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Wanir ~ wa-nir
Laïñ ~ la-ri-nya
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HARSH rays pelted down upon the bustling city of Wanir, transforming the streets into a veritable oven, where the air shimmered with heat. Each step he took on the soft, sun-baked sand was deliberate and grounded, his resolve mirrored in the deep brown of his eyes, which gleamed with a mixture of determination and alertness. The sun painted his smooth, dark skin with a warm, golden glow, a stark contrast to the oppressive environment around him.

He wore a cloth mask pulled tightly over his mouth and nose, a practical barrier against the swirling gusts that whipped through the streets, carrying with them glimmers of sand that could scratch and scrape. His eyes scanned the surroundings with a keen awareness of any hint of unusual behavior. In Wanir, the difference between safety and peril was a thin line, especially in his line of work. He knew all too well that danger could lurk behind the façade of normalcy.

Pushing open the creaky door of a modest shop, he stepped inside, the familiar jangle of a bell announcing his arrival. He greeted the elderly shopkeeper with a brief nod, the man's weathered face creasing into a knowing smile. The shop, simple in its offerings of cheap foodstuff, would hardly raise eyebrows at an initial glance—but, to seasoned eyes like his, it was a mere veneer, hiding deeper secrets.

He glided past the shopkeeper, maneuvering through the empty tables, until he reached a door marked 'Staff Only.' With a gentle push, he entered the chaotic realm of the kitchen. The air was thick with the aromas of spices and the clatter of pots and pans; flames danced energetically in the open stove as cooks shouted orders and laughter echoed among the busy staff. Like a shadow, he slipped through the commotion unnoticed, his dark clothing and focused demeanor blending seamlessly with the chaotic atmosphere.

Navigating through another door labeled 'Authorized Personnel,' he found himself in a long, dimly lit hallway that descended deeper into the bowels of the building. The atmosphere shifted; the air became cooler and heavier as he took careful strides down a staircase, where each step echoed slightly against the stone walls, leading him further from the sunlit streets above and deeper into secrecy.

At last, he reached The Laïñ, a clandestine establishment hidden beneath the bustling shop. The moment he stepped through the threshold, he encountered a woman stationed by the entrance. She offered him a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment of familiarity that hinted they shared this life of shadows and secrets. He advanced down another floor, traversing two more levels that felt like a labyrinth, narrowing into a lone, unremarkable hallway.

At the far end lay a solitary door, unadorned yet imposing. With a firm hand, he pushed it open and entered the room, where he found three members already seated. They stood up in unison upon his arrival, their expressions a mixture of respect and urgency. He returned their nods with a measured acknowledgment before proceeding to his place at the head of the round table. It was only after he settled into his seat that they all resumed their own, the weight of the moment pressing upon them as discussions of importance were about to unfold.

"Ashe," he started. "What's the update?"

A dark-skinned girl who sat to his right with her hair styled in a bun of thick, twisting locs spoke.

"Like the Nineri bloom, there's word of cracks in some cities in Yhulja disappearing. Our intel is that the cracks have reduced spontaneously. Some happened slowly, while others happened in the blink of an eye. We narrowed down the cities and following the pattern and times of the report, we've deduced that she could be on her way out of Yhulja, heading south. We also have reason to believe that she's traveling with the group that The Red Guard suspects to be involved in the recent murder of one of theirs. Also, there have been premier reports of rumblings in the same cities, coinciding with the reports of the cracks disappearing."

"And how's your team handling the information dissemination?" the man asked.

"Good. We've been able to get people into Cathurva and Yhulja, along with following up on any Pridal blooms. They're also spreading the word of the lost royal. In time, we'll have the people spreading it themselves."

"And the avnar, how's she doing?"

"Now paired up with your brother, she's doing better. He never says much, as usual, but he's not complaining like before, so that has to mean something. They're currently working on getting Bolivar out. He sent a distress message that they might have uncovered his identity. She's been quite effective," Ashe said and with a hint of a smile added, "Perhaps we could consider raising her rank."

"No." The man was quick to oppose. "She may be better, but her goals haven't changed. She still has her eye set on her parents and we have to see all her actions for that reason and that reason alone. We cannot let her believe she's one of us until she moves away from that and on to the true purpose of getting the princess back to her rightful place."

Another man spoke. His skin was shades lighter than the others, with his hair cut low.

"Do we truly believe that this is the princess?" he asked.

The first man replied, "Sabir, I understand your hesitation, but there can be no argument. This can only be her. In the past decade, we haven't seen activity hinting at such immense power. Power enough to reverse the damage of the Prides. It can only mean magic is returning to the land and such magic can only come from the Princess." The man paused before he continued. "She's leaving a trail behind, whether she knows it or not. That's good for us. Not so good for her because if we can put the pieces together, so can The Red Guard. That said, we have to get to her first, no matter what. Once we get to her and get her to reason with us—which shouldn't be a problem—we can finally take our place in Wlerden. No more hiding, suffering, or imprisonment. Speaking of which, Yagul, what's the update on the prison situation?"

Another dark-skinned man spoke. "We've been able to get our intel in. Communication seems to be the major obstacle, but we're working on that. But last we heard from him, he confirmed that things are now in motion. From our end, we have everything set. We keep the relocation location secure and there are people there all day making sure there are no breaches in its veiling. Now all we have to do is get his signal and we'll do our part."

"Good. What camp did you decide on?" the man at the head of the table asked.

"Pont Furo."

He nodded and cast his eyes on the fair man, yet he could sense Ashe's eyes drilling holes in him and before she could speak, he asked, "Yes?"

"There's a lot of them imprisoned in Cosdn. If we plan to get them out, our portal has to be very large and last for quite a while. And the red guards? There's nowhere we can smuggle them without the guards knowing. It's a snow wasteland out there. We operate by stealth, and moving that much amount of people by stealth would seem close to impossible. And the prides? From Cosdn to Grieon in an instant. We may very well lose the people we are trying to save. If not to the red guards, then to the harsh change."

There was one thing the man admired most about Ashe: her unwavering realism. She possessed an exceptional ability to scrutinize every angle of a situation, uncovering potential obstacles and anticipating various contingencies that might arise. This keen insight proved invaluable, enabling them to plan strategically and navigate the complexities of their circumstances with a sense of preparedness. The clarity she brought to their discussions often illuminated paths they might have overlooked, allowing them to confront uncertainties with a more informed stance.

But there was one thing he despised, and that was her relentless pessimism.

Despite her sharp observational skills and practical approach, a cloud of negativity consistently overshadowed her outlook on their endeavors, and every scenario she envisioned seemed to culminate in disaster. There were moments when her caution proved justified, and she was right to prepare for the worst. Yet, there were just as many times when all they craved was a glimmer of hope. Hope was a foreign concept in Ashe's eyes, one she refused to embrace, having had a sizable share of the bad chunk of life.

Betrayed by the one person she had trusted the most—her twin sister—and relentlessly hunted by her father, a man who should have been a protector. The very figures who had the power to nurture and instill hope were, instead, the ones who had ruthlessly extinguished it, leaving a lasting imprint on her spirit. As a result, Ashe had herself ensnared in a cycle of cynicism, perpetually bracing for the worst, unable to grasp the possibility of a brighter outcome.

"You have raised a valid point, but Yagul and I have discussed at length about that. As for the red guards, a portal goes two ways. While we have the prisoners coming to us, we would also go to them and battle the red guards in their stead. The change in weather is not something we can avoid. Pont Furo is more developed than our other Ponts. Using any of them would risk further chance of exposure. So it is something we have to bear. But we will have people trained in weathering the afflictions associated on the ground. Also, we are not breaking them out tomorrow. We still have time to finesse our plans and make them better. I appreciate your concerns and never stop voicing them, but it would be better if you could use your critical mind to come up with solutions. Our primary aim now is getting The Princess on our side. Once she is, all other pieces will fall into place."

♛ ♛ ♛

SUNLIGHT streamed in from the gap in the curtain to settle on her eyelids, prompting Gema to stretch and sit upright. The tea her mother brewed had done wonders for her nerves, putting her to sleep like a baby. Her eyes scanned the room Davina had given her. It was the only one in the apartment, and Davina had to make something up for herself in the living room. She had politely declined at first, but Davina would not take no for an answer.

After some freshening, she headed out of the room only for the scent of pancakes to fill her nose, stimulating her stomach and reminding her she had not eaten for almost a day. Not like she would have had the chance to. Only one thought had occupied her mind.

"Gema! Come, I've made breakfast."

They ate in comfortable silence until Davina cleared her throat and asked, "How's your father?"

It sounded like a reasonable question, and Gema tried not to think too much about it.

"I've not had much contact with him for a while now. I've been going around with duties."

"Oh," Davina hesitated and she could sense it, so she continued, to appease the woman before her.

"But..." Davina's head shot up. The last I heard, he was doing fine."

"Oh," Davina nodded. Her mother's eyes fell back to her plate, and Gema could understand her mother's dilemma. It wasn't easy to move on from someone you loved so much that easily. How many years had it been? She wouldn't blame her mother for having a hard time. After all, she had seen their love first-hand when she was little. They had raised her with it until she ruined everything with her hands.

"He still asks about you. He's not keeping tabs as much, I know..." Gema trailed.

During the early aftermath of Gema's magical outburst, her father couldn't handle the distance and always had security tailing Davina. Being the one in charge of security then, he had many officials to his use.

Davina reeling from the heartbreak simply wanted to start fresh, but having castle guards around her all day made that hard to do. She had to reach her breaking point when she confronted them and sent them home to her father with a message. A message that made him halt all his efforts at once.

It was silent a while, before Davina asked, "Is he... Did he... Remarry?"

So that was her concern.

"No, he didn't." Gema flashed her mother a small smile. "He can't."

"Can't?" Davina questioned.

"Technically," Gema drawled. "You didn't both agree to a separation, so you're both still married."

"Technically," Davina said as if testing the word.

Gema wondered, at that moment, if her mother had truly never let go of him all these years, and even more if she was now considering getting back together. She was about to voice her questions when Davina darted to her feet. It was only then that Gema realized she still had a plate half full while her mother was done.

"So! Are you here on wielder duty?" Davina asked as she moved to the sink some steps from the counter at which they were.

"Somewhat."

"Is it urgent business?"

"For now, no," Gema said slowly, her brows creasing in confusion.

"Great! How about we walk around town a bit? I always find nature and its elements very useful in lifting my spirits. There's this tree that shoots leaves into the air!" her mother exclaimed with wide eyes. "What do you say?" Davina asked and before Gema could reply, she continued. "But again, if that would affect your duty..."

A chance to spend time with her mother? There was no other answer.

"I would love to."

♛ ♛ ♛

DAYS passed till the day finally came and the only difference from last year was that she wasn't eating a cupcake with her sister's faint glow hovering beside her and now—it had a name.

Outside the window, the chants and greetings never ceased, but nothing in her tingled in celebration. The days leading up to it had soiled the day in particular for her, as she had spent them nursing a feeling akin to jealousy.

When Zack had told her about Viatrix, he had spoken of her as a friend leading her to believe so, but the way they acted around each other made her think otherwise, with inside jokes and secret rendezvous making her feel even worse. Yes, they hadn't explicitly had a conversation defining what they were, so he was free as much as she was. Yet, she couldn't help but feel threatened by their closeness.

With Gema announcing a break as she spent time with her distant mother, they all split up. Though they were still in the same town, she was seeing less of the wielders and Salome and spending most of her time with Zack and his friends—well, mostly with Azriel, as Zack and Viatrix were always somewhere, together.

Though they finally contacted Sahsa and got the details of their underground journey—thanks to Azriel, who had done so begrudgingly—they agreed to leave after Dwin Rhiena.

She was glaring out the window, not paying mind to the children that ran around as their parents chatted in a group some distance away. She'd sunk so deep into her thoughts, she didn't notice Azriel walk into the living room.

"If looks could kill, that plant would have shriveled to dust under your stare."

She jerked.

"How do you celebrate your Dwin Rhiena?" he asked as he poured himself a glass of water, unfazed by her surprise.

"Eating a cupcake in my room," she muttered.

"Huh?" He looked up with expectant eyes.

"I mean, I don't do much."

"Don't do much!" He dropped the jar with a thud. "I don't know about your hometown, but here in Dhul, it's always a blast! Although depends on who you're with. My parents never did anything, well the most they did was try to trade me off for a bigger house. But with my new family here in Dhul, it's always a blast!"

It was the way he said it, so casually, as if the thought of your parent finding you so irrelevant to trade you off wasn't one of the biggest sins.

"Zack told me about your parents," she started. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"People come, people go, but the ones who love you would live through you. Now! Before you guys move on, you must experience Dwin Rhiena in Dhulian ways."

"Right now?"

"Of course right now! It's only one day."

"What about Zack and Viatrix?" she asked, despite already guessing the answer.

Ariel waved. "Oh, they're off somewhere, doing something."

Her guess was right.

She sighed but pushed back the budding disappointment in her chest and flashed him a smile.

"Sure. Let's head out then."

They ended up meeting up with Salome, who then tagged along as Azriel took them everywhere and anywhere. From the rides to the fairs, and the various cakes and drinks she'd never seen or tasted before, she could finally move her mind's focus from Zack and his close female best friend.

Her mood had improved, and she was grateful. For as long as she could remember, her birthday wasn't special. But now knowing that it was more than special to people here and not only in Dhul but in other parts of Wlerden brought an unfamiliar warmth to her chest. As she cheered and danced along without them knowing she was the one that they celebrated, she couldn't help but cherish it all.

They all held so much hope in a princess that they hadn't seen in a decade. She almost wanted to laugh at the sight of it all. How were they so positive? They all had nothing but good to say about this princess. She recalled wondering and fearing if they would let her rule and every time she had voiced that concern, be it to Zack or Marcela, they had always shut it down. They always said the people loved her and only now that she saw it did she believe it.

She was having a chat with a girl about fishes in the town square, with the flurry of songs and instruments drifting around them when someone held her hands in theirs. She looked up to see who it was and the smile on her face froze before it fell. His cool green eyes danced under the calm glow of the evening sun as his lips flashed a charming smile. The smile still elicited the same feeling in her, but she tried to ignore it.

She was angry, and he should know it.

Excusing herself from the girl, she let Zack lead her away, but she didn't let him speak once they left.

"How nice to see you, Zack. I had almost believed that you had traveled somewhere with Viatrix." She sneered.

"Traveled?" he questioned with his smile still in place. It was when she ripped her hand from his that his smile faltered.

"You know, seeing as you're always off somewhere with her, visiting other friends or catching up."

"Karyn I—"

"I don't want to hear it." She interrupted. "You're having a good day with her. I'm having a good day with Salome and Azri. Let's leave it at that. It's my birthday and I would love to enjoy it for once so you can go back to her."

"Karyn," he called out, reaching to hold her, but she evaded his grasp with a narrow breath and stalked away without looking back.

She let her furious feet stomp away, not caring to know where she was heading. With her fist clenched, she let out a breath to calm herself, but it was pointless. She was furious at him, but more at herself.

They weren't in a relationship, so why did it bother her so much? Yes, she had feelings for him and had expressed her willingness to be a support system for him, but many things were still murky between them, like his position on her future.

You'll end up marrying some rich affluent man worthy of being king.

Did he think he didn't have a chance? And did he—

"... people are saying the cracks have disappeared."

Amidst all the chants and cheers, she could pick up on the words that brought her out of her reverie and ground her steps to a halt. Some distance from where she stood on the sidewalk, two men conversed in not-so-hushed tones.

"Disappeared!"

"It's jarring to see," the first man paused. Karyn shifted to feign interest in a dance that happened some meters ahead, but her mind wasn't taking in the intricate movements of the dancers.

"I'm also hearing it could be her, the lost royal," the man whispered, but she had caught the words Lost Royal, and that confirmed her guess.

She recalled when she was at Yhulja and had traced her hand through a crack before it later closed. But she hadn't touched anything else in Yhulja and she couldn't imagine those large cracks that split through the floors and buildings getting closed by her when she had only set her eyes on them, nothing more.

"It's the same as what happened in Nineri," the second man said, and Karyn had to force herself to move. She didn't want to think further, and should she eavesdrop more, she would.

Yet even as she moved, she couldn't get the man's words out of her head and didn't realize the person standing in front of her until she bumped into him. She stumbled back, muttering an apology, but it died in her throat when she spun and there stood a woman, her tattered black dress hanging limp on her frail form. The woman's eyes widened and Karyn would forever remember the feeling she got.

It was as if the woman's eyes were daggers searing deep into her soul, reaching for something, a life force she didn't know she had, and connected to it, gripping it tightly even tighter than when the woman's hands shot up to grip hers.

Karyn found herself trapped in the woman's gaze, which was shrouded in a nebulous gray mist that swirled, rendering her utterly immobile. And when the woman spoke, her words resonated around, like a force on its own, raging around her and suppressing her, almost suffocating.

"The prophecy has come to pass. What he tried so hard to prevent, he has used his hands to put in place. He who stole will be the one to give it back whole. The one he took it from shall have it back when the time comes. But alas, a new prophecy has arisen and darkness hangs on the horizon. The road ahead holds more dread. Gold will bend. Light will dim and flames will rain. A new prophecy has arisen and the one you hold dear is the one you should beware."

A throng of people jostled past behind her, severing the tenuous connection she had made with the frail woman. She turned as the person flashed an apology, but her heart dropped—when she spun back, the old woman had vanished into the thickening crowd.

It had gotten darker, and it was harder to make out people but amidst it all. She searched desperately but couldn't catch on to any frail form clad in black. It was as if the woman simply vanished.

Putting one foot before another in a frantic need to search for the woman and demand more than riddles, she darted forward. But before she could go further, a hand closed around her wrist. She yelped and spun to meet a concerned Zack. Her chest rose as she tried to steady her breathing. His eyes roamed over her, taking in her disheveled state, as his brows drew together in worry.

"Are you okay?"

She vaguely heard his words as that of the old woman still pounded in her head, like a relentless drum. Her eyes continued searching the crowd of unfamiliar faces. Who was the old woman, and what did her cryptic message truly mean?

♛

ITNC: After a special evening with Karyn, Zack gets a blast from the past that forces him to make a decision.

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~
The Sparkling Authoress,
Mis. A
❤️