Austin Lively returns to Orozgo Retreat, where his drugged sister Riley and three comatose women whisper cryptic warnings—"the forest is all one tree"—before he flees through a blinding light into the other kingdom. Emerging in a violent ocean, he survives to find Anastasius’s empty tomb, claiming its regalia and halting Favian’s execution as the army kneels, hailing him as their resurrected Emperor. Now clad in power, he must confront Curtin’s blood-red armies before midnight or lose Jane Janaway forever. [Automatically generated summary]
The following contains strong language and adult themes and is intended for a mature audience.
Hello?
Hello?
Damn it.
Another hang-up?
Telemarketers.
That must be it.
Where were we?
You killed the assassin with your sword, the first time you ever used it in L.A.
A new power.
Right.
Then I headed back to the madhouse.
Another kingdom, the final season.
Written by me, Andrew Clavin.
Performed by Michael Knowles.
Episode 13.
Resurrection.
I used the Big Ford's GPS to find my way to the right road.
I figured no one would be tracking me for a while.
It would take time for Richard to realize it was I, not the priest of death, who had walked out of the aspen grove alive.
When I rejoined the winding Desert 2 lane, I spotted my Mercedes a quarter mile in the distance.
A sad, small, smoking wreck, its marred surface glinting silver in the sunlight.
Too bad, I thought.
It had been a hell of a nice car.
I drove on to the asylum.
Once again, the forbidding red brick mansion rose up before me with its central tower and its gables and its mansard roofs.
I felt sick to think I had let Riley get put in there.
Poor little Riley trying her crazy best to tell the only version of the truth she knew.
I would have to set her free and soon.
But not today.
There was no Hillary Bain to meet me at the front door this time.
I hadn't called ahead.
I went to the reception desk inside the front entrance, told the security guard who I was.
Then I waited.
Then she came.
Her squat little figure scurried toward me down the endless corridor.
I thought I saw a too bright light of panic in her eyes.
The cheery grin on her apple-cheeked face seemed feverish.
Her curly red hair had the aspect of a flame.
My unannounced visit had caught her off guard.
Yet there was never a wrong word from our Hillary.
Always that deferential tone in that squeaky voice like the voice of a cartoon.
And always that terrifying undertone of threat, as if at any minute she would call her aides and have me locked up in a padded cell.
When she got closer, she pulled up short, open-mouthed.
It would not have surprised me to see an exclamation point appear above her head like in the comics.
Mr. Lively, are you all right?
Your face.
You've been injured.
All right.
I must have looked like a bloody mess.
I had forgotten.
Ever since I'd climbed out of my shallow grave, I hadn't given much thought to my appearance.
I was in a car accident on the way over.
I'm fine.
I figured I'd leave out the part about getting pistol whipped and shot at.
Not to mention the joust on the flying horses and the journey into hell.
Well, Hillary Bain went on, edging toward me, what can I do for you?
We weren't expecting you.
It's not visiting hours, you know.
I tried to sound as authoritative as I could.
This wasn't a prison, after all.
It wasn't even a hospital.
Legally, Riley could walk out of here anytime she wanted.
And if I insisted on seeing her, they couldn't keep me away.
I didn't have time to call.
I have to leave town very suddenly, and I want to make sure Riley knows about it.
I want to tell her I'll be back, face to face.
I'll just need a moment with her.
Oh, oh, all right.
Riley's Secret Session00:15:02
There was a pitch of hysteria in her voice.
I'll take you to the family room and fetch her.
No, take me to where she is right now.
I only need a second with her.
She hesitated.
I could see her looking for an excuse to refuse me.
But I stared her down and said, please, right now.
I'm in a hurry.
And really, what could she do?
Well, she'd be in the common room at this hour.
And after a moment's hesitation, she led the way.
Down the haunted halls we went together.
All the while, Hilary Bain kept babbling in that cartoon voice of hers about Riley's doses and how well she was doing and how they were making great progress and she should be able to leave soon.
The usual crap.
I wanted to draw my magic sword and swipe her blithering head off.
I restrained myself.
We came to double doors and she pushed one door open and held it for me.
I stepped through.
The common room was very large, very anonymous and institutional.
Its only point of grace was the huge picture window looking out on a spectacular view of the mountains and the sky.
Otherwise, there were the usual institutional tables and chairs set about.
A nurse's station where two women in white surveyed the scene through the open top half of a heavy Dutch door.
There was a TV playing a game show on one wall and books and board games strewn here and there.
And there were about 20 people sitting around, and all of them looked like they were dead inside.
This, I thought, was what the patients of the Orozgo retreat looked like when you didn't warn Hilary Bain you were coming.
Drugged to zombiedom, slumped, staring, droolly-faced.
Some were muttering in slurred and dreamy conversations.
A couple were playing partisan in a grim sort of way.
One young man was standing at the window, obsessively picking at his fingernails.
Most of them, though, sat eerily still.
They looked like some evil child magician had turned them into bizarre human plush toys.
One of these was Riley.
She was seated on a stuffed chair with her legs tucked up under her.
There were three other girls about the same age sitting near her in a sort of loose circle, two on a sofa, one on another chair.
At first glance, it looked like a typical girl session.
Girls sitting around together, chatting.
Only no one was chatting.
They were just sitting there, no expressions on their faces.
Plush toys.
Doped-up girl things positioned to look like a tea party.
But that was fine.
In fact, it was a perfect setup for me, because I hadn't really come here to talk to Riley.
It was the mad girls I wanted.
The girls in the common room hear voices from another kingdom, Riley had told me.
And Queen Yelinda had said, you must listen to those who hear the voices of my kingdom, but can speak in the voices of your world.
So here I was.
Look who's come to see you, Riley.
Once again, I imagined drawing my magic sword.
I imagined splitting her in half with it.
The woman brought out the worst in me.
I turned and gave her a look.
Thank you, I said, meaning get the hell away from us.
She nodded and wandered off to the nurse's station across the room.
I stepped into the circle of girls.
It felt eerie having those life-sized, button-eyed living dolls all around me.
I knelt on one knee in front of Riley.
She looked down at me and narrowed her eyes as if trying to remember who I was.
Since our last conversation, these villains had obviously dosed the hell out of her, probably trying to quiet all her talk about another kingdom.
Riley, it's me.
I need you.
I know you're in there.
Fight your way to the surface, baby.
Talk to me.
For a moment, there was no response.
Then she drew a deep, deep breath.
She gave a long, long, wistful sigh.
Os?
But she barely moved.
I wasn't sure whether she really knew I was there or not.
All right.
All right, listen.
I know the truth now.
Okay?
I remember now.
I remember everything.
She sighed again, like the wind in the aspens.
Os.
You said the girls here, the mad girls in the common room.
You said they can hear voices when they don't take their meds.
I glanced over my shoulder at the others.
One was a pudgy brunette with a plain, hard face.
One was a willowy ghost of a creature, a blonde barely there.
Those were the two on the sofa.
The third on the other chair was a delicate beauty with honey-colored curls on her snow-white forehead.
My heart went dark in my chest when I examined them.
They didn't look like they'd been hiding their meds.
They looked like their meds had turned them into dolls, staring plush toys.
I turned back to Riley, still kneeling in front of her.
She kept looking down at me with a thin, stitched-on smile, sighing.
Os.
The queen sent me here, Riley.
Queen Elinda.
You said she was waiting for me to remember her.
Well, I did.
I do.
I remember.
I went and saw her.
On instinct, I glanced toward the nurse's station.
Hilary Bane had stepped through the Dutch door.
I could see her back there, behind the nurses, talking on her phone.
Who was she calling?
Richard?
Probably.
I probably didn't have much time before some new killer came to get me.
I saw Elinda in the homeless camp.
No answer.
She said the girls here would tell me what to do.
No response.
I glanced again at Hilary Bain.
She was stealing looks at me now, still talking furtively into the phone.
My voice became more urgent.
My friend Jane Janaway is in trouble, Rye.
I don't know what to do, and the queen said the girls here could help me.
But Riley just went on staring at me with those button eyes and that stitched-on smile.
Her head tilted.
Her body slumped.
Os.
A plush toy.
I was losing hope.
Riley, I can't stay long.
Someone has to.
Forest is all one tree.
I started.
Turned, my heart racing.
The voice had come from over my right shoulder.
A low, drifting, toneless voice, from the plump brunette on the sofa, or so I thought at least.
But she hadn't moved.
She was still slumped there, limp-lipped, staring at nothing.
What?
Plant the carnation in the earth beneath.
Quickly, I turned again.
This mournful drawl seemed to have come from the girl in the chair, the delicate beauty.
Or had it?
She hadn't moved either.
Go through the door.
A quick turn to the willowy blonde.
And this was really spooky because I hadn't seen her move either, but she had.
Now she was staring right at me with glassy blue eyes.
For a moment, she remained like that, motionless, seemingly inanimate.
Then she spoke again, her voice hollow like a ghost's voice, her eyes still empty.
Go through the door where there's no darkness at all.
The blood-red shadow is falling, said the brunette.
It's the only way.
She was staring at me too now, though I'd never seen her move.
The forest is all one tree.
Plant the carnation in the earth beneath.
Go through the door where there's no darkness at all.
And then all together in a chilling chant.
The blood-red shadow is falling.
Go through the door.
It's the only way.
I turned from one to the other as each spoke.
They started the routine again.
The forest is all one tree.
The forest is all one nation.
Then, suddenly, they stopped.
They sank back into living death, plush toys.
I was about to urge them to speak again when I sensed there was some reason they'd gone silent, some approaching danger.
I turned.
And there was Hilary Bain.
She had crept up on me.
She was looming over me where I knelt, staring down at me with her cheery smile and her hair like curling flame.
Well, I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave now.
It's time for Riley's session.
We exchanged hard stares as if they were threats and curses.
My stare said, screw you, bitch, you can't make me go.
And her stare and her self-certain smile said, go on and stay then and see what happens, Buster.
She had received her orders from on high.
Get him out of there now.
We'll take care of him later.
It would have been crazy for me to hang around long enough to find out who was coming to get me.
I had to go.
I glanced at the girls.
They were all silent, stuffed girl things again.
They had said what they had to say.
There was nothing more for me here.
I faced Riley.
I took hold of the strengthless hand that was resting on her knee.
My little sister's little hand.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her ear.
Hang on, Rye.
I'll be back for you.
She sighed, like a death rattle.
Os.
Then, once again, I was walking with Hilary Bain down a corridor.
Another one of these corridors in the main mansion of the Orozgo retreat that seemed like a corridor in an optical illusion that seemed to go on and on, endlessly, with the doors and alcoves repeating themselves endlessly along the way.
Also endless was her squeaky monologue, her self-justifications, her excuses for the things they did to the patients here.
She sounded like a cartoon mouse on trial for war crimes.
It's not an exact science yet, but what a leap forward it is to have these medications.
How good it would have felt to draw my sword and cut pieces off her.
I would have left the essential bits for last.
We approached the main entrance, the huge doors with their glass panels looking out on the rolling front lawn.
As we drew near, Hilary Bain's high-pitched babbling sank into the background of my attention.
In its place, I heard the voices of the mad girls in the common room.
Go through the door.
It's the only way.
The blood-red shadow is falling.
Go through the door where there's no darkness at all.
This?
I thought.
This door?
As we walked, my hand slipped into my shirt.
My fingers wrapped around Bethere's locket.
The heat of inspiration came off the metal and flowed through me.
And all at once, like a picture coming suddenly into focus, the mad girl's seemingly mystic chant began to make sense to me.
Go through the door where there's no darkness at all.
I had escaped from the serpent of nothingness into a blinding brightness that wasn't light, but was simply the absence of all darkness.
That was the last thing I had seen in that other kingdom, that other kingdom where my quest was still unfinished, where I had never found Anastasius, where I had never brought him the talisman so he would lead his armies to restore Elinda to the throne of Galliana.
The blood-red shadow is falling.
I remembered the red cloud I had seen as I flew on my stallion toward Aona.
Curtain's armies.
The armies I had helped unleash, moving in to destroy the leaderless forces of the Emperor.
Was that the blood-red shadow the mad girls were talking about?
Did I have to stop that cloud somehow to keep Curtin from becoming all-powerful, there and here?
I didn't know.
I wasn't sure.
I just somehow understood that I had to go back.
back into the darkless light that brought me here.
I had to pass through that light and what?
Something.
Somehow finish my quest.
The blood-red shadow is falling.
Go through the door.
I let the locket go.
I licked my dry lips.
I nodded.
As we reached the end of the endless corridor, as the door grew closer, as Hilary Bain's irritating words of self-rationalization began to infest my brain like squeaking vermin, my steps slowed.
I was becoming afraid.
Really afraid.
Deep down afraid.
If I walked through that brightness, what would become of me?
Would it be worse than death had been?
More than death?
I sensed it might.
I sensed that if I went into that light, it would be the end of me in ways I could neither imagine nor comprehend.
Who would Austin Lively be then?
We reached the doors.
I came to a stop, staring through the glass panels at the blue sky.
In the end, believe me, we'll find just the right medicine to make all the sadness go away.
Hilary Bain smiled at me complacently.
A cartoon mouse slash cartoon monster, the queen of the madhouse.
That's why we're here.
She pushed the door open and held it for me.
I looked out on the California springtime.
The green lawn, the green mountains.
The air smelled like some sweet memory.
Bursting Through Rock00:15:40
I did not want to leave this world ever again.
But Jane's time was running out.
The killers were coming for her at midnight.
I wasn't powerful enough to save her from the tower yet.
I needed more than just a sword and armor.
I needed to level up even further.
Go through the door.
It's the only way.
I made an effort of the will, and all the world beyond the entrance gave way to a lightless bright in which there was no darkness at all, in which there was nothing.
Nothing.
I steeled myself.
I went through the door.
All in a moment, the world was gone.
Everything was gone except the white forever.
Everything that had happened up till now suddenly seemed unreal to me.
Jane in the tower, Riley in the Orozgo retreat, the priest of death above the shallow grave, the joust above the cliffside, even the absolute darkness of hell and the serpent of nothingness twining around me, digesting me, turning me into itself.
All that and all the rest was gone, like dreams are gone.
Only half-remembered images remained, and those were swiftly fading.
Suddenly, life was forgotten, and all that had ever been real was this bright, bright eternity.
Then I broke through, and I was swallowed in the depths of the ocean.
The water heaved over my head.
The violent current dragged me down, then heaved again and hurled me upward.
I burst up through the surface into a chaos of foamy waves.
I gasped for air, dazed and bewildered.
Then, almost at once, I was sucked down again by the undertow.
Caught in the ocean's grip, I sank fast.
I couldn't fight it.
I could only watch the watery beam of sunlight above me grow dimmer and further away as I went down into the green dark.
My lungs began pumping, fighting to take in air.
Any second I would surrender to them and the salt water would rush in and suffocate me.
Then the ocean heaved once again, changing direction, lifting me.
This was my chance.
I kicked my legs and stroked my arms to speed my way to the surface.
I broke into the air again, gasping again.
The raging waves roared and crashed.
The blue sky swayed and rolled above me, this way and that.
I was tossed back and forth like a cork atop the rough water.
I caught glimpses of the rugged black cliffs looming over me.
My confusion cleared.
I understood.
I had come out of the country of the dead, out of the flaming blackness of hell and through the white of eternity.
I had returned to the land of the living, and I was in the sea beneath the Aona cliffs where Sir Littleman had dropped me after our joust.
Well, I wasn't going to be here long if I didn't reach dry land soon.
I was already breathless.
My limbs were going cold, losing strength.
If another undertow took me down, I'd be finished, and probably for good this time.
A wave lifted me up and up, then dropped me with sickening swiftness from the crest to the trough.
Spitting saltwater, I bobbed amidst the rock formations.
The high wind howled.
The wave rolled on to crash into the cliff face.
Through the foam, I caught sight of a darkness in the rock, a hole, a cave entrance.
I thought, if I could swim in there, maybe I could survive.
If I missed, the waves would crush me against the rocks.
But I had to try it.
My strength was failing fast.
The ocean turmoil battered and tore at me.
Another half minute and I'd be carried off and drowned.
A low rolling wave came at me.
I timed it.
Leapt out in front of it.
It caught me, carried me, rocket fast, toward the looming cliffs.
My stomach lurched with fear as the wall of black rock raced at me.
The water lifted.
Too high.
I fought my way down beneath the surface, striving toward the cave entrance.
I saw the stony wall coming at me at breakneck speed.
Then, the next moment, by some sweet chance, the water dipped and I hit the hole like bullseye.
I was hurled tumbling into a narrow tunnel.
My back struck the rock a glancing blow.
The rushing water threw me from one side of the tunnel to the other.
Then the wave began to recede, dragging me with it, back toward the seething ocean outside.
I clutched in wild desperation at the stone.
My fingers caught a knob of rock.
I held on as the wave tried to pull me out, tried to sweep me back out into the main.
Then the water was gone.
I was dropped down onto the rugged cave floor.
Terrified of the next blow, I scrambled like a lizard to get deeper into the cave, away from the water.
Finally exhausted, I collapsed onto the floor.
I rolled onto my back, wheezing.
I lay there, overcome with fatigue, battered, dressed in nothing but rags.
I didn't have the energy to move.
I felt as if my innards were pulverized, as if no bones remained to hold me together, no muscles to give me strength.
But the waves kept coming.
The next one lapped the soles of my feet.
A few more and the water reached my ankles.
A few more and it touched my shins.
Oh shit, I thought wearily.
The tide was coming in.
With a groan, I forced myself to roll over.
I began to crawl deeper into the cave, the rock scraping my knees through my shredded trousers.
I had to find a way out of here, or the tunnel would fill and I'd be trapped.
It'd be a terrible way to die.
I crawled on, grunting with effort and with pain as the rough stone tore my naked flesh.
Outside, the ocean roared.
The waves smashed into the rock.
The water seethed into the tunnel behind me, spraying the backs of my legs.
As I neared the end of the passage, I saw a narrow opening in the ceiling, a crevice.
I reached the bottom of it and twisted my body around until I could peer up.
I felt some hope.
Some.
The crevice rose high.
So high it vanished into the shadows above me.
I thought, maybe I could climb to another level and escape the waves.
Breathing hard, I tried to gather my strength.
I was chilled and battered to the bone, the energy bleeding out of me.
But the waves kept coming in, kept coming closer.
I had to go.
Hacking, gasping, I repositioned myself.
I drew up my legs until I was crouched at the bottom of the crevice.
I began to climb.
I braced my hands against the crevice's walls.
I searched out finger holds and footholds in the rough rock.
I hoisted myself, braced myself, found the next foothold and pushed up again and went on.
Soon, a dim glow appeared above me.
Was that sunlight?
Light from the surface?
It seemed about another hundred yards away.
I thought I could make it.
That's when my strength gave out.
Suddenly, my arms seemed to turn to jelly.
My feet and my legs seemed to dissolve.
I couldn't catch my breath.
I started trembling violently with cold.
I could neither go on climbing nor make a steady descent.
I looked down.
I was too high.
A fall would kill me.
I did my best to wedge myself in the narrow space.
I hung there, resting, hoping my strength would return.
I could hear the muffled rumble of the ocean crashing.
Then the rumble subsided, and I heard something else.
Something above me.
A woman's horrified scream.
Beltan, I thought, Fabian's wife.
No time had passed while I was in hell.
It was mere minutes since Sir Littleman had defeated me in the trial by combat.
Now he and Sir Goodchild and Sir Hammer were going to go through with the execution as scheduled.
They were going to burn the Emperor's brother and his wife and his little boy.
In the Queen's name, I had to stop them.
I willed myself to climb again.
Crying out with the effort, I hauled my aching body up a few more yards, then a few more.
Weakness overcame me.
My senses swam.
My hands trembled.
My heart hammered.
Sweat poured down my forehead into my eyes.
When I blinked it away, I thought I saw a narrow opening above me, maybe 30 yards away.
I didn't think I could make it.
I looked down, then up again.
Too high to climb.
Too far to fall.
Too weak to go on.
Panic began building in me, like a fire rising.
I cleared my mind.
I summoned my will.
I went on climbing.
I refused to let my arms give out.
I refused to let my legs go wobbly.
My breath came in great gulping sobs.
My frozen limbs quivered violently.
As the sea sounds grew fainter below me, I heard another noise from above.
A large crowd cheering.
They were going to do it.
The break in the stone was now only 20 feet away.
I could make that.
I had to make it.
I gave a savage growl and fought my way upward, scrambling over the walls like some sort of mad, enormous spider.
My strength was utterly gone, my muscles like water.
My eyes were burning in my head with desperation.
There was nothing left of me.
Nothing but my will and my devotion to the Emperor's wisdom.
A final stretch.
The fingers of my right hand slid into the crack in the stone, then the fingers of my left.
I gripped the rim.
My feet scrabbled against the rock, searching for a toehold.
I found one, planted my foot, pushed with the last of my strength.
And up I rose, over the edge of the rock, into the narrow opening.
I spilled into another small cave.
I lay splayed out on the floor of it, retching with exhaustion.
I was lying in a narrow space, the rock roof just inches above me.
But a few yards away, the ceiling of the cave lifted.
There was a passage there.
Groaning, I slithered forward.
The scrape of the rocks against my raw flesh made my face twist with pain.
But I made it.
Out of the cramped hole and into an open chamber.
And there before me, I saw what looked for all the world like an underground road ascending toward a dim, distant glow.
I took hold of the stone wall, pulled myself to my bleeding knees, got one foot under me, pushed upward, stood.
What a mess I was.
What was left of my clothes hung off me in shreds.
Elinda's talisman, hanging around my neck, swung freely through the rags.
My teeth were chattering.
My naked body was shuddering uncontrollably.
Pain and weakness and cold made it hard to move.
I walked forward stiffly like a man made all of metal.
I kept close to the cave wall, my hand braced against it.
Step by step, I went up the passage.
I could hear voices clearly now, not far away.
I could hear what sounded like a man making a speech and a crowd sometimes cheering.
I stumbled up the passage.
The voices grew louder.
I was getting close to the surface.
The path turned and there was more light.
A pale glow full of shadows.
I hobbled toward it, step after slow, stiff step.
I was half crazy with weariness now.
One minute, I was giggling like a lunatic.
The next minute, I was crying a lunatic's tears.
The light grew brighter.
The voices grew louder.
I took another stiff step, and another.
I could feel blood trickling down my legs.
I could feel my heart straining in my chest.
The passage continued rising.
It made another shallow turn.
I followed it.
And I came to a sudden standstill, stunned by what I saw.
I was on the threshold of a round rock chamber.
The chamber was bathed in ghostly light.
The walls were hung with banners, twelve banners, each bearing a crest.
In the center of the room, there was a raised flat stone, about as long as a bed.
On top of the stone, there was a coffin.
Even in my addled state, I knew where I was.
This was the tomb of the Emperor Anastasius.
This was the cave where the centaurs had laid him to rest.
The entrance was sealed with a large slab of rock, and the light, that white ghostly light, was coming in around the edges of it.
The light filled the room with an eerie glow.
And in that glow, I saw.
The coffin was open.
The stone lid lay at the base of the platform, broken in two.
Freezing, palsied, bleeding, weak, I shuffled into the sepulchre.
I approached the box.
I stood above it and looked inside.
It was empty.
The body was gone.
Nothing was left but the emperor's burial garments down at the bottom.
A long white outfit adorned with the image of a haloed sword.
A black undervest, black leggings, a scarlet mantle.
I was so cold, so incredibly cold.
All I could think was, I needed those clothes.
I extended my trembling hand down into the coffin, gripped them, drew them out.
With feverish eagerness, I tore off the last of my rags until only the talisman remained, dangling above my chest.
I pulled on the emperor's leggings and his undervest.
I pulled the skirted white outfit over my head.
I wrapped myself in the heavy red mantle.
I clutched the cape closed around me.
With amazement and relief, I realized there was magic in the uniform.
As soon as I put it on, I felt heat coming out of the cloth, a wonderful, vital warmth spreading through my body.
New strength infused my limbs.
My aches and pains eased as if I'd spread some soothing balm over myself.
Another moment, and my trembling subsided.
I stood up straighter.
My mind grew sharper.
The madness of exhaustion started to pass away.
I raised my eyes to the entrance in the slab of stone that sealed the tomb.
New Strength Infused00:04:10
I heard the voices outside, the speechifying and the shouting.
A child crying, a woman sobbing with grief and fear.
I heard the chime-like voice of Sir Goodchild raised an oration.
There cannot be mercy without justice.
We cannot learn to forgive unless we first learn to condemn.
The crowd cheered its agreement.
They were working themselves up to the atrocity.
Mercy.
Mercy for my child.
The little boy howled in hysterical terror.
The crowd angrily shouted them down.
I walked around the coffin and approached the sepulchre entrance.
With the magic outfit on me, I was growing stronger with every step.
I did not know what I could do, but I knew I had to do something.
I approached the slab that sealed the tomb.
It was huge, heavy.
I remembered it had taken four strong centaurs to set it in place.
I stepped up to the slab.
I leaned close to listen.
I heard Sir Littleman now, his great voice booming.
The trial by combat is over.
The verdict is confirmed.
Justice must be done.
Favian and his wife and child must die.
The crowd answered with a throaty cheer.
Listening, I pressed my palms against the stone.
Shockingly, even at that light touch, the slab shifted.
Startled, I wondered, how strong am I?
How powerful is this outfit I'm wearing?
I pressed the slab harder.
It made a loud scraping noise and it began to move.
I braced my feet.
I gave the stone a full shove.
The slab tilted forward slowly, then swiftly fell.
A blast of light washed over me like a mighty wave.
The stone dropped flat against the earth with a tremendous thud that made the ground shudder beneath my feet.
Dirt flew up and filled the air with a moated haze.
I heard a loud collective gasp of amazement.
I stepped out of the tomb.
The crowd went suddenly silent.
There was no sound but the white noise of the breeze and the far-off ocean.
I squinted through the dust into the blinding sun.
Slowly, the vast army of the emperor came into view before me, face after face pressed close together, so many faces going so far back that they faded into foggy obscurity, and all of them gaping and staring with wonder, gaping and staring at me.
I glanced to my left.
There, on the parade stand, stood the three knights, Littleman, Goodchild, and Hammer.
Beneath the stand, in front of them, stood the three stakes driven into the ground, surrounded by piled kindling.
There were the centaurs with torches, ready to set the kindling ablaze.
And there again were the three victims, shackled, grimy, and unkempt, held captive by their ogre guards.
Favian, his sobbing wife Beltan, the little boy Rory, crying for his mother, all three condemned once again to the fire.
But no one moved.
They all just stood there, every one of them.
They all just went on staring, staring at me, gaping at me.
Shocked, awestruck, terrified.
Then, as my dazzled vision grew fully clear, I saw a single great movement.
I watched, astonished, as every man, every woman, even the children, everyone in that whole vast crowd dropped to their knees before me.
And all their voices shouted as one voice, loud enough to reach the halls of heaven.
Hail!
Hail to the Emperor!
Hail!
And one woman shouted in wild hysteria, He has returned from death itself!
Hail, Emperor?00:00:56
And I thought, oh, come on, you have got to be kidding.
Another Kingdom, the final season.
Written by me, Andrew Clavin.
Performed by Michael Knowles.
Voice work for the Secretary, Caitlin Maynard.
Episode 13 Resurrection was directed by Jonathan Hay, produced by Austin Stevens, executive producer Jeremy Boring, supervising producer Mathis Glover, visuals by Anthony Gonzalez-Clark and PK Olson, audio, music, and sound design by Kyle Perrin, associate producer Katie Swinnerton.