The room catches me off guard. For one, it is untouched by the battle outside, an oddly peaceful island amongst the horror ruling the rest of the castle. For another, it is dazzling.

If the place I first stepped off the ladder into had been bright, this must be like staring into the sun. From the walls to the ceiling to the curious fur my feet sink into, everything is purest white. Even the branched crystalline candles hanging from above, their flames flickering and lively, seem to cast a white glow. All that breaks the blinding pale sheet are the laces of gold, framing the huge white cloth I presume hides a window at the left wall and twirling extravagant patterns high into the domed ceiling. When I peer more closely at them, I realise that they resemble birds, with wings outstretched as they glide.

Unlike the rooms we passed on the way here, which were filled with all manner of furniture and, on occasion, hung weaponry, this one is nearly empty. Yet there is one object that snatches my attention. A seat, large enough to tower over me and built of solid white stone, with curves wide but delicately formed. It radiates power, and I feel as if I shrink beneath it.

The effect is somewhat ruined, however, by the woman draped within its dip. Her legs dangle over one side, boots kicking lazily at air, while her head reclines in the seat's right corner. With one hand, she toys with an uneven strand of hair, though it barely reaches her shoulders, while the other taps at the handle of a sword that rests before her in the seat. If she were wearing armour like the captain, I doubt such a relaxed position would have been possible, but her attire is different. Though she wears armour of identical colouring, it is more trimmed, as if molded to fit her form exactly.

"Kid." The captain is beside me, jolting my gaze from her. "Do exactly what I tell you," he mutters. "And nothing else. Otherwise you will get your wish, and you'll be back in that cell in an instant."

He straightens before I can answer, but I nod to him, swallowing my uncertainty.

Stepping forwards, he bows briefly. "General Velez. I bring you... a proposition."

Her eyes fix on him, sparkling in the plentiful light. "Harlow." A slow smile weaves its way across her face. "My favourite captain. I've told you before, you are welcome to call me Giulia."

Her voice has an odd flow to it, seamless like the gentle course of a stream, yet it holds the rough edge of pebbles hidden beneath. The captain barely reacts. "In the interest of formality, I prefer to stick to your title, General." He tilts his head sideways. "Or perhaps Queen, considering your current position. I take it you've chosen to claim the Oscensi throne?"

She giggles, a playful ripple in the waters, and swings her legs forward. "I'd sooner slit my own throat than rule this drab little kingdom. Just having a little fun, is all." In one movement, she grips her sword and hops from the seat, landing softly on her toes. "You can have a turn, if you like."

"No, thank you." I'm surprised that he manages to keep his voice free of impatience. "General Velez, I want you to meet a prisoner I found beneath the basement."

He flicks a hand at me, and her eyes follow. Automatically, I edge backwards, but she approaches anyway, her walk almost like a dance in the way she skips from one step to the next.

Thankfully, she stops a couple of paces away, though the way her stare sweeps across my face awakens my flame regardless. I hide my hand, letting a few flickers slip over my fingers before forcing them down again.

"Beneath the basement?" she remarks. She doesn't look away from me, but the question is clearly directed at Harlow. "A little extreme."

"I thought so too, at first," he mutters. I glance over at him, and notice his eyes also drill into me. I remember his words on our entrance, and do my best to remain still, despite the way my pulse burns with trapped fire.

"Especially for a boy," she adds, taking another small step forward. I flinch. "How old is he? Fourteen? I knew this place was abysmal, but... hm." Her eyes lock onto mine. "Not the most handsome, is he? Awfully pale, and those eyes are ghastly."

My breath hitches. I can't recall what my eyes look like, but it shouldn't surprise me that they are unpleasant. The comment shouldn't sting.

Finally, she looks back at Harlow, and I almost heave a sigh of relief. "An odd little find, though, Harlow. Maybe I'll keep him around as my errand boy."

She makes to turn away, but he advances on her, his gaze firm. "That's not all, General." While she frowns at him quizzically, he glances at me, offering a nod. "Go on, kid. Show her what you can do."

My eyes widen. "You want me to--"

"No, no, of course not," he says hurriedly, reading my expression. "Just the fire."

I nod. That is safe, at least. If anything, the invitation is a burden from my shoulders. Bringing my hands forward, I let the nerves thrumming through me break free, emerging as licks of black flame. I hope it isn't obvious how good it feels: the cooling delight of letting the power I kept imprisoned within me finally run loose across my palms.

To my further relief, General Velez moves back. A little of her confidence peels away along with her smile, though I can tell she is trying not to let it show. Her hand tightens on her sword hilt.

"An odd little find indeed," she breathes.

I concentrate on weaving the fire around my wrist, stripping away my fear with each spark. I find myself meeting her eyes, and this time she flinches.

"Alright, that's enough," Harlow commands. I glance over at him, feel the green glare of his eyes, and reluctantly comply. The flames hiss as they duck below the surface, but their escape, short-lived as it was, has provided some comfort. At least I've stopped trembling now.

The general shakes away her trance, though her smile doesn't reappear immediately. "Quite the party trick," she says, the stream stumbling as it crosses turbulent waters.

"It isn't just that," Harlow says quietly. "He killed one of my soldiers, Oswin Ley."

Strangely, those words don't seem to shock her as much. If anything, they impact me more; I dip my head, paying respect to the name I seem to keep hearing on repeat.

"My theory," he continues when she doesn't reply, "is that he proves a certain rumour correct. I trust you know the one I mean?"

She twirls her sword in a circle almost absentmindedly, still watching me. "Ah yes. The Anathe. A charming story."

I let the word echo, saving the way it slices from her tongue, encased in an oddly high growl. It is unfamiliar, but something about it lifts my flame. A call I did not require, yet welcome all the same.

"The cursed one, who wielded darkness itself," he adds with a nod, confirming the sensation. "It's not fully what I expected, but... well, he fits the brief."

Glancing at him, she jabs her sword in my direction. "I'm all for you bringing me oddities, Harlow, but I have to say, I'm not overly fond of this one. As handsome as you are, I don't appreciate things that can kill me."

"He won't harm you." He sounds so sure that I can't help but stare at him, taken aback. He doesn't look at me. "He killed Oswin by accident, I suppose. Touching him proves deadly."

"And what's to say he won't decide to burn me with that hideous fire of his?"

"He won't. If he wanted to murder us all, we would be long dead by now."

I lack the courage to speak, but I nod, reinforcing his words as truth. Or, at least, partial truth. The fire rises within me, a reminder that part of me does wish to burn their souls, for it is what they deserve. It isn't so much a want as a desperate, hungry need.

And one I won't listen to. I set my jaw, freezing the flames with ice.

She tosses her sword into the air, then catches it from above. "That still allows for plenty of accidental deaths, and I'm not a fan of losing soldiers outside of battles."

Folding his arms, Harlow shrugs. "We can be careful."

"Our soldiers don't exactly do careful, Harlow." She casts him a sideways glance, her smile briefly tugging at her lips. "Except you, of course. Always the cautious one. It's why I like you."

"They will if you tell them to. General, we can put measures in place. The important thing is getting him back to Neyaibet."

"But why?" Spinning her sword, she passes it to her right hand, and then back to her left. Her movements with it are incredibly loose, yet she doesn't seem concerned about stabbing herself. "This is a dead kingdom. Seems fitting to leave him here with it."

I fail to hide my wince.

Harlow steps forward, close enough to enter the path of her dancing sword. She pulls it back, dangling it at her side, surprise flashing across her features. A spark of challenge has entered his eyes.

"On the contrary, General," he says, "this kingdom is dying. Not dead, but dying."

Despite her dismissive wave, I notice the way she looks down at her sword hilt, picking at its cloth covering. Either disinterest or, more likely, a way to avoid his stare. "There is little difference. It'll be gone soon enough."

He shakes his head. "Perhaps. Then again, this option offers a chance of revival. Particularly if a second party chooses to aid."

Frowning, she moves away, throwing up her sword again as she paces towards the covered window. Her steps are silent, smothered by the thick threads of the floor. "You're talking utter nonsense, Harlow. Akurin took their vow of peace nearly a century ago now, and you know how deeply rooted it is."

"And the Tarozar?"

She slashes vaguely, blade slicing through nothing. "The Tarozar ally with us. They agreed to stay out of this little skirmish."

"But they might be persuaded, for the right price."

He is moving forward, following her across the room. Hesitantly, I take a few steps, staying close enough to hear. Much of what they speak about I know scraps of thanks to a certain girl, and I'm intrigued, though I cannot deny my confusion. Why do they choose to debate this in my presence?

Spinning around to face him, she scoffs. "Oscensi has nothing to give." The sword moves to her right hand. "Why are you pursuing this, Harlow? I could argue with you all day, of course, given how dashing you look when you're passionate about something" -- she ignores his piercing glare -- "but I don't see what this has to do with your prisoner."

For a moment, he is silent. I wonder whether this is simply an old argument reawoken, and a coincidence it rears its head now. But then I see the challenge in Harlow's eyes spark brighter, and the smile that flickers across his lips. He knows what he is doing.

General Velez stills her sword, returning it to her side as she strides towards him. Even the silence is planned, for with it he has gripped her interest. I too examine him, waiting for him to speak, barely noticing the flames that now stretch between my fingertips. The tension presses heavily on my chest.

Clearly growing impatient, she lets out a light huff. "It's infuriating how well you wear mystery."

Gradually, Harlow parts his lips. "Perhaps you need to get better at solving them."

In one swift movement, he turns, taking a slow step in my direction. "What I'm saying, General, is that there is a chance Oscensi might still fight back, and we cannot risk that. We could do with some insurance. You know as well as I do how much we have lost in this war." I'm not entirely sure I imagine the meaningful glance he casts me with those last few words.

She sighs. "Yes, yes, of course." Her uncaring tone rises my flame. I hurriedly extinguish it, though all the action achieves is to let my protest burn my insides rather than the air. "We've got enough soldiers to squash a little rebellion. Harlow, come--"

Her voice falters. The sword slips from her grip, landing with a muffled clatter on the furred floor. Eyes widening, she moves towards Harlow.

"You can't mean..."

He nods slowly, holding her gaze. I debate interjecting, to ask what they mean, but the way his hand traces his sword hilt in a stray movement dissuades me.

For only a second, they remain that way, before she yanks away, swinging her sword in a wide arc once more. This time, however, there is more meaning behind the harsh swipe. "No, Harlow, no. I won't--"

"I thought you might not like it," he says, stopping her with a hand. "But we can talk more in private." His eyes flick to me.

She turns back to him. For the first time, there is a sternness to her eyes, a sense of command that narrows her features. Suddenly, I understand why she is a war general. If she were to return to her perch in the seat now, she might begin to match its demeanour.

"There's no need." The stream of her voice is almost bare, trickles scraping through stone. "It's final. No."

"At least entertain the idea."

Shaking her head, she bends, picking up her sword and sheathing it in a flourish. "Entertained. Still no."

She makes to walk away, but he is there, his back to me now as he blocks her path. Even without seeing them, I sense the harsh green of his eyes bore into her from the way her gaze darts about his face.

"Giulia," he says, voice strangely soft, almost too quiet for me to pick up. "Trust me."

Her head tilts to the side. Her eyes sparkle as her smile fights to return. "By the devil, Harlow. You're too charming for your own good."

"I'm hardly charming," he mutters, but he leans closer, whispering something else out of my earshot. Her smile widens.

"Alright." She twirls sideways, the commanding general whisked away in moments, and waves a hand at me. "Put him on a carriage to Neyaibet. You have the journey back to convince me."

He sighs. "Glad we got there in the end."

With that, he is marching towards me, and then past me to the door. I open my mouth, but my tongue grasps uselessly at words, not sharing my need to discover what they meant. I'm sure it was regarding me. But what would this captain, Harlow, want so desperately with me? He has hardly displayed a great deal of care for my fate, albeit more than Edita or any of the others.

Besides, even if I was capable of forming a decent question, his flashing glare suggests it would be a mistake to ask. No more questions. I owe this man my life, and consequently my silence, as uncomfortable as I feel giving it.

The door creaks, slowly swinging around. Harlow gestures once, beckoning me through, and vanishes into the corridor. I barely have the chance to glance back at General Velez, prancing her way back to the seat, before I step after him and he yanks the door shut, sealing away the room of white and gold. The corridor feels positively dull in comparison.

It is emptier now, the Oscensi captives and many of the Neyaibet soldiers -- including Edita and Tyler -- absent. Only a few remain, though their stares still press down on me with the same force the moment I enter the corridor. I glance down at my hands, making sure no fire flickers at their surface.

Harlow salutes them, and they return the gesture, despite hardly looking his way.

"Follow me, and fast, before the general changes her mind," he mutters into my ear.

Before I can even think about questioning him, he is away, and all I can do is hurry in his wake. I trail him as we traverse a corner and wind through the passages. He may as well have been dragging along my arm for the pull of the string that binds us, for I cannot hesitate for even a moment. I'm afraid that if I fall behind, I will lose him in the maze of the castle's halls, and be left stranded in a sea of blood. I don't trust he will come back for me.

The rooms blur past in flashes of white and silver, lost in the haze of my thoughts. The change in the general at Harlow's mysterious suggestion lingers with me, a persistent tendril of fear. What does he plan for me that she opposed so strongly?

Maybe it was merely an ask to keep me alive. She hardly seemed keen on that. I stare after Harlow, hoping to catch his attention, but his narrowed eyes evade me.

My questions dive in endless circles, never venturing any further without an answer to free them, and all too soon we reach what seems to be the castle's exit. The remains of what looks like something of a door lies shattered before us, splintered planks jutting from the heaped tangle. Neyaibet must have used a lot of force to break through it.

I remember the shuddering bangs that reached my cell, and suddenly there is one less question. That must have been the sound of this door falling.

A small smile reaches my lips. I retract it before Harlow sees it, but the faint joy remains. I can figure this out. I just need to keep moving through this new world, and as I discover more my answers will present themselves.

Ahead of me, Harlow is already picking his way through the wreckage. I raise my gaze to see where he heads, and hurriedly shield my eyes with the back of my hand.

What awaits outside is, somehow, even brighter than the general's room. The sun's rays cut cleanly through a feeble sheen of cloud, returning the dots that dance before my stinging eyes. When I dare to peer through my fingers to observe more, I catch a glimpse of the vibrant blue hue of the rest of the sky. It stretches so far up, limitless, an expansive room with no ceiling. If I could spread wings like the birds I was told of, I'm sure I could fly on eternally, the path a steady blue as long as time itself.

With the rays comes an odd prickling sensation, a warmth that digs into my skin more fiercely than that of my flame. I'm not entirely sure I like it.

From somewhere in front, Harlow lets out a long sigh. "Please don't tell me you're allergic to the sun."

I frown. I don't think so, but then I cannot even recall the last time I saw the sun. But I'm sure I have, a long time ago, when I first came to the castle. I must have.

Giving my head a hard shake, I force myself to lower my hand. I've been in a cell for much of my life. Of course the sun will feel strange. I have no reason to fear it.

Still, as I start forwards, eyes fixed on the ground to map out a course through the cracked planks, my legs have begun to tremor again. I bite down on my tongue, feeling Harlow's gaze latch onto me. After all he has seen, he doesn't need more reason to see me as a creature only compatible with darkness.

The warmth grows. Around my hands, flames burst up, beating with the sunlight. At the points they emerge, a thousand needles seem to stab through my skin. It's an effort not to wince. My fire is usually a means of relief, a way to let pain disappear as unseen smoke, but now all it does is increase the glare of the sun. I try to pull the flames back, but they remain, and as I take another step they only raise higher.

I stumble forward, my ankle colliding with a discarded shard of wood. It scrapes through the skin, but I ignore it. The sun already pierces me with the same force.

"Kid, you alright?"

I glance up to see the captain has backtracked. There might be genuine concern shining in his eyes, but I'm not sure.

"I'm fine," I bite out, pulling from his gaze. I force the last few unsteady steps to reach the vacant doorway, pausing beneath its arch to snatch a breath. The air is too lively, and difficult to grasp.

"You sure do look it."

"I..." The world spins. Everything is pale and blue, splashed with golden light intent on searing away my skull. I reach out, my fingers brushing against coarse stone, but it is unwilling to give me support and slides from my grip.

Just in time, I stagger forwards, managing to stop myself keeling over. But the sky only rotates faster. I fall to my knees. The rays slice from above, from before me, from behind, claws tearing at my skin.

The ground is nothing but shapeless smudges, but shadows swamp it, flickering faintly as flame. Even in this universal light, it remains dark.

There is a voice. I know not what it says, only that it calls from where the light glows. I shy away from it. The darkness calls louder, reaching out, promising me a place free of the sky's pain.

Then the shadows swallow all, and I sink into them, content to return to their embrace.

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

Fun fact: Anathe came from me playing around with language and coming across the word anathema, which can mean either something someone vehemently dislikes, or a formal curse by a pope/council of the Church. I hadn't heard of it before then but both meanings are pretty fitting--

We'll discover more about the meaning of Anathe within the context of this book soon. A little hint that our boy might have a fair bit of significance *eyes*

This chapter had a few scraps of world-building, which was very fun to slide in. It's been a while since I've had the freedom to create an entirely new world (without limitations of stuff I came up with two years ago xD) and I've been enjoying it. Looking forward to being able to show you more of this world through our boy.

That is, if he doesn't get killed by the sun. Welp. That would be a disappointing way to go.

- Pup