Chapter 2 – Hope Does Not Feed The Famished

Certain aspects of Fyrgen history were destroyed from our Great Hall of Learning after the war. Leaders from older generations said it was a necessary step to lead our continent to a rebirth.

But with all the time I have spent reading, I have had the privilege of accessing every single one of the chronicles detailing the events that led to the formation of Fyrgen as an independent state. And it has only ever made me believe the defunct treatises were the real deal. That all of what we know in the present is nothing but a well-fed lie by the great creator, Dyxs Havburth.

— Prince Ziruth Van Larsson of House Valhades, Personal Accounts of the Valhades Heirs, The Great Hall of Learning

~Zir~

The parlour room is well lit by four yellow lamps of the finest craftsmanship from Tyutir. My mother had graciously sent them without a thought for how I am supposed to explain their origin to the people who often come to see me at my manor in the human lands.

Fortunately, they agree with whatever story I give them, readily shoving all discrepancies surrounding my life here in the direction of the obnoxious wealth I seem to be hoarding. “Wealthy people like the minister are different from you and I, pal,” they say to each other, and instantly divert from the topic.

Cecil sits in his usual spot on the mahogany mantelpiece behind me, busy fussing with his wings.

“My dearest Cecil, could you kindly put a stop to that? It’s distracting me.”

The blue raven lets out three disapproving caws. I look over my shoulder at him.

“There’s no human here. Can’t you speak normally?”

“I cannot put a stop to that, because Yer will be here soon. She was rather harsh about the twig stuck in my wings the last time we met.” Yer is Uliya’s assigned royal companion, a delightful dove who, unlike my own companion, never hovers.

I turn back around with a scoff of disdain.

“There should be a law keeping the companions of our kin from fraternising in the first place. It feels like incest and disgusts me.”

“Thank the lords you’re not going to be crowned anytime soon. You have the potential to be remembered as a destroyer of romance for centuries to come.”

I am about to land a delicious riposte about how romance will never be on the cards for him since Yer will never accept, but Uliya’s misty spirit emerges in the middle of the room, followed by her corporeal form in a fraction of a second, Yer resting on her shoulder.

“Well hello, forgotten royalty.”

She accompanies the snarky greeting with her brightest smile, as per tradition. Uliya is infamous among our kind for having the sweetest voice, but that is only because others never encounter the foul mouth she reserves exclusively for family.

“Hello, Uliya.”

My fingers pause from turning the next page of the tome set on my lap, more out of surprise than welcome, as I take in her appearance from top to bottom. She has her long golden curls loose today. Out of the three of us, Uliya is also said to possess the most striking beauty, even though we resemble each other so closely we could be mistaken for triplets were it not for the age gap. What catches my attention today is how dull and frail she looks. She has adorned a brand new pale pink silk gown with the thickest lace black corset over it, but I caught on to it immediately.

“What’s new? When are we expecting her?”
She lazily drops into the opposite velvet recliner, and Yer and Cecil slip out the window together immediately.

“Anytime now.”

I set the tome on the centre table and rest my head on my knuckle against the recliner’s edge, trying to appear as casual as possible.

“Uliya, have you been alright?”

She brushes her hair back, sitting even straighter than before.

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem lankier than the last time I saw you.”
She raises an eyebrow in silent challenge.

“Which was when, exactly? When you got your heart broken, or some other time during all the years you’ve spent recovering since?”

She always carries the deadliest swords at the back of her mouth, ones that never falter when sensing intervention.

I let out a sigh of disbelief.

“Got the message. Do you want a drink?”

Her glassy eyes clear and she responds with a relieved nod. “I did not expect her to accept the invitation so soon.”

I pour some wine into a glass and hand it to her.

“She probably thinks we’re in some sort of trouble.” She bites her lip, then continues before sipping. “Sometimes I wish we were, more often. So I’d get to see y…” She stops halfway. “Her. Once in a while, at least.”

I cock my head to the side in genuine confusion, more at her admitting it than the situation itself she has decided to bring up. I am more than aware that I am not the best brother.

“Do you feel like you can’t come to see me unless there’s a problem?”

She shrugs. “Do I?”

I contemplate for a moment.

“Well, that’s…”

The ambiguous question is left unanswered as thunder rumbles through the sky to announce her presence. We both rise, anticipating her to emerge from the lawn door to our side.

But in true Kushiana fashion, she rings the doorbell instead. I snap my fingers to open the doors and close them once she’s inside.

The sound of her footsteps bounces off the marble floors until she is standing at the parlour entrance, clad in a matching violet shirt and trousers with contrasting brown boots, her dark brown hair plaited back into a thick bun. Her piercing green eyes lock onto both of us the moment she finds us, scanning for any discomfort or strain in our expressions and posture. Once the assessment is through, her lips curl into her prettiest smile.

“I miss seeing you two. Sorry Agnes didn’t drop in to say hello, she sensed her bird friends outside and flew straight to them.” Her voice is heavy but not restricted.

Uliya drops the act entirely and rushes to her, pulling her into the tightest embrace possible.

“I missed you too,” I chime in, as I go back to fetch Kushiana a glass.

“Have you changed something about your appearance?” She asks me right after.

“Uh, no?”

“Strange, your hair seems blacker, like you absorbed some from the night sky or something.”

Uliya giggles and I don’t respond to that, because truthfully I do not know how to.

Once we are all settled in our usual spots, Kushiana raises the inevitable.
“What made you ask me here, Zir?”

It catches me off guard. I lean back awkwardly and glance around the room as though eagles have suddenly begun soaring overhead.

“Oh lords, he wants to ask you about the crowning. We’re worried about your decision.” Uliya adds without hesitation.

Kushiana’s expression barely registers any change. She has always been good at masking it. She simply nods and replies in an assertive, measured voice. “Fyrgen demands a monarch. Citrindally’s throne has sat idle for far too long, and I have decided to bear my weight upon it as the eldest.” Her words are careful, shaped to make it appear as though it is a choice she genuinely wants to make, but we are both aware it haunts her as deeply as it haunts us.

I bite my lip and say, “With what happened to the last ruler who tried, I cannot fully support the decision. We cannot bear to lose you. We have already strayed far from the great doors of Fyrgen. You are all we have left.”

She glares at me. “Do not speak as though our parents’ lives have ceased to exist for the two of you.”

Uliya scoffs, crossing her arms. “Maybe not that, but everything else has, if you haven’t had the privilege to notice.”

“I have had everything but privileges, Uliya, which you would know had you actually taken the time to understand the current state of our continent.” Her voice remains cold, though her temper flares slightly, and Uliya quickly falls silent.

I take the opportunity to add, “All we are saying is, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for our sake. We have enjoyed our time here far too long. I would step in for you, if it came to it.”

Kushiana barely raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Zir. Enlighten me on how you plan to save your meek older sister from the burdens of responsibilities you never cared to even learn about.”

“You do realise I have spent all my time here reading about the orange hex?”

She flashes the most sarcastic grin possible and replies mockingly, “So you’re telling me you’ve spent years researching a mere myth, while I was dragging myself to training, council meetings, and classes every single day? Glad to know one of us actually had privileges.”

“It is not a myth. Qaaj had to pay for the sins of our ancestors and went insane, and none of those things you mentioned will protect you when you catch the sempiternal illness.” I say it through clenched teeth, and Uliya cuts in immediately.

“Will you two stop!” She turns sharply to Kushiana. “Can you not be so guarded? We barely called you here to have a discussion, not to impose anything on you. Zir is only trying to help.”

But Kushiana simply stands, her phoenix companion Agnes flying in to perch on her right shoulder. “He is not helping. And neither are you. I have no choice in this matter, which should have been clear to both of you had you shown up to our quadruple discussions with the Council as promised. You both act as though Fyrgen abandoned you, when you were the ones who made that choice. A choice I pay for every day. So forgive me if I am being short, but I have no interest in feeding your delusions or pretending I am not deeply pained by your continued absence from our family. If you are tired of being godlings, give up your titles and let Demiurge handle the rest. Goodbye.”

Before either of us can react, lightning crashes through the ceiling, enveloping her, and she is gone, as though she was never here at all.

“Did she really just storm out on us like that?” Uliya’s voice catches on the third word. But she steadies herself when her eyes meet mine. A tear slips from her right eye as I reply.

“We are already losing her. She could not be away from Citrindally for even a few hours without the hex taking hold. We must return to Fyrgen for good, or she might truly die, Uliya.”