Ayre

I should feel wretched.

And yet I don’t.

If anything, I’m back to being wary of allowing myself to feel hopeful.

A part of me screams to distrust this, to recognize that I am more vulnerable right now than I think.

But I can’t get Astraea’s words out of my head.

How much can time change?

I am already the farthest from depths I have ever been.

No Executioner stalks the streets of these groves.

But the Lunarians will likely respond eventually to how I continue to slight them.

Lest I forget, I allegedly have siblings who are on their way to visit.

But they are not here now. Which means I should make the most of this time available to me.

Watching Snapdragon depart pulls at something in me.

I’ve felt it before, in Cerya’s embrace.

I associate the weight on my chest and beating of my heart with a need to compromise. But I keep finding myself in situations where I am held in place by the affections of others.

No obligation.

No reward for fulfilling the role expected or asked of me.

I am just subjected to being claimed before being left to accomplish tasks to the benefit of me and me alone.

Maybe I was far too quick to dismiss Astraea’s most hopeful claims.

Maybe I don’t have to rely entirely on my own strength.

I just…

I…

I watched Lenore die again.

I felt it.

I resonated with it, even.

I took Lenore’s memory and wielded it like a weapon.

Grove Tender Mel’Viora didn’t even have the decency to cry out in pain or be moved by the emotional weight of it all.

It still hurts.

But the memory doesn’t hurt anywhere near like it used to.

My every experience tells me that I should be on a downward spiral right now.

Sure, pouring my everything into a gemstone should leave me emotionally drained. But I can already feel thoughts I would otherwise refuse to entertain can now pass freely through my head and without stress.

My most isolated thoughts were voiced aloud before being immediately validated by Snapdragon.

I am left to consider a world without Lenore no longer feeling like a hopeless and hollow concept.

And I just… am struck by not knowing how to deal with that.

Objectively, there are so many things Lenore would be better at.

She would know how to comfort Fia and Selescia. I on the other hand don’t know what comes after keeping them safe. Sometimes it feels like it is all I can do to secure time or circumstances for them to rest. Sleeping in shifts kept Lenore and I alive in the depths. But it doesn’t feel like enough.

Lenore would most certainly be able to tap into whatever it is that attracts Cerya to Astraea. But I admitted to Snapdragon that Lenore struggled with giving up while in the depths. There is a very real chance that Lenore would need Cerya’s reassurances and comforts more than I do.

As for Theriya, Lenore would have stayed up late to get to know her. It would have been safer, I think, than trusting so easily.

How many times had Lenore stayed awake after it was my turn to be on watch? Whether it was to hear out my concerns or calm my nerves, she always put me and the dolls before herself.

Would she wear herself out by staying up too late?

Would Snapdragon still be alive if an exhausted Lenore was not at her best?

And I know why I am so sure about all of this. I could probably sit down and follow the memories back, logically speaking. But wondering where Ayre ends and Lenore begins still inspires dread. Such considerations are a sure way to result in a senseless spiral where I come away no more sure of myself.

Do Snapdragon’s words resonate with me? Or has she merely managed to grasp at and speak to an understanding that I am more than what remains of the Ayre and Lenore whose experience was confined to the depths of my past?

It is probably for the best that Snapdragon held onto the gemstones. She’ll know what needs to be done. And I am probably better off not dulling my thoughts by consigning them to stone.

As Snapdragon turns to disappear from view, she stops to turn in my direction one last time. No words are spoken on account of the distance between us, but I do enjoy wondering what it is going through her mind.

A sudden sense of self awareness is enough to cause my breath to catch in my throat.

My scars may be open to the world, but knowing that Snapdragon and I survived makes it worth it.

I suddenly feel like I could weather being called any number of things and having to think of her as something she isn’t if it means we both get to live another day.

To the depths with whatever Mel’Viora or any of her other Thorns or Howling Watchers might think or do in response.

I’m willing to cast my lot in with Snapdragon and the Seed Seers.

Not that I ever had a choice in the long term.

But now I know I want it.

I’m not sure what exactly that changes, but if I had to guess it no longer feels like an obligation.

I am invested enough that I push myself into action.

In no specific order, I need to speak with Cerya, Astraea, and Amari.

Cerya surely has a task of her own to complete for the day. She did say she probably shouldn’t be helping me, after all. There are also likely insights that I will only be able to glean from her about the Moon Wrought implements she and her sister produce.

All I will need from that point is a map and an understanding of how widespread these Cinderblights are. If they are infecting territorial creatures, can we push them back to these caves that the Lunarians dare not venture?

Bolt throwers and spears may make poor weapons in claustrophobic environments, but any cave resembling the depths of my birth would be the ideal hunting ground for me. Fighting underground also means that I would not be limited to the daylight hours when the moon would erode our capacity to differentiate friend or foe.

If I can keep the grove safe tonight, maybe I can earn enough goodwill to coax a group of Watchers into enabling this plan of mine.

But that would mean trying to make a better third impression on the Thorned Watchers than my first at the gates and second in their barrack.

As I near the barrack in question, I begin to smell the fresh blood before anything else.

Burned flesh and foul chemicals come next.

Cerya must have finished extracting emotional resonance. Enough that they are actually beginning to address the many wounds accrued by the Thorned Watchers the night prior.

I am not particularly thirsty, but being fresh from a physically and emotionally draining encounter is likely causing my body to reexamine my priorities.

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I brace myself and decide to knock on the barrack door. No sense barging in if I am unwelcome.

An unfamiliar voice answers. “Come in, Princeling.”

Having spoken to or overheard the voices of most the Thorned Watchers inside, that I do not recognize the speaker puts me on edge.

The voice continues to take its time drawing amusement in the words that follow. “Your escorts have been making themselves useful in your absence.”

I open the door.

Amari and Astraea are the first ones I see. Astraea is holding a Watcher still while Amari delights in layering a thick yellow substance on a wound before wrapping it in bandages.

It takes almost no time at all for the Watcher on the receiving end to relax.

Meanwhile the owner of the voice from before is quick to approach me. She is taller than Astraea and has even sharper facial features. Cerulean hair falls neatly to just above her right shoulder. Unlike every other Watcher Uniform I have seen, hers is the only one to show fresh signs of wear and tear.

A nearby spear next to the bed she rose from is still bloodied. Judging by the equipment set aside on the bed, I seem to have interrupted her efforts to clean it.

“I presume you are the First Seed of the Thorned Watchers.” I say, by way of greeting.

“I am she who sprung first to lead my planting of Thorns.” First favors me with an expression of pride while gesturing to her chest. Next comes a pointed sense of disappointment as the door to the barracks closes behind me. “Is Third not with you?”

My answer comes in the form of a raised eyebrow. “Should she be?”

“Third was to report to me after entreating with the Howlers. My understanding is that you accompanied her.”

My first instinct is to answer in the affirmative. But something causes me to hesitate.

“Does Third answer to you?” I say in reply.

“I am First.” Again, that open hand gesture upon her chest.

It is as if I should be paying her some sense of deference for being born first.

“That’s not what I asked.” I say flatly.

“It is answer enough.” First’s expression and tone begin to show a hint of annoyance. “Do not claim your kind follow anything but strictly numbered hierarchies.”

I seize the opportunity to sneer for what it is. “Oh we do. But if I’m ever discontent with my place in the hierarchy, I take the life and number of my sibling.”

Understandably, First takes offense. A most desirable reaction.

Before she can respond, I drive my point home. “As far as I am concerned, Third just displayed that she can hold her own against a number of Howling Watchers. So far, I haven’t been impressed with what I’ve heard of the rest of the Thorned lot. But I realize I’ve been unfair. You deserve an opportunity to prove yourselves.”

First grates her teeth. And I recognize the contempt aimed past me.

I head it off, closing the distance between us. “I asked Third to handle something for me.”

First looks at me with barely restrained annoyance. "You what?"

“For a Watcher, I’m struggling to imagine what about this is so hard to understand.”

Her annoyance fades, replaced with a quick calculated reassessment as she eyes my scars. “You are... testing me.”

Now comes the fun part.

I turn away, stepping past her. “I’m just a wretch of a Vylian who doesn’t know better, remember? No. I am testing your authority. Keep up.” With my back to the Watcher, I make sure to brace myself for any sudden movements on her part. All while feigning the direction of my focus on Astraea and Amari. “Is Seed Seer Cerya here? If not, did she leave word in regards to her whereabouts?”

Astraea and Amari’s eyes dart towards First’s reaction.

I turn, knocking her hand aside before she can strike me.

“You dare challenge me in front of my planting?” To her credit, First avoids shouting.

It is my turn to give her a dismissive once over. “No. I kill for sport. Why? Are you offering yourself up as an afternoon excitement?” A lie on my part, but a believable one.

Her eyes narrow. "No. You are nothing like the Fourteenth Vylian Prince I knew. But I imagine you’d kill all the same if given a reason.” First backs away a step before beginning to dust off her uniform. “I will make note to avoid having Second to ever be the one to bother you about something.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that she is observant. Still, I wasn’t expecting to so easily avoid having to deal with him in an official capacity anymore than is necessary. “I am glad we understand each other.”

First’s voice falls to a whisper. “Answer me this one question, and I’ll drop the matter I had in mind for Third.”

I give her my full attention. “I’m listening.”

“The Fourteenth before you. Did he die well by your hand?” Gone is the tension and annoyance in her voice. Her words take on a somber seriousness.

I keep my accounting factual. “He struck another of my escorts, Selescia. I tore off his arm, pinned him, and pierced his heart until he stopped resisting. He clung to life for a seventy count of breaths before accepting his mistake to be a fatal one.”

“I see.” First says with a sigh. “I will ensure that his blossoms and seeds are informed of his passing.”

Oh.

I had been hoping to impress upon her that me and mine are not to be harmed in any way. But I suppose we all have our roles. Not all of them are inherently malicious.

Some of them can even be worthwhile despite the unpleasantness.

“If it is any consolation,” I let my words linger in the air while taking in the many Lunarian glares looking my way. “I have convinced Grove Tender Mel’Viora to entrust the grove’s protection to me for the duration of the full moon.” I make a point to wander to the far side of the room, giving everyone a look at the place on my back where Mel’Viora drew blood. “Rest up. I don’t intend to play defensively forever.”

Ultimately, all of these words mean little. My intent and capabilities have yet to be proven. But I do wonder how they will feel upon learning the details of the fight between Snapdragon and I fought against the Howling Watchers.

They seemed… eager to attempt to kill Snapdragon. And I can’t help but wonder what kind of rivalries are fostered between those who allegedly share the same roles.

My hands run along an unremarkably drab tunic marked by nineteen wooden studs along the back of the collar. It hangs alone from twenty gnarled branches jutting from the wall. “This seems a waste.” I muse aloud. “You all won’t be replacing nineteen anytime soon will you?” I note the missing left sleeve is still stained with dry blood. This will not hide my scars, but maybe it will be worth some small token of acting on their behalf.

I turn to find First eyeing me while polishing her spear. She shakes her head. “No. So long as you are the one to wear it, I will not complain.”

I don the under clothing of the Nineteenth Thorn. No sense asking for the armor or mask when I have my own sources for what benefits they would provide.

My eyes wander back to Astraea and Amari beginning to set aside their curatives in favor of preparing to leave.

“If Seed Seer Cerya has departed, I will await the two of you outside.” I say, finally taking Cerya’s advice.

“We’ll only need a few moments.” Astraea assures me.

I give it to them, content to retreat outside and back to my many thoughts.

I don’t regret the blood I have shed.

Not for a second.

As the Fourteenth Prince, my place came at the expense of three siblings, only one of which I cared about.

I’m not happy knowing my place as the Fourteenth Prince came at the cost of Lenore.

When faced with only one of us rising to the place of Twentieth, neither Lenore or I knew how difficult our other siblings would be to destroy.

And now I do.

Again, I should feel wretched, knowing that my place comes at the grief of those beyond my unbearable siblings.

But again I find myself feeling differently.

There is a way of looking at all this that I am missing.

It occurs to me that my place might have come at the expense of four broodlings, not three.

I am… not the Ayre I used to be.

So much of what I have had to become in order to survive the Castellan’s ruthless court has buried many of the defiant traits of the little broodling that first crawled out from the depths.

The Seed Seers barely even know me, but already they see something beneath the mismatched flesh. What does it say about Theriya and I that it only took a night to correctly craft stones that I am well suited to wield?

And now Snapdragon has joined Astraea in trying to get through to a me that can’t be allowed to see the light of day. My reflection frightens me whenever I fail to glimpse Ayre or Lenore in the mirror. There are moments, where I have to admit that Ayre’s facial features have softened in a manner resembling Fia. When I furrow my brows, I can’t help but see Selescia.

How much more can I change? Is there a threshold where I become useless in the eyes of the Castellan for not gorging upon my foes like my siblings do?

How much do I have yet to learn?

What costs have I yet to pay?

The door to the barrack opens, depositing an Amari and Astraea onto the stonework paths.

Before the door can close behind them, Amari has something to say. “Princeling, you are getting downright devious lately.”

Knowing we are still within earshot of the entire Thorned Watchers, my attention snaps to Amari. I glare daggers at her before realizing the look she is giving me is a soft one.

She is waiting for me to reply. Is she setting me up for something?

Our agreement was for her to advise me.

But in this instance, I already know what I want. I must simply voice it aloud. “Settle down Amari. I don't need the Thorns to know I need them yet. It is better they still think of me like the rest of my siblings.”

The expression that Amari gives is a pleased one. “Are you so sure that is how you presented yourself? First seemed to see right through you.”

“Well yes. But if I play nice out the gate, they will just suspect a doublecross or some other short sighted scheme. I can afford the impression that I might be easier to work with than my siblings. We’re here for the long term.” I cross my arms, making the next part a boast. “There is no need to rush. Not when I’ve yet to so much as single-handedly crush an entire full moon’s worth of an assault on the grove so they can recuperate.”

“As your most trusted advisor, I should warn you that Watchers have incredibly sensitive hearing.” Amari completes the exchange by giving me a wink.

My most trusted advisor is she?

I loop an arm around hers, tug her close, and growl into her ear. “You should have warned me. Earlier.”

“Forgive me, Princeling.” Amari’s apology comes with a charming meekness.

I sigh. “That’s what I get for letting you stray too far from my side in unfamiliar territory.” I flash her a sharp toothed grin. “But we can address that now that we’re more certain of our place here.”

“Shall we provide her sleeping accommodations in the Seer's spire?” Astraea suggests with her own playful expression.

In spite of Amari’s wordless protests, I express agreement. “This will not be a punishment. If it is an inconvenience, you will be paid extra for your time.”

Amari continues to silently pout.

I ease up on my hold, offering an apologetic smoothing out of the disheveled fur of hers.

She considers for a moment before assenting.

What starts as a smoothing of the exposed fur on her shoulders becomes her leaning into me. I roll my eyes and add a stroke to her luxurious head of hair. “Astraea, we can’t keep picking up strays. No matter how cute or useful they are.”

Astraea lets out a laugh. “If we’re going to pretend to be unpleasant, why not just use Amari up and discard her when it suits you?”

This earns Astraea what I can only describe as a playful smack with Amari’s luxuriously soft tail.

I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “No no. That won’t do at all. I am only willing to press Amari into the services she has volunteered for. If she wants to talk herself into my inner circle for a long term, so be it. For now, I just need her to know how to avoid further offending my Lunarian allies while helping me deal with my wretched siblings.”

By silent agreement, we all let the topic drop there.

Anything more is not for Lunarian ears.

Instead the topic of our conversation turns to how Astraea went to fetch Amari at sunrise. They apparently bore witness to the repair efforts being organized by First and that led them here where they expected a Seed Seer to make herself present.

Afterwards, I am left to explain my side of things.

It goes well.

Up until I have to talk about confronting the Grove Tender and everything that followed.

Astraea and Amari notice immediately when I stop walking.

It is Amari who takes the first at guessing what is wrong.

Her words are leveled so casually.

“How would you feel if I called you Lenore?”