Crowned - 16 | On A Mission (part one)

 

“We won’t blast a church!” Kairo snapped, ever the voice of reason.

Elvira agreed, nodding vehemently. “It would bring too much of unnecessary attention,” she established.

“Villainy is all about grand scale chaos, both of you are too afraid to agree,” Kaeo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Let’s leave the plan making to Kairo, yeah? The one who has actual magic to clean up after you,” Elvira pointed.

“Said the leech,” Kaeo smiled at her, sarcasm pouring off his soft features.

“Okay, okay, halt it!” Kairo clapped his hands, “Even a literal wall cannot stop the two of you,” he gasped and clicked his fingers to make the wall disappear. “Wilhelma will provide us weapons for the mission. To avoid any mistakes and collateral damage, it will only be the three of us who will continue with this mission.” Kairo explained.

“Yes, take an illegal, non-magical citizen to the Church of mages to avoid mistakes and damage, of course, what a noble pursuit!” Elvira grinned sarcastically, “I’m loving it!”

“You cannot die,” Kaeo stated, looking her in the eye.

“Of course, if you value your life.” Elvira rolled her eyes.

“Now, then, what weapons do you desire! Cloaking spells are deceptive and won’t work in holy grounds so choose something that is efficient yet concealable!” Kairo declared.

“Do you have any options?” Elvira asked, at the same time as Kaeo said, “I’ll take the usual.”

“Options, yes!” Kairo flicked a hand over the floating hologram and the dragon’s projection disappeared into a million dots which reconnected to make an arsenal of weapons floating over the tabletop. “Here you go! I’d recommend a lasso with a blade, it is natural, magical and works long distance and short distance,” Kairo suggested.

Elvira gazed over a hundred weapons, more than eighty of which were unrecognisable to her. Was this how her mother summoned her weapons? Elvira wondered.

“Choose the poison blades and darts. You can throw them around and one stab would be enough to get out of a fight, considering you have the practical battle experience of a unicorn,” Kaeo grumbled.

“Well, it’s a good thing that we’re not going to battle,” Elvira scoffed, “I’ll take the lasso,” she said, just to spite Kaeo even though she personally liked his idea a lot.

“Using a lasso requires actual practice and good wrist movement,” Kaeo snapped, “Do you think these danglers,” he pointed at Elvira’s slender pale wrists, “Would be able to do anything?!”

Elvira gasped, her auburn eyes carrying offence, “Do you want me to slap you for demonstration?” she scowled.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we know you’re dying to touch me,” Kaeo snorted.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Kairo, once again, jumped between them before Elvira could attempt strangling Kaeo, “I genuinely suggest you go with the daggers, Elvi, they’re a wise choice!”

Elvira narrowed her eyes at Kaeo’s pouty smug smile and seethed through gritted teeth, “I accept it only because you said so,” she looked at Kairo, “You.”

“Of course, of course, no one would think otherwise,” Kaeo mocked.

“I’m going to –” Elvira couldn’t complete her sentence as Kairo grabbed her hand and teleported her away. The new room was a plethora of shining swords, studded scabbards, sharp knives and curved daggers decorated on walls and small shelves, all over the place. Kairo picked up a rust-coloured dagger from a shelf on the right along with a thigh band and a bunch of vials and darts.

“Here you go,” he handed the curved dagger to her, “Remember to unsheathe it before using it and DO NOT scratch the blade on YOUR skin or you will pass out!! But, even if you accidently do, here’s an antidote,” he pointed at a bubbling violet vial in his hand, “Keep it with you AT ALL TIMES!!”

Elvira nodded like a diligent student.

“And here are a few poison darts, there’s twelve you can fit in one band. Make sure to COLLECT THEM BACK AFTER SHOOTING THEM because we do not want to leave any traces, right?”

Kairo looked at her like her primary school teacher.

Elvira nodded, biting her lower lip.

“Are all of these weapons created by Wilhelma?” she asked.

“Yes, she’s an excellent example of an Alchemy Type. We found her on the outskirts of Willow two years ago; she’s been very loyal ever since.”

Elvira wondered why Kairo and Kaeo would take her on such an important mission and not someone as exceptional as Wilhelma. She had actual magic and actual use. Unlike the burden Elvira would create.

Elvira sighed as she pocketed the dagger, the antidote and the darts in her pant-pocket.

“When do we leave?” she asked.

Kairo noticed the sudden shift in Evira’s mood but did not acknowledge it. “Around two, there will a mass held at the Church to pray for Count Aramia’s land. The sudden fire and the rumour of the dead Count and Countess coming back to life has been unsettling the people. It’s very funny,” Kairo ran a hand over Elvira’s head, “You did as best as you could and I am proud of you for that.”

Elvira’s breath hitched.

You did as best as you could…

I am proud of you…

They were foreign words for Elvira’s ears.

She hadn’t expected to hear them in this lifetime.

After trying her best with her townsfolk, after working to her bone at Helif’s Estate, after coming to terms with her scars, Elvira was trying her best. Had always been. Yet, not a single soul had uttered the words of encouragement for her.

Though sudden, the words gashed past all her walls and left her raw and bleeding out tears in front Kairo. Her knees buckled but Kairo’s quick reflexes caught her by her waist and pulled her into his chest. Elvira cried into the silence, hoping the words would come from her parents instead.

Kairo wrapped his arms around her and caressed the back of her head, burying her sobs within his arms. He held on tight and perched his chin over her head, hoping to calm her tumultuous senses.

At the doorframe of the arsenal stood a scowling Kaeo with his hands crossed over his chest and a glint of glare in his amethyst eyes.

. . .

“Are you feeling better?” Kairo asked as they stood in front of the pristine white back walls of the Church Dianthia.

“Yes, I’m ready to cause chaos!” Elvira grinned, throwing a punch at the sky which involuntarily elicited a cracking sound from her elbow.

Kaeo grimaced, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed at Elvira’s bright smile directed towards Kairo.

“You should warm up,” Kairo laughed out loud as Elvira held her hands behind her back, growing red with embarrassment.

“I-I will, it’s just that Willow has such a pretty weather!”

Kairo had teleported them from the continent of Kalmia on the outer-world to the Continent of Willow in the Inner-World. Willow was known to have the biggest landmass with a pleasant weather and the most diverse population on Wreath. It was a place which accepted everyone, be it mages or creatures.

“Even the air feels free-er here,” Kairo sighed, inhaling a long breath.

“There is no such thing,” Kaeo grumbled. Brilliant blue magic circles appeared over his fingertips and underneath his shoes. “Watch and learn,” he said and proceeded to climb the towering walls with the agility of a sticky insect-creature.

“So, there are times when he is useful…” Elvira snorted a whisper.

Kairo nodded diligently, eyes shining with admiration for his brother.

Kaeo charted the walls while Kairo and Elvira kept watch underneath. As soon as he reached the top, he peeked inside and mapped the guards in attendance. There were five of them, stationed at equivalent distances, guarding the perimeter. Their silver metal armour clanked with every step they took, softened only by the crème holy robe they wore above it. Each of them had a golden sword in hand and their lips were constantly moving in recitation of some lost language.

Kaeo stuck his right palm on the wall and used his free hand to shuffle out a bunch of blades from his back-pocket.

“He was carrying sharp, unsheathed, blades in his pockets?! Just like that?!” Elvira gasped, properly scandalised.

“That’s Kaeo for you,” Kairo coughed out a laugh.

Over the wall, Kaeo placed one blade over the edge and grabbed the rest between his lips, undeterred by their sharpness. He picked up the remaining blade and positioned it with one eye closed and a magic circle enhancing the sight of his other open eye. Then, he threw the blade with just enough force for it to pierce through the air and stab onto a guard’s forehead.

Before the other guards could take a note, Kaeo dropped them in a line.

“All clear, come along,” he called to the ones behind.

“I’m afraid you will have to carry us,” Kairo whisper-called.

Kaeo nodded and jumped down, feet landing the ground as light as a feather.

It evoked a memory in Elvira’s mind. The first time she had met him. The sun shadowed his sapphire eyes but illuminated his dazzling smile. He was upside down, yet ecstatic to catch her gaze.

Suddenly, her eyes caught his gaze again. After all those years, he wasn’t ecstatic to meet her anymore. His amethyst eyes were cold and he wished she were dead, like everyone else.

Elvira instantly evaded his eyes.

“I’ll take you first,” Kaeo pointed at Kairo. The blonde nodded and jumped over his brother’s back, giddy to get a free ride.

“Woo-hoo! Let’s go!” he grinned as Kaeo flung at the wall and climbed it with a natural fervour.

Elvira couldn’t believe she would have to be dependent on Kaeo again.

the pen who gained sentience

News Reporter: As the 'Freedom' magic swells through, more and more objects gain sentience. The onset of memories intertwined with emotions has overwhelmed quite a few unwilling participants onto the path of villainy. Though as Barbie Dolls banding with the Robots in hopes for a World Takeover (rooted in deep hatred over human treatment) are becoming commonalities, there are shocking cases like that of an ancestral pen writing its autobiography which are taking the world by storm!

The entires go as follows:

I remember being crafted by my master. After the searing molten metal was molded into my form, he carved his seal onto my back and forever branded me as his. My master's hands were rugged against my polished finish; he never took care of his hands. They were always calloused, scathed or scratched in one place or the other: I observed for as long as I stayed on his display shelf. Regardless, he held each of my siblings with ardent care, a representation of love for his craft.

I would miss him, I remember thinking, when a contractor claimed me away as a prize for a writing contest. Though, my master's memories would soon be shadowed by the eccentricities of my first owner. 

He was a gentleman by facevalue, a man of refined clothing and graceful eloquence. He smiled charmingly, curtsied to every compliment and housed me proudly within his breastpocket. A scholar, one would think him as, until they'd spend a night in his working quarters against the bright warmth of the kerosene lamps on his limping oakwood table and witness him writing so passionately that his tongue would poke out of his pursed lips.

One would think he's drafting the constitution or writing the Declaration of Independence with such fervor, but no! Oh Master, if you would only witness the utter filth he used me for. His sharp Ts and cursive Gs were using my precious ink for writing erotica! And mind you, he was not poetic about it! He was crass, descriptive and imaginative (trust me, I'd know) within those pages and somehow he made a fortune off of them!

It truly baffles me, to this day, how he accounted his success to me. 

"'tis all because of this pen," he'd say to his friends, as if it were I, an innocent non-sentient object, who was whispering the devil's ideas into his head at the arseclock of dawn! The Audacity! 

That is how the nature of my existence became ancestral. 

I was passed down to my first owner's son, even though he had a perfectly fine daughter who could use me for better purposes, who seemed to inherit his father's exceptional imagination.

Though, my second owner used his imagination for a purpose quite contrasting to his father's. While his father was using me to bring bodies together, my second owner used me to bring bodies apart. Quite literally. No, he wasn't a divorce lawyer. My second owner was a member of the Mafia and he was masterful at coming up with ways to dismember his brothers in Christ. 

He used my delicate head in evil ways, scratching illegible cursive over the parchment, whilst seated in a dingy office with moonlight as his governing agent of sight. No wonder the letters seemed equally threatening as to what they read; and honestly, I would have been fine with such misuse if he wouldn't use his pantpockets as my placeholder.

That was straight up abuse.

And the stench was often nauseating. Not that I could feel it then, though, as everything is coming back to me now, I have since leaked my ink twelve times on the paper while trying to write about him.

Thankfully, he lost me in a gambling debt. I remember being estatic as I was held being passed onto a better man. A man with soft hands and an erudite gleam in his eyes. He combed his blonde hair in different styles everyday and kept me on his well furnished bedroom desk and used me seldom. 

Though, when my third owner did use me...it was somehow even more devious, albeit oddly wholesome and weird. He used me to write letters, love letters, normal isn't it? Yes. His letters were poetic and innocent, often desperate and fervent with emotion — but he drafted them to the man he loved while his illiterate wife would be hanging by his arm, peeking over the parchment and giggling. Never without her.

"I w'nder what yer writin. Is it for me? I do love ye!"

"Of course, my darling, it is for you. I'm always thinking of you and writing of you," he'd reply to his wife, still using his straight and sharp-edged handwriting in the honour of his manly lover. 

His moral delinquency, brought on by the times he lived in, thrived for as long as I remained with that family. Therein, I faced the first traumatic event of my life. There are no pen therapists, but I do insist humans to come forward for this profession because pens genuinely need a grip for their sanity to cling on. We might be mightier than swords only because swords merely kill, while we can do much more than that.

The odd couple eventually had a kid; the kid got its grubby claws on me and ABUSED MY GENTLE NIB-HEAD OVER THE PARCHMENT, SCRIBBLING AND SCRATCHING TO THE POINT WHERE I FELT THE PARCHMENT TEAR AND CRUMBLE IN THE FACE OF MY EVIL MINISTRATIONS. That child made me a criminal, a first degree murderer, and if that wasn't horrible enough, that demon-spawn threw me off the open window.

I was flung down three floors and into the muddy wet fields, traumatized and abandoned. I call that event of my life as APENDONMENT, you get it? yeah? funny? no? My bad. 

Why are you still reading? 

Regardless, those insect infested fields were my new home. At least for a week, I remained unused and degraded, until a dog ran up to me. It peed in my line of sight and we looked at eachother, intently, while he did his business. It was to no one's surprise that the animal found fancy in me, after the quick moment we shared and picked me up in his salivating mouth.

Are you writing that down, my future therapist? Yes, thank you. 

The ten minutes I spent in his slimy mouth felt like a lifetime's worth of goo accumulating in my crevices. I was let go at a middle class doorstep, a little downtrodden albeit homey and picked up by a little girl.

As a wise pen had once said, after all ink-ridden scratches on parchment comes a new ink filter and the smoothest, most flourishing writing.

Finally, my time had come. After all the trials and tribulations, my perfect body worn down by my paint chipping away and my master's mark pierced by a dog's canine — I found a family who accepted me at my worst. They bathed me and placed me in their happening living room, a family of three who ate together and made merry. 

They used me seldom (my ink was expensive) but when they did, it was for honourable purposes. I filled out the little girl's school admission form in that house. I was used to write greetings on birthday cards and sign a deed for a field. My new owners were content with what they had and were always striving to do more for their little girl. 

Placed on top of a cabinet, in a stand of my own, I witnessed the little girl mature into a lady and her parents curve into old gentle souls. Their shaky hands had no use of me anymore and the invention of a telephone line had me forever stuck in my place, steady and observant. I would have felt neglected if the mother did not do her weakly dusting chores whilst humming to a new tune.

She was a beautiful singer and she passed on with a smile on her face. I was used to sign on her Death Certificate and I put my best curves forward in her honour. 

Her husband did not do the dusting after she was gone. He remained on the living room couch, where the family had eaten dinners together, celebrated happiness and hugged eachother in moments of sorrow. He remained there, now alone and staring into the ceiling.

I would have felt lonely but somehow, I knew he was more. Alone but not forgotten; for the last time, I was used to write the little lady's wedding invitation. Her father found his smile again for her husband-to-be was a good man. She took her father into the city after the wedding went through and I was packed up in a box, abandoned on an attic, never to be used again.

Laptops and texting had taken over, I heard as I laid in my bed of dust for many an ages, hoping someone would use me again.

I was made as a tool for a free human society, to be used by those who pursued freedom of passion. Though, when in their hands I begged for a life of my own but now that I have one — I have nothing to do with it. Odd, is it not? 

The Lucielle Box - 1: Waking Up In My Favorite Dark Romance Novel !

 

 PROLOUGE

 

THUD.

 

NEIGH.

 

THUMP.

 

Her head banged on wood, insinuating a jolt of pain that drove her out of slumber. The subtle to-and-fro of the carriage that once cradled her body now became an incessant gesture of alarm. The fog in her mind hindered the comprehension of words being passed around yet her ears did not cease to gather.

 

“Leonora’s lass, she is.”

“Caught her straight off the Square, we did.”

“Dun’t know what got her!!”

“Kekekekekeke.”

 

A sharp pain stung through her back as the carriage overcame a stone in its way. Her body fidgeted to find a more comfortable position, when – her eyes shot open! Her perspective was darkened by the lack of light, but that was the least bothersome thing in that moment. For when she rolled her shoulders, she felt two unfamiliar weights bent at a painful angle. When the woman turned her neck to look back, to her absolute surprise, she spotted a pair of hands tied behind her back by their – her – wrists.

‘I have hands…?’

Panic surged through her veins as she realised the compactness of her surroundings. She tried getting up only to realise that her feet were bound together, around the ankles, with yet another rope. Her parched throat threatened to let out a scream but was hindered by a sudden round of laughter.

 

“That skimpy bandit would’ve no choice but to surrender ‘erself now!”

 

“How dare a pesky woman like her threaten the Crown?!”

 

“As soon as we reach the castle, let’s teach this lass a lesson. For the daughter of a Bandit Queen, she sure is quite a looker.”

 

Chills ran down the girl’s spine as her feet gave up and she fell back, onto the cold hardwood of the box. Questions overwhelmed her mind for the last thing she remembered was sitting by the window, staring into the sunset. The year was 2024, the wind was polluted, her body had no hands but at least she was a free individual – who would want to kidnap a disabled orphan? And what did they mean by the Crown and the Bandi--!!

 

Her eyes widened as a hazy memory of a name pierced through her common sense. Leonora. Bandit Queen.

 

Her lips broke into a mirthless grin.

 

Daughter of a Bandit Queen.

 

Her forehead bunched into a frown without hindering the toothy grimace. Her newly found hands grew cold and clammier behind her back as exasperation of the situation dawned on her. Somehow, call it fate’s folly or destiny’s greater ambition at giving the Gods a good laugh – but she, Isadora Bailey, had transmigrated into a fantasy book she had loved ever since she was fifteen.

The Lucielle Box.

 

“Holy fucks.”

 

The plot was simple, yet complex, depending on the age one pursued it.

The story followed a Bandit Queen named Leonora Russet, in the land of Isdaren, who plundered the rich to provide for the poor. She was a brave and kind woman with a sickly daughter and in order to save her only family’s life, she was searching for the Lucielle Box. An object deemed to be hidden somewhere in the Royal Castle with magical properties of rejuvenation. It protected and immortalised the royal family and was Leonora’s only hope to keep her child alive. Though, after time and time again of begging the King to show mercy on her dying daughter and heeding no positive results – Leonora resorted to accumulate power, steal, bring the people on her side and protest against the crown.

The carriage halted and a gust of nauseatingly fresh air entered into her captive box through the small holes on top. The chattering men dragged the box down a slope, mounted it over a trolley and began dragging it towards doom.

Bandit Leonora was wildly successful in her pursuits and even after having the greatest bounty on her head, she remained uncaptured for a decade. That was until the Third Prince’s cavalry were able to capture Leonora’s daughter. They planned to use her as leverage to make the Bandit Queen surrender and puppeteer for the Crown but some low-level soldiers could not resist the temptation of a captive woman at hand and decided to violate her.

The box almost dropped off the trolley while the men were hoisting it up a staircase. A flurry of curses resounded against the cold hard walls of the stone dungeon. A musky damp scent prevailed in the atmosphere, making the trapped girl’s throat itch.

“Could’ve jus bot the lass, but no! Haf’ta bring a goshdarn box all the way ‘cross!”

Leonora’s daughter dies while trying to protect herself. The Third Prince’s plans fail and he shoves the reason of his failure on one of his brothers. Though Leonora was a woman, she was a concerned mother first and avenges she does her daughter’s blood by slaying a Prince…but it does nothing to fill the gaping void of her heart. In five years, Lenora storms the castle, slaughters the royal family, takes over the Lucielle Box and uses it to make a deal with the devil. In return of her child’s life, Leonora unleashes darkness onto the world and plunges it into chaos. She forgets all regard for mankind and wreaks havoc until the Hero slays her at the end of the book.

It was a sad story, yet one brimming with great mystery and adventure. A tale where the sadness was worth the journey undertaken – but that was a fifteen-year-old emo Isadora’s perspective. Twenty-two-year-old Isadora, stuck in a box that was now being pried open, hated the concept of valour stemming from sacrifice.

Especially when she was the sacrifice.

She was Runa Donn Russet.

The daughter who was about to die.

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.

An Unexpected Union — 9

— rots and giggles.

Aurelia watches the Hoarder's retreating back with a burdened mind and a calm heart. She is glad to be left alone, but also, mortified to be left alone. Who does that?! Let a stranger wander around enemy territory with free reins?! 

Aurelia looks away, before her staring could get too creepy, and tip toes to check which way to go now. Surely, she couldn't see past the long hallway but she could pretend that she was trying. 

She heaves a sigh before taking a bold first step. The castle doesn't provide her with a cushion of petals anymore and her wooden sandal clicks against the floor. The sound ricochet's off the walls and hits all of her nerves.

Aurelia feels unworthy to take another step. 

What if the sound is too loud? Loud noises are embarassing! What if she walks and someone stops her— what is she supposed to say? Is she supposed to stay where she is? Is she even allowed to walk further?

She presses her palms together, a thin layer of sweat covering them. She'd rather choose a prison where she knew her place than than an empty castle where she didn't.

At least she wouldn't be overwhelmed by the discomfort of having —

A strange sound makes her breath hitch. Ivy green vines slither across the walls and make their way to her, blooming white flowers in greeting. Aurelia sucks in a grateful breath, "Finally, a folk!" 

She kneels on the floor to touch the vine but it slithers over her boney hands and sucks the faux emperor's blood away. The white flowers mesh together, impersonating a human form before their pollen bursts and in a blink of an eye, Aurelia sees a spirit floating around her.

She has hair like the dawny rays of the sun, cascading down to her ankles, tied with a few tendrils around her waist. Her white dress twirls and flows with her brisk movements as she eyes Aurelia with curious ivy eyes and a bright smile.

"Spirit Lili, guardian of the Fae— well, now Fae ruins."

"Aurelia, Mossbloom?" Aurelia utters, quite surprised by the spirit's sudden existence and confused in her own identity. Lili doesn't seem to mind Aurelia's horrible greeting skills as she waves her delicate pale wrist and drenches Aurelia in gold specks.

"We're so excited to have you!!" Lili claps, circling around Aurelia with excitement. "You cannot believe how long we have waited for someone who isn't downright powerthirsty!" She drags out an unfamiliar tune, taking Aurelia's now clean hands in hers and twirling her around the hallway.

"Woah- Woah!" Goes the mushroom, "I understand your excitement but can you please let go of me?! What if someone sees us?!" Aurelia freezes on her heels and Lili, who hadn't given up, owning to her lightweight and momentum, is thrown away. She zooms through a wall with loud giggles and Aurelia is momentarily worried if she caused some harm.

"I'm sorry! Are you okay?" She runs up the wall, in which Lili crashed and disappeared, and knocks a knuckle against it. 

There's a moment of grim silence.

Someone blows in Aurelia's right ear.

She freaks out into a shout.

"Why I'm terrific!" The voice exclaims in her other ear.

Aurelia jumps and backs away into the wall. It feels hard and cold against her back as silence surrounds her again. "Lili...?" Aurelia questions, right when a wisp of silver zooms past her. 

"You called me?"

Suddenly, vines branch out of the wall and wrap around Aurelia's torso, creeping over her neck and face, sucking the blood off her.

Her heart thunders in its cavity, spores bursting a cloud of deep pink around her head. "S-stop it, let go- please!" 

"But I've been waiting for you~"

Lili's face pops into perspective, upside-down, right in front of Aurelia's face, as if she were hanging off her shoulders. "Well I don't like this and I need you to stop it and leave me!" Aurelia protests against the vines, twisting and rubbing her hands and neck to make them let go.

"Why'd you hurt me~" it sounds like a whine and Aurelia is finally let go of. She falls to the ground, scrambling to the centre, looking left and right for any other surprises. 

"I'm here," Lili breaths as her head pops between Aurelia's ankles, body hidden away from perspective.

Aurelia had heard that the Fae were a mischievous species but experiencing it first hand was something she did not want, like or expect. How did the world survive with a whole kingdom of these folks giving heart attacks for rots and giggles?! 

Suddenly, Aurelia was glad that the Hoarder had destroyed the Fae in war. 

"I'd rather you not be here," Aurelia chokes out, folding her feet and eventually standing up. Lili's head floats on the ground as Aurelia tries to evade it's pestering presence.

"But I thought you were happy to see me!"

"I was happy to see you—" she stomps her foot as Lili tries to pinch her feet, "— when you weren't using me for your entertainment!" 

Lili's pretty face wears a frown as she rises up, her head reaching Aurelia's height with her elongated dress flowing all around them. "So you can use me as a residence but I cannot even entertain myself?" She questions hoarsely. There is an indescribable glint in her eyes as she leans impossibly close to Aurelia. 

"I- uh, I'm sorry. I'm sure we can come to an agreement, surely?" The fungi girl gulps, raising her hands to bring some distance between them. The flowy dress wraps itself around Aurelia's feet and drags her down. Her cap crashes the ground and a sharp pain renders her breathless for a second. Vines and twigs creep towards her, crackling and churning to restrain her hands and feet.

Aurelia resists but in vain. She shouts but a leaf holds her mouth hostage. 

"An agreement —?!" Lili laughs a hollow laugh, "As an enchanted, you held a loyalty towards the Fae. But what did you do? Abandon us in a war!!" she spits, looming over Aurelia's writhing figure with spite in her eyes.

"The ephemerals not turning up was a given, no one gives a goblin's arse about their promises but betrayed by your own race! Do you know how my Queen suffers?!" Her pupils narrow into slits and the pressure around Aurelia's neck tightens. She wheezes for air, spores bursting, twisting her hands to get a grip of the dagger she keeps in her pocket. Or even a lumia. Anything.

"She saw her family defeated before her eyes, sucked into hollow orbs of magic, confined forever. She dessicates in a cellar, MY QUEEN! IN A CELLAR! All because of a wretched, goblinforsaken, Ephemeral!!" 

Aurelia's spores erupt cloud after cloud in pink, dispersing all over the vines and twigs trapping her. She never had much spirit essence ever since she was born so her spores were never really anything but an unwanted medium to express her feelings. Though, in theory, Aurelia knew that spores helped to reproduce, in turn feed on the environment they were left on. And because the vines were a plant, there was a chance that Aurelia's spores could feed on its energy and weaken even a little bit of her restrains so she could reach the dagger.

"And now that he is bonded," Lili's hands cut through the spore clouds to witness the distress on Aurelia's face, "to a dust puffing little sapling like you," she seethes in her face, "I can finally kill him."

Aurelia twists her hand and the vine lets go for a split second. Aurelia is quick to pull out her dagger and slash through the restraint. With one hand free, she charges the dagger to Lili's heart—

—but it passes through her.

Ah yes, of course. Going for a Lumia would have been a better choice considering Lili was a SPIRIT. Unfortunately, Aurelia isn't known for her better choices and it was too late to redeem herself now.

"Ouch," Lili slaps across Aurelia's face, "but cute." The slap stings and Aurelia doesn't understand how she can feel Lili but not stab her in the back. This is nature's treachery at its finest.

Stronger vines zoom in and grip Aurelia's hand to the ground again. The dagger falls on her chest, going through Lili, and in consequence, the vines around her neck feel tighter.

"The Hoarder is so dead now," Lili bursts into laughter, circling around Aurelia's shaking and choking body. "And oh, just so you don't wonder in afterlife, he cannot hear you or feel you right now. I control what folks see and hear in this castle," Lili grins an evil grin.

'Ah,' Aurelia thinks calmly while being choked to death, 'that explains why I couldn't stab her. Which means—'

Her thoughts die out as air refuses to reach her lungs anymore. She cannot transform back into a mushroom because of the restraints so, she understands that this is the end.

Being killed in the Hoarder's castle. Too quick, too soon. Her favour to the World is done now. Maybe her next life would be better.

Darkness fogs her vision as Lili's laughs resonates in her ears. At least she was killed by a pretty girl.

An Unexpected Union — 8

— no fun-guy.

"Congratulations on the wedding, My Lord!" 

From the Hoarder's dark shadows rises Draco, smiling a cheeky smile in the his master's face. "The castle likes her already," he points behind the Hoarder's back, gesturing how the castle's spirit leads Aurelia to her room.

"The castle is racist," the Hoarder scoffs, not sparing a glance and entering his chambers. The Fae Castle would willingly lean in favour of even the faintest magic but never an ephemeral. He beelines to the bathroom.

He flings the crystal mask off his face and Draco flails around to catch it — lest it falls and bring crippling financial deficit — and pockets safely. 

"I'll never get used to this," The Hoarder exhales, stripping out of the bloodied clothes. "The mask, I mean. It chokes me. I should design a better one," he leans slightly back and places his hands on his waist whilst admiring his lean yet muscular build and ripped abs in the mirror.

"A more breathable material, maybe?" Draco suggests from outside.

The Hoarder nods, tracing a finger across his angular collarbones and mouthing 'perfect' in the mirror. "Great suggestion, we'll put Dragonkin on our target next. 'Cuz what's more breathable and sturdy than dragon skin?" 

Draco shifts uncomfortably, tugging at his collar. He hears the water run on the other side of the door. "I'll pick the perfect one for you. While we're at it, we can make a dragon hide armour for the bride as well?" He suggests to earn some good points, just in case, one day, the Hoarder felt that his skin would be more comfortable. 

His suggestion is greeted by a silence. 

"Did you get rid of the body?" 

"Yes, promptly."

"Who was it?"

"A demon from Mavis' book."

He slaps his hand against the walls. "So that's the reason why my interface couldn't detect him at all!" He exclaims, ruby eyes widening with brightness. A smug grin makes its way to his face as he draps himself with a towel, "I knew my software wouldn't betray me like that." He beelines out to snatch the crystal mask from Draco's pockets and gives it a well deserved smooch.

Draco instantly places a hand on his eyes and rolls them.

"The Emperor must consider us a real threat if he's making deals with Wizard Guilds now! This is fresh! If this gets out, it could ruin his rep forever!" The Hoarder wiggles his fingers menacingly, eyes crinkled and narrowed in a villainous stance. As he laughs, his shoulders hunch up and down and the droplets trace along the muscles of his body and gather around his barefeet, making him stand in a puddle of water. 

"That's not our goal," Draco sighs.

"You know no fun," the hoarder tsks. 

The Ephemerals pride themselves for their science and technology, challenging and denouncing magic in everyway. The Emperor runs a clean base, or so everyone thought, in segregating the enchanteds from the ephemerals and the homogeneous Wizardkind. 

The Wizardkind belongs to neither of the two primary races for they're bashed by the ephemerals for using magic and bashed by the enchanteds for not possessing their own natural magic.

The Wizardkind are those who used science to create an illusion of magic, thinking they'd be able to rule the World. Alas, the two primary races did not let the Wizardkind prosper for they had greater numbers. The wizards now lays low, hidden in the recesses of the World, planning Creator knows what. 

But, if there is one thing they're sought after, it is the Book of Mavis. One of the first few wizards, a genius madwoman with marvellous strength in her experiments. For the better half of her life, she busted criminals out of ephemeral jails and ruthlessly experimented on them. Her subjects were nothing short of demons and all her works have been recorded in the recognised, 'Book of Mavis.'

No one knows which Guild holds the rights to the Book of Mavis and The Hoarder needs to stand by his name and get it before anyone else does.

"How many guilds remain?" The Hoarder questions, walking to the centre of the room. The vines rush in, crackling and twisting to form a chair before his butt would land on the ground.

"Twenty three till extinction," Draco points out as a table forms itself in front of his Master. A vine rushes in with his Laptop, holding it by a tendril as if disgusted by its sight and presence.

"Very well, let us locate the next one. We'll put the orb hunt on hold for now," he pulls his laptop from the very judgemental tendril and switches it on. 

"I do not agree! You're supposed to focus on becoming the Celestial Lord!" Draco protests, silver brows pushed together in a heavy frown. 

The Hoarder promptly ignores him.

"Ah, I have my mid sems next to next week and we need to attend the new recruits orientation, ah- I was part of a group project. I wonder what happened to that..." He words drown into the air and Draco knows the conversation is over.

"I'll be making arrangements for the orientation and the attack on Dragonkin," the celestial dragon sighs before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. 

The Hoarder sighs, leaning back in his chair and slouching. His eyes zone out on the barren ceiling and memory reels back to when he held the mushroom's hand and walked towards the fountain. 

The glyphs were laid on the ground and the ritual had begun. He had been focusing on why the software of his mask couldn't identify the person, the wannabe Emperor, before him when suddenly a bright light blinded him. Just then, a vision caught him off guard. 

Everything was white and in the emptiness was him, staring at a purple gem. It glimmered on its own, oozing red and blue sparkles out of its crystalline dimensions.

And in the emptiness, a faded voice had echoed. 

"In the hush of twilight's lingering embrace, 

a figure, cloaked in shadows deep,

shall rise from the abyss where darkness seeps.

His fate entwined with that of realms unknown,

across the world, they lie, waiting to bestow,

a power unmatched, a destiny veiled,

yet whispers of ruin linger, the truth unveiled..."

There were more words, the whispers had continued but in the mask of darkness, Draco had crushed the demon's head and the spell was lifted. Before he could hear more, the light was fading into darkness and his sensations of the world were returning. 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself drenched in blood, her hand forcing itself away from his. He was quick to let go and momentarily busied himself by having spotted a hanging cufflink.

PING!

The Hoarder leans back into posture as an email notification pops up on his laptop. It is a group email and the subject reads:

'ASSIGNMENT LINK CLOSING BY 6 PM!'

"Shit, fuck—" he gasps, shuffling around for his clothes and papers into nothing, "I thought you said 11:59! Which psychopath closes an assignment link at 6:00 dammit! Have you no hobby?!"