“Sometimes, I stare at the sky. I wonder if my ambition will reach it; if my potential will be groomed under its gentle watch. Its colour matters not, nor the illumination it offers. No matter the time or season I find myself enamoured by it whenever I bother to look; something I do too little these days. The world below thinks of me like I do the sky. A gentle protector, someone who stands above. They are wrong. Nothing that I have gained could be done in grace. I stand where I do because I’ve tasted more blood in my mouth than any man, felt my bones rattle from the impact of worn down iron so many times I’ve become used to the numbness in one once dexterous fingers. I’ve seen so much red it no longer scares me and heard so many screams that the cheering crowds made up of my subjects are far more haunting than gratifying. The truth remains still that in spite of my efforts, I am nowhere near the summit. I know that now. What I have reached is simply a place to view the crevices below, nowhere close to grasping the stars above. I intend to go to Yujica tomorrow, offering whatever I can in exchange for her vile sorcery. I know the world will condemn me for what I do. The chaos that will ensue because of my wishes might very well bring more death and destruction to both my kingdom and people than I could ever imagine. But the sun above will still rise, as will the moon and night steal it away for their chance in the stars. No matter what I do below, the sky above will always be waiting for me. If I regret one thing, it is that I cannot live with a world as calm as the sky.” - Book of Tyra, entry twelve, “Woes of a lost king”.

***********

“Woah there… stand still, you might hurt yourself.”

I coughed, looking to my father who helped me up when my legs had failed me once again. Not but a season ago my birthday in the deep middle of winter passed, signalling me as a full-grown nine-year-old.

With my brother gone to study for the evening, I had hoped to fill his spot in my father’s schedule. Alas, the physical exertion disabled me faster than ever. My head was already light and the sun caused my eyes to sting. Too many days of leaving the curtains shut, ignoring my mother's warnings about waning daylight.

“I’m… alright father. I just need a break.”

“If that’s what you want.”

He pulled me over to the open bench in the courtyard, facing against the duelling grounds specified to my father's tastes. All his favourite weapons and a few dummies along with the standard flat ground ready for use and training barely a two-minute walk from where he slept. I slumped against the bench like a sack of potatoes, so thankful there was something to hold up my weight other than my legs. These benches were Sol’s handy work I tell you.

Father plopped down next to me, his blonde hair gently pushed by small gusts of wind as topaz eyes stared vacantly towards the courtyard. A fountain closer to our home generated a soft sound of water streaming, while the sun was at the peak of its shine. Even from here, I could hear the bustle of people in Oros, living and enjoying their lives to the fullest. The moment was a peaceful one, my father humming one of his tunes to himself like he always did while I made myself as still as possible to avoid further coughing.

“The leftmost dummies are close to breaking again.” My father said out of the blue.

“Can Grant not repair them?”

“He can but he’d see it as a priority. Knowing him he’d do it for free as well and I don’t want him to impair his own business.”

“But surely he would be honoured to help, right father?”

My father chuckled a bit, his fresh white shirt crumpling as he leaned over to ruffle my hair, something he never seemed to get sick of. Considering how the man towered over me in both physique and stature it would’ve been intimidating had this not been my father.

“Honour and practicality rarely get along. Sure he would be happy to serve me, but Grant might be forced to close his smith down should he not meet deadlines. It’s not a cheap lifestyle after all and we don’t have a local mine, transporting the resources alone…” Father paused for a moment to see if I was still listening, which I was. “…Point is, it serves me better to have a smith on hand when I might need him for something important rather than a fixed practice dummy. Sure, one dummy might not do it, but pushing excess tasks on my subjects will eventually cripple them and me.”

“Mmm, okay. I think I get it.”

“Sol what I wouldn’t give for Cera to do the same. You know she challenged her best friend to a duel over a boy not but a week ago, a duel! That was such a headache to fix I’d swear taking the magic of Mind flayers would be easier.”

I laughed a little, looking down at the paved light grey tiles below. My father was born on this land, the same as his father before and their father before. Supposedly one of my ancestors had saved the third prince of Pora in his time of need and when that prince had inherited the throne, more fitting and powerful than his siblings, he had bestowed both nobility and land upon my family and their future generations. Many of the halls in our manor had paintings depicting military moments of prowess performed by members of the family, or even the weapons used themselves. Though it was a humble baron estate, our roots were proud ones.

It was an honour to be counted among them but also a burden that felt so heavy it might crush me. How could a body so frail hold up something so grand?

“That said there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t give up to keep you all alive and well.”

That was a rather abrupt thing to add.

He turned his head to meet mine and I was reminded once again how similar we looked. It wasn’t surprising, he was my father after all. The strong but lean build tied with the simple clothes that elegantly enhanced a warm smile made him look like a prince straight out of the fairy tales mother would…

…Wait a minute!

“Please try not to be too hard on yourself, there will never be a moment I don’t love you Vannis.”

…Who the heck is Vannis, my names… my nam…

***********

“Mmmy..” I mumbled into the soft surface my contorted body laid on, waking to a feeling of pure lethargicness.

My body wanted more sleep but had forced itself to wake up, interrupting my dream. I imagined this was what hangovers feel like. Slowly I propped myself up, wondering where the hell I was and why there were continuous quakes and bumps from where I now sat. Just with a brief glance, I realised I was in a carriage of some kind, much wider and longer than the ones I remembered. Small azure embers hung down from metal lamps originating from its four corners while the interior was made of a polished and sleek black wood hinged in black metal I didn’t recognise. Both the seat on my side and the opposite were lined with velvet cushions.

What stood out the most though was the fact I wasn’t alone.

“It took you long enough.” Zena, the second and only living Sanguine from the Zelkren clan noted, seeing me try to push my body up.

“It’s good to see you again too.”

She was dressed unlike before in a finely fitted deep velvet uniform shirt and jacket, black leather pants and boots made of intricate design that couldn't be cheap. Zena from what I recalled was always tidy, but now she maintained a visage closer to exquisite. Her expression couldn’t have been further away from alluring though, brow tightened as she looked at me with what could only be described as utter contempt.

“Where am I? If you don’t mind me asking,” I said, letting my backrest against the warm cushion as the world around me started to spin a little.

“Where you belong, as much as saying it feels like driving a rusty knife through my spleen.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

She shrugged, uncaring for my confused plight.

“A carriage then.”

“I gathered that much already, more specifics would be nice.”

“Do you remember nothing?” She asked, leaning back a little to pull something from one of the side compartments.

This carriage is massive, what the hell is pulling this thing?

“I remember winning, past that is fuzzy. Lot’s of mist and something horrible in my mouth.”

“You were in a nearly deceased state supposedly.” She mumbled, nodding to herself before throwing a black object towards me no bigger than a nut. “It’s your emblem, the Zelkren one. Put it on before we reach home.”

The little black broach in my hand was carved so it resembled a sword being bitten down by a jaw filled with sharp fangs. There were small symbols that glowed in crimson carved into it; something that made me feel uncomfortable. The metal that this broach was crafted from stole the light around it, dampening any reflection usual of metallic substances and drawing my curiosity but what piqued my interest more at the moment was something Zena had just mentioned.

“Zelkren… no that can’t be right, I’m a stray. Actually mentioning that, where are Delphine and Kell, hell I’d even take Ella right now.” I said moving up a bit and looking out the window only to realise they were completely blacked out. That made a lot of sense.

“You should be thankful, from what I’ve been told my Lady saved you on the brink of death.” She said with so much spite in her voice it was almost impressive.

I did recall something like that, though I’d never actually seen the snow haired woman's face or learned her name. All I recalled was the vibrant sensation of drinking her blood. Good memories.

“Wait, but shouldn’t I get a choice?”

“I believe you already made that choice, die a stray or live under the Zelkren clan. Please feel free to bite the hand of the master who feeds you though, mutt. How I’d love to cut you apart.” Zena replied, offering her first smile.

Master. That word disturbed me. This woman, the clan, even Lady Zelkren herself. None of them were my masters. I had no master and I never would. I was just me.

Does this bother me so much, I knew this was how it was going to be. I needed someone to take me in, yet even contemplating the idea of serving under someone fills me with so much distaste now. Why?

Because we belong to us.

I shifted back abruptly away from the blackened window as a voice went off in my head. So he was back. For a brief but enjoyable time until now I had thought him to have vanished when I carved Arcanes into him. It looked like that screaming sensation in me wasn’t going to fade so easily.

There must have been a visible shift in my expression because Zena didn’t pry further and although brief, I had gotten the explanation I needed. I sensed the Sanguine didn’t intend to offer any more insight nor would she accept my arguments about not belonging to the Zelkren clan at all. The air within the carriage lessened in tension once we stopped talking. Zena began to read and I just slumped back, feeling a gnawing urge to sleep. But I didn’t. No matter how comfy my cushion was or how certain I became that Zena wouldn’t slit my throat while I slept, my body refused to.

That fact alone birthed a paranoia within me. It seemed my proneness to fear hadn’t gone away. Not like that was something that was ever gonna happen, wishful thinking at best.

To try and quell it I started to search around the carriage for something to distract me. Zena noticed but gave me the courtesy of not asking nor intruding. Maybe she enjoyed the quiet or maybe she just hated the idea of talking to me that much.

My search was short-lived as it didn’t take long for me to find strange seams woven rectangularly into the carriage walls. With a small push the seam popped out into a compartment like Zena’s and a small, black tome thick as a brick fell out. It took a second for me to recognise it as the book Qixi had let me borrow… only it wasn’t.

This one was just slightly thicker and lacked the ale and bloodstains. Its skin also wasn’t made of the standard leather but something more reptilian, scaled in a sort of entrancing way. I was about to crack open when a whiff of scent lingered past my nose.

It smelled like rain.