HAYVALA

Mother, though I have planted a snowrose for you, it has yet to bloom its snow-speckled flower. Hayvala stood in the stifling flurry, wrapped in her outside dress, lined with heavy furs and feathers from shed gryphlings. Interwoven with warmth she lost with Mother and Ser Yokonei, she gazed down at the struggling bulb. Though the Auro blessed the seed in the pool of silver, it has yet to bring forth your life. Hayvala twisted to the other patch in the garden, empty of another's snowrose — rejected by all for the curse of the Trayes. Yokonei. I did save a spot for you, but... Hayvala left the memorial patch behind to walk to the palace garden's wall. I will try to find one for you. One that'll shield all the rest, as you had for me.

Her legs carried her to the top of the wall, where the blizzard blasted against the ancient barrier around Volaris which kept out the lethal cold. Snow fell in waves and there was nothing but the frozen wasteland. "Everyone sees misery," she forced out through old tears, holding her hand against her chest, protected by gloves. "Are we truly doomed to this?"

Ser Yokonei stood beside her after the procession of the loss of Naveera's Queen. His moon-tipped feathers shuddered with the wind, an unreadable expression on his face. He stood tall, strong, unwavering. Two hands locked around his back while he followed her wherever she went, no matter the peril of falling into a snowbank. His silver locks flaked with snow, and though she fought to read the misty aura of soft-touched ice, he said naught else — a different, older grief creased his brow. Days passed with added heaviness which melted his aura to the floor, but she knew not what plagued his deep, sparkled river.

"Ser Yokonei?" she asked, pleaded for stability, for the strength to get herself and her baby brother through the endless night. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to stand strong like you. Tell me how to be more than a doll to be dressed up and play princess. Her nails dug into her palm while her Navee loops pulled on her scalp and made her bleed for her ethereal beauty.

He took a small step forward to the edge, and the wind fluttered his scaled armor. Hayvala bit on her tongue and longed to spit fire to heat the world for her people. Snow fell onto her shoulders in slow motion when she looked to her defender, her knight. Violet eyes studied the blanket of frost, and the sun rose behind them and banished the dark, in the direction of Irimount, one of Naveera's oldest, grandest cities Father forbade her from visiting.

"The Grand Spire in Irimount," he said through the roar of the blizzard. "I stood atop it once as a young squire. It goes into the clouds." He lifted his head. "My lady... across the mountain range, over the wastelands... the sun rises, shedding its light on a sea of green and a sky of azure to lose yourself in. I climbed those steps for a fleeting glimpse. You could see how the world curves on the distant horizon." One more step, and he loomed over the edge, and poised himself as if to sprout wings. "You could stare at it and never know what it holds." He raised his hand to the wall of snow, gathering it into his palm. "Maybe... we are small in the grand scheme of Aztryxer."

Her heart burned at the imagery he painted on a splattered canvas. Hayvala remained still when he drew from the edge, nothing more than a mirage of snow. Frozen tears formed on her cheeks when he knelt and kept a firm hand on his glaive with decorated ribbons, and he smacked his fist against his chest and bowed his head.

"I shall protect you to the end of my days," he decreed. "I shall be your shield and lance. On my honor as a Traye, I shall protect you within the magick of spatial truth."

And yet, I could not stop time for you. I could not protect you with the might of changing days. It flickered on her palm, and stopped the flurry over her arm, but it cracked and tore its jagged teeth through her bones. Her fingertips brushed Yokonei's figure, but he burst into nothing but an auric memory. It washed through her head and she found her back hitting the palace battlements. One knight rushed for her from their post inside the warmth of the tower.

"My lady, this is no place for someone of your stature," the older knight scolded and guided her down the steps. "You should go back inside and stay warm."

"I needed some air," she said and straightened herself out when he took her to the door back inside the palace. "I thank you for your concern, Ser."

Always put on a shelf, a doll and never a wyvern. Hayvala sighed when the palace garden doors closed behind her. Several servants closed the blinds as they went by, bowing deep to Hayvala without looking at her. Her path took her past the arched windows, closing her to the beauty Yokonei recalled to her. Lanterns and sconces shone firelight back to the royal wing. Carpets of woven snow, splashed with gray, whites and blues, embedded with opals and pearls. As she passed the inner cathedral, Navei songs echoed their ancient words.

Hear her.

Into the safety of the royal wing, she ignored the knights posted at every corner for a faltering enemy. His light, but firm footsteps haunted her, but gave her no sense of unease. It was one last comfort, a strong sense of duty and understanding. I would not have blamed him if his spirit raged through these halls... but I guess that is a small comfort that he remains in my memories, on the edge of the auras, reminding me.

Hayvala rounded the corner to Laucan's chambers, but came to a stop when Keeper Blackwall, the man with a myriad of murky auras stuck around him, walked down the corridor with his hands tucked into his black fur cloak. "Keeper Blackwall," she said in Common and tipped her head forward when he came to a stop. "I hope you are finding the palace agreeable to you as an honored guest of His Grace."

His aura folded and shifted like tar. "Naveeran hospitality never disappoints, Princess," he said in Navei, and Hayvala blinked at the texture of the song. Hayvala tested the pronunciation on her tongue, and it roared with her inner wyvern. He bowed deep and exposed his neck to her. "I know I won't be found wanting." In another instant, he straightened himself out and gave her a smile which didn't touch his eyes or spread through his aura.

"I did not know those of the other lands took the time to learn Navei," she said after careful consideration of the icy dance at play.

"Ah, Keepers are trained in multiple languages and dialects for our studies," he explained. "Navei is no exception to the rule. We endeavor to record history — and that includes when it is told in a different language from our own. I hope I do not displease you, and if I have butchered it, do not hesitate to correct me."

"You are quite the learned man." Hayvala took the step onto the ice rink. "No, you did not butcher the song... it's just old."

"Old."

"Old," she affirmed. "A dying dialect."

Blackwall smiled. "All the more reason to keep it alive, I think," he said and spun into his words. "Does it bother you?"

"Not at all." Hayvala danced the dance. "I always appreciate the effort of those on the outerlands to experience the song and to find their own." She stopped her move and waited for Blackwall to respond with his own, with one final word, "His Winged Grace didn't mention the specifics as to why you've graced Volaris, Keeper Blackwall."

"He mentioned you had a severe auric entanglement," he said, to the point and sharpened with an icy blade. "I think there might be a way to alleviate the pressure and start a healing process for you."

Yes, but that tells me nothing. "Oh? I've had multiple Aurus Healers see to my affliction," she pointed out and he walked past her with a confident, but slow stride, but he kept his eyes on her. "I did not think the Keepers would take interest in the failing health of a Princess of the northlands, or else you'd study every case of auric entanglement."

Blackwall beamed. "You are as sharp as they say, Princess Hayvala. From what King Laucan said, you were afflicted when you made contact with a world crystal, is that true?"

Oh, how I have tried to teach him to slide on the ice and measure his words. Hayvala matched his smile. "Yes, it is true. It happened several Turns ago. It is the world crystal that interests you?"

"Keepers are trained to handle the Obscura knowledge within world crystals," he said though she didn't ask. "But, not quite, Princess Hayvala. One will lead to another. I wish to focus on your entanglement first." Hayvala narrowed her eyes, and Blackwall said, "I have a tincture which soothes auric pains, and I feel like Naveera herbs will heighten its effect. He also mentioned your medication no longer has the same effectiveness as before."

Not a question, a statement.

Hayvala refused to slip. "Also true, Keeper Blackwall. My brother carries the hopes and dreams of our people, I knew the risk when I touched the world crystal for the knowledge I sought."

His lips pursed in curiosity. "What knowledge did you seek, Princess Hayvala?"

It sparked against the ice of the first twirl of the dance.

"For a way out of this blizzard." Hayvala met his stare. It went quiet save for the distant bells of the crystal cathedral in the center of Volaris, singing a song of loss and faith. For a connection Blackwall carried with his voice. Yokonei's memory loomed around her, the shaft of his glaive resting in front of her body, an icy shield to the enemy he promised to defend her from.

"An understandable thing to seek," he said. "You do not think I can untangle your mind."

"If my brother wishes for me to try, then I shall," Hayvala said. "But I will not expect much from you."

"I'm wounded, Princess," he whispered. "I shall endeavor to surprise you. I will send your handmaiden with my tincture once I've prepared it. If you need anything, I've taken up residence within the palace library. There are many things I wish to study before I tackle the world crystal."

Yokonei's misty figure rested a hand on her shoulder, and pulled her out of Blackwall's path. His distant heartbeat echoed around her head when he shielded her from those who advanced on her. Always a silent sentinel, but never cruel. When he disappeared around the corner, she longed to sink into a warm embrace of comfort, but she held herself strong and the ghostly memory let her go and disappeared with the threat.

Oh, Laucan. We really need to talk.

Hayvala continued on her way with her guardian long gone and up the steps to Laucan's chambers. His knights stepped to the side at her approach and never questioned her authority as regent. Though many try. Another dance against the aristocracy slavering for power and influence. Hayvala knocked on the door and pushed through with her own strength. Her smile died on her lips when Laucan leaped out of his chair and rushed to her with a wide, hopeful smile on his youthful features while his down shivered with excitement.

"Hayvala," he said. "Have you talked to Keeper Blackwall?"

"I have."

Laucan folded his hands and tipped his head. "And?"

Hayvala headed to the lit fireplace to catch the last embers before snow choked it out. "He told me he can heal my auric entanglement."

"Yes!" Laucan slid to her side with youthful vigor. "It's wonderful, isn't it?"

But how can I destroy your hope?

Hayvala let an ember fall into her palm, but it never broke the blizzard.

Laucan's smile slipped into a frown. "What's wrong? I thought you'd... be happy at the news."

"It's just a lot to process," she said, and it wasn't a complete lie. "You told him about the world crystal."

"Yes. Keepers know better than anybody of the knowledge they contain. I'm hoping this can lead us to a path of rebirth for our people and our kingdom. We'll be able to sing again." Laucan rounded her other side and clasped his hands closer against his chest, wringing them to choke the collected despair.

"I'm glad to hear that," she whispered. "But, Laucan... I shall only advise caution when it comes to Keeper Blackwall."

He took a step back. "Why?"

"Because there is more to him than you can see. It is a lesson you must remember within these walls. Nothing is quite as it seems. Everyone will hide behind honeyed words, and reveal their ice dagger when you've opened your throat to them," she warned, and he slipped back to his desk. "Laucan, it is good to have hope, to have faith... but don't let it blind you — do not let it lead you to where it led me."

Do not let it lead you to my rage, my hunger for justice.

"I understand," he said, subdued into a quiet flutter. "I'm sorry I did not talk to you about this ahead of time, but he came to me during the Summit and I had no time to send word."

"Ah, yes." Hayvala joined him at his desk. "Onto a brighter topic. You spoke with the Hanekan king?"

"Yes, King Reyn," Laucan recalled. "He was kind enough to set up a diplomatic mission between our kingdoms. We shall need to prepare for Hanekans to stay at the palace." Hope returned with the flare of the rising sun. "I'm sure they will be unaccustomed to the cold. I wish to make the stay comfortable to begin a transition into the trade route he proposed."

Yet, I can see the king you may be in the future, with guidance and a tempered spirit, to wade through the murk of generations. Hayvala smiled and took some empty scrolls into her hands. "I will get on that. We needed the excuse to fix up those embassy buildings on the grounds since the last king left them in a state of disrepair." Hayvala leaned forward and tapped him on the brow. "Remember to tell me when you get a missive from King Reyn. We shall look over and discuss the contents."

"Of course. Anything else?"

Hayvala whispered, "I need to take an excursion into the city."

Laucan faltered. "Any particular reason why?"

Yokonei's warm presence wrapped around them both with the protection their father never gave them. "I have an empty patch in the garden that needs a snow rose planted in it," she said. "If we're facing the rebirth in the blizzard, what better way to celebrate the Festival of Frost than to plant a new seed for the call of brighter days?"

I hope that little snowrose will see the sun... that you closed your eyes, opened your heart, laid it bare, and imagined on top of the grand spire of Irimount.