[b]Adila![/b]

There's some unofficial rules to the race, you know. Bringing someone down over the desert? Not just allowed, it's encouraged. Bringing someone down over the gulch? Well, as long as you're willing to pay for their medical bills in a pinch. That's why everyone's eyeing you suspiciously, or oiling their harpoon cannons meaningfully, or squeaking nervously when you strut by all fire and power and gleaming scales. Nobody knows how to take down a [i]dragon[/i]. You're an unknown quantity, the Watch's pet dragon all grown up, a real princess of the Bazaar, and if you fail today you're going to become the laughingstock of the entire Bazaar and never be taken seriously ever again.

(Spoiler: you did not fail today. You came in first place. You swooped down and dug your claws into the sand at the finish line and breathed fire joyfully! You cut through the air like it was the empty void beyond Ouroboros!)

The real competition... that's got to be Flash Morgan, hired this year by the textiles guild. Her strawberry blonde hair is streaked with her teal racing stripes, and her custom flight suit is covered with trophies of past races. She's a returning champion, coming straight from her victory in the trans-Askaian triathalon to honor her contract and defend her pride.

She was tough as hell to beat, wasn't she? Neck and neck, right to the finish, both of you doing loops and ducking out of the way of each other's attacks. And when you managed to push that last burst of speed out of your heart, swooping down low into the merciless heat of the gulch to edge Flash out...

How'd that feel, champ? And how'd she take it, anyhow?

***

[b]Alina![/b]

When you walk into the kitchen, Rita's there, too. Her little feet are swinging back and forth under her chair, and she's humming a cheerful Askaian folk song as she shovels your mother's pancakes into her insatiable mouth. Outside, it's a perfect Solstice snow day: big, fluffy flakes swirling down out of a pastel grey sky, collecting in drifts perfect for belly flopping into. It's just cold enough that when you run outside with Rita after breakfast, Mommy will insist on wrapping you up in your big girl jacket and scarf, but the warm air off the bay will keep you from getting too cold too fast. That's part of what makes it perfect.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Momma says with a smile. She's still wearing the royal pajamas, her hair loose around her ears, as she flips a pancake just right. Nobody makes pancakes like Momma; she gets them just right, full and fluffy and buttery, light in the mouth and heavy in the stomach. "Do you want banana slices or chocolate chips in yours?"

Rita waves, crumbs spilling out of her mouth as she smiles at you. There's a fire roaring in the kitchen hearth, and your sisters haven't woken up yet, and right now it's just the three of you on the perfect Solstice morning.

***

[b]Kazelia![/b]

Azora releases her shadows, finally, and the elf slumps lifeless to the ground, joining your loyal soldiers in lying limply there, like a bunch of toys scattered carelessly across a playroom floor. The only shadows that don't melt away and rejoin hers are the ones writhing furious and tight around your limbs as you hang upside down, pinned to the wall.

"I'm terribly disappointed," she says, calmly, as if she hadn't just murdered the sage and brute-force erased the minds of your troops. There's no way of telling how much of them will be left when they wake up. It's one of her most terrible punishments. "That artifact wasn't meant to be touched. It's for Father's use alone." Of course it is. But as long as she brought it to him first, she'd be the only one he'd let use it. Because she's the special one. She's the [i]favorite[/i].

"The secrets in here aren't for the likes of [i]soldiers[/i], icecube." She raises one hand, her magic swirling around her, and considers you for a long moment. As much as you strain and struggle, you can't get away. You're not strong enough. She could crush your mind and erase... months? Years? Wipe your mind clean of so much, even the loss of your stars and the experience of standing before the hungry void and being torn apart.

Then she smiles. "Swear, icecube. Swear that you will [i]never[/i] tell anyone about what you saw, and I will let you take on a debt to me, instead."

And you said yes, didn't you? You remember. You sobbed and promised and begged her not to wash your memories away. And she patted you on the cheek and said that you would owe her so, so much for her mercy, and then she covered your head with shadows and left you sightless and soundless and speechless to wait for her return, while she single-handedly offered your father the prize he wanted.

That was always her way, after all. Even if she had the Caduceus of the Devils in front of her, she'd take it and offer it loyally to Father, because Father always rewarded her loyalty and spoiled her with praise and special status. It's a terrible feedback loop that created a monster who would never, ever turn, not unless Father turned on her first.

But if Father let her wield that terrible power in his name... she'd [i]enjoy[/i] using it to torment everyone in Hyperborea.

You can't let that happen. Not this time.