Sterlla’s heart pounded in her chest as she slowly raised her head. The arrow quivered where it had struck, the point buried deep in the wood, the feathered end still vibrating. She glanced back at Linone, who remained slumped against the door, his body low enough that the arrow had missed him as well.

EPISODE 2
DEFIANCE

Sterlla’s voice trembled with concern as she crawled toward Linone, eyes wide with panic. "Linone! In the name of the lords, what is going on? Who did this to you?"

Linone leaned his head back against the door, breathing heavily, blood still trickling from his wounds. "An ambush, my lady," he replied, his voice rough but steady.

"An ambush?" Sterlla’s brow furrowed in confusion. "By whom?"

"I believe they are from the neighboring empire. Since we defeated them in the last war, I suspect they are still bitter over their loss," Linone explained, his words heavy with exhaustion.

Sterlla blinked, momentarily stunned. "But we signed a peace treaty," she protested, though quickly shaking her head. "Well, that doesn’t matter now. Linone, you command an army of over five hundred Xiones warriors. How were you hurt so severely? What happened?"

Linone gritted his teeth as he forced himself to sit a little straighter. "Apologies, my lady, that you had to see me in this state. The truth is, no one in the palace is yet aware of the ambush. I handled their insolence alone, but I let my guard down after the last of them fell." He paused, wincing from his injuries. "That’s when a high-ranking mage, hidden among them, attacked me."

Sterlla gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Oh… my god…" she murmured, her eyes flickering to the wound on his stomach. The blood staining his clothes was deep, vivid red against his armor and skin.

"And since Crown Princess Sterlla keeps her doors open even after midnight," Linone continued, "I ran here to ensure your safety."

It was true. Sterlla never shut her doors or windows. Unlike many in the palace, she didn’t need to. Her mastery of the purple light—the power bestowed upon her through the dragon’s curse—protected her. Her magic coated the bedchamber, a spell so potent that anyone with malicious intent would be thrown from her room upon entering. Linone, however, harbored no ill will, which is why he could breach her chamber without triggering the protective enchantment.

The real reason Sterlla left her windows and doors open was far more personal. She wanted to remain accessible. If anyone in the palace needed her, or sought refuge, she wanted them to come to her—at any time, without hesitation. It was a mark of her kindness, her willingness to help. And now, it was Linone who had come, not as a commander, but as someone seeking aid.

Sterlla’s eyes softened as she glanced down at Linone’s grievous wound. "That will take some time to heal," she whispered, her heart heavy with concern.

But Linone, determined and ever vigilant, rose to his feet despite the pain that visibly wracked his body. "I will be fine," he said, his voice firm. He moved with caution toward the window, leaving Sterlla on the floor, still reeling from the shock. The tension in the air thickened as Linone peered carefully through the gap in the window, scanning the dark grounds beyond the palace walls.

No one was in sight, but Linone knew better than to assume they were alone. "The mage is still out there," he muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing. For the arrow to have pierced through Sterlla’s enchanted bedchamber was no small feat. The magic hadn’t reacted, meaning either the mage’s power was extraordinary, or—Linone’s thoughts darkened—the mage had been targeting him, not Sterlla.

"I can't rule out the possibility that he’s powerful enough to break through your barrier," Linone muttered aloud, raising his hand slightly, his elbow bent in preparation.

A swirl of smoky grey light began to coalesce in his palm, twisting and writhing like a living entity. As Linone concentrated, he felt a surge of mana rush through him—a warning, as sharp as a blade’s edge. "They're going to shoot again," he warned under his breath, the tension in his voice unmistakable.

Without hesitation, Linone released the swirling ball of smoke from his hand, sending it surging out the window just as another arrow shot toward them. His magic collided with the incoming projectile, and the arrow shattered on impact, splintering into a million tiny pieces, harmlessly scattering in the air.

Linone’s power of negation had saved them. His light of smoke had the ability to neutralize any magic it touched, rendering even the most potent spells useless.

Sterlla remained on her knees, watching him in awe. She had seen Linone’s magic before, but witnessing it under these dire circumstances left her heart pounding in her chest.

Just then, a voice boomed through the night, startling both Sterlla and Linone.

“How dare you negate my magic?" the voice thundered, laced with fury. "Your empire is nothing but a big bag of lies. I will definitely get revenge for our defeat!"

The words echoed around them, seemingly bouncing off the walls of the palace. Sterlla’s heart raced as she shot a glance at Linone, who had straightened himself in front of the window, eyes sharp, poised to react. He stepped closer to her, protective but alert, his body stiff with tension.

Suddenly, from the darkness of the sky, a figure appeared, drifting toward them on what seemed like a cloud—a swirling mass of dark, ethereal mist that hovered in the air. The mage. His long, tattered robes billowed around him, casting an ominous shadow over the garden below. His eyes glinted with malice as he drew closer, and Sterlla could feel the oppressive weight of his presence filling the room, a dark energy crackling in the air like static before a storm.

Sterlla's breath hitched as she took in the sight of him. He was hovering, standing tall on the cloud-like structure, his arms crossed over his chest. His hair was wild, streaked with silver and blue, and his face was etched with hatred and contempt. His eyes—cold, narrow, and filled with resentment—glared down at them with undeniable hatred.

Zinclair Haiens
Ex - Mage of the Zywaan family who is now under the neighbouring Empire
Holder of the light of wings - the power of creating defense
21 years old

Linone’s eyes narrowed as the figure of the mage floated closer, recognition dawning on him.

"You? Zinclair?" Linone's voice held a mixture of disbelief and disdain as he glared at the young man before him. "You’re the mage who attacked us?"

The boy—no, not just a boy, but a skilled mage once known for his brilliance—hovered effortlessly on his cloud-like platform. His youthful face, framed by wild black locks, was marred by a pout, the petulant expression of someone who had been scorned and cast aside. Zinclair. Once a proud member of the prestigious Zywaan family, but now exiled, banished for his reckless misuse of power.

Zinclair tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a mocking grin. "You. Mister Sresch, right?" His voice was light, almost playful, but the malice underneath was unmistakable. "I hate you. Your power is so... hindering."

He floated just outside the window now, the swirling mist beneath his feet keeping him aloft. The soft moonlight cast eerie shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the flicker of madness in his eyes.

Linone's fists clenched at his sides as he faced the rogue mage. "Zinclair, why are you doing this?" he demanded, his voice low and steady, though Sterlla could hear the tension in it. "If this is because of your banishment, you should know that you brought it upon yourself—"

"Save it, Sresch." Zinclair cut him off, his voice sharp and dismissive. He waved a hand as if swatting away a bothersome insect. "Your empire, your people, put me on hold. Me, the great mage. Do you understand what that felt like? To be told I wasn’t good enough, that I was too... rash?"

Zinclair’s voice trembled slightly with suppressed rage, his eyes flashing dangerously as he hovered just outside the window. "You all wanted to control me. Put me in a box, bind my potential. But I’m not one to be controlled." He floated closer, his face inches from the window now, his gaze burning into Linone’s. "Your empire will regret that decision forever. I will make sure of it."

Sterlla, still kneeling on the floor, watched the scene unfold with growing unease. She had heard of Zinclair—rumors of his raw, untamed power had spread through the palace before his banishment. He had been a rising star, a mage with unparalleled potential, but his methods were too dangerous, too chaotic. His magic, though powerful, was unpredictable and often destructive. His exile had been a necessary move to protect the empire.

"Zinclair," Linone growled, his posture stiff and unwavering. "This isn’t the way to regain your honor. Attacking the crown princess, attacking me—this won’t end well for you."

Zinclair chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Oh, but you misunderstand, Sresch. This isn’t about honor. This is about power. Your empire won’t succeed without me." His voice dripped with arrogance, his eyes glinting with the thrill of rebellion.

With that, Zinclair gave them a mocking bow, his eyes never leaving Linone’s as he floated backward, retreating into the night sky. "You will see, Sresch. The empire will see. And when they do, it’ll be too late."

The rogue mage’s cloud began to dissolve into the darkness, his figure slowly disappearing into the shadows. The tension in the room remained thick as Linone and Sterlla watched him go, neither of them daring to move until he was completely out of sight.

Sterlla’s heart pounded in her chest. She had never seen Linone shaken, but there was a dark edge to his expression now. Zinclair’s parting words lingered ominously in the air.