Chapter 39. The Beacon of Hope

CYRUS

Standing on the porch, I stare down at the wide vista of caramel perfection—a view of the entire city visible from the top of the towering castle where I am. The houses appear as fine tiny marbles in my eyes while the streets form snake-shaped rings around the neighborhoods. I see men like ants and trees like dots of green littered on a painter’s pallet.

I sigh, the feeling of amazement sweeping through me. Little wonder kings portray attitudes that liken them to gods. Standing here, it seems I am on top of the world, untouchable and immortal, presiding over the affairs of men. The mountainous terrain of Iridu doesn’t help matters, for the palace has somehow been built at the heart of a high mountain and anyone who wishes to visit would have to climb a million staircases and ascend as if to meet the gods.

My dressing speaks volumes in support of this theory. Clad in indigo, the shiny beads, jewelry, and strands of hair used to adorn me weigh like the burden o