ALAYNE

And the Broken God spake to His children:

“I gave you the wheel, that you may move;

I gave you the blade, that you may cut;

I gave you the chain, that you may bind.

You have all you need to rule the world.

Even so, you falter to rule even over yourselves.”

– The Iron Gospel, Wheel of Dominion 2:13-18

All men are equal in death.

Alayne traced the edge of her breaking wheel necklace as she recited ancient truths. The candle was burning dimly, and its scent reminded Alayne of the burning parchment she once held in her fingers.

The night was heavy with the kind of stillness that comes just before a storm. Alayne’s eyes were resting on the shadowed branches outside her window.

She’d been waiting for a long time.

But then again, her whole life was a series of waiting.

Waiting to go home. Waiting to be given a mission. Waiting to be admitted to the First Circle.

Waiting to see the truth.

Before returning to the Chambers Above, the Broken God whispered certain things to His disciples. Secrets that would shape the world He left behind.

These whispers became the foundation of His faith: ten sacred truths and untruths.

The truths were the pillars of the faithful, but the untruths were just as vital, for they tested their resolve to discern, to question, and to endure uncertainty.

The paradox of belief.

The first truth was universal, shared with all who entered the faith: “All men are equal in death.”

This was the cornerstone. A cold and leveling declaration that in the end, all wealth, power, and ambition would be stripped away. Even kings were but bones and ash before the Broken God.

Or, indeed, Yattoshi princes.

But beyond the first truth, knowledge was tightly guarded.

Each time a disciple progressed in rank, they were gifted another sacred phrase: one truth and one untruth, written on a slip of parchment and burned into memory by fire.

For each promotion within the faith, the faithful would learn one more pair of statements. But only the highest ranks—the Circle of the Most Faithful—knew all ten.

Alayne still remembered the first slip of paper she received when she entered the First Inner Circle, the inked letters black against the pale parchment:

TRUTH AND UNTRUTH

The wheel binds all things in eternal motion. To halt is to decay.

The only path to freedom is to break the wheel.

The words burned when she set the parchment aflame. Yet the fire imprinted the text on her mind more vividly than ink ever could.

Which was the truth? Which was the untruth?

It didn’t matter. Or perhaps that was the point.

The distinction itself might be the lie.

To be faithful is to constantly question your faith.

Alayne had risen to the second rank of the Circle, but beyond her own truths and untruths, the rest of the holy creed was forbidden.

Her father held sacred knowledge of the Third Circle. In time, he might progress to the Fourth Circle. If he lives long enough, maybe even the Fifth.

Not that it would do any good to Alayne. She would remain as clueless of the higher truths as she was right now. If her father ever learned them, he would never share them, not even with his progeny.

The punishment for revealing any higher truths was death.

There were times Alayne tried to half-heartedly deduce what that truth was from the way her father comported himself. But nothing in his behavior had changed.

Alayne wondered whether she would stay the same when her initiation came.

She’d never held a secret from her brother.

Well, except for one.

But surely even he would understand?

A flutter of wings outside. Finally.

Moments later, Alayne saw it—a dark shape perched on the windowsill, outlined against the moonlight.

A crow, feathers as black as ink and eyes that glinted red, sat motionless, watching her. Alayne moved with deliberate calm, opening the window just enough for the bird to hop inside.

It landed heavily on her desk.

“Oh, mother,” Alayne murmured softly, closing the window behind her as she made her way to the desk. “I was wondering when I might hear from you.”

She reached out and gently stroked the crow’s head, using her finger to brush against the faintly glowing blood sigils etched onto the feathers. Anyone overhearing might think she was merely receiving a letter from her family.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Have you practiced your Runespeak, dear?” The crow’s voice was a nail on glass.

Alayne nodded.

“To what do I owe the Council my pleasure?” she switched to Runespeak. She wasn’t quite proficient at it, but it became a little bit easier each time.

“Unfortunate developments,” the voice spoke through the crow. “The heir’s death was expected, yet untimely.”

Alayne’s fingers tensed against the desk, her eyes narrowing. “So… you had no hand in this, then?”

So they do trust in me.

A soft caw escaped the crow, but the voice resumed, calm and commanding. “None but ours were given this task, yet another knife found its mark. We know not the hand, but it matters little. The heir’s death does not deter us. Our path grows only clearer.”

Alayne took a breath, her eyes flickering to the door to ensure it remained shut. "You’re saying the plans… have accelerated?”

“A succession crisis would be most welcome. We had information that the heir planned to ally himself with… a certain state.”

Alayne nodded lightly. Revalia. Runespeak or not, it wasn’t sensible to mention her mother's homeland out loud.

“He harbored sympathies with them, and so do others. The vacuum left in the wake of the heir’s demise must be filled swiftly. You are to proceed with our next task, Alayne. We have honed you for this.”

“And my next target is..?”

The crow nodded. “You will be instructed in time. Soon you will be invited to accompany the King Emperor on his trip to the north."

North? What's there? Alayne wanted to ask but didn't. There will be time for questions later.

"You must move carefully. If the heir’s death was unexpected for us, it may yet be for others. Watch for more unfamiliar hands. The court will be restless.”

Alayne tapped her fingers softly on the wooden desk. “And the suspicion I’ll attract? Surely a foreigner such as myself might be at the top of the list of… culprits.”

She fumbled at some of the words in Runespeak. How come that rusty bastard Cedric was so much better than her at this?

“Let them suspect,” the crow said. “This changes nothing. Fear grows from uncertainty. With each question, they will look to us for answers, and we will have them, shaped to our choosing.”

“Wouldn’t you risk me getting caught?”

“We risk just by talking to you right now. Do not be afraid, we have contingency plans.”

Alayne guffawed. “Do not be afraid,” he says.

What he meant was, “You’re not indispensable.” Getting caught would be problematic, but the League could disavow her, claiming she acted independently or as a rogue agent.

Or was this their goal? To have her captured and claim she had been working for the Revalian regime?

Plots within plots, she thought calmly as her gaze fell on the moonlit treetops.

The crow cawed again. “This discussion is over. We will comma—”

“I haven’t said yes, have I?”

The crow fell silent. The sigils burned fiery red. “If you deny us, we will simply find another. Your brother shall serve.”

Alayne felt a needle somewhere in her navel. “No need to get him involved. I’ll play my part.”

“We expected you to. You are your father’s daughter.”

“But if the risks are higher, I want my compensation to reflect that.”

The crow looked her in the eyes, unblinking. “You have something in mind already, it is plain to see. Speak.”

There is no tricking the Council.

“I want a chance for us to remain home." When she didn't meet any resistance, Alayne continued, "I want to be admitted to the Fifth Circle.”

Silence followed. Alayne expected her demand to be too high, but there was a chance the Council was as desperate as her.

They bluff when they say they can find another. They need me.

“Third Circle,” the crow finally cawed. “You are a gifted girl and will get to the Fifth in no time at all. No need to rush.”

Alayne didn’t feel like haggling. Gifted she might be, but the Silver gift of diplomacy was not her strong suit.

“That’s if I survive. If I die—”

“In such a case, I wish you a slow death.”

Alayne smiled. This was a traditional farewell wish in Bironia.

“As you will it, Mother,” she murmured, resuming her ordinary voice.

She scratched the crow just under the beak and shooed it away. The bird ruffled its feathers and then hopped to the windowsill.

Once it had vanished from view, she closed the window and turned back to her dim chamber.

“Your Runespeak has improved.”

She turned slowly and saw Cedric standing in the doorway. His face was a mix of disbelief and anger.

I don't believe I've ever seen this face on him.

“A shame you didn’t let me talk to… Mother,” her brother said.

Alayne tried to compose herself, brushing invisible dust off her sleeves as if she could sweep away the weight of his words. “Eavesdropping? That’s a new low for you, brother.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Cedric snapped. “But you weren’t exactly whispering, were you? Talking about… missions,” he whispered the word, “Returning home. What’s going on, Alayne?”

Alayne didn’t answer. No use getting him involved.

“So what is your mission? Was it you who…” he didn’t want to finish the question, she could plainly see it.

“No.” She made sure to look Cedric in the eyes so that he would know that she wasn’t lying. “It’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”

“Not something—” Cedric stepped into the room, his fists clenched. “Not something I need to concern myself with? You’re my sister! If you think I’m just going to stand here and watch you get yourself killed for—”

“For us,” Alayne interrupted, her voice sharp as a blade. “I’m doing this for us, Cedric. For our father. For our family.”

Cedric’s mouth opened, then closed. He shook his head, his anger faltering under confusion. “For… us? How does any of this help us?”

Alayne took a step closer, lowering her voice. “This is our chance, perhaps our only chance to go back to Bironia. If I do this, they’ll restore our father’s name. We’ll be welcomed back. Slate clean. No more treating us as outsiders.”

Cedric’s face twisted with frustration. “And at what cost? What do you have to do, Alayne? Who do you have to become?”

A tool.

Alayne turned away, staring at the small, cracked mirror on the wall. Her reflection looked back at her—tired, so very tired.

“Does it matter? They’ve already decided what I am. A half-Revalian traitor. A stain on Bironia’s honor.” Her voice wavered but didn’t break. “If they want me to prove my loyalty, then I’ll prove it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Cedric was silent for a moment.

Alayne turned to him. “Do you think I want to live like this, Cedric? Trapped in a foreign court, treated like dirt because of something we had no say in? I want to go home. I want our father to hold his head high again. I want you to have a future. And if this is the price… then so be it.”

Cedric took a shaky breath. She saw his anger replaced by something else.

Fear.

“And if you fail? If they decide your blood is still too tainted, even after all this?”

Alayne’s expression softened, but there was a steeliness in her gaze. “Then at least I’ll have tried. At least I’ll have done something.”

He looked at her, his shoulders slumping. “You’re my sister, Alayne. Not some tool for those… vultures. If they throw you to the wolves, what am I supposed to do? Just watch?”

Alayne reached out and put a hand on his arm. “You’ll survive. That’s what we do, Cedric. We survive.”

He looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. “I don’t like this,” he said finally. “I don’t like any of it.”

“I don’t like it either,” she admitted. “But it’s the only way.”

“We’re twins. Did you ever wonder why they haven’t reached out to me?”

“Because I’m the only one strong enough to carry out this mission.”

“Or because I’m the only one smart enough to tell them no. Rusting hell, Alayne, what were you thinking? I knew you were prideful. But this?”

He still thinks I’m doing this for myself.

“You think I’m still that weak little girl you need to defend? I’m a warrior. My blood is iron.”

“That’s precisely what I’m afraid of. Even iron breaks if struck too many times.”

That was so unlike Cedric to talk in bookish wisdoms. Alayne said nothing.

The weight of silence was pressing down on both of them.

“I’m going with you to the north,” Cedric finally said.

Alayne turned to face him. “If you want to stop me, feel free to do so now,” she said coldly.

“Stop you?” Cedric scoffed, a faint, bitter smile pulling at his lips. “Alayne, I’ve known you for sixteen years. I know perfectly well that there’s no stopping you.”

Her shoulders relaxed, but only slightly.

“Good,” she said simply, brushing past him to gather her things.

But Cedric wasn’t done. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’ll make the killing blow in your stead.”

Alayne froze.

What is he saying? This didn’t make any sense to her.

“There’s only room for one in a boiling cauldron, I’m afraid,” her brother continued. “And I would hate it if you cheated me out of it.”

"You'll... die," she said stupidly.

“So what?” His eyes glinted, and Alayne again remembered the fire that consumed her parchment. “All men are equal in death.”