ADARA

—a tower of heavy stone touched the clouds, a torturous reminder of freedom out of reach. Trapped with the rooted confines, the dream of flight remained. Too close. So far. Wings spread, they hung out of the window and longed to leap for their hopes and stifled dreams. No matter if it was to rise higher to the sky or plummet into the embrace of the world; it was to dream, to hope, and to feel as they sat at the window and spread their love past the high peaks of their cage—

Irony. Out of all her recollections of Tara's fairytales, it was the one of someone stuck in a tower, dreaming of freedom but out of their hands. The keys hidden in the grasp of unseen authority. Prunal, a cage. Volaris, a cage. Nothing more than a bird behind bars, their wings clipped straight to the bone. Tips of the feathers set alight by powerless, wildfire rage. Adara walked the twilight ocean, glittering underneath her heel as the black phoenix's shadow followed her on its own twilight plumed tail, though when she sought a dream, the endless expanse of white stars remained, the unseen visage of fiery freedom and rebirth far out of her grasp. Out of her chance to fly away from it all. Pillars rose from the inky abyss. Rainbows danced into pure, silver light, born from the ashes of her flames.

Into her lonely tower at the bed underneath the windowsil, where an abyss of grey greeted her for an unknown day, an inconceivable toll from the ringing chimes floating in the air from the streets. A smile crawled on her face at the layer of innocence from the children on the streets below, led by an older sibling as they hushed and poked at doors with magick before rushing away in a fit of giggles. Through the world, some things remained consistent and true.

Love. Hope. Compassion. Ideals and weapons she battled with against Garren's cynical doom of the depraved shadows.

Yet still, I believe, his voice echoed out to her with a smile on his face and the light danced in the greens as it had with the pillars rising out of the pyretic flame. I believe in our enduring will to live, no matter the darkness within this world, I still believe. She followed him across the expanse, over the stars. For I am the shield against the darkness — and a sword of the light.

In her palm, the whittled wolf, carved with knowledgeable precision. Every imperfection added to its character, and brought it to life from beyond the tree's gift. Her thumb brushed the curve of the ears, tracing its muzzle. Close to her heart, she found a sliver of resolve. Somehow, I need to find Yuven, I need to get us out of here. It's what he would do... it's what I want to do. Adara set the wolf back among her personal effects returned to her, everything where she left it. Out of the bed, the world expanded past the border, but became smaller. The horizon disappeared behind a thick blanket of snow and ice. But where do I start? Adara brushed the tips of her fingers and paced the circumference of the room, though she knew there wasn't an answer within the rune-touched walls.

No, the answer isn't in here.

Adara readied herself when footsteps crawled up the tower's steps, but when the door opened, the scaled knight stepped into the tight corner to reveal Hayvala, the princess of the icy kingdom. "Miss Adara," she said. "How do you feel today? Are you comfortable? Are your blankets warm enough? It gets fatally cold in the night." Pearlescent jewelry danced around her fingers and through her white hair loops. A beautiful rose, but she knew better when it came to beautiful things. Adara drew over her frame, searching for a response to the royal question.

"It is fine enough, I suppose..."

"I am sorry that you are a prisoner in all but name," Hayvala said with a slender hand on her heart, with nails to pluck at heartstrings and entranced others closer for more. "Though my apologies avail you naught. If you require anything, you need only ask. Either my handmaiden or myself will deliver them unto you." Her ancient words rang out with a melody, but she smiled, soft and inviting. "I came here with an invitation, if you would accept it."

"Do I get a choice in the matter... Your Grace?" She added a curtsy, careful among those who had the power to cause desolation and perpetuate genocide with a snap of their fingers. Magickae screamed in her ears, a fog of war full of flickered flames and glinted steel when all they wanted was to live in peace.

Hayvala chuckled, the sound warm in her ears and cooled the memories to icy dust. "Yes, Miss Adara. You get a choice. I will always give you a choice. It is an invitation, not a command. I wish to treat you like a guest with what power I still have, and if you want to decline my invitation, I won't take it personally."

Is this a test? A trick? Adara searched through the blanket of politeness with claws underneath a smile, and the tension escaped out of her knees when the Sentinel took another small step into the corner when Hayvala glanced at them without another word.. "Can you tell me what the invitation is before I decide?"

"Of course," Hayvala said. "I want you to take a walk with me for a while."

"What about—"

"My brother?" Hayvala finished her sentence. "You need not concern yourself with him at the time being. Besides, I don't want you to feel cramped in this tower."

Adara looked out the window, to the expanse of freedom. "Aren't you afraid I'll escape once you take me out of here?"

Moonswept swirls danced along the Naveeran princess' blue irides. "I think the answer to that question will become clearer if you accept the invitation," Hayvala observed after a thoughtful blink. "In short, Adara, I am not particularly concerned about escape, but there is only a single reason why I do not wish you to run rampant into the unknown in a bid for freedom, and it is not because I want to keep you here. Besides..." Hayvala sighed. "Yuven Traye remains, and it is my hope that with some more information, I can create an avenue of release for the both of you."

"How is he?" Adara rasped at the subject of Yuven Traye, the abrasive Storm Warden who showed a stalwart heart against the odds, and refused to drop his duty for his own life. Undeterred when he lost Fenrer, sent instead into a draconic rage echoing throughout fables.

"He will take his duty more seriously than most," Fenrer had once told her, and she couldn't believe in either of them.

"Alive." Hayvala tucked her hands in her fur cuffs. "But I can see that this situation has already taken its toll on him."

What else can I do? Do I sit here and mope? Or do I take this invitation and the chance to stretch my legs and try to find a way to get to Yuven, then escape? Another situation of someone all but trapped in a castle, though her plan for Jisa fell through at her failure to protect the young girl from a choice of sacrifice as the large jaws of a beast swallowed them whole. "Okay, I accept your invitation. Where are you going to take me?"

"First, we must prepare," Hayvala said. "If you will come with me."

"Okay..." Adara drew out of the room behind her, careful of her distance between herself and the Sentinel at Hayvala's beck and call. Their scaled, clawed footsteps clicked against the stone, their wyvern-shaped shadow breathing down her neck in cold plumes of snowfire. Magnificent chandeliers sent droplets of unique flakes into the wind hushing through the halls. Castle servants bustled past with carts full of cutlery and plates, with others carrying large swaths of tablecloths in their weary arms. "Uh..." Adara crept closer to Hayvala while she led her through the labyrinth of the palace. "Is something going on?"

"It is the first Festival of Ice since the last king's death and my brother took the throne," Hayvala explained. "We are preparing for a masquerade ball. It is the time where we release the connection of our fae visages and don the truth of our wyvern ancestors upon our faces." She raised a slender finger to poke at her own cheek. "As Avaerilians, we feel this connection more keenly through dance and song. It is through these expressions that we expand our magick, our souls into the world flow." Hayvala led their small party into a long corridor, breaking into a T-section at the end. A giant mosaic window flew into the rafters and revealed more of the gray abyss outside. Though she searched for a hint of life, the thick veil of snow blocked out the world.

"Here, Miss Adara."

Adara twisted to Hayvala when she opened the door, and the Sentinel shifted to stand at attention at the side. Inside, the room expanded, large enough to fit the entirety of Garren's loghouse and then some. One door led to an elaborate bathhouse. Outside, an impressive balcony with a hanging basket of snow roses clipped onto the marble railing. Against the wall, a vanity with a mirror curved along the table. Brushes, combs, and jewelry sat in small cabinets. Her head swam at the vast emptiness all around her as Hayvala headed for a closed entryway.

Oh, gods, who needs this many clothes? The question danced on the tip of her tongue when Hayvala motioned her inside the comfortable space, then pointed at a rack with heavier furs.

"You may pick what you want from there."

Adara found herself lost in the fabrics of long, trailing silver dresses embroidered with pearl gems and snowroses; others were lined with attached scarves and wing-shaped ribbons. No other color prevailed more than the soft greys. At the section, she rifled through for something more modest in attire, brushing her hands through the inside furs. Fire shocked underneath her skin, and she pulled out a thick, white-coloured coat. "Is this warm enough?" Adara pushed her arms through and tucked her neck against the soft, warm fabric. Her hand brushed the cuffs. Embers lit at her fingers, a response to something deep within the weave. She jumped when Hayvala pushed a different set of wrist wraps. "What are these for?"

"It will add extra insulation for your hands. It uses the wearer's magick to keep the heat close to the body." Hayvala dropped a pair of gloves into her fingers.

Adara wrapped them around her forearm before slipping the gloves on while Hayvala chose her own set of attire. As she fiddled with the hood, she slipped out an embedded scarf, which she slipped over her nose and tightened the clasp within. Swaddled in more fancy fabric and furs than she had ever been in her life, she tried to find something to do with her hands while Hayvala readied herself without the assistance of a handmaiden. Hayvala put the coat over her dress and adjusted the fit of her lighter fur trimmings along the lower layer of royalty.

"This should do us for a short walk at least," Hayvala remarked as she put on a hat with ear shields, then drew up her own hood, tying it close to her throat. "Are you ready, Miss Adara?"

"I think so." Adara grabbed a pair of boots made of softened hide and thick soles, with metal clasps fashioned around the heels. Though the ensemble was a tight fit, she took Hayvala's generosity in hand and followed her out of the exaggerated closet. A young woman waited for them in a corner of the room with a tray of cups. "Kazmira." Hayvala smiled at her. "Gratua." She grabbed both cups from the tray and held one out to Adara. "Here. Drink this."

"What is it?" Adara held it in her palms, and flames bit at her skin in a hopeful dance against the swallowing cold.

"It's chocoberry tea," Hayvala explained as Kazmira put the tray to the side with a deep bow in the princess' direction. "It'll stave off the cold, keep you warm, and stimulate magick. I suspect when you were brought, your magick did not respond with ease?"

More than usual? Adara nodded in confirmation.

"It is the air here," Hayvala admitted. "It stifles and drains energy. Hence our care when it comes to traversing the outside. Anything to keep us moving, for if we stop, we freeze. It is the way of our world. Even the clothes we wear keep this in mind, woven in flames."

"Woven in flames?" Adara gaped at the thought of weavers using fire for anything with something as delicate as clothes. Too easy to burn in an inferno, but she guzzled the chocoberry mixture. Sweet clouds bloomed over her tongue and brought loving rain down her throat. "As in, during the weaving process they use fire magick on the threads? Is that what you're saying?"

"It's an exacting process, but I'm not dragging you into the cruel cold to discuss Naveeran fashion," Hayvala said with a laugh. "Come." Her attention returned to her handmaiden who perked her head. "Stofka d'lo, Kazmira."

Out of the room double the size of the loghouse, Adara trailed on Hayvala's coattails. The Sentinel fell back into his place, a silent guard which prevented an avenue of escape from behind. Out of the royal wing of the palace, Hayvala took them to huge doors etched with white gemstones down another thin corridor. Tension whipped across her spine when the Sentinel stepped forward, pushing both hands into the center. Magick bounced across the gems, and Adara brought her arm up to her brow when the hush turned into a deep, endless howl. Soft flurries curled in the air and spread across the floor. Giant steps led up the wall, and the Sentinel turned to them with a nod.

"Ready?" Hayvala asked.

"Yes."

Hayvala stepped through the veil of snow. Adara nuzzled her scarf when the wind sheared across her cheeks. Volaris grew out of the ice and snow. Spires pierced the flurries as larger wind bursts smashed against a barrier. Her knees seized up in the frozen air, but she kept herself moving. On the battlements, a dome curved around the parapets, where a huge brazier of blue flames struggled against the forces of the cold. Along the city wall, similar domes bloomed with their stone petals in the distance.

Hayvala's fingers trailed the wispy smoke. It curled and solidified into a fiery magelight over her shoulder. It illuminated her angular face as Adara found herself locked in the swirls. "You may feel free to borrow the flames of the brazier. I daresay in your hands, they may regain their power."

It is not about ability. It is about ingenuity. Adara touched the hand of flame, and silver swallowed blue when it curled around her fingertips. Though the ferocity of fire lost its heat in the oppressive air made of ice itself. Magelight created, she held it close to her heart, before letting it go to hang over her head. "May I ask a question, Princess Hayvala?"

"Of course."

Adara tasted the bitterness of despair. "Do you know why your brother did this? Why did he send Blackwall to capture us?"

Hayvala folded her arms as blue shadows expanded across her face. "It is more correct to ask what Blackwall said to my brother," Hayvala admitted. "Make no mistake, Adara, King Laucan's decision will have repercussions — but to see the reasons why, you need but look on the horizon." Hayvala stuck to the circumference of the stone dome to point over the wall.

Adara followed her point.

Wind sheared and created teeth out of the snow of a frozen wasteland. Any path buried underneath the constant movement of the air, but the stasis of the world drowning. Waves of flurries piled on the wall below, a slow crawl upwards. Through the gray haze, ruined spires clawed their ways out of the white dunes. It blasted against ehr skin and threatened to flay it apart when she brought her cover down to test the strength, quick to return to its flimsy embrace. "What are those ruins over there?"

Hayvala frowned. "For a thousand Turns, the blizzard ruled here." Her shoulders sagged. "Many kings sat the throne with their own ideas of how to keep our people unburied, with my brother being no exception. Though I have yet to decipher what his intentions are, the reasoning is all too clear to me. He sang this song many a time — that the answer lies not within, but without." Hayvala gazed at her. "Volaris was once a city one could see throughout the horizon, the sister to Irimount's pillared throne, and now we are all that remains. Those ruins? They were once a city, sprawling across a beautiful tundra. Part of the self-same city we now stand over."

Adara ruminated on her words, then the implication dawned on her. "Wait, if this city used to be bigger... what about all the people who lived there?"

"If they were lucky, they went through the tunnels into this quarter," Hayvala said. "But, not all were so fortunate to escape that fate."

Gods, is she saying the entire city was buried?

Hayvala gazed at her. "And that is why my brother has made these choices. Whatever Blackwall told him, he now believes that this will somehow lead to Naveera's salvation."

Adara played with the pieces of the puzzle. "Somehow it involves me and Yuven?"

"Yes, but how, I am not quite sure. It is difficult to try and find answers with the ball so close at hand."

So, we're stuck. Adara sighed. "Here I was thinking that just maybe... I could do something good with the power I have. Ever since I got to the magick lands, people have put mine on a pedestal, having not seen it for a thousand turns, treating it with awe and fear. It's like nothing changed. Not since the Anime tore open a hole in the Echo Obscura. Yuven was right." Pain stabbed her heart when she recalled the argument she had when she first met Blackwall, whose secrecy she mistook for politeness, for he wasn't being cruel when she first met him. He was being wise. Her power was nothing more than flow-touched magick. It was everyone else who sought to use her for their own ends. "It's like my choices don't matter."

And I snapped at him thinking I knew so much better.

"I don't believe that," Hayvala whispered. "I believe these things don't end and begin within the turn of the age, defined by history. The world flow is unchanging and resolute, older beyond comprehension, so must we be too in the face of our own short antiquity. For when all falls into the dark, we have but one thing left to us. The ability to act." Wyvern pupils tightened in the blues when Hayvala glared at the frozen wasteland. "The ability to choose."