Vaela’s quiet grieving was brought to an end when she saw the firebird appear in the sky far above; her soft sobs were stifled and she brought herself under control, though there were still signs of her tears etched on her beautiful face. She wanted control; she needed control over herself. But she was still struggling to fully compose herself when her brother stepped out of the fires that she had lit to call him.

The Queen of Grace and Beauty did not act with cunning or deceit; when he asked why she had sent for him she could see so much of her greatest love in her youngest brother that she let her emotion loose again. For a moment she embraced him, careless of the flames or fire; for she saw in him the closest thing to what she had lost and her sobs escaped again with her tears. Then Vaela pulled back and composed herself; her hair straitening itself neatly around her face and ivory horns. 

“Brother, Aroesus is dead. The deceiver Mysia wasn’t content to steal him and poison his mind. She has slain him!” Her words were less elegant and honey coated than normal; raw with her own pain and loss. Vaela shuddered with hatred and unbridled malice. 

“She thinks that without Aroesus you will be blind and that she will escape your fury while she sets herself above all! She thinks that there are no true children of Aroesus that she has not poisoned with desire to serve her.” Vaela’s voice rose to a peak of genuine rage, finally displaying the destructiveness her father had always desired of her.

“But the witch is wrong. I have carried for him true sons, free of her taint. Sileon; my brother, will you aid me and Aroesus true sons as once you aided him? I will not command you. I am not our brother, who alone had that right, but as your sister I ask your aid.” By the end her voice had calmed to a dangerous whisper and red had crept into her normally golden eyes as a sliver of the Mistress of Spite and Envy showed through.