Chapter 3 – Fata Viam Invenient

There is a myth that says all of Fyrgen’s treasures were sourced from the Xerat Range in the north-west of the continent, and another that claims Demiurge to be the source of every single one of those jewels. I never believed in anything that wasn’t pure science, so the ideas seemed absurd enough to not even be considered as mythology to me.

As a child, I thought this overall theme of resolute pragmatism was what made my peers distance themselves from me. But years later, my mother finally told me the real reason. I am not only a royal heir of the Valhades Dynasty, but the eldest of them — destined to sit upon Citrindally’s throne. A seat that has driven every soul who has occupied it to ruin, by disease or madness or both. Which I personally thought was much worse than simply being wealthy and different.

— Princess Kushiana van Larsson of House Valhades, Personal Accounts of the Valhades Heirs, The Great Hall of Learning

~Kushiana~

It has been close to sixteen hours since I left Zir and Uliya alone in that room, and the regret is only getting worse. I must have been out of my senses to react like a juvenile.

A slash on my shoulder from Master Hinjk’s sword brings me back to reality. “Five more misses and you’ll perch straight on Demiurge’s lap,” he declares coldly in his usual no-nonsense low pitch as I run a steady hand of power over my split shoulder, stitching it back seamlessly.

“Cut me some slack today. I disappointed Uliya and Zir. It’s messing with my mind.”

He draws his sword away and sits on the bench behind him, hurriedly gulping water from his half-empty pitcher. “I doubt the enemy would let you ponder over your homely matters on the battle front,” he says once he is done.

I scoff. “You say it like it’s inevitable.”

“It is. And when the time comes, you must be prepared if you wish for your reign to continue.” He makes it sound like a casual remark one might toss out during breakfast. That is why he is our general. Master Hinjk may look intimidating with his six-foot-four height, bulky frame, lush beard and two matching tiny arrows tattooed right above his eyebrows, but in reality he is even tougher than that. The male is said to have killed nearly five hundred men single-handedly during the last war. When they captured him afterwards and threatened monstrosities for the rest of his immortal life, he barely smiled, cocked his head back laughing and said, “If the fallen angel expects me to experience his world alive, he shall have it. It will be good practice for the aftermath.”

I shake my head. “Let’s pull through this session for now.”

“Sure, Neeyn.” (Fyrgen term. Translation: a noble student)

~Zir~

It has been a long day keeping up my pretend duties at the Ministry, and I have finally retired to bed. Per my nightly tradition, I am busy reciting the ten Fyrgen rhymes into the slowly settling quiet of my mind. The routine never fails to help me release whatever lingering feelings make it hard to fall asleep. I am halfway through when I drift into a sweet, dense sleep, only to be woken minutes later by an earth-shaking roar. I wake with a terrible shudder to find that ethereal white lion on the wooden flooring, right in front of my bed. Again. This is the last thing I needed.

“Hullo, Zir.”

I rub my eyes hard to clear the glaze of sleep, and find Cecil fully wrapped inside his own wings on the hanging lamp below the ceiling.

“Demiurge help you build some courage, Cecil. You cannot possibly still be scared of Nysleon.” I call out to him but he barely moves an inch. So I cross my arms and stare at the predator that has him so shaken instead. Nysleon has already laid himself down on the carpet and gotten busy licking his paws.

“What business do you have in my bedchamber at midnight? There is no way Mother would send you at this hour for some petty matter.”

“Well, she did ask me to get here this morning with the message, but I got engrossed in other official matters.” His voice is as nonchalant, baritone and shamelessly cocky as ever. I would bet my life he has done nothing of purpose since morning.

“Just tell me what it is,” I say through clenched teeth, patience right on edge. Every interaction I have with Nysleon makes me want to murder him. He is the worst sort of companion. Spends the majority of his day frolicking in the woods. Far too proud of his own beauty. I have hardly ever seen him aiding my mother without having been asked first. She has spoiled him far more than she ever did with us. No wonder he is such an entitled, prickly lion.

He ignores me for a moment before finally doing me the honour of getting back on all fours. “Most deeply beloved Zir, I have discussed the matter of your and Uliya’s arrival with your father, and it would suffice to say it added several more years to his already long and healthy life. I am writing to let you know that you do not have to wait for the specified date. The entirety of Citrindally and Fyrgen would be delighted to receive the two of you on any given day. Do not hold off any longer if you do not wish to stay there. May Demiurge entrust you with eternal glee, my son. Fend well.”

He stops speaking and I feel a wave of absolute comfort sweep over me. We left Fyrgen under difficult circumstances, the sort that made me wonder if our parents would ever truly forgive us. The moment we stepped past the gates that day, I was overcome with the fear that in saving ourselves by challenging a preordained fate, we may have gambled our parents’ love away. Of course it was just noise in the back of my mind. They were angry for a week, but soon started writing to us, and within months they were sending their companions, Stavrosa and Nysleon, for immediate communication. Their love had always been unconditional. It was the looming fear of the curse that had blinded me and Uliya to it.

A tear slips from my right eye when I finally realise it.

“Shall I simply tell her your reply was visible on your face?” Nysleon purrs near my ear and I quickly pull myself together.

“Don’t be bothersome. Tell her I’ll speak to Uliya and let her know a day before we are set to arrive. As of now, our plans remain the same. I have ministerial matters to attend to before I leave.”

“All right. Work on the depth of your sleep. Mere roaring should not startle you the way it did.”

“I prefer you keep your preposterous comments to yourself the next time you visit. Now if you could pain yourself enough to make a quick exit, I would be rather grateful.”

He manoeuvres to the centre of the room. “I hear coloured ravens are more savoury than black ones,” he says in his purely predatory voice, and disappears within a flash as a crack of lightning breaks through the air and pulls him back in.

Thank god I didn’t lose my patie—

Incessant panicked cawing from the top corner of the room immediately reaches my ears.

“Cecil! Stop it. He is not even here.”

But he does not stop, so I get up and move a steady hand in his direction. He finally quiets as his nerves relax.

“Demiurge saved me. I thought he was going to tear through my flesh any moment.”

I roll my eyes so hard they might as well fall off my face.

“Do you have to be that dense? It is common knowledge that his species can only survive on sheep or deer.”

“That would not stop him from slaying me for amusement if he wanted to!”

I scoff, more out of disinterest than anything else, as I settle back into bed. “You know he cannot kill you. You are a signed companion to me, just as he is to Mother. Stop being so wimpy. It makes me seem like a coward too.”

“Not fair to pin it on me! You have always seemed like one.”

It finally hits a nerve. I turn the lights off, muttering “stupid bird” under my breath. “Callous godling” is the last thing I hear before I drift back into that sweet sleep.

~ Kushiana ~

“All hail the queen. Long live the dreams we have woven for you. Lifetimes of fortune gathered at your feet, may you drench in glory and prosperity for what is left of your empty, pitiless life, that will soon collapse with malady and madness.” The throne is engulfed in flames, flames that keep spreading until they embrace me fully and burn me to ashes.

MAKE IT STOP.

I wake with a sudden jolt, drenched in sweat across my upper body. It has happened again.

“Twice this week already,” Agnes says from the chest where I usually find her perched.

I pull my hair back and get up, pouring myself some water from the pitcher.

“Zir is right. I can feel it growing on me already. But for my plan to work, I need to keep them far away from the chaos,” I say once I am done.

“And how do you expect that to work? Did they not send word to your mother stating they are coming back to Fyrgen for good, after you left so abruptly yesterday?”

“That is a decision I must make with Caelen tonight,” I half whisper, paranoid that someone might hear us.

“Are we taking orders from him now?” she inquires bluntly, and I whip my head toward her. “No. Why would you even suggest that, Agnes?”

“It is just unlike you to trust outsiders more than your own family. I thought it might have something to do with him holding something over you from a long time ago.”

“I can barely recall a time that long ago. You have been my companion since I was five.”

She cocks her head to the side and the stare burns through me, so I reply, “Nothing happened between us while you were not around. And he would never dare hold anything over me even if it had. It is simply safer for Zir and Uliya to remain unaware. I do not want to drag them through my mess. So let us keep this from them and the other two chatty birds, please.”

She lets out a sigh of palpable disappointment. “Fine. But do not play too many games at once, Kushiana. You might win them all and still end up losing yourself in the midst of it.”

The phoenix’s words cut right through my soul. I give a half nod and go back to my water.