Lexyn froze as Matyxal’s fiery gaze locked onto her. The master bard, a deadly swordswoman, raised a finger to her lips, commanding Lexyn to stay silent. The only sound Lexyn made was the slow trickle of urine down her thighs, but Dryxl whimpered beside her.
A gruff voice called out from the other side of the flaming homestead. “What in Seraxa’s frozen eyes is that racket?”
“Quiet, Bozin,” Matyxal said, “I’m going to soothe this darkscale and bring him with us.”
“Can never have enough drakes,” Bozin muttered in agreement, but Matyxal cut him off before he could say more.
“Quiet,” she repeated, her voice sharp. “Stay out of sight. Better yet, start walking after the others.”
Lexyn crouched down, hiding in Dryxl’s shadow, her hand trembling over the pommel of her sword. Zyryxa had told her to believe in herself, that she was swift with her blade and only needed confidence. Yet, she’d seen what Matyxal did to Natazia. She couldn’t fight Matyxal, but perhaps she could defeat this Bozin. If Bozin saw her, she’d fight for her life, lest she be taken like Natazia. If Matyxal approached, Lexyn clung to a hope that she might let her go if she stayed quiet. No matter what, Lexyn needed to survive; she wasn’t going to leave Zyryxa alone in this harsh world.
Matyxal began to strum her lute, her fingers dancing over the strings with practiced ease. “Get out, Bozin,” she sang. “Don’t even look at the drake lest you terrify it.”
“Seraxa’s freezing eyes!” Bozin cursed. “I’m fuckin’ leaving!”
Matyxal sang out in Leverian, a language very few in Volqor understood, “Fear not, child of ice and love. A song for you, my beautiful dove.”
Lexyn trembled despite the bard’s promise. Her gaze followed the red-haired man as he stomped out of the far gate, giving no indication that he saw her. Her fingers eased off her sword, knowing that her fate was now entirely in this woman’s hands. She remained rooted, aware that running might alert the man and that she’d have no hope to flee Matyxal.
Dryxl’s whimpering took on a whiny pitch as Matyxal played a familiar tune. It was a song Lexyn knew well, one she had heard the bard Abbaz play countless times on Loxzua’s stage during Qoryxa Waxing or Qoryxa Waning. But in Matyxal’s hands, The Princess and the Paladin became something more—a haunting, ethereal melody that seemed to wrap itself around Lexyn, drawing her into its spell. Matyxal sang in the Leverian tongue, and the drake’s whimpering ceased as he too became enraptured by the otherworldly voice:
In Mirrevar, a farmer’s heir,
Elior, tall with auburn hair,
By chance of fate’s divine decree,
Saved Princess Pelianna, bold and free.
Assassins came with shadows dark,
He fought with strength, a blazing spark,
With Pelianna’s brother, safe and sound,
Their hearts were linked, a love unbound.
But royal ties and vows so grand,
Meant Pelianna’s heart was banned,
A marriage planned for Rubinia’s heir,
Yet Elior’s love would not depair.
The Princess and the Paladin,
Bound by love, through thick and thin,
With heart and strength, through trials grim,
Their love’s light would never dim.
Lexyn’s terror began to ebb, replaced by a strange, almost hypnotic calm. Matyxal’s presence seemed more than human; she was a mystical creature with fire for hair, skin, and eye. The scent of burnt flesh and smoke almost forgotten in the face of the music that carried Lexyn far from the burning homestead, far from the danger.
The bard’s voice was like a warm embrace, the Leverian words and tune bringing Lexyn back to ancient Mirrevar, before the end of the Leverian dynasty and the Gemstone War her mother left behind. With each verse, Matyxal took another step toward her:
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A farmer’s son with simple might,
Elior challenged Rubinia’s noble knight,
The king laughed loud at such a plea,
But saw a chance for history.
A tournament, a grand display,
Held on Qoryxa’s holyday,
From lands afar, the lords did ride,
To win the Princess as their bride.
A mystery knight, the Paladin,
Earned the hearts of common kin,
With lances broken, valor shown,
A strength of heart and soul alone.
The Princess and the Paladin,
Bound by love, through thick and thin,
With heart and strength, through trials grim,
Their love’s light would never dim.
The bard strummed her lute, her fingers moving along the strings faster than Lexyn could follow. Matyxal’s small frame filled the gateway as the palisade burned around her. Lexyn’s hand trembled on the handle of her sword, fear once again flooding through her in crashing waves as she came face-to-face with a thousand freckles and eyes like infernos. “Easy now, Pelianna,” Matyxal said. Her gaze flicked toward Lexyn’s satchel, and her voice softened, a whispered undertow beneath the crashing waves of her music. “Volqor needs you, medican. But I need the drake.”
Overwhelmed, Lexyn was unable to take her hand from the sword’s pommel. With a smile on her red lips, Matyxal delivered a sudden kick sent Lexyn flying through the air, landing hard on her back in a puddle ten feet away.
Pain lanced through her, and Lexyn gasped, thinking this was the end. She would die to the sound of her favorite ballad—a tale her mother told every Telling, a story of love against all odds that now felt like a cruel mockery of her fate. Poor Halette, who would now lose two children to Volqor’s brutality.
But Matyxal wasn’t finished. Her voice rose again, cutting through the haze of Lexyn’s pain and despair as she pulled Dryxl into the homestead, her song unwavering:
Twelve strikes from Monsoon’s lance,
Nearly brought an end to Elior’s chance,
The Princess wept, her heart did plead,
For Elior’s pain, her love, her need
The thirteenth tilt, they both did fall,
A melee fierce, the crowd enthralled,
With fists of might and a love so bright,
The Monsoon yielded, ending the fight.
Lexyn forced herself to move, struggling to her feet despite the fear and the pain that shot through her. She couldn’t let it end like this, couldn’t let Matyxal take Dryxl without defending him for once. The drake whimpered as the bard’s song continued, the words weaving their way into Lexyn’s heart:
Unable to rise, Elior was done,
Even though his enemy was one,
The heir of Rubinia declared his win,
Yet Pelianna refused to give in.
The Princess and the Paladin,
Bound by love, through thick and thin,
With heart and strength, through trials grim,
Their love’s light would never dim.
As Matyxal strummed the lute, time seemed to slow. Lexyn’s breath caught in her throat, the world narrowing to the sound of the bard’s voice and the flicker of the flames. The arrow in her hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. One shot, she told herself. One chance. She knocked the arrow, her heart pounding in her ears as she took aim.
Pelianna’s tears like jewels did shine,
She kissed the Paladin with love divine,
A healing light from necklace blue,
Revived his strength, his spirit too.
The arrow twanged and flew toward the bard. One hand on Dryxl’s reins, his resistance subsiding, Matyxal caught the arrow before it pierced her throat. She waved it at Lexyn, smiling as her song continued:
The prince revealed, a squire in guise,
Helped Elior to mount, to rise,
With cheers that shook the land so wide,
They rode once more, love as their guide.
The heir of Ruby, in the mud,
Defeated by one of farmer’s blood,
High and low, they all did know
The light of true love’s glow.
Dryxl, the traitor, wagged his tail and happily accepted Matyxal onto his back. Lexyn’s resolve crumbled, her bow lowering as the realization set in—she couldn’t fight this. She was no match for Matyxal’s power. The bard rode away, her lute vibrating with a melody that echoed in Lexyn’s ears:
The king proclaimed with joy and pride,
“Elior, my son, stand by her side,
Be her knight, with naught so true,
As the Princess and her love for you."
The Princess and the Paladin,
Bound by love, through thick and thin,
With heart and strength, through trials grim,
Their love’s light would never dim.
Matyxal’s voice lingered in the air, the final notes of her song fading into the night. As she disappeared through the far gate, her voice rang out one last time in the Leverian tongue, a warning that cut through the darkness like a blade: “Stay hidden through the night, rise again with morning’s light. Spread Leverith’s love and live your life, staying far from Zamael’s scythe.”
Lexyn stood alone in the ruins of the homestead, the buildings collapsing in the inferno. No drake, no supplies, and no support. But she still had her life.
She looked out at the icy expanse, at the hills separating her from Zyryxa and Pelzyq—the only family she had left. She imagined the future they might build together, a life where Pelzyq’s bravado softened, Zyryxa’s vindictiveness yielded to compassion, and she herself found the confidence she had always lacked.
Lexyn doubted herself, and her future seemed precarious, threatened by bravado, vindictiveness, and, most of all, her own self-doubt. But she had to try, for Zyryxa, for Pelzyq…for herself.
“We can still have that,” Lexyn whispered, her voice trembling yet resolute. She clenched her fists as the flames flickered behind her, a fierce determination settling in her chest. “I’ll make sure of it.”
The dying flames behind her were a stark reminder of what she had to lose—and what she had to fight for. The warmth of love, in a world where fire consumed everything, was worth any battle. She would find a way to keep it alive, even if she had to face the Fire Tribe.
With purpose and hope fueling her, Lexyn crept across the snow toward the shelter of the gelubor trees. The world ahead was uncertain, but Lexyn knew one thing: she would rise again with the morning’s light, no matter how dark the night might seem.