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[font=Century]D[size=2]aily, Nightly[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]T[/size]ime passed, dragons aged. Arven, blessedly, became less of a thorn in Isaac’s side. He grew pensive, thoughtful even, and spent more time in the bowels of the keep conversing with those bound there. Each time the pale fae disappeared into the cellars, Isaac would seek out Aibek. Just to look at him, to watch, to see for himself if the naïve tundra truly did not know what Arven had done before they were born.
But if Aibek was aware of anything sinister going on within the palace, he did not show it. Arven and Isaac, each for their own stubborn reasons, would never tell him. Arven would take care not to punish Isaac too harshly in the tundra’s view, and Isaac would disappear to watch over those locked below only when he was certain Aibek would not miss him.
It was a dreadful task.
Caelum kept him silent company often, dark oil slickening the stone floors. They would often sit unmoving, so still that Isaac would step closer just to be sure that the eldritch guardian was still alive. Sometimes Marley would be with them, and when Isaac came around the corner she would look at him with unnerving eyes, both pretending not to notice the scratching at the magic ward just beside.
The others within the castle lived on. Although they all kept peace beneath the same roof, they were hardly unified. They were divided, each preferring the company of those they had arrived with then any others. Slania and Taz, Asena and Akane, Ambrose and his wards. There was even talk of another nocturne that had slipped in, a nocturne named Chassar, although Isaac was never sure who had invited him into the castle. In the right light, Isaac often mistook the nocturne for Ciela or Casimir, for this third dragons’ wings were green and his body yellow, a strange combination of the two faux siblings. It was enough to make Isaac doubt if Chassar truly did exist, or if the siblings were playing tricks.
In the end, though, Isaac did as the rest of them did: he kept to his own company. He stayed with Aibek always, withdrawing into himself and attempting to forget that anyone else existed at all. Was there any purpose to do otherwise?
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Time passed, dragons aged. Arven, blessedly, became less of a thorn in Isaac’s side. He grew pensive, thoughtful even, and spent more time in the bowels of the keep conversing with those bound there. Each time the pale fae disappeared into the cellars, Isaac would seek out Aibek. Just to look at him, to watch, to see for himself if the naïve tundra truly did not know what Arven had done before they were born.
But if Aibek was aware of anything sinister going on within the palace, he did not show it. Arven and Isaac, each for their own stubborn reasons, would never tell him. Arven would take care not to punish Isaac too harshly in the tundra’s view, and Isaac would disappear to watch over those locked below only when he was certain Aibek would not miss him.
It was a dreadful task.
Caelum kept him silent company often, dark oil slickening the stone floors. They would often sit unmoving, so still that Isaac would step closer just to be sure that the eldritch guardian was still alive. Sometimes Marley would be with them, and when Isaac came around the corner she would look at him with unnerving eyes, both pretending not to notice the scratching at the magic ward just beside.
The others within the castle lived on. Although they all kept peace beneath the same roof, they were hardly unified. They were divided, each preferring the company of those they had arrived with then any others. Slania and Taz, Asena and Akane, Ambrose and his wards. There was even talk of another nocturne that had slipped in, a nocturne named Chassar, although Isaac was never sure who had invited him into the castle. In the right light, Isaac often mistook the nocturne for Ciela or Casimir, for this third dragons’ wings were green and his body yellow, a strange combination of the two faux siblings. It was enough to make Isaac doubt if Chassar truly did exist, or if the siblings were playing tricks.
In the end, though, Isaac did as the rest of them did: he kept to his own company. He stayed with Aibek always, withdrawing into himself and attempting to forget that anyone else existed at all. Was there any purpose to do otherwise?
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[font=Century]W[size=2]ho Has Seen?[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]A[/size]ibek sat in the snow. His tail was coiled around his feet, flicking every so now and then in a manner not too dissimilar to a feline. There was a pensive look on his face, thoughtful and distant as he stared without truly seeing at the falling snow.
Things had changed.
Wasn’t that always the case? Or at least Isaac had always said so, but back then Aibek had only laughed. “The castle never changes,” he’d said back, buried in ignorance, “and neither do we.” Isaac had looked sad then, if only for a moment, but then that too vanished. And Aibek had let it.
Carefully, Aibek thought of yesterday, the shattering of the peaceful illusion. It was not uncommon for dragons to wander into the castle, strangers at first before their stories and pasts spilled out of them like weeping wine.
There was Willow and Durmast, one with bleeding eyes and hurting, the other with so fierce a look in her eyes that it would have frightened a hatchling. They wished only for a place to rest, claiming they would only stay until Durmast’s wounds had healed—but it had been days, and his eyes only worsened. Shortly after them came Akhila, a dark coloured dragon with brilliant Light eyes and a penchant for generosity. (Aibek took to them quite quickly, but he was always fond of kindred spirits.) They said they’d only wandered by, searching for something new and something interesting. In the strange, cold palace perhaps they had found both.
Most recently, there was Siani. A hatchling, she appeared quite strangely. It was Caelum who had found her, shivering out in the cold one night without a clue how she’d gotten there. Caelum had brought her to Isaac and Aibek when Arven had disappeared (as he so often did), and the two did their best to tend to the child.
“Should we find Ambrose?” Aibek had suggested, thinking of the bogsneak who had fathered two hatchlings already. “Or Slania, perhaps.”
Isaac shook his head. “Slania has gone hunting with Taz,” he said. “And Ambrose has enough on his hands.”
They carried the hatchling to an unused room, once an infirmary. Aibek took a towel and began to brush away the snow and ice that clung to the hatchlings pelt, while Isaac dug through cabinets and drawers for anything that might be of use.
Caelum appeared once more, Marley in tow. She held an iron pot of soup in one hand, the lid keeping the steam and warmth in. “For when the child wakes,” she explained, setting it aside. “Caelum, light a fire.” Marley slid over to Aibek’s side, staring with wide eyes at the hatchling.
“You don’t normally get involved in things like this, Mars.” Isaac looked up from one of the cabinets, a cloth bag dangling from one claw.
Marley did not tear her gaze from the child. “Ourakles demands it.” She did not offer further explanation, and for the time being the others did not ask.
Aibek, returning back to the present, sighed and stared down at his paws. Perhaps he should have suspected things were about to change then. Marley, who knew too much, and her Saint. They would always bring about great change. And they had. They had.
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Aibek sat in the snow. His tail was coiled around his feet, flicking every so now and then in a manner not too dissimilar to a feline. There was a pensive look on his face, thoughtful and distant as he stared without truly seeing at the falling snow.
Things had changed.
Wasn’t that always the case? Or at least Isaac had always said so, but back then Aibek had only laughed. “The castle never changes,” he’d said back, buried in ignorance, “and neither do we.” Isaac had looked sad then, if only for a moment, but then that too vanished. And Aibek had let it.
Carefully, Aibek thought of yesterday, the shattering of the peaceful illusion. It was not uncommon for dragons to wander into the castle, strangers at first before their stories and pasts spilled out of them like weeping wine.
There was Willow and Durmast, one with bleeding eyes and hurting, the other with so fierce a look in her eyes that it would have frightened a hatchling. They wished only for a place to rest, claiming they would only stay until Durmast’s wounds had healed—but it had been days, and his eyes only worsened. Shortly after them came Akhila, a dark coloured dragon with brilliant Light eyes and a penchant for generosity. (Aibek took to them quite quickly, but he was always fond of kindred spirits.) They said they’d only wandered by, searching for something new and something interesting. In the strange, cold palace perhaps they had found both.
Most recently, there was Siani. A hatchling, she appeared quite strangely. It was Caelum who had found her, shivering out in the cold one night without a clue how she’d gotten there. Caelum had brought her to Isaac and Aibek when Arven had disappeared (as he so often did), and the two did their best to tend to the child.
“Should we find Ambrose?” Aibek had suggested, thinking of the bogsneak who had fathered two hatchlings already. “Or Slania, perhaps.”
Isaac shook his head. “Slania has gone hunting with Taz,” he said. “And Ambrose has enough on his hands.”
They carried the hatchling to an unused room, once an infirmary. Aibek took a towel and began to brush away the snow and ice that clung to the hatchlings pelt, while Isaac dug through cabinets and drawers for anything that might be of use.
Caelum appeared once more, Marley in tow. She held an iron pot of soup in one hand, the lid keeping the steam and warmth in. “For when the child wakes,” she explained, setting it aside. “Caelum, light a fire.” Marley slid over to Aibek’s side, staring with wide eyes at the hatchling.
“You don’t normally get involved in things like this, Mars.” Isaac looked up from one of the cabinets, a cloth bag dangling from one claw.
Marley did not tear her gaze from the child. “Ourakles demands it.” She did not offer further explanation, and for the time being the others did not ask.
Aibek, returning back to the present, sighed and stared down at his paws. Perhaps he should have suspected things were about to change then. Marley, who knew too much, and her Saint. They would always bring about great change. And they had. They had.
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[font=Century]T[size=2]he First[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]S[/size]iani didn't understand what had happened. She had slept—how long had she slept?—and the world changed. It lost its colour. Where before her world was one of vibrant pink, of brilliant blue, warm brown, and even startling orange, now it was white. She woke, and everything had turned greyscale.
Strangers surrounded her. They had kind faces, but they were unfamiliar. They were not the faces of her family.
Siani was so [i]cold[/i], so tired, but still she found energy to open up her too-dry mouth and ask the question that was burning on her tongue. "Where are my sisters?"
The faces did not know. They darted confused looks at each other, shifted with uncertainty. One, however, kept staring at Siani with yellow eyes.
"You were found alone." This came from some dark smear of a dragon standing the furthest back, their ink-oozing scales looking like a spot that the universe forgot to fill in. "Alone and nearly dead."
Siani let her head fall back on the bed she rested in. Alone? Had she ever been alone? Her sisters… They would not so readily abandon her. They would not gave forgotten her, or left her for dead. Perhaps it was they that- no. No.
"Where am I?" The words came out a dry rasp as Siani stared at the stone ceiling above.
Something was placed next to her. Siani glanced, saw the cup of water, and turned away from it.
"An abandoned castle in an abandoned city." A different voice spoke, higher yet lacking emotion. "In the Southern Icefields."
Siani flinched.. That would explain the grey.
"You're not from the Icefields?" a male's voice asked.
"No," Siani replied, "I am from-" She stopped. Not because she didn't wish to say, but because she'd found she'd forgotten. [i]Where am I from?[/i]
Siani looked to the strangers again, panic seeping off her tongue and onto her words. "Where," she breathed, brow furrowing, "are my [i]sisters?[/i]"
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Siani didn't understand what had happened. She had slept—how long had she slept?—and the world changed. It lost its colour. Where before her world was one of vibrant pink, of brilliant blue, warm brown, and even startling orange, now it was white. She woke, and everything had turned greyscale.
Strangers surrounded her. They had kind faces, but they were unfamiliar. They were not the faces of her family.
Siani was so cold, so tired, but still she found energy to open up her too-dry mouth and ask the question that was burning on her tongue. "Where are my sisters?"
The faces did not know. They darted confused looks at each other, shifted with uncertainty. One, however, kept staring at Siani with yellow eyes.
"You were found alone." This came from some dark smear of a dragon standing the furthest back, their ink-oozing scales looking like a spot that the universe forgot to fill in. "Alone and nearly dead."
Siani let her head fall back on the bed she rested in. Alone? Had she ever been alone? Her sisters… They would not so readily abandon her. They would not gave forgotten her, or left her for dead. Perhaps it was they that- no. No.
"Where am I?" The words came out a dry rasp as Siani stared at the stone ceiling above.
Something was placed next to her. Siani glanced, saw the cup of water, and turned away from it.
"An abandoned castle in an abandoned city." A different voice spoke, higher yet lacking emotion. "In the Southern Icefields."
Siani flinched.. That would explain the grey.
"You're not from the Icefields?" a male's voice asked.
"No," Siani replied, "I am from-" She stopped. Not because she didn't wish to say, but because she'd found she'd forgotten. Where am I from?
Siani looked to the strangers again, panic seeping off her tongue and onto her words. "Where," she breathed, brow furrowing, "are my sisters?"
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[font=Century]M[size=2]agic Will Gather[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]I[/size]saac laid in the snow-covered room. He wondered how long he’d been there—long enough for the cold to seep into his feathers—and wondered when at last he would leave. He’d laid down in the pillowy snow on a whim after seeing the pile that had accumulated in front of the open window. Now he had no will to stand, nor the care to do so.
In truth, Isaac was tired.
He wore the night like a second skin, the fatigue that came with no sleep and the dread of the morning. Arven still had not returned, and Isaac struggled to think what he’d tell the fae when he did. Even Aibek had nothing to offer as advice, and Marley in her far-seeing wisdom would reveal little. As always, Isaac was left to his own devices. This rarely went in his favour.
Rolling onto his back, wings splayed on either side, Isaac’s thoughts drifted to the strange child Caelum had found. She was starlight incarnate, but something stranger still lied within. Isaac could sense it, as sure as he could sense that same strangeness in Caelum and his tar-slick scales. In Marley with her eyes full of knowing.
Although the child begged for news of her sisters, Isaac and the others had nothing to offer her. She could not remember where she’d come from, and Caelum could not tell her where she’d been. They had found her in the cold, and that too was all she could recall. What was left, then?
Her name, for starters. After Aibek pressed her, she revealed herself to be called Siani. This, at least, she knew. Siani had questions of her own, and she was quick to ask them.
“You said we’re in the Icefields? Is this…your clan?” Inquisitive and unsure, Siani looked between the four of them with her vivid pink eyes. “Are you all there is?”
“This is not a clan,” Isaac had said, quickly dismissing the idea. “There are others, but… The dragons that stay here do not do so eagerly.”
Siani nodded, as if this made perfect sense. She sat upright on the table and looked about the room. Isaac wondered what she saw in it, the dilapidated walls and candles that struggled to chase away the muted cold.
“Why is there so much magic here?” she’d asked, causing Isaac to blink.
“What do you mean?”
Siani stretched out a clawed hand, her antennae seeming to glow briefly. Particles of ice drifted over, clinging to her hand as if by its own gravity. “Not just Ice magic, but others. The air is thick with it.” She furrowed her brow, shaking off her hand. “And who is [i]whispering[/i]?”
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Isaac laid in the snow-covered room. He wondered how long he’d been there—long enough for the cold to seep into his feathers—and wondered when at last he would leave. He’d laid down in the pillowy snow on a whim after seeing the pile that had accumulated in front of the open window. Now he had no will to stand, nor the care to do so.
In truth, Isaac was tired.
He wore the night like a second skin, the fatigue that came with no sleep and the dread of the morning. Arven still had not returned, and Isaac struggled to think what he’d tell the fae when he did. Even Aibek had nothing to offer as advice, and Marley in her far-seeing wisdom would reveal little. As always, Isaac was left to his own devices. This rarely went in his favour.
Rolling onto his back, wings splayed on either side, Isaac’s thoughts drifted to the strange child Caelum had found. She was starlight incarnate, but something stranger still lied within. Isaac could sense it, as sure as he could sense that same strangeness in Caelum and his tar-slick scales. In Marley with her eyes full of knowing.
Although the child begged for news of her sisters, Isaac and the others had nothing to offer her. She could not remember where she’d come from, and Caelum could not tell her where she’d been. They had found her in the cold, and that too was all she could recall. What was left, then?
Her name, for starters. After Aibek pressed her, she revealed herself to be called Siani. This, at least, she knew. Siani had questions of her own, and she was quick to ask them.
“You said we’re in the Icefields? Is this…your clan?” Inquisitive and unsure, Siani looked between the four of them with her vivid pink eyes. “Are you all there is?”
“This is not a clan,” Isaac had said, quickly dismissing the idea. “There are others, but… The dragons that stay here do not do so eagerly.”
Siani nodded, as if this made perfect sense. She sat upright on the table and looked about the room. Isaac wondered what she saw in it, the dilapidated walls and candles that struggled to chase away the muted cold.
“Why is there so much magic here?” she’d asked, causing Isaac to blink.
“What do you mean?”
Siani stretched out a clawed hand, her antennae seeming to glow briefly. Particles of ice drifted over, clinging to her hand as if by its own gravity. “Not just Ice magic, but others. The air is thick with it.” She furrowed her brow, shaking off her hand. “And who is whispering?”
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[font=Century]T[size=2]hrees[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]A[/size]rven had found out that another had joined the palace grounds much later, and with this discovery came grave news indeed, something he had feared but had not yet come to anticipate.
Siani quite quickly became his marked enemy. Arven thought himself the speaker of the Saints, and for some time they did indeed follow his will and enact his wishes; it was by their grace that Arven had captured Rekhanci Kingdom to begin with.
Perhaps this was why it hurt him to find that they favoured him no more. He had suspected Isaac of capturing the affection of Saint Rastos, the very Saint who had fruited him into Arven’s life, but this had been no concern. Rastos was a tricky saint, but his cruelty did not often strike out in grandiose ways.
The seer Marley was another mild concern. She wore the favour of the Saints clearly—how else had she turned herself into a pearlcatcher? A mirror one day and the Light-forged breed another. It was the sort of unnatural magic only the divine could produce without a scroll or a magi to grant the shift.
But still, this had not concerned Arven. Saint Orakles was all-seeing, but his will was that of the universe. What ever was to happen [i]would[/i] happen, whatever needed to be would do so. This was the way of destiny, of divining. Arven had made his peace with not knowing, and simply did as he willed. The chips would fall as they may, after all, and they had often fallen in his favour.
But this child. This [i]child[/i]. This nothing dragon! Who was she to pluck at the strings of Arven’s magic? To salt the air with her own sorcery? Who was she to reveal Arven’s secrets to his charges, the chosen Aibek and the guardian Isaac?
Arven had trembled with rage when he found out what Siani had revealed. He’d barely contained that rage when Aibek confronted him, fur fluffed with anger.
“Dragons beneath the palace, Arven? Is that the secret?” His voice was high, a mixture of hurt and confusion and doubt. “Isaac knew this whole time, you let him know, but not me. Not me. [i]Why?[/i] Why all of this? What purpose do you have for this place? For us?”
Arven dug his claws into the back of the chair he rested on. Ice frosted on the wood, a sign of his displeasure. “It was a secret, and that is all there is to it. Not everything needs to be told, not everything needs to be known. What good does knowing do?” He ruffled his wings, chin tilting up. “It will not change the fate of things.”
“Don’t pretend to sound like Marley. Your Saints can only do so much for you.” Aibek ground his own claws against the old wood of the floor. A look of spite flashed in his eyes, as if he was about to savour the words that would ruin all Arven had done. Had planned to do.
“You know what else Siani said?” The words were spat out, as sharp as the Ice that had grown out of them both. “She said whatever your plans are—your [i]schemes[/i]—they can be stopped. That the Saints would allow them to be stopped.” A look of triumph flashed across his face. “Did you know that the dragons you captured had their own Sainthood? They watch over them still. Whatever you have planned…it will not come to pass.”
Anger, raw and unyielding, pierced through Arven. “And who will stop me?” he’d snarled. “The divine do not directly intervene, Aibek, and you are too weak. That [i]child[/i] certainly cannot do it. What does that leave against me?”
Isaac, trembling with rage, listened from outside the door.
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Arven had found out that another had joined the palace grounds much later, and with this discovery came grave news indeed, something he had feared but had not yet come to anticipate.
Siani quite quickly became his marked enemy. Arven thought himself the speaker of the Saints, and for some time they did indeed follow his will and enact his wishes; it was by their grace that Arven had captured Rekhanci Kingdom to begin with.
Perhaps this was why it hurt him to find that they favoured him no more. He had suspected Isaac of capturing the affection of Saint Rastos, the very Saint who had fruited him into Arven’s life, but this had been no concern. Rastos was a tricky saint, but his cruelty did not often strike out in grandiose ways.
The seer Marley was another mild concern. She wore the favour of the Saints clearly—how else had she turned herself into a pearlcatcher? A mirror one day and the Light-forged breed another. It was the sort of unnatural magic only the divine could produce without a scroll or a magi to grant the shift.
But still, this had not concerned Arven. Saint Orakles was all-seeing, but his will was that of the universe. What ever was to happen would happen, whatever needed to be would do so. This was the way of destiny, of divining. Arven had made his peace with not knowing, and simply did as he willed. The chips would fall as they may, after all, and they had often fallen in his favour.
But this child. This child. This nothing dragon! Who was she to pluck at the strings of Arven’s magic? To salt the air with her own sorcery? Who was she to reveal Arven’s secrets to his charges, the chosen Aibek and the guardian Isaac?
Arven had trembled with rage when he found out what Siani had revealed. He’d barely contained that rage when Aibek confronted him, fur fluffed with anger.
“Dragons beneath the palace, Arven? Is that the secret?” His voice was high, a mixture of hurt and confusion and doubt. “Isaac knew this whole time, you let him know, but not me. Not me. Why? Why all of this? What purpose do you have for this place? For us?”
Arven dug his claws into the back of the chair he rested on. Ice frosted on the wood, a sign of his displeasure. “It was a secret, and that is all there is to it. Not everything needs to be told, not everything needs to be known. What good does knowing do?” He ruffled his wings, chin tilting up. “It will not change the fate of things.”
“Don’t pretend to sound like Marley. Your Saints can only do so much for you.” Aibek ground his own claws against the old wood of the floor. A look of spite flashed in his eyes, as if he was about to savour the words that would ruin all Arven had done. Had planned to do.
“You know what else Siani said?” The words were spat out, as sharp as the Ice that had grown out of them both. “She said whatever your plans are—your schemes—they can be stopped. That the Saints would allow them to be stopped.” A look of triumph flashed across his face. “Did you know that the dragons you captured had their own Sainthood? They watch over them still. Whatever you have planned…it will not come to pass.”
Anger, raw and unyielding, pierced through Arven. “And who will stop me?” he’d snarled. “The divine do not directly intervene, Aibek, and you are too weak. That child certainly cannot do it. What does that leave against me?”
Isaac, trembling with rage, listened from outside the door.
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[font=Century]A[size=2]n Interlude[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]B[/size]efore you stands a skydancer. You think he his familiar, although you aren’t immediately sure why. His face is obscured, covered by a mask. He is dressed as a jester, but you are certain that he is nothing of the sort. His face told of a being longing to be free. The skydancer stands in the snow, and the gem-adorned silk at his hip catches in the icy and bitter wind.
Before you lies a field of snow. It is untrodden before you, a blanket of untouched wilderness. The snow reflects the sun, but it is a light that slowly diminishes as that great ball of fire sinks into the horizon. The skydancer is alone on this field—no, not alone. Something shifts in the pines just behind, and two more dragons come into view. One, a pearlcatcher, glows with internal light even as the sun sets, and the other glimmers like starlight given form.
Before you sits a battlefield. (For that is surely what this is.) The sun sets in, and so too does their determination: this is a battle they will not lose. And as the last twinkles of sunlight bleed away into the bruised purple evening sky, something scitters across that once-untouched field of snow. It is followed by other wretched forms, tricky things that attempt to look like something they are not. Marley, with her Saints-blessed vision, and Siani, who knows things others do not, do not allow Isaac to be fooled.
Behind you is a city, and although it is almost entirely empty, it is still home to some. It is home to the three fighting for their clan, however unlike a family they might be. The city will not reward them, it will not praise them, it will not remember them. But as the mimics fight to break in, as the Night of the Nocturne begins and the world is full of these lying creatures, the three defenders think that being remembered is not the chiefest of their worries.
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Before you stands a skydancer. You think he his familiar, although you aren’t immediately sure why. His face is obscured, covered by a mask. He is dressed as a jester, but you are certain that he is nothing of the sort. His face told of a being longing to be free. The skydancer stands in the snow, and the gem-adorned silk at his hip catches in the icy and bitter wind.
Before you lies a field of snow. It is untrodden before you, a blanket of untouched wilderness. The snow reflects the sun, but it is a light that slowly diminishes as that great ball of fire sinks into the horizon. The skydancer is alone on this field—no, not alone. Something shifts in the pines just behind, and two more dragons come into view. One, a pearlcatcher, glows with internal light even as the sun sets, and the other glimmers like starlight given form.
Before you sits a battlefield. (For that is surely what this is.) The sun sets in, and so too does their determination: this is a battle they will not lose. And as the last twinkles of sunlight bleed away into the bruised purple evening sky, something scitters across that once-untouched field of snow. It is followed by other wretched forms, tricky things that attempt to look like something they are not. Marley, with her Saints-blessed vision, and Siani, who knows things others do not, do not allow Isaac to be fooled.
Behind you is a city, and although it is almost entirely empty, it is still home to some. It is home to the three fighting for their clan, however unlike a family they might be. The city will not reward them, it will not praise them, it will not remember them. But as the mimics fight to break in, as the Night of the Nocturne begins and the world is full of these lying creatures, the three defenders think that being remembered is not the chiefest of their worries.
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[font=Century]E[size=2]leven[/size]
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[font=Century][size=4]I[/size]t had been some time since their fight, and the dragons within the ruins of Rekhanci avoided each other like sharks. Even the others who lived within the walls - for there were many now, not all willing to reveal themselves just yet - did their best to stay out of the growing storm that was crackling between Arven and the others.
Aibek did not immediately forgive Isaac for withholding the truth, but he eventually relented. He had not spent his childhood at Isaac’s side just to be rid of him the moment it mattered. And Isaac, although a guardian no longer, still felt a level of attachment towards Aibek that mimicked the draw of the Charge closely. Some things would never change.
As Siani grew, so too did her knowledge. She told them many things, first of the dragons beneath the palace and their past (“They were a beautiful kingdom, full of magic and light.”) and then of their own eyes above who watched over them.
“Is there a way to undo what has been done?” Aibek asked one night, head low as they lay in a pile of pillows in Marley’s room. The pearlcatcher watched from the corner, pale eyes glimmering with Caelum besider her.
Siani turned her head, thoughtful. “Arven is not as powerful as he believes, but he is powerful enough to be a concern should we try to salvage this. And,” she continued, tail swirling around herself, “we do not know what these other dragons have planned, for their own saints certainly guide them along some unknown path.”
“It is not unknown to me.”
The trio turned towards Marley, and found her blinking at them in the dark. Only Caelum remained unmoving, the black ink of their skin sinking into the pillows. If the wet sludge bothered Marley, she did not let on.
“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.
Marley tilted her head up, as if looking through the ceiling. “Ourakles is known on the other side.” She looked back down at them, crossing her paws. “The saints who watched over the old kingdom watch over them still, and their plan to save Rekhanci is already under way.” Golden eyes bored into Siani. “And it starts with her.”
Siani did not look perturbed. “How so?”
Marley fanned out her hands, clicking her nails against the wood beneath her pillows. Eleven clicks, and then she stopped. “Eleven flights, eleven dragons. You are the first, born from Arcane. There will be others, the natural born representations of their flights.” Marley paused, thoughtful, and Caelum lifted their head to study her with curiosity. Looking at them, she spoke again. “There is more, but it cannot be known yet.”
The room was silent as the others considered this. Aibek was the first to speak, looking first to Isaac. “So we just need to find these ten other dragons. They could even be here now. When was the last time we took stock of who had wandered into the palace?”
“Oh, there are plenty of dragons who have come in, but how many of them will help us defeat Arven?” Isaac wondered aloud. “Prophesized or not, I mean.” He flicked his tail at that.
“Arven is just one dragon,” Aibek said, brow furrowed. “We only need a few to help us.”
Marley hummed a note. “And then the eleven to kill the curse.”
The others were quiet and thoughtful. Isaac murmured in the silence, “To kill the curse.”
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It had been some time since their fight, and the dragons within the ruins of Rekhanci avoided each other like sharks. Even the others who lived within the walls - for there were many now, not all willing to reveal themselves just yet - did their best to stay out of the growing storm that was crackling between Arven and the others.
Aibek did not immediately forgive Isaac for withholding the truth, but he eventually relented. He had not spent his childhood at Isaac’s side just to be rid of him the moment it mattered. And Isaac, although a guardian no longer, still felt a level of attachment towards Aibek that mimicked the draw of the Charge closely. Some things would never change.
As Siani grew, so too did her knowledge. She told them many things, first of the dragons beneath the palace and their past (“They were a beautiful kingdom, full of magic and light.”) and then of their own eyes above who watched over them.
“Is there a way to undo what has been done?” Aibek asked one night, head low as they lay in a pile of pillows in Marley’s room. The pearlcatcher watched from the corner, pale eyes glimmering with Caelum besider her.
Siani turned her head, thoughtful. “Arven is not as powerful as he believes, but he is powerful enough to be a concern should we try to salvage this. And,” she continued, tail swirling around herself, “we do not know what these other dragons have planned, for their own saints certainly guide them along some unknown path.”
“It is not unknown to me.”
The trio turned towards Marley, and found her blinking at them in the dark. Only Caelum remained unmoving, the black ink of their skin sinking into the pillows. If the wet sludge bothered Marley, she did not let on.
“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.
Marley tilted her head up, as if looking through the ceiling. “Ourakles is known on the other side.” She looked back down at them, crossing her paws. “The saints who watched over the old kingdom watch over them still, and their plan to save Rekhanci is already under way.” Golden eyes bored into Siani. “And it starts with her.”
Siani did not look perturbed. “How so?”
Marley fanned out her hands, clicking her nails against the wood beneath her pillows. Eleven clicks, and then she stopped. “Eleven flights, eleven dragons. You are the first, born from Arcane. There will be others, the natural born representations of their flights.” Marley paused, thoughtful, and Caelum lifted their head to study her with curiosity. Looking at them, she spoke again. “There is more, but it cannot be known yet.”
The room was silent as the others considered this. Aibek was the first to speak, looking first to Isaac. “So we just need to find these ten other dragons. They could even be here now. When was the last time we took stock of who had wandered into the palace?”
“Oh, there are plenty of dragons who have come in, but how many of them will help us defeat Arven?” Isaac wondered aloud. “Prophesized or not, I mean.” He flicked his tail at that.
“Arven is just one dragon,” Aibek said, brow furrowed. “We only need a few to help us.”
Marley hummed a note. “And then the eleven to kill the curse.”
The others were quiet and thoughtful. Isaac murmured in the silence, “To kill the curse.”
