- [Azalea and Cvet] -

A swirling breeze runs along the exposed stones, carrying the sharp sensation of the night’s cold that settles on her skin. The sky overhead glimmers with dozens of astral specks that seem to watch from above, their radiance almost swallowed by the gloom pressing in from all sides. The vantage from here reveals a dark stretch of terrain below, where the outlines of a small village stand under the faint glow of distant lanterns. A subtle dryness clings to the air, prickling any exposed surface. Shadows slip around the ramparts, yet the old blocks beneath her feet remain steady because of the Vampire Lord’s miraculous upkeep of the ever-changing fortress.

Azalea stands outside on the ramparts, near the castle’s outwardly hanging astral observatory, her posture tense. Her brown hair moves gently across her shoulders, strands stuck in her long ears. There is a quiet determination in her eyes that betrays months of conflicted thoughts. She wears her robes fashioned by the city’s church, though the edges have grown worn. Her breath rolls out in a drawn exhalation.

Cvet arrives from the side, arms crossed, expression guarded. The young man steps up with reluctance, stopping some strides away. He narrows his gaze at the cluster of lights below to share the sight of what she’s looking at. After a moment, Cvet gazes over at his sister. “You really miss it down there so much?” he asks, his voice edged with an uncertain bite as they look back at their old village. “Because you sure like leaving it for someone who does.”

She lowers her gaze, pressing a hand against a dent in the rampart’s stone. “I never said I missed it,” she answers quietly. “I only said it felt small before,” notes Azalea, as the two of them continue with a conversation they had to take a break from earlier because it was too heated. This meeting here is a second part of a talk from before.

The rush of night air claims the next few seconds of silence. She lifts her face. “But after I became a priestess, I returned for you, Cvet. I had to.”

Cvet bites his lower lip. He unfolds his arms, then folds them again, just the other way around, unsettled. “Well, why even come back for me after all that time in the city?” he asks. “You sure it wasn’t out of pity? I’m okay if you don’t want to stay with me, Azalea,” says her brother, turning his head away. “If you want to do something else with your life. I get it.” He says that, but his tone at least makes it undeniable that he isn’t happy about it.

She moves to speak, but then stops. The scathing look on his face suggests that some old wounds are not yet healed. Instead, she stands still, letting the breeze push against her. Despite it, Azalea smiles slightly, looking at her stupid brother. “I… I came back because I wanted to be with you, asshole.” Her voice quivers. Azalea turns her head, looking out into the night. “After Mother died, and… if I lost you too forever, that would have crushed me,” says Azalea, fiddling with her hands that hang over the edge of the wall. “But at the same time, the village always felt so small,” she explains, locking her fingers tightly together and staring down at them. “I felt stuck, and I wanted to get away because I always thought there was more to life than just… listening to Farmer Barrow’s ninth confession about him getting tired of his wife he’s been married to for seventy years. I know this is all jumbled and weird, but that’s the first part of it, I suppose.”

Cvet runs a calloused hand through his hair, and the two of them stand quietly next to each other, the wind doing the talking for them for a while.

He stares down at the village again, his voice hushed. “I felt abandoned,” he says, tone blunt. “When she passed away, there was nobody left but you. Then you left too, heading off for your fancy training.” He glances over at her, thoughts drifting between heartbreak and relief. “Part of me hated you for it. I know that’s not right, but it’s what it is.” Cvet sinks his head, his chest falling. “I thought you didn’t want to be my sister anymore,” he confesses, shaking his head. “But then you came back, and I was really happy, and I promised to do everything right so you’d stay this time,” says the boy. “...And then you left again for this place, and I snapped.”

Azalea takes a gentle step forward, hesitates, and then slips behind him. She encircles her arms around his torso, pressing her face to the back of his head. Her words come out in a trembling hush. “I’m so sorry. Truly.” She plants a small kiss on his crown. “You stupid asshole,” says the priestess, holding her younger brother from behind. “I got wrapped up in something exciting happening to me for the first time in my life, and I didn’t think about how I made you feel when I ran after it,” says the priestess, leaning down against him as she holds him warm.

“Maybe we’re both just assholes,” says the human boy, Cvet, the two of them staring out into the night together.

Azalea nods, her head resting on his shoulder. “Well, we are related, after all,” says the elf, smiling.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he concedes, the wind dying down for a time, only to pick up again with a stronger bite than before. Up high on the mountains, it’s relentless.

He breathes in, dropping his arms to hold her forearms in place over his front. A pang of old resentment flashes in his eyes. “Still not sure about you living in this castle, though.”

She tilts her head, posture alert. “It’s safer here than it’s ever been down in the village with the goblins and the wolves,” she claims with trembling conviction. “The Vampire Lord promised to protect us. I believe that,” says Azalea. “And you know it’s true too, by now.” She squeezes his hands and then lets go of him, standing next to him again. Azalea slides down, leaning with her back against the wall as she sits, and Cvet, taking one last look out toward the village, slides down next to her, and the two of them stare at the castle.

He snorts, annoyance in his breath. “You know Mom would never have wanted us near any of this. She used to warn us every year on her birthday. Made us promise we’d always stay away from the castle.”

Azalea’s eyes tighten. She braces her hands on the parapet and glances at the distant farmland. “I remember.” Her voice cracks. “But I also remember her telling us to do what’s right.” She glances over her shoulder at Cvet. “I’m trying to do that here, Cvet. This place is full of monstrous things, but I see something else in Lord Inkume. He’s… not the terror that the stories say the old Vampire Lord was. You know that. He’s just some weirdo goofball, and I like him a lot, actually.”

Cvet lifts a brow. “You trust him that much?” he asks. “That you’d risk sitting by the side while he gets stronger and stronger?” The boy shakes his head. “I’m not even sure if it isn’t too late already. As strong as he is, I don’t know if even Agnis could stop him anymore.”

She crosses her arms, letting that question linger. “I really think the world judges him unfairly,” she states. “He’s simply misunderstood,” says the priestess. “The faith teaches us that every soul has redemption in it somewhere, and I think that he’s a person who needs to be saved.”

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“Seems like he’s doing pretty well if you ask me,” mutters Cvet, looking at the castle.

“It’s not about that, Cvet,” explains the elf. “It’s about… I don’t know; how do I say this? It’s not about who he is now but who he could be,” says Azalea. “Who would you be if I never showed up?” she asks.

“Probably bigger, stronger, thicker hair,” replies the boy, dryly, wincing as her elbow slams into his side. He scans the old architecture around them. A battered gargoyle juts from the rampart, overhearing everything in stony silence. Cvet grimaces. “So,” he starts, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Hard question. If I said I was leaving and never coming back, what would you do?”

Azalea doesn’t have an answer prepared for something like that. She simply sits there, eyes glistening, her lower lip trembling a little. Moisture blurs her vision. She turns away, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I… I…” is all she manages.

He sighs, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against him. “What? Why the hell are you crying all of a sudden?” he asks, taken aback. “It was just a theoretical. I’m not going anywhere without you. Damn it, don’t cry,” he mutters. “I hate it when you cry. Mom always came after me with her boot when you pretended to cry.”

Azalea laughs, an old memory resurfacing. They hold each other. The wind whips around them, cooling everything and carrying the distant noises of patrol guards that roam the ramparts. Far below, lights in the castle windows remain steady.

“So what’s the second part of it?” he asks.

“Pardon?” asks the priestess, wiping her eyes on his sleeve. He shoves her away.

“Before, you mentioned that the village being a boring shitheap was the first part of you wanting to leave.”

Azalea sniffles. She confesses, laughing, “I was adopted, remember? I guess I wanted to prove I was worth it — to you and to Mother.” She closes her eyes, words drifting. “All of that effort and work for me, and… it feels like a waste if I’m just… some village girl. Then what was it for all?” asks Azalea, looking down at her hands.

He touches her shoulder. “That’s nonsense,” he answers, tone hoarse. “You were always enough for me, Azalea. All I wanted was to know my annoying, brat of a sister was safe and still herself.”

A faint shape of an undead sentinel limps by behind them, casting a short glance before continuing on its route. The figure holds a rusted halberd, never pausing in its patrol. Neither sibling pays it attention, too lost in their moment.

“…So you like him?” asks Cvet.

“I mean, everyone does,” says Azalea. “I’ll admit that I really like the biting part too, hon-”

“- AHHH!” yells Cvet, covering his ears. He glares at her, his palms over the sides of his head. “I am not going to talk about that with you,” he says sharply, the priestess laughing again. “Gross!”

She exhales, calming her breathing, a last tear still clinging to her cheek. Her breath slows. They lean back against the wall and look up at the night, eyes lingering on the faint glow of the starlight that bathes the village and the forest that watched them grow from children into these uncertain figures who they now are.

He shifts his stance, rubs his neck, and straightens his back. “I don’t know if I can stay here forever. There’s something about this castle that sets my teeth on edge.” He flicks a glance toward a battered old tower that leads up to the astral observatory. “But I’m not walking out on you either. Not until I’m sure you won’t get yourself killed or something. If you want to redeem this Vampire Lord, do it. Just don’t forget you still have me.”

She turns to him, her expression full of appreciation. “You’re my family. It’s-” She sighs, letting the tension melt. “- We’re all we have. Everything else is gone. Mother…” Azalea turns to stare at the sprawl below, her voice barely audible. “Sometimes I ache over the memories. I wish she were here giving us a scolding again.” She shakes her head. “Life is easier when you have someone to yell at you every time you do something wrong.”

“You say that, but for some reason I keep getting yelled at and called names when I try to tell you that you’re a dumbass,” replies her brother, his forward gaze blank as his hand reaches up, pulling on the end of her long ear. Azalea cries out, flailing her arms as she tries to hold her balance. He blinks quickly. “Mom had the best bullwhip tongue, that’s for sure.” A shaky laugh slips out. “I’m sure she’s cursing us from the other side for standing on a damn vampire’s doorstep. Fuck. I dread seeing the look on her face when I finally die and have to see it again,” he notes as Azalea shoves him. Sitting cross-legged, he simply wobbles over to the side and then back upright again.

She rubs her ear, a pouring scowl on her face. “When we see her again, I’ll do the talking,” says Azalea. “Gotta protect my little brother, after all,” she says.

A distant torchlight flickers. The guard below calls something to another figure, and faint footsteps shuffle away in the gloom. The siblings remain together, heads lifted toward the open sky, hearts pounding beneath the layers of old tension. Some adventurers seem to be causing trouble elsewhere in the castle.

“Okay,” agrees Cvet after a moment of silence.

“Okay?” asks Azalea, not sure what he means.

“Okay,” repeats the boy, nodding. Cvet moves a shoulder around, forcing a lighter tone. “Guess I’m stuck babysitting my dumb sister, like always, until then.” He looks at her. “You know, she’s supposed to be the older one of us, actually?” he asks, letting the tension settle once more. Then he rubs at invisible grime on the stone parapet. He eyes a swirl in the masonry, remembering countless mornings in that tiny house with her.

Azalea shrugs. “Sounds like she probably grew up spoiled,” replies the elf. She smiles wide, eyes damp, giving his arm a playful bump.

A faint, fresh wind whips over the ancient stone. The temperature changes, forcing a mild shiver through them both. Then she notices a swirl of thin, silver beams in the distance, emanating from the domed peak of the observatory. That swirling glow pulses overhead, feeding the sense that this entire structure is alive with quiet enchantments that watch them from corners. Cvet eyes the swirling lights warily. “That thing always creeps me out,” he mutters, rubbing his arms. “This whole place is too quiet. Feels unnatural. It doesn’t matter where I go; I always feel like someone is watching me.”

Another hush.

The night’s mild draft intensifies, carrying a distant swirl of cooking smells from deeper inside the castle where Fi-Fi is at work. There is a clandestine kitchen somewhere below. The aroma momentarily disarms them.

Azalea slowly stands upright. “Hungry?” she asks, reaching down for him. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear with her other hand.

He exhales roughly. “Starving, actually,” replies her younger brother, taking her hand and rising up. He meets her gaze, a hint of conviction shining beneath his skepticism. “At least there’s a roof over our heads, and you’re safer here than in some random ditch.” He presses his lips together. “All right, let’s see if we can hunt down some real dinner. Let’s find a normal meal, if that’s even possible.”

She moves across the stone walkway, beckoning him to follow. A pair of castle attendants in drab attire circle around from the far side. They keep wide berths from Azalea and Cvet, offering polite nods. Azalea acknowledges them with a wave, and Cvet simply eyes them, uncertain if they are living or once-living. Someone coughs. Then the attendants vanish down a side stairwell with quiet footsteps.

The two siblings set off, walking side by side along the rampart that curves toward a staircase descending deeper into the castle’s outer structure. Before they leave the nightworld, she peers back over her shoulder for one final moment at the distant lights of the old village. Then she faces forward and goes together with Cvet. They vanish down the dark stairs, shapes receding into the flickering torchlight that dances along damp corners. Footsteps echo against old stone, drifting away until the hush of the rampart is left behind.

Hollow guardsmen roam overhead, their empty gazes scanning for intruders in the swirling gloom around the walls. The castle’s ancient territory holds many centuries of secrets, yet tonight, two hearts find a small measure of peace in each other’s presence in something obvious. This wasn’t ever a secret thing that they needed to break apart; it was a very obvious, plain matter for the both of them.

— But sometimes, those seemingly mundane day-to-day feelings and thoughts are so much harder to feel, grasp, and understand than even the deepest, most inner secret wants of the mind that only ever appear in vague dreams and thoughtless machinations.

A swirl of wind wraps around the place where they stood. It tosses some scraps of old cloth that had been half-buried in a corner past the black metal boots of a marching soldier. The night sky above is content in concealing its thousands of secrets with a weave of darkness.

Except for that odd swirl up by the observatory.

The hollow guardsman stands there and looks at it, his empty visor raised toward the oddity. What is that? Is that supposed to be there?

He doesn’t find out. A second later, an unseen force whips him from the outer wall, and he flies into the darkness below.

And the odd shimmering thing drifts back into the castle wall, like an exhaled breath forcefully pulled back into the lungs it had just left.