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My eyes clash with ones so silver and gray, it’s as if a storm is swirling inside them. Wrenching my gaze away from the pull they evoke, I take in the rest of him. He is young, possibly only a few years older than my nineteen years. He has short black hair and sun-kissed skin, and his clothes are plain and dark, as if he is attempting to conceal himself and blend in with everyone around him. But nothing about him blends in. From his strong jawline to his broad shoulders, it is clear he is every inch the warrior. And someone I should clearly stay far away from. Even if he is the most attractive man I have ever met.
“You are the Sidus competitor,” he says with a deep, husky voice that sends a warm shiver down my spine.
“Is that all I am to be known as? Not just an average competitor?” I quirk a brow, in too good a mood to fight with anyone unless absolutely necessary.
“From what I hear, there is nothing average about you, Seren.” He says my name with a familiarity I do not understand.
“And do you also have a name, or should I just call you a Caligo lord?” He can’t be a guard. There is an air of wealth, power, and gracefulness that the Caligo guards could never imitate.
“Kestral,” he says. “Besides, not many Sidus enter the competition; I meant it more as a compliment than anything else.”
I wonder if he knows the real reason not many Sidus ever enter the guard’s competition, especially the last few years. But I find no deception in his eyes, just a spark of interest and warmth.
I turn back to the view, and a glint of light catches my eye, drawing my attention further to my right and over in the direction of what must be the Caligo city.
“What is the Caligo city like?” I ask him, wondering if there are more kind Caligo people like Visha and Oryn. Would they let the Sidus come to their city if they knew the truth? Would they stand by or join us in the fight against the dark creatures or watch on like the Caligo guards?
Kestral moves a step closer to me with a small frown on his face.
“You’ve never been?” he asks.
I shake my head with a small smile, not willing to reveal the truth to him if he doesn’t already know. There is already a deep sadness in his eyes that I do not wish to add to.
He glances in the direction the glint of light came from. “It is bright. Similar to the palace with its white and gold. There are bakeries, bookstores, and many clothes shops with every type of fabric you can imagine.” His eyes travel down the line of my body, leaving a trace of warmth behind as his voice trails off. He blinks and frowns as if just realizing something that bothers him.
“You have lived here your entire life. You should see more of your kingdom,” he says.
“Maybe one day.” One day when the shadows and light join together and become one. Until then, I will just have to enjoy these moments as the sun rises high above the mountain to shine its light among the shadows.
“Don’t leave it too long,” he says, a hint of warning in his tone.
It makes me turn to him.
“Life is short. You should enjoy it as much as possible,” he says with a soft voice and sadness in his eyes before glancing down at his hands.
It draws my attention to the item he is holding. “Is that a book?” I haven’t gotten the chance to read many as of late, but I have a small collection beneath my bed at home. One my mother spent years trying to attain for me.
“Just some silly old rhymes.” He clears his throat, closing the pages, and it immediately piques my interest.
“Read me one?” I ask.
He glances up at me with a raised brow. But there is a glint of amusement in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Is that a request or a demand?”
“You choose. But read it either way,” I tell him with a smirk. He shakes his head at me, but whatever sadness he felt moments ago is no longer visible in his eyes. And he starts to read.
But the more he reads, the more somber I feel. The rhyme is sorrowful, dark and full of despair. There is no happiness or hope to grasp, just a never-ending torment of suffering and pain.
I’m still waiting for that sliver of hope and happy ending when he stops all of a sudden and looks up at me.
“That’s all of it?” I ask, feeling stunned.
He smiles at me, but it’s not a happy smile. It’s filled with sadness once more, making my heart twist. He glances down at the book in his hand and swallows hard before closing it.
“Not all endings are meant to be happy. Some just are. Some just exist tobe.”
“That sounds very dark and extremely sad,” I tell him, my sliver of happiness shriveling up after hearing it.
