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Chapter Text

It was done. 

Rayla stood frozen with shock as she watched the now lifeless body of the guard in front of her. Blood spilled from his throat, turning the mud below into a sickly red color. 

She had killed him. 

He was dead. 

She had taken a life. 

Her breaths came hard, but Rayla couldn't tell if it was from running, or the twisting in her gut. 

She had taken, She was a full assassin. She should feel proud but... She didn't... She felt sick, like she could puke at any moment. For a moment, she thought she would.

Her knees felt weak, her arms felt like they could barely hold themselves up, much less her bla- Rayla glanced down as her weapons, only to shout as she saw just how blood covered she was in general. It dripped from the metal blades onto her fingers, then down to her hands, then arms... She dropped her swords into the mud in disgust, immediately hating the warm, wet feeling. The falling water did nothing to wash away the blood, it only allowed the blood to move faster down her arms, then drip onto her shoes and her pants.

The lightning flashed, and she caught sight of the guard's gray, lifeless eyes, still full of terror from the last moments of his life. His mouth was open in a scream that Rayla had cut short, red mud washed over his tongue, staining it the same color alongside the rest of the face submerged into the water.

She backed away from the body, her breath catching in her throat, only for her legs to give out beneath her. She fell into the mud with a shriek, barely catching herself on her hands and knees. Everything felt wet and warm now, she was sitting in his blood-!

A stray sound escaped her throat, not a laugh, she didn't smile... Was she crying? Was that a sob? The rain roared in her ears, she could hardly hear herself, yet she knew her heart was beating faster than the Lunar Wolves ran on a hunt.

She brought her hands out of the mud, only to stare as the red refused to wash away. She was shaking, she realized with horror. 

Why was she shaking? 

She had done what she had to do, why was she so upset?! She had done what she was supposed to! She had done her job, why was she crying and shaking?!

What was wrong with her?!

Chapter Text

The battle of Elarion. 

The battle that lasted three days and three nights was finally coming to an end. Humans fought against elves of all kinds and races, each with the ferocity of a pack of wolves within them. Skywings and dragons swarmed the skies, barely flying past and around whirring arrows and spears laced with magical energy. In the center of the fray stood Aaravos, clad in his best armor, the speckled stars across his skin glowing brighter than the sunfire knights' blades, his eyes alight with rage and magic as he fought wave after wave of elf and dragon alike. 

The moon of the third night was falling, the stars were already being hidden by the oncoming blue of the sky as the sun rose in the east. Aaravos paid them no mind. He had no time to. 

He barely turned with a quickly drawn rune and a single uttered word, stopping an arrow just moments away from hitting him, before creating another rune and tracing the arrow back to its owner. His sight caught onto a young moonshadow with a bow. Without hesitation, Aaravos sent the arrow back to it's master. The moonshadow barely had a chance to move before the arrow struck through his chest.

He had little time to watch and breath before a flash of light from above stole his attention. He turned out of the way, barely dodging a burst of fire from a dragon above. A single rune sent ice piercing the dragon's heart from within by it's own blood. It fell to the ground with a roar, shaking the earth below Aaravos' feet as he landed. 

Again, Aaravos had little time to breathe as another dragon tried to attack him. Why did they insist of going after him of all beings? They knew he was too powerful for just one of them to take down-

"Aaravos!" 

Aaravos turned, only for an arrow with purple smoke following after it to fly over his head and hit the other dragon who had been coming for him. It didn't take much to spot who had shot that arrow: Elarion's high mage, Ziard. Though the mage was old, he was no doubt skilled in more than just magic. His shot, even if it was guided by a gryphon's eye, was impressive nonetheless. 

Aaravos nearly commented, only for the worry on Ziard's face to cut him short. "It's Sol Regem, he-." Ziard said urgently.

"Leave him, Ziard." Aaravos warned, muttering a short 'frigis' under his breath and freezing a sunfire's hands until she dropped her weapon with an agonizing scream. "He won't take part in this battle, not after you blinded him. Let him sit from afar and listen to the sound of his own elitism echoed in the screams of his subjects-"

"He has the children." 

"Sol Regem!" Aaravos shouted as soon as he saw the large archdragon. Both of Sol Regem's wings were outstretched, surrounding the large group of children sent away shortly beforethe battle began. Sol's head was bent low, his large teeth were bared towards the kids, his claws almost touched one... Almost as soon as Aaravos had called, Sol's massive head lifted, then turned towards Aaravos' direction. Aaravos came to a stop, preparing a spell to at least save the children should Sol act... "I knew you were low, but to threaten children? Will you stop at nothing to hold humans beneath your claws once more?"

A low rumble sounded in Sol's throat. He lifted a wing, then ushered the children aside with a claw. "I never threatened." He responded with an amused tone. Aaravos didn't let the magic of the spell fade despite Sol letting the herd of children escape and take cover inside a nearby cave hidden in a hill. "Nor do I entend to do anything to 'keep humans beneath my claw' as you put it. Unlike what you and your pet city may think, this has nothing to do with equality."

"This has everything to do with equality!" Aaravos argued back, straining to keep himself calm, despite this being the same argument he pressed for nearly a decade with no avail. It was pointless to argue, that was why they were where they were, yet still here Aaaravos stood and tried a final time. "If the humans were ever thought to be equal with the elves in magical ability, it would shatter everything your society was built upon-"

"This is not magic!" Sol responded harshly, yet Aaravos couldn't care less for the archdragon's anger. "Your humans don't have magic, they have death. They use the lives of others to fuel their own desires."

Aaravos almost hissed himself. Here they went again... "How different is it from your meals?" He demanded, then gestured to the battlefield far behind him. "How different is it to this?! Your elves and dragons are killing more of us in seconds than we could kill in years!"

Another low rumble came from the archdragon, then slowly grew into a loud, booming laugh that made even the hills shiver. "This is to prevent a poison from spreading to the rest of the humans."

"Poison-" Aaravos spat out. His rage was getting to him. His hands were beginning to shake. He wouldn't be able to draw a rune if he couldn't get control of himself, yet-

"Yes, that is all your precious city is: A poisonous root. Do you know what happens to poisonous things that need desposing of?" Sol questioned, taking a step forward. Though he could not see, Aaravos knew he could still move well enough. One didn't need to see to know where one was.

Fear and realization washed over Aaravos suddenly, he turned back to Elarion with horror. This had been a mistake-

Another laugh from Sol, more powerful even. Rocks crumbled from one of the further cliffs, Aaravos was sure it could be heard on the battlefield. "They are burned."

"NO!" Aaravos yelled just as the center of the city suddenly went up in flames. The tallest building burst through the middle, creating a cloud of ash and rubble over the city, the sound of the explosion sounded many seconds after yet send the hills beneath him into an even worse tremor than before. Aaravos tried to run towards Elarion, only to have someone grab his arms. He turned to push them off, all magic forgotten in the single urge of get to Elarion, Save Elarion.

A pair of earthbloods had his arms, he struggled to break free, but it was for naught and he was forced to his knees instead. Pain lit up his back just as the magic in his eyes faded completely. 

More explosions went off inside the city. The humans on the battlefield turned to watch as their home was destroyed, Aaravos could do nothing but watch helplessly as they were cut down one by one, stricken still in their own horror. 

He tried a draw a rune and activate a final spell, but was stopped by a lightning-fast hand catching his own. "Just watch." Sol rumbled. "This was your doing. Had you not gotten involved in their lives, none of this would have happened." Aaravos was frozen and caught with nothing to say for the first time in his life as he watched the city fall before his eyes, in ash, smoke, and blood. 

This was the fall of Elarion...

This was your doing.

Aaravos hung his head and looked away. Tears began streaming down his face, he shook with more than just rage. It was gone. Everything he had done- Everything he had worked for...

It went up in flames.

"That is enough," Sol finally ordered, as the final screams of death faded. "This battle has been won, let us go." 

There was a sharp jab of pain in the back of his head, then nothing but darkness.

Chapter Text

Runaan had been in here for four days. 

The dungeon was cold, dark, unforgiving, but it was merely a small part of the overall discomfort he was experiencing. Of course, his legs were numb beneath him, the bind was slowly becoming tighter as the hours passed, his other arm felt like he needed to stretch it, he was starving, but perhaps the worst of all of the situation was the dehydration. 

Each time he moved, the dungeon seemed to spin around him for a time, before it slowed back to stillness again. He felt tired yet restless at the same time, hot despite the cold of the cell. He knew he had a fever, but he refused to even acknowledge it. He was already dead. It didn't matter.

His mouth was terribly dry and his lips were chapped, each time Runaan swallowed it stung worse than an arrow's head in the side, yet still no matter how Viren offered or asked, Runaan denied himself even a drink of water. Dehydration would kill his body far faster than starvation. That was what he was counting on. 

The cell door opened, Runaan lifted his head with a scowl. Inside stepped Viren, carrying his usual tray of food and water. He brought it every day now. Runaan huffed quietly and looked away, swallowing back the saliva beginning to pool into his mouth.

"We're doing this again?" Viren questioned with the same exasperated tone as usual, easing himself onto one knee in order to be more level with Runaan. Runaan knew it was more for the mage to see every expression gave than to actually 'be on the same level' but it was a small comfort than the mage standing over him constantly.

Not that comfort mattered to the dead... 

Runaan tensed as Viren reached forward, only to pinch the wrist of Runaan's unbound arm. It hurt a moment, but Runaan forced himself to have no reaction towards it. Not visibly at least. It wasn't lost on the moonshadow that, once Viren let go, the skin didn't fall back into place or move at all. It stayed wrinkled until Viren swiped it flat again. "You're not going to last much longer if you don't drink something." Runaan opened his mouth to respond with exactly the same words as always, but the mage continued "I know, mentally, you died long ago. But your body is still living. At least, for now." He got up then, using his staff as a means of standing, then picked up the tray and turned to leave. "I don't intend to let that change soon." The dark mage said moments before the door closed behind him, leaving Runaan in the dark once again

Runaan was awoken by the sound of the cell door opening. The usual cold, the pain of his arm, and the sting of his throat were enough to immediately force him into awareness as Viren entered. Runaan's glare was washed away as light entered the cell with Viren, and Runaan flinched from it. He had been in the dark for four days, and was more accustomed to the night anyway, the light was near blinding for him and only made him dizzier. For Viren's part, he didn't say anything until Runaan squinted his eyes open again. 

A smirk played on the human's lips though, and as Runaan's eyes adjusted, he caught sight of why. Right next to him sat another tray, yet this one had no food, but a candle, a funnel, chain, a pitcher of water and some bowl full of... powder. 

Viren chuckled darkly, Runaan found himself apalled. "I told you I didn't intend for you to die soon. This is how I plan to ensure you don't." He reached for the chain, only to pause and take the pitcher instead. "Unless you want to want to save us both the trouble and drink?" 

A snarl lifted from Runaan's lips, splitting the cracks in them and causing more tiny stings. 

Viren hardly reacted himself, just sighing. "Very well." He said, setting the pitcher down. 

Runaan's reaction time has slowed. He hadn't realized until, with a harsh jolt, Viren reached up and grabbed ahold of Runaan's full horn. Though Runaan pulled back out of alarm, he was no match for Viren as he was, and he was roughly pulled forward until both of his wrists hurt from holding him in place, and his horn hurt worse from the pressure of it being harshly pulled still. 

Runaan tried to pull back, breathing became a struggle from his position. His breaths stopped completely as he felt the biting cold chain being wrapped around it tightly. Shortly after, he was let go, only for the chain to yank back behind him and pull his head up instead, and only stopped pulling when his neck was craned almost painfully and he had lost sight of Viren in favor of the cieliing above. The edges of his vision blackened, becoming quickly fuzzy. A 'hmph' sounded from in front of him, but Runaan barely heard it over his own pounding heart beat.

He had lost sight of the enemy. 

He began struggling, but it only made his vision blur and darken more. The room was spinning again. He stopped trying to move a moment after, feeling himself swaying despite his current restriction. A muffled, barely-there voice seemed to ask a question but he couldn't hear it.

He closed his eyes slowly as it all came crashing down.

For a moment, there was nothing. 

The next moment, pain lit up his cheek. 

He jolted awake again, but was held quickly by the chain on his horn still. The fire still flickered. Viren stood now, Runaan could see him at least, and stared down at him with an unimpressed expression. "That is exactly why we're doing this." The mage deadpanned, reaching down for something. The funnel, apparently. "You fell unconcious. That means your exremely dehydrated. Whether you want to or not, you're drinking. Open your mouth."

Of course, as soon as Viren had ordered such, Runaan clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn't obey Viren, no matter what.

The mage scoffed. Without further prompting, he reached for Runaan's face, then grabbed onto Runaan's nose, preventing the assassin from breathing. A shot of panic travelled down Runaan's spike, but he fought it back before it took control.

He was dead. 

The dead didn't breathe... 

"You're wasting both of our time." Viren commented with a harsher tone, setting down the funnel somewhere before moving his other hand to cover Runaan's mouth as well. Runaan narrowed his eyes. He could bite Viren.. yet he still held his mouth closed. "No matter how dead you claim to be, your body still needs air. You can't force yourself not to breathe." Runaan held his breath for as long as he good, trying to deny Viren the right of seeing him squirm. 

Dead, Runaan thought, Already dead.

Runaan stopped thinking around the minute mark. He tried to pull away again but Viren still held on and refused to let go. He found himself squirming before long, his lungs were screaming for air. His heartbeat was fast again. Viren continued to hold on.

Runaan's struggles steadily grew to full on thrashing things were blurring again. His chest was beginning to hurt. Even the shackles were becoming distant..

Viren finally removed his hands.

Runaan gasped for air desperately, trying to drop his head as his chest heaved, all but panting as he gulped down breath after breath. That was when Viren made his move. 

The mage grabbed the funnel, then stuffed the bottom of it into Runaan's mouth in the middle of yet another mouthful of air. Immediately, Runaan tried to spit it out, but Viren pressed a hand onto it to force it to stay.

Viren leaned down, then lifted the pitcher of water into view. The smirk was back, perhaps more confident now that Runaan was where Viren wanted him to be. The thought was a prickle at the back of Runaan's neck. "Now that that's settled, we'll get to the actual reason I'm down here this late at night. You have two choices: drink, or choke."

Runaan glared, already deciding which he would do.

"I don't suggest you choke." 

Chapter Text

Soren watched his father's trial closely, desperate to hear Ezran declare Viren 'not guilty.'

The siblings had just arrived yesterday, Ezran had showed up the night before and a quick coronation took place apparently. Ezran was a king now.

He quickly cleared Soren and Claudia of being charged with treason, thankfully, but had told them that apparently Lord Viren was being held on trial for that very thing the next day. 

So here they were. 

Soren and Claudia stood on either side of Ezran's seat, Viren stood in front of the stairs leading up to the throne. The council stood at the side of the throne room while guards stood closer to Viren to ensure 'nothing happened' as Opeli said. What would happen? Sure, Viren made some testy decisions but he did have a good reason...

Right?

This hadn't been the reunion Soren had planned. He and Claudia had even been forbidden from hearing all the evidence stacked against Viren but now that the trial was taking place and it was all being presented.. Viren had killed three guards, stolen the kings seal, lied directly to the rest of the pentarchy... 

He was still explaining his defense. He refused to have someone else speak for him. "Moonshadow assassins broke into the castle and killed your father, dragons are crossing the border and attacking your people. Yet you ran off with one of those assassins in a hope of returning our only bartering piece back to Xadia."

This was actually being handled well, Soren thought. He felt almost no emotion at all except worry, Ezran wasn't phased by personal jabs or others trying to convince him to eother side of the trial, Viren himself didn't seem scared at all. 

In fact, the only one who wasn't handling it well was Claudia. Soren glanced over, only to freeze as he caught sight of something beneath Claudia's hair, on her ear. 

Was that a worm?

Soren squinted, trying to see past the dark strands. A flash of black in the corner of his eye had him turning, yet nothingwas there.

"I did what I had to to ensure Katolis didn't fall into chaos and panic." Soren heard his father say, though faintly, when Ezran asked.

Things seemed farther away now and another shift in light, this time from the rafters of the throne room. He looked up, yet again nothing was there. 

Was he losing his mind?

He looked back to Claudia only to find she was... Muttering under her breath? Not dark magic, he had seen her use dark magic enoough to know when she was using dark magic, but it looked like she was having a conversation with someone... 

Who was she talking to? Not herself, not at a time like this, right? Their father was about to be tried with treason and she was talking to herself? 

He saw her stiffen, just as Viren began his finishing statement. She glanced to the side, towards the bug on her ear. She looked... Hopeful? Or scared? Soren couldn't tell. 

"I refuse to apologize for what I did, and I refuse to apologize for this." 

Alarm rang through the hall as a being of shadow and darkness dropped from the ceiling, landing directly in front of Viren. Its eyes were red as blood, it stood tall with long hair that fell down its back. It had horns, the right one was broken, the other was long and curvy. Pointed ears pointed out from the dark hair. It was in elf.

In its hand it held a bow made out of two swords connected at the hilts. An arrow was nocked and pointed at Ezran. 

"NO!" Soren shouted as the arrow was loosed, lunging towards the new king and knocking him sideways just as the arrow landed. 

Pain lit up his side, like a bee sting but far worse. Soren hissed, but stood up, his breaths coming hard and fast. He prepared to fight, yet Viren and the figure of shadow were gone. 

"Soren!" Claudia shouted. The bug was gone too, he realized, just as the world around him hazed, then blacked out completely.

Chapter Text

Marcos gasped for breath desperately as he ran through the woods, holding onto his crossbow desperately. 

Every few seconds, an arrow would fly at him, he would just barely dodge. When he glanced back, he saw nothing indicating where the arrows came from, only that there was someone there, firing at him. 

Moonshadow elves. Assassins.

He had to tell the king. He had to survive this to spread the news.

He glanced back again, only to catch his foot between too roots. Pain lit up his ankle as he tried to pull free. He cried out with gritted teeth. Did he just break something?

He knew he was done. 

He turned as best he could, taking aim with the crossbow. 

An elf burst out of the trees above, two swords clutched in his hands. This was the tall one with the greenish blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. 

He slashed away the crossbow before Marcos could even get near touching the trigger, then placed a heavy boot on Marcos' shoulder. In a single click, the two swords became one bow, a flash of lightning overhead and the bow had an arrow. Pointing directly at Marcos. 

Marcos stared with wide eyes. "Please!" He begged desperately, trying to back away, but the boot held him firm. 

"You shouldn't have ventured this far." The assassin responded with a quiet, deadly tone. "But your death will be quick."

He let go of the arrow and-

Nothing

Chapter Text

The night was cold, despite it being the start of summer. Ezran shivered from beneath the many layers Corvus provided from the night before, when he claimed Ezran was 'shaking more than a small dog who had recently been shaved.'

It wasn't that Ezran was cold, though. That he knew. 

Ever since he had set out on his journey back to Katolis in order to become king, Ezran had been plagued with nightmares. Most were general, like what if Ezran made a bad call and ended up declaring war on another kingdom? Or if he managed to completely destroy the economy by signing one wrong paper? These nightmares were worrying, yes, but for the last four nights it had become straightforward for him to dream about these concerns. 

Tonight was different. 

Ezran was walking through the woods. Rays of sunlight peeked through the canopy of bright leaves, leaving little specks of lighter green over the grass. He was humming along with the birds songs and the locust's hums. That was, until suddenly, it stopped. 

"Hello?" Ezran called. "Is anyone there?" 

A loud thud sounded from beyond a wall of bush and tree. Ezran watched and listened as it approached. Closer and Closer. Ezran's hearthbeat caught in his throat.

The leaves rustled, before a hulking lion snapped out of the bush. Ezran screamed and backed away as the lion roared and lunged for him. He couldn't understand it. No matter the noise, it was just that. 

Another scream was torn from Ezran's throat as the lion caught onto Ezran's arm. This one wasn't just of fear. Instead: "Help me!" 

A dark chuckle sounded from behind Ezran. Though he couldn't turn around, he could have almost seen the owner of the laugh: Lord Viren. "No one will help you now." He declared. Suddenly the lion in front of Ezran shrank into a single band on his left arm. Ezran's eyes widened as his skin grew paler and his arm extended. He found himself no longer in the woods, but in a dark dungeon, his arms forced into shackles, in front of him stood Viren with his cane transformed into a staff. Ezran flinched once Viren began chanting.

A blink later, Ezran lay on the ground. His side began hurting suddenly. In fact, everything began hurting. A dragon roared in the distance. Ezran still didn't understand. 

Viren rushed into view, younger looking, with an expression of concern. He glanced around, Ezran found he had no energy left to move. Viren looked around, before a sinister smirk replaced his concern. He lifted his cain. The pieces all shifted and lifted into a staff, with a single purple crystal in the center. Exhausted, Ezran felt his eyes droop, then close. 

Another blink. Ezran fell back with a yelp, hitting the ground hard. He looked around desperately, only to find he was in his father's room. In fact... He looked down at his clothes with shock. He was his dad!

A hiss immediately caught his attention. He looked up, finding a two headed snake slithering towards him menacingly. Ezran reached for the sword nearby, but it was struck away by a staff. The same staff Viren had changed his cane into. Ezran tried to scream for help, but a snake clamped onto Ezran's throat. 

Everything stopped, then. 

Ezran found himself in the same forest as before, yet this one was shrouded in mist. "Hello?" He called desperately. For a time, no one responded. 

Then, surrounding him, three shadows appeared from the mist. They approached as if in sink, yet stopped just before Ezran could see them. Two looked at one another, before stepping through finally.

Ezran gasped.

To the left stood Harrow. He looked the same as when he had ordered Callum and Ezran to leave, though he wore more armor now. A grim smile appeared on his father's face.

The other figure was the elf Rayla had fought. Runaan, if Ezran remembered correctly. Yet he looked nothing like when Ezran had seen him. He was shirtless, for one, with many cuts and bruises decorating his skin. One arm, Runaan's left, was turning a sickly purple color from a white band Ezran was sure was bound to his own life. He was missing half a horn, and his hair, which had been neat perhaps a weak ago now fell around his face in disarray. Unlike Harrow, he wore no smile. More so, he looked exhausted. 

"Where am I?" Ezran demanded with a frown, looking to his dad desperately for answers. 

It wasn't Harrow that answered, but Runaan. "This is the realm between realms. Those who's souls are not gone yet their bodies are lost or separate come here. This is the in-between."

Ezran's frown deepened. "What?"

Harrow sighed, then got onto one knee. Ezran immediately allowed himself to be swept into a hug as Harrow explained. "In Katolis, things are changing. A great many things. We cannot answer your questions today, we only have enough time to give you a warning."

"What is the warning?" 

Another shared look between Harrow and Runaan, then, with a quieter tone, Harrow continued. "Politics are messy. Your best friends can become your worst enemies just as fast as your farthest rivals can become your closest allies."

"Stubbornness and pride will lead you to your kingdom crumbling." Runaan declared in a harsh tone, even as Harrow shot him a look. "That is what caused us to fail. Use your head just as much as your heart, but do not use your heart as much as your head."

"That makes no sense." Ezran argued. 

"It will in time."

Harrow sighed, then pulled away and grabbed onto Ezran's shoulders tightly, meeting him in the eye. "Don't trust anyone but yourself, and sometimes, don't even trust yourself.

"Respect tradition." Runaan said and got to one knee as well, however he grimaced as he put pressure on his bound arm. "But do not place it over your own logic."

This was all becoming too much...

Ezran pulled away from Harrow with an alarmed tugged, stepping away and watching the two with an incredulous gaze. "Wait, I don't understand what you're saying-"

"And most importantly," Ezran gave a sharp gasp and whirled around as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders at exactly the same place Harrow had. He looked up with shock as he caught sight of his mother as he saw her in every painting and statue of her he saw. 

Ezran gasped "Mom-" She shushed him with a shake of her head. 

"There is no time." She said with a sweet voice Ezran barely remembered. "When you reach Katolis castle, you need to find three things: A bird black as night with life in its wings- a coin with a face of death, and a spear with the power of salvation and divinity on its head. Find these three items, and you will find the truth."

This was all so confusing...

"Our time is up."

Sarai pulled Ezran into a tight hug, before letting go. The other two backed away, back into the mist. Ezran turned to look, but not even their shadows remained. He looked back to Sarai hopefully. 

"It's time for you to wake." Sarai said quietly. "Remember the advice we have given you, a danger lurks in the castle, you won't see it until it's too late. Be safe, my son."

She let go of him.

"Wait!" Ezran called, trying to chase after her as she slowly backed away, but he was met by an invisible force that prevented him from going any further. Try as he might, he couldn't push past it until she was gone into the mist. 

He was thrown forward and through the mist as the wall shattered. 

Ezran gasped awake, sitting bolt upright as he was roughly thrown from his sleep. 

He glanced around desperately, but relaxed when he found Corvus and Bait still asleep. Good. 

He sighed and fell back onto the ground, catching the back of his head with his arms.

So this would be another sleepless night, huh?

Chapter Text

Amaya had grown up on stories of elves.

The fearless moonshadows who killed with no mercy or remorse, the skywings who flew high above the clouds in order to sneak beyond the borders their own leaders had set and drop terrible attacks upon the humans, and the most common: The sunfire elves, who could withstand any heat without flinch or phase, who were more fierce than the mightiest banther and more fiery than a reborn phoenix. 

For most of her life, Amaya had believed all of these tales about the evil elves on the other side of the river of lava. But after her nephews assisted in ending a thousand year war and allowing Amaya to meet the sunfire knight Janai for the first real time? 

Amaya was having doubts. 

Sure, the fierce and fiery part about sunfires was correct, Amaya was sure only Sarai could have countered Janai's attitude, but apparently sunfires did have a heat limit. 

It was only about a month after Janai and Amaya and moved in together. Amaya awoke with a start as a searing heat touched her side. Alarm shot through her and she immediately looked over to the source of the burn, only to relax as she realized it was just Janai all but pressing against her. Amaya hadn't been concerned at first, but once she noticed how Janai was frowning with tightly closed eyes and tensed muscles, Amaya became worried. 

She reached down to place a hand on the sunfire's shoulder, only to draw back with a sharp, what she assumed, almost-yelp. Her hand burned.

Janai suddenly convulsed into a powerful shiver that sent the bed shaking. Amaya's concern only grew.

She reached down carefully, gritting her teeth as her had met with the burning skin again, then shook until the knight jolted awake. Janai was alarmed, to say the least. In fact, Amaya was sure that Janai would have pulled out a knife if there had been one nearby. 

'Are you alright?' Amaya signed slowly with a soft frown, trying not to go too fast this early in the morning. Janai was a morning person by nature, but the two were trying a combination of Human Sign Language and Elven Sign Language in a hopes of finding a middle ground of communicating between the two without misinterpretation or communication errors. Luckily, most were the same, but there were a few...

Janai nodded slowly, only to shiver again. 'I'm alive.' was the signed response. 'I think I'm sick. Fever.' 

'Sunfire's can get fever?'

Chapter Text

It was late. 

Runaan pushed past the leaves peeking into the set path leading to Tinker's shop with a worried frown. It wasn't like Tink to stay out this late...

"Hey Tink?" He called gently once he reached a clearing in the forest. A waterfall-like stream flowed into a small pond with a small jungle gym leading deep into the trees beside it sat peacefully on one side, on the other side of the clearing was a building of stone and wood with many small windows with light bleeding through them. 

Runaan made his way to the stone building, pushing away a sheet of cloth hanging over the door and ducking his head inside. He nearly scowled at the mess of the forge. Tools and trinkets were scattered about the floors and tables. Some paint was left dripping off the table and onto the wooden floor Tinker must have gotten an idea while working, which sent him into one of his 'inspiration drives' as the moonshadow liked to call them. If not for his self-assigned mission, Runaan knew he would've cleaned it up himself, yet Runaan kept his distaste at bay and searched around the small space. 

He froze once his eyes landed on his 'target' in a position that was truly a sight for the assassin. 

Tinker was slumped over a table with his arms folded beneath his head and his forehead resting on his wrists. He was shirtless, revealing a brilliantly colored phoenix decoration on his back that Tinker made Runaan paint every time they renewed the markings. Pale hair fell over his eyes and face, obscuring his face from Runaan's view. 

Runaan smiled softly, then placed a gentle hand on Tinker's back. 

"Wake up." He whispered into the other moonshadow's ear. 

The response he got in return was a simple, tired hum followed by a whine. Runaan's smile grew just as it softened. So sweet. 

"Alright, fine. Come on." He eased an arm behind the craftman's back, then beneath his legs. Once he lifted, Tinker did squirm a little, but settled quickly, all but tucking his head against Runaan's chest. It was a rather endearing sight. 

"You must be extremely tired." 

Tinker gave another hum-like noise. Runaan smiled.

"Very well, you can sleep. I can get us home." He made his way out of the shed, blowing out the candles and kicking away a few random items strewn about as he did.

"But don't get mad when we clean the forge after you wake."

Chapter Text

The shackles bit into Gren's wrist without remorse as Gren twisted the clip of metal carefully into the keyhole. 

He had been at this for three days, when Viren lengthened Gren's chains to allow him to sit, only for Gren to find the clip just barely within reach. It felt like Gren's lucky day. 

The memory of the elf in the coin and Viren's hauntingly gray face still stuck in Gren's mind, driving the commander to work harder to get the shackles unlocked before Viren gave him the same fate as the elf. 

Already three days was too long for Gren to have been fidgeting with this clip to make it better fit into the keyhole. But he felt he was getting close. He tilted his head and but his lip as he listened for the tell tale click of the left shackle he was working on unlocking. 

One. Two. Twist. And-

Click

Gren gasped as the cuff fell off and clanged against the wall. He brought his hand down to his chest with a smile, only to frown as he caught sight of the mean, red line around his wrist. Yeah, note to self, don't let general Amaya see those. 

He made quicker work of the other one and let the clip drop alongside the shackle as he was fully freed. With a chuckle, he made his way to the weird looking statue that triggered the stairs from the ceiling.

He barely heard the sound of multiple boots approaching until it was too late, and the stairs were already descending. 

Panic shot through Gren as he heard the shocked gasps and nervous warnings of the... guards? 

"Commander Gren?" 

"Er.. Hi."

Chapter Text

The underground passageways were as old as the castle. Or at least as far as Ezran knew. He never really asked about their history as much as he just explored them because he had nothing better to do with his time. 

The tunnels led all over the castle, up every flight upstairs, leading out of every room, there was even a passageway that lead to a place directly behind Harrow's throne. Ezran wasn't sure when he had realized that they led up to the king's quarters, but he knew, and it was his last chance at saving his dad's life. 

Clutching the egg carefully and with Bait running close behind, Ezran ran up the countless flights of stairs, all lit with the same blue crystals in the walls. Faintly, he recalled his previous assumption, that these stairs were directly beneath or beside the actual stairs leading to the king's tower, but he brushed the thought away quickly for more concerning ones. His father could get killed tonight unless he did something.

Once he reached the top floor he found his way to a metal place with decorative holes in it in patterns, he looked out of it, finding a window into the king's bedroom. Ezran suppressed a sigh of relief, and looked closer, immediately locating his father, sitting down in a chair in the middle of the room, a sword in hand. He was ready for the attack. An attack that hopefully wouldn't occur...

Ezran was about to push the grate open, only to freeze as the door opened. Lord Viren walked in. Ezran backed away nervously. Neither him, nor most of the nearby animals liked lord Viren. 'Danger' they always said... 

Ezran couldn't hear most of what they said, the room was rather large, the voices barely carried all the way across the room, but whatever they were saying was intense and- 

Harrow stood suddenly. Ezran frowned and backed away as the conversation continued. "On. Your. Knees." Ezran faintly heard from his father. Viren, of course,obeyed, but he didn't look like he was happy about it... 

A few more words, and Harrow all but shoved Viren out the door. Ezran had never seen his dad so tense and upset...

He could die tonight. Of course he was mad.

Ezran tried to push open the grate, only to freeze when it didn't give way at all like most of the passages. Some more pushing revealed a jingling sound from the opening side. Ezran glanced over, only to stare at an obvious lock. 

Harrow's head snapped toward's Ezran's direction with alarm, before his expression shifted to relief mixed with.. sadness? He sighed, walking closer, then he got onto one knee so Ezran's eyes caught his. "You were supposed to leave with Callum." He said, his tone wasn't scolding but it wasn't without a bite either. 

"They're coming to kill you." Was all Ezran could muster, trying to push at the grate more. 

Harrow's hand resting on the metal stopped Ezran. "They're here for you as well, Ezran. I know it. You should leave."

"I'm not-"

"King Ezran." Harrow hissed out, making Ezran freeze more, but with an odd horror this time. "These assassins seek revenge and payback for a life lost. A king for a king, an heir for an heir. If they kill you, Katolis is left without a leader."

Ezran looked down at the egg, then shook his head. "They won't kill me, if they really believe in justice. Dad. The eg-"

There was a thud at the door. Ezran watched as his dad's eyes widened with fear, a look Ezran never remembered seeing before. There were yells outside, more thuds, metal clashing. 

The assassins were here. 

"Go." Harrow ordered, standing and facing the door. The men on the balcony rushed inside, drawing their swords and preparing for the moment the outer defenses were breached. 

A wave of horror struck Ezran, sending him reeling as he realized that this was it. Either he acted, or his dad would die- "Dad! The egg is-"

The door burst open. 

Three arrows shot into the room, striking one man twice in the chest, and once man in the neck. Both fell immediately. 

Three assassins rushed into the room, though Ezran couldn't make out anything of them but the markings and their weapons. A staff, two swords in the shape of a half circle, and a bow made out of metal curves... 

Two of the assassins went for the men, while the one with the bow went directly for Harrow. The assassin grabbed his bow, then snapped it in half so the curves looked and acted more like swords, then lunged for Harrow with no hesitation. 

Ezran pushed harder against the grate, willing it to give in and let Ezran through but still it held firm and he was stuck watching in horror as the guards and the other elves killed each other while the battle between the assassin and Harrow continued. Harrow was slipping though. The assassin was too fast, and even stronger than the king. For every move Harrow made in defense, the assassin was making two in offense. 

It wasn't long before Harrow slipped up, just long enough for the assassin to send the sword flying, and for Harrow to be brought to the ground.

They were close to the grate. Ezran could hear the hard breathing from the two, he could see the bloody glint on the assassin's swords, the subtle but useless ways Ezran's father struggled as the elf placed his boot on Harrow's chest. 

This was the best chance Ezran had... He opened his mouth, only to remain silent in shock and terror.

Why couldn't he talk? 

He had to say something-

"Any last words?" The assassin prompted. 

Harrow glanced back, despite a sword being place right at his throat. His eyes met Ezran's. Tears were in them. His fear was gone, replaced by regret. "What is done is my fault." He said, looking back up to the assassin. "Don't make my son pay for what I have done."

The assassin froze, then frowned and drew his blade back just a fraction. "A king for a king." He responded quietly, then lifted his blade back, preparing to strike.

Ezran screamed as the blade was brought down upon his father's head.

Chapter Text

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Runaan ducked his head into Rayla’s tent carefully. She had been in there all day, since she had come back from killing the guard. He learned from Andromeda that Rayla didn't seem well as she entered the camp.

Rayla looked up from where she was staring at her weapon, then put away the blade quickly, throwing on a fake smile as she did. “What do you mean? I’m just peachy!” She asked carefully. Runaan saw through the façade easily, Rayla truly was a terrible liar, and sighed.

“You aren’t telling me everything,” He pointed out, coming in without being invited and sitting across from her on his knees. “One of the others told me you seemed shaken. Are you okay?”

Runaan watched Rayla carefully. He saw her considering her options, just as he had taught her to do. Hopefully she would tell the truth. He didn’t want to have to pry it out of her, but he would if he had to. Clearly something was wrong.

Finally Rayla sighed and mumbled “No…” then louder “No, I-I’m not...” Rayla began explaining suddenly, the way she did when she got upset. It was as if the floodgates had opened. “I still see that guard’s face, looking up at me. He looked so scared. He didn’t deserve to die but I-I still killed him. And now no one will know what happened to him, he might have friends and they will never see him again, he might have a family and they won’t hear from him again. His colleagues might wonder where he went…” She stopped talking and closed her eyes. Her breath hitched. She stopped talking. It didn't take Runaan long to realize she was holding her breath to prevent from bursting into tears.

Runaan frowned and placed a hand on her shoulder, far too used to her trying to shut herself down when she got this way. “Breathe, Rayla,” He said gently, applying pressure to her shoulder carefully. “It’s okay.”

Rayla did take a breath, then more, but they were more like gasps, short and fast, and just as she breathed in she would just breathe out again. She wasn’t getting any air like that. Runaan suppressed a sigh. On to phase two.

“Easy,” he said as gently as he could, whilst trying to keep a strong tone. “Look at me, breathe.”  Runaan watched her closely, until her eyes opened and locked onto his, tears began gathering again. That was alright. “Good,” He praised softly. "It'll be okay, just breathe.” He began stroking her shoulder carefully. 

Slowly, she began calming down, releasing a shiver as she did. Runaan pulled her into a hug.

“You’re still young.” He stated as a fact. He didn’t want to make her more upset but it was something they needed to talk about. “It’s the first life you’ve ever taken. It’s understandable to be upset.” He still remembered the first time he killed. It haunted him for years. “It will get easier, I swear to the moon's very face, it gets easier.” He continued carefully, stroking her hair. “He had to die so we could complete the mission. He was innocent, yes, but you did what you had to.”

“Why did I have to, though?” she demanded, her voice was uneven, but didn't lock like it would have had she been hyperventilating as she was moments ago. “Why can’t we just end this stupid war and go back to peace? The humans just want back into Xadia…”

“It’s no longer just that,” Runnan answered quietly. “They went too far by destroying the dragon prince’s egg. Justice must be served.” Rayla didn’t argue, just nodded. Rayla wasn't one to give into anything easily, even if it was a simple argument she already knew the answer to. If she didn't have something to say... “If you want to sit this one out, you can stay here and watch the-"

“N-no.” she said quickly, “I’ll still do the assassination. This has to be done.”

Runaan nodded, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. There was the fire.

"Very well,"

Chapter Text

"Don't. Move." 

The showdown at the human prince's banther lodge all came down to this, surrounded by human troops led by the Silent Terror herself, each one holding some form of weapon, mostly bows closest to Runaan and Rayla, swords further away. Runaan should have never trusted the older prince's words...

Runaan knocked his bow and aimed it at the general just as Rayla brought up her blades behind him. It didn't need to be said about who took out who should this end in a battle. 

"Callum, Ezran, come here. Don't worry, they will not harm you." The redhead spoke. Runaan didn't know his name, but he had heard those at the border call him by the Red Death. He and the Silent Terror were always nearby, Runaan had heard. To see one is to see the other. Both were incredibly dangerous.

Runaan glanced over as Callum began moving his hands, similar to how the Silent Terror did, though Runaan didn't understand, it was clear the general did, as she tensed. Did Callum just-

"What did you say?" He demanded to Callum, just as Runaan heard "Go ahead, take the shot." from the Red Death. 

Alarm shot through Runaan as he barely dodged an arrow headed straight for his neck, only to turn and see it head towards Rayla. In one swift movement, however, the arrow was cut in half and deemed to be no longer a threat. Rayla grabbed a hold on both the princes, holding her blades to their throats. "Make one wrong move and I'll kill them." She declared. Runaan, of course, knew she was bluffing but the soldiers? Specifically the Silent Terror?

"Let them go." The Red Death declared quickly. Runaan looked around to the other soldiers, but none made a move. Good. 

He waited until Rayla had backed away with the princes and gotten into a boat before Runaan rushed to join them, all the while with an arrow aimed straight for the general's face.

Runaan stayed on guard for awhile longer, until they were well out of the sights of the humans, before suddenly turning around to face Callum. "What was that?" He hissed, placing his bow on his back. 

"What was-"

"What did you tell them?"

Callum visibly flinched at Runaan's harsh tone, but slowly responded with "That you're a monster and that you would cut us open, then drink our blood?"

"What?!"

Chapter Text

"You have put us into an odd situation," One of the nine elders in front of her declared, Unii.

Unii was a former healer turned elder after many years of service, well known for her sharp tongue and commanding voice, her voice cut through the conference hut like a knife, but Rayla wasn't looking at her. No, Rayla was watching the head elder, Osirus.

Osirus was an assassin before he was promoted to an elder, and he had the scars and marks to prove it. He could still probably beat someone's ass in a matter of seconds. Had Rayla been standing here only a few months ago, she would not dare stare him in the eye, but a lot changed over the few months, and she stared him down with a look of pure determination. Now only a tsunami could shake her.

"On one hand," Unii continued "You disobeyed direct orders from your leader not once but twice, you spared a human's life though you knew it could cost you the mission, you openly turned against your own kind in favor of the humans, you spared and even saved the life of your target multiple times over, and you attempted to stop the other target's death by fighting your own leader. Because of your reckless and treacherous actions, your entire team has been killed." She didn't have to repeat those, Rayla already knew what happened. She still felt a small pang of hurt from realizing she had been the only elf to survive the assault that night, yet she didn't feel bad. Not entirely. She had been right. "On the other hand." Unii paused as Rayla finally glanced over and held the former healer's gaze. "On the other hand, you discovered that the dragon prince's egg, which had thought destroyed, was actually alive and you took it upon yourself to protect it. The humans refused to hand it to you but you stayed close to it. When he nearly died you were the one who assisted in hatching him, despite your injured wrist, and you and the human prince worked together to return him to his mother, the dragon queen, facing a wide array of perils in the process. Because of this, you have gained the favor of the dragon queen. But some punishment must be done, else others will attempt to follow in your footsteps. Quite a predicament, we have here. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Rayla narrowed her eyes as Unii stepped forward, straightening her back and lifting her chin further. She wouldn't cower, and she wouldn't hold back. "I will not apologize." Rayla responded truthfully, projecting her voice throughout the hut for all the elders to hear. "I did what I thought was, and still is, right."

"Even if we killed you for your opinion, you would still think you did the right thing? Leading your teammates to death?" Unii demanded, raising her voice and spitting the word death as if it had been poisonous. Rayla had to fight back a laugh, did Unii really think that would make her shrink back? 

"If I could," Rayla responded, keeping her voice calm and steady despite her amusement, surprising even herself, "I would save all of my old teammates in a heartbeat, my leader especially, but if I had to choose between all of them and the dragon prince? I would choose Azymondias. Every time." She shifted her gaze to each of the elders, meeting each of their eyes before moving on to the next. "I don't care if you drain every ounce of blood from my body and toss me to rats, or if you burn me alive, even if you drowned me and brought me back over and over, I would not regret my decisions." She hissed at them, coming closer until she was merely a breath away. Alarm shot through the ring of elders as they prepared for Rayla to do something. Did they expect her to attack? She scared them?

Unii was about to respond but Osirus placed a hand on her shoulder and stepped forward, forcing the healer to step back. "You bound your hand to your target."

"I bound my heart for Xadia." Rayla corrected, with every ounce of passion she had said it with the very night she bound herself. "That was my bind. And if going against Runaan's orders for the dragon prince was betraying Xadia, then go ahead, rip out my heart." She challenged. 

Osirus didn't respond for a moment, instead looking back to the other elders, then nodded. 

"I have decided a punishment for your actions."

Rayla sucked in a breath as all fell silent, but she she wasn't afraid. She was more than willing to die. She was already dead.

"You will be bound to protecting the dragon prince until the day we decide you have done enough." That... caught her off guard. She drew back slightly, confused. It seemed like she would actually be sentenced to death a moment ago. "If something happens to Azymondias in the time he is under your charge, you will be held accountable. Do you understand?"

Rayla slowly nodded, still stricken with shock. "I... understand."

"Everywhere the dragon prince goes, you must accompany. You may have to kill human, dragon, and elf alike in order to defend Azymondias. Do you understand?"

Rayla nodded once again, a wave of confidence taking hold. She gave a sure smile.

"I'll be bound to it. My heart for Xadia."

Chapter Text

The day had been slow, boring in fact. Ever since Callum and Rayla had sneaked past Sol Regem at the border, they had been hiding out in a cave until Sol Regem dropped his guard again. 

They've been in a cave for two days. 

Only Rayla's been allowed to go out, because she's an elf, Zym wasn't because if he was found to be the dragon prince he would be taken back to the dragon queen and chances were it would do nothing to end the war. As Rayla said, it had to be a human prince. 

So, Callum spent his time drawing, as he usually did when he was bored. He had been sketching Zym, until Zym had all but tackled him and, in a moment of complete panic, Callum tossed the book aside. 

As soon as Zym was on top of him, Callum laughed and began playfully scratching at the dragon's scales. 

"Hey Callum?"

Callum looked up, where Rayla was standing at the mouth of the cave, looking down at Callum's sketchbook. Alarm shot through Callum like an arrow as he sat up and tried to figure out which page it was. He didn't need Rayla seeing how many drawings of her were in that book... He relaxed once he realized it was simply a drawing of his mom. Half finished, some of the ink ran, the paper looked crumpled- Oh. 

"I think your drawing book got wet when we were in the boat." She said with a frown, picking up the book. As soon as she looked like she was going to turn the page, Callum ran to stop her. If he wasn't kind of panicked at the moment, he would've been proud of his own speed.

"Don't worry," He assured quickly "The book was enchanted to be waterproof awhile ago, so it can't be wet."

Rayla gave him an odd look, then settled the page again. "Then why is this one wet?" She looked at the ones before it, an action that made Callum feel like he was going to die, before adding "And why are the ones before it not wet?"

... He'd have to answer, huh? He sighed and took the book back. "Because it's not from the boat. it isn't even recent at all." He ran a hand over the paper, before shutting it. "The page is from nine years ago, when I tried to draw my mom for the first time since she died. I... Cried so much I had to stop because I couldn't see the page."

There was a pause. Then "...Oh..." A moment later, Callum felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at Rayla, who offered a soft, reassuring smile. "I get it, it's alright."

Callum offered a sadder smile back.

"Yeah, I know."

Chapter Text

Whenever one mentions scars, most would think something physical, a cut that never healed. Marcos used to be in that crowd. Now... Now he knew for a fact that not all scars were physical. Some resided in the mind, and those hardly faded with time...

The water pitter-pattered on the roofs of the castle and on the stone of the common area. It was dark outside, from the sky and the night. This was the first rain in nearly two weeks. Before, Marcos wouldn't have even hesitated to tell one of his buddies that he was going for a walk. Now...

Every flash of lightning reminded him of that elf's swords, every boom of thunder drew him back to every footfall where he had been running for his life. He thought about that moment every day, when he fell into the mud and he swore that this would be the moment he died.

But that moment never came. She spared him. Why hadn't she killed him?

He knew he probably won't ever find himself in a situation like that ever again but still he could only stare at the rain with longing while fear coursed through his very soul. He wanted to be out there, yet he couldn't bring himself to step out. His head screamed at him to stay inside, that it was dangerous out there. Evil, dark, something had to be out th-

"Good evening," a voice behind him made Marcos jump and turn around, all but freezing as he was met face to face with Lord Vire. "Enjoying the weather?" The high mage asked with a pleasant tone. Marcos looked back, before dropping his head.

"Not really, Lord Viren." He answered honestly. "It's rather difficult to see the rain, so soon after..." He trailed off. 

"I see," Viren responded with a quick nod. He didn't pry further, but his voice did change. From pleasant to... Grave. "You're lucky to be alive," 

"Believe me, I know." He had heard it over and over. Most thought he had fought off the elf. Rumors spread easily. Marcos and Viren were the only ones that knew his life had been spared simply because the elf girl didnt want to kill him. He had gotten very, very lucky. 

"You don't owe the elf your life, if that's what you're thinking." Viren's staff clinked against the floor as he took a step closer, startling Marcos by placing a hand on his shoulder. "She may have let you live, but she killed your king, her and the other assassins."

Marcos said nothing, only nodded. He, of course, agreed with the mage, he owed nothing to the elf, even if she had saved him. But he was beginning to question if she actually took part in-

"Good." Viren responded, the pleasant voice returning. He removed his hand from Marcos' shoulder, then turned and began walking away. "I hope you have a nice night, Marcos." He said with a small wave. "Don't try to stay up too, however tempting it may be. The storm will remain throughout the night."

Viren disappeared down the hall, leaving Marcos, the rain, and his scars.

Chapter Text

You have two choices: drink, or choke. I don't suggest you choke."

Runaan growled, despite the uncomfortable feeling of the the funnel in his throat, and though he could barely see the mage, he did glare up at the cieling. Did Viren really think that Runaan would- 

Viren tipped the pitcher just slightly, Runaan could feel the water pouring into the funnel, then touching his throat. It stung terribly and only worsened the discomfort, Runaan jolted, only for the chain around his horn to hold him steady. Pain lit up the area, he nearly gave a gasp, only to inhale the water. As soon as he did, he began coughing. His throat burned worse now, he tried to swallow to get rid of the feeling, but each time he tried he was stopped by a fresh cough and the funnel. 

The mage tsked and though Runaan now had his eyes closed he heard the silent clink of the pitcher being set down. "I told you not to choke." The chain around his horn loosened suddenly while the pressure holding the funnel in place was removed. Runaan dropped his head and spit the dreadful object out of his mouth, only to cough more, yet each time he did it felt like his throat was becoming bruised from the inside.

He wasn't sure how long he had simply sat there coughing, but once it finally subsided, he slowly opened his eyes to glare at Viren once again, who only looked amused.

"Perhaps we can make this easier." Viren suggested lightly, as if that even existed with such a vile man, before getting up and retreating from the room. There was shuffling around from the hallway, Runaan's skin pricked with unease. He tensed as Viren returned, this time carrying some... bug. Runaan narrowed his eyes and made a point to look closer, only to draw back in shock. Viren's grin was near insufferable. "An Osiran Moon beetle," The mage stated. "They have a natural ability to dull one's senses through the use of illusion, from the moon's power of course. This should make things easier." Before Runaan could even hiss, the mage plucked off the beetle's shell and crushed it. "yawa niap eht ekat-" Runaan only heard that part as things began to feel... strange.

He felt fuzzy, like he wasn't truly here, as if he was in a dream. He glanced to his left arm, where the bind was. He felt nothing, nothing he could reference anyway, even as he opened and closed his hand. 

A faint chuckle drew his attention back to Viren. He looked even more... Delighted? Runaan couldn't think... 

The mage reached forward, Runaan tried to react, but the mage had a hold on his chin long before Runaan tried to tug back. His reaction time was off... Runaan was forced to meet the mage's eyes, and though he continued to glare as best he could, he felt he was no match for the pure amusement Viren had in this moment.. "Such a sight to see." Viren commented. His grip tightened. At least, Runaan thought so... He tried to shake his head roughly in an attempt to clear it, but the mage held on. "The great moonshadow assassin, ever so defiant to something as simple as eating. One spell and you're as confused as a newborn puppy."

"Let go." Runaan managed to hiss out, and though Viren did let go and draw back, it wasn't without another laugh. 

"Now that that's out of the way, let's get back to what we were doing originally." All Runaan saw was a blur of motion, before a chain was once again wrapped around Runaan's only full horn, and Runaan's head was forcefully pulled back. The funnel was held over his mouth again, but again Runaan simply glared at it and pressed his lips shut. 

At least he had meant to. His lips felt fuzzy too.

In his horror, all Viren had to do was tug as Runaan's bottom lip, for Runaan to open his mouth enough to slide the funnel in. "It's a shame I don't have enough beetles to keep you like this all the time. Things would be easier." Without warning, Viren lifted the pitcher and poured some water down the funnel. Runaan didn't feel the pain this time, nor did he feel himself swallow. His only indication that he had taken the water without a fight, in fact, was that he wasn't choking. 

Runaan's mind went blank in panic. He hadn't intended to-

He had no control over his own-

He banged his head against the wall with a hiss, trying to find something to peek through the magical painkiller, but though there was a spike of pain for a moment, it faded quickly, replacing the area with the same damn fuzzy feeling. 

Viren gave a surprised look, before it shifted to contempt and sighing. "Don't worry, we're almost done." He reached down, beyond Runaan's line of sight, before putting something into the pitcher. Runaan's eyes widened.

He hissed and tried to draw back, but Viren grabbed him again by the chin and held him still, then poured. 

Runaan fought and struggled as best he could to get free, but the water was already coming. So, with a desperate gasp, Runaan sucked it in. 

Immediately, he began coughing violently, it caused him to shake and shudder, he gasped for breath when he could and heaved between coughs as the water began burning. Viren didn't loosen the chain this time. The mage didn't move, only watched until the coughing fits subsided. "I figured you would do that." He sighed, lifting the pitcher again. Without warning, another hand pressed against Runaan's throat and pressed, until Runaan's breathing was cut off completely. Though Runaan tried to breathe, it was pointless. "Try choking on it now." The mage commented with a dark tone, then poured the entire pitcher into the funnel. 

Runaan tried to breathe in the water again, in fact he tried to breathe as he became desperate for air, but with the airflow cut off, he had no choice but to drink the water. All of it. It burned his thoat again, before cooling the burn entirely. He began squirming shortly after that as he was continously denied air just as when he tried to fight the funnel, yet this time it wasn't just having his nose covered... The pain in his arm returned as he tugged on it, his horn scraped the wall behind him when he shook his head to try to get free, Viren didn't let go...

... Was the dark magic wearing off? Things were beginning to slow down around him, he hadn't realized the masses of blurs in his vision. He now had an even worse headache, his chest was pounding- A wave of exhaustion overtook and caught him by surprise. His struggling slowed, then ceased altogether once he realized he was passing out again. 

... Why was he so...

He never finished the thought, a chuckle from Viren caught Runaan's attention. "Rest, elf, it will be a few hours before-"

Whatever Viren said after was lost as Runaan lost conciousness entirely. 

Chapter Text

Callum watched the icy water desperately. Where was Ez? Callum couldn’t see him!

“He can do it, he’ll save the egg.” Rayla reassured beside him, but her voice was drowned out by Callum’s own thoughts. Could Ez do it? He was so young. How long had he been under? Was he dead? Please dear god don’t let him be dead!

Time passed, Ez didn’t resurface. He… “You were wrong,” Callum said quietly, bringing his hand up to his mouth. “He’s not coming back.” He was gone…

Something red caught his eye and he turned to Rayla. The ribbon around her wrist had changed color and fallen off. Rayla looked at it, horrified. “No, no...” she said quietly, then louder “Nonono!” She got up and rushed forward, looking at the ice. Callum followed in alarm, watching as she stopped at a bare patch and began hitting it with the handle of her sword. Callum saw something dark beneath the water. His eyes widened as he made out a face.

The ice broke and Ezran’s body floated up, within Rayla's reach.  He still holding the egg. Rayla grabbed for him and pulled while Callum could only watch in frozen hope Please don’t let him be dead, please… please…

The egg forgotten, once Ez was on the ice, Rayla placed her fingers under Ez’s chin and pressed, then gasped and placed her hands on Ez’s chest. She said nothing, only began pushing, her own breathing picking up. After a moment, Rayla stopped and placed her ear on Ezran’s chest, then lifted it and began pumping his chest again. She looked as terrified as Callum felt. No...

“Ez, c’mon, wake up.” Callum pleaded, coming closer. Tears began falling, stinging his face from the cold “Don’t die on me- please…" He felt like he was about to choke. Words were hard as all he thought was he's dead, he's dead, he's dead... "You have to live. It's my responsibiliy to make sure you're safe. Ezran- Ezran, come on. Stay with me. You're all I have-"

It felt like hours before Rayla stopped. Her shoulders dropped and she gave a loud sob. Callum knew there was no saving him. Ez was dead. Ezran… his brother… Gone. His throat tightened more, and it was becoming hard to breathe, but at the same time, he felt like he needed to scream, to kick, to do something! 

His brother was dead!

“EZRAN!!!”

Chapter Text

The quiet was maddening to Runaan. He never hated silence before. He once enjoyed it, in fact. Only a day ago, or so it felt, he had even wished for it over that annoying human who talked and sang and whistled until he fell asleep. 

Oh what he wouldn't give to hear a noise that wasn't caused by himself. 

The inside of the coin was empty, just a gold/white color that expanded as far as Runaan could see, no matter if it was a 'wall', a 'cieling', or the ground. All there was to see was a little circular window of gold tinted glass that always followed him. He ran everywherel, yet it was always was right behind him. Or perhaps he only stayed in the same place and never knew. 

He had first tried to break the glass, but it held even when Runaan launched at it from as far away as he could and kicked it. Nothing. 

The coin, Runaan quickly realized, didn't care for needs. He didn't need food or water, not even sleep, though Runaan still found sleep a goodpast time from eternity. He didn't feel anything in regards to his hunger or thirst. As if they had ceased to exist. 

The magic of the coin also seemed to counteract the binding around his arm. While it didn't fall off, it hadn't tightened in a few days. Or however long he had been in here. Now he understood why the human in another cell or area had made so much noise. Runaan never responded. He probably felt he was going crazy. 

Unfortunately, that meant hell was about to start again.

Without warning, the window crashed open suddenly, sending shards of gold glass flying. A misty, shadow-like hand reached through where the window had been mere moments ago. Runaan backed away, but it snapped forward and grabbed Runaan as if he were a simple doll. Though Runaan tried to struggle, the hand held on and squeezed until Runaan could no longer draw in air. He fought and squirmed, clawing at the mist that held him, but though it held him firm, he couldn't so much as scratch it. 

It felt like hours later when another mist joined the first, this one a deep green color. It rose around him like snakes slithering up his arms, then chest, until they reached his face. The shadow-hand let go, allowing Runaan to gasp in a breath, only for Runaan to suck in the green mist. 

Things blurred around him, before he went limp and fell unconcious.

Runaan awoke with a start. Chains clinked together as he moved.

He was in the cell again. No... He thought he was done... The mage had grown tired- Runaan had been trapped but he at least had been free of that mage-

His mouth was like sandpaper, his stomach growled and hurt terribly. Runaan flinched, moving in just the wrong direction. His bound arm was pulled in its cuffs. Runaan helped quietly, but bit his tongue quickly. No... No.

He felt angry. Not just angry, purely outraged. He had been done. He had been sent to the coin because Viren didn't find out what he wanted. Part of Runaan knew he should've expected to be back here but he had been finished with this hell.

He wanted to scream and kick, to yell and try to get loose. Something! But he didn't. Because he was stuck. Throwing a temper tantrum would do nothing. But Runaan had searched for a way to escape many times over, there was nothing he could do at all but sit and wait. Hopeless either way... 

"Dead," He reminded himself, trying to calm down before he did something rash and pointless. "You're dead..."

He closed his eyes, leaned back against the wall and rested his head against it, focusing on his breathing. It was all he could do.

Slow clapping came from the corner of the room, drawing Runaan from his focus. He followed the noise immediately, finding Viren hiding in the darkest part of the cell. Standing, clapping. Smirking.

"Of all the reactions you could've had," the monster came closer, out of the darkness. Runaan glanced at the man before looking away. Still ugly. The dark magic from imprisoning Runaan in the coin had changed the man's features. His skin was sickly grey, dark purple veins traveled up his face like vines. Runaan fought the urge to make a disgusted face, the mage's appearance alone was proof of how dark magic not only destroyed the lives of magical creatures but destroyed the one who wields it at the same time. Viren continued speaking, though Runaan refused to even glance at him. "You chose to just... do nothing. Are you even upset to be back here? Or are you relieved?"

Worse than upset. Yet Runaan refused to answer. 

"Still not cooperating, I see." Viren hummed. "Then I suppose it would be pointless to ask what the mirror does now. Oh well, I know now anyway." What? Runaan looked up with surprise, a slight twinge of fear twisting his gut worse than it was already. No. That wasn't- Viren's smirk grew. "Yes. And now I suppose I see why you fear the mirror so much." Runaan snarled as best he could, refusing to give an indignant remark back about fear,  but certainly preparing a warning to the foolish, evil mage. Viren continued with a shake of his head,  stopping Runaan before he even spoke. "Well, either way that's not why I've brought you out of the coin, so it's pointless to discuss. I have something I've been curious about that I want to try." He pulled something out of his pocket. A paper. Runaan watched with reluctant curiosity as Viren unfolded it, then showed it to Runaan.

Runaan read the page easily, but with each word his horror grew. "This..." he had a thousand words to describe it, evil, sinister, twisted. The list went on but all Runaan said was "... True dark magic." The darkest of them all. Forcing those you choose into bending to your will. The indredients for it...

Runaan tried to hit Viren as soon as he was free. Or, at least he balled his fist up and was about to when the whispers began multiplying. 'He is your friend, he is your friend," They began speaking over one another as they grew more in number 'He is your friend, he is your, he is- friend, trust Viren-" over and over until they were screaming. Runaan covered his ears and fell back against the wall, closing his eyes tight as the screaming continued. 'Friend, friend, friend...'

"St- Stop-" He pleaded to them quietly. His face felt wet, his breath shook, why was he crying- The voices got louder, Runaan began shaking as he pleaded still "Stop- Yelling-" His own voice was soon drowned out by the screeching 'FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND-'

A single touch to his wrists made everything go quiet. It hurt on his left, his ears rang terribly, he still shook, but the screaming was gone... Runaan let out a shaken sob, dropping his head and crying out, only for a hand to ease its way beneath Runaan's chin and lift.

Runaan opened glazed eyes to see Viren with a small frown on his face. "You are alright," The monster- No. He wasn't a monster. He was an friend. Was he? Why- "You've been slowly going mad in here. Come on, let's get you out of here." The mage said, helping Runaan up. Though Runaan shook, the mage eased Runaan out of the cell gently. "We should go before someone realizes you're not in here."

Runaan nodded slowly as he was guided through the stone hallway. Why was he trusting this- 'friend' came the whisper again. Runaan jolted and turned back toward the cell with a terrified expression, before shakily allowing himself to be pulled while the mage continued speaking.

"You're lucky I found you. You could have lost your mind down here."

Chapter Text

The other kids swarmed him like buzzards did a dead rat. They cast shadows over him and blocked his view. All he could see was shoes. Not everyone was kicking him, just, Elena, the youngest of the pack, only a year older than Gren's 11, yet the meanest. Most of the kids here were in some form of poverty, some had no home, some, like Gren, had no parents or family. Elena's boot slammed into his stomach again as the others shouted "Yeah! Let the runt have it!" And "Watch him cry!"

Gren cried gave a loud yelp as his back was kicked by another. Mud covered his clothes, but something else covered his face, hot and sticky despite the cold, dry air surrounding him: blood. He whimpered and curled in on himself. "Stop..." He pleaded, just as Elena kicked him again. "Please..." Elena just gave her cruel, snorty laugh. 

"Awwwee, the poor runt want me to leave him alone?" She asked, suddenly stopping, only to grab him by the neck and lift. Gren's vision blurred for a moment, until there was a sharp pain in the back of his head,and he realized he had been slammed into a wall. His breathing was being cut off by a hand on his throat, pressing further against the wall. The hand of course belonged to Elena. Gren's eyes widened in panic, he gasped for a breath that was blocked, then scrambled and scratched at her hands in an attempt to pry her off of him. "Maybe you should ahead and die like them. You're worth nothing." She pressed down harder with a snorty, evil laugh. The cheering was nothing but a dull roar as Gren fought desperately to free himself. Things soon began fading around him, turning black, until all he saw was Elena's sadistic smirk. 

She intended to kill him-

Someone shouted from far off, though Gren couldn't understand what he said, Elena looked back towards the shout with a surprised, if not angry, expression, then shouted something back. Gren's vision went completely dark. 

Then she let go. 

Gren hit the concrete with a thud, just barely managing to land on his hands and knees. He brought a hand to his throat as a terribly cough racked his body. He didn't see where the others went but they were gone now... He gasped for breaths between heaves and coughs, his throat hurt terribly inside and out. He knew his neck would bruise after this-

He heard the heavy footfalls of a horse walking with metal attached to it. The clinking was easy to identify. A new wave of panic overtook Gren as he heard it. Soldiers. They must have heard the commotion- He couldn't afford to be caught, things never ended well for orphans involved with soldiers.. He tried to stand, but his knees shook so bad that he fell again as soon as he tried. A horse's hooves entered his view a moment later. Gren looked up in a panic, only to see a... girl...

She looked only about 6 years older than him. Barely the right age to be a soldier. Her hair was long and dark, tied into two braids her stature tall and straight. 20 at the most but she was a soldier. She wore the right armor and everything.

A second horse rode up quickly, though Gren didn't get a chance to see as the first soldier began making hand movements. She didn't speak, just used her hands. Gren's mouth dropped open in confusion. 

The other horse's rider spoke. "Are you okay?" Gren snapped towards the other rider with surprise, finding this one looked just a little older, with dark hair tied back into a loose braid and a single brown dot beneath her left eye. The two looked similar. Sisters? 

The first moved her hands again, and again, slower this time, the second asked "Are you hurt?"

What was going on? 

"F-Fine.." Gren murmured, trying to push himself back to standing again, resting a hand on the wall for support. 

The two soldiers shared a look, before the first shook her head and moved her hands some more. Different this time, then offered out a hand to Gren. Gren stared in surprise as the second one spoke.

"I don't think so. Come on, let's get you looked at."

Chapter Text

The stillness was terrible, even as the snow fluttered down around her, coating her already white hair with pale, frozen flakes  Lujanne was used to this, at least. The silence, the cold. Even in the moon nexus' sanctuary, even with her illusions to accompany her, it was still cold. And quiet... 

But she had chosen this life. She had been the one to decide not to partake in the war, she had chosen to leave while the others fought, to guard the moon nexus in this trying time. She had chosen to be alone.

She sat down quietly on the branch of the old tree at the top of the mountain, letting her legs dangle. Sometimes she simply sat here, atop the old tree, and watched the village below, though it was dark, quiet. Most of the humans would be asleep right now. Those who weren't would retire soon. She knew them well, though she never walked among them, they were her only real connection with the world, the small village at the base of her mountain of solitude...

She considered them almost like children to her, the humans below. She watched many of the adults grow up, and she still watched those adults' children play on the streets like ants scurrying on soft, gray dirt. Sometimes she heard them laugh, it always made her smile at just how precious they sounded.

Sometimes she would send an illusion to make them laugh when they cried, when she herself missed her home. It always seemed to help her for the day. But that help never lasted. It always eventually gave way to the lonely, motionless nights, when there was no one to laugh, no one to make her smile. The night should comfort her, she was a moon mage after all, yet all it seemed to do was remind her of how truly alone she was here. 

Tears froze on her cheeks as the wind around her picked up and the night chilled further. She could just make herself not feel the cold, she could create an illusion for herself. But she knew it would do nothing. She would always know they were just illusions. 

She pulled her legs up to her chest as it all became even colder. She wrapped her arms around her legs and pressed her forehead into her knees as even more tears fell and she began crying. 

The wind blew at her hair, her cape, it froze her hands, it drowned out her cries. She could retreat into the nexus, but this at least gave her something except silence. The cold was better than nothing. 

A sudden flash made her gasp, looking up towards the sky in an attempt to find what had caused it. Her eyes widened as she realized it had been from moon. 

The moon was full, though it had been new a mere moment ago, as something small fell from it. Lujanne gave another gasp, drawing in frigid air and rushed forward, jumping off the dead tree branch by branch with the speed and grace only a moonshadow elf could have. Her cape caught onto the already dead wood and pulled, ripping at some places, destroying the tree at others, but Lujanne didn't care. Something was falling. She didn't want it to hit the ground, it could be important. It was from the moon itself after all.

She was close, but whatever it was landed with a resounding thud, blowing soft snow as it landed. She scrambled off the final branch of the tree and came close to the black dent in the white. A tiny, blue-ish-black ball of feathers lay in the snow. She came closer, slowing down and putting a hand to her mouth in worry, just as a glowing blue eye opened suddenly. The the creature lifted its small head and squawked quietly. A bird. Moreover, a hatchling. A.. moon phoenix? 

The poor thing was shivering and shaking terribly, and gav ea pitiful, scared squawk that tore at Lujanne's heart. She offered a soft smile, then lifted the bird up carefully. It struggled, flapping it's young wings before settling in her hands, yet it still shook. She tore off her cape in a single, smooth motion, then gently wrapped it around the snow covered hatchling.

"It's okay, little one," Lujanne cooed softly, carrying the bird inside the tree. It was cold, the moon nexus would be a little far of a walk, especially for the little one. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."

Chapter Text

Due to difficulties writing and developing ideas, I've decided to drop out of the whumptober challenge. I may post one or two more chapters but as of now, I won't be participating every day like I was. Have a nice Halloween, everyone!

Thanks for reading.