"They set fire to the kingdom
and escaped from the scene with the freed spy,
leaving innocents to suffer in wrathful flames."

・ ・ ・

Pandemonium.

Explosions rocked the world and burning tendrils rose from the ground, licking at the sky. Storm staggered from the force of the blast that sent tremors through the earth, grasping Xenor's arm for support. His brother stiffened, eyes widening by a fraction as the stand they stood on shuddered.

"B-Brother, what's happening?" Storm shook his arm, eyes flashing to the sudden scene of destruction that was unfolding before them. "What's going on?"

Everything was in disarray. The masses were scrambling, running for their lives from the surrounding buildings that had suddenly exploded and caught on fire. It was a rather tumultuous escape as the people pushed and shoved each other to get away, their confused yells cacophonous and desperate.

Dark, acrid smoke clouded the heavens as the world continued to burn.

"Your Highnesses!" Silix called, and both Storm and Xenor turned to see the advisor reaching out for them. The smoke was thickening around them— Storm coughed, eyes watering, as he hurried over to Silix, dragging his brother along by the arm.

Then there was a horrible creaking noise, followed by the splintering of wood, and the stand they were on dropped to the left. The three of them tumbled at the sudden, jarring motion, arms wheeling— Storm let go of Xenor to try and steady himself, tipping forward. "Your Highnesses, please hang on!" Silix gasped, finally reaching them and gripping their hands. "The fire has spread. This stand won't last for long. You must get to safety."

The advisor tugged them down the steps, and Storm became more aware of the intense blaze surrounding them. People were still running about, lost and uncertain of where to go to seek shelter. Families were scattered— parents were searching for their children, children were crying for their parents. A makeshift store nearby collapsed into a fiery heap of wood and cloth, generating more wails and cries of terror.

"What happened...?" he repeated, his chest clenching at the carnage before them.

"A bomb," Xenor growled, wrenching his arm out of Silix's grip. "Someone placed a bomb here."

"But who would do such a thing?"

Xenor remained silent. Grim. His eyes wandered, flitting over the terrible wreckage that lay before them. When his eyelids fluttered and he recoiled from the smoke, Storm thought he saw a flash of bitter regret and sorrow in the depths of his green pools. But then he rubbed his eyes, and the sight was gone, replaced by hardened irritation and certainty.

"We need to move," his brother said, darting forward.

Silix chased after him while dragging Storm along, exclaiming, "Your Highness Xenor, please wait! It is too dangerous!" Xenor did not stop, however, tearing through the embers and the flames towards Ash, who was busy rounding up her soldiers and sending them to aid the remaining people in the area. Another structure fell with a dramatic crash— Storm turned and saw that it was the stand that they, only a few minutes ago, had been standing on.

Flames singed his skin and clothes as he ran with Silix, and he winced, jerking back. The sky had turned entirely black with the pungent smoke being produced by the roaring flames engulfing the Main Square. The air was dyed red, orange and yellow, suffocating and malodorous— there was an oppressive heat that worsened the atmosphere around them. More agonised screams and plaintive cries and desperate howls. Storm coughed again, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve.

Everything was on fire.

As he passed by a few fallen, burning structures and debris from the explosions, he saw bodies. Little children marred and mutilated beyond recognition. Adults with charred, torn flesh, stuck under the broken heaps of ignited rubble. Even soldiers, shrapnel and shattered glass embedded into the skin uncovered by their armour, the sides of their faces melting into bone as they lay in fiery defeat.

How could this happen?

There was only suffering. There was only pain.

There was only death.

Who would do such a thing?

Storm had to look away, squeezing his watery eyes shut to block the stinging fumes in the air, to block the horrors of the disaster that had fallen on his people and his kingdom.

It was like the world had descended into the depths of hell itself.

When they finally reached Xenor's side, they found him speaking to Ash. There was a grimace on his face as he swiped at the tiny sparks of fire that drifted towards him. "How is the situation, Ash?" he was asking the general.

"It is manageable"— Ash glowered at him— "but you are not supposed to be here, Your Highness!" A powerful wave of her rapier, which she had unsheathed, and she slashed at the flames that were beginning to draw closer, dispersing them.

She turned to a frantic soldier nearby. "Where are the horses?" she demanded.

"Th-they got spooked, ma'am! They ran away!" the soldier answered.

Ash clicked her tongue in frustration. "It can't be helped, then. Return to the Palace at once, Your Highnesses!"

Storm grabbed his brother's arm before he could say anything else. "Come on, Brother!" he pleaded, pulling. "We need to leave! It's too dangerous he—"

"Your Highness, look out!"

A horrendous grating sound, and Storm was suddenly yanked to the side by Xenor and Silix. Another makeshift store had fallen right where he once stood, landing with a thump that stirred the surrounding embers and dust. The fire swallowing the razed store crackled, sullen that it did not engulf him.

"What did I tell you?" The general shoved them forward, away from the destruction. "Leave!"

With a pulsating heart at the close call, Storm found himself sidling closer to his brother, squeezing his arm as hard as he could. Xenor twitched, and a scowl formed on his face. "Are you attempting to break my arm?" he snapped, but he did not pull away, instead striding quickly to the exit of the Main Square.

"Ah... t-thank you, Brother. Sorry..." Storm continued to cling onto Xenor, sheepish. Silix followed behind them after shouting a few words at Ash, who responded with a thumbs-up. They hurried their way out of the Main Square, following the unsteady trickle of wounded people and cautious soldiers.

"Silix, will Ash be okay?" Storm asked, glancing back worriedly at the general, who was surrounded by fire on all sides. She stood tall and unconcerned, an imposing figure, her rapier out to slash at debris in search of trapped victims.

"Worry not, Your Highness." The advisor was panting, sweat pouring from his forehead and dotting his brow from the effort of running and prolonged exposure to the torrid surroundings. "She is Ash Flamestar. Fire will not defeat her, nor stop her from fulfilling her duty as the general of the Royal Army." He offered a quick smile, nudging him along.

"Inspiring," Xenor muttered, but Storm heard no sarcasm (at least, it didn't sound sarcastic). It was a genuine praise— something his brother had not said in a long time.

They burst out onto the streets, but to their horror, they realised that the fire had spread to engulf certain sections of the area as well. Some soldiers were fearfully attempting to contain the blaze by spraying water from hoses, provided by willing people living in threatened homes. Others were escorting more victims out of the danger zones, supporting the ones who were injured, consoling the ones who suffered from loss.

That was when Storm heard a shrill cry, and he turned to see a yellow-haired girl stuck under the wood and metal ruins of a large store. As they were on the streets, there were more makeshift stores set up, and many of them were falling prey to the flames, further kindling the disaster's eager hunger.

The worst of the fire was approaching the girl, already igniting some of the debris near her, and she scrambled in a futile attempt to free herself from the wreckage holding her down. Storm realised that her eyes were squeezed shut, soot smudged across her skin— she was blinded by the plumes of ash and dust that were rising around her. She didn't know what her situation was like.

She couldn't see it.

A store near her crashed, aflame— she flinched and cried, holding her arms over her head. No one else seemed to notice her, scurrying onward in search of safety. Storm's chest tightened.

And before he could think through his actions, he let go of his brother, sprinting towards the poor girl. He heard Silix's anxious screech behind him, and Xenor's bewildered shout, but ignored them, sliding onto his knees in front of the girl and the debris she lay under.

The stone ground was heated, biting into his skin, and he hissed as he jerked away. Then he steeled himself, ignoring the heat, and began digging into the ruined wood and metal. Cinders and dust bounced towards him at his forceful actions— he choked, eyes spilling irritated tears, but pressed on.

"W-who's there?" the girl squeaked, aware of the help that she was receiving.

"A child," Storm panted, gagging at the smell of the smoke around them. "Don't worry, I'll help you. I'll get you out."

"Thank you." Her sobs tugged at his heart, and he dug faster, harder, pushing away broken pieces of wood and metal as fast as he could, ignoring the splinters that pricked his hand and the cuts he received from the jagged steel.

The flames roared— they were approaching fast, intent on swallowing them whole. Storm glanced at the oncoming danger. He coughed, throat parched from the intense heat. And when he inhaled, breaths rapid, the smoke entered his lungs and suffocated him within. He coughed more.

Why did it seem like the debris was never-ending?

Then another pair of hands joined in, and he turned to see Xenor crouching next to him, a vexed scowl on his face. "You idiot," he snapped, wrenching away a large chunk of wood. More of the girl's body was revealed. "What were you thinking, running off like that? Do you have a death wish?"

"I-I'm sorry, Brother. I couldn't help it." Storm gave his exasperated older brother a guilty smile.

Xenor rolled his eyes. "You could have had the decency to tell me that you were going to run off like the impulsive imbecile you are, but did you? No."

"But I didn't mean to—"

"What did you do instead? Run off like the impulsive imbecile you are without a single word." Xenor glared daggers at an uncooperative piece of metal, snarling. "Were you trying to instigate a mass case of heart attacks?"

"Uh, no—"

"Because it sure as hell seemed like it."

Storm stayed silent, embarrassed, as his brother continued to fume, muttering incoherent oaths under his breath as they worked. The girl seemed quite baffled by their conversation, her face scrunched up as though wondering how they could converse in such a way even though a fiery death was imminent if they didn't finish getting her out in time.

Another thunderous crash of fire, and the three of them stiffened. "Now would be an excellent time to check if you are able to stand," Xenor told the girl. She squirmed and wriggled for a moment, rubbing at her closed eyes in an attempt to clear away the dust so she could open them.

"M-my leg, it's stuck in something!" she gasped, twisting her body and pulling at her leg. There came metallic clangs as she did so. "I can't pull it out!" She began hyperventilating, panicked tears falling from her closed eyes.

"Don't panic!" Storm grabbed at a hunk of metal and pulled it aside. The fire was so, so close— the sweltering heat blasted them in the face, a burning red-orange horror ascending straight up to the heavens, towering over them. It sucked the moisture from their bodies, leaving a terrible dryness in their throats and skins.

A stray lick of flame, and Storm flinched away, cringing at the new singe on his arm.

The girl's leg was trapped in a complex entanglement of metal mesh and bent poles. "Brother, we need to—" Storm began, only to stop when Xenor slipped a pair of daggers from his sleeves. He gaped, unable to find his voice as his brother then proceeded to slice at the metal mesh and pry at the poles, finally releasing the girl's foot.

"W-where did you get those daggers from?" Storm sputtered, astounded by what he just witnessed. "How did you—?"

"I asked," Xenor answered gruffly, cutting another mesh of metal for extra measure. "Then I was permitted to carry them."

"O-oh..."

His brother nudged the girl. "You are free. Now stand and leave." The daggers disappeared back under his sleeves.

The girl scrabbled to her feet, standing and moving with wobbly steps. She tripped. Storm supported her, while Xenor dusted his hands, face contorting into an expression of disgust at the grime on his palms. "Thank you," she sobbed, rubbing her face with her soot-stained sleeves. "Thank you so—"

A telling groan of wood, and Storm and Xenor snatched her away before the store next to theirs collapsed on the wreckage they just freed her from. Everything went up in flames, and they hurried away from the danger, dragging the shaken girl along.

Silix ran up to them as they were retreating, fingers tearing into his wispy hair in obvious agitation. "Your Highnesses!" he gasped, expression contorted into one of worried fury. "How could you run off like that? And, Your Highness Xenor, you have the nerve to tell me to stay put when I—"

"We were helping this girl," Storm cut in, casting a glance back to the girl, who seemed to have frozen, her eyelids fluttering in a struggle to open. "We're sorry we ran off so suddenly—"

"Do not lump my propriety with your troublesome antics, little brother." Xenor glowered at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "At least I had the decency to notify Silix—"

"Notify?" the advisor screeched. "You simply said 'stay', Your Highness Xenor. That was in no way a warning telling me that you were going to dash off into the fire!"

"I believe it was quite clear—"

"Absolutely not! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Xenor stopped and averted his gaze, shoulders hunching as he grumbled under his breath. Silix turned to Storm. "You as well, Your Highness Storm." His gaze softened into relief as he placed a hand on their shoulders, squeezing. "But I am glad the both of you are safe."

Storm smiled at the advisor, and for a moment they were not standing in the middle of a raging disaster, but rather back in the Palace. Home. Silix was always there for them even though he, as the royal advisor, had so many things to work on. He was always there to worry over them when their late parents could not, what with their former duties as the king and queen.

Silix was their pillar of support, their guiding light in a bitter, cruel world.

Storm could not ask for a better advisor. And he was sure Xenor agreed.

"Why are you still here?" came Ash's voice then, raspy and frustrated. They turned to see the general storming towards them, the fire blazing behind her. "What are you doing, Silix? Return the princes to the Palace at once!"

"We were held up." The advisor ushered Storm and Xenor down the streets. "Come, Your Highnesses. The girl can come along as well— we will treat her at the Palace."

The yellow-haired girl seemed about to protest, her face scrunching in panic with her hands out in front of her. Storm grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. "It's okay, you're safe now." He smiled at her, then remembered that she couldn't see with the soot still staining her eyes, and so patted her shoulder instead.

Turning to Ash, he gave her a small wave. "Stay safe, Ash," he said. Xenor beside him nodded, expression grim and jaw set. The general returned a two-finger salute, whirling around to face the flames. As the four of them escaped from the scene, Storm heard her booming voice, directing her floundering soldiers, above the crackles of the fire, and knew that she was going to be just fine.

He glanced back one last time as they soon entered the shadows of the Palace, untouched by the inferno. Heavy, ominous black clouds ascended to the skies, and the streets behind them were engulfed in flickering reds and oranges— burning claws of hell breaking from the earth.

The colours reminded him of something. Someone.

And it was then he realised he had forgotten all about Slayen.

In the quiet of the Treatment Room, Zana was busy tending to Storm's burns, murmuring under her breath. When Storm looked at her, she seemed gaunt with faint bags under her eyes, her dark skin pale. Her white hair was drooping over her frazzled face. It was like she was not getting enough rest.

"Zana, are you okay?" His voice was soft, tentative. The Head Cleric managed a weary smile. But she did not respond to him, instead focusing back on her work.

Once she was done, she gave his bandaged arm a light pat, before directing her attention to Xenor sitting impatiently at a corner.

Storm furrowed his brows, rubbing at his bandages. It was unlike Zana to be so quiet, especially after such a major disaster. He stared at her back, and noticed how she seemed to be shrinking into herself, losing that light-hearted confidence she often exuded. Her hand movements were jittery, uncertain, as she had Xenor run his arms under cool tap water at the sink.

"Zana—" he tried again.

"I am fine, Your Highness," the Head Cleric said, her tone sharp. She did not turn around, digging into her medical kit for more bandages. "I should be the one asking if you are alright."

Xenor raised a brow at the conversation. Storm frowned. "But Zana, you look really tired," he protested. "Maybe you should rest..."

Zana scoffed, pulling at the dressing she was binding around Xenor's arms, eliciting a hiss from the older prince. "This is my job, Your Highness. Tired or not, I will do it." She paused, then added in a quieter voice, "I must do it.

"I can't fail again."

Before Storm could say anything else, Xenor stood, disrupting the Head Cleric's work. The bandages fell apart. He grabbed them before Zana could. "Go to bed," he snapped.

"Your Highness—"

"Go to bed." His disapproving glare made Zana flinch. "I will not stand for your irresponsibility."

Lowering her head, Zana slid away, slowly tidying up the counter where she had spread a number of creams and other medication. An inexplicable moroseness wafted off her as she hunched forward, and that made Storm's chest clench. He sidled towards his brother. "Why did you say that?" he whispered. "She has feelings."

"Are you implying that I do not?" Xenor scowled, tightening his own bandages as he finished wrapping them around his arms.

"N-no, it's just— maybe you could have been nicer—"

"I will say it however I want, little brother," his brother growled. He turned away, fiddling with his dressings. "Leave me be."

Storm backed off, dropping his gaze to the ground as he pursed his lips. An unsettling silence settled. The wall clock ticked, second by second. Rustling came from Zana as she put away more of her equipment, but other than that the quiet was deafening.

Glancing out the window, Storm saw thick black clouds of smoke coiling up from the burnt Main Square. It had been a few hours since the explosions, and the fire had finally been extinguished with the combined efforts of the soldiers and the people. Many people had been wounded, a number of them killed, and he was only glad the disaster had finally been resolved.

When he and Xenor had reached the Palace, there had been many survivors taking refuge. The girl they had rescued had eventually reunited with her fortunately unscathed parents— a pair of bakers— after much searching. They would treat her eyes at another clinic, her father had said after a round of profuse thanks, so as to not add on to the burdens of the clerics working in the Palace who were busy nursing the other wounded ones.

He and his brother had refused to be treated till all the victims sheltering in the Palace had been tended to and could return to their homes (only if their homes hadn't been destroyed by the fire), hence why they could only be cared for a few hours later.

Storm grimaced as he saw the tiny figures of the soldiers milling about on the streets, escorting more injured victims and bringing ladened stretchers draped over with white cloth away from the site. Cordoning off the area. Last he heard, Ash was still down there, disregarding her own burns to ensure that all surviving victims were found and brought to safety.

A sigh. How did everything fall into such mayhem?

When he was helping the clerics who were tending to the wounded victims, he overheard some of the people whisper about the disaster being some sort of sign.

A sign from their Guardian Spirit, that Slayen was not to be harmed. And if anything else were to be attempted to take Slayen's life, only ruin would fall upon the kingdom.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Why would the Guardian Spirit want to protect a murderer? The Guardian Spirit should know that Slayen had committed a grave sin. Unless there was something about Slayen that none of them knew about, something about Slayen that the Spirit deemed essential to the future of the kingdom.

But what could it possibly be?

And where exactly was Slayen? Storm had not seen him when they were retreating from the Main Square. It was possible that the redhead got caught in the fire and died, since he was chained down the last time anyone saw him. However, Storm didn't believe it. He didn't believe that Slayen burned to death.

If anything, he had a feeling the Eltros was still alive.

The door of the Treatment Room opened then, and Silix peered in. "Oh, Your Highnesses. How are you feeling?" the advisor asked with a smile, coming into the room and shutting the door behind him. His hair was a little singed, and he had a few medicinal patches on him, but otherwise he looked relatively unharmed.

"We're okay," Storm answered, casting a glance at Xenor. His brother crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at an offensive smudge of dirt on the floor created by their stained shoes. "... Just a little tired," he added.

"I see." Silix nodded, before he noticed Zana, who was tucking a few things into her coat, having finished cleaning the counter. "Zana? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, old man. I'm only... preparing to head to bed." Zana shrugged, her iris eyes dull. Silix's eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise, before his expression softened in understanding.

"Do you require someone to talk to?"

"... Maybe."

Storm watched as the advisor went up to Zana and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. She sagged, her head dropping further, fingers clenching into trembling fists.

And there it was again, that forlorn expression she was trying so desperately to hide.

"Talking will solve nothing," Xenor muttered, rolling his eyes. "What she needs is rest."

"Perhaps," Silix said. He moved Zana over to a chair, where she sat and slumped against the wall. "But it is to my belief that simply opening up to someone about your emotions, especially when you are unable to cope with whatever situation you are presently dealing with, can work wonders on your mental health." He paused, before adding, "Your father used to confide in me about his troubles when he became king, all those years ago."

"He did?" Storm whispered, running a hand through his hair.

"He did." Silix's smile was a melancholic one. "Be it about his issues with your mother, or his problems with the duties of a king, he would speak to me about them whenever he was free." His gaze drifted over to Xenor. "You ought to try speaking to someone one day, Your Highness Xenor." He lifted a finger. "Just once. Once is enough."

Xenor froze, a wince passing his face. Standing abruptly, the older prince slammed the door open and strode out of the Treatment Room.

"Brother—" Storm called, but he was too late. His brother was already gone.

"... It appears he is not yet ready for such a thing." Silix shook his head with a deep sigh. "I apologise, Your Highness Storm, but could you leave as well? I would like some privacy with our dear Zana here."

"Okay." Storm hopped off his seat and moved to the open door.

"Ah, I forgot to mention this earlier, but Ash has returned. She is at the battle arena." The advisor smiled once more. "Perhaps you would like to see her?"

Ash is back? Storm perked up at the words. A quick nod, and he darted out of the room, closing the door behind him. He dashed out of the medical centre, and headed to the battle arena, where Silix said the general would be.

When he reached the arena, he saw groups of exhausted soldiers scattered about, removing their armour and resting on the floor. A head of familiar strawberry blonde hair, and he found Ash at the far corner, downing a bottle of water. She had stripped off her own heavy set of armour, now dressed in light training clothes. Her tanned skin shone with a sheen of sweat, and there were obvious burns here and there, but she seemed unbothered by them, leaning back against the wall.

"Ash!" he called, running over to her. The general glanced up at his call, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're okay."

"Of course, Your Highness." She capped her bottle and set it aside.

"How was it?"

"If you are asking about the state of the kingdom, the worst has passed. All that is required now is to rebuild." Her face fell. "... I am sure you heard about the casualties."

Storm nodded, his chest tightening at the thought. A silence. Then Ash brightened. "I see you have been treated." She poked at his bandages.

"Zana did a good job, as always," Storm said. "You should get treated soon too."

The general's smile became frighteningly thin for a moment, before she stood and clapped his shoulder. "Of course. You should head back to your room and get some rest now, Your Highness. It has been a tiring day."

"Oh, well, um..." Fidgeting, Storm ran his hand through his hair, fluffing it up. "I will, it's just... I wanted to know if... well..." He took a deep breath. "What happened to Slayen?"

Ash froze. "Last I saw him, he was chained to the execution platform," he went on. "So I just wanted to know if..."

The general's gaze darkened. "I do not think it necessary for you to know this now, Your Highness."

"But, I—"

"Return to your room."

"Ash—"

"Return to your room."

"At least tell me something!" Storm exclaimed. Ash stopped. A few of the resting soldiers lifted up their heads from the puddles of sweat they were forming under them to squint at him. "Just... tell me what you saw. I'll figure out the rest."

The general contemplated his words, flexing her fingers and cracking her knuckles. Then she heaved a breath, shoulders dropping. "... There was no body," she began softly. "No remains. The platform had burned down, and we found his chains amidst the scraps left. They were..." Her brows furrowed, and she rolled her wrists. She did not continue.

"What happened to his chains?" Storm prompted. Just that last bit. All he needed was that last bit, and he would finally know what had happened to the murderer.

She held his gaze for a moment. Then she tossed her hair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "... Unlocked."

Unlocked?

"What..." He gaped at her.

Ash said nothing else, settling back down again. A wry smile. "That is the same as telling you what actually happened to him, is it not?" she murmured, her fingers curling. "He has escaped, Your Highness. We do not know how, but he has escaped.

"Slayen is free."

Xenor was cold.

It was a strange, unsettling cold that enveloped him. He was benumbed by it, dulled by it, even with the suffocatingly warm atmosphere around him as he trudged to his destination. When he glanced up at the sky, he could see the fat tendrils of black smoke clouding the heavens, casting grey shadows over the world.

Seeing the smoke reminded him of the ruined state of the kingdom. The many wounded people. The dead. The fire.

The fire that he...

Shaking his head, he scowled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His arms were itching from the bandages around them, and he resisted the urge to scratch at them, knowing it would do more harm than good.

"You ought to try speaking to someone one day, Your Highness Xenor. Just once. Once is enough."

His steps faltered. He almost fell. And as he readjusted himself, he muttered an oath under his breath, kicking at the twigs that lay in his way.

Silix was being ridiculous. There was no way simply talking to someone could resolve everything. Actions had to be taken. Actions were important. Actions were what solved issues, not words.

A few minutes passed, and he finally reached his destination after much sulky grumbling— Bayne's grave. He stopped, and stared at the new addition next to his father's tombstone.

Liss' grave sat, an identical copy to Bayne's except for the epitaph engraved in the stone.

In Loving Memory of
Queen Liss Valentine
Esteemed Wife
Cherished Mother
Strong and Inspiring Ruler

"You said you missed Father, didn't you, Mother?" he murmured. "Then you should be delighted to lie next to him like this."

No response. He didn't know why he'd expected one, and had to shake off the ugly feeling that had begun sprouting inside him when nothing was returned. Perhaps it was because Liss was known for her sharp tongue. Her quick remarks. Her scoldings. Perhaps that was why he had expected a reply, because he was speaking to Liss.

And yet it was not Liss. It was just her tombstone, nothing more.

A breeze came by, stinging his skin like little needles pricking into him. Or... like sharp nails that would pinch him whenever he said something 'wrong'. Wicked nails that would leave temporary crescent indents in his skin.

He managed a crooked smile. There it was, carried in the wind.

The admonishment he had expected from his mother.

"You must be mad at me, Mother." He dug the tip of his shoe into the ground, squashing a little ladybug that was crawling by. "Father must have told you all about what I did by now."

And there he could see, in his mind's eye, his father complaining to his mother about all the various things he did. His old pranks, his curt words, his scheming, his deeds. Everything that made him, that blessed him, that ruined him.

"You must be disappointed," he whispered, fists clenching in his pockets, "like you always were with me." He saw his mother's frowning face, heard his mother's shouts and screams, felt the pain of her slaps on his skin whenever they bickered.

"Just like Father."

The two tombstones stared back at him, unmoving. The flowers that lay scattered on the dirt ground were wilting. All was quiet. Forever in silence.

Xenor shifted, his skin squirming. A scratch at his neck. He tapped his shoe against the ground once, twice, three times. Then he glowered accusingly at the graves, grinding his teeth together. "How does the kingdom look like from up there, Father, Mother?" he asked, breaking the terrible stillness in the air. "Are you horrified?"

No response. He waited. Still, nothing. He scowled. "Ignoring me now, are you?" he snapped. "You can no longer speak to me now because of what I did, is that it?"

A vision of death and flame. Screams and pleas for help. Desperate blue eyes floundering for a glimpse of a path of salvation and escape in a field of burning horrors.

Again, silence was all that met his words. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine!" He turned on his heel and began stalking away. "Have it your way. I refuse to visit you again after this."

Xenor only managed four steps away from the pair of graves before he stopped. He glanced back. He saw shadows falling over his parents' tombstones, like hands of dark, dark sadness clawing at them. Leaves fell from the trees above as the wind quietly blew. A sharp whistle in his ears, much like the merry tune Bayne used to sing to him in a time long past.

He turned again, and trudged back to the graves. "Aren't you being rather contradictory, Father?" he muttered, hunching his shoulders. The wind blew again, and he shuddered. "You ignore me, and yet when I want to leave, you tell me to stay."

Looking up at the sky once more, he saw that the remnants of smoke had been blown in the direction of the Palace. Towards them. Towards him.

And he remembered the roars of the people as they cried for justice. Their screams of fury and vengeance.

The way his chest had tightened and throbbed as he listened to their many, many voices.

"... You were weak, Father," he said absently. "You were weak. There were numerous things you could have improved in the kingdom, and yet you did nothing but lounge and play."

He remembered the day Bayne brought him and his little brother out of the Palace for the first time. He remembered how unsatisfactory everything seemed, how flawed the kingdom was. He remembered the little glimpses of failures he saw on the streets, blind to his father who smiled and waved without a care in the world.

And yet...

"Yet they still loved you." He couldn't believe what he was saying. "How could they still love you, even though you were weak?" He recalled their arguments, their fights, their clashing screams and thoughts. He recalled how miserably weak he thought his father was, even as Bayne fancied himself strong.

And yet...

Why?

He turned to Liss' tombstone. "Do you know why, Mother?" he asked softly. "Why was Father still loved by them?"

No answer. They wanted him to stay, and yet they did not answer.

Xenor paused. Then he sat on the ground, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward. Dry, withered leaves crunched under his feet, and he flicked away a trampled lily that had stuck to his boot. "... You are being unfair to me, Father, Mother," he said. "Answer me."

He saw a brilliant green leaf flutter to the ground in front of him, landing between his parents' graves. He reached out, picked it up. It was a small thing, really, and yet it held so much vibrance and vigour.

Then there was a furious gust of wind, and the leaf was snatched out of his grip, soaring to the heavens and beyond.

And in its place in front of him lay another leaf, one that had lost its energy, lost its purity, and had become dry and withered and dead.

"... I see." Xenor pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, gazing at the dead leaf with half-lidded eyes. "I see..."

He sat there, quietly rocking himself to and fro, aware of his parents' scrutiny even as they lay in severe silence. The wind blew again, ruffling his hair. A twig slapped against his head, and before he could grab it and snap it in half, it blew away. Like a scolding, like a mockery.

And as he ducked his head and buried his face in his knees in an attempt to avoid any other flying objects, he wondered once more why the world felt so cold.