> Ra

>

> Proper noun

>

> Translation: The Sun

>

> Definition: In Menschen, "Ra" is the name given to the Sun, revered as the embodiment of the Golden Dragon. It is a Spirit of immense power, whose true form remains a mystery to all creatures. "Ra" is not only the source of light and heat but also a symbol of ultimate dominio.

As time was halted by Noctavia's whim, nobles, emissaries, and soldiers were caught in various expressions—mid-laugh, locked in serious discourse, or simply wearing stoic masks. Time had been paused, and the room's occupants turned into living statues.

Noctavia and Yeso wove through the assembly like wraiths, shadows slipping within the still crowd. They were in no hurry. They had this singular, stolen moment in time, and it was all theirs.

As they glided past a general, his hand arrested in the act of reaching for a goblet, Yeso deftly plucked the jewelled dagger from his belt. Meanwhile, Noctavia's fingers trailed along the sleeve of an emissary, relieving him of a hidden blade. Every weapon they found was placed meticulously in an intricate circle on the floor in front of the throne like an arcane pattern that spelt both threat and artistry.

Finally, they reached the Prince, frozen like the others. They moved Xendrix, his body rigid but unresisting, next to their makeshift circle. He was positioned to face King Ieagan, who sat on his throne, his eyes wide but blind.

As the couple moved, worried and busy with all the preparation for their plan, they didn’t notice the Prince's iris moving slightly to the left.

Noctavia broke the voided silence as she turned toward Yeso. "How's my makeup?"

He studied her face, his thumb lightly grazing her cheek to smooth out a faint smudge of kohl. "A bit smeared here," he murmured. His touch was gentle as he blended the cosmetic back into place. "There, looks perfect."

They both draw a mischievous smirk. "Maybe we should do your eyes," Noctavia suggested.

"Really?" Yeso cocked an eyebrow, a sly grin forming. "You're sure that's a good idea?"

"Trust me." Noctavia's hand delved into her pocket and emerged, holding a small, black flask. Uncapping it with ease, she leaned in and traced a line of dark pigment beneath his lower eyelids, her thumb artfully smudging it to create a softer edge. "There. Now you look perfect."

"Do you happen to have a mi—"

Before he could complete the sentence, Noctavia's hand was already fishing into another pocket, from which she emerged a small hand mirror. She held it up, angling it so he could scrutinize his new look.

Yeso looked into the mirror, his eyes now framed by the soft smudge of darkness, accentuating their natural intensity. For a moment, he was silent, and then his eyes met hers in the mirror's reflection. "Perfect," he agreed, echoing her earlier sentiment, "I look handsome."

"And terrifying! Like the Sun who burns land, sea, and sky!"

"You're right, I do," he added, the words tinged with a playful arrogance that only they knew.

"Do you want me to braid your hair?" Noctavia asked, her eyes flicking toward his unruly diamond hair that cascaded over his shoulders. And contrary to Yeso, she was not joking.

Yeso chuckled, sweeping his gaze over the room filled with people in a state of suspended animation. "We do have all the time in the world right now, don't we?"

In response, Noctavia gracefully descended to the cold floor, her colourful skirt pooling around her. Yeso sat between her legs with his back facing her, and she cradled his head in her lap. With nimble fingers, she began weaving his hair into cornrows, pulling the taut strands and intertwining them with an almost meditative rhythm. She almost completed half his head, leaving the other half in its natural, untamed state.

"This feels nice," he murmured, his eyes closed as if to better capture the essence of the fleeting moment. As Noctavia's fingers moved with practised ease through his hair, a tiny golden lily materialized beside his shoulder. The flower was inconspicuous, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a little seed of Yeso's happiness.

"It's been a while since we had time just for us," Noctavia agreed, tying off a braid and allowing her fingers to linger. She traced the outline of his ear before drifting down to caress his cheek.

He tilted his head back slightly to look up at her. "It will change. Once humans realize they need us, we won't have to steal moments like this. And I promise I will take you to Faewood and build us a house like we always talked about."

"Is it so terrible if we return to Whitestone?" she wondered aloud, her eyes searching his.

"It's not about our return that concerns me. Veilla wouldn't dare to touch you," he replied with a deeper, latent worry. "It's about those left behind. The fairies, the halflings, and others who are not Menschen—what happens to them?"

Noctavia sighed as she completed the final cornrow, her fingers touching his cheek again. "Well, I guess that means we have a prince to teach—and an entire court to convince that we can be trusted guides for their future King."

Yeso rose to his feet, the braids in his diamond hair falling gracefully against his back. For a suspended moment, his eyes locked onto hers. He held his hand for her to stand, and she stood up while smoothing out her skirt before moving to adjust Yeso's attire. Her fingers deftly straightened the fabric of his robe, then moved up to arrange his wings so they lay like a grand mantle over his shoulders. She stepped back to appraise her handiwork. "I'm ready."

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Slowly, his hands found their way to her face. His fingers gently cradled her cheeks, and then he kissed her. Breaking away but pressing his forehead against hers, he breathed, "I am too."

Noctavia positioned herself behind Xendrix, her copper dagger catching the light in a brief but chilling flash as she rested the blade gently against the vulnerable curve of his double chin. At her side, Yeso took a step closer to the throne, his eyes locking onto King Ieagan's. In that breathless moment, time snapped back into motion.

King Ieagan's eyes widened into saucers, finally alive with cognition but filled with disbelieving terror. The crowd gasped collectively, a sudden burst of chaotic murmurs flooding the chamber.

Meanwhile, Xendrix's eyes shot open as the realization of his predicament hit him. His breath caught, becoming a strangled gasp as he felt the cold metal of Noctavia's dagger resting against the tender skin of his throat.

"We need to talk, little human, but this time, you listen," Yeso's voice rose above the tide of disorder, commanding the room back into a semblance of focus. "This is the final warning for everyone present."

"What... what is this?" King Ieagan spluttered.

"This," Yeso articulated, cold as ice, "as I said, is your final warning. You have two choices: free Moonbay or I will smother the Sun. Forever."

"You haven't even listened to me!" the king snapped with a simmering rage that threatened to spill over, "This-this is madness!"

Yeso narrowed his eyes, unyielding. "I don't need to. This is not a debate! I see Balenos alone, two monarchs, and a room which was filled with armed humans.” He pointed to the circle around them, which was made of swords and daggers. “And here I stand, holding your Sun and your heir. It seems to me the choice is abundantly clear."

King Ieagan was almost frothing at the mouth, his words coated with disbelief and fury. "We haven't even made a counter-proposition!"

"I don't need one," Yeso declared, his voice so stark it echoed in the room long after he had spoken. “Free Moonbay, or the Sun dies. I can't be more straightforward. Perhaps you need me to spell it in Menschen."

The room plunged into a weighted silence, each person grappling with the magnitude of Yeso's ultimatum. King Ieagan's eyes darted frantically, first to the blade against his son's neck, then to Yeso's adamant countenance, and finally to the assembly of terrified faces that surrounded him.

It was a thick hush surrounding negotiations with little to no room for discussion, for desperate calculations, only for the dawning realization of just how much was at stake.

Catching Yeso's glance, Noctavia subtly nodded toward the sheaf of papers resting on the armchair next to King Ieagan. They exchanged a brief but knowing look. Yeso's head nodded in agreement.

"Sign the papers," Yeso commanded, his eyes fixed on King Ieagan. "Seal them, spit on them, piss if that's what it takes. But know this: from today onward, Moonbay belongs to the centaurs."

King Orlan, standing among the crowd, broke his silence. "You listen to him, Ieagan! Sign those fucking bloody papers! Stop being a retarded arrogant moron! Sign it, for fuck sake! You heard the man!"

King Ieagan's eyes darted around the room, from the blade still pressed against his son's throat to the papers that could change the fate of Moonbay. "What about Xendrix?" he finally asked, his voice taut with barely suppressed emotion.

"I made a promise to turn him into an alchemist, and that promise stands—if you keep yours," Yeso responded, "Sign the papers."

The disgust on Ieagan's face was unmistakable as he looked at his son. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Yeso's point had landed; Ieagan needed an heir to maintain his throne, and a disgruntled son was better than no son at all.

Yeso's eyes then flitted to Balenos, the centaur leader, who remained silent throughout the exchange. Behind that stoic facade, Yeso sensed approval and relief. It was an audacious move, to be sure, one that implied a threat powerful enough to bring the entire chamber to a standstill.

Humans could bear many things, but the eternal darkness that would result from the loss of the Sun was not one of them.

Slowly, King Ieagan reached for the papers. His hand hovered for a moment before he snatched up the quill, dipped it into the inkwell, and signed. As he did, a collective exhale seemed to ripple through the room, as though every individual present was releasing a breath they didn't realize they'd been holding.

The papers signed by King Ieagan were sealed with his royal signature. He looked up, locking eyes with Yeso as if searching for some semblance of assurance of future peace. Yeso nodded once.

Then Noctavia lifted the blade from Xendrix's throat, stepping back, her eyes never leaving Yeso's. It was done. The tenuous lines that had held the room in suspense snapped, replaced by a newfound, albeit fragile, sense of resolution. Moonbay was freed, but not yet for the humans.

"What about the Sun?" As the ink dried on the newly signed and sealed papers, King Ieagan's focus turned back to Yeso, a trace of suspicion clouding his words. "What about the Sun, Blue-One?" He repeated.

"Yes," Yeso paused, his voice tinged with gravity. "Let me leave the castle unharmed, both me and my Hexe, and the Sun will return when I feel the threat is gone."

Yeso and Noctavia pivoted, turning their backs to the throne and into the room filled with an assembly that had witnessed the impossible. As they took their first step, Noctavia reached over to pull Xendrix along. The young man looked perplexed, his eyes darting between the pair, but he followed with no further question.

They made their way through the grand hall, each step echoing with the weight of the altered future they may have crafted. Reaching the courtyard, they found their horses waiting for them.

As Yeso mounted his steed, his skin began to shimmer, veins of gold rippling just beneath the surface like liquid sunlight.

And then, as if on cue, the eastern horizon bloomed with a light so magnificent it seemed to defy the need for description. As they looked on, the first rays of the Sun broke free from the earth's embrace, casting long golden fingers across the land, touching trees, rivers, and faces—and all creatures—with the warm promise of a new day.

Noctavia's eyes met Yeso's once more, her gaze softened by the light that danced in his golden veins.

A sudden sound shattered the heavy silence: the stomp of a boot on the pebbled ground. Yeso and Noctavia's heads swivelled toward Xendrix, who glared at the ground with annoyance rather than fear.

"Damn, those spiders, the more I kill, the more they show up," he muttered, “One hundred two…”

Yeso and Noctavia exchanged a glance, their faces losing colour. How many spiders did Xendrix say he killed?

> "Few figures incite both awe and dread like the Spiderqueen, a Dame whose mastery extended over the Spirit of Spiders and the Shadow World. Her name alone conjures images of creeping arachnids and engulfing darkness, a visceral picture that has seeded countless nightmares.

>

> Yet, for all the terror her moniker evokes, none can deny her reign was one of unparalleled prosperity for her subjects. Fields flourished, trade routes expanded, and her people lived in an age of relative peace. It's an enigma that continues to baffle historians and common folk alike: a leader who simultaneously embodies our most primal fears and our highest hopes. Why did her reign end with the Exodus? And how?"

>

> ——Between Lore and Legacy: The Mystifying Histories of the Menschen Vol. I by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune