Ripples in the River

"The rebellion was purely justified, but history is written by the victors and is almost always never really true." Tobias explained, rising from his knees with the help of Silas who held his hand and pulled him up. Cleo still in the Ardentis prince's arms rested her head on his shoulders seemingly falling asleep, merely a guise to hide her eavesdropping on the conversation. 

"The Ashenholts were outnumbered greatly, the rebellion was a stupid move from the start." The prince took a seat on a large rock. "A rebellion cannot work without allies."

Tobias shook his head. "The Calabars had no allies when they took your Father's throne."

"They had Valen. Only an Ardentis can bring down house Ardentis." Silas replied, his expression soured. "He may be a bastard but he's Ardentis nonetheless. One ally is never enough, they took the Citadel but now struggle to tame the minor and major houses surrounding them."

Tobias stared at Silas with an almost impressed look. "Do you want the throne back? Do you see yourself as a good king?"

The Ardentis paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if searching for an answer beyond the reach of words. The question hung in the air like smoke from a wild fire. 

"The throne was never ours, we took it by force so long ago." Silas replied thinking carefully. "Most view it as a seat of power, which is why they fight wars and kill each other to sit on it, but if they knew the responsibilities that attach themselves to you the moment your ass touches the seat, no one would raise a sword, aim a pistol or drop a bomb to get it again."

Tobias stroked his hairless chin and smiled, he was pleased with Silas' answer. He was impressed at the wisdom he achieved at such a young age. "If you were king instead of your father, we would have never revolted."

"If the Thalorians still reigned no one would have revolted." Silas to himself, rising from his perch. 

"Is there maybe a change of clothes for me here? Maybe some food for the girl?" He asked, his eyes darted down to Cleo as though to emphasize her need over his own.

Tobias nodded. "Your needs will be taken care of, Dominus Temporis." He bowed gently before walking away, disappearing among his people. 

Silas' eyes dimmed as his expression darkened. The tail of his ragged shirt flew elegantly with the invisible breeze. Cleo's head lifted as she stared at him.

"How did you stop the Metal Warriors?" She asked, her voice being barely above a whisper. "They looked as if they were there for years."

Silas remained silent for a moment, his gaze shifting to the horizon where the twisted remnants of the Mechs lay scattered like broken sculptures. The air felt heavy, laced with the faint hum of static from their lifeless shells.

"Time is like a river," Silas finally said, his voice low and distant, as though each word was wrenched from a place he didn't want to revisit. "It flows endlessly, shaping everything in its path. But when you step into it, alter it, it ripples, twists. And sometimes, it floods."

He stared down at his hands, rough and scarred. "I've only started using this gift a few days, I do not know how far I can go or how much i can do with it. It could also be a curse, am not sure what to call it yet."

She slid out of his arms and stood beside him and hugged him. "I do not care what you did, you saved us." 

Silas let out a heavy breath, the weight of her embrace both grounding and unnerving. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the comfort of her presence, the solace in her words. But deep within, a cold whisper curled around his thoughts, coiling tighter as doubt and fear seeped in.

"I saved you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But at what cost?" He looked out at the horizon, where the remnants of the Metal Warriors had dissolved into nothingness, their existence erased by his touch. "What happens when I can't control it anymore? When the river floods, and I'm the one who drowns?"

Cleo pulled back slightly, her green eyes meeting his. "You won't drown. You're stronger than that, Silas. Whatever this power is, gift or curse, you'll find a way to control it. To use it for good."

A faint smile appeared from the curls of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Good," he echoed, the word left a hollow taste on his tongue. "I hope you're right."

But deep within his mind, a whisper grew louder. Images flashed chaotic and violent, like a storm breaking through the fragile boundaries of a calm sea. He saw himself amidst ruins, his hands stretched out as the skies burned and the ground quaked beneath him. The faces of those he cared about blurred in the haze, replaced by screams, explosions and the casualties that laid lifelessly among ashes.

A voice, not his own yet eerily familiar, echoed in his thoughts: Time doesn't only flow forward, it can destroy everything in its wake. This is fate."

Silas shook his head, forcing the vision away. "I don't know what's ahead, Cleo," he said, his voice heavier now. "But there's something about this power... something I don't trust. It's like holding the reins of a beast I don't understand."

"You'll figure it out, I believe in you."

He nodded, but his gaze drifted upward, to the endless expanse of the sky. The faint hum of distant storms filled the air, and for a fleeting moment, the horizon seemed to shimmer with a fiery hue. A sense of foreboding settled over him, unshakable.

As they stood in the eerie stillness, a single thought gnawed at him, unspoken but unrelenting: If the Skyfall is my doing, then what am I saving them for?