2412 Dalfa 10, Reshpe

Someone nudged Jona's shoulders, waking him up from his restless slumber. His eyes blinked open, and he sat upright, away from being draped over Nael's shoulder like a used dish rag. The warmth leeched off his back, replaced by the cold blasts of wind brought about by Ixy's flight.

They left the Acosan safehouse a few days ago, and have since traveled above the cloud line on Ixy's back. Jona used the hours of flight to catch up on sleep. Sometimes, he slumped atop the carpet of red, yellow, and orange plumage. Only the parvade's training saved him from plummeting to his death while asleep.

Most of the time, though, whenever Nael would catch Jona drifting off, he would make Jona lean against him. Jona would either tuck his head against the crook of Nael's shoulders or settle against his chest.

"We're here," Nael whispered, his breath tickling Jona's ears more than the howling breezes did. "At least, that's what I gathered from Ixy's angry chitters."

Jona glanced at the parvade's flank, listening to Ixy's chirps and watching the rolls of her beady eyes. After a few seconds, he got his answer. "She's pissed off," he reported.

Nael raised an eyebrow. "At what?"

The confusion in the soldier's voice was enough to drive amusement up Jona's throat. "At you," he said. "She didn't like how you distrust her flight skills by always pulling me away from her back."

Red colored Nael's cheeks. His boyfriend having quarrels with a bird wasn't how Jona imagined his morning would go. "I apologize, Ixy," Nael said instead. "I didn't think you would feel that way, but...Jona is so warm. Can't resist."

It was Jona's turn for heat to rush to his face.

"W-we're here," Jona said instead. "Ixy also said that."

Ixy chirped a different tune and proceeded to fly forward for the next three minutes. Around the same time, Nael leaned to the side to glance at Jona's guilty face. "We're here?" His smirk was playful. "I don't see any spires anywhere."

Before Jona could talk through the flustered wave crashing over him, Nael snaked an arm around his waist and pecked his cheek. "I'm teasing," he said. "Have you had a good rest?"

Jona bobbed his head. "It feels nice to catch up on it," he answered. After that, a comfortable silence enveloped them, flanked only by Ixy's constant trills as she checked for unwanted presences around them.

This bliss wouldn't last long. The moment they landed into Gandirk, no kind of rest would prepare him for the war that's bound to visit their doorstep soon. The Heiress wasn't a fool. She has a good head on her shoulders, and it would only take some time before she realized none of the other Dwanzeigian cities contained what she's looking for.

Then, Ixy cawed and dove downward. Nael's hold around Jona's waist tightened. Jona answered by placing a hand on the soldier's arm. If not for his multiple flights with Ixy over the years, he would have been scared out of his wits too. The wind drove most of the stray strands of his hair back, away from framing his face. Nael's chin dug against his shoulder, and he welcomed it.

Ixy spread her wings, catching the drift. Her claws tipped forward, opening in preparation for clutching the rocky spires. They broke through the carpet of fluffy clouds, just in time for a mass of rough, gray surface to surge towards them. Nael's gasp vanished against Jona's neck, and he smiled to himself at how cute it sounded.

Rock chinked against Ixy's sharp claws, detached debris crumbling into the depths below. The carpet of untouched canopies brought a false sense of comfort to Jona's gut. How long would it be before it was overrun by the Heiress' soldiers?

The pain brought about by nature dying around him didn't really let up. He just pushed it at the bottom of things to worry about, making sure his stride and stance weren't affected by it. For everyone's benefit, Jona would be willing to raise his level of tolerance to pain. Nothing would be able to hurt him starting from now.

Ixy cawed again, holding on to Gandirk's sides with her talons. Jona peeled off Nael's hold and guided him off the parvade's back. "Don't look down," Jona advised as he wrapped his hand on the edge of the spire, planting his boot on the rough ledges afforded to him by the stone. He offered his hand to Nael who gripped it like tomorrow wouldn't come.

Slowly, he guided Nael's hand towards the jutting rock next to where he held on. Then, he let Nael figure out how to get out of Ixy's back and flatten himself against the spire. Jona then flipped to the other side, plunging himself in the influence of Gandirk. Nael, being trained to be flexible and lithe as a soldier, followed after him.

Together, they clambered down the inside of the spires crowding over the spread of bioluminescent forest at the floor. When they touched down, Jona's hands burned from scratching on nothing but rock for a long time. He dusted the bits of sand and sediment off his palms. Nael's boots crunched against the gravel scattered between the shocks of glowing bushes and ballooning trees.

Without wasting another word, they strode deeper into Gandirk, following the single manicured path towards the one thing they would all die for. Jona watched Nael's jaw drop at the sight of the Liferewarder, blooming and shining with a soft halo of light around its body.

"Your Grace, you're here," a soldier's voice tore both of their attention from Dwanzeig's throne and brought it to the troops marching towards them. The familiar faces he had gotten to know over the years sent a wave of calm in his form. "We heard you won't be arriving until the day after tomorrow."

Jona jerked his chin at the sky. "Air travel has its benefits," he said, giving Nael one last nod before striding deeper into the stronghold. "Call every soldier. We have to go through things before the war finds us here."

Jar, the closest soldier to Jona's right, bobbed his head. "I'll get it done right away, Jona," he said, remembering the last time they had a conversation about what to call him.

And soon, Jona stood in the middle of a ring of armored soldiers, poring over a map of Ardgate and Gandirk. He traced a finger across what's supposed to be the incline leading to Gandirk's front gate. Whoever drew this map was good. "We need to protect this path at all costs," he was saying, keeping Nael's still frame in his periphery. He would give a ton of versallis just to know what's going on inside his lover's mind, but it's not like he would have the time to understand everything. "Station a scout, a vanguard, and support every fortwere. How versed are you in your synnavaimis?"

"Everyone here has trained in their respective divisions for more than a decade," Jar replied. "They're more than qualified."

Jona opened his mouth but a commotion rising from the rim of the crowd caught his attention. The sea of soldiers parted in a hurry, spitting out a huffing scout judging from the small, white feather sitting atop her helm. "News from the front lines," she brushed the loose strands of peach hair off her forehead, ridding it of sweat as well. "Unidentified troops are spotted a few fortweres from the base. They're coming up."

A curse flitted off Jona's lips, startling the first ring of soldiers around him. "How did they find us here?" he asked no one. Then, he turned to the soldiers looking to him for some semblance of guidance. "Use the terrain against them. Make sure they don't succeed in scaling the mountain. Deal with the aerial shots first. I'll stay here and see what more I can do to protect the throne."

The soldiers snapped their heels together and gave him a quick salute.

Jona's heart weighed down on his chest at the notion of sending these people to their possible deaths. But that's war, wasn't it? As long as someone was attacking everything they stood for, someone's bound to be martyred to it.

"Let's win this war," Jona said, feeding the words with the last threads of hope left in his system. "Avraja."

The word echoed back to him in waves and droves. If it had any force, it could have blown his hair back. Then, they scattered to their various places, obeying and throwing orders around.

Jona brought his knuckles to his lips, his teeth digging into his skin. To think he thought he wasn't followed on the way here. How naive. The Heiress probably sent someone after him, tracking every move and reporting back. Or worse, someone here was a traitor.

His gaze landed on Nael who looked at him in askance. He shook his head. How dare he suspect the soldier? If he was a traitor, he wouldn't have forgiven Jona for throwing him off the edge of the cliff. If he was a traitor...

Jona's gut twinged. What would happen if Nael was truly one? He didn't like how his mind recoiled at the very idea as if it couldn't stand the idea itself. If Nael was a traitor, then he did a good job in bending Jona around his finger to the point where Jona couldn't imagine him to be anything but his doting boyfriend.

He didn't like it, especially how the thought of Nael being a traitor being scarier than the violent war about to come knocking.

Before he knew it, he had made it back to the throne's sanctuary. His thoughts shifted from Nael, to his father wherever he was in the cities remaining outside the Heiress' control, before finally settling on the crystalline flower glowing at his feet.

This was the reason why they're out here, fighting an enemy they couldn't win against. ANd judging from the traces of brown curling from the edges of the petals, they didn't have the luxury to engage in friendly spars and losses from the enemy. Somewhere out there, magic was being drained from the heart of the island. It's causing a whole lot of problems, which Jona doubted he'd be able to touch nor solve in the foreseeable future. Not when he's about to engage in a fight. Not when there's a tyrant seeking to pluck the Liferewarder from its perch and doom the entire race of nature fairies.

He closed his eyes, exhaling a heavy breath through his lips. A quick prayer—one he was certain would reach no ears—brushed into the wind. Only the desperate would pray to entities he didn't believe in, and Jona had no ego left to deny it. He was desperate, so he stared at the Liferewarder, the one who saved him in return for him saving it, and uttered his heartfelt wish.

Help me protect you.

2412 Dalfa 15, Daleth

Jona stood at the lip of the grove leading further into the stronghold, overlooking the battle happening at the foot of the mountain. Thanks to the steep incline, it all laid in front of him like a miniature simulation.

But everything was real, and with every stab of the Dwarven metal into one of the soldiers' gut, with every spell exploding against a wayward trunk, and with every creature succumbing to the influence of the fires ravaging the forest, pain pricked and stabbed into Jona's form. It got to a point where getting up in the mornings was near impossible, and falling asleep the moment the moons replaced the sun in the sky became a convenience.

Even then, Jona tied his hair back before he faced the soldiers. He made sure to dab the littlest bit of powder underneath his eyes and paint his lips with his signature purple shade. The soldiers spent most of the day fighting for their lives. Jona, as their impromptu leader, should honor that effort by staying as strong as he could manage.

The past few days had been nothing but stalemates. They were able to drive most of the Heiress' people back down, stalling their ascent, but in doing so, they have lost some good soldiers too. Every day, the number of wax candles stuck on the ground around the throne's sanctuary increased until the flames of the nearest stick almost touched the tip of the flower's crystalline petals.

The forest wasn't faring either. Smoke curled from the canopies, bleeding from the ever-burning flames devouring the lower half of the mountain. The Heiress sure loved playing with fire. The air carried the smell of odian. Blood and its tangy scent would always join it. Particles of ash flew past Jona every time the wind blew from the east.

Today's battle started early in dawn. The moons haven't even completely faded, the sky still plunged in a deep shade of purple. Jona was forewarned by the stabbing pain in his side, accentuating the wound Acosa had given him. He didn't need to hear the explosions or the rifles clicking and firing; he sent his soldiers to fight before any of the black-clad people made it towards half the mountain's incline.

And instead of relying on reports made by the commanders, Jona insisted on seeing it with his eyes. That's what got him out of bed this morning and by the lip of the grove today.

He watched as the Dwanzeigian soldiers fought with swords and their synnavaimis. Clangs of metal rang in the air. The distinct crunch of branches rushing in their growth and vines snapping complimented it. Black-armored people swished in between branches in quick streaks, blending with the shadows of the canopies or through magical means. Jona, having seen what their enemy was capable of, warned everyone about their strange ability to travel through shadows. They would pick the most unpredictable path to appear, and before one knew it, it's over.

Maybe that's how they got Jona too, like they almost got Nael back in the palace.

Dwanzeig was winning, from what Jona could gather with his own eyes. For every black figure the soldiers cut down, no one took their place. Reinforcements wouldn't come today. Hope blossomed in Jona's chest. Maybe they would win this after all. The throne would be safe for another day.

Then, even more defiant screams blasted through the space. Jona looked down to see masses of ink swirling in the air. Arms poked through, followed by the rest of the form bearing...

Jona's knees shook as his legs started shaking. He would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Jar's presence. His mind latched on the spikes the newcomers held. Even in the distance he boasted from the fight, those bright purple rings alternating with the ivory surface was unmistakable.

They were from the garabeen. Those spikes were their primary source of defense, used by curling into a tight ball when threatened. Some groups were able to infuse a type of venom in those scales, and by the looks of it, those were the groups the Heiress' people found.

And no doubt slaughtered with cold blood.

Garabeen spikes were part of their spine and ribs. One would not get anything unless one ripped them straight out from the network of bones. And it's only possible when the animal was dead, because Jona had to face it—who would stand by and watch while their own bodies were being destroyed?

He didn't even realize his fists clenched at his sides until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He looked down to find Jar looking at him for some sort of guidance on how to deal with this situation.

Well, Jona had one. And it would spell the end of everyone who dared take away innocent lives for their own benefit.

"Sound the alarm," Jona ordered. Jar's hand fell from his shoulder in shocked silence. "Bring the heavens down."

And with those words flying out of Jona's lips, there's no way on Umazure it wasn't happening.