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Nimble hands slick with sweat swept along the ledge, the fingertips just managing to breach the rim and peek over top. They clasped onto the rough surface, digging their nails into the drab cobblestone in search of a crevice. Just a little more. Just a little more and they would find what they were looking for.
The bated breath passed over her lips, shaken and remarking upon her desperation. Her muscles burned beneath her skin. Her bones feebly cried out with every move she tried to make. The tension resounding throughout her aching frame felt as though even a single push may very well cause it to snap. Cause her to snap. Still, she did not relent.
Just a little more…
Lanya wedged the base of her boot further into the fissure it was nestled in, ignoring the bursts of pain it prompted to shoot through her foot. Her other leg had found a sprawling root to stabilize itself, and she carefully slid it upwards once she’d felt safe enough to do so. Her fingers were so tantalizingly close to scaling the ledge and bringing her along with them. She absentmindedly held onto her breath, ignoring how her lungs were scorched in a fiery tinge as a result.
Flickers of starlight dabbled the night sky, breaking through the occasional canopy of clouds. The crescent moon waned just to the east, providing the gentle murmurs of light to delicately brush along her pink hair. In any other circumstance, Lanya would have stopped to stare at the countrysides’ beauty. The city lights of Alryne never allowed her to enjoy such a view. But this was not any other circumstance. And so, she was forced to sink her teeth into her lip and keep a steady focus on the task at hand, which was not falling to her death.
Trailing her foot up the root and inching her other along the crack in the stone, her fingers were granted just a little more room to work with. Lanya guided them with her touch, searching for any signs of something to latch onto, anything . It didn’t matter as long as she was able to use it to hoist herself up. The back of her mind chided her for the treasonous act she was committing, but she simply feigned ignorance to it. This was for the best. She couldn’t very well take the main entrance, and all other areas were far too heavily guarded for her to use. She briefly considered bribing a guard, but with what little pocket money she had wasn’t going to be much use to her in that regard.
In fact, nothing she currently owned would entice even a common beggar.
Lanyas’ teeth absently ground together as pangs of hunger ravaged her stomach. A reminder she had not eaten since at least the day before. Food was expensive. It was a luxury she’d taken for granted nearly all her life. She’d tried her hand at hunting, only to find that her meager efforts left her more fatigued. The only solace she had was her little knowledge on the local flora; what was edible enough that she wouldn’t get sick from it and what would stave her inanition just enough to get by.
The raw tips of her fingers eventually stumbled across a raised stone in the ledge, just enough for them to dig against and bring fervent relief to the girls’ mind. Lanya lodged them beside it, a slight grimace contorting her expression as she felt the cuts jaggedly running along her fingers beginning to break open. With strained muscles, she worked to adjust herself within the fissure, scraping her heel out so that she wouldn’t get stuck in preparation.
She then sucked in a fairly sharp breath and steadied her body. Her tendons were dipped in a searing fervor, and the sword clasped against her back threatened to bore into her skin when it arched. But she didn’t care. She would be willing to bear the pain if it meant she could finally find her respite.
In one swift—albeit clumsy—move, Lanya used the last fragments of her dwindling strength to hoist herself up and heave onto the top of the ledge. Her hands clambered around for a sense of stability along the stone, finding purchase in a few measly cracks just big enough for her nails to burrow into. But it was enough. And soon, she found herself collapsing onto the solid surface, her scrawny figure sprawled out as heavy breaths wheezed from her cracked lips.
She’d made it. About damn time. Through half-lidded eyes, the princess surveyed her surroundings, eyes raking across the scattered rooftops littering the view before her. The faintest touch of dawn was beginning to leech across the sky. Delicate yellows brushed loosely within the mire of navy along the horizon, and marigold oranges soon followed. It was only a matter of time before the blanket of night covering her movements would be pulled away.
With gritted teeth, Lanya forced her body to stir. She could feel her sore frame cry out its rejections as she firmly placed her palms along the stone and used them as leverage to push herself up. A small groan escaped from her, laced to the brim with contempt for her situation. Soft curls of her disheveled hair slipped over her shoulder and her into vision, acting as a hindering curtain. While attempting to level her frustration, she brushed them aside.
Standing upright, she skimmed sprawling buildings for one that was closest to her. None of them were terribly tall, save for a church or two here and there. The cityscape seemed to stretch on forever, careening into the vastness of the horizon and becoming muddled with the jagged peaks of the mountaintops just beyond the fog.
Lanya knew she couldn’t wander the ledge forever, nor could she attempt to scale it yet again just to fall to her death. She was far too exhausted for that, and her body simply would refuse to acquiesce to anymore of her insane stunts. Drawing a light sigh, she stumbled forward, feeling her fatigue draping its weary cloak over her shoulders, enticing her to answer its call to sleep. She merely shook her head in an attempt to wriggle from the foggy haze entangling her mind.
The ledge went on for quite some time before she would eventually find a suitable enough place to jump. Every step felt like an extra chain had linked up to her ankles, each carrying a weighted ball at the end. A few times, her steps faltered, and she would find herself tripping over herself to stay upright. Though it gleaned a sense of frustration, by the fifth time she’d struggled to keep herself upright, she found she didn’t care.
The building Lanya had stumbled across spiraled upward, the narrow tip of its peak being only just a yard away from where she was. She worked to wipe the sweat from her hands onto her tattered pant leg, her brow twitching as she felt a thin layer of her skin go along with it. Her fingers were scorched in a keen tenderness that was hard to ignore, and each brush of her body against them stung coarsely. Still, she knew better than to back down now.
Her purple eyes honed in on the roof of the tower, her mind set ablaze with every possibility she could think of. She considered her methods of approach, what grip might work best, how she could wrangle herself around the spiral of the roof to keep from falling in only a matter of half a second. Time ticked on, the faint glimpses of morning light washing strands of her hair. She knew she only had a few more minutes to make this work before someone noticed.
Steeling her nerves and firmly latching onto the hasty plan in her head, Lanya pulled her muscles rigid in place. A tremulous breath passed over her lips, but she did not heed it any mind. She couldn’t, not if she didn’t want to falter.
A few moments passed, marching onto a minute, then two. Enough. Enough worrying about it, enough fussing over the details. She didn’t get as far as she did by hesitating. No, she got as far as she did by seizing the moment in her grasp and never looking back. She could do that again, she would . And nothing would stop her.
Placing every ounce of energy she could into the action, Lanya allowed her legs to start forward. They burst into a sprint, bounding towards the spiraling tower. Without a moment’s hesitation, she allowed her body to be carried by her racing adrenaline and brazen determination. The wind tore through her hair, igniting the fog in the brilliant light of dawn.
She could do this, she would. In an instant, the ground beneath her vanished, giving way to the yawning abyss of the drab city streets below enshrouded in darkness. Her hands splayed out. Her panic roared in her ears. In only a mere second, Lanya felt her palms connect with the buildings’ peak. The rest of her body soon followed.
…
“Three allings.”
“Five allings.”
“Very well, then, four.”
Torchlight flickered along the wall, engulfing the man across from Lanya in a dreadful glint. He scowled at her with piercing eyes. And his grimy hand reached up to scratch his scraggly beard. The girl watched on, unrelenting and unmoving.
“Look,” he began, taking a gander at the small pile of money she’d placed on the counter, “Five allings is my final offer for a room and meal. If you cannot meet that price, then search somewhere else.”
“I have searched everywhere else,” the princess ground out. She tucked her lip under her teeth, biting back the other more choice words she wanted to say. Stay calm, keep trying. She slowly recounted those words in her head whilst she worked to lift the furrowed nature of her brows in favor of a more solemn plea. “Please, it will only be for one night. One night whilst I endeavor to search for my father. He has been gone for an awful long time you see, and I can hardly afford to survive on my own.” In an effort to try and make her story more believable, she ran a hand across her abdomen which her clothes so easily swallowed. It was difficult to ignore the feeling of her ribs jutting out across her skin.
The man eyed her keenly with an expression she found difficult to discern. “And you believe him to be here,” he said with a touch of caution edging along his voice. He seemed to be buying the story at least.
Lanya hastily bobbed her head. “Yes,” she replied desperately. “I do not know where he is, though I know where to look.” She inwardly mused over her acting, hoping that it was enough for the man to adhere to. She was never the best at such things. Lying wasn’t her specialty in the slightest. But for her means of survival and mission, she would do anything.
The man appeared to take her words into account, his murky set of eyes roving over her figure with increasing intrigue. His thin lips parted after a moment, and a familiar glint of perplexion crossed his countenance. “How many allings do you currently have at your disposal?”
The princess stiffened under his leering gaze. She hadn’t expected such a question. “Not much, sir,” she admitted quietly, drawing her eyes away from his and sliding them across the floor in a sheepish flit. “There was only so much my mother could send with me. We live on the outskirts of Alryne, a-and—”
A hand swiftly shot up to interject her fib. “I understand,” the man said, his tone lingering dejectedly. “And you believe your father will be willing to help you.” The nasty glint in his eye was beginning to abate.
Lanya once again nodded. A strand of her hair slipped across her eye and with nimble movements, she tucked it back in place. “I will not bore you with the details, but he left in search of a way to help us. I believe he took up occupancy in Fallkirk as a means to find work. There was nothing to be had in Alryne, you see.”
The man nodded slowly, allowing her words to linger before offering his own, “So, you believe you can find him in just a single day?” he asked with the raise of his brow. The hand that had been scratching at his beard was now running through it in a thoughtful manner.
Lanya didn’t bother in wordless agreement this time. Instead, she dipped her head down, skimming her eyes along the wooden floorboards which were dulled in color. She shifted in her position, noting how each time she put her weight on her left side, a stifled cry was drawn from the wood. She tried to appear just as distraught as one in her made up story would be. Pouring every ounce of anger, fatigue, and pain as she possibly could into her expression, she gradually lifted her head to meet the mans’ gaze. Not all of it was fabricated. Indeed, she felt she may very well faint on sight from exhaustion. And she used that to her advantage.
It seemed what she was doing was working, as the man took only a single gander at her body before his expression softened almost entirely. The hand in his beard stilled. “It will take more than a day,” he said after a few seconds. “Fallkirk is a vast city. I hardly believe one of your stature could manage to traverse its entirety even if you scour its streets all night.”
“Then…” Lanya allowed the rest of her sentence to stay unbidden at the precipice of her tongue, knowing the man understood what she wanted to say.
The man heeded the worry lining her tone, gentle creases folding against his eyes as they warmed up to her gaze. “Two nights.” His hand fell to the counter, fingers sweeping across its surface until they met the pile of bronze coins. “Two nights for six allings. No more, no less.”
The reaction Lanya gave him was genuine. Her eyes widened, glistening with fresh tears aplenty. She tenderly clasped her hands to her chest, taking the time to let a deep and shaken sigh slip from her lips. “Th-thank you so much, sir!” she cried gratefully as her fingers immediately flew to her satchel in an effort to wrangle two more allings from it. “Truly, you have not a clue how much I appreciate this!”
He sounded a deep chuckle at this, more akin to a growl if anything. “Don’t mention it,” he replied curtly, brushing aside her excitement. Once she’d allowed the two bronze coins to clatter onto the counter, he guided them into the initial pile. “Just use the time wisely, and don’t endanger yourself. The alleys tend to become dangerous at night, so do endeavor to be careful.”
“I will!” Lanya exclaimed in a brazen remark. She could feel her excitement whittle its way through her exhaustion, igniting her fervor and granting her slight reprieve from her fatigue.
A loose smile tugged at the corner of the mans’ lips, and he granted her a slightly amused look before turning around to sift through the various shelves lining the walls. There was the sound of paper lightly rustling within his grasp, as well as the clinking of keys. Lanya watched his every movement with an eager glint caught in her eyes, biting at her lip in an attempt to satiate her anticipation. Eventually, he swiveled back on his heel to face her with a pair of rather rusted keys dangling on a hook pinched between his forefinger and thumb.
“Room 35,” he said briskly, dropping the keys onto the counter and letting them clash together. “I’ll have a handmaiden bring your meal up in an hour. I expect you can at least wait that long?”
Lanya eyed the slow arch of his brow with her own inkling of amusement. “I believe I can,” she replied through a taut smirk, grabbing at the keys and fisting them tightly within her grasp. Almost protectively, as if he would revoke her privilege to the deal they’d struck. Part of her knew better than to think he wouldn’t.
Still, she did appreciate his extended kindness. Such a thing was practically a rarity beyond the palace walls as Lanya had come to unfortunately learn. Survival of the fittest, it was. Especially in the outcroppings of the city with sparse population that the kingdom saw little need to protect. As soon as the thought became consciously known to her mind, she immediately shoved it away from the forefront, far too exhausted to consider her journey thus far.
With the mans’ eyes still plastered upon her form, Lanya allotted him a pleasant smile indignant of her refined nature and dignity. She did not take the time to bow for him, seeing as how that would likely give her noble status away. Instead, she afforded the graceful turn of her heel towards the staircase tucked beside the counter, regarding the man with yet another grateful exchange of words before dragging herself up the steps.
Lanya had come to despise how spread out inns could be. The 35th room was farther away from the entrance than she’d initially anticipated, and it took her well over ten minutes alone to try and find it amidst the winding maze of narrow hallways. When she did finally stumble across her room, she wasted no time in chucking the key into the lock and fiddling with it until it opened.
Her lodgings were small at best, positively claustrophobic at worst. Compared to her own massive bedchamber back at home, she found it to be a severe downgrade. Still, it was far better than sleeping outside, which had been her usual manner of sleeping for the past few weeks. Even just having a bed on its own filled her to the brim with reprieve and excitement.
Tossing her personal effects onto the chest in the corner, Lanya wasted no time in collapsing onto the bed. She didn’t even mind how the mattress springs sharply dug into her back, making every minute shift she made in her position rather painful. It was still better than the constant feeling of twigs and rocks burrowing into her skin. And anything was a cut above waking up to the ants starting their morning work right by your head. Lanya couldn’t help but shiver upon recalling the memory.
Her arms splayed out across the bed, balling the thin blanket beneath her tightly in her fists. The princess released a simple breath—neither a sigh nor groan—just… a breath. A remark of relief that she’d gotten this far, that she was one step closer towards her goal, in her mission as a Precure.
Casting her gaze aside, Lanya let it wander before it reached the sword propped against the chest, its hilt glinting in the faint reaches of sunlight that had managed to peak over the city walls. Hesperia hadn’t spoken to her in over a day. Her energy had likely been drained after the last fight she’d been forced to endure. Absently, the princess brought her hand to her face, raking her eyes across the calloused nature of her palms and the bloodied tips of her fingers with increasing dismay.
Her expression fell, aggrieved by her own lack of strength and propriety. Through thin lips, she muttered something even her own mind could not discern and furled her fingers tightly, concealing the sight from her eyes.
She needed to do better—to be better. She had no reason to be this weak, not when the fate of the world rested so delicately upon her shoulders. Demonkind would only grow stronger, ravaging the countryside, destroying homes and razing her own people to the ground. She could not simply stand idly by, weak and feeble as she currently was. No. There was still so much she had left to do.
Four swords. Four swords were left. And with them, the rest of her team. Lanya’s arm dropped to her face, resting against her eyes and temple. Strands of her hair were caught between, tickling her skin and enticing sweat to dampen their tips. Still, she did not move. It felt rather comforting, to sit in the darkness, within her ponderings, away from life.
Briefly, she considered how her family had been faring since her departure. Surely, her father must have been riddled with grief. And her mother… she dared not think what the queen felt. It was too painful, riddling a hole within her heart and driving a nail straight through the center. Enticing the torment only served to bring tears stabbing at her eyes, which she feverishly worked to wipe away. Unable to bear it, she cast those thoughts away.
Lanya slowly removed her arm from her face, sweeping the remainder of her bangs from her temple and tucking them behind her ears. She was tired, so tired. In moderate movements, she pushed her upper body from the bed, swinging her legs over the creaking floorboards in order to remove her boots. All she wanted to do was rest. Rest and wait for her food.
Leaning forward, Lanya wrapped her fingers around her right boot and gave it a firm tug at the base of the heel. The effort seared a vibrant pain in her tendons, but she knew she would sleep better if she didn’t have them on. The boot gave way after a few more attempts. Once her foot had slipped from it, she endeavored to remove the left one before nursing the stinging blisters on her heels from walking constantly for the past few days. How she wished she still had her beloved steed.
Once she no longer felt needles pricking at her wounds, Lanya adjusted her position and lowered herself back onto the bed. The pillow wasn’t the most plush, but she would take it over the clumps of moss she’d been using initially. Already, it was difficult to keep her eyes open. They drooped down, her lashes cascading across her skin. Beams of sunlight filtered in from the cracked window pane, illuminating the plaster ceiling in a golden kaleidoscope. And in her weary haze, she watched the streaks fracture and splinter from each other, creating new radiant streams for her eyes to latch onto.
It was only a few more minutes at most before Lanya felt herself be pulled under, away from her mission, away from the present at large. She could worry about all of that later after she received sufficient rest. She didn’t care to trouble herself with it now that she’d finally gotten herself a proper bed for the next two nights. Two meager nights before she had to continue onward and leave the comfort of the city behind. Before she would be at natures’ mercy once more.
At least for two nights, she could endeavor to enjoy herself. She could pretend to be an ordinary person. Not the princess she was with a mission to uphold as Cure Celeste. For now, she could simply be Lanya Astrali. A mere face in the crowd and nothing more.
She could be no one special.