YUVEN

Why do I still feel like I'm missing a vital piece of information? It's on the tip of my tongue — and Keeper Kalla's collection of books have failed me so far. For those who laud themselves as carriers of knowledge and a false god's will, they seem as in the dark as the Storm Wardens, if not more so. Yuven tapped the small wooden soldier against the map of Haneka, coast to coast and all the way to Draken's Descent, Keeper Kalla's point of interest when it came to cult activities. Using the mines would be an efficient way to get through the kingdoms without being caught, but it's not enough. It's never enough. He moved the little wood pellet to Sungrove — the wrench in his plans, Fenrer Pyren, who took the king with him on his lashed out crusade. The consequences of his own actions, his own words, and his own foolish pride. Everytime he closed his eyes to follow Neven's words, the starry tangle shook with torment to strike his heart. I never like my plans ruined... but I will have to adapt. He took out more pellets to move them along the board, to pick out the best tracks. Would that Fenrer gave me time to work.

No amount of books he poured through got him closer to the answer on the tip of his tongue, a frustrating sensation and pushed his fangs deeper into the point of pressure. He jabbed his fingers into his temples when he sank into his borrowed desk and released a hiss to reverberate his vocal chords. Wind pulsed through his feathers, sending shockwaves through his ears and down his spine when he straightened his back against the chair and sighed. What to do... two monarchs left. How long has this been going on? A groan left his lips as he pushed his heel against the edge of the table and swayed on the legs of the chair. I could always hassle Keeper Kalla for information, but she seems all too keen to see if I could find it myself, and I don't want to have a Keeper show me up — I think it's about time someone beat them at their own game. I can go into the archives of the lodge... but there's no guarantee the records have been updated...

Music rang out from the streets, and the legs of the chair slammed down on the stone when he released himself from the precipice to head over to the window to shut it, to have his sweet silence once more. His fingers tangled on the thick blinds, but he found himself enraptured with the massive statues who cast their large shadows into the gulf. Two kings, remembered. Annoyance drove itself into his throat, their names recalled through history. Blinds swung shut, the wind's last breath licking against his cheek as he turned his back on the lowering sun, casting its rays through the break of fabric. Back at the chair, he set his hand on the arm, but looked up when someone had the gall to knock on his door.

"Hello," a deep, sing-song voice called out, and he readied himself to slide into a ghostly apparition when a head of auburn hair revealed itself. Gustul. The fancy chair-warmer's chair-warmer heir apparent. It was one less complication and in his reach, and Yuven folded his arms when the carousing prince stepped inside the big library with an expression of exaggerated curiosity. "I don't remember this being a part of the castle."

"I'm the wrong person to try and joke around with," Yuven grunted. "What do you want? I'm very busy and with your lordly brother getting the genius idea to go out on a hunting trip when I've repeated multiple times his life is in danger..." He faltered, then scowled at Gustul. "Well, I suppose you're the next best thing. Any old king's blood will do when pressed. You have lightning magick, yes?"

"You're even more of a statue than when we last 'spoke', which we weren't, because you were busy being a statue," Gustul threw back, but opened his palm to reveal a ball of lightning, crackling and energetic. "As long as I can bring the party to me here, if you wish for me to hole myself up in the castle surrounded by dusty old tomes, I won't complain."

And this is King Reyn's spymaster? Yuven let go of the magick lighting up his blood. "No, I want you to answer a couple of questions, though. You're well informed, are you not? With how much you talk and get others to talk, surely you know something by now?"

Gustul pursed his lips in thought and pinched his chin. "Usually when someone asks me that question, drinks are sure to follow, along with card games, and a lot of lost gold."

"I'm not feeding bad habits, considering this concerns your brother, I'd have hoped you would be sticking your nose where it doesn't belong and have learned something useful. If you cannot tell me anything—"

His booming laugh shook his bones, and Yuven pressed his feathers against his head to rattle out the sound. "Straight to the point, are ya?" he mused, his coastal accent slipping through and only served him to want Maria's more careful, diplomatic questions. "You've done what Keeper Kalla does and stuck yourself in here when everything you want is more than likely out there." He tilted his head towards the window, and Yuven scowled when he undid his work and effort to close out the music and light, the two kings in the distance, their hands outstretched to the fallen sun. "I appreciate the Storm Wardens, they'll get down in the dirt, never asking us to join them, but many have started to grasp the severity, what with whispers of a Crimson Dusk on the horizon." Gustul set his hands on his belt with a big, dumb smile. "Anyway, where were we? What did you want to ask?"

"You were in the city during the civil war, were you not?" Yuven needled. "It also didn't escape my notice that Fenrer—" He bit on his tongue, but continued, "He referred to you as 'Your Highness'. I'm well-aware you're considered a prince of Haneka, but you are older than Reyn. Explain that to me. Books can only give me so much context and viewpoints."

"Ah, I suppose Naveerans would approach that differently," Gustul said as he tapped his chin. "Reyn has it because I have no interest in such matters of state — and to spite my dearly departed father who considered both sons failures in their own right." He beamed, as if the old king's words hadn't struck him all the harder, and Yuven bit on his own disappointment and Neven's sad expression in his memory. "Besides, Reyn won his right through a fight — a duel to the death. It was quite a sight to see the little kid who could barely raise his voice above a whisper turning into what he is now — well, not that large of a jump, he's as much a statue as you are." His shoulders quaked with an amused quirk to his lips. "Obviously, to make it seem like we were doing this properly, Reyn also challenged me... and I refused. It was all for show, so there was little doubt that Reyn could be considered an usurper, though that doesn't stop some. I do enjoy my carousing though he bemoans it." He dropped his broad shoulders. "To answer your question, yes, I was here during the siege. I was here in the final moments of my father's paranoia, lashing out at the citizens that they practically opened the gates of the gulf to Reyn's navy."

Swords clashed when he went to strike the king of Naveera's heart, with Reyn jumping to his defense in an instant. Yuven slid a fang over his lip then glared at Gustul. "If you know anything, for your brother's safety, you should tell me. Especially since you're the one who would be saddled with said matters of state if he dies."

Gustul's expression cracked, but he folded his arms and kept the smile up, nothing more than a mask the deeper he peered into it. "Our family was close to the Pyren's," he pointed out. "I'm sure if there's anything deeper that can't be found in my line, it'll be found in theirs. I can't say if it'll illuminate you on the cultist ne'er-do-wells that want to commit regicide for unknown reasons." He headed over to the door. "I'll be sure to tell Keeper Kalla you're hard at work. Some friendly competition never hurt anyone, as us Hanekans go about it."

"I see."

Gustul looked out the corridor, then turned with a bow before disappearing with a fancy wave. Yuven closed the door behind him, then huffed. In the chair with the weight of his knowledge pressing against his spine, he dipped his brow into his hands. Molvisaliz... I think the piece I'm missing I would only have were you here. Yet, you are not, my own undoing. He tugged out the monolith of Hanaken lineages back into his lap, tearing open the old parchment with a creak of its spine. Some had long died out. Others branched off from the extinct. Kolis. Yuven traced the pages, worn and ancient ink crinkled against his skin. As he fluttered the pages, he shook his head at the constant information. For a thousand turns the Kolis kings ruled over Haneka, the book made the bold claim. But then where do the Pyren's come in? Yuven poked the reference point, standing up to put it back among the stacks to find the connecting book on the shelf. Much smaller in weight, but heavier in feeling. It pulsated against his mind as he opened it.

Kalla's writing, scratched at an even pace. Commentary on the knowledge she acquired. Simple things to archive into the Grand Library of the Order. Yuven slammed it shut, and stuffed it back on the shelf. Monolith back in his arms, he headed over to the table instead to open it in full. Hand outstretched, a misty glyph bounced off his fingertips as he searched for hidden messages. Anything. Nothing came back, and he dissipated the glyph with a scoff. Instead, he ruffled the pages back and forth, to pick out a pattern to the madness. It fluttered to the Kolis' once again, the blood of kings. Thousands of Turns of the ruling family, until he got to the fresher pages, and the writings faltered and disappeared.

He pressed his hands against the edges of the book to stare down at what had once been. Lost ink. Glyph back in his hands, he pushed it into the pages, to bring the ink back to clearer life, but when it came to the surface, its ridges made it illegible and stung at his fingertips. What in the Infernal Hells...? Yuvens hook out his hand, but continued past the discomfort, to bear the truth to reality. Now, who's trying to hide what? Gustul and Reyn's names came up, but as he tried to pull further at the ink, the previous king's remained clear and bold. Unforgotten, undeserved for the pain he caused Fenrer Pyren. Yuven dug his fingers into his palm. Forget the king... their rules have only followed in the footsteps of bloodshed. He continued to graze the glyph over the paper, through the torn pieces.

Through pale ink, Fenrer's name appeared.

Yuven squinted.

No... wait. I'm mistaken, it's spelled differently. Fenrir. Curiosity piqued, he sat back down and though he risked damage to the book, he pushed his glyph deeper, to shine a light what kings tried so hard to hide. Let's see... Fenrir Kolis... It was an effort and a half to get details, with the sinew of the paper stretching at its own seams. Died... twenty-one turns ago... to a Derelict. Body was partially consumed. Family blade was undamaged. Yuven sat there, the silence filling him with dread as he looked over the previous information. Black hair, lightning magick... Oh. Oh... Interesting. Yuven tapped the pressurized paper, where it rippled in complaint. So Reyn is a bastard? I wonder if that would make any difference to the cult's plans. He has king's blood either way. And from what Gustul said, I guess the concept of bastards aren't a thing here like they would be in Naveera. Yuven overturned the page, letting the ink disappear again. Who's trying to hide you, though? His gaze fell on the previous king's name, unblemished though his dead brother's disappeared to time. Unless... you know, I wouldn't be surprised. Just look at my own family. We've murdered each other back and forth for a stupid chair. I don't see why other royal families can't do the same. It never stops, the bloodshed. All for a stupid crown that can be melted and rusted — and everyone bleeds and dies. Yuven curled his fist over the paper.

The starry connection breathed.

Yuven snapped his head up at the tingle. Gustul wouldn't remember his uncle, would he? Not by a lot, depending on how old he was when he died... but then... Yuven rifled through the pages, the puzzle falling apart, all his pieces worthless. Onto the next largest section, the Pyren's. Though some names faded with normal time, he bit on the twinge of dismay when his finger brushed over his Oathbound's name. Back and forth, he compared the two lineages, where they disconnected, where they reconnected. Anything to make up for his grievous flaws. Lightning. One leg folded over the other, he considered the oldest records which were still legible. Redirection... The dread chewed on his heart with a Derelict smile. It dropped into the deepest pits of his infernal, once corrupted stomach, and he found ice weighed down in his boots when he tried to shift.

Space and time. The movement of energy. Bile rose up to his nose when he glanced out to the answers on the peaks. Two halves of a whole... there wasn't one king of Haneka. There were two. Yuven covered his mouth with his hand when the taste of taintblood rose up to his throat, and the shiver of stress pressed against his mind. One breath escaped his lips, and he snapped out of his chair, where it clattered behind him. Out of the study, he rushed through the corridors, causing some of the houecarls to side-eye him, but he leaped into his spatial distortion, the roar of the Twilight Sea in his ears as the colours whipped into a frenzy with his goal in mind. As his feet touched marble, he coughed, though when he pulled his hand back, no black blood stained his fingers.

Instead of housecarls, it was Storm Wardens staring at him.

Yuven whipped his head around, though he knew Fenrer was far away. "Where are Warden Ollain and Adara Sazaka?" he snapped.

"Uh..."

"Yuven?" Adara questioned from the staircase, and he leaped up to her, causing her to gasp and scramble. "What's the matter with you?"

"It's Fenrer," he hissed.

Adara gazed at him. "What about him?"

Yuven opened his mouth, but his mind screamed white. As he went to take a step, blood stuck to his armor, the bright Warden lodge fluttering between two halves. Light and dark. Numb pinpricks clashed with the searing pain, the endless radiance burning on his hip. It cracked when Adara touched him, and he drew away from her.

"Yuven, talk," she snapped. "Explain!"

"I need you to listen," he said through his teeth as the starry folds persisted, the imagery dead and once more, in the terrible reality of his consequences. "Actually. Better idea." He latched onto her forearm, and with the last trail he left at the castle, he dragged her through. Into the warm corridors, Adara fell to her knees and heaved.

"Can you warn me before doing that?"

"You were warned, and I don't have time," Yuven snapped, dragging her to her feet before heading to the council chambers. He took his oath necklace off his shoulders, pushing magick into it before dropping it into her hands. "I've weaved an opening. Keep it open."

"Yuven, I don't—"

"Fenrer has king's blood."

Adara blanked.

Yuven chewed on his failure. "I'm going to go first," he said. "On hippogryph. We need to get to the hunting party and bring them back. We have no time. You get Gustul to get a cart ready, but I can't wait." He smacked her hand. "I will send Reyn and Fenrer through my magick, and if I don't come back, I don't care — you close it behind them. Got it?"

"Yuven—" Her hand swiped through his ghostly arm.

Slingshotted back into the Lodge, he reoriented himself and rushed through the corridors. Out into the stables where horses, but some hippogryphs kept themselves. "Saddle a hippogryph," he ordered the Warden farrier. Would that Tix'snuv was here, but...

His impatience intensified as they saddled a rust-colored hippogryph. As he went to grab the reins, the starry connection tightened, and rubberbanded against his heart. His brow smacked against their haunch, causing them to give him a beady eye of confusion. Dammit. You better be right behind me, Sazaka. He climbed into the saddle, and sped out of the stables. People scrambled out of his way as he took off.

Come on, Molvisaliz. Give me something. Please tell me I'm just paranoid! Tell me I didn't just serve you on a silver platter! If Reyn's blood wouldn't do by itself—!