5.

Orantal, the capital of Sargas was alive at 1 am. The streets were filled with people walking in crowds, holding electric candles, and singing the funeral song. Atarah had sung herself in many funerals, but she had never witnessed the song reach her heart when sung by a thousand. She stopped running and stood on the dark rooftop watching her people grieve their beloved King. Something stung in her heart and in her nose. She tried to hold it in, but it was no use, and she released the emotions she was burying deep. Sure, the king was more like a fool than a father, but he did bring her up with love and affection. Taught her to protect herself because she couldn't trust the court, taught her to become the best of the best, so that when the time comes, it will be the people who fear her, and not the other way around. But most of all he was the only one besides Astara, whom she could joke about Delroy.

Atarah sniffed. Dammit, she thought, wiping the tears with her sleeves. Why did they have to do it now? She decided to move. She needed to reach Antares before dawn, or else Delroy will be at her throat in the morning. But before Atarah could leap to the next house, a bright pink light flashed in the sky, and everyone stopped singing and looked up. She strained her neck and realized that the flash was closer to her than the palace. The light stayed in the sky for a few seconds and then went out; the moon was hiding behind the clouds, and the only light was coming from the electric candles. 

It was protocol and a signal in Sargas. When the King dies, all the electricity will be cut off. A signal to show the neighboring kingdoms that the king has died, and a protocol for the soldiers to carry out their mission in the dark of the night. Atarah turned her head south, where the palace hid in the darkness, and spots of amber lights could be seen from all the floors. Just then another flash of orange light lit up the sky, but this time unlike the people. Atarah looked down at the crowd. The crowd had split into two, paving a path in the middle for someone. She heard vibrations on the ground first, and then saw as hundreds of Elvi marched on the road. The Elvi in the front who was leading the march was holding a long black banner, imprinted on it was the house crest of the King’s house. Her house. A curved sword between two diamonds. Behind the Elvi came in the crowds holding the banner of different houses of the court. They stopped after walking 50 steps, and one Elvi pointed a finger at the sky, and a burst of orange flash lit up the sky. All the Elvi’s followed his lead, covering the starless sky with shades of different colors. 

Atarah took in a deep breath. Her heart felt heavy. She realized that the next time this banner will be marched down the road, it will be upon her death, because she was the only one left in her house. The only person of royal blood, the one who will protect her bloodline and lead the House of Echenas. She shuddered at the thought of the burden waiting for her in the future, but like she was taught, Atarah focused on the present and ran all the way to the port, not waiting to look down at the crowd who had begun the gloomy song again.