LAUCAN

"Miso! Miso!" His song cried out in fear of the crimson darkness. It rippled across the alabaster walls of the palace as he tread the royal wing, a deep hum weaved through the slinking worms birthed from the shadows and his footsteps. Blood oozed from the white carpet beneath his feet, but he continued onward in the silence. Snow drifted against the tall window panes, creating images of his imagination. Wyverns set fire to the fields of the tundra, but he sank into his nightfurs and tucked his nose within the fluffy collar. Teeth grew out of the blizzard clouds outside, but with every blink they froze and fell. Gales of claws became nothing more than a mirage when he closed in on the steps to the king's suite. "Miso?" he called out for his father, confused at the silence and the emptiness of the corridor, once filled with several of his sentinels. "Misoro?" Up the steps, he tucked his furs around his body, trying to hide his short, downy feathers within them to protect himself from the relentless cold, stopping in front of the door etched with icicles.

The melodic hum continued against a dissonant key, blanketed by layers of permafrost, dancing against crystal pillars. It set fire to the runes within the bricks, and he reached out his hand to the handle to open himself to his reign. Wind pushed it along its hinges.

Blood carved the wyverns across the wall, setting fire to the snowrose of the royal family. Droplets dripped onto the pillow beneath it, soaking it with the sins deep within the opal crown. Mist curled and twisted along the floor, pulsating with veins. Intensity grew into the shape of a man when they stood over the dessicated, decapitated body of his Misoro. The crown rolled through the puddle and came to a stop at the wraith's feet, their own hands bloody, with no weapon in sight. Laucan choked on the stench of rustic death when they turned their neck in one smooth, empty motion. Crimson spread through the pupiless grays, their feathers frayed.

"Miso?" Laucan whimpered, then took a small step back when they faced him in full. A dagger of ice slipped into their palm as they came through the mist. Apathy created a statue out of the assassin. Each step burst apart crimson bubbles, and Laucan widened his eyes when the veil rippled and Yuven Traye came from the misty figure of his nightmares. He brushed his thumb against the hilt as the apathy died into draconic fury, the pupils coming to life in the violets as his pace quickened.

Closer. Closer.

Blood splattered against the wall.

Laucan jolted up from his mattress, and nearly screamed at the desiccated face looming in the canopy. Another blink, and it disappeared, though the deep hum continued to sing through the blizzard. Days upon days, and he hoped the wraith haunting him would get it over with. Legs swung over the side, he held his boiling stomach when acid slipped into his nose. The hum persisted in its aggravating, dissonant tones against his ears and feathers. He tried to shake out his head of the constant sound, but the movement sent bursts of fury into his lungs.

Shut. Up. Laucan hauled himself out of his bed and tore at his own ears. Shut up, I've heard enough of this song. He dug his fingers into his feathers and tore the little pieces of down out to send them as sacrifices to the wind. Fumes of white escaped through his clenched jaw and nose. A hiss battled against the hum and created a cacophony of screaming ghosts. Shut up. Another shake of his head, and it refused to leave him be.

Slow footsteps.

He formed a glyph made of icicles when the door opened with the breath of the blizzard. It coiled into a spring loaded lance, but he bit on his tongue to taste the blood of innocents when Efram stood on the other side, a tray in their hands and an expression of growing fear on their face. It melted into a puddle in his palm, and he kept his eye on the ghosts looming behind Efram when they entered the room with faltered certainty.

"Your Wyvern Grace," Efram said through a scared stutter as they set the tray down on his table. "I'm sorry for startling you."

Laucan dropped his soaked palm to let the droplets slip down his fingers and onto the floor. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he demanded in the too long, humming silence, the only reprieve given to him from its constant discordance built upon ages of fury. It gripped onto his arms when he faced his chamberlain, who remained still and silent. "It's improper to stare, Efram." Another shudder ripped through his feathers when Efram dipped his head low. "I said I did not want to be disturbed until the festivities were over." It hummed, deeper, darker, and he shuddered then snapped, "So what is so important?"

Efram jumped at the power of his broken song. "The Queen Regent wanted me to bring you some chocoberry tea," they rattled, and Laucan twitched his head at the constant buzz between words. "I didn't mean to ignore your instructions. It's just—"

"The Queen Regent's word takes precedence over mine," Laucan finished and drove his fangs into his lips. "Because I'm just a child who can't make his own choices? Is that what you're saying?"

Efram's feathers thinned. "No, Your Wyvern Grace."

"No," Laucan repeated the word against the hum, to fill the broken notes with beautiful melodies. He twisted again when the wraith loomed over Efram's shoulder, who widened their eyes in terror. "Leave me." He turned his back on Efram, who grabbed the tray with a swift bow before escaping and closing the door behind him. And where is this ancient forsaken humming coming from? Laucan hurried over to his balcony door to swing it open to the music of Volaris, drowned out by the distant buzz within the blizzard. He scratched at his ears and feathers, shuddering at a breath on his neck when he threw himself around, the figure of his nightmares soaking the room with old blood. His feathers stood up on end when he followed the discomfort tickling his feathers in a circle. Snow curled against his window. Hands tore claws against his ears, leaving a trail against the glass. It's the icehearts, I've ignored them for too long, they're humming, they need to shut up. I need to silence them. He tore himself out of his room and through the royal wing, ignoring every greeting sent his way for the sole goal of his life.

It became a blur of ice when he pushed past the crowds who curried for royal favors, singing a useless dance — a betrayal of their ancestors. Nobles who clawed for their own place over others, but he stomped his way through the snow banks and left them behind to savor their content in destruction. Content in their doomsongs. I am not. He drew past the dungeons and into the atrium which hid the entrance into the true heart of the palace, not found in the throne room. In the focal center of the snowflake, it purred and screeched in his ears when it brought him into the darkness, thumping to a stop when it reached the bottom.

Bells rang out when his boots touched the crystal water.

Claws followed his movement as he drew forward, and the hum grew louder. Louder and with a ripple of despair. It burst apart his spine as he gasped out the screeching pain within the deep tenor. Pillars of crystallized magick grew out of the surface of the lake, spilling cascades of sprinkled starlight across the snow. He came closer to the crystal roses when they bloomed out of the water. "I need you to shut up," he pleaded, his own voice rippling the water. "I have given you everything, and still it is not enough." Red worms pounded through the shadows, and he swung around at the multitude of wraiths the palace tried to hide underneath its skeleton. Bells tolled at the chorus. "I am not the once and future king of Naveera," he argued against their whispering songs. "I carried this nonetheless when others would sooner abandon you!" He threw his arms out at the roses, where they bounced on their icy stems. Each one carried a remnant of what used to be Naveera's greatest cities.

Irimount's burned red.

"You." He gripped the sides of the sphere which sat upon cracked petals, the hum turning into a sobbing song within. "You are the source of every problem," he said to the reflection. "It all started with you. You and this blood feud of mine." He shook the pistil, and the petals slacked. "Will you truly not be satisfied until the blizzard is soaked with blood? Is this the final doomsong? Tell me." Ghosts danced and bounced on their own flowers, flying through the air on missing wings. "Who cursed us? Who cursed us to this fate? Who cursed us to be buried alive in the permafrost?" he demanded and dug his clawed fingers deeper into the musical magick. "Who did we slight? Who did we anger? What Ancient thought us deserving of this? Tell me!" His fangs drew over his lips as the pillars cracked and fell back into the water, with nary a disturbance within as he inhaled the rustic decay wafting from the iceheart. "If you are like not to answer me, then end it. End me and be done with this! End this accursed line that's been dragging on for a thousand turns!"

It hummed in the silence, and he scowled at another whispered voice, "Laucan, what are you doing?"

Hayvala stood at the staircase, her hand on the wall as she stared at him in her own formed fear.

"Getting answers no one else wants," Laucan growled at the sphere and pressed his nose against it, listening to the blood-soaked song of Irimount.

"Laucan, your aura—" Hayvala rasped, and he returned his attention to her, unable to draw his fangs back into his mouth.

"You're like all the rest," he said, refusing to let go of Irimount's heart. "All the rest and all too willing to play this stupid game. Content in what we've been given without ever thinking about the why." He pressed his nose once more against the perfect surface, but stopped when Hayvala raised a hand to her mouth in the reflection. "What? You've given up on me, of course you have. Everyone has. It's so much easier to ignore the ghosts, isn't it?" He acknowledged the myriad of misty figures, moaning out their grief. "How can you not hear them, Hayvala? Do you not care?"

"What are you talking about? All I see is..." Her gaze swept over him. "You. I just see you. Laucan, your aura—"

"Then why me?" he begged. "Why did it have to be me? Why is it me that they haunt and not everyone? As if I had any control over their fate? Over what happened to Irimount?" He bounced his fist off the flower, where it slacked. "Is it wrong to want an answer? Why are you looking at me like that?" he demanded once more at his older sister's familiar, terrified helplessness. "I'm not to blame for what happened to Yokonei! I'm not the one who sent him into the tunnels! And I'm not the one who broke the song!" He pushed both hands into his chest to rip out his own heart.

Hayvala lowered her hand from her lips and frowned. "Laucan... can you not see your own reflection?"

He glanced downwards at the lake, where the shadows dug under his eyes before he raised his attention back to her. "No, just myself, even the ghosts don't have reflections."

Hayvala's brow scrunched as she refused to acknowledge the ghosts when they observed the conversation in their endless refrain. "Laucan, there are no ghosts."

"Of course there is," Laucan rasped. "There always has been, and now that I hear the song they're haunting me."

Hayvala shook her head, and her Navee loops bounced against her feathers. "Laucan, I don't know what song you're hearing but I don't think it's what you believe it is. You can talk to me, I know things are confusing but I'm still your sister, you don't have to follow in his footsteps," she said and stepped onto the lake, and the flowers all turned their petals towards her, and the ghosts reached out their flaked flesh. "If you continue this your soul will—"

"Don't come closer."

Hayvala slowed to a stop at the edge of the blizzard.

"It's a lie," Laucan hissed. "This lie of 'wyvern souls'." He barked out a laugh. "Myth and legends. We're not wyverns, Hayvala, and to put on our ancestors' faces is nothing more than a farce," he pointed out. "Our souls are not wyverns. We are not wyverns. We never will be. It's just a bunch of childish stories that won't save us from this doom. Nothing, except finding the truth as to why." He held onto Irimount's petals and shuddered to the music past the reflection, deep under the permafrost. "Besides, it doesn't matter what I do when you give me that look you used to give him. Our Miso."

Hayvala drew back. "Laucan, something is happening to you. Whatever you're hearing, you need to ignore it."

"Everyone else is ignoring the obvious, why should I care?" he bit, and Hayvala flinched. "I'm done ignoring it, it's bringing me so close to an answer." It pulsed a dark river when he tried to hide behind his eyelids. "It has to. I won't accept anything less."

"Laucan..."

"I said leave me," he forced out and returned his attention to the wilted flower of Irimount.

Feathers fell into the abyss as her footsteps drew away, and the ghosts loomed over his shoulder and taunted him through the abyssal song.