Moira trails behind Sara and Eclipse, who for the first time in two days, aren’t bickering. Any other time she was happy with the silence. But this time it's different. Sara doesn’t hum or skip like before. She clutches the marble and keeps her eyes forward. Watching her, she remembers her own tragedy. Once again fire, the symbol of change, alters her path.

She can't shake the hollow eye sockets and blackened bodies from her mind. At times she feels the boney fingers wrap around her wrist. A sinister laugh sends chills over her body; transporting her to a dark night where the white flames burn her skin.

Stop! She shakes the images from her mind. Focus on facts. The past is just that; gone. Only the present matters, and that means the weapons discovered at Dragon Haven. Either soldiers from Bellavere or another group with their weapons. With any luck her friends in Bellavere will know which is which. But something else nags at her. Tyran's appearance and his rich patron. It can’t be a coincidence he was there to slay dragons.

The only certainty is Eclipse’s determination to get as far from Dragon Haven as possible. He trudges through the trees until they emerge on the compact dirt of the main road. Not a traveller in sight. She doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a sign of trouble. Eclipse’s body is tense; he’s on alert as well.

But the tension evaporates as Bellavere comes into view. Sara marvels at the vast kingdom at the edge of an endless lake. An opulent limestone bridge rises from the calm watery depths while matching walls encase spires that reach the sky. Beautiful cream colour Swanbons glide on the rippling surface; stretching their long necks in the sunshine. She smiles as their ribbon-like tail feathers dance in the breeze.

“Whoa, this is Bellavere!” Sara exclaims.

“Yes, the kingdom’s a religious one; renowned for limestone architecture and cathedrals.”

“And the people who killed my parents are inside?”

“I don’t know for sure. Hopefully, my friend here knows more.”

Each tower, locked behind a colossal exterior wall, competes with the rest to reach the heavens. The miraculous arches between towers hang suspended high above the streets. The kingdom resembles an impregnable fortress; safety only granted to the pure of heart. A thunderous clanging of heavy brass bells shatters the tranquility and rips through the forest.

Birds flee their nests and, like the towers, find sanctuary above the land. Sara squirms from her grasp and watches them flutter; the first honest smile in days. She rushes ahead to study the giant figures of devout disciples decorating the kingdom’s entrance. Eclipse sniffs the stone as they cross and identifies the scent of funeral incense. She frowns, only a funeral of an aristocrat or clergy, merits a procession beyond the gate.

People emerge from their modest homes which blend into their neighbours; carefully fitting neatly into the other. The black tile roofs create a dark ocean above them. Sara points to the cathedral’s high arches which connect to higher towers; commenting on the hideous stone gargoyles. As the bells dim to a murmur, she investigates the fiery reds, purples, and golds blazing through the stain glass windows. Straining to balance on a barrel she presses her ear to the window; humming along to the solemn song.

“Time to go,” she smiles and Sara reluctantly follows. She turns to Eclipse, “it won’t hurt for her to spend some time learning about the old ways.”

“I doubt she possesses the attention span to sit and comprehend an entire service.”

“She isn’t stupid.”

“I did not say that. At this point, it is more helpful to make her behave. Her kind sticks out like a sore thumb, and we do not need that attention.”

“She behaves just fine.” But the sound of metal clinking across stone cuts her thought short. She watches a piece of metal roll; spin then fall flat between his legs. Sara, jumps on one foot, hops one block at a time and stops short of his nose.

“Eclipse, please move, you’re in the way,” she holds her left leg in her right hand.

“Pardon?”

“It’s my new game! I jump the blocks until I reach the thingy. But since it’s under your belly you need to move, or I can’t win,” she wobbles, “please, if I put my foot down, I lose!”

“Moira, what is this?”

“It’s a game Eclipse, didn’t you hear her?”

“There is no time for games! There is an agenda to keep!”

“But Eclipse, I gotta win!”

“You don’t want her to lose, do you?” He glares at Moira as he slumps on the road.

“Never play games with me, twerp.” He smirks as he flicks his paw; sending the piece whizzing across the street, “I always win.”

“But, but… I just wanted to play…”

The castle, mirroring the churches it worships, occupies the heart of the kingdom. Arched walkways lead to different sectors; arteries supplying blood to the rest of the body. At the highest point stands a tower housing the kingdom’s namesake; the legendary bell which, when rung, is said to be heard throughout the continent. Crossing the limestone courtyard, they pass marble statues of cleric kings with Hazelwood trees growing between them. Two soldiers guard the castle entrance; wearing a distinctive emblem of white ivory with a silver bell around their necks.

“The castle is off limits to visitors during the mourning period.” The older soldier grumbles.

“Who passed?” Eclipse asks.

“The King. Understand this is a difficult time for us all.”

“But when I visited a few months ago, he was lively and healthy. Please, I need to see the Princess.”

“No one is permitted inside, Queen’s orders.”

“The Princess will want to see me. Tell her Moira wishes to speak to her.”

“Orders are orders.”

“Sir,” the younger guard coughs, “don’t you know who this is? She’s the princess’s Mage friend. I remember her at the Spring Tea Party three months ago. You seriously don’t remember the panther?”

“I’ve direct orders from Her Majesty, and orders are orders.”

“But sir,”

“You know, mister soldier sir,” Sara taps the officer’s arm, “my Daddy died and I’m really sad, I wish I had a friend to visit me— but they all died in the fire...” The soldier’s mouth clamps shut and he sends a sidelong glance to his partner. The silent conversation between them is brief and the superior opens the door.

“Perhaps she is worth keeping around,” Eclipse smirks as they enter the castle. Sara’s sombre expression vanishes once she spies the impeccable dome ceiling over the onyx throne. Hundreds of angelic faces smile from the heavenly fresco. Angels and gods celebrate from a leafy paradise full of waterfalls and rainbows.

“It’s like the pictures in Daddy’s books!”

From the left the guards open the door and a group of giggling courtly ladies glide into the room. Their chatter fills the air while their colorful silks and sparkling gems ignite the grim space in vibrant life. In the centre is her friend Nicole, dressed in a slim white gown that follows her slender curves before forming a train across the marble. A polished moonstone pendant hangs around her neck and stops at the perky pink bow decorating her chest.

She spies them and, disregarding royal ceremony, rushes to Moira; her styled brown hair bounces as she crosses the room. She wraps her white-gloved arms around her neck; enveloping her in her warm soothing presence. She squeezes, tighter than usual and hesitates to let go. When they part, she hides the trembling lips behind the friendly enthusiastic smile. A charming face which puts anyone at ease; how quickly it replaces the pain she hides.

“I thought you were away until the fall!” She holds Moira at an arm’s length, “a delightful, unexpected surprise.” Then she notices Sara hiding behind her cloak. “Who is this charming girl?”

“Sara, this is Her Royal Highness Nicole Winterman, she’s a dear friend of mine.” Sara manages an awkward curtsey.

“I never met a princess before,” Sara blushes. “You have a pretty ceiling.”

“Well thank you, my great-great-grandfather hired the best artist in the kingdom to paint it.” Nicole smiles, “Although my favorite one is over the stairway to the second floor. That artist collected religious texts from all over the continent and painted every mythical creature that live in Paradise.”

“Are there dragons?”

“Well, no, but there’s many others for you to see. Will you like to?”

“Oh yes please!”

“Eclipse, do you know which one I mean?”

“I do your highness. Come Sara, might as well teach you something while you are with us.” Sara follows them through the door Nicole entered from.

“Eclipse why aren’t dragons allowed in Paradise?”

“That is a long story.”

“Please?” but Eclipse’s answer is muffled as the door shuts behind them.

“She is charming, but when did you start adopting children?”

“She’s currently under my guardianship. It’s a long story.”

“Still accepting jobs from that Big Lou character?”

“Something like that. Nicole, I’m sorry for your loss. Edgard was a wonderful man.” She spent many summer days in Bellavere and the king always treated her as his own. He teased Nicole about how refreshing it was to have a daughter who took interest in his books.

Nicole didn’t mind though, she never went into the library, claimed the dust made her sneeze. Edgard was an avid traveller and his journals from his adventures were her favorite. Her heart aches, she recalls all the notebooks he will never fill. All his adventures cut too short. She glances at her friend and the same loss reflects in her eyes.

“He was the greatest, a daughter could not ask for a more loving father.” Moira hugs her again, this time, longer than before. “Let us take a walk in the gardens, the flowers are beautiful this time of year.”

Lush grasses and fragrant flowers grow unexpectedly in the secluded walled garden of stone; bushes and trees carefully sculpted into the countless creatures Nicole wholeheartedly adores. She passes tributes to unicorns, mermaids, forest nymphs and beautiful marble silhouettes of angels. The splashing of gushing water fills the air, as elaborate water fountains transform the garden into an oasis.

“I miss you terribly,” she confesses, linking arms with her, “this place seems gloomier each day.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner; I was out of reach as of late.”

“You spend too much time with monks. People of faith are always the last to know anything!” Nicole’s laugh, part laugh part cackle, rings across the garden. It makes her smile; Alona knows she needs something happy. With the uncertainty fluttering in her chest, the comfort of a friend is therapeutic. They walk side by side, allowing the serenity to wash over them. “But in all honesty, I am happy you are here. Bellavere seems rather strange, and I am at a loss.”

“I understand the world may feel empty without your father, but one day it’ll feel normal again.”

“Perhaps, but I am more concerned with Mother and her new friend.”

“New friend?” Of all the years she’s spent with Nicole, her mother was never the making friends’ type. Margaret used people then threw them away in the same breath.

“Father met him while travelling, and he recently relocated here. Now him and mother are inseparable. Which is fine, I know she needs a friend during this trying time—”

“But?”

“He is peculiar. And not in the shy socially awkward way. It is as if he hates people in general.”

“Does this angry mute have a name?”

“Remo Kipling.”

“Thee Remo Kipling?”

“By the Gods, no. Apparently it is a common name where he is from.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No mother did. He is not the talkative type. At least not with me.”

There’s no way he’s alive. Moira, you’re jumping to conclusions. “Did the doctor determine the cause of your father’s death?”

“He was sick. Blood in the urine, convulsions, and vomiting.” She leans closer and whispers, “the doctor suspected poison. Can you imagine something so horrible?”

“How is your mother? Is she ill?”

“Not exactly, she locked herself away, which I know is because of her grief. But at the same time, well, she only sees Master Remo. Or is it General now?”

“General? Diamond is General.”

“Not anymore, he relinquished the position and Mother gave it to Kipling. Mother claims the pressure of losing father and the running the army was too much for him. But no one, not even his son Charles, knows his whereabouts. Everything seems different now,” she shrugs, “I wish father was still here, he always knew what to do. But mother is Queen Regent until I come of age, so I have faith her choices are best.”

“But people’s lives may be in danger, your mother is —”

“Oh, do not be so dramatic Moira. Mother is simply grieving. I have spoken to the bishops regarding the matter and they say loss affects everyone differently. Father’s absence brings many changes. It is something we must all grow into.”

“But don’t you think it’s a bit suspicious that a lot of strategic changes are happening all at once? Diamond has been general for as long as I can remember. Your father has barely been ill his entire life. But your mother, how can I say this, has always been…. problematic.”

“That is too far.”

“All I’m saying is perhaps we should be careful.”

“What for? How can you accuse her of dishonorable intentions? The nerve, Moira. She’s, my mother.” Nicole states ending the argument.

She retires to her duties leaving Moira alone beside a marble deer. She runs her hand over the smooth hind and traces the bushy tail. The latest reports claim Kipling fled to the coast, but no one has found any trace of him. She convinced herself he existed as a story to scare the nobles from abusing the unfortunate. Or a cautionary tale for the peasants; if you disobey, your homes will burn like Alexanderia. Hero or villain is a matter of perspective; but the truth is, she’s better off with him dead.

She searches the vacant halls for Eclipse, hoping he’ll convince her General Kipling isn’t the man from her nightmares. But every step through the castle sends dread pulsating through her body. Something tells her he paced the very halls she occupies. Walking over his route feels like snakes slithering over her body. Her breaths quicken as reality sinks into the pit of her stomach. He’s here.