ADARA

Every bell rang in her ears as she drowned in the ocean of twilight stars. It rippled silver tendrils around her to cast shadows on the creatures swimming beneath the molding sky. Crimson blood dripped from the horizon. Left with no wings, she kept her hands up to her mouth to try and block the inevitable collapse in her lungs. Four heartbeats pounded to match the bells, but one rang a bloody dissonance, bleeding out into the world. Unable to hold in her dwindling breath as faint images of the orchard's horror plagued her mind. The liquid dripped down the dark corner. One pile of viscera and bones. Crimson orbs which hungered, relentless for its prey. She drowned in the murky stars.

Back into reality. Pain rocked across her arm as she sat up from her bed. On the small stand, Garren placed the icy fruit in one of her smaller baskets. Legs swung out over the sides of her bed frame, she sighed. I... what happened? Fingers brushing out the exhaustion out of her eyes, she peered at the strange fruit. Her entire body screamed as she forced herself up, examining the bandage on her arm. Whenever she clenched her fist, a wave of flames crawled through her nerves. Right, I went to Rosa's because... I got a message that the fruit bloomed. Tracing the snow-tipped skin of the fruit, she tried to remember its name. But how would I remember? Rosa didn't... Wyvern fruit, that's what it was called. That's what he called it. Fenrer, that's who told me.

A golden magickae warrior, who carried the star around his neck.

She snapped her head up to rush out of the room, causing Garren to turn to her as she raced for the small living area, where he stood at the door.

"You're awake," Garren said as he considered her.

"I need to get to Rosa's." Adara made for the door, but stopped when he didn't budge from his spot. "I'm serious, Garren."

"I don't think that's wise." Adara tried to find a way through the immovable, stubborn old man, but he retained his position. "What do you remember, Adara?" He raised his hand when she tried to shove her way through.

"I went to Rosa's because she was taking care of a tree. A tree from the northern lands, Garren," she snapped. "I..." Her mind blurred with crimson the harder she tried to think back. "She wasn't there when I went to go look." She leaned around, but Garren placed his hand on the handle. "Are you going to trap me in here now?"

"We need to talk." Garren frowned. Adara hesitated and stepped back from the door, and Garren let go of the handle. "I'm assuming you've heard about these strange murders the king's knights can't seem to figure out... so they blame it on any 'magickae' they find?"

"What does that have to do with this?" Adara folded her arms.

Garren sighed and peeked at the window, shaking his head. "Everything, Adara. What you saw at the orchard was just a taste of what this world offers." He indicated the fireplace. "You went to the orchard and found the remains of a Derelict attack. You were fortunate that someone with the ability to kill it followed the signs to you. You could've very much ended up like Rosaleta." He brought his hand up to his brow. "And because of their interference, I'm forced into a corner with this.

"Ended up?" Adara seethed, trying to push away the images. "I don't know what you mean." Her heart trembled the dissonant beat in her dream, dripping blood from her chest. "I just..." Her breath escaped her as she tried to tear the memory out of her temples, pressing her fingertips into them. "None of this is making sense. Derelicts... That young man, Fenrer told me about them, but how would you know of them?" Adara came closer, and Garren grabbed the handle again, brow furrowing. "You've lived here all your life. You have had no reason to fear this place until now."

"That young man wasn't just a wayward traveller," Garren pointed out. "Do you remember his blade?"

Golden. Crescent shaped in the light of the moons, a mirror reflection of the celestial bodies. Adara fiddled with her thumbs. She frowned when Garren moved to one of the end tables, then pulled a long box out from under it. He never allowed her to come near it, or to open it. "Nothing but bad memories, Adara," he'd grumble when she begged to have a peek when she was nothing but a young child, dreaming of stories. "You'll find no stories in there."

He pressed his thumbs against the locks, and she widened her eyes when iron-coloured lights swirled through. It clicked open, and he heaved it open to reveal a golden crescent blade, dulled to time.

"Did it look something like this, Adara?" He held it out to her.

Adara switched her attention between him and the box she never believed had anything inside it. Wrapped around the hilt, the same necklace which carried the star on wyvern's wings. Her mind burned, but she shook her head. "I don't... Yes, it looked like that. But, how do you—"

"It's a long story," Garren said, and for the first time, sadness filled his tone. "That young man you met was a Storm Warden... or in basic terms for those not part of the order and think nothing of our work, a monster hunter. If they're here I can no longer protect and hide you." Age weighed down his strong features.

"They?" Adara swallowed her pain.

Don't let them find her, Garren.

"The less you knew the safer you were at the time," Garren admitted. "I'm part of an ancient order of warriors. Storm Wardens. We've dedicated our hearts for the eradication of the crimson shadows to uphold the balance of the world." He gave her a weary smile. "And I've failed that duty, which I shall carry with me until the end of my days. I could at least succeed in making sure you were protected, which your late mother asked of me."

Adara drew back from him. "Rosa...?"

"I'm sorry, Adara."

She drowned on water, laced with rust. "My mother, did she know all of this?"

"Yes, she was part of this order as well." Garren placed the crescent blade back into the box. "We weren't your typical Storm Wardens, as you must've seen with that young man... you could say we were spymasters. We did our duties through information gathering. About fifty Turns ago, there was a citadel to the far south of here that simply disappeared in contact. Your mother and myself were sent here to investigate..." He waved his hand outside. "And came across some unsettling developments. Your mother took the role of a queen in an attempt to prevent the Derelicts from coming any deeper into this land. And fifteen or so Turns ago when your mother died under 'mysterious' circumstances, the king took matters into his own hands in his rabbit-holed paranoia."

Adara sank into the couch. "Which means the purge... all those magickae... you're a magickae." She gripped her knees. "If you're a Storm Warden, why didn't you do anything to help those people?" She switched her gaze onto him. "You say you dedicated your heart to protect the innocent, but you didn't do anything."

"I'm one man." Garren's fists clenched. "For all my skills, Adara... I can't take out a whole army by myself. Magick or otherwise. I had to choose. Protect you and keep you hidden, or die myself for a lost cause, leaving you with nobody." He eyed her. "There was no winning with my situation. I lost my Oathbound, I lost any contact with the outside kingdoms when the king kept the borders closed. I was being watched." He scowled. "So I had to witness all those people die for it."

Tears swelled into her eyes, but she brushed them away. Unable to believe the images she witnessed. Blood in a pile. A creature dripping off the ceiling. Adara forced herself back onto her legs, heading back to her room to grab her basket, closing the top to hide the fruit away

"Where are you going?" he asked as she returned to head for the escape.

"Far away from here," she bit.

"Adara, it's not—"

"Safe?" Adara glared at him, and he returned the expression. "Here's a wake up call for you — that's been my life. I've always had to hide from people, because if they found out what I was I'd lose my head." She swiped her hand across her neck to demonstrate, able to feel the ringing steel and the tumble of a disembodied soul who wanted nothing more than to live in peace. "And now, Rosa is nothing but a pile of bones because those monsters in your stories weren't stories. They were real. They were real, and all this time, there were people here who could combat them — but no one ever cared to come help until now." Trails of wetness crawled down her cheeks as she fought to breathe. "I'm going to find that Storm Warden."

"And then what?" Garren called after her as she burst through the doorway and out into the front lawn.

"I don't know." Adara switched on her heel to shake her hands at him. "But it's got to be better than what you had planned. Staying in one place hoping no one will find us? Is that what my mother wanted?" She fought down a sob. "Why would she choose this for me?" She stepped back when he headed down the steps as if to follow her. "I think you were just too scared in the end. If you want to sit and wait to die because you feel like you've failed, that's your choice. I've never gotten the choice, so now I'm making it." Adara turned her back on him, basket tucked close to herself as she rushed into the forest away from the lie of a home.

I refuse to wait here to be found and killed.

Adara rushed back to Prunal, trying to hide her tears without the help of a raven mask. I need to talk to Jisa. I need to tell her everything. She made her way to the center of town, where the round robin tourney played out. As she rushed to try and catch the attention of the young serving girl, she came to a stop at the sight outside one of the tents.

Gregor, face red and bloodied from what had to have been a spectacular beating. No time to consider the sight, she rushed along the stands, where people waited for the final rounds. Hidden among the crowd, she came close to the king's stands, lavished with tables and seats while everyone around him was forced against each other. Jisa stood off to the side, outside of the comfort only monarchs knew. Closer than comfort, she raised her hand, causing Jisa to twist around to investigate. A smile graced the young girl's features, and she waved back.

Adara lowered her hand, allowing one small piece of relief to flow back into her heart. She's safe... if those things are attracted to magick... Adara held her chest as she settled herself in a seat nearby to view the fights. The battlemaster sat at the horn, calling forward the final warriors, who beat all who tried to go forward. Adara lost herself in the excited crowd, but the shadows extended around her. I just need some time... to think.

Two cloaked shapes stepped forward at King Brien's indication.

"I applaud you both, for the skill you've shown in the tourney," he called, silencing the crowd. "You are our final two. The rules are simple, as before. Fight to the first blood." He leaned forward to grab a piece of fruit from one of the plates in front of him. "Please, reveal yourselves to your last opponent."

Adara jumped when Jisa slid closer to her. "Addie."

"Huh?" Adara forced a smile on her face.

"You missed Gregor getting beaten to a pulp." Jisa shuffled to sit down, then pointed down at the pit. The first challenger stepped forward, slipping off his cloak hood. Fenrer. He looked up at the king's stage with the same, spiraling green eyes. Jisa grinned. "He's the one that did it."

Fenrer... beat Gregor? Adara considered the traveler — the Storm Warden. So close.

He gave a short bow, then nodded to the other challenger.

A collective gasp hushed through the crowd when they unfurled the scarf and their cloak.

"Look," Jisa whispered, so long ago, but right next to her all the same. "This passage says that the ice sirens of the northern lands are beautiful beyond measure, with the intensity of beaded dragon eyes." She pointed at the picture in the book, of a viscous looking creature with sharp, angled features. Teeth to bite chunks out of the prey they hypnotized with their melodic songs. Feathers which combed out the sides of their heads. Wyverns in a humanoid form.

And a terrifying reveal of the truth.

Fenrer stood beside a picture that came to life.

Hair white as snow, to match the fruit she hid in her basket of a land not her own. Frozen violets considered the king as he lurched forward, though unable to tell the shape of the pupils from her distance. Wind weaved through the grey feathers intermingling with the hair on the sides of their head. Head tipped, a wyvern in the shape of a humanoid breathed with intent. "Oh... yes, let's end this farce," the voice, haunting, mesmerising, and chilled her to the bone with a twisting melody of ice. "I'm bored, Your Highness. Why don't we give your people a taste of something with sustenance?" He withdrew a crescent blade, pointing it up at the mighty king, who brought death upon all the magickae who dared to raise their voices for peace.

Some of the king's knights lunged off the stands, but came to a stop when Fenrer withdrew the blade he used to save her life.

"Storm Wardens," King Brien hissed.

"Oh, yes." The ice fae snarled, showing pointy canines. "You remembered. How nice it must be to choose to forget those you left to die because you can't get off your royal ass." He twisted around as the knights surrounded them. "I am a magickae! For turns you've turned your backs on the magickae of Tebora!" He turned back, and Adara reminded herself it wasn't she who he referred to when a chill of fear strangled her throat. "I've heard how you let your people believe that the monsters under their beds were their fellows, that the only way to destroy them was to kill them." Yuven outstretched his arms, almost giving him the appearance of wings. "But have you ever faced a Storm Warden, and not those people you murdered? Bet it gave you all the glory. Did the bakers singe you a little? You've gotten a taste for magick blood? Come get mine, and I'll show you the difference between a magickae who wants to live—" Violet wickedness tightened the beaded pupils. "And a magickae who fights to the last drop of blood."