“Damn it all to Hellgrind!”

Nivara swung her fist at the wall, barely making a dent in the smooth, white stone her frustration resulting in nothing more in a sore hand. Leaning her forehead against the wall she allowed herself a few minutes respite, pulling off her hood in annoyance. Her face was still hidden by a marbled blue mask fashioned in the shape of a dragon with hooked edges and an elongated jaw at the rim of her nose. However, the mask failed to hide her angry snarl as she pulled free her long brown hair unravelling it from its loosely tied braid.

“Idiot. What in Laia’s name possessed me to say such a thing? Such an idiot.” She berated herself, knowing full well how much her hastiness had cost her.

She slumped against the pillar, cold to the touch as it provided a peace she never knew she needed until now. Normally the winding hallway outside of the Throneholder’s chambers were heavily guarded and sealed off from the rest of the corridors leading to the main courtyard. The emptiness of the Opalace had proved how stubborn Ethos had truly been. But having no one around allowed her a few moments to herself before the trials of the day continued.

Nivara let out a deep breath, her Trait flickering from her fingertips as she spun them in a small circle, watching the coloured mists swirl about to reveal a slowly emerging storm within the cloudy haze. A small smile began to form as her Trait began to create the image of a dragon flying aimlessly within the sphere of lightning. Allowing her Trait to roam free always put her mind at ease. The storm rumbled behind her, reacting to her sombre mood as the Divide began its daily routine a little earlier than usual.

Nivara scrambled to her feet, a loud knock at the door causing it to rudely swing open just as she tugged her hood back over her head.

“I’m sure Throneholder Ethros would be delighted to see...oh.”

Nivara stood effortlessly still as the armour clad teen sized her up and down as if she were a rusty sword. She kept one hand on the door handle behind her to seem as if she had just emerged from the main chamber to find someone rudely interrupting the end of her meeting.

“May I help you?” Nivara said coldly, half tempted to fold her arms and take her frustrations out on him.

A snide smile curved across his features as the regally dressed young man dropped into a low sweeping bow as he exited himself from the doorway.

“My apologies, Regent Nivara. I was hoping I could speak with Throneholder Ethros about today's Trial.”

Nivara raised an eyebrow but her cowl hid her disinterest. She eyed the gold and white crest of her own Excelliars, suspicious that someone of her own battalion would enter without her knowledge or consent. This would be an interesting topic to take her mind off things for a while. Toying between feigning ignorance or playing dumb, she decided to go along with his badly planned scheme to infiltrate her Throneholders quarters. Empty or not, he should not be here.

“You must be mistaken, cadet. The Order Trial is not until next week. “ She said calmly, knowing full well that he was about to continue to ruin the rest of the day.

“Of course you would think so.
But due to the Throneholders unconventional methods, the Elders have decided to reconvene here. Now.” He said, nodding in agreement as if acknowledging the air for existing.

A small smile tugged at her lips before bursting into laughter, her hand running back the silky material of her hood. He was taken aback, unsure how to respond to such a reaction. Nivara couldn’t help but laugh, compared to the high stakes debate she had just moments ago, this demand and any conversation after it seemed to pale in comparison to being eaten alive.

“Of course they have.” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as if dispelling both her Trait and the tension within the empty halls.

“I take it you’re the one looking to escort me, then?” Nivara said, smiling widely as his smirk soon became tight lipped.

He hadn’t planned for that.

“Naturally.” he said, clumsily reopening the door he had just entered from.

Nivara knew damn well how this imposter got in, ever since Ethros reassigned all his guards. There was no way in the Seven Traits that the Elders would be allowed here when the Throneholder was in such a foul mood. That stubborn, old lizard may not have known all the political workings around Opalis but she certainly did. The problem was, she could not detain him without some sort of proof. All she needed was one little slip up and she’d have him like a demon in a trap.

“So, what part of my squadron are you from, cadet?” Nivara said, attempting to make conversation as she was led to Hellgrind knows where.

The Excelliar did not respond, choosing instead to seem lost in concentration as he turned a sharp left towards the more secluded area of the Opalace. Nivara huffed in annoyance at the lack of response, deciding to try once more.

“Surely, I’d know my own cadets if you told me your name, sir? You most certainly know mine.” she said, hinting at his wrongly quoted introduction earlier.

Still nothing.

She continued to follow the selectively mute, blonde haired boy as he attempted to lead her down a series of hallways which led to overarching parts of Opalace, sneaking down stairs and across empty corridors as he failed to realise the casual streams of mist clinging to the cracks in the wall as he charged carelessly on ahead. Nivara had to admire the poor boy's foolishness, not only had he not done his research but his eyes betrayed how truly lost he was around the area he was supposed to be infiltrating.

“Jester.” he said at last, pausing to turn around to greet her. “My name is Jester, my Regent.”

Nivara took a step back, her smile faltering under his stoic glare. Her mist began to retreat at the sudden wave of fear, her plan to ambush him now dashed by a single look. She hesitated, unable to look away from his gaze as she struggled to form an answer in her mind. It was if she was frozen in a single moment in time, barely able to register anything but the conversation beginning in front of her.

“I’m merely a courier around the main Watchtower during night shifts, which is why we have not met beforehand. My apologies, I was a little nervous when you first approached me. I assure you...it won’t happen again.” Jester said, his voice turning cold as he answered every question she had been suspicious about.

Nivara nodded, unable to argue against any of his answers and decided instead to allow him to lead, silently staring at a spot on the back of his neck. Now that she peered closer, Nivara found that his white armour fitted him well against the sleek form of his gold chainmail. He held no weapon but his Trait continued to dull a soft shade of green just as every Excelliar was taught to do from a young age. His Trait was similar to the green of his eyes, so calming and reassuring.

“Where did you say the Elders were gathering?” Nivara said casually, no longer recognising the complicated route he was taking.

The stairs began to wind and twist endlessly downwards as it grew gradually darker, the passage of time moving without her realising it. Her legs began to ache, the once familiar rumble of the storm now sounding so far away as she continued to move ahead, still blissfully unaware.

“In their private chambers. They want to make sure all the Order representatives are there before moving ahead with the trial. I’m sure they’ll understand your confusion with regards to the date.” Jester said, keeping his back turned.

“Of course. They know how busy I am with managing both the Excelliars and the Sixth. It’s only natural to assume I’d be a little late.” Nivara replied, surprisingly relaxed despite the situation she had been in a few minutes ago.

She hadn’t felt this carefree in ages. For the past three years she had been overseeing the Halls of Mediation, Lady Aria’s personal project to help combat any unknown forces against the Traited. Nivara led the Sixth Order, the last and most recently established section who stationed all the Mediators around Opalis and its surrounding borders. They helped to deal with unstable Trait in a more humane manner.

“Actually, I was hoping if you could allow me to speak with Ethros, as a favour from one Traited to another?” Jester said, his face resembling one of demure obedience.

“Of course! Perhaps once the Trial is over we could go together. Exchange roles as escort, even.” she joked, unaware of her out of place attitude towards a complete stranger.

Jester smiled wanly, the storm rumbling loudly in response as he jolted away from the wall in fear.

“Perhaps, after the storm has settled.” he said, trying to keep calm despite the looming thunder.

Soon she was led into a much darker corridor, lit by spurts of flame, bottled Trait which glowed a variety of hues. Jester’s eyes glinted amidst the darkness, his shockingly blonde, almost white hair was slicked back behind his ears, making his sharp jaw look more pronounced. His green eyes rimmed with gold stared unblinking at her, a familiar wave of compulsion washed over her skin as she clung to the edges of her cloak.

“You must feel better, being inside away from the storm.” Nivara said, attempting to shake off the niggling feeling that something was wrong.

They were in a tightly packed room, filled to the brim with all manner of contraptions and inventions. The walls were the same cool, white stone of the rest of the Opalace but this room had no windows and was instead lined with hundreds of shelves, some with grimoires and others with pure vials of bottled Trait sparking in all directions within its glass cage.

“Mm.” Jester replied, reaching up to select a glowing vial from the numerous rows of Traits providing light and shadow within the damp room.

It was then that she noticed it.

Slyly hidden beneath the endless layers of gold was the shining glint of a sigil, an ancient marking which branded the user until they died. The Excelliars normally had theirs on their shoulder, a pristine white dragon surrounded by a glowing golden sun. This sigil was not white. It was a green, glowing outline of a book. A grimoire surrounded by a series of symbols as if generating their own Trait.

The mark of a Mediator.

They had only been formed no less than ten years ago and were once an upcoming group of Traited who were showed promise beyond their years. They flitted between the various Orders, assisting wherever they could only to suddenly band together under the Sixth Order to become a united agency of elite detectives. However, not all agreed with the recent merger and ventured out as lone wolves working for other independent Orders, even other underground organisations or clans.

Before Nivara could demand what a Mediator was doing here, Jester had hurled the glass vial right at her feet. The room was plummeted into darkness, artificial shadows blocking out all the light as the Trait lights which hung on the walls were rendered useless.

Nivara stumbled back in shock, glass spraying in all directions, skittering off the stone as she attempted to cover her eyes. She coughed, the unfamiliar stench filling her nose as flashes of luminous green lit up the darkness as she slumped against the wall, trying to find comfort in the cool marble much like she had mere minutes ago.

“Tell me what Ethros is hiding.” Jester demanded, his voice becoming an angry roar within the darkness.

Nivara struggled to stay calm, scared of being trapped in such a cramped, dark cellar. She had been tricked right from the start, instead of her convincing him to reveal his plans, she had been compelled without even realising it and trapped in the place she feared the most.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she said, hurriedly trying to reach for any ounce of Trait within the cramped cellar.

It was no use. Any remnants of her mist had fled long ago and despite the dampness of the room, Jester’s Trait sapped all the moisture remaining as his flames clogged the air, making it humid and dry. Her mind was a sea of thoughts rushing towards her now Jester’s spell over her was broken.

“Liar. I know about Hellgrind. You did something, didn’t you? Tell me!” Jester demanded, his Trait growing impatient.

He had abandoned his previous attempts to coax her into submission but now had the upper hand within the dark, endless room, the only source of light was the acid green flames leering around her feet. It wasn’t the dark that scared her, it was the fear of the unknown, of being stuck here forever, claustrophobic and alone with no free will. Fear clawed at her throat as Jester’s erratic Trait made spots dance in her eyes, making it difficult to see.

“Tell me what you know or I’ll burn you alive!” Jester said, his voice full of compulsion.

Nivara could feel his iron hot grip on her arm, his breath on her hood as his Trait threatened to burn its way through the silky blue material. She took a shuddering breath and steeled herself, reminding her that as scary as Jester was, making a dragon mad was ten times as dangerous and she had done that twice as much already.

“Go fuck yourself.” she spat on him, causing Jester to reel back in disgust.

Nivara used the opening to drive her foot into his groin, attempting to get herself off the ground as he yelled out in pain. But he was too quick, lunging straight for her in a burst of fury as he slammed her leg against the wall, causing her to scream out in agony at his Trait tried to burn its way through her flesh.

“Did you know how many Traited were sent up to stop her? How many Traited died, just to delay her just a little bit longer?” Jester hissed in her ear, his hands inches away from her neck.

Nivara managed to wrench her leg away before he did any more damage, hugging her knees close to herself.

“I did as ordered. Just like you.” Nivara said, almost sounding believable despite making herself smaller.

Jester laughed, leaning down at her, his green eyes forcing her in place, unaware of the mist slowly emerging on his cheek. Nivara did her best to make herself as timid as possible, allowing his Trait to turn her head away as Jester continue to flaunt his power over the situation.

“You are nothing like me. I’m a Tarragon. Unlike you, I can’t be ordered.”

Nivara stared at him head on, fighting his Trait with every movement, his gangly frame illuminated by a green aura, a small wisp of mist slowly coiling down to his neck.

“No.” She said at last. “But you can be persuaded.”

She clicked her fingers once, exhausted by the effort as her mist began surrounding him an instant. He had forgotten to continue to generate his Trait to prevent moisture from entering the room. It tightened around his neck, causing him to drop to the floor, his compulsion now useless as the tendril of mist continued to choke him. It was turning his face as indigo as Nivara’s grimoire as he struggled to breathe.

“You really should have known better than attempt to compel me, you are a Mediator after all.” Nivara said, flexing her wrists as her Trait returned away from Jester’s neck.

She lay there in the darkness for a little while, too tired to move as the dull ache of green light provided nothing more than a backdrop to Jester’s continuous coughing.

“Yet you failed to realise it when it mattered most.” Jester croaked, clutching his neck as Nivara struggled to stand. “Not all of us fall into Lady Aria’s perfect order, not even you, Nivara. Sixth Order or not, she will shun you too, someday.”

Nivara’s eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness as Jester fired a last ditch attempt of flame at her to get the answers he needed. She skidded away, ducking behind a nearby shelf of glass goblets as all manner of Traits exploded on impact. Nivara braced herself against a wall as Jester attempted to fight off the swirling masses of uncontrollable Trait.

“This isn’t about Hellgrind, is it? You want answers for the Order, is that right?” Nivara called out, still determined to see things through.

“You know nothing, Mist Maiden.” Jester said, attempting to shoot his flames through the gaps in the now barren shelves.

“I doubt Ethros would be happy to hear someone from Tarragon abusing their power to get onto his good side.” Nivara said, trying to keep him talking as she tried to stand for the third time.

She could see the lingering of green sparks dancing on his fingertips like a flint to flame. He was not expecting such a reply, let alone someone strong enough to combat his heritage. Nivara gathered her remaining Trait towards her before running towards the opposite direction, using her coloured mist as a decoy amidst the darkness.

“I will do what must be done. I will avenge my people for what Opalis did to them.” Jester said, staggering against the wall as he send a fizzle of fire to light his way.

Nivara clung to the walls, attempting to find the door but not before a ball of green Trait sailed towards her and singed the wall right in front of her. Her Trait leapt out in an instant covering the walls as it pinned Jester to the ground once again.

“You’re a fool, Jester. We had nothing to do with her actions, they chose to stay in Hellgrind. They valued their Trait over anything else. Just like you.” Nivara said, despite her fear she would never back down from a war of words.

She raised her head high, fully prepared to take any attack head on just as the storm let out a tremendous boom of thunder, the familiar sound of lightning followed suit. Suddenly Jester’s dying flames burst with blindingly white light, making a tremendous dent within the stone as the door she had been desperately been trying to find had been flung off its hinges.

“I’m surprised you knew so much about Hellgrind, Nivara. Then again, you did have the honour of experiencing it first hand.”

There, in the doorway, clutching a familiar orb of green Trait was a woman you did not want to cross. She stepped into the shadows, her Trait blitzing a path through the darkness as her long blonde hair grew static with electricity.

“Now, unless you want to find out what happens when you piss off a Lightning Traited during a storm, I’d suggest you step aside and let my Regent go.”