[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 (Page 103)

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Mention: @Silverpaw @Apex Sunburn@Tae@CitrusArms

Hafiz had intended to keep his eyes forward. To watch the stranger, to interpret the shifting currents of the hall. 

But movement at the edge of his vision stole his attention:Kalliope, leaning in toward that man, her expression softened. 

The way she looked at him, touched him, spoke low in confidence... 

He turned his gaze back to the center of the hall with the calm of a practiced diplomat, but his mind lingered. 

And yet, even as the chain rattled and the hall descended into tension, a small part of Hafiz’s mind remained distracted by the taste of something he rarely admitted to feeling: envy.

Hafiz’s expression remained still, but a glint flickered behind his eyes as Kilian spoke. There was power in the man’s voice, certainly, a kind of raw conviction that draped over the court.

He did not flinch at talk of infection or reckoning; such language was familiar to him. But what caught in his mind was how easily this outsider commanded the moment. It was not the Queen's throne that had become the center of gravity—it was this man and his chain. 

Hafiz’s gaze had moved the moment Wulfric entered the hall, but it was his words that truly caught his interest. The moment Wulfric stepped behind Alibeth, Hafiz lifted his brows. The crown prince had just peeled away the illusion of unity between monarch and enforcer, torn down the theater mask Alibeth had so carefully applied to Kilian. It was well executed, and Hafiz, in spite of himself, could not help but admire the cruelty.

It seems Caesonia has an abundance of iron. Chains, tongues, and wills alike. Yet even iron breaks when stretched thin. And if the monarchy cannot agree on what defines the enemy, how is the court meant to distinguish witch from Queen?

Hafiz sat motionless, yet behind his stillness burned a quiet, burning awe. Edin had just hacked off his own limb with a rusted axe and called it divine justice. Their disgrace of a Queen was cast aside, the Church appeased, the witch hunters praised.

Hafiz nearly smiled. Nearly. 

This was no longer mere court drama. This was bloodletting, a quiet civil war beginning.

Alibeth, dethroned and disgraced. Wulfric, questionable. Edin, scrambling to salvage control while unknowingly inviting others to sink their fangs deeper into Caesonia’s throat.

And the nobles? Reeling, uncertain, ripe for influence. 

However, on the other hand, Hafiz supposed that now was no longer the time to voice his concerns over the dog-stealing knight. The woman’s crime, however egregious in Hafiz’s personal estimation, would have to wait their turn. A pity, really. 

With a smooth smile, he rose from his seat, offered a shallow bow in the direction of the King, and took his leave.

Let the court gnash its teeth and pray to whatever gods it still believes in. I’ll offer no such prayers.

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Time: Dinner Time
Location: Banquette
Mention: 
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Appearance: Light blue gown with Silver accents

Accepting Clarence’s offer of an arm, Ari leaned into him, grateful for the support as the wine coursed through her veins faster than she anticipated. The warmth in her cheeks spread too quickly, leaving her head swimming just enough to make her steps uncertain. Her hand clutched his sleeve for balance, the fabric smooth beneath her fingers. She squinted slightly at her brother, trying to read his expression through the light haze that clouded her focus. There was concern etched in his features, but was it genuine, or another one of his calculated performances? She couldn’t tell.

“Not returning to the banquet hall would certainly appear suspicious given the circumstances. First your family’s servant has been caught indulging in forbidden arts, then your sister and her friends flee the banquet? Some might spin that into another scandal, and we have nothing to fear.”

 “And neither you, nor your family, should be expected to shoulder the blame for a single, treacherous, servant. I will do all I can to make sure my family sees the logic in that.”

“Nothing to fear.”

 Ari’s eyes flicked up to Clarence, his calm voice washing over her. There was something comforting in his certainty, and for a moment she wanted to believe it. But the pit in her stomach refused to ease. She knew what inhabited Cal’s body,that familiar spirit twisted within him. If these were witch hunters, if they were trained in detection, then what might they sense from Callum’s possession?

Her brows drew together, anxiety knotting her forehead. Without realizing it, her fingers curled tighter around Clarence’s arm, no longer for balance but from unease.

She nodded in reluctant agreement, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she looked to both Clarence and Drake. “We should return.”

With slow, steady steps, Ari followed her brother and the others through the grand corridors back to the banquet hall. The music had dulled to a low hum as they approached, and the flickering chandelier light painted dancing shadows across the polished floor. As they breached the doorway, her breath hitched. The king stood before the gathered crowd, his voice commanding the room. All eyes turned toward him.

Then the queen rose.

A pair of guards flanked her almost instantly, their armor glinting under the crystal lights as they guided her out with quiet urgency. Gasps rippled across the hall like wind over still water. Ari’s eyes widened in silent alarm, her posture stiffening as she fought to maintain composure. Her fingers once more gripped Clarence’s arm, her knuckles pale against his dark sleeve.

She scanned the room with sharp urgency, eyes locking on Callum’s face, seeking something,anything,that might ease her spiraling thoughts. But she found no comfort there. Not this time.

If the queen could be ushered away so easily, with barely a whisper of explanation, what might they do to her? To Callum?

The thought struck hard, freezing her breath mid-chest. Slowly, as if afraid to find the answer, she turned her gaze to Drake too, her pulse thudding in her ears like the dull echo of distant drums. She suddenly felt herself sober up. Still to stunned to move.

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Duke Gideon Edwards

Time: Evening
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interaction/Mention:@TpartywithZombi Ariella @Lava Alckon Drake  @Helo Leo  @CitrusArms Stratya

Gideon was as rigid as stone, his body unmoving while the world tilted sideways around him. The voice of the Queen confirmed what he had suspected. 

And he felt a slow, cold sinking feeling in his chest...Like watching a ship take on too much water on its deck and knowing there was no stopping it. 

The satisfaction in her eyes, the undercurrent of triumph… It told him everything.

And Edin. 

Gideon didn’t even look in his direction. He didn’t have to. The sound of the king’s laughter alone was enough to make bile rise in the back of his throat. The duke sat there, surrounded by candlelight and silver, and wondered how a man could witness a woman being dragged into a hall in chains and still laugh.

And Alibeth had let him play his role perfectly. He was the jester in a play he didn’t understand, and Alibeth the playwright, who knew her audience would cheer no matter what actor she set on fire.

But what gripped Gideon the most wasn’t the Queen’s speech or the King’s idiocy—it was that chain. That sound. That echo. He could still hear it scraping across the stone walkway of his memory, could still feel the branch digging into his spine, Walter’s hand clutching his, Willow’s shallow breath beside him. The shadow of the hunter rising through the hedge. The weight of knowing they couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t save...

To Gideon's dismay, the man sat right by them, and Lord Smithwood was rather quick to start up a conversation. However, the words they shared were drowned out. In their place was Genevieve's voice. 

He remembered speaking to her not long ago—barely more than a passing conversation, a moment near the gardens where she’d offered him a cup of tea and asked, so gently, if Drake and Ariella were well. Her voice had only held softness.

A softness that now twisted in his gut. 

And now she was in chains just a few feet from him, her feet bare against the marble, her eyes searching the room in blind terror while he sat in silence among those who applauded her ruin. The sickness rose hot in his throat, bitter and shameful.

What would he think of me right now?

And then Wulfric spoke.

His words cut cleaner than any blade, revealing rot that no one wanted named aloud. And as the Prince laid his mother bare before the court, the room shifted again, and as Wulfric’s hand settled so easily on Alibeth’s shoulder, Gideon's eyes remained locked on the boy, because that was what Wulfric was to him until this moment: a boy who had once looked up at him from far below once upon a time. But who stood there now, casting the Queen into her grave with nothing more than words, was someone else entirely. 

Gideon’s eyes shifted subtly toward Captain Stratya Durmand as her voice broke through the tension. He felt his throat tighten when she spoke of the Queen changing a tablecloth as if that paltry spell justified none of this spectacle. And when she dared to say the woman in chains might hold knowledge worth saving, might be something other than a threat to be extinguished, something fragile inside Gideon stirred. It had been so long since anyone in that room had said anything that sounded like mercy. 

He didn’t trust hope, not anymore—but he felt something dangerously close to it flicker in his chest as he looked at Stratya and thought: Perhaps the world has not lost all its good yet.

Nonetheless, Edin's mind was made up. His pulse hammered as he watched the queen’s dignity fade, and the banquet’s false warmth drain away. As Edin demanded the arrest of his wife and spoke of the future, Gideon could not help the storm of dread twisting in his chest.

Not for Alibeth alone, but for what her absence meant. If she had truly cast magic, had truly risked everything to do so, then there had to be a reason… and that reason chilled him more than the spell itself. Alibeth had always been the leash around Edin’s neck, the one that tempered the king’s madness without the rest of the kingdom knowing. 

But now? With her removed, Edin would be unleashed.

A tyrant crowned by holy law and fed by fear. 

The mere thought made Gideon’s throat tighten. He stared down at his knuckles, white from how hard he gripped the edge of the table.

The embers of grief and rebellion burned bright in his eyes as Gideon rose to his feet, Duke Petit's voice pouring into the dining hall in the background. He seemed deep in thought, and it was unclear whether Duke Edwards had heard much of what Petit had said. 

However, it wasn't long before Gideon's gaze lowered, and he found that his precious offspring had returned and were lingering in the doorway. Relief should have met him. But it didn’t. Not when he saw her hand, trembling, clutching Drake’s sleeve like it was the only anchor she had left. 

Her eyes were wide, searching, and for a breathless instant, Gideon could see the child in her again, terrified of a world she could no longer trust. 

The view of it spelled out one terrible truth: Ariella understood now. She understood what kind of game they were playing and how easily pieces could be swept off the board. But she was braver than he had even taught her to be. Braver than he wanted her to have to be.

Gideon approached them all slowly. Whatever storm had passed through him moments ago was carefully tucked away, replaced now by a warmth meant only for his children. He came to a stop beside them, eyes flicking first to Drake with quiet gratitude, then settling on Ariella.

 "My dove." he said, voice hushed like a lullaby meant to soothe.  Gideon reached out gently, brushing a hand against her back, a reassuring pressure that said more than words. 

Then, with an easy smile, he spoke to them both.  “Are you two ready to go home? I'm rather convinced your mother has been sitting in the carriage this entire time—likely reciting a list of things I did wrong tonight.” A trace of humor softened the words, but his eyes never left Ariella’s face. They spoke a quieter truth: You’re safe. I’m here.

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Farim & Anastasia

Farim clicked his tongue. Was this not meant to be about someone else entirely? How did it swing back in his personal affairs so readily? He offered a slight sigh with his fingers rubbing the base of his forehead. “Thanks, Wulfric. Appreciate the subtlety….” Farim said to the closed door.

Then he turned, one hand holding his wrist as they relaxed in front of his midsection. “I suppose now is the time to come clean – if witch hunting is to be the standard. Then yes, Anastasia. I know magic.” He figured there was no sense in twisting his words now.

“You… do?” she asked, voice thinner than she’d meant it to be. She took a small step back, not far enough to seem accusatory, but enough to betray the instinct to retreat. Her eyes searched his face, trying to find some sign that he was joking.  “What do you use it for?”

Farim’s chest felt heavy for a moment - the backwards retreat symbolized a moment of fear to back away from an obvious threat…from him. He could only frown in response. But lack of words would do him no good here.

”Transmutation - or what it is more commonly referred to as: Alchemy.” He produced a gold coin and placed it on the table. ”There is more to show and more to tell - but only if you wish it to be so, Annie. I hope it does not frighten you.”

"Alchemy?" Anastasia repeated, her voice a little steadier now. She cautiously approached the table, her gaze fixed on the gold coin. She reached out a hesitant hand, her fingers brushing the cold metal. It certainly felt real. "And you… you created this?" Her gaze lifted to Farim’s face. “Farim, it does frighten me. I don’t know if we should trust magic… I just—” She paused, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Farim smiled. ”The gold coin was not fabricated by me - it is merely a demonstration piece.” Taking the coin gently from her palm and placing it into his, Farim closed his hand into a fist surrounding the coin, squeezing firmly as if to try and change its shape.A pale-blue glow warmly emanated from between his fingers and from underneath his shirt - right where his necklace rested upon his chest. When the man opened his hand again, there was fine golden dust where the coin had been.

”I have been doing this…a long time. I have tried to keep it secret but our nation does not employ such things like witch hunters or mage seekers. Plus I am easily able to isolate and protect my own secrets in my homeland. Here…apparently not so much.” He paused, offering to pour the gold dust into her hand should she choose to “test its authenticity”. ”It is assuredly a dangerous tool if used improperly - but I have some…help to put it plainly.” He looked to the side for a moment - as if at something or someone, before looking back at her.

"Help? What kind of help, Farim?" Anastasia's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes wide with fascination as she watched the gold dust shimmer in her palm. She tried to follow his gaze, then she looked around the room, as if expecting someone to suddenly appear. Her brows knitted together then she met his eyes once more as she said firmly, "I promise I won’t tell anyone."

His hand moved beneath his shirt - trailing down his neck and gently pulling the blue crystal necklace out in plain view. It still hummed a pale light that dimmed with each passing second. ”A fancy little item of mine. It takes the brunt of the magical cost for me so I do not.” Farim placed the necklace back under his shirt. Then his expression became somber, almost downtrodden. ”It was a gift from a friend…from a long time ago.”

Anastasia leaned in, her eyes flicking between the necklace and Farim’s face. She tilted her head slightly. “Soooo… Can you just do any kind of magic you want?” she asked.

Farim shook his head. ”Just the kind you see here. Changing one thing to another.” He took the dust and placed it into a pouch that he seemed to pull from nothing. His necklace stayed dormant, implying no real magic occurred. ”Just a bit of sleight of hand.” He grinned as he stowed the dust away.

”I have heard tales of other spells and magicae that affect others. I believe that one party we all went too was magically inclined for sure. I cannot change emotions, thoughts, or command others to do something against their will - or invoke visions on them of things not actually there.” The man’s mind flashed to the vision of his probably deceased mother appearing during the festival in the woods.

”And it comes at a physical cost to me. Such…transactions like these usually require life as fuel - for life energy is the brightest and strongest of fuels. But this…” Farim flashed his necklace once more. ”Means I only trade physical strength temporarily. Usually proportional to how large of an exchange I wish to make.” He took a pause - letting the Princess process the expository rant he went on, following with a simple. ”Sorry…I do not wish to frighten you. It has just been some time since I could be so honest with someone.”

Anastasia swallowed hard, her arms folding across her chest. “It still scares me, Farim… after what happened with—I just…” She trailed off, her voice tight. She looked at him again, eyes softening. “I don’t want you getting hurt. But… I trust you know what you’re doing. And if anything ever goes wrong…” She stepped just a little closer“I’m here. Okay?”

The Shehzade slowly nodded. ”Do not worry - I plan to save it for emergencies from here on out while within the city. I do not wish to find out what happens if your parents or even mine figure out what was shared here. Especially considering…” Farim stopped.

What was this hesitation? This pause on his lips? Like the words were caught in his throat - was he…nervous? He
"Considering… what, Farim?" Anastasia prompted softly. She reached out, gently taking his hand in hers, her thumb lightly caressing his knuckles.

”Considering…I want to take things more seriously with you, Anastasia.” Farim stopped, taking a slow breath before continuing. ”Ever since coming here you have been on my mind so often - I find myself being drawn to you more each day. I want to, well, make us more official than just what the newspaper thinks we are.” Farim’s hand wrapped around softly against hers.
”I will not ask for marriage outright - that is something I think both of us need to decide later. But I would like your father’s approval for us to…welll…court, my darling.” His voice naturally dipped into sultry tones.
Anastasia's breath caught, and for a moment, her chest tightened…Not out of fear of Farim, but because of the ghost of another moment that rose within her mind. The last time a man had wanted something serious with her, it hadn’t been real in the slightest. He had just been using her, and as had the other “lovers” she had encountered over the years. There had been so many who spoke so sweetly, only to take what they wanted and leave her feeling hollow. 

Even her own father had eventually switched up his tune. 

"Seriously… With me…” she whispered, her voice carrying disbelief, but also a flicker of hope. Her brows rose as if startled by her own reaction, and her gaze dropped to her hands, now held by his. A flicker of vulnerability crossed her face,  as if she were on the edge of remembering something she’d rather forget.

But Farim’s not like that. Not like them. 

She hated that part of herself, the part that flinched when things felt too good. 

But then there was also another part of Anastasia that she could not deny: her impeccable memory. She hadn’t forgotten all the kindness Farim had shown her. Not the wonderful times they had shared over the week. Not even once.

The princess let her gaze rise to meet his again. The corners of her mouth twitched upward as a soft, slightly bashful smile formed.  "Nothing but fun to be had if we give it a shot, right?” Then, she reached out to take his other hand, holding both of his hands in hers. Her grin widened as she added, "Let’s give us a chance.”

Her acceptance in that moment felt like a weight off his shoulders - Farim felt his back straighten and his smile widen. In the past he had always been more of a womanizer, always playing the role of this savant that kept people guessing on who he would swoon next. Yet here in the most spontaneous of places was he finding that spark of playfulness enraptured. Some might say he was being “domesticated” for lack of a better term, but this far from it. Being with a kindred spirit who so freely embraced her inner self and the wants of her soul was beyond words that Farim could easily express. He was beyond joy that she accepted him so warmly, and he leaned in to give her a gentle kiss while wrapping his arms around her.

The connection lasted a lifetime to Farim, who cherished every passing second as the passion between their lips spoke wordlessly about the man’s growing love for her. He moved himself closer to her - not in a sense of lust or perversion, but to simply feel the warmth of two kindred souls bonding closer together. Yet this was still Farim, and he leaned past her mouth to give the side of her neck a playful nip before whispering into her ear. ”I doubt the banquet hall will miss us - shall we away somewhere for awhile? I fear if we go back there it will simply be more angry tirades of what will be … rather than what should be.”

Anastasia pulled back from the kiss, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Oh, let’s think, shall we, cutie?" she whispered, her voice laced with playful suggestion. "Hmm...There is that birthday party I arranged tonight for Thea... I hear it's going to be quite the affair. Perhaps we could make a grand entrance?"

He raised his brow in response, still sporting a cheeky grin. ”Grand entrance as a proper couple then? I do really like the sound of that~.” His arms now fully around her, he gave Anastasia a gentle squeeze. ”Now where exactly can a pair of good looking nobles sneak off unnoticed I wonder?” He playfully asked. He knew nothing about the halls of this palace, but he had a strong feeling she sure did.

After returning the squeeze, Anastasia exclaimed, "Just follow my lead! “ Then, she led him out back into the hall.. "Just want to pick up something from my room.”

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Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Attire: Winners wear red & black!
Interactions: Ari @Tpartywithzombi, Gideon@princess, Wulfric @SilverPaw 

As they reentered the dining hall, Clarence’s  composure slipped for a rare moment. He watched guards walk the Queen from the hall and could only wonder what he’d missed. Something big. Something important. 

And what had he gained for his loss? A brief and meaningless conversation with mortals, only one of which actually mattered to him. 

Ariella insisted on gripping his arms and looking around like prey surrounded by a pack of wolves. It was disgraceful. Insulting. To enter a room, at his side, as his ally, and fear other mortals. Had he not just told her these hunters were nothing to fear? When their eyes next met she would find only disappointment in his gaze.  

“To fear them is beneath you.” Clarence leaned in and hissed his words into her ear. “Unleash your full potential and no mortal in this room could ever threaten you. And until then, I keep the beasts from your door. To fear them, is to insult me.” He warned as his hand patted her back as he mimicked a reassuring gesture with a face that matched the movement. 

“Are you two ready to go home? I'm rather convinced your mother has been sitting in the carriage this entire time—likely reciting a list of things I did wrong tonight.”

Clarence broke away from Ari’s grasp as Gideon suggested to both his children that it was time for them to go. “A wise suggestion, Duke Edwards, and I must apologize. I fear my family's drama has ruined dinner tonight.” Clarence, his voice soft and respectful, nodded his head to Duke Gideon. 

With his goodbye’s said Clarence returned to his proper seat, but lingered just near Wulfric long enough to whisper a single question. “Have all my wildest dreams come true? Was that Alibeth getting arrested?” Every bit of Callum’s sarcasm and delight dripped from Clarence’s words. It was too easy to mimic that one; he couldn’t think of a better twist for the ending of the feast. And how delicious it was that Callum had missed out on seeing it, robbed of the satisfaction of seeing the very moment the tables turned for the Queen. Robbed of even having the memory of it for later viewing. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Clarence had missed the event after all. He leaned back in his chair and continued to enjoy what was left of his food. The only other creature as relaxed and unbothered in the room was perhaps the large wolf that rested comfortably near the feet of the witch hunter.

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Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: 6 pm
Location: Castle Dining Hall
Interactions: Killian @Oso
Mentions: Wulfric
Attire:“Why was I not told red was the color for tonight?”

“You see, it was my very mother who showed me magic. Yes, showed it to me, not only told me about it,”
Leo watched wide-eyed and stunned as Wulfric stood behind the Queen, and cold as ice outed the woman as a witch. He would’ve never believed it had he not witnessed it with his very eyes; Wulfric turning on his mother. 

“She uttered a word, and changed a tablecloth from white to yellow. That is how, a few days ago, I learned of the existence of magic.”

The prince dug his mother’s grave. Or built her pyre as the law might have it. He was so  thorough that he shared the exact spell he’d seen her use. 

“So, you see, I have to question: Are you knowingly and willingly working for a witch, hunter?” 

He goaded the witch hunters into sending the Queen to that very pyre. 

“Or is it that you cannot reliably determine who is a witch and who is not?”

He did it publicly. Left King Edin no choice but to order Queen Alibeth’s immediate arrest.

As another man, a Duke whose name Leo could never quite remember and who he never cared for, stood up and began to spout off the second most delusional sermon Leo had ever heard. The first, of course being the one from Edin’s strange ceremony. 

He stared at his unfinished meal, and occasionally at the remaining sip of wine in his glass, and wondered how Wulfric could do such a thing. Betraying his own family like that, it seemed the antithesis of the man he thought the Crown Prince to be; one truly noble of spirit. 

Leo wondered if he could ever do that to his mother. Over changing the color of a tablecloth?

No. No, not for that, but if he found out she had played a part in his father’s death and hid the truth from him? Leo would turn on her. He’d have no other choice and he’d damn well make sure she never breathed free air again. 

Alibeth had just changed the color of a tablecloth. She’d willingly dabbled into something dark, a perversion of the natural order of the world; into magic. There was a good reason it was illegal, why the punishment was death by fire, and it was on the same level, if not worse, than murder. A threat to order and to the safety of the kingdom.

Wulfric had made a sacrifice to ensure his kingdom did not continue to be plagued by witchcraft. Leo could only admire that devotion to duty and the strength to never waiver from one’s convictions. 

“How does one become a witch hunter?” He turned and asked Killian.

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Time: Dinner Time
Location: Banquette
Mention: Clarence @helo, Thea @Tae, Gideon @princess
Interactions: 
Appearance: Light blue gown with Silver accents

Ariella hadn’t expected it to cut so deeply.

Clarence’s words weren’t loud, but they struck with a weight that landed square in her chest. To fear them is to insult me.  They hissed against her ear like venom, and her breath caught in her throat before she could stop it. Her face went pale. Her fingers stiffened where they clung to his sleeve.

He hadn’t said it to wound her,but he had. And the worst part was that he wasn’t wrong.

She wasn’t afraid for Clarence. She was afraid because of herself. Because she didn’t know what she was yet,not really. Because she still flinched under the gaze of the powerful, still played the part of someone soft and small while something far more dangerous may be simmered under the surface.

Clarence moved on quickly, already offering Duke Gideon polite farewells, already slipping back into his place at the table, controlled and unshaken. But Ariella stood frozen for a moment too long, blinking past the sting in her eyes, her breath a little too shallow.

She couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep pretending that her journals were just scribbled nonsense, that the box under her bed didn’t hold pieces of the truth she was terrified to face. She had locked it all away. But safety was a lie in this world. And normal no longer applied.

Whatever happened with Callum’s mother, it was no accident. It was a performance, staged by the crown, and Ariella knew enough to see it for what it was. The King never played fair. If Alibeth had been dragged away, it was because it served some hidden end. And the next time the curtain rose, it could be her family in the spotlight.

Her brother. Her father. Callum.

She had to be ready.

“I’m ready to leave,” she said, voice smooth and calm. “Let’s not keep Mother waiting.” She gestured to her father with a look of exhaustion. Ari looked over at Thea and smiled “I’ll see you at your birthday” she reached out and squeezed Theas hand with reassurance before leaving towards the carriages. 

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FLASHBACK

Walter Vikena • Willow Vikena •  Gideon Edwards

Location: The Montauppe Mansion Ballroom — Once the Petits' estate, now under Damien ownership

Time: Evening • Autumn, 1709

The ballroom glistened like something out of a dream. Crystal chandeliers scattered the glimmer of gowns across marble floors, and the air smelled of perfume and buzzed with the hum of string instruments. It was an evening meant for elegance.

Naturally, that meant Walter Vikena strolled in as though the night were already about him.

His entrance was a performance: chin lifted, hair swept into a stylish mess, and that ridiculous grin on full display. He looked ready to give a speech or start a scandal, or perhaps both. With a bounce on his heels, he came to a stop beside Gideon Edwards.

Young Gideon Edwards was the picture of propriety. His red hair was neat, his cuffs perfect, and his posture straight as a board. But his gaze swept the room with faint suspicion, as if expecting trouble. Then pretty little Willow hovered between them, a vision in pink, her hazel eyes wide with nervous excitement. Her fingers twisted together, and she whispered something about how “pretty everything looks,” as if afraid to disturb the enchantment.

Walter, of course, had no such restraint.

“There they are!” Walter declared loudly and suddenly, throwing his arms wide. “The sacrificial lambs of tonight’s affections. I give it ten minutes before one of them tries to faint near me just for the excuse of being caught in my arms.”

Gideon sighed the sigh of a man who had known Walter too long and not long enough, adjusting his cuffs. “Walter, for the love of the gods, must you announce your delusions aloud?”

“They’re only delusions if I’m wrong.” Walter winked, then grinned wider. “And I never am.”

Gideon glanced over and to his horror, there was indeed a small group of girls near the orchestra, stealing glances at Walter with obvious curiosity. He leaned in and muttered under his breath, “One day, someone’s going to slap you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Giddy.” Walter’s smirk turned downright wicked, and he bumped Gideon’s shoulder with his own. “You’re getting me all excited before we’ve even found a place to sit...”

Rolling his eyes, Gideon quickly averted his gaze and decided to pivot the conversation. His gaze caught on a particularly severe man glowering in their direction. “Remind me again why Duke Gabriel Petit always seems to have just swallowed an entire lemon?”

Walter barked a laugh. “Because he has to introduce his son Laurent to ladies without mentioning that his only hobby is talking about fish.”

Willow let out a soft gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “Walter! That’s not very kind!”

“Kindness?” Walter spun dramatically toward her, hand to his chest. “I am so kind, dear sister. I’m rescuing an entire generation of women from conversations about trout.”

Gideon sighed, shaking his head, though the corners of his lips twitched. “At least Laurent's quieter than his father. Gabriel once spent an entire hour lecturing me about how Primitus disapproves of dancing too exuberantly. ”

"Primitus probably disapproves of fun in general," Walter retorted cheerfully, his eyes alight with mischief. "I think the Petit’s ideal ball would consist of sitting silently in a circle, reciting prayers, and glaring at anyone who dares breathe too loudly."

Willow’s giggle escaped like a burst of bubbles, her cheeks turning pink. “Oh no, that’s just true!”

"I know. Isn't it delightful?" He winked charmingly, nudging Gideon again but with his elbow this time. "But enough about sour old men and their fish-obsessed sons. Willow, weren’t you looking for someone tonight?"

Willow’s eyes lit up instantly, the blush on her cheeks deepening. She smoothed the fabric of her dress, her voice soft yet filled with anticipation. “Lord Desmond Wood. He promised me a dance tonight.”

Her brother immediately sucked in a loud gasp, as if she’d just confessed to falling in love with a street thug. Then, slowly, dramatically, he turned toward Gideon with the look of a man who’d just watched someone lick the floor. “Desmond Wood?” he repeated, like the name physically offended him. “You mean Captain Rakehell himself? The man collects women like taxes?”

Gideon tilted his head, lips twitching. “Come now, he’s not that bad. ”

“Gideon, respectfully, he’s a bastard. I can see it on his stupid face.”

“You two are being ridiculous!” Willow protested with a giggle, though her ears were turning pink. “He’s sweet and thoughtful!”

“The only ‘thoughtful’ thing about him is how hard he thinks before saying absolutely nothing.”

Gideon gave Walter a sidelong glance, amused. “You’re jealous your precious twin sister might spend more time with him than you.”

“Of course I’m jealous! I’m emotionally unstable! And if Desmond so much as brushes a fingertip against her hand, I swear on all that is holy, I will set his cravat on fire and blame it on Lord Laurent Petit.”

“Goodness, Walter,” Willow laughed breathlessly, cheeks flushed from giggles. “You must have had your fill of libations before even arriving. I’m going to have my dance, and that’s the final word on that... I’ll see you gentlemen later.”

She twirled off with a dreamy little skip, eyes locked on her mark. Walter watched her go, expression dripping with theatrical grief. “And you’re too lovely for that sentient breadstick,” he called after her, wagging a finger as if he could scold her back over. “I’ll fake a seizure! I swear I will!”

She didn’t look back, already halfway to Desmond Wood, who was leaning against a column like a man very aware of his own bone structure. 

Walter squinted like he’d just spotted a cockroach.

He turned to Gideon with an accusatory jab of his elbow. “Well then, who are you going to dance with, carrot?”

Gideon blinked, already reaching into his coat. “I’m afraid I don’t have adoring maidens trailing after me like ducklings,” he said dryly. “I suppose I’ll just find a table for us and begin that book I brought.”

Walter stared, stunned. “You brought a book to a ball?”

“It’s a gripping work on maritime navigation, actually—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Walter grabbed his wrist before Gideon could escape. “You are not going to sulk in a corner with your textbook. If no one's asked you to dance, then congratulations, you're dancing with me.”

Gideon blinked rapidly. “Wait. What? But—but—Walter, we can’t—”

“Too late! You’ve already been swept off your feet!” Walter spun him halfway onto the floor before Gideon could form another excuse, ignoring the scandalized looks they were receiving.

Gideon stumbled slightly, laughing, but mortified, as Walter tugged him further into the center of the floor. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Walter murmured, barely audible beneath the waltz’s rise. His lips parted slightly as if he might say more, his eyes softening as they searched Gideon’s expression.

Gideon froze just enough to be noticed. His brow knit, lips parted in turn, and for half a heartbeat, neither of them moved. A breath caught between questions neither dared to ask.

Then Walter spun them suddenly, breaking the moment, “ Come now, dance with me like you’re not plotting to escape from my arms for once.”

They careened slightly off-beat from the rest of the ballroom, nearly colliding with a horrified Lord Laurent Petit, who fled like a startled fawn. Gideon let out a genuine laugh as Walter twirled him again.

“You’re going to throw out my back, you madman—”

“Then I’ll carry you,” Walter chirped. “Heads up, Gideon, I’m dipping you now!”

“Don’t you dare—!”

But it was too late, Walter leaned him back dramatically, far too low, earning a scandalized gasp from a passing lady and a stifled snort from a nearby servant. Gideon flailed upright with a grin he couldn’t suppress. The music swelled, and the two of them gave up trying to follow anyone else’s rhythm, moving in ridiculous tandem.

“You’re lucky I’m spry, Vikena,” Gideon muttered through a breathless laugh. “Anyone else would’ve thrown you across the room by now.”

“You’d miss me terribly if I shattered against the punch bowl, and died a tragic, sticky death.” Walter shot back with a grin, “but what a legacy I’d leave. Here lies Walter Vikena — too beautiful for this world so he drowned in some non-alcoholic bullshit excuse for punch.”

“More like, ‘Here lies Walter, tripped on his own ego.’”

Walter nearly tripped as if to prove the point. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll bring you down with me, carrot.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Never. You’re my crunchy orange boy.”

“I have a title, you know.”

“So does my pet goat.”

“What title could a goat possibly have?"

“King Fred.”

They were still laughing, cheeks flushed, when the quartet in the corner let their bows fall into a gentler rhythm. The footwork of those around them yielded to something slower, something that made the chandeliers seem to glow a little warmer.

The two boys' movements slowed, softening into a gentle rhythm as Gideon dipped Walter this time.

One of Walter’s hands remained on Gideon’s sleeve. The other hovered, hesitating, not quite falling away from Gideon’s waist. His grin faded as their eyes locked, and suddenly, the air between them changed.

Their breath mingled in the close space.

Gideon’s blue eyes held questions, and Walter’s gaze was still. For once, neither filled the silence.

Instead, his hand lifted, brushing ever so gently along Gideon’s back, soothing in its tenderness. As if his fingertips could say what he wouldn’t. Then, slowly, like instinct, his knuckles ghosted up to the edge of Gideon’s jawline… barely touching the curve of his cheek.

The world around them dimmed, and in that moment, nothing else existed, just them, and a question neither had dared to answer: what if?

Then Walter blinked.

His gaze shifted over Gideon’s shoulder, and everything changed.

“...Gideon,” he murmured.

Gideon followed his gaze and saw Willow standing stiffly in the middle of the dance floor. Her smile was brittle. Her hand rested on Desmond Wood’s, but her eyes looked lost.

Walter’s mouth twitched, then flattened. It was obvious to anyone looking that she was absolutely crushed.

Desmond was dancing with her, but his posture leaned away. His hand, though technically proper, gripped hers without tenderness. And worse… He was laughing. Not with her.

His head tilted toward another girl who stood nearby, giggling into her glove.

Walter’s fingers curled into a fist. 

“Walter,”  Gideon warned, sensing the shift in his breathing.

But the warning came too late.

Walter stepped back from Gideon and with long, intense strides, he stalked across the floor, cutting through swirling couples. The moment he reached Desmond, he didn’t wait for politeness.

He shoved between the pair, nearly knocking the man back a step. “Is this your idea of a dance, Wood?” Walter snapped, “Looking at every other woman in the room like you're at a livestock auction?”

Willow startled, eyes wide. “Walter, stop—”

Desmond’s easy smirk faltered for only a heartbeat. Then, with the confidence of someone used to getting away with things, he stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “It’s called having charm, Vikena. You’d know nothing about it.”

“Oh, forgive me,” Walter barked a cold laugh. “I forgot charm now includes stringing along sweet girls for your evil desires.”

“And I forgot you were still suckling at your sister’s skirts like a jealous puppy. " Desmond sneered. “Relax. No one’s interested in a simpering bitch like her.” He leaned in slightly, his smirk widening. “Why don’t you run back to Edwards, since clearly no woman here wants to dance with you?”

Gideon was already halfway across the floor, threading through the crowd, panic flashing in his eyes. “Walter, don’t—”

“Say that again,” Walter growled, stepping close enough their chests nearly touched. “Say one more word about her.”

Desmond leaned in with an amused glint in his eye. “You mean the girl who’s practically begging for my affection? Tell me, which one of you two is going to cry first when I leave her for someone with a working brain?”

The quarrel had caught the attention of those nearby at this point, and a few onlookers gasped as Walter’s fist moved fast. The sound of his knuckles colliding with Desmond’s jaw cracked like a whip through the air. He staggered back, but he didn’t fall. He reeled back, eyes wild, and then lunged forward with a snarl, punching Walter back square in the cheek.

Walter’s head jerked, his body twisting from the blow, but he didn’t fall either. Instead, he grinned.

Gideon grabbed Walter’s shoulders, trying to pull him back. “Enough! You’re going to get yourself arrested—”

Willow pushed her way between them, shoving at Desmond’s chest with tears in her eyes. “Stop it! Both of you! This is insane!”

Walter snarled over Gideon’s shoulder, trying to shrug him off. “He doesn’t get to walk away from treating my sister like that!”

“Your sister’s not made of glass,” Desmond snapped, rubbing his bruised jaw. “But I suppose she is easy to break.”

“Get out of my sight!” Willow shouted, voice cracking as her eyes welled with furious tears.

The music had stopped. All eyes were on them.

Duke Percival Vikena stood frozen, eyes narrowed in disapproval. His jaw was clenched so tightly a vein throbbed in his temple, arms folded across his chest, while his wife Duchess Cordelia Vikena was pale as ivory and trembling behind her fan. She stared at her son with a haunted look, her rosary clenched so tightly the beads bit into her skin.

Closer to the spectacle, Duke Adam Edwards arched one amused brow, his glass of brandy paused midair. He let out a slow, thoughtful breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in wry amusement as he commented, “Do try not to bleed on the Petit’s carpet beneath your feet, Lord Vikena. It’s imported.”

And from across the room, a voice boomed:

“Enough!”

Duke Gabriel Petit stood at the top of the ballroom stairs, his rigid frame shaking with barely contained outrage. His greying hair looked freshly fluffed, as if the stress itself had ruffled him.

“This is a sacred celebration and you choose to treat it like a back alley tavern brawl?” His eyes blazed as they swept across the trio and landed, predictably, on Walter.

“Lord Vikena. Lord Edwards. Lady Vikena. You have defiled the sanctity of this night. Go outside and get some air.”

“But—” Willow began, but Gabriel’s hand shot up.

Walter wiped the blood from his lip with a wicked grin and gave Desmond a final glance. “Your fly’s open, by the way.

Gideon grabbed him by the arm before he could make things worse. Walter didn’t resist. His shoulders were tense, but he let himself be dragged away. Willow followed beside them as the three were escorted toward the back entrance. However, in no way was Walter silent during this transition.

Walter twisted his arm just enough to hurl one final declaration over his shoulder,: “Everyone saw it! I was the righteous blade of justice, and you are pure greasy villainry, Desmond Wood!”

He threw his free arm wide, as if addressing an invisible jury. “History will vindicate me!”

Gideon groaned aloud, half-dragging him toward the exit, but Walter paused mid-stride, threw his head back, and blew a kiss toward the cluster of girls by the orchestra, who were watching in stunned silence.

“Ladies…” he purred, giving them a wink. “I regret only that I could not defend your honor as well. Perhaps next time, hmm?”

A few of them actually giggled.

Walter gave one final, sweeping bow, then straightened as both Gideon and Willow shoved him outside.

The doors opened with a heavy groan, and cold night air rushed in to meet them. As the grand doors shut behind them, and the three found themselves in the gardens, Walter informed them, “Mark my words, I’ll be a legend by morning. They’ll write sonnets about me.”

Gideon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “More like they’ll write restraining orders.”

Behind the Petit estate lay a meticulously curated garden. Cobblestone paths twisted through rose-covered trellises. Towering hedges were trimmed with the obsessive precision of a noble gardener. In the center, a marble fountain shaped like an angelic maiden poured water from an urn into a pool, its trickle echoing through the stillness of the air. Wisteria draped from pergolas and fireflies begin to blink in and out of the shadows. 

“Walter… how much did you drink before we even arrived?” Willow asked, “You’re going to get yourself seriously hurt one day. Or worse…Locked up. You know how Papa and Mama are… They’re already at their limit with you.”

Something behind his eyes twitched. He looked ahead toward the garden path, jaw tightening slightly before his usual smirk returned. “Darling Willow,” he said smoothly, “I had precisely the amount of wine required to dance like a god and punch a rake in the face.” He turned to her with his usual demonic grin, “And if that’s a crime, then let me be guilty forevermore.”

Gideon’s voice was dry, but the worry behind it was real as he chimed in. “It’s not the wine I’m worried about. It’s you throwing yourself headfirst into trouble like you’re desperate to win a medal for it.”

The three of them moved forward and came to a stop at the marble fountain where Willow sank onto the edge. Her eyes lifted toward Walter, brow creased. “You scared me,” she admitted quietly. “You always do when you get like this.”

Walter stood frozen for a breath. The confidence drained just slightly from his face, but it was quickly masked again by bravado. He approached the fountain, his boots crunching over gravel, and offered a bow. “I live to both alarm and delight. A tragic flaw, I’m told.”

“Walter,” Gideon cut in more firmly this time, “she’s not joking. You didn’t think. You just saw red like you always do, and I know you’re smarter than this.”

“No, no—what I saw was Willow,” Walter snapped back, suddenly serious, “With tears in her eyes and that bastard looking smug about it. That’s all I needed to see.”

Silence followed, save for the soft trickle of the fountain and the occasional chirp of crickets in the hedges.

He turned away, running a hand down his face and into his hair, his fingers shaking faintly. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “I’m always fine.”

Gideon stepped closer, placing a steady hand on Walter’s shoulder. His voice was low and kind. “No, you’re not. But you don’t have to be. Not with us.” His expression softened, and he said more lowly, “Never with me.”

Walter said nothing. Instead, he looked up toward the sky, exhaled a deep breath, and finally his shoulders sagged. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he turned toward the garden path and declared, “Well. Let’s go vandalize something. I need to feel something other than overwhelming rejection from society.”

Willow let out a small laugh despite herself while Gideon just shook his head. “Walter…”

And with that, Walter strode off a few paces ahead, arms thrown dramatically into the air as he went on about the incoming sonnets again, and his sister’s gaze lingered ahead as he stalked through the wisteria like a wounded lion. 

Gideon watched her quietly before offering his hand. She accepted it, and he helped her up from the fountain’s edge with ease. As she took his arm, he glanced at her sidelong, noting the faint tremble in her breath. Her gaze had gone distant despite the smile she kept on her face.

“He’s a mess,” she whispered.

Gideon smiled gently, the expression filled with affection. “Indeed. But he’s our mess.”

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips just grazing her cheek. His voice dropped to something softer. “You don’t have to smile for us, you know.”

Willow blinked, startled by the directness. “You were hurt tonight,” he continued. “And not just by fists. You trusted someone, and he made a fool of that trust in front of half the nobility.” He paused, looking down at her the way he had his own sister many times over. “That doesn’t make you silly, Willow. It makes him small.”

Willow’s lips parted slightly, her eyes beginning to sting again. “I know what it looks like when you’re pretending not to cry.” He smiled faintly. “My sister did the same thing. Same wobble in the chin.”

Her hand tightened slightly on his sleeve. “I should have known better.”

“No.” His voice was firm but kind. “He should have been better.”

Meanwhile, Walter had drifted several steps ahead, the dramatic fire in his stride cooling into a casual swagger, until it wasn't. His smile faded. Something in the distance made him slow, one foot faltering slightly as if the air itself had thickened.

His brow furrowed, and his head tilted with a curiosity that revealed his instinctual unease. The wisteria parted around him like curtains, revealing a figure standing just beyond the nearest hedge. 

A man? No—Two.

One stood upright, wrapped in a black cloak that pooled around his boots. The other was hunched over, half-dragged, half-stumbling, a thick iron chain looped around his neck and clutched tight in the tall figure’s hand. The chained man was gaunt, dirty, bruised, his mouth gagged, his feet bare and bloodied from being pulled across stone.

The taller figure moved with eerie calm. 

None of them ever forgot the sound of that steady grind of chain links and the slow scraping of boots on the cobblestone.

Walter’s breath caught in his throat. “...Don’t like that.” he muttered.

Behind him, footsteps crunched gently on gravel. Willow and Gideon had caught up, and their chatter was silenced the moment they saw the look on Walter’s face.

“What is it—” Willow began softly, but her voice trailed off as she followed his gaze.

Gideon grabbed her arm and ushered her to crouch low behind the hedges alongside them. All three dropped into a kneel in the shadows.

The trio watched in frozen silence.

The man moved with purpose, but no urgency. His hood was drawn low, casting his face in shadow, but they could see his mouth as he spoke quietly to the chained man. The words were inaudible, but his tone had the lulling cruelty of someone speaking to a dog they meant to drown.

He gave a sharp tug on the chain, forcing the prisoner to collapse to his knees with a sickening thud. His gaunt form swayed like a leaf in the wind, blood dripping down from his chin where his lip had split open, and a dark stain bloomed on the back of his tunic. 

“He’s branded.” Walter breathed, the words dry on his tongue, as if even speaking them left a bitter taste behind.

Willow’s breath hitched audibly. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her other hand instinctively gripping Gideon’s sleeve.

The cloaked man raised a gloved hand, and out of the shadow stepped a second figure. A woman, face obscured by a half-mask, with crimson gloves. From her back hung a sleek, angular weapon, its shaft etched with glyphs that shimmered faintly with violet sigils.

She approached with such mechanical movements it was as if she weren’t truly human at all, and from her hip she withdrew what looked like a needle.

She crouched beside the chained man, who began to squirm, eyes rolling in desperation. She didn’t speak. She simply inserted the needle just below his ribcage and began to inject him with something, something none of them could name.

The reaction was instant. His body arched violently, muscles seizing, veins in his neck bulging. A horrible sound, like a choking gasp strangled in cloth, echoed as he writhed. Then she withdrew it… only to insert it again, lower this time, closer to the stomach.

Walter surged halfway to his feet.

Gideon wrapped an arm around his middle and dragged him back down hard. “Walter—stop.”

“We cannot let this happen,” Walter hissed. His voice cracked as he spoke, and his chest heaved. “We can’t just sit here—”

“I know. I know. But if you move, he’s going to see you.” Gideon tightened his hold and reached for Walter’s hand, gripping it firmly. When he glanced up to meet his eyes, he froze, startled at the sight. Silent tears had begun to trail down Walter’s cheeks.

Meanwhile, Willow had gone pale. Her hand trembled visibly on Gideon’s arm, her knuckles white.

The woman pulled a second tool from her belt, a long knife of some sort. She murmured something to the man on the ground, then dragged the blade across his shoulder in a clean slice. Then the pain hit. He bucked again, slamming his head back into the cobblestones with a dull crack.

Willow turned away, pressing her forehead to Gideon’s sleeve, muffling a soft, broken sound while Walter’s hand had curled into a trembling fist over his knee, his entire body wound tight like a spring.

The male finally knelt. “You will tell me where she is. Or I will make you remember it from your marrow.”

Gideon stared ahead in quiet horror. His voice dropped to a whisper so low only the twins could hear. “We have to go. Now. If he sees us—”

His whisper barely left his lips before the hunter’s head twitched.

Not toward the prisoner. Toward them.

The masked woman froze mid-motion as her head turned as well, slowly like a predator scenting something on the wind.

Walter’s stomach dropped. “He saw us.” He didn’t need to say more.

Gideon grabbed Willow’s wrist in one hand, Walter’s coat in the other. “Run.”

They bolted.

Their feet tore over the cobblestones, down the garden path, and past the wisteria-strewn arches. Branches whipped at their faces as they crashed into the forest beyond the estate, the sounds of the garden swallowed by thorns and bark and their own thundering hearts.

Willow’s gown caught on roots, but Walter reached back and pulled her forward without a word. Gideon stayed behind them, scanning the trees, making sure nothing followed.

They didn’t stop running. 

Not even when their lungs began to burn. Only when the light of the estate was gone and the world was swallowed in darkness did their legs give out beneath them.

They collapsed in the crook of a hill, beneath a canopy, gasping as if they had been drowning.

Walter fell to his knees, his coat soaked, his hands clutching the wet earth. His breath hitched and stuttered in his throat, and when he finally managed words, they came as a hoarse whisper:

“My father wasn’t lying.”

His wide eyes met Gideon’s, glassy with disbelief.

“They hunt us.” Walter swallowed before continuing. “People like me and Willow...Monsters like me...” His voice broke entirely. “Like animals.”

Willow dropped beside him, her knees folding under her, arms wrapping tightly around herself as tears fell down her cheeks. She curled inward like she could make herself vanish.

Gideon knelt between them, drenched in sweat, still gasping from the sprint. He reached out instinctively, placing a steadying hand on each of their backs.

“You’re safe now. They didn’t follow. You’re safe. You’re safe…”

He was staring beyond the trees, into the swaying dark. His lips moved without sound at first, until memory pushed words forward:

“We don’t belong to them. But they’ll break us until we do.”

Willow’s voice came next, cracked and aching. “They’re here… In Caesonia.” Her arms tightened around herself as she looked up, devastated. “I always thought they might come for us, with the way Papa would talk—but I thought we had more time…”

“They’ve always been here.”

Gideon’s brow furrowed, heart pounding for a different reason now,.

“Who…” he asked, his voice low, afraid of the answer. “Who are they?”

The twins turned to him, slowly. Their expressions were hollow now, eyes rimmed in red.

And though the wind rustled the trees, and fireflies blinked like dying stars, for a long moment…

They never did manage to answer him that night.

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Hidden 11 mos ago Post by samreaper

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samreaper Laughing Imp

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samreaper

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Kazumin Nagasa

Time:  Evening
Location:   Castle Dining Room
Interactions:@potter Lady Olivia/Percy, 
Mentions:@princess Charlotte 

The half-hearted grin sat unnaturally forced upon Kazu’s face as he fought to maintain control of his nerves. Tense shoulders lightly trembled in anxiety that even his nonchalant joking struggled to feign courage after the near taste of magic’s potent, deadly side mere seconds ago. 

The witch hunter’s presence was already disturbing enough, but it was the bound woman who rattled him most, for he couldn’t avoid the harrowing image of Percy in her place. Had he not acted despite the danger and fear, she very well could have found her another of the hunter’s standing prey.. 

”I agree–let’s find the others and leave. This stays between Lottie, you and me.” 

Hearing Olivia answer in agreement pulled his attention from the unpleasant image plaguing his mind.” Aye, don’t fancy sticking around this dour feast much longer, heh… and ya know yer secret’s saf-”  As he spoke, intending to say more when he saw Olivia shyly smiling back at him.

 The unexpected, cute sight left his cheeks burning with a reminder of their shared moment; awkward as it had been, the fluttering heat in his chest melted away the anxious tension pressing down on his stressed shoulders.” I- right…ah heh..secret safe and um..find Charlotte..that too.. yes! Haha!” Kazu scrambled to get the words out in between fumbling chuckles, ending with a face palm to keep himself from rambling.

”By the order of the Royal Family, nobody can leave the banquet.”

The guard’s abruptness and warning announcement nearly caused the flustered Kazu to jump, with a heart attack shock that almost felt like his wildly pounding heart to explode.

Had Olivia not still been holding onto his likely clammy hand, he might have punched the guard out of reflex. Instead, his free hand whooshed through empty air, though his knuckles scraped the man’s armor plate, causing some minor eye-watering scraping.” Gah! Da heck?! Don’t ya know it’s rude to sneak up on guests? And scaring them half to death at that?  I have half a mind to voice a complaint for this, but, but thankfully for you, Lady Olivia and I were just planning to get to our seats, now if ya don’t mind..good sir.” A hat, tilting the tip of the hat, and a departing pat to the guard’s chest plate before feeling Olivia tug at his hand. 

Offering no resistance, Kazu allowed her to pull him back into the banquet hall before he could get into a tiff with the guard. Still partially annoyed at the unneeded fright, though the interruption proved a timely distraction enough to snap him out of the flustered state.* Ugh, damn it..losing yer cool like that. Unfair of Percy to go..go smiling like..all shy like that?!* Sensing the image creep back into his mind, prompting a hasty shake of the head, needing to keep his head straight. 

Grumbling to himself for allowing his head to get all twisted simply over a smile, a smile that made enduring this whole awkward and dangerous ordeal worth it, but now wasn’t the time.*  Urgh…great. Best try to avoid gazing at Olivia’s face too directly..least till I get my head on straight…properly at that.*

A thankful sigh of relief upon seeing the table still littered with that same wide assortment of delicious dishes of highly delectable food. Just the thing needed to help settle his fried mind; a deep rumbling in his gut told of a greater hunger than when they left. 

A hunger that had been shared by his friend it seemed, seeing Olivia waste no time in resuming her feast. She ate with more ravenous fervor at that.  The magic usage possibly took up a lot of stamina, which, with what she said about having huge appetites, seemed evident enough and could explain how she never got full when they ate together. 

An appetite he couldn’t help but admire, for it wasn’t often one met a girl of all things capable of eating so much, though it was due to a side effect of having magic was worrisome. 

Before he sat down to join her, he had taken to scanning the room with furrowed brows twisted in concern, trying and failing to seek out Charlotte or Fritz. He had hoped they would be at the table eating and having a merry good time..or at least were until Killian's chilly entrance. But found no trace of them, Cassius was gone as well, with Char possibly as none of the three were visible in the hall.

He thought to try and find them, but the guard’s words about not being allowed to leave and Killian’s presence made moving about too risky to move about, especially with Olivia still shaken up and in protective mode. Doubtful she would let him leave her side, nor did he plan to, as long as the witch hunter was around. 

Seeing as there were no signs of them so far, there was no helping it since moving around now would only increase missing them. And with their seats being at the same table made it only a matter of time, so best to sit and wait.

And he had no intention of being the one to disrupt Olivia’s feasting, as he knew best that once she started, it was difficult to stop. 

He huffed out an amused chuckle, watching his friend devour dish after dish, which only fueled his own hunger. With a chuckling shake of the head, he moved to the food cart to find half of the dishes gone.” Aye, hope they enjoyed filling their bellies!” Kazu beamed at the thought of satisfied guests from the shared food and, much to his delighted surprise, found the bowl of pudding sitting untouched; his warning had the effect hoped for.

Humming as he pushed the cart till it sat between the two of them, where he then started piling the remaining dishes onto the table.” That’s the way! There are plenty so have at it!” Humming the words as he replaced Olivia’s empty plates, wanting to make sure she got her fill first.” Do be sure to save some room for desserts, got some of that real fancy pudding to save for last.” Nodding his head with barely subdued excitement. 

With his friend topped back up, he then grabbed the last batch of dishes for himself and dropped into his seat to dig right in. 

Or at least that was the plan, but the murmurs coming from the royal table appeared to hold a growing tension that made even those sitting near the opposite end hard to miss. He couldn’t make out much of what was being said, though it seemed to be centered around the queen. 

Then he caught notice of Wulfric standing behind the queen, mouthing something,though the words long faded before reaching them; a cold silence, however, followed in its wake as once more the warmth of the hall was sapped away.

Kazu began eating as he waited and watched quietly as the king stood up with angered abruptness that echoed through the hall with fist crashing rage against the table, impossible for any at the banquet to miss. 

Shocked confusion etched his face initially, unsure what to think seeing the king act so brashly before this court of nobles, though as his voice rose, soon revealing what had the man so enraged.

"This betrayal will be met with swift justice. We cannot, and we will not, tolerate such corruption within the very heart of our kingdom."

*Betrayal? Corruption…what?* The questions barely popped into his head before getting his answer as the king carried on. 

"Arrest her. Escort Her Majesty into confinement. She shall await judgment by the tribunal of the Church. “

This night’s feast appeared to have no end to the surprises, and hardly any of them were pleasant. The drama between Roman and Violet and the witch hunter’s unwanted arrival felt like paltry appetizers compared to witnessing the queen be publicly arrested by her partner, of all things. 

He could do little else but watch in pure stunned disbelief as he idly stuffed food in his mouth, unsure what to think or even believe this to be real, but the sight of the queen standing with armed guards guiding her from the hall showed this to be all too real. 
As King Edin spoke on about rooting out magic users like the woman accused of spiking drinks and talks of supporting the witch hunter in their endeavor, all while his wife was currently being taken to a cell. 

None of what had just transpired was bafflingly shocking and made little sense. The queen herself could do magic? And still she brazenly hired on a witch hunter, and from the looks of thing,s more of them would be showing with the king backing them. 

This put his opinion of the queen on hold, and while he wasn’t much a fan of the woman, her being arrested was anything but good. Now that she was removed left King Edin was all the more susceptible to Calbert’s machinations. 

"We must stand firm, united by our faith in the gracious Gods and our commitment to justice."

Finally, Edin gestured decisively, signaling the end of the banquet. "Now, go in reflection. Caesonia shall endure and rise cleansed by faith, united in vigilance."

With the shock of this arrest wearing off, the last of Edin’s speech ended with a dismal signaling the end of the feast, a taxing ordeal it had been. 

Before he could think on it more, however, when a distinguished, quiet kind of gentleman stepped forward, apparently having something to say about the kingdom shattering debacle. 

“I was not going to speak tonight. It is not my way to stir the waters the Gods have set still. I believe men meddle far too often, mistaking their own voices for divine will.” He then shook his head in repulsion. “But the stillness is broken now. The winds carry whispers… and they do not come from Primitus.”

Kazu listened with a raised brow, eating without stopping all the while.* The hell? Is he one of them preacher loonies?*

“We have wandered from the path, and we are now devoured by the weeds of comfort and sin. I have stayed my tongue for years. I have watched men barter virtue for gold, watched children grow blind to the light of Primitus. I told myself it was not my place.”

“The Gods have clearly seen fit to remove the veil from our eyes. What was once hidden has been revealed. And for that—” he inclined his head ever so slightly toward King Edin, ““—we must give thanks to our sovereign for acting swiftly and in accordance with divine law.”

“We are all children of the divine, born beneath the eyes of gods who bled to bring order to the chaos. Zivitas shines upon us because we remember our place...Because we honor balance, law, harmony!” 

Munching away as the duke prattled and ranted on about gods and something about a shameful disgrace, this all was. The man spoke in a rather flowery and poetically dramatic fashion that was certainly amusing to behold.*  Not really sure what this guy’s prattling about, but he certainly got that amusing artsy flair…too over the top, though some advice and tips to reign it in. Hm…could be just the kind of dramatic showmanship my stories need.* 

“We must cleanse ourselves. Not with fire. Not with steel. But with truth. Find the source. Purge it—not for punishment, but for salvation. Before Claedo laughs. Before Sapreon smiles. Before the gates of the underworld open again.”

Kazu pondered on how he might need to meet this crazed nobleman who even went down onto one knee as if he wholeheartedly believed all the things said and not merely for show.* The dedication and determination this guy has..astounding!  That settles it, got to get him in my future shows for sure!* 

“This… is a test. A divine trial set before us by the Gods themselves! And we—we who were born in the light! We have cowered in comfort while darkness whispers in our halls.”

“We must not falter now. We must not reason with corruption. We must repent. Fall to our knees in prayer, cleanse our spirits in truth, and beg Primitus to turn His gaze back upon us before the heavens turn away forever!”

He kept eating away while watching the strange spectacle come to a close, with those around mostly confused or put off by the show.

He, however, had been quite amused and impressed by the message, even if he couldn’t grasp all of what he was trying to say with the preachy and religious language, but the part about dealing with corruption and opening their eyes to the truth, he could get behind. It did wonders to ease the unpleasantness of the queen’s arrest, and who was he to deny such entertainment, though it wasn’t intended to be.

Still, as the duke walked off proudly with his head held high with his family in tow, the candy-suited man couldn’t help but stand up and give him his owed applause. He clapped for the duke even if no one else would; the man deserved it for speaking boldly in front of the king’s court.

“ That man has got quite the way with words, wouldn’t ya say?” Said in between claps, chuckling when he felt Olivia’s hand grip his wrist and a warning look as if chiding him to stop drawing attention, and allowed himself to drop back into his seat.” Aw, come now, the man went through so much effort, couldn’t very well let him walk out with nothing and after that whole…arrest thing, think the hall needed a good ice breaker…odd as it was, sure.” Chuckling sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so.

Shaking his head with a shrug as he glanced around, seeing people beginning to move around to depart. Still not catching sight of Charlotte or Fritz, frustratingly so, though they were no longer stuck sitting either, and turning his gaze to the mostly empty cart now, an idea came to mind. Turning and leaning towards Olivia, and whispered.”  Psst, much as I enjoy the decor, think we should go try finding Char in one of the halls, seeing as she ain’t in the hall. Didn’t she have much of a chance to either…so how about we get the cart restocked real quick and bring a mini feast with us for her.” He gave a small grin, hopeful that Charlotte would enjoy being surprised by the two rolling up with a full food cart.” Plus, she probably doesn’t know about the rest…we should get her clued in quick…” That is, if she was well enough

A plan that Olivia seemed privy to, mostly for the chance of more food, he guessed, as he was still quite hungry, which he could imagine to be more so for her.

With a shared thumbs up, the duo snuck their way over the carts, using the crowd as cover, where they made their way around the table till the angled view made snatching up dishes a sneaky breeze. Once it had been topped off, the pair wheeled off towards the hallways, opposite the rest as they refused to leave without making sure Charlotte and whoever she was with were fine and clued in on what this grim feast had resulted in.

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Violet & Cassius
Part One

Violet looked to her father, her red eyes meeting his expression. She had seen it many times in herself. 

”I’ll go look for him. You should get mother home safely. Cassius and I shouldn’t be far behind.” 

With little else said, Violet stood from her seat after having witnessed everything this evening she was more then ready to leave. As she tucked her chair into the table her eyes glanced back over to Alexander's empty seat. She was more concerned about where Alexander had vanished too, perhaps it was better he hadn’t seen what took place. 

Her brow furrowed.

She didn’t linger much longer before taking her leave towards the hallway. She walked past a few guards finding herself greeted with only closed doors. No sign of Cassius. And no sign of Alexander. 

She let out a worried breath. 

Cassius rounded the corner, boots striking loudly against the marble floor.

He didn’t look back…not at the hall behind him, not at the ghost of Charlotte’s voice still ringing in his ears. He simply couldn’t… Not without shattering into a million pieces. 

He kept his head down, jaw tight, steps fast enough to outrun the words he knew he’d regret later if he let himself feel them now.

When he looked up, he nearly collided with her…

Violet.

 Of course it has to be family.

Lowering his hand from his face, the deep scratches in his flesh made themselves known. Blood still painted his cheek, but he didn’t bother to wipe it. The wound was nothing compared to the scar across his eye, nor could it match the trench on his own sister’s forehead where the axe had met its mark… But this new wound was a symbolic one. It was not the physical injury that hurt the most. Not by a long shot. 

With the fresh cuts revealed, Cassius stood up straighter and let the emotion fall away from his face as much as he could manage. Looking into the red eyes of Violet before him, he finally greeted her. 

“Sister.”

It came out rougher than he meant, almost bitten off. 

He forced a smile… A very Cassius smile... but it wasn’t enough to hide all of his pain. 

“I sure hope I haven’t caught you starving.” He jested, pointing to the blood on his face. 

 “funny”  she said with little emotion, the strong smell of Iron flooding her. 

Scarlet had done well to keep the bloodlust at bay. It no longer ruled her the way it once had, but pretending it wasn’t still there,lurking just beneath her skin,would’ve been a lie. The scent in the air was sharp, metallic, impossible to ignore. Her eyes dropped to his face, smeared with blood, and her throat tightened with the familiar pull of hunger she wished she’d outgrown.

Behind him, movement caught her eye,guests beginning to slip away, murmuring to each other in hushed tones as the atmosphere thinned and the night began to fade. Scarlet’s gaze shifted as her hand clamp down around Cassius’ wrist, her grip tight, almost desperate. Without a word, she dragged him down the hall and out of sight.

 “Father wanted me to find you, some stuff has happened inside the banquette you missed.”  Her hand reached into a pocket that had been sewned into her dress pulling out a white handkerchief with her initials stitched in black and a small embrodered raven. Without much thought she used it to clean the blood off of him, appearing to be unbothered by the sight of it. 

 “What happened?” 

Cassius allowed her to wipe the cut, letting the sting settle in. He didn’t thank her for it with words, but he did offer a gentle nod to his sister...who he knew had also gone through the ringer that evening. 

His eyes flicked to hers when she asked what happened. The truth was so simple, yet so goddamn complicated.

His lip curled, humorless.

“A misunderstanding.” He said without emotion, almost matching her tone. Instead of elaborating further, Cassius simply addressed her other words. “Now your turn. You said there was more excitement after I stepped out? Well…what did I miss?”

Violet did as requested and informed him about the events in the banquette, about the queen and the witch hunters. Roman and Mina had never returned to their seats but she held back what was still on her mind; Alexander missing from his seat. 

As many of the guests continued to shuffle out she led Cassius out into the garden, she knew that many of the guests were likely in a hurry with their carriages  that waiting for some of the other families to take their leave first was better. That way Cassius and Violet could likely sneak out unnoticed. She also held the hope that she could possibly catch a glimpse of Alexander allowing some relief to her concern. 

Cassius stepped beside her as the garden swallowed the noise of the castle behind them. The chill in the air bit at the fresh cuts on his cheek, but it helped keep his mind sharp and anchored him in his skin when everything else still felt like it was drifting away.

 “I believe the goal was for those who felt safe to no longer feel that saftey”  she added as they reached the center of the gardens. As they stopped Violets eyes continued to trail into the distance as if searching for something or someone. 

He let Violet’s words replay in the quiet between them. The witch hunter with the girl in chains... the spectacle of it all... and then the image of the queen herself being dragged from her own hall like some petty traitor while her son looked on and did nothing to stop it.

He breathed out a humorless sound that might have been a laugh if it had any warmth left in it.

“So that’s the shape of it now, then... blood means nothing if it stands in the way of power. Even to Wulfric.” He shook his head, lips curling in a way that wasn’t quite a smile. “The crown eats its own. Always has.”

He fell quiet for a beat, boots crunching over gravel as they reached the garden’s heart. He let the wind pull at the edges of his coat, the cold biting through the heat still coiled low in his belly. Then his eyes flicked sideways to Violet and the way her gaze kept slipping over his shoulder, then drifting past his other side, scanning the hedges, the paths, the distant shadows where lanterns did not reach.

He tilted his head just enough to follow her eyes, the corners of his mouth ticking upward, but there was no humor in it.

“You are not subtle, sister,” he murmured, voice softer now but oh so tired still. He let his gaze follow hers once more before it landed back on her face. “Who are you hoping to find out here?”

Her crimson eyes drifted toward Cassius, the sharp edges of her expression softening for the briefest flicker of a moment.

“Roman,” she murmured, the name barely audible,spoken more out of habit than truth. Even as it left her lips, it felt wrong. A lie dressed in softness. Beneath the surface, her blood stirred, heated with the quiet rage that simmered every time she recalled his performance,his carelessness, the ease with which he embarrassed her. She could still feel the sting on her cheek. 

“He went off with Mina, I guess. They were both gone when I came back to the table.”She gave a slight shrug, but it lacked conviction. It was more an attempt to brush it off than a genuine dismissal.

“He could hardly keep his eyes off her at the gallery. I suppose one flame had to die for him to light another.”

Though Roman was never the one she truly searched for in that moment his words still twisted like a cold knife at the base of her spine. The memory of his voice, the look on his face, that look in his eyes, it clung to her. She drew in a breath and straightened her posture, wrapping her arms around herself in a slow, self-soothing motion. It wasn’t for warmth. It was to hold herself together.

Cassius watched her carefully...the way her voice dulled it, the shrug that wasn’t really a shrug, the arms wrapping tight around herself.

He didn’t buy it, not for a heartbeat. But maybe tonight wasn’t the night to call her on it. He understood well enough what it was to keep certain truths buried down deep where no one else could pry them loose.

So, he just nodded and ran with her words, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sly smile.

“Roman…” he echoed. “Right. Well if I’m being honest…dear sister…I’d suggest that we’ve both seen more than enough of that oversized piece of shit for one night. His eyes searched hers for a beat longer, then flicked away toward the distant hedges she kept glancing at. “But I’m sorry… that things with your behemoth didn’t work out to your heart’s desire…I know you’ve been through hell, Violet, and you didn’t deserve what happened in there. Especially not from someone you thought you could trust.” He didn’t let the words hang too long, as a more genuine form of his smirk appeared. “I could always kill him, if you want.” His head tilted to the side in jest as he met her gaze once more. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve killed for you, ya know.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, soft and fleeting, more out of habit than joy. She let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I have killed someone either.”

Her hands, once tense at her sides, uncurled slowly, fingers loosening as though finally giving in to the weight of the night. A quiet sigh slipped from her lips, heavy with something unsaid.

“I’m sorry your evening’s been just as cursed…”

Her eyes flicked to his face, lingering where the blood had been. A shadow of concern passed through her gaze, but she didn’t mention it aloud. Instead, she shifted slightly, her voice dipping lower, quieter, more exposed.

“If I’m honest…” she hesitated, eyes fixed on some faraway place only she could see. “Roman reminded me of that girl I used to be. The one with too much hope and not nearly enough fear. She had all these dreams she read about in books dreams that felt real, like she could reach out and touch them if she just tried hard enough.He was that too me…to her.”

She paused again, her jaw tightening, voice rougher now as if she was trying to hold something steady that wanted to break.

“All she used to worry about was who she might marry one day… what her children would look like.” Her laugh this time was bitter and brittle, swallowed before it could fully form. “But now? It feels like everyone I ever trusted has changed. Like they’re showing me sides of themselves I don’t recognize anymore.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands, watching them as if trying to decide who they belonged to.

“The life I thought I knew… the life I wanted… it’s just gone. It died when I did.”

She took a breath, then another, slower this time, more deliberate. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again.

“Or maybe…” she looked up at last, meeting his eyes, “it’s me who’s changed. And I’m only now starting to see it.”

Instead of responding immediately, Cas held her words in reverence for a moment. The breeze blew between them, tousling his hair and causing the flora around them to sway back and forth. 
As he moved to brush the hair out of his face, he looked deep into his sister’s eyes with intention. He wanted her to know that he sees her. Both the girl that died and the woman that stands before him now. He would never claim to know her unique brand of pain, but he could look her in the eyes and show her that was more than familiar with his own…and prove to her that not everyone would leave her so easily. 

“My mother used to say that the person we are today always dies to make room for who we’ll become tomorrow.” His eyes broke away, filled with nostalgia as he remembered the way her voice would sound when she said it. “She was a woman forced to reinvent herself in order to survive. More than once, I’d wager.” Letting a gentle hand rest on Violet’s shoulder, Cassius looked into her eyes again with the same conviction as before. “Now it's your turn, I’m afraid. For all the hell it's caused, this new life also gives you the chance to start over. To be who you really wish to be.”

She looked at Cassius with a surprised expression, she hadn’t expected this. Though, she hadn’t expected anything that happened tonight. 

He took a deep breath, letting his hand fall into her own, before lifting their conjoined hands up for them both to see. “You’re not the only one questioning yourself tonight, I promise. But for now...for just a little while…how about I just be your charming brother, you just be my grumpy sister, and let’s just go get a fucking drink. What do you say?”

“My kind of drink? Or…” Her expression was unreadable for a moment, eyes locked on his like she was weighing something behind them. Then, the edge cracked, and she let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Yeah. Let’s grab a whiskey.”

She stepped forward, falling into stride beside him. She took one more not so subtle look over her shoulder. Still, no Alexander. 

“How do you know who you wish to be?”
The question came out suddenly as she turned her head back. Her tone was casual, but there was something heavy buried beneath it. Something unsettled.

She didn’t look at him right away. Just kept walking, eyes ahead.

“All I know is… I don’t ever want to be humiliated like that again.” Her voice tightened, but she pushed forward. “It’s been eating at me. The way I chased after him,like some stupid little girl holding onto a fairy tale. If Alexander hadn’t said something…”

She trailed off for a beat, jaw flexing before she finished the thought.

“Would I still be running after him? Just clinging to what could’ve been instead of seeing what’s been right in front of me this whole time?”

Finally, she glanced sideways at Cassius not searching for answers, just needing to say it out loud.

“Sorry, It’s been a long night. My mind has been racing all evening.”

Cassius chuckled, just once, at her little jab, but let her have her time to speak. He listened with respect, and when he finally spoke again, his tone was softer but honest.

“I’m not even going to pretend I’ve got the answers tonight. I used to think I knew who I was… what I wanted. But when I left everything behind and sauntered off here to Sorian... gods, some days I don’t even know why I’m here.”

 He gave a rough laugh under his breath, more exhale than sound as he shook his head.
“Truth is, I don’t think we ever get to know who we want to be forever. We just figure out who we want to be today…and tomorrow, we do it all over again.”

 Cassius looked over at her, that sly grin back for just a flicker. He could feel the slightest hint of the sting from the scratch marks on his face as the smile formed. Violet nodded in understanding as she returned his smile glancing once more at the scratch marks clearly made by a human by the way they were formed. 

“Take tonight for example…I want to be the version of me who’s so drunk that the only thought my mind could possible conjure is…more whiskey, please.”

A soft chuckled escaped her lips as Violet nodded in agreeance “Make it a double” she added with a smile. 

 And with that, they were off…

 Cassius kept his shoulder near hers as they crossed the courtyard lamps, the hush of wind pulling at their clothes as they moved down Edin Ave. The castle walls loomed behind them now, their stones heavy with secrets best left there for the night.

 They passed beneath the lanterns that lined Flora Road, their glow painting fleeting gold across their faces as they hooked around the back side of the massive Sorian Library…then slipped past the bend that curved them toward the deeper hum of the streets, lined with shuttered brothels and half-lit doorways, the hush of muffled laughter trailing out into the night. Cassius only rolled his shoulders back, keeping his sister close as they crossed the mouth of that crooked alley and carried on toward the promise of rough timber walls and whiskey on tap.

 Before they could even come within view of their destination, however, something deep in Cas’s gut caused him to slow his stride. He let his eyes scan the shadows spilling out from the alleys behind the library’s high wall, the soft rustle of something that wasn’t the wind pricking at the edge of his hearing. The area ahead looked much the same…lamps flickering, a stray drunk laughing to himself, but underneath it all, the air had gone tight, as if the night itself was holding its breath.
The silence continued to creep between them, Violets mind plagued still with her thoughts. 

“Violet...” His voice came out sudden and deathly serious as crimson eyes looked up at him. “Something’s wrong.”

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Mina Blackwood

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Attire:Dress & Hair
Interaction:@ReusableSword Roman
Mentions:@Helo Callum/Clarence, @SilverPaw Wulfric, @princess King Edin & Queen Alibeth, @Oso. Killian

Mina didn’t speak as she returned from the corner of the banquet hall.

She moved with measured poise, but the calm she wore was just that–a carefully placed mask. Her thoughts were still tangled around the conversation she’d had with Roman, barely minutes ago. They’d kept to a quiet corner, away from the worst of the spectacle, but even in the hush of distance, his words had pierced through her like splinters.

Not the words themselves–those had been polished and precise, spoken in their shared dialect like they often did. But the message? That had come from his hands.

Three gentle squeezes.

Nothing.
Control.
Best.

Each word a lie, hidden in plain sight. And then he’d mispronounced her name. Roman had never done that before. Not once. Not even when drunk. Not even when grieving. It was deliberate. A flare in the dark. A message meant only for her.

He was warning her.

And whatever had its hooks in him… it wasn’t just affecting his tongue. It was something deeper, something older. For a moment, she wondered if it was something similar to what she’d already seen flickering behind Prince Callum’s eyes. That same hollow shine. That same eerie calm.

No, she’d thought. Not calm. Caged.

She had responded with a soft squeeze of her own. I hear you. I’m with you. I’ll help you. Then her voice followed, careful and controlled, “If you say nothing’s wrong, then I believe you. Whatever you think is best… I support you. And I’ll help however I can.” A script. A shield.

A promise.

She’d barely had time to let the weight of it settle when the room shifted again. Boots. Dark cloaks. The chill that preceded a storm.

The witch hunter entered.

Mina didn’t flinch, but her body tensed beneath her gown. The presence of a hunter wasn’t surprising, she had always known the penalty for her kind was fire. But it wasn’t supposed to get this close. Not here. Not now.

And then came Wulfric’s voice. Cold. Clear. A sword disguised as truth.

Accusation.

Alibeth.

Queen.

A witch.

The guards moved like wolves on blood, and the air inside the hall thickened with tension so sharp it could cut skin. Mina kept her expression neutral, but inside, her lungs felt tight. Not just from fear, but from the new reality clicking into place. Magic hadn’t just become more dangerous. It had become hunted.

Before stepping away, she had touched Roman’s arm again, murmuring low beneath the din,
“End your night here.” A suggestion in tone, not in content. “You’re not alone.” Another promise.

She didn’t wait for a reply. She couldn’t.

As Edin ordered the guests to leave and the hall began to ripple with confusion and motion, Mina weaved gracefully through the shifting crowd. Her steps were light, careful, almost detached–but inside, everything was tightening.

She reached her uncle at last. And for the first time all night, without a word, she slipped her arm through his. To anyone else, it was a simple gesture.

But to Sebastian Blackwood, it would speak volumes.

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 Ariella & Callum

Flashback; Afternoon, so post morning events and before the evening banquet

Callum,
I need to speak with you. It’s urgent. You know where to find me.
—Ari

The letter was brief, each word carefully chosen. Ariella knew the risk—there was always a chance that prying eyes would scan its contents before it reached him. But Callum would understand. He’d know where to find her.
She folded the parchment with steady hands, though the storm inside her was anything but calm. There was no one else she could trust with this. No one else who would understand the fury simmering beneath her skin. She sealed the letter with a wax seal with a Large E printed into the wax.
—-

Ariella paced back and forth, her bare feet striking the dirt, kicking up dust as a worn trail formed beneath her restless steps. The morning air clung to her skin, cool yet suffocating, as her thoughts spiraled, refusing to settle. The voice—that voice—echoed in her mind, gnawing at her sanity like a persistent specter.

Her fingers, raw from constant wringing, dug into one another, pressing tightly against her chest as if holding herself together. Each step felt heavier than the last, frustration and unease coiling tighter within her.

Mid-stride, she stopped abruptly, her gaze catching on a small trunk resting atop a weathered rock. It was ornate, its intricate carvings illuminated by the moonlight, the iron lock glinting coldly. A shiver prickled down her spine.

For a fleeting moment, she was still, trapped in the pull of its presence. Then, like a snap of a thread, the trance broke. She tore her eyes away, resuming her pacing as the conversation with Drake replayed in her mind, each word twisting deeper into her thoughts.

Callum trekked unseen through the woods, following the same path Ari had led him down the first time he’d been to the ravine. This time was different, now his long-limbed familiar strode beside him, ensuring that the pair were neither seen nor followed. Unseen by mortal eyes, the spirit had promised. There would be no tabloid mentions or hushed whispers about this secret meeting in the woods. Urgent, had been the word Ari had used, and Callum figured from the vagueness of her letter; that secrecy was paramount. 

The spirit’s help had a cost, but Callum had decided when he’d made his pact that he would trust his familiar. No point in summoning one if he wasn’t going to trust it. Given what he’d traded away for the favor, he could only hope Edin’s banquet tonight went as well as Ana and Fritz’s event had gone. The familiar dissolved its magical cloaking  as Ari came into view, her frantic pacing noticed by both sets of eyes. 

“Ari? You okay.” Callum asked softly. He recognized that sort of pacing, a desperate movement to burn off nerves. The far-off look of being lost in the chaos of one’s own head. His room had a similar path worn into the floorboards. 

<This mortal is deeply troubled.> The voice wrapped around Cal’s mind and its tone buzzed with excitement. The monkey stood still, closed its eyes, and took a slow, deep, inhale. <A pungent feast. Something…soured. Gone rotten.> A wide grin broke out across its face as emotion wafted his way.  

Stopping abruptly in her tracks, Ariella turned toward Callum, her expression brightening the moment she saw him. “Cal!”  she greeted him with genuine warmth, her voice carrying a note of relief. But just as quickly, the light in her eyes flickered, replaced by the weight of an unspoken burden.

Right… the letter.

Her forced smile barely masked the storm brewing beneath the surface. A shadow passed over her face, and her fingers twitched, subconsciously picking at the skin of her hands. Her voice softened, tinged with uncertainty. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s a risk, with how many eyes are on you, but… I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Callum smiled, a look of pride flashed across his face. “I wasn’t followed. We can speak freely.”  

Her shoulders sagged as if releasing a heavy weight, and the words tumbled from her lips in a frantic rush, like she had been holding her breath and was finally gasping for air.

“My parents erased my memories, and my brother helped cover it up. I was—apparently—addicted to black magic, and now my aura is bleeding yellow and black, all mixed together!”  Her hands flailed wildly, emphasizing the sheer panic woven into her voice.

“I keep hearing this strange voice, like something is calling to me, and I—” She sucked in a shaky breath, her eyes darting toward the object resting atop the rock. Her outstretched finger trembled as she pointed at it. “I’m really scared to find out what’s in that box.”

As the last word left her lips, she inhaled sharply, as though she had spoken every ounce of air from her lungs in that one desperate confession.

“Oh…and I casted a spell on you” she casually added with a nervous smile as her brows furrowed

Once Ari seemed a little more relaxed, Callum closed the remaining distance between them. The burden of what she had to share released into the space around them. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.Ari looked at him “First, if your family did that to you, fuck them,” he said. She smiled softly as her eyes softened. He looked at the box, he wondered what spell she had cast on him. 

“How much of what they told you, can you even trust?” He asked. 

“That is true.”  she added 

<Yes! Open the box! The monkey watched with interest, its eyes moved back and forth, between Ari and the box. 

“What’s the voice sound like? Does it sound like you, your occluded memories calling out? Or something else? Something that means you harm?” He asked, focusing on one thing at a time. 

Shrugging lightly, her fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting over each other as if trying to weave her anxious thoughts into something tangible. “It’s like a voice carried on the wind,” she murmured, her gaze flickering uncertainly. “It started a few nights ago—maybe five? There was a shift in the air, something… different.”

She hesitated, breaking away from his embrace, her movements careful. Without another word, she turned and padded toward the vine-covered greenhouse, its glass panes fogged from within, ghostly in the dim light. Disappearing inside for only a moment, she soon returned, her expression unreadable as she stretched out her hand, revealing the small effigy she had crafted that night.

“It was the same night I made this,”  she said softly, her voice laced with something between conviction and uncertainty. “A protection spell.” Her fingers tightened around the effigy for a breath before she offered it up fully. “You said you were doing something that evening… I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“You did a protection spell on me!” Callum whispered with excitement. Five nights ago…oh, He suddenly remembered exactly what he’d been up to five nights ago. 

Her eyes lowered, tracing the rough, hand-stitched edges of the effigy, its form shaped with care, yet marked by urgency. It looked as if it had been set on fire, the branches and sticks singed “If it worked, I should have felt a change in luck, some kind of misfortune.” She exhaled slowly, as if the realization were only just settling in. “Maybe… that’s why I was caught with the painting. Why I spent that night in the cells.”  

The monkey climbed up onto Callum’s shoulder and snatched the effigy from Ari. Without hesitation, it took a bite. It chewed on the sticks and cloth that made up one of the arms. <Well done…singed and sweet...> Its snack was interrupted. 

Callum grabbed the effigy out of the familiar’s hands. See, that’s rude. He pointed out to the spirit who could not have cared less. “I summoned a familiar, and he’s kind of a dick, so, now, he doesn’t get attention until he behaves.” Callum briefly explained the monkey and returned to more pressing concerns.  

“And It did work. That night Riona and I found a secret room in Wystan’s room. Filled with cursed objects.” He held up the little Callum doll. “Pretty sure it saved me from putting on an evil crown…” Ariella looked at Cal with an expression of concern before turning her attention to the monkey on his shoulder with a smile. 

<It did! A dark and bitter curse.> It continued its slow chewing. 

“And, then Riona and I nearly died when a crazy guy broke in through a window. So, you know, big thank you there for this.” He offered the effigy back to her. Accepting it back Ari held it in her hand for a moment before offering it to his pet with a grin. The monkey snatched the doll from Ari’s hand and took another bite. 

“Maybe…you woke something up, or weakened whatever your family did to hide magic from you?”

Her gaze dropped for a moment before shaking her head softly  “ I think you woke something up…”  she nearly whispered as her attention turned back to Cal.  “ Infact I am starting to wonder if this voice I keep hearing isnt a voice at all…” 

“I woke something up?” He repeated. “What do you think it is?” Cal asked as the monkey chewed on its snack, crunching sounds filling his ear. 

 "Whatever this is… it's dark." Her voice was hushed, almost reverent, as if speaking too loudly might awaken something lurking in the shadows. A chill hung in the air, and distant voices whispered on the wind, calling her name.  "It triggered some kind of magical reaction, but even I don’t fully understand it yet."

Absentmindedly, she reached up and ran her fingers through the soft fur of the monkey,rubbing his head as he perched on his shoulder, who seemed far more interested in its snack than the weight of her words.

“Ari, don’t…” It was too late. Her hand was already on the familiar. 

The chewing stopped. The remnants of the poppet fell to the ground. Beady eyes stared at the offending hand, and its fur bristled. When Ari withdrew her hand, the monkey dropped from Callum’s shoulder and landed softly on the ground. 

 "I was hoping maybe you had heard something too? Felt something?"  Her gaze flickered to him, searching for any sign of recognition.  "I think this ties back to my lost memories, but I don’t know how… or why."  

“No,” Callum answered. “Not voices in the wind. But that night, a lot of crazy stuff happened. I saw things, heard things…things I can barely believe were real…” He trailed off as his eyes flickered from Ari to the monkey who was still indignant about being petted.  

The monkey’s hands moved as it beckoned forth the shadows cast by trees. Shadows swirled together until they formed a feminine hand that rose and reached out towards Ari. Long elegant fingers stretched out as if to pet Ari in the same manner that she had petted the familiar. Before the shadowy hand made contact, each finger snapped and twisted in an unnatural direction. An unnaturally wide smile overtook the monkey’s face, every tooth displayed.

Her eyes widened as she watched the shadows twist and turn a smile spreading on her face as she withdrew her hand. 

“He says ‘there won’t be another warning’.” Callum said, still looking at his familiar. “It’s the petting thing; he really doesn’t like it.” He clarified. Ari nodded  “Noted, and I apologise” she clasped her hands together. The familiar nodded its head in return. 

Turning away, she reached for a worn satchel resting against a nearby rock, pulling out a glass jar. She hesitated, holding it for a moment, staring into the depths of its swirling contents before stepping back in front of him.

She extended the jar toward him. Inside, the water churned in a mesmerizing yet unsettling display—deep, inky blacks twisting together with  gold, an endless storm trapped within fragile glass.

 "This… may end badly." Her voice was steady, but as her eyes dropped to the jar, a flicker of uncertainty danced in their depths. "But I need to find answers, a way to get my memories that they stole. Finally be free of the chains they’ve casted on me. Are you willing to help me?" Her green eyes looked up to her friend full of excitement and fear.  

“I’m clearly not opposed to working with the darker parts of magic.” He carefully took the jar from Ari and turned it over in his hand, watching the water that was imbued with both a golden light and jet-black darkness. Opposing forces swirled together but never blended, instead, the two forces only complemented each other. He handed the jar back with a reassuring smile.

“Whatever you need, I’m happy to help. So we’ll unlock those memories, and I think that can only be a good thing. Not just to give you back whatever parts of yourself your family stole from you, but all these things they don’t want us to know, that’s just power they don’t want us to have. It’s why the crown tried to purge witchcraft from this world: to keep knowledge and power from those they can’t control. It’s why a bunch of long-dead witches tried to close off the so-called darker paths: to keep others from doing what they were too afraid to do.” He took a step closer and gave Ari his full attention, eyes locked on hers. 

“Why should we be afraid? We can cast off limits and use magic to free others, to make this world better, and to get rid of all those people who will try to limit us. Dark, light, what does it matter if the end goal is something so much better than what we have now?” He asked before gently cupping his hands around Ari’s face. Feeling his hands around his face Ari’s cheeks slightly pinked as her eyes grew a little wider, she watched him closely as he continued.

“Your magicae is beautiful, a perfect reflection of what’s possible, and no matter how dark your road has gotten or will get, I want to walk that path with you. I trust who you are, I want to know who you were and who you will be when you are truly free.”  Her hand reached up to her face, resting her right hand over his.  She felt seen and accepted by Cal, and his words were the kindest and most honest she had heard from anyone. 

Her titled slightly into his palm that her hand held as her expression softened.   “ I just want to be free…” she said softly nearly a whisper that only the two could hear. 

“You will be.” Callum whispered, and the longer he looked at her the more the world around him disappeared. There was just the warmth from Ari’s cheek and the gentle pressure of her hand against his. The way the color in her cheeks made her freckles stand out. Her vibrant eyes. The curve of her lips. His heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird. 

<Warm and rich and sickeningly sweet.> The familiar commented as it fed off the emotion it syphoned from the pair. <Almost makes my teeth hurt.>

Shut up. He told the voice in his head. 

“So, how much do you know about memory spells?” He asked, sliding his hands away from Ari’s face. “I’ve never messed with any of that, but I do know someone who does: Marek Delronzo.” He offered with a smile. If anyone would know how to undo a memory spell, he’d bet it would be Marek. 

“And what’s with the box?” He added.

Her hands fell limply to her sides as she drew in a slow, measured breath, as if the brief exchange had stolen the air from her lungs. A flicker of something unreadable passed across her face before she turned, her gaze settling on the satchel of belongings her brother had given her.

She blinked, as though trying to piece together fragments of a dream, then spoke, her voice laced with uncertainty. “I don’t remember much of anything, to be honest. I feel like a novice, yet according to my brother, I wielded dark magic so often that they began to fear me. And in that fear, they stripped away everything I knew about it.” Her fingers grazed the edge of the bag as she crouched down, her expression troubled. “I’m starting to wonder if I even attended etiquette school like my mother always insisted I had.”

“Oh, no offense, but you don’t act like you went to etiquette school.” He teased. “And by that, I mean you’re not boring and deeply disgusted by the thought of running around the woods free from shoes.” Ari nodded with enthusiasm as he understood her thoughts. 

She reached inside, shuffling through its contents before pulling out a stack of journals. They rested in her hands for a moment, the weight of them strangely foreign, as if she were holding remnants of someone else's life. With quiet care, she set them beside an ornate wooden box before delving back into the bag. One by one, she retrieved more items, spreading them out on the ground as if attempting to make sense of the puzzle before her.

Finally, she sat back on her heels, her gaze lifting to meet Cal’s. “Everything else was burned. This is all that’s left.”

“Of course they burned your stuff. Those who can’t do magic, try to burn it out of existence.” He replied, a bitter edge to his tone.

Her fingers traced the intricate patterns carved into the wooden box. It was large, beautifully detailed, but odd in its construction—there was no visible keyhole, only a peculiar seal embedded at the center. She frowned, tilting her head in thought.

“I don’t know how to open it...” she murmured, squinting at the seal. Her brow furrowed. “A key, maybe?”

“Where would the key even go?” He asked, looking at the box. 

<Magic.>  Clarence reached out, its fingers caressing the ornate carvings. Something dark sizzled against the familiar’s magicae as its fingers ran across the seal. “It’s locked with magic. Which means whatever’s in there must be important.” Callum said.

Can you open it? He looked at the monkey who studied the box like a gift it wasn’t allowed to open just yet. <Find the one who made it,> was the only response Cal got. 

Can you…sniff them out? Pick up the scent from the box. He wondered, only to be met with an incredulous look. <Do I look like a hound?> It asked. 

No. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. <I will not act like a hound. It is beneath me.> 

“So we have to find the witch that locked it. Like a quest.” Cal said, looking back at Ari as she glanced back at him. Despite how screwed up the circumstances were, the idea of a quest involving tracking down the witch who helped steal Ari’s memories was exciting. An important quest, and he was her first choice to help with it. 

“You think Drake would give you any more information? Oh…and how mad are we at him right now? I should know in case I run into your brother, your feuds are my feuds.” He asked. 

A soft chuckle erupted from Ari as she covered her mouth at his comment towards her brother. Her expression turning into a soft look of thanks as he spoke of her feuds. 

“I’d guess that whoever they are, they’ve taken steps to avoid being found, but we should at least try a tracking spell first.” He suggested; no reason not to leave no stone unturned. 

“A tracking spell is a good idea…Maybe even these journals have some clues. ” Her attention turned to the stack of books infront of her. “Drake was really only a child when everything happened and as much as I want to be upset with all of them he did recover some of my items atleast.” a long drawn out sigh left her before she stood back to her feet. 

Dusting off the bottom of her dress “I also wonder what else I may have hidden around here.” she looked around for a moment before turning her attention to Cal “What about you? Any feuds I should know about? After all your fueds are my feuds” she smiled brightly. 

“Almost the same as yours; my shitty parents. And the rest of this nation’s nobles who don’t care about their people. Hence the familiar: Clarence is going to help me defeat those enemies.” Cal answered, and he was relieved he didn’t have to add Drake to that list because he was starting to like the guy. 

Ariella’s smile softened as she listened to him, her heart squeezing at the weight in his voice. He always carried so much—anger, determination, the need to fix what was broken. She wished she could take some of it from him, wished she could make the world kinder to him. But if she couldn’t do that, she’d stand beside him through all of it.

“Edin, and Alibeth, have a lot to answer for. I’m going to make sure they suffer for the things they’ve done. So my feuds…are dangerous ones to take up. If you want to take that back, I’ll still help you with yours.” He offered, giving her an out if she wanted to take it. 

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as she took a step closer, her voice quieter but unwavering.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cal. I would never take it back.”  She searched his face, as if daring him to argue. “You’re important to me. If this is your fight, then it’s mine too.”

Her hand reached out, hesitant for only a breath before resting lightly on his arm.“ “I don’t want you to go through this alone… I want you to be free too.” Her smile turned a little sad, her thumb brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. “And if I can help make that happen, I will.”

She let her hand fall away, glancing at the books again to collect herself. Her heart was beating too fast.

With a deep breath, she straightened and forced her usual playful grin back onto her face.“ “Now, no more of this ‘if you want to take it back’ nonsense. You’re stuck with me.” She grinned at him with a soft shrug. 

“Then I guess I should tell you all of it.” Callum took a breath. Ari’s shoulders relaxed as her eyes focused on him, nodding as she listened closely. 

“I’ve been helping Riona try and look for proof of the things Edin and Alibeth have done. Crimes not even a royal could get away with; they slaughtered a whole town, children and all. Covered it up. I’m sure that’s not the only secret they want kept buried. And I intend to drag all their secrets out for the people to see, see their monarchs for the twisted wretched things they are and turn against them.” He began, passion and hatred creeping into his voice with equal measure. 

“But it’s not just Edin and Alibeth; the rest of the nobles, too. Strip away titles and power passed through corrupted bloodlines. That’s what freedom looks like for me. A Caesonia where everyone is free, where we are all on equal footing. I’ve already started working with a rebel group in the city to help with this.” He wouldn’t name a single rebel, only added that they called themselves Thornbreakers and that he trusted their goals. Ari nodded along softly in understanding. 

“And I want a Caesonia where magic isn’t locked away and witches aren’t punished for it. I want to use magic to make a better world.” Cal paused and smiled at that distant dream that was just beginning to feel closer each day. Ari’s expression matched his own at the idea.  

“Alibeth has mentioned magic as a threat at our last family meeting. She’s going to act on that, it’s only a matter of when. So I’m forming a coven: you, me, Riona, Roman, possibly Mina; those I know we can trust. We’ll have to look out for each other, work together, and keep other witches safe.” He continued, a grandiose list of plans and his first steps to bring those to fruition.

“It goes beyond hating my parents, Ari. Beyond just wishing them dead, I will make it happen and ensure that they suffer beyond what they can even imagine. And I’m talking about rebellion and treason, and if you want that too, then there’s nothing I want more than to have you stand by my side in this.” He reached for her hands as Ari’s eyes fell to his hands he pulled her closer, eyes meeting and facing each other only a breath apart.

“You're a force of nature, Ari, powerful and untamable. And once we get all your memories back, I think that will only be even more true. I’m not stuck with you, I’m grateful you’re here.” Callum whispered. 

Ariella felt her pulse quicken, her breath catching in the space between them. His words stirred something in her—a storm brewing just beneath her skin, a pull toward the chaos he promised. Treason. Rebellion. Vengeance. It was intoxicating.

She smiled, feeling her heart pound in her chest as if attempting to break out. She attempted to speak but struggled aware of just how close he had pulled her. She took a soft breath, her fingers playfully brushing against his as she held his hands in a gentle embrace. The warmth of his skin felt comforting against her own, and she couldn’t help but smile. Each delicate touch made her heart dance with excitement.

Her eyes locked with his. “I’m grateful that you’re here too...”  she whispered softly “We will give them something to actually fear...” her voice was soft as if a secret was being shared between the two of them. 

Callum’s heart pounded. You get it. He looked into Ari’s bright eyes. 
Fear. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted. Not useless, not a random unneeded spare, not a joke - feared by his enemies. 

He could picture it. Both of them, alive with mystical power like no one in this city had seen before. Not in ages. Magic used to its full potential. Kings and Duchesses would hold no sway over them. Their enemies brought to utter ruin. They’d remake Sorian into something better. 

And he would not be a king. She would not be a queen. Their title would be simple, equal, better - witch. 

United. Indivisible. Unstoppable. 

A force of nature. A force of vengeance. A fire that could not be doused. 

“Sometimes I won’t be me, though. Sometimes, Clarence will be me. We’ve agreed on possession as part of my pact with the familiar.” 

Ari nodded gently, the motion subtle but full of understanding. A soft, serene smile lingered on her lips as she squeezed Callum’s hand—a gesture of quiet reassurance.

“We will get what we want. I’m sure of it.”

And that was exactly what he wanted to hear. What he needed to hear. No siren could sing a sweeter sound than the resolve that settled from Ari’s words. The warmth of that sentiment replaced any doubt; she believed they would succeed, and he believed anything that voice said to him. 

Her voice was calm, but beneath the calm was a flicker of something darker—an ember of vengeance glowing quietly behind her gentle expression. For a moment, the idea of her mother finally facing the consequences she so richly deserved painted a shadow across Ari’s face, though it remained hidden beneath the veil of her composed smile.

“I wanted to show you something I’ve been practicing,” she added, her smile deepening, now laced with a quiet excitement. A knowing glint sparked in her eyes, chasing away the earlier darkness like dawn chasing shadows. Whatever weight had pressed on her seemed to lift, replaced only by the lightness of anticipation.

They stood close as they bridged the last of the distance between them. Their truths had been spoken, laid bare between them without judgment or fear. There was only acceptance now, a fragile but growing trust.

Callum remained enchanted, transfixed by the soft lighting and her closeness to him. He watched shadows flicker and fade behind her eyes. Watched a fire spark and spread from her eyes to her smile. It echoed how he always felt.

Ari let go of Callum’s hands with a delicate motion, her fingertips trailing from his palms like mist dissolving in the morning sun. Then, slowly—almost reverently—her hands rose, hovering on either side of his face with a haunting grace. Her green eyes met his, unwavering, the dappled sunlight breaking through the canopy above them catching the gold flecks in her irises, making them seem to shimmer with unearthly energy.

Her heart fluttering like a caged bird within her chest. Her hands still didn’t touch him, but he would feel it—an invisible pressure, gentle and radiant—like sunlight kissing his skin after a long, cold winter. Her fingers moved in a slow, wave-like pattern, the feeling of rippling warmth against him. The magic was soft, natural, and warm, like being cradled in the glow of something.

The soft touch of her fingertips glided from his hands. His face flushed from her warmth as her hands cradled the air around his face. A fleeting moment that was equal parts innocent and intimate. Perfection. 

Her eyes; the only thing worth looking at.

Her warmth; the only thing worth feeling. 

“Trust me…Close your eyes” she whispered.

Callum obeyed.

As his eyes shut, her hands traced the outline of his neck with featherlight precision, gliding over his shoulders, slow and reverent. Then, with purpose, she brought her hands back to his—interlacing their fingers. A jolt of energy sparked at every point of contact, like static laced electricity being exchanged. Their magic reached for one another like two halves of a whole, finally meeting.

As her skin sparked against his, Callum held her hands tighter. Everything felt more alive, more aware. 

“Volant…” she breathed, the word slipping from her lips like a prayer.

And then—it happened.

A sudden rush of weightlessness swept over them both. Ari’s grip tightened instinctively as her feet lifted from the earth, heart hammering with exhilaration. “Now open” 

Again, he obeyed. Callum smiled at her before his eyes opened. 

She smiled brightly as she looked around at her magic at work. She had done this spell a few times on herself unsure if she could with another. Seeing and feeling the magic around them she giggled excitedly. The quiet sound of her laugh widened his grin. Her joy was as electric as her touch had been. 

Leaves and wildflowers were torn gently from the ground, caught in a swirl of wind that wasn’t there a moment ago. They spiraled upward, twirling like petals in a dance, decorating the air at their feet before slowly drifting back down like nature itself had bowed to their magic. Their bodies began to rise, slowly rotating in a graceful spiral, suspended in the still air. The earth fell away beneath them. The feeling of weightlessness washing over them like a dream. It felt like a small taste of freedom. it was everything untethered.

They floated a few feet above the ground, Ari had been using this spell more frequently as it helped her feel that sense of freedom she so desired. Excited to share that glimmer with Cal. 

He breathed in the scent of the forest; every earthy, floral, and sweet note in the air only made him think of Ari. Everything swirled around them as nature embraced them, and magic hung like static in the air. It was a rush -- the weightless feeling, the perfection of the moment, the closeness. It was the spell or the sensation of floating that made him lightheaded and dizzy. 

And it was too flawless a moment to let it pass without action. 

Callum leaned forward, and they floated so close that the movement was barely noticeable. His head tilted slightly, and he lingered in moment before the lips met, just long enough for her to turn away if she wanted. However, she didn’t move infact she felt herself frozen in that moment as she felt her breath catch in her throat with anticipation. Her lips parted as if to speak but then he kissed her. As soft as the moment they shared was, as light as the wind around them, and with that same current of electricity running through them. She melted into it. Leaned in with the same gentle reverence, her magic sparking warmly where their fingers still touched.

And that’s when it happened.

A sudden gust of wind shot up beneath them—her magic surging wildly, uncontrolled. The balance slipped.

Oh no
Incredible!

Suddenly, they crashed to the ground, landing in a soft bed of grass in a tangled mess of limbs and laughter. Ari blinked, dazed, only to realize she was wrapped up against Callum—his arm beneath her, her leg draped over his. The warmth of him, the brush of his chest rising and falling, sent her already fluttering heart into another flurry. Callum’s arms wrapped around Ari for another moment, clinging to what they had just shared. It was too perfect to let it all go; the floating, the falling, the crashing…all of it. He just needed it to linger for a second longer. Her large green eyes looked at him sitting in the moment with him as neither seemed to want to let go. A giggle escaped her lips. Cal let go; he pulled a leaf from her hair and let it float away. 

A bright, startled sound that quickly turned into full, bubbling laughter erupted from her as their situation set in. Callum’s laughter followed, a light and carefree sound that poured out. Paired with an easy smile and weightlessness that stayed with him long after the two of them had crashed to the ground. 

 “Whoops,” she managed between breathless chuckles.

Still laughing, she tried to untangle herself, though the attempt was anything but graceful. Her fiery red hair, glowing like a flame in the dappled sunlight, was now a wild halo around her—leaves and petals tangled like nature itself had crowned her in the aftermath. With a soft puff of air, she blew a strand from her face and began brushing herself off, bits of grass clinging to her dress. Cal stood back up, his footing awkward and off balance, as he shook some leaves and dirt from his hair. Ari attempted to help him, brushing a few errant petals from his shoulder with a sheepish little smile before settling back on her heels.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice softer now, concern peeking through her flushed cheeks. “I got a little distracted.” They may have fallen to the ground but Ari still felt like she was floating. 

“Alright? Ari, that was incredible. Floating like that…wow, just wow. Sorry, for being the distraction. It just felt like one of those perfect moments, like in a book.” Her eyes softened as a smile still painted her lips. “Never apologise for that” she said softly “That was a welcomed distraction..” 

<Ridiculous,> somehow the familiar managed to make its voice sound like an eyeroll. The bored monkey entertained itself by attempting to lick residue magic from the locked box. 

“Next time I’ll make sure our feet are both on solid ground.” He promised with a sheepish grin. ..Next time She smiled brightly.

 “Solid ground sounds safer,” she whispered, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly. “But I wouldn’t mind… another moment like that. Even if we fall agian”  she brushed off the last of the dirt from her dress, her eyes catching his familiar licking the locked box that say on the rock. ”what is he doing?”  

“Looking for crumbs of magicae to eat.” Callum, despite knowing that his familiar knew every word he said, chose to whisper anyway. “Always hungry. But, at least he’s behaving.” As much as Callum wanted to believe it was due to his familiar learning, adapting to be more like the kind of help Cal wanted, he wasn’t foolish enough to fully believe that. 

He could feel it, even without the familiar’s voice whispering into his head, a curiosity as insatiable as the creature’s hunger. A locked box that even Clarence, with all his ancient power and experience, couldn’t open. Callum felt how maddening it was; the feeling rolled off the monkey and settled into Cal’s bones. 

“He hates it. That he can’t open that box. That whatever’s in there is closed off from him. At least for now.” The understanding settled in Callum, and the monkey flung the box at a nearby tree without a shred of hope that it would shatter and reveal its contents.  
“Guess we'd better figure this thing out before he eats that box.” He added, and glanced at the stack of journals Ari had set out. 

Ari frowned as she watched the box bounce of the tree and land on the ground. ”He is resourceful i’ll give him that…” she smiled.   

“Did you want help in looking through those, or would you prefer to keep them private?” 

”I have nothing to hide from you” she said simply looking back at him with a smile ”I would really love the support if im honest” she looked back towards the books with a concerned expression ”I’m a little afraid to find out whats in them…”  

“Not to brag but I’m pretty good at reading.” He smiled back. “And whatever’s in them, you’re still going to have me and my weird monkey friend, watching your back.” Cal reassured.

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Kali & Riona

Flashback (Sola 26-27, 1739 Time Skip)
_______________

Kalliope moved with purpose through the servants' quarters, her stride confident and assured. She didn’t skulk or lower her head–acting as if you belonged was always the best way to avoid drawing unwanted attention in her book. She offered brief nods to passing maids and footmen, not stopping or lingering long enough to invite conversation. Most wouldn’t question her presence, anyway. Her history with Riona gave her enough familiarity with these halls to blend in seamlessly.

When she reached Riona’s door, she didn’t hesitate. Knocking twice, she pushed it open without waiting for an answer, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind her. The air felt warmer here, softer, a haven away from the chaos outside. She glanced around, her green eyes quickly finding Riona. Relief washed over her at the sight of her sister, though it was brief, replaced by the weight pressing down on her chest.    

“Ri, I need you,” Kalliope said, her voice cracking slightly before she pushed through. “And the preventative brew.” The words felt heavier than they should, her throat tightening as she spoke. She hesitated, as though admitting this made everything feel more real. "It’s… been a morning," she added, almost as an afterthought, her green eyes pleading for understanding without needing to explain more.

The knock came in its familiar pattern—one-two, pause—and the door opened. Riona grinned. Only Via did that. Then the grin died when she saw her sister’s face. Sh*t.

Without bothering with questions, she pulled her sister into a hug. Her sister’s breath hitched, just slightly, but enough for Riona to hear. Enough to know. 

The warmth of Riona’s began to unravel the walls Kalliope has so carefully built up. She eventually resigned and hugged her sister back, taking in the comfort.

After a long moment, Riona stepped back. “And a wild night,” she said, keeping her voice light.

Kalliope let out a soft laugh, one that lacked its usual warmth. “If only it were that simple,” she said, running a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling briefly before dropping to her side. Her voice wavered between bitterness and exhaustion, and the faint smirk on her lips fell flat.

She headed for the shelves, where rows of bottles were neatly arranged. Her fingers skimmed past joint balms and stomach settlers until... ah. The preventative. If her dwindling stock were anything to go by, the castle servants and guards were having way more fun than she was. Good for them, honestly.

“So,” Riona drawled, plucking one of the last bottles, “Who’s the lucky person?” A smirk. “Or several someones?”

Kali’s green eyes darted away to study a spot on the floor. The silence stretched just long enough to be noticeable. Finally, she exhaled sharply through her nose, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her confession. 

“Sjan-dehk,” she admitted quietly, her tone tinged with resignation. She raised her head to meet Riona’s gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And no, before you ask, it wasn’t like that. Nothing about it was simple or planned or… or even intentional. We were drugged and…” She gestured vaguely, as though the explanation might make itself known if she just moved her hands enough. “Fucking hell, we don't even remember any of it Ri! We woke up completely naked and in each other's arms.” She let out an exasperated sigh as she plopped down onto Riona's bed. 

Her sister knew better than anyone that Kalliope enjoyed having her fun, but she had rules. The most important rule? She NEVER slept with someone she had feelings for. It was too messy and just opened the door to heartbreak. Not to mention, Kalliope had promised herself she'd never fall for someone again…not after what happened in Alidasht.

Riona’s stomach plummeted, blood draining from her face only to come rushing back as rage ignited beneath her skin. She’d known something was wrong from the moment Via walked in, but this—this was beyond wrong. Someone had taken what should have been a tender moment of discovery between her sister and Sjan-dehk and turned it into... into…

Wait. Her mind caught up with her fears and yanked back on the reins. It might not be what she was imagining. She needed the full story first.

Three steps brought her across the room. “Hold still,” Riona ordered, tilting her sister’s chin up to check her pupils. Gods knew what lingering effects the drugs might have left behind. “I know this isn’t a conversation you want to have, but I need details. How in hells did both of you get drugged?” Her fingers moved to Via’s wrist, counting heartbeats. “Did someone do this?”

Kalliope didn’t resist as Riona tilted her chin, her green eyes weary but steady as her sister checked her pupils. She let Riona take her wrist, the familiar comfort of her fussing grounding her more than she cared to admit.  

“Yes,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, yet no less tense. “Someone did this.” She swallowed hard before launching into the explanation.  

“We were investigating a shipment for the queen. Something about it wasn’t right. While searching, we found a letter–a suspicious one, coded, definitely not meant for just anyone’s eyes.” She exhaled sharply, her hand pressing into the mattress as if to steady herself. “We were almost caught, but we thought we got away clean.”  

Her fingers curled into the sheets, nails biting into fabric as she continued. “We went back to Elyna’s inn.” She flinched at the name, the ache of loss flashing across her face before she forced herself to move past it. “I asked for tea, like I always do. It was brought up, nothing seemed off. But someone must’ve slipped something into it.”  

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to will the memory into sharper focus. “I remember my thoughts slowing down. Everything felt warm, too warm, and then…gods, Ri, I felt so happy. Unnaturally so. And then… nothing. Not a damn thing. Not for me, not for him.” Her hands balled into fists in her lap now as she looked down for a moment. “We were so out of it that someone came in, stole the letter back, and even had the audacity to leave us a message.”    

Her throat tightened, the weight of what had been done pressing down on her chest. She lifted her head to meet Riona’s gaze again, her expression unreadable but her voice quiet, edged with something dangerously close to grief.  

“They killed Elyna,” she said, the words stark and hollow. “They left her head as part of the message.”

The queen? After the disaster at the Royal Curd, the Knight’s report stated Via was unfit for duty. She half expected her sister to be put on leave, if not outright dismissal. But instead, she’d gotten a direct assignment from the queen herself. With Captain Sjan-dehk, of all people.

Maybe this was meant as a chance to make up for the Royal Curd incident. If so, this mission going sideways wouldn’t help matters. Especially not with the Captain involved. Again. It only added fuel to the claims that Via was a liability.

Gods. What would she and Via do if the crown stripped Via of her position? … No, that can’t happen. They won’t let that happen. Not when Edin and Alibeth haven’t been destroyed yet.

While Via recounted the events, Riona continued her examination, checking for any lingering signs of the drug. Finding none, she settled onto the bed beside her sister and closed her fingers around Via’s clenched fists

After hearing about Elyna’s fate, Riona squeezed her hands. “I’m so sorry, Via.” The words felt inadequate against such horror, but she pressed on. “They will pay for this.”

“It doesn’t make sense though…” A frown creased her brow as she processed the full story. “Why leave you two alive at all? You and Sjan-dehk pose far more risk than Elyna ever did. Wouldn’t it be safer and more effective to kill you both and let her ‘deliver the message’?”

Kalliope exhaled sharply, her fists loosening slightly in Riona’s grasp as she let the question settle over her. She had asked herself the same thing a dozen times already, and the lack of an answer gnawed at her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, frustration laced in her tone. “It would’ve been easy enough to kill us. We were drugged, defenseless, completely at their mercy.” She shook her head, her brows drawing together. “But they didn’t. They stole back the letter, they left a message, and they let us live.”

Her fingers twitched. “That means something, Ri. Maybe they wanted us to wake up and know they were watching. Maybe this was some kind of sick warning.” Her jaw clenched. “Or maybe… maybe they have something worse planned.”

She looked at her sister then, her green eyes dark with grim determination. “Either way, I’m going to find out.”

She hesitated, then added, “It could also have to do with who Sjan-dehk is. Killing him wouldn’t have gone unnoticed--not with two Viserjantan ships docked in our harbor. His people would likely tear the city apart looking for answers, and whoever did this knows that. His death would’ve brought hell down on them.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “And maybe that’s the only reason we’re still breathing. Guess it's one more thing I should be grateful to him for.”

Riona tightened her grip on Via’s hand. “It means they’re scared, Via. You two got too close to something they didn’t want uncovered, but they weren’t about to risk killing a crown’s agent. Or a captain with two ships full of Viserjantans that apparently can just burn this city to the ground if they really wanted to. So they went after the easiest target. Someone whose death wouldn’t bring the entire weight of the crown or the Viserjantan fleet down on their heads.”

She paused. “Hold on, what’s Sjan-dehk doing mixed up in this at all? The queen assigned this to you, didn’t she? Why’s he investigating shipments with you?”

Kalliope’s face heated instantly, and she broke eye contact, staring at a spot on the floor as if it might swallow her whole. She knew she had been sloppy, and admitting it aloud only made the shame settle deeper into her bones.  

“I invited him,” she muttered, her fingers of her free hand tightening into fists. “I… I craved his company, and I let it cloud my judgment.” She shook her head, frustration simmering beneath her embarrassment. “I got careless, let myself be distracted, and I put myself and Sjan-dehk in danger while getting someone innocent killed.”  

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to push past the self-recrimination. “But it wasn’t completely without reason. The target’s name showed up in some documentation Sjan-dehk had seized from a pirate ship off the coast. He had a valid connection to the investigation. I just… let personal feelings get in the way of keeping my head clear.”

A cold weight settled in the pit of Riona's stomach, followed by a sickening wave of anxiety. Hells. The timing couldn’t be worse. Between the Royal Curd disaster and now this?

Part of her wanted to shake Via until her teeth rattled, but that wouldn’t help anything right now. Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing her thoughts into some kind of order.

“Alright.” A slow breath. “If there’s still time, maybe you can adjust the narrative. Keep Sjan-dehk’s involvement quiet. … If not... at least let’s find something to show for all this.”

With the letter gone and Elyna... gone, they were working with nothing but memories. But maybe...

Quick steps carried her to the desk. Loose papers scattered as she yanked out a fresh sheet and her good pen. “Via, write down everything you remember from that letter. Every detail, no matter how small.”

Riona laid out the items for her sister. “And maybe—Gods, I can’t believe I’m saying this—we should talk to Quack? His people are everywhere. They might’ve noticed or heard something.”

Kalliope swallowed hard, nodding as she pulled the sheet toward her. “I remember most of it,” she admitted, though a frustrated crease formed between her brows. “Some parts are hazy, but I’ll piece together what I can.”

She let her mind drift back to the letter, to the way certain letters had slanted unnaturally, how others had been unnecessarily bolded. It had looked mundane at first glance—just standard shipment details—but there was a pattern, a hidden message buried beneath the surface. She began writing, her strokes precise but tense, frustration creeping in where the drugging had blurred her memory.

At Riona’s next suggestion, Kalliope hesitated, her grip tightening on the pen. “Quack could help,” she admitted, her voice reluctant. “His people hear things no one else does. But…” She exhaled sharply, looking up at her sister with unease. “We should hold off. At least until I can figure out more. If someone in his network is involved, this could put you in danger, and I’m not taking that risk.”

“If someone in his network is involved, then I’m not in any less or more risk than I already am since I’m not part of Quack’s group. Use what you can use, Via. The faster we deal with this the better.”

She set the pen down, rubbing at her temple. “I already have things in motion to keep people from sniffing around about Elyna. That’s handled—I’m not worried about that.” Her voice was firm, but the exhaustion behind it was undeniable.

Then, almost reluctantly, she added, “I… also promised I’d go back to Sada Kurau for the day.” She leaned back, pressing her lips together. “Sjan-dehk is worried about my safety, and I—” She hesitated, fingers flexing against the table before she finally admitted, “I don’t know how to face him.”

She swallowed, forcing out the truth she barely wanted to acknowledge. “You know better than anyone that I shouldn’t be falling for someone right now. It’s dangerous. Every mistake I’ve made lately has been because of these damned feelings.” She shook her head, looking down at the letter she’d half-finished copying. “And if I don’t put a stop to it now, I don’t know how many more I’ll make.” Yet at the same time, putting a stop to the feelings made her heart ache more than she wanted to admit. She wasn't sure if she could put a stop to them and that's what scared her the most.

But it wasn’t that easy was it? To just stop feeling. No matter how much you knew it you’d be better off without them. “Then stop,” Riona said, leaning against the desk. “Don’t go see him. Push him away when he shows up.” She gestured dramatically with one hand. “Be a colossal b*tch to him so he hates you and everything that reminds him of you.”

Pausing, she leveled a steady gaze at Via, “It’ll break both of your hearts, but he’ll be at a safe distance from you, and you won’t make any more mistakes.” Riona folded her arms across her chest, one eyebrow arched, “Right?”

Kalliope let out a bitter laugh, though there was no real amusement in it. “Just stop,” she echoed, shaking her head. “Like it’s that simple.” She ran a hand through her hair, fingers tangling for a moment before she let it drop back to the table. “Gods, Riona, I’ve spent my whole life training myself to be in control. Of my actions, my emotions—everything. And yet, one man comes along, and suddenly, I’m unraveling.”  

She exhaled sharply, picking up the quilt again only to twirl it between her fingers, as if that might help her focus. “You’re right. I should push him away. I should be cruel, make him despise me so he never comes near me again.” Her grip tightened. “But the idea of doing that makes me feel sick. Because I—” She cut herself off, frustration flickering in her eyes. “I don’t think I can.”  

Softly, Riona asked, “Via, what do you really want?”

Her gaze flickered up to meet Riona’s, vulnerability now warring with that frustration. “What do I want?” she repeated, voice quieter now. “I want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop second-guessing everything I do because of him. I want to stop caring, stop hoping, stop—” Her breath hitched, and for a second, she pressed her lips together, willing herself not to let it show.  

Then, finally, with quiet resignation, she admitted, “But I can’t. Because above all else I want him, Riona. And that’s the problem.”

Riona placed a hand on her sister’s back, the gentle circles she drew there a wordless comfort. “It isn’t,” she said. “Wanting someone isn’t the problem at all. It just means your priorities changed. Your heart found room for something more.” Via’s posture shifted slightly—surprise, resistance to this idea.

Light caught in her sister’s hair, picking out strands of copper among the auburn red. Riona had memorized every shade, every line of Via’s face over the years of their shared grief. But now she was witnessing something new taking shape.

“You have a reason to live,” she continued, her voice gathering certainty. “Something to look forward to in the future, past revenge.” Riona smiled, a mix of warmth and bittersweetness. “I’m happy you found someone who makes you feel this way. And I think—no, I know—you deserve to be with the person who matters this much to you.”

A sudden haze blurred Riona’s vision, a stinging she couldn’t blink away.

It was joy for her sister—relief that Via now had an anchor, something worth living for no matter what came next. And it was a quiet loneliness too. Once Riona was gone, Via would be fine. Because the Captain would be there… She didn’t need her sister anymore. 

She doesn’t need Riona.

It hurt a little—more than a little. But that was okay.

Everything would be alright.
As it should be.
As Riona wanted it to be.

Her hand slid down to the paper on the desk, fingers brushing the edge of Via’s neat script. “Got everything down?”

At the answering nod, Riona retrieved the small bottle set aside earlier. “Take this in the morning and at night for the next seven days,” she instructed, pressing the bottle into her sister’s palm. “Every day, no exceptions. Understand?”

With gentle pressure, she coaxed her toward the door. When Via’s gaze darted back to the paper on the desk, Riona squeezed her arm. “I got it,” she assured. It would be one more thing she’ll have to investigate, but she’d help her sister in any way she could. “You go back to Sada Kurau. Tell the Captain what he means to you.”

A breath caught in her throat as she added, “And if... if you ever decide to sail away with him into the horizon—just know there’s nothing to be worried about here.” Riona met Via’s gaze, steady and unwavering. “We will have our revenge.”

“I’ve got this,” she repeated, the conviction in her voice stronger this time. “I promise.”

Before Via could argue, Riona pulled her into a fierce hug—just in case. Just in case today was the day her sister chose a different path, a different horizon. Just in case this was goodbye.

“Live a long and happy life, Via,” she whispered against her sister’s hair. “With or without Sjan-dehk.” And without me.

Kalliope stood still, her body tense in Riona’s embrace. The words whispered into her hair settled over her like a weight she wasn’t ready to bear. Live a long and happy life. As if it were that simple. As if choosing something beyond revenge, beyond this path they’d carved from blood and grief, was as easy as turning away.

Her grip on Riona tightened.

"I appreciate this," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual but no less firm. "I do. But this isn’t a decision I can make right now."

She pulled back just enough to meet Riona’s gaze, searching for understanding, for space to breathe through the storm raging inside her.

Her fingers curled around the small bottle Riona had pressed into her hand, gripping it as if she could ground herself with the feeling.

"I’m not walking away from this," she continued, her voice steady despite the turmoil beneath it. "I can’t. Our revenge—our justice—it’s still mine, too. I’m not leaving it behind. Not for him. Not for anyone."

But the words felt hollow, even as she spoke them.

Because deep down, buried beneath the layers of resolve, she knew the truth. A part of her had already started to walk away.

”But you're right, I should probably get back to the ship so he doesn't send anyone out searching for me. I'll check back in with you as soon as my end of things is handled so you know I'm okay. I love you, Ri.” 

“... I love you too.”

Kalliope hugged her sister tight once more, shoving away her warring emotions, before letting go and giving her a reassuring smile. Then, she turned to head out the door.

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Prince Wulfric, Duke Laurent Petit, Duchess Antoinette Petit, Duke Gideon Edwards, Duke Lorenzo Vikena & Lady Charlotte Vikena

9am on Sola 29, the Day after the Banquet

The crown prince had sent out invitations embossed with the royal seal, each letter bearing his signature. The recipients of the official summons were the dukes, the duchesses, and in the case of the Vikena family also the lady of the house, Charlotte. He had arranged for this meeting in advance, so all guests were expected to arrive on the 29th of Sola at 9 AM sharp. One of the castle’s drawing rooms had been rearranged for the occasion. Wulfric sat on the central settee, adorned in a suit of Caesonian colours. Three pairs of chairs were set around him in a semicircle, the end tables between them carrying a selection of refreshments suitable for the morning. Key servants had been informed who to expect, and would lead the visitors here.

The prince greeted each guest with a brief, “Good morning.” With a sweeping gesture, he welcomed them to their seats, and indicated that the beverages and finger food were freely available. When all were gathered, he gave a sharp nod, marking the start of their conference. “Welcome, all.” He did not raise his voice, but it carried through the room, silencing any lingering chatter. “We are gathered today to discuss key developments in our territories. By the king’s consent, I shall preside over these proceedings. As is customary, we will address your individual reports. However, before that, a matter of utmost urgency demands our attention.” His wintry gaze passed from one to the other, resting on each delegate in turn. “Magic,” he stated.

“It is an active force in our kingdom. This truth first became apparent to me the day after the banquet…” For those unaware, he summarized how nobles had been lured to an after-party only to return in horrendous states, and – as it became apparent in the following morning – with disturbing gaps in their memories. “Since then, I have learned the host was Marek Delronzo, leader of the Black Rose. I suspect he is involved in organized crime, as well. That said,” he lifted a cautionary hand, “the investigation remains on-going. As such, I encourage you to examine Black Rose activity in your duchies.” His father would disapprove, hence he had not worded it as an order. Even so, increased vigilance might dissuade them from doing business with Delronzo’s merchants, which would be a setback for his syndicate.

“Moving forward, we will endeavour to uncover and eradicate the corruption within Caesonia,” he inclined his head at Duke Petit. “We must not surrender to fear. For if we do, surely the people will suffer as they did during the Dark Period. We must be resolute, and proceed with prudence and precision.” Rising, he faced them squarely. “In the wake of yesterday’s revelation, doubt will flourish. People will begin to see threats, real or imagined.” His next words, though measured, rang with conviction. “We must be the ones who guide them. We must know who we pursue, and why.” His voice drew them in, and his gaze held them captive.

“The existence of magic lies in the gods’ hands. But the fate of our people rests in ours.” He placed a hand on his chest. “As one of the chosen, I bear a duty to each of you. I seek justice, not hysteria. Let truth and reason guide us, not panic or superstition.” He punctuated his statement with a sweeping glance across the room.

“There are those who abuse power to enslave others, to rob them of their memories, to inflict grievous harm on them. To strip them of their personhood, their dignity, their very sense of self. These malefactors believe themselves invincible. It is they we must expose. They we must subdue.” He let his words settle, like ripples fading after a stone’s cast.

“I implore you, should you have questions, voice them now.” Only then did he retake his seat.

Duke Laurent Petit rose from his seat and cleared his throat. His robe was modest: a blue coat trimmed with silver thread, the sigil of Zivitas embroidered at his collar. His hands folded calmly over his chest as he addressed the room.

“Your Highness,” he began quietly, “this is indeed a matter of weight. Magic, memory theft, the shattering of one’s will…I believe the gods allow evil to surface so the righteous may act. You received a signal. And we must respond with vigilance”

He glanced heavenward for a long pause, staring at the chandelier above as if it was providing him further information. Finally, Laurent returned his gaze to the prince, “The criminals must be found. The Black Rose unraveled, root and stem. I will do my part. And if darkness hides in Montague, it will be brought into the light.” He bowed his head respectfully and returned to his seat. “And may we all remember… sometimes the fish do not bite because the water knows we are not ready.”

Duke Petit’s eyes were back on the ceiling, voice softening into reverent awe.
“For the river speaks in riddles, and the lake holds mirrors to our souls. When the hook returns empty, it is not always failure…It is the divine whisper, saying: ‘Not yet, my child. Not with those hands. Not with that heart. Even the trout waits for prophecy. The carp will not come to the line of a liar. And no catfish shall surface to feed a man consumed by pride. So let us pray not just for the catching… but for the cleansing. For hearts still and true. For a bait of truth. And may the divine waters deem us finally worthy to fish once more in peace.” He bowed his head, lips moving silently now in prayer.

“I appreciate your dedication, Duke Petit,” Wulfric offered. He might have said something else, but the man was already off in his own world. Perhaps he should have mentioned fishing to reel in his attention…Oh, and now he was affected by those puns, too.

Meanwhile, Laurent’s wife, Duchess Antoinette Petit had clasped her hands politely the entire time, her gloved hands twitching ever so slightly with each fish-related metaphor. When he returned to his seat in solemn silence, she stood after a beat. Her dress was a cream color with blue floral embroidery. She adjusted her white lace shawl, cleared her throat, and gave a small, cheerful smile to the room. “Erm… Bonjour, everyone!” she chirped, her accent unmistakable.

“I—ah—just wished to say how deeply I agree with my husband, of course.” She gestured gracefully to Laurent, who nodded solemnly without looking up from his prayerful reverie. “Also… I brought cookies.” She held up a wrapped tin from beside her seat.

“Zey are lemon poppy seed.” Her tone was sweet, albeit too enthusiastic for the atmosphere. “If anyone feels the weight of all zis and needs a small comfort… I have many.”

“Thank you, Duchess Petit.” The prince’s gaze lingered on her for a beat. He had heard she was a positive woman, seeking change – that was the side of her he hoped to witness.

“Of course, Prince Wulfric. Anything I can do to help, please inform me.”

Duke Gideon Edwards had smiled politely at Antoinette in greeting. Then, he suddenly rose from his seat as well, his gaze immediately meeting Wulfric’s. “Your Highness,” he began, “I commend your resolve. To confront these truths with reason rather than fear is the mark of a true leader.” He carried himself with his usual dignity, though there was a passionate fire in his eyes that Wulfric would not miss as their gazes met.

“I have ordered investigations before within Soralia’s borders. As did my father before me. Duke Walter Vikena and I once tried to stem the spread of crime, but it moves like a weed through stone, slipping between every crack. Still, I will renew my efforts.”

“Auguste and I have had a similar experience. We must be thorough,” he commented.

He placed a hand over his chest and bowed. “You have my allegiance, Prince Wulfric. I stand beside you as an ally for the sake of Caesonia’s future.”

The crown prince offered a solid nod, a spark of interesting flashing in his eyes. The pledge of allegiance was curious, and he wondered if the duke meant it the way he thought he might.

Gideon lifted his gaze once more, voice earnest. “My only request: If possible, I would appreciate a debriefing document regarding what your investigation has uncovered thus far. For clarity’s sake, and so I may act with full understanding… Additionally, I will prepare documentation of my own. I will also extend that documentation to the Dukes of Vermillion and Montague, should they find it of use. We are strongest when we are informed together.”

“Certainly,” Wulfric agreed. “I will forward to you and your fellow dukes the key findings. We should indeed keep each other informed. I only caution you all to ensure the uncompromised transferral of vital documents,” he warned. “In the spirit of sharing, there is one discovery you may find of use: My agents have informed me that the Black Rose uses their design in subtle ways to mark suspect shipments or locations. The symbol of their enterprise may be hidden in plain sight, or concealed amongst seemingly innocuous decor, for example.”

“Understood. I will keep that in mind.”

There was no time passed between Gideon’s last word uttered and the rough sound of Duke Lorenzo Vikena’s seat sliding sharply against the carpet as he stood up next. His eyes were bloodshot with deep bags beneath them and his expression read uncharacteristically intense. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Prince Wulfric.” He gave a slight bow. “This meeting… I find it to be quite important to all of us. Sorian… Sorian is our center. Our base, and we must ensure it remains safe, especially with so many of our youth participating in Courting Season.” He gave a few nods as he scanned over the group. “I can't say I know much about magic and the madness that's associated with it but…” Lorenzo glanced down at Charlotte. It was brief, yet it wiped away much of his reluctance. 

“With the utmost respect, I say this. There’s a lack of initiative and a lack of urgency concerning the issues we're placed with. I’ve heard rumor and gossip in my years of service of Veirmont being far better than the capital but this season has exposed just how wide of gap there is between my home and this place burdened by crime and now magic? It's… It's quite insulting for us dukes… and duchess–” Lorenzo gave an apologetic bow to Duchess Antoinette. I just find it strange that you say this when problems seem to be sprouting like weeds beneath the feet of you and Duke Gideon. And that's not even the worst of it, I’m afraid.” Lorenzo gulped, refraining from making direct eye contact with the prince.

“Indeed, Duke Vikena, we must act, hence this meeting,” Wulfric pointed out mildly even as Lorenzo used the chance to try and compete, full of a false sense of importance. He was almost like Edin in that regard, except in the duke’s case, he was likely fueled by a lacking self-worth he felt driven to compensate for. “However, I would not trust rumours. After all, the rumours I have heard is that the whole Vermillion region has such a laissez-faire management, it is far easier to ‘get away with more’, even acts which would be frowned upon or penalized elsewhere,” he drawled. “Thankfully, I know not to make deductions based on hearsay,” he smiled, all polite flair despite the undercurrent to his words. “It is exactly when we believe all is well when we are most likely to miss problems. Now, you claim to have uncovered something you term ‘the worst’, so what is it? Go on, do tell.”

“Well…” Lorenzo let out a low defeated sigh. He did not very much enjoy speaking to Wulfric as it felt like offering to hand feed a hound you weren't familiar with. Reluctance to hear his sharp bark or to be wounded by his bite was nigh absolute. “You spoke of knowing about this whole ordeal about a week ago… After the royal banquet, I really wish to forget about um… Where was I? Yes, about the magic.” Another gulp followed by the deepest of breaths. “I am grateful you have come to us with this now, but this information would have been much more useful earlier. Duke Gideon might have caught on to his servant much sooner. Instead… No, it is not my place to say. That is all, your majesty.” Lorenzo sat back down ungracefully, nearly missing his seat, and having to catch himself by quickly grabbing the chair with one of his hands.

Charlotte instinctively placed a gentle hand upon Lorenzo’s arm to assist in steadying him. She offered him a tender, reassuring smile, her eyes meeting his in silent encouragement. Then she withdrew, folding her hands politely back in her lap. She had been seated beside him in a simple navy-blue dress, her hair swept into a modest bun.

Laurent slowly raised his head, finally breaking his silence from prayer. “Duke Vikena…” he began, eyes narrowing just slightly as if peering through smoke to discern truth from illusion. “You speak of Veirmont as if it's immune to corruption, untouched by the chaos of the capital. And yet…The moment your boots touched these floors… the Sultan of Alidasht fell.”

Then, with an almost pained breath, he added: “Even in Cayan, we heard of it…It seems to me that wherever we walk, Duke Vikena, we bring ourselves with us.”

Then he looked up again toward the ceiling, as if seeking divine permission to continue. “Let us be careful when naming the weeds in another’s garden.”

“Let us not turn this into a self-righteous scolding battle. The past matters not. We are all here now.” Gideon suggested firmly. “We face a threat that endangers every corner of this kingdom. And I, for one, care less about who was late to the fire. Only that we all have buckets in hand.”

“Gentlemen, if I may. I understand that it is improper for me to chime in, but please allow me zis once to voice my agreement with Duke Edwards.” Antoinette  gave a small nod to Wulfric. “Prince Wulfric reminded us of something vital today… that zere are people suffering..” Laurent exhaled softly, his eyes briefly closing as he gave the faintest shake of his head.

“It is encouraging that you are so forward-looking,” he acknowledged the three who had spoken up in his defense. And because it clearly needed to be said, he turned to Laurent’s wife. “Duchess Antoinette, I invited you so you may be heard. As such, it is quite proper for you to speak. How senseless would it be if the people with good ideas remained silent?” He was aware women were silenced by the pressures of society, but that was one of the many things he aimed to change. “The same holds true for you, Lady Charlotte. I invited you because we are lacking an acting Duchess Vikena, and you are the closest person to that position,” his gaze travelled to her as she regarded him with a grateful nod, then shifted to her father.

“Duke Vikena, you raised an honest inquiry, and I thank you for that. It is the very question many must be asking: ‘Why now?’” He let that linger before answering. 

What the others failed to realize was that doubt was the most dangerous when suppressed. It was better to face difficult questions head-on. Refusal to do so only strengthened whatever narrative one’s opponents were spinning.

“Until the queen’s revelation, I believed magic to be little more than a legend. It was my mother who showed me otherwise. She warned me of its dangers. She suspected its use in the after-party incident. She was the one who hired the Varian witch hunters now operating under our banner. Without her, we would have had no tools, no knowledge, no strategy to deal with magic-using criminals.” The concepts of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ were not so black and white as many believed.

“So, yes, I hesitated. I asked myself: What does it mean that a witch seeks to eradicate magic?” Perhaps some of them would begin to ask the same.

“But then, I watched her parade that servant in chains, all glee and no contrition. She had not yet taken action against the Black Rose. She showed no sign that she would ever admit to what she was. She may be my mother, and she may have acted with the kingdom’s best interest at heart…” He closed his eyes, and took a bracing inhale, allowing a rare moment of vulnerability to slip through. “But I knew then what had to be done.” There was only cold and clear resolve when he faced them again.

“I speak now because we finally have the means to act. We know the Black Rose is suspect. We have Varian witch hunters in our employ. The next step must be to seek Caesonian experts; witch hunters born and bred in our lands. If any of you know of such individuals, I urge you to bring them forward. We will need them.” It would be wise to learn from these mage hunters – wiser still to watch for zealots among them.

“Oh, mon pauvre prince…” Antoinette’s voice quivered with sorrow. “I cannot imagine the weight that decision placed upon your heart. You were so brave to act, and braver still to share this with us. Please, know you are not alone. We are here for you. I am here for you.”

Lorenzo had been nodding along to Wulfric's words as the show of humility truly reached him, reminding him that the crowned prince was still just a young man. A young man who was preparing and positioning himself to be the highest power in the land. As much as he wanted to snap at Laurent for his comments, Lorenzo’s desire to aid Wulfric was far greater.

“I will send word to the counts of Vermillion, so we may leave no stone unturned in the search for these experts… And…” Lorenzo was reluctant to say but he nodded, giving himself a jolt of confidence. “And I am willing to undergo any training needed to hunt this scourge!” Lorenzo took a heavy breath before continuing, his brief fire now fizzled. “However, it– It does pain me to go against the Black Rose for what they've provided economically to Vermillion. It's not just investments in this company but they are so interwoven in the sectors of trade and employment, especially in the Vermillion ports. Are we sure it is the organization as a whole that's suspected to be behind this?”

Charlotte’s gaze followed Lorenzo to his last word; the moment his voice fell silent, hers rose in its place. “Your Highness… my lords.” Her voice was steady despite a faint undercurrent of exhaustion. “If the Black Rose has spread this far, it did not thrive in the shadows alone. Ledgers were signed, shipping manifests stamped, warehouse receipts filed… Each harmless on its own, yet together they draft a map.”

“May I suggest a sealed, thirty-day audit? During that brief window, every harbour-master and estate steward could provide us duplicate records, protected by amnesty...”

She met Prince Wulfric’s gaze. “If even Duke Vikena dealt with them in good faith, he is unlikely to be alone. Each of us should also audit our own affairs. What appears benign in one territory may complete a pattern in another.”

Laurent’s eyes regarded Charlotte with a faint, solemn nod, but his gaze swiveled quickly to Wulfric instead. “Your Highness, if you seek Caesonian witch hunters, you must seek the Church… “ He sighed and shook his head. “ I must urge caution. These witch hunters from Varian… They are not of our land. They do not fish from our rivers. They do not pray in our churches.” He leaned forward slightly, hands clasped in emphasis.

“The clergy have preserved our kingdom’s memory long before any western sword was raised in our defense. It was they who rooted out sorcery once before. They who built the sanctums of St. Primitus, where no cursed flame may burn.”

He then turned sharply to Lorenzo. “To claim virtue while profiting from poison… that is not ignorance. That is indulgence.” His eyes then flicked, just briefly, to Gideon, who had leaned toward Lady Charlotte, whispering something that drew a faint smile from her.  Laurent’s voice faltered for half a breath as his cold, unblinking stare met the Soralian Duke’s calm gaze.

Finally, to Wulfric once more: “Foreign blades cannot cleanse Caesonian sins. If you wish holy fire, ask the altar.”

Antoinette’s hands clasped gently as she decided to speak up after her husband, eyes wide with feeling. “First I must say… Your Highness, I… I do thank you for letting us speak. Truly, it means more than you know, mon prince.”

Her gaze drifted to Charlotte with warmth and pride. “Lady Charlotte makes a fine point! Oui, there may be a trail in the paperwork as we collect it over the next month. I’m no investigator, but… perhaps it can be followed.” She smiled softly at her, “Ah, notre petite mademoiselle.”

She next looked toward her husband with a gentle disposition, “My husband is right that the Church has done much in our past, but respectfully… they have not yet stopped this.” She did her best to avoid Laurent’s eyes as she heard his soft gasp. “We cannot rely on prayer alone. Not this time. If the Varians bring light into our shadows, then let them.”

Her eyes found Lorenzo next, kind and without judgment. “And Duke Vikena… mon cher, how could any of us know what these companies do in secret? You may hold receipts, names, anything that could help.” She gave him a sweet smile and assured him by reaching over and giving him a good hand squeeze, “That does not make you guilty, it makes you an asset.”

Finally, she returned to Wulfric, voice hopeful. “If we all bring what little we can find, perhaps the whole truth will come together.” Her hands pressed together, eyes shimmering with hope. “Pour le bien du royaume... for the good of the kingdom. And perhaps, enfin, for a little peace.”

“We will have to earn that peace,” Wulfric declared. “You have all offered worthwhile suggestions,” he commended. “Gathering evidence is sensible, as is conducting an audit. But do not expect every transaction to be recorded. Beware that even amongst those documented, innocuous words may mask illicit activities. That is the way of criminals,” he pointed out. 

“I urge each of you to task trusted agents with infiltrating key points of commerce: the docks, markets, cargo vessels, warehouses, inns…From the marginalized to the nobility, I suspect many have been lured in by the promise of a good deal. Our task is to discern who among them are the victims…and who are the perpetrators.” His voice lowered to a hiss on the last word. Meanwhile, Duke Petit and Duke Edwards were both quick to nod their agreement.

“For every person who dealt with Black Rose in good faith, there are others – corrupt, profiteering from suffering, and weakening our people for personal gain.” He let that truth settle before continuing. 

“Duchess Antoinette, I too question how it is that the church has failed to expose this issue. I will seek their guidance and insight, but I believe we need cooperation. Cohesion between Varian witch hunters, any Caesonian hunters we can find, and our local law enforcement.”

He paused long enough that his next words landed with weight. “No matter who they are or what skills they possess, they must operate within the bounds of law. We cannot allow the hunters to act like cultists chasing their next thrill. This is not a crusade. We can no more expect to excise magic than we can root out death. Our mission is to contain those who abuse power, and we must carry it with discipline, not blind zealotry.” He was making his stance clearer as well as testing the waters.

“Let us each do our part. Send me weekly reports on your findings, and alert me immediately in the case of an emergency. We will achieve the greatest effect with a pincer attack: an official investigation in tandem with a discreet, underground effort. Let us aim for a comprehensive review by the end of Ignis.”

“Youn- Prince Wulfric! I have a particular question…” Lorenzo cleared his throat unnecessarily due to nervousness. “...for a friend, of course. One of my friends— he orders a particular brand of goods from the Black Rose Trading Company in bulk and he also has made very healthy investments in the company as well… Would he be made to stop his dealings if he holds an official political position? Would he be investigated differently?” Lorenzo's forehead creased with concern.

Wulfric arched an eyebrow. The classical ‘this is about a friend’, was it? “If the transactions are legal, there is no issue. We are seeking to uncover illicit merchandise, dealings, and methods. As for investments…Consider that the Black Rose may use what it earns above board for criminal activity without the investor’s awareness.”

“Oh good! I… I think this will be good for him. Thank you, your majesty.” Lorenzo beamed before remembering one other thing on his mind. “Also… um, how should I phrase this? Um… Last night opened our eyes that magic use is not favored by one particular class of people. From servants to the Queen. Anyone can be a culprit. Even here at this very meeting.” He looked across everyone in attendance for a beat before continuing. “I believe if there is a way, we should check for magic use amongst us, as well as Duchess Edwards who has not attended. We need to ensure we aren't feeding our plans to those who might want to get around them. Can these witch hunters detect such a thing?”
“I expect they can, and were not merely sitting idly at the banquet.” But did anyone consider by what means detecting magic was accomplished?

“My wife and I will gladly be checked..” Laurent informed Lorenzo, then looked to Wulfric rather rapidly after such, “Your Highness… I understand the need for order.  But magic is not merely dangerous: it is profane.” He folded his hands, eyes steady. “It is a corruption of the soul. It can summon fires with a thought, flay the mind from within, strip away a man’s free will as easily as breath from a dying body…”

He inclined his head respectfully toward Wulfric, eyes solemn. “You aim to proceed with reason, and avoid mass hysteria. That is noble, truly. Though I do hope that you are not suggesting mercy… Mercy in this case… may be a cruelty in disguise. Once a soul binds itself to magic, it begins to unravel. Slowly, yes, but inevitably. They may still speak like us, smile like us… but what lies beneath becomes less and less human. If magic was to become common use once more, Eromora would fall to ruin.”
“Mercy is not in my interest. Transgressors will be hunted,” is all he said to that. He did not know exactly what Duke Petit’s fear was based on. How would magic become common in a climate like theirs?

He shook his head faintly, with a rare flicker of fear. “I beg you: permit the hunters to do what must be done. Not out of hatred, nor vengeance. But because those who tread the path of sorcery cannot turn back. The longer they live, the more dangerous they become… to others and to themselves.”

“There is a reason the old grimoires were burned. A reason the sanctums of St. Primitus were built where no cursed flame could flicker. This is not superstition. It is memory.”

“Magic… it unsettles me, truly,” Antoinette murmured, hands folded neatly. “Not only for what it does, but for what it makes people believe zey are entitled to become.”

She turned her gaze to Wulfric, eyes sincere. “If left unchecked, what would stop zem from overthrowing us all? Non—witchcraft must never again take root in common life.” Her expression softened and she sighed. “Though… sometimes I wonder,” she added gently, “if we catch it early enough, before they’ve lost themselves entirely, might there still be hope for zome? ” She shook her head faintly, as if unsure. “Let the hunters work under your preferred guidelines,and though it hurts my heart, without mercy for those already too far gone.”

From beneath his lashes, Gideon’s gaze quietly found Charlotte’s while Lady Petit had been mid-speech. Charlotte caught it only by chance, and she blinked, uncertain of the reason. Then, her fingers drifted near her amulet unconsciously. When she tapped it, testing, Gideon gave the faintest nod, so slight it might have been imagined, timed precisely when no other eyes were watching. Her stomach clenched.

Gideon finally spoke, his voice thoughtful but firm. “I agree with Prince Wulfric… There is wisdom in what’s been said… but let us not forget: fear spreads faster than fact, and burns far more indiscriminately.” His gaze passed briefly to Wulfric, then around the room. “Once word reaches the streets—and it will—they will cry for blood. And not just the Queen’s. Mercy for the corrupted may be unwise… but if we allow paranoia to dictate our path, we risk condemning the innocent. And that would be its own kind of evil.”

Laurent’s voice cut in, steeled with conviction. “And that, Duke Edwards, is precisely why the hunters exist.” His eyes were unwavering as they met Gideon’s. “To distinguish the corrupted from the wrongfully accused.”

“If these few hunters are all we can rely on, then that is all the more reason to hold them to the highest standards. Where will we end up if they behave little better than would-be slavers?” He shook his head. “I do not tolerate disorderly conduct. Those who oversee the actions of others must never be exempt from oversight. The hunters must be exemplary,” he stressed. After a beat, he added, “Ideally, they should impart their knowledge, so we may begin training a proper force.”

“Agreed.” Lorenzo nodded to Wulfric before turning to Laurent, finally prepared to clap back at him. He’d been waiting for this moment. “Duke Laurent, we can't have foreigners policing our people. You must think of the confidence the people have in us. It's already embarrassing enough that we need the Varian Kingdom to clean up our messes. Using them to discern the criminals while he build up our own domestic authority against these spell-slingers is a perfect plan, Prince Wulfric. This matter needs a firm hand, yes, but that hand must be ours… for it is the Gods that guide them. The same gods that have chosen our Prince Wulfric, the Witch Catcher.” Lorenzo made a fist with his right hand to convey his conviction.

After wrapping up the strategic discussion, the meeting closed with a brief overview of the duchies’ current state: largely positive, with most regions reporting steady or improved economic trends.

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Time: Day
Date:Ignis 2

Interaction:@Helo@Tae@ReusableSword@Rodiak@Conscripts@Potter@Tpartywithzombi@samreaper@FunnyGuy@SausagePat@Lava Alckon@CitrusArms@Oso@Apex Sunburn


Good evening! It's now 12pm on Ignis 2nd. 

Regarding any unfinished business for evening of the banquet, please be clear that you are writing in for that time, and/or mark it as a flashback.

Happy Drunkards Day! — a holiday where getting spectacularly, unapologetically sloshed is not only allowed, but encouraged!

This tradition began in the rural vineyard communities of Caesonia during the early 700s, when farmers would tap the first barrels of the season and raise a toast to Amora, Goddess of Harvests. As cities grew and wealth spread, the holiday evolved from a modest wine parties into a full-blown kingdom-wide occasion of revelry.

By the mid-Golden Period, Drunkards Day was widely recognized across the nation, with nobles and commoners alike participating. Though it was briefly banned during the Dark Period for “inviting sinful chaos,” it roared back during the Strength Period.

Today, it’s celebrated with games, open street dancing, spontaneous proposals (and duels), and stories no one will remember by dawn. It is said that the gods turn a blind eye on Drunkards Day... or perhaps join in themselves.

So raise your glass, lose your dignity, and remember — what happens on Ignis 2nd, probably won’t make it into the history books.

Cheers!

🍻 Citywide Festivities 🍻

Throughout the day and night, streets across Sorian are alive with the sound of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. Street vendors have set up along main roads, parks, and plazas offering cheap drinks, boozy fruits, and greasy food to soak up the spirits. 

Musicians perform lively tunes from every corner. Drinking games are scattered across the city, from keg tosses in the park to bottle ring tosses near the merchant stalls. 

Whether your character is noble or commoner, they can stumble upon spontaneous revelry just about anywhere—dancing in the streets, spontaneous toasts with strangers, or getting roped into a drunken poetry contest they didn’t sign up for.

Please see below for establishments for Drunkards Day events.

🍻 Drunkards Day Specials Around Sorian! 🍻


Prince Callum Tavern (Noble District)  

🥂 Free drink for every patron named Callum.  
🍷 Ladies drink for free until sundown.  
🍾 First 10 guests in red attire get a free bottle of wine.
Sorian Smokehouse (Western Noble District)  

🪑 Buy a whiskey flight, get a free cigar.  
🥃 Half off all top-shelf spirits after 6 PM.
The Dandy Music Club (Western Noble District)  

🎶 Live swing bands all day!  
💃 First 50 dancers get a free “Twirl of the Gods” cocktail.  
👗 Ladies in red: free entry and first drink free.
The Velvet Puff (East Sorian) 
 
🌬️ Buy a hookah session, receive a complimentary fruit wine or date cider.  
🛋️ Couples sharing a lounge get a bonus “Pomegranate Passion Punch.”
Tavern by the Sea (West Sorian)  

🌊 Free “Seafarer’s Sunrise” cocktail for any sailor or pirate costume.  
🦐 Seafood platter & drink combo: 30% off.  
🎣 Catch a fish on their dock? Cooked for free and a drink on the house!
The Gentlemen's Grill and Cabaret (Noble Dining District) 
 
🕴️ Men in formalwear get half off all whiskey-based drinks.  
🎤 Cabaret show tonight — includes complimentary absinthe shot.  
🚫 Women can come today only, but they must be escorted. Couples will receive a free dessert wine.
The Grand Gamehouse & Chess Emporium  

♟️ Win a round of Farkle? Free round of cider.  
🍻 House mead is bottomless for all tournament participants.
The Tough Tavern (Slums)  

🥊 First brawl winner of the night gets all drinks free till sunrise.  
🍺 "Survive Olga’s Mix" Challenge — if you keep it down, drinks are free all night.
The Dregs Divebar (Slums)  

💀 Drink dice games — roll doubles, win a drink.  
🔥 Free grog until you puke.
Sorian Luxury Winery & Spirits (Noble Shopping District) 

🍷 Rare wine tasting by appointment — FREE today only.  
🏆 “Golden Goblet Guessing Game” — identify 3 wines correctly and win a collector’s bottle.




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World Info
Sorian Info
Caesonia Info

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🎀 Sorian Charity Date Auction! 🎀


The auction will take place in Sorian Park, all for a good cause! Set against the backdrop of the central fountain, a select group of eligible participants will be presented on stage—each having prepared a handcrafted picnic basket filled with their favorite foods and treats. The highest bidder wins a charming picnic date with them right there in the garden beneath garlands and warm sunlight!

But that’s not all…

💎 Alongside the date auction, the Black Rose Trading Company will host an exclusive Silent Auction, offering luxury surplus items and rare treasures from across the continent. Those with a taste for fine goods (and subtle competition) will find plenty to delight in.

✨ Event Highlights:
👑 Hosted by:
• Prince Callum Danrose
• Lady Mina Blackwood
• Mr. Alexander Deacon of the Black Rose Trading Company

🧺 Each date auction participant will bring:
• A personally chosen picnic basket
• A surprise for their date
• Their charm and conversation (results may vary 😏)

🎻 Live music, floating flowers, and garden refreshments will set the mood for a day of romantic frivolity and heartfelt giving.

All proceeds from both auctions will be donated to the hungry and impoverished.

🥂 The Garden Mimosa Stand 🌸
As part of the Drunkards Day festivities, a Mimosa Stand has been set up near the auctions. Draped in cream linens and trimmed in pink ribbon, this darling cart is staffed by two giggly attendants in flower crowns who seem to have already sampled their wares a bit too enthusiastically.

Guests may enjoy:
• Classic mimosas served in crystal flutes
• Seasonal flavors: strawberry-peach, pomegranate-lavender, or honey pear
• “Mystery Mimosa” challenge: Guess the secret ingredient, win a kiss from one of the attendants.

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Olivia & Leo

“…Olivia?” Leo wandered around the Vikena estate looking for Charlotte’s mysterious close friend he’d never heard of until this summer. Or was she a cousin? He honestly couldn’t remember; too much had happened over a week to keep track of it all. Poking his head into the drawing room revealed only Champion, sprawled out in a patch of sunlight, napping. The little feline’s paws occasionally twitched as he dreamed away. He rolled a cat toy toward the creature, and a little bell inside the toy jingled. Champion’s ear twisted towards the sound, but the creature remained asleep. Leo sighed but left Champ to his nap. 

“Olivia?” The search continued. Lottie had gone out. Playing billiards alone was dreadfully boring. Gilbert had already scolded him twice for poking around the kitchen and making a mess. Lorenzo, well, Leo had no desire to hear about gardening, ferrets, or anything that would depress him further. Olivia had seemed annoyed with him the day before. 

The day before, he’d caught a rather disdainful look from Lady -you know, he wasn’t even sure what Olivia’s family name was- after he’d politely, by his standards, asked Deliliah not to pester him. Was it too much to ask to be left alone in his sour mood after such a distressing event? He’d earned a similar look after accidentally insulting Gilbert when he’d only poked about at his dinner and commented that it all tasted like dust. Who would have an appetite when their thoughts were consumed with danger looming over not just him but friends and family as well? Leo thought it was a reasonable reaction. 

“Olivia?” His voice, mild as it was, echoed through an empty house. He wondered if she found his mopey attitude annoying or shared Lottie’s overly sentimental attachment to servants. Either way, someone he might be able to spark up an argument with sounded like a welcomed distraction from his frantic thoughts. One day, Leo would have to seriously reflect on why he found arguments strangely comforting, but today was that day. Today was merely going to be the day he gave up wallowing about.

Olivia sat on her bed with her magic book beside her. She contemplated which spells she would show Charlotte. Her mind was absorbed with the idea of sharing it with her. It was dangerous, reckless and even immoral; yet, part of her mind egged her on. It was intoxicating and even if she didn’t show her. After everything that happened so far, she knew that Charlie would be exposed to it. So, Olivia decided it would be safest if she introduced her to it. 

Truthfully, she needed time to spend alone. The way Leo treated the maids and servants, rubbed her the wrong way. It shouldn’t matter what class someone was born into; it should matter who they were as a person. Delilah was the sweetest person, after Charlotte, and she had grown fond of her quickly. Then, Leo added salt to the wound by insulting Gilbert. This caused Olivia to glare and snap at Leo. It wasn’t right to react that way, but she had become fiercely protective over the Vikenas and the servants. She hated to even use those words - they were people, after all. Therefore, she thought it best to avoid him until she could believe she’d not snap at him.

Unfortunately, that wish would not come to fruition. His voice rang through the hallways, piercing the silence with his constant calling of her name. She sighed and tried to ignore it, but three times was too much. Olivia shut the book and shoved it under her pillow. Then, Olviia stood up, slid into her sleepers, and pulled her hair back. She assessed her outfit–a blouse with fake ties and pants, and decided she looked presentable enough. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes briefly, then opened the door and stuck her head out.

”Leo?” She called back in a singsong voice. It was a fake attempt at mimicking him. ”Eeeee Ooooo,”

Leo heard his name echoing around upstairs. “Olivia? It’s mid-afternoon; are you still in your room?” He called up the stairs as he followed the sound of her voice. Briefly, he wondered how much like his mother that sounded and refrained from ranting about the dangers of idleness. 

“I’m bored. There’s nothing to do here. And being bored is depressing me further.” He announced once he found her.  “So, what are you up to?” Leo asked, and his eyes said one thing: entertain me.

Olivia frowned when Leo came into her room. His judgemental tone caused her to stiffen. She tensed for another potential argument. This was not helped when he complained about being bored or, as he called it, depressed. Leo, who had everything fed to him on a silver spoon, with all the money in the world, was depressed he was bored? He had the threat of Calbert and the Black Rose looming over him and his father’s death–however, his life was still more grand than the poorest people in the nation. 

A flash of irritation rose inside like fire. It was not doused when his expression explicitly told her to entertain him. Olivia gritted her teeth and folded her arms. ”Bored, are we? Depressed? You poor nothing! We must write it in the next newspaper!” 

“Why would I want that in the newspaper?” Leo asked.

”Have you done nothing to help yourself with your predicament?” She picked up a book Charlie had given her and held it in front of him, then set it down. ”Have you tried reading?” She continued steamrolling him. 
”Or better yet, improving your circumstances?” 

Olivia moved over to her dresser and picked up the yarn and knitting tools Deliliah had provided. ”Ever learn how to knit?”

“One, knitting is for old spinsters. Two, reading is not only boring, it is a waste of time. There is nothing to be learned from a book that cannot be better learned through experience. My circumstances will improve when we take down Marek and the Damiens. Books and yarn will not help with that.” He paused and plucked one of the knitting needles from Olivia’s hand. He spun in with his fingers and then jabbed at the air. 

“Unless you're suggesting we stab Calbert with these. That might be fun.” He offered with an impish grin.

Olivia scowled at Leo and didn’t make any effort to hide it. ”I hope your circumstances improve for the better, Varian.” She watched him pluck one of her needles and pretend to stab the air. For a moment, she envisioned stabbing him with it. 

”Maybe we can test that theory on you,” She snatched her knitting equipment away from him and scowled. ”Don’t you have better things to do than antagonize me?” 

“Antagonize? I thought we could get to know each other better. We,” he paused and used his finger to gesture between the two of them, “are supposed to be allies. It’s rude to threaten to stab your allies.” He added before snatching the needle back.  

“Do you doubt my resolve? I am equally dedicated to taking down Calbert and Black Rose. They have threatened me and left bones in my room, and you consistently act like I am the enemy here. So what is it, Liv, jealous that when I am around you are not the prettiest redhead in the room?” Leo continued, trying to provoke whatever her problem was with him out of her. He poked the knitting needle against his finger as he tried to judge how useful it would be as a stabbing implement.   

Olivia stared sharply at Leo and folded her arms. The way he gestured in the air and the words he spoke. She knew nobles could be rude and arrogant. Leo was on another level. Her eyes flashed with fury at the last sentence. She snatched her knitting needle away from him and pushed it hastily into the drawer. 

”Perhaps,” Olivia hissed, her voice dangerously low. ”I have better things to do than argue with you-” she glared at him as her voice sparked with fire now, ”with someone as rude and arrogant as you, I am surprised you’re her friend.” Olivia gestured lazily in the direction of Charlotte’s room. ”You treat everyone who isn’t carrying noble blood like us like dirt and it’s time you quit looking down on them. They’re as human as we are and deserve to be treated better. Delilah and Gilbert are fuckin’ awesome. They are doing what they are supposed to,” 

”Mama, why's that girl covered in dirt?”
”She’s a disgusting peasant. She can’t afford to wash up. Hurry along, the stench is awful.” The woman’s husband laughed loudly, and Persephone stood there with confusion and shame. The kid frowned, then took his mother’s hand and ran off, as if he were afraid of catching a disease.

”The kingdom has nothing better to offer us than these eggs? I fear for the chickens in your care.”

”Oh put those eggs down. We can do better than this creature. Filthy peasant. Why does the kingdom even keep you?”

Memories filled her mind and the storm brewing inside Olivia threatened to release. She clenched her fists and glanced at the door. She had to remain calm, but a voice inside her urged her to react stronger. What if she said too much? Olivia tapped her arms on her arm and then gestured to the door, as if trying to tell Leo to get out without verbalizing it. She took several deep breaths to try calming down. 

Leo gave a lighthearted laugh. “Do you really believe that?” He asked, shaking his head. “I think it’s natural to look down on what is beneath you. We are like hawks, Liv, soaring above it all. Who's got the time to worry about insects?” He continued with an unbothered shrug. 

“Everyone has people they care about and people they don’t. I’m just more honest about it than most. As for Lottie, I believe we are friends because she knows she has my support, and I will always have her back. So, if Lottie cares about you, then we should work this out. Have this argument and find common ground. A fractured team will not help Lottie, and I’m not losing to Calbert and Black Rose. I’m too arrogant for that.” Leo teased with a grin.

“So unclench your fists and finish saying what’s on your mind.”

Leo’s words did nothing but stroke the fire burning inside of her. Her eyes flashed like the flames that ruined her home. She took several deep breaths and glowered ominously. If she weren’t under this person, she knew where she would stand with him. 

”Insects?” She repeated indignantly. ”You’re calling non noble people insects?” Her voice rose now with fury. ”You are what’s wrong with this world, Leo. The common folk are people who deserve better. How dare you call them insects.”

She shook her head with disgust. Did Lottie know this about him and accept it? Was this how people acted in this cruel world? Her vision turned red and she knew if she did not calm down, she’d either accidentally or purposefully spark her magic. It repulsed her to think of it and left a bad taste in her mouth, but Leo was angering her.

”I refuse to work with someone who views the common folk as insects. I don’t know what common ground there is if you think that way. Maybe if you quit viewing the common folk as you do I’d be willing to work with you. Until then, I don’t want to work with or talk to you.” Olivia approached Leo, her voice strong with conviction. Spells ran through her mind dangerously quick. She had to calm down and that wouldn’t happen until this arrogant lion left her room. ”I won’t lose to them either. Get out of my room, Leo, or apologize for your fucking rudeness.” 

Though she knew his bond with Lottie ran deep, she found herself aghast at his mindset. She decided she’d have to speak to Lottie about it later.

“You’re calling me rude and swearing at me in the same breath.” Leo calmly pointed out the irony of it. All of it was an entirely unreasonable reaction to a minor difference of opinion on a trivial matter. 

“Disappointing. I had hoped you actually cared about Lottie, but clearly you care more about your own sensibilities more than her safety. You’re here, benefiting from the generosity of the Vikena’s and, at the same time, refusing to work with one of the few people who has always supported them. Over a minor difference of opinion?” He rolled his eyes but left her room; no point in continuing an unproductive conversation. Leo wondered what on earth made Charlotte want to befriend someone so unpleasant. 

He went to check on Champ, hoping the cat was done with his nap. Much to his delight, Leo found the kitten wandering about downstairs. After a brief bit of hunting, he located a cat toy that consisted of a long bit of string with some feathers at one end and a handle at the other. Time to give the little cat some exercise!

Champion proved himself to be quite the acrobat, and Leo quickly forgot about Lottie’s irksome friend as he watched the tiny creature hunt a cluster of feathers. 

There was a long pause. Olivia had counted to ten multiple times and clenched her fists. She took several deep breaths. Thenn, quiet, nearly silent footsteps, sounded in the Vikena mansion. She watched Leo play with Champion. Memories of playing with her old cats as a peasant raced through her mind. Nobles and peasants weren’t all that different, just a different stroke of luck in life. She sighed silently and moved into Leo’s peripheral vision so she didn’t scare him. How badly she wished she could make him understand…

”You grew up understanding the world a certain way. It doesn’t hurt to change your worldview for a minute. You need to realize all of us are people, rich or poor, and just because someone rolled a lower dice in life doesn’t mean you can’t be kind to them. I’ll work with you for Lottie’s sake and peace of mind, but I don’t want to hear you talk trash about another person in my presence. Charlotte and I love Delilah and Gilbert, and I will defend them forever. Plus, Charlie only had them when she lost her parents. They’re not lesser just cause they work here.”

Olivia folded her arms and stared at him. If he were to say something rude, she’d give up. 

Leo flicked the feather toy. Champ lept at it, diving through the air with toes spread and claws extended. His attention stayed on the kitten as the feline caught and grappled with the feather toy. 

“I change my views all the time. When it suits me. Your views happen to offer me no benefit, but I’ll agree to your compromise.” He glanced at Liv, gave a respectful dip of his head, and smiled. “And I’ll try not to say anything too controversial around you.” His wrist flicked, and the feathers moved from Champion’s grasp. The kitten nestled into a crouch, tension and anticipation coiled up as the mighty hunter prepared for another grand leap. Leo watched the cat.

“Lottie isolated herself after her mother died. That was her choice; sometimes, that’s what a person needs. Now that she’s ready to ask for help, I am here and more than willing to put myself in any danger that helping her might require. She is like a second sister to me.” He continued, leaving out how Delilah and Gilbert were only there for Lottie because they worked in her home. Proximity was not the same as loyalty. He wondered how loyal the servants would be if they were the ones finding human bones and death threats in their rooms. 

And it was weird to hear Liv boast about how she loved the servants she’d just met while treating him, one of Charlotte’s oldest friends, like he was just some asshole who’d shown up and stomped on their sandcastle. 

“You ever lost anyone, Liv? Someone who really mattered to you?” He asked as the feathers dangled just inches from the ground, ready to swish from Champion's acutely tuned trajectory. The kitten leaped through the air again, tackling the feather with effortless precision. 

“Ha. Mightiest hunter, Champ. Neither vermin nor bird is safe anywhere near this estate.” He praised the kitten as it tried to tear the cat toy from his hand. Leo took a step closer to Liv and offered her the cat toy. 

Olivia’s eyes followed Champion’s leap, but her expression saddened. She didn’t take the toy right away. Instead, she looked at Leo with something unreadable in her gaze, her voice gentler than it had been all day.

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “I’ve lost people. People who meant everything to me and when they're gone, it’s like some part of you gets ripped out,but the world just keeps spinning like nothing happened but you just feel stuck in that moment you lost them... Buried beneath the weight.” After a sigh, she reached out and took the toy, her fingers lightly brushing his. She flicked the feathers once, watching Champion tumble after them with wild joy.

“And the world expects you to move on. To get over it. Like there’s a moment where it all goes away and everything’s fine again. But I don’t think that happens either.” Leo added, voice barely above a whisper as he shared something he didn’t think he should say aloud. 

“I’m sorry you know that pain too.” Her voice was sincere and filled with compassion. Maybe she had misjudged him. 

Her eyes lifted to his. “And I do appreciate you trying to compromise… even if it’s just for Lottie’s sake.”

“If you're Lottie’s friend, truly as you claim to be, then you matter to me too. I would like us to be friends. Friends can disagree, you know, about things and still care about each other.” He pointed out. If anything, Leo found people who only ever agreed about everything a bore to be around. 

There was a pause and then she looked down again. Her thumb traced the string between her fingers.

“I think Charlotte still carries that kind of pain.” Her voice was quiet and almost protective of her secret. “She smiles a lot and talks fast. There’s something burning behind her eyes. Like she’s afraid that if she ever stopped pretending she was okay, she might fall apart.”

“She doesn’t believe her mother’s death was a suicide. And whether she’s right or not hardly matters. She’s in the same place I am. Not knowing. Not a shred of closure. Stuck with an open wound.” He didn’t expect Lottie not to pretend, he didn’t poke too hard at her mask, and expected the same in return. An unspoken understanding that the pretending was needed; it was how they kept going. 

Olivia’s stomach churned. Her mother’s death being ruled a suicide when it could be a murder was terrifying. Who would have murdered her mother? The thought of not having closure would drive her crazy. Guilt and sympathy simultaneously filled Olivia and she bit her lip.

“The pretending, it’s necessary, you know. We’re not that different from animals, we know not to let wounds show. To hide any signs of weakness cause when that shows, that’s when a predator makes its move. Or worse, fall apart and risk vultures circling, ready to pick apart and take whatever you have.” There was no doubt in his words; he’d seen it in nature, and he’d seen it in high society. Men like Calbert and Marek were the clear predators, who’d take any opportunity to strike at a wounded adversary. He’d said vultures for Liv’s benefit, but insects were just as much scavengers as birds that picked at rotten flesh. Always best to give those beneath them not a shred of evidence to think there was anything that could be picked away at. 

“Pretend to be a better, stronger version of yourself, and eventually that’s what you become. Exactly what you pretend to be. It’s a good strategy.” It worked. He did it all the time. 

Leo’s words cut through her like a knife. She couldn’t imagine the societal pressure and pretending they had to endure all the time. It sounded exhausting, and she began wondering how else she might have misjudged nobles. ”That sounds exhausting,” she murmured.

Truth be told, she had been stuck in survival mode and in fight or flight since her parent’s death. Being on the street meant she could never fully relax; when would her next meal be if she didn’t protect her hoard? What if she was kidnapped or murdered by some bandits? Living at Max’s bar only provided temporary relief–after all, Max wasn’t exactly rich either and Liv tried not to use too many of her resources. The inconsistent sleep and meal schedule was something she was still recovering from.

”Leo, I am so sorry to hear that.” Olivia moved a step towards him slowly and cautiously, as to let him know she didn’t mean any harm. ”That advice is helpful, but it comes from needing it to survive. I… I really wish things could be different and you weren’t in this awful position.” Olivia bit her lip and then inquired. ”Do.. Do… Or would a hug help take the edge off…?”

A hug solved nothing. 

But he nodded anyway. Like a handshake, it strengthened a bond; it was the last step before he could count this as a goal accomplished. Mend fences with Olivia. Box checked off. A small goal, but at least he could count it as doing something productive today. 

“Yeah, I'll take a hug.” He said, taking a step forward and letting his arms wrap comfortably around her shoulders and back. “And I’m sorry you can so easily relate to what Lottie and I have experienced.” One hand squeezed her shoulder as they shared a brief moment of grief. A hug offered just enough warmth to remind him that the world hadn’t always felt this cold. 

Unexpectedly, it helped. 

“Olivia, do you think I’m an asshat?” He asked. A question that seemed to come out of nowhere built upon a word he couldn’t quite get out of his head. His expression stayed serious, as if taking an official poll as he waited for her answer. 

Olivia accepted his hug in return. Relief washed over her like a bucket of water on a hot sunny day at the farm.  That’s all right. Some of us have different burdens to bear, don’t we?” The squeeze on her shoulder caused a genuine smile to escape her–and she met his gaze to let him know. For Olivia, the hug helped as well.

Leo’s next words took her back. She stared at him for a moment, then tilted her head to one side like an owl.  While he came off arrogant and cold, it was clear there was more to him than she knew. ”No,” she replied honestly. She took one of his hands and lifted his chin up to meet her gaze with her free hand, so he could see she wasn’t flying. ”You are misunderstood.” 

She smiled and gestured to Champion. ”And what do you think?” 

Champion, who held no grudges against anyone, simply stretched out. Back arching and claws digging into the carpeting before flopping over onto his side and relaxing in a patch of sunlight.

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Olivia & Rohit

The bell above the shop door chimed. 

In those brief moments, while the door to Paw Pals was open, a cacophony of noise spilled out into the streets. Cats yowling for attention, dogs barking, birds screeching and cawing. It was even noisier inside. Rabbits thumped their feet against their enclosure, guinea pigs squealed, and a hamster in a ball rolled around on the floor. 

Rohit was not an own-a-pet kind of guy. Too much responsibility, but visiting them in a shop required no work on his part. He avoided the enclosure of ferrets; the smell that wafted from them was deterrent enough. He watched fish swim around in an aquarium with the same intensity he’d given Milo’s artwork. The fish did not bring any complex thoughts and only let his head relax. At some point, while he was lost in a thought-free swirl of water and colorful fish, someone put a puppy in his arms.

A delightful creature. It wiggled and whined, and the puppy’s stubby tail thumped against his arm. His hand scratched at the short golden fur of the little rascal, and wrinkled skin smooshed around the puppy’s face. 

Olivia waltzed into the Paw Pals confidently. Being around animals provided her a sense of relief, and an escape. It reminded her of the farm her family once owned. They had so many animals it had almost been impossible for her mother to keep track. However, Olivia had inherited the gift of knowing the animals. She knew what foods they enjoyed and disliked. It was difficult work to pretend to be a noble every day. It was exhausting to try to remember all the fine details. 

While she had been strolling through the noble districts, Olivia had caught sight of Paw Pal’s. She had enjoyed looking in as a kid, but they couldn’t afford them. Now, with borrowed money, Olivia was inside the store. She glanced around the store and smiled at the cacophony of noise. It felt like home. 

Olivia was lost in thought when she bumped into an Alidasht holding a puppy and blinked. She backed up, smiled awkwardly at the dog, then up at him. ”Sorry! I was lost in thought.” She bent to the dog’s height and began to pet his back. ”Oh, this dog is so cute!” She paused, then straightened up and moved back apologetically. ”Um! Sorry. My name’s Olivia!” 

The puppy flailed in Rohit’s arms, trying to leap from them and jump onto the woman who had bumped into him. He had to use both hands to keep his grip on the pup but held the little dog out for the woman. 

“No apology needed. Who wouldn’t get distracted by this adorable little,” He paused, shifted the puppy in his hands, and held it up with his grip around the pup’s torso. “Lady!” Rohit exclaimed. 

“Rohit Amar, expert puppy holder and identifier.” He introduced himself before setting the puppy on the ground. The little labrador immediately barreled towards the nearest child, inspiring instant delight on the kid's face. 

“So, what thoughts were you lost in, if I might ask?” 

”Pleased to meet you, Rohit.’ She curstied and then straightened up. Rohit returned the gesture with a graceful bow. ”I was thinking about how delightful this shop is, and what animal I might adopt. What about you, what brings you in here?” 

“I was just at Milo’s art gallery. The man’s a genius, but I needed something a little less complicated to relax my mind.” 

Olivia turned to begin examining the cages and the sunlight caught her reflection. A waterfall of strawberry blonde hair cascaded down her back in curly waves. The sunlight illuminated her blue eyes like the ocean, and she brushed some dirt off her blouse and pants. 

”Been in here five minutes, and I already have animal hair all over me. Perils of the shop, I suppose,” Olivia laughed and turned to look at a litter of tabby kittens cooing at her. 

“Luckily, we are not so easily deterred by peril.” Rohit rubbed his hands together, and golden strands of puppy fur flew in the air. He then followed and watched the pair of kittens. 

”Hello there!” She greeted enthusiastically and reached through the cages to begin putting them. The first one moved back cautiously, while the second one ran over and began accepting head rubs. ”Aww, they’re so adorable.” Olivia grinned and turned to Rohit. ”Don’t you just love animals?”

Rohit nodded and returned the smile. “I like how simple they are.” He agreed. “But a lot of work. Too much for me, but it’s fun to visit them.” He looked around the store again; it was a chaotic place, and he thought about his conversation with Milo and Mina. 

“Maybe one day I should reconsider that stance. Are you thinking of getting a kitten? This one is bold.” He commented, watching the little cat that ran over to the front of the cage. 

Olivia shook her head at his question. ”Mmm, not right now.” She glanced around the pet shop. She studied the different animals. A quiet hoot caught her attention and she turned to look over. By the front desk there was a cage with a small brown owl. 

The owl turned to meet her gaze and emitted another soft hoot. Excitement and curiosity rushed through her and she impulsively moved over to it. 

”You have an owl! How did it get here?” Owls have always been one of her favorite animals. It brought back memories of her laying with Kazumin in the grass outside their farm and listening to the cacophony of crickets, owls, cows, chickens and horses. A deep aching sense of longing filled her and she had to fill the hole, otherwise it would consume her. For a moment, she was in a trance. The memory soon began to turn into regret and sorrow, and the emotions threatened to overwhelm her. 

The shopkeeper’s voice rang out distantly, as though it was miles away. She struggled to focus on him despite looking at him. ”This poor owl was knocked out of its nest in a storm a while back. Its mother abandoned it and it was alone. We took it in to care for it. Apparently, people were bothering it in the woods too.” The shop owner studied her and his gaze went back to the owl. ”It’s been calling for attention, but nobody has adopted it. Are you interested?”

Abandoned. Bullied. Her heartbeat quickened. Memories of being alone… Shooed by a broom…

Distractions. 

Olivia’s fists tightened and she took slow, deep breaths.

Rohit watched as Olivia’s jade colored eyes suddenly looked distant, traveled away to a daydream or a memory. The longer he watched, the clearer it was that wherever the redhead had gone, it was not a pleasant place. 

She moved her hand into the cage and the owl sniffed her hand. It glanced up at her reproachfully, and moved away. The creature’s reluctance and overall demeanor was one of fear and sadness. Her chest ached for it. ”Yes, I think this little one needs my help.” She grinned and began pulling money out of her bag. ”How much?” The two discussed payment, what gender it was and care for it. Soon Olivia held the cage with the owl on it and a blanket over it to help relax it. People stared at the precarious predicament this noble redhead found herself in, but she ignored them. Her gaze scanned the room for any enemies, then turned back to Rohit.

Distractions.

”What do you think? Isn't she adorable!” 

Rohit studied the not-too-friendly little owl from a respectful distance. The creature was apprehensive of strangers, timid, and stressed. “Honestly? I think she looks a little depressed.” He said, tilting his head. “Or maybe she’s sleepy? Daytime is an owl's bedtime.” He added and grabbed a nearby piece of cloth from the counter and draped it over the owl’s cage. Either way, a little peace, quiet, and less stimulation should help the owl feel more comfortable. 

“I find that bonds that are harder to form often become the hardest to break.” He gestured toward the little owl and smiled. “A fine choice of animal companion, owls are known for wisdom and deep insights. A place this chaotic is likely too much for her. I passed a cafe on the way here, Petal and Perk, seems like the ideal place for an owl to rest and contemplate the flowers.” Rohit suggested.

“And you know what else owls adore?” Rohit asked, deciding that he was now a certified expert on the inner thoughts of birds. “Watching two beautiful people get to know each other better over tea. Owls have deeply poetic souls.” He whispered as if he were revealing a deep secret about owls. 

Olivia’s cheeks momentarily matched her hair. She ducked her head and tried processing what he had said. Oh Gods. Did he call her beautiful? Her, of all people? Both startled and flustered, Olivia was silent for a moment. Then, she realized he had asked her a question, and she grinned sheepishly. How did he know so much about owls? Her mind raced and her heart pounded. What did she do? 

”Oh wow. That would be great!” She moved forward, then hesitated. Where was the shop again? What if he was dragged into Calbert’s web because of her? She could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Too late, she had already agreed - and if she said no now, then what? Olivia tensed briefly as people brushed past her. Then, like a bunny caught in the sight of an owl, quickly left the shop and began to scan her surroundings for anyone, or anything, that might interrupt their day.

“Looking for someone?” He asked, noticing how this wasn’t the first time her eyes had frantically scanned her surroundings. Rohit offered his arm as he escorted Olivia to the Petal & Perk Cafe. “Are you from Sorian?” He added.

Olivia’s mind raced like the townsfolk around her. Nobody seemed familiar or dangerous. She jumped when Rohit appeared next to her. Her eyes widened like a startled cat. Then, she laughed and shook her head to appear calm and collected. 

”Oh, no.” She replied to both questions. Olivia accepted his arm with a sheepish grin, and allowed him to lead the way. ”I’m from Veirmont.”

So, not looking for someone, but something seemed to have a vice-like grip on her mind. “What a coincidence; I’m a guest in this city as well. All the way from Kisoma - the beating heart of Kimoon.” He led the way to the cafe, describing the lush jungles and vibrant city he called home as they walked. No one was better than Rohit at distracting people from what troubled them. 

“And there are gardens everywhere. Restaurants with glowing, bioluminescent fungi, jasmine blooming across the city, and plants in almost every shop. There is no part of Kisoma that is not graced by nature's beauty.” He continued as they entered the quiet little cafe that smelled of tea, coffee, and the dozens or so arrangements of flowers that decorated the space. It was almost as nice as home. 

“What is Veirmont like? Worth adding to my list of places to visit?” He asked. 

Olivia listened intently to Rohit. The way he described the lush jungles, and the gardens caused her to grin. It sounded beautiful–far more beautiful than Sorian. As he spoke, she soon began forgetting about the hypervigilance. She wished she could see pictures of Kisoma. Olivia had relaxed by then, which in turn helped her owl relax.

Then came the question about Veirmont. Delilah and Charlotte had quizzed her on it. This allowed her to have a decent knowledge and be able to recite information offhandedly. ”Well, it’s a tropical paradise,” Olivia replied as they entered. ”There are palm trees everywhere, and it never snows. There are beaches everywhere.” 

“A tropical paradise…now that sounds like a challenge,” Rohit said thoughtfully. He then snapped his fingers. “Let’s make it a challenge. You absolutely must visit Kisoma after this summer. My family would be proud to host you. Then I will visit Veirmont, and we can properly decide which tropical paradise reigns supreme.” He proposed a lighthearted challenge as they approached the hostess. 

“Oh, but a minor flaw. Once you see Kisoma, you would never want to leave.” He teased with a grin, his words spoken with the upmost confidence. 

She glanced around the cafe with wide eyes. It was beautiful in the cafe. She turned to her owl and lifted up the blanket. ”Look how pretty it is in here, Maple,” Her owl looked up at her, hooted softly, and then returned it tucking its head under the wing. Olivia turned to Rohit and smiled warmly. ”We both like it,” she reported and turned to the hostess. ”Table for two, please - well, three, my owl’s coming.” 

The hostess stared for a moment, nodded, and brought them back to a table in the back. There was privacy and plenty of floral decor around them. She picked up a menu and smiled at Rohit. ”Who knew our afternoon would turn out like this?” 

“None but the Gods.” Rohit responded. 

“How does lavender tea sound?” He asked Olivia, picking something relaxing to help soothe the nervous energy he’d noted from her earlier. “May we get a sampling of your best dishes?” Rohit asked, barely looking at the menu. Who wanted to waste time reading about food when he could continue to get to know the person across from him?

“Make it bit of an adventure.” He suggested. 

“Lavender tea. That actually sounds perfect. It’ll help calm my… I guess you’ve noticed I’m a little on edge.” Olivia chuckled softly, tucking a stray strawberry-blonde curl behind her ear. Her cheeks felt warm, and she lowered her gaze for a moment before looking back at Rohit. He only smiled back at her and nodded. He had noticed the nervous energy. 

”I’m sorry if I’ve seemed jumpy. I’ve been dealing with some rough memories that make me a bit paranoid.” A gentle sigh escaped her lips. “I know it’s not the best first impression, but thank you for being so patient.” 

“Don’t be sorry. You feel how you feel, and despite how you feel, you are excellent company.” His reply was gentle and sincere. 

She leaned forward, resting a hand lightly on his forearm, an impulsive gesture that sent her stomach fluttering with both nerves and excitement. “I really like the idea of an ‘adventure’ with you. I.. feel better already just being here and chatting with you.” 

Olivia smiled shyly but with genuine warmth shining in her eyes. “I’d love to share more, if you don’t mind hearing it. Maybe once the tea arrives, I’ll tell you a bit more about what’s been on my mind if you still want to know.”

Rohit rested a hand on top of Olivia’s hand as she lightly touched his arm. His thumb moved against smooth, soft skin. “I’d be happy to listen to anything you wish to share.” 

The sudden courage made her heart pound, but she didn’t move her hand away. “And, in return, you can teach me more about Kisoma. I’d like to hear about it if you’re up for it.” She smiled at him genuinely. He looked like a piece of art come to life. How was someone so handsome? Olivia’s cheeks were becoming as red as her hair. How could she have been acting so silly?

Rohit, master of distraction, wasted no time in recounting every beautiful detail he knew about Kisoma. From the bustling marketplace where anything could be found, the thrill of haggling with vendors to the point that it was almost like a game of chess, and the immense talent of the musicians who filled the streets with joyful songs. He told the story of how his father had come to be Vali. It began with the tale of the former Vali, a corrupt and wicked man who once had control over Kimoon but who lost it all to greed. How his father had stepped up, proved his worth to the Sultan, and he continued with all the ways Navi Amar had improved his territory and the lives of his people. He spoke fondly of his parents, kind-natured scholars who would certainly love to meet Olivia and her owl. How his mother was likely to throw a very embarrassing party in her honor if she ever were to stop by for a visit. 

After all, his mother did the same anytime Hala visited. He went on to tell Olivia about his very best friend, whom Rohit had instantly decided, the first time he’d met them, was the sibling he’d always wanted. 

“That’s one of the things that makes life worth living, don’t you think? Friends you can count on, who make every moment just a bit more fun when they’re around. You got a friend like that?” He asked, finding an easier topic for her to start opening up about her own life, just as their food and tea arrived. 

Olivia relaxed while Rohit began speaking and hadn’t moved her hand off his arm. Once he’d rested his hand on her’s, she’d blushed. The way he described his hometown sounded delightful. It was like something out of the books she’d borrowed from Charlotte.  The marketplace sounded like a dream to her; she would be tempted to buy everything. The contrast of Kisoma to Sorian was sharp. A deep desire to visit filled her, but she wasn’t sure how feasible that was. Alidasht sounded exotic, beautiful, and full of life.The fact his nobility was hard won was intriguing to her, instead of being born into it. Once he mentioned his mother doting upon her honor to visit, a deep blush formed on her heels and rivaled her hair. She giggled at the idea of visiting and how her owl would coe too. A soft smile graced her lips and her eyes softened.  His parents sounded kind as he was; it briefly caused her chest to ache. 

”Oh wow,” Olivia smiled genuinely. ”Kisoma sounds amazing, Rohit. I’m grateful you told me about it. I.. I would definitely love to visit. It would be really different from Sorian and that would be nice.” 

Olivia paused when the waitress delivered their food and drinks. She nodded to her gratefully and kept her hand where it rested on Rohit. The waitress quickly bustled away. ”Thank you so much.” She moved her hand away now to shyly drink her lavender tea with both hands. As she sipped it, Liv stole a quick glance around the room then back to him. 

”So… I sort of had a traumatic and difficult upbringing, and this cute little owl reminded me of myself; beaten down, sad and alone, and my emotions sort of came out and projected onto it.” She then added as nerves filled her stomach. ”Also, there's some… crime that came to light recently that impacted my friends and me, so I’ve been on edge because of it. I don’t want to drag you into it, though, but that's why I’ve been edgy. I promise I’m not usually like this.” Her voice remained low and only audible to him. 

He nodded thoughtfully as Olivia spoke of her difficult upbringing. He looked at the little owl who had grown more relaxed since settling down in the cafe. “Do you think the owl knows? How its entire world has changed?” He asked after a beat, wondering how wise the feathered symbol of wisdom truly was. 

“The owl will not be sad or alone because she now has you to take care of her,” Rohit explained, looking back at Olivia. He supposed just about any place was more desirable for an owl to be than a chaotic pet store. And he didn’t take Olivia for the type who just wanted some unconventional pet to keep in a gilded cage to show off at parties. He watched the owl again and imagined that sometime soon, that owl would be flying free beneath the moon. Proudly keeping a vast estate free of hares and rats, and nesting comfortably in some high tower shielded from the sun. 

“And what a wonderful day it is, for this owl who will soon stretch her wings and touch the sky again. Today, you have changed an owl’s entire world. Made a huge impact on one lucky creature on a kind whim.” Finding the beauty in small moments, he picked that up from his father. One of the traits Rohit was convinced made his father so wise, and one he tried hard to emulate. 

“If you ever find yourself alone again, I never turn down company.” He added. “And my people, we do not fear danger. Whether we were forged in the desert sun or sculpted by the jungle’s rays, we from Alidasht are as brave as we are beautiful. Drag me wherever you like.” He challenged, and a playful smile flashed as he picked up his cup of tea. 

Olivia turned to Maple. Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled faintly. His words brought her comfort and a much needed distraction. ”I sure hope he will soon,” Liv replied. She reached in and stroked the owl’s feathers. The owl chipped in response. 

”Thank you so much, Rohit. You are delightful,”  She replied, referring to the owl. Then, Olivia sipped her tea and then almost choked on it. His next words caused her to do a double take. Giggles erupted from her. She swallowed her tea politely and ensured she did not embarrass herself. 

”Oh Rohit,” Liv grinned mischievously and leaned forward. ”You don’t have to ask me twice.” She took his hands and grinned back playfully. ”There is a lot to show you in Sorian, I’m sure I can drag you somewhere,” 

Olivia grinned back, pleased with her challenge. Her cheeks were flushed akin to her hair. She bounced her leg nervously and sipped her tea. The two continued to converse until it became close to the banquet. They bid their farewells and rushed off to their respective dwellings to prepare for the ball. Olivia had a spring in her step and importantly, a blossoming friendship with more than just her owl.

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FLASHBACK

Members of Collaboration: Callum, Ariella, Kalliope, Anastasia

Time: Evening of Sola 29

Anastasia stood at the top of the narrow stone staircase, the flickering torchlight casting golden shadows across her cheekbones. She paused, fingers curled around the railing, listening. Beneath them, the echo of hushed voices and the dull clatter of crates and buckets signaled life in the basement: servants darting between the rooms, moving a little faster than usual, glancing a little too often over their shoulders.

“Alright, everyone,” she murmured, her voice low, “the place is alive today..” Her eyes flicked to a maid crossing the corridor below, shoulders tense.“With everything going on, everyone’s on edge. And if you look suspicious or creepy, well, it may get back to my father. Or worse... the guards.”

“Luckily, we are a collection of the kingdom’s most beautiful faces, not a chance that any of us look creepy.” Callum interjected, his attempt at being nonchalant undercut by his nervous fidgeting.

She giggled then leaned against the banister. “We might have to split up to cover more ground.” A sly smile played at her lips, though it didn’t quite touch her eyes.

Then she added, like an afterthought, “If anything tries to kill you—do scream. I’ll come running…Probably. As long as it’s not a zombie.” She winked. “...Anyway I think we should have some with me, then some with Callum, as they’re less likely to question our presence.”

“Good point,” He nodded his agreement with Ana, proud of how seriously she was taking tonight’s mission. “Riona and I found a secret room in the castle once before. There were clues that led to a puzzle, so we might need to comb through some of this basement to find what we are looking for.” He added, splitting up seemed the best way to handle that, which made him extra thankful for more people. He’d hate to be wandering around the creepy basement alone. 

Kalliope let her gaze linger on Anastasia a beat longer than necessary, her eyes sharp and calculating as if measuring just how much danger the princess could actually handle. The sly smile and the “don’t die unless it’s a zombie” warning did little to convince her.

With a slow, knowing smirk, she finally spoke, voice low and dripping with amused superiority,
"Splitting up sounds thrilling, especially since I’m pretty sure if things go sideways, I’ll be the one saving you all."

Her eyes flicked pointedly to Anastasia, then softened for a moment as they landed on Callum’s nervous fidgeting. She placed a gentle reassuring hand on his shoulder as if to say “it’s going to be okay, I’ll make sure of it.”

Ari’s green eyes flicked to Kali as she casually reassured Callum, touching him with what appeared to be a sort of affection. Her eyes narrowed on the woman as she continued to spit out rude comments towards Annie. 

"Don’t get me wrong, princess, but I’ve got a feeling your ‘running to help’ might turn into more of a ‘screaming for help.’ Luckily for you, I’m quite good at answering those calls." She crossed her arms, her stance casual but unmistakably confident.

"Personally? I’d rather stick close to Callum. He’s the only one I actually trust won’t leave me to whatever horrors lurk in this basement." She let that hang a moment before shrugging, voice playful but conceding. "But hey, it’s your call. I’m flexible–just don’t blame me when I show up to save your sorry asses."

Clearing her throat, Ari linked her arm around Annie's and looked at Kali, her eyes narrowed as the petite barefooted woman slightly puffed her chest up.  “You’re absolutely right, I too would leave you to whatever horrors are lurking in this basement after the way you spoke to my friend, who is also Cal's sister, might I add. Callum might have patience for rudeness, but I don’t.  She looked at Annie, offering her a smile  “Ani and I will be perfectly fine. Come on Ani…” She gave her a slight tug to lead her down the stairs, looking at Kali as they moved. ” Just… try not to trip over your ego on the way down. These floors are terribly uneven.” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Her attention turned to Callum as her expression faltered slightly, worried more about him than anyone.  “Stay safe…” she said rather softly, her eyes unbreaking from Callum so he knew her words were directed to him before offering him a genuine soft smile. 

“You too,” Cal returned the smile. 

Anastasia gave a small gasp, her hand fluttering dramatically over her chest as she looked back at Kalliope with wide, offended eyes. “Come on, Kalliope!” she protested with a pout. “I’d never leave anyone to basement horrors: zombies or not! I may scream a little, yes, but I do it while running toward the danger. It's called multitasking.”

“Like a ferocious warrior bellowing into battle.” Callum added and very seriously gestured towards Ana while nodding at Kali. “Zombies won’t stand a chance.”

As she stepped back, she addressed the group again, her tone more grounded.
 “Meet upstairs in an hour. If anyone’s missing. We come back down swinging.”

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Helo Wonderlust King

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Helo

Wonderlust King

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A loud snap echoed through the air. 

Callum awoke cold and shuddering. Hands stuck to dirt and coated in a tacky film. His eyes fluttered open and found only darkness. Only a faint trail of light whispered in from far away. 

A weary pain had sunk into every muscle, his ribs cried out with each breath. Cal vaguely recognized this feeling, waking up the next morning after a fight. After a beating. He didn’t remember a fight, then again…

Right, Cal realized. Guess I wouldn’t remember.

Another snap echoed from within the darkness. Something crunched in an almost rhythmic way. But Callum hardly noticed the sounds. It was the scent that stole his immediate attention. Sharp…metallic…sickening. He knew exactly what caused the dirt to cling to him as he peeled himself from the ground and sat upright. His back rested against something solid, craggy, and cool. 

He tried to wipe his hands off on his shirt. It was so damp with sweat, it almost helped. Where am I? His head pounded and his hands moved to his face to try and wipe away the dirt that stuck to him. He only succeeded in smearing blood and sweat from his hands around with the dirt and sweat on his face. 

<We are in a cave.>

Another, louder, snap. The crunching noise picked back up again. It sounded wet. 

His eyes began to adjust to the darkness. Everything snapped into focus. A patchy red trail led from the pool of blood he’d been lying in to a dead man a few feet away. 

He was covered in blood, his hands were red with it. 

Cal felt what he did as keenly as he felt his broken ribs. 

No, He reminded himself. Not what I did, just what this body did. When Clarence had control. What my hands… He tried to stand up and let the pain end that thought as he sank back down to the ground. 

What the spirit had done. The one he’d brought into the world after agreeing to its demands.

Snap!

Clarence broke one of the dead man’s hands off, bones snapping like twigs and skin tearing without resistance. Teeth tore through flesh and bone as the monkey’s mouth opened unnaturally wide. Bone crunched as it chewed and its lips smacked against flesh and blood. 

You never said you planned on eating people.

<You did not ask.> Clarence’s attention never left the body as, piece by piece, the monkey continued to devour it. 

This doesn’t help me. It’s not what I wanted. Not what I asked for.

<It is what I am owed!> Its voice clamoured around in Callum’s head, hot and angry. <I will NOT feast on scraps!>

Crunch. 

Crunch. 

Crunch.

An entire arm, from fingers to shoulder joint, was now gone. It had joined the body’s missing leg in the bottomless carven that was the familiar’s stomach. 

<You will give. Or I will take. Either way...I devour.> The voice that probed his thoughts laughed as Cal realized he’d been foolish to think he could limit what Clarence took. He summoned this creature with blood; of course, it would not be satisfied with merely feeding on emotions or indulging in mortal pleasures. It craved blood, it wanted lives. It would always want more.

<We could amend our deal. I need not force your hand.> It offered as its fingers plunged into either side of the body’s torso. In one swift motion the monkey's arms swung and tore apart the chest. 

The cracking of bone echoed through the cave. 

What do you mean? He asked. 

<You kill for me. You pick my meal. Choose who is guilty. Who deserves to be consumed.> Organs, ones Callum couldn’t even begin to try and identify, were ripped out and devoured with greedy intensity. 

But I have to do the killing? A disturbingly long list of names immediately popped into his head. Nobles who abused their power without consequence; that would be justice. Witch Hunters that now littered the kingdom; ending any one of them was basically self-defense. There were plenty in Sorian who deserved death. 

Could he do that? Kill someone just so his familiar could eat them? Was that the right move here? A way to make sure only people who deserved it got hurt from now on? 

And what did that make him? If he killed to feed a hungry spirit just keep ahold of the bit of power he’d finally gotten his hands on? 

<You will kill. I will eat.>

I could banish you. His threat was a breeze of a thought.

<But you won’t.> A shin snapped in half, but the monkey momentarily paused his feast. 

<Go back to being weak. Useless. Powerless. A stupid child who ruins what he touches. Carves empty words into walls. I see you mind. I know what’s in there.> It laughed as it returned to its feast, savoring each bite. 

<Can you get what you want…with clean hands? Would you prefer only others bloody their hands? Shrug your burdens off onto your allies?>

Callum knew the answer to that. He knew he couldn’t expect others to do all his dirty work for him. Revolutions got violent. People wouldn’t give up power easily. Eventually, he’d have to kill for his dreams to become reality. Why not be proactive? Kill two birds with one monkey. 

How many? How often?

<As often as I want.>

Callum could only sit, watch, and listen. Slow, rhythmic crunching. Snapping of bones. A body disappearing bite by bite as time stretched on. Clarence filled his head with images as it ate. 

Every misstep, reckless action, and outright failure was replayed in vivid detail in his mind. There was no looking away from it. No possible way to ignore it. 

He watched himself fight his siblings in desperate attempts to make them hate him as much as his parents did. But they never did, even as he slung cruel words like stones, they inevitably gave him the kind of forgiveness he didn’t deserve. 

The hurt in Ana’s eyes on that day he’d accused her of betraying Marek lingered in his memory. 

Ana, who was maybe the only Danrose that had never once hurt him. 

He watched as he and Ana tried so desperately to help Darryn. Even together they had no power. They couldn’t even own the blame for their mistakes. 

And only Wulfric’s intervention changed anything. 

Not that it had saved Darryn. 

He’d never be able to think about Darryn without picturing him beaten, tortured, and barely able to stand as Alibeth called for his death. 

The rhythmic crunching of bones returned broken up only by short pauses and occasionally snaps. 

Cal saw every servant with hopeless eyes and a beaten down posture that wandered the halls of his home. 

The countless times he’d failed Riona. 

An entire life that was nothing but failure after failure with stretches of uselessness in between. 

He resaw things that hadn’t happened. All those magically induced nightmares and visions, spliced in with memories. All the people he’d ever cared about; wailing from pyres. 

Despite knowing it hadn’t happened, it had felt like a vision from the future. One so close that it was written in stone. That he could never hope to stop it from becoming real. 

And it still felt that way. 

Covered in blood, dirt, and a cold sweat that wouldn’t stop, Callum saw all the things he’d imagined so often they could’ve been real. 

He watched all the way he imagined he would die.

A ghost of a man, drunk in an alleyway, slipping away, unnoticed. 

His wrists unzipped in the throne room for one final tantrum. 

His neck rested on wood while his cousin swung a blade.

Screaming on a pyre while Edin laughed and Alibeth watched with cold satisfaction. 

Edin gutted him like an animal at the dinner table. 

Through all of it, the one singular truth reared its ugly head; without Clarence all he’d ever be is exactly the same Callum he’d always been. 

Useless. Failure. Disappointment. 

Clarence was his only shot at being anything more than that. 

The cave snapped back into focus as the monkey held up a head, it was all that was left of the body now. Its mouth stretched impossibly wide and a vast empty darkness rested behind its teeth. In one bite the head was engulfed. 

Clarence crunched away. 

<You know what you are alone. Without me. You will not choose that. I lend you power. You do not control me.>

There was nothing left of the body but a trail of blood. The evidence mostly devoured. Someone had to have seen. I’ll end up jailed. Or executed. What use would I be to you then? He argued.

A bloody grin displayed Clarence’s approval of this thought. 

<My power is beyond yours.> The familiar shared a memory. 

Familiar surroundings. He led a man away from a tavern. They talked of opium. Magic flared and illusion made the forest look like city streets. They walked on, cloaked in shadow. 

They ended up in a cave. The fight was brutal. He toyed with the man. Rage and fear tasted like spiced meat. Savory and rich, left a burn in his mouth. He devoured the emotion that radiated off the man. 

It fueled the spirit, strength like he’d never felt before. It surged through him as his hands ripped through flesh. He gripped something warm and slippery…

Clarence kept the memory playing far longer than what was necessary to prove its point. It ensured that Callum felt guts slide around his fingers. Saw himself licking the blood from his fingers. He watched smoke billow from his mouth and then his perspective shifted. 

It stretched and freed itself from the vessel. Its vessel dropped to the ground. Teeth tore away at spilled viscera, warm and sharp…

<You are protected.> It’s voice almost sought to reassure. <But you should wash up in a river.> It suggested. 

He had no other choice. 

He summoned this spirit with blood. Of course it needed more. That was how power worked; always hungry, never satisfied. 

This was always going to leave his hands bloodied. 

Callum wakes up in a cave the morning after the banquet. He is no longer possessed by Clarence but discovers his familiar is eating the body of a rando they lured to a cave and killed the night before. Clarence offers to let Callum kill for him next time he wants a human sacrifice. Cal kinda thinks that might be his best option as he needs the monkey to help him grind away at his goals.

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