CHAPTER 1

It was cold.

The air left the atmosphere with a deathly stillness. Dust scattering from rogue drafts made its way into the empty crypts. There was nary a breath that occupied the space. Even mites and spiders found themselves better acquainted far from such a place. For they knew what lay beneath the dust within the shadows.

In the middle, a row of cists was occupying the room, torches stationed at the mouth. The carved stone walls were decorated with dusted tapestries. Even under such a layer, the colour was rich. A resting place suited for those of high station, meant for those who'd mattered.

Strangely, even with the room filled with decoration, dust, and air, the cists remained empty save for one. Each had jewels embedded in its stone, but only one gleamed in its haggard state. A power ebbed from the very seams, a ghastly wind that dared whomever to reach upon it.

A mark had been etched atop its smooth surface, pulsing as if it'd been living, breathing. The others had yet to produce such a reaction.

Soundlessly someone had entered. The power they held was miles from the power that lived beneath a stone visage. Hooded and faceless, they knelt and welcomed into the space. The unknown was what they'd been met with. Even this close, they had yet to feel the full force of what was beyond.

Pale skin placed itself upon the sigil, caressing each groove. A soft breath escaped them as a hand reached beneath the fabric, brandishing a blade. Gently steel kissed flesh as blood dripped its way into every nook of the sigil. They placed both blade and hand upon the top, resting their head upon the curved side.

"Will you speak with me?" they questioned.

It was unclear what they'd hoped for in such a place. Even beyond the grave, the dead rarely talked.

"Must you always play hard to get?" still nothing responded. The murmurs of wind had even been silenced. They sighed, pressing their hand into the stone. They stopped breathing, their focus placed on their outreached hand. Sparks of gold flickered from beneath their palm as mana trickled its way over the top of the stone, flowing like a gentle mist.

"Will you tell me a story?"

'What sort of story?' A disembodied voice spoke to them. It was calm, ethereal, and even euphoric to those who remained on the other side.Beneath the hold of the stone-overcoat lay a girl, no more than ten and nine. Her skin had been rich in colour, unblemished if not only a little dry. Her hair trailed down to her fingertips, gently curled with the colour of night. It was almost as if she'd been suspended in time.

They croaked with a reluctant voice, "A sad one."

'I fear it might break your heart.'

"Already broken." Stone hummed underneath their hold as if appeased by such a sad response, perhaps kindred in feeling.

━━━━ ◦ ★ ◦━━━━

The moon cast a loving ray upon her face as she stood from her chair. The grass was soft underfoot, not a prickle or pebble to disturb her. She'd only adorned a white chemise as she went down a hill.

Grassy plains extended far beyond what her eyes could see, not a sign of any other life. Even the sky had been unlittered with the noise of clouds, only the moon in all her glory. This place had been a figment of her imagination, dreamed up in response to the time spent waiting for something; someone.

Carefully she observed every flower as she took steps on a dirt path. She named them all in her time here. Friends who shared the same existence her soul had. However, flowers could not feel, only die.

The path was long, this much she knew. Memories took time to navigate. She said hello to each flower she passed, reciting its name and type. Now she stood at the end of this off-beaten path. And all she was met with was her reflection within a glass pane coated carefully with polished mercury. Such mirrors were expensive and never seen as commonplace.

She looked different from how she appeared. Smaller limbs and fingers grasped at the glass on the other side. Doe-like red eyes stared at her as long, pointed ears poked from her hair.

Her ears were now less awkward and much more sized to her head. She crouched in front of her adolescent self, now at eye level.

━━━━ ◦ ★ ◦━━━━

"Aerys, Aerys", A woman called out to her as her tongue met mercury.

Quickly she was scooped up into the woman's embrace, her hair tickling Aerys's cheeks as she held her tongue out.

"How many times have I told you not to lick the looking glass," the woman reprimanded. "You've run off knowing you'll be meeting your new playmate. I've heard he's very handsome."

"Sorry, Larysa," She murmured as they exited the room.

Larysa had been a thrall of her sister. It was customary for those of higher status to take loyal humans into their households as servants or pets. It was a pact made in blood, something that would remain even long after their master had died. The payment, however, was rich, as blood from a high-ranking aristocrat could stave off most wounds and decrease ageing.

Aerys had yet to take a thrall, having been only six in age. At ten and four, her sister had been eligible for the past two years. Her brother would soon reach that age come summer.

They travelled through the halls wordlessly, even as courtiers bowed toward Aerys. She undoubtedly put them behind schedule with her little excursion.

Everyone passed them at a pace much quicker than Larysa could manage in her human body. The "slow" speed of the aristocracy had been a brisk walk for their servants who extended their strides to follow.

The halls they weaved through were gilded with tapestries and carvings of religious eulogies or dramatic historical reenactments. They hadn't changed much in the years her father had ruled, even despite his wife's adamant protest of the obscenity they showed. Her father had more pressing matters to worry about. Tensions had been high since he'd petitioned for her sister to be the heir.

However, such problems had yet to be on Aerys's radar. She was interested in spirits and sword fighting. Like most kids her age, she hadn't been big enough to participate, hence the summoning of a royal playmate.

She'd been taken to the doors of her room. Her standing guard promptly opened the doors as Larysa placed her onto the patterned tile. Aerys scanned the room quickly, noticing her balcony doors had been open. Usually, most guests had found themselves contented in her drawing room space. How strange?

She turned back to Larysa, who gave her an encouraging smile shoeing her out to the balcony.

Aerys took tender steps through the paned balcony doors. She wasn't sure what to think. In her life, she had only truly interacted with adults. Most other children flocked to her siblings for various reasons. She'd always been shy.

"Hello?" she meekly called out as she saw him.

He was tall, or taller than her, at least. His eyes were a great pale blue, his hair a light blonde. He stood from his seat, quickly bowing before her.

"Your highness."

She found such formalities to be awkward. But etiquette demanded such ostentatious greetings.

"What's your name?" She took small steps, bridging the physical gap between them. Nowadays, there were many members of the aristocracy, and it was ridiculous to expect her to remember most of them.

"Cypris Galanis," he flitted his eyes up as he straightened into a routine but respectful manner. Aerys had never heard of House Galanis, meaning he'd been the son of a minor lord.

"Cypris", She repeated. She let out a short huff before moving to sit. Cypris poured them some tea as she stared out at the moonlit day.

They were quiet in each other's presence, unsure what to say or how to address one another. In all matters but age Aerys was his senior. She had more political strength at six than he'd probably have in a lifetime.

"Do you like the stars, your highness?" She looked back toward him, eyes softened.

"I do. They light the sky and guide our way."

"Have you ever seen the sun?" Her gaze shifted downward.

There wasn't much opportunity to see the sun. She was strictly forbidden from doing so.

"No," she mumbled. She wanted so badly to feel the sun's warm light on her skin. Larysa had described it as a warm hug or gentle kisses. "Have you?"

"Yes."

"Is it warm?"

"Very." He thought for a second. It made sense she had only a genuine concept of the sun besides what she'd read or heard. "It's warmer than the moon and a thousand stars."

"I want to watch the sunset one day. Feel it on my skin." Her eyes were filled with wonder for the sun. A childish hope she was holding onto that. Eventually, she could fully sit in the sun's warm rays.

"The moon is magnificent in its own way, your highness." She tilted her head ever so slightly. The moon was cold. It couldn't light the way without the stars. And, at times, provided no light at all. It was a wonder that plants even grew under such conditions. But they still grew.

"Hmm," I suppose so.