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The King Trials

The death of the High King’s only son initiates the King Trials; demanding the eldest pureblood from each Regnum. The Hera, Adalia Valwa, is the only female among eight other Herems. With no brother to take her stead, she is blood-bound to compete in the King Trials to safeguard her family’s lands and titles. In order to circumvent tragedy, she must not only participate, but she must triumph.  However, this is no easy feat, she is faced against ruthless rivals, dangerous mythological beings and creatures, forced to fight in bloody duels with an onslaught of death-defying challenges that forges a woman into a warrior. A chronicle of duty and bravery, a story brimming with riveting action, an enemies-to-lovers romance with war-provoking betrayals that reveal they are all pawns in a much larger game.

Mbali_Xabela · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
48 Chs

Chapter 27

The time of the celebration has come.

Half naked beneath a night robe and seated on the backless chair in front of the broad vanity set. The table is cluttered with cosmetics and a collection of accessories to choose from. Cassia and Lila are already outfitted in their ball gowns. Lila is garbed in a shiny emerald dress, off shoulders, that's tight at the waist, flaring out from her hips, bare skin ornamented with swirling golden armlets. Her dark green tresses are plaited up in a complex updo.

I watch Cassia through the mirror as she braids my hair into a crown-like style, her skilled fingers weaving through. Something about it reminds me of Seliah.

Cassia is dressed in a simple but elegant buttery yellow dress: strapless and sleeveless, only held together by a cord around her neck like a collar, most of her back exposed. Both of their faces are decorated with crushed gemstones. My skin is lathered with scented oils, pleasant-smelling and it gives my skin a glossy shine. My lips are coloured with cosmetics made from dyes containing Tyrian purple, crushed mulberries that make a luscious red.

"Can you go over the names again?" I request.

Cassia lets out her frustration with a long exhale.

"I thought you were from an intelligent Regnum?" she says without looking at me. "Thus, an absorbent mind. You are just anxious, and you needn't be."

"A summary would not hurt," Lila says in my stead.

"There's Green Earl, Moray. He owns the largest harvesting plots of earth globs. Green Earl, Phelixzica who holds the seeds to nutritious vegetables that are only found within Cistern. Nowhere else in Urium, so it will be quite a notch to get access to those," she says and looks at my reflection to gauge my response.

I nod back at her.

"Then there is—"

"Traitors," Opal interposes with an enraged yell, "whores and liars!" She appears in the bedchamber and marches to us with a maddened stride. She ducks once to pass the one cord of the net bed, and then another before she stands at Cassia's rear.

Her scorching glare nearly melts my reflection in the mirror. "You said that I should stay away from Vince, but that's only because you want him for yourself."

I nearly suffocate on laughter.

The tickling laugh bursts free. I try to turn my head, but Cassia's grip on my hair restricts free mobility. "Want him?" Another laugh escapes me. "You can have him; I was merely cautioning you against it."

Her face rots into a vicious look. She places her hands on the waist of her bright mauve dress, sleeveless with thick straps covered by a layer of lace over the skirt.

"Cautioning me against what?"

"That's just it..." I throw up my hands and they fall back to my lap. "I just don't know. He seems decent, and he is dashing and inarguably enthralling. But there's something ingenuine about his approach, what he does and what doesn't. I cannot call it by its name. But something's...off about him."

Still simmering, Opal glares back at me, but the fire in her eyes snuffs out.

She squares her shoulders, her hair bejewelled with vivid gems. "Alright..." she trails off, half-dubious. "I believe that you believe that."

She takes a step forward; the thud of her heels almost sounds threatening. "But I have seen the way he looks at you...the way he cannot stop looking at you."

I meet her gaze in the mirror.

She smirks, and her eyes sparkle with malice. "Like how a predator looks at his prey." She glances at her sisters. "I'll see you all at the celebration." She sends me a cursory glance, scanning my torso with a filth-lathering look.

She whirls around and struts out of the bedchamber with the same spiteful verve.

"So...does that mean I lost her support?"

Lila giggles from afar but says nothing.

"Give no attention to my little sister," Cassia dismisses. "I've learnt to tolerate her foolish antics."

Done with my hair, she leans forward to reach for a gilded flower crown bound by interweaving vines. Each of us has one, but all a different variation. She picks it up and settles it on top of my head dramatically with both hands as if it were my coronation. The formation of mine curves up to a triangular shape.

I nod happily. "It's stunning, thank you," I say, then my gaze drops to my chest. I pry my robe apart slightly to glimpse the golden glitter twinkling on my chest. "Though... is the glitter truly necessary?"

"But of course," Cassia says, retrieving her own crown. Two long golden leaves that meet together at the brink, overlapping slightly to make a short X-shape. "Besides, when you see the dress that I have planned for you, you will see why. No male with eyes in their sockets will be able to take their gaze off you."

A frown crinkles my face, the edges tightening. "So, am I to seduce favour from them?"

Cassia snorts like what I asked her was absurd. "How else will you obtain it?"

My frown deepens. "By using strategic negotiations that will lead to either party being satisfied. By using my head."

Cassia's brows billow. "That's not the part of the female's anatomy that comes first to a male's mind," she remarks.

I shift, moving to rise from the seat.

Cassia looks back at Lila. "Sorry to use you as my personal servant, but you're the only one that knows. Please fetch my shoes, my favourite ones, fortunately she's the same size as me. And bring it to the destiny pool."

Lila nods obediently and glides out of the room.

"Come along," Cassia says and sashays towards the exit. Then she looks over her shoulder once she senses that I'm not following."What?"

I make an exaggerated hand gesture to the robe. "I'm not travelling to a...destiny pool whilst I'm practically naked."

Her eyes do a full three-sixty-five. "You are more than clothed. And on this tier, only first ranks dwell here and everyone's cooped up in their chambers preparing for the celebration. So, either we go now whilst it's silent—" and quickly adds, "—apart from the guards. Or you can give everyone a thrill and attend in your robe."

I yield, motioning her forward.

She leads me out of the annex, passing two bridges. Everywhere we cross it is heavily lined with guards, perhaps because of the Terrian aristocrats that will soon descend. Fortunately, none even glimpses my way as Cassia navigates me to a square-shaped structure. The front has two wooden columns that hold up a stone awning. The lumber double door is flanked by two Terra soldiers. As we approach, they each pull a door open for us in unison.

Cassia and I drift inside. The front entrance is dimly lit. We descend a long staircase and make our way beyond. This place is far bigger than how it looks on the outside with lofty walls that rise to unknown heights. Suddenly the hallway opens up, and the gloom melts away to a place of sumptuous affairs with wide-spanning arches, bronze floors, white marble-covered walls and decorative statues. There is a pool lodged against the head of the wide chamber with hill-like steps, circular-shaped and made entirely of white marble.

"So, it is a bathhouse?"

Cassia looks back at me like I insulted her. "It's not a bathhouse—" she throws an irritated hand towards the destiny pool. "—go and see for yourself."

I sigh and make my way to it. I climb up, feet pressed on the cold glazed steps.

I stop at the top, turning my gaze skyward. The dome ceiling is made from glass mosaic which reflects its vibrant light from the pool in an iridescent effect. But the pool itself is ethereal with glowing light green waters, a luminous turquoise.

I glance back down at Cassia; she makes a hurrying motion with both hands. "Take off the robe and get in. Let the water rise until your neck. And then, thank me after."

I set my gaze forward, releasing another pent-up sigh. I undo the rope, allowing it to fall on the top step. I look down and lift my leg to dip it inside the lukewarm waters. It tingles. I continue, descending the staircase that's hidden under the opaque, gleaming waters.

I submerge myself until the water is at my neck. I swivel to face her.

"Now what? If this was your way of saying that I needed to bathe again—"

The harmless tingles erupt into sparkling sizzles. I look down and pure golden light shines through the water, blinding and bright. I look away. Something clings to my stomach, shoulders, arms, my entire upper body. Like some kind of material forming, wrapping itself around my figure.

"Now," Cassia says with a beam. "Come out."

I walk back towards the staircase, movements hampered by the weight of the water that I must push through. As I rise, I look down and my eyes inflate to full size. I rise higher until I'm completely out of the waters. My body is enamelled in a royal blue dress, skin-tight around my torso, long-sleeved with a plunging neckline that showcases a generous view of my glittering chest. The dress continues to materialise, slinking out of the water, spilling onto the steps behind me. The hems of the dress are heavy with gold-plated feathers that even make shrilly scraping sounds against the marble. I stop once I'm aligned with Cassia. The ends of the dress sprawled behind me.

Cassia places a quick hand over her mouth before she shakes it out excitedly. "All hail the future High Queen of Urium," she says, picking up the skirt of her gown to lower herself into a deep curtsey.

I roll my eyes playfully. "I admit, I may look like one."

Her beam brightens. "Looking the part is half the job done. Now all you have to do is presevere through the Trials, pass the tests you are given, defeat your rivals, survive any more potential assassination attempts and win over the hearts of the people," she lists in one long breath. "Of all people."

I wrinkle my nose. "Yes, no pressure at all," I say with an excess of sarcasm.

She scolds me with a hollow glare. "First, let's start with the Terra. Since I heard that the Orombuc tribe, especially its hunters, were infatuated with a certain Herem Vince."

I place my hands on my stomach, my fingers caressing the velvety material like peacock feathers. "Where did you hear that?"

"Eyes and ears everywhere, my dear, Hera," she says. "And please, stop shooting ringerds out of the sky. It's barbaric."

I part my lips but I'm interrupted by the sounds of tall, thin heeled shoes clicking on the floor. Lila emerges with a pair of beautiful shoes in her grasp. The same royal blue as my dress with gold bottoms and heels. A gilded vine ropes around each one.

Cassia glances at me with a sly smirk. "Half the job is done; the other half is up to you. Make them fall in love with you so that the day you need it. You will have the support of the Terra for your claim to the throne."

***

We all reunite at the Regulus's throne room.

Treasures of dying light bathe the mosaic floors, causing sporadic flashes of kaleidoscopic lights to gleam like the white glimmers on the ocean's surface. The colonnade around the interior is like a border, casting shadows beside the tables and tables of organic food, elegant-carved dishes bursting with fruits, all wild colours. Noticeably, there are servants at the rims that hold up trays of Venetian wine glasses, brimming with red. They surround the spacious area, clearly reserved for dancing, right before the vacant throne. Just left of it is an orchestra of nymph musicians.

An ensemble of tuned bells strung together to form chimes, with a single head on a shallow body, furnished with four or more sets of bells placed equidistantly around its frame. Double-headed drums provide a rhythmic percussion through the melodic flute playing, aesthetic quality of whimsical music, only enhancing the ambiance of an enchanted forest feel.

The dance floor awash with Terra nobility, all robed in exotic silks, both males and females alike. Most mill about on the sidelines with dark red wine in their grasp, all nattering politely in cluttered clumps. Mostly to give space to those who frolic in the centre, occupied by hand-holding couples in a linear formation, performing various combinations of small bows and a series of walking steps completed by drawing the back foot up to the leading foot. Their gentle yet graceful movements match both the speed and elegance of the music.

"From here you are on your own," Cassia whispers. "We can only be presented with the Regulus and Regine, so many fortunes to you."

Cassia and Lila's arms are looped around mine, and they both give me a reassuring squeeze.

"Thank you," I say, glancing at Lila, "to you both."

They release me, and I propel forward like a child learning how to walk. It's been a while since I have worn heels but with every stride, my walk becomes more stable. My strut buoyed by rising confidence, neatly entwining my hands before my stomach, spine elongated.

At first, I only thought there was only one point of entry to the throne room but it turns out that there are many. As I approach, more heads swivel my way, my presence stealing the attention. Most of the stares linger below my neck. During my aimless travel, I'm intercepted by Solaris. He wears a green tunic embellished by turquoise embroidery that adorns the collar before streaking down into two ornate stripes. The detailing repeats around the cuffs of his sleeves.

"You look..." His eyes widen. His gaze roams down my body, respectfully admiring every inch of the dress. "Well...no words can do justice to such an immeasurable sight."

"Why, thank you," I say, dropping into a flattering curtsey. "You look stellar yourself, Solaris."

My eyes scour the clusters of Terra nobles. The Herems have been quite busy in my untimely advent. Most of them coaxing many first ranks, their prestige boasted by the stature of their horns or antlers. Especially one Terra that catches the eye with spread-out antlers; symmetrical, overreaching and as extensive as a head of a stag. He has two pairs of crow-like eyes, his impressive frame is outfitted in heavy dark brown clothing, with only other Terra nobles around him; it seems like they are all vying for his attention, but he is too occupied taking ample sips of his wine.

Cassia mentioned that those who wear bark wood colour clothing are harvesters of earth globs, and my guess is that he must be Green Earl Moray.

And of course, Vince is the centre of attention. His voice is foghorn loud when he is booming out a guffaw, a mellifluous sound. His innate confidence affixed to his proud broad shoulders, emanating assertiveness is the enticing allure that draws anyone.

He is not only adored by literal future kings but people as humble as the Orombuc tribe, and even as foreign and unknown as the Terra. And they are gobbling his every word, transfixed under the spell of his gaze—his gaze finds me, casting me under his thrall. He visibly falters in his speech, stuttering for a second. His eyes evaluate me, and his conclusion is unreadable as the veil of charm falls back on his face. And he resumes his theatrics, amusing the surrounding elite.

I need a strategy to sway attention from Him, and even from the others, to me.

But it will be a difficult feat. The Herems—males—can demand acknowledgment without needing to earn it. I however need to show that I am worthy of it, that I'm not some kind of ornament meant to be ogled.

"Adalia...?"

With a quick inhale, I'm flashed back to reality. Solaris looks back at me quizzically. Like he had asked me a question...several times.

"What was that?" I ask. "Sorry, the music is quite loud." Even though it is as soft and sensuous as fairies' whispers.

Solaris flares a questioning brow but maintains an amiable smile. "Would you like to dance?"

Well, that just might work.

Eager, he offers his forearm, palm exposed. Accepting, I rest my entire forearm on his and our palms meet. He guides us towards the middle of the dance floor and the long roundish ends of the dress follows after me. I can hear the faint, scraping sounds of the gilded feathers stroking the mosaic floor. By the time we reach the epicentre of the dance floor, everyone else seems to fall away, receding to the margins like we're professional performers about to dazzle them with a spectacle.

Shortly, every pair or pairs of eyes is on us.

"Well... this is awkward,"

I look past his shoulder, careful not to make direct eye contact as my gaze flits through the crowd of blurry faces.

"They are enthralled by you. I cannot blame them, you look spectacular."

The dance begins, and we make a transition to a closed position. Solaris places his hand on the small of my back. I place my hand on his shoulder. Now that Solaris is facing me while I face the one side; we both do a turn with forwarding steps, stepping with the same foot at the same time.

The turn begins with a small step, springing onto the outside foot and lifting the inside foot forward. On the second beat, there is a longer step, I poise myself for a jump. I spring up into the air, Solaris's steady hands keep me elevated. He lets me back down on the last beat of the measure. And we make a three-quarter turn during each.

"Fascinating... it seems fate has placed you in my arms once again."

With one arm lodged behind our backs. Our opposite hands meet, flattened against the other. We bow to each other, and he twirls me around, our entwined hands raised above my head.

"Solaris—"

"Which means...I can...have your counsel on how to court Seliah."

My brows shoot to my hairline. I lose my footing, but Solaris's grip keeps me bolstered. "Seliah, my Seliah?" I force my volume to lessen. "My sister, Seliah?"

All this nymph music must be scrambling my senses.

He chuckles and nods stiffly, casting furtive glances around us. "Yes, I have been looking to have an audience with her since I saw her at the solstice ball, three winters ago. But in the last cycle, instead, I tried to befriend you because you were approachable. And my tongue got tied in knots if I was even fifteen metres within her reach."

So, this is why he was so curious about her. And here I thought he was just trying to make conversation.

Executing a second twirl, my face crumples with suspicion. "But then, why did you write letters to me? Letters of invitation to visit one of your estates."

He exhales heavily. "It is clear by sight alone that you two mean a great deal to each other. I wanted to befriend you, hoping to learn more about Seliah through you, and hopefully one day. You would support my desire to court her. Once you yourself came to know the kind of man I am."

Suspicions waning, I say, "And here I thought you sent those letters because—"

"You thought I fancied you?" A glow illuminates his face. "You are not that spectacular, lovely Hera. No, my desires belong to another. My offer of friendship to you was because you are the sister of a girl I care for. She values you and so will I, and I will look after you as I would her."

I see why I was so inclined to believe his sincerity that he truly is a friend and not a foe. Because of those letters. Everything he speaks of happened long before the death of the Dophan, thus initiating the Vasilias Imperii. Allegiance strewed by integrity, grown from his desire for my sister.

Seliah is going to go into a frenzy when I tell her.

The dance concludes with a bow, and the spectators burst into a round of applause.

"You and I will discuss this later," I say to him, swivelling around.

My eyes lock on my target. Before I make my move, I make a beeline towards one of the servants, scooping up a glass of wine before I drift towards the swarm buzzing around the male with the sprawling antlers.

On approach, he sees me and lifts his glass in my direction. His entourage parts way for me so that I can stand before him.

"You must be... Hera Adalia," he says, words faintly slurred. "Wonderful dancer you are, and I see the stories of you are incorrect. Beautiful is an insult, your exquisiteness is inestimable."

I bow my head back at him gratefully. "Thank you, and please, call me Adalia. And you must be...Green Earl, Moray?"

Please be right, please be right. Mentally holding tightly crossed fingers.

His four eyes blink down at me with sheer surprise. "Gorgeous and clever...how dangerous."

I push out a giggle, taking a ladylike sip of the wine. Once I do, I almost spit it back out again. It's awful! The worst wine I have ever tasted, bitter and heavy with resin. I have had medicinal elixirs with a far more appetising taste than this.

Earl Moray slants towards me then moves the glass beside his mouth like he's going to whisper a secret. "That was my reaction as well. Regardless, I gulped down eight...or...nine glasses of it."

Already? My head bops. "The Regulus has...an acquired taste."

"In the Citadel, celebrations with wine are far too scarce. Almost once a cycle, perhaps two, if we're fortunate. The sole supplier only stocks the palace with this—" he holds up the glass and glares at it with borne resentment, "—distilled disaster."

I smirk internally. I can use this.

"I hear that the other Green Earls have traded their earth globs, specifically to Regnum Cypress, and I'm sure in turn they satisfy them with an exchange of their choosing. Who's to say that you cannot do the same?"

He gesticulates with the glass in his hand, moving it in wobbling zigzags. "Because I have yet to find a worthy supplier of note. The Regulus tolerates outside trade, but he is not fond of it. Whoever I trade with must be worth risking his ire."

My smile grows. "Green Earl, Regnum Valwa is a Regnum famed for its wisdom, intellect in strategy and diplomacy, but also its knowledge in wine-making. The Regnum possess many lucrative holdings."

He takes a stumbling step towards me and a lopsided grin teeters on his lips. "Now that is an eligibility of note. Tomorrow, at the noontide. After I have recuperated from the aftermath of my excessive drinking, that I shall surely suffer. I will send for you; I have chambers booked in the palace so we can...negotiate future endeavours, then."

I nod back at him. "May it be a bright and long future."

"Tum eras le nevel la no darsolar. Reglus Havalem!"

I whirl around to watch the dancing throng scurry to the sides to join the once clustered crowd, now lined neatly on the flanks of the dance floor. The Regulus emerges and he makes his way down with a long and powerful stride. An elaborate wooden crown ornaments his head, with tall bristle peaks curved backwards in a halved cylindrical shape. Two slender wooden points that run down his temples. His shimmering sheet of hair nearly reaches his hipline.

The Regine follows, cleansed by a new pious white grown with an intricate veil to match, but the headpiece is different. A miniature crown crests the round ball of elaborate braids bound together. The crown looks like wrought lace, white and elegant. Followed by their three daughters: Cassia walks a step ahead in the middle of her other two sisters. Flanked by the same bestial, hellbound guards that we saw the first time we arrived.

My eyes pursue them until they make their way to the staircase.

The ash-grey guards with iron skull masks position themselves at the foot of the staircase.

The Regulus climbs up to his throne, enveloped in regal forest-green garbs embossed with sterling silver designs. He seats himself on the throne and the Regine settles herself on his lap. He moves to secure an arm around her. And their daughters naturally line themselves beside the throne on their right side.

Altogether; a vision of grace.

"Where are my honoured guests, the pureblood descendants of the Decuria?" His voice is unlike the Regine that is aloof and cold. The bass of voice has a warmth to it, like how a father speaks to his son.

One by one, we all filter from the two grouped masses, and even Duce Merian slinks out. Shortly, we all stand in a horizontal line before the staircase with Duce Merian at our rear. He observes us from his throne with a lordy gaze.

"I apologise for the delay. Dark times are upon us," he says, sorrow hollows out his tone. "I never comprehended the severity of a problem that sprung up overnight. The people are calling it; The Black Death."

Indistinct muttering surges through the crowd behind us.

"An agricultural plague that blights all crops. One done from dark magic that rots the soils and turns everything it produces, globbery and black. The way it spreads, and the grotesque results are the malefic tributes of potent malignancy. One that can only be done by the Ulris."

The mutterings intensify, fracturing the atmosphere with dread-filled clamours.

"My cherished people," he declares. "I will not deceive you. The Ulris have been silent for too long, dormant whilst they engineer our ruin. If they cripple the realm's food security, they can bring Urium to its knees and that is not even the beginning."

Tension suffocates the throne room like tight fingers bound around one's throat.

"No one knows of the Ulris's schemes, but the Vanguard armies have already been spread too far thin across Urium; quelling rebellions incited by terror factions that lit the match of dissension. If this endures, Urium will not only fall, it will be irreversibly destroyed."

My finger brushes against the stem of the glass anxiously.

"The role of High King is a difficult one. If he thwarts one power, he might embolden another, if he slays one faction, he could create martyrs. But if he sides with one denomination of people, he risks appearing prejudicial."

The Regulus drums his fingers on the arm of the throne thoughtfully.

"His tentativeness to take firm action against those who only wish to spill blood has caused the instability of Urium, dithering about possible and unknown outcomes. What the realm needs is a decisive leader that will rule with fierceness but will have compassion as if they bear a heart of glass."

His eyes wander amid us nine.

"I only accepted High King Urus's appeal, to have this be one of the locations of his little realm tour, only so you could heed to my words. One of you, the future Ruler. This is more than just the insurrection of those who conspire sedition, who want to topple the monarchy by causing this strife." His face grows grim. "This is more than just rattling the line of succession. This is about the dark forces that will surpass the devastation of the Great Realm War. Urium does not need another puppet King. It needs a unifier, a fighter. And for the sake of our realm, I pray that it is one of you."

He leans back into his seat.

"May only the worthy rule."

***

The following day, I rise before dawn. I plan to get a few hours of training done before the sun ascends, and with it, life amongst the Terra. Plus, I have a business arrangement with Green Earl Moray after he...recuperates.

Cassia delivered on my request and sent more comfortable clothes for me to wear. A strapless green top, unbelievably soft material that wraps around my breasts, and that's the only cover I am spared. Paired with a high-waisted skirt: dual slits, unnecessarily high, but at least it provides mobility. Thick white wraps are bandaged around my forearms and knuckles, my left feet bare.

The place of training I chose is high up on the platform of the wooden spire, raised so high I feel untouchable. It's so early that even the sun still slumbers. The sky is a gentle midnight blue, a dye blend between that and a dark amethyst above the horizon. Pinpricks of morning stars gleam awake. Encroaching shadows still creep, darkness blankets the celestial forest. Disturbed by the strings of fairy lights in the trees and standing lamp posts spaced in intervals amidst the bridges.

I initiate my series of forms by beginning with my feet apart slightly wider than shoulder-width. My feet are straightforward and my knees are bent at ninety degrees. My torso sinks down as if following a plumb line, the sacrum curves forward. Equal weighting. I hold the form. In the meantime, my mind relives the celebration, recalling the Regulus's words...his warning, the constant warning. Not only this, but my father cautioned me about this long ago and truth be told, I did not believe him. My will fuelled my determination to please him, and pleasing him meant being a staunch protector of Regnum Valwa. Which I am.

The Ulris's involvement... the attack by the Vulkra... something earth-shattering is on the rise. The Ulris have been silent since the Last Age; they disappeared to their many hellscapes that can be only accessed by portals that require a mega-ton of energy. But now, with merely one utterance of their return, destruction already spreads.

The Ulris are powerful beings...not easily slain. Which is how their aid ensured the defeat of their enemies, by unlocking the dark forces of the Convergence, uniting the dimensions of their hellscapes. And drawing unimaginable power from each simultaneously.

The Vulkra possess such power yet...when we were attacked. The Avangard soldiers defeated them easily. Avangard soldiers are equipped with special weapons, their blades grafted with Alrosia fibres to wound such beings but it cannot slay them the way they did.

I know personally; the Ulris are not easily defeated.

I slide into the next stance. My foot is pointed straight ahead with the lead leg bent at a ninety-degree angle. My trailing foot is angled outward with the heel lined up with the heel of the leading foot. My head whips to the side—intermittent wooden creaks—someone is ascending the staircase, but the footsteps are far too heavy to be Cassia. Pummelled by torrents of frame-wracking energy—my breaths run quick—rushing waves threaten to overwhelm me.

I straighten, falling out of form. I spin around to watch a great shadow skulk from the darkness. A towering figure arises and steps into the exposure of light, but still manages to be a part of the darkness.

"Primus Kelan," I murmur.