Candlelight flickered solemnly. I, along with my brothers, kneel on the floor surrounding the bed which dominated the room. We await the word of our father who sleeps as we kneel here. He is sick. He is old. He is dying.
He finally stirs after what seems an eternity, arm feebly raised, hand shaking and quivering. My eldest brother, Sol, clasps our father’s hand firmly but gently. “My sons… the empire is⎯” our father began, only to be interrupted by a series of debilitating coughs.
Liquid landed on my face, spittle from his coughing fit. I wiped the substance from my face. When I looked at my hand, I noticed the red tinge that colored my father's spittle. He will die tonight. He must make his decision now before he passes, lest the Empire be destroyed in civil war over the throne.
Fortunately, our father recovered. He began again, “The Empire is in a dire time… I, the King of the Crystal Empire, am on my deathbed,” and our father paused, to let this be absorbed with a somber finality, “And a successor to the throne must be chosen… as a ruler, and a father, this decision is a difficult one.”
Our father turned his head towards Sol. He will choose Sol, of course. Why would he choose me, the youngest son? A twinge of jealousy overcame me, but I expunged such thoughts. We looked at our father expectantly.
“Sol, you are the eldest of my sons… and the strongest, most capable son I could ask for. But that is not reason enough to choose you as my heir. You doubt yourself too much. You must find solace inside,” Father began, before turning to the second oldest.
“Umbra, you are the second eldest… you have the courage of ten men, and the charisma to inspire others. But you are rash, and too quick to throw yourself at a problem,” Father continued, and then he turned to the other side to look at the next son.
“Luminous, you are the second youngest… you are kind, benevolent, and generous. Still, you are hesitant and meek, and slow to act,” Father lectured. Before he could explain my strengths and faults, another coughing fit assailed him. Sol grasped our father’s hand tighter.
Finally, the horrendous experience ended. Recovered, my father turned, and locked eyes with me. He did not say anything immediately.
“Sombra, the youngest son. You are intelligent, quick on your feet, and talented. But you are driven by materialism and you only act when you deem it beneficial. Magical aptitude is at your core yet you covet deeper knowledge. You are an unpredictable wild card. I cannot easily choose any one of you to be the heir."
“What purpose to all of this do you have? Have you not chosen a successor?” Sol questioned.
“For now, Minister Marble will serve as the King Regent. None of you are fit to be King. The successor will not be chosen tonight, nor will I choose the successor. But a successor will be chosen,” Father answered.
There was a moment of stunned silence from the others. I was debating the possibilities of this statement. The silence was broken by Umbra, “Then by what means will the heir be chosen, if not by you? This is madness, father!”
“He means to have some sort of competition to choose the most capable of us four,” I contributed.
“Your guess is mostly correct, Sombra,” Father appraised.
“S-surely you don’t mean a fairground competition, or- or a duel?” Luminous inquired, his voice shaking.
Father was cut off from replying by a weak cough. “No, Luminous. That is too simple. I have a different idea…” Father said, pausing to breathe laboriously, “A heroic challenge to test you to the very core of your being. You must use your strengths, and overcome your faults, to accomplish what I have set out for you.”
“What quest do you challenge us with?” I asked Father.
“Search the Empire for the Crystal Maiden that has been lost to time. Release her from her timeworn prison. She shall be your queen. But she will ultimately decide who shall be King,” Father replied.
“Limitations?” I asked, before any of my brothers could make an outburst.
“None…” he answered. This is foolish… civil war will engulf the entire Empire because of this indecisiveness. But it is the wish of our father, and there is no choice but to honor his last will.
“We will not let you down, Father,” I assured him.
“The fate of the Empire rests… in all of… your hands. For the sake… of the citi… citizenry, do not fail…” Father gasped out between shallow breaths.
The four of us watched as he closed his eyes, took one last, shuddering breath, and left us until we too followed him down that inevitable road.
“It is with the utmost sadness that I lay to rest our great King Ferrum. May he forever be immortalized as a man of honor, dignity, and justice. His father before him may have been a tyrant, but he proved himself a sympathetic and fair-minded king.”
I stood at attention, along with my brothers, in the royal mausoleum, while Minister Marble sermonized about our deceased father to the noble court. It had been two days since he died. The rituals of burial were long and drawn out.
I understand that this is meant to honor our father, but this is against what he would have wished. He disliked formalities, and I find that I dislike them just as he did. He would have preferred a private ceremony for us four, and then for us to move on with our lives…
“… carry on his legacy, and one will claim the honor of the throne that was once his,” Marble continued on, before pausing to gesture at us, “Would any of you four care to share words about your father?”
To offer words of remembrance would be pointless, for they hold no meaning except to the speaker. My father is my memory, not a trifling trinket I can share with these pompous nobles.
Sol volunteered, and began a short speech about our father. I gave him the courtesy of at least pretending to listen.
When all was said and done, the coffin that held our father was presented one last time.
I approached the coffin despite how the very sight of the coffin sickened me. In this single moment, I regretted the opportunities I ignored more than ever. A King is the law of the land; a King should be impassioned and impartial. Yet such a duty and manner is a sentence of isolation, this I see now.
I noticed the chain necklace on my father’s neck. On the end of the chain was a crystal shard. All breath left me as I recognized it for the shard that I had given him when I was a young boy. He wore it to his very last… he… he loved me even though I… I was the farthest from being a loving or caring son…
Overcome with emotion, I reached for the shard. My hand hesitated above the shard. And then I reached behind my father’s neck, unclasped it, and grabbed the necklace in one swift motion. I’d rather not have to explain myself to anyone. Father will understand if he can see us now.
I paid my last respects. I did not cry. Death is inevitable. The loss is real, and my regret a heavy burden, but Father prepared us for this moment. If only everyone else remembered what our father taught us.
I left the mausoleum, the regrets and the things left undone, early. I will honor my father and will venerate his memory through my actions. His quest will be completed, and I will be his son, proud of my father and family.
