The sky was beautiful.

Sitting crossed-legged on the stoned windowsill, Two stared out the latticed window and relaxed under the mild warmth of the setting sun. As the clouds condensed overhead, sun rays colored them red, yellow, and orange shades. She imagined the scenery came straight from the fingertips of the Gods, who seemed to watch over everyone but her.

However, unlike the pleasant weather, her heart was in a perpetual state of war against opening the door that she knew Jungkook was waiting behind or ignoring it and staring at the alluring sky. Without a doubt, she chose the latter.

Betrayed wasn't what she felt. It was more like. . . forsaken. By herself, the Lotus, the Gods, the idiot prince who still stood outside her door. She wanted to tell him to leave, but at the same time, she knew it was wise to talk about the blood contract, Medeia, and Nero. The problem was that she did neither and squandered time on the windowsill, mindlessly massaging a patch of skin on her right arm as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

It was childish of her to lock herself in her room, but Two needed time to organize her thoughts before attempting Jungkook's wild hunt for a rift. Even now, she thought it was a terrible idea, but what she believed didn't matter. It was happening whether she liked it or not.

Pressing her forehead against the pane, she fogged the window with a sigh as she heard two more knocks at her door.

"Two? Are you in there?"

He just didn't give up.

"We need to talk about our plan."

An edge of remorse tailed his voice, but Two was too caught up asking herself when his plan became our plan to fully grasp it.

"And we should check our horses in the stables. Make sure the stable boys saddle the ones we rode from Lux."

Whether Two rode a Luxian or Umbran stallion was far from the top of her concerns, so when she drifted towards the door, it wasn't to discuss the plan—or, more accurately, the lack thereof. Apparently, it was to stand there in silence as she thought of a response in vain, and after standing with nothing to say for a solid minute, she knocked on the door once—twice. Announcing her presence. A great start.

"I need time to think, Princeling. I know you are worried about Medeia and the blood contract. And I know you feel guilt weighing you down about it, but you need rest. So much has happened in the past few days. This may be a normal occurrence for you since you live in a castle, but catching up to the present is stress and headache-inducing for me."

Within weeks, Two advanced from a murderous assassin to a faux royal guard of Lux who was about to embark on a quest to kill Daetunos in Infernum. And if that wasn't enough, she had just exposed her identity to the future kings of Kartas. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a frustrated huff.

"My advice is to rest," she said. "You didn't take a break after the council yesterday. This may be your last chance to breathe peacefully, so enjoy it while it lasts. As for Medeia and the blood contract, don't let it concern you. It will all work out in the end." Hopefully. Before Two returned to the windowsill, she added, "I don't care if you listen to my advice or go to the stables, but the last thing I want to do right now is talk. So I'll see you tomorrow, Prince Jungkook."

Plopping herself down on the windowsill, she waited for Jungkook to argue or plow through the door, but he did neither. She heard two quiet knocks before Jungkook's presence faded, and she was left alone in an oddly desolate silence.

Outside, the sun had set, and when the city lights of Hiemura didn't immediately light up, Two frowned. Hiemura was a world different from Clarica, but like the Luxian capital, it was timely in setting the night sky ablaze. She wanted to cherish the view during her last night in the city, so it was a pity.

First the Gods, and now the lights. It seemed like her life was a game of how many more things could forsake her and add to the already-thick rain clouds over her head. Clicking her tongue, she cursed Faestuna. Someday, instead of curses, she would send a punch of her own, give the Gods a taste of their own medicine.

"But that would have to wait another day," Two mumbled as she sulked over to her bed and landed on her back with her arms splayed out.

Nothing was captivating about the ceiling—or the room, for that matter. So it wasn't a surprise when Two returned to the windowsill to feast her eyes on the stars instead of the blank, white expanse of nothing. What was a surprise, though, was the many glowing balls of light illuminating the sky.

They were like tiny, blue suns floating in a windswept ocean, nothing like she had ever seen. Eager for a closer look, she leaned as far as she could towards the window—a desperate attempt to widen her field of vision—when one of the glowing balls appeared before her.

Up close, Two noticed that it was a flower head.

She could almost feel the glow of blue touching her skin as the flower ascended, turning slowly as rain-like droplets fell from its opening petals. Fascinated, she watched as hundreds of the same flower heads flooded the skies with a beautiful light that compensated for Hiemura's gloom. She was clueless about what meaning the flowers held—unfamiliar with Umbran tradition—but still, the charming sight pacified the conflict tearing at her heart and brought her to ease.

Perhaps the Gods didn't forsake her after all.

* * *

Despite Two's advice, Jungkook went to the stables to find peace for his pounding heart. Since the council of war ended the day before, his heart thrummed against his ribcage. He did not know whether it was because of the thrill of victory or the fear of what was to come.

Echoes of the autumn winds arrived in stride, blowing leaves into the air and blistering Jungkook's dry cheeks, sending a forewarning of what the next season had in store. He huddled deeper into his cloak as he sped over the dying grasses to the soft lantern light of the stables. There, he realized he was not alone.

Namjoon was standing in front of the pens, one arm braced against the fence while the other reached to pet a horse's nuzzle. He turned as Jungkook awkwardly approached a random horse and pretended to occupy himself.

"That's Prince Jimin's prized horse if you were wondering," Namjoon said, not looking as Jungkook startled and veered his hand extended to pet the horse to the back of his head. "She doesn't take kindly to a stranger's touch."

"I knew that," Jungkook said, clearing his throat. "Just couldn't see in the dark." Namjoon chuckled, and Jungkook ignored the embarrassment heating his cheeks. "So what brought you here, Prince Namjoon?"

"The same reason you are here: to find privacy and peace of mind." Namjoon tucked his hands into his pockets as he nudged his head at another horse behind him. "If you are looking for your horse, he is over there. If not, I assume you can try to befriend Telayna, though from what I can tell, she is not in the best of moods."

Jungkook perked up. "You can read how animals feel?"

Namjoon stared blankly at Jungkook before he shrugged and said, as a matter of fact, "I am a mind elemental."

The corners of Jungkook's lips lifted into a smile as childish wonder bubbled inside him. Forgetting the previous awkwardness, he asked, "Why is she upset?"

Namjoon raised a brow, a wall of wariness that soon crumbled when he leaned against a post and explained like he was teaching from a book. "For one, Prince Jimin is not taking her to Medeia. He is taking that one." He pointed at another brown mare eating hay and flicking flies with her tail. "It is most likely because he cares too much for Telayna, but she doesn't see it like that. She is jealous."

Telayna whinnied as she turned to her water trough, brushing the hair of her tail over Jungkook's head. Blowing the horsehair out of his face, Jungkook looked at Namjoon expectantly.

Smiling, Namjoon said, "She doesn't want to believe she is jealous, so she disagrees with my analysis."

"Amazing," Jungkook whispered, staring at Telayna with awe. "You have such great control over your element."

"Do you not?"

Sheepishly, Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to grab his pendant out of habit. "Not as much as I would like."

When they said nothing more, the awkwardness returned in full force, permeating the air around them and creating an uncomfortable knot in Jungkook's stomach. He scratched his arm as a distraction, feeling for the right moment to take his leave.

"I guess I'll—"

Jungkook halted when he spoke at the same time as Namjoon.

"I can—"

It happened again, and now they were staring at each other, a thick wall between them. Jungkook covered his face, cursing himself. When he lowered his arm, he saw Namjoon had extended his hand.

"We can return to the castle together, and we should drop the formalities since we will have to get to know one another during our travels. It's Jin's—or Prince Seokjin's—idea." When Jungkook didn't reply, Namjoon added, "So what do you say. . . Jungkook?"

It was strange to hear only his name from another prince's mouth, but Jungkook shook Namjoon's hand. "I agree. . . Namjoon."

The only good that came out of those stables was that Jungkook learned he wasn't the only prince who struggled with conversation. At first, it was a relief, but as he and Namjoon walked back to the castle in absolute silence, Jungkook decided it was a curse. The discomfort made him want to run into the darkness and hide in a hole, but since he would never do that, he continued walking at the same pace as Namjoon.

It was unbearable, the disagreements from the past days floating between them like wasps ready to sting at one wrong motion. Occasionally, Namjoon would cough and clasp his hands behind his back, while Jungkook stiffly kept his arms at his side, making his walk look more like a march. Once he felt that he couldn't stand the pressure building between the lines of silence, Jungkook finally spoke. "About the council—"

"There's no need to talk about it," Namjoon said, effectively cutting Jungkook off. "After long thought, I found that if your plan was completely hopeless, Mother Erna would have stepped in. And about your guard, I do not care who she is or where she is from. As long as she is on our side."

The abrupt confession made Jungkook's brain malfunction, so he responded with a clumsy—"I see."

"And, I'll admit, I was being arrogant. For that, I apologize." Jungkook was shocked when he saw a slight blush dust Namjoon's cheeks.

There wasn't a clever response Jungkook could say to keep the momentum of the conversation, so he decided on a simple, "I think we all were at one point," and let silence reign, satisfied when he felt it wasn't as uncomfortable as before.

It wasn't until they reached the castle that they uttered another word. Jungkook let his legs take the lead, not paying any attention to the night's ascent when he heard the footsteps decrease from four to two. Blinking, he saw that Namjoon had stopped some distance behind him, his head tilted towards the sky. Following his gaze, Jungkook looked up and was stunned to see dots of blue covering the night.

"What is that?" The swarm of color dazed Jungkook, fascinating him as one of the blue lights neared and a glittering droplet dripped onto his palm. "Is it a flower?"

"Frost lilies," Namjoon murmured. It sounded closer to a personal thought than an answer to Jungkook's question, yet he continued, spreading his palm to catch a glowing flower head. "Once a year, the Umbrans send them as a tribute to the Gods. To those who lost their lives to the Luxian Plague. You know it as the Crimson Death."

Jungkook had learned about the plague, how his great-great-great-grandfather King Raiagus spread it by throwing infected bodies over the border, how the disease slaughtered thousands over the decades it persisted. He didn't know what to say.

"It is a homecoming to the souls who strayed from Lexitem." Namjoon let the frost lily glide to the ground. "As well as the last farewell to those who have passed onto the After."

Jungkook watched as the flower nestled into the grass, its fine sheen dimming into darkness. "My ancestors have committed horrible atrocities."

"All of ours have," Namjoon said. "It isn't a matter of what they did; it is a matter of what you will do about it."

They watched the frost lilies take to the skies, felt the beautiful sorrow wash over them, and after a prolonged silence, Namjoon left, brushing past Jungkook's shoulder. Alone, Jungkook stared at the countless lilies for a long time.

* * *

Taehyung was in his room, finishing a letter to his siblings back at Tenebris. Night had descended faster than anticipated, so he wrote his final sentences in haste when someone knocked on his door. He made no motion to answer because he had one more sentence, and even when another knock came, stronger and louder, he crept onto his toes, leaning closer to the door but still writing the last words.

Once he signed his name, he turned on his heels and jumped at the sight of Yoongi standing on the threshold, his hand on the doorknob. Surprised, Taehyung accidentally drew a line across the letter, and to make matters worse, he tipped his inkwell over. As dark blotches of ink stained the five pages of his letter, Taehyung glared at Yoongi.

"I heard they call you the Firecat back at Bellum, silent as he roams the halls. Your reputation precedes you." It was beyond Taehyung why Yoongi was in his room. He didn't want to argue—that was the last thing he wanted—but he didn't want to rewrite his letter either. What a shame. "I thought you said you would rather not meet me again, that it does you no favors, so what brings you here?"

Yoongi frowned. "We'll have to see each other every day starting tomorrow, so I thought it was best to put our differences from the past aside." He extended a hand. "We don't talk about our past until the end of this journey. Agreed?"

Looking at Yoongi's hand, Taehyung remembered the heat of scorching flames and the cries of a broken child. Carefully, he grabbed it. "Agreed."

Yoongi looked more haggard than he did at the council, the bags under his eyes thicker and his skin paler. When Taehyung tried to retract, Yoongi didn't let go, and for a second, panic filled Taehyung's lungs as he breathed the lingering scent of burnt flesh that materialized from his memories.

"But don't think I will ever forgive what you did," Yoongi whispered and finally released him.

Rubbing his hand, Taehyung licked his dry lips. "As you said, history is not to be forgiven. As if I'll ever forget that."

With a scoff, Yoongi left, closing the door behind him with a soft click. After steadying himself, Taehyung returned to his desk, where he came face to face with dried ink and ruined sentiments. Sighing, he cleared the space and started anew, holding the tip of the feather over the blank parchment.

One drop of ink fell and another before Taehyung lowered his hand and huffed.

He forgot what he wanted to write.

* * *

There was one last person Yoongi needed to meet before returning to his chambers. Mother Erna. After having another nightmare that caused him to wake in a cold sweat with a sharp pain stabbing his neck, Yoongi had had enough. He would acquire the pills from Mother Erna. Gods help him if she refuses.

His footsteps were soft as he padded through the halls, heading for the courtyard. Yoongi had visited Mother Erna's quarters before the infirmary, where Hoseok had informed him that she had left with Jin to converse privately. So he carried on through the halls, peeking at the passing guards and servants under his black bangs, wordlessly warning them to stick their noses elsewhere.

The moon was shrouded behind the thickening clouds, so only firelight reflected off the stone walls, emanating weak waves of heat that barely warmed Yoongi's freezing skin. It was still dark when he arrived in the courtyard, the breeze chilling the beads of perspiration down his back. There, at the far end, was Mother Erna sitting on a stone slab as Jin walked away, his head bowed in thought.

Yoongi didn't acknowledge Jin as he passed him to approach Mother Erna, but still, he felt the weight of two eyes burn his neck. When he turned around, Jin was already gone. Shaking his head, he sat next to Mother Erna. She stared at the clouds as if she was expecting something to appear.

The quiet between them had stretched long enough to make Yoongi restless, so with his patience thinning, he said, "Aren't you going to ask why I am here?"

A wrinkled finger tapped a steady beat against the head of the wooden staff. Without turning to Yoongi, Mother Erna sighed. "We both know why you are here."

Yoongi didn't like her enervated tone. "So your answer?"

Mother Erna did not turn away from the clouds, and Yoongi fought the urge to force her chin to face him. Wiping his clammy palms, he inhaled a breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. He noticed his hands were trembling.

"How do you feel about your newfound freedom?"

The question caught him unawares, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'm not sure freedom is the accurate term."

"King Kaitta is dead."

Yoongi flinched. "I don't need a reminder."

"Yet you still live like the man is watching you from the After." Finally, Mother Erna's gray eyes met him with a familiar expression, but instead of one of subtle displeasure, it was one of great sorrow. From the insides of her robes, she drew out a small container—the same one that held the pills she supplied him with in the past. Immediately, Yoongi reached for it, but Mother Erna pulled away. "There is no shame in what you are, Prince Yoongi."

Disregarding the sting on his neck, Yoongi swallowed the knot in his throat and forced a smile. "Why would I be ashamed?"

Leaning her staff against the slab, Mother Erna took Yoongi's hands in both of hers as she handed him the container and closed his fingers around it. Her hands were warm, a stark contrast to his ice-cold fingers that felt like they were about to fall off any minute.

"I made four seals with a higher dosage. Taking them will be more painful than your previous ones, but these are more effective." Mother Erna rested her hands back on top of her staff. "You are still young, Prince Yoongi, so you may not feel the damage the seals wreak. However, it is still sensible to consider your future and current well-being. Use them wisely."

Clutching the container, Yoongi said, "I will. Thank you."

As he got up to leave, Mother Erna patted where he was just sitting, motioning for him to stay. "If you leave now, you will miss a beautiful sight."

Although Yoongi was tempted to leave since his main objective was completed and he was shivering from the cold winds, he sat back down on the slab and followed Mother Erna's gaze towards the sky.

The clouds still veiled the moon and the stars, making for quite a dull sight, so Yoongi fidgeted in his seat, turning the container between his fingers to distract himself from the distant smarting of his neck. Sensing his restlessness, Mother Erna sent him a smile. Yoongi responded in kind, though his was rougher at the edges.

Boredom pulled Yoongi into a daze, his mind wandering elsewhere when a sparkle of light demanded his attention. It was a speck of azure swirling in the air, rising and falling. Soon, more specks joined, painting the dreary sky with the marvelous glow of a hundred shades of blue. Yoongi didn't know what the lights were nor what they symbolized, but he was enraptured by the enchanting scene.

The hues rolled over his skin like waves as he reached for a falling droplet. It landed on the tip of his finger and caused a pleasant buzz to diffuse up his arm to the burning skin on his neck. Slowly, the ache subsided, and Yoongi felt a budding heat melt the cold of his skin.

He felt warm. A nice warmth, a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt at peace.

* * *

Tobias's memorial was always a day that dragged long-forgotten memories to the forefront of Jimin's mind. And unlike the previous years, many more unpleasant thoughts screamed at him from the recesses of his guilt. Perhaps it was Sylvia's unconscious presence that stirred his despair, that pricked his skin as a reminder of his shortcomings, but Jimin had no energy left to ponder his speculation as he unwrapped a frost lily and prepared to light it.

Sylvia's gentle breaths sounded behind him as he opened a window, letting the thin drapes swell under the wild breeze. The sky was already alight with the glint of a hundred frost lilies.

"You always enjoyed how the sky would light up," he whispered, his voice cracking at the end. He couldn't bring himself to look at his sister, and as tears blurred his vision, he found that he didn't need to.

Gently lifting the frost lily by the stem, Jimin set it over a candle and let the fire burn it. The heat melted the thin layer of ice coating the frost lily's petals, causing the flower head to bloom and hover. When the stem was completely burned to ash, the frost lily began to rise and drift towards the sky, joining its brethren as surrogate stars for the night.

Like the previous years, Jimin sat on the windowsill and watched the frost lilies in silence, but the absence of his sister by his side was a hollow thorn piercing his heart. He lowered his head and stared at his clasped hands, refusing to meet his failures laying on the bed behind him.

"I will embark on Medeia tomorrow, yet I still couldn't find who did this to you. For all I know, the assassin is long gone." Closing his eyes, he released a wavering breath. "I apologize, Sylvia. I apologize that you have me as a worthless excuse of a brother."

As he covered his face with his hands, he wondered if his father and mother—if Tobias—were watching over him. He half-expected that familiar ice to freeze his heart, but perhaps his brother took pity.

Because the ice did not bother Jimin as he sobbed under the glimmer of a hundred blue stars.

* * *

Sanon Ashkiba stood before the tall window, his brow creased into an irritated frown. The glimmer of the flowers outside painted the silver cuffs around his wrists a vivid sapphire that distracted Vierkan from his orders: sit and wait.

He couldn't help when his eyes traced Sanon's hands as they moved—up and down, left and right, drawing indecipherable thoughts through the air. Sanon was prone to doing that these days: think. The man would get so lost in thought that he would stare blankly out windows or at walls, his emerald eyes dull.

Vierkan never understood the concept of thinking. It confused him and gave him a headache and a sore stomach, which bothered him since eating was the most exciting part of his days. When given the privilege to eat, it signified he did well. He had followed his orders. And as a member of the House of Rufa, that was all he ever asked for.

A grunt pulled Vierkan's eyes from the cuffs to Sanon's face. Sanon was scowling, his chin resting on his closed fist. "The princes leave at daybreak."

Vierkan didn't know if Sanon wanted him to respond, so he wagged his tail. The gesture went unnoticed as Sanon paced to the other side of the small room and clicked his tongue.

"Vierkan, can you locate Lemiora?"

Cocking his head to the side, Vierkan sifted through his memories and barked in confirmation.

The scowl was smoothed from the lines of Sanon's face as he smirked. "Excellent. Send her a message, and tell her to send a batch of men after eight targets on horseback. I don't want them dead, but I don't mind if they are injured either."

Sanon didn't have to say anything anymore. Vierkan raced out the door and sprinted through the halls, zooming past the guards on duty and not stopping even as curses chased him. In the small room, Sanon turned back to the window and grinned, listening to the crude swearing of the guards. Between his fingers was a strand of his sandy hair.

"I can't make it easy for them, after all," he said.