Elkianara stood with her hand pressed against the observation window of the operating room, every muscle tense, willing the doctors to succeed. She could sense her mother, Serkai, standing behind her. Serkai was dressed in a way Elkianara had never seen before. Instead of the usual gown or dress, she wore high-waisted, tailored slacks that were so black they absorbed the surrounding light. A white blouse with intricate embroidery peeked out from under a long overcoat of deep carmine. With her arms clasped behind her back, she appeared stoic and indifferent to those who didn't know her. But Elkianara knew better. She had witnessed her mother's true heartbreak the night before in their private quarters.
*
The night before, while Elkianara was getting ready for bed, Serkai sat calmly in her favorite chair, reading a message on her crystalline echo and sipping wine. Elkianara had just finished her bath and was preparing to review materials from Proctor Reenes when an unseen force suddenly lifted Serkai from her chair, causing her to drop both the echo and her glass. The necklace she always wore floated out from under her blouse, and the two rings on its simple chain hovered in front of her face for just an instant before cracking and falling to the ground. In a moment of panic, Serkai dropped to her knees, catching the broken rings in her hands and clutching them close to her face.
Elkianara could still feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins as she sprinted across the room, knocking books off the table she had been about to sit at. The sound of her mother's uncontrollable sobs echoed through the chamber, a constant refrain of "no". Everything after that was a blur - the sudden appearance of guards, the sweep of the room and then the palace, and finally the medical and magical examinations of both Elkianara and her mother. Somewhere amidst the chaos, Serkai had regained her composure, burying her emotions beneath an iron will. She strode confidently out of their private room, surrounded by a determined escort and barking orders as a doctor fussed over her. In the briefing room, news arrived of a massive explosion that had rocked Marlugrathara, deep within the Veilwood Shroud. The ministers and councilers had all began debating and arguing, and for a moment Elkianara saw her mother’s control slip, as Serkai simply stared into space. Then her control slammed back in place, she stilled the room simply by rising.
"All emergancy services in Marlugrathara are to redirect any life flights with injured from the explosion to the palace, all flight limiters are liffted. Clear an air cordon. Alert medical services. Have the hospitals in town provide..." Empress Serkai was in control again.
*
Elkianara shook her head, returning to the present. She watched as the doctors worked tirelessly on Alden, the only survivor. His body was frail, weak under the bright operating lights, a strange marking of white and black serpentine lines etched into his right arm. Her gaze shifted back to her mother who was now looking at Alden through the glass. The aged lines on Serkai's face seemed deeper than before and beneath her striking blue eyes was a sadness that Elkianara had never seen before. But it was her mother's silence that frightened her the most, for she knew Serkai always found words for every situation. Alden suddenly gasped, his body convulsing underneath the thin sheet. Elkianara stiffened; her fingers twitched towards an intercom button but stopped short.
“Let them work." Serkai said tersely without turning to her daughter. Her voice echoed the steel that resided deep within her soul—a testament to years of ruling Umbralumara. Nodding silently, Elkianara turned back to watch Alden fight for his life. Beneath her hand, the window vibrated faintly with the hum of arcane energies manipulated by the medics. She watched as they steered intricate flows of magical energy around Alden’s body, a mesmerizing weave of translucent threads that pulsed with vibrant hues. The mark on his arm seemed to react adversarially as if trying to repel the healing magic that danced upon it. There was an abrupt knock on the door, which slid open to reveal a tall figure, his weathered face hidden behind a very bushy beard and mustache, along with equally bushy eyebrows that frame his piercing grey eyes. He had served Serkai since she was a child, and Elkianara saw some of the tension leave her mother’s shoulders.
“Ma’am, you are needed…”
“Of course I am, Marcus. They couldn’t decide on sausage or bacon for breakfast if someone didn’t force them.” Serkai snapped. she paused, then rubbed the bridge of her nose. “My apologies, Marcus. it is not your fault.”
“No need, Ma’am.”
“I will stay here, Mother.” Elkianara turned towards Serkai, gripping the seams of her blue dress. For a long moment, they gazed into each other’s eyes, silently calculating and negotiating responsibilities, something the pair had learned to do years ago.
“Very well,” Serkai turned sharply on her heal to follow Marcus. “Lead on, Marcus.”
Marcus stiffened, his ramrod posture betraying the long years in the disciplined ranks of the palace guards, and retreated from the room. With a curt nod to Elkianara, Serkai followed him out the door. As it folded shut behind them, Elkianara turned her focus back to Alden's prone figure. The eerie glow of the surrounding equipment painted his pale skin in myriad hues.
The excitement she had once felt at Duke Lucian Fairwood accompanying her to Starlight Academy had soured into a cold pit of regret. There was no way to know what had transpired, but the messenger Empress Serkai had dispatched had not been found, nor had Alden’s parents. Elkianara felt the blame lay squarely at her feet. If only she had insisted on handling the responsibility of representing her planet and people to the greater galactic community herself, perhaps Lucian and Elara would still be alive, and Alden would not be fighting for his life, bereft of family.
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Elkianara had never seen Alden at any of the young noble training events or youth balls. It was likely he had little etiquette training. If she weren’t bound for the academy, she could ensure he received proper instruction. The idea of teaching him sparked a train of thought. She stepped back from the viewing window to sit in one of the waiting chairs. For the next half hour, Elkianara went over her plan, pulling out her crystalline echo and quickly pulling up references. Satisfied, she keyed the comm for her personal aide. The projection sprang to life almost immediately.
“Isolde, please locate Proctor Reenes and ask that he come see me in OR-1A viewing.”
“Right away, Your Highness.” Isolde’s crisp voice was much too awake for the early hour.
“No, wait.” Elkianara considered for a moment. “First, get a stim sip sent to me. Then let Proctor Reenes know I would like to speak with him.”
“I took the liberty of notifying the staff already,” a small smile played at the corners of Isolde’s mouth. “It should be there…” A chime sounded at the door. “Now.” She was definitely smiling now.
“Come.” Elkianara looked to the door as a palace staff entered with a small tray and set it on the table, with a small bow, and left. “Thank you, Isolde.”
“Proctor Reenes confirmed, he will be there in 10 minutes.”
“Good. Lay out one of my formal outfits. The lightening one, I think.” Elkianara reached out and took the thick straw off the tray, cracked the end off, and tipped the contents into her mouth. Fire spread through her veins for a moment, and there was a rushing sound in her ears. The moment passed, and all the fatigue and weariness left with it.
“Are…Are you sure, Milady? The lightening one?” Elkianara grinned wolfishly, loving the rare chance to surprise Isolde.
“Yes, quite sure.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Isolde would pester her for details later, but she knew when to wait. The door chimed again, and Isolde bobbed her head and closed the call.
“Enter.” Elkianara rose. Here, she was a Princess of Umbralumara, due all deference, but Proctor Reenes was not from Umbralumara and was a senior faculty at Starlight. It would not do to press her authority, knowing the roles would be reversed soon. Proctor Reenes seemed slightly disheveled, likely woken by Isolde’s ping.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Proctor Reenes.”
“Your Highness, I doubt you would call for me this early if it wasn’t important.” He straightened up and smoothed his hair. He glanced around, taking in the setting for the first time, confusion then shock playing across his face. “What has happened? Who is the boy?” Reenes seemed to shed his jovial demeanor, straightening up and stepping purposefully to the viewing window. “What is that on his arm? It absorbs everything they pour into him.”
“That,” Elkianara stepped up next to Reenes, “is Duke Fairwood. Or rather, will be.”
“Lucian has a son? So, he came? Should he not be here?...wait.” Elkianara mentally crossed out Reenes' name. Either he was a consummate actor, or he had no hand in what happened. The way the realization and surprise played across his face seemed genuine. “No…” The last was barely a whisper.
“Yes, tragedy struck the Fairwood manor. Some form of mishap destroyed everything for miles. At this time, everything is under investigation, but we suspect the messenger triggered some ward or protection. The mark on Alden’s arm, though, is a new one and also doesn't seem like any that have been recorded.”
Elkianara took a deep breath, steadying herself before she began to speak. "Proctor Reenes, I believe Alden's condition presents a unique opportunity for study at Starlight Academy. The magical injury he sustained is unlike anything we've encountered on Umbralumara, and perhaps even within the Galactic Council's records. If we could bring him to Starlight, the professors there could examine him, study the magical weave, and perhaps uncover insights that could benefit not just our world but the entire galactic community."
Reenes listened intently, his brow furrowing in thought. "Your Highness, while I appreciate the potential for academic exploration, Starlight Academy has strict protocols regarding the admission of non-students and the sharing of sensitive magical research. Bringing Alden under these circumstances may not be feasible without proper authorization and clear understanding of the risks involved."
Elkianara hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Proctor Reenes, you are not just a proctor here, are you? You are the Headmaster of Starlight Academy."
Reenes's expression hardened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before settling into a composed mask. "Indeed, Your Highness. My role encompasses both overseeing admissions and ensuring the safety and confidentiality of all students and research conducted at Starlight."
"Then you understand the importance of this situation," Elkianara continued earnestly. "Alden's injury is not just a mystery—it could be a threat that we do not yet comprehend. By allowing him to be studied by the best minds at Starlight, we could prevent future incidents like this from occurring."
Reenes regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to observe Alden through the observation window once more. The medical team continued their work, their movements precise and controlled as they navigated the intricate magical currents around Alden's body.
"I will need to consult with the Academy's council and review the protocols," Reenes finally replied.
Elkianara nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Proctor Reenes. Your understanding and support mean a great deal to me."
Reenes inclined his head respectfully. "It is my duty to ensure that Starlight Academy upholds its commitment to knowledge and protection, Your Highness. Rest assured, I will do what is necessary to facilitate Alden's admission."
With that, Reenes excused himself from the observation room, leaving Elkianara to continue watching over Alden as the medical team worked tirelessly to stabilize him. After a long moment, she turned and left, heading to change into the outfit Isolde would have laid out for her by now. The first step of her plan had worked, but the next required more than just a clever framing of the situation. Politics was as much a stage as it was strategy, and what play couldn’t use a little extra drama.