Feral waves crashed into the sharp rocks below the necromancer as she sat atop a cliff, watching the Molten Sea in all of its alluring and unnerving glory. The rising sun of a fresh dawn made the sky come alive with a mirage of pinks and ambers, cast with a purple hue from the wall surrounding the island. While the stunning sight was one of the features Wyrith was known for, it only meant one thing for Morana.

She had only a couple of hours left before she needed to return to Silas' office, either with good news of her loyalty or word of her betrayal.

Morana threw a stone into the sea as her mind swirled with thoughts. Her ammunition was running low.

After a night of thinking and sleep that had eluded her, the assassin knew why he wanted her sister dead. When Silas had managed to pry some lucky pages of the Necromancer's Tome open a few years after she had fallen into his care, he discovered that the curse could end if its conditions weren't met. Either Morana herself needed to die, or her twin sister Ilyana.

Knowing that didn't make her decision any easier. In fact, it added another layer of woven complications for her to sift through. Morana hurled another rock into the Molten Sea — this one was her furthest yet.

She didn't want to kill her but what choice did she have?

Footsteps crept on the grass beside her, making the necromancer grab ahold of her last stone and aim it at the intruder who dared to sneak up on her.

"Woah! Should I start calling you stone girl instead?" Prince Damian held his hands up in surrender, his deep, crimson cloak billowing in the wind behind him. He had forgone the commoner's disguise and now he fit the role of the royal he was.

"What are you doing here?" Morana dropped her weapon, a heavy thud sounding as it landed and rolled. "Did you get your Dragon's scale already? A trip to the sorcerer will have to wait. I'm fully booked today."

The Fireborn laughed. "I'm going to need more than mere hours for that ordeal." As he approached the edge of the cliff, she noticed a slip of paper between his fingers. "Silas told me I could find you here. He said you needed some convincing for the next step of the plan."

Morana threw her last rock into the fierce waves with all the strength she could rally, the muscles in her arm burning with the force. "Arsehole." Silas knew she would be struggling to make a decision. Damian was only another incentive to give in to his demand. Now, not only would she be on the end of the repercussions of her refusal, but he would too. The assassin would be the victim to another round of torturing and the Fireborn's secret would be spilled to the world.

Damian peered over the precipice, his balance wobbling as he took in the rocky depths below. "Perhaps we should move away from here and talk somewhere else."

"What? Are you scared of heights?" she teased.

"I'm scared of the consequences of being up high. There's a difference." He shuffled backwards, taking a few paces toward safety. "It isn't a straight drop into water. If we fell or the cliff crumbled out from beneath us, we would be skewered."

Her only response was a shrug.

"Please, bone girl."

"Alright, alright." Morana stood and led them to an old tree stump that could fit both of them. A blend of thin and thick circles formed the perfect seat, ignoring the holes that had also been eroded into the base. The impressive view of the Molten Sea could still be seen, yet there wasn't any imminent danger present.

"When I first met you, I never thought that you would be royalty," the Fireborn mused aloud.

The necromancer brought her knees to her chest and hugged them close. "I'm not royalty. I left that life behind a long time ago."

A brief silence bloomed between them — one that was comfortable and warm. Damian's mouth grew into a faint smile, as if he knew the exact feeling she described. "What does Silas want you to do exactly?"

"So you can complete his orders and get out of here?" Morana arched a brow.

"There is no way in all of the realms that I could convince you to do something." He snorted with laughter. "I'm just curious."

"He wants me to kill my sister." Morana squeezed her eyes shut and a single tear slipped down her cheek. "Once the wall around the island disappears, he wants to be the one to claim the victory of pulling it down. To do that, my twin needs to die."

"And you don't want to do it." His reply wasn't a question, only an understanding of what roiled in her mind.

"I don't think I could ever bring myself to harm her. Not intentionally, at least."

"Then what's stopping you from saying no? You told me yourself that Silas isn't hanging any dark secrets over your head, so he wouldn't be able to control you. Owing someone doesn't have to go as far as killing your family to make the balance between you even."

"It's not as simple as that." She kicked out her legs and leaned back so she faced the sky. Gossamer clouds rolled above them in the summer wind. "For starters, I've already told him no but this is the way it needs to be. If I refuse further he'll..." Her fingers curled into a tight fist and her teeth clenched.

"He'll what?" Damian's hand rested on top of hers, his thumb mindlessly tracing the creases of her knuckles. While his touch was soothing, his expression was nothing but dark.

"Hurt me. One way or another." Morana placed the crook of her arm over her eyes, using it to block out the sun. "Even if I don't turn up, I have nothing to go to. Silas might be cruel, but his ways of keeping the Lost Abyss in control and terrorising the rest of Wyrith are all I know. Without him, I'm... nothing. Just a treason-committing, serial-killing criminal who is obsessed with bones. I'll have no job, no home, nor a place in this world."

"What about your sister? Would she not help you?" the Fireborn asked.

"She doesn't even know I exist. Everyone has mourned Viviana and moved on. They sent my body out to sea to give my soul to the Gods and continued with their lives."

The assassin sat up and stared at the royal docks — at the patch of water where her family would have sent out the barges covered in flowers holding their bodies. Both her and her mother. When they sank with the waves pushing them down, only the queen's soul was released. Morana, on the other hand, had fought for air and battled against the water until she had washed ashore at the feet of her new boss.

"I was wondering about that. All of the pictures and statues in Celnaer Castle mention a Viviana and never a Morana." Damian watched her curiously, his fingers still finding delight in outlining her skin.

"That name doesn't suit me anymore. My mother picked out names based on the old language used centuries ago. Ilyana means to bring hope and Viviana means to bring life." A soulless chuckle escaped from her chest. "That really doesn't fit a necromancer. So, I took matters into my own hands and changed it to Morana — to bring death."

"Still keeping with your mother's naming pattern." The prince grinned. "Our parents did the same with our names too. Damian and Matthian. Though, I doubt there's any meaning behind them. It seems you and I have a lot in common." Damian raised one foot onto the tree stump and rested his arm on his knee. Sunlight cast a deep shadow over his carved jawline, defying the softness of his other features, and the wind teased strands of his ivory hair.

Morana couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to run a finger along his skin, to rake her hands through his loose curls. She turned away as a warm sensation bubbled in her chest. If she denied helping Silas with his plans any further, she could have one person to turn to — if he would have her.

Damian.

As much as she forced herself not to think about it, he was a decent person. More than decent. He was one of the best people she had met in a long time. They had only known each other for a couple of days, and yet, he was already used to her antics. He didn't baulk too much at the sight of her wielding bones and his presence was a peaceful solace in the chaos she pushed through. She hadn't felt something like that in a long time.

The more she thought about it, the more dark circles appeared in the forged paradise. While he was good company, she was not. Morana had claimed the title of cursed for a reason, and that reason meant nothing but pain and suffering for the people she got close to.

Not only that, but Silas would reveal Damian's secret to ruin his life even further. The Fireborn had turned pale at the mention of it being told to his brother before, so it had to be something major. It always was when her boss got his fingers wrapped around it. She couldn't put Damian through that.

Besides, if she did leave Silas behind and left with the prince, they wouldn't have anywhere to go. The fate of the island would be no different and the Necromancer's Curse would kill everyone except for Wyrith royalty, Damian included.

It was one life for the sake of thousands.

"If you need to, you could always come back with me to Vahan and leave this place behind. Why not make something new for yourself if you don't have anything here?" he offered, staring into the horizon as if he could see the outline of his kingdom across the sea.

"Why?" Morana stared at him in disbelief. "You barely know me and yet you're offering me a place in your life on a silver platter."

"You remind me of myself, somehow. The purple hair does make me question that occasionally, but you do. And we get along, for the most part." Damian leaned back, awaiting her response.

"That's the most foolish thing I've heard from your mouth yet. Have you even considered-" A set of sly footsteps appeared behind them, cutting off the assassin's train of thought. Grabbing a handful of bone shards, she twisted to see who dared to interrupt her.

A dark figure rose from the ground, forming from shadows as it pushed through the dirt. Wisps of darkness fled from the inside of the cloak the intruder wore, the bundles of black making it impossible to see who was underneath the heavy material.

Without wasting a moment, Morana flung the bones toward them, each sharp edge piercing their target in quick succession. She waited for the blood, for the screams of pain that the unrelenting stalker would let out, but there was nothing.

The cloak fell to the ground with no owner inside and the material began to steam, evaporating into mist.

"What's wrong?" Damian's glance darted from the necromancer to the trees in the distance, confusion furrowing his brows.

"I knew someone was following us! My instincts are never wrong!" It had to be the same figure she saw on the journey to the sorcerer. It had to be.

"There was nobody there. You threw your bone shards at nothing."

"No, no. The figure was right here behind us. Look, this is what it left behind." She crouched down and attempted to pick up the fading darkness, but the wisps slipped through her fingers. Threads of her own magic were woven through the shadows, yet she couldn't get a firm grasp on them.

Something wasn't right.

The Fireborn stood, approaching the spot she swiped at with caution. However, by the time he arrived, only a neat pile of bone shards remained on the undisturbed soil. Not even a fibre of fabric could be found from the cloak.

"Did you sleep last night?" Damian questioned.

"I'm not hallucinating! They were really there." There was no chance he could have missed the figure or the shadows that escaped from them from being too slow. Was he really not able to see it?

The darkness that had lurked in the debris of the material had felt so much like her own power, yet it was different at the same time. It was as if threads of the Necromancer's Curse were also in play. The curse had to be what caused the figure, but why? There was no mention of an elusive stalker watching people from afar, only that everyone on the island would die and there would be no way to escape it.

Whatever it was, there was a lingering sensation of danger and it was one that Morana did not want to discover what was on the other end of it.

"I've made my decision," she announced. "It seems you were quite helpful after all, fire boy." Morana was no princess, but it seemed a crown of loyalty was nestled firmly on her head. However, she didn't serve royalty, she was aligned to one man and one man only. "I have to kill my sister."

Chapter Word Count: 2,269
Total Word Count: 48,229