THERE was only one option, and she took it. She freed the lid at once, reaching into her powers as two guards rushed towards her with their swords already drawn. The sound of the two swords she manifested clashing against those of the guards resounded around her as they began parrying in a fiery dance. As one hand swung, the other hand pried forward, twisting its sword before sending it as an arrow to one guard. It was too quick for him to react as he stilled when the arrow pierced his middle before he dropped.

She forced her focus into dodging the slices and advances of the other guards. Ducking and twisting out of his range. Her eyes couldn't leave her opponent to search for her counterparts, but she tried not to worry about them.

They had experience, even more than her. She reminded herself.

The clashing of metal against magic continued until another boom rocked the ground. She wobbled on her feet and sunk further into the sand. With a yell, she dragged her feet out and into more solid sand before the guard came at her again.

How had The Red Guard known of them?

The question made her lose her focus for a moment and she paid dearly for it when the guard's sword came down on her arm. Blood sprang out of the gash as she yelled in pain. Next came a kick to the stomach that sent her to the sand. Grains of sand shot up from where she landed and she had to shut her eyes momentarily to prevent them from blinding her. When she opened her eyes, she pushed her aching legs out to catch the guard in the groin before he could come down on her.

His howl was her push to get up. She was about to drive the sword into his stomach when the guard cried out.

"I have a family!"

She froze at once. Her mind screamed at her to move, but the fear shining in the man's eyes held her limbs captive. That was when her heart caught up to her mind. What was she doing? She was the princess. They might not know it, but it didn't change the fact. Wasn't it her duty to protect them?

Before she could come up with an answer or an action, a sharp, hot pain tore at the back of her thigh. Her feet wobbled, and she fell to her knees. She could feel her blood soiling the back of her jeans as she cursed.

The ploy the guard had used finally dawned on her when she saw his lips curl up into a devious smirk. With a simmering anger, she tried to stand, but a hand circled and gripped her arm from behind. The action transported her mind back to the grim tunnels underneath Vunmarc.

No. She couldn't get captured again.

Before the lack of air got to her, she contorted the sword in her hand to a knife pointed backward and drove it into the body behind her. She didn't know where she had stabbed, but she knew she'd met her target when his scream pierced her ears.

He let her go at once and, from her hands, sprung large thick chains that shot at the guard who had tried to prey on her soft side. One chain gripped at his neck as the other swung around, just like she did, to the guard behind her. Her hands clenched as she tried not to focus on the searing pain in her arm and tightened her chains.

Nothing would stop her this time and she would have strangled them then and there if a shooting pain hadn't pierced the shoulder of her already wounded arm.

A moment passed before the world dulled around her. The sounds dampened, the air tightened, and the color dimmed. A heaviness pressed on her chest, pushing her down to her knees. She lost her connection and awareness at once.

What had they done to her?

Suddenly, an overwhelming urge washed over her—she craved nothing more than the embrace of deep slumber. The sand sparkled invitingly, beckoning her to sink into its velvety softness. And the heat? What heat? She cherished the warmth.

She was barely clinging to the fragile thread of consciousness when an enigmatic voice surged behind her.

"The Roveñya sentences you to public execution for your crimes against the sanctity and integrity of Wlerden."

She knew what it meant. Her mind hadn't lost its cognitive skills, yet her limbs remained docile as they chained her hands behind her just before she succumbed to the silence.

♛ ♛ ♛

FRAN-SAPPHIRIAN Iyeron was a shrewd man known throughout Wlerden as one of the best wielder and warrior ever seen. Despite wielding the Sapphire gem, which was the weakest in comparison to the others, he'd put his best into his work. What he lacked in magic, he augmented with logic.

Since she'd been aware of her duty, Marcela had tried to get in the good graces of all the previous wielders she could access to learn anything and everything from them. Of all the people Marcela had known, past and present, Iyeron was the most captivating, yet he always replied to her admiration with intense hostility.

She knew he despised her closeness with Jamie, and she could understand why. Being Jamie's father, he would want the best for Jamie, and Marcela knew how their closeness threatened that.

Standing here in his office, she met the same look of disapproval his eyes held every time they landed on her, yet she didn't let that deter her. She'd been on her way to a meeting with Dove, Jamie, and Terrwyn when she passed by his office and nothing could stop her from venturing in.

"I would like to know who got the Warif Tersta canceled."

After her initial anger had melted, she had nothing but mere curiosity. And now she had the chance. She knew no one other than Fran-Sapphirian Iyeron, the Chief Warrior of Wlerden, would have the answers she sought.

His chuckle came out as a huff of breath as his steely eyes bore holes through her skin like a driller on wood.

"I knew you would ask. Did you know you were in line to become the next Chief Warrior, after me, of course?"

Her eyes rounded in surprise. "I didn't," she answered, knowing Iyeron never asked rhetorical questions.

"How ironic, you would be my predecessor. I'd fought so long against it but, when the stars speak, no one can refute." He crossed his hands and leaned back in his chair, keeping his posture remained erect. "I was the one who called it off."

His brows rose in a challenge and hers rose in surprise, but she took him on his challenge and dared to ask. "Why?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What is the duty of a warrior?"

Her shoulders instinctively tensed, her chest swelling as she drew in air. Clasping her hands firmly behind her back, she created a rigid posture that spoke of both preparation and resolve. It was a sequence of movements etched into her muscle memory. A physical prelude to the words that would soon escape her lips.

"A warrior's duty is to protect and to serve. We defend with our lives that are no longer our own. We give to the cause of Wlerden, the nation we have sworn to love. Our swords shine in Wlerden's glory alone. When darkness looms, we are the light. We are the fight and we do what is right. We stand in pride and smother the enemies—"

"May the stars be our guide," he completed, raising his chin and, for the first time, she saw a flash. And even if it lasted for a second, she caught it—approval.

But it died as soon as it formed.

"Wlerden doesn't need warriors."

How can you say that? She was about to say, but his next words seized at her throat.

"She has The Red Guard now. What a warrior can do, they can do better."

"You mean things like imprisoning Endoni?"

She saw anger spark in his eyes, but this was one topic he would not scare her from speaking on.

The sound of his chair screeching against the tiled floor reverberated around them as he rose sharply to his feet. "They do that for the good of Wlerden."

"The good of Wlerden. We are the good of Wlerden, we—"

"And where were we when the SiatJans came pounding? Our skills. Our mastery. Everything fell short. It was useless against those devilish creatures!"

It was the first time his voice didn't grate on her eardrums. All those times, she could never tell how he felt whenever he spoke, and that was what unsettled her. But now she could hear it clearly—the agony. And he was right.

The warriors' efforts seemed to come to nothing. She witnessed her comrades—those she had shared childhood dreams and rigorous training with—fall time and again, like fragile creatures caught in a storm. Each loss felt profound, a reminder that they were not just fighters but beloved individuals with cherished memories and families waiting for their return.

"But we have The Red Guard now and they have proven themselves useful time and time again." He lowered back to his seat. "They've even now captured Wina don SiatJan. Now they are the ones getting rid of the darkness."

His words sparked the farthest thing from the hope within her. Her skin paled as her throat turned to dry land, scorched over and over again.

"W... Wina... what do you mean?"

Iyeron was back to shuffling through the papers that littered his desk.

"By the order of the Roveñya, she, along with her cohorts, a group that calls themselves the Infildrans, would lose their heads today at the public grounds in Wyñ. Once that is done, the SiatJans would be no more. Or so they say. But we'll take—" Iyeron paused when he took in her shocked countenance before he asked, "Did you not know?"

She blinked. "I... I didn't. Please excuse me," she managed to say before she rushed out.

By the order of the Roveñya.

Her feet moved with determination, not taking a moment to stop. Even if she closed her eyes, her feet would still know where to take her. She'd been there several times and attended several meetings, some with the court, others with her counterparts. So many that she simply couldn't miss her way in the grand labyrinth that was The White Castle.

Seated around the polished oak table, Dovelyn held court at the head, exuding a quiet authority. To her right, Terrwyn embodied grace, her posture impeccable and her demeanor serene, like a carefully crafted statue. On Dovelyn's left, Jamie sat, his brow slightly furrowed, revealing a flicker of concern as Marcela burst into the room. In stark contrast to the tension in Jamie, Terrwyn radiated elegance, her eyes glinting with calm, while Dovelyn remained still and watchful, almost sentinel-like, as if ready to respond to any shift in the gathered atmosphere.

"Marcela, what's wrong?" Jamie asked with a frown of his own.

"What's wrong? You can't tell me you don't know!" Marcela's loud voice rang across the room.

"Know what?" Jamie asked.

"Wina don SiatJan? The person we've been trying so hard to locate is about to be killed in the worst possible way, by beheading."

"There is no need to yell, Marcelandeia," Terrwyn said, and that was when she processed their calm demeanor. As if she had barged in to talk about the weather.

"You... you all knew this?" Marcela asked, with wide eyes staring at them as if they were complete strangers.

When Dove parted her lips to speak, Marcela continued. "You can't be serious. That is our princess. Our future queen and you are just going to sit here while she's killed in front of her people!" Marcela yelled but realization soon dawned on her and her voice came out small when she said, "Unless that's what you want."

She whispered it so softly, almost as if voicing the words might somehow make them real—a painful truth she desperately wished wasn't true.

She cleared her throat and blinked to gather her thoughts.

"If you will sit—" Dove started.

"And then what? Discuss while a grave injustice is taking place. I am not going to be a part of that discussion." Then her eyes snapped to the one person she knew would always have her back. The one she knew would stand by her, no matter what. The one she trusted so much to give her heart to.

"Jamie, are you coming?"

♛ ♛ ♛

THE memory of a talk he had with Grandma Terrwyn a few days ago filled his head after Marcela's question.

"Grandma I... it all sounds..." the Sapphirian had trailed off as he replayed what the old woman had just told him.

"This plan will work, my dear boy. It will," the woman said, standing near him as they watched the fire burn at the hearth.

"But..." he hesitated.

What if?

The words rang through his head, blasting like a war horn and dancing on the tip of his tongue, reading to spring out into the world at any moment.

"Love is something too great and too elusive. You and Marcelandeia finally have a chance at love. When it's done, you both will be no more than normal people because there will be no more wielders. And then there will be no barrier," the woman said before she placed her hand on his shoulder and faced him.

"Even a blind man can see how much you two love each other and how much you want her to be the one in your life. You are as dear as a son would be to me, and that is why I am sharing this opportunity with you. For once, you have the opportunity of choice. So choose you, my dear boy. Choose her, choose love," she finished and his eyes held onto unshed tears when they met hers.

"Love over duty?" he asked, and she looked down. Her hand dropped to hold his hand in hers before she looked back at him. He felt the soft squeeze she gave and knew she had already won him over.

"Love over duty," she confirmed.

The memory of the dimly lit room fleeted away as a much clearer room, thick with tension, came into view. Those dark brown eyes were still staring at him. Waiting in expectation, waiting for him to rise and join her, and he would hate himself for not doing what she hoped he would.

"I'm staying here," was all he said, all he could say, and he couldn't even look away when he saw the way her heart broke through her eyes. He saw it all and he hated himself for being the reason. He wanted to rise immediately and take back those simple words, but she soon recovered.

"Fine."

He knew her steps would forever pound in his head and on his heart as a reminder of the day he broke her trust.

"Are we just going to let them go?" Dovelyn's voice split through his reverie, and his legs itched to stand and chase after Marcela. She would need all the help she could get, but he couldn't give it.

"Let's see how far they go," was all the elder woman said.

♛ ♛ ♛

SILENCE. Sweet, sweet silence was what Karyn basked in. She was neither here nor there. She didn't know if she was standing, lying down, sleeping, or awake. But she felt she was floating, enwrapped in a warped sense of peace. Despite the silence, Her Sense was screaming at her mind, trying to ignite every nerve in her being to shock her muscles into action. But she loved the peace and wanted to remain in it.

Until it cracked.

It began as a gradual intrusion, a single voice breaking through the silence. The sound was unfamiliar, indiscernible in its meaning. Another voice joined in, followed by a third and a fourth, their whispers merging into an eerie chorus. The voices kept getting louder, yet she still couldn't decipher what they were saying.

A scream pierced through and that was the ball that sent it all crashing. As if a dam had burst open, a torrent of voices flooded her senses, jolting her from her slumber. The most she could do was open her eyes. Her limbs couldn't move, even if she tried. At first, she couldn't feel them, but slowly the sensation of rope scratching on her skin engrained itself in her mind.

When her vision cleared, her heart stopped. A vast multitude of people stood clustered together in a wide clearing. It didn't take long for her pounding heartbeat to join the cacophony.

Struggling to orient herself, she realized she was on her knees, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Beside her were people she couldn't recognize. It was only when she stared long enough that she recognized one face, with his black and white cloak in tatters. It was the man who stood beside her uncle. Further down, she recognized the cornrows of Nixon.

She searched for Cosima, who'd completed their trio, but her eyes stopped on the person in front of her, who stood with them. Tiny ankles and wrists stood bound in thick brown ropes. Their stature was mere inches taller than her kneeling form, and their slight frame was enough for her to conclude the person could be no more than ten.

She glimpsed their slender face, red, bruised, and stricken with fear. Her eyes drifted to the guard who manhandled the child until they fell to their knees, with their chest resting atop a barrel of wood. Even within the chaos, the whimper of the child rang out in her ears. Another guard came and this time gripping a sword, wider than a butcher's knife. What was this madness? Had someone transported her to medieval times?

"No! That's a child!" she screamed.

The guard holding the sword stopped some meters in front of her. He looked between her and the child, pointed to the child, and laughed.

"This! A child!"

Then his sneering smile vanished, replaced by a stormy frown and a look that could burn her to ashes. His lips curled in disgust as if she were worse than a sticky gum underneath his shoe.

"You all are the scum of our nation and I know I'll live to see a day when we would finally be rid of you."

With that, he turned, facing the people as his voice boomed loud and clear. "And here we have an Endoni who has been in cahoots with enemies of Wlerden, Wyrione spies. Just like her kind, they want nothing but the ruination of Wlerden."

"No." Her voice was a bit stronger and this time the guard heard her.

He spun back to her with a force that made her wonder if he had hurt his neck.

"What did you say?" he sneered.

"I said, no! We are no different from you—"

His large hand came swinging down and hard. When it slammed into her cheek, the world spun, dissolving into a blur of stars as the jeers and cheers increased.

The world came back into focus, yet she could only see from one eye, the other clouded by the tears from his blow. Despite her pain, she was intent on stopping the despicable action from occurring.

Karyn's breath quickened. She reached in, trying to find her connection, but something that always came easy suddenly became the hardest thing. It felt as if she was tapping into an empty well, dried of all water and even air.

A cold sweat broke out and her eyes rounded, shaking in their sockets as they watched the sword rise into the air. The sun glinted on it, making it glow in an unkind light, but before it could come down, clouds covered the sun, dulling the blade before an arrow whizzed through the air.

No one heard it over the ravenous voices that cheered the red guard, so it hushed the crowd into stark silence when it pierced the guard square in the neck. Before she could completely process what had happened, and when the sword fell; she saw red.

The sword came down hard on his shoulder—probably even harder than it would have on the child—severing his arm completely.

Her body trembled and her hands itched to wipe at the unfamiliar, albeit red, liquid that dotted her face. Silence filled with trepidation loomed as the guard fell back to the wooden floor with a resounding thud. Her eyes traced the arrow to find the end carved out into an R, but before she could conclude, more arrows came flying.

"It's the Reviwina!" someone shouted from the crowd as more arrows came flying, targeting the red guards.

In the next moment, someone ran up to the stage, with a battle cry on his lips, and a sword in his grip as he headed straight for the red guard who had dragged the child. Panic erupted as people sprinted in all directions, a whirlwind of chaos and confusion. But as they began seeking safety, the earth rocked beneath their feet.

It felt like instant karma as the people who had been cheering for a person's head to drop from its body were now screaming as they were being flung in any direction. Red blazing eyes, taloned feet, and razored teeth barreled through them, scattering the people like the grains of sand under the elephant's feet.

She didn't want to resign to her fate, but it became increasingly clear. The Red Guard had departed their sick form of enjoyment and geared themselves up to battle the countless sinister creatures that rose from the ground, leaving them bundled and powerless like a lamb to be slaughtered. They were already that, but the means would be much more painful at the paws of a SiatJan.

An overwhelming sense of hopelessness washed over her, drowning her and constricting her lungs just before the world swirled. Images blurred and reshaped. The gray clouds above swapped for blackness. The people and the guards around grew into tall trees. And another sensation joined the sense of hopelessness. One she recognized as she turned.

How she had gotten to her feet, unchained, she couldn't tell, but that was the last thing on her mind when she met with a familiar figure, hooded with red lips.

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat, but it did nothing to calm her racing heart. Blood rushed in her ears as the world stilled around her. The lips moved like they'd always done.

"Princess Karynanda Demelza."

Her lips parted in surprise, yet no words left her. Her mind couldn't conjure up anything coherent as it raced to process all that was happening.

"We both know what you want. We both know I can give it to you."

The pause after the figure's words pressed on Karyn's mind and heart, smothering and suffocating.

"All you have to do is ask."

♛

ITNC: In the epic clash between silver and chaos, can the factions of Wlerden unite to face a formidable foe, or will their differences be the dawn of their peril?

♛

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The Sparkling Authoress,
Mis. A
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