Cyrdel saw darkness before the light.

If this fall has any bottom, they would either shatter it or find their guts splashed on a hard surface without ceremony. The darkness around them thickened, swallowing what's left of the light from above. Cyrdel pressed the bridge of his spectacles up his nose as he rummaged the back pocket of his trousers for something—anything.

Airene grunted as she tucked Ravalee and June under her arms, her red-gold hair whipping her face and scattering in wild flames around her head. "Cyrdel, don't you have something?" she screamed at him.

The wind from their fall drove his hair away from his forehead as Cyrdel glanced at Ravalee who stared pale-faced at the bottomless pit before them. He clicked his tongue. "What entrance is this?"

As expected, there was nothing of value in his back pocket. Holy Nira. He tucked his right leg to his chest to reach the buttoned pocket at the leg of his trousers. His body suddenly shifted, his stomach turning along with it, and found himself falling head-first. Worry about that later.

"How should I know?" Airene's stern voice echoed past the darkness surrounding them. "Airese said to look for a sign and say a word. There's nothing about entrances or falling!"

Cyrdel cursed, remembering the scattered plans in his father's study that he once pored over without the King's permission. The fall. He knew where they were. "You just led us straight to the Center!"

The wind pulled them faster as if sensing Cyrdel's realization. He muttered another string of curses disregarding Ravalee who glared at him and Airene who stared at him like she didn't know who he was. He continued digging around in his other pockets and found nothing except that blow dart. Well...unless blow darts could shatter ceilings or provide huge cushions, then why use it now?

Cyrdel opened his palm and shook his head at Airene. "Some rysteme spell, perhaps?"

"There's nothing that I know of," Airene said. "I was never a good student at the Academy!"

Cyrdel blurted another string of curses. Dear gods, they're going to die now. Then, before him, light slowly bled from somewhere beyond and pecked at the darkness. He narrowed his eyes. Light...where did that come from? He glanced to his left and, for the first time, noted the walls he could now see. They're...blue.

Walls meant rooms behind them. If they're in the Central...then the ceiling to the throne room wasn't going to be that much further now. Cyrdel clamped his jaw shut to prevent another torrent of curses from spewing out his mouth.

Still, Nira's leggings.

"Come on, Cyrdel!" Ravalee screamed. A sudden gust of wind drove all her hair to her face.

"Don't look at me. I got nothing!" Cyrdel screamed back as Ravalee sputtered. "June?"

The half-blood muttered something incorrigible, stirring in Airene's arms. He's still pretty much out of the world.

"Cyr, the ceiling!" Ravalee pointed forward.

Yes, he could see that.

The wind blowing his hair off his eyes just made it evident to him that he was indeed going to have his guts splattered against that hard ceiling. He squeezed his eyes closed and waited for pain to strike.

"Akejeltia!" June's voice tore through Cyrdel's hearing. Cyrdel wrenched his eyes open to find the half-blood's arm cast forward as if he's reaching for something. The world slowed around him as a magical force yanked Cyrdel backwards. He was neither falling or rising. He's just...floating. How?

"A levitation spell," Airene snorted. "Nice going, June."

The half-blood responded with a weak cough, clamping a hand to his mouth in the process. He ducked his head and when he lifted his head again, Cyrdel spied traces of blood at the corner of the half-blood's mouth. Was he alright?

Slowly, June eased them into a floor that's so blue it reminded Cyrdel of the sea. Gods, he missed that hill in Depandes. It's the one of the things that kept him sane during the times he couldn't stand his father's demands.

Now...he didn't even have a father.

His stomach soured and he did his best to push that thought out of his mind. Worry about that after the war if he makes it. There's no use in grieving when he's bound to join the departed soon.

Airene breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed herself up and helped Ravalee stand up as well. June managed to keep himself upright albeit swaying a little. Was he that pale before? Cyrdel couldn't remember. And oh, it's cold.

A shiver escaped his form as it registered the change in temperature around him. In Alkara, it's always humid and even with the rain, it was always hot. Right now...this wasn't even the whole of the Ice Capital and he already felt like he was going to freeze. Would he survive the cold once he was inside?

Well, he should focus on getting an audience with the Chief of the ice sprites first before anything. Perhaps, he could help Cyrdel...free Alkara and save Penleth in the process.

He was about to head west to what looked like a wall that would lead them into one of the rooms when the ice below him creaked. Not a normal creak where it depends on his movements. This one was continuous, like it's spreading. It got louder and louder until...

"Cyrdel, what—"

Airene never got to finish because soon, they were falling again after a loud shattering sound rang in the cold air. Ice shards burned when they touched some of Cyrdel's exposed skin. Cyrdel's breath left his lungs as his form went weightless.

Come on, brain, work. Cyrdel's eyes scanned the area. Okay, what was he about to fall into? Alright, more shiny ice floors. People on an ice table dressed in blue robes. More people on the ice floor wearing beige robes. Oh, he loved that color. It's the hue of his mother's favorite throw pillow.

His breath hitched when his eyes rested somewhere to his left, registering hundreds of thousands of ice sprites. All looked at him like he and companions were plagues sent from heaven..which, in retrospect, they probably were. Fear was evident in at least half of the population while some shot to their feet with weapons in hand.

Cyrdel tore his gaze from the horde of ice sprites and guided it back to the people seated by the table. All looked at him with alarm twisting their pale features. He recognized one person. The Chief. Gods of breeches.

They seemed to have interrupted an important event and the Chief didn't appreciate it. Or perhaps this was specifically arranged for them. Like a trial for trespassing or something. Either way, they were doomed.

An idea popped into Cyrdel's brain. Alright. No time to deliberate if it's logical and helpful or not. He opened his mouth, and with the best of his vocal ability, he shouted, "I am Cyrdel Sonasson, Heir to the Alkaran throne! Please don't kill us!"

Then, he slammed into the ice floor.

Cyrdel blinked. When had he closed his eyes? Moreover...why was he alive?

Footsteps scratched against the ice as chaos broke out. Something thudded into the hard floor and a distinct crack reached Cyrdel's ears. Gods. He tried standing up only to fall face-first into a mesh that apparently saved their lives. Okay. Did the ice sprites have emergency nets in place to catch falling fairies from ceilings? He grunted as he gathered his wits and pushed himself to the side, making the net wobble up and down.

Airene groaned as she sat up, a hand clutching her forehead. Good, she's alive. Ravalee did the same thing before following Cyrdel off the mesh. June simply sighed and rested his head against the net. He didn't seem to be worried about the chaos around him.

Chaos. Oh, right. Cyrdel glanced to his right and noted the hooks that attached the net to the pillars behind the ice table and to the first row of the chairs. The ice sprites that had perched there had long ago scrambled up and were now looking down at them like they were some kind of a disease.

"Hey, you're welcome!" a male voice tore Cyrdel's attention away from the hooks only to land on a varichria being forced down by at least four ice sprites dressed in icicle-plated armor. Blue light glowed off the varichria's fingers behind him. Was he...? It seemed so.

Cyrdel nodded his thanks and clasped his hands together in front of him. Good. Nothing seemed to be broken. Better. That's...wait, why was Reeca here? Indeed, the feisty varichria he had met once on Depandes who accompanied Xanthy knelt along with fairies he didn't know. There were two brownies, that much Cyrdel could tell. What were they doing here?

Reeca didn't look that well, judging from her blank expression and sunken cheeks. She had seen too much and wasn't able to process it yet. Let Cyrdel hope she's fine. Now was not the perfect time to be vulnerable anywhere.

"Do you have a reason for announcing your presence, Crovalis?" a deep voice made Cyrdel turn to face the people seated behind the ice table raised up a lofty dais. The use of his old title, in the Alkaran dialect, no less, made his gut churn.

Cyrdel raised his eyes to meet the man that spoke and his throat dried. Gods help him. That man was scary with the scar running across his face and the piercing, dark gaze trained towards Cyrdel. This man had been leading the ice sprites far longer than Cyrdel's father led the brownies. That made the Chief a terrifying force to reckon. The mere experience of the man was enough to make one fall to their knees and start groveling.

"Well?" Annoyance laced in the Chief's voice. Oh, that's not good. Never annoy elderly people, especially when they're rulers of territories one was trespassing. More so when they were ice sprites. As a summary, Cyrdel and the people with him were doomed...unless he did something about it.

"Um," Cyrdel fought against the dryness of his throat. Damn, the cold made speaking straight notches harder. "I'm certain you have heard the news that Alkaran king has gone and that I am unofficially the current monarch?"

The Chief glanced at the man beside him. A man that looked eerily like Nyxis with his shiny black hair smiled at Cyrdel. The only difference was that this man had the same piercing eyes as dark as stadian as the Chief. That and the fact that he had the ability to keep smiling during times like this.

The man met the Chief's stare and nodded. "Before we stopped sending out spies two months ago, the last message that reached me was that the Alkaran King had indeed passed on. May he find his way to the Land of Wonders."

The entire congregation muttered it, the booming sound echoing on Cyrdel's hollow ears. He was never going to hear that phrase without his chest tightening and his eyes tearing up without his permission. It's all just...so unfair. Cyrdel knitted his eyebrows and blinked to clear the mist shrouding his vision. He couldn't afford to cry, not when he's supposed to be saving his friends from execution.

"Y-yes, that is the case," Cyrdel's voice came out shaky. Gods damn it. This was not good. Get over it, dumbass."That means that I come here as an equal."

"Through the ceiling, you mean?" the Chief glanced at the looming hole above them.

"Father, I keep telling you that we have to fix the weakening ceiling for weeks now," the man to the Chief's right said. Cyrdel's eyes widened. Father? That means that this man was...

Kennen Jarmez—the Heir to the Ice Sprite throne.

Cyrdel swallowed the bitter taste growing in his mouth. No need to feel threatened. He had as much as an authority in an Ice Sprite council as Kennen did. Then again, now that he had no throne and no people...was he still worthy to stand here?

"You're right," The Chief said to his son before turning to Cyrdel once again. "Well? What brings you here?"

Cyrdel glanced at the people being held down behind him, at Reeca who just stared at everything without her expression changing. "Tell me what's going on here before we interrupted."

The Chief's eyes hardened. "I would have scheduled you for another meeting time but as my son says, we have a lot of...weak ceilings to fix," he narrowed his eyes. "What is it to you?"

Cyrdel glanced at Reeca. "I happen to know that varichria. She's a friend," he jerked his chin towards her. The varichria didn't react. "And it looks like my companion knew someone from them as well."

Through his periphery he had seen Airene gasp at the sight of someone from the restrained people. Who among them?

"And that somehow implies something?" the Chief raised an eyebrow.

Cyrdel cleared his throat. "I would like to know what happened so that I could weigh in my vote too."

"Too late for that, Crovalis, I'm afraid," Kennen's voice was a modulated calm even though the next sentence wasn't worthy of being calm about. "They are already sentenced for execution."

Something dropped at Cyrdel's stomach. "What for?" his tongue turned to steel inside his mouth.

"For endangering the entire population, for stealing state secrets from both the Alkaran and this government, and for causing unrest in the general population," one of the nobles interjected. Her face was so pale Cyrdel could swear she started to blend seamlessly with the light around them. "That is the verdict."

Cyrdel squeezed his hand. "I did two of those," he held up two fingers. "Perhaps, you'd have to kill me and my companions, too." The entire Council bristled as if Cyrdel struck a cord he didn't know of. He forced a smile as he decided to push his point. "If you do, you won't be able to hear what I was going to report."

The Chief frowned as he brought his clasped hands to his lips. He raised a finger indicating for Cyrdel to continue. Cyrdel took a deep breath. Okay, then. He's really going to do it. "The Ice Capital is no longer safe as Synketros and Cardovia would have probably learned of its presence by now," he started.

He waited for someone to react but he was met with lingering silence. He blew a shaky breath and relaxed his tense shoulders. "I ended up coming here because they have been after my life for a while."

"Are you trying to say that you willingly went here to lead these organizations to us?" Kennen said without his smile dying. Oh, gods. That smile was beginning to irk Cyrdel. This wasn't the time to do that like there's nothing's wrong with the world!

"Not willingly," Cyrdel kept his face neutral. "We do have another plight that we need to disclose to you. We have with us...the Virtakios."

A ripple passed through the crowd as if the ice sprites finally learned how cold it was in the Capital. The Chief's frown deepened, if possible. The lines on his face looked like they could already crack a fruit open. "What do you mean?"

Cyrdel glanced at his companions who were slowly edging out of the net. Somehow, the number of guards present on the ice floor had doubled and were now pointing spears at Ravalee. Blue flashed against the artificial light shining inside the large room.

The sight sent a twinge at Cyrdel's heart. He needed to resolve this faster. "I won't say that we have something to offer because we really don't have anything left," he said. "But I call upon you and your people to repay the good deed the brownies gave you a long, long time ago—safety," he began pacing like he always does when he's proving a point. "When you are at your lowest, it is Alkara that helped you rebuild everything you've lost. We have this oath to each other that whenever another race needs the other's help, we wouldn't hesitate to help them. All I ask right now is for you to remember and honor that oath."

"Dark forces are rising and Penleth is no longer safe," Cyrdel continued even when the entire room had dropped into a kind of stunned silence. "Us coming here asking for help is enough proof of that. Alkara is no longer under the brownies' control. A lot of the territories are now under the Sovereign and the Heiress's. So many souls have passed on in the midst of this battle," he paused pacing to look the Chief in the eye. "Now, we have the one thing that could provide us a chance at surviving this war—the Virtakios."

The temperature seemed to drop lower. It's either that or an ice sprite was secretly making the hairs on the back of Cyrdel's neck rise and his arms prickle with the cold. Still, he pushed on. "The Virtakios chose to not disclose her current situation right now but rest assured that she is with us at this very moment," he said. "She and I are asking for your help in reclaiming the island that we hold dear, the island that gave us a home. The Virtakios cannot do it alone. She needs people to rise to her call. She is calling for a battle to save what is important to us."

The Chief's frown remained hard, the entire council, silent. Cyrdel took this as a sign to continue. "I don't know the state of the upper world after we left but rest assured that the Sovereign and the Heiress are doing their best in getting the Virtakios in their hands. I need all of your help to prevent that from happening."

"Are our lives, should we lose them, in your hands?" the Chief said.

Cyrdel made sure his eyes were as hard with resolve as the Chief's. "This war demands of us more than lives. There will be no one to blame if we lose souls. This is a battle for our lives, for our place on this island. This is our battle to have a future ahead of us."

"All poetic and inspiring," the Chief clicked his tongue. "But have you seen what their form of attack was? How do you propose we fight against that?"

"I can help with that!" a fairy piped up behind Cyrdel. Immediately, the guard behind him slammed his head against the cold ice floor. Cyrdel fought the urge to wince and instead turned back to the Chief.

Cyrdel waved his hand. "I'm sure we'll figure it out when we need to," he bobbed his head. "Right now, it would certainly be helpful to withdraw all the charges against these people and against my companions. After that, we can plan."

The Chief turned to the people beside him. "Well? Verdict of the Council?"

The people at the table began conversing among themselves for a whole minute. Then, a woman sighed and said, "Not guilty."

Relief washed through Cyrdel so hard he could collapse in tears right now. The woman continued, her narrow dark eyes looking tired. "If what they say is true, we need their help as much as we need theirs. There is a battle bound to happen soon. We don't need to deny us an ally that so willingly comes to our abode."

The entire Council nodded their agreement. The Chief raised his hand. "I withdraw all present charges to the people involved in this case. Trial adjourned."

Cyrdel gave a shaky laugh. He didn't even know he could speak like that. The most he could do was to open up a business or two in Depandes in the presence of at least a hundred brownies. He didn't think he could last with hundreds of thousands of people for an audience. Well, apparently, he could.

The guards edged away from Reeca and her companions. The male varichria brushed himself off and wiped a palm against the blood trickling from his scalp to his chin. Still, he was smiling as he jogged towards Cyrdel. "Nifty trick with the net, eh?" he said. His corn-yellow hair and amber eyes sparkled against all the blue in this room. "It's a little gadget I tinkered with during my travels."

Cyrdel ducked his head at him. "Thank you for saving our lives."

"Oh, no," the varichria scratched the back of his neck. "It's just a weird reflex."

Cyrdel was about to say something when a shriek behind him ensued. He whirled expecting some kind of a fight but was greeted with two brownies jumping up and down and tackling each other in a hug.

"Oh, gods, you made it out!" Airene was saying as she almost tore off the head of the other female brownie with her arms.

"I missed you so much!" the female brownie with hazel hair sobbed as she stroked Airene's. Cyrdel knitted his eyebrows and watched the spectacle. Other ice sprites too, instead of trickling out of the room through doors that led somewhere, had stayed. They seemed to find the entire event interesting.

Indeed, the two brownie women were bawling with joy. The fairy that spoke out of turn about knowing the enemy's attacks shifted his weight from foot to foot while a male brownie stared at the floor like he was attempting to burn a hole through the ice. Reeca still hasn't moved from her kneeling position. The male varichria had to grab her arm and haul her up.

"Nice day for awkwardly staring, huh?" the male varichria said a little too cheerfully. Cyrdel noted the arm casually thrown over Reeca's shoulders and concluded that they're either siblings or...lovers. He smiled back at the varichria and nodded.

Ravalee came up to him not long after and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You did good today."

His heart stopped beating for a while with that comment. For years, he had dreamed of hearing Ravalee speak. The words she used to sign to him, the signs that they had invented, he didn't think he'd be hearing them from Ravalee's own lips one day. Saying those praises was just an added bonus. He smiled at Ravalee, took her hand, and squeezed it. "Thanks," he said.

"Airene?" a female voice said behind Cyrdel. He turned to register a woman dressed in ice-blue armor running towards the brownies. Airene turned at the mention of her name and her face crumpled as she burst into tears again.

"You're alive!" Airene screamed at the woman like it's the most surprising and the most joyful moment ever. "How are you alive, Geradine?"

The woman in ice-blue armor, Geradine, just laughed as she wiped her tears. "It's so good to see you, Airene," she said in an apparent avoidance of the brownie's question. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. The lights will go out soon. We need you all in your rooms when that happens. We don't want you to get lost in this vast place."

The brownies nodded and began filing out of the room, leaving Geradine, Cyrdel, Ravalee, and June.

"Crovalis," Geradine ducked her head in a formal gesture.

His grip tightened on Ravalee's hand as he stared up at the woman. "Just Cyrdel is fine."

"You're the one who led them here, right?" Geradine's tone dropped low. More ice sprites filed out of the assembly past the woman's shoulder. Well, he'd rather look at those than on the smoldering pair now demanding answers from him.

"Who's them?" Cyrdel feigned innocence.

"A banshee, an air sprite, and a half-blood," Geradine narrowed her eyes. "Don't say that you don't know who I'm talking about."

Cyrdel was about to say that he didn't know who she was talking about but, well, he was beaten to it. "I know who they are," he said instead. "What about them?"

Geradine's eyes flashed. "They will be mounting a siege to capture the Capital," she said. "I still have to venture out to confirm a proper date but it's clear that they're aiming for this place. What is it that they're after?"

"One of them is after my life," June popped up beside Cyrdel, doing his best to hide his blood-stained hands behind him. "The other was after something I've sworn to protect."

Geradine turned away. "We'll talk about this tomorrow," she looked at them over her shoulder as she began walking towards the exit. "I hope you're ready to explain yourselves to the War Council. The Generals are not so easy to convince."

Cyrdel steeled his nerves and forced himself to meet Geradine's eyes. "I'll do my best," he said. "I have the Chief's support."

Geradine shook her head. "That's not enough," she said. "The Chief's power doesn't extend to the Generals. It's the Grand Marshall that you'd have to convince and it's not easy. It would take a lot more of your poetic oration to get the Grand Marshal on your side."

"Why are you telling me this, then?" Cyrdel crossed his arms. He might be amused when Geradine was screaming and hugging her apparent friends but now, he might have to treat her as something of a political rival. She was acting like how the nobles treated him when he couldn't even make it to a single court day because of his nerves. It...didn't sit well with him.

The lines on Geradine's youthful face deepened. "I want you to know that I am against this mindless charging into war," she said. "All of the Generals are."

"Then you're fools," Cyrdel balled his fists to his sides. "The war will find your dainty hiding hole soon enough. If you don't step up to fight now, they wouldn't give you a chance to even gather your troops before ruin descends on you."

Memories of how Alkara fell flashed in his mind. Him, running out of his workshop to find his parents murdered in their own throne room. His people, dying and succumbing to the mighty strength of the Synketros, stood no chance. The Sovereign's high-pitched laugh as she watched his city burn to the ground was still fresh in his ears. He shook his head before they sucked him into reliving it again.

"I've seen it happen, General," Cyrdel met Geradine's eyes. Let him hope he guessed the woman's rank correctly. "As much as I don't want it to happen here, if you think that the war will go easy on you because you chose not to fight, then there's nothing I can do when they ravage the very soil you stand upon. When they do, there will be nothing left. There will be no mercy offered and given. You and your people will either end up as slaves or as additions to Land of Wonder's never-ending line of souls," he said. "Heed me. I suggest that you pass that message along to your general friends as well. Good night."

Cyrdel gripped Ravalee's hand again. He pushed past the ice sprite general and headed towards a dark door at the far end of the room. Let him hope that led somewhere far away from this mess because he desperately needed to be alone right now.

Ravalee squeezed his hand as an answer to his turmoil. He looked at her and smiled. Perhaps he didn't want to be that alone.