YUVEN

The biting cold of the blizzard dug into his throat while Evyriaz, as silent as an owl, continued his flight for Volaris and his questionable judgment on rescuing royalty when they sowed despair with their existence. Scales pinched his skin and kept him on the back of wyverns, with Neven's storybooks taking on ironic meanings. Each wingbeat scattered the gathering flurries over the Frozen Wastelands. Cold stretched through the hollows of his feathers to spread heat through his system when the cold sought to freeze him to death. Unable to see the icy fields below, he traced a glyph of clarity in the air. It spun away the fog blocking his vision. Volaris can't be that far. We've been flying for what feels like bells... but Naveera never did like revealing time properly. It gave him a few feet of sight, but not enough to make any difference.

"I sense movement below," Evyriaz growled when his snout tipped low.

"Ignore it," Yuven grumbled with a foot against one of the spikes. He pushed the glyph outwards, but it dissipated in the fog. Damned... Fang against the corner of his lip, he curled his fingers back into the loose scales. As he went to send another glyph outwards, a screaming heat pressed into his temples. Enough to send a ringing annoyance in his ears. Up until the annoyance turned into agony when he gasped, rust filling his throat. No! No! Not now! Inky worms filled his vision, but he jerked when Evyriaz writhed and stopped his flight trajectory with quick wingflaps. "What?" he demanded, pushing his palm into his temple. "What is the matter?" Don't tell me you feel it too... Feathers folded over his ears to block the snow, he shivered when Evyriaz shook out his head.

"Something is amiss..." Evyriaz flew forward with one last beat of his giant wings. Yuven held on tight when he folded his wings, taking on a burst of speed through the thick walls of snow. Crystals of ice threatened to smash into his face and take pieces of skin with it had he not brought up his own scaled barrier with a plume through his lips. Evyriaz crashed through the wrath, but slowed to a stop with an angle of his wings at what lay ahead, and his own heart faltered in its beat. Spires. Magnificent and splendorous, though none matched Irimount's peaks. Screams, distant, echoed outwards. Avalanches slipped over the cliffs and rolled down the cracking barrier. Shards rose into the sky and burst into particles. Venom in his blood rippled at the oozing streets, the decay and mold sticking to his nose when Evyriaz released his own breath of shock.

"You have to hurry it up!" Yuven snapped at the mounting dissonance found within the depraved dread Derelicts brought. Pathways below made a hasty escape past the thick wall the blizzard created. Some people have escaped... but who else might remain? Are there any of them left? Will there even be anything left to identify? He scowled, then leaned forward when pillars of light burst through the palace. Waves scattered throughout the city, and he brought his arm to his brow to protect himself when the light expanded. The barrier around the city popped all at once. Snowfall dropped into the city, freezing the dark ooze running along the streets with ease. Evyriaz took on another burst of speed.

This place... that ruined everything. Almost stole my family away from me. Fenrer's ragged, weak breathing echoed in his ears. Neven on the execution platform, defiant to the last, revealing the fire within a gentle soul. Wyverns, surrounded by wingless snakes. He dug his fingers deeper when Evyriaz flew against the blasting wind with its source the city ahead. Yuven brought his magick forward, but it sent searing fire through his blood at the attempt. He was no Anima in the end — a Flare at best. It curdled at his fingertips, and Evyriaz snapped his head up when the pillars of light converged. A glyph of pale golds raised high. Hands moved along the circumference, a ticking sound.

"Blood of mine..." Evyriaz beaded eyes widened.

The clock tolled.

Bloodfed power spread outwards in one more confluence, and Yuven choked when it slammed into his body. It froze all his exterior, with Evyriaz struggling against the pressure with a startled, deep chirp. Familiarity sent shockwaves up his skin. Him, ready for the attack of a chair-warmer, who kept him back with the hands of time. One half of a whole. "I can't move," he said, trying to spread out his magick against the force. Though time stopped, it was the palace which continued when it split in half with explosive symphonies. Evyriaz curled his wings with a growl, and the hold broke apart with a burst of momentum, causing Yuven to use his newfound freedom to hold on tight. The walls of Volaris became more than shapes. Lanterns toppled out of the towers, the blue flames snuffed out, with the gate wide open and pouring snow out of its metal bars. Come on...

The pressure subsided, and Evyriaz angled himself with his own glyph touched wings when the last wave slammed into them with an unsettling crack. Yuven scrambled to hold on, with Evyriaz pushed back with another chirp.

It fell silent, then wasted away.

Evyriaz righted himself, feathers shaking, and Yuven coughed and held on tight to the largest spike. Irimount, frozen in time. Volaris, repeating the past while the spires collapsed into the streets and crushed all in its way. Teeth over his lips, he huddled closer to the spike to flee the memories of the doom he brought, now twicefold. Evyriaz flew free through the silence, the sound of his wing beats audible to him when the last of the towers fell into the streets. Evyriaz slowed and landed on the wall. His hind claws dug in, while he clung onto the roofs of the buildings which were spared from the collapse. Yuven shuddered at the moans, but Evyriaz released curled flames into the streets. Purifying silver wings which cleared out the rising crimson darkness. When a Derelict formed, it turned to stone in an instant as Evyriaz started a methodical walk over the buildings, though some broke underneath his size.

"You have to head to the palace." Yuven looked over the edge. Limbs, poking out of rubble. Blood pooled, though Evyriaz''s flames touched the feast and silenced it all. One last burst, and Evyriaz raised his head to the torn palace. But if they were selfish, and smart... they'd have evacuated. All of them. Maybe the blizzard will get to them first... no blood to be had there. Yuven stood up, shoving his foot between smaller spikes to keep himself on the back of a wyvern when Evyriaz continued his pace, clearly trying to be careful with his wide berth. Pain littered his tongue when they reached the square of the city. The executioner's platform split apart. The statue of Evyriaz nothing more than a hunk of ice, releasing cold mist.

Yuven frowned at the reminders that people once lived. Lights, spluttered out. Windows blasted apart into their neighbors. Ruin and destruction once more. Hand around the hilt of his crescent blade when Evyriaz lowered himself beside an empty playground full of ghosts, Yuven jumped off, pulling out his Resonator. Its small needles viciously clicked against the crystals, though nothing came out to attack him for his magick. All was silent, save for the panicked clicking. I don't even know where to start. Yuven ducked underneath Evyriaz to rush the palace gates, collapsed with all the rest. Out into the courtyard, where Evyriaz craned his neck over the wall, Yuven faltered at the sight of the garden.

Snowroses, wilted and bleeding out frozen ooze, the Embassies crushed by the tear time created. Not a single soul barred his path when he threw himself through the echoes and came out the other side in the grand foyer of a broken palace built on a flimsy foundation. Rugs tore at the ends, with passageways blocked, but though things took up space, he moved past it to take the rest. Yuven headed for the throne room ahead, crescent blade at the ready, but almost tumbled at the lack of steady floor. The seat of the king cracked down the middle, though no crown of bloodpearls was in sight. Bones stuck out from underneath the debris, but when he poked the closest one with his foot, it burst into crimson ash and escaped with the endless breeze. Snow continued to fall as waterfalls into the palace, a slow burial. But where are the royals? On his knees, surrounded by ruined representations of a tyrannical monarchy, he pressed his hand against the debris, and spread out his magick, losing the senses of his body, replaced with space's governance. It crushed his ears, until he continued to snoop through familiar, dark cells. Deeper still, and he paid at the distant humming inside his own heart. A breath of a massive space, and he drew himself back, not so willing to throw himself into the unknown. There's something below.

Yuven rushed out of the throne room and the hallways he only had a cursory exploration of with his escape. One path brought him past the library, but when he peeked in, he scowled at the lack of a world sphere — so many sparks for one fuse. Fingers dug into the door, he let it go to continue his search for Princess Hayvala and the Royal Peacock who thought himself above the judgment of life.

A crown won't protect you. We all bleed and die.

He followed the deep hum, where a massive staircase dipped into the darkness, the lamps doused, right down to the coals. Spurts of white flame gathered in his hand, the magelight hovered above his head and he made the descent, crescent blade at his side. Each step he took down the steps of ice, the humming turned into a soft, solemn melody of tears. Water lapped at his boots when he reached the bottom, and it spread out little crystal disturbances.

In the center, a fallen body, with a pale blue dress stained with crimson fabric.

Yuven rushed over, but skidded to a stop.

The refrain stopped.

White tangles spread over the water. Yuven knelt closer to check her vitals, left only with the silence of his failures. Too much blood for it to be her own, with the freshest one slipping down her cheeks in trails of tears. Arm on his knee, the building pressure in his lungs threatened to burst it apart at the lack of another body, but with old blood floating lazily below the crystal lake's surface. Princess Hayvala, pale, devoid of life, nothing left of her eyes. Unable to taste the bittersweet victory of his family's survival, a hiss escaped his throat when he slammed his heel into the crystal lake and sent one wave of his own to smash into the staircase he left behind. What have I done? Questions formed on his lips as he collapsed onto his knees, kneeling only to death, but the cultist won once more due to his arrogance. Princess Hayvala, dead in front of him, and no King Laucan, though from the amount of blood, and not all of it Hayvala's he suspected, he raised a hand to his mouth to stop the vomit from leaving it.

Time bent for no one — least of all him, who though he manipulated space, he could not bend the other immutable force. It bent only to the other side of his family, at war with itself though Evyriaz failed to recall why. Hands dug into the water, he chewed on his failures then grabbed onto Hayvala, who put him to the proof — who showed him one piece of his past in 'Ser Yokonei'. His uncle whom she had clearly respected. A cycle, with him at the very end as its final result and survivor. The eyeless princess in his arms, he escaped the crystal lake with more questions and no answers.

Where is the other body?

Out into the cold and endless snow, Evyriaz glanced over at him from where he rested. "Burn her," Yuven forced through the globs of rot stuck to his throat. He put her in front of Evyriaz. "I'd rather not deal with a potential draugr." He took a step back when Evyriaz investigated the fallen princess, not so beautiful awash with blood and hair tangled. Death was never pretty. He dug his fingers into his scalp when Evyriaz opened his mouth, and a rumble of flames shone in the back of his throat in silver light. It scattered and sent the heat across his skin, until there was nothing left but the ashes with no home to go back to.

With no throne behind him to taunt power, he sat down on the withered white grass below. No crown in his hands to destroy. No sword to take up against his enemies. Cyclic vengeance that had finally come to an end. Snow sat heavy against his eyelashes as he bowed his head forward to hold onto his own silence, and the lack of a song in his heart.

Evyriaz snapped his mouth shut when it had finished and looked over at him.

Travon and Traye. Two names. One family. Was it worth it? Yuven closed his eyes and released the expectations. All this... all this for a throne? It's cracked now. No one will sit on the ruins of a throne to rule over burial mounds. Or a crown? It's gone. It's just me.

I'm all that's left.