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Like two stars in orbit, they had been aware of each other long before they ever had the chance to speak. Yes, they exchanged pleasantries, but at political meetings and ceremonies, they never found the opportunity to truly talk.
But certainly, they were aware of each other.
---
Epheotus was a land of unchanging beauty, but Sylvia believed Dicathen to have its own charms, too. A fascination that her mother had always encouraged, even behind her father’s back. How were we to properly guide our subjects if we always stay separate from them? Myre Indrath would always say. A king who knows nothing of his people will find himself ousted from the throne.
And perhaps a small part of her enjoyed the concept of sneaking about behind one parent’s back and disobeying his word, even if she technically had permission of the other.
And so, unlike most Asuras, Sylvia Indrath would put aside her pride, don a guise of human flesh, and explore the realms below. Her Clan would turn up their nose at the lessers living in squalor, their mana arts non-existent and their technology laughable, but where they saw patheticness and weakness, she saw grit and determination. Even in the face of Mana Beasts far more powerful than they, even incapable of setting down roots, they insisted on not just surviving but living.
Whenever separate parties met, they would trade for what they lacked. Offer advice and good cheer. Even in the darkest nights, they’d sit around crackling campfires and tell stories-- about heroes, gods, monsters. About the weak, who through cunning and trickery always bested the strong.
Compared to the high halls of the Asuras, who lived in the height of comfort and luxury, snug in their superiority, there was no contest. No spirit could compare to these lessers-- no, these humans, and elves, and dwarves.
Whenever she had a spare moment, she found herself sneaking down to Alacrya and Dicathen to observe them, sometimes to even travel with them for a brief time.
But despite their shared passtime, it took a few decades for their paths to cross.
---
There is a saying that the very purest hatred and anger is, itself, a form of innocence.
---
Sylvia Indrath first met Agrona Vritra on the floating piece of land that the mortals would one day call Xyrus City.
“Lord Vritra,” she had said. “I hadn’t expected to see you here. Do you not have emissaries, to guide the lessers in your stead?”
“Princess Sylvia. I could say the same of you,” he’d responded. “Doesn’t your father have messengers and couriers to act as his own emissaries, rather than his cherish daughter?”
“Ah-- this is not a mission to guide the lessers,” Agrona admitted. “It began from one, which the late Lord Vritra sent me on many, many years ago, but I must admit. Curiosity has always been my greatest flaw, and it draws me back to this place, again and again. Normally I’d be adverse to admitting my flaws before the Princess of the Indrath, but I believe it’s one we have in common.”
Sylvia released a small chuckle. “Curiosity? And what would I be so curious about, Sir Vritra?”
Agrona gestured to the view at the island’s edge. All of Dicathen sprawled out below them. “What do you make of it, Princess?”
She glanced over the scene. “It’s a beautiful view. But it’s not so different from Epheotus itself.”
“And there, we must disagree.”
“That the view isn’t beautiful?”
“No-- though it certainly has competition. If one examines closely, it’s actually quite different from Epheotus-- how is Epheotus kept aloft, Princess? Why does it not simply smash into the ocean, or fall upon the earthbound continents?”
“They say after Akranus Indrath slew Geolus, he and his descendants flapped their wings to bear him aloft into the sky. It’s understood to be an artful way of saying they used aether. I had always assumed pieces fell, such as this one.”
“But if you take a closer look, the type of stone that makes up Geolus does not match the type of stone that makes up this isle.”
Sylvia turned back to Agrona. There had always been a strange gravity to the man. His appearance and choice of words was always well put-together and exquisitely cared for, but that wasn’t so strange in the halls of Epheotus. No, the thing that seemed to draw the whole Vritra Clan, and many outside of it, to him was the sharp intensity that fired his movements. With the age when gods were challenged and warred with each other long past, passion became something severely lacking amongst the asuras, yet Agrona Vritra brimmed with it. Even now, Sylvia could see a flood of information, of research and topics he longed spill to someone, if she just opened the floodgates.
The man could talk for ages, she was sure. But the way he spoke made that sound incredibly appealing.
“Agrona Vritra,” she said, feeling out the sense of his name in her mouth, “are you proposing that something other than the Indrath Clan set this island to float?”
---
There was a period when, as in every romance, all seemed right with the world. The warmth of love cast a hazy, rose-tinted glow over everything in Sylvia’s life. And for a time, she thought that would be enough. Even her father seemed more tolerable. And Agrona, Agrona was wonderful. A silver tongue and a mind like gold, he made the occasional meetings between the rulers of the Great Eight Clans seem to come to life.
But as every rose-tinted lens, it made the cracks in the infrastructure too hard to see, until it was all much too late. There was many a time where Sylvia found Agrona wide-eyed and sleepless, poring over notes and documents. At times like these, Sylvia only sighed, and tried to bundle her lover into bed.
“Those ruins have waited over a thousand years, undisturbed,” she’d tell him. “I’m sure they can wait for you a little longer.”
His reaction would vary. Some evenings he would exhaustedly nod and follow her back to bed. Others, he would snap at her, tell her that he was on the verge of triangulating the locations of ruins which none had laid eyes on in centuries. Lost technology, ages of glory, irrevocable proof that the lessers were more than any Asura had ever bothered to care for.
Still. Those years were, in her mind, frozen in the amber of nostalgia, crystallized as ‘the good years.’ No matter how many cracks appeared in the foundation, this label could never change.
Indeed, compared to what was to come, they were the good years. When nothing was truly set in stone, and whatever tragedy may strike, she could easily weather it in the hazy battleground of imagination.
---
By the time Sylvia’s world had crumbled around her, it was as if she’d been the last to know.
Everything had happened so fast, she wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking. Wasn’t sure if she’d been thinking at all. The first thing she knew was that she was flying, flying towards Alacrya. Like sleet, knowledge bombarded her. A list of what had happened, rather than true memories.
She was pregnant. Agrona had left. Agrona had had inappropriate relations with lessers, cruel experiments-- her father was putting together a strike team to kill Agrona.
That wasn’t possible. That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t just childish denial-- she had been with him, on those visits to the lower realms. There was no way he’d had time to do such things, not without her knowledge! This was a silly rumor, spread into a misunderstanding. It must be.
She’d make Kezess see that. But first, she needed to arrive in Alacrya before the assassination team. She needed to ensure her betrothed was safe, and then they could go to Kezess and settle this. Together.
Whatever would come, they would weather it as long as they were together.
---
It seemed impossible that the ground could give out below her twice in one day, destroying the world she thought she’d known. And yet, somehow, it had. It taught her a lesson she would never again forget:
Nothing is impossible.
---
Beyond reason or thought, the first thing she did when she saw Agrona was hug him. And similarly reacting on instinct, Agrona’s first reaction was to throw her to the floor.
“Agrona, wha--”
“Did you know?” he hissed, claws out and to her neck. “Did you know what he did? Did he send you to me to seduce me, to assassinate me? Did Kezess tell you to guide me away from it?”
Sylvia couldn’t fight back. “Agrona, what-- what are you talking about?” she stammered.
The next thing she knew, she had been locked within a dungeon.
---
A few days later, and Agrona had released her. Instructed her to be escorted to one of his far more comfortable rooms, for a proper discussion. Only the best for his fiancee.
Sylvia Indrath had been in the castle before, though it felt like a completely different place now. Agrona’s hideaway had not been constructed in a single night, or even recently. Rather, it had been slowly built, from Alacryan visit to visit. He spent much time in these realms, after all. May as well make himself comfortable. And it had been comfortable, in her past visit. A place of rest, a treasure trove of knowledge teeming with old tomes and artifacts.
Now it felt cold and alien, despite the plush chairs she sat on.
Agrona, too, had changed. He looked more composed now, compared to when they had first reunited. There was that old, familiar intensity in his eyes, but that, too, had changed. Somehow it felt… moreso.
“Sylvia,” Agrona had said. “I apologize for your… initial treatment. I hadn’t expected you to come all this way.”
As though she were merely an unexpected neighbor who had dropped by.
“Did you have something to tell me?” he asked.
“I did,” Sylvia said. “My father. He’s sent an elite team of dragons after you. Placed a bounty on your head.”
Agrona gave no outward reaction to her words, merely sat and digested them. “I see.” He stood. “Excuse me while I gather refreshments. It seems we have a great deal to discuss.”
---
Life in Agrona’s castle felt like a dream. Not in the sense that it was idyllic and wonderful, but in the sense that nothing felt real. She saw less and less of the man she would have married, even when they were in the same room, as he prepared for the approaching group.
She left her father, her family, behind for this. She’d thought, once, that no one could understand her desires better than Agrona Vritra. That no one could be more enchanting than he. Foolishly she believed she could easily leave everything she had ever known behind for good, if it meant a lifetime with her beloved, but having done precisely that, she had never felt more alone. And in her loneliness, she began to explore the castle.
Back in those old days, exploring the castle had felt like an adventure, new discoveries lurking around every corner. Now there was a new tension in the air. An electricity that danced across her spine. The ground had been swept out from under her feet, and she slowly grew more and more uncertain about what she could believe. What would she learn now? Though Agrona’s words rang true in her heart, and though she believed she should support her heart, something felt… off. Wrong. Something about the fire in his eyes. What would she uncover if she dug a little deeper?
Then she discovered the laboratory.
---
The laboratory was clean.
There were neatly organized shelves, filled with rows and rows of jars. Neatly labeled, explaining in crisp, clear handwriting what their taxidermied contents were. Crystallized mana were set alongside them, glowing in soft and entrancing hues. Beside those shelves were bookshelves. Heaping bound volumes, some full of well-reasoned and logical notes, some brimming with a spider-scrawl of dreams and mania.
Opposite those shelves was a sink. Tools and scalpels and tweezers sat on a countertop beside it, drying after being cleaned.
In the center were a series of tables, scrubbed until they sparkled under the overhead mana-lights. Restraints lined them. Neck. Elbows. Wrists. Waist. Thighs. Ankles. An ingenious contraption, which could be adjusted to fit a subject’s size. Under the table the floor was slanted at an angle, a small drain set at the lowest portion.
It was just so… clean. Sylvia could hardly believe it had ever been touched. If not for the notes. The jars. The rumors.
The rumors.
---
He hadn’t lied to her.
He just hadn’t told her that he was more than prepared for an attempt on his life. That he’d already been prepared to strike first, and strike hard.
Everything she’d helped him with, she’d only increased his pace a little.
---
The Asuras believed themselves superior to the lessers in a number of ways. The ease of pregnancy was one of the very, very few ways that Sylvia unfortunately found herself agreeing with other Asuras. While it too longer for a newborn Asura to be born than an infant human, elf, or dwarf, the birth itself was much simpler. Bloodless, and more painless. It would have been easy to hide.
Had she only realized she should have hidden it from Agrona.
---
Agrona’s castle had guards. But during the battle between Agrona’s forces and Kezess’, they would be distracted by battle and bloodshed, and by making sure none of the dragons could possible escape.
It would be her one and only chance.
Agrona had locked her up in the cell again. For her own safety, he had said. For her safety, and that of his unborn child.
She didn’t doubt it. But she’d come to learn things, in the months she’d spent here. Sylvia had not been idle. She’d read all of Agrona’s notes, as quietly as she could. Had done some of her own experimenting, as she internalized what Agrona had learned about aether. What he planned to do with that knowledge.
Between those notes and her intrinsic instinct, she was probably the member of the Indrath clan most skilled in the usage of aether right now. She could only hope it would be enough-- she doubted it would be.
Aevum. Her father’s branch. Combined with her own gift for Spatium. She was nowhere skilled with the former as her father was, but the collision of the battle, expertly folded space, and a few well-placed Static Voids allowed her to escape the eyes of the guards. Just in case, though, changing her shape to more closely resemble a Basilisk’s rather than a Dragon’s would also give her a superficial disguise. For a brief moment, she was certain she could get away.
Getting away… she’d been so certain if she could just manage that, she wouldn’t need to think about anything else. But no, that was a foolish way of thinking. It was what had landed her in this mess to begin with. She needed to figure out what to do, where to go, as quickly as possible. She couldn’t stay in Alacrya. She was unwilling to return to Epheotus. So her only choice would be…
“Sylvia?” a familiar, smooth voice echoed. “Where are you going? How did you get out?”
With his newfound attempts to understand aether, it should not surprise her that he’d still find a way to catch on, regardless.
Again, she folded space. Expanded the hall between herself and Agrona, pinched the space between herself and the next room, and stepped forward. Then released the condensed space, returning it to its original length.
“Cadell. Don’t let her escape,” Agrona ordered, and Sylvia took that as her cue to leave. “Bring back what she stole.”
And that, more than anything else she had witnessed, told her that the man she had once loved was dead. In his place, a man with his memories and face, his intelligence and wit, but none of his kindness. None of the innocent fascination he’d once held for the mortal races and their accomplishments. All of that was gone.
Had she more time, deeper understanding of the things she’d read, the things aether could do, perhaps that would have been it. She could fold space like putty and paper, entrap Agrona in a warped parody of his own castle, prevent her from pursuing him, from his deranged dreams. But she was already pushing at her own limits.
And those limits were too easy for Agrona and his underlings to overcome.
Within what seemed like the blink of an eye, the man he had called for-- Cadell-- had caught up to her. The first strike, she dodged, warping space to avoid it. She turned tail, and fled as swiftly as she could. Trying to flee, to navigate, to avoid other Basilisks or lessurans while also keeping an eye on Cadell and avoiding his blows was a feat worthy of the ancient dragons, but Sylvia didn’t have time to compare herself with them. Each strike, missing her flesh by a mere hair’s breadth, caused her to sweat and tremble. Any second, she felt as though she might collapse, and then it would all be over. She ducked into another room, panting as silently as she could. She would catch her breath, rest, and sharpen her resolve until she could escape without fainting or collapsing.
“Lady Sylvia, you’re being ridiculous,” Cadell’s voice rang down the hall. “Neither you, nor Lord Agrona, wish to drag this out. Nor do either of you wish for unnecessary pain. We haven’t treated you poorly during your stay here.”
No. They hadn’t. Plush carpets, fine meals, comfortable bedding. All the books she could ever read, close proximity to the mortal races she had always cared for. It seemed the perfect gilded cage, a far cry from the dungeons she had first been kept in.
But it was a cage regardless.
She held her breath, and held silent. It was only when Cadell’s footsteps had passed the door and faded down the hall that she gulped down more air. Then she was on the move again.
When she finally saw the exit, her heart nearly burst out of her chest. Almost there, almost free. Then she could fly away to Dicathen and… hide.
A lifetime of hiding. Of plotting her next move. Of waiting until it would be safe her unborn child to live any sort of life, where Agrona and Kezess would not hang over their heads as threats.
It wouldn’t be any sort of life she could force onto her child. A child who she’d hoped would grow up with the kindness and cleverness and curiosity of its father. But it would be a life she chose for herself-- not Agrona, not Kezess. A life that was framed in the doorway, that showed a blue sky just barely in reach. She rushed to the door, shifting back into dragonshape as she did so.
And then her entire chest was on fire.
Another of Agrona’s… experiments was there. Was waiting for her.
It was one of the things she had loved about him. How meticulous he was, how he had to oversee every project and task personally, devoting almost lovely care. But of course that same meticulousness would work against her now. Of course he wouldn’t just loose Cadell within the castle, but would also safeguard each and every entrance and exit, to prevent anything from going wrong.
Now her chest was shattered. An ugly gash weeping blood sat across it, staining her pristine scales a dark red, and it was all she could do to gasp and struggle for breath. When freedom was so close.
So, so close.
With every breath, pain lanced through her torso. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to fly to another continent-- certainly wouldn’t be able to get past this guard. He looked weaker than Cadell, smaller. Maybe if she were fighting at full capacity, she could deal with him easily enough. But not like this. Not when he had successfully ambushed her.
“Lady Sylvia. I didn’t expect that you would get this far,” the guard said. “But you won’t get any further.”
She resisted the urge to back up. It was exactly what the guard-- and through him, Agrona-- wanted from her. She couldn’t be captured again. Even if it was only to live long enough to hide her child, she had to escape, to hold on just a little while longer. She desperately looked into the exposed sky, praying for something she had overlooked.
“Behind you,” she gasped.
The guard raised a solitary brow. “Really, Lady Sylvia? The oldest trick in the book. Do I look that du--”
“Princess!”
Another dragon, its scales red with blood both draconic and basilisk-- one from the team her father had sent, she could only assume-- tackled the guard from behind, and began to claw and bite. At once the two were primal animals, killing each other in the most brutal way possible.
Sylvia didn’t recognize the dragon. Didn’t thank the stranger that had come to kill her would-be-husband, that had most likely died to save her life. She took the opportunity it presented. She fled into the endless sky.
She was fortunate the dragons were predominantly gliders. With every flap of her wings, her body screamed. With every breath, it pleaded for rest. But there would be no rest, if she ever wanted to escape Agrona and Kezess’ thumbs. If she wanted her child to grow up outside their manipulations and war games.
Make it to Dicathen. Hide. Recover. Heal herself.
She was an adult. In body, in age, now fully in mind. She was a mother herself now. But for what would not be the last time, she missed her own mother.
Despite her attempts to study it from Agrona’s notes, despite her talent for Spatium and tentative grasp of Aevum, she sensed deep down she would never understand Vivum enough to heal and erase this gash.