Chapter 13 – Early Birds Get Caught In A Storm

The bloodline I originate from was blessed neither with wealth nor extraordinary magical abilities, only the gifts common to the average Fyrge. We were a comfortable family at best. I joined the army upon turning eighteen and spent the next decade earning the rank of general, moving mountains to survive amongst men while dismantling every prejudice our world so readily cast upon a woman’s strength. During the previous war, I shielded the king in the fleeting moment his guard had faltered. A poisoned arrow pierced straight through my heart. I remained unconscious for three days before awakening to find the Sun God in all his glory, his hand upon my forehead. He took mine, restored my life in a single heartbeat, and vanished.

By then, I had already been declared dead, my funeral underway. They later realized that an Ascendant God had resurrected me and bestowed upon me abilities beyond those I had been born with. The war had already been won by the time I returned. What awaited me was neither a relic, a higher title, nor a chest of treasure. It was the king, on one knee, a ring extended in his hand.

Signed by Helena Marie Rigmundt-Valhades, Queen of Citrindally

— The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall of Learning

The Neverandall Keep occupied much of the palace’s eastern wing, divided into three sections — the rectangular training hall, the ample verandah outside, and the vast vertical climbing chamber that stretched four storeys high. The walls of the climbing chamber were covered with protruding obsidian stones, allowing the royals to hone their climbing, levitation and, in rarer cases, hiking abilities.

The floor was not the smooth marble found throughout the rest of the palace but rather a layered variety of blackwood stone. On it currently stood the youngest Valhades in her newly acquired grey satin cropped tunic and trousers, rubbing at her own forehead.

“You said we would start tomorrow, Nara. Why are you subjecting me to cruelty today?” She complained with a pout.

In front of her, Luminara hung by her feet from suspensions emerging from the ceiling, clad in a fitted white shirt and black leggings, practicing her slow descent after levitating all the way to the top. Her neatly tied long braid floated some seven feet above the ground.

“Because you have not practiced in a long while and today is simply for fixing your sleeping schedule and warming up.” She answered casually, her arms emitting light in slow flowing waves of gold as she made her way down.

“My head is splitting. I had red liqueur last night. It is six in the morning. Even Yer is still asleep.” Uliya said with a sigh, proceeding to pour water directly into her mouth from the large pitcher. Luminara had taken one look at her entering the threshold and immediately called for it.

“What a beautifully sombre poem. Unfortunately I do not care for it. We are here to get you fit again.” Luminara said, flipping and stepping down neatly before her braid could touch the floor. Before Uliya could complain further she put a finger to her mouth and snatched the pitcher from her, downing the rest of the water. The princess rose up slowly. “Fine, but don’t wear me out.”

Luminara grinned fiendishly “First time demanding that from a female, isn’t it?” Only a respectful finger was raised up in response, garnering a bright laugh from the moonborn. 

It was a little late in the morning, when Zir came back to his chamber from his training session and began tightening his leathers again. Cecil was perched atop the table sorting through his correspondence per usual. 

The raven glanced back. “You’re not going to change into something proper? You’re seeing the female that broke your heart after almost a decade.” 

He turned down the idea with a slight wave of his hand, while gulping down his morning coffee and stuffing his face with the breakfast platter he’d already had sent to his chamber. 

“Why not?” Cecil turned around fully. 

“It does not matter, Cecil. We’re no longer the same people. I’m just making sure we’re in and out of there fast enough without anybody noticing.” He replied hurriedly, his mouth full of bread. 

“Are you sure there’s no lingering feelings? I’m only asking because you still are helping her despite knowing what’s at stake. You do not owe her anything.”

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “I think I know how I feel without you instructing me about it.”

Cecil sighed, turning back to the letters. “Someone’s in a mood, did Ilias make you taste dirt today.”

“No, but he defeated me in battle-brief combat again. I haven’t won once. I don’t know how he’s doing it. It’s driving me nuts.” Battle brief combat is the segment of sparring that completely forbids all magic usage. It is considered essential for all Royals and soldiers to master it in case their magic happens to be compromised, so that they aren’t left vulnerable. 

“Was he winning from the starting, or all of a sudden towards the end?” Cecil asked, his focus remaining on stamping Zir’s own correspondence. 

“All of a sudden towards the end. And he moves extraordinarily fast too, I don’t know what final moves he makes before pinning me down. I suspected he grabbed me by the waist the first day, the second day I thought it was the foreleg, today I assumed the shoulder. But it’s extremely hard to track his ghost of a touch.” The prince said the last part of the sentence with complete irritation. 

“He’s targeting your frail points most likely.” The blue raven replied with nonchalance and Zir swallowed the last bite of loose egg fast before bursting out “What frail points? I have frail points!?” 

“Every Fyrge does, the bodies are not so different from humans in the making after all. Frail points are unique to every Fyrge, and it’s not easy to identify them. But you can learn to scan other’s movements with your eyes and learn about them. It’s visible in the way a person does normal activities like how they move their hand while eating, their gait, or the way they sleep or how their posture is in general. It takes time to learn them. Ilias certainly mastered them and is using them on you. That’s why you are able to be a worthy opponent to Hinjk even but not the commander.

Zir took a moment to think then almost as if speaking to himself, he said softly “Yeah that does make sense, he’s generally great with observations anyway. Regardless, I should learn it too. It might come handy someday.”

“It would.” Was all the blue raven offered in response. 

“Oh sweet dame, it warms my heart how little you trust me.” Caelen offered the words with a dramatic tsk tsk, feigning sadness. It had been less than ten seconds since he had stepped out of the thriving blue portal, clad in a loose lavender shirt, black trousers and a long grey coat. His hair caught the silver of the morning sun.

Kushiana stood directly before him, covered in a flowing ebony dress with long lace sleeves, delicate silver jewellery at her neck and ears, her brown hair arranged in its usual braided crown. She knew he was referring to the trunk she had packed regardless of his reassurances in the letter. She remained entirely unbothered, simply gesturing for Agnes to perch on her shoulder. The phoenix had gone for an early morning hunt, citing the Dewy Tors as having the finest prey at this hour. She had found some right behind them by the nearest tree — though the same could not be said for the unfortunate frog she had gripped in her talons minutes ago.

Caelen shrugged, accustomed to being dismissed by now. But he used his own palm magic to lift the trunk from the rock before Kushiana could reach it. The Northern High Prince rarely wavered when it came to hospitality. It was a shame he did not get many opportunities to exercise it.

“Come.” He said, wrapping his free hand around Kushiana’s and pulling them both into the portal.

To her surprise, they stepped out somewhere that resembled a home far more than his rustic escapist cabin. A villa — she could tell that much from where they stood in the middle of a spacious living room. She could hear the chatter of people on the street outside. She moved toward the large glass window and looked out.

The villa sat atop a mountain, a straight snow-covered road ahead leading down into the city. More houses lined the opposite side, and from here she could see almost all of Xerat — or what she presumed was most of it. It was extraordinarily thrilling to lay eyes on a land otherwise forbidden to the rest of Fyrgen. The buildings were far more colourful and quaint than anything in Citrindally — purple, emerald, saffron, cobalt blue, rust — the colours varied so widely she could not have counted them if she tried. Lush pine, rhododendron, cherry, apple, cedar and juniper trees thrived in the mild winter sun. Snow glistened everywhere.

Curiosity got the better of Kushiana and she was about to turn to ask Caelen when Agnes beat her to it. “How is it that there is snow everywhere but none on the rooftops or terraces?”

Caelen crossed the room and pointed toward a towering black spire rising from the heart of the city. Orange-red vapour billowed from the colossal chimney at its peak, a visible glow emanating from within even at this distance.

“We call that the Pyreheart,” he said. “All Xerakeets are born with warmth flowing through their veins, but most carry only enough to keep themselves — and perhaps one other — comfortable. So each citizen offers a sliver of their gift to the gleaming stone housed within the tower. The stone amplifies what it receives and sends the warmth coursing through channels beneath the streets, walls, rooftops and terraces of every home in Xerat. That is why snow never lingers where people live.”

Agnes blinked. “So the entire city shares its warmth?”

“Exactly.” Caelen replied. “One hearth for all.”

Kushiana let the rest of their conversation fade and simply continued to stare, feeling as though she could stand there forever. Xerat was the most visually beautiful sight she had ever laid eyes on.

It was only when the frost prince tapped gently at the side of her head that she surfaced. “What?” She turned to him.

“I asked if you would like to start with an early lunch at the Central before we proceed.” He repeated with a smile that betrayed his own pleasure at seeing her respond to his home this way.

She nodded. “Yes. But let me change into something warmer first.”

Caelen turned on his heel. “Follow me, I had a room prepared for you.” He began walking down the long well-lit hallway without further comment. As they walked Kushiana noticed how well built his back looked through the thin fabric of the shirt. She did not let her eyes linger. Agnes was perched directly on her shoulder. She could not afford to be teased again.

The carpet beneath their feet was deep red cashmere of high quality. As they moved through the hallway they passed a beautiful spiral staircase of oakwood with intricate carvings running all the way up its banister. No family portraits hung anywhere except for a single large one on the mantelpiece. Kushiana stopped.

It was Caelen as a child, seated, with an attractive male standing behind him — just as tall as the frost prince, dressed in a well-fitted white and blue military suit with black gloves. His eyes were the most striking shade of lavender she had ever seen, almost hypnotic. She could not look away.

Caelen had walked considerably ahead before he noticed no one was following and turned back. He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “As much as I enjoy watching you ogle my late father, we do have a schedule.”

The words broke the spell immediately. A traitorous warmth bloomed across Kushiana’s face. She lowered her gaze and began walking again.

“Commander Thrymcrag was a titanically handsome male.” Agnes added with full enthusiasm from her shoulder.

Kushiana facepalmed.

Caelen erupted in laughter ahead of them.

Uliya lay flat on the grass, making no movement whatsoever.

“You barely did stretching, breathing exercises and a short sprint, yet you are behaving as though I have killed you.” Luminara said, pouting from beside her, munching on a bright red apple.

“Are you certain it is not my ghost speaking to you right now?” The golden-head murmured, face buried in the grass.

“Fairly certain. It has only been two hours.” Yer added from atop the gargoyle fountain in the corner of the verandah. She had joined them an hour ago, having woken on Uliya’s usual schedule now that they were back in Citrindally.

“Yer, I have always wondered how Zir could throw things at Cecil so freely. If you keep speaking, the two of us might find out together.” Uliya said, shooting the dove a murderous look over her shoulder.

“I will remain demure.” Yer pleaded immediately.

Luminara burst out laughing at the memory of Zir quietly building Cecil a swing of his own accord. “He and Cecil seemed to be getting along perfectly well last night actually.”

Uliya’s head whipped around. “Did Zir stay the night with you? Demiurge help me, what did the two of you do?” She did not wait for an answer and jumped up. “Nara! Why did you not tell me before? Do you not consider me your little sister anymore? You have changed.” The death stare was alarming, mostly because it was so rare on her face.

“Relax, Ul. We were simply discussing the Noctilune Ball.” Luminara replied, nearly choking on her bite.

“In your sheets!?”

“Demiurge, no. On the sofa. What is the great issue?”

Uliya scoffed and sat down, right at her eye level. “The great issue? I have been waiting years for the two of you to fall in love and be together. It is absolutely crucial for my sanity.”

The moonborn rolled her eyes. “Then I suppose you can bid it farewell. That is not  happening. We are best friends.”

“A quiet tragedy.” Yer added with a tsk tsk.

“Right?” Uliya asked.

Luminara pushed her away with a light tap of her palm to her forehead. “If you are done being insufferable, we have a whole day ahead. What do you want to do?”

Uliya picked herself up. “Mama wants us to dine with her for lunch. After that I think we should go shopping — I have missed the boutiques in Terracinder terribly. And we could go to your favourite coffee place after. What was it called again? Argh, I cannot remember.”

“Miltine. And yes to all of it. We will have a wonderful time.” Luminara answered with a grin. She did not say it out loud, but she was quietly touched that Uliya had remembered. When she first came to the palace she had not found it easy to let anyone in beyond Zir and Lena. But Uliya had won her heart quickly. She had been the most endearing five year old, and Luminara — who had never had any siblings even before the tragedy — had gravitated toward her naturally, doting on her beyond reason. She had been genuinely heartbroken when she learned Uliya was leaving with Zir. The two weeks after their departure had been colourless. She had never mentioned it in her letters though. They would only have fussed.

As if reading her mind, Uliya pulled her into a tight hug. “Yes, of course we will. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ul.” Luminara said, lightly caressing the back of her head.

Their quiet moment was interrupted by one of the household maids, who sauntered over and bowed deeply before the two.

“I come bearing a message for my lady, from his royal highness. Along with this.”

She leaned in and handed Luminara a folded piece of paper and a small but heavy drawstring pouch. Luminara thanked her and she left. She unfolded the paper and read without bothering about Uliya and Yer having immediately directed their full attention to its contents.

“Got the herb pack, moonbug — thank you. As promised, here are your rubies, and a little something I thought you might like. See you this evening.”

She smiled and opened the pouch. On top of the rubies — which were, by the way, clearly more than twenty — sat a ring of platinum, a large glossy pink opal stone set at its centre.

Luminara could not take her eyes off it as she turned it between her fingers. It was positively sublime.

“Majestic!” Yer cooed.

“They are just friends, Yer. Mine hardly buy me potato chips, but I suppose we all define friendship differently. Do we not, Nara darling?” Uliya said, tilting her head with full taunt.

Luminara kept smiling at the ring and replied without looking up. “You want to die young?”

Zir emerged through the living maze of vines and roots, making his way toward the agreed meeting spot. Wards had been built around the Havburth cabin in the Lejonet Woods through resistance magic by the Council members. The Havburths had pleaded to at least be permitted to roam the entirety of Lejonet freely, and a compromise had been reached — they could move through the whole forest but could not leave its boundaries. No other Fyrge could walk more than a hundred steps in the direction of the cabin.

Cecil, perched on his shoulder, silently pulled twigs and leaves from Zir’s hair with his beak.

“Why am I suddenly craving an apple?” Zir muttered, continuing toward the paint-marked Banyan tree. Iveleh had told him she would use violet paint on the leaves so he could identify it from above. He could not use palm magic to travel inside Lejonet and had been forced to stop at the entrance.

“You can always have one when we are back. That is, if we are not killed here by your past lover’s traitorous, power-hungry family.” Cecil said matter-of-factly.

Zir scoffed. “You are clearly determined not to trust me, Cecil. But factually speaking, their magic does not function here. Mine does.” They were now walking through a more open area with fewer trees. For a moment Zir wondered if the Havburths had cleared some — it seemed suspiciously sparse.

“When will you understand, Zir — it is not you I do not trust.” The blue raven offered with a sigh, and Zir halted.

“I am being as cautious as I can. Please do not say anything unkind to her.”

“What if I said hello sweetly and then pecked her eyes out?”

“Cecil.”

“Fine. I will not mince my words. But I will gladly stay silent if that is what you prefer.” Cecil replied, turning his head the other direction.

He had been unhappy from the very beginning when it came to Zir and Sylveline. Had said he would end up hurt. Zir had followed his heart regardless and ended up precisely in the rut Cecil predicted. Even this morning the prince had told him he did not have to come if he did not want to. “Of course I do not want to. But your safety is my primary concern. It is a companion’s duty to accompany their royal in such circumstances,” was all Cecil had said before perching on Zir’s shoulder.

They walked the remaining path in silence, and Zir found himself glad of the company. Even if he would not show it. Even he had doubts about Sylveline’s intentions, though he kept that to himself.

He found her sitting atop a stone bench, facing a small field of blooming sunflowers. A simple pink cotton tunic and brown trousers. Her long silver hair fell in straight tresses down her back. Her familiar rosy scent reached him through the cool wind and nostalgia rose up before he could stop it. Cecil slipped silently onto the branch of the willow above them.

“Were you waiting long?” The prince said softly, one hand resting against the bark of the tree beside him. Sylveline turned slowly. Her pale green, round eyes widened with surprise, a wide smile crossing her heart-shaped face.

“Ziruth!” She exclaimed, and came to him immediately, pulling him into a tight hug.

He noticed she had grown taller and leaner — not unhealthily so. But it broke something quiet in him to see her in such plain garb. The Havburths had built an empire of their own. Sylveline had always worn jewellery and lush gowns.

When she let go he looked at her face. Still beautiful, but without the rouge and dusted eyelids he had always known her in. He felt it settle somewhere in his chest. But he kept his expression neutral. Sylveline would not take well to being pitied. She had always had too much pride for that.

“Zir, you have grown into such a fine gentleman. And wait — are those muscles?” She added with a dramatic gasp and he laughed despite himself.

“Yes. A decade turned out to be sufficient.”

She nodded sincerely, redirecting her gaze from his leather-clad upper body to his face. “Impressive. Shall we sit?”

“Yes. Let us.”

Once Caelen had shown Kushiana to her en suite — complete with a lit marble fireplace and a full armoire of winter clothes — she had selected a pale yellow turtleneck sweater and long walnut suede trousers with a slight flare, paired with a loose black overcoat that hung softly from her broad shoulders and matching black boots.

“Is that armoire filled with entirely new clothes?” Kushiana asked once she stepped out and found him waiting at the stained glass entryway. The implication was clear — had the Northern High Prince actually gone out and bought Kushiana new clothes for a two day visit? He himself had thrown on a heavy gray overcoat that was purely aesthetic. He had no need for extra warmth.

He smirked. “Obviously. Why else would I have clothes in your exact size hanging in a spare room?”

The Valhades heir narrowed her eyes immediately. “I do not think Kushiana trusts you.” Agnes offered plainly from her shoulder, wearing a tiny embroidered woollen scarf around her neck.

He shrugged. “Understandable, sweet phoenix. But I simply enjoy shopping. Would it really harm her highness to say thank you and accept graciously?”

Agnes nudged her beak gently against the side of Kushiana’s head in response. Kushiana sighed and produced a reluctant smile. “Fine. Thank you, Caelen. Can we go now?”

He grinned. It was the first time she had said his name out loud.

“Now we can.”

He knew her well enough to know she would prefer walking downhill to the market over travelling through the portal. He slowed to match her pace.

Kushiana continued to take in the thriving highland settlement below as they descended. She seemed to welcome the slight chill in the air. For a brief moment Caelen could have sworn he caught the hint of a genuine smile cross her face as she looked upon the frozen Fountain of Tyrellah — the goddess worshipped only in Xerat — standing at the heart of the Central.

Sculpted entirely from white onyx, the statue depicted the goddess with her long tresses trailing into the waters below. A kettle rested in her hand, symbolising the creation of her own life pool. Before the fountain stood a matching podium carved from the same stone, a plate of gold bearing the words Ire Milyn Siv engraved upon it.

Kushiana and Agnes turned toward Caelen instinctively.

“It is written in Xerlin,” he said. “It translates roughly to: You are a finite being with infinite potential to create. The goddess depicted is Tyrellah. We worship her alongside Demiurge here.” 

Her eyes gleamed. “Beautiful,” she said softly, before turning back to the path ahead.

They continued in comfortable silence. Soup and snack carts, flower stalls and fruit sellers lined either side of the cobblestoned path. A light fog drifted through, making everything lovelier. They walked until the cobblestones gave way to the main arena, where the restaurants, coffee shops, boutiques and tome stores were gathered.

It was only when Caelen said “We are here” that she stopped. They stood before a set of massive mahogany double doors with white trim, two guards stationed on either side.

“What is this?” Kushiana asked.

“My preferred dining experience in Xerat.” He answered with a grin. The guards bowed politely and pulled the sliding doors open.

Kushiana’s breath caught. The restaurant was unlike anything she had seen in Citrindally — not because of the luxurious furnishings, she was accustomed to those. It was the glass. Floor to ceiling panels spanning the entire wall opposite, offering an unobstructed view of the snow-covered mountains beyond. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving entirely.

Caelen nudged her forward with a subtle tap at her back.

“Pretty females first.”

Once they had entered, a tall lean waitress clad in black overalls and grey turtleneck along with a white lace apron greeted them. Her skin was glowing with a naturally pink undertone and her long golden hair fell into a braid. Kushiana found herself fascinated by the unique beauty of the Xerakeets.

“Would you prefer to be seated at your usual spot, Caelen?” She asked the prince with an easy smile. Kushiana found the absence of honorifics interesting.

“Yes, thank you Darcina.” He responded pleasantly and the female led them towards the end of the hallway and through a large door at the end.

Soon they found themselves seated in a sister dining room to the one they had been in before. But this one was a sunroom. The sunlight was peeking in through the large glass ceiling. They sat at the singular large round blackwood table in the center, on it rested exquisitely handcrafted heavy china and cutlery, along with a tall bottle of wine that Kushiana could not place. Caelen saw her eyes linger momentarily and answered of his own accord.

“It’s called roseweed wine, made using a rare variety of rosehip, plums and fireweed.”

She nodded with understanding.

“What would you like to have?” The charismatic waitress asked, pen and notebook ready in her hand.

“If you could give us a moment? I’d like to convene with my guest first.”

“Sure. Give me a ring.” She bowed respectfully and left.

They both picked up their menu cards at the same time, famished from their long walk. Agnes flew towards the large peeking maple tree branch that emerged from an open tile in the corner.

“So my sweet dame, what are you craving? Sweet or savoury.”

“Stop calling me that and savoury it is. What’s glistening oatmeal curry?”

He pulled his card below eye level and shot her a narrowed gaze. “Seriously? You skipped over all the sweet breakfast options and went straight to the boring ones.”

She mirrored the gesture. “It’s almost brunch time. And do you pick everything for your guests from clothes to breakfast?”

“I wouldn’t have picked something that comfortable for you.” He replied with a lopsided smirk.

She scoffed with disdain. “You’re disgusting. Answer my primary question.”

He laughed but regained his composure quickly. “It’s oatmeal blended with a herb we have called Sanderthill. It has a rice-like sheen and is hand beaten into a paste. Then put in with a stew-like curry with caramelised mushrooms, garlic, asparagus, roasted chicken and leek. It’s creamy with a mild spice level.”

She nodded. “Sounds delicious. I’ll have this with a green salad.”

“Alright. I’ll tell you my usual — a greasy stack of thick cocoa butter pancakes, chicken sausages, cloudy eggs with a side of sautéed vegetables and avocado cream cheese rice balls.”

Kushiana was tempted for a moment but gulped it down. “Okay great.”

He leaned back, gasping. “For my sake Kushiana, try one thing that isn’t borderline healthy. You are my guest. I feel horrid. This could easily be a vacation from your duties if you let it be.”

She crossed her arms and whispered, a tinge of worry visible on her forehead. “Normally people don’t intend to take vacations with an underlying intent of stealing valuable gems, Caelen.”

“It’s not stealing. I am lending it to you after I steal it.” He whispered back, then cleared his throat. “And there is no need to whisper. This is my private space.”

“Fine. I’ll keep my order but I’ll try some from your massive unhealthy one.” She replied softly with a tinge of reluctance.

He winked. “Perfect, along with two glasses of wine. Now tell me what will your phoenix eat?”