Garinor decided to trust the prince’s words and actions over the past few days. He had acted justly in their time together and, despite the misinformation that had led the prince’s men to hunt him instead of protect him, he felt the prince’s intentions were good. He handled himself well in leading the troops and he certainly showed skill in dealing with new situations. He would be a fit ruler for the kingdom.
“I choose the prince to resume his reign,” Garinor said.
“As you wish, Chosen One,” echoed the Voice for the last time.
The green light surrounding Garinor coalesced toward his heart, and as it did so, Garinor felt his inner self crumpled harshly into a tiny sphere. It was an agony beyond his threshold of pain and it should have knocked him out while he suffered it. However, the magic of the scepter kept him alert and he experienced the fury for what seemed like an eternity. It burned into him slash after slash of intensity and Garinor dimly realized he was suffering the pain he had caused to those he had killed in battle.
At last, he left his body behind and it crumpled in a heap of bones. But his consciousness was still intact. He was stuck inside the domed top of the scepter, watching as the rubies brightened and cast their light more fully about the prince. Some of the bits of orange citrine lit with a fiery glow, which cascaded upward, pulling Garinor along with it. He shot through the air, through the ceiling, and out into the air beyond.
His essence expanded then as the pale ginger light spread across the land. He could feel the power in that light as it swept from town to town, instilling the knowledge of the prince’s ascension to everyone it met. Also imparted with the light was the knowledge that the true heir had been found and denied rule. So it was that those who had been dreaming for the day when the true heir came to power lost all hope and wept in despair. Among them was Garinor’s mother, who fell to her knees in her garden as she stared up into the orange light and cried.
The light carried him along a bit further until a new, startling sensation filled him. It began with a slight scraping, then it burned deeper all over. The burning turned into deep slices, as if someone were carving their name into his skin, though he didn’t have any. Then all at once the world around him shattered and he snapped back into the cave where Tomli and the prince still stood. Yet as Garinor whisked back into the room, he realized the breaking sensation was the scepter itself exploding into countless pieces and falling as dust to the floor.
The last thing Garinor witnessed was the light fading from the room, leaving the two glowing torches and the prince standing erect and proud, a sinister smirk crossing his face. And then Garinor’s consciousness faded away forever.
Tomli rose to his feet as he watched his friend’s body melt away and the light of truth declare the prince the new ruler. His heart fell to his feet. He felt betrayed by Garinor after all they had been through together, but he also tried to understand. He had to try. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t.
The prince eyed him for a moment and laughed. “And so you have been thwarted, fool.”
“You must have a silver tongue,” Tomli said. “And what happens next. Do you kill me, too?”
The prince shook his head. “I can see the great pain in your eyes that your friend chose me over you. It would be much worse for you to live with that than for me to kill you now. So take that torch and be gone, child.”
Tomli did as he was told, but only because he was already forming plans in his mind. If it was the last thing he would do, he would bring about the truth of the prince’s deception and perhaps find a way to restore his own power. But even if his rightful place couldn’t be reclaimed, at least he would see to it that the prince wouldn’t rule.
It took a few years, and Terrian, Garinor’s father, was instrumental in the planning, but eventually the land erupted in a massive civil war. It was a war for the sagas and it carried on for over fifty years. The country was plunged into poverty, but the people rallied behind Tomli, whom they now knew to be the true heir to the throne. They believed that with enough time and effort they would restore him to power and remove the prince, whose idea of rule was to sell off peasants as slaves to other countries in exchange for luxurious wares that never made it beyond the castle gates.
But the prince also managed to keep his own army of followers, twisting words and deeds around just as he had twisted events around Garinor.
Tomli mourned Garinor every year at the anniversary of his death. He knew his friend had been misled and he harbored no ill will against him. He even named his firstborn son Garin, who was a prominent general in the war against the prince, and who, after almost sixty years of fighting, managed to win a decisive battle and turn the tide forever. The prince—then king—was over eighty years old and, though he was a stubborn old man, the fight eventually went out of him. Garin crushed the opposition and the royal family surrendered at long last.
And so finally the line of the true heir resumed its rightful place within the castle walls. Tomli witnessed the coronation of his son and lived out the rest of his days peacefully, while Garin, his siblings, and their families then spent the rest of their lives working hard to overcome the destruction that had marred their entire lives, slowly but inexorably turning the kingdom into a peaceful and well-loved land.
You have come to the end of Garinor’s adventure, but there are other paths to explore. Start over and guide Garinor again along his journey.
The End…