When Summer Dies

“King Morris’ knights are still attacking the castle, your Majesty,” Metri, the Head Guard said. “Shall we march towards the Human Kingdom?”

“No,” Cerron grumbled, a dark frown on his forehead as he swept his gaze over the room. There was a collection of several of his advisors present, and they were discussing what to do about the war between the Demon Kingdom and the Human Kingdom. They’d just introduced the 30th knight to the cells in the dungeons, and there seemed to be no end to it all. “King Morris does not want a full-fledged war.”

“Then what does he want?” Vehi, Cerron’s youngest advisor, asked.

Cerron rose from his throne and began to pace the room. There was too much frustrated energy preserved in his body to sit still. “He wants the Kingdom to fall,” he sneered darkly, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked briskly from one end of the room to the other. “And he wants his daughter, Princess Maria, to find a suitable husband.”

Kern, another of his advisors, frowned. “Why don’t we just send Princess Maria back to her own Kingdom? There is no reason for her to stay here.”

Instead of wrangling Kern’s neck in frustration, like he wanted to, Cerron simply scowled at him. “There is a reason for her to stay here,” he said, and his voice shook in his efforts to keep from yelling. “If we ‘send her back’ as if she is some kind of package, then Morris has both won and lost. He will become angered that we have not granted him this, and then… then we may expect a full-fledged war.” Cerron took a deep breath and massaged his temples. Hadn’t he told his advisors this already? “While my Kingdom is strong, it is not strong enough to bear the full forces of the Human Kingdom and her allies. If Morris declares a Winenereriman, then we shall be crushed.”

Erren, yet another advisor, took a tentative step forward. “Can we not marry the Princess to some suitable Demon Lord, or find someone else that King Morris might approve of?”

Cerron stopped in his pacing to stare at Erren in badly concealed fury. “I will not marry Princess Maria to anyone without her consent,” he growled, and his hands, still clasped behind his back, ached painfully. His nails were digging into his flesh, he knew, but he couldn’t force himself to unclench his fingers.

His advisors took a fearful step backwards, while Metri simply gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut.

One advisor, however, with dark hair in a tall ponytail, stepped forward with a frown. “Your relationship to the girl makes you prejudiced in the making of this decision,” she snapped, her eyes darkening in her frustration. “It endangers the Kingdom!”

Cerron, if he had been sitting, would have shot up and marched over to the offending Demon – but as it was, he was standing already, so all he did was spasm and twist his head to glare at her. “My friendship with Maria has nothing to do with this,” he said, his voice a hushed whisper that frightened his advisors more than a yell would have done. “I refuse to step on anyone’s free will, if it can be avoided.”

Erren, ever the peace maker, nodded her head. “We understand that, your Majesty,” she piped up, and some of Cerron’s frayed nerves calmed down. “But are there truly no other ways to solve this, but to let the knights get tired of Princess Maria?”

Cerron sunk back down into his throne with a sigh. “No,” he said. “I have thought this through on several occasions. There is no way to get out of this without the risk of angering Morris or ruining the reputation of the Demon Kingdom.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Erren interfered, wringing her hands worriedly while keeping them close to her chest. “But the reputation of this Kingdom is already severely damaged because of King Morris’ lies.”

Cerron’s eyes widened in shocked fear. “Did I not order that the other Kingdoms would be informed about this misunderstanding?” he breathed. He could not risk dirtying their reputation further – had the messengers been involved an accident? Why hadn’t anyone informed him about this?

“Most Creatures don’t believe it,” Kern said sadly, and shook his head.

Cerron stood up again, feeling as if he’d never sat down. “They do not believe it?” he hissed. “Why?”

Vehi drew a shivering breath, and looked for the entire world as if they’d rather be in any room other than this. “Because you are the Demon King, and King Morris is a Human,” they said meekly, and closed their eyes with a flinch.

Cerron cursed in Täk and left the room.

Cerron, who practiced fencing and archery on an almost daily basis, soon found himself with a spectator.

He wasn’t sure when she’d shown up for the first time, only that she somehow had started showing up every time. Not that he minded; as far as she didn’t interrupt him, it was fine.

Although, to be honest, when she started to interrupt him, that was fine, too.

“I beg your pardon?” Cerron gaped, the bow he had been holding clattering to the ground as it slipped out of his grip.

Maria rolled her eyes. “I said: may I try?” she repeated, tilting her head in a questioning gesture. “I swear I won’t break it.”

Cerron threw a very quick look at Dannet, his mentor. Dannet, however, stood still as a stone and refused to even show that he’d heard her. “But you are a woman,” Cerron said, utterly flabbergasted. Women – gentle creatures, not wanting to harm even a fly. Just like his mother. “Why would you wish to learn archery?”

Maria’s eyes widened, something hot and fierce flaring up in them, and she scoffed and crossed her arms. “You say woman like it’s a bad thing,” she sneered, and only his two decades of experience kept Cerron from stumbling back in surprise. There was something behind her voice that made his skin crawl, an aching need to belong and redeem herself, a furious and fierce wish to make the world burn.

And he understood that – the need to belong, the wish to see the world burn. He understood it all too well, and he bowed before picking up the bow. “Apologies, my Lady,” he muttered, and drew a shuddering breath. “Of course you may try.”

“Thank you,” Maria chirped cheerfully, bouncing over to him to grab the bow and some arrows from a nearby quiver.

Cerron was about to tell Dannet to show her how to hold the bow, but then she placed the arrow upon the string, aimed, pulled it back – and let go.

He’d expected the arrow to swoop through the air, maybe hitting the target if Maria was lucky, but most likely just clattering uselessly against the stone floors. What he didn’t expect was for the arrow to hit the target with a dull thud and sink half-an inch or so in.

Even Maria seemed surprised at this feat, and Cerron was about to congratulate her when Dannet huffed, and marched over to her. “Beginners luck,” he scoffed, and crossed his arms. There was a joyous spark in his eyes, however, so Cerron wasn’t worried. “Let me see you hit that target again, on the same side of your last shot. Then do it two times more, and we shall see about getting you a teacher.”

Maria, biting her lip, frowned. Then she nodded, and reached over for another arrow. Cerron chuckled. Of course she’d rise to the challenge.

She placed the arrow on the string, aimed, pulled it back – and let go.

The arrow made impact with a dull thud, within ten inches of the last one.

Maria placed a new arrow on the string, aimed, pulled it back – and let go.

Oh, Cerron thought, when he recognized the ways he usually held the bow, aimed the arrow, or stood while shooting. She has been looking at me to learn.

He felt oddly… flattered.

The arrow made impact with a dull thud, closer to the first one, this time.

Maria placed the arrow on the string, aimed, pulled it back – and let go.

And the arrow made impact with a dull thud, right next to the first arrow she’d shot.

Dannet took of his hat and scratched at his head. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, shaking his head with a beaming grin. “If I haven’t just stumbled upon a natural!”

Oh, Cerron thought, again. Maria is not my mother.

“If it’s okay for his Majesty the King,” Dannet added, and shot an uncertain look towards where Cerron was standing. He could only give a faint nod in response, too light-headed to do anything else. “Then I would be pleased to teach you. I can tell that you feel comfortable around the bow, and I would not be surprised if it was your weapon of choice. You would make a good student, if you are keen to learn.”

Maria’s eyes shone in excitement, and Cerron wasn’t going to tell her that Dannet said that to all his students.

He wasn’t going to tell her that all Dannet’s students had turned into the greatest of the greatest archers throughout the whole of Undera, either.

Except Cerron, of course, since he hadn’t dedicated his whole life to the art and was far more interested in fencing.

“Thank you,” Maria said graciously, offering a heart-felt courtesy worthy of a Lord. “It would be an honor to learn.”

Maria still showed up to all his practices, but she wasn’t just a spectator anymore.

And Cerron knew, in a deep, dark pit of his heart, that he’d been wrong about Maria from the very beginning – the fire in her eyes and the need in her voice had told him as much.

Cerron would always trust the fire in someone’s eyes. It was not something one could fake.

“Cerron,” Maria said, and Cerron looked up from his beef to raise an eyebrow at her. She was smiling, but it was an unruly smile, and there was a mischievous spark in her eyes when she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. “How many knights have tried to rescue me yet?”

Cerron hummed, and took his time to answer this. He wasn’t sure what to make out of Maria asking the same question as she had the first moon, when there was no need for small talk anymore. Hm. Maybe she just wanted to know. “32, and counting,” he replied easily, although there was still that churning in the bottom of his stomach.

Maria let out a sound that was half-way between a choke and a chuckle and a snort, but when Cerron shot her a worried look she waved it away.

“You must be ley loved by your Kingdom, since they have not yet given up on you,” he said, conversationally. He meant it. There hadn’t been so many knights from the Human Kingdom in Leron for centuries.

Maria’s mischievous look faded, and her eyebrows knitted together in an unhappy frown. “I guess,” she muttered, and poked her beef with her fork. “But it’s not me they want. Not really.”

“Oh?” Cerron said, and raised an eyebrow as he set aside his knife. “How so?”

Maria let out a frustrated groan. “Or maybe they do want me, but at the same time I’m not who they want! They want a doll they can point at and talk to whenever they wish, not a Creature with her own mind!” she cried, and slammed her fist down onto the table. Her anger subsided quickly, however, and she slumped over in her seat with a sigh. “They want a polite and proper Lady. They want a Princess or a Queen that can find a husband to settle down with. What they really want is a King, and a pretty girl to go with him.” Maria pressed her palms into her eyes and let out a shaky breath. “I’m not just a pretty girl,” she whispered, and then she fell into silence.

Cerron had never been good with words when people needed them the most, and so he frowned at his salad, desperately trying to come up with something – anything, really – to say to comfort her. “When you have finished eating, come to my rooms. I have something I want to show you.”

Maria’s head snapped around so fast that it was a wonder that it didn’t fall right off, and she stared at him with wide eyes. “-okay?” she squeaked.

Cerron raised an eyebrow. “My, do you have a dirty mind,” he noted drily. “I am planning nothing of the sorts you think.”

Maria blushed furiously, and turned back to her food. “Sorry,” she muttered to her potatoes, and Cerron grinned.

“Be there?”

Maria, still with red cheeks and an embarrassed pout, nodded. “I’ll be there.”

The castle of Leron, the only home Cerron had ever known, was located southeast in the Demon Kingdom – and therefore quite close to the coast. Cerron’s private quarters had always been in the western part of the castle, so naturally, his balcony faced the exact same direction.

West – and with west, the ocean and the sunset.

This was where he took Maria, after telling her to close her eyes. He didn’t shut the doors behind them; it would get terribly cold after a while, and the fireplace within his rooms was already burning fiercely. It would do them no good to stand out there freezing, after all, and so he had asked Corel if he could light the fires.

Corel had done it, of course. Cerron had expected nothing less.

“You may open your eyes,” he said, and smiled giddily in excitement when Maria did as he told her to.

The Human gasped, and placed a hand over her mouth to stifle it. “Oh Telak,” she breathed, and Cerron started lightly at the name of the Demon god. “That’s beautiful!” Her eyes shone when she tore her gaze away from the sunset to stare at him instead.

Ah. She probably thought that this was what he’d brought her here for, then. Oh well, Cerron wasn’t about to correct her. “Indeed,” he said, and grinned.

Maria smiled, and it was the kind of breathless smile a dying man seeing his love for the last time would smile. With a light shake of her head, she turned back to stare at the sun dipping into the ocean at the horizon. The sky was turning red, a deep, raw red that reminded him of blood mixed with rainwater. “I never thought-” Maria broke herself off, and leaned forward on the pale railings. There were a few beats of silence, and then she sighed. The corner of her mouth twisted down. “I’ve wanted to see the ocean my entire life,” she confessed, and she bowed her head to inspect the stone on which she was resting. “The real ocean, not… not this,” she sighed, and her voice was soft, almost apologetic. “This isn’t the ocean I want to see.”

Cerron raised an eyebrow, and walked over to stand next to her. “Oh? How so?” The stone was warm underneath his palms, but he knew by experience that it wouldn’t last for long. He had to take this moment to appreciate it.

Maria twisted her mouth in a grimace, and furrowed her brows. “Just – the ocean, it… it’s the only open place in this world. The only place where Creatures can be free, with no barriers to keep them chained to a piece of dirt.”

Cerron didn’t say anything. He turned his head to look at her, but Maria wasn’t facing him. She was staring at the ocean in the distance, a solemn yet thoughtful look on her features. Her hair, flowing freely down her back, was whipping slightly thanks to a gentle breeze from west.

“I think that that’s what I want,” Maria continued, oblivious to – or maybe just ignoring – Cerron staring at her. “A place where we can be free. Where we won’t be bound by magic.”

The air around them was gradually turning colder, but Maria didn’t seem to notice. Cerron turned to look at the ocean in the distance, and he thought.

Maria was right, of course. This wasn’t the real ocean. There, far away, he could see a slight tremor in the air – the Demon Barrier, separating the Demon Kingdom from the wild, untamed ocean.

The ocean frightened all kinds of Creatures. It was dark, and natural, and somehow – somehow the only pure thing in the world. Magic flew freely out there, instead of becoming captured the instant it was wielded. No one had a claim to any land. No one ruled.

There was no war.

Somehow, Cerron wasn’t surprised that a wildness like that drew her in and attracted her so.

“You wish to see marren,” Cerron said, a quiet whisper in the soon-to-be night. “And that is something very different from the ocean, indeed.”

“…marren?” Maria echoed, and finally she turned to face him. “I – I don’t know what that means.”

Cerron sighed a soft sigh. “The open-ocean. Täk has a word for it. Mostly it is used to describe a tough or dire situation, but it is originally the word we have for what we do not know. For what lays beyond the barriers.”

“Marren,” Maria muttered, tasting the word with a curious gleam in her eyes. “I like it.”

“Funny, that you would be attracted to marren,” Cerron remarked. “As your name is based on the word.”

Maria blinked. Once, and then twice. “It is?” she asked. “I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Cerron scoffed. “With the way your father behaves, that is no surprise.”

Maria laughed, and the revelation of how much she had changed since she first set foot inside of his castle struck Cerron like thunder. Eight moons ago – and had it really been an entire year? – she would have widened her eyes and left the room in a fury.

Cerron smiled.

“Huh. I still want to see the ocean, though,” Maria said, and there was somehow a sense of freedom in her words. A relief. She turned away again, relaxing her shoulders with a soft smile.

“I will take you to the ocean, then. To marren, if that is your wish.”

Maria giggled. “Promise me,” she said, and smiled. “Promise me you will.”

“I promise,” Cerron declared, in all honesty. “That you, Princess Maria of the Human Kingdom, shall one day see the open-ocean with the help of my hand.”

As the last word left his mouth, the last sliver of the sun disappeared underneath the deep blue of the ocean.

The sky faded into darkness around them, not fast enough to be noticeable, but not slow enough for it to be normal, either.

Maria was silent, but Cerron could tell that she wasn’t noticing anything. That was most likely the fault of his rooms; all the lights were on in there, casting the balcony in a faded, golden look. Cerron barely noticed the sky turning dark, himself – and that was because he was looking for it.

No matter. She would see soon enough, anyway.

And slowly, sluggish stars appeared in the sky. They were twinkling faintly, as if they were shining through a thick layer of fog, and they were few and far between.

“Huh,” said Maria. “That’s odd. The stars outside of my window shone much brighter than these – and there were many more,” she remarked, but before Cerron could give a reply –

the stars started fading away.

Maria gasped, and took a step backwards. Craning her neck, her mouth fell open as she stared at the dark sky. “Cerron,” she whispered. “The stars! They-!”

“I know,” Cerron interrupted her calmly, and slowly, Maria looked over at him again.

Her eyes were wide in disbelief, but the shock in her eyes died even as he took it in. “Why are they doing that?” Maria breathed, and walked over to the railings again. She pressed her palms flat down on the stone. Her hands were shaking.

“Marrenä,” Cerron began, and Maria’s head snapped around to stare at him. He knew why – he had just called her my open-ocean, after all. “You are witnessing the Death of Summer.”

Maria’s mouth fell open once more, and something oddly touched flared to life in her eyes. “The – I didn’t know – the stars fade away? Every year?”

Cerron smiled sadly. “Yes,” he affirmed, and he had to look away from the pained look on Maria’s face. “They do. Demons have the coldest Winter – the warmest Summer! – of all the Kingdoms. Perhaps it is what we deserve. Either utter darkness, or a light shining brighter than Ylker.”

After that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Cerron felt… content. He felt content for the first time in years. He felt happy for the first time in years. To think, that exactly one year ago, he’d been standing in this exact same spot while moping.

The last star faded out, and a rush of air told him that Maria had just exhaled heavily. “Cerron,” she said. Cerron looked over at her, pleased to see a solemn expression on her face. Good. She had gotten over her shock, then. “I think I’m ready to hear the story of the time you were locked out of the castle.”

Cerron, who’d known this was coming for a while, nodded. Pushing away the memory of the day he’d turned around to find Maria crying on his behalf, he sighed heavily. “As you wish, marrenä.”

“It was exactly 23 years ago, tonight. I had attended father’s funeral two weeks prior, and I was still so very lost. I was horrified, I was mad, and I was drowning in sorrow. I was not prepared to step onto the throne, neither emotionally nor knowledge-wise.”

“I would be the youngest King in two centuries – but my personal servant, at the time, did not deem me worthy. His name was Terry, and I remember nothing but his harsh hands and an evil glint in his eyes.”

“He threw me into the Royal Gardens, and before he locked the doors behind me, he said – if you are to be our King, then you must learn how to act like us. I knew that there was no way he was going to open the doors for me, and I could not know how many servants were in on his plan. I did not dare to knock on the door, and resigned myself to wait for daylight.”

“At the time, I was frightened by darkness. As you can imagine, I was utterly terrified as the last star faded out, and the cold truly settled in. I was crying, bawling my eyes out, in fact. The air was ice cold, and never before, and never after, have I felt as cold as I did that night. I did not know if I was going to survive.”

“I know, now, that what Terry did had sprouted from logic. If I survived the night, I would become stronger than before. I would behave like a proper King, and not like a moody teenager. Of course, Terry’s actions cannot be excused, and he should be, and was, punished. Still, his actions had a sense of logic to them. Twisted logic, yes, but logic still.”

“So, there I sat. Terrified, with snot covering my face, and shaking inside of a bush. It was then some part of me realized, or maybe accepted, that I was a Demon. There is nothing about darkness that can harm us – because from darkness we have come, and to darkness we shall return.”

“The next day, Terry was frightened. The boy he had thrown out into the Gardens had been warm at his heart, and loved easily. The man he let in was cold and hard like stone, his words harsh where they before had been sweet. Terry had not wanted to change me in such a way – but sometime during that night I accepted the darkness within.”

Cerron started when he felt something warm touch the back of his hand. He looked down, only to face Maria looking up at him with a soft smile and eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Don’t ever say that again,” she whispered. “You are not cold. Your words are not harsh. You are one of the kindest Creatures I’ve ever had the honor to meet. There’s nothing wrong about being a Demon, and Terry is a twat – his opinion does not count.”

Oh, Cerron thought, and smiled softly. “I know,” he said. “I know that, now. I was young and naïve, however, and at the time I thought it was the truth.”

“It’s not,” Maria said. “And you had all reason to be changed by it. I can tell it was horrible – oh, Nie, Cerron, don’t say stuff like that! Terry can go drown in Marly for all I care, his views of the world are wrong.”

“I know,” Cerron repeated. “Which is why he was banished three weeks later. He has probably died by now.”

Maria, who had opened her mouth and prepared to rant again, shut it with a snap. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. Okay. Good.”

Cerron grinned, and turned to lean back over the railings the same way he had done while telling his story. “Besides, it is all in the past, now. It does not bother me anymore.”

Maria also turned to lean over the railings. “I’m proud of you, you know,” she muttered. “You’ve lived through all that. I know being a ruler isn’t easy – and especially not in a Kingdom like yours. Harsh Winter after harsh Winter, and then the hottest Summer in the whole of Undera. Yet, you manage to do it, somehow.” She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m awed, to be honest. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that.”

“You will,” Cerron replied. “Trust me.”

As snowflakes began to fall around them, Cerron took a deep, relieved breath. That had gone better than expected.

He was a better ruler. He was not a good King, not yet, but at least he was getting there. Maria calmed him, in a strange, illogical way – whenever he sat on the throne and had to make a crucial decision, he did what Maria would have liked.

Somehow, it all seemed to work out, in the end.

Maria shuddered, and Cerron realized that the Human was probably freezing by now. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, carefully and slowly, so that she could pull away if she wished to.

She didn’t, and only smiled into the night.

“We can change the world, Cerron. One heart at a time.”

And Cerron felt inclined to agree.