Tag: high fantasy

  • 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?”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 12 – The Reimagining of Inevitable Doom

    The most powerful houses in the continent’s history remain Valhades, Aerhull, Thrymcrag, Yverein, Austerhelm, and Sinnasetta. These families are said to wield the purest forms of magic, each lineage blessed by a Demiurge or an Ascendant God—Sun, Moon, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, Pluto, or Juno.

    When a union is forged between these bloodlines, the most potent heirs with amalgamated abilities are brought into the world. These unions are divinely orchestrated before times of great unrest, when only novelty can defeat primordial injustice.

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

    Uliya was beyond exhilarated to finally reunite with her friends. There in the back booth of the tavern they shared large glasses of Citrindally’s infamous silver wheat beer. These were her childhood friends, kept in touch with during the few council meetings she had attended over the years — all but Daphne being from noble families that visited Ivorvale often. Daphne’s father had died four years back and her mother had given up all material pleasures to swear in as a priestess at the Central Spire of Demiurge’s Church in Citrindally. The allowance granted by the crown to all priestesses for their services had helped Daphne complete her studies and establish herself as a historian at the Great Hall of Learning.

    Kira Redcoven was a towering eighteen year old with light burgundy hair cascading in waves just below her back. Her big round pale green eyes were complemented by a stark red lip today. She had chosen a matching azure tunic and trousers with a thin brown belt at the middle and contrasting white boots studded with silver all over.

    Smith, on the other hand, was the beloved third heir of House Cerilington. His father, Lord Ronald Cerilington, served on the King’s Council as the Warden of Commerce and Ports, overseeing the realm’s trade routes, merchant guilds and harbours. He was the same age as Uliya and only a few inches taller, but had over the years built an extraordinary amount of muscle through early training in preparation for a future in the army. His light brown hair had been neatly cut short.

    “So how does it feel being back for good, princess?” Smith asked with a grin that reached his grey eyes. Uliya could see it in all of them — they had been waiting desperately to see her. The emotion was right there in their faces, barely contained.

    She leaned back on the worn leather sofa and twirled a stray curl around her finger. “Well, it had a rocky start. But much better now that I am getting absolutely shit drunk with you lot!” She roared the last part, and the whole table erupted.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    It was around eight in the evening and Zir was struggling to get himself out of the bathing tub. Cecil, now comfortably perched atop the wooden toiletry cabinet, said “Are you ever going to get out of there?”

    “Shut up or I will throw water at you again.” The prince replied with clear irritation. He felt exhausted after the long day. He looked out from the large window adjacent to the tub at the twin moons outside, the beautiful stars scattered all around them, and felt a moment of peace.

    “You told Luminara you would stop by her chamber at half past eight. Should you not be a gentleman and show up a little early?” Cecil offered in a softer tone, well aware of the kind of day the prince had endured.

    Zir placed both hands on either side of the lapis lazuli tub and stretched his back muscles slowly. “I know. It is just that I have to be the bearer of news that I am not sure she will handle well. I made a blood oath back then on my own, without taking her feelings into consideration. And it is not something Lume and I have ever brought up to each other since. She might be waiting to hear it. She might not. I am scared, Cecil.”

    The blue raven sighed quietly before speaking. “Do not overthink it, Zir. She deserves to know. And it should come from you.”

    The prince looked up at the large clock hanging above the bathing chamber door. Twenty minutes. Finally he pulled himself up, warm water dripping as he summoned a towel with his magic and wrapped it around himself.

    “What should I wear?” he asked casually, walking into the bedchamber.

    “Not your burden to carry. Her majesty forcefully assigned a lord in waiting for you with special orders to work like a wraith.”

    Indeed, an immaculate silver and jet black three piece hung by the armoire door.

    A small smile touched his lips. “After two decades my mother has finally gotten accustomed to my likes and dislikes.”

    “More like she finally cared to acknowledge them. Regardless, please wear your hair slicked back. You are not in the human lands anymore.” That was the last thing Cecil said before flying out for his own dinner plans with his bird group.

    “Are you implying something with that statement?” Zir turned to ask, only to find the raven already gone.

    He ended up doing his hair that way a couple of minutes later.

    Sometime later,

    Luminara had adorned a stunning yet simple sleeveless honeydew gown that spiralled around her legs in rose-shaped pleats. Her hair was left in its natural curls, fashioned into a loose braided bun. Dainty shimmering silver jewellery sat at her ears and throat.

    She was seated idly in the armchair of her bedchamber, humming to herself, when a knock came at the door. She opened it with her magic.

    The prince stepped through the threshold, hands resting in his pockets. Luminara was in awe immediately.

    “Oh, Zir, your hair looks amazing. Why do you not keep it this way always?”

    A casual shrug. “Does it look nice? Cecil thought I should go back to the neater look.”

    She rose and stood closer, gently inspecting his hair with her fingers. It was only then that Zir noticed how radiant she looked herself, her striking light brown eyes dusted with blue glitter today. Additionally, she smelled like strawberries and rosemary. 

    “Really good, actually. Listen to the raven more. He is better at this than you.” She said with a smile, once she had finished smoothing the edges.

    He smiled back. “Mhm. I will take that into consideration. Shall we go eat?”

    She nodded and led him toward her private dining room.

    Luminara had rung the small bell and the kitchen maids made a brief appearance to serve the pair with several first course options — small servings of mushroom tartlets, wild berry and goat cheese salad, and crusty bread with garlic-cashew butter. Zir would usually eat without much regard for taste, treating food as little more than sustenance. But he knew Luminara genuinely enjoyed her meals and loved trying new things, so he had informed the cook a day in advance to prepare something special for them.

    “This feels like Demiurge handcrafted it himself and took his time doing it.” Luminara said after savouring the caramelised wild mushrooms, her eyes widening with the first bite.

    Zir laughed lightly. “I am glad you like it.”

    “Like it? If I could commit myself to this food and nothing else for the rest of my life, I would.” She said quickly before continuing to eat.

    He paused over his blackberry wine, resting his chin on his knuckles, and watched her quietly for a moment. “I believe you would.”

    “Oh, by the way — Uliya and I are starting training together the day after tomorrow. I am rather excited about it.” She added once she had moved on to the goat cheese salad, the small happy movement of her head and shoulders saying enough on its own.

    He smiled. “Thank you, Lume. You are probably the only person in the palace she would be comfortable doing this with. And she really does need to train.”

    She paused mid-bite and rolled her eyes. “You do not need to thank me. If anything, Ul and I are closer than you and I are. I like her more than I like you.”

    He scoffed, buttering his bread. “Good to know your talent for casual cruelty toward me is still fully intact, moonborn.”

    She stuck her tongue out before turning her gaze to the stars overhead. They had chosen to leave the oculus in the vaulted ceiling open tonight.

    The pair continued through the main course — herb-crusted chicken, mashed potatoes and beef stew — discussing nothing in particular, with the occasional bicker between them.

    Luminara was halfway through the berry custard pie she had insisted on sharing before Zir finally brought up what he had come to say. She had claimed she was too full to finish it alone, and he had agreed despite having little of a sweet tooth himself. In truth he had spent most of dessert searching for the right moment.

    “Lume, I have something to tell you.” He said softly, deliberately avoiding her eyes.

    “Yes? What is it?” She said absently, still looking up at the sky.

    He cleared his throat, already uncomfortable. He did not want to stir up anything painful and tried to choose his words carefully.

    “So — remember the blood oath I made to—” He began, and when he looked up Luminara had already turned her full attention on him, pinning him with a stare.

    Fear closed around his throat, but he managed to continue despite having no read on whether she wanted him to.

    “The Draumfell. Cecil connected with my spies recently for another matter, and as it turns out he is being released early. Citing good behaviour at the prison—”

    He was cut off by a short laugh from her. A laugh that carried nothing close to joy. Colder than Xerat.

    “Good behaviour?” she repeated, and the hostility in her voice shook him. A faint golden light flared at the corners of her eyes, and it was no coincidence that two glass lamps in the far corners of the room burst from the pressure a moment later.

    Her eyes were full of fury now. He leaned in and wrapped his hand over hers. “Lume, hey — I know it is complete nonsense. I just wanted to tell you and ask how you would like to proceed. I am not going to push you into anything. It is your call. He is being released two days before the Noctilune Ball.”

    She did not answer, clearly still livid. She pulled her hand away and walked out quickly. Zir stared at his empty palm for a moment before closing it. His shoulders sagged and he briefly considered leaving the hall entirely rather than face the walk back to her chamber. Not because he wanted to avoid her anger — but because he could not bear to see her like that. Still, he got up and made his way back, fully expecting to find her locked away in her bathing chamber, and prepared to plead with her from outside the door.

    But when he arrived he was met with a different sight entirely. Luminara sat with a large piece of paper spread across the centre table, covered in map markings. Beside it sat a feather inkpot, a large water tumbler, and the bejewelled pink hunting knife — the one he had last seen on that horrific day.

    He knew exactly what this meant. Luminara herself sat quietly, breathing in the scent from the lemon-chamomile balm jar she used to calm the anxiety that occasionally overtook her.

    “Moonbug?” he whispered.

    She did not look up — likely to avoid showing him whatever was reflected in the glassiness of her eyes. “Why do you not come back wearing something more comfortable. It is going to be a long night for us, Zir.”

    He pressed a silent kiss to the top of her head and left.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The weather in Citrindally was harsh, the rain switching between drizzle and downpour every half hour. The usually thriving crowds of Terracinder had retreated indoors to taverns, cafes and restaurants, the shops shuttered for the day. The average Fyrge carries enough magic to keep their stores waterproof during rain, but unseasonal weather is considered a blessing from Demiurge, and most choose to close for a few hours in his honour when it arrives.

    An unusually tall stranger, wrapped in a thick pine-green cloak and white leather trousers, made his way through the heavy rain across the otherwise empty market square. He passed several shuttered cafes, stores and restaurants before stopping in front of the open entrance of a tavern. He looked up at the sign above and repeated the word back to himself in a quiet whisper. “Andedod.” On a regular day he might have asked the owner what it meant. But the world had been particularly unkind to him today. He simply pushed back his dry hood and walked inside.

    People were dancing and drinking throughout the tavern. Busy, certainly, but nothing overwhelming. He assumed the weather had driven some of the usual crowd elsewhere. He hung his cloak on the large hanging tree in the corner alongside the others and made his way toward the ale seating, where the bartender was currently attending to a row of Fyrges.

    He took a seat and the bartender’s eyes landed on him almost immediately. Apparently he had a distinct enough look to draw attention quickly.

    “Evening. What can I get you?” The bartender offered a polite smile.

    “Would the Weeping Tresses liqueur be available? I understand it is off season, but I am willing to pay whatever the price.” The stranger asked, and it was clear to the bartender that he had travelled some distance just to get hold of it. The liqueur could only be made during one specific month in winter, when the waters of the Weeping Tresses turned from their usual red to grey. That water was then used to ferment pomegranates and millet, producing a deep maroon liqueur strong enough to bring down even the mightiest in under three glasses. Its seasonal scarcity made it a luxury few could access outside of winter.

    The bartender nodded and disappeared into the back room.

    Soon the stranger held a wide crystal glass, half filled with the strong liqueur. He sipped slowly, working through a bowl of complimentary salted and spiced almonds.

    He did not bother glancing at the crowd even once. He was in a sombre mood. Sombre enough that even drunken sex would not fix it.

    “Oh, so you can give it to him but not to me?” a silken voice complained from beside him. Close enough that the stranger understood she was, in fact, talking about him.

    He looked up to find a pretty golden-haired youngling to his left, dressed in a smooth corseted teal gown with heavy gold detailing along the hem. She was addressing the bartender with narrowed eyes. The bartender had bowed deeply before responding. “I apologise, your highness. I did not feel comfortable lying about the unavailability. But her majesty gave special instructions to every tavern in Citrindally not to serve you the red liqueur after the previous—”

    She rolled her eyes, and it became increasingly clear she was a teenager, no older than eighteen, possibly younger. She took the seat beside the stranger and leaned in to whisper to the bartender. “Must you be so dramatic about it? Just pour me half a glass. I will not make a scene and I will never tell a soul. My friends are already three drinks in. This stays between us.” She glanced briefly at the stranger and added, “And this gorgeous foreign male, who looks smart enough to keep a secret. But that is all he is keeping.”

    That was when the stranger understood exactly who he was sitting beside. The youngest princess of Citrindally — Uliya Van Larsson Valhades — was negotiating expertly inches from him.

    The bartender hesitated. “Your high—” but was cut off by the stranger’s deep voice. “It is fine. Why not bring me another glass as well. I am allowed to offer the lady a drink, am I not? That would not break any rules.”

    Uliya grinned at him before turning back to the bartender. “No issue then, right, Gus?” She was clearly a regular.

    Gus gave them both a forced nod and left.

    “Oh, you have no idea what you just saved me from. Thank you so much.”

    The stranger laughed. “Is silver wheat really that much of a downgrade?”

    She pouted, turning fully toward him now. “Of course it is. Silver wheat is what you drink when you want to feel good. Red liqueur is for when you want to let go of every inhibition you have.” The last part came out with a delighted squeal that lifted his spirits more than anything had all day.

    He laughed. “Yes, I can vouch for that myself.”

    Gus returned with her glass. She snatched it and took a greedy first sip that left him quietly impressed. The girl clearly knew her liquor.

    “So what is your name?” Uliya asked casually.

    “Armond. Yours?”

    He would have addressed her properly, but something told him it would be better not to. She had likely come here to escape the title in the first place. Just like someone else he knew.

    “Uliya. I am a regular here.” She said, halfway through her second sip.

    It was only once the bartender had disappeared again that she said, “Oh, right — here,” reaching for her coin purse.

    “No, it is fine. Really. It is on me. I am glad I could help.”

    She tried to protest, but he was the better negotiator. Eventually she gave up and rose. “Thank you. I will remember this kindness. I hope we meet again, Armond.”

    “I hope so too. Enjoy your evening.” He offered with a grin, and just as he attempted a chivalrous bow, she pulled him into a quick hug instead and was gone.

    The stranger walked out of Andedod smiling, in a far better mood than when he had arrived. It was only once he reached the dark alley behind the tavern that he made a mental note to ask Kushiana how her little sister had such a sunny disposition when she herself was always like a dagger waiting to strike.

    Then the Northern High Prince stepped into the emerging blue portal and returned home, to Xerat.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    A small black trunk packed with essentials sat stuffed in a corner before the eldest Valhades made her way to the family’s private dining room. Her mother had sent Nysleon to check her availability for dinner — just the two of them, to her surprise. Kushiana and Lena rarely ate alone together. They had a good relationship, but Kushiana had always been closer to her father. Regardless, she obliged. She needed to make sure her parents suspected nothing before she left for Xerat tomorrow.

    She put on the first ironed maroon gown her new lady in waiting, Isa, had brought her. The female had been chosen that afternoon by the queen, once Kushiana confirmed she had no interest in interviewing anyone herself.

    The princess walked briskly, realising it was barely two hours to midnight. The queen occasionally kept very late meals due to an overfull schedule, and today had included a distant cousin’s early morning wedding celebrations and a long meeting with the Council’s organising committee for the Noctilune Ball.

    She stepped into the dining room to find Lena sitting alone at the head of the table. Nysleon was nowhere in sight. Her mother’s expression carried fatigue — rare, to see the solar queen anything less than radiant.

    “How was your day, Mother?” Kushiana asked, settling into the seat at Lena’s left. The table was set, but aside from the large garnet vase of blooming carnations at its centre, only a bottle of fine cotton-blue wine and two glasses sat before them.

    Lena snapped her fingers and the bottle lifted with her magic, pouring equal measures into both glasses. Kushiana raised hers toward her mother for a quick toast, only to find Lena had already taken a generous sip from her own. It was only once Kushiana drank from hers that her mother spoke.

    “I have become deeply concerned by a distance I only recently noticed has grown within our family.”

    Kushiana would have choked had she not already swallowed her wine. For a brief moment she feared Lena meant her dealings with Caelen — but her mother sighed and continued. “It pains me to see you and Zir constantly arguing. What happened between you two that was so serious?”

    The princess loosened her grip on the cutlery she had instinctively grabbed, releasing a breath. “Oh — that. You worried me, Mother. We are fine. We spoke today and cleared up a misunderstanding. He thought I was angry with him. I told him there was no such thing.”

    “Why on earth would he think that of you? You adore your brother and sister.” Lena asked, confused.

    Kushiana did not feel entirely comfortable discussing something between herself and Zir, but the concern on her mother’s face made her decide it was better to speak.

    She leaned in, taking another sip of wine while choosing her words carefully. “Back when Zir was with Sylveline, I found out she had been with someone else at the same time. I was angry and said things about her that he was not ready to hear. He told me not to meddle in his affairs, so I kept a respectable distance to let him work through it on his own. But he thought the distance meant I had not forgiven him. He carried that until today, when he finally came to apologise.”

    Kushiana looked up to find several emotions crossing her mother’s face — raw distaste, indignation, and what might even have been a rare flash of anger in her eyes. Lena clicked her tongue once and leaned back further.

    “You are telling me that on top of every disrespectful and treacherous thing her family had already attempted against ours, she also destroyed my son’s love for her with such deliberate cruelty?”

    It was a rhetorical question, and Kushiana knew it. Lena simply needed to hear the words back to fully take them in. She was no longer looking at Kushiana, her gaze fixed on the far end of the hall instead.

    Kushiana answered by laying her palm over her mother’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “It is in the past, Mama. Zir is not hurting anymore.”

    But Lena’s gaze did not waver. “I will see every remaining Havburth hanged before I am laid to rest.”

    “All of us will. Together. I promise.” Kushiana replied softly, and Lena seemed to gather herself, remembering the actual purpose of the dinner.

    “Anyway — that is not what I wanted to speak to you about. Today, at the wedding, I was introduced to a fine gentleman.”

    The moment the words left Lena’s mouth Kushiana rolled her eyes and began mentally discarding everything that followed, already certain where this was heading and knowing she was going to need considerably more wine before the night was over.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Luminara and Zir were sprawled on opposite ends of the large green velvet sofa in her chamber. Cecil was perched atop a lavender vine falling from the canopy of the bed — Zir had fashioned it into a makeshift swing for him at some point, and the blue raven was making full use of it while the two laid out their plan.

    “You are going to need to come up with a herb combination that knocks him out for a couple of hours. Even with our magic we will have to move him all the way from the Odolith to our meeting spot. I cannot use palm travel because he would be unconscious and unable to consent.”

    Luminara snorted. “The magic should really make an exception for someone who clearly has no relationship with the concept of consent himself.” She noted something down on the small piece of paper in front of her at the coffee table, mauve ink quill in hand.

    Zir stretched, resting the back of his head against one bicep. He had come back changed into a white silk georgette pyjama shirt and trousers with a silver sleeping robe over it. Luminara had let her hair down and changed into an off-shoulder dark green linen nightgown.

    He looked at the clock behind Cecil. It was almost midnight. 

    “Mind indulging in some strong coffee?” the prince asked, his eyelids were getting heavy.

    “How endearing that you religiously follow your bedtime princeling. I’ll pass though.” Luminara said tauntingly without looking up from the paper. 

    He scoffed and shot up, closing the distance between them to tug at her arm lightly. “Please. It’s unlawful behaviour to not accompany your friend when they want to have a beverage.” 

    She rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.” But eventually rang the bell for the kitchen maids working overnight. Two perfectly warm cups of cinnamon coffee were soon sent to their room. 

    “Alright so everything else in our plan is air tight. We just need to ensure that the herb combination works. Otherwise he could attract attention easily. Since almost everyone in Citrindally will be gracing Odolith that night.” Zir said energetically an hour later, while pacing on the floor.

    “I suggest mixing in a little worm poison, that’ll get the job done.” Cecil advised, finally stopping his swinging. 

    “Worm poison, seriously? You think it’s sufficient to unravel a man of his stature just because it knocked you out once?” Zir retorted instantly with an eyebrow raise and Cecil turned his head in Luminara’s direction. “He’s right actually, the effects are dicey. Let’s test it on Zir himself first.”

    Luminara exclaimed “Cecil, I am not feeding poison to my friend to test your theory!”

    But Zir immediately snapped his finger. “Brilliant idea bud, but I have training early morning with Ilias and he won’t budge. So we’ll try it tomorrow night.” 

    “That is your concern in this scenario!?” Luminara cried out. But the other two simply tilt their heads in unison, visibly confused. “Why not?” They ask together.

    “You two are weighing his life like it means nothing Demiurge help me. I am surrounded by morons! Argh.” The moonborn said irritably before burying her face in the sofa cushion. It’s only when she hears. “And she called you dramatic.” “Right!?” That she looks up and rewards the duo with a death glare. 

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 10 – The Grim Making Of A Moonborn, Part Two

    The queen takes a moment to collect herself before calling for Nysleon, who appeared beside her immediately.

    “Yes, your Majesty.”

    “Where is the child?” she asks, an edge still prominent in her voice that Nysleon can easily sense, even though she has buried it deep to appear neutral.

    “Noorani the healer was called as soon as the child arrived. She is treating her in the first chamber of the eastern wing, per the king’s request.”

    “I wish to see the child once she is done. Let Noorani know. And tell her to give the child something that helps with slumber if she has not already. She must be shaken.”

    Nysleon nods once. “Of course. Do you wish to see the prince in the meantime?”

    “What is he doing?”

    “He took a bath and demanded a feast as soon as he was done. So I suppose he is still eating.”

    The queen raised an eyebrow. “Zir demanded a feast? The wain who barely touches his food?” Then, as the answer came to her even as she asked it, she shook her head. “Nevermind. Inane of me to ask. Of course he did. After using his newly sprouted magical abilities, he must be famished.”

    “Shall I take you to him?”

    “No. Let him eat uninterrupted and rest. I will see him this evening.” Nysleon bows and leaves at once to deliver the message to the healer.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Luminara blends into the warm woollen laycloth of the bed when the healer finally leaves her in solitude. She stares at the canopy absentmindedly as the thoughts that had been a hassle earlier finally begin to quiet.

    She does not recall much of what happened after the prince rescued her. Only fragments. Her panting and her hammering heart as she rushed through the hall trying to get hold of any weapon, anything to save herself from what was coming. The savage satisfaction on the Draumfell heir’s face as he commanded that the first five to strip and force themselves on this recently orphaned child would win a portion of the estate’s treasure and the chance to marry her — if they found her of any value after the said activity. The greed and lust on the faces of every single one of those barbarians as they frenzied after the eleven year old. How she had luckily found the grappling hook and rope that helped her aim for the chandelier and climb with everything she had. She had not known she could climb that fast. She supposed the ability had been hidden by Demiurge to surface on a day of doom exactly like this. She remembered the cutting rage on the prince’s face as he swore retribution to Skarde Draumfell. Had Zir meant it? Or had it been the heat of the moment? She had been left wondering.

    Not for long, as a knock came at the door. She lurched for anything within reach that could serve as a weapon.

    “Do not be afraid. It is me, child. The queen.” A beautifully melodic but firm voice came from the other side of the door in a way that made it seem as though its source was already in the room with her. As though she had already seen her reaching frantically for something.

    “May I come in?” she asked gently.

    A soft affirmative slipped from Luminara’s lips after a moment of silence.

    The doors opened slowly and the queen walked in. Radiant as day, even in the dim lamplight of the room. She had the most beautiful golden curls flowing halfway down her tall stature. Her almond-shaped eyes were a striking golden yellow that immediately put Luminara at ease with the calm they seemed to carry. The luscious maroon lips seemed to mirror Zir’s. The queen was naturally beautiful in the most regal sense, with her high cheekbones — like she had been born to be exactly what she was. She wore a golden and silver-lined satin-silk gown with heavy pleats, the kind Luminara had always imagined having made for her own mother someday. A heaviness touched her chest at the thought, and it seemed like the queen saw straight through it. Because she turned and told the two ladies in waiting flanking her to wait outside. They nodded and left, pulling the large oakwood doors closed behind them.

    Luminara gave a half bow from the bed, mindful of her injured leg — a gash on her thigh from the chandelier icicle before she had climbed up to it. The queen simply smiled and settled beside her.

    “So you are the friend Zir would not stop talking about when he came back from the carnival last year?” Lena asked with a gentleness Luminara had not been sure, until today, that royals were capable of. Except the prince, of course. He had always been kind to her.

    “Yes. My name is Luminara, your Majesty.” She answered with a visible trace of hesitation.

    “You have a remarkably exquisite name. I think it signifies that you are meant for a greater purpose in this world.”

    She managed a small smile. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

    “You do not have to smile at me if you do not want to. Ever. Though I am certain your genuine smile would be a delight to witness.”

    Luminara freezes momentarily at the warmth and kindness extended to a lowborn like her. They had always expected royals to be smug and unfeeling. And again, as though she could read the child effortlessly, Lena took her tiny hand inside her own with a comforting stroke.

    “Since you are a friend of Zir, you can stay here as long as you would like. Even if it is forever. The palace will always have this chamber lit up for you.”

    “Thank you, your Maj—” Luminara’s raspy little voice broke even on those few words as a tear escaped, then another. And before she knew it she was bawling. But the ugliness of the day had long subsided, because through her falling tears she realised she was in the warm embrace of a mother. Not her own, but someone’s mother. Not just a queen. Comforting hands patted her back and head as she sobbed through the painful memories of the past two days.

    Moments passed, and before she noticed she had stopped. She felt lighter already. Considerably better. As she broke the embrace and met the queen’s eyes, a small smile appeared on both their faces at the same moment.

    “I did not give birth to you. But as of today I will always consider and treat you as my own child.” Lena said, and gently pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead. A kiss that healed a larger part of the pain than either of them realised — the kind the child would otherwise have suppressed and carried growing up, without ever knowing it was there.

    Luminara did not answer. But the small smile from earlier had stretched into something much longer and entirely genuine.

    The queen asked her ladies in waiting to bring a feast for the child afterwards, and fed her herself. She put her to sleep right after.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Kiev had nearly dozed off on the maroon velvet chaise in their bedchamber after several glasses of wine when he felt a hand caress his cheek gently. He looked up to find Lena standing over him.

    “My love, sit with me.” He said, straightening, and she did. Despite being half-drunk he could read the anxious expression on her face immediately.

    “Why do you worry? Is something the matter?” he asked, wide-eyed and fully alert now.

    “The prophecy has come true,” she replied, and Kiev’s eyebrow rose immediately.

    “The prophecy? Which one?”

    Lena did not answer directly. “How could we have missed such an important detail?”

    “Relax. Which one?”

    “The birth of the moon-blessed child.”

    “The birth—” He stopped himself halfway, eyes showing clearly how staggered he was.

    “Luminara?” he asked carefully.

    “Of course it is her, Kiev. She is only eleven and has already lived through the twin catastrophic events the prophecy describes. That means in the coming two decades there is a strong likelihood of war.”

    He exhaled deeply, sitting with the weight of it. Moments passed before he spoke.

    “It will be all right. I will meet with Evan first thing tomorrow, then the Council. We will prepare accordingly. This is not the first time ruling has asked something difficult of us.”

    “About that — please do not let anyone other than Evan learn of Luminara’s identity. The child has been through enough. If people find out what she is, they will never treat her the same. Some may come for her blood.”

    He nodded solemnly. “I promise. But only until the next decade. We will have Hinjk train her in the meantime. She will learn to defend herself and explore the depth of her abilities.”

    She nodded, relieved. “I will tell her to keep this to herself until then. She is a bright child. She will listen.”

    He caressed her head gently. “Of course she will. Why would she not? You are the greatest mother a child could ask for.”

    She swallowed the praise quietly and moved the conversation forward. “I found out just after putting her to bed. I was leaving when I saw a glowing light emerging from the centre of her chest. I followed it outside and found it was perfectly aligned with the twin moons’ rays.”

    “Extraordinary,” he said softly.

    The king wrapped an arm around his beloved, and together they gazed silently at the twin moons, radiant in their full glory.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 9 – The Grim Making Of A Moonborn, Part One

    In Fyrgen there had been a prophecy long-standing since the birth of the first Fyrges. “When the continent unites for good, there shall be the birth of a divine babe, blessed by the luminosity of the moon goddess herself. Despite being born to a family with limited means and resources, her birth will bring them joy and abundance. The first decade of her lifetime will be spent rejoicing in an environment filled with familial love and care. Until her eleventh birth anniversary, when the tide is bound to turn in a direction even the moon-blessed child would not be able to track. On this day a cataclysmic event will shake up her life, one that is vital for the child to take a different course in her adult years. The fate of the entire continent depends on the shift brought forth by this day. For this child holds the power to dip the twin moons when the world needs it the most.”

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

    Content Warning This chapter contains depictions of child endangerment and attempted sexual violence. Reader discretion is advised.

    Eleven years ago

    The Palace of Citrindally has seen brighter mornings, but the way the sun shines today seems to hint at a good omen arriving. At least that is what Lena is thinking, sprawled across the hammock in her private courtyard, in the company of her two ladies in waiting, Iris and Bridget, who are busy fanning the relaxed queen. Her youngest, Princess Uliya, is busy playing with the queen’s royal companion Nysleon in the corner of the same courtyard.

    “Any word about the king and prince’s arrival, Nyse?” Lena asks in her usual calm but firm tone. The winter lion comes running up to her, followed by Uliya on her tiny agile legs — she was clearly not finished putting flowers in his beautiful silver hair.

    “Stravosa has not contacted me since their quick stop in Tyutir, your Majesty.” He offers with a polite bow.

    “The sun god appears to be signalling me toward something. A positive development today.” Lena adds after a quiet sigh.

    “What sort of development, if you do not mind my asking, your Majesty?” Iris asks, curiosity stirred at the confession of the sun-chosen queen.

    “Time will tell, child. The sun god speaks in the sort of riddles I can only decode to a certain extent.” She answers. They all nod in unison, except the five year old princess who takes this as an opportunity to drop down beside her in the hammock.

    “What is a riddle, Mama?” she asks, and the queen answers gently, meeting her gaze. “It is when we speak in a way that does not directly explain something. Only pointing in the direction of ideas and imagination.”

    “Father speaks in that way!” She exclaims and everyone laughs at her excited squeal.

    “Yes, my precious child.” The queen draws her close, making her sit beside her in the hammock, running her hands through her loose, sun-warmed golden curls.

    “Uliya, would you like me to braid your hair?”

    “Yes, Mama.” The queen nods and gestures to Iris, who quickly produces an amber silk ribbon from her pocket.

    “You are my most adorable and well-behaved child,” Lena adds, slowly working through the labyrinth of curls and tresses that reach her tiny waist.

    “Thank you, Mama. But what about Zir and Kush?” she asks teasingly, drawing a slight snort from Lena.

    “Oh, they are just fine. Do not worry about them, dear. I love all of you.”

    “But you love me the best.” Uliya appends her own ending to the sentence and is met with silence. Lena has the wisdom to know that even if you have a favoured child, it is never to be revealed. And Uliya is certainly that child for her.

    Soon a royal guard approaches the main door with a knock. Nysleon rushes over to receive the message.

    “What news?” the queen asks once he returns to the courtyard.

    “His Majesty and his Royal Highness have arrived with the guards and emissaries. No one was hurt. However—”

    The queen looks up immediately at that last word.

    “They have brought someone else. His Majesty has requested your presence in the great hall immediately.”

    And there is the direction the sun god was pointing in today.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The queen, flanked by her ladies in waiting and Nysleon at her side, arrives at the great hall shortly after. The others halt when they find two guards stationed outside the private chamber.

    “I shall go and find Stravosa, if you permit, your Majesty.” Lena nods and enters the private chamber through the large oakwood double doors.

    She finds the king resting alone on the low chaise. No sign of Ziruth.

    “Kiev, my love. How was your journey?” she asks gently, settling beside him.

    “A whirlwind, darling. Exhausting but the worthy kind.” He places her smooth, dainty fingers inside his own large callused ones.

    “You look happier for it. And I heard we lost no one from our troops, which is wonderful news.”

    He laughs. “Yes. Their resistance was not as strong as we had hoped. They gave up without much of a fight. Not that there was much choice in the matter.”

    “I understand.” She nods solemnly and they share a quiet, intimate moment as he embraces her after more than three weeks away.

    “I also have someone I would like you to meet.” He adds, pulling back to meet her eyes.

    “I heard. Who is it?”

    “You know that the Draumfells had recently seized control of the Great Monville estate by unlawful means. They slaughtered the minister in charge.”

    “Yes, Stravosa kept us informed on all developments until yesterday.”

    “I had not known, as it turns out. Our spies were tracked and killed by the Draumfell clan. Our allies were bought off with promises of gold so that no news would reach me during the excursion.”

    Lena listens and nods, her expression shifting into hostile territory, all warmth for the king retreating from her face. A queen later, general first — Kiev had promised her that before their wedding.

    “For the most important part of how we found out, I must ask you something first. Were you aware of Zir showing any magical abilities beyond what we discussed with the healer?”

    She leans in, visibly confused. “No, only the freezing and the usual palm magic. Why?”

    He sighs deeply. “He has countless others, it seems, that we may not know of until they emerge. But somehow, while we were resting at a stop nearby, our son insisted that we needed to go to Monville. Immediately. I brushed it off at first, told him it was not in our itinerary. But he was absolutely adamant, Lena. I eventually assumed he simply wanted to visit the carnival again — he had enjoyed it so much the last time. So we agreed to go the following morning.”

    Lena caresses his hand gently, urging him to continue.

    “The next sunrise, Zir woke right on time and shook me awake, urging us to leave two hours early. He seemed very anxious, which is so unlike him. But I had an empty feeling in my stomach that told me there was more to it. So we left earlier than planned. And Lena, I am so glad we did.” The pain on Kiev’s face is unmistakable.

    He reaches for a small hunting knife on the stone table across from them — one studded with pink pearls and tiny ribbons, which she had not noticed before.

    “As soon as we entered Monville I knew something was wrong. The town seemed to hush the moment we passed through the boundary gates. The guards had gone pale. The general public offered no welcome. Shops closed and people rushed home. And Zir said — ‘Father, we need to go to the Monville Estate.’ It was like an alarm went off inside me too, because I am certain he had no idea the estate existed. I ordered Evan to take us there immediately.”

    “What happened then?” Lena asks, her own anxiety rising at the foreboding weight of Kiev’s voice.

    The king swallows. The light dims slightly in his eyes. His hesitating is never a good sign. It is well known throughout the kingdom that Kiev the Second never wavers.

    “We reached the castle gates. Evan immediately prevented the guards from announcing our arrival. And before we could even assess the situation, Zir rushed out of the carriage and ran straight for the gates. The guards went after him, Lena. But he moved with a speed that was not natural. I had to intervene and catch his arm just before he reached the double doors. And when I held our child, tears were already running down his face. He screamed at me — ‘They will hurt her. We have to go now, Father.’”

    “I had the guards open the doors. There was no one in the hallway, so I took Zir’s hand and let him lead me. He brought me to the crown room. And Lena, what I saw there shattered me. We entered unannounced to find around a hundred men gathered at the centre of the room. Aggressive, frenzied. And then I looked up — and there was this child clad in black at the centre of it all. A youngling I vaguely recognised from somewhere I could not place. The next thing I knew—”

    He pauses and clicks his tongue, a flash of rage crossing his face. “I cannot recount the rest of it. We have daughters of our own. Search the memory in my mind. I will not say it out loud.”

    She nods, reaching for the power of her third eye. She visualises a thread connecting her mind to Kiev’s and draws his recent memories toward her. Once they become accessible, she moves back from the present moment and stops at the beginning — when he first sees the child.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The child has her hands clasped around the downrod of the chandelier. Panic-stricken, screaming for her life. The men below jump and lunge for her repeatedly, failing each time as she moves fast and pulls herself out of reach. At the far end of the room, the youngest Draumfell heir watches from the throne flanked by four guards, entirely unbothered. The men laugh collectively, vicious and feral. “It’s going to be so much fun when we grab her.” “I get the first turn.” “Even if she dies, pass her along.”

    Kiev’s shock is palpable. He is barely done comprehending the sight when Zir steps forward from the corner of his eye. All the anxiety and dread that had been written across his son’s face is gone. Replaced now by fury so absolute it has no age. The eleven year old child is gone. What stands in his place is something ancient and divine, oozing a glittering blue-white light from his skin, eyes turned to a striking silver that swallows the pupil entirely.

    “Halt and step back.”

    The words leave his mouth and echo through the entire hall without him raising his voice. Perhaps because the voice does not belong to him alone but to something far higher. Every man in the room stops. Horror crosses their faces collectively. Zir is surrounded by a crackling, electrifying energy visible to everyone present.

    Kiev, Evan and the guards drop to their knees and bow. What stands before them is no longer the Prince of Stars but something beyond it — a supernova. The child on the chandelier watches with a gaping mouth, all terror momentarily replaced by awe.

    Zir moves to the centre of the room, directly below her. He raises one arm slowly and cuts his palm through the air. Every man in the room freezes instantly, encased in solid chunks of ice — all but Kiev and his entourage. Skarde Draumfell remains frozen on his throne, his guards with him.

    Zir looks up. His eyes find the girl’s glassy ones and the crackling energy around him dims slowly, the swirling settling into stillness. He raises a hand toward her. She hesitates, doubt still visible on her face, then quietly raises hers. A thread emerges from both their palms and ties itself between them — his silver, hers gold.

    “You can step down. My magic will keep you from falling.” His voice is gentle.

    She looks down, afraid, then nods once with quiet trust. She releases the downrod slowly. “Visualise a staircase in your mind and it will take shape before your eyes.” She does, and descends with surprising ease.

    Kiev and the others watch in silence as she steps off the final invisible stair and stops directly in front of Zir.

    “Are you alright?” he asks.

    “Yes,” she replies, body still trembling.

    Before she can even look up to meet his eyes, Zir turns to his father. “This is Luminara, my friend. She is coming with us.” The vague recognition that had been circling Kiev’s mind finally settles into certainty. This is the friend he made during the Monville Carnival last year. That is where he knows her from.

    Kiev nods, composure returning. “Zir, come here.”

    Zir crosses back to him quickly.

    “What of her family? We should find them,” Kiev says quietly.

    “They died last night.” Zir offers nothing further, then gestures for her to follow. The child falls into step beside him immediately.

    They are nearly out of the door when Kiev says, “Ziruth, wait. Defreeze the Draumfell.”

    Zir turns sharply, the fury back at once. “What are you talking about? He sat on his throne and ordered his underlings to do unspeakable things to her.” The child moves behind him instinctively and he reaches for her hand.

    “We will try him. Prison, as an example to the resistance.”

    “No. He needs to die. Let me finish it now.” He raises his hand.

    “Ziruth.” Kiev’s voice is lethal and cold. “I am your king as well as your father. You will follow my orders. This is larger than one incident.”

    The defiance and disgust on Zir’s face do not leave, but his hand lowers. He turns to the frozen throne and cuts the air to release him.

    Skarde Draumfell falls back against his seat with a thud, dazed and wide-eyed. Before the guards can reach him, Zir is already there, stopping directly in front of the eighteen year old.

    “You, Skarde Draumfell, are my enemy for as long as I breathe. I will come for you one day and watch as you bleed and beg, your bones crushed by the friend you dared to disrespect. You will be nothing but dust beneath her feet. I make this blood oath before Demiurge’s watchful eye. Pray you die before that dreadful night arrives. You will be eviscerated into nothingness.” He marks the blood oath with a slow circular motion of his hand.

    And just like that, the Prince of Stars drains every last trace of colour from the predatory heir’s face. He turns on his heel in sacred fury, takes his friend’s hand, and leaves the hall with his white brocade cloak flying behind him, sealing Skarde’s fate.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    It took Lena a long time to surface from the memory. Her eyes were glassy with a burning rage held carefully behind them. Kiev sensed it without her saying a word. It was only when he leaned in and lifted her chin gently that life returned to her expression.

    “My love,” he whispered.

    “How could he think of doing such a thing to a child. She is our son’s age. It disgusts me, Kiev. Why did you not let Zir kill him? Why did you choose that moment to act as monarch? You should have let him die.”

    A tear slips out, born of the particular frustration of being a female who understands exactly what was at stake in that room. Lena does not soften her words in times of great unrest. It does not matter that the person beside her is the king. She is speaking as a mother of three children, and her outrage is not limited to her own.

    “He is the leverage we need against the resistance. It was not an easy decision, especially after what I saw — you felt my discomfort in the memory, I am sure — but—” Kiev attempts to continue and she raises a hand, stopping him. She may understand it as queen. She does not accept it as herself.

    Thick tension settles between them. They are on opposing sides of the same love and neither can fully cross to the other. Moments pass in silence before Stravosa, the king’s companion white tiger — appears at the door with a knock and bows.

    “What is it?” Kiev snaps, letting more show than he usually would.

    Stravosa does not waver. “The lady in waiting informed me that your bath is ready, your Majesty.”

    Kiev rises immediately, because he would be anywhere but here right now. “We will speak later,” he says to Lena. She answers with a solemn nod.

    Alone in the silence that follows, she feels the infuriating knowledge of Skarde Draumfell still breathing settle over her like a weight. It spreads the way a righteous disease spreads — one she finds it honourable to carry, because it reminds her that she does not need to have experienced something herself in order to feel it fully. A just queen through and through.

    She prays quietly to the sun god for his doom.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 8 – Tragedy Often Leaves A Trail

    As a wain, my magical abilities did not fully emerge until I was somewhere between nine and ten. I vividly remember sitting in our private dining chamber wanting a chocolate soufflé for dessert rather than the flan everyone else was having. My mother declined to call the servants on my behalf, saying I needed to grow out of my shyness and learn to ask for things myself. Before speaking I rehearsed it quietly, imagining the kitchen maid standing right beside me. “I would like a chocolate soufflé, please.” “I need one, please.” “Could I have some, please?” I settled on the last as the most polite. The moment I opened my mouth, the kitchen maid appeared with vacant eyes at an unnatural speed, placed three plates of chocolate soufflé before me and said “Do you require anything else, my mistress?” That is how we discovered my primary magical ability was placing anyone in a thrall through words and visualisation alone.

    — Princess Uliya Van Larsson of House Valhades, Personal Accounts of the Valhades Heirs, The Great Hall Of Learning

    ~ Uliya ~

    An intense black light bleeds in from behind the curtains of my pastel pink room, painting all four walls with it. “Oh crap,” I mutter as I wake, covering my eyes with my arm. “Yer, what is all this?” No lightning quick response comes. I drag myself out of bed, making out objects by touch, calling her name again and again until I feel the light seeping through my closed eyelids. I try to reach for my power and find nothing there. So I open my eyes slowly, met first with pitch black, then with a deep and revolting red that stretches as far as I can see.

    Then I hear breathing.

    Followed by the voice I thought I had buried long ago. “Uliya my love, why don’t you come play with me?” My body locks up, a strange sensation crawling all over it at once. No. No. It cannot be. Apateus. His voice seems distant at first, then — “I can always be closer than you think” it is no longer a whisper and it is coming from directly behind me. I feel warm tears streaking down my face. “Let go of me!” I demand, met only with vicious laughter that pierces my eardrums and makes my heart collapse entirely. And then like a phantom wind he is right in front of me, wide eyes meeting the curve of his mocking smile perfectly. “I said let go of me, or I will rip your eye socket out. You filthy piece of scum.” I say it through clenched teeth. The colour drains from his face. The smile falters and he steps back. It takes me a moment to realise he is not looking at me at all, but at something behind me. I turn halfway and am met with an intense yellow light and Apateus’ deafening cry of fear reverberating all around me.

    Before I can process it, I wake up in my own bed. Sweating through my clothes, panting. Yer hovers over me immediately, a wet cloth napkin held in her beak, cooing “You are fine, Ul. You are fine.”

    I cannot stop panting but sit up and grab the water tumbler to my left, pouring it straight into my mouth without bothering with a glass. Once hydrated and fully aware of my surroundings — my bright, cosy bedchamber with the pink accents, I finally let the panic go.

    “Did you have a nightmare?” she asks, settling casually on top of the left footpost.

    “Yes,” I practically whisper.

    “That is peculiar. You have not had one in six years. Your first night back and this happens.” She cocks her head to the side.

    I sigh and get off the bed, ringing the bell for Agatha, the new lady in waiting assigned to me. I was sad to learn yesterday that old Esmeralda had died of a plague that took many poor Fyrges last year. “Maybe it is my body adjusting back to Citrindally’s air.”

    “Fair enough. What was it about? I could only catch flashes of bright golden light in my mind.”

    I stop walking and turn to face her directly. “Nothing. Can we speak about this later? I do not want to start my first morning home on a dull note, Yer.”

    “Of course! Do you want me to fetch your correspondence? Agnes told us a great many citizens have written to welcome you back.” She squeals and I laugh, giving her a small nod before she disappears through the window.

    I stretch to shake off the last of the anxiety, interrupted by two quick knocks at the door.

    “Come in,” I answer. The door creaks open and a meek looking female steps inside. Her hair is a beautiful flame-kissed shade, gathered into a large fishnet bun behind her head. She is petite, dressed in a drab white collared silk dress paired with a sea green lace apron — the usual attire of the ladies in waiting at the royal palace, unless they wish otherwise, as Fyrges hold a superstition about certain colours being unlucky for their health.

    She greets me with a prolonged bow, the kind reserved for a first meeting between a lady in waiting and her princess, then says, “Your Royal Highness, if I may introduce myself?”

    “Please do. And try calling me Uliya when we are behind closed doors. Being addressed as Your Royal Highness at all times might make me an even worse royal than I already am.”

    A small smile escapes her before she schools it. “My name is Agatha. Starting today I will be at your service for all matters, official and unofficial, that a lady in waiting should attend to. I also excel at sewing, altering and customising garments.”

    “Perfect, you can assist with the seamstress work as well then, Agatha. I would like breakfast in my antechamber this morning — please let my mother know. And bring a couple of gowns for me to choose from for lunch.”

    “Of course. Is there anything else?”

    I start to shake my head and stop. “Actually yes, one urgent matter. Could you stop by and give Prince Zir a message on your way? His companion is not around today.”

    She nods and moves to the desk, lifting a piece of paper and the ink-dipped feather.

    “I am certain his Royal Highness would be pleased to hear from you. What is the message?”

    “Tell him that the first thing I thought of this morning was that specific time eight years ago when he picked up Mama’s sword for the first time, could not handle it, fell straight into the fountain, and I could not stop laughing. Also tell him he is a prick.” I say it with complete seriousness.

    She raises an eyebrow slightly, then immediately bows when she realises I mean every word.

    “It is fine, he will know it is from me.”

    I smile and dismiss her with a casual wave and she is gone.

    Later that afternoon,

    I am the last to arrive at our private dining hall. My mother and father are already seated at their respective ends of the rectangular table, making conversation with Zir and Kushiana, who sit opposite each other and are very clearly attempting civility.

    The moment I take my first step inside, all eyes turn to me — scanning for whichever emotion they have learned to expect from me. Anger. Sadness. Nastiness. Indifference.

    “It is essential for a princess to respect the timing of supper, Uliya,” my mother says, firmly but politely, by way of greeting.

    I hastily pull out the chair beside Zir, next to her. “Sorry. I could not sleep at all last night.”

    “It is alright, child. I am simply glad we are all eating together.” Father smiles and rings the bell with a flick of magic, sending the servants into motion around the room.

    We eat in the silence considered appropriate for royals. Demiurge help me, I am going to miss chatting with Yer over meals. The food here may be better but it is doing nothing for me when she is not at the table. My family is perfectly tolerable but nothing compares to her.

    I unenthusiastically carve up the baked seasoned potatoes on my plate when I feel Kushiana’s gaze settle on me. “What?” I mouth. Her eyes move deliberately to the untouched pile of vegetables beside them, then back to mine. A silent question.

    I sigh. Then spend the next few minutes slowly burying the ash-like food in the depths of my mouth.

    “If you do not mind,” Zir says suddenly, setting down his fork, “I have an urgent matter to attend to. May I take leave?” As usual, Mister Busy has somewhere to be. This is the same man who faked employment for years in the human lands. Nothing surprises me anymore.

    “I certainly mind. What is this urgent matter pertaining to, Ziruth?” Father’s voice carries the weight of a king this time.

    “It is Zir, so probably something to do with abandoning his family and kingdom.” Kushiana adds in that feather-light voice of hers, the one that appears reliably after two glasses of blackberry wine. I sometimes wonder if she would need that many drinks if she stopped shouldering responsibility for everyone around her.

    Zir tilts his head slowly, smiling like a feral cat. They are absolutely going to start.

    “Is that what you are wishing on? So you can keep fishing for another opportunity to self-sacrifice?”

    Her answering snarl splits something in my chest. A small crackle of lightning flickers from her fingers. Father exhales deeply.

    “Enough.” Mama’s voice is sharper now, carrying real weight. “Need I remind you both who you are seated before?”

    Both of them straighten immediately, eyes dropping. So completely at odds with the argument they were building toward seconds ago.

    “Good. Zir, you may go. But let us avoid abrupt departures during the limited meals we have together as a family. We must learn to stay together.”

    He nods. “Yes ma’am. I will see you both in court this evening.” He rises and leaves.

    Mama extends a finger toward Kushiana. An invisible thread attaches to her half-full glass and lifts it smoothly across the table into Mama’s waiting hand.

    “I was still drinking that—”

    “Yes, and look at the state of you already. It should have stopped after the first glass. Drunk is not a flattering look on a queen.”

    Kushiana bursts out laughing, clearly out of spite. “And dead is?”

    Father coughs. Mother’s eyes register as much shock as they allow themselves.

    I stand and take my older sister firmly by the arm. “Up. We are getting some fresh air.”

    “I do not want—”

    “Now, Kushiana.” I say it in the rare assertive way I rarely do.

    She yields.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Zir ~

    I had written back to Syveline the same night, while still in the human lands, asking her to describe Nivun’s ailment in detail. She responded the next morning and I immediately sent Cecil in search of Noorani, our family healer who gave up her practice to focus on teaching children. She could not be found. Cecil has gone to Tyutir again today, to her kin’s place, still looking.

    Until then.

    I have just escaped a painfully prolonged supper with my family. They take unusually long to eat and it is unbearable. How hard is it to finish soup? No chewing required.

    I head directly for the eastern wing’s second floor and knock on the large heavy oakwood door. The smell immediately stirs up childhood memories.

    “Hello, who can I expect?” Lume’s deep voice answers from inside.

    “It is me, Zir. Open up.”

    The door swings open by magic and I step into the antechamber. The eastern wing bedrooms are considerably more airy than the rest of the palace. Luminara’s in particular is the finest, her antechamber leading into a large bedchamber connected to a generous hanging garden balcony for her herbs.

    The scent of rosemary and dill drifts around me as I take in how the antechamber has been remade to reflect her grown interests. Several neatly organised shelves hold glass beakers, vials and containers of herbs in careful rows.

    Her adjoining bedchamber and private dining hall have minimal furniture — a large blackwood canopy bed with lavender vines falling from it and wrapping around white curtains beautifully. Her study desk sits in front of it, covered in correspondence written in cerulean blue ink. A large triple armoire of whitewood faces the bed and contrasts beautifully against it. A single green velvet sofa with a round coffee table, books stacked in piles underneath. Tiny lamps are mounted across the ceiling. No chandelier like the rest of us. I feel uneasy for a moment registering that, then swallow it down and push open the double doors to the garden.

    The semi-circular ground is covered in trimmed grass. Large and small plants crowd every surface, flowers and herbs blooming to the point of overlapping in places, making the stone boundary of the balcony nearly impossible to locate.

    It takes a moment to find Lume somewhere in the middle, her head popping up from where she has been kneeling, working a new plant into a round mirror-glazed ceramic pot.

    She has her hair in two long braids falling over her shoulders and has chosen black overalls over a green tunic, white rubber gloves and thick boots.

    “Hey, I was not expecting you until this evening. Is something wrong?” She asks, nonchalant, attempting to push stray strands of hair back from her sweat-beaded forehead with her elbow. Her gloves are covered in dry soil.

    I move toward her and push them back behind her ear.

    She lets out a quiet sigh of relief, shoulders dropping. “Thank you. It was driving me mad.”

    I smile. “I need your help, Lume. Could you come back to this later?”

    “Of course. Give me a minute.”

    I nod and settle onto the sofa, pouring her a glass of water while she cleans the soil from her hands and tosses the gloves into a corner.

    “Tell me,” she says, sitting on the settee across from me and drinking.

    I lean forward. “Alright, so—” and stop, realising the balcony and antechamber doors are still open. As if every soul here doesn’t have better things to do than suspect their prince of casual treason.

    She catches where my eyes go and snaps both doors shut with a flick of her fingers.

    “I have already sealed all my chambers with sonancy magic. You can say whatever you need to.” She adds the reassurance because she knows my wariness extends to even locked doors. 

    I wink. “I knew having a smart friend would pay off eventually.”

    She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you were that calculative even in your first decade. Now go on, princeling. I have healing herbs waiting to be bound.”

    “Alright. I cannot get hold of our old healer Noorani, and I need medicine made without my parents learning of it.”

    She leans back and crosses her legs. “What kind of herbs?”

    I bring out the paper describing the ailment and the medicine name and hold it out to her. Or so I think.

    She raises an eyebrow and holds up what is actually in her hand, an amused smile playing on her lips.

    “I do agree with Uliya that you are a prick, and I cannot wait to hear more about this sword incident, but—”

    I realise I have handed her the message Uliya sent to torment me through her maid earlier. I snatch it back, shove it into my pocket and produce the correct paper.

    She keeps laughing but skims through it quickly and nods. “I can make this. But it will need sun-dried salted aloe vera which takes two days to prepare. Three days in total.”

    I do not argue about the timeline. I already trust she has found the fastest way.

    “That works. Thank you, Lume.”

    “A thanks will not cover it. I need five tiny rubies in exchange.”

    I scoff. “Do not be absurd. That would barely make a bracelet. I will get you twenty.”

    We look at each other seriously for a moment before she laughs. “You need to learn to negotiate, princeling. Anyone could take advantage of you. I was joking anyway.”

    I stand. “Negotiation is for dealings with others. Not the friend who never asks why I need something. I suggest you start asking for more.”

    She pauses before she rises. And when she looks up I notice her eyes are a little glassy.

    “I missed you, you know.”

    I feel my own emotions rise. “I did too, moonbug.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Kushiana ~

    I regain consciousness at the cost of a throbbing headache that ascends to the crown of my head and then descends again in nauseating waves. I manage to open my glassy eyes. I am in my bedchamber but not alone.

    “She does not even listen to me without snapping. What am I supposed to do?” Zir mutters to Uliya from the leather armchair in front of my bed, gazing thoughtfully out the window.

    “Well she needs to listen. And you are older so you have to say it.” Uliya says, arms crossed in the adjacent armchair.

    “Ah, no? Where did that rule come from suddenly. Especially from someone who breathes to talk.”

    She tosses her hair back, the portrait of manufactured innocence. “I am the youngest. I involuntarily have the least authority.”

    “You had our mother build a staircase from my balcony to yours by lying that you were scared. She did not even ask me before imposing.” Zir seethes.

    Uliya laughs. “That was purely to annoy you actually. I am proud of that one.”

    “If I could strangle you and get away with it, I would. You live to create trouble for me.” He delivers it in the sweetest voice, as though reciting poetry.

    “Cry to Demiurge about it later. Now listen — when she wakes up.” Uliya points in my direction and I close my eyes immediately, feigning sleep. “Tell her she does not have to do this. Our parents cannot force her to sit on that throne and would ultimately be more worried about her wellbeing than anything else. That is all.”

    These two worry about me so much. Now I feel guilty.

    “Fine. But she is not going to listen easily in a thousand years. So if she does not, you better produce those deceptive tears and cry like your life depends on it. And if you do not, I will make you.”

    “That is so mean, Zir. I am barely seventeen. How could you say that about me?” She suddenly bursts into tears and I am about to sit up and end this circus when—

    He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Exactly like that. Well done.”

    Uliya drops her hands from her face. Dry-eyed.

    These two happen to be exceptionally gifted at scheming and theatrics. I need to put a stop to their antics today. Caelen would withdraw his help the moment he sensed political danger, so I can afford to be honest while withholding certain details. That way I will not feel guilty either.

    I sit up slowly and they both immediately rise and come to settle at opposite ends of my bed.

    “What are you two doing in my room?” I ask, frowning naturally while rubbing an eye.

    “When I brought you back here after supper to talk, you passed out the moment you lay down,” Uliya says carefully.

    “And?” I gesture to Zir for water. Uliya says nothing until he fetches it. They are really committing to their respective roles.

    “And we thought — instead of fighting, the three of us should do something fun together.” Zir adds pleasantly, handing me the glass.

    I drain it before looking at them both.

    “Fine. But let me say something first.”

    “Oh,” they say in unison, visibly thrown. Probably expecting a threat.

    I sigh and snap all doors and windows shut with my fingers. “I am not going to sit on the throne. I know how to get all of us away from it. But that is all I can offer you right now. The curse is very real, I believe in it, and I will ask for help only if I need it before the crowning. I have it handled. Please do not push me for more.”

    I look up. They are both staring at me.

    Silence for a moment before they erupt simultaneously.

    “You had a plan the entire time and said nothing while we worried ourselves sick?” Uliya shrieks.

    “What do you mean we cannot push for more information. This affects the whole family, not just you.” Zir says in that quietly disappointed tone he reserves for occasions like this.

    I roll my eyes. “Do not make it my funeral now. Can the two of you not simply trust me? Have I not handled things before when I said I would? Is that what you think of your eldest sister?”

    I resort to my own theatrics, layering in a few well-placed sentences. I even briefly consider attempting Uliya’s fake cry, but it is too risky. I do not have the practice or her emotionally expressive face. They would see through it instantly.

    It works beautifully regardless. They both pause, let the words settle, and when they speak again the temperature has changed.

    “Fine. But do not do anything that puts you in danger. I refuse to watch you die for something stupid.” Uliya says, clicking her tongue, arms crossed again.

    “I will not interfere. But find a solution quickly because I am not letting you sit on that throne under any circumstance. That is not negotiable.” Zir says flatly, rising from the bed.

    “Thank you for trusting me. And I should not have to say this, but this stays between us.” I add with a small smile they reluctantly return.

    “Of course.”

    “Yes.”

    “Good. Do we still have anything fun planned for the three of us?” I emphasise the last three words, poking gently at their terrible intervention opener.

    “Do not act smart,” Uliya mutters and walks out.

    “I will still be watching out for danger,” Zir says. I nod. That seems fair.

    “Also, unrelated but can I borrow some of your lightning beads in a couple of weeks? It is for—”

    “Of course. I do not need the full explanation. I trust you.” I cut him off before he can finish.

    He nods and disappears with a steady hand of magic.

    Crisis averted, for now.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 7 – Heirs, apparently


    The average Fyrge can live up to the age of thousand, as they age very slowly. Not all of us though, Demiurge is said to have marked certain bloodlines including ours with immortality and eternal youth, thus we are called godlings. These bloodlines weren’t picked on the basis of one’s status but rather the karma of their ancestors. Ours is said to have come from Rainesta Van Valhades, a princess that never married and devoted her life to serving her subjects with generosity.  

    I was born on a night where the constellations swirled and danced across the sky. They appeared to have wrapped themselves around the twin crescent moons, gold and silver aligning at the specific moment I was born. I was given the title — Prince of Stars and said to have been marked by Demiurge.

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

    ~ Uliya ~

    “I let my devotion for you swallow me whole and you threw me up in bits and pieces like I was nothing more than flesh waiting to be devoured. You shattered me, Sylve, and yet when you step into the room all I want to do is beg you to glance my way. To look at me with hope for something deeper. I am held transfixed by your ever-shining light while you shoot arrows into my heart without a flinch—”

    I am unable to finish the rest of the sentence as Zir rudely snatches his diary from my hands.

    “How many times must I tell you not to touch my personal belongings, Uliya. This is an encroachment on my private world and I do not appreciate it.” He says through clenched teeth before making it disappear with a flick of his magic. It is probably lying invisible on some shelf in his bedchamber back home now.

    Cecil and Yer cease their laughter at once. I had been entertaining them with a theatrical narration of the embarrassing unsent letters he wrote to Syveline after she broke his heart. I had found the last remaining box of Zir’s things yet to be sent home through thunder and figured I might find something useful to weaponise against him later.

    “I was looking for a snack and got distracted, starshine.” I offer with a flutter of my eyelids, feigning innocence. He would not fall for it, of course, because I picked “starshine” from another old letter where Syveline had used the word to manipulate him into giving her the rare emerald pendant he had originally gotten for Luminara’s birthday, exchanging it for a garnet one instead. I have never liked Syveline or the rest of her traitor family, but I will credit her for being impressively manipulative at fourteen. Nara ended up with the garnet one. Not that it made much difference — she has an ethereal aura that makes her infinitely more striking than anyone else in Fyrgen. Any jewel is fortunate to be worn by her, not the other way around.

    He glares at me in a way that communicates I cannot afford to irritate him again for at least a few hours. Sad, but manageable.

    “If you are done wasting time, it is time for us to leave for home.”

    “Ugh, fine.” I get up with an exaggerated sigh and gesture for Yer to perch on my shoulder.

    And all four of us are swallowed by lightning, journeying back to our roots.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Zir ~

    In a matter of seconds we are home. The sun sits low on the horizon as if welcoming us back from exile. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine and tuberose immediately, and the nostalgia of it nearly floors me. The incessant chanting of our names among the crowds makes me wonder how and why I ever left. Why was it never this enchanting during the last Council meeting I was forced to attend three years ago?

    “Why in the fallen angel’s pit did you bring us out through the back courtyard? Mama specifically asked you to stop us by the old coffee shop in the town square, where the dragon carriages are waiting to lead us through the crowds to the castle gates.” Uliya asks, eyes already narrowed.

    Cecil and Yer perch on the water fountain in front of us and tilt their heads with the same silent question.

    I click my tongue and get it out as quickly as possible. “Ah yes, about that. I feel slightly uncomfortable with the idea of parading through such close quarters with the entire population of Citrindally. So why don’t you all go? I will be in my bedchamber. See you at supper.”

    Just as I raise my hand to disappear, Cecil flies over and wraps his claws firmly around my fingers, restricting all movement. Then stares directly into my eyes with the bone-chilling bloodshot gaze I have only seen from him once before, and one that was fortunately not directed at me on that occasion.

    “Ziruth Van Larsson Valhades. I have tolerated many of your coldblood tantrums for the past six years. But I swear to Demiurge, if you try to rob me of the honour of accompanying you to this grand welcome ceremony by keeping up your reclusive ways, I will scratch your eyeballs out myself.”

    I swallow the whimper that naturally built in my throat and clear it with a cough, redirecting my gaze to the other two.

    “Always open to a change of plans,” I offer with a grimace. Uliya mutters “Loser” under her breath.

    Moments later,

    I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. It is taking every ounce of my being to keep smiling and waving to the crowds as we slip past them in the carriage. I was a fool to feel nostalgic prematurely. Uliya is in her element beside me though — she seemed nervous before but is clearly thriving on the attention now. This is the first public procession she is attending as a teenager. Mama forbade all of us from attending them before we turned thirteen, stating it would be too overwhelming for a child. Which in hindsight was a wonderful idea. I simply wish she had extended the rule until we were forty. Maybe I would be ready at forty.

    Cecil and Yer are rejoicing in the rumble seat, delighted for reasons beyond my comprehension. The good thing is I have effectively avoided being murdered by Cecil. The bond between an assigned companion and a royal runs deep enough for us to sense each other’s emotions and the tone of each other’s thoughts. So he cooled off instantly the moment he sensed I had genuinely been frightened by his threat. And I am fairly certain I even caught a flicker of guilt from him afterwards, while I used my magic to don the white three piece suit Mother had sent the moment she knew we were coming home. A ceremonial mantle is draped across my shoulders, its silver embroidery glinting in the sunlight. A pointed crown of dark sapphire sits low above my head.

    “Why are you not smiling?” Uliya says through her easy grin. Unlike my severe crown, hers is a delicate tiara of diamonds and pale gemstones resting lightly against her golden curls. She looks regal in flowing ivory layered with soft silver detailing that shimmers whenever she moves, the gown falling around her like moonlight. I notice she looks healthier than before. She is glowing like a true princess. I am glad we had that conversation.

    “How are you still smiling?” I respond sweetly, masking the agitation beneath it lest some passerby hear. Demiurge help me, why is everyone so close? It is suffocating.

    They are making our family dragon, Eltasessa — a colossal pale drake draped in gold ceremonial harnesses — crawl like a snail through the crowds. The earlier prospect of Cecil gauging my eyes out does not seem quite so terrible now. At least my eyes would not be subjected to the sight of this frenzied throng pressing in from all sides.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Uliya ~

    By the time we reach the palace gates and leave the crowds behind, my nervousness about coming home has completely dissipated. I was scared I would feel strange and anxious. But between the crowds cheering for our long lives so loudly the ground beneath us trembled, and the crimson and gold banners swaying between buildings bearing the words “Blood of Valhades, Strength of Our Realm,” I lost all the heavy feelings.

    The carriage rolls to a halt before the great twin-arched entryway, where the last gold light of evening stretches across the pale stone in long glowing bands. Beyond the gates, the great towers of Ivorvale climb into a deepening blue sky, their winter-white spires already beginning to catch the first hints of dusk.

    The other guards remain stationed in the causeway while our general, Master Hinjk, and Royal Commander Ilias step toward us from the entryway the moment we stop. The former moves to open Zir’s door while the latter opens mine with precision, both in near perfect unison. Then they step back and greet us with bows. I offer them both a smile.

    “Hello, Master Hinjk,” Zir says, then turns to the commander. “Ilias, I hope you have both been well.”

    “Better than ever. Our job is easier now that all the heirs we have sworn to protect are in one place,” Hinjk adds with a smile of his own and Zir laughs. They lead us through the entryway toward the throne room where our parents await. Cecil and Yer slip away for their own communion with Agnes.

    As we proceed I notice how different yet unchanged the palace looks from the inside. I can barely bring myself to remember some of the rooms, which is strange. Is ten really that young an age?

    “The western wing was rebuilt after you left, your highness,” Ilias answers from behind me, sensing my confusion.

    “Oh.”

    “As per the letter, is this not the solarium where you and—?” I whisper to Zir, pointing left, and am immediately rewarded with a deathly glare.

    “Keep your brazen mouth shut and stay out of my private affairs. Also, you cannot remember anything else but you recall this specific detail?” He delivers the threat in a matched whisper, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. Ilias coughs behind us while Master Hinjk pretends to be absorbed in the hallway artwork.

    A small laugh escapes me despite my best efforts to stay civil. Several maids and guards bow as we pass. He glares at me some more. It is so satisfying to get under his skin.

    Soon we are in the central throne room. The council members are seated on either side. Our parents sit at the far end, currently speaking with a female and her child who have come to request compensation for grain lost to a storm the week before.

    Mama looks radiant as ever, the silver and gold crown gleaming above her head. Her long golden hair has been neatly gathered into a bun that catches the light like the sun itself. She has worn a beautiful lilac brocade gown today with heavy drapes and elongated sleeves. To others she may be blessed with the sun god’s energy, but to me she has always been the sun embodied.

    Father sits beside her with his usual unreadable expression. He looks the same whether happy, sad, angry, calm or excited, so it is always difficult to tell. He has adorned a black sovereign robe of weighted silk with the thin but pointed iron and gold crown he reserves for throne room appearances. Soft brown boots beneath his crisp black trousers.

    Mama nods to the treasurer standing beside her and he presents the female with a translucent bag of copper coins.

    “Here is a little something for your troubles. I pray to Demiurge that your harvest comes out bountiful next time.”

    “Thank you, your majesty, for having such a generous heart.” They both bow and leave through the side gate reserved for the public.

    “Let us go,” Zir taps my palm from beside me and I realise we have been standing at the door by ourselves. Hinjk and Ilias must have slipped away.

    The public has cleared with the coming evening. Only the guards and maids remain stationed on either side. The moment we begin walking toward our parents, the pianist in the corner starts playing and the guards and maids begin throwing silver petals at us — an old Fyrgen welcoming tradition. This must absolutely have been my mother’s idea. I smother a laugh building in my throat thinking of how much Zir must be suffering and keep my face perfectly straight.

    We lower our gazes and bow in unison when we are right before them.

    “Your Majesties,” we say together. Performing for the room. If it were not for everyone watching I would run to my mother and never let go again.

    “Mhm. What brings you younglings here today?” Father says with that same unreadable expression, though I know he is teasing us. Mother smiles lightly, playing along, her eyes full of quiet affection.

    Before I can say anything Zir is already speaking.

    “Forgive my incompetence in handling such a petty matter myself, your Majesty. But I came here to beg for justice.”

    “In regard to what?”

    “This female standing beside me killed my sheep in broad daylight.”

    Mama adds a dramatic gasp. “Such a heinous crime. What do you have to say for yourself, lass?”

    I shake my head solemnly. “It was a grave mistake, your Majesty. I went to kill this simpleton and got his poor sheep by accident.”

    For a silent moment nobody says anything. Then all four of us laugh together. It feels as though there is nobody else in the room and I realise how deeply I have missed them.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Zir ~

    After meeting our parents and a brief introduction to the seated council members, we dispersed to our individual bedchambers for rest and a change of clothes before the welcome dinner in the private dining hall.

    Our bedchambers were also moved as part of the western wing renovation. Mine is a new one on the third floor now, Uliya’s a level below, though not too far — because my mother had another brilliant idea. Brilliant in her terms. Overbearing in mine. She had a spiral staircase connected from my balcony to Uliya’s, so we can easily access each other in case of an emergency. Us. The pair that lived in separate houses for years in the human world and have companions primarily for this exact purpose.

    “Mama always takes it one notch beyond my patience,” I say, collapsing onto the long sofa in the antechamber and kicking my shoes off the moment the door closes behind me.

    “What did she do?” Cecil pauses mid-sip from his pitcher on the mantelpiece. He was not back yet when Mama delivered this horrible news and I asked her why she remains so committed to ruining my life.

    “Go and look at the balcony. There is a staircase connecting our room to Uliya’s below. It is despicable. Prisoner-like treatment handed to her own son—”

    I stop rubbing my forehead when I realise Cecil has simply flown out. I was not finished speaking.

    I am about to call after him when he flies back in, cawing with visible excitement.

    “What are you so happy about?” I ask, irritated. Did he hear a single word I said?

    “Such proximity to Yer. If she ever needs me I can reach her within seconds. This is the best day of my life.” He literally wraps his wings around himself, savouring the thought.

    “Are you out of your mind? I was telling you how agonising this is for me and you are celebrating my misery. What grave crime must I have committed in a past life to be given such a shameless, self-serving raven as my companion?”

    “Must I indulge your cynicism at all times? I have a life separate from yours.” He dismisses me by turning his head away in that infuriating manner he has perfected, knowing full well it gets under my skin.

    “What life? You are a bird sworn to look after me.” I half-shout and seriously consider throwing the crystal figurine from the coffee table at him, when there is a knock at the door.

    “Who is it?” I ask, composing myself.

    “Luminara.”

    Of course. I had sent for her earlier and then forgotten entirely. I get up, put my shoes back on, and open the door.

    “Thank Demiurge for sending you, Lume, I—” The words dry up in my mouth. I take in her whole appearance. She has always been beautiful but now her face has matured so much in the past three years. She looks absolutely devastating. When did her raven hair grow long enough to reach below her waist? Her light brown, silver-rimmed eyes catch the lamplight as she looks up at me. Her skin has caught up with her name, illuminated as though the moon painted her face with its own light. It takes genuine effort to look up.

    “Yes, Zir, I have fuller breasts now, can you stop staring?” She leans in and says it with narrowed eyes and I immediately step back, gesturing her inside.

    I scoff and close the door behind us.

    “I was simply taking notice of my friend’s matured face. Leave it to you to make me sound like a pervert instead of saying hello after three whole years.”

    She laughs in that easy, loud, unhurried way of hers and settles into the spot I had just vacated. Comforting to know my friend has not entirely changed.

    “It is so easy to ruffle your feathers, godling. You should work on that,” she says casually, drawing her legs together at the sofa’s edge.

    I notice only now how stunning her long-sleeved mauve gown is, in its simplicity. A black opal necklace and matching earrings.

    “Cecil does not like that phrase so please use it more often,” I say, settling at the opposite end.

    She glances around. “I would oblige, your highness, but he does not appear to be here.”

    “He is just there on the mantel—” I look over my shoulder to point him out but of course Cecil has gone.

    “Never mind, leave him. He is currently honouring his freedom and individuality.”

    She leans back, confusion on her face. “Assigned companions have that?”

    I nod with feeling. “Everyone but me lately, Lume. You would not believe what new torture my mother has subjected me to.”

    She clicks her tongue. “Well, knowing the queen, it has to be something interesting.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Uliya ~

    After meeting our parents I came straight to my bedchamber, not even bothering to look at the beautiful high teak shelves stacked on all three walls with my books in the antechamber. I just had Yer pull my back zipper down with her beak and collapsed onto the bed.

    “I just want to rest and skip dinner entirely. Does that make me a bad daughter?” I say, face half buried in the pillow.

    “No, it makes you a reasonable person. You have been up and about since morning, Ul. Rest a little before we leave.” Yer says from the desk in the corner where she has settled herself.

    I rest my eyes for a few minutes before there is a knock at the door.

    “Hello, may I ask who this is?” Yer calls out politely. I wish I had her patience.

    “Kushiana. I am coming in.”

    I hear her approaching footsteps and look over my shoulder.

    She is already dressed. Her dark brown medium length hair has been styled into a thick braid with dandelions lined through the plaits. She has adorned a sleeveless black shimmery gown with a sweetheart neckline resting just below her long collarbone, a double layered georgette skirt falling beneath it. Her eyes are lined with kohl, accentuating her pretty green almond shaped eyes. No jewellery except the magnificent blue sapphire ring she often wears. My sister is so unbothered about her clothes yet always stands out.

    I turn over and gasp. “You are drenched in beauty from top to bottom. How will the bachelors at our table eat without choking?”

    She sidelines the compliment with a slight wave of her hand. Right — on top of everything else, she is also incredibly modest.

    She comes and sits beside me at the edge of the bed. “I came to see if you needed anything. Did the maids bring your dress?”

    “Not yet. The new seamstress cast a single look at me from the far end of the lobby and disappeared, leaving Yer with a message that she needs to fix my corset.”

    Kushiana caresses the top of my head, smiling. “Well that is a good thing. You are going to fill in better now.”

    I cringe. “Was it that obvious?”

    She nods. “I wanted to say something that day but I lost my temper and left before I could. I am sorry about the outburst. You did not deserve it. Zir perhaps deserved a little of it. He is an unyielding prick.”

    I laugh. “Yes he is. And it is fine, we have forgotten about it.”

    She starts to say something and stops. I take her hands in mine.

    “Whatever you choose, we support you. Do not worry about anything. We will be here now.”

    “I will not worry, if you two promise not to get in my way,” she says flatly.

    I pout. “I cannot promise that. Do not be an unreasonable elder sister.”

    She smiles and pinches the tip of my nose. “Then neither can I. Let us talk about something else, Ul.”

    “Alright. Are you still training with Hinjk?”

    She nods and leans back on her elbows. “Yes, we trained on the enormous staircase in the Citadel today. Completely destroyed my calves.”

    “Sounds horrendous. I ask because now that I am back I need to start training again as well. I find him slightly intimidating so I am trying to figure out who to approach.”

    Also because I remain wary of everyone in the palace after the Apateus incident. I say nothing of this since Kushiana does not know either.

    She looks up in thought. “It cannot be me, I am always occupied with training or some royal duty. We could ask one of the guards, but I do not think they could help beyond physical training — your thralling power is a little complex for anyone outside the family to understand. Actually, why not go to Luminara? Who better?”

    Luminara had trained alongside Kushiana under Hinjk until two years ago, after which she began self-training to focus more on her magic and herb alchemy. And I have always trusted her completely, which makes the idea of training together feel easy rather than daunting.

    I squeal. “Of course, why did I not think of her? She is perfect and she would never say no!” I pull Kushiana into a hug. “Thank you, I love you.”

    She pats my back like I am a lost dog who has wandered in from the rain, forcing a “love you too” out in her crispest voice. Both my siblings are completely incapable of receiving affection for some reason. Arguments they cherish. Absolute idiots.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

                                                          ~ Kushiana ~

    For dinner we all gathered in the dining hall of the western wing, built entirely of rose quartz, its walls catching the warmth of the candlelight and throwing it back in soft blush tones. A large chandelier of white crystals resembling lilies hangs high above the table, casting everything below in a pale silver glow.

    It was initially my suggestion that we keep it a private family dinner, but our parents decided a small feast was more fitting. The council members, Master Hinjk and Royal Commander Ilias had all expressed their wish to be part of the celebration and raise a glass to Zir and Uliya’s return after so long. I understood the reasoning, even if I would have preferred otherwise.

    In truth I am not entirely opposed to the company. A fuller table gives Zir fewer opportunities to say something provoking and cause a scene. Here he is required to be on his best behaviour, and Luminara sitting to his right has his attention well occupied regardless. She is visibly happy to have her closest friend back after three years. He is happier than I have seen him in a long time, which is unsurprising given she is the only true friend he has here, courtesy of his reclusive nature.

    Father sits at the head of the long rectangular table. Mother has chosen the seat to his left this evening rather than her usual place at the foot. I am seated beside her, with Uliya to my right. Zir sits to Uliya’s right and Luminara to his. Across from Uliya and me sit Hinjk and Ilias, and beyond them the High Councillor, with the remaining six noble house and council members spread across both sides of the table to the foot.

    Our companions have chosen to remain in our private chambers as they do for most meals, to keep our thoughts from drifting back to work and correspondence so we can eat in peace. They tend to use these breaks to convene amongst themselves.

    For a moment I let the warmth of the conversation wash over me, watching everyone at the table. The meal begins with a toast from Father. “Here is to my beloved wains returning home. I pray to Demiurge that we share many more dinners like this one. To Zir and Uliya.”

    I notice both my siblings are genuinely glad to be back. Uliya grabs my idle hand in hers with barely contained excitement, and Zir offers me a small smile that reaches his eyes as we raise our glasses.

    I am glad to have them here too. But the fear of the hex still looms. I hope I do not carry it toward them. They are mine to protect. I cannot remember a time when they were not.

    “Kush, want to split a wishbone?” Uliya beams at me, lifting it from her plate. The turkey was delectable this evening.

    “Sure.” We both pull and she ends up with the larger half.

    She shrieks with delight, completely unaware that my wish was for all of hers to come true.

    I simply smile.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • 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.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • 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.”

  • Chapter 1 – Blood Is Thicker Than Doom

    Fyrgen legend says that the Oprendelse was destroyed by a great shaking of the land. An act of Demiurge to bring King Lars to justice for his abominable actions, which led to the death of the two lovers. Over the years that followed, the royal dynasty of Valhades slowly restored their power, and the beautiful all-white marble castle of Ivorvale was built. A picturesque fortress amongst the teeming city of Citrindally, born out of a political debacle that led to the formation of Fyrgen as an independent continent, ruled by the Valhades and the Council.

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

    ~Zir~

    Growing up, I always hated the sound of my name rolling off tongues. Deemed it too commonplace in our lands and faith. Being somebody who always wanted to be extraordinary, I despised that my parents chose it out of the myriad of names that would have suited me far better. I often brought it up to them, reasoning that if they wanted to identify me in a bustling crowd by shouting it out loud, a minimum of fifteen males would answer — and none of them would be me, by the way. Because I hate crowds. Anyhow, their answers remained: “Hardly anybody would refer to you by your name, son,” and “I would love to lose you in a crowd if that means you’d stop asking me that question.” Regardless, I kept popping that question until I turned ten.

    Because that’s when I first heard my name from her mouth. The two syllables turned into an enchanting melody that held me in its wake — as though that were the most beautiful thing I had ever heard uttered. But then again, Slyveline Havburth has a knack for turning everything mundane into the most exquisite experience. Or she did. Who can tell? It’s been five years since our last exchanged letter, and ages since her kin made the dreadful choice that tore us apart.

    My thoughts are cut short by the ringing of the telephone on the side table. I set my tome down and lean off the edge of the sofa, pulling it by the string.

    “Hello?”

    “Please don’t tell me you’re up thinking of her at this hour again.”

    One sentence in and she’s already thrown a jab my way. Perfect start to yet another harmonious conversation with my sister.

    “I’m not — and you certainly need to find a better way to greet your older brother, Uliya.”

    “A stark white lie, uttered confidently in the darkness of the night. You do love finding contradictions everywhere, older brother.”

    She makes the last two words sound worse than any profanity in history.

    “Hold your delightful tongue for a moment and tell me why you called. I have no desire to be met with your absurd enquiries past midnight. Or ever, for that matter.”

    An image of her clicking her tongue flashes in my mind as she takes a slight pause, then continues.

    “Easily triggered, as usual. Regardless, we have bigger issues at hand. I received some correspondence from Father today.”

    “Yeah? What did he say?”

    “He wants us back home for the festival next month.”

    “Why is he making a request as though it’s something special this year?”

    “There was no request, and it is special. Kushiana is old enough to take over. We’ll have her crowning ceremony soon.”

    A complete daze clouds my senses at her words. How could I forget?

    “Are you still there?”

    “Yes, yes. Forgive me. I don’t know how it slipped my mind.”

    “Probably because you lather it so thoroughly with the past.”

    “Save the cruel jokes for another evening. This is a big thing. Have you heard from her?”

    “Not in the last two weeks. She mentioned finishing her final trial then.”

    “I should speak to her. She’s stepping into something she might end up resenting for life, if we still have her after it.”

    Her dramatic sigh is audible through the phone.

    “I doubt it will make a difference. She’s set her mind on it. Earlier I believed she was willing to sacrifice her own freedom in exchange for ours, but now I’m certain she’s doing it out of pure intention. She’s weirdly hopeful about the choice.”

    “Well, that’s her decision, however inane. But I should at least make the attempt — and if it falls against her unwavering commitment, so be it. She already carries the responsibility of being the eldest so gracefully. The least we can do is support her if she still chooses against our wishes.”

    The voice on the other end has worn out considerably under the weight of our conversation. “Hmph. Let me know how that goes.” Uliya adds quietly, and hangs up.

    ~ Kushiana ~

    Here I stand, staring out the window of my bedchamber, wondering where I might be headed today for my training, when a double knock at the door brings me back to reality.

    “Come forth.”

    As per tradition, Katherine appears from the other end. The years may have brought a speck of maturity to her facial features, but her childlike innocence still gleams the same within them. If it weren’t for her drab, straight silky gowns, she could easily be mistaken for one of our kin. With the thick crown of black hair woven tight enough to bring the right amount of exposure to her soft features, she’d fit right in. I noted that a long time ago. It might be helpful someday.

    She bows in greeting.

    I turn back to the window, too drawn to the peaceful sunny sky to look away.

    “What news, Katherine?”

    “Your Royal Highness.”

    Her voice is its usual melody, blending into the atmosphere as though she were a part of nature itself.

    “Master Hinjk has politely conveyed that today’s training session stands cancelled. He’s left for Tyutir to tend to his ailing mother.”

    I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I may have grown accustomed to training as a means to keep my mind alive over the years, but any break that comes my way, rare as it may be, is wholeheartedly welcomed. Of course, this shan’t be a problem once I’m crowned — I doubt I will live long enough to fight anyone afterwards.

    “Very well. Any message from Father?”

    “I’m afraid not. He’s still sitting with the council.”

    “Alright. I shall rest then. You may leave.”

    “Apologies, but there’s a messenger for you.”

    I turn around in surprise. Only because it has been so long.

    “Send them up immediately.”

    She nods and slips out with a subtle bow, quick enough on her feet to put lightning to shame.

    Seconds later, a serene ultramarine blue raven appears on the balcony banister. The sunlight bounces off the sapphire fixed at his neck as he bows in greeting.

    “Long time no see, Cecil. I hope my brother is keeping well?”

    “Certainly, Your Highness. I bear no bad news.”

    Raspy as his voice is, it is music to my ears. He is my brother’s truest companion, and it has been ages since I last heard from him. The longing is exceptionally cruel when you are separated from someone you were used to seeing every day.

    “Speak freely.”

    He nods once.

    “Prince Zir has requested your presence at your earliest convenience. He’d like to convene in private with you and Princess Uliya. He apologises for not coming in person. Prior commitments make it impossible for him to travel until the coming full moons.”

    I take a moment to consider it. What could the two of them possibly want to discuss so promptly?

    “I shall be available there this evening. Tell them to clear their schedules. I shan’t stay long. That’s all.”

    “Duly noted.”

    I offer him a brief smile of dismissal, and he flies out immediately.

    Royal companions cannot lie, so I know it is not bad news, but he could always come bearing a cry for help. Demiurge, protect the tiny ones from deals with the wicked.