chapter.35  »  in the flesh.

The witchess dragged him up sets of stairs that reeked of critter urine and feces.  The place was grimy, with algae growing on the wall, vines crawling through the cracks in the bricks.  The place looked like it had long been ransacked, burned in some places as some walls were charred.

But he wasn't being dragged, no.  He only followed after the witchess as slow as a snail, trudging up the stairs as if it were a labor.  Jinki had to glance at every little thing around him: the walls, the algae, the cracks on the wall, the mysterious blue-green liquid seeping from the ceiling down the walls that divided into small rivulets.  The liquid glittered even though the place was dimmed.

"Where... Where are we?" he had to ask.  His voice was quieter than he had intended.

The witchess did not reply.  Finally, they reached the landing.  Jinki still gaped at his surroundings; when he decided to face forward, the witchess's back blocked his view.  From behind her figure, he could make out something colorful ahead of them.  Perhaps an artwork of some sort?

Then the witch stepped aside, revealing what it was that was colorful that Jinki saw.  It was a vast stained glass, broken in a few places, stretched from one end of the wall to the other.  Bright oranges, reds, purples, blues, and yellows were the most prominent colors used in the staining.  At first, it looked like only a mish-mash of cut glass here and there, but the longer Jinki stared, the more he could make out what looked like a family portrait.  There was a crowned man on the left, a crowned woman in front of him, and a baby wrapped in cloth in the woman's arms.  They smiled beautifully at Jinki, a graceful and welcoming gaze that made Jinki stare more and more.

"You have heard of the kingdom of Nydiralle, have you not?"  The witchess inquired rhetorically.

Jinki frowned.  He turned to her.  "You don't mean to say..."

The witchess glanced meaningfully at the stained glass portrait.  She blinked softly at it.  She did not have to reply; Jinki knew.

He returned to the stained glass.  He braved himself to walk forward; the closer he got, the more he noticed the dirt and grime etched in between the grooves of the glass.  When he was only a foot away from the glass, standing at the exact height that the cloth-wrapped baby was poised, he put a soft hand on the baby's face.  The stained glass wasn't too detailed, but he swore he could see some resemblance.

"Is..."  He hesitated, running a finger at the baby's cheek.  He put his hand down.  "Is the princess still alive?"

Jinki could feel the witchess's eyes on him.  He turned around, hopeful eyes grazing over the witchess's face.  The witchess was beautiful.  No, she was ethereal, other-worldly, so to speak.  She had light pink skin, a bodacious figure, and eyes that beckoned you to come closer to her.  They held things—secrets, knowledge that nobody could bear to handle.  She had a certain glow about her, and even without the white gown, she would have still been glowing.

"Yes," she said, as plain as day.

"Where is she?"

The witchess's eyes left Jinki, turning to the baby.  "Here."

Jinki should have yelled, or screamed, or gotten mad or thrown a fit or wept or jumped in joy.  He should have done something that depicted the incredible energy swirling within him at the witchess's reply.

He did not.  Instead, he was calm.  Energetic and calm, a paradoxical combination that made great sense.  He felt a need to get out of there, not in anger, but with determination.

"You want to go to her," the witchess said as if she read his mind.

He blinked.  "Can I?"

"No," she said.  "There are more pressing matters."

His eyebrows furrowed.  Slowly, he approached her; she did not back away.  "What do you mean?"

The witchess did not have to respond.  A cannon sounded in the far distance; it rung through the air like a muffled tap of a gunshot.  This castle was perched far away, Jinki realized.  He turned to the witchess, waiting for her to speak.

She then proceeded to recount to him the war that Kemwen had just declared.  It was crucial that he returned to Preriloth where he was needed.  As the witchess explained to him in full detail what was transpiring that very moment, Jinki couldn't help but think about Soojin.  She was here; he didn't know if his speculations were correct, of course, about her being the lost princess of Nydiralle, but he knew she was here.  Somewhere inside him, in the core of his energy, he knew.

"Bring me home," he stated.  It was firm and commanding, glazed with courage and maturity.  Responsibility.

Jinki did not have time to think or even blink.  At once, he found himself standing in one of the long hallways of their castle.  The floor was lined with burgundy-colored carpet, embroidered intricately with gold.  Four grand doors were on the left while windows of an indescribable size lined the right.  Sunlight poured through the windows where it landed gracefully upon the hall, upon Jinki.  How completely inappropriate it was that something tragic was taking place on a day as beautiful as this one.

He marched briskly forward until he reached the third door.  He stopped a hairsbreadth away from the golden handles.  The room behind this door was a throne room.  Back then, Jinki had settled with the idea that this throne room was just a way of showing Preriloth's power to its kingdom.  After all, there was already a throne room in the great hall below.  But now, he knew, this throne room was where real business occured, where his father must have faced the real problems and issues regarding kingdom matters (and probably familial matters), mulling over options and dreading just which one was the right one for the kingdom, spending sleepless nights within... while Jinki unabashedly believed it was just power.

Jinki grabbed the handle and pulled down the lever.  He marched forward, emanating bravery.  His father and their army's field marshal turned around; their faces needed no explanation, other than the fact that the field marshal was open mouthed while his father was in a quiet shock, frozen in place.

"Gather up what's left of the army," Jinki said, his eyes completely locked onto his father's.  "Set up guards around the castle and the militias in the villages.  Keep the fighting outside the border.  There's no time."  Jinki was heading out the throne room when the field marshal called out.

"Pardon me, my prince, but who shall command them?"  The field marshal demanded.  In his hand he held a rolled map, his other hand resting on the saber at his side.

Jinki turned around, eyes locked squarely on the field marshal's face.  "I will."

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

guess who's alive.

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