Crowned - 12 | Payment Settlement!

 

CHAPTER 12

Elvira remained skeptical of the tomfoolery brewing under her name and the alleged magic associated with it. Only cold hard proof – other than Kaeo’s estranged body – could soothe either Kairo’s delusion or her troubled mind.

“I will accept it only if you take me back to the Count’s Estate,” Elvira demanded.

“Why would you want to go back to a place you were trapped in?” Kairo sighed as he leaned in and placed his elbows on the table.

A portion of food separated them. Though, surprisingly, even after being unconscious for five days, Elvira did not have the urge to scarf down the free meal.

“I need to make sure that my friends are alright,” she replied.

“You have friends?!” Kairo exclaimed, at the same time as Kaeo banged his fist over the table.

“I knew it! You were the one who caused the fire!” he rejoiced.

Elvira and Kairo turned to face at Kaeo, who was busy scarfing down breakfast on the opposite end of the table.

“I was trying to save my friend,” Elvira mumbled and let her head hang.

“Arsonist,” Kaeo supplied, “You’re truly one of us.”

“I cannot believe you made new friends…” Kairo sighed, “I spent five years trying to locate you and you were busy forging fresher bonds…I halted my research on Linch Blood because I wanted to complete it with you…” his words faded into a whisper.

“Woah,” Elvira gasped and backed into the cushioned chair, “That is so nice of you. I didn’t even know that you were real…I never tried escaping because,” her voice cracked, “because I had no home to go back to. At least I had people I cared for, back at the Estate,” Elvira sniffled.

“You were our first friend,” Kairo mumbled, “Of course I would never give up on you, like you did not give up on Kaeo.”

Teary-eyed Elvira and a pouting Kairo turned to face Kaeo. The ravenette paid no heed to them as he was busy shoving rolls down his throat.

Elvira grimaced at the sight.

“Can you leave me back at the Estate?” Elvira asked again, turning to Kairo.

“Can I come along? I want to see these friends of yours,” Kairo narrowed his eyes at the food, ‘I want to see which friends would let Elvira be abused on the regular and still be worth a second thought.’ he thought.

He stood up and with a snap of his fingers, a magic circle appeared under his feet. “Let’s go, I’ll protect you this time,” he said as he held out a hand for Elvira.

The brunette got out of her chair and walked around the table to stand by Kairo’s side.

It was Kaeo who took Kairo’s hand instead, “Leffs goh, brafa!” (Let’s go, brother!) he exclaimed with a mouth full of food as he stepped over the circle.

“Why is he going?” Elvira frowned.

“Gof sum payments to settle,” Kaeo brushed her off.

Kairo passed her a sheepish smile before snapping his fingers.

To say Elvira missed this magic would be an understatement. In no more than a second, they were halfway across the nation and inside the Count’s Estate without the hassle of travelling or showing identification involved. 

Elvira made a mental note to ask Kairo about the rules of Teleportation Magic because there was no logical way for them to be standing inside the East Wing Hallway without him ever having visited it.

“You stay here, I’ll go,” Elvira whispered and stepped out of the circle.

Instantly, Kaeo pushed past them and walked ahead.

Frowning, Elvira took two longer steps to walk ahead of him.

The ravenette scowled and jogged past her in order to be at the front.

By the end of the hallway, Elvira and Kaeo were squabbling like children competing to walk past a door.

Kairo, willingly behind them, shook his head in utter disappointment.

Elvira elbowed Kaeo and walked through the door first, frowning at how silent the Estate was. This time around, maids should have been busy cleaning the window crevices and dusting the doorknobs and hinges.

Kaeo swore under his breath. “First you poach my magic and now you attack me ever so violently!” he seethed in her ear.

Elvira paid no heed to his words for her eyes caught sight of Sinclair walking toward the Count’s meeting room. Elvira ran up to her side, panting, as she called out her name.

The butler’s assistant turned to face the voice and her eyes widened at the sight before her. Instinctively, her feet shuffled backwards and her grip on the tray in her hands loosened. The ovular metal fell to the floor, its thunder echoing in the silent hallway.

“E-e-elvira?” Sinclair gasped.

“Sinclair,” Elvira stated bluntly.

“Y-you are alive…as well…?” Sinclair raised a finger to point at her face.

Kaeo and Kairo walked up to Elvira’s side, which cued a scandalized Sinclair to back into the charred walls.

“A-angels of death! Has my time come?!” Sinclair wailed, backing into a corner. Her mouth quivered and her eyes barely held Elvira’s gaze.

“Sinclair, are you okay? It is me, Elvira, I did not die—is anyone else dead? What happened to Clary?” Elvira asked, stepping in front of Sinclair.

Sinclair furrowed her brows, scrutinizing Elvira’s face. When her assessment deemed Elvira worthy, Sinclair stuttered out a response.

“O-oh, you, you disappeared, everyone thought you died…and Clary, um…Clary is sort of gone…?”

“Gone?”

Tears overwhelmed her eyes but Elvira could only blink them away. A tear slid past her cheek and caught a glimpse of sunlight. It sparkled like the crystal shards rushing towards her, all those nights ago, when Clary pushed her out of the window.

Clary saved her.

Sinclair picked up the metal tray, “Come with me,” she said as she grabbed Elvira’s wrist and led her into the meeting room.

A scowling Kaeo and frowning Kairo followed.

The meeting room was where Count Aramia hosted the commonfolk to hear out their grievances. It was a room on the farthest west of the estate, with its own entry and exit-ways for the commoners. The detached nature of the hall would be the only reason why it survived the massive fire.

A wall of maid-backs greeted them upon entrance. Like the rest of the estate, the meeting room was also a picture of glazed hardwood, antique furniture and tapestries. The commoners had an entry door on the far left, in front of which Elvira spotted Yuna and Lira. Her eyes widened as she followed their line of sight; horror struck her gaze as she backed into a hard chest. Her nostrils flared and squirmed while her ears were assaulted by the screams of agony.

On the small elevated stage at the end of the room were two gold carved chairs, designated for the Count and Countess. Since Count Aramia was unmarried, the smaller throne chair remained empty.

Until a few days ago.

“Is…is that what I see it is?”

Sinclair nodded.

“A-aren’t they supposed to be…?” Elvira frowned.

“A decade ago,” Sinclair replied, her tone equally chill.

For, on the thrones, were seated two people whom Elvira had only seen in pictures before. Their portraits were in the Count’s office, Elvira remembered glancing upon them everytime she cleaned. The pointy chin and upturned moustache of the beady eyed former Count and the triangular face and hooked nose of the former Countess.

Elvira could not believe her eyes when they substituted the people from the pictures on the throne chair.

The dead Count and Countess were sitting on the throne chairs, smirking, with an evil glint in their eye as—

Elvira clutched her heart.

It was Clary.

She was standing beside the Countess, dressed in a shiny black suit, wielding a whip in her right hand. She struck the whip against the ground and a shaggy haired man, curled up on the ground, whimpering.

“Told you, Clary is gone.”

The whip wielding, curly-blonde haired and newly dark eyed Clary burst into a hearty laughter.

“Yeah…well…”

Am I still dreaming?

Elvira couldn’t make sense of reality anymore. All of Count Aramia’s household staff stood in attendance, witnessing the shaggy haired man being whipped while the supposedly dead Count, Countess and Clary, bellowed in mirth.

“They’ve been doing this ever since the day after Salary Day. Head Butler suddenly called everyone here and we witnessed Helif going mad over his parents standing in front of him. Now they do this every morning, whip him in front of everyone, that is. The maids seem to enjoy it a lot.” Sinclair explained.

“Oh? So, he is the one who has been causing me misery,” Kaeo grunted.

Elvira felt a shove before Kaeo walked past her and she came to an embarrassing realisation that she had been leaning against him all this while. She cursed under her breath as Kaeo made his way through the crowd of maids.

“Count, Countess,” he greeted as soon as he was within sight, tone cold and hard.

The nobility passed him a nod of acknowledgement.

“May I?” Kaeo asked.

The old Count nodded, his mouth pushing up in a grin.

“May I what? What? Do dead people have telepathy? The dead people stare-understanding?!” Elvira whispered into Kairo’s ear, exasperated by the whole scenario.

“Your guess may be better than mine, it’s your magic after-all,” Kairo shrugged.

Elvira rolled her eyes and Kaeo grabbed the shaggy haired man by his tattered collar.

“Helif Aramia?” he questioned, looking him in the eye.

“I-I am the COUNT! D-do not say my name, y-you peasant,” the man spat blood, “You are all being fooled by these impo—”

He couldn’t continue for Kaeo’s fist met his face. Elvira spotted a sapphire blue magic circle over his knuckles, aiding the impact of his hits, and her breath hitched. He was Kaeo.

A more…unhinged version though, Elvira realised, grimacing while Kaeo shoved punch after punch into the slender man.

“The young man seems impassioned,” the Countess remarked from her throne chair.

“All well-deserved,” Clary scoffed and threw the whip towards Kaeo, “Use it as you please.”

Kaeo picked up the whip and began wrapping it around Helif’’s neck when Elvira shouted, “Stop it! You’re going to kill him!”

 

Crowned - 11 | Death pulls a real number on us

 CHAPTER 11

The man scoffed at the cold avoidance of the girl who had been siphoning his magic for the past five years, rendering him almost incapable in battlefield.

He was about to grab her hand and pull her back when the sudden exclamation of her name caused her to trip over her own shaky feet. He rolled his eyes, astounded over how she was still alive.

The girl looked up, her eyes widened and the umbrella fell to the floor. Her heart thundered in her ears as she faced the familiar features of Kairo, smiling at her from a distance. She recognised him instantly – the brilliant jade eyes, the curly blonde hair, the lean erudite build and a bright smile greeting her.

No way he was real – alive and breathing, standing in front of her.

“Kairo?” Elvira mumbled, frowning at the sound of her own voice.

“Brilliant! You win a hug!” Kairo exclaimed and ran up to her.

Upon seeing him up close, tears ran down Elvira’s face. “I th-thought, I thought you were-- where were you? I thought I dreamt it all up! I thought you didn’t exist!” Elvira burst into wails, broken and hoarse. Her chest heaved and shoulders fluttered up and down until Kairo wrapped his arms around her.

Her pulled her into an embrace and ran a soothing hand over her back, “Everything will be fine now, you’re safe.” He whispered as she sobbed into his shirt.

Behind her, Kaeo raised a scowl. Kairo flipped a middle finger to his face.

“W-w-what happened to Kaeo? How did you escape? Where have you been? Are you okay?” Elvira spat questions in between sniffles.

“I’m standing right behind you,” the man snapped upon being mentioned.

Elvira stiffened in Kairo’s arms and the blonde noticed the sudden switch.

“It’s okay, you should eat something, sit down and I’ll explain everything. Kaeo is very much alive, all thanks to you, Elvira.” Kairo sneaked a magic circle under her feet which allowed her to float beside him.

“Because of me?” Elvira asked, frowning. She turned to catch a glimpse of the man behind them and flipped as soon as she witnessed his dark scowl. “You must be mistaken, he is dead,” she mumbled.

Her petulant pout birthed a chuckle in Kairo.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve wanted me dead over these five years,” Kaeo scoffed, yet, his feet followed as Kairo led them toward the dining hall.

“You, Elvira, are highly misunderstood about yourself. You do have magic but it isn’t one of the four established types, maybe that is why you failed your Awakening. I have been researching but I don’t think I understand exactly how your magic works— or what its scope is. But yeah, you can technically, sort of, bring the dead back to life…?” Kairo smiled with clenched teeth.

Elvira blinked at him.

Turned to frown at the man following them.

Then, she slapped herself.

“Woah! Woah, stop!” Kairo exclaimed at the same time as Kaeo, mumbled, “Shit that stings,” under his breath.

“I must be dreaming. This is a dream. I have to wake up and see if Clary is okay, wake up, wake up, wake up—” Elvira muttered as she closed her eyes and patted her arms, chanting, “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

“Elvira!” Kairo snapped and grabbed a hold of her hands, “You are not asleep! This is reality,” he said as he teleported them outside, over the castle roof, to let her view the morning sun – much to Kaeo’s distaste, who was left behind frowning at thin air.

Elvira gasped, “This is how dreams work, we shift and jump from one place to another, nothing makes sense!” she exclaimed and looked up, grinning at him with widened hollow eyes.

Kairo couldn’t help but laugh at Elvira’s logical exasperation.

“See the world around you, it is breathing, alive, thrumming with power,” Kairo said as he opened his arms in front of the rising sun, “Do it, close your eyes and feel the warmth.”

Reluctantly, still believing it to be a dream, Elvira spread out her arms and closed her eyes.

“Inhale the scent of your world.”

Elvira sucked in an elongated breath. The sun felt real against her skin and her lungs were whelmed of fresh North Hill air. Her moment of serenity lasted until, her skin started burning under the direct light – a side effect of Kindlers’ bites – and Elvira, for the first time, felt grateful towards them.

“Magic is all around us but we only have the ability to harness it from within us. Enhancer Types, especially Induced, are at the lowest tier because they keep their magic within themselves. They use it to enhance their own self and have no magical impact on the outer world. Unless, they are able to up-class into a Type II.”

Birds chirped in agreement and a soft gale danced around them. The prickling sensation grounded her to reality.

“Next in line are Enhancer Type II: The Projectors, who are able to lend their power to the world in order to enhance its attributes. They are able to make flowers bloom, calm a turbulent mind, accelerate healing, alter gravity...their mind is the limit.”

Elvira nodded. She knew all that. Zinna was an Enhancer Type II Mage.

“The Conjurors harness their magic into spells. They learn ancient languages to create special spells and use their magic to implement them. The juvenile mages have to write each spell in real time or have a pre-written spell card in order to quick cast. But mages of higher class, like me, are able to store our spell cards, in our finger tips. Each spell has their own special gesture to be activated and used. We harness our magic for external use.”

Elvira’s skin was burning and this reality was droning on. It felt like a high school class, all over again.

“Alchemy type mages are alike Conjuror mages in a way that, instead of creating their own spells, they invent and innovate materials to aid their magic. It can be a wand, a healing pin, a vial of potion...anything that their mind desires, their magic can make it work. They harness their magic for external, material, use.”

Alchemy Type mages were very rare to come across, Elvira knew.

“Lastly, there are the Elementals. They lend magic from the world around them and mould it according to the magic within them. That is why some can wield a fire, move mountains, break open the ground or part seas.”

Elvira remembered Danzel clearing up the skies at her Awakening.

“Your magic, the world lends it to you. The very atmosphere around you is charged and willing but something within you is not letting it in. So, it works externally, at its own will, when it deems its owner desperate enough. When Kaeo was dying, your magic caught onto your desperation and intervened with the force of life. It’s like you are not harnessing it but commanding it. It’s uncalled for, impossible even, yet, it has happened twice and I have seen it with my very own eyes.”

“Twice?”

“Yes. The magic around you is loyal. It bonds you with all whom it affects, I believe, so it can trace a path back to you. That is what it did with Kaeo and you. It bonded him to you as a form of…redemption? I don’t quite understand, but, because Kaeo is a higher-class mage, your magic has been siphoning his in order to sustain the hollow within you. Maybe it is a form of payback? I don’t know. But that was how you survived the Kindler attack. Kaeo’s Induced healing has been a null ever since you brought him back. Your magic is actively using him to shield you from harm.”

“I seem to have an awful sort of magic…” Elvira scoffed.

“Precisely why you are in a wedding dress! Once you get married to him, your Stars will align and hopefully the magic will stabilise itself!”

“Marriage?!” Elvira snapped, opening her eyes.

“Hopefully?!” Kaeo snapped, having finally caught up to them. He stood on the roof, scowling at the girl in front.

“I am not marrying anybody! I do not believe a bloody thing you’re on about!” Elvira shrieked.

Kaeo rolled his eyes and scoffed, “As if I want to,” he spat. “See?” he looked up at a scowling Kairo, “It won’t work. Let’s just kill her instead.”

“Woah—what!?”

“Kaeo! No!” Kairo snapped then apologetically turned to Elvira, “Don’t mind him, death and constant power-loss has made him into an awful sort of person. He was used to feeling powerful and better than everyone else…but the past five years have been tough on him, mentally and physically.”

“And that is my problem…?” Elvira frowned, not believing Kairo one bit. How could she have magic? She felt hollow, weak and human. But…his story did explain why she survived the Kindlers.

“Oh? So, you won’t even take responsibility after using me for so long?!” Kaeo shouted, baffled by the causal disrespect.

“You’re nothing like the Kaeo I knew!” Elvira shouted back.

“That’s because he died on D’amar Square!”

“Exactly my point! You’re an imposter!”

“Kai, I am going to kill her myself—” Kaeo lunged at them but Kairo was swift enough to snap his fingers and teleport Elvira away.

They reached the Dining Hall and Kairo let out a nervous chuckle as Elvira glared at him. “Death pulls a real number on us, eh?” he laughed.

The You in Me: 2 - A New World.

 

C H A P T E R   O N E

“Seraphina! Wake up or you will be late! If you’re late, you’ll never get a good education. If education eludes you, you’ll never get a job! Joblessness will make you ugly and take you off the marriage mart! If you’re jobless and a maiden—well, then, that is a nutshell for ruination! And ruination is neither beautiful nor sustainable in the long run! So, WAKE UP. RIGHT THIS INSTANT.”

Wake up, Seraphina did; rising like a corpse from a grave, clawing its way out of the dirt it was buried in. She threw away her blankets and stood up on her two feet like the independent teenager she was. Her arms stretched out and a yawn escaped her lips before she could call out, “I’m up, mother, all awake and avoiding ruination!”

With a doozy sight, she swayed left and right as she wobbled her way into the bathroom and felt up the blue marbled walls for the toothbrush stand. Her fingers met the familiar grooves of her toothbrush and her half-opened eyes could see a red blob in her hand, through the mirror in front, as she directed the thing under the tap. The stream of water broke into a million droplets upon meeting her coarse toothbrush bristles. She applied the toothpaste on it and shoved it into her mouth.

Birds chirped outside her bathroom window, probably communicating their daily schedule to the morning sun. The wind seemed to add a few inputs of her own as it made the tree leaves rustle in communication.

A lazy smile smeared itself on her mouth as a green trail of toothpaste foam ran down the side of her lips and onto her chin.

Mornings were supposed to be silent and beautiful like this. Easy and hopeful.

She forced her eyes open to rinse off her mouth only to spot a person in the mirror, standing right behind her. Masked, clothed in academy armour, weapon at the ready.

He swung his sword before Seraphina could even fathom a thought and it impaled her back. Swiftly. Mercilessly. Her body jerked forward and toothpaste burst out of her mouth along with blood. The mint-blood concoction smeared itself on the mirror as she witnessed her white tee-shirt grow a red blob stain, spreading by the second.

Seraphina, impaled like a kebab, groaned.

“Mother is gonna be so mad about this,” she whispered, rather hoarsely to the man in the mirror. Her hands wrapped around the sharp blade in an attempt to push the sword out through her back. She succeeded in a jiffy.

“You seemed to have dropped this, I believe,” she held the sword in her bloody hands and turned to face the man.

His teeth chattered in the confines of his clenched jaw, betraying the otherwise stoicism of his stance.

“You wound me, quite literally,” Seraphina spat, shoving the sword in the young hero’s chest. He hadn’t bothered to keep his identity a secret so his white and gold academy uniform betrayed the anonymity. The golden badge on his breast pocket gleamed under the window’s sunlight, reading: CLASS 1.

“Tsk.” As the bloody sword hit his chest, his wits returned to him. The boy swung a punch to her right. Seraphina’s scarlet eyes tinged gold for a second, as she predicted his move, and swung a knife-hand-strike to his right. The blow pierced through his golden cuff and struck right against his bone.

CRACK.

“That’s gotta need a Class B healer, poor soul,” Seraphina feigned concern as she coughed out more blood.

“Or I’ll just consume you,” the boy rasped and swung his sword-wielding left hand with the aim of slicing her neck off. Azure aether circles enveloped the blade of his sword, offering him a power-up.

Seraphina’s eyes twinkled.

Her toothbrush encircled with a black whirlwind of its size met the sword’s blade before her neck. The boy ground his teeth and forced the blade forward but the toothbrush sliced through it with ease; as the horror of his hard-earned sword being bested by a mere toothbrush settled into his heart, Seraphina threw a jab under his chin.

He fell to the tiled floor along with his sword blades thumping beside each other in a pool of her blood.

“I’d leave you alive,” Seraphina smiled, “But if I don’t do a few bad things in a day… I’ll perish.” She stabbed her fingers through his armour and the black aether circle around them allowed them to pierce through his flesh and bones. They met the softness of his heart and felt it beating erratically as her fingers wrapped around it. Five layers of aether circles appeared around her arm; his chest glowed in a faint golden light which when spiraled around her arm, turned darker with every aether circle they hit.

The darkest being right over her own heart as she consumed his aether and left the once youthful boy as a corpse of his ill made decisions.

A memory erupted in her head; it was of the boy when he was young, blonde hair swaying like the golden wheat he was surrounded with. His blue eyes dazzled with ambition under the scorching sun as he swung his sword, over and over, at the scarecrow.

“Come eat lunch, sweetie!” a woman’s voice called him.

“Right after I’m done! When I’m in the academy, you’ll have to eat all the meals by yourself,” the boy replied with a shout. A smile brandished his face.

“Of course, my son, of course. You’ll be a great hero one day but not unless you eat your meals!”

The boy gasped in realisation and dropped his sword, his footsteps raced away as the memory did from Seraphina’s head. She detached her hand from his slowly dissolving body and the aether circles disappeared.

“Ach,” she spat the mint-blood concoction again and stood up. She pulled up her tee-shirt to check the bloody gash on her torso. It seemed to be closing up at a good enough pace. Satisfied, Seraphina passed the dead guy one last glance before turning her back to him. “Making me feel bad for nothing so early in the morning, you are,” she whispered as she washed her bloody hand in the sink.

His darkened skeleton laid cold and brazen by her feet as Seraphina whined, “And what am I supposed to do with this mess?! Mum will have my life!” she grimaced at the mirror in front of her and the blood underneath her feet. She splashed water on the soiled mirror and used her bare hands to wipe it down and clean it up.

“Such an inconvenience,” she tsked. Seraphina bent over to pick the skeleton by its head and winced. Her blood trailed down its bones, dripping back onto the floor, which made her stomp twice in annoyance.

“Sera! Are you ready yet? The breakfast is getting cold! If you eat cold breakfast, you’ll end up not liking it! If you do not like breakfast, you’ll start skipping it! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and if you skip it, you will grow weaker! If you grow weak on the inside, you’ll be prone to diseases and get sick a lot! Which would mean big chunks of medicines until the day you die!”

Her mother’s voice came closer with every syllable she uttered and Seraphina’s heart thundered faster with every footstep drawing closer.

She shoved the skeleton in her bathtub and drew the curtain. She stripped off her bloodied clothes and threw them onto the floor to absorb some blood or maybe use them as a mop to wipe the floor clean.

A chill ran down her spine as she splashed water on the bloodstains around her stomach and legs, clad only in her underwear. It didn’t seem to work.

“I am coming, mum, my- uh, my drain is clogged! Um, just a second!”

She twisted her shower knob and stood underneath it with an open mouth, gargling and showering at the same time.

“You’re still showering?! Girl, I-, oh my, did you not even iron your uniform? Seraphina! An un-ironed uniform means you’re disrespecting yourself and the authorities! I raised you better than this! Oh, my goodness, she’s eighteen and I’m still doing everything for her!”

Wet and relatively cleaner, Seraphina poked her wet head out of the bathroom door and grinned. “That’s why you’re the best mum and I love you,” she winked as her mother rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Not a braincell in sight around here!” her short mother scoffed, swung the uniform over her shoulder and stomped out of her daughter’s room.

Seraphina heaved a sigh of relief.

The running water had helped the blood drain faster and the gash over her stomach seemed to have healed itself.

“Almost traumatised my mother today, I did,” Seraphina whispered as she picked up the broken sword and stashed it along with the skeleton.

After a quick shower and lazy mirror wipe, she paraded into her room and dressed into her well-ironed, curtsy mother, black and gold academy uniform. The fabric felt soft to touch but when clad, it doubled up as a basic need armour.

Seraphina’s mother had no idea of who she was or what her academy truly entailed of and she would like to keep it that way. To her mother, Seraphina was an ordinary eighteen-year-old trying to graduate from a private academy with good grades in order to have sustainable future options which was professional for motherlingo: good marriage, stable income and a good number of babies to help with increasing the human population.

Seraphina walked up to the full-length mirror beside her wardrobe and adjusted the black ribbon around her neck for it happened to be covering the golden badge on her breast-pocket, which read: Aetherunes, CLASS S.

The Aetherunes Academy was a secluded dream for common folk and a hellscape for the gifted. Every normal human wanted to be part of the world’s most elite circle but every soul with aether running through their bloodstream knew that it was not a place capable enough to sustain. Though forced by their own circumstances, humanity constantly strived to be better in secrecy.

“Ah, you look so neat!” Lisbeth, commented as her daughter walked down the stairs. Her slender fingers tapped against each other in a show of excitement, “Come along, have your breakfast. Where’s your bag? I do not see a bag! Seraphina, do you not know what happens to kids who do not bring their books and notebooks! Education eludes them! you cannot be that person, now, can you? Only if you want to end up jobless, ugly and a maiden! No one wants that, do they now? So, BRING YOUR BAG RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”

“Geez, I haven’t been issued the new term syllabus, mum, they’ll give it to me today. I don’t need a bag to go empty handed, right?” Seraphina explained as she took a seat in front of a table laden with food. Her stomach grumbled and the insatiable appetite of a demon resurfaced.

Only for it to be hindered by her mother’s whack on her head.

“Ouch! That hurt!” cried the girl (who was stabbed minutes prior and did not bat an eye lash) almost teary eyed as the boiled egg slipped out of her grip and onto the table.

“Did you wash your hands? Of course you did not! You know what happens to dirty kids, don’t you? Sickness. Medicines. Death! And where do you plan on keeping your lunchbox?! Nu-uh, no, don’t you make that face! Of course you are taking a lunchbox! Do you want to perish without lunch? Don’t you know what happens to kids who do not eat? Sickness. Medicines. Death!”

Her enunciation of, ‘Sickness, medicines and death,’ was as dramatic as fifth graders acting out the mutual death scene of Romeo and Juliet.

“Of course not, I wanna live with mum for a long, long, time,” Seraphina smiled and wrapped her hands around her mother’s waist. It felt squishy and comfortable as she rubbed her cheek against her mother’s belly.

“You’re eighteen and you act like a toddler, tsk, find your bag and keep a lunchbox! Make haste!”

“Yes, mum!” Seraphina saluted and ran back upstairs. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be bullied on her first day.

 

All the paths lead to you — 1: Met a Grandpa and with an agenda!

The wall clock flashed 9:00 P.M. The dim lighting poorly reflected off a nametag reading: Larissa J. 

As the isolated office neared closing time, Larissa stretched out her hands while she stood in front of the air conditioner, in a desperate attempt to absorb as much as air as she could before the flap would shut close. 

A contended smile was wrapped over her thin lips, eyes closed to cue pretenses of standing in the middle of a rainforest rather than the city center, clad in a blue and gray cleaning lady uniform with a mop leaning against her chest. 

She inhaled the cool wind like a woman starved, feasting over the last clean gust until it was too late. The swing flap of the air conditioner swung close and with dejected shoulders, Larissa too stepped away. 

She grabbed the mop again and began sliding it against the marble flooring. Her hands moved fast while her eyes kept glancing at the clocking. 

'In twenty minutes, the office would heat up like a portal to hell,' her brain reminded. Her bushy brows banded in determination as worked her way through the wide expanse of an entire office and the adjoining hallway. 

Her head bopped to a popular song, body swaying to-and-fro with the mop as she lost herself to the beat while mopping. So, it was consider her surprise only human when she opened her eyes and spotted an old man standing on the end of the hallway. Under dim lights. Clad in all black. Awaiting her like an angel of death.

Larissa let out a startled scream and let go of the mop. It fell with a loud thud, eliciting a similar response from the man. With one hand, he seemingly clutched his chest and gasped, with the other, he pointed an accusatory finger at Larissa.

"You— you!!"

"I—I, uh, I am sorry!" Larissa immediately bent into a ninety degree bow. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you!" She called out and walked towards the man. 

"I'm good, you're good," the old man replied with a gruff voice. 

"Let me fetch you some water, come sit," Larissa said as she grabbed the old man by his arm and led him inside the office. "Do you work here?" She asked as she seated him on one of the cubicle chairs and speed-walked towards the pantry.

"I suppose I do," the man replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Put a slice of lemon in my water dear, it elevates the taste," he called out to Larissa shuffling inside the pantry. "Do you work here as well?" He asked, while Larissa replied affirmative to both.

"I just part-time, you know, I'm a college student so this is one of the many jobs I do," Larissa clarified as she jogged out with a glass of water and a singular slice of lemon in hand. "I didn't know how you'd want it...eh, should I just put it in? Wedge it to the brim? Squeeze it?" She asked, side-eying the lemon slice. 

"Just put it in," the man sighed.

Larissa did. He thanked her and took a sip of the refreshing drink. Larissa looked up at the clock and panicked. The heat was already beginning to consume the closed space and in a matter of moments the walls would start emanating all the heat they consumed.

"Do you work for security? The office closed an hour ago, there's no other reason a person like you would be here." Larissa asked as she fetched her mop from the hallway. 

The old man replied something but it was muffled owing to the distance between them. Larissa picked up the mop from the end of the hallway and ran back to the office. 

"Don't you want to go back home? To the familiar warmth of your wife, a table filled with food and everything nice?" Larissa asked as she walked back inside.

"I don't anyone to go back to," the man shrugged. 

"Oh— I, uh, I am sorry! Again!" Larissa bent into another apologetic bow. 

"No, no, I mean, my wife is angry at me...for something, yes," the man confessed. 

Larissa let out a giggle. "Bring her some flowers and apologise. I'm sure she's working her best," Larissa advised with a smile. 

Even under the dim light, the old man exuded an otherworldly glow through his wrinkled skin, beady eyes and crisp black suit. His lips were pushed up in a smile as he followed Larissa's movements with his crinkled eyes. 

"Don't you want to go home? It's quite late for a young girl like you," he pointed out. 

"Oh don't mind me!" Larissa waved a hand in his face, "You know how it is like to earn money, don't you? I have a sick aunt at home. She's a teacher. She leaves me copies to correct each day and sometimes I make the report cards as well. She has a lot of allergies — not a sickness for a poor soul, am I right?" Larissa snorted.

"Mhm, my wife is mad at me because our grandson is in love with a wrong person and I'm not doing anything about it," the old man revealed.

"Oh?" Larissa's dark eyes twinkled and her head perked up, "Is it a man?" 

"No," the old man replied promptly.

"Then what? Is it a child? A convict? A prostitute?" 

"You're making her sound like a saint now," the man sighed.

"I don't understand," Larissa confessed.

"Fancy a drink?" The man asked.

Larissa made a face and took two steps backward, "Grandpa, the best I can do is help you sit in a bus." 

The man let out a laugh and Larissa did not understand what in her words was so amusing. Heat had begun emanating off the walls and boiling the floor up. Larissa could feel it in the clogged air and her sweaty armpits.

"What's your major, in college, that is?" The old man asked.

"I cannot tell you that, for privacy concerns," Larissa replied. "We should get going though, this place is going to boil soon."

"Oh? You can turn on the air conditioning if you want to," the man pointed at the the remote place beside the air conditioner, drilled with a stand on the wall. 

"Oh-ho ho! How can I? A mere cleaning lady? Ha! You're so funny! They're going to have me killed and hang me at the community center to make an example out of how people like me should stay in their lane!" Larissa bellowed in between exasperated dry laughs. 

"You've got a vivid imagination," the old man scoffed, "Do you fancy easy money?" His words immediately stilled Larissa.

"Who doesn't?" She scoffed back.

"How far would you go for it?" 

Larissa crossed her arms over her chest and threw a deepened frown at the old man. "I didn't imagine you to be sleazy, wow, there's no place for kindness in this society anymore," she scoffed, throwing disgusted glances at him.

"What! No! What even— How could you!" The man struggled for words and stood up in his defence. Larissa considered it as him making a move and took three steps back. 

"I'm telling you, I will hit you!" She exclaimed, welding the map as a lance. 

"Oh please," the man rolled his eyes, "I love my wife very much, thank you, but what I was suggesting is— would you fancy a wedding to my grandson?"

"A'ight, too much out time for me today, I'm going home, old man, who even are you?!" Larissa scoffed and walked into the hallway to complete the cleaning and leave as soon as possible. 'Surely, if not senile, he must be a human trafficker,' Larissa concluded, very wisely, in her head and made a mental note to report him first thing tomorrow morning. 

"I understand it sounds ridiculous —" the man started as soon as he stepped out of the office, "But my wife is just so mad at me and I cannot think of any other way to get out of this. Surely, if I get him to fall in love with another person, surely he would leave that girl and marry a decent one. I am willing to pay as much as you desire. I am quite well off, you see—"

"I think you need medication!" Larissa cut him off with a shout from the end of the hallway. 

"Opportunities like these never knock twice! How does 50 million dollars sound to you?" The old man shouted back from the other end of the hallway.

"Like the price of my organs that you're gonna illegally harvest!" Larissa shouted back, clearly alarmed, she threw the mop in the janitor's closet and beelined towards the stairway exit. 

"No— hear me out! He's a very dashing young man! His name is Nikolai and he likes dar—"

"Hello? 110? This is an emergency! At Hurain Corp, yes, there is an old who might be trafficking girls, yes he is coming after me, please help— oh my—"

"— Here me out lady, this is actually a great deal, looking at you, you're absolutely his type—"

"—Can you hear that?! He keeps forcing me to marry his grandson?! Yes please —Help!" 

Suddenly, the stairway exit door burst open and Larissa screamed with all her might. 

A flash of light made Larissa look away. They were in the Police Station, bustling with cops and operators handling finncky civilians and criminals. The man flashed light into Larissa's left eye. Again, she looked away.

"You don' seem blind, you quite al'ight, lass then why can't you recognise the big boss o' your workplace? Hurain Kairos? The founder and maker of Hurain Corp? Whatchu some kinda Patrick Star?" Her assigned cop chided as he looked at Hurain and Larissa, simultaneously, giving an apologetic look to one and a pointed look to another. 

"I am sorry..." Larissa sighed, properly slouched in the chair with her shoulders slumped, head bent and back curved into a shameful C. 

"My husband was treating you with kindness and here you are calling the cops on him," an old woman tsked. She stood behind Hurain's chair with a hand on either of his shoulder. Her persona exuded the same otherworldly glow that her husband possessed. Her curly silver hair, sharp blue eyes and unblemished wrinkled skin qualified her as the richest woman in the entirety of the nation. 

"I am sorry ma'am," Larissa slouched further than humanly possible, "Please do not sue me," she all but begged. 

"They gon' do what they like. You can't jus' offend the Kairos' yaknow," the cop snorted, excitedly exchanging glances between the duo. 

"We won't press charges, of course, as long as you co-operate with us," the old man, Hurain Kairos, said ever so kindly.

His soothing tone instinctively urged Larissa to glare at him through a side-eye. "You should have started with your name, old man," she grumbled, unapologetically. 

"It's all the same, all the same," Hurain let out a hearty laugh and patted Larissa's slouched back. "How about we discuss this in the presence of my beloved — or do you wish to be sued instead?" 

Larissa spotted an evil glint in his eye and groaned internally. What she wished was to go home, not be wedded off on the whims of an old rich couple. Surely — it must trespass some of her fundamental rights. Right?! 

Nonetheless, Larissa willed herself to get up and launch into a flurry of apologetic bows for wasting a government official's time and closely followed the old rich couple out of the prison.

The old woman glanced at Larissa twice before patting a hand on her shoulder. "Go home for now, let Arnold take you. We will continue this in the morning. Know that we are only trying to do the best for everyone, okay?" She smiled at Larissa. A dimple birthed on each cheek and her lips pursed into absence while she smiled.

Her touch was warm against Larissa's cold shoulder.

She wished she had grandparents...or parents... Larissa sighed as she walked inside the small one bedroom apartment and locked the door behind her. Aunt Nora was sleeping on the sofa with her glasses still on. Her nose was puffed and red, clearly indicating that her allergies flared up again. A pile of books was placed by the foot of a sofa and a red pen gently swayed (owing to the tall standing fan placed behind the sofa) on top of them. 

The table in front was laden with covered dishes and more notebooks. To the right, by the window, laid a mattress with a folded sheet on top of it. Larissa smiled gratefully.

She took off her shoes at the small shoe cabinet behind the door and tip-toed her way to the bathroom on the left. She washed her face and took her phone out to google the name of the man for whom her life was being ruined.

Her bangs were standing up and as soon as the face of the man popped in the image results, all of Larissa's body hair sprang up.

What awful fate she had.

What fucking awfully hilarious and random fate she had to have for Nikolai Rudbrek Kairos to be the same man she detested with more passion than her hopes to drop dead. 

Blood Bride — 2

The moon hung low in the sky, big and round, giving an illusion of close proximity to those who dared to reach out for its touch. Dyed crimson, it haloed the head of the fabled man whose name had sealed her fate with death. 

"Hasty to die, aren't we?"

His cold touch against her warm body seared her sense of speech. Dark hair strands fell over his cataclysmic grey eyes peering into hers. Elowen's gaze meandered to avoid contact and instead ended up skimming over his prominent collarbones and chiseled cold chest. As soon as she registered his semi-nudity, her eyes pressed close.

"H-haste makes waste," she stuttered, "I don't want to die w-wastefully." Elowen hated her tongue for not rolling as planned. To think she was more eloquent in front of the King and Queen now felt like a far fetched dream.

"How productive of you," the man couldn't help the snicker that escaped his lips as he helped her back to the ground and sped backwards to put some distance between them.

Elowen's hammering heart and flushed body found much solace as the cold rooftop air embraced the emptiness he left behind. 

"We mustn't delay the ritual. It might not seem so but we have eyes and ears around us," the man informed, his voice oddly deep and calming to Elowen's flustered senses.

"Wouldn't expect otherwise," she said with a firm nod then patted her palms against her thighs, awkwardly, "But...I don't really know how to go about it." 

The man, with his hands on his belt buckle, stilled upon the revelation. "Oh? Oh, Astrid, makes sense. I missed your arrival so she skipped the guiding, understandably so," he whispered to himself.

The stars surrounding the crimson moon had begun to twinkle a red glare onto the pond. The man infront cleared his throat, almost human-like, to gain attention.

"I am Prince Valen Sythar, the heir to Valoria," the man introduced himself with a curt bow and a hand over his heart, "And as per ritual," he said as he walked towards her, "A human princess, also known as the Centennial Blood Bride," he held out a hand and urged, with his eyes, for her to do the same, "That is you, Princess Elowen Calyx, has consented to be sacrificed at the Blood Moon's altar for peace and safety of Eidryn. Am I correct?" 

'Consented was hardly accurate. Destined? Too fancy. Fated? Too flowery. Thrusted upon? Yeah, that sounds about right.' Elowen thought, though these tangents hardly mattered on the topic. So, she held out her right hand as he did and said, "Yes, I consent."

Valen took her hand in his and turned them to face the pond. He rested the back of her hand over two of his fingers and pressed his thumb in the centre of her palm. "It might hurt a little, hold onto me if you're scared," he said as the clean cut nail of his thumb suddenly began growing sharper and longer against the skin of her palm.

Elowen clenched her teeth and shook her head upon his offer. Maybe if he had a shirt on, the thought would have been more in consideration because Elowen would rather bleed in pain than grab his bare arms and embarasses herself just moments before her death. 

The nail pressed deeper into her palm and drew blood. Elowen withdrew a slight gasp as Valen instructed, "Close your fist." She closed her fingers around his thumb and he held her hand as a stream of blood bled into the pond, creating new ripples of fate. 

Valen chanted something under his breath, a language Elowen couldn't decipher, and as soon as he let go of her hand Elowen's wound was healed. He did not have to heal her but the small gesture felt like a gust of kindness in a desert of cruelty.

"Able bodied and a consenting will are necessary for the ritual," Valen clarified just as small whispers of smile threatened the corners of Elowen's lips.

"Oh-" she uttered, dumbly. 

"Now we will have to soak in the pond until the scarlet moon wanes, as you must know, it is to stabilize the yin and yang of Eidryn." 

'Hence the stripping,' Elowen thought as she nodded her head in understanding. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the implication of her own thoughts. 'STRIPPING?!' Her head swatted to Valen and surely, he was unbuckling his pants with no concern whatsoever. Flustered, Elowen flipped her head away. 

"A-ah, do I, of course, right? Have to partake in this?" 

A gust of wind brushed past her and in the blink of a moment, Valen was in the scarlet tinted pond, soaking with his bare chest out for depraved sight. He ran a wet had through his dark locks and shrugged, "It is what is necessary." 

Eidryn was a land of many a species living together in a forced pact of harmony brought out of mutual loss. The Mortal Empire, Imania, consisted of the Fae Continent Sylvaris, the great waterfolk ridge called Aquor's Spine, Lykorra Peninsula of the Shapeshifters and the landlocked human kingdom of Calythia. 

As the weakest of the Mortal Empire's quadrant, it was Calythia who was destined to sacrifice a princess, at the end of every century, in order to be at peace with Dark Realm of Nocverra. Failing to do so would end in upheaval of the Nexus, and quite possibly the end of the world.

"Heh," Elowen scoffed and briefly considered the hygiene issues of bathing in a pond with her blood but the rushing thought of her eventual death subsided the concerns. She looked down at her shirt and flared pants, sighed heavily, then proceeded to unbutton the collar of her shirt. 

For a sacred and centennial ritual, her hosts were pretty lax with the planning. The least they could have offered her were a small sette to keep clothes on and a bathrobe to wear after. Was it too much of a consideration? Then again, her thoughts were with the Valoria Vampires as context.

The glaring scarlet eyes of the second prince invaded her memory. 

Elowen did not bother to undo her pants and entered the water. She rested her back against the pond's edge with only her face out for sight. The water was lukewarm and comforting around her heightened senses; Elowen could have almost enjoyed it if not for Prince Valen, at hand. 

"What's next?" She asked.

He coughed to clear his throat before answering, "We wait for the waning." 

"Ah..." Elowen nodded. The silence gnawed at her soul, "Sounds a bit boring, does it not?" 

"I don't know, it's my first time trying," Valen shrugged, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Elowen's sight was stuck at the darkened skies but from her forced peripheral vision she witnessed Valen resting his elbows on the pond's edge while he threw his head back to stretch. The young princess gulped as water trickled down his prominent adam's apple on a leisurely pace.

"I liked your carriage," Valen commented after a minute or a century, Elowen wasn't sure. 

"Hu-" she almost gulped the bloody water, "Ah, thank you, I engineered it," Elowen strung together a sentence before embarassing herself, "How, I mean, where did you see it though?" 

"While working, through a window," the Prince shrugged, "How did you calibrate human inventions with fae artefacts though? It is quite brilliant." He referred to the elongated pentagonal stone hovering on top of her carriage and powering it.

"Heh, this and that," Elowen smiled, "I liked getting into new stuff ever since I was a kid. It is because I—"

Horror dawned on Elowen as she pursued her lips. She had almost uttered it out and put all of Mortal Empire at stake. Involuntarily, her hands reached the back of her waist, concealed underneath the high waistband of the pants, and her fingers felt for the familiar bump on it. 

"You must have been an important asset to Calythia," Valen whispered under his breath. 

"Heh," Elowen said awkwardly, "No, no, I was just selfish in my pursuits. No body knows, of course," Elowen nodded. Any and all of her intrests were merely a liability to Calythia's treasury.

"The blood ritual takes place over the span of a week. You shall be sacrificed seven days from now...is there something you want to do before that? Anything you regret or expect?"

Elowen flipped her head to look at him. His words were barely above a whisper, his eyes were hooded and his head was titled just enough for his hair to curtain his face from her partial nudity.

"A-are you, no, I mean, why do you ask?" Elowen gulped, for sure, she couldn't get ahead of herself.

"Even though there is a certain comfort in knowing one's destiny, the weight of bearing its knowledge might wear us down someday. Now that you are so close to accomplishing it, I wish to alleviate some of that weight." 

"But...why?" 

Suddenly, he looked up, his grey eyes zoning into hers. Elowen backed up, flattening herself against the pond's stony edges for it felt like Valen was closing in.

"Why because we're married now. I am bathing in your blood, afterall." 

At that moment, Elowen realised that she should have brushed up on vampire lore before sending herself to be eaten. 

An Unexpected Union — 10

— catch, compel, conquer.

Aurelia opens her eyes, which is quite baffling to her own self, and finds herself resting on a cloud— or something of equal comfort. 

Did the Hoarder save her life... because she wasn't dispensable to him...?

Her heart tugs a little and she jolts up with a smile on her face, but the jolt is quick to turn into an ache as she spots a scowling Lili sitting on a chair right in front of her. One of her hands is wrapped around a leg, tugged close to her chest, and her other leg hangs off the chair. Her ivy eyes are narrowed at Aurelia with fury and the latter decides to fall back into the clouds — which she now realises is a bed — and wish death upon herself.

"Sit back up." 

Her voice is cold and commanding. Aurelia obliges in a split second, sitting up straight as her hands feel her neck and wrists for stitches or marks of some sort. There aren't any, to her surprise, they look as plain as they had all her life. Even her neck doesn't ache at all.

What happened?

"You wouldn't die."

"Oh?" 

Aurelia gasps, just as surprised as Lili is abhorred. The castle spirit stands up and floats through the bed, closing the distance between them. Aurelia is quick to curl up to the headrest of the bed, trying to keep the distance between them.

"Oh-?! Oh?! OH-!! IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?! AFTER I RISKED MY EVERYTHING TRYING TO SET YOU UP WITH THE HOARDER?!" 

"Oh—?! You did?" Aurelia raises her brows, quite fascinated by the situation she is in. 

"SHU— SHKUHD, SHUT UP! I HATE THE SOUND OF YOUR VOICE!" Lili seethes. Aurelia is quick to purse her lips and hug her knees to her chest, eyes wandering away to everywhere but Lili.

She realises that she is resting in a room. A room bathed in soft, golden light filtering through stained glass windows. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries of Merfolks, their vibrant colors contrasting with the muted tones of the stone. 

"I TRIED CHOKING, RELEASING POISON IN THE AIR— ALMOST ALERTING THAT DAMNED DRAGON AND EVEN GETTING THAT DAGGER THROUGH YOU! BUT YOUR STUBBORN LITTLE SPIRIT WOULDN'T BUDGE!" 

In the center of the room stood a grand, wooden four-poster bed with richly fragrant flowers for curtains. They make Aurelia scrunch her nose in repulsion. 

"STOP MAKING FACES! WHY WOULDN'T YOU DIE?!"

The bed is adorned with plush cushions and a delicately woven quilt, inviting Aurelia to rest and escape this wailing spirit. 

"My Queen sacrificed her last bouts of magic just so I could leave the castle and convince that useless Emperor to get the Hoarder in a bond. BUT NO! IT ALL BACKFIRES!" 

Nearby, a small wooden nightstand held a flickering candle, casting a small dancing shadow on the wall behind it. Against one wall, a large, ornate wardrobe stands tall, its doors engraved with intricate patterns. 

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!" 

Aurelia flinches due to the intensity of Lili's tone. "Y-yes, I am," she breaths out, feeling her arms over her body to realise that her dagger was gone. 

"WHY WOULDN'T YOU DIE?!"

"I don't know?!" Aurelia cried out, "Trust me, right now, I'd much prefer to be dead than hear you screech your evil schemes in my ears, okay?" 

Lili's delicate hand goes for Aurelia's neck and presses it against the headboard. Aurelia feels the glaring absence of her cap as her hair and gills hit against the dead wood. "You cannot die from my hands but that doesn't mean I cannot inflict pain on you. Do you understand?!" Lili seethes in her ear, eyes holding a menacing contact.

Aurelia deflects her gaze and it falls on a cozy reading nook beckoned from a corner of the room. A plush armchair with a worn but comfortable cushion nestled next to a towering bookshelf. 

"I u-understand, leave me, please? I'll help you. I'll help you. You need to get your Queen back, right? Maybe I can help you with that!" She begs as Lili squishes her cheeks between her thumb and forefinger.

"Look me in the eye and tell me how your pesky little lowlife self will be able to help me?" She jerks Aurelia's head to face herself.

"I-uh," Aurelia's eyes wander again, "I can get close to the Hoarder and get the orbs with the Queen's family in them?" She suggests in a moment of haste.

Lili rolls her eyes with a sigh. Her finger let go of Aurelia and she floats away from the bed to a beautifully carved vanity with a large, ornate mirror stood adorned with dried flowers. "Pathetic," Lili whispers, waving a hand to let the flowers bloom again, "You're so exasperating and pathetic, it pains me." 

Her voice breaks and Aurelia is horrified to find literal tears in Lili's eyes. "Excuse me?! Are you crying?!" She gasps, jumping off the bed and running up to the spirit. Though, her steps are a bit disoriented and her balance a little shaky without her cap.

"When folks die or cease, their soul essence can be saved into orbs. They're all dead. What can you help with?!" Lili cries dramatically, slouching over the vanity. 

"I- um, corpses to match with the soul essence...?" Aurelia offers without much thought.

Lili pokes her head outside the vanity, tears all dried up and brows mushed in horror. "Aurelia Mossbloom," she gasps, "You're a horrible person."

Yeah, tell her about it. Where did that thought even come from? Certainly it wasn't something she could concoct in a split second.

"Yeah- I'm sorry I ju—"

"No," Lili jumps out of the vanity and twirls around Aurelia's head. "I love you for it," she grins a toothy grin in the mushroom's face. "Go ahead, tell me everything!" She urges with bright ivy eyes, backing Aurelia against a window.

The small window is draped with sheer curtains, revealing a view of a lush, enchanted garden looming in darkness. "Oh, did I sleep for a long while? It's night already!" Aurelia exclaims, changing the subject.

"You've been out for two days," Lili deadpans.

"TWO DAYS?! I SLEPT THROUGH TWO DAYS? I FEEL LIKE YOU CHOKED ME FIVE MINUTES AGO!" 

Lili coughs awkwardly, floating away from Aurelia as she mumbles, "Well, for at least one and a half day, I tried killing you multiple ti— OH MY CREATOR! I DID NOT THINK OF DROPPING YOU FROM THE ROOFTOP!" Lili snaps her head in Aurelia's direction with a sparkle of hope in her eyes.

"NO!" Aurelia screeches, "REVENGE ISN'T NICE. I WILL HELP YOU. THE BODIES! I WILL HELP YOU GET THE BODIES. THERE IS THIS THUNDER RITUAL THAT A GUILD IS GOING TO DO TOMORROW. THERE'LL BE LOADS OF CORPSES!" 

"How do you know that?" 

Indeed, an excellent question for Aurelia has no idea why she knows that. She has no idea of what she spoke or the authenticity that it roots from. What thunder ritual? What guild? Why was she suddenly so obsessed with providing corpses?! 

"Tell me, Au-Re-Lia," Lili breaks her name in mockworthy words, "How do you know that?" 

Aurelia's tongue lines over her teeth, once, twice, thrice, "So, um, because— I like seeing the ritual? They do it...every year?" She breaths out, internally stabbing her mind, heart and soul for that lame excuse.

"You like seeing the Wizardkind stand in thunder and shock themselves to death?" Lili frowns, backing away from Aurelia and eyeing her weirdly as the latter nods.

Aurelia doesn't wants to mix with the Wizardkind. They're such taboos in all species. If not killed because of The Hoarder, she'll be eradicated just for mentioning that she knows of their existence, let alone enjoys their anual game of death.

"You have some...eccentric hobbies," Lili coughs. "Excellent, we'll go tomorrow." With that, her spirit disappears through a wall. 

And Aurelia exhales an anxious breath.

"What the actual rot is wrong with me?!" Aurelia gasps in mortification. She paces towards her vanity and presses her face against the mirror, checking if she was just physically another person. She wasn't. Her straight red gills for hair, her gold infused eyes, her skeletal body, it was all a testament of her true existence.

This is, very much, Aurelia Mossbloom, acting like a madwoman. "What in Creator's name is a Thunder Ritual even?! Where does it take place? What did I just spew!!" She tugs at her hair, crying to herself. 

Can she run away from here?

She runs up to the window again and squishes her face against the glass. Butterflies and bioluminescent mushrooms light a winding path — or should she say, guard it? The whole castle is sentient. How can she ever run away?!

Aurelia did not die because she saw through Lili's magic in time. She had read about Spirit magic a lot during her childhood, to help herself in efficiently and non-violently capturing the soul essence of her food. 

There are aggressive plantfolk like Mortiflora which will kill to live and there are those like Lili who hold inherent abilities to defend and survive. Though, everyone uses their magic differently, just like how they walk differently or talk differently — but there is always a pattern. 

Catch, compell, conquer. 

Lili's spirit magic was skittered in three steps. The gold dust sprinkle, building trust and tricking the consciousness of the opponent and breaking their will.

And Lili was so close to success if she hadn't reminded Aurelia of the control she had on the castle. Essentially, as a Castle Spirit, the illusion of her magic remains confined to the walls of the castle. She cannot inflict a permanent will on anyone from the outside, who knows of her powers and existence.

But it doesn't mean that Aurelia cannot be tortured to eternity's end! 

"Ugh, is this considered mortal peril? Should I cross the line and ask the Hoarder? Surely, he'd know...and he wouldn't kill me," Aurelia mumbles to herself, pressed up against the wall in melancholy. "No- what if he decides that I should stay in a cell— no! What if Lili thinks I'm going to complain to the Hoarder?! Surely, she'll know about it before I can even reach him. Ugh!!"

She stamps her feet against the floor and feels annoyed when, in return, it makes her feet throb with pain.

Instantly, she feels conflicted.

Why did she do that? Stomp on the floor for no reason, whatsoever and feel annoyed when it hurt back? She wasn't this person...what was happening?

"Ugh! It's the castle! It is driving me crazy!" She wails to no one in particular, flinging back to the cloud like bed and procrastinating her own doom.