Ozie » Hibernal Den » Niko

Niko

(#50180374)

Level 1 Imperial

Familiar

Umbra Wolf

Energy: 50/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

27.27 m

Wingspan

20 m

Weight

8540.46 kg

Genetics

Heather
Python

Heather
Morph

Heather
Peacock

Hatchday

Mar 15, 2019
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Shadow
Unusual

Level 1 Imperial

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

Niko Azar'el (and Gizmo)
Musician
Patient | Curious | Beggar

-1-
In the dim light, he could barely make anything out. Just a few outlines, nothing more. His pounding head prevented him from figuring out what they were. It was like a hammer was knocking against the inside of his skull, almost like an annoying neighbour trying to pin up a portrait.
Niko sat up, head reeling, stomach tumbling, and tugged on the curtains. He regretted it instantly; the light attacked him from all corners and almost compelled him to dive back under the duvet. He’d half expected it to be night. How wrong he was. At least he can see where he is now, as much as it pained him to so much as breathe, let alone look around.
The room he had woken up in was a tip; strewn across the floor and stacked against the walls, he spotted old documents, letters and newspapers. Boxes piled high until they scraped the ceiling and old clothes leaked out of every nook and cranny of the room. Even under the bed he was on was messy, with old books and even a device of some sort poking out under it.
Wherever he was, he was not in the stable anymore. That much was obvious. He couldn’t decide whether that was a blessing, a curse, or both.
With a pounding mind, he braved a look out of the window. Outside was broad daylight with no sign of the storm that had hammered him into a corner last night. It was why he’d taken residence in a stable of all places, the only thing taken from that being the stench of hay come from the end of the bed. Only the trees had any evidence of it, with dewdrops pattering onto the ground and the window through which he stared. Even the air smelt fresh with the sweetness of petrichor wafting along the wind.
Down in the square were dragons of all kinds browsing, playing, joking. There were hatchlings racing around like there was no tomorrow, their parents giggling and flirting by the fountain or the silks stall or the food cart, and their familiars indifferent to the matter at hand as long as their companion didn’t up and leave. Cats, satyrs, centaurs, floating books; all sorts loitered on the citizens’ shoulders, heads or merely hovering beside them.
Niko turned his head away from the window with a hiss and stared towards the end of the bed, where his own familiar lay underneath an onslaught of clothing. How could he tell? Her snoot was sticking out from underneath a torn shirt. He shook his head and grinned. Of course, Niko always counted on her to find the most cramped space in the room, or make one for herself.
She woke up at his whistle that sent a pang of pain thundering through his mind. She shook off the apparel with ease. Her deep purple eyes lit up at the sight of him.
“I almost didn’t see you underneath that mess,” he whispered to Senu, scratching softly behind her ears as soon as she came close enough. “You really need to stop hiding from me.”
She responded with liking his nose and leaping from the bed and rummaging quietly through the room with more curiosity than fear. Given her deep purple and grey fur, she could blend in easily with the dark walls and the many shadows that crisscrossed the room, though she deliberately stayed within the light to offer him so relevance of comfort in this new place. Niko was grateful for that, and she knew.
It wasn’t long until voices came from the other side of a mahogany door beside the bed. Senu began growling softly, deep within the pit of her throat. It took all of his effort to keep her quiet.
“Do you think he’s awake yet?” one of them asked. She sounded young, barely an adult.
“Maybe,” the other came, his voice gentle. “Can’t be sure until we’ve checked, though, can we?”
“I suppose not.”
“Why don’t you go get some food sorted for him and I’ll check up on him?”
No response came.
“Cy, I’ll be fine,” the older one said confidently. A shuffling sounded close to the door, and Senu’s growl deepened. Niko bit his tongue to stop him ordering her to shut up. “Go keep yourself occupied, okay?”
“But—”
“Cyra, come on. If something does happen, I don’t want you getting wrapped up in it.”
“…Fine.”
“I’ll be down soon, okay?” the male called out just as the door behind Niko’s door slammed shut.
From where Niko sat, slightly dazed, he could see Senu crouch down to the floor. As soon as that door opened, she would attack.
Senu proved him right mere seconds later, when she launched herself at the male on the other side with a battle howl, teeth bared and fur stuck on end.
She never made it to her target. He never so much as flinched as golden dust curled around her, suspending her in the air. The fear in her eyes made anger bubble in his stomach.
“That’s one crazy familiar,” the male remarked, keeping a growling, fidgeting Senu in his magical grasp. He was looking at Niko, purple eyes piercing through his. “Well trained, I presume?”
“Are you going to hurt her?” he asked him with a snap. He could barely stand the terror that she sent to him, begging him to get her down.
He looked shocked at his accusation, pain flitting through his eyes. “I’d never do that.”
“Then let her go.”
He shrugged beneath his golden shawl. “I can’t really do that, either, or else she’ll attack me again.”
“Please, she doesn’t like it!”
“I know, but I need to make sure you’re alright first—” He sighed and closed his eyes. “—since it’s not often that someone involved in a storm won’t have some kind of sickness.”
Niko didn’t answer. Instead, he gritted his teeth and tried to soothe her with different images of their travels. Campfires, forests, reading, playing endless games of fetch and tag and I-Spy; it didn’t help much.
It took the male a few seconds to register his silence. He was busy tentatively eyeing Senu. “How are you feeling this morning? Are you feeling sick or cold or anything like that?”
Niko didn’t answer that, stifling a tremor. “Can you put her down now?”
“Not until I’ve checked.”
“She won’t hurt you again.”
He hummed, and then put her gently on the floor. She snapped at him, of course, but did no more and hopped into Niko’s lap. He looked almost pained to have treated her that way. Good.
“What’s her name?” he asked him, edging around her seated self and sitting opposite him at the end of the bed.
“Senu. May I ask what your name is, since this is your house?”
The male looked slightly shocked to have been asked, but obliged. “I’m Arien Ayala.”
“Niko Azar’el.”
“So I gathered.”
Niko eyed this Arien suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
He snorted. “Your shawl had your name in it.”
It was only then that Niko noticed it was missing, his apparel replaced by simple nightclothes. “…Ah, that makes sense.”
“May I—?”
“Go ahead, I guess, now that you’ve put my wolf down.”
Arien nodded guiltily. He reached deep inside the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a tiny potion. It glinted in the sunlight, the blue liquid inside looking as if he’d managed to trap the sky in a bottle.
Senu snarled at him, her anger flaring in the corner of Niko’s mind.
“What do you need that for?” he asked, voice wavering slightly.
“Just to check your temperature,” Arien said simply, showing Senu the bottle and easing her panic. Despite their introduction, Senu’s relief was a welcome surprise. “That’s all.”
After a few seconds, Arien handed him the bottle to down in one swig. He could tell he was trying to look as unthreatening as possible, and it was working. Senu, in spite of herself, was completely calm, nuzzling Niko’s paw as the potion took effect. It felt strange. Sudden warmth burst through him, almost knocking him back onto the pile of pillows behind him, and Arien’s reaction didn’t reassure him.
“It’s bad, huh?” he chuckled, his head as light as the air outside.
“It’s not exactly great,” Arien admitted, “but it’s better than I thought it’d be.” He eyed him, concerned, before speaking again. “You’re swaying; you might want to lay down.”
“I’m fiiiiiine.”
“Niko, lie down.”
Nausea hit him like a ton of bricks and he eventually did what Arien ordered of him. Senu attempted to cheer him up, licking his cheek and lying down beside him. He buried his face in her neck in thanks.
“My daughter should be up soon with some food,” Arien told him as the duvet shuffled up from around his waist to his neck. Niko supposed that he used that magic of his, since the presence of paws was virtually nonexistent.
“Is that the other one I heard earlier?” he asked, his voice weaker than he expected it to be.
“Yeah, she wanted to come in and check on you. She found you, after all, so she felt responsible for you.”
“Found me?”
“What was that?”
Niko cleared his throat and lifted his head from Senu’s neck, onto her back. “She found me?”
Arien nodded sadly. “She tends to familiars and found you on her way to work. You must’ve left the stable door open.”
“Oh.”
“Where were you headed, anyway?”
His cheeks heated slightly, and Niko buried his face into Senu’s fur once more. “My mate’s lair, I was going to go move in.”
“You don’t live in the same lair as each other?”
“No, she lives in another.”
Arien hummed. “Is she nice?”
The smile that spread across his lips was something he couldn’t help. He was glad Arien couldn’t see it. “More than nice; she’s basically my angel. Beautiful, loving, quirky—”
“Young love,” he tutted.
Niko’s smile grew. “Have you ever loved someone?”
“Once.”
After what felt like ages in silence—even though it was only a few seconds—Niko opened his mouth to question it. Much to his disassociated irritation, the door clicked open and cut him off.
He lifted his heavy head once more and stared upon a young female about his age. She held a tray in her paws, a small otter the colour of freshly sawed wood sitting in the centre to make sure nothing—like the glass of water, or some little shakers or the silver bowl—toppled over onto the floor. Her auburn eyes locked onto his for a split second as she grinned at him, flashing white teeth.
“How are you feeling?” She asked him, handing Arien the tray of food. The otter hopped off onto her shoulder as soon as it left her paws. The claws attached to the tiny creature’s feet looked made for maiming.
“I reckon he’s out of his element right now,” Arien answered for him with a sad smile. “I just gave him the potion and it nearly knocked him right out.”
She frowned. Thanks to his clouded mind, he couldn’t tell whether it was mocking or genuine, and her response didn’t help. “You poor thing.”
“Who are you?” he asked dumbly, ignoring how heavy his eyelids were getting.
“Oh! I’m Cyra, the one who found you.”
“You look nothing like your father,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.
Cyra snorted. “Of course I don’t, I’m adopted.”
“Ooooooh.”
She laughed and hunkered down before him, gazing lovingly at Senu. Her otter didn’t share the sentiment. Instead, it glared at the wolf with curiosity and murderous intent for if she so much as breathed wrong. Senu did the same.
“She looks so fluffy,” she cooed as her paw drifted towards the side of her face. It stopped an inch away and she turned to Niko. “May I?”
“By all means, feel free.”
Cyra immediately went for the ears and Senu fell into a stupor, tongue lolling, eyes half-closed, head leaning into the touch. Niko chuckled. She never usually did this with strangers.
“She’s so cute!” She nuzzled the scruff of her neck, scratching away at her ears and her back. The otter began gently kneading at her back, chittering away before settling down and immediately snoozing. Senu responded with loving licks of the otter’s cheek.
Niko sighed. “If only your father had been so pleasant with her.”
Cyra looked up. She looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the dog—” her father began, the tray settled firmly in his lap.
“Wolf.”
“—wolf threw herself at me, so I didn’t exactly have time to be friendly.”
“Did you use Poppet again?” Cyra asked her dad, exasperated.
“I had to! She was about to bite my face off.”
“Poppet?” Niko inquired. It was his turn to be confused.
“Poppet is dad’s familiar. She helps him become Aegis.”
That raised more questions than answers. “Aegis?”
“She’s dad’s—”
Arien made a sound between shushing and hissing, keeping Cyra quiet.
His daughter guiltily buried her face in Senu’s pelt once more. “Sorry, Dad.”
Niko took that as an opportunity to butt in. “I’m still curious, y’know.”
“I’ll tell you later,” said Arien, giving him a level stare and holding the silver bowl—full to the brim with warm porridge—in his paws. The sweet smell drifting up from it made his stomach growl.
“Someone’s hungry,” Cyra chuckled.
“I haven’t eaten for about two days,” Niko told her groggily. Whether it was hunger or the potion doing its work, he couldn’t tell.
Chuckling, Arien handed him the bowl and a spoon, leaving the two teenagers to chatter.

Tummy full and dizziness lifted slightly, Niko leaned against the wall at the head of his bed and absentmindedly stroked Senu, the softness of her fur almost lulling him to sleep.
Cyra was still in the room an hour after Arien left, cleaning the mess and marvelling at old portraits and even her adoption paper that was among the stacks of rubbish in the corner. She didn’t explain who this Mrs Heidrich was. She just shrugged her shoulders and moved on, and Niko didn’t press her on it.
“Why’s a silk scarf in here?” Cyra asked herself, scrunching it up and launching it across the room. It landed on Senu’s head, covering her ears.
“Maybe your dad likes dress-up?” Niko suggested.
Despite the grimace she pulled, Cyra laughed. “My dad’s too old for things like that, sadly.”
“How old is he?”
“About thirty-four, roughly?”
Niko grinned. “You don’t even know your own dad’s age?”
Cyra shushed him and moved a box from the corner she was in, tail swishing with anticipation. It sent clouds of dust towards the two familiars, with Angry Otter as Niko had taken to call her curled up at the end of the bed. The pair of them sneezed and made the two dragons grin.
“Totem’s adorable when she sneezes,” Cyra cooed, wandering over to her familiar and stroking under her chin.
“Whilst Senu sneezes like a witch,” Niko said with a snort.
“Well, you’re not wrong.”
“You weren’t meant to agree with me!”
Cyra shot him a smirk and went back to her corner, heaving things out of the box and staring at them. Most of them were old books, covered in dust from years of neglect, and it was easy to tell that she was losing interest. His died along with hers. It was only when she hummed that his curiosity piqued again.
“What is it?” he asked Cyra, eyeing her sad frown.
“Just a portrait of someone,” she said simply, dumping it on the floor. “They look happy in it, that’s all.”
“Who were they?”
“They were important people who my dad misses dearly.” She sighed and hugged herself. “We both do.”
He made sure to choose his next words very carefully. “Who are you missing?”
She huffed. Guilt washed over him. “No one in particular, don’t worry about it.”
Niko squinted at her. Even though he’d only met her a few hours ago, she didn’t seem like the type to be evasive. If anything, she seemed humorously brutal in her truths guessing by how she tore her father down that one point when she was eleven after stealing her chocolate from the kitchen cupboard.
He didn’t pry further, though he sent Senu to go pick it up with Cyra’s permission. In the photo were two females, one exactly like Arien and the other one he’d never seen before. The Arien look alike had short golden hair, half-shaven, and a rebellious smile on her face. The other one was a deep blue and gold, eyes a piercing white; she looked like a Tundra but much bigger and a lot fluffier. Her antlers seemed caught in the other one’s antlers, like it was midway through a play fight.
“They look happy, don’t they?” Cyra said as she continued to dig her way through the box.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “One of them looks a hell of a lot like Arien.”
Cyra didn’t answer. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him, but he decided again not to pry. Instead, his mind snagged onto something else.
Under the photo, he noticed, was a scrawl in deep red ink; You never were a good fighter. –M. Beneath that was a response. It looked recent, and was in a black ink as opposed to the red. I was always better than you, M. If only you knew that.
M… who’s that?
When he looked up, confusion in his gaze, Cyra was still burrowed in the box of things, tugging things free and throwing them in the areas she’d just cleaned. Whatever her method of tidying actually was, it wasn’t one Niko had seen before.
Chuckling to himself, he tucked the photo away. Now wasn’t the time to ask about M; not with the sadness that’d shown in her eyes. “They’re the window to the soul,” his beloved once told him in a letter.
He’d read it late one night, by the candlelight that flickered in his window with a lovesick grin on his face. He stashed it away with some others in his bag, which Arien had reassured him was downstairs with the rest of them, dried. She wasn’t wrong, Niko realised after looking at Cyra.
Then again, she never was.
-2-
Tapping his foot, pacing, biting his nails – all of these things Cyra had scolded him for that morning before rushing off with her father for some personal business.
It’d been a good few months since he arrived at the Ayala household and he loved it more than he previously anticipated. Over that time, Cyra had become like an older sister to him; she showed him around the market, lent him treasure when he needed it and offered him hugs and advice.
All that Arien requested of him, in return for letting him stay, was to chip in for the cost of the house. As much as he hated the idea at first, he did it anyway, thinking he’d have to take up a job at the local inn or in a stable like Cyra enjoyed doing. Within a week, he fell in love with it, making money through playing music on the guitar he’d found in the spare room.
Most mornings, he’d find himself a spot in the Clawing Post—a local tavern that sold delicious brews enough to make Cyra giddy and giggling like a three-year-old—or the fountain next to Rosham’s Jewels, where he’d gotten his mate’s pendant from a week ago. He’d strum a few cords on the guitar he found with a hat, or a bag, on the floor, and lost himself through the music, words rolling off his tongue, digits gaining a mind of their own.
Time would fly by; familiars would sit around him and listen intently until whistled away by their masters, children would dance around him until the sun rose on lunchtime and then set on teatime.
The only onlooker that stayed—of course—was Senu, who howled along to certain songs and leapt about to others. She’d dance with the children; she’d cheer with the adults. In a world that was still new to him, at least she stayed the same.
By the time he finished for the day, his temporary purse would be heavy with coin, and he’d always take it back to his landlord with a huge smile on his face. Arien always let him keep most of what he earned.
This morning was different, however. Niko wasn’t in the courtyard, the back garden, the tavern or the market. He was outside of his home, letter in paw and excited anxiety rushing through him. It read:

Niko Azar’el,
The pendant was a surprise, that’s for sure. I hope it didn’t take too much out of your pocket. I might just have to pay you back, who knows? Maybe I’d sneak it into your pouch at night and you’d be none the wiser!
I’ve memorised the coordinates of the ~~Aia~~ ~~Alay~~ Ayala House (Deities help me when trying to write that name again) and I’ve looked into taverns around the area, especially the one you suggested. I sent the owner a letter, she sounds nice enough. More so, even. She offered free breakfast and all sorts! Can you imagine?
This Arien guy sounds sweet, too. You got lucky with your proprietor. Most of them are old maggots with nothing better to do than yank money from the innocent. Although he is in his 30’s, at least he’s nice!
You said he has a kid as well as you staying there, right? Cyra? Maybe she can help you show me around when I get there. I doubt you’ll be very good at it; the place sounds humongous!
Once this gets to you, I should be there in a few hours. “I can’t wait to be in your arms once more” or something like that.
I’ll see you later, cheesy!
-Sky.

A smile had settled ever since that letter popped up in front of him at dawn, and it was there to stay. His mind raced, his heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to see her again; to chase her around the back when she stole his sheets of music; to tease her when she was sat at her easel, her brush drifting across the canvas creating yet another beautiful piece.
That was the only thing that made his smile dissipate for a while. Sky’s other pieces were at his old home, waiting to be brought to his new home. He’d have to send for them and scatter the walls with them.
For now, all he could do was kill time.
With every passing quarter of an hour, Niko had to find something new to occupy himself. At first, he just sat on the step and let Senu run around him. Then they played fetch with an old ball from his bag, and then got something to eat. The list went on and on, ranging from laying on the grass to meandering around the village to heading into the back garden.
It was the Forbidden Realm, according to the rules Arien set out. Surely he wouldn’t mind if he had a small poke around, right? What could be so bad that his garden’s off limits, anyway.
The garden itself was overgrown with weeds and grass, rosebushes and ivy. An old cobblestone pathway could be spotted underneath the golden shreds of grass, cracked and dirtied from the lack of use and care. It didn’t lead anywhere in particular, just to the other side of the garden, but as he walked over there, his paw brushing over the tops of the grass and Senu bounding through without a care in the world, something to the right of the path caught his eye.
He’d never seen it before. Vines and shrubbery covered almost every inch of it, with only a few bare snippets that seemed cracked above his head. Its eyes, though faded with the years, bore into his as he stared, and the snarl on its lips sent a shiver down his spine. A statue. Why was it there? Who even was it?
It was stood on a pedestal of white that seemed strangely clean, with flecks of gold along the rim and in the centre, forming only a few letters. Again, the M appeared. Irritation flowed at the secrecy behind this M, but it was short-lived.
“Is anyone here?”
His heart skipped a beat; he turned away from the statue, all thoughts about it abandoned, and raced to the front of the house, Senu at his heels.
Niko skidded to a stop, gawking at the female who turned to face him.
She had the most beautiful mane; she’d tied it back into a loose, messy plait that stopped midway down her tail, bits of kelp draping down her back and over her shoulders. Her dress, one that hugged her figure, looked woven out of the night sky itself, her stockings and gloves barely noticeable against her scales and a tail drape tied to her with a silken, purple bow.
His smile somehow widened. So did hers. Sky.
“Hey,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Senu sent her regards, rushing up to Sky to nuzzle her paw.
“Hey,” she said with a grin as she scratched Senu’s head. “You were going to show me around, like you promised?”
Niko winked at her. “You might want to pay the fee, first.”
“And what might that be?”
“Just a small thing, nothing too bad for the stone-hearted, I should hope.”
She raised her eyebrow at him and sauntered over to his side. “What might that be, Azar’el?”
Unsure of what to do next, he threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “This’ll do.”
Sky snorted and hugged him. “I missed you, cheesy.”
“I missed you too.”
The embrace lasted the matter of a few seconds before Sky reached up and pecked him softly on the cheek. Then she was gone, making her way towards the side of the house. Niko followed behind her, slightly dazed.
“Is there something interesting back there?” she asked him. He couldn’t help but notice that a small mischievous grin played at her lips.
He shrugged. “Other than an overgrown garden? Not really. There’s just an old statue.”
“Old statue, you say?”
“Well, yeah, I did just say that.”
“Och!” She slapped him on the arm and walked off, leaving Niko chuckling to himself before he followed her around the corner.
He halted in his tracks, eyeing the garden around him in shock. “Where’d it go to?”
The pedestal was vacant, no old statue in sight. Ivy and bushes previously intact were now in two, sliced cleanly with some kind of blade, and shoved aside. No footprints, though. Not that Niko could see through the patches of uncut grass and weeds.
He raked his paws through his mane. “What?”
“You said there was a statue?” Sky asked him, eyebrow raised.
“There was!” He looked around again, heading over to the pedestal. “I swear there was!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sky, I mean it.”
“I know.”
Niko turned, growling low in his throat at the lack of the statue. Where could an inanimate object possibly have gone to?
His lover smirked. “You look irritated.”
“How can an inanimate object move?”
“You’re asking an artist how inanimate objects move, hon. You’re not gonna get a good answer.”
He stuck his tongue out at Sky and roved across the garden, keeping an eye out for anything tall and covered in moss. His mate eventually helped, checking behind the pedestal and near the stable where Niko had been found. Nothing turned up, and with each second that it was missing, the more he doubted himself. Had he been seeing things? It wasn’t too long ago when he was bedridden, the potion he took occasionally making him hallucinate. He wondered if this was any different.
“Deities be damned, it’s gone” he snarled, walking into the only patch that wasn’t overgrown. “How could—”
“You’ve asked me that, like, seven times, Niko,” Sky sighed. She came over to him and gave him a small smile; the kind that instantly soothed his nerves. “I don’t know where it is, but I’m sure we can find it.”
Something shattered in front of them, making them jump.
“It was a tile,” his lover mumbled, eyeing it with curiosity. She looked up and tensed.
“What’s wrong?”
Her voice was little more than a whisper. “I think I found your statue.”
Niko noticed she was pointing up at the roof, towards a hunched figure. He’d initially seen it up there but thought nothing of it, supposing it was just a gargoyle on the roof, but now that he looked, there was something about it that made him stifle another shiver. Most of the figure was hidden by the sun, but from what he could see, its face was cracked with age and its eyes were flaring with life – or, more specifically, fire. As far as he was aware, gargoyles didn’t have the depths of Hell blazing in their eyes.
It was staring right at them.
“It doesn’t look happy,” he pointed out, paw finding Sky’s.
To prove his point, the figure screeched and flew straight for them. It was like that of a hawk, but its screech was as deadly as the sword that shimmered in the statue’s stony paws.
Adrenaline rushed through him as the figure came soaring overhead, swinging her sword with deadly precision. It nicked his ear, warmth leaking down the side of his face as he ducked to the side, Sky dodging into the grass opposite him.
A thud sounded close to his left. Metal sang through the air as grass was cut away to find them. It became evident then that it had poor eyesight, and why wouldn’t it? It was a statue, after all. It’s not like eyes made of stone would have 20/20 vision, especially if they were as aged as this statue.
Then a thought hit him as he hunkered low into the grass, hoping it missed the bright purple splodge in amongst the golds and the greens. What if it was playing with them? For all they knew, it could have extraordinarily good eyesight and yet it could be pretending to get them to flee. It could be trying to get them to run so that it could play its sick little game. The prize; a bittersweet few seconds of life before they were eventually run through with a sword that somehow came from the stone scabbard at its waist.
The swinging grew closer and he panicked. His paw hit something—a small pebble—and set it rolling across the cobblestone pavement. The clacking it made echoed. Nothing but silence accompanied it. The swinging stopped. He froze. He held his breath, bit his lip and hoped it’d just found something interesting, like a pretty flower. A dandelion would do, if not something really complicated that Sky would most likely know the name of through her research.
The demonic statue screamed at the top of its stony lungs. The sword landed a hairsbreadth away from his paw, a paw gripping onto his apparel with a steel-like grip. It tugged him up onto his knees. His favourite shawl tore with the force, and an inevitable pang of guilt raced through him. A few months ago, Sky lovingly sent him it after the storm.
He heard the sword swing through the air again, dirt splattering against his face and the blade coming close to shaving his mane. He yelped. Terror coursed through him and he tore the shawl off his shoulders and ran, grabbing a sharper rock along the way. It was all he could do to keep from collapsing in fear; have some kind of weapon, no matter how useless it seemed against a sword still sharp after Deities knows how many years of neglect. If he were a blacksmith, he’d want to know the statue’s sharpening technique.
One thing was for sure; he was asking Arien about why he kept such a lethal killer in his own backyard.
If he survived, at least, he would.
Niko dared a look behind him and paused. The statue wasn’t following him. It, instead, was cutting through more grass, rage flickering in the fire in its eyes. It was looking for Sky.
Anxiety for her doused his fear and his grip on the rock tightened. What he was about to do was probably the most idiotic and the riskiest thing he’d done regarding an animated statue. Then again, he couldn’t say that it was part of his career choice to deal with living inanimate objects.
He’d have one shot to get its attention, and if he missed, he’d hit her. He shook his head and glared into the back of the statue’s head. Thinking about that, he knew, wouldn’t help him here.
Therefore, Niko aimed. He drew his paw back, twiddling the rock until it felt like skipping a stone across the surface of a lake. Left arm raised ahead of him, acting as some kind of estimate for where the stone would go, he barely let himself hesitate a second longer. He launched the rock, and...
Bull’s-eye! With a crack, the statue went down, hissing and clutching at its cheek. Could it feel pain? He didn’t dwell on it as Sky charged past it and leapt into his arms. It shook him out of his stupor.
“Took you long enough,” she growled, clutching at what remained of the shawl. “Did you have to let it tear the shawl?”
He didn’t respond. He felt giddy, the adrenaline seeping out of him with every second that he watched the statue, so he held onto his beloved, burying his face in her shimmering pastel mane, arms wrapped around her waist and holding her close. She didn’t seem to mind, rubbing his back and burrowing her face into his neck.
“Well, that’s a lovely sight to see.”
Starting, they parted to see Arien stood in the entrance to the yard, a small, tired smirk playing at his lips. One of his antlers was missing, replaced by one with a slightly duller shade meant to replace it. Even now, he didn’t know why it was missing.
Just as Niko went to greet him, his landlord held up his paw. His smile had faded. “In the very place I asked you not to go to.”
He went to object, but a surge of memories overcame him. The very conditions for him staying in the house; one of them was to keep out of the back garden for reasons previously unknown to him, and then he’d been told a few times just this month that he should stay clear of it. Now it made sense.
Shame overtook him and he bowed his head. “Sorry Arien.”
“Thank you.”
Looking up, his smile had returned, though vaguely. Niko smiled back at him.
“Is someone ‘round there, Dad?” Cyra called from around the corner.
“Just the two lovebirds, so you might want to cover your eyes.”
She appeared a few seconds later, making a show of looking disgusted despite the grin she had splayed across her face. Niko stuck his tongue out as a response. She was covered head-to-toe in dirt, like her father, with just as little energy left, too. There was a small red mark on her cheek. He couldn’t tell whether it was a cut or just that; a mark.
“Disgusteng!” she cried, wagging her finger at the two of them and exaggerating her distaste.
Still giddy with the aftermath of the attack, he laughed. “Shut it!”
Cyra’s grin grew. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You look awfully sweaty, what on earth have you two been up to?”
Niko started. “Nothing!” he cried defensively as Cyra began giggling.
“Well,” Sky corrected, “except for hiding from an animated statue.”
Cyra’s laughter ceased. “You mean Aella?”
“It has a name?”
“Of course, she’s like a defender—”
“Defender? It nearly killed us both!”
He watched anxiously as his sister’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Sky scoffed, throwing her paw towards the statue. It stood up at the mention of her name, and looked close to tears. “What do I—she nearly slaughtered us! If it hadn’t been that Niko—”
Cyra wasn’t listening. She hesitantly made her way past her father and the couple and towards the grounds behind the house. The gasp that came from her had him hoping that she didn’t notice the hole in its cheek.
It dissipated when she cried out the statue’s name, charging to her side.
Arien rushed past them then, watching from a distance as his daughter checked the damage. “What did you do to her?” he asked them.
“She was going to kill us—” Niko began, fumbling over his words “—so I kinda threw a rock at her.”
He hummed gestured for them to follow him. Silently, they crept round to the front of the house, closing the gate to the back behind them. Niko didn’t miss the tears streaming down Cyra’s face as she took in the damage of Aella; her shattered cheek, her guttering fire and the sword that was dug deep into the earth, marking the end of their battle.
They turned the corner and Arien turned on them so fast that Niko jumped in his own skin.
“Did we do something wrong by protecting ourselves?” Sky inquired, crossing her arms. Anyone else would think that she was being snarky, but Arien knew she wasn’t. Not on purpose, anyway.
“It’s not so much that,” he told them both, his voice cool and calm, “it’s that Aella means the world to Cyra, and the fact that she’s hurt greatly upsets her. I would—”
“She was going to kill us, like Nik said!”
Arien stared at her and Sky fell quiet. Then he said, “I would greatly advise that you fix her. We don’t have the money to do so, and Aella is all that my daughter’s got left.”
“What do you mean?” Niko asked, twiddling his thumbs. “She’s got you.”
His response made the guilt set in. “I’m not from her biological family. You know that.”
Sky raised an eyebrow at him in inquiry. “She’s related to a statue?”
“It’s not my place to answer that,” Arien sighed, pressing his paw to his forehead. He looked as guilty as Niko felt. “I shouldn’t have even said that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not my story to tell.” He looked at them in turn, lingering longer on Niko, and he could’ve sworn his eyes looked gold for a split second before retracting back to purple. “Don’t tell Cyra I told you what I did. I thought she told you already.”
Niko shook his head. “She hasn’t mentioned anything of her biological family—”
“Then forget I said anything, please. It’s not fair on her for me to share information about her family.”
“But aren’t you her—” Sky began, only to be cut off by Arien’s pained sigh.
“She’s adopted; that much is what she’s willing to share, it seems.”
“Oh.”
“As I said, I’d appreciate it if you fixed her. I don’t mind how, whether you do it yourselves or if you pay for it, but to see her active again is both a miracle and a curse. I’m sure if you were to fix her up, she’d forgive you.”
“Forgive us? After she tried to stab us?”
“I’ll talk to her about that, don’t worry. She doesn’t understand the concept of ‘friends’ just yet.”
“But she will,” Niko mumbled. “Right?”
Arien nodded and gave them a reassuring smile. “She will. Don’t worry, she’s a fast learner.”
Niko grinned back. As strange as today was, at least he wasn’t about to be kicked out of the house.
“If needs be,” he said after a while, gazing at Sky, “you can stay here for a while. I don’t blame you after being attacked by a statue.”
Whether she meant to or not, she took a step closer to Nik. “You’d let me?”
“Of course, though you two would have to share a room. My little spare room is off limits for now.”
“How come?” he asked his landlord, cocking his head. “I woke up in there, didn’t I?”
Arien shrugged. “Cyra and I are converting it into a useable room. Up until now, it was just a spare filled with junk.”
Niko thought, then shrugged. “Good point, it was a tip when I was in there.”
“Why do you think I was desperate to get you out of there?”
“Another good point.”
“I’m full of them, surprisingly.”
The couple snorted, and Arien chuckled. “Why don’t you two head inside? I’m going to go check on Cyra, make sure she’s okay.”
“Can I come?”
“I’ll come up and let you know how she is. I think this is more of a family matter.”
As he spoke, Niko noticed he looked apologetic. He understood almost instantly. After throwing a rock at something—someone—who meant a lot to her, both of them doubted Cyra would want to talk.
“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” he called out to Arien upon realising he’d walked away towards the corner.
“Definitely,” he shouted, turning back to wink at him and repeating his favourite phrase; “Don’t worry.”
-3-
Watching Sky at work was almost like losing himself in his music, except his lover meant more to him than any sheet of music ever could.
Sky perched on a bench with Aella, who had attacked them just a week before, with a brush and palette and sponge in her paws. She’d tied her pastel mane back into a heavy, messy bun, her dress discarded for the likes of a simple shirt and breeches long since splattered with spots of yellow, red and blue. Her gloves—her expensive ones, with a lot of emphasis on the expensive—sat in Niko’s lap. She’d threatened him with his life if he so much as breathed on them.
Cyra, who’d thankfully forgiven him later on the same day, sat with him—or rather dozed in the sun after waking up early that morning. Why she did, he didn’t know. She’d been gone before breakfast, her little leather pouch missing from beside the door by the time Niko and Sky made it downstairs, and Arien hadn’t been exact on where he went or why. By the time she came back, it was nearly lunchtime. She collapsed onto his stomach upon arriving back home, winding him without a care in the world and falling asleep almost immediately. Niko had to shove her aside, and still she didn’t wake. A few awkward prods here and there let him know that Cyra was still breathing.
“Hello?” Sky called from where she perched. The slight shake of his head made her frown. “You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Sorry, sweetness,” he drawled, revelling in the slight grin that tugged on her lips. “What were you saying?”
“I was asking how Aella looked, ******.”
He took her in then and found himself pleasantly surprised. The wide hole in her cheek vanished just under a few days ago, only drying a day prior, and with the help of a local potter, the shape of her face was restored itself to soft and feminine. Through Sky and a colour palette given to her by Cyra, her stony skin went from a bland grey to a gorgeous navy blue, freckles of white dotting her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. They looked almost like constellations, which he supposed was the point. Sky splashed the armour with silver and red for the Ayala House, a few scratch marks littered across it for effect. Even the scabbard looked amazing; brown with great silver swirls covering it like vines to a castle tower.
She looked gorgeous.
“You look smitten with her already,” his love groaned, despite her smirk. “I hope you know she’s taken by her blade.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.”
“How is she, though?”
“Much more beautiful than words could ever describe.”
Sky snorted as she wiped her digits on some tissue. “And that is why I call you cheesy.”
It was Niko’s turn to frown. Aella just stared dumbly between them.
“Sad?” she asked in her simple way, the flame alight in her eyes sputtering with confusion. They learned through Arien that her capability of speech was limited to mere words, most likely because statues aren’t meant to talk.
“Nah,” he told her. He let his frown drop. “I was just joking.”
She nodded, happy with that answer.
“You should be about done now, by the way,” Sky told her, smiling gently. “If you want, you can fly around and dry yourself off.”
Aella beamed at that and immediately took off, sending a flurry of loose dirt towards Cyra. She answered it with a meek groan.
For the fun of it, Niko prodded her again. It earned him a mixture of curses before his sister threw her wing over herself and continued to dive deeper into her slumber.
“Colourful,” he noted aloud, “like that palette of yours.”
“Also very tired, just like the artist,” Sky grumbled. Her stuff, scattered at the end of the bench, was left out to dry in the sun with Sky sitting down and leaning on him. It was only then that he noticed the bags under her eyes.
He threw his arm around her and planted a kiss in her hair. “You did an amazing job.”
She hummed, but said nothing. Instead, she was looking over at the bed of roses that Arien had recently fixed, one in particular standing out. He called it the Juliet Rose, one that was white and soft to the touch but nowhere near as delicate as it sounds. The scratches along his paws had only proven that.
“Jeez,” groaned a voice to his left. “You two are disgusting.”
Niko watched as Cyra hefted herself up onto her knees and stretch with a few sickening cracks of her joints.
Her right cheek was marked with the buckle of her little satchel, her auburn head feathers crooked from sleeping and her simple clothes creased. A small and playful snarl tugged at her mouth. She settled back down, her wings outstretched and nearly knocking Niko in the face. She didn’t apologise.
“You’re not much better,” Niko told him. “You drool when you sleep!”
Absentmindedly, Cyra rubbed at her mouth with her sleeve. “At least I don’t kiss hair.”
“Disgusting.”
With a nasty grin, Cyra turned to face him. “No, you.”
Dirt flying her way, his sister ducked out of the way just in time and went barrelling towards the pedestal. Just like Aella, Sky repainted it, the words now a shimmering gold:

M. Z. Heidrich.
Died aged 31.
Beloved lover of Arien Ayala and mother to Cyra Ayala.
“May the sun shine for you.”
X, May 10th -X, October 7th

During her painting, she’d found graffiti to the side of the engravings which raised more questions than answers. In the deepest blue from years ago, it read:

Aella,
I’m sorry. I wish it had been me instead of you.

Niko still didn’t know what the M was for. He’d guessed, of course, but no one gave him a straight answer. He always got silence. No one ever told him what the M meant and who she’d been before she passed. He just had a picture and the pedestal to go by.
He barely had time to react when a handful of grass came flying towards him, most of it getting tangled in his hair.
“Damn it, Cyra!” Niko groaned. “It’s gonna take me ages to get all the grass out.”
“Good, you deserve it.”
“What did I do to you?”
She sneered from beside the pedestal. “Threw dirt at me, duh.”
“You’re both children,” Sky said, rolling her eyes.
Before anyone could remark, footsteps sounded across the yard on the fresh, uncovered cobblestone pavement. They sounded heavy, dragging along the work, and they suited the very male that accompanied them.
Arien.
“Hey, Dad,” Cyra called, grinning. It soon fell. “Is something wrong?”
“Can I talk to you?” he inquired. His eyes looked heavy, and a letter was clutched in his paw. “Alone?”
His daughter nodded, stopping only to pick up her satchel as she raced towards her dad. They talked amongst themselves, the couple leaning in to listen and catching mere snippets of the conversation; “Sheila”, “Adam”, “destroyed”. Whoever this Sheila and this Adam were, they were important. The growing horror and the growl that came from Cyra only confirmed that.
As soon as their lips stopped moving, she took off, her amber wings catching the sun. Aella followed her from the rooftop.
“What was all that about?” Sky asked, concerned.
“It’s up to Cyra to tell you,” was all Arien told them, stalking back into the house with a look of disdain. He looked like he was about to throw up.
They’d have to wait and find out, then.

Later that night, Cyra still hadn’t come back. The growing curiosity was enough to make Niko want to scream.
Soon after coming inside that afternoon, they’d been dismissed upstairs by Arien. He looked like he was part of the walking dead. His skin was pale; his eyes were dull. Even his runes looked sick, their glitter disappearing into slight shimmers and nothing more.
As much as they’d wanted to argue with him, to help him and demand things from him—things that would give them a slither of understanding—they didn’t. There was a look about their landlord; aside from looking like he was about to topple over like a domino, his clenched paws and narrowed eyes made Niko shiver. Whilst he understood whatever rage he might feel towards whatever happened, it looked almost professional. Cool and calculating, rather than irrational. It became evident that he wasn’t in the mood for discussions.
Sky went upstairs first, giving up almost instantly with Niko tailing her. Just before he did, he noticed the glint in Arien’s eyes. It was barely noticeable, but once you noticed it was unforgettable. What he’d initially mistook as rage was something entirely different. It was a kind of danger mixed with infinite calm. Though the rest of his face showed him as exhausted and unwell, that shine was enough to get him scampering up the stairs. He supposed, once upstairs in Sky’s arms, that that was the point.
“You’re sure it wasn’t something else?” she asked him, her paw raking through his knotted hair. Even now, bits of green tumbled from his locks. “It could’ve been a trick of the light.”
“No, I saw it,” he mumbled, head resting on her chest. “It was horrifying. It was like a killing calm.”
“Maybe he used to be an assassin.”
Despite himself, Niko chuckled. “Maybe, yeah. It’d explain this nice house.”
A thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Arien’s spare bedroom was across the hall, Cyra’s next door to them and the landlord’s bedroom closest to the stairs that led downstairs. It would be easy enough, whilst Arien was downstairs, to go in and look around, to explain this sudden change in behaviour. Cyra could also be an option, but guessing how close she was to her father, Niko doubted she’d say anything. If she did, it’d be through coaxing. Maybe some brew from the Clawing Post would do…
“What are you thinking?” Sky asked him suddenly. He looked up to see her eyeing him with suspicion.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, mister. What were you thinking about?”
He sighed. Sky knew him better than most, and lying wasn’t exactly his specialty, so he explained his idea. Sky didn’t say much as he talked, only humming or staring at the door or both. He didn’t know whether she agreed, couldn’t tell whether she thought him stupid or a genius or even a stupid genius. She didn’t let on.
When he finished, he was flushing slightly with embarrassment. Invading Arien’s privacy… that shouldn’t be an option, he thought, and yet the tug of curiosity, of knowing who M was other than some dead woman, of knowing Arien’s and even Aella’s past, clutched at his heart and sent his mind reeling with possibilities.
“Let’s do it.”
It took a while for Sky’s words to settle, and when they did, he started. He sat up on his knees and stared at his mate with disbelief. She looked serious.
“Really?” he asked. “You want to?”
“I want to find out more about Arien, yes.” She crossed her arms and bore her beautiful pink eyes into his. “After you told me about him through letters, and then this privacy that he always has, I want to know who he was before he became Landlord Arien of Ayala House. It’s only fair.”
Guilt washed over him, but also courage. With Sky by him, he felt like he could do it, and yet they’d be risking their own necks if he turned out to be undesirable, to say the least.
They waited until Cyra came home. It wasn’t a pleasant greeting, judging by the curses drifting up from downstairs and the rushing of footsteps on the ground floor.
“We should go while they’re occupied,” Sky whispered unintentionally, already moving towards the door.
Niko joined her, opening it to view the corridor outside.
In the darkness, it looked almost haunted by its past owners. Ancient marks littered the walls and the torches—of which, according to Cyra, were older than both of them combined—flickered low, close to dying out completely but never truly doing so. They hadn’t done for years, it seemed, as the charcoal burns on the walls would suggest. Other than the cream coloured wallpaper dotted with black spots, the walls were bare, windows dotted here and there, throwing moonlight into the darkness in some bleak hope of brightening it. The carpet had gone from a ruby red to what looked like blood in its attempt. It sent his heart racing.
Upon exiting the room, they froze. Arien’s voice sounded at the base of the stairs.
“…caught you?”
“I outran them,” Cyra said. She sounded close to tears. “I couldn’t get there in time, I’m sorry.”
“Are you—?”
“Don’t worry about me, Dad. Please. Let’s just focus on Sheila.”
He paused, and much to his relief, the footsteps that fell moved away from the stairs. “Afterwards, you’re going to tell me. I don’t care what state I’m in, I’m not about to leave you upset.”
“I promise, Dad.”
They went back to talking quietly. Sky and Niko exchanged looks; both of them were as confused as the other. What he meant by 'state' confused him.
In that moment, he clicked his digits and Senu appeared, forming from a single ball of white light within a matter of seconds. Already, the fur on her neck and haunches were standing on end. Sky’s familiar, Ammon—a Harpy said to be one of the ambassadors of the Arcanist himself—stood beside her, claws at the ready for any sign of danger.
There was no doubt about it. Something was up.
“You two wait here,” Niko ordered of the familiars. Despite the twinge of agitation coming from Senu, she sat beside the door, her deep purple eyes roving their surroundings. Ammon perched beside her, legs crossed, claws clicking against the wall in irritation.
Within seconds, they were opening the spare room’s door. It felt too easy. He’d expected some kind of key or maybe a familiar waiting beyond it, ready to eat them alive. The only thing to offer some resistance was the dust, making Sky sneeze into her sleeve.
The inside of the room was a mess. The bed was unmade, covered in newspaper and bits of string, the cover strung up over the window with only a couple of candles to bring light into the very room he woke up in. Bottles of dye, scraps of fabric, needles, cotton thread and metal sharpeners messed the nearby desk, and a bleached white cloth had covered some kind of chest underneath it. It looked new.
“This doesn’t look like renovation,” Sky mumbled, heading towards the bed. She peered at the newspaper clippings with a hum.
“He used this place recently,” Niko said. “Like, a today kind of recently.”
“Surely he’s up to something.”
Whilst his lover looked at the snippets for clues, he scooted towards the desk. It was cluttered to the point of overflowing with rubbish. One piece in particular stood out to him.
Underneath some pieces of fabric was a gold-brown piece of paper. A special note, if he’d learnt anything from his old home. Gently, Niko picked up the scraps of fabric and tugged the note free from under some kind of jewellery box which no doubt held something sinister inside. Whilst most of it was dull and boring, there was a bit in particular that stood out.
His heart leapt out of his chest and he buried it once more. “Damn,” he muttered to himself.
“What’s up?”
Niko gestured to the pile of fabric. “There’s something under there that’s worth a read.”
Just as Sky wandered over to have a look, he ducked down under the desk and tugged the chest out from underneath it. It was a lot heavier than it looked, and left him panting slightly once it was out in the open.
“What’s in it?” Sky inquired, her eyes alight with curiosity. She was holding the note in her paws.
“I don’t know; I can’t see through wood.”
Sky sneered at him. Note abandoned, she crouched down before the chest and began fiddling with the lock. It, like the cloth, looked brand new and had a combination code.
“Damn it,” she snarled, letting it drop against the wood of the chest with a soft thump.
“Let’s go through the thousands of number combinations,” Niko grumbled, rubbing at his forehead.
“You wanna go first?”
“Let’s try 000000.”
Sky, whose face screwed up in some mixture between frustration and concentration, snorted. “Yeah, because he’d use that.”
“You never know!”
Giggling, she punched him lightly in the shoulder. He’d hug her if they had enough time, but they needed to get this chest open.
“Wait,” he said, a thought suddenly hitting him. “What were the numbers on that pedestal?”
Sky gave him a look. “I don’t know, why?”
Niko shrugged, already doubting his idea. “It might be the code.”
Senu, though she was in the hallway, perked up at the mention of the pedestal and sent an image barrelling into his mind. It was the pedestal with the numbers in clear view; “The 10th of May and the 7th of October.”
His lover hummed and tapped her chin. “Could it be 105710?”
“Let’s try it.”
He fumbled with the lock on the chest, digits unsteady. With every number he put in, the weight of the lock grew alongside his uncertainty. If he was wrong, they couldn’t risk messing up the room to find a code, but if he was right, they could find something worthy of treason or otherwise. What would happen if either became a reality?
The final 1 rolling into place gave way to a satisfying, terrifying click. The padlock fell to the floor with a thump.
“You did it!” Sky squealed, throwing her arms around him and nuzzling his neck. She stopped within a second or two and immediately drew her attention towards the chest. “Let’s get this bad boy open.”
They needn’t have touched the chest. It seemed to answer to their desire, the lid swinging open slowly and on silent hinges despite how ancient it appeared to be. They peered inside hesitantly.
In it, wrapped in a loose lion skin, sat two daggers the size of Niko’s entire paw. They were sheathed in their beautiful leather scabbards, a sword poking out underneath with a small pouch of something lurking to the side. A small scrap of paper tied in a shining red ribbon sat on top of the daggers.
What caught his eye, buried beneath everything else, was the outfit. Golds, whites and browns mixed, a mask peeking out where the face would be underneath the hood. The mask, whilst otherwise bland and ending at the bridge of the nose, had swirls of silver around the eyes and edges. A large X stood out on the forehead. Another was hanging from some kind of belt, but it wasn’t a letter; it was more like two swords crossed over each other.
“X...” Sky hummed to herself before creeping over to the bed, scooping up a handful of clippings. “There’s a bunch of stuff here about her. Some of it is recent.”
Fear and confusion began to throb in his chest. “Is it Arien?”
“Nah, a few articles point her out to be female.”
Niko let himself sigh in relief. Why he would have all of this in the first place, however, still went unanswered, but not for long.
Sky edged over to Niko and crouched beside him after having discarded the other snippets over the two she showed him.

NOTORIOUS ASSASSIN ‘X’ CAUGHT! PARTNER IS STILL ON THE RUN!
After months of searching, Mikaela “X” Zara Heidrich took a wrong turn and ran into the Phylakitai of Ilaindran City! This is a victory for His Majesty, Caeo – but it doesn’t end here. Her husband, known as “Aegis”, is still on the move. Everyone needs to help in order to catch this traitorous heathen, or else the City will fall into the hands of killers!

X? The codename sounded familiar, sparking a memory in his mind. They’d definitely been female, her wanted posters flying around his lair like ghosts of the past and her execution making every available headline in the region. However, he’d never heard of Aegis. He remembered Cyra mentioning the name, and he shuddered. Niko prayed to the Deities that it was just a coincidence, that Arien wasn’t part of this ruthless gang of merciless killers.
His hope evaporated when he eyes fell upon the second snippet, his heart faltering.

AEGIS’S IDENTITY FOUND!
The reckless assassin “Aegis” made a terrible mistake in his latest attempt, revealing to us his identity. Whether he will be found or not is a different matter, but an onlooker described him as a “tri-golden Imperial male; golden wings, golden eyes and golden runes”.
Anyone fitting this description is to be brought before the King and tried. If a citizen is found to be hiding an individual matching this identity, they’re to be put to death. Make sure it’s not you!

Golden wings, golden runes, an Imperial male. Only a sliver of his hope remained, and it lied solely in the fact that Arien had depthless purple eyes, not gold ones. Maybe he was wearing contacts? Niko shook his head, cursing to himself. Over however long he’d been here, only now he was seeing all of this.
“It can’t be him, right?” he asked Sky, who was staring at the snippet in disbelief. “It could be a coincidence.”
“I don’t think it is,” she mumbled after a while. “Remember Arien spoke to us after Aella attacked?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
She turned to him, panic in her eyes. “His eyes were golden.”

The rest is in Sky's!

If you feel that this content violates our Rules & Policies, or Terms of Use, you can send a report to our Flight Rising support team using this window.

Please keep in mind that for player privacy reasons, we will not personally respond to you for this report, but it will be sent to us for review.

0/1000

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Niko to the service of the Arcanist will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

Do you wish to continue?

Name

Names must be longer than 2 characters.
Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
Names can only contain letters.

Name

Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
Names can only contain letters.