> ...The annals of history speak of a long-forgotten city of a hundred castles nestled in a faraway mountain land, home to the old Hinos dragonkin that once roamed the realms. In a city of such size, one could spend a lifetime ignorant of what its walls looked like. Ruled by dragons, they called this city Mythrill... - "The Book of the Rose, Chapter II" by Emperor Midas I of the House Bladesong.

The Slums

High Harbour, Trinitan Empire

Western Wayland

6th of Frostfang, 475 (5E)

The Lower District, also known as the Slums, is the most dangerous place in High Harbour due to its high crime rate. There are not enough guards to control the overpopulated area. Therefore, the district is run mainly by kingpins and crime lords. It is a cold night in the middle of winter, and the people in the Slums are suffering. Frozen corpses of peasants litter the main street while the ones fortunate enough to wear fitting clothes go about their business, ignoring the bodies entirely. Some people even step over them. A grim silence looms through the street, quickly breaking when a person bursts through the door of a wooden shack, stumbling on the icy cobblestone and causing commotion. He clutters up and starts bolting. Two more people run out of the shoddy house and begin chasing the man at full speed. One of the chasers is Alara Fyre. A thirty-five-year-old lean woman who is built for chases like these.

"Keep chasing him, I'll find a shortcut!" she commands her partner.

"Alright!" her partner responds, and Alara breaks into an alley, sprinting through and pushing people aside. She jumps on stacks of crates and climbs on the roofs with ease. Picking up speed again, she glides over gaps between houses and keeps up with the runner down the street. He's running people to the ground and throwing stalls and debris behind him to shake off his chasers, slowing down Alara's partner. Thankfully, Alara is still on his trail. She eventually reaches the favelas, weaving around them and climbing over them. She loses sight of the street for only a few seconds and has already lost him. When scanning around, she sees him again at the last second, running up the stairs into the favelas. Alara resumes the chase.

With her partner wholly gone, she hones in on the runner. Skipping gaps and vaulting balconies, she closes more and more distance. She is running out of time, noticing the gates to the next district ahead. With newfound determination, she picks up the pace even more. She runs on the roofs above him now, and he doesn't notice. Only a few more buildings are ahead of her before ending by the district wall. She needs to do something now. "Come on!" she pants when she leaps off the roof toward the man. As she jumps, time seems to slow down. The wind whistles past her ears. SMACK! She lands on top of him, sending them both tumbling further, but since he caught her fall, he is in a lot more pain than she is. While people around clear off, Alara clutters up and grabs the groaning man by his collar, pulling him up. She leads him away from the street into an alley and pins him against the wall.

"Thought you could run? Where is the relic?" she growls, out of breath.

"Sounds like a fetching lady behind that mask. Why don't you show your face, huh? I am a dead man regardless." the man pants, then groans in pain. "No harm in it, right?"

Alara reaches around her lower back and reveals a dagger which she holds against the man's throat. "Do you truly think Urvel wants you dead? He is going to do so much worse. Tell me where the relic is, and I can make it quick."

The man grunts again, feeling a drop of blood escaped his neck where the blade is. His cold expression intensifies. "You don't even know who you're actually working for, do you? Your guild and Urvel can burn in a thousand voids. Torture me all you want. The artefact is in good hands. Far away from the Touch of Shadows."

Alara's amber eyes have a faint glow underneath her hood. "We shall see." and with a swift motion, she stabs a dart into his neck, making him instantly fall asleep and crumble to the ground.

A few hours later, the man wakes up and realizes he's being dragged across the ground by his bound arms. Footsteps echo, and his head is pounding. His vision is blurry, but he can see the glow of torches and cavern walls all around him. His captors eventually throw him onto the rocky ground, and then they leave. When the captive looks up, he sees two people standing before him. Alara, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, and another man, white of hair, neatly tied into a ponytail. His grey skin glistens with torchlight, and his eyes radiate a crimson of malice. He looks down upon the man, who clutters up on his rear, breathing heavily in fear of anticipation of what is about to come. "Where am I?"

"Does it matter?" the white-haired man says. His voice sounds calm and collected. "I'm certain you know who I am."

"Urvel." the man responds, "The great Overseer, isn't it? You're the man your lackey threatened me with."

Urvel takes a quick glance at Alara, who still has her hood and mask on, and he smiles softly, crouching down in front of the captive and looking him in the eyes. "Well, tell me then. She frightened you?"

"I am afraid of no one."

Urvel nods, presses his lips together in acknowledgement, and stands back up. "It's a shame, really. See, the things I heard about you, I always thought you were a clever man." he starts pacing around him, "The way you were always able to be one step ahead of my men. My partner here said you almost escaped again if it wasn't for her excellent climbing skills." he stops pacing in front of him, "Yet, you seem to misconceive the gravity of the situation. What did she tell you? That I was going to torture you?" he chuckles, "The place you will end up, my friend, you will wish it was merely torture. I will grant you one last chance."

He looks behind him and gestures to two henchmen who come to stand beside him. Urvel and his two masked grunts watch him. "If I were you, I would take it. Where is the artefact?"

The captive straightens his back and lifts his chin, staring Urvel dead in the eye, but he remains silent. Alara notices a sense of pride in how the captive puffs his chest.

"Take him away," Urvel turns up his nose, returning the cold gaze. At the same time, the captive is dragged away, leaving him and Alara alone in the cavern.

"You know he won't talk, right? He's of the Order, they never do." Alara says, still leaning on the rocky wall. Urvel turns to her. "Oh he will."

Alara sighs, "Is it this new 'place' you're sending him to again?" She takes a few steps closer. "I am your best tracker in this entire community, and I've done more for you than anyone else. When are you going to let me in on your secrets?"

Urvel sighs and clenches his jaw, slowly stepping toward her. "Because you can't control your family. While you were out hunting this man," he points at Alara, "your daughter was skulking about one of our ships in the city."

Alara's eyes, the only visible feature on her face, widen. "What? What did she do?"

"She saw the face of two enforcers, and to top it all off, she stole a manifest of one of our shipments before she ran away when we saw her."

"Look..." Alara's hands start shaking, "My daughter won't be a problem anymore from now on, I swear. I will make sure she won't tell anyone. And I will return the manifest or destroy it, it's your call."

"Alara, if your daughter is anything like you, you know you will never be able to truly stop her."

"Then I will tell her everything, even about me, so she knows being quiet about this is the only way. I will resolve this, Urvel. I promise."

Urvel turns around and starts walking away. "You're the Queen of High Harbour. You should have resolved this a long time ago. You're dismissed." Alara leaves the cave as quickly as she can, ending up on the docks of High Harbour. With seagulls squawking everywhere and snow beginning to fall, she climbs the slopes toward the lower district, rubbing her arms together. She enters another alley, and midway through, she sees a person standing at the end of it, watching her. Without hesitation, she reaches around her lower back, but before she can do it, at least six people jump her. She feels multiple blades pierce her flesh over and over again. She struggles, her last surge of adrenaline able to punch someone in the face, but they are relentlessly stabbing her, the pain now starting to kick in. She crumbles to the floor, groaning and whimpering, a pool of blood forming beneath her, turning the snow crimson. All she hears is one of them saying. "I'm sorry, Alara. This is bigger than all of us now." And just like that, they are all gone. The adrenaline starts fading, and the excruciating pain kicks in, leaving Alara helpless and alone, bleeding out from an uncountable number of stab wounds.

"Bryce..." she whimpers under her breath before passing out.

> ...In the realms of the old Hinos, each settlement harbouring a significant temple was ruled by a leader who had mastered the art of Void Magic. Such arcane art does not exist anymore in today's age, but back then, it was bestowed to the most devout dragon priests of the god Lundir. There was no other way to learn it. Only eight of them have ever existed, and they were called Masters of Scion and formed a religious and secretive order called the Circle of Eight. The Circle was the voice and sword of Lundir and the protectors of the sacred Hinos temples... - "The Book of the Rose, Chapter IV" by Emperor Midas I of the House Bladesong.

Kirkpine Forest

Outskirts of High Harbour, Trinitan Empire

Western Wayland

7th of Frostfang, 475 (5E)

Snow gently falls from the grey skies, covering the pine trees in white. Crows caw in the distance, and the cackles of coyotes haunt the forest. Beneath the trees walks Kiera, a seventeen-year-old noble from House Bloodcrest. The cold breeze brushes past her fur hood, with long brown strands of hair sticking out. An ashen recurve bow is wrapped around the fur gambeson she's wearing, and a quiver is attached to her hip. She takes a halt and crouches, inspecting a hoof print dug deep in the cold snow. Realizing it's pretty fresh, Kiera keeps a low profile and grabs her bow slowly and smoothly. With the bow in her hand, she follows the tracks. When she hears the rush of water in the distance, she realizes the tracks lead to a river, and the animal likely paused to drink somewhere. With that knowledge, Kiera lowers herself even more, using her free hand to navigate the partially submerged snow ferns and brushes without making too much noise. When she nears the river, she hears a low grunt, which draws her attention to a buck looking around beside the river. It doesn't notice her yet, nestled between bushes and camouflaged by the snow covering most of her clothes. With smooth and slow motions, she sets down her knee and takes an arrow, nocking it into her bow and taking a deep breath. She draws the creaking string along her arm, and after taking a few seconds to aim, Kiera lets the arrow fly with a twang. It barely has any time to react other than a painful grunt before dropping lifelessly to the ground. It went right into the heart. Taking a shot like this, crouched in freezing temperatures, obscured by plants, and still hitting a target right in the heart isn't something every archer can do, but Kiera did. Only seventeen years old and already so dexterous with a bow and arrow. A smile appears on her face, and she relaxes. She stands up and heads to the carcass, vaulting over a snowed-over log and warming her red face by breathing into cupped hands. "You will make many little stomachs happy," Kiera mutters, pulling out the bloody arrow.

An hour passes before Kiera pulls the carcass on a small cart through the forest. This is where she loves to be. It's peaceful, and here she can be alone. To think, reflect, and recover from the busy city of High Harbour. Speaking off, as Kiera steps out of the tree line with the cart, the city lies on the horizon, nestled between snowy mountains to the right and the expansive ocean to the left. A flock of crows emerge from the canopies, cawing in harmony as they soar towards the city. "Fuck, it's cold," she mutters while hugging herself for a moment, her breath turning into little clouds. She makes her way towards the road leading to the gates. One would think you grow tired of the same view after living here your whole life, but that isn't the case for Kiera. The chalky, white walls, the tall and pointy roofs of tower turrets, the grand keep towering above everything else. Usually, the capital of Wayland is a centre of trade. Still, the country gets colder during winter than any other in the Empire. Most cities live on built-up stockpiles until the cold season is over. The main road is, therefore, nearly empty. Not a single soul is seen until she approaches the gatehouse. She's greeted by many more guards than usual manning the walls and guarding the entrance, wearing thick fur cloaks and huddling up beside burning braziers. The blue banners hosting a golden rose still hang proudly off the white stone with snow-covered edges, and the gate is closed entirely. "Halt, who goes there? The city is closed by the order of King Bryce." one of the guards on the wall shouts. Despite the cold, Kiera pulls off her hood, revealing her long brown hair cascading off her shoulders. Single braids run down the back of her head, and one braid loosely hangs beside her forehead. "It's me, Kiera. His daughter."

"Oh shit!" the guard exclaims to himself, "Open the gate! The Princess arrived."

"What's with the heavy security?" Kiera asks. No one answers her, but the heavy iron gates slowly ascend with screeching and squeaking sounds. Behind it, two guards on horseback await. They ride towards Kiera in unison when the gate is raised high enough. "Princess, we are ordered to escort you to the castle."

"Why? What is happening? Tell me now, at once." Kiera commands.

"This matter is best shared by your father, Princess. We're sorry. Please, we ask of you to come with us. It is on your father's orders." Kiera rolls her eyes, "Fine. But I need to stop by the orphanage in the lower district first."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Princess. We brought your horse. It will be faster." Kiera lets a soft growl and walks inside, dragging the carcass behind her. "Try and stop me then." The captain orders a few more men to accompany her as she walks up to her white horse, slinging the carcass on its back and fastening it before climbing on it herself. "Right, let's get this over with."

Accompanied by at least ten guards on horseback, Kiera rides through the empty streets of the Core District toward the Lower District. The gatehouse is once again heavily guarded. The captain speaks on her behalf. "Let her through on my responsibility."

"But the King-" the guard by the gatehouse objects.

"She is protected by my best men, she has a stop to make."

And through the gate, she goes. An eerie air looms through this part of the city. The houses are much worse for wear around here, and while there were some people out back in the Core District, it is lifeless here. Just her and the army of guards protecting her. She stops by an alley and climbs off her horse. All but two guards do as well and follow her inside the alley. The captain carries the carcass for her, clad in complete steel armour and a fur cloak wrapped around his body. "Please, Princess. Make it quick."

"These people rely on me, Captain Pollus. Especially in the winter. Even if the Lower District is burning, I still need to be here."

"At this point, it might as well," he mutters, but Kiera doesn't go further because she has reached her destination. There's a sign nailed to the wall next to the door displaying the words "Kirkwood Orphanage."

"I got it from here. Thank you." she smiles as the captain drops the buck by the door. She knocks two times, and a few moments later, the door swings open, revealing a sweet-looking old lady standing in the doorway, grey hair and wrinkles all over her face. "I brought a buck. You can ask Tommen to prepare it for the little ones." but then she notices the absence of a smile on the lady's face. "Is something wrong?"

"It's Lucan." she says, her lips shaking slightly, "He's not doing well, I think you should-" she can't even finish her words as Kiera walks inside, gently pushing aside the old lady. The guards want to follow her, but she orders them to stay. Inside the orphanage is pure chaos. More than twenty children are playing and running around everywhere, yelling and making a mess of the whole place. Kiera heads up a small creaking staircase into the communal bedroom where Tommen sits beside a bed, holding the hand of a small, pale boy. Kiera hurries towards them and looks at him. Pale, eyes barely open, his breath is slow. He doesn't even notice her.

"How did he deteriorate so fast?" Kiera kneels by the bed on the other side, looking at Tommen, the snow on her clothes starting to melt. He looks about the same age as her, ginger with lots of freckles on his face. We don't know. He was doing better yesterday, but this morning, I don't know what happened." He pauses and reinforces the serious look on his face. But Kiera, we knew this was coming."

"Hold on, I have healers at home. Just give me some time." Kiera stands up, about to leave, when Tommen stops her. "You know even the best healer in Oryn cannot cure Blackblight. Look at him. He's tired. You don't want to be gone looking for help when he..." Kiera looks at the little boy, and Tommen is right. His time has come. Defeated, she lumbers back to Lucan's bed and kneels beside him, resting her arms on the straw bedding. "Hey there, buddy." Kiera says softly, running her finger through his short, ashen hair, "It's me, Kiera. Tommen is here, too." Lucan doesn't respond, but she knows he's listening. Kiera strokes his head and holds one of his small, pale hands. "You remember all the bedtime stories Tommen and I told you? Especially the one with the magical deer in the field of roses? How it was free and happy? How it was grazing in the summer breeze with his friends, with a view of mountains touching the clear blue sky, forests stretching across the horizon, and the beautiful songs of birds flying overhead? See, soon, that will be you. You know that?" Kiera's voice trembles slightly as she fights the tears. "Soon, you will be that deer, walking around the fields with your friends. You will be happy. And one day, I will come to meet you there. With all my heart, I promise." At this point, Kiera fails to hold back the tears as they roll down her cheek, and she can't talk anymore, sobbing quietly. She even feels a hint of anger. "I will miss you. You don't deserve this at all. Such a kind soul."

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"He's gone, Kiera." Tommen says quietly, tearing up himself.

And he's right. His breath fades. He's gone. Kiera keeps looking at the boy; her face flushes red and wet with tears, but she seems cold. "He was only seven."

"I know. It's not fair." Tommen says. "I'll go get Thrud."

Ten minutes later, Kiera steps outside the orphanage, defeated and hunched over. When she closes the door, she bursts into tears and collapses against the wall, crying her eyes out to the point where she's hyperventilating. Kiera had known the boy since she was ten. She saw him grow up, play and make friends for seven years despite having no parents. And all of that is now gone because of a crippling disease that cannot be cured. And she knows he isn't the only one suffering such a sad fate in the orphanage. And there is nothing she can do. And nothing her father wants to do. Captain Pollus carefully steps towards her. "Are you alright, princess?"

Kiera pulls up her hood and sniffs, rubbing her nose on her arm. "Yes. Let's just go home."

The captain and his men escort her out of the district back into the Core. From here, she has a view of the Grand Keep between the houses on the street, nestled on a hill in the middle of the city. Her home. While navigating the icy cobblestone, towering structures and weathered archways frame the scene, with rose banners fluttering in the breeze overhead. To reach the keep, one must walk a hundred and fifty-two steps uphill. She always feels bad for the people who have to drag supplies up here all the time, but the horses are making it more manageable. She isn't even at the top yet when a group of guards emerge from the bailey gate, hasting towards her. Kiera stops and frowns in confusion, calmly grasping the shaft of her bow that's wrapped around her chest while the other holds the reins. "Princess Kiera, King Bryce has ordered us to escort you inside as soon as you arrive. Please come with us."

Kiera still doesn't understand, but she gestures toward the entrance and rolls her eyes. "Lead the way. "As she enters the bailey, she feels watched by its garrison. The blacksmiths, the training soldiers, and the gatekeepers all watch her until she looks back at them. That's when they avert their gaze. Servants help her off her horse and lead it to the stables, and two guards lead her to the castle entrance, opening the big heavy doors for her. Inside stands the king, eyeing down his daughter with a frustrated and stressed look. "Where have you been?"

"You know where I've been." Kiera snaps at him. He suddenly steps forward and grabs her by the arm, reminding her of his immense strength and towering build. "These trips outside the castle will stop at once. You will be placed under house arrest, and if any of my men catch you outside again, I will throw you into the dungeon by Arakh, I swear it!" he raises his voice by the end of his sentence. Kiera squirms loose and takes a step back, but she can't ignore the fact that her hands are slightly shaking. "Then tell me what the fuck is going on."

The king takes a deep breath. "Your mother is dead."

No. No. She won't accept this. For a moment, she wanted to assault him for making such an insensitive joke. But her father never makes jokes. "No," Kiera mutters in a shaky voice. "Kiera..." Bryce sighs.

"No," Kiera nearly starts crying. Bryce feels her pain and uses that moment to walk up to her and hug her. She hugs back, sobbing and sagging into his arms. "Why?" Kiera says, muffled in her father's arms, crying out loud. Bryce kneels down and keeps her safe, resting his head on hers. His voice warm, and calm. "People found her in the Lower District, murdered by cowards. But I promise you, my daughter. I will find out who did this, and I will give them what they deserve."

Kiera feels lost now, still crying and thinking about Lucan and her mother. But for some reason, she feels guilt. Why? Then she realizes she has the shady shipment manifest she had found at the docks. Could it really be linked to each other? It did have a strange message written on the back. Suddenly, feelings of hate and anger trickle inside her, more and more, until she opens her eyes in rage and determination. She won't let anyone else take anything away from her again. She agrees with her father. Whoever did this needs to pay. And now she will go to the ends of the earth to make that happen. They will pay.

> ...No one really knows where the term "Void" in Void Magic comes from. It is literally translated from the word "It'tk" from Old Hinian. But no records ever mention why the "void", when it supposedly comes from the god Lundir. Some scholars believe Lundir isn't only the Hinos God of War but also of nothingness. The colour is black. The space between life and the afterlife. If such is the case, that would mean there are countless souls trapped in the void. Souls rejected by the Holy Trinity. And Void Magic could be tapping from the essence of those lost souls. We will possibly never know, but the thought alone sends chills down one's spine. - "The Book of the Rose, Chapter IV" by Emperor Midas I of the House Bladesong

Crest Castle

High Harbour, Trinitan Empire

Western Wayland

8th of Frostfang, 475 (5E)

Silence is the only thing that reigns over Kiera's chamber, aside from the crackling fire of her hearth. She sits behind her desk, looking out the darkness behind her ornate window and the snowflakes that instantly melt when they touch the filtered glass. Her hand supports her head, and she can't stop thinking about her mother. Tonight is her funeral, and she doesn't know if she's ready for it yet. It's all my fault, she keeps thinking. Perhaps if she didn't sneak around places she wasn't supposed to, her mother would still be alive. She was just so curious; her mother was always secretive about her work. There were times she thought her mother was a criminal and kept it from her father. Was she right? Did she come too close to finding out about illegal operations in the city that her mother had to pay with her life? All these thoughts keep rushing through her head until a tear escapes, rolling down her cheek. A gentle knock on her door startles her slightly, and she sniffs, wiping a tear away. "Come in." The door opens, revealing a young servant holding the hand of an even younger boy, black of hair and wearing a neat black velvet tunic. He doesn't express much emotion. "Here is your brother, Princess. He wanted to see you first. The others are waiting in the gardens, your father requested not to take too long."

Kiera nods and stands up, opening her arms to the little boy. "Come, Aidan." she then looks back to the servant. "Thank you. We won't be long."

Aidan runs up to Kiera and hugs her as she crouches down, crying. Before she swung the door closed, the servant wanted to say one more thing. "My condolences, princess. Queen Alara was a lovely woman." The door shuts, and Kiera holds her brother's head against her chest, hushing and gently cradling him. "I miss her too, little petal. I miss her too."

"I don't want to be at the funeral." Aidan sobs.

"I know, me neither. But we have to, we have to say goodbye to mother. This is our only chance."

"But I'm scared," Aidan continues, crying in his sister's arms. Kiera stops hugging and gently holds his head to look at her. "There's no need. I will be by your side every step of the way. I promise. What do you say, hm? You and me, together. You know mother is with Arakh now. She's watching us. I think she would love us being there."

Aidan nods, two tears rolling down his cheek.

"Let's go." Kiera stands up and holds his hand, leading him out of the room, through the hallway riddled with paintings, and down the stairs toward the gardens. A lot of people are waiting, some even in the halls as there isn't enough room. But when they see who's approaching, they all step aside and make way. Two guards join Kiera and Aidan as they lumber outside the door behind the throne. All eyes are on them now. It is so silent, and the smell of incense fills the air. When they enter the gardens, they are greeted by many courtiers. Kiera feels Aidan's hand tighten around hers, and she pulls him closer, placing her other hand on his shoulder.

The royal gardens, usually a place of vibrant colour and life, now stand cloaked in a heavy, respectful silence. Draped in dark banners and illuminated by the soft glow of countless lanterns, they emit an air of reverence and sorrow. The members of the Bloodcrest family, clad in dark attire, stand before a grand marble statue in the shape of an owl with spread wings. The deity of life, Arakh. They show faces etched with grief. Another man stands further ahead, dressed in a black robe and an oversized necklace of white feathers. He is a priest of the Trinitan Faith, signalling by raising his right hand for the funeral to begin. A moment later, the city's bells begin to toll, their mournful peal resonating through the air and mingling with the soft whispers of the gathered court. Through the garden gates ahead, three more priests in black robes, adorned with black feathers, enter in solemn procession. Kiera nearly loses composure again when she sees the servant behind them, bearing an open coffin, moving with a deliberate, ceremonial grace. The coffin, crafted from dark, polished wood and lined with rich, black fabric, carries the body of Queen Alara Fyre. Dressed in an ashen outfit adorned with the same black raven feathers, concealing the numerous stab wounds that were her downfall. She lies peacefully, her face serene in eternal rest. The procession moves steadily forward; the echo of the bells is a haunting accompaniment to their steps. As the coffin is gently placed before Arakh's statue, Kiera, Aidan, and Bryce fix their eyes on Alara within. The priests step forward, each holding a single white feather. They position themselves around the coffin, their movements synchronized and deliberate. In unison, they place the feathers on the chest of Queen Alara, forming a triangle, the sacred symbol of Morakh, the deity of Fated Death.

With heads bowed, the priests begin to chant, their voices weaving together in a low, melodic prayer. "Great Arakh, Goddess of Life and Creation, we honour the life you bestowed upon our beloved Queen Alara. Mighty Senakh, we seek your guidance to maintain harmony in our hearts and kingdom during this time of loss. Morakh, Lord of Fated Death, we beseech you to welcome our queen into the Realm Beyond with gentle wings and grant her eternal peace. Let her passage be serene and her soul be at rest under your watchful and compassionate gaze. May your divine presence comfort us as we mourn, and may we find solace in the balance you maintain in our world." The words, ancient and powerful, fill the throne room with an aura of solemnity and reverence. The gathered mourners close their eyes, joining their hearts in silent prayer, seeking Morakh's mercy for the departed soul. As the final notes of the prayer fade into the stillness, the priests step back, allowing the royal family to approach. One by one, they come forward. Kiera, her eyes brimming with tears, gently touches her mother's lifeless hand. Looking upon her face again, she silently swears to avenge her "Goodbye, mother." Aidan, only nine, clings to his sister as she guides him to Alara, his face stern but his eyes betraying his grief. He places a small token of remembrance beside the body. His little wooden owl figurine. "I will miss you, mama."

With their farewells spoken, Kiera and Aidan step back, joining their father in silence. The room remains hushed, the only sound the distant tolling of the bells. It is the king's turn. He steps forward with purpose, and as soon as he does, Kiera catches someone in the crowd staring at her. A male face that showed no grief nor pity. But instead, watchful...warning. Moments after their eyes meet, the man steps back and disappears into the crowd like a ghost. Kiera tries to find him with her eyes, but he's gone. The slippery grip on her brother's hand made her realize she had started sweating heavily. Aidan notices it, looking up at her with frowned eyebrows. Kiera overlooks her brother's concern, fixated on the crowd of courtiers. Bryce whispers his goodbyes, which means it is time for the grand finale of the funeral.

For royal funerals, a master arcanist from the Windlight Academy in Southern Umbral is to be summoned to perform the holy ascension rite, communing with the deities in ways not even the High Priest could. Such communication is done through the use of the Lunar Winds. A form of magic said to be used by the three deities of the Trinitan faith, similar to the old Void Magic, but less powerful and much more accessible if one studies these arcane arts intensively. Because of this, Lunar Winds is considered to be holy magic for Trinitans. Such a master arcanist travelled all the way from the southern edge of the Empire to the north, all in one day, which is impossible without the use of magic. Through the garden gate, he steps, clad in clean white robes that leave his black-clothed arms and legs free for more ease of movement. Long grey hair protrudes from his white hood, concealing most of his wrinkled face. He parades with grace and radiates power the way he holds a short, oaken staff in one hand and a glittering necklace in the other. All the courtiers he passes by swear they can hear a faint hum emitting from his person. He halts in front of the coffin and gently places the crystal-riddled necklace in the middle of the feather triangle on Alara's chest. He speaks with a deep, loud, and powerful tone, addressing the royal family first. "Your Graces, devout followers of the faith, first and foremost, the Windlight Academy sends their deepest condolences, as you have mine. To be rid of such a noble soul in service of the Holy Emperor Midas III is a great tragedy. The powerful Arch-Arcanist Varsek Everbright, leader of the Academy, offers his assistance in seeking the perpetrator. Bryce nods gratefully, and the master arcanist continues while the servants close the coffin. "Your Grace, are you ready for Queen Alara's soul to ascend into the Realm Beyond and join the Holy Flock?"

Bryce peers at his son and daughter, who both look down at the ground and then nods. "We are ready."

"Very well." the magician says, closing his eyes. Because of what is about to happen, every single person attending this funeral is silent and, despite the sorrow and darkness, almost smiles in anticipation. He plants his staff into the ground and holds it tight with both of his hands. He begins to whisper. No one can hear what he is actually saying, but his words start to form blue, gentle specks of light twirling around his staff. His eyes begin to crackle with ethereal light, and the clouds above part like a curtain, revealing a clear night sky, and the full, large and radiant moon casts its light onto the garden. Slowly, the light intensifies, drawn down by the arcanist's whispers. It envelops the garden, creating a beautiful, otherworldly scene. Blue magical lights, like fireflies, begin to dance through the air, illuminating the snow-covered trees and flowers and the mourners below. The garden transforms into a serene, mystical landscape, a fitting tribute to the beloved Queen Alara. As the chant reaches its crescendo, a beam of moonlight descends directly onto the coffin, bathing Queen Alara in a soft, luminescent glow. The arcanist steps closer, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. The blue lights gather around the coffin, forming a shimmering aura that lifts gently upwards. With eyes shot with glowing blue, even emitting an ethereal smoke, he starts raising his shaking voice as the scene intensifies. Everyone can tell this ritual is very demanding for the caster. "Arakh! Senakh and Morakh! I asketh of thee! Accept this noble soul into thine realm! Watch over her as part of thine Flock!"

For the ultimate finale, the sky rumbles as thousands of owls and ravens fly overhead, cawing and hooting in unison. The sounds, the ascending light of Alara's soul, and all the little glowing lights dancing around the entire garden made Aidan cling to her sister even more, crying at the melancholic beauty of this whole scene. "Look, Aidan. The birds, it is a sign of the gods they accepted mother's soul." Kiera whispers into his ear.

"She truly is with Arakh now," Aidan adds, wiping away tears in his eyes. And then, all the ethereal light slowly fades, and the clouds merge beneath the moon once again. All that is left is the usual orange glow of the lanterns. The arcanist leans onto his staff, hunched over with laboured breathing. "Morakh accepted Queen Alara's Fated Death. She is with Them," the arcanist says. Without saying anything else, he turns to leave, and upon reaching the gate, his personal guards from Windlight accompany him outside.

"It is over." Bryce says, "We should bury her now with all our ancestors, so her soul can remain with the gods for eternity."

> ...And then Xinz'r, First Master of Scion, proclaimed, "Freedom is a lie, there is only Fervor. Through Fervor comes Strength. Through Strength comes Power. Through Power comes Victory. Through Victory, my Chains are broken. The Truth shall free me."... - The Book of the Rose - By Emperor Midas I of the House Bladesong

Urvel stands before a bloody table in the cave Alara was in earlier, cleaning various tools with a rag while wearing leather gloves dripping with crimson. The orange flicker of torchlight reflects into his calm, dark red eyes. Carefully, he repeatedly dips the rag into a bucket of water to clean the table. He wears a black buttoned-up gilet with white rolled-up sleeves, protecting it from blood spilling onto it. A soft groan sounds behind him, conjuring a faint smile on his face. Finally, when the table and tools are clean, he grabs the bucket. He steps away, peering at the gruesome sight of a limbless man, all hair scorched off, covered in hundreds of bloody cuts. Blood dripped from his broken mouth, a single tooth still dangling off his lip. The sockets where his eyes are supposed to be are nothing but dark, gory holes of flesh. This is the same man who ran from Alara and refused to talk. The Overseer walks into the next cavern, hosting a small creek, collecting water coming out of several holes in the jagged walls, and pours out the red liquid from the bucket. "Did he talk?" a female voice emerges behind him. The fact that Urvel didn't hear her footsteps forms a grin on his face. Without turning, he answers. "He did."

"What did he say?"

Urvel now washes his gloves and hands in the stream of water. "He gave us a new lead. We have to send owls to our cells in Volar'an."

"Why the east?"

"Apparently that's where they discovered ancient Hinos ruins housing murials that require translation. I will be heading there personally myself, but our Volar'an cell needs to be informed prematurely. We need the ruins secure before anyone else shows up."

"I trust you will get it done," the woman says. Urvel turns, drying his hands, and looks upon the black and red-robed lady. Blonde, long, cascading hair protrudes from her hood. "Of course, Lady Aylin."

"Good," she says, turning to leave but stopping herself after a few steps to turn to him again. "Well done interrogating the man. These lot are trained to withstand torture and can be a real pain. I will make sure to tell Master Xinz'r about your success. He will be pleased."

"My thanks, Lady Aylin." Urvel nods, and the hooded lady leaves through the cave corridors, passing by another man on his way to Urvel, who respectfully bows towards her before continuing.

Urvel steps into the interrogation room again, meeting the man, who salutes with a fist on his chest. "At ease, Brother Engar. What news have you?"

"Alara's funeral has concluded. We observed her daughter, and she holds contempt and anger within her heart. Same as the king. We stirred the Wayland kingdom too much, sir."

Urvel grunts, "No matter, because we are diverting our attention to the desert of Volar'an. It will allow us to lay low here. Just keep an eye on the king and Princess. Committing regicide has its consequences. Before I leave I will collect some favors in the city and make sure they won't discover our base of operations." he sniffs calmly, "Anything else?"

Engar hesitates, "Some of the others began to question whether killing Alara was really the right move."

Urvel turns his head slightly in an attempt to hide his twitching eye. "She couldn't control her daughter."

"She was our best tracker." the man insists, "And she kept the city guard off our backs."

The Overseer calmly takes a step closer to Engar, looking him straight in the eye. "It was not my decision. You're right, she was an outstanding member of the 'Shadows'. But what if one day she decides she wants to quit? Or her husband finds out about her affiliation with us? As the queen consort of King Bryce, she has the power to wipe out this entire cell with one breath. Not to mention her daughter becoming an increasing nuisance. Something had to be done. It was an order from the 'Echo of Silence'."

Engar relaxes and nods. "Fine. What would you have me tell the others, then? They are growing restless."

Urvel clenches his sharp jaw, visibly annoyed. "Set up a gathering come tomorrow. I will address them myself."

"Of course, sir." Engar salutes before leaving Urvel alone in the interrogation room. Silence. He peers at the dismembered body, still breathing faintly, and steps towards it.

Kill the Princess...

Whispers begin to circle around his head, appearing from different directions. "Not now..." he mutters to himself.

Kill her!

She will kill you...plotting...

Master will be displeased... Xinz'r...will unmake you...

...will unmake you!...

Don't listen to them...listen to us!

She is too young...

...but still a killer in the making...

You are pathetic...too soft...too harsh...

As he gazes into the hollow eyes of the dismembered torso, his vision fills with red. His heart quickens, faster and faster, and his fingers tingle; with no real thought, he grabs a clean knife from the table beside him, and as the man before him faintly moans in agony, he begins stabbing. Stab. Stab. Stab. Stab. Over and over and over again. Blood spills everywhere, and his hands and face get bloodier and bloodier. Stab. Stab. Stab. The man has shown no life for a while now, but he keeps stabbing with increasing speed and power, grunting louder and louder. His arm feels sore, and he finally stops stabbing when there is nothing left but the messy, bloody corpse of a man so unrecognizable he could not be considered human any longer. Urvel snarls softly, then steps back, realizing what he has done. He looks at his red, dripping hands and forearms. Softly, he whispers to himself.

"I have to kill her..."