#halathion

    Their footsteps echo as they enter—reverberating endlessly as the sound escapes into the high ceilings. Carefully molded marble archways decorate each side of the entrance hall. At the very highest point above hangs a spiral chandelier; amethyst crystalline beads sparkle against the invading sunlight. Another staircase leads Halathion and Korostykos further into the entrance hall. Mosaic tiles stretch from corner to corner and they both recognize the image easily: the gold serpentine dragon from which the Sil’davars claim to hail.

    “My, my. Halathion, how you have grown!” The familiar and exhausted breaths of none other than their oldest brother, Aetas Sil’davar.

    Korostykos uncrosses his arms and follows after Halathion as they climb the red-carpeted stairs into the foyer. Halathion waves sheepishly.

    “Your Sovereignty.” Halathion cants his head downward as he reaches the last step.

    “Your Sovereignty.” Korostykos repeats as he stays behind Halathion.

    “Come, come. Come!” Aetas waves them further in. Nameless advisors, wearing indigo silk robes, circle around the High Sovereign. They stare and say nothing.

    Halathion approaches with Korostykos. Despite their shared surname, none of them share features; Aetas’ brilliant blond locks with his thin and delicate physique; Korostykos’ swarthy black brows and hair with his wide, tall frame; Halathion’s bright red curls and his short yet well-built stature. 

    “How did you find the early morning travel?” Aetas drapes his shaky arm around Halathion’s shoulder as he approaches. Halathion supports his weight and smiles.

    “Quiet.” Korostykos interjects knowing full well the question was not his to answer.

    “Yeah, quiet!” Halathion nods.

    “Very good. Very.” Aetas wheezes as he waves his hawkish advisors away. “Come, let us catch-up in the botanical garden.” He gestures to the open corridor to their left.

    Korostykos steps forward and takes Halathion’s place; he offers Aetas his meaty right arm. Aetas’ left eye twitches in its socket but he accepts without a word. 

    Halathion follows closely as his gaze climbs the white marble walls. Empty of furniture, the massive rounded foyer leads to three different parts of the Lower Arm: the botanical gardens, the archives and the dining hall. Tall white pillars decorate the ramp leading up to the archives. Small corridors on opposite sides of the foyer house separate elevator lobbies. One for the garden and the other for the dining hall. The archive entrance sits under expansive velvet indigo banners bearing their family crest.

    The pitter-patter of their footsteps compound the silence between the three as they enter the room housing the garden elevator. An empty room save for a glyph-marked wall.

    Tal stands at the ready in front of the gilded scissor gate. The lobby, despite its size, gives them space to breathe. Thick marble blocks surround them on three sides.

    “Dismissed.” Aetas says as he struggles to speak. He coughs madly into his closed fist.

    Tal bows his dark helmet before maneuvering around the three. His steel greaves ring against the tile outside the room. The sharp noise diminishes as time passes.

    Korostykos steps forward to open the gilded scissor gate. As he does so the counterweight raises from below and the pulley squeaks obediently. The elevator car lowers into sight; a large steel square with a worn oak bottom. Halathion enters first and looks back at his two older brothers.

    Aetas pats his chest to calm his cough. His indigo velvet cloak jerks with every heavy-chested heave and Korostykos rolls his eyes. He grasps Aetas by the back of his collar. He picks their oldest brother up from the floor and steps into the elevator before placing him back down. Aetas squirms in his grip but his coughing subsides when inside the steel walls.

    “What is the meaning of this?” Aetas tugs his cloak close as his forehead wrinkles with annoyance. “You cannot just—”

    “Call your freak.” Korostykos smirks. He crosses his arms.

    Aetas’ tongue recoils and catches in his throat. He has no words.

    “Tal!” The name booms across the foyer as Aetas fumes.

    The distant ringing grows louder and faster as Halathion tilts his head to look around his larger brother. Tal enters, its chestplate jostling as it hurries over to the elevator. Tal presses its hand against a glyph embossed on the wall nearby. The counterweight shoots down past Aetas, Korostykos and Halathion; their steel cage jolts up and begins ascending Heavenshand.

    The trio travel upward in silence, their eyes avoiding one another as the rope whines through the pulley far above. The creak echoes down and accompanies them as they ascend.

    “I am thankful you two came. The others wait patiently.” Aetas says. His soft wheeze follows.

    “Others? Oh right, the recruitment notice.” Halathion itches his nose.

    “Speaking of…” Korostykos interjects, his gruff baritone voice commanding attention.

    “Yes?” Aetas asks as he locks his hands behind his back. He doesn’t turn to look.

    “Why?” Korostykos crosses his arms as he glares down at his eldest brother.

    “Do I need permission?” Aetas scoffs.

    “You do not ask for help.” Korostykos says.

    “Let us say things are different now.”

    “Different how?” Halathion pipes in, his wide blue eyes and bright red hair appearing from around Aetas’ right side.

    “You too?” Aetas’ left eye closes as he looks down at his youngest brother. “Patience, you two.”

    Korostykos snorts with derisive force before averting his brown-eyed glare.

    Halathion returns to the back of the elevator car with knotted red brows. Why not tell your own family? Your brothers?

    Squeaky metal grows louder as they ascend.

    The inner machinations of Heavenshand marvel Halation. Floors wholly dedicated to supporting the spire—sporting endless rows of massive stone pillars; floors with nothing inside but small square windows; floors once used for commissioned painters and sculptors. Halathion gasps as a half-finished statue passes them by. Why is this place so empty? Halathion bites his lip.

    Korostykos gently pats his shoulder. The two exchange expressions before Aetas interrupts.

    “Ah, here we are.” One final squeal from the pulley above as their elevator car stops and sways. A narrow corridor stretches out before them, large family portraits adorning both walls. Candelabras light their way in as Aetas struggles to step over the gap between the elevator and corridor. Korostykos clears his throat and plucks his oldest brother from the ground. Aetas writhes and gesticulates as Korostykos steps into the hallway with ease. He returns Aetas to the floor.

    “No more of that, I say!” Aetas dusts off the olive fabric of his pantaloons. He huffs before beginning another coughing fit.

    Halathion joins them. His eyes immediately trace the sterling platinum frames as the candlelight dances in their presence. Each frame bears a plaque with a name at the bottom. Halathion steps to the closest portrait to the scissor gate. He reads the name before studying the face: Alpos Sil’davar, First in Name.

    “Come now, Halathion.” Aetas reaches for Korostykos’ support after catching his breath. Korostykos rolls his eyes, but obliges. “We have kept them waiting long enough.” The two start the short walk down the hall.

    “Coming!” Halathion says as he walks backwards down the corridor. Alpos stares off into the distance, his blue eyes contrasting well against his vibrant red hair. Halathion commits the name to memory as he turns and hurries after his older brothers.

    Their feet move quietly against the plush indigo carpet. Each new portrait strikes a different chord within Halathion as he reads their expressions. Why do they look so sad? He wonders as they approach the door. Korostykos reaches for the curved handle. It clicks and opens inward.

    Yellow sunlight greets them. Brilliant and exhilarating—Halathion welcomes the warmth.

    Carpeted steps lead down into a dome-shaped space and crystal-pane windows shine from every corner. Giant spruce trees reach toward the ceiling from the room’s center. Joshua trees grow on the outside balcony, reaching for the sun with open arms. Purple roses, white lilies, yellow irises and blue tulips; the garden basks in variety of color and species. Lavender and nightshade hide under the spruce trees, visible only when the three brothers approach. An open door-frame across the room leads to the balcony.

“Now.” Aetas stops to catch his breath, his hands reaching for the flat stone partition around the looming spruce trees. He sits to rest. “I ask for your best faces. Truly.” His left eye opens and turns to stare at Korostykos.

“Not until I meet them.” Korostykos crosses his arms and stares back at Aetas.

“Always, Your Sovereignty.” Halathion nods as he settles down next to his oldest brother.

Aetas breathes heavy and slow, his right eye meeting Halathion’s gaze. He smiles.

“I have no worry for you, Hal.” Aetas’ left eye stays trained on Korostykos.

Halathion looks up at Korostykos. The dark haired giant sighs.

“Whatever.” Korostykos grunts before uncrossing his arms.