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Chapter Text

The moon hung like a pale coin in the sky, casting silver latticework through the ceiling-tall stained-glass windows of the ever-pristine Avian Palace. Ornate halls twisted in a maze-like design, elaborate floor tiles glimmering under the soft moonlight, while countless portraits of the royal family lined the ostentatious corridors.

As the dim light pooled quietly along the floors, the stagnant air stirred into an almost imperceptible breeze. The grandeur of the gleaming passage narrowed into a quieter wing, where vaulted ceilings gave way to more intimate, endearing arches. Just beyond a final bend, a pair of carved doors stood closed—modest by palace standards, yet still adorned with faded golden inlay that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

Here, outside the princess’s chambers, the hush became a stillness. Only the distant rustle of velvet drapes and the occasional creak of aging wood broke the silence, as if even the palace itself paused to breathe more softly in this secluded corner. Two guards stood like statues, their armour reflecting the gentle light filtering through the high windows. One was unremarkable—tall and broad-shouldered, his face hidden behind a polished visor. But it was the woman who commanded attention.

Her long, sleek black hair was tied high, revealing striking features and an imposing presence. She stood taller than even the man beside her, her broad shoulders reminiscent of a seasoned oak—unyielding, weathered, and resilient. A black garnet-red eye patch hid her left eye, while her uncovered right one—sapphire blue—glared as harsh as a northern wind at her fellow guardsman.

“Is the glare necessary?” the man asked, his voice like gravel smoothed over by the sea—rough, but oddly calm. He shifted slightly, armour clanking as he straightened in vain beside his taller comrade. “We were in the same battalion, remember, Shy?” He smiled, a face untouched by age breaking into a too-friendly grin.

The smile did nothing to soften her stare. “It was nothing but coincidence,” she replied coldly, tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword. “Don’t be so familiar.”

Her glare intensified. The only sound now was the man’s shuddering breath. The moonlight dimmed slightly—barely, but noticeably—as clouds gathered beyond the castle’s decorated walls.

“Besides,” she added, eyes narrowing, “I was one in three hundred you were placed with.”

Lightning flashed, a sharp flare of light illuminating the hall.

“Look, Shy, I didn’t mean to—” he began, but trailed off, voice faltering. He cleared his throat. “How about a drink? I know a great bar—”

“Focus on the job. We’re guarding Her Highness,” Shy snapped, her voice echoing off the marble walls.

Thunder followed, delayed but deafening. Yet amidst the storm’s growl, her ears picked up something else—faint, but unmistakable. A muffled struggle, coming from within the princess’s chambers.

She didn’t hesitate.

In a flash, Shy spun around—armour clinking—and reached for the door handle, her left hand still gripping the hilt of her sword. But before she could grab it, the male guard stepped forward and seized her wrist, planting himself between her and the entrance.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, panicked. He clearly hadn’t heard what she had. “We can’t just barge into Her Highness’s bedroom without cause!”

“Move aside.” Her voice was sharp, more warning than command.

When he didn’t move, Shy grabbed his shoulder and shoved him aside. He hit the ground like a felled boulder, his armor clattering across the tile with a thunderous echo. Without pausing, she turned back and seized the handle—then shoved.

It didn’t budge.

She pushed again, harder, and this time it shifted—only slightly. Something was blocking it. With one swift shoulder ram, she forced it open, stumbling inside as she drew her sword. Her sapphire eye scanned the room.

Chaos.

The chamber was a wreck—an unholy mess that would shame even the palace slums. A heavy wardrobe had been dragged in front of the door—so that was the blockage.

The princess’s three ladies-in-waiting lay sprawled on the cold floor, either unconscious or dead. Shy didn’t stop to check.

More importantly—more devastatingly—Her Highness was gone.

The window stood wide open, curtains fluttering like torn wings.

Lightning split the sky again.

Chapter Text

The bedroom was oversized and opulent, drenched in sterile whites and muted pinks that washed the room in a ghostly softness. Tapestries of wilted flowers and caged birds lined the walls; the floor was cool, polished mahogany. In the centre, pushed against the least decorated wall stood a massive canopy bed—wide enough for three people without feeling cramped—draped in the brightest colour the room tolerated: curtains of a muted yet still gaudy pink silk embroidered in gold.

In a beautifully carved, perfectly cushioned chair sat the princess. Pale, wavy rosewood hair fell to her waist; a pale-salmon nightgown hugged her petite frame. Golden wire-rimmed circular glasses perched on her nose; bright, amber eyes looked steady into the ornate silver mirror on the vanity. Around this perfect, doll-like flower of a woman clustered three less elegant ladies-in-waiting—simple dress, yet still elaborate compared to common folk. One blonde held a brush like a weapon, a darker brunette cradled a steaming cup, and a lighter brunette dabbed a damp rag at the princess’s jaw.

“Your Highness,” the blonde purred, too familiar for such rank. She smiled sickly as she began to rake the brush through the princess’s hair. “You have such pretty long hair. It’s fit for a… lovely girl like yourself.” Mockery laced every syllable.

The one with the rag joined in with a false, syrupy tone. “Lady Cassandra is right. And such a complexion—so… pale and untouched. No blood-letting or face powder for you, dear.” She gave a snickering chuckle as the rag slid across the princess’s cheek.

“Yes, yes!” the cup-bearer chimed, matching the others’ honeyed cadence. “No wonder you receive so many proposals. Your clipped wing feathers really accentuate your figure.” She offered the drink with the same painted smile. All three wore identical grins—plastic, sharp at the edges.

The princess—Princess Owl, though she had long stopped answering to that name aloud—sat in silence. She had tried conversation before, tried to make the hollow hubris around her into something softer. It had failed every time; her words vanished like a ghost’s footsteps in these rose-scented rooms. She watched her reflection. Long hair that did nothing to suit her small frame, skin so pale it might have been carved from bone—an image that made her narrow her eyes.

Lightning stitched the sky, and the heavy stained-glass balcony door—a rose motif whose stem curled like cage-bars—blazed with white. Yet the room did not flood with the full glare; a shadow sliced across the glass. The ladies were too busy with their petty flattery and shared snickers to notice.

“Princess Owl, you’re the kingdom’s most valuable treasure!” the blonde squealed, barely containing a laugh. Thunder rolled like a drum.

Owl blinked. The door was ajar—she could have sworn it had been locked. Perhaps fatigue blurred her senses. Perhaps she needed a new prescription. She turned back to the mirror—and stopped.

Only two women remained in its reflection. The cup-holder, who had poured her tea, was gone.

She told herself the missing figure had simply stepped out of the mirror’s range. That the overturned pile beside the dressing table was only laundry. That the crimson stain she thought she glimpsed was melted candlewax or rouge, not blood. She told herself these things until she almost believed them. Owl blinks at her reflection.

One lady-in-waiting remains.

Lady Cassandra continued brushing. Owl forced herself to sit straighter, feathers ruffling as she offered a halfhearted smile into the glass. A shadow darted behind Cassandra—quick as a rabbit. Before Owl could cry out, a gloved hand clamped over Cassandra’s mouth. The intruder twisted the blonde into a crude headlock—no polished technique, but effective.

Owl sprang to her feet. The sound that followed—bone cracking like dry wood—made the room tilt. Cassandra slumped; the intruder let her fall with a heavy thud. “W—who are you?” Owl’s voice scraped out weakly. Her winged hands scraped at the vanity, dull talons clasping weakly on a golden hairpin.

The man did not answer. Owl saw his rabbit ears twitch—he was not merely a man but a man with rabbit ears; a hired thief or worse. His gaze flicked to the door, where muffled sounds swelled into clarity. There—someone was at the threshold. Shy. Owl’s heart lodged in her throat like a stone.

She tried to call, to shout Shy’s name—she’s cut off almost immediately when a hand forces it’s way over her mouth. Owl claws at the arm now holding her head in place yet her blunt talons are useless. The rabbit-eared assailant—one arm still holding her—kicked the heavy mahogany wardrobe with alarming ease. It crashed across the doorway, blocking entrance and exit in one violent sweep. Curse-mumbled, he began smashing through the room, throwing ornaments aside and pocketing small valuables frantically with a free hand.

He bound and gagged her with the bed curtain. She winced as it was knotted tight. The thief hoisted her like a sack and barreled for the balcony—no hesitation. Owl’s stomach dropped as the balcony’s open maw swallowed them. She shut her eyes against the height. Behind them, at last, was the sound of the outer door being smashed wide.

Shy arrived to a ruined chamber and an empty chair. The ladies-in-waiting lay in scattered heaps; some did not move. The wardrobe had been dragged and thrown. The bed curtains were askew. The princess was gone.

A different storm raged inside Shy—one that did not belong to the weather. She had been raised to stand at the princess’s side; loyalty had been hammered into her bones. To her, the princess was not merely duty but the sliver of light in a world gone rotten. For the briefest beat, the world narrowed and pain opened like a fresh wound. Then Shy breathed out a scream that shook the vaulted rafters. A flash of green behind her eyepatch—so quick the other guard swore he had seen it—flickered and was gone. The scream ended; Shy straightened, cold and focused.

She moved to work with the same precision she used in the barracks. The other guard hovered like a man who’d seen darkness only in stories. Shy noticed it instantly: the man’s hands trembled, and his eyes lingered on the fallen women as if he might collapse into them.

“By the gods… the ladies-in-waiting—” the guard stammered. “They’re all dead!”

Shy continued searching, memorizing bruise patterns, scuff marks, the angle of a broken brush. She catalogued clues into a ledger of the mind; craftsmen learn to do that when life depends on memory. The guard’s voice broke again. “W-we… we have to bury them. It would be respectful.”

She did not answer immediately. Her hands kept moving. He watched, bewildered, until desperation made him shout, “Are you even listening? We have to—”

“They’re beyond help,” Shy said without looking up. “The princess is not.” He started. “You can’t just say that. They were people—families—We can still—”

“The princess has been taken,” Shy cut him off. “These women failed their mission. They were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their deaths do not undo what happened. I won’t fail mine.”

The guard’s face turned red. “We should-” he sputtered.

“Enough,” Shy snapped. “Forget them. Inform the queen. Gather a search party. But I leave now. This trail will go cold.” Her voice cooled further—an order, not a request.

He recoiled as if slapped. “You can’t be serious—”

"Call me heartless if you must—but this failure is yours as well. You barred the way to a higher ranking guard. I should have you executed for having done such a thing.” As he stood frozen, Shy’s temper flared again.

She strikes the man across the face, anger evident in her eyes.

“I SAID TO GO INFORM THE QUEEN! DON’T STAND THEIR GAWKING AND GO!” The man, in his daze, breaks out and holds his cheek. Muscle memory makes him head towards the Queen’s chambers. Shy watches him leave before heading out on her own. But not before taking out a pink piece of fabric with what appeared to be a star embroidered into the cloth, upon close inspection the cloth is easily of very high price and value.

“I’ll find you my lady.” Shy whispers these words like a sacred rite from a passage into the cloth, before pocketing it. Then she advances towards the castle basement. She’s got something she has to do before she steps foot off the castle grounds.

“I’ll find you, my lady,” she whispered again, as if the words might stitch reality back together, a vow hot against the silk, before tucking the scrap into her pocket.

Shy lingered a heartbeat longer, scanning the chamber one last time—angles, smells, a smear of ash, a faint scent of rabbit musk—and then she slipped from the room. Her boots ate the corridors in long strides toward the basement. There were things to do there, preparations only she trusted. There were resources and records no one else suspected she kept. She had one lead, a few instincts, and a fierce, cold determination.

The castle felt smaller with the princess gone.

Chapter Text

The halls of the dungeon were dark, disgusting, and smelled of scat. The air reeked of acrid must smell  due to the poor ventilation, the unwashed prison cells that haven’t been used since the dark ages. Runes on certain bars and bricks plastered around, magic imbued into the core of the objects. These prison cells were once used to hold powerful things. All of them now empty and broken down… all except one.. The one that housed the “thing” that gave life to our guard. Shy walked through the putrid halls towards two huge iron doors at the end of the hall, with our last remaining cell.

These doors haven’t been guarded in centuries. The human fear of the creature inside taking over the minds of those who are of weak will and of weak mind. Shy then got up to the tall iron doors, putting one hand on the iron doors. The handles of these doors were missing. That doesn’t particularly matter to Shy, after all.

“Curses always find a way.”

Her hands began to sink into the metal, the doors began to melt and boil on touch, sucking in Shy’s arms burning the woman’s all up her forearm, but she made no movement, only gritted her teeth as droplets of sweat started perspiring down her face and neck. Shy would not fall ill to such a simple pain. Training for personal guards is more intense than the training of normal guards. They had to have a pain tolerance for anything and everything. The woman then pressed her body against the doors.

The melted iron started to cover more of her body, the heat of her own armour searing her skin. She then forces the melted iron out of the way, molding it into a passageway into the cell. The runes on the inside glowed brightly, almost too brightly, as if the red fires of hell were burning into her eyes. The creature was trying to set itself free. Slamming its shadowy body against the barrier of the doors, reaching to push through the open passageway, all in a futile attempt to wreak havoc on the world once more. However these runes aren’t from any ordinary magic. They were from the olden times. When magic was more powerful and less tame.After the creature had finally calmed down and realised once again, that it won’t get out, it looked upon its creation. Shy was standing there in the small cell, letting the innate magic heal over the burn scars on her arms, torso, body, and face. The sizzling skin came to a halt to allow her to heal over the formed blisters of heat. Once she was fully healed up, Shy turned her body to where the creature was mainly placed.

“Creature. I’ve come back. I need you to allow me to use my magic to its fullest.” A cackling of voices could be heard from all around the room, meant to disorient. Then the voices all piled together in order to speak. “You come to me, after 26 years, and ask for something. You never once visited me since I gave you life… You are so ungrateful to me.” The voice rattled the room walls.the runes glow had died down, but they were still very much heavy with magic. “I had no reason to visit a curse.” Responded Shy, her voice sharp and filled with malice towards the creature.“You say that like you’re not one yourself.” The creature mocked. A sharp intake of breath was heard, before Shy then exclaimed. “The king said curses are just corrupted blessings. He said "I was not yet a curse”” Shy let the venom spit out of her mouth. She valued the king’s words, perhaps to a naive degree. More cackles could be heard, the voices condensing once again to retort. “The king was a fool. His words mean nothing now that he’s dead.”

The voices laughed and mocked, expecting their creation to fall to their knees in defeat like so many before. Shy could find no humor in its speech, nor reason to give in.  “I’ll support your request, but you’re just a child compared to most cursed creatures or even the blessed beings. And if you’re so righteous as the king said, this will hurt a lot.” The creature giggled and the voice split into one voice, then changed back to only two before two shadow creatures formed on either side of the room. “Are you sure you want this?” Said the one on the right side of the room. “You’ll be considered a monster to all.” Chuckled the creature to the left of Shy.  “Your head will be priceless.” They said in unison. “If anyone learns of your activation you’ll be killed on sight.” The voices grew louder, more insistent on making Shy feel weak and helpless. All curses seem to have that in common. Making the neutral, or lesser feel even worse, feeding on their negativity.

“Enough with the empty words and tell me how I make it happen.” Shy sharply interjected, stamping her foot on the ground in anger, like a child demanding a toy. The voices giggled as the shadow creatures walked around Shy in a circle, like lions to a gazelle, yet the woman showed no fear in her stance or eyes. Only hatred. “Impatient are we? Looking for something important.” The voices chuckled, noticing Shy tense. A crack in Shy’s armor. A slight dart of the eyes. That’s all the creature needed. “So it is so? Oh. It’s been a while. Well you won’t be able to control your curse-” “it’s magic.” Shy cut off, much to the creature’s annoyance. “... magic… without proper guidance. Let us become the… good and bad thoughts of your mind. Let us merge with you. We’ll be able to guide you. Help you, and your item will be returned to your hands and belong to you. Do we have a deal?” Shy let out a harsh laugh that made the creatures step back.

“No. That’s not the deal. The deal is that you will stay here. I don’t need your help.” The creatures stared at her before bursting into giggles like children. “Oh don’t make me laugh child. You’ll tear yourself to shreds the first time you try using the power without us to guide you.” Shy looks at them with that cold look she had given the guard earlier, if a curse could die, that look might as well have killed it. “And the “guidance” is full control of my body and mind right? You think I’d take a deal like that.” The creatures stifled, their creation caught onto their plans. Clever little thing. A new vessel will be needed. They’ll let this one tear itself apart with the “magic” of their bones. “Fine. You may have the power. If you die, we’ll just make you again in a few centuries.” Shy rolls her eyes, not caring for the sass the creatures were giving her. “Wow, what a kind creator.”

The creature chuckles, the two shadow beings walking towards Shy and taking a part of her arms. “If it hurts, you truly are the blessing extracted from the curse as that fool of a king said.” The shadow creatures held up her arms, high, and then lunged and bit down hard onto Shy’s wrists, tearing through the flesh, oily like substance dripping from Shy’s fingers onto the ground, pooling around her feet, her “blood” if you could call it that. injecting some sort of venom into the woman’s wrists. Shy let out a piercing scream, and it rattled the room. The runes glowed brighter than Shy could have ever imagined, all they saw was red. And then the shadow creatures were gone. Whispers in the dark. They lied to her and became a part of her. Shy had already sniffed out their plan and wouldn’t let them have control over her body, but her thoughts were just fine. Shy groaned in pain, gripping onto her left wrist oozing its thick oily black blood running down her fingers and onto the ground.

Staggering out of the cell, the doors moulding back to their original placement. She was finally ready to save her. Because for her princess, she would happily destroy herself just to see that radiant smile on her lady’s face. “You seem to have a bit of a knack for killing in these memories of yours.” Shy tensed up while staring at their wrists. “I said you weren’t coming along.” She growled. “Well my power, my rules. Though I can’t take control as planned sadly, we at least get to do that “parent bonding” stuff we missed out on!” The voices said, almost happy in that regard. “You’re the farthest thing from a parent I’d ever imagine.” Shy spattered out, her teeth grinding in anger.  “And yet you were created from my thoughts. Be grateful, you’d have never met this Owl-” Shy then screamed at the top of her lungs, a flash of green behind her eyepatch once again.

“YOU KEEP HER NAME OFF OF YOUR CURSED TONGUE!” After a few good seconds of nothing, she smirked. The voices have been silenced. Good, she can make the voices stop. Hopefully it stays that way. She softly played with the fabric in her pockets. There’s no way she’s letting her purpose be taken away. No way in hell. “Don’t worry Owl… I’ll be there, I promise you.” She then made her way towards the dungeon exit, ready to save her princess The halls of the dungeon were dark, disgusting, and smelled of scat. The air reeked of acrid must smell  due to the poor ventilation, the unwashed prison cells that haven’t been used since the dark ages. Runes on certain bars and bricks plastered around, magic imbued into the core of the objects.

These prison cells were once used to hold powerful things. All of them now empty and broken down… all except one.. The one that housed the “thing” that gave life to our guard. Shy walked through the putrid halls towards two huge iron doors at the end of the hall, with our last remaining cell. These doors haven’t been guarded in centuries. The human fear of the creature inside taking over the minds of those who are of weak will and of weak mind. Shy then got up to the tall iron doors, putting one hand on the iron doors. The handles of these doors were missing. That doesn’t particularly matter to Shy, after all. “Curses always find a way.” Her hands began to sink into the metal, the doors began to melt and boil on touch, sucking in Shy’s arms burning the woman’s all up her forearm, but she made no movement, only gritted her teeth as droplets of sweat started perspiring down her face and neck. Shy would not fall ill to such a simple pain. Training for personal guards is more intense than the training of normal guards. They had to have a pain tolerance for anything and everything. The woman then pressed her body against the doors. The melted iron started to cover more of her body, the heat of her own armour searing her skin. She then forces the melted iron out of the way, moulding it into a passageway into the cell.

The runes on the inside glowed brightly, almost too brightly, as if the red fires of hell were burning into her eyes.

The creature was trying to set itself free. Slamming its shadowy body against the barrier of the doors, reaching to push through the open passageway, all in a futile attempt to wreak havoc on the world once more. However these runes aren’t from any ordinary magic. They were from the olden times. When magic was more powerful and less tame.After the creature had finally calmed down and realized once again, that it won’t get out, it looked upon its creation. Shy was standing there in the small cell, letting the innate magic heal over the burn scars on her arms, torso, body, and face. The sizzling skin came to a halt to allow her to heal over the formed blisters of heat. Once she was fully healed up, Shy turned her body to where the creature was mainly placed.

“Creature. I’ve come back. I need you to allow me to use my magic to its fullest.” A cackling of voices could be heard from all around the room, meant to disorient. Then the voices all piled together in order to speak. “You come to me, after 26 years, and ask for something. You never once visited me since I gave you life… You are so ungrateful to me.” The voice rattled the room walls.the runes glow had died down, but they were still very much heavy with magic. “I had no reason to visit a curse.” Responded Shy, her voice sharp and filled with malice towards the creature.

“You say that like you’re not one yourself.” The creature mocked.

A sharp intake of breath was heard, before Shy then exclaimed. “The king said curses are just corrupted blessings. He said "I was not yet a curse”” Shy let the venom spit out of her mouth. She valued the king’s words, perhaps to a naive degree. More cackles could be heard, the voices condensing once again to retort. “The king was a fool. His words mean nothing now that he’s dead.” The voices laughed and mocked, expecting their creation to fall to their knees in defeat like so many before. Shy could find no humor in its speech, nor reason to give in.  “I’ll support your request, but you’re just a child compared to most cursed creatures or even the blessed beings. And if you’re so righteous as the king said, this will hurt a lot.” The creature giggled and the voice split into one voice, then changed back to only two before two shadow creatures formed on either side of the room. “Are you sure you want this?” Said the one on the right side of the room. “You’ll be considered a monster to all.” Chuckled the creature to the left of Shy.  “Your head will be priceless.” They said in unison. “If anyone learns of your activation you’ll be killed on sight.” The voices grew louder, more insistent on making Shy feel weak and helpless. All curses seem to have that in common. Making the neutral, or lesser feel even worse, feeding on their negativity.

“Enough with the empty words and tell me how I make it happen.” Shy sharply interjected, stamping her foot on the ground in anger, like a child demanding a toy. The voices giggled as the shadow creatures walked around Shy in a circle, like lions to a gazelle, yet the woman showed no fear in her stance or eyes. Only hatred. “Impatient are we? Looking for something important.” The voices chuckled, noticing Shy tense. A crack in Shy’s armor. A slight dart of the eyes. That’s all the creature needed. “So it is so? Oh. It’s been a while. Well you won’t be able to control your curse-” “it’s magic.” Shy cut off, much to the creature’s annoyance. “... magic… without proper guidance. Let us become the… good and bad thoughts of your mind. Let us merge with you. We’ll be able to guide you. Help you, and your item will be returned to your hands and belong to you. Do we have a deal?” Shy let out a harsh laugh that made the creatures step back.

“No. That’s not the deal. The deal is that you will stay here. I don’t need your help.”

The creatures stared at her before bursting into giggles like children. “Oh don’t make me laugh child. You’ll tear yourself to shreds the first time you try using the power without us to guide you.”

Shy looks at them with that cold look she had given the guard earlier, if a curse could die, that look might as well have killed it. “And the “guidance” is full control of my body and mind right? You think I’d take a deal like that.” The creatures stifled, their creation caught onto their plans. Clever little thing. A new vessel will be needed. They’ll let this one tear itself apart with the “magic” of their bones. “Fine. You may have the power. If you die, we’ll just make you again in a few centuries.” Shy rolls her eyes, not caring for the sass the creatures were giving her. “Wow, what a kind creator.” The creature chuckles, the two shadow beings walking towards Shy and taking a part of her arms. “If it hurts, you truly are the blessing extracted from the curse as that fool of a king said.” The shadow creatures held up her arms, high, and then lunged and bit down hard onto Shy’s wrists, tearing through the flesh, oily like substance dripping from Shy’s fingers onto the ground, pooling around her feet, her “blood” if you could call it that. injecting some sort of venom into the woman’s wrists. Shy let out a piercing scream, and it rattled the room.

The runes glowed brighter than Shy could have ever imagined, all they saw was red. And then the shadow creatures were gone. Whispers in the dark. They lied to her and became a part of her. Shy had already sniffed out their plan and wouldn’t let them have control over her body, but her thoughts were just fine. Shy groaned in pain, gripping onto her left wrist oozing its thick oily black blood running down her fingers and onto the ground. Staggering out of the cell, the doors molding back to their original placement. She was finally ready to save her. Because for her princess, she would happily destroy herself just to see that radiant smile on her lady’s face. “You seem to have a bit of a knack for killing in these memories of yours.” Shy tensed up while staring at their wrists. “I said you weren’t coming along.” She growled. “Well my power, my rules.

Though I can’t take control as planned sadly, we at least get to do that “parent bonding” stuff we missed out on!” The voices said, almost happy in that regard. “You’re the farthest thing from a parent I’d ever imagine.” Shy spattered out, her teeth grinding in anger.  “And yet you were created from my thoughts. Be grateful, you’d have never met this Owl-” Shy then screamed at the top of her lungs, a flash of green behind her eyepatch once again. “YOU KEEP HER NAME OFF OF YOUR CURSED TONGUE!” After a few good seconds of nothing, she smirked. The voices have been silenced. Good, she can make the voices stop. Hopefully it stays that way.

She softly played with the fabric in her pockets.

There’s no way she’s letting her purpose be taken away.

No way in hell.

“Don’t worry Owl… I’ll be there, I promise you.” She then made her way towards the dungeon exit, ready to save her princess.