To some, spending your birthday in a graveyard would be joyless and doleful, but there was nowhere else Princess Ilyana would rather be. With the sun nearly consumed by the horizon, darkness emerging and stars climbing out to take their posts, and the peaceful silence that whispered around her, it was the perfect place to spend some quality time with her family.

"Happy birthday, Vivi," Ilyana murmured as she crouched down beside her grave. She tucked the lilac flowers before the stone for her sister — her other half — taken from her too soon. With a delicate finger, she traced over the cursive font that was engraved into the slab.

Princess Viviana.
Beloved daughter, sister, and twin.

Her sister should have been standing beside her now, watching the sunset across the island they would rule together on their twentieth birthdays. Instead, she had suffered to the cruel daggers of an assassin who had snuck into the castle to kill them when they were only six. While Ilyana and her father had managed to live, her mother and twin hadn't been so lucky.

She could still remember silently padding over to her mother's dressing room, curious of the screams and cries of sorrow that had echoed from inside. The sight of the blood that had been splattered across the wall and pooled below her family's warm bodies was a memory that would haunt her forever. The hole that had gaped in her mother's neck and the way her father clutched her tight. Vivi had laid so still, the blade she had been killed with still stuck in her chest.

"You deserved so much better." The princess stroked the rough stone, her lower lip wobbling, ignoring the futile attempts she made to stop it. If only she had focused on learning how to use her gift like the High Table had wanted. She might have been able to heal her family and turn that night into one of hope — not torment and agony.

Taking a deep breath, settling the tears that had stung her eyes, Ilyana rose to her feet with clenched fists. There wasn't long left until she needed to prepare for the banquet ball that was always held to celebrate her birthday. This year would be different to the rest. Not only was she turning of age to finally work on ascending the throne of Wyrith, but a potential suitor and ally for the island would be in attendance.

Ilyana had heard handfuls of different rumours circulating the castle from the maids' hushed conversations, all of which had proved to be good and bad. The Fireborns that populated the majority of the Kingdom of Vahan could produce wondrous flames and spark embers from their fingertips. According to some, their grand displays were a crime to miss. However, King Matthian was known to be cruel and harsh in his ways of ruling.

For her sake, she hoped that the gossip remained only that.

Blowing a kiss toward her sister and another for her mother, the princess started making her way down the hill and back to the castle. The graveyard was still on royal grounds, the whole plot of land encased in a wall that separated it from the rest of the island, but it was far enough away from the madness of hounding councillors and her overbearing father that she could get some peace.

As Ilyana tucked a blonde curl behind her ear from where it had blown out of place, she spied a strange figure hauling themselves up the path leading toward the castle gate. From the staggered steps to the desperation she could sense in their movements, she knew without a doubt that they were injured.

Magic flared through her veins, pleading her to find out what was going on. To ease the poor person's suffering. The ivory crystal hung around her neck began to float, hitting her in the face. Clouds of blue broke free onto the surface of the jewel, emitting a faint azure glow. When she grabbed it to hold it back down, it only fuelled the desire to heal them with a phoenix's inferno.

She needed to investigate and see what had happened.

By the time the princess rushed to the castle gates, not an ounce of air was left in her lungs. Guards swarmed the castle's entrance and around whoever had arrived seeking help. All she could see through the sea of bodies was a flash of silver that was accompanied by pained grunts.

"What's going on?" Ilyana questioned after finally being able to breathe. Despite the hoard of people, she didn't receive a response.

A cry of agony cut through the concerned murmur of voices, a sound from a voice that was so familiar. It tugged on her heartstrings, her power clawing its way to the surface and begging to be used.

"Move out of the way and let me pass. That is an order from your princess." Her voice snuffed out the sound of the guards, forcing them to turn and face the heir to the island. If she couldn't scratch the unwavering itch her magic was causing, she didn't know what she would do.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Apologies, Your Highness."

Replies echoed around her as the guards cleared a path for her to get through, but Ilyana could only focus on the wounded guard who was crumpled against the wall, clutching her side. Her metal captain's chest plate had been removed and tossed aside on the gravelled ground, revealing the dark tunic she wore underneath — a tunic which had a hole ripped through and was seeped with blood. Crimson stained her hands and crusted under her nails, matching the shade of the short hair that clung to her face with sweat. The captain looked up at who began to approach her and a troubled smile grew on her lips when she realised who it was — the same smile that Ilyana would remember anywhere.

"Long time, no see, Illy." She winced as she adjusted her position, tipping her head back so it rested on the stone wall. "I mean, Your Highness."

"Cloven?" The princess rushed to the guard's side, kneeling beside her and gently tugging on the hands that pressed against the wound. "Let me see, please."

The last time she had seen her best friend was over a decade ago. Ever since Cloven left the island to return to her home kingdom with the hope of finding her family, she hadn't heard a word from her. She had promised to stay in contact, to send letters with updates of what was going on, but Ilyana hadn't received even one. Not even a whisper from the wind of her whereabouts. After the tragic night where her sister and mother had met their fates, Cloven was the princess' only company — her only friend. Her departure from Wyrith had been a cold dagger of betrayal twisting through her heart, as if she too had died at the hands of the assassin.

All the princess wanted to do was yell at her, scream until all the pain from the past had risen to the surface and was expelled. However, her power held the reins of control, forcing her to concentrate on the injury before her. A decade-brewing reprimand would have to come later.

When Cloven removed her shaking hand, her magic closed a tight fist around her throat. The wound itself was formed of jagged edges from her navel to her groin, as if the blade that had pierced her skin was strangely shaped. What sort of weapon could have created it? From the movement of the captain's breathing, it didn't look too deep, but she had still lost a fair amount of blood.

The princess hooked the guard's arm over her shoulders and helped her to her feet, steadying her when she nearly staggered into the wall.

"We're heading to the infirmary so I can fully check the wound and heal it," Ilyana announced to the guards. She glanced back down at the chest plate that had been removed, at the golden sun that adorned it. "Inform my father that Captain Cloven has returned injured and alone."

"Yes, Your Highness." The nearest guard nodded and rushed towards the castle. Another two prepared to journey with them while the rest returned to their stations surrounding the entrance gate.

"Look, Illy," Cloven began between coughs and splutters as they took slow steps. "I can tell you're mad and I really am sorry about the-"

"That's enough. I don't want to hear any of it until I heal you." The princess would have healed the captain at the gate, but she needed to be certain the wound was clean. Even though her magic could seal wounds within seconds and wipe away scars as if they had never marred the skin in the first place, it didn't cater to infections.

The guard shook her head, struggling to keep up with the snail's pace they had set. "You can't heal it yet. There's something stuck in there."

Ilyana felt the blood rush out of her face. "What do you mean?" If there was anything trapped in the wound, this was much more serious than she had realised. Whatever debris that had lodged itself inside could have punctured a vital organ or caused much worse damage than the regular eye could see.

"I think it's a piece of bone. That or something small the damned assassin could have stabbed me with." Despite Cloven's breathlessness, the princess made her steps faster. She would be grateful when she was no longer bleeding, Ilyana was sure of it.

"Bone? What sort of mission did my father send you on?" She didn't see any other injuries that the suspected object could have come from, so what in the gods' names was she talking about? Perhaps she had lost a lot more blood than she had thought. Unless the bone had come from one of the other guards who hadn't returned with her.

The captain squeezed her eyes shut as they climbed the few steps that led to the infirmary's entrance. "I'll explain later."

"Alongside everything else you need to explain," Ilyana murmured as she pushed the door open with her hip.

Chapter Word Count: 1707
Total Word Count: 4344