the staff reverberate through her arm, up through her skull. She felt the bridge of Sorrows, which had lasted for centuries, which had connected Escalon to the mainland for thousands of years, buckle.

A moment later, the bridge split in two and collapsed.

Kyra felt the ground give way, and felt herself plummeting through the air, in free-fall. She knew she was falling to her death.

Yet she felt no fear. After all, the air was filled with Pandesian soldiers, thousands of them, falling all around her. She would, after all, die with honor. It was a noble death, the final piece of the puzzle to free Escalon forever, and it had been worth it.

As Kyra prepared to meet her death, the sea rushing up to meet her, a screech suddenly filled the air. A moment later she felt talons grab her from behind, felt herself being hoisted back up through the air. A moment before she had impacted, she had been saved.

Kyra looked up to see her old friend Theon. He had caught her.

As she flew, she saw millions of Pandesian soldiers trapped on the far side of the ocean, backed up in the Fields of Ore, unable to cross. Escalon, finally, was unreachable.

It was free.

The dream her father, her ancestors, had harbored for thousands of years had come to pass. They were no longer a nation of subjects. They were a nation now of free men and women.

Theon slowly let Kyra down amidst all of her father’s men, all shouting triumphantly as they finished off the last of the Pandesians on the mainland. They all turned to her, as one, and let out a great shout. Their cries filled the air as they all looked to her with adulation, as a warrior among men, as their ruler. She felt her father smiling down upon them all.

“Kyra!” they chanted. “Kyra! Kyra!”

One sun cycle later

Kyra knelt alone in the dim, cool temple, knees pressing on the freshly hewn marble, feeling the solemn energy around her as she prayed before the newly built altar. She closed her eyes and, as she had for hours, slipped into a deep state of peace and reflection. Outside came muffled shouts of joy, all the people of Escalon, tens of thousands of them, citizens and warriors alike, free men and women and children, congregating upon the new capital. This was a special day. They had come from all corners of the land to celebrate the completion of Escalon’s new capital – and to celebrate, more importantly, her wedding day.

Kyra took a deep breath, feeling the enormity of the day before her. Here she was, in the new capital, and she could scarcely believe, after a year of arduous work, it had been completed. She had chosen this place, atop the ruins of the Lost Temple, a sacred spot of ancient spiritual power, where the ancient capital of Escalon had once lain, and under her watchful eye, thousands of Escalonites had labored for one year, quarrying marble from ancient cliffs and erecting this spectacular city by the sea. It was more magnificent than it had ever been, and it would, she knew, serve as a beacon for a new age, a new time. A time of freedom. A time unlike any Escalon had ever known.

The muted cheers of her people brought her back, and Kyra heart lifted her head and smiled to hear them so joyous, more joyous than she had ever remembered her people being. They should be, she realized. After all, Escalon was finally free. Free from the armies of Pandesia, free from the nation of trolls, free from the flocks of dragons. It was the first time in their history that her people could enjoy the land and rest at ease. It was the first time in their history they could usher in a new era of abundance.

Kyra smiled broadly as she thought of Kyle out there, somewhere, getting ready as she was, preparing for their holy matrimony. It felt like a dream. After all the battles, after each coming so close to death, finally, they would be together. It was what her people needed – a new Queen, a new King, a royal couple to preside over the rebuilding and bounty of the land. It was what she needed, too.

Her people had even more reasons to celebrate this day, too: Dierdre and Marco, and Merk and Lorna, had decided to join them in being wed on this auspicious day. It would be a triple wedding for the nation to enjoy, followed by a week of festivities, of dances, feasting, and drinking. Already she could hear the horns sounding, signaling that Motley and his new troupe of actors were starting their performance in their newly built theater. She heard the laughter, and she knew it had begun.

Kyra would join them soon enough. She was still relishing the quiet, the peace in here; she needed time for herself, time to reflect on this holy day. For this day was not only the one-year anniversary of the end of the Great War, of the rise of the dragons, but also the anniversary of her father’s death.

Deep inside, commingled with her joy, was a lingering sadness, one she knew would always be with her. He was her father, after all, the man she had loved her entire life. His passing was a deep scar from which she sensed she would never fully recover.

Tainting her joy was also a longing for her mother, especially on this, her wedding day. She lowered her head and clasped her hands, hoping still for a reply.

Mother, where are you?

Kyra had been trying to talk to her mother for a year, ever since she had become leader of this great nation – and to her surprise, she had been met with silence. She kept expecting her mother to appear, to embrace her, to tell her the secret of her identity – anything.

And yet there had been nothing. And that silence gnawed away at Kyra’s soul.

Kyra furrowed her brows as she knelt, needing to hear from her mother. Even just one word.

Mother, I need you now.

Kyra became lost in a deep meditation, and after much time passed, she began to sense something. She opened her eyes and blinked. Her heart beat faster.

There, in the darkness, the face of her mother was appearing.

“Mother?” Kyra called out, too excited to get her hopes high.