Zara Dawnheart
My heels thundered against the polished marble as I made my way past rigid rows of highly decorated elves, a cold smirk plastered to my face. The smell of incense and flowers tickled my nose and the soft murmurs of barely concealed conversations pressed against my ears, but the whispers were just a tad too quiet to discern their meaning. Not that it mattered. Gossiping was the favourite past time of our bored lords and ladies and the face I was wearing had more than enough unsavoury rumours attached to it. Come to think of it, most probably weren't just rumours. Ianven had been a real piece of work.
The royal hall was a long, open building under a slanted roof, carried by gilled pillars, their metal etched with scenes from our history ever since the fall. The coronation of our first king, the discovery of the flying stones, the battle for supremacy against the indigenous, magical species of our home. Each image had been created with painstaking accuracy until the flickering light of the braziers seemed to bring the past back to life before my eyes.
Under the watchful gaze of our ancestors the leading families of our people reclined on cold, carved seats, cut directly from the massive slab of marble that served as the foundation of the entire edifice. Beautiful women sat side by side with imposing men, each trying to outdo the other silently. In case of our illustrious dukes it meant the display of their prowess, be it in terms of enchanted weapons that glowed with the promise of destruction, or through obvious hints at the magical lineage that burned in their veins. Some where surrounded by a halo of powerful spells, others had sprouted long, emerald furs as proof that they had subjugated and tamed an Emerald Bear, and a very few had even grown crystalline horns on their heads to showcase their ability to dominate the eldest wyverns living in the central mountains.
The female aristocrats had a different, more subtle approach. As advanced as our magic was, almost every elf was born with the ability to feel the hidden forces, appearances had long since become a question of personal preferences and the power or wealth to implement them. In the past it had led to a variety of almost comical results as each noble lady had tried to outshine her competition with even more extreme transformations. Elf-beast hybrids, crystalline skin or metallic hair had been the norm. Nowadays it had become an unspoken agreement to not change one's original looks, but rather perfect them. Immaculate skin, angelic faces with glimmering, colourful eyes and lithe, but busty figures barely hidden under skimpy, but elaborate dresses turned the court into every boy's guilty dream.
A cold breeze whispered through the hall and made the flames in the braziers dance and crackle as another cloud of incense laden smoke rose towards the distant ceiling. It was going to rain, soon. With a noise like silk dragging over stone some women adjusted their tails and snuggled deeper into their soft, warming appendages. Since my immortal mistress had appeared in the open, fox tails and ears in a variety of colours had become a sought after transformation. At least to those who either had the strength or money to make them look like a kitsune's. Which also explained why they were nowhere to be found amongst those sitting near the door and omnipresent close to the back of the hall. Even an elven archmage was hard pressed to mimic the appearance of one of Ahri's tails and they still couldn't come close to how the real thing felt.
My eyes darted over the assembled nobles and towards the head seat. Near the back wall the throne towered on a raised dais adorned with glowing runes that contained enough magic to seal the entire upper city behind an adamantine barrier for weeks. A man with long, white hair sat on it stoically, his back still ramrod straight despite the centuries weighing down on him.
Our king hadn't changed in decades, but, ever since he had returned from wherever Ahri had taken him, a nervous spark had ignited in his gaze and I thought I saw the first signs or wrinkles appear on his forehead. It wasn't common knowledge, but the angel had taken the ruler of our nation from his very bed without anyone being the wiser. I still didn't know why, but one thing was for sure, her message had been conveyed. No matter where you are, no matter what pesky hurdles you throw in my way, if I want your life, I'll take it and there's nothing for you to do, but wait and pray. He wasn't feeling powerful, he wasn't even feeling safe anymore and it showed.
Thus far nothing much had changed from yesterday and I was already going through my list of excuses why I couldn't stay for the entire session, but then I almost stumbled. I managed to play it off as a cough, but my eyes remained glued to the throne. To its right there was still a vacant seat, my seat, and the two of us should have been the only ones allowed to even set foot on the dais, but in the shadows behind the king an elf was moving. Just as I recovered from my surprise and took the last few steps towards the throne she stepped into the light of the closest brazier.
Tresses of an almost translucent white flowed around a small, beautiful face with lush, deep red lips and a straight, proud nose. High cheekbones and large, elven ears gave her an angular, maybe distinguished flair, but it were her eyes that truly stood out to me. Emerald, sapphire, even golden or silver irises were common among my people, but I had never before seen that particular shade of red, dark and vivid like freshly shed blood. Her gaze smouldered in the flickering shadows as she glided towards the front of the dais.
I halted, barely an arm's length away from the polished steps that'd lead me to the throne. My thoughts were racing. I didn't know who she was or where she had come from, but the simple fact that she had been allowed in here, that she had been allowed to ascend the dais, proved her influence. My throat felt parched and I swallowed dryly as the disjointed impressions of the last hour came together into a disconcerting mosaic. The missing guards, the murmurs in the hall, the appearance of a stranger… by themselves they wouldn't mean much, but added together… I still couldn't see it. My instincts screamed at me that something was wrong and a sinking feeling, as if I was falling down a long tunnel, spread through my stomach, but I just couldn't put my finger on why that particular elf was setting off all my alarm bells.
"Ianven Crownfury," she purred when she had reached the edge of the platform and her dark, silky voice wafted through the room like a fluttering shroud. A small, predatory smile tugged on the corners of her mouth as she stared down on me, but it didn't reach her eyes. They glowed with cruel anticipation. "It's been so long. Don't tell me… you don't recognise your own sister, do you?" Whispers rose behind me, quiet enough for me to realise that the aristocrats had already been told, but I didn't yet manage to piece it together. Nervously I wetted my lips, my eyes darting to the king, my… our supposed father, but his face was an unreadable mask, half hidden in the shadow of his crown.
"The princess is dead," Astra stated solemnly. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed her slowly rising to her feet, her gaze fixated on the red eyed elf in front of me. "You don't even look like her. Lords and ladies of the court, why are you allowing a brazen imposter to reopen wounds that took years to heal? Your pride has kept you from accepting peace with the fey, but now you tolerate a nameless brat who insults the royal family? Who openly claims their name? Guards!"
"Don't be hasty, Lady Starweaver. You've arrived with the young prince and have missed her explanation." A broad shouldered elf calmly opposed her. His sword scraped loudly over the polished marble when he, too, got to his feet and allowed the aura of his servants to expand. The outlines of a towering green hydra and a snarling ice wolf manifested for the fraction of a second behind him, before they collapsed back into his body. "Hear her out, I insist."
"It's not your place to insist, Lord Duskmourne," the imposing woman snarled, "and I'd advise you to put a leash on your pets. Otherwise I might be tempted to cut a new set of gloves out of their hide." The colour rose to his cheeks, but Astra had already turned away. She kneeled gracefully and inclined her head towards the throne. "Your Majesty, will you allow a stranger to besmirch the memory of your only daughter?" I was still reeling, trying to make some sense of the confusing spectacle, and consequentially acted like a fish on a dry land. My sister? Our people had had a princess, once, but she had disappeared years before my birth. I couldn't quite remember, but I thought she had been killed while hunting in the mountains, at least if the rumours I had heard had been true. But if she had survived… where had she been?
"Why are you convinced that I'm lying," the red eyed elf interjected smoothly. She had titled her head to the side and looked genuinely puzzled, but her eyes remained as cold and hard as gems. "Have you seen my corpse all those years ago? You haven't, because I vanished overnight. I wasn't killed, Lady Starweaver, I was abducted. Do you honestly believe I have no proof? Of course I do." She raised her hand and a wisp of golden mana materialised in her palm. On a silent command it circled around the throne and vanished into one of the engraved runes. Barely a heartbeat later the sigil lit up with a soft, warming glow and a thin, protective sphere formed around the royal hall. In the back of my mind I realised that we had just been sealed in, but I was much too distracted to think it through.
"See," she continued, "the throne only recognises our blood. If you don't believe me, why don't you and my brother try to activate one of the enchantments? Only he will succeed, I'm sure." Astra's face fell at the same moment I felt my stomach sink to my knees. Oh bother, this had taken a turn for the worst quite fast.
"And what's that supposed to prove," Lyra piped up. The light from the braziers danced mesmerisingly on her aquamarine hair when she shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Anybody with the proper training can use an artefact." With a satisfied smirk she added: "if you want proof, look." She effortlessly emulated the magic from before and activated another rune, overlaying the active spell with one of her own. Now she was in control.
"Enough." I almost jumped as the deep, hoarse voice boomed through the hall and silenced the whispers Lyra's actions had kindled. At the same time the runes the women had activated dimmed down. The king had finally spoken. "Enough with the charade." An eerie, pulsing light ignited in his eyes and casted his face in sharp lines. "Our future is worth more than your game, Maya. Don't delay and speak plainly. This matter needs to be resolved." Maya… his daughter's name. He had already acknowledged her.
A mocking smile tugged on the corners of her mouth while her blood red eyes bore down on me for a moment longer. Then she bowed elegantly towards the throne, her face a mask of pure obedience. "Your will," was all she said before she faced me again with the air of someone carrying a heavy burden. "Your companion has remarked that I no longer look like my younger self. The reason is simple. I had to change my appearance, otherwise I'd never have managed to reach the Emerald Island alive. The people who took me all those years ago, they didn't let me go. I fled after decades of suffering, but my own fate isn't important at the moment. What is, is their identity. They are thieves, assassins… spies and they know much about our island. Every island. Do you want to know what surprised me most, Ianven?" Her mouth twitched when she added:
"Or should I say Zara Dawnheart? Servant of an angel and murderer of our prince, of my brother?" My heart beat once like a drum of war as silence settled in, heavy and foreboding. The blood drained from my face and even though I knew I had to laugh, I had to shrug it off and challenge her immediately, I couldn't prevent my hands from curling into fists, nor could I suppress the cold sweat that was forming on my brow.
For a long, drawn out moment I stared at her and my world shrunk to the size of her burning gaze as I realised, deep in my bones, that I had just walked into a trap. A trap that had already closed the very moment I… we had set foot in the royal hall. We… fear gripped me, strong enough to make me wince, and I inadvertently spun around, my eyes darting from one noble to the next. I was looking for my friends, I had to make sure they were still there, that they were unharmed, but that turned out to be a pipe dream.
The very moment she had spoken three guards had materialised behind each of them and as I watched in petrified silence two grabbed their arms and held them tight while the third secured massive iron collars, covered in runes and tiny spikes that pointed inwards, around their necks. Pained grunts echoed around the otherwise frozen hall and with misleadingly soft thuds they were forced to their knees, the runes on their shackles humming with an eerie, greenish light.
"It's a pity," the devil in an angelic guise continued smoothly and with an adequate amount of hesitation, as if she was casually chatting over tea, while my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. "After everything… one of our own. I hoped… but I think they were right. You aren't my brother. You're a traitor and the reason we…" I didn't listen anymore. Whoever she was, she was dangerous and we were in way above our heads. We needed help. Now. My fear, my confusion, even the last embers of hatred I carried around with me, hardened into a single cry, a single wish, and the mark on my back roared to life with crimson flames.
First my attire vanished in a shower of sparks, then my disguise melted with a hiss like boiling water and finally an otherworldly fire engulfed my entire body. I couldn't see, but the crimson reflection of furious flames, I couldn't hear, but the thunderous rumble of disintegrating magic and I couldn't smell, but the faint scent of pine trees and heat. I felt myself rise into the air, I felt the cold, hard ground vanish beneath my feet, but then the maelstrom of otherworldly power abated and I found myself hovering near the ceiling on wings made of eternal flames. She hadn't come, but neither had she forsaken me and I just knew that somewhere, far away, my guardian angel was watching.
Chaos devoured the hall below as even more guards appeared and every single noble jumped to their feet, their magic already burning at their fingertips. The soldiers had apparently stepped out of thin air, but I could still see the afterimages of their concealment spells, even though they were already being swallowed by the cresting power of our strongest bloodlines. Spells with the strength to burn and freeze, to crush and tear were taking shape through hollered incantations, but despite the frantic, deadly mayhem I felt calmer. My desperation had burned away with my clothes, my fear had been incinerated alongside my disguise when a strange, alien clarity had surged through my mind and allowed me to think rationally again.
The who, why and how didn't matter. Not right now. All I had to do was grab my friends and run as fast and far as I could. I didn't know what Ahri had done to me, I didn't even know how long it was going to last, but I had to make every second count. Which meant I had to make sure we could leave in the first place and secondly I had to prevent our soldiers from giving chase. Easier said then done. I'd either have to incapacitate them or scare them senseless. Hopefully my mistress hadn't been stingy with her strength.