ELARIA POVMy life felt like a monotonous play stuck on repeat, a relentless loop. Each morning began with the routine of being attended to by two maidservants, preparing for the day ahead. Breakfast with my parents was merely a formality, where I existed as nothing more than an ornament in these hollowed halls. Tea with Mother followed, adding to the dull procession of palace wanderings as if I hadn't already explored every corner of it.Yet amidst the suffocating sameness, there was one glimmer of purpose—a secret training regimen with Brax, Thrystan's trainer. It was the only aspect of my existence that felt meaningful and different from the mundane routine.However, it was imperative that no one discovered the truth. No one could know about the covert meetings that occurred three times a week, nor about the telltale signs of muddy dresses and boots from our training sessions. And above all, the forbidden secret that Brax had become more than just a trainer—he had become my confida
Arwyn Tonight's dinner was quite the departure from our usual morning routine. Instead of our cozy breakfast nook, we found ourselves ushered into a grand hall adorned with luxurious decor. Oval tables stretched to accommodate the gathering of about a hundred Blessed, with white curtains cascading elegantly around them. A bold red band wound its way from one end to the next, lending a regal touch to the ambiance.Taking my place at the table reserved for the First Embers, I couldn't shake the mixture of curiosity and apprehension swirling within me. Despite the opulent surroundings, there was an underlying tension in the air, as if the luxury only served to conceal deeper conflicts and hidden agendas.Amidst the chatter and clatter of plates and silverware, I couldn't shake the sensation of being an outsider in this realm of privilege and power. While the setting boasted grandeur, the mood was far from solemn, with the Blessed engaging in animated conversation and laughter that rever
ORDER OF THE BLESSED AS GIFTED BY THE HEAVENSEtheralScorchers; Blaze BringersSiroccians; Air weaversTerramancer; Earth Healers; Water manipulatorAnatomDiremages; control the heartbeats and the bloodVeilwalkers; clone people bodies and powersHealers; heal the body ElementalCinders; they fix things*************-***************ARWYNBeneath my nails, traces of dirt linger from my daring descent down the chimney of the brick-layered fabric store two nights ago. The worth of that venture now weighs on me as I sit in the dimly lit room of the same establishment, anticipation th reading through the air.Gloves hastily conceal my hands, shielding them from the prying glances of the passing servant-evidence of the undeniable dirt beneath. Leigh's disapproval echoes in my mind, her scolding for tarnishing the hands she meticulously softened with rose water and lavender. Yet, this sacrifice is a necessity.Having confirmed the lady of the fabric store's shady dealings, I make a silen
ARWYNThe powder puff in my grip is unleashed in the center of the room, releasing a cloud of pink smoke. I snort at the color, recalling the moment I instructed Raith to opt for a more mysterious hue. Black, dark blue, or even green would have added a wicked touch.A wry smile crosses my lips as the men cough and collapse to their knees, hands clutching their guts. Did I forget to mention the puff was laced with wildbane? Wildbane, a substance that reduces any soldier to weakness when inhaled-slowing their heartbeats to a dangerous rate. I refrain from breathing in the toxic air as I lunge for the window, but it doesn't budge.Heavens, boil me! I attack the window again, delivering stronger blows, but my breath is running thin. Frustrated, I abandon the unyielding window and sprint for the smaller door. How is this window sealed? There's no latch or hook in sight. Amidst the smoke, I can't see the Tailoress or her men, but groans of pain echo. Painful groans. Reaching the small door,
ARWYN "Arwyn, seriously, what the Heavens were you thinking?" Leigh's voice reached me as she wrung out a rag in the compact kitchen.I stumbled home, worn out and battered, and Leigh wasted no time bombarding me with questions and scolding remarks. I was exhausted from hearing her lectures about the disastrous idea of dealing with Pete. All I wanted was to collapse and tend to these cuts.She strolled over, bowl of water and fresh rag in hand. The chair in the corner protested loudly as she dragged it over, settling down with a purpose. Her golden hair, secured by one of her simple knitted bands, framed her face. Leigh didn't own a ton of hair accessories, but the few she had did little to diminish her natural beauty.In the cozy corner of our small apartment, Lilith played with dolls crafted by Leigh from our old clothes. Kale, now a scout on his way to becoming a soldier, was nowhere to be seen.Leigh muttered to herself, "Stay away from that Pete, but you never listen. Nope, not a
THRYSTANA brisk breeze whispers past my ears, and suspended fifty feet above ground, it almost convinces me that winter is making an early entrance. Yet, the air dances again, prompting a swift dodge as I deftly guide my dragon to the left.My Sirrocian friend seems to be having fun blasting wind in my face. Curiosity sparks within me, urging a fiery response to this playful challenge. With a subtle flourish, I weave my hands together, conjuring a mesmerizing ball of fire cradled in its own brilliance. I release it, watching as it rolls towards him; he ducks with a sly grin, obviously happy with his moves.As I peer ahead, commanding my dragon to ascend into the clouds, I sense Daelan's imminent presence. The hiss of his dragon and the swirling whirlwind foretell the tempestuous encounter unfolding mere seconds away.Heavens! I'll be unseated from my majestic beast before another fireball graces his damned face."Watch out for those rocks, your highness!" Daelan's warning echoes. Roc
THRYSTANWhile Elaria diligently exchanged her muddy boots, I took it upon myself to shed the sweat-soaked shirt I had worn while dancing in the wind with Daelan. I opted for something more regal, a wardrobe transformation echoing the taste of my father-something he would not just approve but adore.I slipped into a refined ensemble: a cream-colored inner shirt paired with a knee-length black coat adorned with intricate gold trinkets along the edges. The coat, deliberately split open, showcased the inner shirt. A brown belt cinched my waist, complementing the sleek black pants that gracefully met a cleaner pair of boots.Presenting myself in the hallway, I found Elaria standing before the colossal oak doors of the throne room. She fidgeted and twisted, her hand meticulously arranging her hair in the most perfect manner possible."Ease up a bit," I mumble from the shadows, jolting her so much that she drives a punch straight into my gut. Her swift strikes are irritatingly effortless, an
ARWYNDespite Leigh's stern warnings, I couldn't resist the allure of the Wreath. Pete's stronghold over the establishment was undeniable, his ownership extending far beyond just the physical arena. He had a knack for turning violence into profit, and the crowds flocked to witness the spectacle of men grappling and trading blows, each vying to prove their dominance.But the Wreath wasn't just a playground for testosterone-fueled brawls. It was a melting pot of desires and ambitions, where men and women alike sought entertainment, excitement, and sometimes, something more.Women graced the stands alongside men, their presence a testament to the universal appeal of the Wreath's offerings. Some came for the sheer thrill of the spectacle, while others found themselves dragged along by partners eager to partake in the festivities. And then there were those who wandered the shadows, their intentions less noble, seeking pleasure and profit in equal measure.It was a world of excess and indulg