“Sam, wake up. Sam.” She shakes me, damned, accursed woman. Stop shaking me! Stop shaking me! I’m awake! “Sam, your eyes are still shut. Open them.” I’m awake!

“I’m awake!” Ah, finally. The words come out.

“I know. You were squirming around and trying to push me off of you. This is no time for being problematic, though. We’ve arrived in Il Allad.” Lucille, my sister. My sister, Lucille. Damn it! The sun, so bright in my eyes.

“Come now, Samir. Stand up. We’re going to be late for our arrival.” She tears open the blinds which barely served to cover the light in the first place, exposing my face to the burning rays of the sun’s wrath. “Mother and Father await us in port. Put on your clothing and let’s go.”

I stand to my feet and yawn, extending my arms above my head and stretching. “Lucy, why are you in such a rush? Mother and Father won’t arrive until midday, as per their last correspondence.”

She sighs, as she fixes her hair in the mirror. “For one, Sam, plans have changed. If you are to be the prominent scion of this family instead of I, you must be pliable. Er, flexible.” With a movement of her left hand, her bangs are brushed into alignment, and she turns back towards me with a slight frown. “For two, Daurellian is prepared to make a large speech. And Father will be one of the notables involved. A human researcher, brought to the capital for great achievement.” She sighs once again, and turns back to the mirror, discontent with something she felt on her face in that brief moment.

“Why must we always go to these prestigious events? Father is a nobleman, why can he not attend to his own affairs?” Lucy scowls at this.

“Because, oh, brother of mine, it is good to support your family, regardless of what you think of their decisions or achievements. Now, shall we put on these fine robes for you?” She picks up a garish set of lime green robes which have been tailored to suit me, yet I have never worn them.

“Am I really supposed to wear those?”

“If you care to follow the code of our household, you will. The foremost heir is to wear green in every appearance. Shouldn’t you know this by now?”

“I know, but I don’t particularly care to follow an antiquated set of rules for the sake of prestige.”

“Yet you still talk and act as though your noble upbringing is the only personality trait that exists within you. Hurry up and put the robes on, we have so little time to spare.”

Lucille, my sister. My own flesh and blood, Father would tell me. She isn’t, not truly. A half-breed. Born to some elven mistress he slept with, and brought under his roof as my tutor, my maid. We’re raised as siblings, but she is simply a servant to those outside of the family. Every time I look at her, talk to her, I feel both pity and disgust.

“Samir, please. We shan't keep Father waiting much longer.” She extends a hand out to me, and, reluctant as I am, I take it, with her pulling me up from the cot.

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“Home.” She says, quietly, as she looks past me, out the window of this boat, upon the city of Il Allad. Capital of the Empire, and the city from where the name of Il Allad comes. A frown on her face. “Samir, soon, Father will pass.” She pauses. “I know you don’t think of me as your equal, but we are brother and sister still the same.”

“What’s prompting this?” She fidgets, and looks around the room.

“Has Father told you of his discovery?” Her body language, nervous.

“No, he hasn’t, just that I am to attend the announcement.” Stiff, calculated. She’s thinking through every word, just as she always does when she’s afraid to say the wrong thing.

“The Twelfth.They found signs of the Twelfth.” I can feel my heart drop in my chest, a chill down my spine. “We’re walking into our execution. You and I, both.”

“But, Lucy, you’re still…” She shakes her head.

“No. I’m only half-elven. It doesn’t cut.”

“I… don’t understand. Wasn’t Father working to prevent this?” Daurellian. Emperor Daurellian. The name leaves a sting in my head. Like poison, or withering flowers.

“If you want to run, I won’t tell Mother or Father.” She looks into my eyes, closely. “We could run together.”

“What good would running do? Why didn’t you tell me this before we left Isma?” Everything feels like it’s crashing down all at once. It’s not a slow, compressing feeling, like weights upon my chest. It’s a boulder rolling down a mountainside and plowing through everything on the way down. I’m there, at the bottom, and the boulder is headed straight for me, but my feet are bound. “Why? I thought it wasn’t supposed to happen?”

“Ask Father. He thinks he can have us spared.”

“After what Daurellian did on the coasts? No.” I can’t help but find my fingers fidgeting at my side. “I suppose there’s no choice but to go. So long as they’ve only found signs, and not a candidate herself, we won’t be killed. The Amar Family is too notable, isn’t it?” She frowns at this.

“Titles, families… I’m just so tired of it. I’ve played along for so long. Why won’t you ever treat me as your sister?” She’s angry now. The realization of what’s happening has stricken her. “Father is the only one who treats us as equals! And he’s… He’s a horrible person.” She slumps her shoulders, and looks like she’s about to cry.

“Lucille… I never…” I can’t think of any words to say. It’s true. I’ve never seen her as my sister, really. Not in the genuine sense. She’s certainly my sister, but she’s never been my equal. She’s an illegitimate child to a peasant woman. She’s no Amar.

“Don’t bother. No. I’m tired of it. If you won’t leave the ceremony behind, I will.” She drops the lime robes which had been in her hands the whole time. “I’m tired of wearing a face and acting as your servant. I’m leaving. Feel free to tell Father, we’ll all be dead soon anyways, if Daurellian has his way.” She storms out of the cabin.

“I…” I look out the window. There’s already a crowd amassed. People from nations across the continent have journeyed here in hopes of receiving the great Emperor Daurellian’s favor, my father among them. A human scientist and researcher working to discover the long-gone Twelfth Bloodline. Well, I suppose he’s gotten what he wanted.

A knock at the door.

“Enter.” I’m not even dressed properly, yet I don’t care anymore. How much longer could I have before the Ascension happens? 3 months? 3 weeks? 3 days?

The door slowly creaks open. A well-built Hondari man and a much smaller Pale Elf stand side by side at the entrance. “Samir Amar, no?” Says the Hondari, looking down at me.

I have never seen these people in my life. The one on the left, the Pale Elf, is striking in her looks. She has an angular face, bright eyes, and long hair. Her body is toned, from what I can tell, despite the fact that she seems to be wearing a poorly-fitted robe. The Hondari man, his skin rough, stands at least two heads taller than me. He has broad shoulders and a heroic face, with dark eyes and skin. Despite the name of “Mud Men” they so often receive, he reminds me more of a mountain, and his posture says that he’s ready to fight should I say one word wrong.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Good. May the Allspirit bring you tidings.” The Hondari man says, and bows.

“We’re here to kill your father, Ilban. I suppose you understand?” The Pale Elf speaks for the first time. Her voice has a rough accent to it, as though she were a street urchin, or criminal, but her usage of the word Ilban tells me all I need to know. So archaic, yet…

“I will join you, then. Allow me to prepare.”