The colors of the throne room merged to form shapeless blobs. They became tastes in my mouth and feelings in my skin. More than ever before, I was one with my senses. In the chaos of my new vision, my eyes focused on a young harska sitting alone. Surrounded by books, scrolls, and maps, the harska threw up his hands and groaned. His fur showed the full spectrum of colors until it settled on black with a white oval on his chest.

Someone knocked on a nearby door, startling the harska. Before the harska could answer it, the wooden door slammed open. A younger Gunner stormed into the room, taking a seat opposite his companion. The other harska shook his head and turned back to his studies, pulling out another map from the pile. Gunner grabbed the map and threw it, causing it to fly across the room.

“Falkas, what your father is doing is madness. The forest elves have been our enemies for millennia. We can’t become allies with one peace treaty,” said Gunner.

Getting up from his stool, Falkas grabbed the map Gunner had thrown and slotted it back into the pile. “My father is king. What he says goes.”

“Have you read the treaty? It practically makes us the elves’ slaves! We would be toiling away in their mines for the rest of our existence. How is that better than how the dwarves treated us?”

“It’s better than being destroyed by their military.”

Gunner slammed the table causing papers to fly into the air. His cat-like eyes glared at Falkas. “Which is exactly why we should focus on improving ours! Stone and wooden tools do nothing against the tall folk’s iron. If we focused on learning the secrets to smithing we could defend ourselves.”

As scattered pages started to float back to the table, Falkas stood up and walked to the door. Holding it open, he said, “Then learn it. If you can’t, what makes you think the peasants can?” Without waiting for an answer, Falkas left the room.

Alone, Gunner gathered up Falkas’ things and sorted them. As he did, the image grew blurry. Colors melded together again, morphing between themselves in a chaotic pattern.

“We were like brothers,” said Gunner, his voice seeming to come from everywhere. “When he took the throne, I hoped he would bring real change. He didn’t. So I took matters into my own hands; and for that, they cast me out.”

I could feel something gritty grinding in between my teeth. Sand. A powerful gust of hot wind blew me back. Tumbling through nothingness, the colors swirled around until another image appeared.

Sakai, the great desert of the west, formed from the colors. The orange sands were sculpted by the hot gusts of wind blowing over the whole region. I had only heard of Sakai from stories and read about it in books, yet I could see it in front of me. Blue skies shone above the region, the only benefit of living in such a dangerous area.

In the distance, I could see a small village. It stood out like a speck of grey on an orange canvas. Something pulled me closer until I was floating above it. People, a mix of humans and dwarves, scurried amongst the tents below. Each one trying their best to escape the cloud of sand. Standing out against the crowd was Gunner.

Covered from head to toe in a brown cloak, he walked through the crowd like they weren’t there. One man got upset at Gunner for pushing him aside, but it only took a single glare from the harska to end the conflict. Gunner stepped in front of the largest tent, a structure more fitting to call a house than a tent. It had a covered porch area, which Gunner used to shake bits of sand off himself before stepping inside.

Moving through the wall, I found myself looking at a mess of bodies. Some of them were clothed, and some of them were not. At the back of the tent, laying on a pile of pillows and bodies, was a skinny elf with blood-red skin. 

His long hair was white like snow, draping over his chest haphazardly. He wore a white towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else. Dark tattoos portraying exotic sea creatures danced up his arms onto his back. It was hard to tell exactly how many he had with how dark the room was. White pupilless eyes turned toward Gunner, glaring at the intruding harska.

Gunner bowed before the man. “Thank you for taking me in, Trafford. Your kindness knows no bounds.”

Trafford glared at the cat-like creature, his hands caressing the chest of a male dwarf next to him. “Can this not wait until later? As you can see, young Gunner, I’m quite busy.”

“King Csaba is dead. We don’t have time to waste. We need to strike now!”

The elf raised an eyebrow but didn’t show any other emotions. “Then why do you come to me? Don’t you have other allies that will help you rebel?”

Gunner shook his head. “It’s not that simple, I need help getting us inside the fortress. We learned construction from the best in the world. That fortress is impenetrable. Of course, some see it as child’s play. Besides dwarves, sunset elves know the most about invading a dwarven stronghold.”

Trafford laughed. “Why don’t you ask your wizard friend? I’m sure he would- oh wait, you can’t. You killed him.”

Gunner turned away from the elf. “He didn’t believe in the cause.”

“And you think I do?”

Slowly, Gunner nodded. “You understand that there are sacrifices that must be made.”

“Then you’ll have to wait. I’m quite busy at the moment,” said Trafford. He pulled the dwarf’s face closer until their mouths interlocked.

Gunner waited until the two stopped to breathe before continuing. “I’m afraid there isn’t much time to waste. The forest elf king has already given his order to invade. If we wait even longer there won’t be a harska kingship for me to overthrow.”

Trafford paused to absorb what Gunner was saying. He ran his fingers through his partner’s beard as he did. “Why not wait until after the elves invade? Both sides will be heavily weakened, and we can clean up both with ease.”

“I want to make a show of force. It’s not about taking over, it’s about showing why I should have led from the beginning.”

“You make it harder for yourself. Are you sure they even want you as king?”

Gunner grinned, revealing his sharp canines. “They will when they see what I’m capable of.”

I could feel the wind pick up around the tent. It bashed against the canvas walls and swept sand through the gaps. None of the occupants inside seemed to notice. The wind swirled around me, pushing me out the door and back into the bright blue sky and orange sands.

Before the vision faded, I heard Trafford say, “Then let’s give them a show.”

“He was a bard, much like you,” said Gunner’s voice as the colors began to swirl again. “If you’re like him…”

Blue and orange faded into grey and brown as I found myself back in the office of Falkas. Books and scrolls lay scattered on the floor. Claw marks marked the stone floor. The door into the office hung against the frame, one of the hinges having fallen off. Falkas sat on a wooden stool, leaning over a long table. His fur was disheveled and stained with blood. 

He dipped one of his claws into a pool of ink spilled onto the table and started to write out his orders for the week. Feeling the pain of sitting on a wooden chair for hours, Falkas stood up and paced around the room. His feet tapped against the stone floors. I wished I could see what he was thinking about, but the vision only gave me an outsider’s perspective. 

A knock on the door interrupted both of our thoughts. “Who is it?” asked Falkas.

“Your loyal servant, Hermina, King Falkas.”

“Come in.”

The metal hinge connecting the door to the stone creaked open as Hermina stepped inside. Her fur was a deep black. She had blue eyes that danced around the room. Like Falkas, Hermina’s fur was matted and covered in dirt. She held the door aloft as it leaned towards her, trying desperately to separate from the wall. Carefully, she pushed it back into place and turned towards her king. Falkas smiled at her and gestured to a wooden stool across from him at the table.

“Please, sit.”

Hermina shifted from foot to foot, which were really more like paws, as she frowned at the king. “I don’t think we have time for that, sire.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“We’ve caught him. He’s being held in the royal chambers.”

Falkas ran out the door, knocking it off its one remaining hinge and onto the floor. After recovering from the shock, Hermina and I ran after him. Well, she ran. I was pulled behind her by what felt like an invisible rope. Floating through the halls, I tried to memorize each turn they took to get to the royal chambers. Whether I would remember it after the visions ended, I wasn’t sure.

The three of us entered the same large room that Gunner had brought me to when he first captured me. It was massive, with a large vaulting ceiling carved out of the mountain. Inscriptions of dwarven poems lined the walls. A bright fire danced wildly in a central firepit, lighting up the room. Across from it sat the same stone throne that Gunner had sat on. I couldn’t tell whether it looked nicer or worse since I had last seen it. Between the throne and the fire, was Gunner. Tied to a wooden pole stuck into the floor, he stood slumped over, eyes closed. 

Falkas whispered to one of the guards, before taking his place on the throne. The guards all wore wooden armor with spears for weapons. Instead of stone or metal tips, the spearheads were nothing more than sharpened wood.

“Wake him up,” whispered Falkas.

One of the larger harska stepped forward and smacked Gunner across the face. When that didn’t do anything, he decided to shake the grey harska awake. Each of the guards tried, in turn, to wake him up, but they all failed. Falkas decided to wait it out and left to prepare himself before he woke up. 

When he returned, his fur was clean, brushed, and he wore golden armor that looked too big for his body. I guessed it was of dwarven make, but there was no way to know. He might have scavenged it from their previous masters, or it could have been a gift. Either way, it didn’t do any favors for him. Quite the opposite, it made him look smaller.

As the fire slowly started to die out, Gunner came to. One of Falkas’ guards was in the middle of adding more firewood when they noticed him stirring. He shouted in excitement and ran to take his place near the king. Rolling his eyes, Falkas sat up straight as he glared down at Gunner.

Gunner frowned as he looked up at Falkas. He tried to step forward, but chains holding his arms and legs kept him in place. I moved closer to examine the chains and grimaced once I saw how tight they were. Even the wooden pillar he was chained to looked painful. Splinters dug into Gunner’s back every time he moved.

“What have you to say for your crimes?” asked Falkas.

“I haven’t committed any crimes,” replied Gunner, spitting onto the ground.

“No crimes you say? Then what about the attempt on my life? You don’t consider that to be a crime?”

Gunner smiled, flashing his fangs. “I consider that to be a service.”

Falkas nodded at one of the guards who immediately struck Gunner with his hand. Falkas laughed. He pointed at another guard who stepped forward and knelt on one knee, holding out a scroll. I glanced at the scroll and was surprised to see that it was empty.

Falkas cleared his throat and opened the scroll with a flourish. He looked way too happy with himself and spent even more time flapping the paper around to cause more noise. With everyone focused on the king, Gunner started to test the chains and see if there was any chance of escaping. There seemed to be some give, but not much. 

One of the nails they used to connect the chains to the wood bounced around its hole. Gunner didn’t pull hard enough to get it out. Instead, he tested to see how much it could take before it fell out. His eyes jumped around the room as he looked for anything to help him.

Falkas finished his fun and started to pretend he was reading from the scroll. “Gunner. You have been sentenced to public execution for the death of twenty-four of your harska kin. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

Falkas scoffed. “Not guilty. Not guilty, he says.” There was a brief pause before Falkas jumped from his throne and stomped over to Gunner. He glared into Gunner’s eyes as he whispered, “You no good, cheating, liar of a harska. I should skin you and sell your fur to the elves for your insolence.”

Gunner returned the look. “You think I’m a liar? Do the others know what you’ve been planning?”

Falkas smiled. “Oh yes, they know.” He turned to gesture to the guards. “Why don’t you all tell him about my recent reform?”

One of the most senior guards stepped forward. “King Falkas plans to implement agriculture. Bringing us closer to greatness!”

Gunner laughed. “Agriculture? Farming? Did the elves try to sell that to you? Do you think growing crops will fix anything? You’re as foolish as Csaba. Why did I—”

Gunner was cut short by Falkas punching him. I gasped as Gunner fell unconscious and hung from his chains, leaning on Falkas. He pushed the harska off and let him hang as he walked back to the throne. My eyes glanced at the loose nail, wondering if it would slip, but it didn’t. Once Falkas was seated, Gunner stood back up and glared at the king, smiling as he did.

Suddenly, he pulled on the chains as hard as he could, but it wasn’t enough. The loose nail shook a bit as he pulled, enough that one good tug would pull it out, but Gunner only tried once. His smile fell as he stood limp against the chains.

Falkas folded his arms as he grinned at Gunner. “What a sorry sight you are. Just like the little riot you started. Pathetic.”

“They were my siblings,” Gunner mumbled, blood starting to drip like drool from his mouth. “My brothers and sisters.”

“What?” asked Falkas.

Gunner looked up at the king and yelled, “They were my siblings! Brothers and sisters in arms and your guards killed them! Yet you blame me. Let me ask you this, King Falkas. Do you even remember their faces? Their last words? Or did you see them as hands to hold a pickaxe? More starving workers you could send into the mines to line your own pockets?”

“They were my people,” Falkas replied. “It was their duty to serve the king.”

“It was your duty to lead them!” shouted Gunner. “Lead them into a golden age of prosperity. Or did you forget all that once you learned how good it felt to be at the top? You were supposed to change things, Falkas. Stop the stealing and end the hunger. End the hunting of harska by the other nations. All false promises. By the size of you, those lies appear to be treating you well.”

“You know nothing about—”

“I know everything about the way you take advantage of us. I know you trade us to the elves. I know about the bodies piling up at the bottom of the mines. Look around you, Falkas. Your people are starving, wasting away on promises and good intentions. If you were like us, you would have done the same.”

“You arranged a coup d’état with your own elves, and where did that get you?” asked Falkas. “How is that different from what I’ve been doing? No, we are the same. Though I would have listened to the king and followed his orders. Do you want to know what the real difference between you and me is? When a friend helps me, I don’t plan to stab them in the back.”

Gunner looked up at the guards around him. “To those that standby and watch the devastation of our people, you’ll join me soon.”

Falkas sneered. “Bows at the ready.”

Each of the guards picked up a bow and nocked an arrow. They pulled back on the string and pointed their arrowheads at Gunner. As I looked around the room, I noticed not one eye was on him. Gunner glared at the nearest guard and hissed, but what stared back at him was a hollow shell of a harska.

“Look at all you cowards! Do you not respect me enough to give me a proper death?” Gunner yelled.

“Why should they respect you? You’re a traitor,” said Falkas. He smiled at Gunner, his pupils wide. As if he didn’t want to miss a second of this. “Loose.”

Gunner ducked and pulled his arms into his chest. The arrows flew above his head, cutting through the air. One of them crashed into his left arm which stuck to the pillar causing him to cry out in pain. He pulled out the arrow and threw it onto the ground, gritting his teeth as he did. Gunner pulled against the chain with his other arm as hard as he could. Luckily, that was enough to cause the nail to fly from the wood and roll along the ground. With seconds to go before they nocked another set of arrows, he started to work on pulling the other nails out.

“Shoot him again! Loose! I WANT HIM DEAD!” Falkas yelled. In the confusion, several of the guards fumbled with their arrows and dropped them. I watched as several more arrows flew past him as Gunner twisted around the pillar. Another arrow grazed his shoulder, causing blood to seep out of the cut. With two more nails pulled out, he started on the final chain holding his arm.

One of the smarter guards figured out that shooting arrows wasn’t doing much. She ran forward to try and grab Gunner. Using his claws, Gunner slashed through her meager armor. “Goodbye, Ironoa,” he muttered as her body fell to the ground. The second he took to look at Ironoa caused him to miss a guard out of his view loose another arrow. It landed in his back, causing him to fall forward. 

The last chain that was still connected to the pillar kept him up, but I could tell he couldn’t take much more. He smashed his arm against the pillar, sending splinters flying throughout the room. The force caused the last nail to slide out and land on the ground with a satisfying thunk. His arms and legs were still bound in chains, but he could move.

With impressive speed, Gunner moved to the closest guard and wrapped the chains around his neck. He gasped for air as Gunner pulled him closer. Gunner ducked behind his body as he positioned himself away from the other guards. Three arrows sunk into the guard’s chest. “Farewell, Rafros.” Gunner’s eyes glanced around the room, starting at the throne. I turned to see Falkas running out of the room, stumbling over his armor.

He pushed Rafros’ body to the ground and sprinted towards Falkas. As he did, an arrow hit Gunner in the back of the thigh, causing him to trip and fall. He gritted his teeth and hopped over to Falkas. I could see the fear in the king’s eyes as he looked back at Gunner. Arrows continued to fly past his head, as Gunner flexed his furry fingers into a fist.

“Do you remember their names?” asked Gunner.

“Gunner, it doesn’t have to be like this. We can work something out. Do you want gold? Power? I can give you all of that.”

The guards stood and watched as Gunner got closer and closer to the king. Maybe it was out of fear, or maybe it was out of respect, I didn’t know. Falkas crawled away as fast as he could. Reaching the wall, he turned towards Gunner and smiled. “We could work together. Fix everything! Think about it, Gunner, the two of us leading the harska into a beautiful future. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Ruadh,” Gunner whispered.

“What?”

He punched Falkas in the face. “Ruadh,” Gunner said louder. One of the guards ran forward to help the king, but Gunner quickly used his claws to slash his throat. The chains wrapped around the guard’s body as he fell, pulling Gunner down with him. Falkas tried to use the confusion to run away, but another one of Gunner’s chains wrapped around his leg. 

“Noble.” Gunner punched Falkas in the stomach, causing more damage to Gunner’s hand than to Falkas. The harska king kicked Gunner as he struggled to escape, causing Gunner to gasp for air, but it didn’t stop him. A fit of rage took over Gunner as he attacked the king.

“Tomàs. Rati. Małgosia. Kamala. Oliwer. Chlodovech. Scottie. Leandro. Rosalie. Dalimil. Liese. Dipak. Zoran. Jónás. Jarl. Mona. Austen. Aleksandra. Zelma. Yauhen. Aleksandar. Edina.” Each name was punctuated by his fist making contact with the king’s face, or whatever part of Falkas he could reach. By the end, Falkas was nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

Gunner took a deep breath. And then another. I turned from the bloody scene to look around the room, only to see it empty. Bows, piles of arrows, and various pieces of armor made of bark lay on the floor. I turned back towards Gunner, watching as he used the wall for balance. He slid onto the floor and sat down next to Falkas’ body. Gunner groaned as blood leaked from his injuries.

As Gunner closed his eyes, I felt my body begin to be pulled towards the door. I resisted, wanting to see what happened next, but it was no use. Whatever was pulling me was too strong. I found myself swirling around a whirlpool of colors. Red, grey, black, and white surged around me until there was nothing.