•𝟓.𝟒𝐤•

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

꧁•𖢻•༻*✽*༺•𖢻•꧂

     𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘. 'Tis the one thought occupying his mind as Res lay stretched out across the hard mattress of his bunk in the hour between dinner and curfew, the setting sunlight casting golden hues across the stone walls.

𝔚ith his arm curled beneath his head, staring at the flickering shadows dancing on the ceiling, he finds himself wondering whom will be the five cadets he will be put against in the month before training for the Gauntlet begins.

   𝔉ive challenges, five cadets.

   𝔗he challenges, themselves, 'twere not the thing to plague Res' mind with worry that night, though.

   ℑt is the Gauntlet–𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙–that worries him.

   ℜeserras is agile and swift. Tall with a great center of gravity, but his lithe body 'tis so stupidly susceptible to stronger winds, and his legs 'twere sometimes like a fucking newborn foals.

   ℌe 'twere still growing accustomed to his new growth spurt, 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑. 

   𝔅ut his biggest weakness–his blind eye.

   𝔈xpelling a breath, the resounding toll of the Basgiath bells echoing throughout the entire citadel interrupts his thoughts–curfew–and Res tilts his head, looking at Liam, whom leans against the wall between their bunks with his arms crossed over his chest. The light-blonde bows his head in a small nod.

   '𝔗is time.

   𝔄nd so, Reserras stands from his bunk with another breath to gather all of the other first-year marked ones within the third-floor barracks with his brother in all but blood and discretely lead them through the darkened halls towards the courtyard.

   𝔖tepping into the night, his black cloak billows slightly in the breeze that greets him with crisp kisses on his pale cheeks and Reserras adjusts the hood over his head when the wind tousles it–the others 'twere donning similar riders' cloaks behind him.

   𝔅y the carven stairs Res had walked down to the river with Xaden just yesterday, the other half of the marked -ones await. Garrick, Bodhi, and Raelon are among them.

   '𝔗weren't a very large group, almost two dozen, Res surmises, a few third-years and a couple seconds, but the majority of the gathering are first-years, certainly enough to warrant distress should they be caught by any of the professors, 𝑜𝑟 𝐶𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑥 𝑡𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑠.  

   𝔉or it 'tis a direct breakage of constitutional law, marked-ones gathering together like this in groupings larger than three, but what they intend on doing 'tis harmless. 𝑇𝑜 𝑢𝑠, 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡.

   𝔚alking alongside his brother, Res trails behind Garrick and Bodhi down the stairs, their boots scuffing against the worn stone, to the Iakobos River that flows from the war college through Navarre to the Emerald Sea.

   𝔗he river rushes with summer runoff from the peaks looming ominously above them, and the currents, loud in the silence of the night as they roar with rage, are fast and deadly this time of year, seeping out of the steep drop of the ravine they walk beneath.

   𝑁𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡-𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. Since Parapet, Second Squad 'tis the only one in the quadrant not to lose anyone but they all know such luck 'tis unlikely to last much longer in this home to Malek.

   𝔄long the ancient line of oaks shouldering the shoreline of the river, Res' heart flutters like a bird's wing at the sight of Xaden awaiting beneath a tree, Imogen standing beside him.

   𝔐emories of the day before flit into his heart, those soft words they shared in the serene hush of the golden dusk as they simply existed in the warmth of the other, telling one another home is wherever they are, even if hundreds of miles are between their tethered souls.

   𝔛aden is the shadows of daylight, cocooning him in the safety of his velvet darkness. And Reserras is a ray of sunlight, bleeding his warmth into his weary soul.

   𝔄nd when their eyes meet as they all gather under the rustling trees, the thoughtful scowl creasing Xaden's hardened features softens–as if that sunlight swirling within Reserras' being breathes its warmth into his soul and fills him with tranquility, lifting the heavy weight of burdens and obligations from his shoulders.

   𝔖hoving his hood down, Reserras joins Xaden at the trunk of the tree, the older of the pair meeting him with a grin as he leans in close to whisper in the space between them as the rest shake hands, exchanging softly spoken greetings.

   "You were fucking ruthless today in sparring, Ressy." Gods, his voice is like velvet on his skin, and Reserras shivers. "Only for you, Xady," he smirks.

   𝔗he shadow wielder mirrors it with a snort, the corners of his oh-so-decadent mouth curling with amusement, nudging his elbow against Res'.

   𝔗hen, all amusement fading, Xaden turns his gaze to the awaiting cadets before them, shaking hands with each and every one of them as introductions are made all around, dappled moonlight spilling over their features.

𝔗he cadets all know Xaden Riorson, infamous son of Fen Riorson, or at least of him. To his surprise, many of the first-years whisper words of gratitude to him, 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑠𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙.

𝔄fter the greetings settle, Garrick 'tis the one to begin, introducing himself, Bodhi, Imogen, Raelon, and Xaden–the upperclassmen amidst the gathering. Having done this since last year for the first-years–now second-years–Garrick keeps his words light. 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠, 𝑛𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑒𝑡.

"You all know why we're here, whose kept us alive because of what he did for us. We owe Xaden, here, everything. Without him, none of us here would be alive today." There's murmurs of agreement.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑖𝑐, 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑟𝑦. Xaden spares a swift glance none notice at the man beside him. 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚.

"None of you chose this, we get that," Garrick's tone softens with sympathy, his hazel gaze sweeping over all the first-years, yet still he remains the imposing Flame Section leader they all know, "but nonetheless we still have work to do, all of us. You know how crucial it is for each of us to survive. The more of us that do, the better our chances out there."

   𝔒nce his words have settled in, Xaden looks to Garrick, "Who have we lost?"

"Sutherland and Luperco," Garrick answers. Res remembers their names being read off the death roll the morning after Conscription Day. Xaden expels a breath, running a hand through his windblown nightblack hair, "Shit."

"It's a blow," Bodhi chimes in, "We can't afford to loose anyone else."

"So like it or not, we're going to have to stick together if you want to survive until graduation," Imogen's jade green eyes narrowly observe the cadets before her, surveying them for any doubts.

"And if they find out we're meeting?" A first-year girl with an olive complexion asks, her eyes darting around the circle of those bearing rebellion relics.

"We've done this for two years and they've never found out," Xaden responds, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the trunk of the tree. "They're not going to unless one of you tell. And if you tell, I'll know." The threat is obvious in his tone. "Like Garrick said, we've already lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-three of us in the Riders Quadrant, and we don't want to lose any of you, but we will if you don't help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you traitor or force you to fail."

𝔏ooking into his gold-speckled eyes, catching in the silvery moonlight, Reserras sees, knows, Xaden speaks from experience. And suddenly, he's overcome with a fierce desire to shove his sword into the throats of those who've dared to harm him.

𝑁𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒.

ℑn the midst of his sudden urges for blood, those velvety shadows curl around his wrists, soothing his ire. Thin strands like the branches hovering in the tree above them break from the black mass to caress his scarred knuckles.

ℜes settles himself with a soft breath, 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑋𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒.

"How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-hand?" Four hands rise into the air after Xaden's question, who mutters a curse as he lifts a hand to his face. Garrick sighs, "I'll teach them."

𝔛aden shakes his head, "You're our best fighter – "

"You're our best fighter," Bodhi, standing near Raelon in the circle they've all subconsciously formed midst the clearing of oak trees, counters with a quick grin. "Dirtiest fighter, maybe," Imogen smirks with a tilt of her brow. Soft laughter follows her words, even the new bloods crack amused grins. "Fucking ruthless is more like it," Garrick adds, and there's a general consensus of nods.

"Garrick is our best fighter, but Imogen is right up there with him, and she's a hell of a lot more patient," says Xaden when the laughter dies down. "So the four of you, split yourselves up between the two of them for training. A group of three won't draw any unwanted attention."

"What about Reserras?" The young man blinks at the sudden mention of himself. Crossing his arms behind his back, Res asks, "And what about me?"

"You knocked Xaden on his ass on assessment day." The blue-haired cadet reminds all of them of the event on assessment day that had spread across the quadrant like wildfire through shocked murmurs all through the day.

𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒... Xaden sighs beneath his breath, 𝑂ℎ, 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡.

"𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢," Sgaeyl's chiding breaks the silence. "𝑆𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡," she chuffs.

"That's right. He did." Another agrees. "Why don't you help train us?" One of the four asks.

𝔚ith a huff, Res' shoulders sink, though, 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠, Xaden speaks up, "Reserras is ruthless, and one of the best fighters in the quadrant. There's no doubt about it." Res ignores the fluttering of his heart and the blood rushing to his cheeks. "But he's a first-year like the rest of you, he needs to focus on the upcoming challenges and everything else that comes after."

𝔗here's a disgruntled ascent of reluctant agreement, and Reserras snorts beneath his breath. 𝐼 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑.

"What else is giving you trouble?"

"I can't do this," the entire gathering turns to the gangly first-year, who rolls his tension-laced shoulders at the eyes of everyone suddenly upon him.

"What do you mean?" Xaden's voice takes a hard edge, brows creasing over dark eyes. Res straightens his back, seemingly knowing what the cadet 'tis referring to–they both do.

"I can't do this!" The smaller cadet shakes his head. "The death. The fighting. A-Any of it!" The pitch of his voice rises with every statement, and birds in the surrounding trees take to the frigid air, "A guy had his neck snapped right in front of me on assessment day!" He cries. "I want to go home! Can you help me with that?"

𝔈very head swings in Xaden's direction, awaiting his response with bated breath.

"No," Xaden shrugs. "You're not going to make it. Best accept it now and not take up any more of my time."

ℑt's all Reserras could do to smother his gasp in his throat, hands falling to his sides. Some of the others in the group don't bother trying. He feels Raelon's broad shoulders tense at the, 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑠ℎ, words to his frightened squadmate.

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑒. 𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘.

𝔗he brothers share a look. Reserras lifts a dark brow, Raelon merely shakes his head. Whilst the smaller guy looks utterly stricken, and Res can't help but feel bad for him.

"That was a little harsh," Raelon says, sparing a glance at his squad member.

"What do you want me to say, Raelon?" Xaden tilts his head to the side, his voice calm and even despite the tension in the chilled air. "I can't save everyone, especially not someone who isn't willing to work to save themselves." Raelon looks away with a huff, knowing Xaden 'tis right.

"Damn, Xaden," Garrick rubs the bride of his nose. "Way to give a pep talk."

𝔇espite himself, Reserras snorts under his breath, earning a jab in the ribs from his brother's elbow. He returns it by stomping on his toes, smirking when a quiet wince tumbles from Raelon's lips.

"You'll so pay for that," the older brother playfully threatens in a hushed whisper, lest anyone else hear. Reserras smirks at him, "I'm trembling in fear." Raelon lifts his pale blue eyes into a roll, the corners of his lips tugging into a grin, and nudges his shoulder against Reserras'.

"If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they're not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day," Xaden's voice re-gathers their attention. "Let's get real. I can hold their hands and make them a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable." Xaden turns his head, looking at the panicked first-year, looking at all of the first-years in front of him. "In war, people die. It's not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It's snapped necks and two-hundred-foot falls. There's nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulfur. This – " he gestures toward the citadel perched on the peaks behind them, "isn't some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It's hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home...to whatever is left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant."

𝔏eaning forward slightly, Xaden's shoulder brushes against Reserras', whom feels cold shivers tingle down his arm and awaken the butterflies with his belly. 𝑃𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑅𝑒𝑠.

"So if you won't get your shit together and fight to live, then no. You're not going to make it."

𝔒nly crickets dare to break the silence that fell over them. And Reserras' breath hitched at the intensity in Xaden's tone. 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠, 𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒.

𝔄dmiration swirls within Reserras' eyes, his long lashes fluttering slightly. His chiseled features soften with fondness, the corner of his lips tilting upwards.

   𝔗his is the man he will follow into war, without hesitation–𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑢𝑠.

   𝔛aden truly 'tis the son of Fen Riorson–a natural born leader, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡. No matter where he is, or whom he is around, Xaden's mere presence alone demands instant respect.

   "Now, someone give me a problem I can actually solve," Xaden orders after the silence, and Reserras blinks out of his thoughts, looking away from the beautiful man beside him.

   "Battle Brief," a cadet says softly. "It's not that I can't keep up, but the information..." She shrugs.

   ℑmogen sucks her teeth, "That's a tough one," she turns her gaze to Xaden, tucking a short strand of her pink hair behind her ear. The silvery moonlight softens her eyes, her whole posture, with the way she looks at Xaden, making her near unrecognizable to the cruel and vicious Imogen who shreds shoulders on the sparring mats. 

   𝔅ut Res knows 'twere not love softening her pale green irises–𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐺𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑘–more so... admiration, respect.

   𝔈ven still, the thought of someone else desiring Xaden unsettles his stomach and drops it into a pit, filling his being with a sickening feeling he never wishes to experience again.

   "You learn what they teach you." Xaden tells the cadet, "Keep what you know, but recite whatever they tell you to."

   𝔗heir shoulders brush once again when Res inhales a soft breath at the hidden meaning within his words–the silent truth they all hear. And he prays the shadows of the night conceal the pink tinge dusting his cheeks when Xaden, ever so subtly, leans into him.

   "Anyone else?" Xaden arches a brow–the scarred one–at the cadets. "You'd better ask now. We don't have all night."

   "When do we get to kill Violet and Amara Sorrengail?" A guy toward the back asks, his voice dripping with malice, and a mumbled murmur of assent follows, cadets eagerly nodding.

   "Yeah, Xaden." Imogen purrs so sweetly, lifting her jade eyes to him. "When do we get to finally have our revenge?"

   𝔛aden narrows his dark eyes at her, growling his words, "I told you already, the youngest Sorrengails are mine to handle, and I'll do so when the time is right."

   "Didn't you already learn that lesson, Imogen?" Bodhi chides, his lips drawn in a thin line. "From what I hear, Aetos has you scrubbing dinner dishes for the next month for using your powers on the mat."

   ℑmogen's glare swivels to him, "Their mother is responsible for the execution of my mom and sister. I should have done more than just snap Violet's shoulder."

   "Their mom is responsible for the capture of nearly all our parents," Garrick suddenly counters, folding his arms over his wide chest. And Reserras flinches, heart stuttering at the memory he shoves behind thick iron bars.

   𝔗he rumble of thunder, his mother's screams of anguish, lightning turning night into day in flashes of great blue-white bolts, a dragon's roar– 𝑁𝑜! 𝐿𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑤!

   ℌe shudders a breath once the memory 'twere gone, his heart thudding within his chest, but then, Xaden is there, his presence like a shield against the horrors of their past–unyielding, unending.

   𝔗o the notice of none else, he leans into Res. The scent of mint soothes the rapid drum of Res' heart, and those velvet shadows curling around his hand eases the maelstrom of grief and despair threatening to drown him.

   ℌe expels a more steady breath, gently nudging his shoulder against Xaden's in silent gratitude for his perpetual solace.

   "Not her daughters," Garrick continues, "Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not the Tyyrish."

   "So we get conscripted because of what our parents did years ago and shoved into this death sentence of a college– " Imogen starts, only for Garrick to interrupt her, unimpressed by her vengeful urges, "In case you didn't notice, they're in the same death sentence of a college. Seems like they're suffering the same fate."

   "Don't forget their brother was Brennan Sorrengail," Xaden adds, like an afterthought. "They have just as much reason to hate us as we do them." He pointedly sweeps his gaze from Imogen to the cadet who had raised the question.

   ℑn the short second of silence that follows, Reserras and Liam share a unseen glance across the stretch of ankle-high grass between them.

   𝔗hey know the hidden truth.

   "And I'm not going to tell you again. They are mine to handle. Anyone feel like arguing?"

   𝔖ilence reigns over the marked ones, none 'twere stupid enough to oppose Xaden fucking Riorson. And his lips curl with a smirk, "Good." The smirk fades as quickly as it came. "Then get back to bed and go in threes."

   ℌe motions with his head, dismissing the gathering, and all slowly begin to disperse in groupings of three as he ordered, pulling the hoods of their black cloaks over their heads and disappearing in the blanket of night resting heavily over the slumbering world. 

   𝔛aden 'tis the last to leave, though, he doesn't go far...

   𝔚ithin the courtyard, Reserras broke off from the other two cadets to venture into the circlet of bushes shouldering the wide stairs, remembering the letter he'd found beneath his pillow that morning from Elaessa.

   ℌer pearlescent hair 'tis a beacon midst the night as he rounds the corner into the thorny hedges concealing them from the naked eye. At the sight of Reserras, her features brighten with an elated smile.

   𝔈laessa giggles into their embrace when Res lifts her off her feet, spinning her around gently.

   "Hey, Elssy," he greets with a smile after setting her upon her flat-heeled boots. "Ressy," she grins, pulling his hood down so she may press a tender kiss to his scarred cheek.

   𝔄 second after, footsteps begin to approach, softly pattering against the dewy grass. Raelon rounds the corner, greeting his siblings with a smile.

   𝔉inally, after so many years spent torn apart, they are together again, only two 'twere missing now. The shattered pieces of their broken family, ripped apart from each others' arms, 'twere nearly found.

   𝔚ith shared smiles, the three siblings share an embrace.

   𝔄nd they tell themselves that soon, Nesaerya and Naerenya will be with them, 'tis the Atonals' sacred promise to each other; they'll all be together again someday.

   𝔑o force in this world will keep them apart. Not even Malek, himself.

𝔓ulling away from their shared embrace, the three siblings lower themselves onto the grass–to simply talk amongst themselves in the silent hours, to assure they were still here, hearts still beating and lungs still breathing.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑘𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒.

"I know challenges will start soon. Do you know who you'll face?" Elssy asks, her soft voice like the gentle ringing of bell chimes.

𝔗hough Reserras shakes his head, Raelon 'tis the one to answer her, "The instructors don't tell us until the day of. But cadets are allowed to request an opponent if they want to, so long as its not anyone from their squad, of course."

ℜeserras finds himself wondering if his future opponents in challenges 'twill either be someone the instructors chose, or one whose requested to be put against him.

𝔄lthough he has nameless enemies throughout the quadrant simply because of the relic he bears, Reserras hasn't yet pissed off any one person to make a mortal enemy of them–𝑒𝑚𝑝ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑡.

   𝔓erhaps his opponents 'twill be those few whom only wish to test their battle prowess against him–wishing no death upon him.

ℌe doesn't cling to that hope. 'Tis survival or death in the walls of Basgiath, nothing more, nothing less.

"Eastern Wing suffered an attack in the mountains again, near Nessy's outpost." Elaessa informs them of the news she overheard Professor Markham talking about earlier in his office with Professor Devera, "She and Leighis are alright. I'm sure you'll hear about it in Battle Brief tomorrow, I didn't want you to worry."

   ℜaelon grins, "Thanks, Elssy." She returns it. "Oh, I just remembered." She swings her satchel onto her lap and unties the leathery string of the cover, pulling out two pages of parchment. She hands one each to her brothers, whom take them, curious.

"I saw a blue butterfly a couple days ago flutter past the window in my room and drew it."

𝔗he brothers share a soft smile at their sweet sister's familiar, youthful innocence–𝑎 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑜𝑠–and admire the beautiful coal-drawing of said insect. The intricate details of the veins in the delicate wings 'twas astonishing.

ℜeserras marvels at his sister's artistic skill. Gods, how he missed sitting with her in the garden, listening to her hum a sweet melody whilst painting or drawing with coal.

𝔗o themselves, the brothers decide they will treasure these drawings always—treasure her.

"Its beautiful, Elssy. Thank you," Res smiles at her, and Elaessa beams with pride. He chuckles softly, gently folding the parchment to tuck into one of the hidden pockets in his cloak to bring back to the barracks later.

𝔗he soft moment between the siblings 'tis interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

𝔖harply inhaling a surprised breath, Reserras all but flings himself to his feet, palming a dagger. Raelon joins his side, fingers ghosting the hilts of his daggers, thus putting themselves between Elssy and the potential threat.

𝔖weet Malek, what would they tell the professor, or cadet? What innocent reason do marked ones have for meeting so late at night that Navarrians 'twould believe?

𝔚hilst together like this tisn't against any law of Navarre, gathered after curfew 'tis certainly suspicious to anyone whom 'twould come across the three of them, nonetheless against the Codex.

𝔙elvet shadows slither across the grass and curl around Res' ankles. The man's heart settles as he expels his worries through a soft exhalation.

ℌe sheathes his dagger the moment Xaden emerges from the shadows.

𝔄 grin, so soft against the lethal severity defining his every feature–𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠–quirks Xaden's lips when his dark eyes find Elaessa. The sweetest of the Atonals, she 'tis like a ray of hope in the depths of despair.

ℌer presence fills those around it with beams of warmth, soothing the weary soul. And she always sees the good in everyone and in every situation, no matter whom or what, even himself when they were reunited the year prior.

𝔛aden finds himself remembering the moment he vowed to himself to protect sweet Elssy the second he saw her after years apart–vowed to protect her and Raelon after he crossed the parapet.

𝔗hough, Raelon did not truly need much protection, even before his Threshing. He 'tis a fucking menace on the sparring mats and in the sky with his vicious Red Swordtail, Marth–the most powerful of the Red dragons.

𝔚ith a giggle, Elaessa stands from the grass to playfully shove her overly protective brothers aside and embrace the shadow wielder twice her size, not even reaching his collarbones.

𝔛aden plants a delicate kiss to her crown of silver. Elaessa 'twere never a scribe at heart, but she plays the roll well–she could even fool Xaden some days. Pale robes and old dusty books 'twould do naught to extinguish her love for her family.

"How are you, Elssy?" She pulls away, her pale blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight as she grins up at him, "I'm alright." She tilts her head, "You look tired, though." He's been tired for the past two years, but Xaden only grins at her sharp perceptiveness.

   𝔚hilst innocent and gentle in nature, Elaessa 'twere no fool.

ℭoncealed within the shadows, the four sit upon the grass, the strands slightly damp from the trickle of rain that fell from the heavens hours beforehand. Elssy sits beside Raelon–born only ten months after herself.

   𝔖upposedly, their father was very...excited after their mother healed from their second daughter's birth.

   𝔖he rests her head on his shoulder, legs curled beside her, as Raelon leans back on his palms.

   ℜeserras sits across from them with Xaden stretched out on the ground beside him, his cheek resting on Res' thigh.

𝔗he tip of Res' finger brushes the scar going through Xaden's brow as Elaessa broke the silence, "I met a girl today. Ainsley. She's a first-year, but she was nice. We talked about history for a while." Res hummed, tracing his fingertips along Xaden's cheekbone softly, sharing a smirk with Raelon.

"Oh?" Raelon quirks a brow.

𝔄nd Elaessa, ignorant to the boys' mischief, eagerly nods with a euphoric smile, "Mhmm. She has really pretty hair, too. And eyes. And smile."

𝔅eneath his breath, Res snorts. Xaden pinches his thigh reprimandingly. "Hush," he mutters.

"When she saw my relic, she didn't treat me any differently. She just smiled and continued to talk with me while we sorted the botany books."

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝐴𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛, Res hums to himself, rubbing down Xaden's shoulder to his back, drawing random shapes absentmindedly.

"But no one has mistreated you?" The protectiveness lacing Xaden's words brings a soft grin to Elssy's lips. She shakes her head, "No. Most just pretend they don't notice me, though some do look at me with anger."

"Then I'll make them stop," he growls. She chuckles, "There's no need. Stares don't bother me. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble for beating up a couple scribes."

𝔄lthough he 'twould love nothing more than to beat the ever living shit out of those foolish enough to look at his sweet sister with scorn, Reserras snickers, "I'm sure just a harsh glare would suffice. Scribes are soft hearted. No offense, Elssy."

𝔖he giggles, "I may wear their robes, but I'm not a scribe."

𝔚hilst the siblings continue to converse, Xaden hums beneath his breath, still unsettled by Elaessa's words, worry sitting on his chest like a stone.

𝔗he thought of someone hurling cruel words at her, their sweet Elssy...suddenly, his hand blindly reaches for Reserras' rubbing his back and cradles it against his chest–Res could feel the beat of his heart–rubbing his thumb across his knuckles.

𝔗he soothing motions, the divets between his prominent knuckles, and the texture of his rough skin–scarred from the years he spent punching the bark of trees–beneath the pad of his thumb settles Xaden's seething ire.

ℌe takes a breath, the familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus filling his lungs and soothing his soul like a balm.

"𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡?" Sgaeyl slithers into his mind, her tone dripping with derisory. He rolls his eyes at the only being on the Continent more sharp-tongued than he, 𝑆ℎ𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑝.

𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡, 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠. Reserras chuckles at something Raelon'd said. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

   𝔖gaeyl scoffs.

   𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡–

   "𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑢𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠." A smirk curls his lips, victory swelling within his chest, and he feels Sgaeyl roll her eyes.

"Well, until Naery went and told Father, there was nothing to worry about. He wouldn't let us eat our sweets for a damned month."

   ℜaelon chuckles at his brother, rolling his eyes with a grin, "It was not a month. Mother gave in after a week. But you and Raerion never climbed that tree again, now did you?"

   ℜeserras grumbles, "Only because Father had his dragon cut it down." His siblings chuckle.

   𝔚ith a blink, Xaden twists onto his back, still cradling Res' hand to his chest, "And which tree was this?" He lifts a curious brow, tracing the protruding veins spread across the back of Res' hand like sprawling vines.

   ℜaelon meets his onyx gaze with an amused smirk, "The one that used to dangle over the edge of the cliffs outside our home. The one they always climbed."

   ℜes kicks his brother's ankle, "Like you weren't stealing those cream-filled strawberry tarts from the cooks every night after dinner." Raelon just shrugs with an unapologetic smirk.

𝔈lssy giggles. "I miss those tarts, and those sugared star fruits."

𝔉or every Atonal siblings' birthday, their parents 'twould have the cooks bake them an entire platter of their favorite dessert and allow them to eat it before their vegetables.

ℜeserras fucking craves the taste of lemon lush, oh, his mouth salivates at the memory of its bittersweet and creamy taste echoing on his taste buds.

𝔚ith his other hand, Res begins to caress Xaden's hair, the nightblack tendrils so damned soft between his long fingers, lightly massaging his scalp.

𝔄nd the shadow wielder, the most powerful rider of his generation, equally revered and feared amongst his fellow cadets, fucking hums–like the purr of a cat. His lashes fall over his cheekbones, soft lips tilted with bliss.

ℜes huffs in amusement, pretending the casual intimacy between them doesn't stir something within his lower belly, wings like the butterfly in Elaessa's drawing fluttering throughout his stomach.

𝐺𝑜𝑑𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.

'𝔗is so many things at once–terrifying, exhilarating, and yet, familiar. All Reserras knows, and all he ever wants to know.

𝔄nd for those shorts hours they had together, as the world fell still and silent, until the bells toll four times–four o'clock–they stayed within their secret serenity, hidden by thorny hedges and shadows, forgetting about the woes of the world.

__________•༻*✽*༺•__________

༻ 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༺

Not my best, 🫣. But the fluff tho, 😍, Xaden and Sgaeyl's banter is my absolute favorite. I'm just so eager to get onto the plot of the book, *cough, Threshing, cough*, lol, but these filler chapters are important for showing where certain relationships stand and how they grow, and adorable, 😜.

One more non-book plot chapter to go and then we'll finally be getting back to the fun stuff! 😁😊 ( and something very fun/interesting will happen next chapter as well, 😉 )