The wheels hissed against the icy snow, and white smoke puffed from the horse's nuzzles. The soldiers guarding the golden gates straightened their backs at the sight of the carriage.

A soldier held his hand up as it approached, and the wheels faltered to a stop. He narrowed his gaze at the driver, covering half his face with the cap of his cloak. The rest of his face was left uncovered: a softly pointy chin, proportioned lips, and the round tip of his nose, dark like night strands sliding from the cap.

"What's that?" The soldier asked, eyeing the rough blanket covering a bulging on the back of the vehicle.

"Merchandises for the King."

"Papers." He narrowed his eyes, waiting.

The driver paused before reaching for the inside of his cloak with a hesitating hand and retrieved a parchment. The soldier grabbed it mid-way, approaching the carriage. He scanned the document, his eyes going from left to right repeatedly until he reached the bottom of the page.

"Grains." The soldier's eyes lifted to the driver, that suspiciousness still as vivid as the snow. "Remove the blanket." The driver's lips thinned as he obeyed. He twisted their torso and snatched the rough blanket. A dozen satchels were so full that they threatened to explode at any touch. They piled on each other, forming a tiny mountain. "Nothing was said about grains today." The soldier said as he rounded the carriage.

The driver cleared his throat. "A late gift for Solstice." He tensed as the soldier patted the bags, passing through the one at his reach. The soldier paused as he touched the bag behind the driver's seat. The driver's breath caught.

"Very heavy," The soldier stated. "The King will be delighted." His smile was overstretched. "Open the doors!" He shouted to the other soldiers, and the golden gates creaked open.

"Thank you, Sir." The driver said before the carriage rolled in.

**

Amaya banged on the door cell until her fists throbbed from too much pounding. The door stayed locked despite her scream for help. The soldiers who had vowed to keep her safe at her birth were muted in their obligation and certainly the possible threat of Zakrus.

She whirled around into the musty and moisty cell, finally taking in her surroundings. The stale scent attacked her suddenly as if waiting for her to notice. The walls were damped and decrepit, splashed with dark, frozen liquid. Blood, vomit, sweat, or anything that had marked the solitary death of prisoners.

She didn't know, and she didn't wish to know.

The only things inside were a bucket and a chair, barely standing on its broken limbs. She made sure to avoid looking inside the bucket.

A shriek rose like agony, and Amaya's heart thundered. She kicked one of the chair's legs. It yielded easily. She pointed the broken piece of wood against the door. A boom startled her, like a boulder blowing a door, and screams and grunts followed like ripples. The blood drummed in her ears as the metallic steps got louder.

Soldiers.

A rattling sound like jittering keys, and the cell door creaked open. Amaya held her breath, hands trembling but gaze steady. The door swung open, and a man in full armor stepped into the soft strikes of light coming from the barren window.

"Don't come close!"

The soldier caught his helmet with two hands before removing it. It revealed pale skin, dark hair flattened by the helmet, and dark eyes she was sure she would never see again. They laid on her

like sunrays during the late afternoon hour of Summer.

She lowered the wood stick, her heart swelling. "Lach?"

"Amaya," he breathed out, voice strained but full of stars. She rushed into his arms as the wood rattled against the ground.

He embraced her so tightly, the hardness of his armor printing on her, but she didn't care. Her eyes flood with relief.

His rough hands caught her face, and she felt like she belonged between his wounds and cuts. "Are you all right?" his voice was like the relief of a sigh. And she soaked in his warmth, his scent. He searched for the injuries, tipping her head to each side and pushing the curls away from her forehead. "Did they hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I am all right." And relief drew a smile under the deep sigh of his glassy eyes.

"I am glad." He exhaled. She laid her palms on his touch.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry." Their last interaction was still haunting her, still tormenting her heart.

"No, I am sorry." His hands were trembling as he talked. "I shouldn't have kept the truth from you. I didn't want to hurt you," he exhaled softly.

Amaya caressed his hands as she smiled through the tears that gave in. "I know. I know you wanted to protect me. I am so sorry for what I said to you."

Yells rose in the corridor, and they startled as they looked towards the door. "Listen, you are in danger. We need to get out of here," Lach stated, grabbing her arm.

Amaya shook her head. "I can't go. If I leave, Ornuv will go into the hands of Zakrus, and we will lose it in his madness. "I am not leaving. I can't keep on fleeing."

Lach frowned, his eyebrows tight. He shook his head. "They will kill you." Amaya gave a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Lach inhaled deeply. "You don't understand...You are the Favor."

Amaya's mouth gaped. "What..."

"You are the Favor!" Lach smiled, the color of his eyes hazel brown with the glimmer of light, the silkiness of his dark hair shining. "It was you all along."

"Mother passed it on to me," she drawled out like a realization, and Lach nodded.

"Your Father knew it too. He wanted to protect you all along. That's why he kept you confined." He brought her hands into his. "He knew of the prophecy."

Amaya's heart constricted. "He wanted to save me."

Lach nodded. "Your father always loved you." The yells rose. Lach glanced over his shoulder. "You have to come with me. If they know..."

"There is something I have to do first," Amaya stated, resolute before the corridor shadow swallowed them.

**

The pendant laid gold on the Commander's neck, contrasting with his dark uniform like the gloom of the night. A velvet green cloak laid on his shoulders. The King's.

In front of him stood an altar with a book open. He passes his hands on the yellowish pages. "Our dream of making Ornuv the greatest country of the Continent is about to happen." He said softly, almost to himself. "Our new story." His rough and scarred hand passed over the pendant's sun. "You haven't died in vain." He murmured at last.

Lord Virwan stood near, one hand tight on his staff, the other raising a sword. His back seemed more curved, as if compressed by the sword's weight. Next to him, the priest stood with a purple velour cushion threaded with gold where the King's crown rested sparkling and shimmering, his splendor staying unaffected.

Zakrus' eyes salivated at the sight. "Now, Commander, you will pledge to the Sun God." Lord Virwan said, almost reluctantly. Zakrus threw a smirk at Lily, and she looked down. "When I will be King, this Kingdom will never suffer again," he said loud enough for all the council members to hear. He read the lines of the book loud and clear, promising to take care of the country and its subjects. Promising to follow the doctrine of the Sun God. Then he kneeled down, offering the top of his head, waiting for the crown's heaviness to establish all his efforts. But it never came. He heard the staff before he saw Virwan. Zakrus's features crunched.

"Lord Virwan. What are you waiting for?" The sword rose into the air, a slash of silver before it sunk into Zakrus' stomach. Zakrus choked. He looked down at the pool of blood slowly staining his uniform. He raised a bloodied hand and pointed it to Virwan before his world spun as he fell to his side. Lily yelled, and the council members gasped in fear and shock.

"What did you do, Lord Virwan?" A Lord gasped.

Lily's lips were trembling.

Virwan snatched the pendant, and his eyes glinted red, stunting the Lord. Black smoke emanated from his body as his curved spine straightened like a pole, making everyone gasp. "What should have been done a long time ago." His eyes flickered to the soldiers, the red searching their souls. "Bring me the Princess. Now."

"I am here!" All gazes turned to the side. Amaya stood at the entrance, her eyes finding the agonizing body of Zakrus as he shuddered, his blood spilling like wine as he lay at Virwan's feet.

"Don't." he reached a trembling hand towards Virwan, who ignored him. Instead, his eyes narrowed at the sight of Lach standing beside Amaya, his sword raised. Ready.

"The merchant's son..." Virwan tilted his head, and Lach gritted his teeth. He stared at him as if he could read the pages of his mind. "Your father was as innocent as a lamb but was used as a pawn by the Queen." Lach inhaled deeply. "And in the end died for nothing," he sang like a litany. "By the hands of his own son!" Lach's breath rasped.

"You were the one behind all this," Amaya said. "You are the one who framed him and the barbarians. The one who killed Mother. The one who pushed the soldiers to leave for Keso."

Virwan's eyes flickered at her. "Perhaps."

Amaya's features tightened, and she stepped closer, and Lach followed closely."You were supposed to be the Hand of the King, his most trusted advisor."

Virwan's eyes glinted with anger. "But your Father wasn't ever suited to be a King. He couldn't make the right decisions. He was weak, full of doubt," he spat. "He needed something to push him to do this war."

Amaya's breath hitched, her fists tightening. "That's why you killed mother."

He paused and let his teeth bare into a sort of smile. "Perhaps."

Lach's eyes bounced between the soldiers. A red glint twinkling in their eyes. As if...

"But Mother knew something was up. That's why she tried to take the Favor away and hide in Keso."

A snarl lifted Virwan's mouth. "Thus plunging the Kingdom in this deep Winter. This is but the consequence of her actions."

"No. It's yours. The Favor was lost because you killed her." Virwan's eyes narrowed, and Lach kept his eyes steady on him. "You used Zakrus and his thirst for power. This is what you wanted."

"You would have been a better ruler than your father. I am convinced of that."

"I won't let you have Ornuv, Virwan."

"We will see that," he said before moving his hands into circles, spurring a thick black like the depth of hell, twirling into the room, and diving everyone into a hazy void.

Amaya's lungs filled with ashes, scorching from inside. She caught her chest as she coughed, and a litany of coughs echoed back.

"Amaya," Lach's breath rasped. "Let's get out of here." He reached for her, his eyes stinging and wet.

"I can't leave without Lily." Amaya covered her nose as she waved her other hand into the smoke, trying to dissipate it, only for her fingers to pass through. It became denser like the fog of bushfire. "Lily!" Amaya screamed through the ashes on her tongue.

"Amaya!" A terrified voice rose to the side.

"Lily! Follow our voices! " Lach interjected, but his side was completely silent. "Amaya?"

"Here!" Amaya's voice suddenly sounded a field apart from him. Low and so far away.

"Where are you?" Lach's eyes fluttered, trying to keep his eyes open into the stinging void, but it burned too much. All he could do was wave his hands around. Murmurs echoed into the streaks of smoke like chants and mantras. This is all your fault. You will lose her, too. Lach whirled around, feeling a thick breath on his neck. "Amaya!"

"Lach...Lily!" Amaya cried.

The smoke dissipated, separating away like waves, leaving his eyes red-rimmed, wet, and stung. His head was dizzy, but he recovered quickly when he saw.

Amaya's body floated under Virwan's elongated and sharp claws. His fingers were like raven claws dived into a pool of coal. Her wrists and ankles were tied by a thin smoke-like rope. "Release her!" Lach's teeth clashed under the weight of his jaw.