To Whom You May Recall

by quinstonslab

Summary:

After years of living in a grand, royal lifestyle, young Linked discovers a secret his father has been hiding. Family separations, territory disputes, and weird dreams that haunt not just him, but his older brother too. Now, Linked is on his way to find out the truth behind everything, learn who his family is, and maybe find love along the way.

(EDIT: I'll do my best to update this, tight schedule these days since I got a job but I'll try getting chapters out in an orderly fashion!!)

Notes:

• For noveggies.

I've been rewriting this book for months I'm so sorry for the wait I'm rolling around screaming and crying

Chapter 1: No Dream Is Truly Yours

Cold, frigid ice, its gleam a sight to see. Every inch of me paled and shaken while I lay on a soft blanket of fresh powder. No eyes dared to lay upon me, not as the snow fell in those moments.

Everything ached, from my back to my shoulders, all the way up to my head that pounded like a hammer does to steel. The sky was not blue like my memory, replacing it was a teary dark gray, snowflakes slowly falling while the wind rushed gently through my body. Its hiss loud and frightening.

My body is still, the feeling of pain striking right through me as I lay within the comfort of the frigid white powder. But, even through the comfort, something felt horribly wrong.

It was then that I peered down through my eyes glassed with snowflakes on my lashes and my hand reached to my stomach. But, with horror, I touched nothing but warmth that shouldn’t have existed. A gory, stomach-churning type of warmth.

When my hand lifted from its place, dark blue blood stained it, and it was then I let out a scream so loud it was bound to awaken even myself. My stomach was ripped open, my organs spilling out thanks to the touch of my hand. I started to cry, my hand clutching my stomach while pain registered and surged through me.

I hacked up more of the blue blood and began to sob, looking around and screaming for my father. My blood was not blue. Why was it blue now?

To my side as I thrashed my head around in search of help, I caught the gaze of banners hung on polls, their movements somewhat ceased due to the frigid cold terrain. With shaking legs, I rose to my feet – hand still clutching my stomach and holding in the organs that so desperately wanted to collide with the snow – and began to walk down the long row of banners on their poles, all in hope of finding help.

It was then that I noticed my wings were that of a morphos, one of them hanging on by practically a thread. My clothes were not of modern style, more looking ancient and aged as I walked from where blue stained white slowly.

Then, with a soft huff, I collided with the snow, my eyes shuttering once more while the cold arms engulfed me closely.

 

My eyes opened once again and I found myself lying on a warm floor, its surface soft and comfortable. My body was half-bare, no shirt or pants on, just boxers and heavy bandaging around my stomach. Warmth collided with my skin, and I found my eyes growing heavy once again, all until I saw a face peer at me, its eyes calm and welcoming.

“Take it easy,” they ordered, their hand resting on the side of my face and cupping it tenderly. “If you move too much your stitches might tear.”

I couldn’t help but grunt a little as I nuzzled my head more into the comforting touch of the person’s hand, my eyes heavy and my teeth chattering just a little with fever. Every inch of me was sore, from my head to my toes. It was almost beyond me.

My eyes couldn’t help themselves when they shuttered, a harsh shake emitting from me when I felt touch to my stomach’s bandages. When they did open again, I gazed around, my surroundings somewhat blurry and everything dimly illuminated by firelight.

A soft chuckle broke from the person’s voice as they rested their hand more against my wound, a soft gasp escaping my somewhat cracked lips as my eyes widened to capture the scene around me more.

“Sorry,” they hummed, a worried expression appearing on their face. “I just must make sure there isn’t any other damages to your nervous system. It’s good to know that you’re alright on that field!”

A shaky sigh broke from my lips as I laid there, my eyes somewhat glossed with tears from the pain that had just sparked through me. Every inch of me throbbed with agony so far beyond my complexion that I couldn’t help but want to vomit just at the thought of that memory from however long ago. The gore in the snow, and the strain of having to hold my guts inside of my body haunted me, and it all made me tear up much more than before. I couldn’t help my sobs as I brought my hands up to my face, my body shaking hard with not just the pain, but the fright surging through my veins.

“Hey..” The person hummed gently to me, their hand resting on my forehead gently while their nails slowly eased against my scalp, the dull surface bringing some comfort to me. “It’s alright. I know it all seems scary without the lights, but there’s only so much we can have right now.”

Everything stopped then and my eyes widened. No lights?

“What do you mean ‘no lights?’” I breathed through a slightly choked breath, my eyes still wet with tears.

The person above me frowned, their golden eyes glistening slightly as they examined my wettened face. “The blizzard got so bad it knocked out all our power cores. Even the generators on the lower levels aren’t working!” They broke a soft, yet nervous chuckle, amusement sparking in their golden gaze as they turned to a table nearby the fire, its silver surface illuminated by the starving flames.

“Theres only so much wood left in supply..” They mumbled.

I gave a grunt as I slowly sat up, a shock of pain running through me that made me hiss out in pure agony. Shaking hard not only physically but during my speech, I mumbled through a pained tongue. “What happened?”

Silence filled the room just briefly, a worried golden gaze flicking onto me as I leaned up against the wall and rested a hand on my bandaged stomach. “You don’t know, right…”

“Know what?”

With a sigh, the person rubbed their hand down their face, worry almost draping over them as they examined me against the wall.

“There was a blizzard unlike anything anyone ever saw. It swallowed not just us, but the other three factions entirely. Even the desert. All our power was cut off entirely, no generator can start up due to the cold.” They explained, their tone drowned with worry. “The faction leaders ordered a cease of action until this all blows over, but people say these clouds aren’t leaving any day soon.”

“So, it’s all frozen out there..?” I choked, my eyes watering a little from the aching pain in my body.

“Yeah.. practically subzero temperatures. You’re lucky enough to be alive right now, the cold could have gotten you, especially with those wounds. I’ve seen even the toughest of soldiers fall dead after five minutes in the snow, even with their jackets…”

With a soft shudder, I found myself laying back down, my eyes locking onto the walls of the room. The cold was seeping in through the blackened stone walls, some frost crystals forming despite the flames in the fireplace, their roar almost ferocious as it devoured the somewhat frosted wood.

“Korblox wants us to preserve anything that might be burnable. Keep it for emergencies, you know?”

“What’s your name?” I spat out suddenly, my eyes widening with surprise at my sudden words. The person’s golden eyes widened a little and they cracked a soft smile as they approached me, the flame from the firepit illuminating a good portion of their face to show the visible burns that scorched it.

“Machete,” they hummed. “It’s Machete. What’s yours?”

I hesitated. My name should’ve popped right into my head, but when I thought of names, it was a name I had never heard before in a language I did not understand. It made my throat dry up when I said it and I couldn’t help but crack a nervous expression when it was finally spoken.

“That’s a lovely name.” Machete sat down near the fire, their hand reaching for the metal stoker that bore a hardened steel prong. They shoved it into the fire, tossing over a piece of wood inside the flame and its embers sparked up and out the chimney. I watched closely, my eyes flicking back and forth from the flame to the frostbitten walls.

“We’re inside the mountain, right?” I broke out those words faster than I could think of them, a bit of shock surging through me as I cuddled up against the wall more. Machete nodded, their gaze locking on me.

“Why do you ask?”

I gave a weak smile, my hand coming up to point at the frostbitten walls. “If the mountain is volcanically active you could make tubes out of thickly tempered glass, then they would keep the walls from freezing and resources being depleted. It’ll only kill us faster if you don’t find a way to preserve.”

Machete’s eyes widened a little at my statement, their grip on the fire stoker visibly tighter than before.

“You know,” they began, their voice full of enthusiasm. “For being one of the smartest factions, I’m surprised not one of us thought of that.” They gave a soft chuckle then turned their focus back to the fire, the stoker poking the slightly charred wood.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile when I heard their words and my eyes suddenly felt heavy as I cuddled more up against the wall, the frost creeping closer ever so slowly, but I didn’t mind. No, how could I?

Machete must have noticed my silence and saw me dozing because they walked over with a blanket, draped it over me, and rested my head on a soft cushion gently.

“Just rest, you need it after all this.” They ordered, to which I silently complied, falling into a deep, silent sleep.

 

My eyes widened as I shot awake, my knees buckling beneath me while I collided with the floor. Before me sat six tall figures, their eyes all glaring hard while I stood before them, but one of the six was toppled over on his side, his hand over his chest right where a large ice spike had struck him.

“I’m sorry!” I screamed suddenly, everything beginning to sting in my hands and feet as tears found themselves pouring down my face. I broke then, bawling, begging for forgiveness for something I did not remember doing. Something that must have – surely – been an accident.

It was then that one of the figures who scaled the same height as the one on the floor came forward, her gaze furious behind the helm she bore on her head, its grates covering her eyes.

“You dare to beg for forgiveness? After everything you’ve done?” She spat, her tone thick and her words somewhat slurred with an accent from an old language. I tried to speak but nothing came out of me as I was grabbed by the throat, my legs leaving the ground while I clawed at her armored wrist.

Choking on my breath, I stared at her with teary eyes, all until I caught sight of her left hand wielding a spear.

“You killed my brother.” She hissed then. “You shall never be forgiven.”

Pain surged through me the same as it had before, my eyes widening while tears continued to pour down my whitened face. I gasped and let out a scream of agony, every inch of me throbbing as her double headed spear was pierced right through my stomach, its sharpened edge tearing me apart as it was driven in deeper, and deeper, per the second.

A few voices picked up once the pain had ceased somewhat, its throb never ending as I was thrown off to the side like trash. I rasped and choked, my body weak while I laid in a newly formed pool of my own blood and organs. It hurt, and as I watched these people stand there and argue, a lifeless brother of the woman who had hurt me laying before them, I couldn’t help but shake.

My hand came up to my injured stomach, the faint squelching of opened, bloodied skin making me feel sick. My hand gripped falling entrails tightly and shoved them back in, a painful wince escaping me as I laid there. But my wings suddenly spread themselves open, their beautiful blue shades shining brightly as I kicked myself up off the ground and raced for the balcony nearby, my body throbbing with pain.

Screams sounded behind me as I rushed to the balcony not far from the main door, my eyes wide and wettened while snow started to fall heavily from the sky, its once soft expression feeling hateful and sickening to look at.

Keep running, I screamed to myself, my limbs weak as I shoved the door closed. My body was screaming at me to stop, to rest where I could in this cold safety, but I didn’t dare, not when there were three people chasing after me with angry expressions and weaponry.

My free hand grabbed hold of the balcony, my legs struggling to haul me up onto the stone railings that might as well have frozen my hands. I choked as I looked down, the ground no longer in sight through the blizzard surging in the sky. I quivered, a harsh swallow escaping me. It hurt to do that. I admit now.

A splurge of words suddenly sounded through the harsh winds of the storm, my eyes flicking to look back at the door of the balcony. Stood there was an inphernal scaling 7 feet, her eyes pure white with two broad, fluffy feathered wings.

“Please, there’s no need to run. I know well it was an accident.” She hummed, her expression somewhat full of worry. “It will be okay.”

 

I leapt forward then, my eyes flicking away from the angelic inphernal’s gaze. Then, I disappeared into the clouds.

 

I awoke in a cold sweat.

Chapter 2: Feathers and Antlers

Summary:

Even the deer and the cardinals beyond the wall know well the truths hidden within the wall.

Notes:

I love found family tropes guys TRUST

Your feet can only carry you so far, you know. Now, no matter how often you rest, or how often you feast on healthy sustenance, maybe even get sleep if you can, you will never be able to get too far. That is unless you’re a god’s son.

 

Now, all stories have beginnings, and mine is no different. Theres always a reason for the story to begin, and this one might stun you in your steps.

As my feet beat against the shaking earth, I can’t help but wonder if my ideals were correct. I wield a blade that is mine, but a heart that is not. Not since Blackrock.

See, right now if I were home I would be cuddled up in a nice warm blanket with a freshly made pork rice bowl in my hands, but that isn’t the case anymore. Instead of in the comforts of my palace home, I find myself racing through a taiga, my body scathed with scratches from stickers and bruised from collisions with boulders during sharp turns, or trees I may have accidentally raced into when I was checking behind me.

No one knows I’m out here, at least not my entire family. Only one person from home knows I’m all alone now, but with metallic footsteps not far behind me, one can only assume that my brother isn’t the only one who knows I’m out here all alone.

You might be asking: ‘how did you get out into the woods in the first place?.’ The answer is quite complex, something that can’t just be told without delay, but to keep it as short as possible, I’m looking for the truth. The truth to the creation of the five great kingdoms of the Inpherno. I want to know the truth to their forming, and what happened to the world that was once thriving before them.

 

What happened to my family.

 

So, without further ado, I give you the beginning.

 

 

I shot up from my covers, eyes wide and watering while sweat beads my temples. It looks like I just got sprayed with water with how my hair is sticking to my face and how I’m also a little flushed in the cheeks. Everything has yet registered to me, but my eyes can somewhat make out through the blur of tears the shape of a bedroom unscathed with ice and its sharpened maw full of fridged teeth. Instead of ice, the slight chill of the autumn crisp blows in through a cracked open balcony door, a few dead leaves sweeping themselves across the fresh mahogany floorboards.

My hands come up to my eyes and gently rub at them, the blur vanishing at last after one more swipe from the side of my fingers. I can see clearly now that the room is my own, and I’m not trapped in one covered in sharp ice spikes that could easily impale me if they pleased.

With a huff and a slack of the shoulders, I fall back onto my bed and nuzzle into the cushion, then a soft screech sounds in my ear. I jerk my head to the side, my eyes widening a little as I watched my blankets rustle and shift. It was then that a tiny black head poked out from the warmth of the quilt, its beak opening and closing slightly as it looked at me. With a quick shake, it slipped out of the covers and hopped to me, finding itself nestling on my chest with a soft jitter.

“Sisyphus,” I murmur through my sleep-drowned voice. “I’m sorry, I forgot you were here.”

Sisyphus gives another jitter then a soft ‘mrr,’ his wings fluttering a little as he gets comfortable. I smile and gently scratch his head with one finger, watching as he closes his eyes and leans into the comfort of my finger, his head later shoving into my palm and burying into it.

Sleep clouds my vision a bit once again, but after a quick stretch followed by a low groan, I find myself slightly more awake than before. My finger still gently pressed against Sisyphus’s soft, feathery head, I smile at him as he jitters one more time before sitting up and hopping towards me.

“What are you doing?” I giggle as Sisyphus snuggles himself into my neck, his beak gently nipping at my slightly knotted hair and picking out the little flakes of dandruff that found themselves loose. I squirm a little before I ease into his preening, a form of bonding between birds and their cohorts. The only difference is that Sisyphus is family, not a cohort.

After a good fifteen minutes of preening, Sisyphus finishes his work with a soft ‘caw!’ and sits firmly on my forehead, his extremely light weight making him barely noticeable on my head. He gazes down at me, his wide black eyes staring at me with some light reflections, and he flares out his black and green feathers, another crowing noise breaking from his beak.

“Oh, Sisyphus,” I murmur as I scratch his head with my finger again. “What would I do without you?”

Almost on cue, Sisyphus glides over towards my door, seeming to want freedom from the confinements. Even with a tall ceiling and plenty of toys to sit on hung from it, he still finds himself bored throughout the day when inside. With swings and plastic balls filled with little bells he still always found himself bored out of his mind in my bedroom.

With a grunt and a slight pop of the back, I walked over to the balcony door and shut it, the chill still somewhat lingering in the air due to the dead fire in the fireplace, its embers barely lit and gasping for a meal in silent spurts. Ignoring it for the moment, I tossed one of my smaller blankets over my shoulders and opened my bedroom door for Sisyphus. He chirped happily, then glided out, not a final noise leaving him until he reached the stairs.

Choppy and lightheaded, I made my way back to my bed after shutting my door as quietly as I could. But the moment I took a seat and rolled over onto my soft covers, my door was knocked on, then opened.

With a loud groan I laid straight on my back, my hands reaching for a pillow and shoving it into my face.

“No need to throw such a big tantrum, Linked.” The voice came from my older brother, Medkit, his one teal eye glistening a little in the dim light through his half-square cut glasses. “Venomshank told me to come get you.”

I sat up, my eyes narrowing with frustration while my soft black wings flared out a little. “How’d you even know I was awake?” I demanded, to which my brother scoffed and forced out a laugh.

“He came down screaming. He only does that when he’s freed from your room.”

Dumbfounded and visibly flushed, I huffed out a quick breath of annoyance and flopped back onto my covers, my wings spreading out on the plush surface. I always hated when my family would invade my room and bombard me first thing when I woke up, but this is Medkit we’re talking about. He’s always big on business.

With teal horns and one missing eye and soft, well-brushed white hair tied back into a ponytail, and standing at about 5’8, Medkit is a man who is big on keeping things on a strict schedule, even if it interferes with the entire day and everyone else’s rhythm. While not that of a dictator, you can consider him a somewhat hypocrite for how he behaves with certain things, i.e.: scheduling for grand events.

As my father’s top advisor and adoptive son, he’s gained a place here in the palace as not only the first brought-in royal without the need of marriage, but also as the first adoptive royal in general throughout all the kingdoms. His job as the advisor of my father is to help with shipments of goods coming in from other kingdoms, as well as ensuring quality and quantity is as ordered.

Back on topic!

Medkit leans against my doorframe with his arms crossed, his eye narrowing a little as he shoots me a serious look.

“Look, Linked, you can’t sulk in your room all day and expect not to be pestered at least once. You’re royalty, and it is your duty to fulfil it professionally.”

I can’t help but snicker when he says ‘duty.’ Medkit, in turn, scoffs and presses his thumb and index finger against the bridge between his eyes. Disappointment washes over his face and I can’t help but let out another quick snicker and chuckle.

“You’re immature.” He sneers, his white deer-like ears twitching with unamusement.

“That’s what makes me not boring.” I shoot back, my tone playful as I flutter my fluffy black wings.

Medkit rolls his eye (or at least… attempts) and turns his back to me, a hand on the door as he gazes out into the hallway.

“Venomshank wants you downstairs, dressed, in 30 minutes.” He huffs out, and I groan with annoyance right back. He doesn’t fight with me any longer, but instead just simply closes my door and walks off, his shoes clicking against the ground signaling his departure farther, and farther down the hall.

A breath I never realized I was holding leaves my chest then and I can’t help but wonder things about that dream again. I scan the room, my heart hoping to maybe catch a hint of something within the confinements of the grand stone walls covered in tapestries and swords collected and forged from all the kingdoms inside the Inpherno and its grand expanse. Maybe just a glimpse, a small reminder that yes, I did have that dream. But, alas, no matter how hard I look around and no matter how tightly I squint, my eyes catch no glimpse of a reminder that the dream took place.

I sigh once again, my head rolling back onto the bed more and resting firmly on the covers, my hair sprawled out on the soft quilt, tangled and unbrushed for days.

Thirty minutes to get ready. Should be simple, right? But it isn’t.

After a good ten minutes I get up from my bed and stretch finally, a quick grunt escaping my lips as I get on my feet. They guide me to my closet, and I bury my face into the softness of one of my favorite shirts. It’s freshly washed and smelling of lavender and eucalyptus, the scents my father wears on his cologne. I give a barely audible jitter and pull it off the hook it hung from, grabbing a pair of black cargo pants as well, the straps on the sides flapping against the main pant leg just a little. They clink due to the buckles, but not loud enough to annoy someone.

 Silently do I get dressed, my tank top and shorts coming off and getting thrown right onto the floor. I then catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my hands coming up to the vanity’s desk and gripping the mahogany surface firmly. I might scratch the wood eventually by doing this, but I have been for years and haven’t noticed a single tear at its surface.

My eyes scan my face, the scar beneath my eye beginning to throb a little as I look at every detail of my face.

Every morning, when I do find the courage to dress myself nice for the day instead of just throwing on some horrible excuse of attire, I tend to look at myself closely in the mirror. Perhaps my mind hopes to catch a glimpse of maybe a new freckle or spot a newly growing feather on my face. Maybe there’s a new little nick on my nose because of Sisyphus’s claws when I’m asleep and he twitches or maybe find a new wrinkle beneath my eye because of my sleep schedule being so utterly horrendous.

Yet, today, I see nothing per the usual. No new features that might stand out.

I glare into the mirror, my hand coming up to it in hopes to reach inside and yank out the face within in it to save it from harm, but the moment my fingers touch the mirror cold shoots through my body. I gasp, my body unable to be moved, almost as though frozen where it stands, palm pressed to the curved shape.

‘Let me go!’ I shout in my head, but my body does not move no matter how hard I plea. I attempt to yank my hand away, but nothing happens. I let out an attempt at a cry then, but it only comes out as a soft huff from my nose.

Then, as I took in the features of the mirror, I noticed it.

My face, the one I had been admiring for almost 18 years, it isn’t my face.

Right beneath my eye where my scar was once placed is shards of ice shooting out, their pearly teeth glaring at me through the reflection. My horns, no longer red, are blue and dull, and my wings – once black like the night sky – are that of a morphos. I no longer am stripped half bare, but instead, I don clothes that are not my own but feel warm despite being only a reflection of my own face.

Shocked into a state of horror, I see the slight glisten of tears in my eyes, and I can’t help but feel pity for the face in the mirror. It’s young, aged by force and not time. It’s tattered and scared, just wanting to live a peaceful life as seen in its eyes. But I can only find myself able to express fear in the moment.

It reaches its hand to me, whispering softly in an old tongue. “Wake up.”

I know those words because my father uses them with me all the time, but never did I think his lessons of the old language of the Inpherno would be useful. It starts to whisper more, but it’s indecipherable, and I feel frustration just trying. All until it stops.

I find myself snapped back into reality, my body no longer frozen and my hand now able to be removed from the cold mirror. That cold shock that sparked through me is now gone, and my legs can push me back and away from the mirror.

What just happened?

 

I finally find myself downstairs after getting dressed, my body adorned with that red shirt I love so much and those black cargo pants I picked out. I have some mahogany brown boots on my feet, the base of them covered by my pants as to not look too tacky and maybe a tad professional, and I have my usual cloak on. I carry my helmet under my arm as I walk down the hall towards the grand dining room, that sense of déjà vu hitting me hard in the head as I gaze at all the grand banners lining the walls. They are proud and pleased, the insignia of a corvid perched on a skull being the symbol of what Varesy (my kingdom) is.

‘Even in death,’ as the motto goes, ‘the ravens still sing.’

My boots gently clank against the floor, the hardened sole making that noise when colliding with stone floors smoothed by generations of architectural services, their tools drilling and sanding and carving each detail into the floor to make it nothing but perfect for his majesty.

The warmth of the hallway brings me some more déjà vu to the dream I had, and I faintly recall the sight of lava pipes on the walls, their surfaces appearing smooth with heavily tempered glass through harsh temperature forging. But here, instead of lava tubes, there are torches that are lined on every wall, their base fresh and newly charred with the flame’s kisses.

Perhaps one day we might change from torches to something more efficient, like those lava pipes. But we live near no volcanoes. At least, none known to be active.

I take a turn and make my way down into the throne room, a small staircase leading me down to where my father, Lord Venomshank, is sat politely on his throne, his hair hidden by a brown cap and his body dressed in a green general’s uniform, the golden medals and strap being noticeable immediately as they shimmer in the dim light. There, at his side, is Medkit who is silently going through papers and organizing them into the correct piles they belong to.

Boring work.

“Morning, Dad.” I call out, and my father perks up, his face hidden by a plague mask. The reasoning as to why he wears it is unclear to me, but I always just thought it was his way of preventing himself from getting sick.

My father rises from his throne and walks over to me, his stride content as he gazes at me. “Good morning, my finch.” He hums, and I push myself into his arms, hugging him tight and nuzzling my head into his chest. I notice Medkit watching us from a distance, but I don’t dare speak. He’ll join in if he wants, but right now he seems quite busy with his paperwork.

I gently pulled away from my father after a few moments and looked up at him.

My father, Lord Venomshank of Varesy, stood at a proud 7 feet 5 inches, with horns like that of a ram and a soothing lime green as though oxidized by time, he’s stalky and tall, broadly built with kind eyes beneath the mask he wears. Some think he eats people, but he could never. No, not my dad.

“Medkit came and told me you wanted me?” I inquired, my eyes brightening when I saw Sisyphus gliding down from the upper windows to greet me, his caws echoing throughout the throne room.

My father smiled as Sisyphus landed in my hair, his beak gently pulling at some strands and clearing them of any residue from my hairbrush. His tail wagged rapidly, and his little feet slightly gripped at my scalp with gentle touch.

“Well, since Sisyphus was crowing his head off, I figured you were already awake. After all, he usually sleeps in your room.” Venomshank gave a soft chuckle and held out a finger for Sisyphus, his little beak rubbing against the glove of his hand.

Medkit gave a faint scoff and rolled his eye, his head going back down into his papers when Sisyphus flew over and perched on his horns, his beak gently nibbling on his crystal sat perfectly between the two teal stalks.

With a quick throat clear, Venomshank continued.

“I wanted to talk to you about the upcoming phestival happening in the next week.”

My eyes lit up and I smiled wide, my wings fluttering a little in turn with Sisyphus as he hopped around on Medkit’s horns. “Phestival?!”

Venomshank let out a laugh and rested a hand on my head. “Yes, my finch. A phestival that you will be attending.”

With my heart pounding faster than I ever thought it would, I let out a squeal of excitement and ran in a circle. A childish thing to do, but right for the moment. I had always dreamed of participating in hosting a phestival for my kingdom, especially now knowing I was to turn 18 soon, and I’m the heir to the throne of Varesy, this was a great privilege.

After finding myself calm within the minute, I gazed at my father with sparkling eyes, my wings just faintly fluttering with anticipation and joy as I sat in silence to listen to my father’s next words.

“You won’t exactly be running the phestival,” my father said, and my heart somewhat shattered a little in my chest at those words. “But you will have the honor of lighting the alter to renew the truce.”

With a somewhat forced smile, I nodded, my helmet being clutched tightly in my arm while I folded my wings in close on my back. I couldn’t be too disappointed about this, I wasn’t 18, so I can only do so much per tradition.

Medkit’s shoes clicked faintly against the floor of the throne room as he approached my father and I, his eye calm with a slight wrinkle appearing beneath it.

“Venomshank, what about work with the trade routes? We have so much we need to get before we can even consider decorations, let alone preparations for the palace.” Medkit’s eye narrowed slightly as he gazed at Venomshank, his little white deer tail twitching with some annoyance as he held a clipboard with papers.

Venomshank let off a sigh, his hand coming up under his mask and rubbing his face from within. He didn’t dare take it off, however. Instead, he gave a huff and gazed at my brother with a glint of sincerity in his eyes, his hand coming up to grasp Medkit’s, but he pulled away from it.

“I will get to that as soon as I can.” He declared calmly, to which Medkit continued with his questions.

“Have invitations already been sent out for this event? If the Lords come and everything isn’t prepared our reputation will be destroyed. What about our citizens? If the Lords see we can’t even prepare simple decorations then who knows what they might think about our military preparations.”

With wide eyes, I silently listened to their dispute, not daring to say a word. Instead, I just slipped away while they spoke, wandering out of the throne room and out back into the hall. The dream happened to slip back into my mind then and I couldn’t help but stop in my tracks in the middle of the hallway, my eyes gazing up at the banners hanging from the walls, their insignia bolded and somewhat aged with time. If you looked closely enough at them, you can just faintly make out the flecks of dust from their time hanging on the walls.

Voices rang out from the throne room into the hall but that didn’t dare to tear my mind from the vision I had now. The memory of the dream with the tapestries on the walls just like this one. Instead of the corvid and the skull, three triangles that made mountains sat in their place. White and bold, aged as well, but bearing newly fashioned silks.

It made no sense.

As my feet carried me farther down the hall and away from my brother and father’s loud voices, I couldn’t help but reflect on things.

As of recent, there are five great kingdoms. Varesy (my home; Kingdom of Venomshank), Haven (Kingdom of Illumina, also known as: Kingdom of Prosperity), Hael (Kingdom of Firebrand and Ghostwalker, known best as Archives by some of the natives within the walls), Malic (Kingdom of Darkheart, also titled the Kingdom of Chaos), and Anarquía (Kingdom of Windforce, the Kingdom of war).

Now, this is where it doesn’t make sense.

For as long as I can remember, all the kingdoms have their purpose and place on the map. Varesy is known for producing medicines and silks far grander than anything else from the other kingdoms, with a large production of gold from the deep desert mines down below compared to any other kingdom combined. It made no sense how something unmapped had access to silks and threads produced from my home kingdom to make such beautiful tapestries.

I rush towards the palace library, my boots clanking against the stone floors and some of my feathers coming off my wings between quick strides. The answers aren’t coming to me, but the library always has the answers, even if it’s through maps or graphs.

My shoulder shoves into the door and I barge into the library. It’s empty and smelling of old books, their pages whitened and yellowed with newer copies or aged ones that have sat untouched for many long days and nights.

Quickly, I shoved aside some books and tossed them onto the floor. Perhaps they were Medkit’s, but I didn’t seem to care. Instead of picking them up, I reached towards a drawer that I knew contained maps. My fingers gently brushed against the old pages and the feeling of age hit me hard in the chest.

Despite not knowing about the age, just to touch the aging ink of the calligraphy on the large pages said enough of how youthful it was. The black ink that wrote out ‘Inpherno’ was fading slowly, its once blackened state now a gentle brownish tint.

With considerate hands, I slowly unrolled the map onto the table where the books had once remained, my eyes scanning across the page with anticipation. Instead of the kingdom I knew now, I saw multiple lands mapped perfectly out in many colors, the sky labeled a pale white-ish blue while the sea sat as a navy turned green by age and withering of ink. No date remained on this page, but the name struck a fancy of mine.

Ghosdeeri.

The name was so familiar to me that it almost made me sick. I leaned away from the map and swallowed bile forming in my throat as quickly as I could muster, then I exhaled, and returned to my study.

Four kingdoms (more territories) laid labeled on this map, from the one in the mountains to the one closest to the sea that appeared to be within the sky, but I couldn’t exactly tell. They bore labels, and symbols scratched out or faded. But one of these symbols remained engraved in the paper with harsh presses of an old pen.

Far out east in the mountains laid a name traced beautifully into the page. ‘Blackrock.’ It bore the insignia the same as the one on the tapestries in my dream, and my eyes widened as I gazed at it closely. It seemed lively and bustled with life from the appearance on the page, its advancements looking brighter than the ones we had now.

Then it hit me.

My hand reached for a map on another table, it being a more recent copy of our kingdom and its territories. To the east I searched again, but nothing came of it. Instead of the once bustling land, it now laid desolate and ridden with ice and snow, the large spikes spearing into the sky from the illustrations portrayed. It was just as the stories preached. Dead.

I compared the maps then, a shudder running through me as I examined the old and the new terrains.

Four territories, insignias scratched out on the old map, and the five great kingdoms with the mountains torn apart by the gnashing teeth of ice spikes. Everything ached in me then and a wave of realization hit me so hard I almost fell backwards. My wings shuddered and my eyes watered a little as I gazed back at what remains of the land within the five great kingdoms.

What lived before them? What happened to the other territories?

Footsteps sounded outside the library, and I snapped back into my senses, my legs repelling me toward the desk with the maps within a single heartbeat. Heart pounding in my ears, I rolled up the maps and shoved the old one back into the place I had found it. I stumbled over the books on the floor a little but kept up cleaning, moving to the books last before I scurried toward a bookshelf to look like I was looking for a book.

Medkit entered the library silently, his eye bagged a little as he held his usual black and teal clipboard in one arm, and a pen in the other hand.

“You’re not one for reading.” He murmured as he looked up at me through his glasses, their half-cut square shape slightly fallen onto his face and caught right at the edge of where bone and cartilage met. His hair got slightly in his face but with one swift jerk of the head it was away and out of sight, placed right back into his silk-appearing hair.

My wings folded in tightly against my back as I mustered up come courage to respond. But before I could get a word in, Medkit gave me a look that preached he knew it all.

“You found my maps, didn’t you?”

Air caught in my throat, and I gave a sharp hack, my hand coming to my chest and gripping my shirt tightly. “Wh.. what are you talking about?”

Medkit rolled his eye and put his clipboard down on the desk closest to me.

“Please, Linked. I’m surprised you haven’t realized how much of a bad liar you are.” He huffed, his finger coming up to adjust his glasses on his face. I stared at him with wide eyes but eventually gave in, my eyes dropping to my feet planted firmly on the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Medkit’s voice seemed filled with some amusement. “I’ve been working on those maps ever since I found myself wound up here with you and Venomshank. I can’t quite figure it out. If you want, maybe you can help me.”

I stared at him with eyes filled to the brim with astonishment. It was rare to ever see, let alone hear of Medkit offering someone to help him with something. While this isn’t anything work related, it still drove me to the conclusion that I was going insane, but when he walked over to the drawer I had thrown the rolled-up map into and pulled it out, I knew then he was serious.

He beckoned me over with a hand that bore some somewhat faded scarring and smoothed down the map on the table, his eye flicking over to me to ensure I came close. He hadn’t grabbed the map I was looking at, but another one for sure I hadn’t noticed.

The map was a beautiful, newly fashioned one with words etched onto the page with precious black ink imported from one of the kingdom shipments, likely from Hael or Haven. On it was the recent copy of the kingdoms, the palaces etched into the page so delicately.

“Look.” Medkit placed a finger on the map, it slowly gliding down to the corner of it and resting right on the name inked into the page. “These maps were written by the same person within a 200-year time frame.”

“But wouldn’t they have just died by now? Maybe Ghosdeeri is just a name for a brand or something from one of the kingdoms.”

“See, that’s what they want you to think, Linked.” Medkit pushed up his glasses with one finger then reached for the map I had been looking at before. “All cartographers sign their work, and when you look at the new copy, then compare it to the old one, you see there isn’t a change in handwriting at all.”

My eyebrow arched as I stared at Medkit. “You do realize there’s something called stamping your signature, right?”

“You don’t get it, Linked.” Medkit sat up more and placed his hands firmly on the table, his eye narrowing as he scanned my face. “The signature is the same as a map drawn out 200 years ago.”

My eyes widened a little and I blinked, my hands clasping together a little. “There’s literally no way someone could have lived that long and drawn the entire map again but of the new kingdom. Plus, what if Ghosdeeri is just a brand?” I inquired, my voice lilting a little as Medkit gazed at me with a recognizable look.

“You could be right but look here. The pen hasn’t changed.” Medkit murmured as he pressed his finger down on the large outline and slid it to the thin details on the inside of it, the rest of the page showing mistakes.

“Modern machines don’t make mistakes. Especially not with the newly improved cartography table.”

Medkit then reached into his little bag on his hip, a light coming out of it. “Hit the lights.” He ordered, and I did as I was told. Rushing back to his side, I watched as he held the black light over the map, the old etchings revealed into the page despite careful sifting and crafting of paper. I gasped and my eyes went wide with awe.

Medkit gave a chuckle at my reaction. “I noticed this on a few of the maps. It’s invisible ink. You don’t find that often in the kingdoms.”

“I thought that some places craft it through scorpions imported from here. Was I wrong?”

“Yes. None of the kingdoms actively produce invisible ink, plus the trade of scorpions died off years ago. I’d say about when you were 12. They’re eaten but never used for trade anymore. Plus, you would have to have special extractions of the bioluminescence to create it.”

“Wait,” I pressed my finger onto a thin line of ink on the page and stared at it. “What’s that?”
Medkit squinted his eye and adjusted his glasses, his hair getting brushed out of his face with a skilled hand. “You know, I never did see that.”

I gazed at my brother with curious eyes, my finger tracing against the edge of the paper. “Where did you get this map?”

I could see then that Medkit’s eye glistened a little as he turned off the blacklight, walking back to turn the chandelier on again. He never responded to me, so I figured he didn’t hear me, but from seeing his eye dilate, I figured he knew something and just wasn’t telling me.

“I have work to do, but tonight we can get some more work done on these maps, okay?” Medkit gazed at me, his eye – for once – gentle. I nodded then watched as he stored the maps away once again, not daring to hesitate when he walked out of the grand library.

I sat there, dumbfounded for a while, but silent. ‘Tonight,’ he had said. I’d be here tonight, and if it meant I was up all night, I would do it.

 

Hours had passed since the library and the discovery on the maps, and I sat in the shower, my body stripped of clothing while warm water ran down my once sweat-drenched body. In the time I had waited I had practiced my training with my father while he discussed work with Medkit. The tension between us both was thick, and I’m surprised my father never even noticed it. Usually, him and I were chatterboxes while I practiced my sword fighting skills, but today we were not.

As I allowed the water to trickle down my slightly darkened skin, I couldn’t help but think back again to the time in the library. The map lit up with two in one through the work of a blacklight. I wondered then how Medkit had obtained it, but I wouldn’t be surprised since he works with the shipments of goods and gets all sorts of luxuries out of them whenever he wants. The benefits of being royalty.

My fingers came up and brushed some of the wet water out of my face, the steam rolling throughout the grand bathroom as I flared out my wings into the hot water. Soothing feelings shot through me, and I found relaxation in the heat that now laid all throughout my body. With a brief hesitation, I threw some shampoo onto my hands and stepped out of the water, scrubbing it into the fluffy strands of hair that had been forcefully brushed (all with the grief of a few tears and a bit of blood from biting my bottom lip because of the tangles), it lathering and bubbling until rinsed in my hair.

As I started to lather conditioner into my hair, I couldn’t help but stare at the ground and notice the water going into the drain below my feet. When I was younger, I had always feared that drain, the story of when my father found a snake in his shower that had come up from it still haunting me to this day, but it wasn’t that that stirred me.

The water, usually clear, was red like blood.

I panicked, rinsing out my hair and throwing some soap onto my body. A quick scrub, rinse, then I turned off the water. My hair dripped along with my bare body, a shudder running through my body as I rested my hands on the shower wall, eyes wide and mortification filling me as I watched the red water slowly turn back to a comfortable, recognizable clear appearance.

Shaking that image out of my head the best I could, I walked out of the shower after scrunching all the excess water out of my hair and draped my body in a towel. Shuddering from not only the cold of the bathroom but from the startle of the water’s sudden color change, I avoided the mirror and began to dry off right on the mat placed right near the shower entrance.

My fingers brushed against the refined tiles of the bathroom counter, the sink’s polished marble top bringing some sense of calm to my mind as I draped the towel around my waist. Everything had slightly stopped its spinning in my mind, but even as I found myself grounded at last on that mat with my hand on the countertop, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind.

Iced over bedroom with gnashing teeth for ice spikes, the familiarity of the banners, the map and the light, the image of someone who was not me, and now the blood in the shower.

What did it mean?

As I walked back into my room through the door connected to my bedroom and gently took the towel from my waist to dry my body more, I glanced around and gave a faint sigh of anxiety.

When I finally got dry and tied my hair up in the towel to dry, I dressed myself and found myself sat on my bed, the towel now coming off my head and scrunching the water out of my thick curls.

“Linked?” Medkit’s voice sounded from outside the door, his shadow visible in the crack. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, I got pants on.” I teased, my hands still focused on scrunching all the excess water from my curls.

Medkit entered the room silently. He wasn’t dressed in his usual wear, just some comfortable black and teal plaid pants he always wore to bed. His finger came up and pushed his glasses up a little more, then he rested the maps he had in his hands down on the ground after closing the door.

“Let’s get to work, shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s get to work.”

I climbed down from my bed and rolled over to Medkit, smiling as I sat beside him with a blanket draped over my shoulders. But, despite the comfort I constantly felt when around my brother, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder towards the balcony. My eyes widened and my pupils went small when I saw it then.

 

There, sat on my balcony with the crows, was a figure with the wings of a morpho, its wings sagged down and one torn like I remembered.

Chapter 3: No Prey Shall Rule Predator

Summary:

Haha find out

Do you still feel guilt for what you did all those years ago? Do you bow down in hopes that, even as meek prey, you may be forgiven?

 

 

Five hours of work. Long, arduous work. You’d think scanning maps would be easy, just a little checkmark on the notepad to your side, but no. Instead, its constant markings on pages, especially that map, refilling the ink for the quills ten times over, breaking the tips of pens accidentally and whining when the ink spills out onto the spare paper where it was resting on, ink stains on your fingers and hands.

Medkit had insisted I take a break when I started showing signs of distress. I hadn’t been able to understand some of the pen marks he was making, but I’ve always been academically challenged. Now, I was watching my brother closely, his eye fixated on the map while his hair laid in a messy bun, held together by a fine piece of jewelry that looked a lot like a sharp needle with turquoise aventurine laced on its handle. His hands were busied and stained just briefly with ink, and he occasionally reached over to his fourth cup of all-black coffee and sipped on it, the steam coiling around his horns.

“Have you found anything yet?” I inquired, a yawn breaking from my chest as I cuddled into the comfort of my mattress.

Medkit gave a sharp huff and pushed himself up onto his knees, his finger coming up to adjust his glasses. “Yes,” he said with a rare grin. “I have!”

“Well? What did you find?” I shot up from my bed, practically barreling into my brother while I draped the blanket over him. I was ecstatic and yearned to know what he had found out. Medkit squirmed and shook his head out from under the blanket, his eye calm as he pointed to the map.

“Look,” he said, his eye flicking to look at me. “You see this line?”

I nodded and gazed at the line etched into the page. Between the multiple black lines and some freshly drawn blue ones marked in by Medkit’s signature pen, you could see lines and dots. Instantly I was confused.

When Medkit caught on he sighed and pushed up his glasses with his finger again, his voice somewhat stern as he flicked his gaze to me through a side-eye. “The line isn’t like the others,” Medkit stated, his voice calm as he traced his finger that was once used to push up his glasses right across the map where that line laid still, its ink somewhat faded compared to the newer copies. Age, I reminded myself.

As Medkit explained the map and this strange, aged line on its old page, I couldn’t help but gaze off to the side, my eyes catching a glimpse of the balcony. There, sat neatly on the rails carved perfectly by chisel to stone, sat the crows, Sisyphus not among them. A little anxiety bubbled into my stomach then and I couldn’t help but shudder a little, yet just enough to have Medkit giving me a worried expression.

He rested his hand on my shoulder, his teal eye flicking across my face in the means of examination. “What is it?”

I didn’t dare respond, just brushed off the comment and pressed my hand onto the map, forcing out a smile.

“Let’s just finish up these maps and hit the hay!”

 

I opened my eyes, the room around me different compared to what I remember. I hadn’t even remembered falling asleep, but it was dimly lit with gentle blue light. My eyes took a moment to adjust before realizing where I was.

Laid out on the floor was a long black carpet, its edges somewhat tinseled with soft blues and purples like crystals. At the end of the carpet sat a throne, its base made of obsidian that shined with fresh polishing.

The walls bore a frostbitten look, some crystals hanging from little silver chains on the ceiling while their soft twinkling noises echoed gently throughout the vast expanse of the room. Off to the side, the walls bore tapestries, their silks fresh from newly woven supply.

I rushed toward them then, my hands grasping onto the fabric. I gently ran my thumb across the soft surface, an awed expression appearing on my face as I examined it. It hit me then.

“Varesy silks…” I whispered to myself, my knees buckling just slightly out of surprise. I had never heard of the trade extending out to areas as cold as this. The closest I could think would be the old cliff faces where Haven laid, known as the Heights in the stories. They occasionally got snow, I knew that, but it made no sense that it got so cold to the point the walls would start getting burnt by the frost.

I turned my head to the left, my eyes locking back onto the throne made of obsidian, its slight blue-ish purple shimmer urging me toward it without my knowledge.

My feet turned along with my body, and I slowly approached it. The crystals on the ceiling slowly started to blow, their gentle clinking against one another driving me forward more. Then I stopped.

My eyes looked up, and there, right in front of me, sat seven large crystals mounted right on the throne, their colors vibrant. I stared at them in amazement, their gemstone being just the right shade to mark the insignia on…

It hit me.

 

I awoke with a jolt, my eyes watering a little as I inhaled sharply. My gaze flicked to the ground almost immediately in search of my brother, until I saw him, sound asleep on a pallet made on the floor. He adjusted, then grumbled a little in his sleep as he pulled the blanket more over himself.

Ease surged through me then and I gave a soft sigh of relief. My hair was stuck to my face, some drool on my chin from my deep sleep. I’m surprised I hadn’t woken Medkit up with my snoring, the obvious being pointed out to me when I brought my hand up to wipe away the slobber on my face.

With a little grunt, I crawled out of bed and climbed down to Medkit’s side, the moonlight beaming into the room through the balcony’s shut door, the curtain undrawn.

“Kit.” I mumbled, some sleep still in my voice as I laid on top of him, my wings spreading out over him to cover his head. “Wake up, Kit.”

Medkit grumbled once again, his arm throwing itself on top of me and trying to shove me off. He huffed, his eye faintly opening while he turned his head to look at me. I flinched when I saw he didn’t have his eyepatch on, the eyelid to his missing eye sewn shut by precise threading.

“I’m awake. What do you want?” Medkit huffed out, his head flopping back on his pillow while he cuddled his face into it, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he cuddled more into his soft quilt.

I rolled off him before laying myself right back on his back, my wings fluttering slightly as I looked at him. “When did I fall asleep?”

Medkit gave a soft hum then exhaled harshly, his cheek cuddling into the pillow more while he adjusted onto his stomach.

“You fell asleep just a little after I showed you that line on the map. I know I heard Venomshank come in, but it was only for a moment after I went to sleep. It was likely also to put Sisyphus in the room.” He stated through sleep-drowned tone, his back slowly rising and falling with breath. A signal that he was, indeed, alive. My body somewhat soothed as I registered his words, a soft sigh breaking from my lips as I cuddled back down onto him.

“If you don’t mind,” Medkit grumbled, his face burying more into the comfort of his pillow. “Could you get off me?”

I complied, my body rolling right off of him and found itself laid right on his side. I gazed at my ceiling, the crystals from my dream flashing back into my head.

“Hey, Kit?” I murmured, my eyes shifting to look at him. He hummed in response yet spoke no words. “Do you remember that book dad used to read us when we were younger? The one with the seven crystals on its cover?”

Medkit nodded faintly, his face cracking a soft smile at the childhood memory. “I remember. What about it?”

“I had a dream about it.”

Medkit shot up from his comfortable position, his eye wide as he looked at me. “You had that dream too?!”

 

The clock struck 9am, and Medkit and I were busy in the library. As I shoveled a spoonful of oatmeal and chopped apples into my mouth, my hand scavenged across the large mahogany bookshelves in search of the book I had mentioned to my brother. Not far from me, Medkit was taking slow sips of coffee, his left arm holding onto the railing of a ladder while scanning the shelves up higher, deep in his search for the book.

“Anything?” I said through a mouthful of food. Medkit swallowed a sip of his coffee, his eye a little bagged as he exhaled and placed it on the empty part of the shelf.

He gave a faint nod then slid down the ladder, a book under his arm while a – now empty – coffee cup sat in the same hand. He landed firmly on his feet, the practice of that move over the many years he had been around showing off.

“So, that book we both dreamt of is dated 200 plus years back.” Medkit declared as he placed the book down on the large desk laced with maps. Some dust flew off the hard leather cover, the seven jewels engraved into its surface shimmering in the warm sunlight pooling into the room.

I took one glance at Medkit and shuddered. I noticed how his eye flicked about the cover so erratically that it caused him to stiffen, his knees visibly locking as he looked at every little detail.

“You okay, Kit?” My hand rested gently on his shoulder, and I could see him snap free from whatever trance had held him captive. He nodded then reached forward and opened the book, his body shuddering hard as he flipped open the cover and right onto the first page.

Medkit read aloud the first paragraph of the story, his eye widening a little with nostalgia, but visible panic. His body quivered softly, the words reflecting onto his pupils.

‘The stars haven’t always glistened with such honor and pride. Instead, they once were divided; distance separating them from meeting the gaze of one another by thousands of light years. The tallest buildings and grandest skyscrapers could never understand how weak their pull had once been, the one thing that divided them by distance so grand it shattered more than hearts, but entire worlds. Separation becomes a fight for power, and the fight becomes a war so bold its sturdies the stone pillars and breaks the fragile spine.’

As Medkit read on, his finger came up and traced right beneath all the words. A good tactic when reading large texts. My knees became sore as Medkit picked up the book, continuing to read paragraph after paragraph in the very yellowed pages, then sat down on the nearest chair after pulling it out. I followed suit and had a seat.

Nostalgia struck me hard as the story was read through, and even though it was a simple, short book, it still brought so much reflection to oneself that it caused some distress. A good type of distress if that even exists. The words etched into the page were wise; an older tongue with slang unused in these newer generations after everything. It mentioned the blizzard that took out the entire Inpherno, then the uprising of the Anarquía warlord and her kingdom, then her brothers and sister following very closely in toe with her actions. The birth of the five kingdoms, but no mention of two names.

Only five people were mentioned in this book, but seven crystals sat engraved on the cover.

“Wait!” I leaned against Medkit’s back, my arms wrapping around his neck as I rested my head on his shoulder to peer over. He flicked his gaze to me and arched a brow, his eye scanning my face closely.

“What is it?” He inquired.

“Look at the cover!” I slammed the book closed, pressing my finger to the cover with a worried expression. “The book only mentions five siblings. Two sisters and three brothers. What about these two crystals? Why have seven crystals but only five primary names included in the story?”

Medkit took a moment to register my words, his gaze shifting back to the cover where my finger was pressed firmly to. I frowned when he gave a sigh, but he turned open the page and flipped to the next page.

There, on the page, was a note. It was aged visibly, the paper yellow and smelling of an old library. The ink was somewhat faded, but you could tell it had been melted by something extremely hot nearby. Likely a candle.

But the main feature to this letter was the name etched onto it.

Firebrand.

I picked up the letter and began to read, my words slow and somewhat shaky.

 

‘To my brother, Venomshank.

My absence has surely shown itself to the public faring, and I know how you are about contact with myself, and our siblings, but I need you to see this. I would only ever disturb you if it were urgent, and this just so happens to be.

In these many years since the kingdoms began, you have been prospering. My rest and recovery thanks to Ghostwalker has been long, but the first thing that struck me fancy was the knowledge that Icedagger is nowhere to be seen. I know how close the two of you were, and I’ve had my guard searching everywhere for him. They all, per what you may think once you receive this letter, have all returned empty-handed. I have reached out to Windforce, and she said to speak with you about it, claiming she had ‘not a clue where he vanished off to’.

Ghostwalker has searched for his soul in the spirit realm, deep into purgatory, and more, but to no avail. They have searched but have also come back without an answer. I know we both want answers, and I figure you have for a long time but not bothered to reach out about it. So, I have.

Attached to this letter is an invitation to the annual Hael Games hosted by my grandsons. It is private seating with tempered windows that will not allow sound within. We will discuss it there. I have invited Darkheart to this event as well since I know how much he favors the likes of combat. But mostly because I know how close you two are.

Please, for the sake of our family.

 

Firebrand.

 

Anxiety sparked heavy in my chest once I finished reading the letter, opening it more to reveal – per what the letter had mentioned – an invitation, gold text engraved onto the colorful ticket with two inphernals baring purple and yellow horns, one hooded while the other wore yellow star-shaped shades. I noticed the dragon wings on them and shuddered. Wings only were born through royal blood which meant these two people were my cousins.

“Seems Venomshank saw it if it isn’t in an envelope.” Medkit explained as he picked up the letter, the ticket resting in my hand while he examined the paper closely. He took the blacklight to it, but nothing appeared, no invisible messages or symbols. “Though, I wonder if he ever replied…”

I sat there, stunned silent. Icedagger flowed through my mind, the word causing me to stumble a little from my still state. I held a hand up to my temple, shaking hard as I swallowed back some bile that threatened to spill out of me. So much was registering to me. I knew about Darkheart being my uncle but not this guy who hadn’t ever been mentioned to me, and to find out I had cousins? Horror struck me and I couldn’t help but let out a choke.

 Medkit noticed my strain and rested his hands firmly on my shoulders, his eye full of nurture as he pressed his forehead to my temple. “Hey,” he whispered, holding me close. “Take a deep breath. In for four, and out for four.”

I did as instructed, my body leaning more into my brother while I gave those shaky breaths, my hands now clutching the back of his white button-up. Medkit slowly drew circles on my back, hushing me gently as I curled more into his touch.

After a good five minutes of breathing, I steadied myself and gazed at the letter now rested on the table. I scowled, my eyes narrowing as I picked it up.

“Since its clear to us my father never bothered to respond to this, why not I?” I turned to look at Medkit, my eyes full of determination as I held up the ticket to the Hael Games. He seemed stricken then, his eye widening a little as he gazed at me.

I was royalty, and he was commoner brought in. It had been almost 8 years since he was taken in by Venomshank – my father – and made into royal blood through adoption. He didn’t know much responsibility outside of organizations, while I knew (almost) all the hoops that had to be jumped through, all the strain it took just to lead. Medkit wasn’t used to that.

“Look, maybe he just forgot to respond to it, Linked. You don’t know what you might be getting yourself into.” Medkit stated. You could hear his frail attempt at hiding the shake in his voice, as well as the choke he was holding in from his anxiety. I always knew how bad it got. His night terrors woke me up at night sometimes, and his panic attacks left me laying over him, my wings draped over him to hide him from the world. I knew it all.

I puffed out my chest a little, my hands gripping the letter tightly. “I can’t just sit here knowing I have family in the other kingdoms after almost 18 years, Kit. You’d wanna know who your family was if you were me!” I didn’t mean to raise my voice but when I did Medkit seemed taken aback, his eye a little widened as he clutched his pant leg.

“You don’t know what’s out there, Linked.” Medkit said, his tone blunt while he looked at me, his expression almost fearful.

“But I won’t ever unless I get out.”

Medkit’s eye flicked across my face then, silence filling the library while I clutched the ticket tightly in my hand. He didn’t dare to speak after what I said, his body still and motionless against his mind registering my words. If you knew Medkit well enough you’d know how difficult it was to get him to think like this, but here he was, silent and still right before me, deep in thought despite lacking expression.

Finally, Medkit pushed up his glasses and exhaled, his body slumping slightly as he gazed ahead.

“I’ll look into the shipment records and see when I can get you out.”

He held a hand up before I could say anything, his eye closing as he turned his head toward the window. “But I won’t allow you to leave in this condition. If you leave like this they will find you, your father, and his guard. If you genuinely want to learn these mysteries and find out about your family, you need to prepare.”

I nodded to his words, my expression full of excitement as I gazed ahead. I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, my grin wide as he wrapped his arms around me in a hug.

“I’ll talk to you about the shipments at dinner tonight, but until then you need to start getting ready.” Medkit said firmly when he released me from the hug, his arms crossing across his chest after pushing his glasses up again.

My wings fluttered as I nodded and I watched as Medkit left the room, his stride seemingly undisturbed as he closed the door behind him. I turned to the book on the table and rested my hand on it, my eyes widening a little as I traced one of my fingers across the orange crystal sewn into the leather cover.

“I’ll learn who you are, even if it kills me.”

 

Dinner seemed to roll around fast, and I found myself sitting next to my brother at the table, my wings folded in neatly on my back while I shoveled some mashed potatoes into my mouth. I wasn’t always a messy eater, but I admit by the way I was leaning and not paying attention, I know how much of a mess I was making. Medkit knew it too, visibly annoyed by the mess.

“Sorry,” I murmured through a mouthful of food, my hand going down to rest my fork on my plate.

Medkit sighed and handed me a napkin. Reluctantly I wiped my face and swallowed my bite of dinner, my wide eyes scanning the list in his hand.

“Okay,” Medkit began, his hand motioning to the list. “Theres a silk shipment scheduled to leave tomorrow night which I might need to reschedule, but there is a guarantee of incoming goods tonight. There’s going to be a send-off of metals to Malic going as it comes in, so I can see about-“

“What are you two talking about?” Venomshank sat across the table, Sisyphus on his shoulder while he adjusted his square glasses with the knuckle of his finger. Medkit turned to look at me almost coordinated then I put on a smile, my eyes closing to show some excitement.

“Medkit’s teaching me about how his shipments work!” I declared, my smile fading a little when Medkit gave a nod. No need to look so serious, I thought to myself when I looked at Medkit’s expression. I watched as he turned the clipboard to show Venomshank the shipment times and goods, both outgoing and incoming.

My father chuckled and turned his head to look at his food, shaking it side to side a little. “I never thought you’d be taking any interest in organization, Linked.”

I nodded, my head burying back into Medkit’s clipboard. He dropped to a whisper, his branches on his horns almost poking me in the eye.

“I’ll see about squeezing you in tonight after dinner. Do you have everything ready?” He looked at me with his good eye, scanning my expression the screamed how unsure I was, but it reflected my determination.

“I’m ready.” I whispered back, then I turned to my food and started stuffing my face. Medkit did the same, though he ate more slowly and surely, etiquette put into his movements and his manners showing themselves like they always did.

As I ate, I couldn’t help but wonder what was on my brother’s mind. His shoulders sagged slightly as he ate – a usual thing for my brother to do especially at a dinner table – and his bagged eyes looked heavier than normal. I frowned after swallowing the last bite of my food, and I couldn’t help but wonder one thing.

Did Medkit know something?

I didn’t dare press on it more, but instead just ignored it and sighed, standing up after neatly stacking my bowl onto my plate and left. I had to finish packing before I leave.

 

“Linked, you ready to go?”

Medkit poked his head into the room, his eye flicking onto me as he closed the door behind him. He seemed dressed more professionally than usual, especially for a Thursday evening. I gave him a nod as I adjusted my bag on my shoulder.

I was dressed in my favorite red shirt, some black cargo pants with a belt on the thigh, and black calf-high boots with steel toes. On my head was my helmet, the red crest feathered and soft. My shoulders donned my cloak, the insignia of Varesy sewn right onto the back. It was shaped like a sword, its edge laced with red thread since it was my signature color, but on its side was a corvid, its talons clutching onto the blade to keep itself up as it gazed off into the distance.

Medkit gave me a curt nod then motioned for the balcony. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Confusion flooded my expression then and I couldn’t help but gaze at Medkit with a face full of bewilderment. Was he serious?

“Wait, Kit.” I ran in front of him, my arm covering the doorknob from his reach. “Are you sure we can’t just use the door like normal people..?”

Medkit cracked a laugh and shook his head, his hand pushing my arm out of the way then eased the balcony door open. He gave me one of those rare grins, the ones that said he knew how crazy his idea was but in all honesty he couldn’t care less. He walked to the railing then grabbed the robe inside of his own bag, resting it on the railing.

To my surprise, Medkit snatched my bag strap and yanked me close, his expression a little cold as he opened my bag and checked to see what was inside.

“Here,” he said. He reached into his own side bag and grabbed out a small journal, some of its pages scribbled on in the shapes of landmarks. “You’ll need this. It’s better than having to unravel a map every few steps and if you find anything that might be worth remembering, just sketch it down here.”

I carefully took the small notebook, my eyes widening as my fingers traced against the freshly pressed-in pages, as well as the soft leather cover. There was a crystal on it, Medkit’s signature when it came to labeling things as his own. In some gorgeous cursive on the lower part of the back was Medkit’s name, etched perfectly in with not much disturbance.

I stuffed the journal into my bag then gazed at the rope on the railing, some anxiety boiling in my chest. “Are you sure we can’t just use the door?”

Medkit gave me a stern expression, his arms crossing. “Do you want to get caught and get grounded until your birthday?”

I paused, my mouth opening to protest. Instead, I ceased my words and blinked. He had a really, really, good point here. If my dad were to find out about me sneaking out especially at a quarter to midnight, he’d practically kill me. So, I complied with what Medkit said and helped him to tie up the rope on the stone rails, some more anxiety filling my gut as I put on my gloves to prevent any burns.

“Alright, remember. Use your legs and kick off the wall. Be careful and make sure to look down so you don’t fall in some sticker bushes, or don’t break any bones. When you’re down, flash this twice, then I’ll bring up the rope.” Medkit instructed, his foot pushing up against the rail as he pulled on the rope to make sure it was taught. Then, he handed it to me.

I took it into my hand slowly, but before I even thought to near the wall, I embraced Medkit, some tears pricking the corner of my eyes as I cuddled my face into his shoulder.

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir, okay?” I promised, a small chuckle leaving Medkit in turn as he rubbed my back with his hand.

“If they have any glasses chains with aventurine on them bring it back. Oh, or if it's just aventurine in general then I’d like that too.” He said with a hum; some play visible in his tone as he gazed at me.

I laughed then took the rope into my hand, my legs hanging over the balcony as I gave Medkit one last glance. Then, I gripped onto the rope tightly and fell, Medkit leaving my line of sight entirely. But right before he left my sightline, I noticed how Medkit’s eye narrowed with worry, a new wrinkle appearing as his eyes gazed out toward the great wall that surrounded Varesy.

My legs pushed me off the wall, my hands clutching the rope tightly while the breeze flowed through my hair, its kiss beating against my face. I had an hour to make it to the shipping yard, and if I was late well… I wouldn’t be able to leave.

Medkit and I had discussed a game plan, and as I ran, I couldn’t help but recite it in my head.

First, I’d make it out towards the Malic border and venture through the kingdom without being spotted (difficult when the easiest way to spot royal blood was through their wings), then I would make my way towards Hael through the long trail that connected the five kingdoms. I still pondered why Medkit made me stick towards the outskirts for the beginning of it, but then I remembered how my father’s guards patrolled the borders often.

It was a known fact that Varesy bordered two of the five kingdoms. Malic being to the close right out west, and Haven to the far left out east. It was the farthest from all the other kingdoms due to lingering out in the old mountains that stories called the Heights, or the SFOTH Peaks. I had never been, but from the very top of the palace you could see it far into the distance.

Now, back to the plan.

Once I made it through Malic, I would meet up with this Firebrand guy who had sent my father a letter – also who now happens to be my uncle that was hidden from me my entire life. If I could, snag a few souvenirs for Medkit, then head home. I had only wanted to do that, but after a bit of deeper thought through my heavy footsteps down the path towards the shipping yard, I thought harder on it.

I had always wanted to go to Hael, yes. It was the kingdom known to have the largest phestivals and grandest experiences in all the Inpherno, but no one had ever spoken of Anarquía. The kingdom was seen easily on the map, being one of the two largest thanks to their warlord leader, Windforce, and her constant fight for territory when things did not go her way. My father had told me stories of the war far before I was born, her rage being stronger than a fire that dared to kindle in the maw of a fireplace.

Now, I was running right towards it.

 

My hand brushed up against the wall of the shipping yard, my body jolting slightly as the cold registered against my fingertips. The chill drove my adrenaline through the roof, and my eyes couldn’t help but scan the large crates and cargo trucks parked and silent, their engines steaming slightly against the sheer cold autumn.

Okay, I thought to myself, my eyes locking on the container labeled ‘Malic Departure’, alongside a ‘fragile’ logo stamped right on it. Just make it to the container then bolt out with them. Don’t get caught.

I waited until the truck drivers and shipment organizers weren’t looking before bolting out toward the container dedicated to Malic. My heart was pounding in my chest, blood roaring in my ears as I rushed toward it. But, right as my hand reached out to grab it, I found myself stuck, a gasp escaping my lips as I fell forward and hit the ground with a harsh huff.

I turned to look what had grabbed me only to see my cloak hooked onto one of the corners of a crate, the splinters dug deep into its soft surface and refused to let go.

With shaking hands, I yanked at it, but it didn’t budge. Come on! I screamed at it in my head, knowing well if I was to say it aloud I’d be caught and sent back home in the blink of an eye. Footsteps approaching didn’t help my situation, and I tugged harder, panic surging through me.

They got closer and closer, anxiety surging through me like the rapids at the beach. Heart pounding almost out of my chest, I eventually yanked it free with a loud RIP and rushed to the shadows, a piece of my cloak having ripped off and left remnant on the crate.

My hand slapped up against my mouth as I cowered in the shadows, a worker coming close to examine the box. Eventually, they shrugged and walked off to the left, and I released my hand from my mouth, a breath escaping my lips as I quivered.

Eventually, I reached my hand down and clutched my chest, a faint quiver escaping me as I sat up and rushed through the dark towards the crate headed for Malic. It was either I climb inside and risk getting stabbed by extremely sharp, freshly mined ore getting sent to my uncle’s kingdom, or I stick close to them while they run out and flee to the woods.

I could just ditch the path Medkit wanted me to stay on and just wander which sounded ten times more fun than just wandering a giant path, but at the same time, the idea startled me. Being all alone out on the countryside? Please. The idea of being alone by itself made my stomach turn a little, and I had to suppress a gag at the thought.

My eyes locked on the crate of metals, and they widened when they saw it was moving. A bit of anxiety surged through me.

Now or never, I told myself, then I ran toward it, sticking in the shadows and fox-walking toward the large crate as it was lifted. The gates would open soon, just as Medkit had said, and I swallowed hard when they did.

My feet propelled me forward and I rushed out of the gate almost in sync with the crate and its movement, then I swerved, scathed my boots on the concrete ground, and hugged the wall when eyes drew in my direction because of the skid of my boots against the stone. I kept my head hidden, my wings shaking hard as the faint beeping of the machinery sounded in my ears. It should hide my gasps for air. Should.

I waited until there wasn’t eyes on me anymore before peeking over just a little, seeing all the workers focused on the crate and getting it loaded up into a shipping truck.

My heart was pounding, my blood was rushing in my ears, and my wings were shaking hard then. But it was also then that I realized I was outside of the wall of Varesy, outside of our territory and on my own.

“Okay,” I said out loud to myself, making sure to keep it a soft murmur. “Maybe Kit won’t mind a detour.”

And so my legs guided me up to the tree line, and I took one last glance back at my kingdom. The palace was reflected by the moonlight, its large, beautifully architected surface an amazing sight from so far away. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my eyes narrowing a little as I adjusted my bag on my shoulder, then I began to walk into the trees.

 

 

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Did y’ get ‘im out?”

 

“…Yeah. He’s on his way to Malic.”

 

“Wonderful! I’ll have some of th’ family meet ‘im at the half-mile marker t’ th’ kingdom!”

 

“I suggest you keep out of sight if you want to catch him.”

 

“And since when were you allowed t’ tell me what t’ do, suga’?”

 

“Never. But I know how his son is.”

 

“Smh… I supposed y’er right. Alright, I’ll make sure they stay hidden.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Oh, and Kit?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Y’ best ain’t lie t’ me. Don’t forget what happened th’ last time y’ did.”

 

 

The phone hung up, and it was placed down slowly, a soft chime emitting as its red surface grazed the holder gently.

 

 

“Yes, ma’am.

Chapter 4: Your Broken Pen Tip Says Well You've Signed Off His Life

Summary:

Theres always realities behind what people label truths.

Notes:

SO SORRY THESE TOOK FOREVER TO COME OUT, I PROMISE I DIDN'T FORGET I WAS JUST SUPER BUSY

Gentle breaths sounded through silence, their lips pursed, chapped, and tired. Hands scraped against fridged walls, shaking emitting while scarlet droplets dripped ever so gently onto the ground. Faint chokes broke out through the silence, shoes clicking against soft marble.

It was cold, far too cold for it to be normal. Though, some might take a gander and assume this was all a dream. But the pain that stabbed through a figure made it well aware of where it was, reminding it that this was all real. Not just a painful dream.

Shoes continued to click against the soft marble flooring, blood pattering gently down onto its surface until you couldn’t unhear it. It severed through the air so harshly it made sure that everything could sense it, all until the shoes clicking got louder, bodies started shaking harder, and knees buckled more.

Silence. Still, undisturbed silence.

Then, a whisp of air, alongside the harsh gasp and grunt of another body who’s arm lay melting and mutilated as time ticked by ever so slowly. The clock on one’s pocket ticked per second, a reminder that things were running thin. Air; time; and chance.

“You really think you can escape me after you did this to me?!” A voice so broken by pain sounded as a hand’s grip harshened against the throat, the blood no longer dripping loudly. Everything was clear now, the sounds of choking, the beating of shoes against the wall where a back laid pressed against. It ached, knowing well it would die here if it did not thrash and struggle to escape.

Shaking broke out harsher through the seconds where gasps for air became more desperate, eyes rolling back and clouding with tears so shaken and horrified that one could tell the other was clearly dying. Pale skin went whiter, cheeks lost their soft rosy flush, and a quiver stabbed through the one whose hand continued to tighten, a surge of pain making them recoil slightly and scream with agony while the hiss of acid burned through their ears. But their hold did not cease.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Five seconds ticked by, and nails were digging into skin while feet continued to beat against the ground.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

It all slowed down, numbness forming in the fingertips while lips went purple with cold and lack of oxygen. Blood dripped, dripped, and dripped, so loud it cut through the air like a knife does to meats rarely found, the malnourishment showing in both figures while twitches made their way through the surrounding room.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Time went by so slowly now, it all a blur to the vision of one who couldn’t help but yearn to breathe. They prayed through their purpling lips, shaking getting harder and nails getting sharper as things began to spin. Swirling around until the livelihood of one couldn’t ever be seen again.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Time seemed to fly in those fragile moments, teeth gritting while baring out at the other through soft chokes and twitches. Ticking and dripping sounded so loudly in the ears, cutting open even the softest of air, warm or cold.

Twenty.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

Kicking slowed, everything weakening before heels pushed up against the wall.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-eight.

Throbbing continued, and knees quivered as legs shoved against the wall.

Twenty-nine.

 

Thirty.

 

The clock on one’s hip ticked then a loud scream broke out, fingers jabbing into their eye while they shoved the other down, a scream breaking out of both as they fought there like cats.

Nails drove into skin, ripping at the mangled flesh and burning palms, and fingertips. The strain became visible, shaking hard and eyes narrowing. The one formerly pinned against the wall drove his hand more against the melting face of the other, their palm burning harshly but they dared not recoil. They tore at the skin, screaming while their legs were kicked out from beneath them and they were thrown onto the floor.

Blood stained the marble more intensely, loud screaming breaking as the two continued their cat fight. They rolled down the hall, harsh grunts and gasps breaking as heads were slammed into the stone and claws drove into one another’s skin. Crashes and clanking sounded not long after, then a loud screech of agony broke the dimness of silence.

A harsh gasp, body shaking hard, and hands coming up to the face could be seen, blood now everywhere on not just the face, but on the clothes as well. Chokes, gasps, and quivering all became clear then, and the harsh beating of boots made an entrance through those sounds.

Leaned up against the wall, a hand was brought up to one’s face and pressure was applied to the eye that now bore blood within its lids, the scarlet ooze almost blinding the one against the wall as they blinked slowly.

“You know…” a voice rasped, pain itching in its words as a sickening grin curved into the lips of the other who lay on his stomach. “You could’ve just complied and went with my wants. The Lord wouldn’t have to know about it.”

“I don’t care what the lord thinks. I never did, and for all I care, this place is more of a cult than a home.” The one against the wall spat, a quick hiss breaking his lips as he pressed harder onto the torn open socket with his palm. He gave a soft hiss, then a gasp, and pushed back more against the wall in a frail attempt to ground himself and prevent him from fainting.

“He only wants the best for us!” The other on the floor screeched before beginning to writhe from the pain once again. Their hands clawed at the ground before they shot up and rushed forward, their voice a boom through the echo-y hall. Horns clashed together, shaking grew stronger. “He wants the best for you!”

Strained breaths sounded as hands clasped against sleeves, grunting breaking from cracked lips before another loud screech broke out thanks to the claws of the other on the floor who towered over the one against the wall. They drove into the eye socket and tore, the skin ripping and the reek of burning filling the nose as everything began to spin.

Silence filled the room then, and bodies lay against one another in disarray. Everything was numb, and all the pain that rolled throughout the one against the wall became barely visible. The other on the floor appeared almost dead, the reek of burning flesh emitting throughout the silent, bloodied hallway.

Boots picked up then, and the one against the wall opened his eyes to peer in the direction of the noise, but instead of being met with a face, he was met with the knowledge that he couldn’t see out of one of his eyes. And there, right on the ground, sat the eyeball, its nerves still attached to its base, and it being soaked in scarlet droplets. Where it once laid was a now empty socket, the lids torn up from the almost talon-like nails of the other on the ground.

“MEDKIT!”

Voices continued to ring as everything started spinning faster and faster throughout the room, all until a face came up to the one against the wall, and his remaining eye rolled back into his head as pain, and blood loss took over.

Then, arms found themselves draped beneath bent knees, and boots beat against the ground while the one who was formerly against the wall was carried off, a helmed demon holding tight onto him.

The watch was still ticking then, all until it fell to the ground with a soft crack and plop into a small pool of blood, and the arms stopped moving right on the VI (7), the soft ticking ceasing entirely almost like it forgot how to breathe.

Seven minutes, the watch read. Seven minutes until they got out; seven minutes until he fainted from blood loss; and seven minutes until the one on the floor was able to stand and proceed with his tyrannical reign through the once existent genius they called Blackrock.

 

 

I hadn’t a lick of sleep in the last two days, and I’m sure by the way I was walking it showed well on my form. My eyelids sagged just a little, but I didn’t mind it. If it meant I could keep walking with the remaining energy I had I’d do it. I had to make it to Malic, and I had now five days to do it.

Since I had left Varesy and its grand walls, I had finally registered two things.

One: not all things on the outside of the wall are great. I’m counting four large bruises on my shoulder, shin, bicep, and collarbones, some sore knees, and heavy eyelids.

And two: maybe its best to bring a tarp with me on long trips like this.

By this point, the shipping container that held all the stuff for Malic had likely arrived by now thanks to the amount of horsepower the machines they used had, but it wasn’t the greatest thing for me. If I was remembering Kit’s words right, he said that all the time I would be out, I would have passed at least four shipments headed down the Crossroads. Just thinking about it tired me.

With my head held high, I continued down the path through the tree line, avoiding the gaze of anyone who might end up passing. After all, it would be weird if anyone saw the prince of Varesy wandering in the woods alone with no guard. A good steal if I might say so myself.

Anxiety boiled in my stomach then and I couldn’t help but swallow a wad of spit that met my tongue. It ached, and with a harsh gulp, I swallowed back any thoughts of going back home to Medkit and my dad.

Above me, the trees swayed with the rain that had started gently pattering against the leaves, a light sprinkle that I could tell would soon turn into a harsh storm. The gentle roll of thunder in the distance established that and made my theory accurate. It was the beginning of autumn, and that meant more storms thanks to the humid air and the dying plants.

My boots gently hit against the hardened dirt as I trekked on the path, my eyes lying ahead. I had no time to spare, but by how heavy my eyes were getting, I knew I needed to find a place to settle down soon.

If I remembered correctly, two days of no sleep and only energy drink shots would make you go insane. I had first-hand experience with it thanks to my brother and his consistency with it. He had to keep himself awake multiple nights in a row sometimes, but that was due to his busy job. After so many espresso shots, Medkit would break into a twitching mess at his desk and his leg would rapidly bounce to the point where it wasn’t even able to be seen properly anymore. Now, in my case, I had been walking on and on in an almost endless forest that screamed dangers at every corner. But nothing happened. So, being on guard that whole time had me exhausted.

Out of the entire time I had been walking I had only twice considered stopping to catch some sleep but never acted on it. I simply just imagined the comfort of my bed and let myself lightly doze through my strides. That was the only thing really keeping me going.

With a harsh yawn and a quick bite of the bottom lip, I broke into a weak sprint. I could smell the storm creeping not far behind me and I had to find a place to stop sometime to gather more supplies. I had been living on straight rations for the last two days and had finished my three sandwiches that I had packed with me just in case. Ham and cheese sandwiches are my favorite, and by the way I doused it in mayo and mustard, I think whoever would’ve seen me eating it would think the same.

Now, as I walked, I dwelled on those sandwiches and wished I had one more with me.

Maybe going home wasn’t the worst of ideas.

No, not now. I had gone too far and from what the map was saying, I was almost there. Give it another day of walking. The map said a tavern should be nearby, and by Medkit’s notes, he was, in fact, correct.

As I walked up the trail, my eyes couldn’t help but flick over to an opening in the trees, a vast, beautiful field being poured into by nature’s loving tears struck my vision. It was wide, looking almost endless by how far it extended into the horizon. My father had never told me of the many beauties outside the wall, and to finally be able to see it for myself was a blessing.

I stopped right there and leaned against one of the final trees meeting the field, some rain droplets falling onto my face as I watched with awe-filled eyes. It wasn’t every day you got to see something so beautiful.

Cornflowers bluer than the darkest of sapphires swayed gently and flinched with the rain, the grass around it following closely in turn. They danced with the wind and the clouds’ life-bringing weeps, and the feathers on my wings couldn’t help but want to dance as well.

I almost felt bonded with the sight as I leaned against that great cedar tree, its branches aged and weathered with time. From what I could tell, it was about 75 years old, but I could be wrong.

Eventually, the rain began to pick up and I found myself getting drenched in the water. Discomfort washed over me, and I quickly rushed back into the depths of the trees, a frail attempt to stay dry. Rain out here was ruthless, and I was one of its first victims.

Quivering faintly with cold, I raced through the undergrowth and rushed in the direction of wherever the map told me. I looked into the sky and saw rain, then some white smoke, a good sign for me. It meant I was close to shelter.

I would’ve just skipped by it, but with how heavy my eyes were and how hard it was to be able to run, I knew it was for the best that I find a place to hunker down and rest for the time being. At least until the storm blew over.

I broke into a sprint, racing through the storm quickly and efficiently. Water smacked against my face and reddened my cheeks, and my breath hitched slightly as I swerved and rushed past a sticker bush covered in blackberries. My boots were covered in mud, and my knees were starting to ache, but I needed to get dry soon.

My bag swung on my hip as the strap laid in my hands, resting right on my shoulder. And – after a long sprint through the wet woods, I finally found myself faced with a large building. A tavern and inn.

It hit me hard in the head then that I was royalty on the run. It had been two days since I had left, and my father had very likely noticed my disappearance the morning Sisyphus was found in his bedroom instead of mine. I just hoped Medkit would cover me… at least until I finished my mission.

But the key detail that I knew would be a dead giveaway was my wings.

Royal blood was known to have wings of any kind upon their body. My father was an exception due to Sisyphus being his wings, however. But when it came to pure blooded, royal inphernals, they bore animalistic wings of any type. From dragon to falcon, to hawk, and bat, they were there. No other type of inphernal had them unless you bore royal blood.

My black feathers twitched slightly as I hid in the shadows of the tree, the rain merciless as I sat in wait. My feathers were visible on my entire back near by wings rested firmly on my shoulder blades, and they were right beneath my eyes in certain spots. Now if that wasn’t a dead giveaway then I don’t know what else on me could be.

Maybe it was my freshly washed clothes that still smelt of lavender detergent despite the rain and countless time running; maybe it was my sword and its beautifully sharpened edge, the rubies engraved into its handle and the obsidian forged onto the edges of the blade; or maybe it was my aura entirely. I heard royalty was known to have a powerful, authority-filled aura when around people of lower classes, but to me, all were equal. That’s how it had always been to me.

Now, as I stood in the tree line, watching; waiting even for a chance to slip into the crowd, I couldn’t help but shudder a little as my wings curled up close to my back and hid beneath the folds of my cloak. My nail drove into the cuticle of my thumb and picked at the skin, driving it up and tearing as anticipation filled me.

Realization struck me fancy and I couldn’t help but sigh as I watched people move in the tavern from the window. I probably looked like a creep, but if I was to make it, I needed to rest, especially with the downpour getting harsher.

Taking a big deep breath in, I hid my wings against my back, pulled my cloak up just a tad higher, then raced to the tavern entrance. Anxiety pooled in my gut as I reached for the handle, and with a firm shove, the door opened and I stepped in, soaked in rainwater and hiding something that could give away my entire identity.

Eyes locked on me for a few moments before all went back to their conversations: a relief to me especially with my current situation.

With a bit of a shudder from cold, I walked toward the desk of the tavern and stared wide-eyed at an inphernal who bore dark gray eyes, and some soft orange horns. I swallowed down the mucus with a bit of distaste then sighed, puffing my chest out a little as I blurted out words.

“How much for a room for the night?”

The inphernal gave a soft smile then started looking through her chart, her finger resting on an empty slot. “50 bux for two nights, but 25 for one.” She said, and I reached into my bag instantly, grabbing out a small leather pouch and pulled out 25 bux from within it, the paper smooth against my calloused fingertips.

Slowly, I handed it to her, watched her take it and count, then reached into her desk and pulled out a key. She pointed down the hall with a finger after leaning forward in her chair, then gave a soft rasp.

“Go all the way down the hall, take a left, then a right and you’ll be there. Bathroom’s down to the right at the end before the turn. Name?”

Her sudden question of my name struck me, and anxiety foamed in my stomach. If I gave my real name I would be caught, and to be caught would be begging for a grounding, living the rest of my 17 years of age in my bedroom, forbidden from exiting the palace in any way. My name was that of my gear, the Linked Sword. My family knew me well as Linked, but if that name was just flying around in some tavern I’m sure my father would find me within the span of a second.

“Sword,” I blurted then, my eyes glistening a little with paranoia. The lady at the desk gave a soft hum then wrote it down on her chart, then she dropped the key into my hand.

“Room is yours. You have until 5pm tomorrow to leave.” She said, and she returned to her silent work.

With a soft nod, I clasped my fingers around the key resting in my palm and began to walk in the direction I had been instructed to get to the rental. I drew a breath as I managed down the hall, my wings shaking a little beneath my cloak. What ran through my head was one thing: get to that room and hide before you’re seen. That thought alone was frightening enough. I had never had to hide from the public before, but now I needed to for my own safety.

Stragglers were known to prey on royals for money, and fame, after all. They’ll do anything for riches.

When I finally got to that room, relief had never hit me so hard before. I sagged my shoulders and hunched my back with a harsh grunt. I took off my cloak, let my wings sag down low after being held so tightly against my back for so long, then kicked off my muddied boots. A sigh left my lips.

My eyes gazed around the room with a bit of numbed precision, the details all flowing into my head until I stumbled to the bed and had a seat right on its edge. I needed a shower; I could feel the greasiness of my hair without even touching it and I could smell myself despite the hints of cologne I put on just before entering the tavern.

I gave a yawn, ran my hand down my face, then stood up with a huff. I had noticed previously there were towels resting on a chair which reminded me of the soap I had brought with me. I was lucky to be royal because the shampoo and conditioner I needed for my insane curls was something quite pricey for the average person. To me, though, I didn’t have to worry about money.

I reached into my bag and quietly pulled out the small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, my body somewhat straining when I sat up and rested the bag on the bed. I was tired and it was showing, but before I could sleep I needed a nice hot wash to my hair and body. I reeked of sap, mud, and pine needles, and while the scent was comforting for a little while you could get overwhelmed by it fast.

Quietly I walked down the hall, a sigh breaking from my lips as I trekked. It was quiet outside of the restaurant area of the tavern, and the people who resided in the inn seemed to either be living inside the warm plot or were just travelers stopping for a meal. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was when I got into the shower, a soft sigh escaping my lips as I hid behind a screen.

It occurred to me then that my wings were exposed to only myself in the shower, and I smiled a little at the hot water relieving the tension in them. I stretched them out, a soft hum leaving my lips as I soaked myself in the water. Back to that thought. I gave my wings a quick glance as I started scrubbing my scalp with shampoo, the wonder of what people would think if they saw me with my wings flared out as much as they were.

Well, for one, Medkit had warned me plenty of the dangers outside the kingdom walls. His words still rang in my head. ‘People out there are money-hungry animals that will do anything for a droplet of cash in their wallets. Don’t let them see those wings of yours, you’ll be the primary target of not just the poor, but of other, much more dangerous forces that linger out there.’ The words haunted me, and with a quick inhale, I glared at the bottle of conditioner between a rinse of the scalp. My fingers curled into my palms, forming fists before I pulled myself free of the hot water and began applying some of the conditioner to my curls, the silence in the bathroom triggering a reaction out of me.

When I finished washing myself, I stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around me, my wings hidden beneath it. If anyone were to walk in – which I know they wouldn’t – I would’ve been seen and I would be their next target, and horror. I didn’t want that, so I kept to myself as I crept away to my room.

I got inside, locked the door, dried off, dressed, then sat down, my hair being left to air dry. My hands shakily came up to my face and held it gently, the warmth easing my sudden wave of monophobia that tore through me like steel does to skin. I missed home, it was obvious. I yearned to return to my family and peaceful life in the palace walls. But leaving wasn’t the biggest mistake I had made.

It never had been.

As I fluffed out my hair and wrang it free from the remaining water, I curled up into my bed and snuggled into the warm blankets, sleep a harsh wave. I closed my eyes, my wings flaring out slightly in the blankets before I drifted off, the peaceful environment a soothe to my strained psyche.

I’d need to learn how to savor sleep like this from now on, especially if I was to keep going.

 

 

 

“WHERE IS MY SON?” Venomshank’s cry was loud enough to spark terror into even the seemingly fearless soldiers that stood posted by the throne room entrance. The Varesy king was enraged, his mask locked on his face evidence of a potential feral soon to come. No eyes dared judge, just simply remained where they were, silently observing.

The inphernal sat on a throne gave a rasp chuckle before standing to her feet, large wings forming out of her back. They looked like brackets, but the spikes on them were harsh and dangerous. Her long whiskers twitched and flowed in a seemingly airless room, and her sharp claws tapped against the sturdy surface of her throne, a soft tap emerging.

“So, let me get this straight, hermano a mi. You come to me first, of all the people you could have gone to, then you blatantly accuse me of kidnapping your child, then expect even the SLIGHTEST form of forgiveness and pity out of me? ¡Cómo te atreves!” She spat out the Spanish in harsh tones, going into a frenzy so wild the rolling of thunder began to emerge outside.

Venomshank’s claws flexed, and he gave a loud hiss when the time came. Then he started to spew out harsh German, the mixture of languages a threatening sight to see. Two powerful forces in one room, both able to kill one another but never daring, only baring teeth and tugging weakly at throats until they bruised. That was how the gave is played, and with these two now stood right before each other, one could only hope and pray that there would be nothing more than that.

A soft sigh broke from the crowd as a demon sat silently in the shade, a veil covering his lanky, shadowy figure from the sun’s threatening glare through one of the windows. It vanished quickly, then the rain began to pour down and he smiled big beneath his tipped hat and black veil.

“Just how we like it…” The inphernal murmured before glancing up, one green eye glaring at the two demons who stood throat to throat with one another. “The sun did always irritate our skin…”

Windforce – the queen of Anarquía – stood up taller from her throne and snapped her four-eyed, blazing golden gaze to the veiled demon, her tongue gently flicking out for a few moments before she spat out some Spanish slang; following not far behind was an insult.

“Darkheart. You dare enter my kingdom uninvited like your dog of a brother?” She hissed, and Darkheart returned a chuckle as he began to walk towards Venomshank to soothe him. He was always good at that, and when he rested his hand on the Varesy king’s shoulder, he straightened up and eased, a soft sigh leaving his lips hidden beneath the brown mask.

“Oh, please, Windforce…” Darkheart’s green eye flicked to another, smaller throne where a thin, misty looking inphernal stood. “We both know you wouldn’t have any minding to Ghostwalker’s appearance, but the moment Venomshank even breathes in a singular atom from your land, you suddenly mind it..!”

Windforce gave a harsh huff and lashed her large dragon tail, her eyes narrowing. “The difference is that Ghostwalker cannot breathe.” She spat. The comeback was good, but Darkheart widened his grin and glared

“You’re right, Windforce,” he gave a soft giggle. “He drips instead..!” Darkheart gave a yelp as he was struck on the back of the head by a hand, and he cowered slightly to his brother’s glare through his mask.

“Sorry, Venonshank…”

Venomshank sighed, his gaze turning back to Windforce. It held ire, fret, and fortitude, and it spoke a thousand morals at once. Windforce could see it, and she gave a soft growl at the look being displayed by the smaller, not much younger inphernal she knew as her ‘ally’.

“When did you last see Linked?” Windforce snorted through her words, a stream of smoke leaving her nostrils as she brought a hand up to her face and ran it down. Her fingers pulled down her eyelids, her second set of eyes shuttering to protect themselves from getting poked out by sharp nails.

Venomshank’s expression softened and hope visibly flooded into him. “We last saw him in his room four days ago, and since then, no one has been able to find him within territory walls.” The Varesy king flicked his gaze to the side then shifted it back to the queen he stood before. He was never someone who cowered to other forces, but for the sake of his child’s, he’d do it.

Windforce gave a loud laugh and flared out her wings, the heated tension of the room that screamed how annoyed she was becoming thicker and blazing more furiously than before. Darkheart didn’t seem amused and rolled his eyes, his own large, featherless, black, bone-shaped wing flaring slightly with gentle crackling noises emitting.

“We aren’t ones to butt in, but if you wouldn’t mind…” Darkheart began, his grin visible again as he pushed the large veil away from his face. “Venomshank was right to assume it was you who stole his child… after all, we have plenty of reasons why you could have and wanted to in the first place..!”

Windforce’s brow furled, and she found herself seated back in her throne. She tapped her clawed finger against the rough arm rest and waited, her other hand curled into a fist and supporting her head by the cheek. “Enlighten me then, deity of chaos.” She spat, some Spanish words following in gentle mumbles.

At the invitation, Darkheart grinned wider than any mortal could, and his hands clapped before the whole room went pitch black. Venomshank was unphased – same with Windforce – and he snapped his fingers on a now glowing (once all black) arm. Images appeared then, from two inphernals clashing blades to mountain peaks, even the sight of someone falling out of the sky with a spear to the stomach. He knew more than these other two, and it showed.

“As you remember, we have excellent memory compared to the rest of our siblings – especially Firebrand because good grief that guy really needs to be brought up to speed on everything…” Darkheart was cut off by Venomshank clearing his throat. He shook his head and chuckled, his wing folding in close.

“Anyways! Back to what we were saying..!”

Darkheart pointed a finger at Windforce with a sadistic grin plastered on his face, then an image appeared with herself, and what looked like Venomshank in a duel. It played as Darkheart spoke, and he couldn’t help but glance back at it a few times as reference.

“Before the kingdoms were fully functional, you declared war on Venomshank for him supporting the idea of not allowing your tyrannical ass to rule over everything. You lost said war then declared another, but Venomshank did not engage because he didn’t want to.”

At those words, Venomshank dipped his head, some memories flooding into his mind. His brother continued speaking.

“Back before his child was born, you killed his first wife, then his second. So, the moment his only surviving child turns up missing-“

Venomshank winced. They didn’t know.

“He instantly turns to you; the tyrannical anarchic dragon who sits on her ass all day and has her soldiers do her dirty work...” Darkheart snapped his fingers, and an image appeared of a land filled with dead bodies, some corpses already decomposing slowly thanks to the crows and their picking. Windforce sighed, her hand coming over her eyes while she leaned to one side.

Venomshank rose his head and glared up at Windforce once the scene returned back to the throne room, a tooth-baring expression on Windforce’s face. She seemed irritated by whatever she had seen, but she reluctantly sighed, stood up, then walked towards the exit of the throne room. Venomshank followed per instinct.

“Windforce,” the Varesy king began, his voice now soaked in worry and desperation. “Please, I promise this will be the last favor I ever ask of you, just help me find my son.” He begged, his hands coming in front of the queen.

Windforce gave a harsh scoff at his words then smirked. “We’re walking towards my armory, idiot.” She wasn’t lying, because when her hand came up it stayed right beside a large door that she shoved open with a strong shoulder. Inside was armor, weaponry, and soldiers training. But one soldier in particular stood out to the tyrannical queen. She approached him, her eyes narrowing.

“You. I assign you a task.” She began, and the soldier straightened up quickly, his eyes null while his hands came behind his back.

Windforce gave a chuckle, her gaze flicking to Venomshank. “I doubt your soldiers behave just as well as mine.” She smirked at the remark, and Venomshank rolled his eyes from beneath the mask. “Just get on with it… I don’t want to be here.”

With a huff, Windforce instructed the knight to search for the Varesy heir, claiming he’d be rewarded greatly for his efforts and have a high position waiting for him. Reluctantly, he agreed, and he took off towards the armory to fetch his gear.

Venomshank followed Windforce into her grand dining room, his eyes flicking around the beautifully detailed palace. It was nothing like his own, for his was much larger and much more detailed; vintage if one might claim evident. He scanned the floors, their polished surface reddened by what looked like dried blood gone uncleaned. How could someone live like that?

A figure appeared in the doorway, some joyful Spanish ringing throughout the silence. He noticed a dark-skinned demon who bore large purple horns, broad shoulders with muscular arms, and similar wings to Windforce. It occurred to him then that Windforce had borne her own heir to secure her hold on her territory.

“Mamá!” He said happily, his four red eyes glistening slightly as he ran to his mother. He looked to be about 25, but his accent screamed 40. He used older slang, not the common ones Venomshank would hear from Linked or Medkit. It took a moment for the purple horned demon to notice Venomshank, and when he did, he gave a low growl.

“Oh great, we’re bringing mutts around the palace now?” He hissed, only to get swatted on the back of the head by Windforce’s hand. He winced, a cowardous washing over him as he gazed up at his tyrannical mother.

“You ain’t calling my guest a mutt ever again, hear me?” Windforce’s tongue rolled on her r’s, the hostility in her tone frightening to even Venomshank. He had heard her sternness in the past, but time had changed her, and it must have gotten plenty lonely if she found herself dealing with a child after so long.

Venomshank couldn’t help but think back to Medkit whom he had left at home. He had entrusted his eldest son to guard and take care of the palace in his absence, for it took two days by horse to reach Windforce’s grand kingdom. He couldn’t help but figure a visit to Firebrand would be pleasant – maybe even a stress reliever – but the idea of visiting and not knowing if his youngest son, and heir, was alright haunted him. He needed to find him.

“Windforce,” Venomshank said as they continued walking. “How long should it take that knight of yours to find my son?” Worry filled his voice as he fidgeted with the textures on his gloves, smoothing the slight wrinkle of the leather as his steel-toed boots clicked against the floor. The purple horned inphernal had joined them in their walk and found himself behind the two great royals.

“Banhammer?” Windforce smiled as she turned to her son, her eyes narrowing while her eyebrow arched slightly.

Banhammer perked up and gave a toothy grin, practically reading his mother’s mind. “Trained all of them myself! Should take ‘em ‘bout a few days, maybe even a week if he’s too far out. Just pray he ain’t reach the borders of the baseplate!” He cracked his knuckles, the loud popping making Venomshank twitch vigorously with feral that so desperately wanted to flee its confinements. He wanted to tear this smug prince’s throat out, but he kept himself composed, his eyes narrowing as he continued to walk along.

“Very well,” he said. “You have two weeks. If he isn’t found by then, I declare war on the kingdom of Anarquía.”

When Venomshank made it to the entrance of the palace, he found his brother seated on a stone not far away. It was raining and the sun had been covered by the almost black clouds littering the sky. He couldn’t help but wonder how his son was doing, hoped he hadn’t come with any trouble wherever he had gone. But he mostly hoped he would come home.

“Oh, brother…” Darkheart grinned gently, his hand extending to his brother. “Don’t worry so much about the little tike. He’s tough, you taught him well. We should know...!” A chuckle broke from the veiled inphernal before the rain began to harshen. Venomshank didn’t mind it as he started to walk down the path to his horse with his brother at his side.

He turned his head just barely to the Malic king, some worry flooding his senses as he unlocked his mask and pulled it up out of his face. “You’ll keep an eye out for him, right?” His voice broke a little, not with tears, but with paternal instincts that screamed fear. His precious son was missing, and his older brother had no clue where he had gone. At Venomshank’s words, Darkheart nodded then snapped his fingers, a portal opening. He stepped in, then it vanished.

A sigh broke Venomshank’s lips as he mounted his horse beneath a sheltered area, gently whipping the reigns and making his way back home. He’d send guards out the moment he got home, and with Windforce’s help, the chances of finding him were high.

But something began to eat at Venomshank when he gazed off into the distance, those familiar peaks haunting him with the memory of what happened all those years ago. And it hit him so hard.

“Oh no.” He choked, then his horse began to run.

Chapter 5: Birds Seek Warmth In The Strangest of Places

Summary:

The Sun can't always save you from sacrifice

I remember waking up in a cold sweat to the sound of heavy footsteps. I didn’t think too much about it, and when I opened my eyes to look out the window, I noticed it was still dark. I wondered how long I had been asleep for, and I sat up with a bit of struggle. My body ached, from neck to shoulders, it all ached. Exhaustion had struck me through the soreness, and I choked a little on my spit when I tried to swallow.

My eyes were foggy for a good few moments before my hand came up and wiped away the built-up grime on them. I sighed, my head falling back and hitting the pillow with a gentle ‘foosh’ then I closed my eyes again. I had seen the moon slowly setting outside my window, but I didn’t think much about it. If anything, my mind was more drawn to the idea of sleep. As I curled more into the blankets, I stretched out my wings with a soft grunt then shuttered my eyes again. When they opened again, the sky was beginning to slowly turn a dark blueish gray, the rain outside hounding down almost threateningly.

My senses began to wake up and I sighed, my eyes finally opening all the way to gaze at the ceiling. Three days since I left home, and I was all alone in an inn. I was surprised that no one had found me yet, not even my father. Was he even looking? I didn’t doubt it, but at the same time the feeling at the bottom of my gut told me he hadn’t bothered. I sat up, my arms stretching above my head. I felt refreshed, but hunger struck me hard like a fist to the stomach. I groaned, my arms wrapping around my stomach to soothe the ache, but to no avail.

I slipped out of bed, the ethereal feeling driving me insane as I dressed myself in proper clothes (clean ones), then combed through my fluffy hair. The feeling of being clean had finally struck me and I felt amazing, and as I made the bed, hiding any evidence of my wings existing, I found myself walking around shirtless for a bit. Ideas slipped in and out of my head as I cleaned up, stuffing all the loose feathers into a trash bin not far from the desk in the room, a silent hope that no one would mind them and think they were just for a project that had been taken place within this room. I couldn’t hide my wings under my cape the rest of the time, and it would be weird to keep them stuffed under my shirt.

The idea hit me then when my eyes caught sight of bandages in my bag. They were white and sturdy, able to secure anything. My wings weren’t that big, surely not enough to fly, but they were easy to hide. With a sharp breath, I began to wrap the bandages around my chest, the wraps binding my wings plenty. I made sure it wasn’t too tight, but it still hurt to compress them. Surely I’d end up with a broken rib or two, but I didn’t think much of it.

Once I finished, I tied off the bandages and exhaled sharply, my body quivering a little from the newly found weight on my body. I felt lighter than before, and I couldn’t help it when I took the scissors out of my bag, my eyes scanning the surfaces with almost desire. I swallowed, and with keen precision, I cut the bandages from the roll and tied them off. A quick look at my hair and it had me thinking I needed a cut, and it would be easy to recognize me by my curls and wings. So, without further thought, I started cutting.

All that hair, years grown into it with plenty of care all gone. It dropped into the floor almost like trash, forgotten and cleaned once finished. I tossed all of it into the trash can not far away from the desk, throwing my stray feathers in there as well. I needed to hide that I had been here; covering your tracks is the best way to keep yourself safe from harm, that’s what Meds had said.

I collected my things, dressed myself, then left. I dropped my key off at the front and took off out the front door, not thinking much about it as I raced away into the morning.

When the crisp morning air struck my face, I inhaled. Took in all the sweet smells of dying leaves, and the leftovers of flowers that had bloomed in the summer. The sun hadn’t yet begun peeking over the horizon, but the dew had surely settled in overnight. I liked it, and with a quick swallow, I broke into a trot and made my way down the path.

Thinking back to my brother’s words, I had been out three days with a week to spare getting to Malic. I was almost there by the looks of my map, and I could feel the excitement boiling in my stomach. I had heard stories of the dark kingdom and its people, how conniving some were and the chaos that induced itself into it because of its lord. The Day of The Rain was a phestival I had attended a long time ago, long before I was fully aware of my existence. But I remember it clearly, and it was amazing. Fireworks had been set off in the sky with rain heavier than any that had come pouring down onto all of us. No matter if it was an umbrella or royal wings, no one could stay dry. It rained the entire day from dusk to dawn, but it was fun. The Malicians were known to keep themselves entertained with the harshest of weather, and despite the rain, the chaos hadn’t ceased that day.

I wished I was young again so I could see it.

The warmth of the morning slowly began to seep in after an hour, and I found myself drinking in the warmth between strides. The rays of morning sun that slowly began to poke over the horizon cast heat through the trees and onto the path, soaking me in comfort as I trekked on. I didn’t look back; never even thought of it. I had a mission to complete and if it took me walking for days again I’d do it.

My mind skipped back home, and I started to think about Medkit. I missed him, he was my best – and only – friend back home. He was able to tolerate my stupidity, helped me through some hard times in my youth, and he himself changed when he came to live with us.

 I remember a lot about my childhood, but it wasn’t the greatest thing to have in your mind after everything. The thought of some events made me shudder, and my eye twitched slightly with some recollections. I continued without another worry, a smile on my face with my now short hair and hidden wings. No one would recognize me from here. I hoped.

I reached into my bag and pulled out one of the sandwiches I had snagged from the lunch bar before I left and dug into it. It was hot, delicious on the tongue and savory. I adored it so and after a good 5 minutes I saw it was gone. Now – with a full stomach – I walked along without a worry in the world, my balance a bit flawed due to my lack of wings weighing me down again. It felt nice, the light feeling, but it brought anxiety to my mind when I tried and flex them, nothing emitting from them due to being tied back.

With a sigh, I continued my way down the path, undisturbed by the sounds of the forest. By the time I got startled back into reality, the road had turned to stone, and my boots beat against it. I swore I had stopped, but clearly not. The sun peaked in the sky, and the warmth brought life to the variety of colors lacing the trees and their leaves. From red to orange, to yellow and green, it glowed, and it was beautiful.

The bath bore some of the fallen leaves, but I paid no mind. If anything, I found it beautiful. Wanting to savor the moment, I walked off towards one of the bigger trees and sat, reaching into my bag to fetch out the notepad given to me by my brother. Then, with some struggle, I sketched out my travels.

From Varesy’s walls to a tavern in the Central, all the way down the path until it ran stone. I sketched the tavern, my pencil strokes precise as I etched it into the page with the graphite tip. Once I finished, I constructed the path, my lips curved into a smile. All the trees sketched into the page marked the edges of the path, boldening it as I continued with it. I needed this, a good rest after a long walk.

By the time I had finished, the sun had begun to set, and my eyes were faintly shut as I cuddled into the trunk of the tree. My back ached from the bound wings, but I paid no mind to it, instead, I simply dozed, the warm sun-bathing against my body until it lulled me off into its warm sleep.

When I awoke, I heard hooves beating against the stone, the gentle clicking causing my eyes to shoot open and my body to shudder. I shot up, my hands slipping as they reached for my bag and journal, then I raced behind the large tree. When I got behind it, I realized then the journal had slipped from my fingers. Panic surged through me, and I rushed toward it on the ground, its pages exposed, and the map of my trekking revealed to the sky. I ran, and when I grabbed it, the hooves stopped.

“Hey!!” A voice yelled, and I froze. My body went stiff, the book held close to my chest as I stared like a deer in headlights to the bag’s strap revealed from behind the tree. I didn’t dare move when the hooves stopped right behind me, my body shaking as I kept still. I figured if I didn’t move they’d think I was just a statue on the path, but they had to have seen me moving; they had to have noticed my shaking knees and form. They had to have.

“Hey, you!” A hand partially encased in steel rested on my shoulder then spun me around. I choked, the anxiety in my gut causing me to stagger back a little from the harsh turn. I swallowed spit, the book still pressed close to my chest.

“Can I help you?” I choked on those words, my best formal voice shaking a little as I gazed at this slightly taller inphernal.

He scaled about 5’9, his horns a vibrant teal while his helm covered eyes that I assumed were the same color as his horns. He wore silver armor, detailed with precious royal engravings into its surface that screamed high station; following it was some gentle teal lining on the edges of some chest plate pieces. His hands were hidden by black gloves, some steel plating on the roofs of his fingers and hand to shield it, and his abdomen bore black, sturdy cloth beneath the armor. His pants were of similar fashion, black cloth beneath steel and sturdy boots that held some teal lacing. I noticed some scars beneath his helmet right on his lips, the remnants of a piercing lingering beneath the bottom lip. I envied him for that.

“Have you seen someone walking around here? Royal blooded perhaps?” He asked, his voice calm as he released his hold onto me and rested his arms firmly at his sides. I paid no mind to this, but I had to respond to his questions. It occurred to me then that he described me, and it meant that my father had, in fact, found out I was gone – as expected – and was searching for me again. I quivered at the thought, and the knight before me seemed confused on my sudden shaking.

“Are you alright?” He asked, some concern washing over him as he held me up. I hadn’t realized how weak I was until he pulled me close and held me up. I had just met this guy, but here he was. Holding me securely and tightly like I was someone he had known forever.

Realizing I had yet replied to any of his questions, I nervously chuckled and pushed away from him, my wings beneath their wrappings giving a twinge in my back that caused me to wince ever so faintly. “Yeah, I’m alright. I swore I saw someone of the sorts walking ahead of me some hours ago. I could’ve just been seeing things, but I figure it’s who you’re looking for.”

A smile curved on the knight’s lips as he crossed his arms, the reigns of his horse held in his hand now as he looked at me. “Thank you. You look starved and tired, need a ride at all?”

I felt my face grow hot at the words, not from fluster, but from pure embarrassment. He was right, I did look like an absolute mess, but that’s because I had been walking all day non-stop. I sighed, my eyes softening a little as I gazed at the knight. I hesitated, and right as my lips parted to speak, he broke into conversation.

“I don’t mind taking you to wherever you’re headed. I was on my way to Malic to meet with Lord Darkheart to deliver something from Lord Venomshank and Lady Windforce.” He chuckled a little, some amusement in his voice. “You’d think they’d be able to do it themselves. But apparently not.”

I caught myself before I blurted out a protest, a nervous laugh leaving my lips. “I’m headed that way too. I don’t mind a ride, but I’m sure just walking will be fine.” That was a lie, my legs hurt so bad. I just wanted to go back to sleep and never have to walk again.

The knight clasped his hands together and grinned from ear to ear, then he mounted his horse. “You should probably grab your stuff, you never know when some crazy gamblers or thieves might try and get ahold of it.”

His words sparked some realization in me, and I rushed to my belongings, picking up the bag that sagged down like an aged inphernal, then threw it over my back, a smile crossing my face.

“I’ve only ever ridden horses twice, so my etiquette isn’t the greatest.” I admitted through a shy smile, my legs shaking a little as I mounted the large white horse and held onto the knight.

He gave a chuckle at my words, shaking his head side to side ever so faintly. “Don’t worry,” he said, his hand patting my knee. “I’ll take it easy. Plus, best I get you off your feet.”

I held tight onto the knight and watched as the horse’s legs began to move. I panicked a little, trying to flex out my wings, but to no avail. Pain only came, and I winced, but played it off like my knees and heels were sore from walking.

Little time passed with limited conversation. The warm sun was bathing against my skin again and it caused my eyelids to fall heavy, my body untensing as I savored those precious, unbothered rays from above, drinking in all their warmth like a cat does in the windowsill. But it was after a good 20 minutes of silence and the slightest sight of me nodding off that the knight sparked up conversation.

“So,” he began, clearing his throat out of what I assumed was anxiety. “What brings you out to Malic?” He glanced back at me, smiling as he gently tugged on the reigns of his horse to slow it down. It took me a good minute to come up with a solid response, the discomfort that boiled in my gut telling me that I couldn’t mention how I was also meeting with the king of chaos in his kingdom, so I took a deep breath to conceal my composure then replied gently.

“I have family out there, but I’m mostly going that way to find out more things about an old story I was told as a kid.” I said, my lower right eyelid twitching a little with the reply. That’s how people who knew me could tell I was lying. The knight chuckled, gently whipping at the reigns to keep a steady pace. “What about you?”

“I’m headed that way to meet with Darkheart about some royal affairs happening within the kingdoms; Windforce demanded it be me that does it since the rest of the guard don’t know how to hold conversation with higher powers. Some might even ask how they haven’t died to Windforce’s rage yet.” He broke into a short, gentle laughter, and I followed suit, but beneath that laugh, horror struck through me. This was a knight of an enemy kingdom, a kingdom known to want to purge mine. But I kept my horror masked behind my playful smile. I couldn’t let him find out about who I really was, or he’d kill me and take my head back to Windforce.

“I never did ask your name, how rude of me!” The knight suddenly blurted, and I smiled.

“Sword,” I said. “My name is Sword. What about yourself?”

The knight chuckled at the name, noticing my gear in the sheath on my hip, then looked ahead, his hands firmly holding the reins on his horse. “People back home call me Ego. Nice to meet you, Sword.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ego.”

The ride was quiet in portions, some talking some silence, but once the view of the Malic gates came into view, conversation didn’t exist anymore. In fact, it horrified me to see guards of my father’s army stationed alongside the Malician ones, the flag of Varesy on some of them while the insignia remained engraved into their chest plates. It scared me, but I kept calm.

“’Scuse me,” Ego spoke up and in an accent that had me a little puzzled; it sounded like one that Windforce had, the usage of an old language spilling off her aged tongue, but it could’ve just been me. The guards stationed at the gate all turned their attention to Ego and I, and instinctively I cowered.

“State your business.” The closest knight said. I knew him as the one and only General B.Zuka, the partner of Darkheart and an infamous leader of the Malic army. He was known to be cold, having lost an arm in the war with Anarquía and Malic, and once been a gladiator of the arena out in Hael. Now, here he was, formerly blue – now dark gray, almost black – horned with strength in his figure. He wore no helmet, just his primary armor with a little tassel sticking out of his left arm socket, the knot-off of his shirt. I had met the general once or twice during visits to Varesy during the phestivals, but never did I get to see him this close. Usually he stuck behind, drank his senses away, or found himself cowering behind Darkheart to prevent being noticed. I always wondered why he cowered after holding such a powerful position, but that wasn’t mine to know.

Ego gave a snarky tone when B.Zuka spoke to him, glaring a little from beneath his helm-shielded eyes and smirked almost devilishly. “I’m here to meet with the king, not his mutts. What’s with the closed off gates?”

The general gave a low growl, his dark orange eyes narrowing as he took a step forward to face Ego, his teeth borne out. “We ain’t no mutts. Gate’s closed off due to war threats coming in from Anarquía, or does the famous tyrant not tell her soldiers about ongoing threats?” He pushed his finger hard into Ego’s chest to the point he leaned back from the force, his eyes narrowed plenty as he slammed his fingertip right onto the Anarquía symbol engraved into his chest plate, a sly smirk leaving his lips.

Ego scoffed, his horse stamping its feet a little from impatience. “I have a message for Darkheart. It’ll be a quick in and out, ‘kay? Or do I gotta bribe you again?”

At the mention, B. Zuka growled again then whistled to the guards, the gates opening slowly before he grabbed Ego by the edge of his armor, glaring hard into his hidden eyes. “If I hear you’re causin’ more terror out in these parts I’ll turn your skin into another rug for m’ husband, clear?”

Ego swallowed hard, nodding before being released and ushered through the gates, but right as we walked through, B. Zuka’s eyes lit up a little when they caught sight of me, then he whispered between somewhat cracked lips: “Linked?”

 

We made it into the city, its mono coloring almost comforting as we walked the empty streets. Soon it would be the Day of Rain, but it had yet come, and now, with the latest information we had discovered, we understood why the streets were empty. No people dared breathe in our direction, and some who sat on their porches or outside their shops kept themselves hidden somehow, from rushing back inside to prevent eye contact to even shielding themselves with the door or curtains to keep themselves hidden. It was sad seeing children – once laughing and happy – so scared.

Just a simple act of terror could strike never-ending fear into the hearts of even children, and that sorrowed me. I remember being as scared as them when the Haven queen had come to meet with Venomshank regarding some political meeting, or something along those lines. I was about 6, and the meeting was long, taking my father away for a good two weeks to the center of all the kingdoms in what we call the Central, a place no one took residence, but a perfect place for hidden royal meetings.

Ego guided his horse down the streets, the clacking of hooves eerie in the silence of the town. Malic was giant, but the gates we were entering from were leading into the main city’s terminal, not the exact entrance one might go through, and it struck my mind with confusion as to why B.Zuka, the head general and partner of Darkheart, was all the way on the eastern side of Malic’s entryways.

“Ego?” I muttered gently, the silence around us demanding I keep my voice just loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t you find it odd that B. Zuka is all the way on the eastern gate instead of the usual western side of the terminal?” I couldn’t help but wince a little from my words. I sounded like a complete know-it-all, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the thought.

Ego simply nodded, still focused ahead while we spoke. “You’re right. It is odd that guy’s all the way on the east side, not west. Last time I came here it was his son out east while he took west, but I haven’t seen him since. Makes me wonder if the war threats were serious.”

I nodded to his words and found myself scanning the terrain around us. From houses, to stores, to marketplaces once bustling – now baren – I searched for the glimpse of the castle from my memory. I recalled the path having signs directing the people in the old inphernal language, but it made no appearance to my gaze. Going back to my conversation with Ego, we discussed the guards and the stations of some bodies, but I mentioned the Varesy soldiers, and it struck me with horror.

My father was looking for me.

“Did you notice those Varesy soldiers at the gate with B. Zuka? Or was I going crazy?” I blurted through a little shiver. My eyes flicked around the terrain with some horror coming to my gut. If my father found me I’d surely never see the sun again. He’d lock me away in my room until I was 18 and I’d never be able to take in the joys of the world.

With a gentle swallow and warily awaiting Ego’s words, my eyes flicked to the path with signs. I could read some of them, and what piqued my interest was the sight of the sign that said ‘Palace Way’. I smiled, and I pointed right as Ego was about to speak.

“Go left, the palace is that way.”

Ego turned his head to look at me, a glimpse of confusion crossing his face. “How did you know that?” He asked, his tone a bit lost in that once held accent to the general. I felt my face go hot then I gave a nervous laugh.

“I learned the old language when I was little. My uhhh… My dad taught me.” I gave a nervous smile, leaning my head towards the sign. Ego chuckled and turned his horse in the direction of it, and we began to walk. I felt myself jittering a little, the excitement that boiled in my chest being enough to drive me mad if I allowed it, but I kept still and calm, watching as we walked.

“About your question,” Ego began, a smile forming on his lips. “I do think it's odd that Varesy has soldiers posted outside Malic. I think it has something to do with the missing prince.” He glanced back at me, chuckling a little. “I could be wrong, though.”

I felt myself shudder at the mention of my disappearance, my eyes a little heavy as I gazed off into the distance. We walked to the palace, and I thought about what he had said. ‘I think it has something to do with the missing prince.’ I felt my stomach turn, and I wanted so badly to wrap those bound wings around me and hide, but it was no use. I couldn’t reveal them, he’d know.

He'd turn me in, and by the look on the faintly exposed dimples it told me a thousand stories. But it mostly told me: “I’ll find that prince sooner than later.”

 

 

Wings flared against the wind while heat radiated from the sand. An eye blazing with courage found itself staring deep into the talons of Varesy’s gates, and with a low hiss, made its way closer.

No one expected the great king of Hael to show face into Varesy, especially with its current panic after the loss of its prized prince, but Lord Firebrand of Hael was ushered in quickly, welcomed by the people gently and almost lovingly. He came into the walls, his large dragon wings flared out as he made his way to the palace per guard direction.

It had been almost 40 years since Firebrand had found himself back in Varesy, after his long 150-year recovery from the likes of dormancy. It was horrifying to think about, all the changes being something that shouldn’t have happened in such a short amount of time, but here it all was. He had originally come to visit Venomshank to see how things had been, see how he was thriving after everything that happened. He had wanted to know now how things had been for the proud, gentle Varesy king. But time had kept them both busy, and nowadays with the current situation at hand, it made things harder to ensue. The Hael king walked the streets, the panic-stricken faces of the civilians around the grand, bustling kingdom showing well the effect things were having on everyone.

All that Firebrand knew was that a beloved son – his nephew – was missing. So, as a brother does, he visits the ones facing the loss to comfort. But the king did not expect to be met with such grim expressions; such a depression amongst the people he had watched growing from infants to proud adults. There were more important things to focus on, though, and one of them was his younger brother’s distress.

When he entered the palace at last everything was eerily still. It was horrifying to see, and when a tapestry suddenly found itself torn to shreds by the talons of Venomshank, Firebrand took a step back and gazed at the feral Varesy king, once proud, now almost monstrous.

“Brother,” Firebrand hushed gently in a voice full of soothe and nurture. “Please, come down and talk to me.”

Venomshank gave a snarl and a sob, his body shaking as he leapt down from his perch atop a pillar now mutilated with claw marks. It was horrifying, but when Firebrand’s warmth radiated and curled into Venomshank, he took a deep breath, wiped his drool-soaked mouth, then fastened his mask back on his face. He went stiff, almost expecting the worst from the Hael king, but Firebrand simply sighed and allowed Venomshank to guide him to a quiet room.

“We’ll talk further on the subject once people aren’t within earshot. While I had my s- head advisor… order everyone to keep free of the throne room, you still never know who’s listening.” Venomshank said coldly, his eyes narrowing from beneath the mask as he walked off to his office with Firebrand. But it seemed the king of Hael simply wasn’t listening, more infatuated with the sight of the newly renovated hallways Venomshank had ordered.

When they reached the office, Venomshank locked the door and took a seat in his grand chair, Sisyphus perched on a wooden footman not far from the door. His beak was nestled into his wing, preening and plucking all those matted, loose feathers free from their prison to look as professional as possible. When Firebrand turned to face the bird, he simply turned his back to the king, gazing at its life-long friend with almost concern as he rubbed his temples.

“Venomshank.” Firebrand reached across the desk with gloved hands, his fingers resting on the Varesy king’s arm before it was tugged away.

“My son is gone, Firebrand.” Venomshank’s voice was harsh, almost a hiss as he glared at the inphernal across from him, his eyes illuminated well in the darkness of the office. “It isn’t every day that you wake up and your son is missing. If your grandchildren went missing you’d turn over every palace on the baseplate trying to find them.”

At those words Firebrand winced hard, lowering his head almost out of guilt. He had come to comfort his brother, but his attempts just weren’t working.

“Look, brother,” Firebrand choked faintly on his words. “You have the right to be afraid, and you have the right to tell me to go home right now. But nothing will be solved if you don’t go searching for him. You can’t just rely on the guards to find him. Only you can recognize your child.” He frowned a little as he rested one of his hands on the table, the smell of mahogany burning lifting into the air through the molten magma that remained beneath the gloves on Firebrand’s hands. Venomshank did not dare breathe another word, until the door creaked open slightly.

“Medkit, come in.” Venomshank said, and a small inphernal appeared in the doorway, his antlers adorned with little golden charms and some aventurine stones. He pushed up his glasses, looking a little shy as he entered the room and gently shut the door.

“I’m sorry for eavesdropping, sir,” Medkit lowered his head, visibly shaking. “I wanted to talk to you about what the guards reported back from Malic, but then I saw you had a guest and didn’t enter. I just..”

A hand rose and Venomshank sighed. “It’s alright. Tell me what you’ve found once I finish this conversation.” Medkit nodded then turned and rested a hand on the door. He hesitated, then exhaled shakily, pushing open the door and walked out.

The conversation continued.

It continued for a good few hours, some yelling, some moments of silence. Some parts were sincere while others were violent, or misspoken. Venomshank seemed to instigate the arguments that had come, and it continued until Firebrand snapped and the edge of the desk lit ablaze by Firebrand’s harsh grip, a flinch emitting from Venomshank when Firebrand’s voice raised.

He scolded Venomshank to the point of submission, his eyes gazing at his hands on the now extinguished desk while his nails dug into the mahogany. He contemplated, until Firebrand realized what he had done.

“Brother-“ He began.

“Leave.”

Firebrand sighed but didn’t protest, just simply stood to his feet and stared at Venomshank for a brief moment. He turned toe and headed for the door, not looking back at his brother as he whispered through a soft hiss words that could change everything.

“Icedagger’s probably found him by now. I recommend you check near the Heights.” He said, and Venomshank stood to his feet, storming over to Firebrand. He pushed him up against the wall, his teeth bearing beneath the mask as he glared hard into the Hael king’s eyes.

“You think that Icedagger’s still hiding at the Heights? We all told you already, he leapt from the sky and got shot down by your sister. He’s dead. He has been for 200 years.” He was practically spitting on Firebrand, the snarls from both parties showing a miracle of stories.

“Have you even checked there in the last 200 years, Venomshank?” Firebrand spat.

“Have you ever thought to realize I know more than you for once, you hot-headed tyrant.” Venomshank spat, then he was stared at with almost astonishment by Firebrand.

“Tyrant?” He repeated, his eye wide as he stared down at the shorter inphernal. “You think I’m a tyrant?! Have you even met me?! Have you ever seen me do one tyrannical thing in the time since I recovered from my dormancy?! NAME ONE TIME I WAS EVER A TYRANT, VENOMSHANK.” He held a hand over his mouth when he finished yelling, sighing as the guilt washed over him in heavy waves.

Firebrand was never a man who yelled, never someone who took pleasure in raising his voice. He’d only ever do it to make a point; make things clear to the people confused. Never when frustrated, though. Venomshank seemed to understand his guilt and gave him a quick, yet firm pat on the shoulder. It reassured the Hael king, and with a nervous smile he led him to the back of his office where the bookshelves ran plenty.

“You seriously think Icedagger is still alive?” Venomshank seemed unsure, his hand coming up to unclasp the mask while he scanned the shelves, the aged books creased and visibly wearing; used plenty by hands of gods and mortals.

 Firebrand gave a gentle chuckle and stood beside Venomshank, his fingers fidgeting with the hard leather of his gloves concealing molten palms. “I know he’s alive. Theres no way he could be dead, not after all this time. The Spawn has likely respawned him and he’s recovered.”

“But where could he be?” Venomshank asked, his voice full of cluelessness.

“I’ve checked the Heights plenty of times. I even have guards stationed there to keep an eye out. Nothing from them.” Firebrand said.

“Where could he be then?”

Silence filled the room and deep thought ensued. The two kings walked together through the mass of bookshelves; the pages of the books were brushed with gloved fingers by both higher powers between strides, their footsteps synced.

Then, Firebrand gazed at Venomshank with almost horrified eyes.

“We have to summon the others.”

“You mean…”

“We have to get all the SFOTH here if we’re to find Icedagger, and your son.”

Venomshank turned his head to the window where rain poured from the sky, the droplets sliding gently down the panes before colliding with the vines that etched themselves onto the sill. He gazed with hardened eyes before he breathed out a gentle huff.

“MEDKIT!” He called, and the advisor walked into the room almost instantly.

“Gather my troops and have someone fetch my steed. We’re headed for the mountains.”

 

 

 

“Might as well do it myself…”

Chapter 6: Not All Royalty is Blood-Relative

Summary:

War is far harsher than people portray it through stories.

With the slightest quiver, my hand pushed up against the palace’s grand doors and I made my way in. Ego and I had parted ways temporarily and we promised each other to meet back at the stable where his horse was. He had walked off to meet with some other knights who were huddled off to the side, wanting to gather more information about the situation at hand. While he did that, I walked into the palace.

It was eerily quiet, the once muggy environment outside disappearing and turning into a cold, crisp breeze that gently flowed throughout the room. It was almost like the one back home, the position of the throne, the tapestries somewhat tattered and torn with old logos and ancient texts. But through it all, no signs of my uncle could be seen.

“Hello?” I called, my voice echoing slightly through the grand throne room. I hadn’t seen my uncle in years. The last time I had seen him I was 4 and a half, but now I’m 17. 13 years no contact, the only thing close to contact is the birthday cards he sends me with a box of goodies from his kingdom. Shockingly, the candy here is amazing. But that isn’t important right now!

I glanced around the room, peering into the halls and making my way towards the throne before the doors shut behind me. I tensed up and looked around, the breeze ceasing entirely. Everything went still, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. It made me choke softly, and I reached to my sheath and whipped out my sword.

“Who’s there?!” My yell echoed off the walls as I got in position, my eyes flicking around the slowly darkening room. I swallowed hard from the darkness that was engulfing the room, my knees quivering a little bit before I ceased it. ‘Do what Venomshank taught you, Linked!’ I hissed to myself, my words unheard as I listened to the footsteps that seemed to be circling around me. They were far, but slowly inching closer to me, making their way more and more in as they circled.

“Remember, when the enemy circles in the dark, take a step back then swipe the heel once you hear them right behind you. Eyes up but closed, posture straight, blade down.” Echoed Venomshank’s words. I did just that. I ever so gently stepped back, my feet light like feathers then I waited, my eyes closed as I stared straight ahead. I listened, the darkness now fully engulfing my vision thanks to my eyelids. Then, with a quick jerk, I leaned down and swiped the person off their feet with my leg, slid under them and shoved them onto their back with my back to their chest, a rough bump into them driving out a loud yelp as they hit the floor.

I raced toward the noise, my eyes squinting against the darkness in hopes to find light before I tripped and felt a hand on my ankle. “LET ME GO!” I screamed, my other leg kicking at shoulders somewhat broad and strong. Cold metal seemed to tighten around my ankle as I was dragged and thrown into the wall. The gentle sound of whirring and the bright blue light of a machine caused me to panic. I ducked down and slid on the ground, my hands grabbing wrists as I fled from a rocket that exploded with impact to the strong stone walls. They didn’t crumble; that’s how sturdy the palace is.

My hands held on tight, boots beating against the ground in harsh steps before a loud scream broke out along the side of mechanical whirring. I instinctively released my grip at the sound of pain then hit the ground with a harsh thud, bright blue light appearing in my face as I sat on the ground, horror shooting through me.

I tried to lift my hands up, my eyes flicking across the barely illuminated face of the inphernal atop of me. I quivered, then reeled my knees up, striking him right in the spine before grabbing them and chucking them against the wall. My blade rested right against their throat, not enough to sever, but one wrong move and all would end.

“Who are you?!” I demanded, my eyes narrowed now as I pressed their hands up against the wall with one hand, and my other clutched the sword’s handle tightly. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“You’re trespassing, you thief!” A boy snapped, his tone ever so faintly slurred before he started throwing swears and some reclaimable slurs. I couldn’t really see, but by the way his eyes gleamed, they were visibly blue.

“Trespassing?” I questioned, my eyes widening with shock. “I came to speak with the king. If anyone’s the trespasser, it’s you! Attacking me on royal property… that’s an all new low for a person!”

A scoff broke out after those words were said and I felt a barrel press against my stomach. It was large, and it started glowing blue. He glared at me with almost sadistic eyes, smiling wide and baring pearly white teeth. “I live here,” He spat. “And I have full right to defend my house.”

Some uneasiness sparked through me and my stomach began to ache. It was when I stepped back that I was thrown onto my back again, my head striking the ground harshly. I felt dizzy, some stars appearing in my vision as I was strangled in the darkness. This was it. I could feel the life draining from my body before it suddenly stopped.

“Wait… Linked?!”

My eyes shot open, and I gasped for air, a loud coughing fit breaking from me as I was released. I clutched my chest, the shirt wrinkling a bit as I heaved and hacked. I recognized the voice then and excitement flooded through me.

“Rocket?” I said joyfully, and my best friend leapt into my arms.

“Holy shit dude! What are you doing out here?!” He asked, shaking me around as the lights began to turn back on. His features began to appear then, and it all came clear to me.

Rocket scaled about 5’5 with fluffy dark hair and two prosthetic metal limbs. They illuminated a gentle blue in the room, but their glow stopped once the lighting returned. He had some casual clothing on, from baggy dark-colored cargo jeans to a loose blue shirt. He had soft blue horns carved to look like his father, B.Zuka’s, and some racoon tails hanging from his hair, the blue matching his shirt. His tail swayed behind him – a shark-tail with a mechanical upper fin and plenty of burn scars. His hand was scarred plenty, but gloved, and his ears bore some warning sign earrings I had sent to him from back home.

“How’d you know it was me?” I asked as I picked him up and hugged him tightly. He winced, patting my back almost nervously.

“I can recognize you by the way you step – HOLY SHIT DID YOU CUT YOUR HAIR?!”

Rocket’s scream was likely heard down the hall, and I chuckled nervously as my hand came up to run its fingers through my soft curls. Rocket laughed and came up to touch them, and he realized then the absence of wings.

“Your-“

“Yeah. I must.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Some worry washed over Rocket’s face. I had known him since we were 2 and 4, him being two years younger than me. We had been close in our younger years before we became pen pals due to the distance and him training to be a soldier. He reached my back, and I flinched, my eyes narrowing with some sorrow, metal fingers tracing the ever so faint hump of wings hidden and bound by bandages.

I chuckled softly, patting his shoulder. “Since when were you so gentle?”

It took me a minute to register this, but I noticed Rocket was wearing not just casual wear, but the royal Malic crest. I stared at it with wide eyes, awe striking through me as I admired it.

“You got into the royal guard?” I asked, a giant smile crossing my face. Rocket laughed and shook his head, patting my shoulder with his metal arm.

“No silly! My dad is married to your uncle. We’re technically cousins now! Finally…” He looked off to the side then punched me in the chest. It knocked the wind out of me, that was for sure, but I gave him a laugh and gave him a nuggie. He elbowed me in the gut and knocked the breath out of me again, then released him.

Excitement surged through me until I heard metal boots stepping down the hall. They were strong, and I panicked a little. Rocket did to.

“Call me Sword,” I blurted. “My father doesn’t know I’m out here and if he does find out I’ll be in some deep shit. Please, Rocket, you gotta help me out. Whoever it is, you don’t know me.” I gripped his shoulders hard, my eyes frantically flicking across his face as he gazed up at me. He didn’t speak, just simply nodded to my words and pushed me away.

The boots got closer and closer, all until a face appeared in the throne room. Ego sat in the doorway, a confused look crossing his somewhat hidden face. His lips pursed slightly while some small dimples appeared to follow. He watched Rocket and I then walked towards us both.

“I was looking everywhere for you, Sword.” Ego said with a now smile, a chuckle breaking his lips as he patted me hard on the back. I coughed faintly, smiling back before Ego gave a small nod to Rocket.

“Your majesty,” Ego said. “I’m so sorry to disturb the peace…” Ego glanced around, seeing some of the blown apart furniture and splintered décor around the throne room. “And I’m sure… there’s plenty of it that has been disturbed. But I come to you in hopes of speaking with Lord Darkheart. I wish to speak with him-“

Rocket silenced him by lifting his hand up, his tail swaying across the floor slightly. “Darkheart’s out on business. Estimated he’ll be gone about two weeks.” He glanced at me, acting almost like he was speaking to me, as well. “The lords and ladies have called a meeting out in the Central regarding the missing Varesy heir. War is brinking, and you march through my gates uninvited?”

I snickered a little at that but played it off, saying I was clearing my throat.

“Look, Rocket, we mean no harm. I simply need word with the Lord as soon as possible.” Ego said, his voice almost desperate. Rocket seemed unamused, and unphased to his practical pleading, and he smirked a little.

“Sorry, soldier. But I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Wait!” I blurted, my hand coming up a little before I instinctively dropped it. I did that to establish authority, and if I was to keep myself hidden, I had to. “We traveled a long way to get here, and Malic has always been a kingdom full of hospitality. If you could allow us sanction for a night or two it would greatly help.” I smiled, and Rocket appeared to be holding back laugher.

He sighed, then nodded. “You’re right. You can stay, I’ll rent you a room in an inn.”

 

Night had struck faster than we had thought, and Rocket had kept his word about the inn. Ego and I had been given a key to a room, but to our surprise, only one bed was there. I was puzzled, some butterflies forming in my stomach at the sight. I wasn’t ever someone who was big on romantics, but the bed size and the comfortable mattress made me quiver a little with anxiety.

“That damn prince has always done this type of shit ever since he got married into the royal line.” Ego spat as he removed his armor. He seemed to have forgotten I was there by the way he was moving, taking his helmet off so simply, removing the leg and chest plating off his body, removing his boots and placing them up against the wall. He had a broad body, some muscle that tensed with a big stretch. He had a black shirt underneath the steel, something tight that revealed the muscles on his chest and more. It left my face hot, and I turned away, wishing I could have my wings hide me in a corner. But I also wished I could feel their soft surface.

“Well,” I stuttered on my words, some anxiety pooling in me as I tried to tear my eyes away from his chest. “A.. At least he has the hospitality to rent us something for the night…” My face was red at this point, and I couldn’t help but shove it into my knees from how flustered I was. Ego didn’t notice it, shockingly enough.

As I watched Ego stretch, the loud popping of his back making me twitch with almost anticipation, I found myself curled into a corner, my eyes flicking across the room but always finding them landing back on Ego’s figure, the broadness of his shoulders to the slight tensing of his muscles. It had me all fuzzy in the chest, just… giddy, if anything. But, again, Ego did not notice and left me aching.

“So,” he said, his tone a bit confused. “Do you want the bed?”

I blushed at the question, laughing nervously before reaching into my bag. “Nah, I have a hammock I can set up on the porch. Thanks, though.”

I don’t remember much of it, but what I can recall is the sound of the wind blowing outside. My eyes caught the sight of the city from my place on the porch, the slight movement of the people who had finally left their homes to wander. Before we had left, Rocket had told me about how his father married Darkheart, officially making us cousins through marriage. It was exciting, and with it – alongside some lunch and gossip long awaited – Rocket told me so many things about the world.

For one, he mentioned that the road I was walking originally was probably the slowest route known to inphernal kind, and honestly, I should have taken the Crossroads, a long road that led to all five kingdoms easily, and even extended to Central, the place of no residence but grand meetings. He gave me a map like Medkit’s, but ten times more recent than the one I had been loaned, and I could keep it!

The next thing he mentioned to me was that I should really be headed to Haven if I was in search of familial answers. The heights is home to all sorts of secrets, and it’s been abandoned ever since the Swords and their dispute caused the creation of the kingdoms. He showed me a route he had taken in the past when he used to travel with his father to visit Haven, it marking the roads going through Hael, the kingdom of Firebrand and Ghostwalker – the spirit who everyone said was a myth (shockingly they are real!).

Back in the day, long before B.Zuka married Darkheart and Rocket gained the title of royalty, B.Zuka used to travel far across the Inpherno participating as a gladiator for Firebrand. Some say they had a relationship, but the evidence is slim to none. Firebrand has grandchildren, but no wife or known child of his own. It makes people theorize a lot. Beyond the point! When B.Zuka would travel and bring Rocket along before he lost his arm in the war, they would pass through Malic into Hael, then settle in Varesy for two weeks before heading to Haven. Slowly they would make their way to Anarquía but ,sometimes would turn around and head back to Varesy out of fear Windforce would be angry at their presence. My father got to know B.Zuka very well, and my uncle must have had eyes for the proud gladiator if they recently got married. It shocked me, but it made sense. It also made sense that Rocket knew basically every route to every kingdom like the back of his hand.

“Isn’t Haven inaccessible unless you go through the tunnel systems?” I had asked, my finger pressed up to the page with a little quiver. Rocket simply shrugged.

“I’ve made it to Haven without going through the tunnels; some say they blocked them off years ago in hopes of preserving the city.” Rocket gave a mysterious smile, then adjusted his blue shades, similarly shaped to his father’s back in his youth as he leaned back into his chair.

I examined the map thoroughly, my eyes locking on a part of it that, honestly, looked insanely well-preserved. Aged mountains with snow on their peaks, and words in old text. I stared at it, then looked at Rocket with somewhat awe-filled eyes. “What’s that?” I asked, my hand quivering a little with excitement.

Rocket leaned in close then, narrowing his eyes at the spot where my finger laid. “Oh, those are the Blackrock mountains. Been there only once. Dad said he grew up around there, but he left for the kingdoms when he turned 15 and was able to survive on his own.” He explained. I was astonished.

“What happened?” My voice quivered with inquiry.

Rocket grinned. “Some say the mountains were cursed by a spirit. One whose forever been full of rage since time began. Far back before the kingdoms, when time wasn’t exactly thought about, there were four factions in the Inpherno. Blackrock, a faction full of invention, wonder, and machines; Lost Temple, a place of hot desert and riches, stories, and myths; Playground, the islands in the sky that were tore from the earth by a powerful god and four chains, full of clouds, rainforest trees, and endless streams; and finally, Thieves den, a place of beautiful heritage, culture, and fine martial art.”

“Oh my god, this is just like the story Venomshank used to tell me!” I perked up, excitement sparking in my eyes as I leaned across the table and shook Rocket. I was surprised to see him allowing me to do this. He used to be so angry when we were younger.

Rocket gave a laugh and leaned back in his chair more, his arms going above and behind his head as he gazed at me. He must’ve been tired after bossing people around all day, and Zuka out at the gates guarding day in and day out. “Tell me about it. I ain’t ever heard one of Venomshank’s stories.”

 

Long ago, before the kingdoms dared breathe, there were the seven great lords who ruled over the Inpherno. Their reign – something long forgotten in the newest age – was considered one of the most powerful events in all the Inpherno’s long history. They had existed far longer than time dared to, existed when the sun first rose and first set. But, through it all, held power for longer than any dared to exist. They were there when the first grass blades poked from the soil, breathed the first specks of oxygen – pure and untainted; took in the first droplets of water made by Hydrogen mixing with Oxygen, and held power over the first civilizations that ruled.

Aged from that came what was known as the Crossroads Generation, one of the first civilizations that bore the ideas of revolution. Their monarchs were overthrown, and the gods were worshipped in turn when any distaste was brought to them. They bore special names, ranging from Honor to hell knows Mischief. The most important faces were Honor and Wrath, the brother and sister who – born dragons – ruled their lands rightfully, and respectfully. Plague and Mischief held their own terrains, but Plague gave his up to raise his first child, a boy of wonders. Mischief ruled the land beneath the water, content and unknown to the people around; while Death and Judgement sat calm in their terrains on the Heights, savoring the remnants. Death remained with the spawn, guiding the dead to their peaceful rest in the purgatory designed for them. Some shared theirs; some did not. Judgement watched from the peaks, her wings aflare and her eyes scanning the beautiful, unkindled land. That was how it was, and that was how it would be–

 

“Wait!” Rocket blurted. “You said seven. Where’s the seventh one?”

“I’m getting there! Ahem…”

 

One day, there was a great storm that came and the division of the seven gods. One went MIA, presumed dead in what remains of the mountains not far from the Heights. The gods realized then that the one who went MIA had left behind a great storm that killed off almost the entire population. They realized then that they had no choice but to divide amongst themselves the land that had been purged with great storm. They brought it back, five of them. There was a loss, but never anything too remembered.

When the kingdoms formed, Firebrand was sick. That was how the cold affected him. He was frail for 150 years, then he recovered and reigned happily. The Heights were allegedly ‘abandoned’ by the former gods and left to the demise of the skies. Haven’s fortress lies not far from the ruins, but some say that they can still hear the wails of the missing god in the mountains; far gone into the snow. Not a word of his name ever daring to breathe itself, and if they did they would be cursed and removed. Forgotten even by their own loved ones.

 

“Wow,” Rocket had said. “I never took Venomshank for someone so… dark.”

I shrugged, smiling faintly. “Yeah, Venomshank has some scary stories. Though, he only tells them when he wants to.”

“After all of this is done maybe we can have a sleepover.” Rocket said with a smile, and I nodded reluctantly.

 

My eyes opened and the sky was slowly beginning to brighten, the black slowly fading into a gentle blue as I laid curled up in my hammock. I don’t remember much, just the feeling of a blanket around me. It made me twitch, and I shifted myself in my makeshift bed. The blanket around me hadn’t been there before. Originally, I had planned to sleep in the remnants of warmth lingering over the night, but it seemed I had different ideas.

My eyes flicked to the shrubs outside the inn, and I grunted a little with effort when I shifted. I curled up into a tight ball, some strain on my back due to my bound-up wings. I observed the sky, watched the stars that once lingered slowly fade and vanish into thin air. But what caught my attention most was how a figure seemed to move in the dark, and I couldn’t help but perk up a little out of curiosity. Horns poked out from the bushes, and hushed voices murmured gently while footsteps sounded against the grass and gravel mixture.

At first, I didn’t think much of it, and I turned back to the wall in hopes of getting some more sleep. But I heard a voice then that made my eyes shoot open and my body shake hard with almost yearning. A familial yearning. I heard him. My brother.

I got up.

I was dressed in pajamas now, and I was sore from how I had slept, so when I got up and grabbed my sword from against the wall, I didn’t think first what might happen. Slowly, but surely, I crept closer to the voices, my footsteps silent as I made my way forward. I twitched a bit, then kept going, determination flaring in my chest. I needed to know who that voice belonged to. I needed to desperately.

My body slid through the bushes silently, the leaves barely rustling as I raced through them. I kept myself down low, some uneasiness boiling in my stomach as I made my way down the hill to where I saw the horns. I could feel my palms beginning to sweat as I neared the area, and I gradually gained pace while making my way.

‘It can’t be,’ I pleaded to myself, the voice in my head breaking slightly with anxiety as I paced forward more and more. The voices got closer, and closer, all until I was right behind them. I laid still, my eyes wide as I kept low to the ground, body shaking with anticipation, and anxiety. ‘Please don’t be him.’

I peeked through the leaves of the thick bushes, my fingertips shakily brushing against the thin branches of the bush. I made sure to keep my breathing shallow, doing my best not to draw attention to myself as I listened. The voice began to speak again, and my body quivered hard when I caught sight of those familiar horns, the teal ones and black ones. Rings and aventurine crystals hanging by little golden chains, the gleam appearing in the moonlight. But through it there were more.

Two other inphernals were seen in the darkness, and the similarity to them both was their missing eyes. Both bore glass eyes on one side, and one of them had a metal arm that I almost took for horrifying. I choked a little, then quickly covered my mouth as I watched. The metal-armed inphernal came up to my brother, brought him close, and kissed him almost passionately on the lips. My brother seemed somewhat uncomfortable, but gave into it, leaning into the taller demon who bore the tail of a rattlesnake.

“Bold of you t’ come out here, Kit,” she said, smiling as she ran her thumb across his cheek. He didn’t say anything, almost behaving like he was under a spell.

“Aww, boss! You got the little deer boy all flushed!” The other inphernal said as he came close and wrapped his arms around Medkit’s neck. He stood behind him, just a little shorter than him. He had black horns and a long black imp-like tail. It was one I had never seen before, but by the way he behaved, he might as well have been a cunning devil. He touched my brother’s chest and made him shake. I watched his breath hitch, his body jolt with almost fear – something I have never seen before in my older brother.

The boss of the little man smirked and let go of Medkit, shoved him to the ground once the imp-tailed demon let him go, and stared down at him. He looked weak on the ground, like he had been drugged. I have never seen him look so… pathetic.

“Betraying your daddy now, ain’t ya’, Kit?” The metal-armed inphernal got down on one knee, clutching Medkit’s chin as his head ragdolled and his deer ears lowered, his fingers gripping at the grass blades as he tried to pull his legs close to his chest. It was like he had been assaulted by this woman, the way he shifted and pathetically writhed. It hurt so badly to see it.

Medkit shook his head, glaring hard as he reached up and clutched the metal wrist of the woman. “I work for you simply in the trades. I will not let you bleed into Varesy.” He said firmly, his eye narrowing as I watched weakness surge through his figure. He looked like he wanted to pass out, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. It wasn’t normal to be kissed then be treated like absolute shit. It was horrifying, and with each second that passed, I couldn’t help but swallow hard in hopes of him getting away.

‘Come on, Kit. Get out of there.’

“Look,” Medkit began as he stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes and sighing as he adjusted his glasses. “I am not betraying Venomshank; I am not betraying my kingdom, either. I came here per your request to discuss our next moves, not to be a… victim of your lust.” He stood up straight, the posture familiar to me as I kept hidden, and with a cold expression, he faced the two inphernals with almost steel of an expression.

His finger pushed up against the smaller one’s chest, taking him a few steps back as he stamped his feet to approach more. “I am no pawn,” he said sternly. “I am your coworker, and nothing more. Especially to you, Scythe.”

It struck me hard in the head when the taller inphernal’s name was said. Scythe, an infamous name across the Inpherno. A name so feared no one would expect to hear it in the dead of night. The killer of dragons, the head of the True Eye Society, a nefarious group of inphernals who rebelled against the idea of sitting under a ruler and their throne. It made sense, but to try and tear them down was below anything I had ever seen. Venomshank’s wise words rang through my head when I stared at her, taking in all her features as the sky began to lighten more. It occurred to me then that I’d also have to get back to the inn and catch a bit more sleep before Ego and I left for Haven. He had business there with some of the guard while I had business with one of my aunts, Illumina, a woman of holy complexion and cold, content stares. I had no idea she even was my aunt until just a few days ago.

My eyes flicked back to my brother and I saw him walking off. I heard nothing more of their conversation due to my thoughts, the reminder of the True Eye Society, and worse, the thought of my brother being out here. He never left home unless Venomshank was with him. Which meant…

Venomshank was looking for me, and I was sure of it now.

 

I slipped back into my hammock after sneaking away from the scene, some leaves caught in my hair from my expedition in the bushes. I snuggled into the comfortable thing, the blanket coming over my body while I plucked some of the leaves free from my white curls. It was annoying how they got so stuck, but I shrugged it off and turned to face the wall, my eyes briefly flicking into the room to see if Ego was still there. He was.

Then, with a yawn, I cuddled back into the arms of sleep, but through it, the undying reminder of my brother haunted me. Scythe the Dragon Hunter, the monarch killer, was working with my older brother. MY BROTHER. I got reminded of the story I heard where she stole one of Windforce’s whiskers. It grew back, thankfully. But what stuck to me most was how she ripped out one of the four eyes of Windforce’s tyrannical son, Banhammer. It made me shudder just thinking about it.

I felt my eyes growing heavy and I fell into a doze, and by the time they opened again, the warm sun was bathing against my back. I stretched a little, having thought I slept longer even through the dozing state. It felt nice to wake up in the sunlight, and surely Ego felt the same by the way he sat on the balcony with his sword, a stone in hand, sharpening it.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” He said with a smile. He didn’t look at me, but he could definitely tell I was looking at him. I chuckled a little, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around myself. I examined him well through the way he moved. From the tensing of his shoulders to the slight narrowing of his eyes now recently seen. They were a gentle red, but they were beautiful. They looked like mine, and I smiled.

“So,” I mumbled through sleep, my hand coming up to rub my eyes. “To Haven we go?”

Ego nodded, turning his head and attention onto me. “I’ll make a few stops along the way for food breaks, and for some other matters. Hell, we might even pass through Central. Ever been?”

Central – as I’ve said probably nine times now – is an uninhabited area of the Inpherno where the old city ruins lie. It’s a beautiful memorial and meeting place for royals, deities, and more. The most memorable thing within the area is the seven statues of the seven former lords, all who look like their predecessors. The seven large statues were made of different types of stone, meant to represent the seven differences between all of them. I remember my favorite one, but that’s for later.

The Statue of Honor stood in the center of them all, his blade risen and pointing at the sky while dragon wings flared out behind him. The details of the stone made it look like his blade was on fire, but no one could ever tell unless you’re an old historian. Beside him were the statues of Plague, and Wrath, close friends to him. Beside Plague laid Mischief, and Mercy. Beside Wrath was Judgement, and Death. Their swords – all but one – laid pointing to the sky. The smallest one, Mercy, had their blade tucked close to their chest, their eyes closed, and their large morpho wings folded in plenty to shield them from the light. It was sad, but beautiful.

“I’ve been once or twice,” I perked up a little. “Its been a long time though.” I felt my wings twitch beneath the bandages that bound them, the soreness finally registering into me as I sat cuddled in that blanket. It hurt so badly, and I could feel some little tears threatening to prick my eyes as the strain made my back ache.

Ego stood up when I brought the blanket to my face and rubbed it vigorously, not noticing my tear-soaked lashes from the strain of my wings. I was glad he didn’t; crying in front of people is embarrassing.

“Get your stuff ready, we’ll head out in an hour and a half.” Ego said with almost authority. I nodded, smiling as I got up and walked towards the sliding door of the inn’s porch. But with a bit of uneasiness – my hand up against the doorframe – I couldn’t help when I looked behind me and stared into the horizon, back towards where the bushes were.

It was then that I saw it. One eye staring right into my soul. Right where I had come from. And lingering not far from it was a feather encased in blue blood.

Notes:

Chapter updates coming at least twice a month but eat this for now lala