HAYVALA

Evyriaz, have mercy upon us. Have mercy upon the downtrodden, the struggling. Hear the song of our people, how they cry out for your deliverance, the carrier of the once and future king of kings. Lost, alone, she knelt underneath crystal chandeliers of the Volaris Cathedral. Flames bounced between the jaws of the flying wyverns etched upon the white walls of history. One sole dedication to one sole deity. Naveerans knew naught else but the fading song, ignoring all else around them. Others pointed and whispered when their princess found herself among them, with only a single, uneasy Sentinel at her side. Her traveling gown spread out over her knees, a bundle of furs and feathers. Many would whisper. Many have, but Hayvala begged for the mercy the world refused to give. Essence dripped through the tiny glass aqueducts swirling into the center of the massive glass dome. I am not one to pray to you, as you were never one to expect prayer — ever the Echonic Traveller, but though we beseech your name... can we be anything else but what we are? Are we doomed to lose our very souls? Head raised to the one who ruled their firmament, Evyriaz held his wings outstretched into a loving, but no less distant embrace as the flames curled out of his mouth on the trails of flowers.

Silver rippled stars fluttered the essence behind the glass.

Each flame echoed the same.

People mumbled at the odd reaction of magick with no source to speak of.

"Mama!" Near the window, a child bounced and pointed with both arms, their downy feathers puffed out in glee. "Lookie!"

"Shush, child. You are interrupting others, it is improper." The mother sent an apologetic glance her way. Perfect in prose and propriety, but the child's truth drew her attention out the arched window. Others, broken out of their ritualistic prayer, shuffled over for their own look of the burst of power. Hayvala took her Sentinel's hand when she held hers out, drawing closer to the child as their mother widened her eyes, and their long pale-gold feathers stretched outwards in disbelief in a place of faith.

Golden stars swung across a distant aurora, a pillar of silver songs. Enchanted, Hayvala shuddered at the flow of aura whispering a soft voice full of Mother's stories. It twirled and mixed with her people's deep love through stubborn traditionalism. Snowroses bloomed along the blizzard clouds, a continuous storm of the past brought to the present. Stars sparkled downwards, falling, falling into the snow before disappearing. Hayvala left mother and child to head outside, with her Sentinel at her heels as the streets clamored and found themselves drawn to the far off spectacle. Others stood on the high catwalks to get a better glimpse, but the song remained out of their reach.

"What direction is that?" a man whispered to another.

"Your Grace?" her Sentinel questioned under his breath.

"Isn't that where Irimount is?" another younger man piped up, his own adult feathers tangled with left-over down.

"That's impossible." An older woman scoffed at his wonder and belief. "It's just a bunch of ruins now, there's nothing left over there."

Hayvala knew the truth, accepted it though everyone else denied it. "May I borrow your compass, ser?" He wasted no time in tugging it out to place it into her hands without touching her fingers, tucking his ones covered with armored scales on his upper leg padding. Before the lilies disappeared on an auric breeze, she put a single name into her mind, then followed the frozen hand of direction. It swung in a circle, before halting into a sudden stop in the direction of the golden stars.

Irimount.

Hayvala handed the compass over to her Sentinel and tucked her gloved hands into her double layer of furs, standing there until the light in the endless wastelands disappeared in full in a scatter of snowy starlight. Thoughts drifted, and nearest her, two young ones turned to each other, wide-eyed and curious in contrast to their ruffled elders. Her despair fluttered on the edges of hope when the taller one leaned closer to his friend. "You could say that—"

"... no, Dimitri."

"Made me light-headed."

His friend bared their fangs. "That was just awful. I think I liked it better when you told cold puns."

Hayvala stifled a giggle at the normality within the half-buried city, then turned to her Sentinel with a nod of indication, of a return to home. I wonder... if Laucan saw it. Concern reigned once more in her heart when she drew herself away from the people who needed her. But he's been abed and constantly sleeping... and I still want an answer from Keeper Blackwall. I have no other explanation than him. Back to the small royal carriage, she took the Sentinels' proper offer of assistance to slip inside, all by herself as was her request as he took the driver's seat, where the fluffy gryphlings fluffed out their necks and braced their flightless wings for the cold around their chests. Time to her thoughts. Time to plan the next move on the ruined board Laucan flipped over in rage — in torment, and with his unsettled words pushing her through restless sleep, she swayed with the wheels of the carriage as they clattered against the tough paved stones. Their claws clattered through swept flurries with ease, and Hayvala tied the blinds to view the city of Volaris as it passed her by when they ascended into the highest quarters until the palace came into view with its pearl-lined gates. Sentinels manned the thick white walls installed with braziers, full of azure flames spitting out cold embers to attach themselves to the runes in the entrance-ways, keeping her household guard warm in the cold nights.

The carriage swung into the circle where another Sentinel rushed forward to open the door with predictable timing. Routine won out over wonder as she lifted the front of her dress to give her boots room to move forward without tripping on the hem. On a flat surface, she let the dress fall out of her hands before making her way to one of many entrances, and this one led straight into the royal wing. Straight to her baby brother who suffered in his consequences.

Her own Sentinels stood guard after she removed the king's from their posts. I can trust no one else with my brother's safety but my own guard. Up the staircase, she opened Laucan's door, missing the days where he sat at his desk dutifully, shouldering the weight men older than him broke underneath as he viewed every partition, no matter how unreasonable to read each one with a careful eye. From people struggling through long nights, to two noble ladies wishing for their happiness no matter the risk of house war over their forbidden love. His ruling on that matter made me so sure... that he could become a wise and understanding king, with time... but Mother... he's too young. Unpredictable. Hayvala stopped at his occupied bed, where Laucan continued to sleep undisturbed, his condition unchanged from his near fall of fatality.

Lord Vlazis' waved off her thanks, his yellow aura rattling with confusion and consideration. The other lords took their leave, and Hayvala had Kazmira keep an eye on their own little flower buds of information passed through the corridors until the end of the festivities spelled the end of constant court meetings save with lower lords sent on the Head's behalf, chosen for their loyalty — or fear of stepping on the wrong toes. If I can just keep things stable until they're all gone, I can start cleaning up this mess. Hayvala checked on Laucan, but he gave no response to her touch when she poked him in the cheek. Keeper Blackwall will answer for what's happened to you. Away from his side, she descended down the stairs once more, passing Efram with a pot of stones carved with warming runes. If Father was correct on anything, it was the fact that everyone will take a bite the next chance they get, maybe one day it will not be like that, but for now, it is, and I must continue playing this game. Hayvala tucked the second layer of her winged ribbons around her waist, her thumb brushing against a hilt laced with cold steel, an insignia she hid from all others.

Wyverns who breathed their fire on the underbelly of a snowrose.

Snowflakes fell from the crystal chandeliers as she hurried to the palace library, where Blackwall sequestered himself. Her finger traced the runelock. Three quick pulses went through each connection until it clicked and opened for her, the Queen Regent. Undisturbed, the crystallized form of Naveera's memories twirled in the middle of a circle of desks. Blackwall sat alone, surrounded by his papers and quills, giving off the appearance of a harmless Keeper of Pyon, but she knew better. Knew the games he chose to play. He seeks power in knowledge, but still he refuses to acknowledge the power in a name. Hayvala crept forward, but slowed to a stop when Blackwall remarked without looking up from his work, "Princess Hayvala, what can I do for you?" He twisted around in his seat with a smile left unchanged by ancient times. "I was hearing some musings about the king's condition."

"And what's to tell me that you weren't the cause of his condition?" Hayvala continued on her track, slipping her fingers around the hilt of wyvern fury. Blackwall lifted himself out of his seat with a calm huff, tucking his quill-calloused hands into his sleeves.

"What makes you think I had anything to do with what happened to your brother?" he questioned. "When I have been here studying the memories I have been given from this sphere?" He waved his hand back at the spherical crystal. "It would be a waste of my energy to do something so bold, unless you have proof, and I don't think you're going to get the answer you want if you keep your grip on that dagger of yours."

Hayvala took him to his bluff. "He told me he was seeing ghosts," she said. "Hallucinations are not always indicate an Auric attack, this, I know, but we have no Derelicts... and no other reason as to why my brother thinks he's seeing ghosts and hearing music no one else can hear." Up to his space, she held herself tall. "So, I would have an explanation from you as to why it is not you, and then I'll consider not driving this dagger into your throat."

Blackwall loosened his arms with a tip of his head. "You could certainly try, but you know that won't do you any good, but here, I will humour you." He sent a burst of wind into the candles, where the smoke tangled into each other to ripple into the cold air within the room. "Were you also sensing ghosts? Or was it just the king who claimed to experience these things? You are leaving something out, Miss Hayvala, and I like to think we're equally intelligent individuals." He drew the dying flames into his palm and held it out to her. "And I think you know the answer even if you don't want to acknowledge it." Hayvala considered him and measured her words, but Blackwall managed to take the first leap. "I've been studying, Your Grace, so tell me," he said with a tightening grin. "You don't really think it's me, it's just easier to blame me. When you know that there is something in your brother that was being forcibly woken up." He went to the window, where the silver stars died along the golds. "This was not an Aurus' doing, Your Grace."

Hayvala stood on the water's edge while a wyvern writhed underneath Laucan's feet, with her brother unable to see the truth right in front of his nose while he begged for it from a crystallized iceheart. "You mean to tell me this was caused by his wyvern soul?"

"Yes, and no," Blackwall said and shook out his shoulders. "You're thinking too contained, Your Grace. I did say forced, did I not?"

Hayvala chewed on a scoff at his bold proclamation. "Nothing in the entirety of Aztryxer has the power to forcefully awaken a wyvern soul."

"Yet you do not deny that Laucan's wyvern soul was stirring."

Hayvala dug her nails into Yokonei's dagger, and Blackwall studied her without fear of her teeth. "I don't like to think in absolutes. It cuts at possibilities of things one doesn't expect," he explained. "And... you're wrong, Your Grace. True, that there aren't many things that can affect the soul, except a few exceptions." He went back to his desk to sort through his papers and quills, then let out a hum of thought and acknowledged her once more. "Do you pray to the Ancient's, Lady Hayvala?"

"Yes."

Blackwall grinned wider. "Power doesn't come from prayer, Your Highness. People speak their names all over, wanting to be heard and getting no response... doesn't mean they won't create miracles out of their imagination... and ingenuity is the foundation of all magick." He closed the tough leather bound tomes. "It is how kingdoms rise and fall, how a sword can split the very heavens in two, how an Anima can reappear back into the age after it was once thought their magick had gone all but extinct; how a grand city can fall in a single day due to one child, how a man can survive drowning a thousand leagues under the sea, and of course, how a king can hear the very history he came from." He tapped his fingers against the dark wood of his desk. "Right down to someone's name."

Hayvala let go of the hilt when Blackwall leaned against the desk with an easy, confident smile.

"I hope it was all worth it, Keeper Blackwall. The waves someone makes has to go somewhere, and it can come back." Hayvala twisted around to escape the tar in his aura, mixed with numerous colours painted pitch black.

"I'll take your warning to heart, Lady Hayvala."

Hayvala escaped the palace library. Eggshells cracked beneath her feet, but she tasted a different name, but found herself unable to speak it aloud. Auras caved in and breathed deep of the smog of knowledge, pouring in at a fast rate. Hungry for more. I will get the truth from you Keeper Blackwall, instead of the half ones you let slip past your mouth. She left the doors, resolved to do her miniscule part to fix the mess Naveera had always been in from the first fall of the Snow Prince.