FENRER

Emerald magick flowed through the circuitry of his runic expanders. Starry glitters shed off the springs when they clicked into place with the twist of his wrist, tightening to fit his forearm though it left the black band visible, where the opal flames swallowed the dragon of Haneka. He filled the leather straps along his gray studded armor with essence phials. It clinked into place with the metal clasps, bubbling with relief for either Yuven or Adara, or both if it came to it. He adjusted the belt and scabbard around his hips, slipping a sword into the first sheathe. In the corner of his eyes, his crescent blade rested on top of an ornate weapon box, and fit neat into the padding inside. Power filled the runes along the hook once more from a runesmith's practiced handiwork. The grip fit with perfect balance in his hands, soaked in the blood of Derelicts and forged in the wyvern fires of Euros, deep within the bowels of the volcano.

He twirled it with his fingers, where it sent a spark of light from the wide window striking sunlight into the armory. Sheathe unclasped, he slid it into place then hooked it in place. One more press against the runic expanders, another green hiss left out of the circuitry before he sent his forearm through the cloud of energy. Flames bit at his lungs, but he ignored it and left with his essentials to meet up with Reyn and his own preparations with the chosen diplomats. I am glad he is sticking to this route, no matter the issue... the Derelicts are still the threat, and conflict only pulls them across the Echo Obscura. It attracts them like butterflies to blood. He must stay out of Storm Warden problems, as Storm Warden's stay out of governmental problems. He walked through the warm stone corridors, the same routes Father must have walked time and time again, on the word of a different king. Just as the sun moves over the horizon, I must return to them.

Stories carved across the rafters above his head, a shade of their bloodied past. Through the windows, the first pillar, Pyren, stood at the edge of the cliffs with his palms outward to the sky and sun. Across the gulf, Kolis, the Dragon King, stood in the same position, the second pillar. Two souls intertwined in Haneka's creation. Harbor bells tolled in time with his footsteps, and he entered the throne room, where Reyn stood in a circle of his chosen messengers.

"Pyren," Reyn said with a cautious smile and a twinge of disagreement in the clouds. "Have you seen to your preparations?"

"I have, Your Grace." Fenrer joined the circle, and nodded at the others when they gave him a quick once-over. "I have even stocked up on the sunbloom mixture, I hope that will quell Bryn's fury."

"It won't." Reyn turned to the closest diplomat, an older man with a thick, well-groomed beard. "He'll be going with you to act as another diplomat, but in truth, he is going to be rescuing Yuven Traye and Adara Sazaka. This is separate. You are required to not interfere. Anything that comes as a consequence I will deal with. Your safety is paramount, just see my message delivered." He rifled through his pockets and held out a split diamond. "This is the astral foci that was sent to me a couple moons ago. It is a direct connection to the capital city." Reyn nodded at him. "It is a two way trip. One side will deliver you unto Volaris, and it will shatter. The other side will return you home." He pushed it into the older diplomat's hands. "Are you sure about this, Fenrer Pyren?"

Fenrer nodded against the fullness in his chest.

Reyn closed his stormy gray eyes with a silent sigh in his shoulders, then shuffled over to the long table to grab one of the parcels. "Then you're going to need this," he said and pushed it into his hands. Fenrer lifted up the top, and frowned at the fur cloak inside. "I was duly warned by King Laucan to dress appropriately and overindulge as such. I'm hoping that'll be enough, but... we won't know until you're over there." He twisted to the bearded diplomat. "Is everything ready, Benja?"

Benja held out a scroll. "Gustul checked it over. Everything is clear."

"Good, then I wish you gentle winds," Reyn said with a bow. "Keep your sails to the tailwind, I would see all of you home."

Fenrer braced himself for the arduous workout ahead, but he stopped when a housecarl bounced through the large oak doors. "Your Grace! You have a visitor! One of the blood of Tyronai!" He stepped to the side.

Iron, unbent and unbroken filled the air, and Fenrer found himself slackjawed at who entered. Garren Tyronai with his crescent blade on his hip and a traveller's pack swung over his shoulders. He came closer to them, but faltered when Fenrer found himself in the shadowy sight of the older Storm Warden. "Now, I didn't think I'd be seeing you here," he grunted and shuffled with his pack. "I thought you'd be on Euros already with Adara and Traye. Don't tell me an old man can beat young blood in a race to home."

Fenrer chewed on his cheek and faced Adara's Guardian and faced the consequences of his failure. "Warden Tyronai," he said and stepped forward. "I'm afraid there was a complication. We were attacked... and they took Adara Sazaka, along with Yuven Traye." He lowered his head and shook out his arms. "I am going after them."

Garren's brow squeezed tighter. "Who took her, boy? You have told me one thing but have left me with further questions. What were you two doing? How did Yuven Traye get captured and why are you still here?" Steel defense slammed over the shell of his aura, but Fenrer held himself strong against a Guardian's concern for their charge.

"I was thrown off the cliffs," he answered, and shuddered at the rush of water through his chest. "I was unable to do much else, I almost died for the risk I took." For my obstinate refusal to step aside, where I am left wondering... could I have just held them off long enough for Yuven and Adara to flee? Let them slip past before giving chase and not getting pincered like we were? He met Garren Tyronai head-on. "As I said, I will rectify this, Warden Tyronai, our duty to her still holds. We were meant to get her to Euros, and we have sworn to do so, no matter the cost."

Garren folded his arms and his nostrils flared. "What mess have you gotten yourselves into?" he mumbled. "Far be it from me to keep you. Were I a younger man, I'd go with you, but I came here for another reason." He veered for Reyn, who frowned. "It is my duty to inform you that a Storm Warden galleon was seen off the gulf, the harbor will need to accommodate Storm Wardens and their supplies." He hesitated, then turned to Fenrer. "Am I to assume you aren't going to wait for backup? It is on the horizon, maybe a couple bells out?"

Fenrer shook his head. "I'm out of time for that. I must leave now before it's too late. Tell whoever is on there about the situation, delay them if you must. I am hoping I will not be too long. I will get Yuven and Adara, and I will return." He rubbed his sternum at another white-hot prod of pain across his ribs, and followed the diplomats into the sun, though Reyn and Garren wandered behind. The city came to life in constant motion, but they waltzed through the upper quarters and to the large Umbral Gate on the top of one of the small hills within the safety of the city walls. On the marble steps to it, he twisted back to Garren and Reyn while housecarls stood guard in a circle and warded off any curious onlookers.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Fenrer repeated. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused."

Reyn waved his hand with a soft scoff. "You were worse when you were seven." His smile softened, a return of youth. "Just take care of yourself, Pyren. Keep warm and rest when you are able."

Benja lifted the foci upwards. It flickered and spun on its axis. Inside the crystal, magick illuminated its connection with the flow, and the runes along the black obsidian gate came to life with a breath of power. On its own circumference, it spun, and the center of the stone glyph blazed with a swirl of twilight purples. Auras, hot and cold, molded together, a fleeting pathway through the echoes. An ancient wind flowed through the entryway, and the other diplomats shivered. I see, that's what the cloak is for. Fenrer unwrapped it and swung it around his shoulders, tucking himself deep into the furs. The cold touch turned into a prod of frost trying to bury its way into his skin and into his flaming lungs. Hood drawn over his head, he tugged up the scarf and rested it around his nose. Through the swirl of the echoes, an unsettled howl roared through his ears.

"Boy," Garren said, and Fenrer turned to him. "I still trust you with her, so go bring them home. It wouldn't do to have people think we don't keep to our oaths, but remember." He raised a calloused finger. "You cannot protect your charge if you fail to keep yourself in mind. It's a lesson I had to learn the hard way, I suggest you don't do the same. You can't fight when you've flattened yourself in a corner." He brought his fist over his heart. "For we are blades of purest light."

Fenrer echoed the solemn truth with his own hand over his chest. "And we are shields against the darkest shadows." The comfort of the words spurred him onward when the others stepped through the veil, the entrance meeting the resistance of their shapes. It fluttered a watery disturbance when they walked through, a droplet in the massive sea of the echoes. He came closer to the expanse left in dreams, and went through the Umbral Gate.

In an instant, Haneka's bountiful sun twisted into a frozen gray. Behind him, the portal hushed into silence, studded with pearl conduits along the Navei script, with Evyriaz perched on the top of its doubled axis. The wind howled with the chatter of the Volaris residents, wrapped in heavier furs. Fenrer clutched his elbows, and the others trembled and hugged themselves. Neven once told me of this cold... but to actually stand in it. Fenrer lifted his gaze, and squinted through the claws of white. Webs of blue light criss-crossed the sky and anchored to the guard towers along the giant wall. Is that... a barrier?

"You must be the Hanekan diplomats," a woman's voice said, Fenrer crept closer to the lead of their party when a woman donned in layered whites headed up to them with a troop of guards, a warm smile on her face, though Fenrer caught the sight of the Auric touch in her eyes. Moonswept swirls pierced into her vertical pupils with painful ferocity and stained her aura with tangled colours, but if she was in agony, she gave no indication of the auric entanglement. "I am Queen Regent Hayvala, and I welcome you to the great city of Volaris. Let's get you out of this cold, we have prepared our old embassy for your arrival. If you have any questions, I advise them to be held until we're in warmer quarters."

Fenrer turned to one of the diplomats when they pat him on the back. Arms curled between his sides, he stepped off the Umbral Gate's steps as the Naveeran monarch swept her hands upwards. People loomed over the railings and outside their windows with quiet pointing. Uncertainty struck the mold of the city, and some drew back into the shadows when he glanced at the closest ones. Benja took charge with ease.

"We accept your hospitality," he said with Reyn's authoritative tone, the true carrier of his precious message. "Please, show us the way. We are not accustomed to this type of cold." Another shiver swept through his lungs, and Benja eyed him, and Hayvala did the same.

"Of course." Hayvala nodded at the scaled wyvern knights. "Make sure the way is clear," she ordered in Navei, though he tried to translate certain pieces of the song, so unlike Neven and Yuven's way of speech. "These are our guests. Let us treat them well."

The diplomats circled him when they walked through the snow-capped city. Metal peaks pierced out of roofs and held up the standards of Naveera. Little balconies hung underneath windowsils, where snow roses fluttered on the harsh breeze. Waves of jelly smashed into his head, but he kept himself on the smooth path through the streets, closing in on the palace within the highest city quarter.

"Pyren," one of the diplomats hissed under their breath. "You are not looking well."

"I can make it," he muttered in reply through a wet glob in his throat and buried himself into the fur coat Reyn gave, which the flurries of frost pierced all the same. His knees complained through his push, and he relaxed his shoulders when the palace gates swung open with an airy song. Runes ran around the circumference, and dropped the barrier which kept the royals away from those in the city. Fenrer frowned when the knights ushered them in without another word.

Around the inner wall, the queen regent led them to a square of buildings. Holes marred the roof and walls of the decrepit ones, but one lit up from the inside, with a single brazier of flames fighting through the endless sound. Without hesitation, Hayvala opened the doors into a room, an attempted representation of a mead hall. A hearth sat in the middle, blazing away in warm glory. Chairs sat around it and the cooking spit which hung over it was empty of food. Around the pillars, small candles lit up the shadows into the small bedrooms.

One of the diplomats clasped his arms and guided him closer to the fire. "Sit down," they said in the language of the sea. "You're going to need your strength."

"Is it warm enough?" Hayvala asked. "We can try to spread more firestones around the building."

Benja hovered behind him, then turned to her. "It is... adequate for our needs and length of stay," he said, practiced in speech. "From the crowds outside, am I safe to assume there is some sort of celebration going on?"

Fenrer tried to reject an added blanket thrown over his head, but inched closer to the fire and longed for the silver smoke to clear the web in his lungs.

"Yes, it is the Festival of Ice, where we celebrate our vaunted ancestors and don their faces. You are free to view the celebration, of course. There are many things happening in the city that might help you get acquainted with the area and our customs, His Wyvern Grace will see you when the celebration does not require our presence in the moment," she said, and he struggled to read her aura, though the snow-wrapped world made it difficult to see anything through his extra sense. "If you require anything at all, let me know."

Fenrer rested his head in the crook of his hand and cursed the heat burning at his skin.

Benja shook his head with a hesitant twitch.

"Feel free to use the kitchen here, this building is for your use," Hayvala said with a point at the rune oven in the corner. "I shall check on you soon."

The Queen Regent left with her entourage, and the thick icebark doors closed the consistent blizzard winds outside, though the deep howl remained in the air.

Benja checked out the window where her shape disappeared back to the main palace grounds, and he tugged closed the blinds. "Pyren?"

Fenrer lifted his head off his brow. "Just do what you came here to do, don't worry about me. Worry about the trade deal. Worry about delivering Reyn's message. I'll live." He drew himself out of the flames and pushed with his fingers into an upright position. "I will get to work as soon as I collect my bearings."

"I don't think it's your bearings that's the problem," one of the diplomats argued.

"Hold," Benja ordered, and the diplomat went quiet. "He's right. We're here on King Reyn's orders. He's here to get people out. We need to stay out of it or else this will get bad real fast. We are not home anymore. We need to be careful, such was Reyn's warning. Pyren." He came closer to him. "We will try to hold off using the foci until you've returned with Sazaka and Traye—"

"Don't wait, I don't know what's going to happen," Fenrer said. "It is better if you are uninvolved. Ancients be good, I can get them out without incident, but I am expecting the worst. After all... they were all too happy to capture them and attempted to kill me."

"Near attempt," the younger diplomat grumbled. "If you say so, Pyren, but I don't like this, at least."

"Let him rest." Benja cuffed him over the head. "We have work to do. Let's get our supplies settled. Pyren, we'll leave you to it. Good luck, Warden."

Fenrer sank into the puffy lounge chair when the diplomats scattered with papers and hushed tones, with Benja putting the kettle inside one of the runeoven's boilers. Luck?

I can only hope my prayers were enough, that I am not too late.

He struggled to keep the world full of colour, but cold darkness consumed the flickering candle light.