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Chapter Text

14 Juno, 1361

City of Dalia

Southern Kenettra

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

“Maybe you could get me out of here.”

I sit silently, ignoring the voice from the cell next to mine. 

“What do you think? Break me out?” 

His words dissolve into laughter, and I wonder how long the boy has been locked up to have gone mad in this way. Me, a Young Elite. I could almost laugh with him. 

I try again to summon my power, despite it all. Summon the dark, bloody silhouettes I had used to kill my father. Just as every time I have tried since that night, nothing happens. 

I remain silent, accepting the defeat. What could a few silhouettes do to help me now, even if I did summon them? I doubt an illusion could turn a key in a lock. I am doomed, Elite or not. Condemned to death, to be burned at the stake in just a few short hours. My time has come to an end.

Even with thoughts like these, the pace of my heart quickens at the sound of footsteps on the staircase, coming towards my cell. I wince at the grating sound of my cell door being pushed open, and scramble back. But the Inquisitors don’t come forward to grab me. They don’t even look at me. 

“She’s gone!”

What?

One of the Inquisitors backs into the hall to take a look at the other cells, and I hear the lock of the next one squeaking as it turns. “This one too!”

I frown. That made no sense. The boy in the cell next to mine spoke to me just a few hours ago, and no one else had been down here since. I hadn’t seen anyone pass in front of my cell, which he would have had to do to get to the stairs if he’d truly escaped. He must still be there. 

I hear the other door creak open wider, and another Inquisitor from my cell goes to search the other one. I sit silently still, not understanding why they cannot see me but not willing to alert them of my presence by speaking. I stare at the Inquisitors searching my cell. 

I watch them closely. So closely that I notice when a small key from the belt of the one closer to me vanishes into thin air.

My eye widens, and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. It’s a good thing my hand is still there when I feel a touch on my shackled wrist. 

My fingernails dig into the skin of my cheek as the clearly newer, and thus quieter, locks of both the shackles fall open and are set carefully on the floor. I do none of this. I do not see any person, but looking very carefully at the air in front of me I can see it rippling. A shifting, false image of an empty dungeon. 

An illusion.

A feel a hand cover my hand, that is already covering my mouth. The touch lifts slightly, hesitating, then moves instead to my other wrist, pulling me to my feet, and then towards the door, moving past the Inquisitors without touching them. I allow myself to be dragged up the stairs, passing three levels of dungeons before emerging into the polished white marble of the Inquisition Tower’s ground level. 

I hear the dull roar of a great crowd outside the door in front of me. It must be the crowd that’s turned out for my execution. My heart glows with spite at the thought they’ve come here for nothing. I am not going to die today.

I stop walking, and do not wince when my riding boots squeak on the floor with resistance to being pulled. 

I am not going to die today.

I feel another tug on my arm. I look up, but still see no one. The hand on my wrist tugs one more time, before I hear an impatient whisper -

“Do you want to stay in here?”

I blink, then shake my head, forgetting I am invisible. He seems to see me anyway, though, as he pulls again, and this time I follow. 

We do not go toward the main entrance where the crowd waits, but instead back around the staircase, through a short hallway, and to a plain, unassuming door. It opens seemingly of it’s own accord, and we exit into a back ally. 

We do not stop there, weaving through further allies and behind further buildings, around in the direction of the ports. 

It is when I can smell the sea air of the docks, and the Inquisition Tower is a distant mark on the mid day horizon, that we stop running, and the illusion painting us finally falls away. I see a boy, the same age as I am, let go of my wrist and lean against the wall, slowly sliding down it until he is sitting on the ground. He is laughing, heartily, the same mad laugh that had pestered me from beyond my cell. 

“It is you,” I say, staring down at the boy. I wait until his laughter has died down into breathy chuckles to continue.

“Why did you save me?”

He looks up at me, and I see his eyes. They are an unearthly gold. A marking.

He is a malfetto, just like me.

He stares at me with a half-smile for a moment, before it falls away entirely.

“You saved me,” he answers, in a quiet voice that doesn’t sound mad at all. 

“What?” I ask. He doesn’t answer for another moment, studying me. I study him, too. 

He has dark brown skin, and dark hair pulled into braids that have begun to fray and unravel from being imprisoned so long. He wears a cloak around his shoulders, that is still wet from the sick moisture of the dungeons. I’m sure my clothes are no better. I can see part of the clothes he wears under it, made of a foreign cloth - silks, I would say, from the Sunlands, equally tarnished by the dungeons. 

“You are a Young Elite. You have the power to create illusions, to make people see things that are not there,” He tilts his head, “Or, to make people not see things that are there.”

I shake my head. “But I did not do that, you did!”

He nods. “But I could not have done it without you. You saved both our lives.”

I frown at him, the cogs turning in my head. Finally, I arrive at the answer. “You used my power.”

He shrugs in acknowledgement.

“You used my power?” I have a power. Silhouettes were only the beginning. I can trick the eyes in any manner, if this boy is to be believed. Perhaps the other senses, too.

I recoil in on myself, for a moment, hugging my elbows. All the hateful words I have heard throughout my life, from my father, from strangers, from the Inquisitors these past few weeks, go running through my head. Demon. Abomination. It is true. I am a malfetto with demonic powers.

If it were not for these powers, I would be dead.

If it were not for these powers, I would not have been marked for death in the first place.

True, I think, I would not have been marked for death. I would have been dragged home by my father and sold as a mistress to settle his debts. 

I turn back to the boy, and look into his gold eyes. He must be an Elite too. An Elite with the power to control others’ powers. 

He stares at me for one more moment. Then he sighs, looks both ways down the narrow side street we’ve stopped on, and stands up. 

“I wouldn’t usually offer this, but I do owe you a life debt.” He pauses. “The Inquisition will be after both of us. I need to get out of this city, this country, now. If you would like, you can come with me. Or, you can go on your own way.”

I stare at him. Go with him? A stranger, who I’d met in prison. 

Who’d saved my life. 

In all my time, I’d never thought of leaving Kenettra - my goal had been to travel to it’s capital, to Estenzia. But the boy is not wrong. The Inquisition is strongest in Estenzia, and if they find me I’ll find myself tied to a stake and burning, just as I was meant to today. 

I hear distant, hurried footsteps down the road, and I can tell the boy hears them too. He glances worriedly in that direction. “Hurry, love. Yes or no.”

I glance that way too. The footsteps grow louder, and I see a silhouette turning the corner. I turn quickly to the boy, and hold out my hand to him. 

“Yes.”

He takes my hand. Now that I’m expecting it, I notice the faint tug - something being pulled from the pools of darkness just out of my reach. 

This time, as quickly as we vanish from sight, we reappear. 

I look to the boy in confusion, but he is wincing, with his hand on his abdomen, as if he’d been struck there. The footsteps sound nearly upon us now, and I turn to face whoever has arrived at the same time I hear the shout. 

“Adelina!”  

My name. And suddenly a shaking, crying girl is upon me, her arms around my shoulders and her face on my chest. She is sweating, and gasping, and I don’t know if her shortness of breath is from running or crying. Both, I think.

She hugs me tighter, and my arms move around her, instinctively. I can’t believe my eye. “Violetta?”

The boy blinks, watching us. He lifts an eyebrow at me. “Who is this?”

I look to him, then back at her. “My little sister. Violetta-” I pause, tilting my sisters chin up and looking into her eyes. “How did you find us here?”

Violetta steps away from me. She sniffs, then wipes her eyes. “I- I was already at the Inquisition Tower. I went to - to beg the Lead Inquisitor for your life. Then I - I felt you moving out of the tower, and I thought that meant they were taking you to your execution, but you kept getting farther away and I realized you must have escaped! But you had a head start and you ran faster than me - I’ve been chasing after you all day, oh-” She buries her face in my shoulder, hugging me again. “Mi Adelinetta, I’m so happy you’re okay, I’m so happy you’re alive, please, please forgive me.”

I stroke my sister’s face, tracing the faint remnants of the dark bruise I’d seen on her cheek the last time we met. When she betrayed me to the Inquisition. When she helped them find me. How had she found me now? What had she meant- how had she ‘felt’ me?

The rest of her words settle on me. She came to beg for my life? I look down at Violetta, clinging to my shoulders as if she was a small child again. My eyes land again on the bruise, and something dark stirs in me at the thought of someone laying a hand on my sister. 

“Can my sister come with us?” I ask, looking back at the boy.

He makes a dismissive gesture. “Sure. But we need to go.” His eyes dart to both ends of the street again, lingering on the path that leads towards the docks. “Surely the Inquisition can run faster than a little girl. We need to get out of here.”

Violetta looks curiously at the boy, then back at me. “Who is this? Where are we going?”

“This-” I pause, realizing I do not know the boy’s name. “He helped me escape from the dungeons. We’re leaving the country.” 

Her eyes widen, looking between me and the boy again. Then she nods. 

I take the boy’s hand again, and Violetta yelps as all three of us vanish from sight. I can feel both her arms wrapped around one of mine surely as I feel the boy’s hand in my own, as the three of us hurry down the street toward the docks. 

***

Night falls. I can see the shore of Dalia shrinking out of a porthole. The three of us sit among bags of vegetables and sacks of grain below decks on a trade ship bound for Merroutas. 

Not an outgoing ship, the boy had said as we studied the boats on the docks. A ship with a Kenettran captain would be loyal to the Inquisition. We need a ship that is going home.

The boy seems tired. Working so much magic seems to have worn him out. Like my sister, he lies back on a few relatively comfortable-looking sacks of grain. I sit up straight, staring intently at him. 

“It shouldn’t be a long trip,” he says, not looking directly at us. He fills the time fixing his braids, but he seems discontented, like he’s missing something he would usually have. “Even with the Falls of Laetes to maneuver around, Dalia is the easiest city in Kenettra to reach Merroutas from. Good weather and we should be there in no more than a week.”

“Thank you, for helping us,” Violetta says. She seems tired as well. 

We’d had a talk, privately, after we were safely onto the ship and away from prying eyes. It was then that she’d confessed the truth to me. The reason I hadn’t been able to use my powers before, the reason the boy’s grip on them had suddenly slipped as she had appeared- my delicate, unmarked little sister was an Elite malfetto, just like me. Like the boy, she only had power when around others with powers. She could not control other abilities, however- only rip them away entirely. She could sense abilities, as well- this was how she’d followed me from the Inquisition Tower. 

The boy hums in acknowledgement of Violetta’s thanks, glancing up at her, but doesn’t say anything. 

“What is your name?” I ask, still staring sharply at the boy.

He raises an eyebrow at me, then sits up. “Have we not been properly introduced?” 

He tilts his head thoughtfully, as if it hadn’t occurred to him, but I’m sure it had. He holds my stare a moment before answering, “Magiano.”

I blink, and Violetta sits up. “Magiano?” Violetta asks, eyes wide, “The Magiano?”

The boy smiles at her wonderment, before lieing back. “Just Magiano.”

Magiano was the most infamous Elite of them all, moreso than The Reaper or The Messenger or The Windwalker. The stories about him may as well have been legends. I narrow my eye. “You’re not Magiano.”

He smiles brightly, raising his eyebrows. “Oh? Are you, then?”

I narrow my eye further, and he just laughs before turning away. Perhaps he is Magiano. His ability to mimic powers would make the stories about him having everything from the ability to control the weather to the ability to turn cloth into gold make sense. 

"I don't believe you've introduced yourself either, my love," he says, looking back at me. 

I drop my antagonistic expression and consider this. 

"Adelina Amouteru," I say, nodding towards him. 

He smiles again, and it is not the amused smile he'd worn a moment before. "Then, Adelina. You and your sister should get some rest." He lies back down on the sacks, and once again moves as if to grab something before realizing it is not there. He closes his eyes. "I hope neither of you are prone to seasickness."

Chapter Text

18 Juno, 1361

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Enzo Valenciano 

“I lost her.”

Enzo sweeps into Raffaele’s chamber as soon as he answers the door. Mid day sun shines in through the window, and the blue strands of his Messenger’s hair stand out in the light. Raffaele bows, and Enzo closes the door behind him. 

Mild surprise is evident on Raffaele’s face. Enzo knows he had not been expected back in the city so early. “Your Highness?” 

“Adelina Amouteru. I didn’t find her.” Enzo takes a seat in a cushioned chair near the bed, and Raffaele sits with him. 

It is the first time they’ve seen each other face to face since he sent Raffaele searching for Elites in Southern Kenettra, three months ago. Raffaele had returned to Estenzia as soon as he confirmed Adelina’s location and sent word to Enzo, who’d left immediately for Dalia. He had not been expected to return for quite a few more days, but he had ended up with much less to do and much less to carry with him than anticipated. 

Enzo finds his gaze lingering on Raffaele’s face. He’s missed him. He still has the note he’d written, their latest correspondence, concealed in his armguard. 

Raffaele frowns. “Had the Inquisition already killed her?”

Enzo shakes his head. “Her burning never happened. I was there waiting in the crowd, but she was never brought out. Eventually the Inquisitors came out to usher everyone out of the square and back to their daily business,” he says, “She escaped. The Inquisition is still looking for her. I lingered a day to see if they’d find her, but there was no trace.”

“She broke herself out, on her own?” Raffaele asks.

“It seems as though her powers are more developed than we’d originally thought,” Enzo replies.

Raffaele considers this. “Would you like me to go back out and find her again?”

“No,” Enzo says, “It’s more than likely she’s fled Kenettra. I don’t want you leaving the country right now.” Enzo folds his hands together. “I need you by my side for what’s to come next. I would have preferred to add another to our numbers before making our move, but there is no time to do it before our best opening closes. We will have to make our move without Adelina.”

Raffaele nods. 

He seems to notice the hesitation on Enzo’s face, as he adds, “We won’t need her. We’ll be ready.”

Enzo nods once. 

He has faith in his existing Daggers. They can succeed.

Enzo rises to leave.

“Welcome back, Your Highness.”

Enzo pauses. “And you, Raffaele.”

Chapter Text

21 Juno, 1361

City-State of Merroutas

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"Why can you use my powers when I cannot?" I grumble, as we sit on the deck of the ship, the shore of Merroutas fast approaching.

We sit in the shadowy corner, out of the general line of sight, with only a mild illusion around us. I can see Magiano and my sister sitting beside me just fine.

Magiano shrugs, pulling a small illusion of a blue ribbon through the air in front of him. It grows longer as he pulls it, one end unmoving. "I'm not using your power, my love. I'm using my power to copy your power."

I glare at the ribbon in the air, and tug futilely at my own energy.

"How does it work? How do you know how to control it so well you could paint us invisible on your first try?" I had been trying to access my own powers the entire week we'd been sailing, with no luck. Violetta had sworn to me she was no longer suppressing my energy, and had even tried moving to the other end of the ship to make sure she wasn't doing anything unconsciously. Nothing.

Magiano hums. He seems more at ease, now that we are far away from Kenettra. "You may be surprised to know, the use of most powers is quite the same. Be it calling fire, moving objects across the room, or painting an illusion, it all involves the same thing. Reaching out for the strings that make up the world," he lets the ribbon disappear, seeming to unravel as it does. He then opens his hand, and as he closes it the colors seem to briefly fade out of the ship around us. "And pull them, together or apart. Grab hold of them, and focus. Change what is there into what you want to be there."

When his hand is closed back into a solid fist, the colors rush startlingly back into the world, in a different order than they were before. I hear my sister gasp.

We are no longer sitting on the deck of a ship, but the roof of a temple overlooking the desert. I can feel the warm stone underneath me, and the sun beating down from above. The desert stretches out for miles around us, and various other buildings of the same architecture dot the landscape.  

I do not recognize this place, but I think it must be in the Sunlands.

I stare at the unending blue sky. It seems so real. I can feel the desert wind on my face. 

Slowly, the illusion falls away, and the sands in the distance turn back into ocean.

Magiano leans back against the deck’s railing, humming a song I do not recognize. I stare at him, expressionless. 

I should have been the one doing that. I want to be the one doing that. I want control of my own power.

I try and do as he said. I reach out to the world, to it’s energy, to the glints of color I can see when I close my eye, and pull. I open my own hand, and pull my fingers closed again, dragging with them what I can feel of the strings. 

The air in front of me shifts, and Violetta and Magiano both look over.

It seems to be another ribbon, at first, a white one, where Magiano’s had been blue. But it begins to wrap in on itself, circling and folding until it becomes something else. I will a green line to appear underneath it, and to my satisfaction, and mild surprise, it does. I narrow my eye at it, and it bulks up, becoming three dimensional, a green stock with two leaves complimenting a white blossom. A white rose.

“Well,” Magiano says, staring at the flower. He is smiling. “Congratulations. You can do it.” 

Violetta looks at me, then reaches out to touch it. I have not added the illusion of touch to the flower, and her hand passes right through. 

“There is more work to be done, certainly, but it proves that you can use your own power,” Magiano says.

I look back up at him, not letting my rose fall away. I think of his desert illusion, the stone and the wind and the heat. I want to be able to do these things. I want to change entire landscapes with my energy. I want him to teach me to master my power. 

There is a call from the other side of the decks, and the three of us look up. We are pulling up to the docks. The ship's crew begins carrying sacks up from below decks, and preparing a gangplank to unload their cargo. 

Magiano and Violetta stand up, and I follow them, reluctantly letting go of my rose. Magiano solidifies the illusion hiding us, and I feel a slight ping of envy, as we hurry down the gangplank and towards the city.

***

"You should not run in to trouble," Magiano says as we enter the city's main square, "As long as you do not cause it. The Night King detests malfettos, but he does not go out of his way to make us suffer like the Inquisition Axis does. Keep a reasonable distance from him and his men, and you should be fine."

Something about the way he says this makes me frown. Violetta realizes it before I do. 

"Will you not be with us?" she asks.

He looks to her in surprise, then to me. His posture shifts at our genuine confusion. "I agreed to help you get out of danger. The Inquisition will not follow you into foreign territory. You are free to go on your own way."

"What if we don't want to?" I ask.

He stares at me for another moment, then smiles with an emotion I can't quite place. He shakes his head. "I work alone, my love. You'll do fine on your own," his eyes wander to Violetta, "You aren't alone, after all."

I don't know if he's using my own power against me, or if it's just the nature of the square's thick, bustling crowd, but in a moment, he's disappeared from sight.

I step forward to follow him, but stop when Violetta touches my arm. She purses her lips, looking briefly off to the side, then back at me. "We should think about finding accommodations first, if we're going to stay here."

I frown at her, thinking of all the things I'd thought of doing only moments ago. Things I cannot hope to do without his help. 

"We'll be able to find him again, if we need to," Violetta says, and I almost ask what she means before I remember her powers. She can sense him. It's possible she knows where he is in the crowd right now. 

I look out into the sea of people. This is not over, I think, as if he can hear me.

But she is right. We should worry about ourselves first. 

"Do you have any money with you?" I ask.

She nods. "A little. Enough to cover us for a couple of days, I think. What about you?"

"No," I say. The Inquisition confiscated the money I'd had when I'd been arrested. 

My sister begins to move forward into the crowd, and I am glad that she holds onto my arm. I wouldn't want to lose her, too.

"We'll figure something out," she says.

As she studies the names of various shops lining the square, I look down at my hand, and focus. Change what is there, into what you want.

Reality shifts in my palm, and leaves in its place a decent facsimile of a golden talent. 

"Indeed we will," I say. 

Chapter Text

19 Luglio, 1361

City-State of Merroutas

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"Adelina," I hear my sister say, touching my arm. Her eyes are locked somewhere in the distant crowd.

We stand once again in Merroutas's main square, weaving through the regular evening crowds. She is dressed nicely, as I am, in a Tamouran headwrap and silk gown.

We have been doing well for ourselves in the four weeks we have been living in Merroutas, greatly do to my progressing control over my illusions. I have been working on imitating money, and have managed to swap the real things for fakes consistently enough that we now wear real jewels on our sleeves, and gold rings on our fingers.

I have managed to create other things in this time, as well. I've imitated trees and bushes, multiplied the facets or bands of the various jewelry we now own. I've worked specifically hard on trying to imitate people, and faces. For a while I would stare at myself in the mirror and work to copy the whole side of my face over the broken one. I do this now, making myself look unmarked as my sister.

I follow Violetta's eyes, and see nothing but a small crowd seemingly gathered to play a game. I turn to her. "What is it?"

She looks back at me. Her expression is contemplative, as if she wonders whether it was a good idea to mention whatever she sees.

Finally, she says, "It's him."

I freeze where I stand, looking quickly back over to the game. Of course, I know exactly who she means.

"In the crowd?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the game, searching the assembled gamblers.

"Somewhere near there. I recognize his energy," she frowns.

We have not run into Magiano in all our weeks on Merroutas. We had begun to suspect he'd moved on from the island, but Violetta continued to occasionally sense his energy, very distantly, and without an identifiable source. This is the first time we've been in the same place since he parted ways with us.

"Come on," I say, pulling Violetta toward the assembled crowd.

I push myself to the front, and Violetta follows me. 

"Is he disguising himself?" I ask quietly. 

She shakes her head. "He is not drawing on your power. But he is here."

I study the faces in the crowd closely. As far as I can tell, there are no other malfettos here. No golden eyes. 

The game is about to begin. I recognize it- it is a shell game, where one picks three stones from an assorted twelve and bets on where they will end up after they are spun around under cups. Gamblers around us urge us to bet or move away from the front of the crowd. I turn back to Violetta. 

"You're sure he's here?"

"We're right on top of him," she says. 

I pull two golden talents out of my purse and hand them to the operator - a person with a long dottore mask obscuring all of their face, dressed in colorful, elegant silks. "For both of us," I say, gesturing to Violetta. 

The operator does not miss a beat before dropping our money with the rest of the pot. Violetta and I choose our stones to bet on. She watches them curiously for a moment before deciding on nightstone, sapphire, and opal. I barely glance over them, still focused on the people around us. I choose diamond, amber and roseite, the first stones that catch my eye. 

I do not watch the operator spin the cups, turning to the people a distance outside of the gambling circle. Perhaps Violetta was a few paces off.

"Four, five, and seven," my sister calls out her bet. She seems to be genuinely interested, her eyes not leaving the gambling table.

"One, two, and three," I say distractedly, frustration beginning to bubble up inside of me. I don't see him.

I turn to my sister to ask whether he is still not using my power to hide himself, but she does not meet my gaze. She is still studying the game, and as I watch, the operator is turning over the first cup. Amber. I've gotten one, but I am more interested in my sister's interest in the game. 

I lean over the table at the cups, and watch the hand moving to turn over the second cup. A dark brown hand, I realize.

My eye darts up to the eye slits of the dottore mask. 

Squinting through them, I see dark pupils, irises the color of a golden talent, and the light of recognition. 

His mask keeps me from seeing his mouth, but I can see his amused smile in my mind. There is interest in his eyes, as well, a curiosity. Perhaps he is wondering how we found him, or if we've happened upon each other by chance. 

I nearly say his name, in front of all these people. Instead, I turn my attention back to the game. I need to keep that interest. I need to make sure he is not going to disappear again before I can talk to him. Just as he begins to overturn the second cup, I focus on the air beneath it, and pull. 

What would have been prase quartz appears as roseite, red as blood. His hand on the cup tenses. He can sense what I'm doing. The amusement leaves his eyes, replaced by a mild annoyance. I stare levelly back at him, the beginnings of a smile on my face.

He turns over the third cup, and the kunzite underneath it appears to all around us as diamond. I've won. 

There are shouts of disbelief from the crowd around us, accusations of trickery. A few people take steps toward us. I stiffen. 

"Disperse," comes a voice. One of the men who'd been betting stares down the rest of the crowd with authority. It is only when they notice the emblem on his sleeve that the crowd shrinks away, doing as he says. 

The operator's mask is pulled away, revealing Magiano's irritated face. "What was that for?"

I blink, before realizing he means the game. All of the other gamblers' money sits piled on the table, and Magiano does not touch it. He is peeved that I've cheated him out of his winnings.

"You can keep your money," I say, and he huffs, clutching his purse.
"Yes I can keep my money, you cheated."

"Were you not cheating?" Violetta asks.

Magiano rolls his eyes. "I was absolutely cheating, but it was my game. That was the point."

"This is the girl you've told me about?" 

Violetta and I look up in surprise. It is the same man who'd dismissed the crowd. One of the Night King's men. 

"A friend of yours?" Violetta asks, at the same time I say "You've talked about us?"

"He's talked about you," the man says, his eyes on me. 

Magiano shoots the man an annoyed look. Violetta looks between the two of them nervously.

"I thought you told us to stay away from the Night King's men?" she asks.

Magiano looks at her a moment, before shaking his head. "This isn't just one of the Night King's men."

Before she can ask what he means, he turns back to me. "What do you want, my love?"

There is a subtle impatience in his voice that reminds me of when he was leading me out of the Inquisition Tower. 

"I wanted to talk to you," I say.

"Well, here we are, talking," he taps his fingers on the table.

I frown, looking over the crowded square. "Perhaps we could go somewhere more private."

He sighs an exasperated breath and looks to the side. 

"I'd like to to talk to her, too," the other man says. I look briefly at him. He is studying me with with a look that makes me want to ask him what he's thinking. 

Magiano looks at him. "I don't-"

"You can keep the entire pot, if you talk with us," I say. Magiano stops talking. He looks down at the gamblers' money. 

"Would have gotten it in the first place if you hadn't interrupted," he mutters, but the annoyance in the words is halfhearted. 

He looks briefly to the man, then to Violetta, and then he stares at me, for a long moment. Finally, the smile returns to his face.

"Alright," he sweeps the pile of gold coins into his purse, and gestures to a path leading out of the square, "Let's talk."

***

We enter into a private sitting room, a few blocks outside of the main square. The other man has come with us, and as we sit, Magiano tosses him a few of the talents we'd given him.

"Who is this?" Violetta asks Magiano, looking warily at the stranger. 

Magiano simply looks at the other man, who considers us before answering, "Sergio."

"And why is he here?" I ask. I'd wanted to talk to Magiano alone. 

"Because he's paranoid," Magiano answers this time. Sergio shoots him a look.

"And, he lives here," Magiano continues. I frown up at the room around us. So, he's taken us to another man's home. 

"He's not going to follow her here," Magiano says, speaking to Sergio now.

Sergio pauses for a moment, a sour look on his face, with an undercurrent of something I recognize. Fear. Then, he turns to us. "Has he?"

I stare for a moment, then look to my sister. She is confused as I am. "Who?"

"You see?" Magiano says.

"Who are you talking about?" I ask, growing annoyed. 

Magiano glances up at Sergio, then back at me. "The Reaper."

Violetta and I stare in silence. The Reaper is another famed Elite, rumored to have the ability to call fire from thin air. He is more famous in Kenettra than in other places, as most sightings of him happen within it's borders. 

"...Do all the famous Elites know each other?" Violetta asks after a moment. 

Magiano blinks at her, then bursts out into laughter. 

It must be a solid minute before his laughter dies down enough for him to speak. There are tears glistening in his eyes.

"I've never met him in person," Magiano says, finally. "He was there at the Inquisition Tower in Dalia, the day we escaped. I could sense his powers there, right outside the front entrance, when we reached the aboveground."

Magiano leans back. "We think he was there to spirit you away into his exclusive club of Elites, based up in Estenzia."

"The Dagger Society," Sergio says, clear dislike in his voice. 

I look curiously at him. A group of Young Elites, working together? How many do they number? What goals do they pursue? 

Why do Magiano and Sergio seem so mistrustful of them?

"I assume you are familiar with them?" I ask Sergio, narrowing my eye with interest. 

Sergio grimaces, and doesn't answer for a long moment. He looks to Magiano, who simply shrugs. 

"They tried to recruit me. A little more than a year ago," he finally answers.

"You are an Elite?" I ask, suddenly more interested. I look him up and down, searching for a marking.

He sees me looking, and briefly tugs down the collar of his shirt, revealing the beginning of a large, dark grey patch on his otherwise bronze skin. 

"My eyes were brown, before, too," he says. Looking into his face, his eyes are now the same thundercloud grey as his other marking. Grey is not an uncommon eye color, though, and would not immediately tip someone off that he is marked. 

"What do you do?" my sister asks, staring intently at him. I wonder if she is observing his Elite energy. 

"I call the rain," he says. He speaks quickly now, as if reluctant to recall. "I could not do it well, at the time they found me. I spent a year and six months with them, and none of them could teach me to access my power. Eventually they decided I would never be able to use my power, and that since I was no longer of use to them, I needed to be gotten rid of." There is a deep bitterness in his voice. "I thought they were going to kill me. One day The Reaper poisoned me into unconsciousness, and I awoke on a ship headed south. He'd left a note, saying that if I ever thought to expose them, or return to them, he would kill me."

The story leaves a morbid silence in the room. 

"How did you learn to use your powers, if even other Elites could not teach you?" I ask.

"He got a better teacher," Magiano says, smiling. 

Sergio rolls his eyes at him.

"I figured out how to use his powers through mine, and in exchange for my help learning to use them, he's kept the Night King's goons-" Sergio narrows his eyes, and Magiano raises his hands- "Other goons, off my trail.

"That is what you want, isn't it, my love?" he says, looking back at me. I blink.

"That is why you wanted to find me again. You want help with your powers," he clarifies. 

I pause a moment, considering what to say. I simply nod. 

Magiano tilts his head at me, still smiling. "The thing is, my love, you don't have anything to offer me."

I press my lips together. That is not a no. That is the start of a negotiation. I just need to come up with something he wants. 

"Of course she does," my sister says, surprising all of us. 

He raises both eyebrows at her, and purses his lips. "And what would that be?"

She stays silent for a long moment, considering what she is going to say.

Finally, she speaks. "You are an Elite. You draw on the powers of others. Among others, you could best them all," she pauses, "But, alone, you are powerless. You would have died in Dalia if my sister had not been with you. That could happen again, and you know it. You've let us come back to you for a reason. You don't want her to go."

Magiano's smile has fallen away, and he stares ahead at us seriously. He does not object. 

I have to stare at my sister in wonder for a moment. She is brilliant. 

"You can draw on my power as much as you like," I say, "If you help me to wield it as well as you can. I want to master my own abilities. I want power," I stare into his eyes, "And so do you."

Magiano stares back at me, intensely. I do not look away.

"Undo that," he mutters, after a moment, still not looking away. It takes me a moment to realize what he means, but I am so caught up that I do not hesitate once I do. I let the illusion over my face fall away, revealing my silver lashes and my scarred eye. He has already seen them, after all, when we first met.

After what feels like a very long time, he extends his hand. I take it.

He still does not look away from me. "A deal."

Chapter Text

27 Agosto, 1361

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Giulietta Valenciano

“Malfetto!”

“Demoness!”

“Abomination!”

The crowd roars as the three riders make their second lap around the Estenzia arena. Giulietta smiles lightly at the insults being called at one of them, a malfetto girl of noble enough blood Giulietta’s husband had scoffed at the idea of disqualifying her. The girl is pulling ahead, and for every inch she gains the crowd grows louder.

To Giulietta’s disappointment, the geers and insults are evenly matched, if not outnumbered by, shouts of support. Most from the city’s green quarter, and many from the gold quarter, which had not placed in the qualifying tournament, call out their support to the malfetto. Even a few from the others. Giulietta does not let her negative opinions show on her face - she is the queen, she knows how to keep herself composed. Still, with every cheer for the malfetto, a faint anxiety tugs at the back of her mind. 

Keeping malfettos hated serves her a very specific purpose. She had nurtured the rumors of the fever’s victims being cursed, bad luck, even demonic, as soon as she heard them. The fever had been the will of the gods, she knew, a gift to her, to recompense the travesty of her younger sibling being born a boy. They gave her the tool she needed to raise herself onto the throne, and she had used it to her full capacity. 

She nearly grimaces as the malfetto rider nears the finish line, placed just under the balcony where she sits with her husband. She is going to win. 

Her husband simply shouts along with the crowd, downing his third glass of wine. He cheers for the red quarter’s rider to catch up, not paying the girl much attention. 

The race is not even close. The malfetto rider is ahead of the others by nearly an entire lap when she crosses the end mark a final time. She hops up to stand on the back of her horse, smiling cheerfully and raising her hands above her head in triumph. Then she seems to jump, and Giulietta thinks briefly that jumping up and down on a horse’s back cannot be good for it, before realizing the girl has not come back down. 

She is seemingly carried by a strong wind, up, up, and up, until she lands with both feet planted on the railing of the king and queens’ balcony. 

Giulietta looks up into the girl’s eyes, now only a few feet in front of her. There is a deep emotion there, something like a reluctance to do something that is both wrong and necessary. It dissolves as Giulietta watches, and the happy young woman she’d seen before now wears a mask of cold non-emotion.  

“Guards!” the king yells furiously, gesturing largely to the guards stationed at either entrance to the balcony. They step forward, and the girl turns her face up to the sky. 

A dark cloud seems to descend, quickly and fiercely, enveloping both guards. It takes Giulietta a moment to realize they are birds, a swarm of them, with sharp beaks and long talons. She can see blurry glimpses of the guards’ bloody, pulped skin as the birds drag them over the side of the railing and away from the arena, at the same moment the malfetto steps down.

She would have been pretty, Giulietta thinks, if not for the ugly purple blotch marking her face. The rest of her skin is a nice dark brown, and her hair is a cool black. 

She pulls something from her skirts, and before Giulietta has time to react, she is being held with a knife at her throat. 

She does grimace, now. The malfetto girl does not actually use the knife, and as she is not dead yet, Giulietta assumes that she is not going to die today.

A hostage negotiation, she thinks. She wonders what these malfettos want from the crown. Money? Rights? She scoffs, in her mind. Her Inquisitors will be down on them in seconds. 

The king, her husband, stumbles back, still shocked by the sight of the guards’ murder. He looks briefly toward Giulietta. She is not surprised in the slightest when he turns and runs towards the closest exit, leaving her to the malfetto’s mercy.

As he reaches the doorway, a large hand wraps around his arm and lifts him into the air, carrying him back into the viewing box. 

The newcomer seems to have simply walked up from somewhere in the rest of the crowd, free to walk right in without any guards in his way. The young man is tall and muscular. His skin is lighter than that of his seeming accomplice, though thick black lines run down his shoulders. Another malfetto.

Giulietta glances impatiently at the arena below. Where are her Inquisitors?

Her eyes widen at the sight she finds. The wind has picked up in a funnel around the royal balcony, carrying any Inquisitors who try and approach up and out of the arena.

The Windwalker, hushed whispers and excited shouts alike reverberate through the arena. Gasps can be heard, as a figure in familiar blue robes and a silver mask appears on the arena’s east wall.

The Inquisitors turn to their crossbows, but what few of the arrows can penetrate the wind simply vanish, into thin air. Another figure appears, on the west wall, this time.

The Architect, the arena hums. The crowd grows louder. 

Finally, two more figures appear, entering the viewing box from the opposite entrance as the other boy. They are dressed in masks and cloaks, the same blue and silver she knows to represent the Daggers. She scowls at them as they make there way to the front of the box, until their backs face the railing. 

She glances only a moment at the the two-colored eyes of one of them, before turning to the other.

And freezing in place.

She knows these eyes. They were the same warm brown as hers, before the fever marked them a midnight black. Red glows in them, now, red like coals. 

Yes, she knows this person. And in an instant, she knows exactly what he is there to do. 

She should be calling for her guards, her Inquisitors. Teren. She can’t move. All that she can feel is the malfetto’s dagger against her neck. 

“Brother,” she manages, finally, in a voice just above a whisper. Her eyes stay on the masked figure. 

“Your Majesty,” he replies, nodding to her. His voice is not the one she remembers. It is deeper than that of the twelve year old boy she banished from the palace. 

He has turned his attention away from her.

“My Spider. My Star Thief,” he says, and the malfetto girl steps away from Giulietta at the same time the malfetto boy throws her husband to the ground. 

He lands on his knees, at her brothers feet. Giulietta curls her lip in distaste, despite the situation.

The man was never fit to be king, and now he would die at the hands of someone with true royal blood. Fitting, she thinks.

Her brother takes the king’s face in his hands, but does not draw a weapon. She watches curiously for a moment, until her husband’s eyes bulge. His skin is reddening, and she sees a light glowing stronger by the second within his throat.

The realization hits her hard, and memories flood her mind, stories shes heard over the years, of noblemen found dead with their skin charred and their limbs torn away and boiling blood pouring from their mouths and she still can’t move-

She tries to calm herself, counting the seconds until her husband’s body stops moving, stops jerking and writhing in agony.

Thirty, sixty, ninety, one hundred-twenty...

She stops counting after three hundred. Her eyes dart to the balcony’s entrances, but they are guarded by the two malfettos. She looks to the balcony’s railing.

It will be quicker, certainly, if she jumps. But she remembers how the first malfetto had reached them, how the winds had carried her to the balcony. Surely, if she jumped, she would be carried right back up. 

She is pulled out of her thoughts as the king finally goes limp on the ground. She does not feel sadness, or remorse. She has thought of doing this many times herself. No, as her brother turns his attention back to her, all that she feels is fear. 

She does not let it show, of course. She is the queen. She keeps herself composed. 

She meets her brother’s eyes again. They stare at each other for a moment, until, finally, her brother raises his chin, and straightens his posture. He pulls a dagger from his cloak.

Her fear spikes again as he comes at her, but she does not feel any heat, only cold metal and warm blood running down her throat and she counts

one

two

thr-  

Her vision fades, into dreams of a dark sea, and a gray sky.

Chapter Text

28 Agosto, 1361

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Enzo Valenciano

"We did it!"

The Star Thief nearly jumps up and down, arriving in the throne room with the other Daggers. "We win!"

She pulls the three closest to her into a hug - Dante, who tenses put does not pull away, Lucent, who smiles, and Michel, who blushes. 

Enzo and Raffaele continue walking the few paces to the actual throne, stopping on either side of it. 

He looks affectionately down at Gemma and the others. It reminds him of the day he'd met her, a fifteen-year-old girl who'd bounced up and down on her heals and asked her father's permission when offered a place in his Society. It feels like so long ago, already. It had only been three years. Three years of fighting and risks and alliances and hopes, and now, finally, it is done. The country is his, and they are all alive. 

She had been the first new addition since he and Raffaele had founded the Dagger Society. He himself had been seventeen at the time, barely of age, taking a huge risk by revealing his identity and powers to someone as powerful and influential as Baron Salvatore and his daughter. 

In the end the Baron's love for his daughter, and his desire for her to live in a world that was safe for her, had outweighed anything he would have stood to gain from selling Enzo out. Raffaele had assured him it would, of course, had felt the Baron's emotions with his powers the moment they arrived. They wouldn't have risked it, otherwise. 

His eyes wander from the other Daggers to Raffaele, standing close to him. His heart stirs with a different kind of affection. Enzo does not think he would have had the courage to do most of the things he has done, without Raffaele's support and wisdom. He had always yearned to take his crown back from his sister, from the moment she cast him out, but he'd never had any idea of actually doing it. Until he met Raffaele. 

He's said himself, he'd been nearly content to wallow in the countryside, hiding his powers for the sake of his own safety, until he met another with such powers. Another Elite. He had gone to the court that night, sneaking into the city he was technically banned from, searching for such people, of course. He had been searching for the better part of five years. He had not genuinely expected to find anyone.

All the times he'd pictured it, he'd imagined someone with powers closer to the vein of his own, over fire. Perhaps one who could control a different element, like Lucent's power over wind.  

But, no. An empath, with the power to feel and change the emotions of others. Enzo had been fascinated, not only by his powers, but by his theories and observations about the Young Elites, the energy that made up their powers, and the world. He was brilliant. There was not a person in the world who knew the things he did. Enzo would never have gotten off the ground, without him. 

If not for his ability to sense the presence of other Elites, they never would have found Gemma, or Dante, or Michel. (Lucent had sought them out herself, requesting to join without having to be asked. But still, without him, there never would have been something to seek out at all.)

No, he would never have achieved much of anything without Raffaele, he thinks. He would still live in exile, and his sister would still rule a country that was not hers.

Now, he is twenty, and stands, once again, in the palace he'd grown up in. His home. He hasn't seen the inside of it in eight years. 

As his Star Thief so eloquently puts it, they've won.

He owes it to all of them. But most of all, he owes it to Raffaele.

The Messenger stares down at the other Daggers with him. It has been less than a day, since their victory, and he already seems more at ease. 

His role in that victory had been less obvious than that of the rest of them, but just as vital.

Once it was clear that the king and queen were dead, he had moved out onto the field of the arena, joined by all five of the other Daggers. The people were in a frenzy, some rising from their seats, others simply screaming to them. When it had seemed a full-on riot might break out, Raffaele had projected his calm over the arena. Enzo had his loyal men stationed at intervals in the crowd to prevent any incident, in case there were those that could not be quelled in this way- but Enzo was glad to say, this had not been necessary. The moment had passed without bloodshed.

Without innocent bloodshed, he should say.

Enzo had addressed the crowd, had made clear that this was not a coup; they were not being conquered. There was no need to be afraid. They had shed their masks and cloaks, and for the first time, the citizens who had feared or revered them for years saw their faces.

The had introduced themselves, each one. Given their real names, in addition to their Elite names. 

You have known me as The Reaper, he'd said, And as Prince Enzo Valenciano. Today, I am neither of these. Like my father before me, I will take my rightful place as your King.

There were plenty in the crowd who would not have stood for that. He might be dealing with riots right now, if the entire assembled population of Estenzia had not come to feel a sudden, deep sense of soothing and safety at the moment he'd announced himself their ruler. Emotions were funny things. It was very hard to argue with them, especially when they felt so strong.

Raffaele's power has eased his rise to the throne, to say the least. 

Gemma lets go of the others and skips up the steps to where Enzo and Raffaele stand.

"Your High-" 

She pops a hand over her mouth, and falls into a deep curtsy.

"Your Majesty," she says, giggling. Her tone is not mocking, but it is not very serious, either. It is something only one of his Daggers could get away with. 

"Lady Salvatore," he nods to her, smiling along.

"Are you going to sit?"

He blinks, turning to the large, ornate throne just behind him. 

He has been waiting for this, working for this, for years.

Now that it is really his, he hesitates. 

"We've been risking our lives the last three years to watch you sit in this chair, Enzo," Dante calls. 

Lucent grins. "Sit down."

"Wait," Raffaele says, and they all turn to him. There is a light smile on his face, too, as he meets Enzo's eyes. "The crown. You aren't wearing it."

Their eyes turn to the glass case behind the throne that holds the crown jewels. Before they have time to get it, Michel raises his hand, and in a second, he is holding the crown.

"May I?" he asks. 

Enzo nods, and straightens his posture as he feels the weight of the crown settle on his head. The Kenettran King's crown. 

All eyes are on him. He steadies his hand on the throne's armrest, and sits down.

Gemma claps, and a couple of the others join in. 

Enzo is quiet. He relishes the feeling of the throne underneath him, the crown above him. This all should have been his the day his father died. Instead, it had belonged to that fool of a duke for years. 

He would be a better king than him.

He could have been a better king than him at twelve years old. 

"Long live the King!" Michel calls out.

"Long live the King!" the others chorus.

Satisfaction, and triumph flood into his chest at the phrase. 

We win.

Looking out over his Daggers, on his throne, in his palace, he smiles.

***

It is an eventful day. The noblemen who have supported his claim to the crown are making waves throughout the country, swaying other nobles and common citizens alike to his side. Things have been quiet enough, here in the city, though he makes sure to keep his guard up, just in case. He has checked personally in on the daily comings and goings of the palace, half to make sure the transition of rule is known and final, and half to become reacquainted with his childhood home.

Now, the sky has been dark for hours, and he sits in his royal chambers, preparing for bed. He had slept there last night, as well, the assassination still fresh in his mind, the crown he now wears still being cleansed of blood and peeled skin. A disingenuous anxiety in his mind that if he closed his eyes, the world would fall out from under him again. Everything would have been a dream. 

No such fears haunt him now. He takes the crown off, not able to wear it while he sleeps. Instead of setting it down on his bedside, he studies it. How the white and red gemstones gleam in the candlelight.

Diamonds, rubies, and roseites. Your alignments, Raffaele had noticed, earlier. I wonder if that is a coincidence.

There is a knock on his door, and he looks curiously up at it. "Come in?"

He stands as he sees Raffaele enter the room. 

"I do not mean to disturb you," he says, noticing Enzo is dressed to sleep. 

He shakes his head. "You could never. Please, come in."

Raffaele closes the door behind him.

He is dressed in simple blue Dagger robes, without jewelry or other accessory. What he had kept of his things from the Fortunata Court (all of his books and papers, some trinkets or robes that had been gifts, a choice few others) had been transferred into palace quarters the night before. It was one of the first things he'd made sure of, after he became king. 

The court's madam had been dismayed, of course, that Raffaele would no longer be under her employment. She had not been made aware of this, when she agreed to become a Dagger patron. Enzo had had little patience for her complaints. She had brought up the fact she had literally purchased him, as a child, that he was to stay with her, by law. Enzo had reminded her with as much restraint as possible that the buying or selling of human lives would no longer be allowed, by law, under his rule, and if she did not want to face the full charge of death for what she had just admitted to, she would drop the subject permanently. 

Shutting the courts down entirely would put hundreds of people out of jobs in the midst of an already failing economy, so he will not go that far. Despite the situation in which Raffaele came into such work, there were plenty who'd become consorts willingly, out of interest. The courts will be inhabited only by those who are fully willing, and certainly of age, under his rule. He will make sure of this. 

Raffaele raises an eyebrow at him, and Enzo knows he's felt his energy shift at the memory. 

"I've been checking in with the palace guards, and the acting head of the Inquisition," Raffaele says, choosing not to bring up the shift in his emotions. 

Enzo nods. He had meant to do the same thing earlier that day, but the guards and Inquisitors had been... busied. He grimaces. "And, the former head of the Inquisition?"

"He has been detained," Raffaele says. He purses his lips. "It took ten men to finally bring him down. He managed to kill or injure six of them. He resides now in the dungeons, heavily guarded."

Enzo shakes his head, trying not to let his thoughts linger on Teren. "Do you have any ideas for his permanent replacement, as Lead Inquisitor?"

"Dante," Raffaele answers, without hesitation. "We know he can be trusted, and he already has experience as a soldier."

"You think he'd be interested?" Enzo asks.

"Definitely," Raffaele replies, "In fact, I think he's already impatient for you to appoint him to some high position, now that you are the king."

They fall into easy conversation, as they would when Enzo visited Raffaele at the Fortunata Court late at night. As they had the first night they'd met. Just talk, enjoying each other's company. Nothing more. 

After a while, their conversation fades, and Raffaele is quiet for a long moment. Enzo knows him well enough to know there is something deeper on his mind. He came to see Enzo for a reason. 

“Something is bothering you,” Enzo says. It is a statement of fact, not a question.

Raffaele pauses before answering, and Enzo waits patiently.

“Earlier today, in the throne room. I felt an energy coming off of you,” he says, slowly, carefully considering his words, “One that I have not seen in you for a very long time.”

Enzo blinks. He had not expected a response like that.

Enzo is about to ask what he means, thinking back on what he’d been feeling when he took the throne this morning. Joy? Triumph?

Then, he thinks he knows, and he feels his heart quicken.

After a moment’s hesitation he does ask. To be sure. “Specifically?”

He cannot read Raffaele’s expression. It seems a long moment before he answers.  His voice is very quiet. “Love.”

Oh.

He was right. He tries not to think of exactly why love would not be an emotion oft associated with him. What became of the last person he showed his heart to.

He searches Raffaele's face, trying to glean his thoughts, but he cannot make out was he is thinking. He does not seem upset, at least, Enzo thinks, thankfully.

If there was one thing Enzo thought he'd mastered, it was hiding his emotions. He does not like keeping secrets, but he does not want Raffaele to think the reason Enzo wants him around was the same as everyone else who wanted him, because of some misguided romantic infatuation based on his beauty. This is absolutely untrue. He loves Raffaele for who he is, intelligent, and gentle, and brave. 

"I am not going to make you do anything you don't want to do," he says, "I would never put my own feelings before yours."

Something in Raffaele's expression changes as Enzo says this, but he cannot tell if it is for better or worse.

He continues, "You know that I trust and respect you. I value you as a person and a friend. I would not want to risk that, not for anything."

Raffaele continues staring quietly at him for a moment. Enzo can read his expression, now. It is something like confusion.

He finally says, "Me?"

Oh. Oh no. He curses himself.

But, he is not going to lie.

"Yes," he says, trying hard to keep the nerves out of his voice. "This doesn't have to change anything. I am not upset that you don't-"

"Enzo."

He quiets.

Raffaele reaches over and takes both of Enzo's hands in his own. Enzo is not wearing his gloves, and the mottled scar tissue that covers them is exposed.

"Enzo," he repeats, more quietly.

Raffaele pulls him forward, and Enzo finds himself breathless at the sensation of Raffaele's lips on his own.

It is not long before the kiss ends.

It takes Enzo a long moment to find his voice. 

"You know you don't have to," he says.

"I know," Raffaele's voice comes quickly.

"Then..." his heartbeat is quickening again, "You...?"

Raffaele's hands around his own tighten. "Yes."

Enzo feels slightly dizzy. A thought surfaces that he might already be asleep, and dreaming, but he bats it aside. 

“You didn’t even suspect yourself, when you came in in here?”

Raffaele shakes his head.

“Who did you think, then?” he asks.

Raffaele is smiling, and looks just slightly embarrassed. “My guess was Gemma.”

“Oh, gods,” Enzo laughs, partly at the unlikeliness of that, but mostly in the joy of the entire situation. 

Raffaele is laughing too, and Enzo thinks that there is not a greater sound in the entire world.

He frees one of his hands, and cups Raffaele's cheek, before leaning back in to him.

This kiss is longer, and deeper, as Enzo is less in shock. He is once again out of breath when they part.

"I love you," he says.

Raffaele's face is still very close to his own. "I love you, too."

Chapter Text

10 Settembre, 1361

City-State of Merroutas

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"This one."

I curse as Magiano holds up one of the coins in his hand. I let it unravel. 

"Even without your powers," I mumble in annoyance. 

He is smiling, as he flips the real coin onto the table. It makes a high clink as it lands in a large pile of talents. "I'm very familiar with money, my love."

I hear Violetta exhale beside me as she releases Magiano's powers.

Magiano and Sergio had both been intrigued, to say the least, when we'd told them of my sister's powers. Shortly after, we'd developed this little game.

With his powers, Magiano can sense my Elite energy coming off of any illusion I create, making it obvious when things are not real. With Violetta holding his power back, he can compare my illusions to real things without bias. 

I've managed to fool him with flowers, furniture, cloth, even jewels, very recently, which I was more than proud of. But he always finds the flaws in my money.

"You don't let the gold warm up, my love," he says, pulling his instrument from behind his back. It is a lute, and he plays a few strings of it now. His music is truly beautiful- he composes his own songs, on top of everything else. I think to the (often rather inaccurate, I've discovered) legends following Magiano, and how they claim he could lure a man off a cliff with only his music. I'm tempted to think this one is true. 

"The coins are cold to the touch, but they will warm up after you've held them for a while. You leave yours cold," he says. 

"We are lucky common merchants don't have your sense of perception," I mutter. He is really a very good tutor. I would never have thought about needing to shift the coin's temperature.

He shows me how to do things himself, mimicking my power and walking me through the steps, when I am truly stuck on something. This happens mostly with changing illusions. Keeping invisible on a busy street. Making an illusion of a person breathe, and blink.

Letting a gold coin warm up in a person's hand. 

I pick one of the coins up from the table, and hold it in a closed fist, trying to memorize the way the gold adjusts to my body heat. I gesture to Violetta, and she sighs.

When I open my hand, there are once again two coins. I hold them out to Magiano. "Again."

***

"I still can't believe they pulled it off," Sergio says, grimacing at a sheet of paper in his hands.

It is later in the day, and we are back at his apartment. Violetta sits beside me, sipping a tea that helps her avoid fever after using her powers so heavily. Magiano sits in a chair next to us, plucking thoughtfully at his lute. 

Sergio sits across from us. I recognize the paper in his hands- it is a notice that had been given out to the Night King's top ranking men, following his meeting with the new king of Kenettra. It details the reformed treatment of malfetto citizens.

"I still can't believe the Night King agreed to all of this," Magiano says, leaning over Sergio's shoulder.

Sergio shakes his head. "Merroutas would fall to ruin if Kenettra cut off trade with us. I'm sure that's what Enzo threatened. He didn't really have a choice."

I purse my lips at his casual use of the king's first name. I conjure the memory of portraits I'd seen of the young crown prince, long ago, and try to translate them into the fearsome Reaper, this new king. It is difficult. 

Sergio had not left his home the entire day King Enzo had been in the city. We'd stayed with him, though I was very tempted to go and try to catch a glimpse of the Elite who'd claimed an entire country with his power. Violetta had convinced me to stay, in the end.

He was searching for you, once, she'd said, There's no guarantee he's stopped.

"Look at this," Magiano says, pointing to a specific line of the paper, "'Any malfetto previously charged without proper trial will have their sentence waived.'" He looks up at me. "It seems you and I aren't wanted criminals in Kenettra, anymore."

I meet his gaze in acknowledgment, but find myself unmoved. I am surprised at my own complete lack of desire to return to my home country. How quickly I'd gone from never imagining leaving the place, to never imagining going back. 

I sit back, considering this more deeply. I should not be surprised, not really. The sole good aspect of my life in Kenettra - my sister - had left it with me. 

What else did the place hold? The Inquisition, who'd let me rot in their dungeons and threatened to burn me alive? The disgusting man who'd wanted to buy me as a mistress, who must still be alive, I realize, must still be there. I feel something cold try to wrap around my heart.

And more than anything, my life with my father, my entire life up until a few months ago- rotten, hate-filled memories tainting my entire childhood and-

Something dark, something I do not want to feel, do not want to see, lurches at the edges of my vision, and I grab for my own drink. I squeeze my eye shut, and do not open it until I've downed the entire cup.

The dark is not gone, but it is ebbing away. My movements must have seemed frantic, because I notice both Magiano and my sister looking at me with worry. 

Worry. The dark trying to coil around me is pulled farther back at the thought that they'd care.

"Adelina," I hear my sister say, gently. I feel her power touch my own, as if poising to take it away.

"I'm fine," I say. My eye flits to the cup in her hands, and then back to her. She has used her powers enough for today. I hope my gaze brings across the message. Worry about your own health first.

I do feel fine, soon enough, the herbs settling my mind. I take a deep breath.

I'd discovered these... affects, back when it was only Violetta and I, and I was trying to teach myself my powers. Though I suppose it had been going on ever since I unlocked them the first time - how I could see my father's ghost out of the corner of my eye, whispering terrible things to me, ever since I was imprisoned in Dalia. 

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that stopped. But it has. These unwanted illusions are triggered by the presence of dark thoughts, I think, of furious emotions, of fear and hate. I suppose, then, they had stopped when I no longer constantly felt like that. 

It is still a strange feeling, to not be afraid.  

Violetta holds my gaze for a moment, then nods slightly, satisfied that I am indeed feeling better. 

I turn back to Magiano. There is still a slight concern in his eyes. I am not used to other people caring about how I feel.

Maybe he doesn't, really. Maybe he only cares that I am well enough to use my powers; they are why he's agreed to be around me, after all. That would make sense.

Would it, though? In the weeks I've spent with him, we've done plenty together that has nothing to do with our abilities. We watch the stars together, at night. He's told me some about his life in Domacca, growing up in a temple there before he discovered his powers. I've even shared a few things about my life before. Mostly the brighter things, what I can remember of my mother, the games Violetta and I used to play in our gardens.

We've gotten to know each other, at least a little. 

"I think I'd like to go south, if we were to move on from here," I say, trying to return to casual conversation. 

He slowly relaxes. He goes back to plucking at his lute. "The Sunlands, then?"

I nod. "Tamoura, perhaps."

He nods, too. "You have Tamouran blood. Have you ever been there?"

I shake my head. "Our mother immigrated to Kenettra as a young woman, a few years before she married."

Magiano does not remember his parents, he's told me. The priests told him they both died of the fever, when he was very young. 

As we continue like this, Violetta sets her tea down, and picks up the bag of stones from Magiano's shell game. She's taken a liking to them, for whatever reason, often spending her time staring at them and sorting them around. 

She's arranging them in a circle, now, around herself. She pulls her knees up to her chest, so she does not have to place any of them in her lap. Her brow is knit in concentration as she places the last stone into the circle. 

I am about to ask her if there is any point to this, when a bright light flashes, startling all of us. 

It dims slightly, so that I can see three of the gemstones glowing, somehow. The opal, the nightstone, and the sapphire.

"How are you...?" Magiano leans forward, eyes wide. 

My sister's eyes are wide herself, as she hugs her knees. "I just... the stones give off on energy, like we do, and there seemed to be some sort of pattern to them, so I've been trying to get them in the right order, and..." she trails off, reaching out to touch the closest one, the nightstone.

"No, no," Sergio finally puts down the paper, and stands, crossing over to where we sit and gently pulling Violetta to her feet, so she is standing up on the couch. Then, to the side, so that she hops down. 

The stones stop glowing as soon as she leaves the circle. 

"What?" she asks.

He frowns, staring down at them. "It's... what Raffaele-" he shakes his head- "The Messenger would do, to try and figure out Elites' powers. Each stone would represent something- an emotion, or a concept. When you touch them they'd throw you into visions of your past, and he'd see it all."

I instinctively recoil from the stones, at that. 

Violetta purses her lips. "What did mine represent?"

He seems reluctant to answer, but sighs. "Joy, empathy, and fear."

Again with these Daggers. The bitterness, and under that, hurt, Sergio feels speaking of them is palpable. Why should people so callous as to leave someone for dead, only because they could not use him anymore, get to rule a nation? While we hide from them, in the shadows?

This thought forms into an idea, and I straighten, looking up at everyone.

"We are all Elites," I say.

Sergio grimaces. "You really don't want to have your alignments read."

I blink. "No," I say, shaking my head. "I mean, why should the Daggers get to be the only society of Elites there is? Why should we have to hide from them?"

The others stare at me for a moment. "Because, they're terrifying, and unafraid to murder anyone who challenges them?" Sergio says.

"And they rule a country now, on top of everything else. I've felt their power firsthand, my love, it'd be best not to trifle with them," Magiano says.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Really?" I say, "Between you and Violetta, what other Elites could stand against us? In your presence, their powers would become our advantage.

"We could earn our own reputation. Our own infamy," I say. "With all of us together, we could become far greater than they ever hope to be. Show them," I pause, "Show the whole world we cannot be bullied into hiding in a corner. Let them be the ones afraid to seek us out."

Magiano and Sergio exchange a look. There is a odd expression on my sister's face.

"You are already far more famous than them, on your own," I say, looking at Magiano. "Imagine what we could become together."

There is a slow smile creeping onto his face. "You're serious?"

"I'm for it," Sergio says.

I look to Violetta. Her expression is more wary than anything.

I level my gaze, looking into her eyes.

"Trust me, mi Violettina," I whisper. 

Her eyes widen at the affectionate version of her name, which I've rarely used since we were small children. After moment, her expression changes, and she nods once.

"You three are going to need Elite names, if we're really doing this," Magiano says. 

I purse my lips, thinking of this. 

I consider my sister's power. How she pulls the strings making up other Elites' abilities, bending them to her will. 

"The Puppet Master," I say, looking to her.

She seems to consider this for a moment, before straightening her posture, and nodding again. 

"What about you?" She's turned to Sergio, now.

"What were the Daggers going to call you?" I ask. "They should recognize who you are. Who you've become."

He hesitates only a moment before answering, "The Rainmaker."

"And you, my love?" Magiano says, turning back to me.

I pause for a long moment. I picture the wooden plaques I've seen on the black market, carvings of Elite names dedicated out of fear and reverence. I imagine having my own Elite name on one of these. 

Something eloquent. Something that holds meaning, but that is not too obvious. 

Then, I know. I can't help smiling as I hold out my hand, and a familiar spring green line grows up from my palm. I could make it immediately into what I want, now, but I let it go through the motions, bulking up into three dimensions, sprouting a bulb that blooms out into a full, bright white flower. Two leaves. Thorns.

Magiano is smiling, looking at what I've created. 

"The White Rose, then?" he says, his voice softer than I'd expect. 

I hold my head high, pride glowing in me. I love the sound of it. "The White Rose," I confirm. For the color of my markings, and for the first time I had true control over my power. 

Another idea comes to me, and the air in front of each of the others shifts, in turn, revealing more flowers. Roses.

Pink for my sister, yellow for Sergio. Red, for Magiano. 

Violetta reaches out to take her rose, and this time she can. 

Magiano examines his, too.

"This is very good, Adelina," he says, and I can tell he means it.

"You can smell them," Sergio mutters, rolling his between his fingers. 

"The Rose Society," I say. I look to each of the others in turn, waiting for them to object; (it's almost as if I am naming us after myself, after all,) but none of them do. 

I let all of our flowers grow, larger than flowers could realistically be. Then I let the petals fall away, gliding gracefully towards the ground before fading entirely.

"A name that will soon be known to all."

***

"We will take the world by storm," Magiano says.

He glances to the door Sergio and Violetta have retreated through, preparing for bed. Night has fallen. 

"Perhaps literally," He laughs to himself.

Magiano and I remain in the sitting room tonight, as we often do, admiring the night sky out of the window.

I am somewhat surprised at how wholeheartedly he's taken to my ideas. He has been at this for years, been all over the world. What does he see in me that he has not seen in anyone else?

I look at him, now, and hesitate a moment before asking, "You really believe that?"

He turns to me, surprise on his face.

He looks at me for a moment, tilting his head. 

"I believe, my love, that anything can be done around you. You have the power to bend reality to your will in more ways than one. I believe you will achieve anything- everything that you desire.” he pauses. He holds a hand out, and the air shifts- he is mimicking my power. In a moment he is offering me a single red rose- just like the one I'd given him, earlier. “And I am glad I will be there with you while you do it."

I stare into his eyes. He seems entirely earnest. I reach out for the rose, and as I take it physically I take control of it, too; supporting it with my powers instead of his. He notices this, and raises an eyebrow. 

I don't break eye contact with him as I shift the petals' color to white.

He glances very briefly to the flower, before looking back up at me. He raises both eyebrows, for a moment, before smiling again.

"You are amazing," he says. His voice is very soft, and I would expect there to be some humor in the words, but they sound only sincere. 

I don't know what to say to that. Silence hangs between us, and I think I feel myself blush. After a moment, we just go back to watching the sky. 

I admire the sky, at least. I look over to him, and see he is admiring the scarred side of my face.

He does this. Rather often. I resist the old urge to brush my hair in front of the marking. I've seen his scar, too; a large patch on his back, where the skin was peeled away to try and cleanse him of his marking. 

I let him look, though it must be clear now that I am looking back at him. He does not watch out of morose fascination, as any others who bother to look at it often do. He likes seeing me; all of me, not just the parts that I've changed and rearranged to become more palatable to others.

And I like him too - I like the way he laughs, I like the way he carries joy with him wherever he is. I like the intensity in his eyes when we speak of things that are serious. I like the look in them now, his golden eyes watching me as I watch him.

I am not sure who leans in first. 

I've never kissed anyone before, but if it shows he doesn't mention it. He doesn't mention anything, of course, because his mouth is pressed into mine. It is not a chaste kiss, after the first few seconds.

He's moved a hand to the back of my head, twining in my hair. This feels better than anything that I have felt before. I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him closer, so our torsos are pressed against each other and this is getting intense. This thought only makes me want to go deeper, and I keep going as long as possible before I finally have to break, gasping for breath.

We sit there breathing for a moment.

He pulls his fingers through my hair, seeming to admire the way the shifting silver catches the moonlight, before meeting my eye again. I do not know what my face looks like right now, but he seems unsure, for a moment. "Are you okay?"

I smile, a real, genuine smile, leaning closer to him again. "Yes."

His pupils seem dilated, I think, and he smiles, too. "Do you want to do that again?"

My heart jumps, and I brush my lips against his again before remembering to answer, "Yes."

Then we are kissing each other again, leaning languidly into the couch, and I could stay like this for the rest of my life.

I am happy.

I am light.

I am free.

Free of my father, miles away from my memories of him, free of society’s prying eyes and hateful words, with the ability to hide my markings in a single thought. 

Though I always let them show, in private. In the midst of people who will not hate me, or judge me, or use me. In a place where I can be myself - the true version of myself.

Whoever that has become.

Chapter Text

10 Settembre, 1361

City-State of Merroutas

The Sealands

Violetta Amouteru

"They're kissing!"

Violetta's voice is a hushed whisper, as she glances through the cracks of the door between her room and the main sitting room.

"Should you be spying, like that?" Sergio sits on the other side of the room, near the window. He is just slightly smiling, and Violetta does not think he genuinely disproves of what she is doing.

She shoots him a look, then turns back to the door. She had really not meant to spy. She had sensed a drastic shift in her sister's energy, and though nothing seemed to be wrong, she had been curious, and still slightly worried.

She'd had her reservations about seeking Magiano out again, when they first arrived in Merroutas. She feared being around him again would mean dangerous things, would serve only to fuel her sister's want for power.

How she'd been wrong. The weeks they've spent around him have had Adelina laughing, and smiling, and other things Violetta thinks her sister deserves to do much, much more.

And now, this. They've pulled away from each other for the moment, and the soft smile on her sister's face fills Violetta's heart with delight.

She has never seen Adelina’s energy so peaceful. Where it usually glows an intimidating white, underscored by black and and orange threads that emit an energy which unnerves her, it is now almost entirely a beautiful pink-red.

Roseite, she thinks, for the god of Love.

Violetta thinks back to the curious reaction of the stones from earlier, what Sergio had said about the Daggers' Messenger and his theories. She is very tempted to ask him more about this, but she knows the Daggers are a sensitive topic.

Perhaps she'll do some research on her own. The theories of each gods' connections with each of the twelve gemstones are not new, and she should be able to find a reliable list of them. She remembers a few of the stones off the top of her head, but she'd like to be sure.

Surely she could figure out the same things the Messenger has, in time.

The pattern to the Elite's energies. The science to their unnatural powers.

Maybe he will even publish his findings, she thinks, now that Kenettra belongs to his society. It's not as if there is anything to hide from, with a king at your side.

Maybe there will be, if her sister has any say in it. She frowns slightly, thinking back to Adelina’s resolution to best the Dagger Society. Her white threads - diamond, for ambition, her thoughts provide - had grown nearly blinding, overwhelming all of the others. That could be both a good and a bad thing, she thinks.

She hopes Adelina does not intend to directly confront these Daggers. There are two ways that could end, and Violetta’s stomach twists into knots thinking of either of them. 

She does not want her sister, her self, or her friends to get hurt.

But perhaps even more, she does not want to hurt anyone else.

She is not going to hurt anyone else.

Violetta’s sister had asked her to trust her. She hopes that Adelina trusts her, in return. 

She still looks so peaceful. Adelina and Magiano are speaking now, lowly, and Violetta cannot make out their words, but she can see threads of their emotions. Bright red, dark blue. Love, joy.

Violetta wants her sister to be happy. She wants to help her. And she will. 

She does not know what Adelina intends to do from here, exactly. But she knows that she will be at her side when she does. She will be there to guide her. 

She hopes Adelina will listen to her, if the time comes for such a decision to be made.

She will not allow Adelina to hurt anyone. Just as she will not allow anyone to hurt Adelina.

Chapter Text

15 Ottobre, 1361

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Enzo Valenciano

"Word from Dante."

Enzo stops walking as Raffaele enters the hall. He is holding a letter, and the smile on his face already tells him what it says.

"He has secured control of Dalia's Inquisition, and all local noblemen have sworn their allegiance to you."

He takes the letter. "That's the last one?"

Raffaele nods.

"It's final, then," Enzo says. A smile plays on his own lips as well. "We win."

Raffaele smiles wider. All six Daggers had taken to the phrase, since Gemma started it the day they took the throne. "We win."

Enzo had sent Dante out to secure his rule in the southern cities over a month ago, and he'd run into more than enough resistance. The Inquisitors based in the south had felt resistant to his new policies concerning the marked- the Inquisition under his rule would no longer turn a blind eye at violence towards malfettos, and they would certainly not cause it themselves. Any such offenses would be cause for immediate termination.

"And Lucent?" he asks.

The mood dampens. Raffaele shakes his head. "No word yet."

Enzo purses his lips. "It's been nearly a month. Even with the ocean to cross, we should have heard something by now."

"Do you think the queen was well enough to enforce her banishment after all?" Raffaele asks.

"The princess assured us she wouldn't be," Enzo shakes his head. "Perhaps she pulled through miraculously."

"Perhaps." He tilts his head. "They will not hurt her, even if the queen is up. Maeve would not allow that. I am sure she will be fine."

Enzo nods. He knows Lucent can handle herself. He had sent her back to Beldain as something of an ambassador, so they could begin to reinvigorate trade between Beldain and Kenettra. It is one of the many plans he has in place to begin repairing the disaster the former king had made of his country's economy. He'd hoped to have that started by now, but still no luck.

"There is one more thing," Raffaele says, frowning slightly.

"Yes?" he asks.

Raffaele hesitates a moment before answering, "Teren's managed to kill another one of his guards."

Enzo grimaces. "How many is that now?"

"Four," Raffaele says. 

Enzo shakes his head. "He is forcing my hand."

"Purposefully, do you think?" Raffaele asks.

"I don't know." He pauses. The reluctant pity he still feels for Teren rises up in him, though it is not the only reason the old Lead Inquisitor still lives.

He's sure he would have killed Teren by now, in fact, if it was possible to execute him quickly and cleanly. It would be more merciful than letting his life drag on in the dungeons. But finding a way around his powers, if there even was a way, would surely be long and drawn out, and not guaranteed to even work. There would be a lot of experimentation involved with trying to do it, many undoubtedly gruesome failed attempts before it was finally done.  

He has killed rather gruesomely before, and held no qualms about it- memories come to him of men he's drawn and quartered, melted from the inside out, burnt until their skin was the color of char, left on the brink of life long enough to suffer for the things they'd done. But those were strangers, for the most part, faceless enemies. He hadn't even been able to do more than slit the throat of his awful sister, who'd been against him since the day he was born. 

This is Teren- they used to be friends. Enzo would much rather just keep him locked up. But he cannot tolerate Teren picking off his men in his spare time.

"I'm going to talk to him," he finally says. 

Raffaele widens his eyes, then narrows them again. "Are you sure that is a good idea?"

"He won't be able to hurt me," Enzo says.

Raffaele still looks concerned. "He's managed to hurt quite a few, even chained up."

"I am not a common guard," he reassures, "And I would prefer to try and talk him down before we start trying other things."

Raffaele considers a few more moments.

Finally, he nods. "Be careful."

Raffaele takes his hand, and leans over to kiss him. Enzo feels some of the tension of the situation melt away. 

"I'll be waiting near by," Raffaele says, when they part.

***

There is an immediate rattling as he enters the chamber. 

It is the largest, deepest cell they have, reserved for the most dangerous of prisoners. Teren has been moved through multiple cells in the month and a half he's been imprisoned, security increasing every time he attacks another guard.

He is now chained many times over, on a stone island in the center of a mote of filthy water. The guards flanking Enzo move to pull a drawbridge out of the water, and he walks along it, until Enzo can see Teren's face clearly from where he stands. 

The paler color of his eyes is the least of what has changed since they were children. The lines of his face are hardened, and the intensity he's always held has warped into something unsettling. There is an unhinged fury in his eyes as he sees Enzo, something on another level from his usual madness. 

Enzo stares him down, wondering if Teren will speak. When he does not, after moment, Enzo decides to start.

"I hear you've been killing my men," he says. He stares levelly down at Teren, his face a mask of non-emotion. Teren's own face is blank, aside from the hot fury in his eyes, and he still does not answer.

They are both still for so long, Enzo nearly flinches back when Teren lunges at him.

As it is, he only blinks, glancing at the chains pulled taut as Teren strains to grab him.

"Reaper," Teren growls, finally speaking. 

Enzo himself does not betray any fear, only a mild distaste as he watches the attempt.

"You've never been able to kill me before," he says evenly, "I doubt you'll manage it in chains."

The chains rattle as he tugs on them one more time, before he finally steps back again, letting them fall slack.

Teren's expression twists between fury and grief and disgust and regret. "You killed her," he says, his voice strangled, "You demon! Malfetto! You killed her!"

"We are not demons," Enzo says, eyes narrowing despite his efforts to keep a neutral expression. He hates the mantra that calls malfettos and Elites demonic perhaps more than anything else. 

They are the children of the gods. They are blessed, not cursed. 

Teren trails off into many rather detailed threats of revenge, and Enzo's expression does not change.

Giulietta. He should have guessed Teren's obsession with the queen would only grow after her death. 

How different things might have been, Enzo thinks, if he had gotten to Teren before his sister did, all those years ago. If he could have convinced him of their side. If Giulietta had never gotten the chance to warp his self-hatred into a hatred for all those like himself. The image flashes through his head of Teren as one of his Daggers, and he almost laughs.

Perhaps in another life.

"I did not come down here to listen to you go on about how much you want me dead," he says, cutting off Teren's threats. "I cannot tolerate you attacking my men. I am going to have to kill you if you continue like this."

Teren rolls his head back, and makes a sound that might have been a laugh. "And how would you intend to go about that, exactly?"

"I'd have to start looking for a way," he says, "And I promise it will not be pleasant, for anyone involved."

"What part of any of this is pleasant?" he gestures as wide as he can with his chains, at the rest of the cell.

He stares at the walls and ceiling for a few moments, unspeaking. Then, his gaze rolls back toward Enzo, eyes narrowed and lip curled. "Why come to tell me this yourself? Why tell me of what's to come instead of just going ahead with it?" he glares, "What are you playing at?"

Enzo stares silently for another moment. 

"We knew each other, once," Enzo says.

Teren's eyes snap back to him, disbelief momentarily clouding his hate.

Then his mouth sets into a snarl. "You are not the prince." 

Enzo chooses to answer, "Indeed, I am now the king."

Teren's fury is back with more intensity than before. "You are a monster," he spits, "The demonic filth I have failed to protect this world from."

Enzo feels his powers flare up within him. He just manages to keep from setting the air around him ablaze. "This is a warning. One more attack, and it will be the end of you."

He turns to leave.

"Watch your back, Reaper," Teren calls as he reaches the other side of the moat. "I am not the only one who sees you for what you are."

Enzo does not turn back, and the cell door grates closed behind him. 

***

Raffaele is waiting for him just outside the cell. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Enzo pauses. "Did you hear all of that?"

Raffaele nods. 

He takes one of Enzo's hands, and looks thoughtfully at him for a moment before saying, "He is not going to listen."

"I know," he says. "He is too far gone. We will have to kill him."

"We could try poison, first," Raffaele says, "We do not know for sure if his powers encompass more than flesh wounds."

Enzo nods. "Some kind of axes, or saws, if that doesn't work. I've noticed his body reacts almost like a log would, when you hit it with a blade. Perhaps sawing through him like wood could do the trick."

They both begin down the corridor leading up to the surface. He'll be glad to get back to the upper levels of the palace; he doesn't intend on visiting the dungeons again any time soon. 

"What do you think of his last threat?" Raffaele asks as they walk.

Enzo shakes his head. "Not much. Of course there are still those who hate malfettos, who want me off of the throne- we already knew that."

Raffaele frowns. "Still, we should check which specific guards we send to watch him. Teren was the military leader of Kenettra for a long time- there still may be those who are loyal to him." 

They emerge back into the aboveground, finally, sunlight shining in through high windows.

Enzo considers this, before nodding. "Better to be safe, I suppose."

They glide down the hall they've come up into, in the direction of the throne room. Enzo absorbs the sight of the gilded halls around him, and focuses on the feeling of Raffaele's hand in his own, trying to brush the dungeons out of his thoughts. 

"When are Gemma and Michel arriving today?" Enzo asks.

"In a few hours, I believe," Raffaele answers, "Michel's classes at the University don't let out until later this evening, and they plan on arriving together."

All of his Daggers usually come to dine with him at the palace in the evenings, though with Dante and Lucent out of town, it has only been the four of them for a few weeks now.

"Are we free until then?" Enzo asks.

"Yes, I think so." Raffaele tilts his head. "Do you have something in mind?"

Enzo's eyes turn down to their still joined hands, and he gently pulls Raffaele closer to him. 

Raffaele raises his eyebrows, his green and gold eyes lighting up.

"Nothing in particular," he says, before leaning in and softly kissing him.

It lasts a few seconds, until they pull back a moment for air.

"I hear it's lovely in the gardens today," Raffaele says quietly.

"Sounds nice," Enzo breathes.

The back of his mind hums that they've already missed a turn to the garden, and it will take them a few more minutes to get there.

That's all right, he thinks. They have plenty of time. 

Chapter Text

15 Ottobre, 1361

City of Hadenbury

Northern Beldain

The Skylands

Maeve Jacqueline Kelly Corrigan

“You are not taking over Kenettra!”

Maeve’s expression does not change as she continues walking through the courtyard, Lucent at her side. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not!”

Maeve sighs. It is a rare moment when her hair is not braided up, and her black and gold curls fall around her shoulders, their otherworldly colors gleaming.

"Lucent, I have been given an opportunity to do something no ruler in the history of Beldain has ever managed," she says, "The opportunity to finally overcome our oldest rival!" 

Maeve frowns at the look Lucent is still giving her. She has not budged on her opposition to Maeve's plans for Kenettra since she told her about them, shortly after she arrived back in Beldain.

"Kenettra and Beldain are not enemies anymore," Lucent says, "We made peace years ago!"

"The alliance we have now is tentative at best," Maeve continues, "It's bound to fall out at some point. If all goes well there should not even be any bloodshed involved-" she's already explained this, but she goes through it again to try and make her point, "Kenettra is already suffering a failing economy. We will provide the solution to that, and slowly make them so financially dependent on us there will be no choice but to give over control." Maeve shakes her head. "The Daggers have been good allies, but I cannot push aside a conflict that's spanned over centuries, Lucent."

"I am a Dagger," Lucent says, an edge to her voice. "I will not take your side in a fight against them."

Maeve stops walking. She turns to Lucent, her eyes wide. 

"Lucent-"

"No. They are more than my teammates, they are my friends. I spent four years alone and friendless in a foreign country, until I found them. They have been there for me when I've had no one else. I care about them, and I will not stand by and let you take away everything we have worked to achieve."

A thousand responses run through her head, words she's been raised to say- 'That is treason' 'You cannot expect to get away with saying these things in front of the Crown Princess' 'Who do you think you are?'-

They all fall dead in her throat.

She knows exactly who she is. 

Her mind lingers on memories of the last five years, full of political plans and dreams of darkness, and completely devoid of warmth. 

Her life has grown cold without Lucent in it. She has grown cold. If she loses her again, the ice around her heart will freeze all the way through.

Emotion wells up in her. Could she bare that? Would that be better, even? A queen with a heart of ice, ruling objective and emotionless. She can't help but shudder at the thought.

It is selfish, she would think, to put her own feelings before the progress of her country. 

But. 

"Okay."

The anger on Lucent's face falls away at the smallness in Maeve's voice. "What?"

They've stopped near a small stone bench, and Maeve sits on it now. "I won't make any moves against Kenettra."

Lucent sits next to her. She stares at Maeve a moment, unsure. "Really?"

Maeve nods slightly, and she can feels the sting of tears starting to freeze just beneath her eyes. "In a few weeks time-" thinking of her mother's current state does nothing to help her reign in her emotions- "In a few weeks time, I will be the Queen of Beldain. As is the tradition of our current alliance, I will visit the new King of Kenettra as a sign of goodwill. We will sort out a new trade agreement then, but I will not weave in any plans of acquisition."

Lucent nods once, but seems presently more focused on the cracks in Maeve's voice. She wraps her arms around Maeve's shoulders, and as Lucent holds her, her tears fall freely. The gold makeup on her cheeks starts to run. 

They stay like that for a while. Once, Lucent leans down and places a kiss Maeve's forehead. 

"You and Enzo are more alike than you'd think," Lucent says quietly. "You are both Fortuna's chosen-" she pauses, "You are both Fortuna's gifted."

Maeve is briefly aware of her tether to her youngest brother, at the reminder of her powers. Lucent was the first person she'd ever told about them- out loud, out near the separate villa Tristan inhabited, when they were going to see him, just after Lucent arrived. 

"You could do something no ruler of Beldain has ever done," Lucent continues, "You could bring our countries into more than a tentative alliance. You could forge a true friendship between our nations."

Maeve nods slowly. She had always related to the prince- the king, now, she corrects - in their rare correspondence. Her mother had never scanned her letters to the Daggers' leader- or her letters to any men, really- as thoroughly as she'd scanned her letters to Lucent, so she'd been able to slip more personality into their conversation.

"Will you stay with me?" Maeve says. 

Lucent tilts her head.

"Until I become queen. We can return to Kenettra together," Maeve says.

The hint of a smile crosses Lucent's face. She nods. "Okay."

Maeve smiles too. When was the last time anyone but her oldest brother made her smile?

She places her hand on Lucent's shoulder, and realizes with mild embarrassment she's gotten gold makeup on the shoulder of her dress.

She looks into her face. They are already only inches apart. Lucent looks back at her, her eyes answering the question Maeve was about to ask. 

They kiss, and a long-buried part of Maeve sighs with relief.

Finally.

Chapter Text

02 Vembier, 1361

City-State of Merroutas

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"There is something," Magiano says, flipping a gold talent in his hand, "I've always wanted to do."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

We are sitting together in Sergio's sitting room, the sunset shining in through the window. My sister and Sergio are sitting not too far away, keeping up a conversation I can't quite hear.

We have not made any extreme progress on our new goals, in the last few weeks, and things have gone as they normally would, for the most part. Though we have been making small changes- leaving marks where we would normally leave no trace, when we rob the merchants and noblemen of the city; lingering just long enough to be recognized, before escaping.

There are whispers exchanged in the corners of the city of our names, passing rumors of the Rose Society. But I am anxious to move towards something bigger.

"I suppose we've all heard of the Night King," Magiano says, raising his voice so the others can hear.

Sergio looks up, and sighs through his nose. "Don't tell me."

Magiano laughs a bit at his expression before continuing, "The Night King happens to be the most feared man in the Sealands. He is rivaled perhaps only by The Reaper, as of recent months."

Magiano leans forward on his elbows, "There is a diamond pin that he always wears on his collar. Beautiful thing, worth a fortune."

"We're going to take it?" Violetta asks.

Magiano smiles, and spreads his hands out. "It should be easy, with Adelina's power."

Sergio frowns, looking skeptical. "He is the most feared man in the Sealands for a reason, Magiano. Do you know what he'd do to me if he found out I was helping you with this?"

Magiano shrugs, nonchalant. "Flay you alive and sew your skin into his cloak?"

Sergio narrows his eyes for a moment, before tilting his head. "He doesn't actually sew the skin into his cloak. Human skin doesn't make great clothing, as it turns out. But yes to the first." He shakes his head. "This better all be worth it."

"It will be," I answer, this time. I am smiling just slightly, running over Magiano's idea in my mind. He has more experience than any of us in building a reputation, and I am confident he knows what to do to give us ours.

"We'll make a scene of it. Humiliate the old fool," I say. "By the next morning, the world will know our names."

"He has soldiers and mercenaries stationed all around his estate. How do you intend to get near him?" Sergio asks.

"We'll need you to get us invitation into the Night King's festivities tonight," Magiano says.

"Tonight?" Violetta interjects.

"Tonight," I agree with Magiano, "The sooner the better. It is not as if there's much planning to be done."

Sergio is still shaking his head. It is not so much in dissent as it is in disbelief. "We're playing a dangerous game, here."

"And we are going to win," I say.

I stare levelly ahead at him.

"You are employed by the Night King now, but you cannot have expected to stay in his services forever, if you are going to come with us," I pause, "If you are going to be a Rose."

He stares back at me for a moment.

Then he exhales, leaning back into his chair, and finally nods. "Alright. I can get us in."

My sister watches our exchange with her hands folded in her lap, and her lips pursed. She turns to me. "How are we supposed to get past all of these soldiers and mercenaries on the way out?" She frowns. "After we have revealed ourselves?"

"I can cloak us in invisibility," I say. "They won't know where to look for us until it is too late."

I have been making exciting progress in my large scale illusions in the past few weeks. I should be able to paint us out of our surroundings with no problem.

"We should have a ship ready for us, as soon as we leave," Sergio says, "We'll need to get off the island as soon as possible. I'm sure they'll close the ports after a stunt like this."

"You have one, don't you?" Magiano says.

Sergio nods. "I do." He purses his lips. "I suppose we should load her up with our things, if we are going to leave the city permanently. Are you sure this can't wait until tomorrow night?"

Magiano and I exchange a look. It is true, we have all of our belongings here and we may be hard pressed to get them all onto a ship before nightfall. I know Magiano wouldn't like leaving it all behind - jewelry, expensive clothes, many increasingly extravagant looking lutes.

"I suppose tomorrow works," I say.

Sergio nods again, and stands. "I can have everything arranged by then."

We rise with him, and follow him towards the door, so we can collect our things. I stop when I feel a hand around my wrist.

"Adelina."

I blink, and turn to my sister at the sound of her quiet voice. The door closes behind Magiano and Sergio, and we are alone together.

"Violetta?" I ask.

She takes both of my hands, and looks solemnly into my eye.

She seems to hesitate for a moment, and I look curiously at her.

"I know, that this is what you want," she begins, "And I am not going to try and stop you."

I frown slightly. I do not like her insinuation that she could stop me if she wanted, even though I know she could, with her power. Where is this going?

"If we are really going to do this," I know by 'this' she does not just mean robbing the Night King, "I need you to promise me something, mi Adelinetta," Violetta says.

I stare warily at her for a moment, my insides churning. What is this? Is she making demands? Is she trying to threaten me? What does she intend to do if I don't agree to whatever she wants?

I know, I know what she could do, and the edges of my vision start to blur.

"And what is that?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

Violetta squeezes my hands. She looks very serious.

"I need you to promise me no one is going to get hurt."

I blink.

My posture untenses. Oh, my gentle-hearted little sister.

I swallow, my breathing evening out again. "Violetta," I say, "We are all going to be fine. We are more than capable of doing this." I squeeze her hands back. "None of us are going to get hurt, I promise."

To my surprise, Violetta does not relax. She frowns, and I frown, too.

She looks for a moment like she is going to say something else, like she is going to continue, before deciding against it. She nods. "Thank you."

She starts toward the doorway. "We should go help the others."

I put my hand on her shoulder, and spin her gently back around to face me. "What's wrong?"

She looks up at me for a moment, before taking a breath. "Can you promise me we are not going to hurt anyone?"

I stare at her. “What?”

Violetta hesitates again. "The things that you talk about doing... they are going to create a lot of opportunities for conflict, mi Adelinetta. But I do not want to cause suffering for other people." Her shoulders fall. “Can you promise me no one is going to get hurt?”

I am silent.

This silence hangs heavy between us for a moment, two moments, three.

"No, I don't think I can."

My sister's face falls, and she shifts backward, her hands slipping out of mine.

I close my eye. "I did not think you were naïve. You do realize one of our friends is a hired mercenary?" I shake my head. "That I met Magiano because we were both about to be burned at the stake? The world has made no such promises, Violetta. The world wants us dead. We cannot afford to hold ourselves back for the sake of- of keeping our hands clean!"

"I am not suggesting we don't defend ourselves," Violetta immediately replies. There is a sharpness to her voice that makes me blink again, that I can't remember ever hearing. "I am suggesting we don't kill people! I know full well what the world thinks, I have seen malfettos burned or hanged or just left in the streets to die, I spent weeks thinking you were going to end up one of them!" She is blinking furiously now, trying to keep the shine in her eyes from spilling over, "I did not eat or sleep for days at a time. I could not stop trying to find some way to save you."

She swallows, and she takes my hands again. "I know that the world is full of fear, and hate." She squeezes my hands, again, and I can't seem to return the comfort, "But we do not have to be."

Violetta takes a breath, before continuing, "Of course we might have to fight our way out of a bad situation. Of course we will have to defend ourselves against potential assailants, perhaps often, if we achieve the infamy you intend. But we do not have to become a force of suffering in the world. We can be so much better than that."

She pauses for a long moment. "Can you promise that no one is going to die? If we can even possibly help it? Can you promise we will not go out seeking blood?"

I stare at my sister. Stare, and stare. Her gaze does not move from my face. 

Her words settle over me slowly. She is not asking this out of naïvety. Out of a lack of wisdom or experience. She knows what she is talking about. She has experienced quite a lot, for a fourteen year old girl.

My thoughts turn to the Night King, who we are robbing tomorrow, who would have us all killed slowly and painfully if he knew what we were planning. To the crowds that had gathered to watch a sixteen year old girl burn to death on stage, to distract them from their own petty lives. To The Reaper, who-

The Reaper, who it occurs to me now, put his entire plan at risk for the sake of sparing a life.

Why?

It would have been so easy to just kill Sergio and be done with him. He'd killed before, and he's killed since, I know this. Sergio could have revealed the whole of the Daggers' plot to the Inquisition the moment he was cast out, and yes, they would have taken their revenge, but the damage would already have been done. Why did he take such a risk?

I can only come up with one answer. Sergio had spent more than a year and a half among the Daggers. Longer than I have known the two people in the world I consider friends. Longer than it took me to consider them as such.

I search my sister's dark, determined eyes for another moment.

I suppose there could be some room for compassion, even in this world.

Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, I nod. "Okay, Violetta. I promise."

Chapter Text

03 Vembier, 1361

City-State of Merroutas

The Sealands

Magiano

"Everything is in order."

Sergio hands him a small card, with what Magiano recognizes as the Night King's emblem etched into it.

"This will be good for getting the three of you inside," He taps the card once, "I will be among the patrols guarding the estate tonight. After we are finished, I will meet you at the northwest exit."

Magiano nods. He knows his way around the Night King's estate- this will not be the first time he has slipped under the man's nose and robbed him blind.

It will, though, be the first time he lets anyone know about it.

Adelina and Violetta nod their understanding as well. He hands the card to Adelina so she can study it, and pulls a gold coin from his pocket to busy his hands instead. 

"We are ready to leave, then?" Adelina asks.

"As soon as the sun is down," Sergio replies.

It is late evening now, and Magiano finds himself watching the way the the setting sunlight makes the different strands of Adelina's hair shift from white to gray. She is dressed, as he and her sister are, in elegant silks they had decided to pick up the night before. Hers are pure white, complementing the dark color of her skin and the shifting color of her hair, and arranged in the Kenettran fashion, while he's chosen a look more reminiscent of the Sunlands.

Adelina nods again. "Good."

Her sister lingers close to her. Magiano noticed, the evening before, they had not followed him to help carry their things onto Sergio's ship; he had decided not to disturb them, going ahead and taking most of their belongings for them.

Upon returning, he'd found them embracing, Violetta looking like she had been crying. They had not explained, and he had chosen not to pry. He assumes Violetta had been frightened about going up against the Night King, and Adelina that had been comforting her, but he cannot be sure, and it is not really his business.

He'd suggested they go shopping to break the tense, semi-awkward silence that had followed, and it had worked quite well; one thing Magiano has found he and Violetta share is a liking for pretty things. She sports a new necklace of opals and diamonds in addition to her rich purple silks, and he thinks the combination makes her look like a princess.

He also thinks she had liked operating like proper citizens, if only for a night, actually buying the things they took. They will not make a thorough habit of this, but there would be no point in stealing money if they did not pay for things at least some of the time.

He absently rolls the gold coin between his fingers, flips it into the air and catches it again, and he does this often, but he notices now Adelina's eye flitting toward his hand for a moment, following the coin's movement. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she looks away, and her sister smiles, then presses her lips together to try and hide it.

He tilts his head, holding the coin between his first two fingers, amused suspicion rising in him. "Something going on, my loves?"

Adelina meets his eyes for a moment, then smiles herself, amusement and self-satisfaction in her eye. She nudges her sister's shoulder, and Violetta giggles, and he watches the very real very solid piece of gold unravel into thin air.

He blinks, a few times, and he almost laughs too but the breath is knocked out of him by the now-familiar rush of his powers flowing back into him after Violetta's held them back. He blinks again, and catches the white green blue threads of his energy settling back into place behind his eyelids.

Violetta tosses what he assumes to be the real gold piece to him, and he looks from her to Adelina.

He does laugh a little, now, "When did you-?"

"About ten minutes ago," Violetta answers, hiding her continued smile behind her hand.

"How did I not notice you taking my power away?" he says, "It usually feels like a punch to the gut."

"I did it slowly," she says, "One thread at a time." She tilts her head. "That took a few extra minutes."

His gaze returns to Adelina, who is holding her posture high and looking very proud of herself.

He tilts his head toward her, still smiling. She's managed to trick him?

"Impressive, White Rose," he says, and she smiles at the use of her new Elite name.

He glances toward the window, where the sun has now sunk below the horizon. "But I do hope you have something a tad bigger than coins planned for the Night King."

***

Lights dance around them in the nightly festivities of the Night King's estate. Girls dance around them as well, though that is not what Magiano focuses on.

They had gotten in easily, Sergio gaining them admittance, Adelina using her powers to disguise them as respectable (non-malfetto) members of the Night King's court.

Adelina walks beside him now, and Violetta on her other side, as they make their way towards the center of the grounds, where the Night King himself will be. Sergio lurks in the wings somewhere, waiting for them to make their move.

They make a leisurely pace, and do not speak besides small talk, wanting to blend in, so he is left alone with his thoughts. 

They keep wandering back to the fact that he's agreed to travel with another Elite, something he hasn't done in four years, since he was twelve and frightened and still learning to use his powers.

Of course he has connections all over the world- he knows the locations and skillsets of countless Elites, knows exactly who will be where and what he will be able to do if they are. Sergio had been one of these connections.

It is a necessity, with his kind of power, and obviously he's been approached dozens of times for a genuine partnership, but he's always turned the seeker down. Having a power constantly at his disposal would certainly be useful, but it's never been worth the idea of having to share his life with someone. His money, his belongings, his secrets.

Until Adelina.

Adelina, with her reality-warping powers that create near limitless possibilities, with her fierce ambition and her cunning mind and her beautiful silver hair. With her contagious determination, and her passionate way of speaking when she's found something she really wants, and by the gods he's fallen hard, hasn't he.

Adelina and her sister, Violetta, who would be really genuinely terrifying if he didn't already know she was the sweetest girl in the world, who could rip away his or any power with a single thought, who'd read his deepest insecurities like a book.

He had believed he would die in Dalia. He'd had other close calls before, but they’d always been in major cities; Estenzia, with it’s Daggers, Alamour, with The Alchemist. He knew of no Elites in Dalia. He was sure he was going to die. 

And die the same way he was always supposed to, yes? Die on display, to 'appease the gods', to further someone else's ends. It had unearthed memories he much preferred to keep at bay, memories of bloodcurdling screams underscored by horrible calm prayers, of blood pouring down an altar and flooding onto the floor and the smell of it all the way from the crack in the door where he watched and his insides constricted and he couldn't feel he couldn't breathe and how could they they were only twelve she was only twelve-

He's stopped walking, inadvertently, and Adelina has turned and raised an eyebrow at him. She does not look like herself, dark hair and an unscarred face disguising her here, but it is her, at the core, he knows it is Adelina and he steadies himself on the knowledge of her presence. 

The boy of Mensah is buried in his memories, and there he will stay. He is Magiano now, he is a Young Elite. He is not helpless, he is not scared, and he is not a thing to be used, by anyone.

He breathes, and breathes, and after a moment he can manage his usual smile.

He hooks his arm into hers and nods to her, everything's fine, and she nods back, and they continue walking.

He hadn't stopped thinking of Adelina in those four weeks he'd separated from her. Sergio had called him lovesick and implored him to just go out and get her again instead of going on and on about her day in and day out. 

Maybe he was a little lovesick, even then- he had very much enjoyed her company in the time they were sailing to Merroutas. But he can't say most of the reason he'd wanted her back, at first, didn't have to do with her power. With her abilities, he could never be captured again, he could never end up killed, for any of the crimes he will commit, or just for being a malfetto. He knows he is safe, in her presence, and that is a precious thing. 

It's more than that now, of course. He watches her, as they walk, watches the red orange white energy glowing off of her hair and most of her face that only he can see, and remembers the feel of her mouth, the gleam of moonlight on her hair. 

Much more.

They are approaching the Night King's table, finally, and he can see the pin on the man's collar, and it is really very pretty, sparkling with starlight and lantern light. He has always wanted it. 

He can feel Adelina shift as she sees it to, and she glances to him for conformation. He nods, and she smiles just slightly, anticipation lighting up her features. That makes him smile, too, genuinely now.

It's time to move in.

***

Magiano has infiltrated the Night King's court many times, has created something of a persona among the nobility there, and he does not think he's ever met a man with a bigger head.

Magiano supposes he may deserve some of the merit- he did manage to take hold of an entire state and hold power for decades, does manage to root out most any opposition towards him and make gruesome, public examples of them. 

But if you can manage to not only let the world's most notorious criminal slip past you consistently, but greet him as a friend when he arrives at your estate, failing to notice the color of his eyes even before he had Adelina's power at his disposal-

It is probably needless to say, he could use a reminder he is not what he thinks of himself.

The Night King has invited the three of them to sit down, and they are making the same small talk they had made with the other nobles, although the King will often make comments about Adelina or Violetta's beauty. He will give them looks that Magiano recognizes, now and again, that make him very ready to rob the bastard and kick him into the dirt, and he thinks they should get on with this quickly.

After it has been a few minutes, and the Night King has finished his second glass of wine since they sat down, Adelina finally makes a move. 

The pin on the Night King's collar flickers out of existence, and appears on the neckline of Adelina's dress. 

The Night King clearly notices, and seems about to say something when the false pin flicks out of existence, reappearing on the man's collar, a distance to the left of the true, invisible one. 

The Night King squints at Adelina, confused as to whether he actually saw anything, and Magiano casts an illusion of himself sitting quietly in his chair as he reaches over and takes the real pin for himself.

He settles back into his chair and pockets the pin, being sure to match the illusion of himself up with reality before letting it fall away. 

The Night King is still staring at Adelina, though he seems about ready to dismiss the brief illusion as a trick of the light. 

"Something the matter, Your Majesty?" Adelina asks in a level voice, tilting her head.

The Night King starts to respond, when the pin suddenly flicks back into existence on Adelina's chest. 

He blinks a few times, making sure he really sees what he sees, and when he does his expression folds into rage.

"Thief!" he says, glaring at Adelina and reaching out to grab her, before Magiano and Adelina both stand, Magiano skirting her behind him and out of his reach.

"What in the world do you mean?" he asks, in a very good impression of bewildered offense.

A couple of the Night King's guards have come over, their hands on their weapons. "What have they stolen, Your Majesty?"

The Night King turns accusingly to them. "'What have they stolen'? You fool, my pin! It's right there on her-"

He stops short, blinking at the now-pinless bodice of Adelina's dress. 

The guards glance from Adelina, to the Night King's collar, where the diamond pin shines as it always has. "Your Majesty?"

Violetta has stood now as well, walking to stand on Adelina's other side, and the threads of Adelina's power surround them, making each of them appear to walk a few paces. 

Adelina gives the Night King a polite smile. "Perhaps you have drunk too freely tonight, Your Majesty?"

The King turns on her, and the nobles surrounding them fall quiet, beginning to stir uneasily. It may very well be true, but they know she has offended him, and they know what is to come next. 

He draws his sword and arcs down at her, in a single, fluid motion, and the nobles that have not turned away in grim anticipation gasp, as there is no squelch of metal tearing through flesh and sinew, no splatter of blood. 

Only an empty space of courtyard.

The Night King steps back as his sword hits only air, the illusion of Adelina disappearing completely. 

All three false versions of themselves blink out of existence, and Magiano thinks for a moment that this is it, and they are going to take their leave, but Adelina does not move. 

Violetta clearly had the same thought he did, because she purses her lips at her sister, raising a questioning eyebrow as the energy of Adelina's power creeps out over the entire courtyard, the entire estate, up to the sky itself. 

The colors rush out of the world around them, and Magiano has to smile as the night is suddenly flooded with gold light.

The Night King, his courtiers, and his guards still remain, but the table and chairs, the walls of the courtyard, and the estate itself have all vanished. The starry night sky has turned a clear, piercing blue, and a false sun shines brightly, casting down a subtle warmth.

The estate's dark walls have been replaced with the tan-brown stone of a Kenettran villa, and the courtyard around them has been replaced with sprawling green gardens.

The Night King and his men watch, in awe or disbelief.

Slowly, Adelina reveals herself, her whole self, her hair the brightest white in this sun, her marked eye creasing up as she gives a controlled smile.

The Night King's men raise their crossbows, the mercenaries hidden in the crowd draw their daggers, and Magiano raises his hand, painting down the threads of Adelina's power.

Their weapons all disappear entirely from their hands. They cannot be felt, or seen- to them, they have vanished.

Many of the weapons fall to the ground, the bewildered men relaxing their grips and moving their hands at the sensation of nothing but air between their fingers. 

He realizes a moment too late he has forgotten mask the Night King's weapon, his sword.

The man lunges for Adelina, the true Adelina-

Only for his foot to catch on the leg of the completely invisible table, making him fall over onto his face, his sword clattering to the ground. 

The guards and courtiers stir with shock. Magiano laughs out loud.

"White Rose," he calls to the side, and Adelina reveals him. 

He bends over to pick up the Night King's sword where it has fallen, and points it right at the man's face as he begins to rise. 

"You should be more careful about where decide to point your sword, my friend," he says amiably, "You may find it pointed right back."

"Malfettos," The Night King spits, "Demon children."

"Took you long enough," The Night King attempts to rise again, but Magiano presses the sword farther, this close to drawing blood from his neck, "You'd do well to pay a bit more attention."

"Magiano."

The crowds stir at the mention of his name, beginning to hum with whispers.

He blinks, and looks up. The air just to Adelina's left shimmers, and Violetta becomes visible. 

He raises an eyebrow at her, then at Adelina, who after a moment nods slightly, assenting her sister's protest. 

Violetta holds out her hand. Magiano considers it.

He then pulls the sword back up and holds it out handle-first to Violetta, but not before swiftly kicking the Night King in the chest, making the man fall back onto his elbows.

Violetta nods appreciatively to him, hugging the sword's ornate hilt to her chest.

The crowds are still whispering his name to each other, glancing at him, and he does not want to steal the spotlight all for himself, so he moves to stand at Adelina's other side. 

“You are lucky our Puppet Master is so compassionate,” he says, looking down at the Night King. 

“Indeed," Adelina continues for him, her energy glowing whiter than he's ever seen it. "You live at the mercy of the children of the gods.”

The Night King snarls, glaring at them. 

Then, quicker than Magiano could have guessed, he lunges to his feet, and pulls a dagger that had been concealed by his coat.

He is stopped only about a foot in front of their faces, by some seemingly invisible force. 

Magiano squints at the invisible thing the Night King is grappling with, and although it's hard to tell with Adelina already changing the entire landscape around them, he can make out the edges of something else she is concealing. Someone else, swimming in his own black violet blue energy.

"I thought you were going to stay out of the action this time, Rainmaker," Magiano says, as the dagger is knocked out of the Night King's hand and he is pushed back onto the invisible table. 

Adelina's energy is pulled away from Sergio, making him visible. She must have seen him approaching, he thinks, and been knowingly concealing him.

"I thought you were all smart enough to think he'd be carrying more than one weapon," he shoots back, and Magiano snorts.

"Better, I suppose, that all four of us are here, anyways," he says, shrugging.

"You!" The Night King yells, recognizing Sergio. 

He smiles dryly. "You might take this as a resignation, Your Majesty."

The Night King comes down from the table to approach them again, and Magiano casts an illusion around him so that as his feet touch the ground, he seems to be poised at the edge of a cliff. He stumbles back, crying out. 

Adelina watches this. She then looks out over the crowd of assembled nobles and unarmed guards, none of whom have come to the defense of their King. 

"This is the likes of which you give your fear? Your respect?" Her voice is level, and authoritative. "You would condemn us, the blessed of the gods, the Young Elites, while hailing this fool as a King?"

As Adelina speaks, the flowers in the false garden begin to grow, and change. Each of the blossoms get larger, as they transform into pure, white roses, and the stalks of flowers thicken into green thorn bushes. 

"We leave today without drawing blood, when we could have easily stripped each one of you of your senses and slaughtered you, as a mercy. But think of us-" she pauses.

"Think of the Rose Society, the next time you consider making any move against those like us. We are all around you," she gestures to Sergio, who steps back to stand on Violetta's other side, "and we will make anyone pay dearly for crossing us."

With that, she lets the four of them melt into the garden.

A few guards make moves for the exits before realizing the exits are gone- everything is gone, and they are trapped in a false layer of reality. The still-growing rosebushes move to cover the the doorways of the false villa, even though they do not lead anywhere, just to cause more confusion. 

Meanwhile, Adelina and Violetta, who can see all of the reality behind this illusion, lead Magiano and Sergio through the northwest exit of the Night King's estate. 

Chapter Text

03 Vembier, 1361

The Sacchi Sea 

Waters Between The Sealands and The Sunlands

Adelina Amouteru

"How many?"

"As of now? About two dozen," Sergio stops walking to place the Night King's sword, which Violetta handed off to him after we were out of the harbor, on a high shelf.

I nod. We are talking about Sergio's former coworkers- the other men of the Night King's army of mercenaries. 

"I anticipate many more, after word has had the chance to get around. After an embarrassment like this-" Sergio shakes his head, smiling a little. "I know many men who would change allegiances just for the sake of their reputations."

I smile too, at that, the fresh memories of our escapade just a few hours ago rushing back to my mind's surface. 

I had left the Night King's court trapped in the illusion of my family's old gardens until I was too far away to keep it up anymore- long after we'd pulled out of the docks. The gardens were the largest-scale illusion I've ever pulled off, and it's left me exhilarated, if rather physically exhausted from the exertion of using so much energy for so long.

They didn't even have the chance to close the ports before we were long gone, and Sergio whipped up a vicious storm around the island, to make sure we could not be followed. The rain comes down on us lighter and lighter as we move farther away from Merroutas, and towards the Sunlands. 

Sergio and I stand now just belowdecks, in his quarters of the ship. The captains quarters have been ceded to me, even though this is his ship. Whether this is out of respect or some chivalrous notion, I am not sure, but I cannot find it in me to complain.

I believe Magiano and Violetta have both gone to sleep- I have not seen either of them in a couple of hours.

"And you're sure we can trust them to follow us?" I ask.

"They're mercenaries," Sergio hangs his coat on a rack, and then pulls a heavy, jingling bag from it, "As long we keep them in good coin and don't do anything to make fools of ourselves, they'll follow us loyally."

I raise an eyebrow at the bag, tilting my head just slightly. It looks like one of the bags Magiano keeps with him. "And are we still paying you for your services, Rainmaker?"

He meets my eye as he lets the bag drop onto a table.

"Yes," he pauses, "But if you're asking whether I'm here for the money, that would be a no. I was getting plenty of money from the Night King."

"You want to show up the Daggers," I say.

Sergio blinks, then raises his chin. "Yes."

I nod. I've been aware of my friend's lingering desire to be apart of something, after the Daggers cast him out- something better than them- and I've used it to my advantage, where I could. 

I could not have pulled this off without him- without him, or Magiano, or my sister- and I will use every advantage at my disposal to make sure I do not lose them. 

I do not expect Sergio to continue speaking, but he does.

"That, and," he pauses again. "Perhaps, I like you three."

I blink this time, not expecting that answer from him.

He notices, and rolls his eyes. "Dangerous, I know. Last time I made friends, three of four them ended up wanting me dead."

I am silent, for a moment. 

"We would not do that," I say. "We would never try to get rid of you. You are one of us, and you always will be. No changing it."

He does not seem to have expected such an answer from me, either. 

"Well, we'll see how this goes," he says, after a pause. "Perhaps we'll all end up dead in a month."

"We won't," I say, sure of it. "We are the chosen by the gods. There is no one who can stand against us. We will rise above all of them."

He looks at me for a moment. 

"I hope you're right," he says.

"I am," I say.

After a moment, he nods. 

"Anything else, for now, White Rose?" he asks.

"Get in contact with our mercenaries as soon as possible. I want them in place by the time we dock in Domacca," I say.

He nods, "Consider it done."

I turn to leave.

"Goodnight, Adelina."

I hesitate by the door. 

"Goodnight, Sergio."

I quietly exit Sergio's room, and run face-first into my sister.

Violetta takes a step back as I close the door behind me, touching her face briefly where we'd collided.

"Sorry," I say offhandedly, touching the bridge of my nose for a moment, before narrowing my eye. "What are you doing out here? I thought you'd gone to bed."

She looks to the side for a moment, her cheeks reddening just a bit. 

I raise an eyebrow.

"Eavesdropping?" I assume, more amused than upset, "Sweet Violetta, we are having an impression on you."

"I was just-" she replies quickly, the red on her cheeks becoming more prominent, "passing by the door, and I heard-" she frowns, her blush diminishing. "We're recruiting mercenaries, now?"

My mood sours at her somewhat accusing tone. 

"There are mercenaries eager to follow us," I reply in an even voice.

"What are we going to use mercenaries for, Adelina?" she asks, and I take a deep breath.

I begin walking down the hall, the way that leads to the deck of the ship, and Violetta follows me.

"We are heading into hostile territory," I begin, "The Sunland nations are not kind to the marked. In addition to that, The Night King will surely be sending forces after us." I turn to look at my sister. "We are all very powerful, but an army of common men may still pose a threat to four children of the gods. Thus, for the sake of our own safety, would it not be best to have our own army at our backs?"

My sister stares back at me for a moment, the dark pools of her eyes seeming to study me.

"Only to defend us?" she asks.

I sigh. 

We scale a small set of stairs, and emerge onto the top deck of the ship, the air just pleasantly cold. The starry sky and the dark blue sea both stretch out infinitely around us, the three full moons making it easy to see in the night.

"Have I not asked you to trust me, Violetta?"

My sister's expression softens, and she nods. "You have."

She stares out at the sea.

"And do you?" she asks, quietly.

I blink, looking back at her. 

"Trust me?" she explains. 

I purse my lips. 

"Of course, Violetta," I say, almost confused that she'd need to ask.

She is my sister. Before I'd trust anyone, I would trust her.

Violetta nods, giving a small smile.

After that, neither of us speak. We stand together, staring out over the water, absorbing the feeling of midnight.

Chapter Text

22 Dicembre, 1361

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Raffaele Laurent Bessette

"The Night King is threatening war."

Raffaele walks into Enzo's chambers, holding a paper detailing the latest news from the south. Moonlight shines in through the window, illuminating the room far more than the few candles lit inside. 

The King looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. "He's either bluffing or a fool. We would destroy him without lifting finger."

Raffaele sits beside Enzo, at the corner of his bed. "True," he pauses, "The only thing is, breaking alliances with Merroutas would leave us vulnerable to an attack from Tamoura."

The Tamouran empire is the most powerful nation on the map, and has made attempts to take Kenettra in the past, but Enzo does not look worried. "Let them try. Between the Beldish backing us and our powers, we'd send them running."

Raffaele purses his lips, looking back at the paper. "Perhaps. But it would be best to try and convince the Night King we had nothing to do with the attack on him last month."

The corners of Enzo's lips turn up just a little at the mention of the incident. "I don't know why he's so convinced we were behind it. Roses and daggers, they're very distinct things."

Raffaele's eyes trail down the paper. "That is the other thing. Matching up information between sightings in Merroutas and in Domacca these last weeks, we have been able to put together solid information about the members of the Rose Society."

Enzo has always been very interested in news of other Young Elites, and he has been especially interested in this new Society. The fact that they are no longer the world's only united force of Elites has been more exciting to him than threatening. He always has thought of bringing together all the world's Elites.

He sits up straighter, and almost looks over Raffaele's shoulder. "Yes?"

Raffaele does not need to look at the paper, remembering it's information fine. "First of all, it would seem Magiano is indeed one of them."

Enzo raises both eyebrows. "Magiano's affiliated himself?" 

"That, or he has a very convincing impersonator," Raffaele says.

"Is he leading them?" Enzo asks. 

Raffaele shakes his head. "From what we can tell, they are lead by The White Rose." Raffaele pauses here. "An illusion worker, able to fool the senses. She is described as a young Tamouran girl, with silver hair and a scarred out eye."

Enzo nods along for a moment, before recognition lights up in his eyes. "Do you think it is-?"

"Adelina Amouteru?" Raffaele nods. "Yes, I think it must be."

Enzo's posture shifts. He shakes his head. "Seems we missed out on quite the Dagger recruit."

Raffaele remembers the one time he had seen Adelina up close- that night in the rain, racing past him through Dalia's central market. The intensity of the fear surrounding her had been nearly overwhelming, so much that he knew it did not come only from her current emotions, but from deep within her energy. The energy of Formidite, of the gatekeeper of the Underworld, potentially useful as much as it was potentially devastating. 

"Indeed," he says, not entirely meaning it.

He wishes the girl well in her own endeavors, but he cannot help thinking it may be for the better that their paths did not cross. 

Enzo pauses, perhaps catching a hint of insincerity in his reply. But he does not dwell on it. "And the others?" 

Raffaele glances down at the paper, and frowns slightly at the last two names, deciding which to bring up first.

"The Puppet Master," he says.

"Ominous," Enzo comments lightheartedly. 

"Another Tamouran girl, without, it would seem, any visible markings," Raffaele continues. 

"And her power?" Enzo says.

"According to rumor, it would be," Raffaele pauses, "It would be to take away the powers of others."

Enzo's easy expression drops. He doesn't speak for a moment, but Raffaele can feel his unease at the idea rolling off of him, similar to his own.

"Permanently?" he asks.

"We are not sure," Raffaele says.

Enzo looks contemplative for a moment. Their powers are one of their greatest assets, if not the greatest. They would not have been able to claim the throne, or hold it, without them. It is a troubling thought that someone could take them away, perhaps for good.

"That is..." Enzo starts.

"Foreboding," Raffaele supplies. 

Enzo nods, "A bit, yes." He pauses. "We would do well to avoid provoking her."

Raffaele frowns more deeply now, focusing on the last name. "It may be a bit late for that, actually."

Enzo frowns too. "What do you mean?"

Raffaele pauses, before finally just handing him the paper. 

Enzo's eyes reach the bottom of the page. Raffaele feels a mild guilt rippling off of him. "Oh."

Neither of them speak for a moment.

"So, you didn't kill the Rainmaker," Raffaele finally says.

Enzo exhales. "No."

The Rainmaker. It had been a dark time when they- when he- had had to make the choice, to end an innocent person's life or risk all of theirs. Sergio had been coming undone- causing public scenes trying to summon his power, sneaking out at night. It was only a matter of time before he tipped the Inquisition off to something, wittingly or not. Raffaele had thought he'd made the right decision, had thought that their ultimate goal- Enzo's throne, and the freedom of all malfettos in Kenettra- was too important to leave on the line.

He'd thought he'd made the right decision, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling guilt about it all this time. 

And the fact, now, that he apparently didn't need to die, that it all could have been, that it all was, avoided...

"You could have told me," Raffaele's tone is just slightly hurt, "You could have just told me you decided not to kill him, it is not as if I had some personal vendetta against him."

"I know that," Enzo pauses. He meets Raffaele's eyes. "It's just that you were right. The best thing to do would have been to kill him, it was a huge risk to let him live, and it could have ruined everything! But when it came down to it, I just..."

Enzo trails off, and Raffaele stares back at him for a moment. 

"You couldn't." Raffaele shakes his head, and takes a breath. "Of course you couldn't."

Enzo tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

Raffaele considers for a moment. He thinks of the certain fondness Enzo has had for all of their Daggers, the deep empathy he feels for all of the marked.

"He hadn't done anything yet. Even if it it seemed he would. He hadn't betrayed us," Raffaele says, "So you still cared about him. And when you care about people, you cannot bare to see them hurt."

Enzo raises an eyebrow at the assessment. "Is that so?"

Raffaele hums. "It ties in with your alignment to passion, I think. The alignment to roseite is an alignment to compassion, as well. When you care for others, you care deeply, and you will go to great lengths to ensure their safety, even if it is unwise." Raffaele closes his eyes, and for a moment imagines the mutilated bodies of so many people Enzo has killed on his own behalf. "I have known this. I really should not have expected you to do it, in the first place."

When he opens his eyes again, Enzo is looking at him oddly, and for a moment he is worried he has upset him. But the emotions swirling in his energy are only positive, if different from the ones usually seen in him. 

Enzo blinks a few times. His eyes are very dark, the red that sometimes glows in them totally absent. "That is the kindest thing anyone has said about me."

Oh. Raffaele relaxes. "It is the truth."

"I love you," Enzo says, and Raffaele's heart glows just as much as the first time he heard him say it.

"I love you, too," he says in return, and then Raffaele senses the spike in his passion that means he is going to kiss him, so he meets him halfway.

It lasts a long few moments. He must have kissed a thousand people in all his years, but kissing Enzo is the only time he's really enjoyed it.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Enzo says after.

"I understand. It's alright," Raffaele replies. He tilts his head. "But I do hope he is not sore enough about it to spring his new power-stealing friend on us."

He laughs. "I think we'll be alright. Our powers aren't all there is to us, after all."

Enzo pauses for a moment. "I wish it were possible to form an allegiance with these new Elites, though. We are most powerful when we are working together."

"Perhaps there is," Raffaele says, "Perhaps he will come to look past it. Perhaps he already has."

Enzo nods. 

He glances at the three moons glowing outside the window for a moment. It is getting late.

"Do you want me to stay?" Raffaele asks.

Enzo tilts his head.

"If you would like to," he says.

Raffaele nods slightly, and pulls him close again. 

He feels Enzo against him, and feels his energy, both of them warm and alive, and decides it wouldn't matter if the Puppet Master came along and stole their powers. As long as he has Enzo here with him, he is happy. 

Chapter Text

14 Settembre, 1362

Outskirts of the Palace City

Northern Domacca

The Sunlands

Adelina Amouteru

"The Young Elites!"

The assembled crowd is quick, but not wrong, to assume the reason the sky is turning black. 

Black storm clouds roll into the sky from over the horizon, covering the annoyingly bright blue that had stretched forever in every direction a moment before, and blotting out the sun. The previously warm air chills to freezing in what seems like a moment. 

Screams ring out from all around, many people trying to run. They will not get far.

The ground underneath them begins to shake, causing many to fall down, all to at least stop in their tracks, swaying, trying to keep balance. 

The darkness wanes in one place, just near the spectacle the crowds had been watching a moment before. Reality shifts, and an unignorable white light comes to life before the crowd. More screams, some mistaking this for a lightning strike. But the light holds in place, fading just slightly as the seconds tick by, until it is soft enough to look directly at.

At it's core is the image of a young Tamouran woman, her hair glowing white in the light, equally white, elegantly tied silks shaping her figure. The only part of the image that is not white is her skin, a medium brown, with the red tint of scar tissue in the place where her left eye used to be. 

The ground is still shaking, but the young woman does not fall. She- I- stand perfectly still, my posture straight, my head raised regally, looking out over the crowd with a straight face. 

"You!" 

A man wearing the green sun emblem of the Domaccan royal guard draws his sword, and tries to stagger toward me.

I barely spare a glance at him. "You will fall on your own sword," I say derisively. 

The man closes his eyes and straightens, taking a deep breath. Then he takes a surer step toward me. 

"You are the White Ro-," he says, his voice faltering on the oh as he nearly falls, "Rose. You create only illusions. Lies. This is not real. It is a trick."

I raise an eyebrow at him. Otherwise I do not react, but I feel my illusion weakening around him as he realizes what is happening. 

"Perhaps our Rose is a worker of illusions," a voice says, casually, from just behind him. Reality shifts open again, a golden rift tearing apart the air behind the guard.

Theatrics, I think to myself, more fond than annoyed. My entrance, I suppose, was no subtler.

Through it steps a boy who looks much less out of place hear than I, clearly of Domaccan blood, with his dark brown skin and many small braids falling around his shoulders. He is dressed in gold, white, and blue, with an ornate diamond pin adorning his collar. "But you did not think she was alone here, did you?"

The rift vanishes, and Magiano tilts his head at the guard, his bright gold eyes nearly glowing in the unnatural darkness we've made of the desert. 

The guard stumbles in surprise, and does finally fall, though not in way that causes his own sword to run him through.

I feel the guard's uncertainty re-solidifying my illusion around him. Magiano's reputation proceeds him, as does mine- no one is sure what his power is, (many assume it is simply 'all of the above'), and he has been known to move the earth itself before. Just a few months ago, far south of here, in the foothills of the mountains that form Domacca's Tamouran border, he had opened a chasm in the ground between us and approaching assailants, courtesy of a ten year old girl living there on a sheep farm. The girl had clapped and waved at us as we got away, and she might have paid for that, if the soldiers trailing us then had not made the mistake of assuming the chasm was another of my illusions. They'd walked straight forward over the edge, assuming the ground was simply hidden and would continue to hold them.

Violetta could not blame me for that one. 

I make the crowd feel the earth shake more violently, the entire plain beginning to tilt, everyone falling over as the plain of the earth goes briefly vertical.

Everyone, of course, except for Magiano and I. 

I right the world again very quickly, and finally let the earth go still. More than a few people get sick on themselves, or on the desert sand.

"You thought you could get away with this?" I ask, my voice doubling and tripling over itself, seeming to come from six different places throughout the crowd. 

I continue to stare over the assembly, mostly common folk, with a few royal guards. None of them try to stand, or run again. 

"You thought you could run away from your actions, and that would absolve you of punishment?" I ask again.

"Have mercy on us!" Is the only answer I get, from somewhere near the back of the crowd. I am satisfied with the fact there are no shouts of insults, no calls of Demon! or Malfetto!. The crowd thrums with the intoxicating energy of fear, but not that of hate. 

"The gods have no mercy on those who would bring harm to their children," I say, and I almost think I hear a sob coming from somewhere in the crowd. 

"Luckily," Magiano cuts in, stepping over the slumped figure of the guard, "We ourselves hold some modicum of it." 

He steps closer to me, until we are shoulder to shoulder. "Do you think they've suffered enough, my love?"

He says it loud enough for anyone to hear. It is a genuine question. He will not stop me if I choose to continue tormenting these unmarked until they are all vomiting or unconscious. He would help me, even. 

But I can tell he does not really want to. He's never had a taste for revenge.

"I suppose," I say. We wait a moment. The crowd does not move.

Magiano copies my power, and the desert sand begins to heat up again, getting hotter than it was before. The sound of thunder crashes over us, so loudly you would have thought lightning struck right in the middle of the square we'd all gathered in. The crowd jumps. 

"Run," he calls out, and the people do not hesitate to listen. In a few moments, the square is empty.

Once they are out of sight, Magiano turns around. He tosses a key he'd lifted off of the guard to an unassuming, unmarked Tamouran girl, no older than fifteen, who stands at the edge of a tall pile of kindling. She is guarded by a Kenettran man, the oldest of us, though still young, with the beginnings of a large grey mark showing on his chest over his low-collared shirt, and an ornate sword strapped at his waist.

My sister catches the key easily, and takes a few steps up the pile until she is face to face with a young Domaccan girl, just her age, if not a bit younger, with jagged green lines cutting through her dark skin, from the corner of her lip the the tips of the fingers on her right hand. 

Violetta reaches around the tall black post the girl is tied to, gently lifting the shackles holding her. The locks click open, and the girl falls to her knees, burying her face in the skirts of Violetta's dress and sobbing. 

Violetta, ever-gently, tries to nudge the girl off of her skirt. The girl jerks back, away, realizing she must have offended Violetta or embarrassed herself or both, but Violetta simply kneels down to her level, putting her hands on her shoulders, leaning in so that their faces are close. She whispers something soothing that I cannot make out from where I am standing, and the girl buries her face instead in the crook of Violetta's neck, her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. My sister hugs her back.

The rest of us, Sergio, Magiano, and I, stay where we are, watching. 

I remember a time, a time that seems so long ago, when my father would drag me out of the house to watch malfettos burned in Dalia's main square. Innocent children, children just like me, killed horribly, as I was powerless to stop it. I would lock myself in my room, crying, for hours afterword. 

I remember a time that doesn't seem nearly as far off, though it has been a little over a year, when I was scheduled to burn myself, when Magiano and I had saved each other. 

I remember just a few moments ago, when I had made an entire crowd run screaming from me. 

I will never be powerless again. None of us will. Now it is the unmarked who will live in fear.

Now it is the unmarked who will beg for mercy. 

Magiano is the first to walk toward my sister and the Domaccan girl, and I trail slowly after him. I stop just at the edge of the pile of kindling, while he climbs a few steps to crouch beside them. 

The girl sniffs. Her breathing is still ragged, but otherwise she has calmed her crying. She and Violetta are still locked in an embrace, but she lifts her head to meet Magiano's eyes. 

"The Roses," she says quietly, shock and awe spilling from her words. He nods.

"Magiano?" she asks him, and he nods again. He wears the odd, solemn expression I only see on him when we are saving marked children. 

"The Puppet Master," he sets his hand on Violetta's shoulder, and the girl turns back at her, blinking. I am not sure how my sister got the reputation of being something fearsome- the daunting sound of her Elite name, perhaps- but this is not the first time someone has been surprised to see who she really is.

"The White Rose," Magiano nods to me, and the girl looks up. Our eyes meet for a moment, and I see that while hers are brown, they are flecked with the same electric green that marks her skin. 

"And the Rainmaker," Magiano nods to Sergio, still standing over the three of them, watching the horizon to make sure no one takes advantage of the moment to try and surprise us. His hand rests on the Night King's sword, his typical weapon now. It serves as a reminder of what we are capable of, that no one who crosses us is safe, no matter who they think they are. 

Also it is, of course, a very nice sword.

"Thank you," the girl says. She starts to choke up again, and Violetta strokes her hair.

"Can you tell me your name?" Magiano asks her, and I could swear his voice thinned on the last word.

"Kamaria," the girl says.

"Do you have a family to go back to?" he asks.

The girl, Kamaria, starts to answer, then stops. She blinks fast, trying to stop her tears from coming back, and does not speak.

"Did they submit you to this?" Violetta asks, this time, and I think the girl nods before she falls back onto Violetta's shoulder. Her crying is much less violent now, much quieter, the despair of betrayal instead of the panic of near-death. 

I wonder if Kamaria's family had been a part of the crowd. I wonder if I should have kept them here a while longer after all. 

While Kamaria cries quietly, Magiano explains to her the way to one of Domacca's rivers, to a port city where she can gain passage to the Ember Isles, the city-state that is the crossroads between the Sunlands and the Skylands. The Skyland influence has made the Isles a much kinder place to the marked, perhaps the safest place for us to be outside of the Skylands themselves. Other than Kenettra, with it's Young Elite king.

It would be a feat to gain passage from Domacca to Kenettra though, at least directly- unable to reach an agreement with the Domaccan government about the treatment of the marked, King Enzo has placed a full embargo between the two nations. 

I am not sure if Kamaria is listening to everything Magiano says, but it does not really matter. We will spare one of our men to escort her to safety. 

Sergio steps around the pile of kindling to stand at my side. I can tell he is still honed in on our surroundings, even as he addresses me. 

"The King will know we're in the area, now," he says, "We won't have the element of surprise on our hands when we hit the Palace."

"Good," I say, "Perhaps they will pose a challenge to us for once."

We have been all over Domacca in the last ten months, and even with the Night King sending what is left of his forces after us and the King of Domacca declaring us outlaws, we have taken everything we have set out to take, done everything we have set out to do. We keep our men in decent coin, and we keep ourselves in decent luxury, being sure to do business with those who support the marked, and who support the Elites, who revere us as we should be revered. 

It has been fun- I must admit it has been fun. But we have done every thing that there is to do in this country, and soon it will be time to move on. 

Or, I should say, we have done every thing there is to do in this country, but one. 

Violetta pulls Kamaria to her feet, and Magiano stands with them. They descend from the pile of kindling, coming down toward us.

Kamaria will stay with us for the next few hours, perhaps the next couple of days, until we can make the arrangements to get her out of the country, as has been the situation with every marked person we have pulled from the brush of Moritas's fingertips. We could never afford to keep so many people with us forever- it would have accumulated to dozens, perhaps even hundreds, by now- but we do what we can. 

"We should probably turn in for the day," Magiano says, standing at my side again. 

I nod. Our accommodations are in the next city over, and we should get moving if we want to be out of here before someone from the crowd gets their nerve back up. We have horses tied up around a corner. 

"Adelina?" Violetta says as we reach them, and I climb up onto mount. 

I frown just slightly at her use of my real name in front of Kamaria, and raise an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

"The sky?" she says, gesturing to the black abyss that still stretches above us in every direction.

I blink. "Right," I say. The illusion unravels, for a moment seeming a translucent gray, from this distance, and then disappears all together, leaving the undaunted blue of the sky.

Chapter Text

16 Vembier, 1362

The Palace City

Northern Domacca

The Sunlands

Magiano

"This is too easy, my love."

He does not make himself sound upset about it, but Adelina still raises an eyebrow at him. "If the stakes are not high enough for you, Violetta could always take our powers for a little while." Her lips are pressed together, trying to suppress a playful smile. "That would be sure to make things interesting."

"I am not taking anyone's powers while we are in the heart of a palace filled with thousands of guards and soldiers," Violetta says, chastising, from where she stands, near the exit. Her hands are folded in front of her, her lips are pursed, and she looks entirely too serious for the fact that she is the youngest there.

Adelina's expression turns to a small frown at her sister's comment. "I was kidding."

"We're going to be fine, Violetta," Sergio says, from where he stands, near the other side of the treasury from them, examining a golden orb embedded with kunzites.

What do monarchs do with the chainless orbs they keep lying around with the rest of their crown jewels, Magiano wonders? Just hold them up? He might think they were for decoration, if they weren't kept locked up and out of sight all the time.

"It is probably for the best we keep our powers to ourselves here, though," Magiano says, spinning the ornate golden crown he holds in his hand, "We wouldn't want His Majesty to figure out that he's wearing a wreath of branches just yet."

Adelina turns from frowning at her sister to watch the crown's diamonds, sapphires and cuts of praise quartz catch the torchlight of the palace treasury. 

They had planned their strike on the palace for two months after arriving in the city, which Magiano and Adelina had both found to be a little excessive. But Sergio had insisted, with Violetta's support, for the sake of precaution. Even so, Magiano cannot think of a better way they might have said a final farewell to his home country.

The people would be talking about this for years; he is already famous for stealing the Kenettran queen's jewels (which he did not actually do, admittedly, but no matter,) and of course they all kicked off their infamy by robbing the Night King. As far as anyone knows, he will have stolen directly from three different monarchs, the people who are supposed to hold more god-ordained power than anyone else in the world, and gotten away without consequences. With the opposite of consequences, really. Fame, fortune, praise, reverence... he could go on. He is really doing very well for himself. And to think, not far from there, surely in walking distance, is the temple where he grew up nothing. To think, closer than they'd been in more than five years, were the people who'd raised him to be sacrificed on the altar, who'd ritually sacrificed countless other children before him and after him and in his place. 

He could have gone back there. He still could, he could tell Adelina everything, she'd already brought up countless times how she'd burn the whole place down for what they'd done to him and she only knows about his scar, she doesn't know the rest, she doesn't know about- about the girl. (He wishes he had some other name to call her, to remember her as, how he wishes, but she had never chosen one.) But he does not want to risk Adelina really burning them alive- not because they wouldn't deserve it, but because he doesn't want to be the reason for Adelina to kill anyone. He does not want to risk her relationship with her sister, and he definitely does not want to risk her mental health.

And, if he is being honest with himself, he is scared. He doesn't want to see that place again. He just wants to put it behind him.

"Caught up?"

He blinks, and Adelina is no longer looking at the crown, but at him. He supposes he had zoned out, staring at the crown so long. 

She is smiling again, and that pulls him out of his deep thoughts. Her hair is a medium gray, almost bronze, in the treasury's dim torchlight.

"I used to want one of these," she continues, reaching out to the crown and almost touching it, before stopping. She shakes her head at herself. "It is a fantasy I have not entertained since I was a child."

She says 'since I was a child' as if she was not, technically, a child, only a few months before. She is seventeen now; they both are. Of age, in the eyes of the gods, but still very young. 

Though he knows she means not just wearing a crown, but being a ruler, he still lifts the crown onto her head.

It is big on her, sliding nearly down her nose. He laughs a little, and she raises a hand to push it back up, glaring halfheartedly.

The glare does not last, and neither does his laughing. He leans toward her and whispers, "We will be greater than that."

She lifts the crown off, and hands it back to him.

"We already are," she says, as he takes it.

They look at each other for a moment, in an unsure pause that one of them could easily fill by leaning into the other, and he almost does. But then Adelina just nods, almost imperceptibly, and turns back down the rows of jewels.

He turns to Adelina's sister, still standing by the door. She is the only one of them who had not been in full support of their plan to rob the palace and then flee the country-

Why do we always have to flee the country? she'd said, Can we not just leave the country eloquently? For once?

She had been outvoted, three-to-one.

"There must be something here that catches your eye," he says, taking her arm and pulling her gently through the rows of precious metals and gemstones. 

Violetta does not resist being lead around, but she does frown at him. "I just want to be-" she cuts off.

He follows her gaze to a bracelet, a solid silver band embedded with star sapphires and opals. It would go very nicely with the necklace he bought her last year, that she still wears now, he thinks.

"Take what you want," he says, letting go of her arm, "We've already carted out enough gold to keep our men in coin for the next year, and then some." He spins the crown in his hands again. "I'm sure a few trinkets will be the last thing on their minds."

He does not stand there watching her, instead drifting away to peruse the isles of gold himself, but he hears the small clink of metal brushing metal, and smiles.

***

"Do you consider this fine?"

"Very, yes," Adelina answers her sister loudly so that she can be heard over the wind. 

They had gotten up and out of the treasury just fine; they surely could have slipped all the way to safety without being seen as well, but where would the fun have been in that?

So they stand, now, atop the outer wall of the palace, far out of range of the crossbows of the leagues of men who have come to surround them. The ever-blue sky is now a dark gray, caused by Sergio, this time, not Adelina. The poor lighting gives them cover, and Sergio having the option to call his power gives them an edge.

The clouds are very thick. Magiano thinks if the sky were to open and the rain to pour down on the city- which it surely will, eventually, whether Sergio tells it to or not, they will not be sticking around long enough for him to dispel the storm- it would do an awful number on the desert city. Weather like this doesn't happen naturally out here. Countless roads and buildings will be flooded. People will almost definitely get hurt. 

Magiano shakes his head. This is the not the time for pity. He reminds himself of the atrocities these people tolerate, that a little flood damage is the least of the consequences they might deserve. 

"His Majesty does not want to come and retrieve this himself?" Adelina calls down at the soldiers, reaching across him to take the crown. 

He lets go of it so she can hold it up, and she does, but she does not pull back after she has it. She stands with her side pressed into his, and the arm she is using to hold up the crown draped across his back, and almost without thinking he wraps an arm around her waist.

Her eye flits to him for a moment, before they both look back down at the soldiers to try and focus on their wind-garbled response. It is hard to make out the words, but their body language would suggest a basic "Surrender now!", "Halt!", or something of the like.

This probably means the soldiers cannot hear what they are saying, either, which is a shame. Half the fun of showing themselves is the gloating, the flaunting their own total lack of fear or respect for whoever's after them. 

Adelina seems to have the same realization, as she lets a breath out, leaning further into his side. She looks up at the crown for a moment, before placing it on his head.

It fits him better than in fit her, sliding only a little ways down his forehead. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"They can still see us," she says, and she's right- a few of the soldiers stir in outrage at a boy without royal blood wearing the king's crown. But Magiano is presently more focused on the angle at which Adelina has turned to say this to him. How they are now facing each other, and how his arm is still wrapped around her, holding her pressed up against him, and how her hair is the same dark gray as the clouds in this light, and he kisses her, closing the remaining space between them.

She is still for a moment, and he almost stops before she moves a hand to the back of his neck, and then she is kissing him back, in earnest. 

He doesn't think they've ever kissed in public before, though they do it often enough- definitely not in front of crowds of people who'd happily see them dead, not even in front of Sergio or Violetta, that he can particularly recall. Magiano can hardly care at the moment. 

This goes on for about thirty seconds before they are startled by a thunderous crash that shakes the very wall they are on top of. They pull back and look around to see that it had in fact been thunder, that lightning had just struck the tall stairway tower that lead up to the top of the wall, not ten feet away from where they are standing.

Said stairway tower is now split nearly down the middle and burning, falling apart. 

"They were almost upon us," Sergio explains. 

"Of course," Adelina says, after a breath, with her usual Rose composure, but her cheeks are pink, and it is really cute.

Magiano spares a glance at the others. Violetta does not look surprised, and in fact her air of reluctance to the situation seems to have diminished, though she does look grimly at the broken stairway. This was surely unavoidable- they would have been slaughtered if the soldiers were allowed to reach them- but between the lightning and the fall from the broken tower, there isn't a chance anyone on it had survived. 

Sergio for his part just looks a little amused, if anything, tapping his fingers against his sword's hilt before jerking his head towards the staircase tower on the other side of the wall, their way down. 

Looking toward the ground, this stairway is clear of Domaccan soldiers, but not of men entirely- their men, surely the reason the area is clear of others. 

"I don't think we're going to pull off a more spectacular finale than that. We should be on our way," Sergio says.

"Right," Magiano agrees. 

Adelina straightens, and then her power envelopes the four of them, making it seem to all as if they've disappeared into the harsh wind.

They can still see each other, and he still has his arm around her. Magiano and Adelina look at each other for a moment, before walking together down the stairway.

Chapter Text

16 Maggio, 1363

City of Hadenbury

Northern Beldain

The Skylands

Maeve Jacqueline Kelly Corrigan

"I would have thought you'd name her Jacqueline."

Maeve's oldest brother is looking fondly down at her. He smiles and shakes his head. "There's only one Little Jac."

Augustine reaches to ruffle her neatly braided black and gold hair, and Maeve dodges, a smile forming on her lips as well.

She is sure not to jostle the baby girl sleeping in her arms, as she skirts out of the way. 

Augustine's wife, Catriona, gave birth just that morning. She is well, but she is resting, asleep in bed not five feet away from Maeve and Augustine. 

Catriona is of Fortuna's Chosen - she has a large pale blue patch over her left collarbone. The baby holds no such marking, nor any marking at all, which is only a bit disappointing. 

The baby's eyes are closed, asleep as soundly as her mother. She is perfectly healthy, born just when she was expected, without any complications to the birth or the pregnancy. 

Kelly, they had decided to name her, taking the least elegant of Maeve's three names. Kelly Imogen Aisling Corrigan. 

Soon to be Crown Princess Kelly Imogen Aisling Corrigan, Maeve thinks, excitement welling up in her.

Maeve is happy, ecstatic, that her brother and his wife, two of the kindest, most deserving people she knows, have been blessed with a child. But she is giddy for another reason.

Her brother has a daughter. Maeve is no longer under pressure to produce an heir, to marry a man. She already has a successor.

Tomorrow, she will announce her choice. She can imagine what her mother's reaction might have been, were she there- Maeve going out to address the people, announcing her niece as the heir apparent. A denouncable breach of tradition, she would have called it.

But Kelly is the legitimate firstborn daughter of Beldain's eldest prince, thus there is no one in the world who could challenge her claim to the throne. Unless Maeve were to have a child. And that will never happen. 

Just then, a woman enters the room through the ajar door. Maeve lights up even more at her curling copper hair and the swirling black lines marking her arms.

"How is the baby doing?" Lucent asks. She and many other nobles had been present for the birth, as is typical with royalty, but only family had been allowed to stay afterword, in order to give the mother and child space. 

Maeve smiles. "She is wonderful, Lucent. Beautiful and healthy. She has Catriona's eyes."

Lucent smiles too. "That's great," she turns to Augustine, "Congratulations."

Maeve takes in Lucent's silhouette, trying to keep from bouncing up and down on her heels. She had invited Lucent to Beldain a few months into Catriona's pregnancy, as a close personal friend of the crown. It has been a beautiful few months having Lucent there with her, alone together more often than they had been since the years before Lucent’s banishment. 

"Augustine," Maeve says, asking without using the words for her brother to take the baby.

Once Kelly is settled safely into Augustine's arms, Maeve turns on her heels and takes both of the other woman's hands in her own. "Lucent."

Lucent blinks, and straightens her posture a bit, clearly startled. After a second she lets out a breathy laugh, not used to seeing Maeve so eager. "Yes?"

"Marry me."

Lucent is silent for a moment.

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" Maeve squeezes Lucent's hands.

Lucent glances to the baby in Augustine's arms, then back at Maeve. Not long after they were reunited, Maeve and Lucent had been confronted with the reality that Maeve was bound by her birthright to produce an heir. These last few months, the air of excitement and joy that comes with the promise of a new life has been accompanied by an unspoken, different joy between them. A hope.

Lucent gives a slow nod, which becomes surer and more enthusiastic with time. "Yes."

Maeve pulls Lucent into a kiss, not registering or caring that her brother is standing there with them. (Augustine's always known, really, hasn't he?)

Maeve's excitement does not wind down, as she thinks gleefully that she will have two announcements to make tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

15 Juno, 1363

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra 

The Sealands

Enzo Valenciano

"Congratulations, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Queen Maeve replies.

Enzo and Maeve are walking through the entry hallway of his palace. They were both left outside to exchange the pleasantries rulers must, upon Maeve's arrival, and so are a few steps behind the others.

"I hope you have not tired of festivity. I will have to throw a grand celebration in honor of one of my Daggers being married to my greatest ally," he says.

A small smile plays at the corners of Queen Maeve's lips. "The two-week sail here was reprise enough, thank you."

Two grand doors are opened for them, and they enter the main atrium.

"You know we regret missing the ceremony itself," he says.

Maeve tilts her head. "It was no fault of yours. It takes so long to reach the Skylands from here. We really didn't want to wait."

Enzo nods. "We appreciate you making the trip here so soon afterword."

Maeve nods in turn, but her gaze now seems caught on the other side of the room. Enzo turns in that direction.

Lucent and Raffaele stand there, engaged in conversation like the old friends that they are. 

Maeve's eyes flick back to Enzo. "I suppose we cannot be expecting any similar news from you, Your Majesty?"

Enzo turns back to her in mild surprise. Her gaze is empathetic, now.

Enzo sighs. 

He looks back at Raffaele, still talking to Lucent. 

He can't talk to most people about this, but he knows Maeve understands. She's been in his place. 

Maeve takes his long pause as an answer. "There isn't anyone? Cousins, aunts, uncles?"

Enzo shakes his head. He's looked into this. "My father and grandfather were both only children. I had one sister, who I assassinated. There's really no one."

Maeve hums lowly. 

Enzo and Maeve have been confiding less-than-political matters in each other since before Enzo claimed the throne. It had started with Maeve asking him more and more about Lucent's current state, having not seen her in all her years of banishment, leading up to an explanation of their true relationship, and had escalated from there. Maeve had known Enzo was in love with Raffaele before he did. 

And she had been helping him try and evade the same obligation she'd just thwarted nearly as long. Enzo is the last in an otherwise dead bloodline- he will not have an heir if he does not create one. 

"I could always take the responsibility from you," Maeve says.

Maeve's tone is casual, and Enzo looks at her sideways for a moment. He's never sure if she is joking when she makes comments like this. He would hope she is joking. Though, annexing his country is not something to joke about. 

"There must be a better way than that," he replies, still unsure of her seriousness. He is willing to consider a good few things, but he will not be giving up his throne. He has worked too hard for this; they all have. He will be the King of Kenettra until the day he dies. 

Maeve tilts her head, looking thoughtful for a moment. 

"Have you heard of Queen Lediana? Of Amadera?" she asks.

Enzo thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. 

"She was her father the King's only child, and suitors came to her from all over the world to seek her hand, but she loved none of them. The most persistent and most notable of these suitors was a young Amaderan archduke, from a greatly respected noble family. So, can you guess what she did?"

Enzo shakes his head again.

Maeve pauses, perhaps for effect. "She legally adopted him."

Enzo raises an eyebrow, and suppresses a laugh. "What?"

"She adopted him. She shifted the line of inheritance to his family," Maeve says.

"And that worked?" Enzo says, somewhat skeptically.

"Well, her father was very displeased. He sent her to Beldain to stay in solitude for a few years, to try and straighten her out. But not long afterwords he died, and she was welcomed home as the rightful queen." Maeve looks at him. "And you have no father to pass judgement on you in the first place."

Enzo considers this. He has heard of monarchies shifting bloodlines before, mainly during times of crisis or revolution. It might seem an overreactive decision. The people could probably get over that, though. They got over his violent overthrow of his sister's regime, after all. And this is the only legitimate option he's heard so far.

Though, he does not like the idea of leaving his country's future in the hands of some strange noblewoman. He has been approached by a good few suitors since rising to the throne, and none of them have been exactly pleasant. He would have to turn to someone he knew. Find someone he trusted. 

"It is something to think about, at least," she continues, when Enzo does not answer.

Enzo nods. "It is."

"If there is anything I can do to help, I will. I am rooting for you," she says.

Enzo gives a small smile. "I know. Thank you, Maeve."

They stand in comfortable silence for a moment, eyes wandering the room. They have been followed by their respective parties, Maeve's brothers, Enzo's Daggers. Enzo's gaze lingers on Maeve's youngest brother, standing not too far from them. 

Tristan lurks in the doorway, a clean silver mask obscuring his face. He shouldn't be surprised by this; Maeve and Tristan are never too far from each other, but it is the slightest bit unnerving to see him standing silently, seeming to watch them even though his face cannot be seen.

Enzo is fully aware of Maeve's Elite ability, how she'd pulled her brother from the Underworld and made it seem to all he'd never died in the first place. Maeve's is an interesting power to have, in theory, but Enzo has seen enough of Beldain's youngest prince to keep from asking use of it. Raffaele has told him of the deeply unsettling nature of Tristan's energy, how he feels more like a dead thing than a living person. Enzo can think of one person he might ever have been interested in bringing back, and he would not wish that on her. It has been a long time; he will let her rest. Besides, even looking past his energy, the fact that Maeve has Tristan wear a mask so as to avoid disturbing anyone he might otherwise make eye contact with should tell one enough about the side effects of being brought back.

"Speaking of them, have you heard the latest news out of Amadera?"

Enzo blinks, and looks back to Maeve. "No, I don't think I have."

"The Rose Society has just robbed their palace."

Enzo raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He laughs. "Even the Skyland nations are not spared, then?"

"Yes," Maeve almost frowns. "It would seem they are just as interested in proving their own power as they are in protecting the interests of Fortuna's Chosen."

"Merroutas, Domacca, now Amadera. Do you think they will be coming for either of us, next?" he asks. 

Maeve raises an eyebrow. "You do not sound very bothered by the possibility. Do you think you could take them on?"

Enzo tilts his head. "I'm sure they would be formidable adversaries. But I might like the chance to meet them."

"You're looking to recruit them?" Maeve asks.

"Oh, if I could, absolutely," he says. "Though there are some potential obstacles to the idea."

"Hm," Maeve knows about the Rainmaker, as she knows about most things, so she does not comment.

"Maeve!"

It is Lucent's voice; she and Raffaele seem to have finally noticed their presence. (To be fair, Enzo and Maeve have been caught up in their own conversation as well.)

Enzo meets Raffaele's eyes from across the room, and is reminded of Maeve's story.

"We should not keep them waiting," he says.

Chapter Text

17 Dicembre, 1363

City-State of The Ember Isles

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"Look what I've found."

A smile crosses my face at the voice. 

Magiano drops into the apartment the four of us have shared for the last few months, returning from browsing the late evening markets. He is holding a wooden plaque, and I straighten at the sight of it.

"Is that-?" I ask, holding out my hand.

He smiles and passes it over to me.

My breath catches at the plaque's front face. Intricately carved letters spell out The White Rose, with the o stylized into a rose and painted a shimmering silver-white. 

"It's beautiful," I say, half to him and half to myself. I have been looking for one of these. I used to see them sold on the black markets in Dalia, dedicated to Elites like The Reaper and The Alchemist. But this is a carving dedicated to me, by someone who reveres me and what I stand for, who wants to show support for me and what I do.

"Thank you," I say. I put my free hand on his shoulder, and lean up to lightly kiss him. 

The kiss is brief, but still sends a pulse of warmth through me.

"Of course, mi Adelinetta," he says as he pulls back, still smiling, and a part of me thrills at the affectionate version of my name.

"Did you have to visit the black market?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "It was right out in the open. Being sold by a young girl with the nicest shade of green marking her arm," he says, tilting his head as he recalls.

I start to smile again as he recounts the rest of his trip, pulling different things out of his bag. As I listen, I place my plaque above the other three on the wall.

As important the things we've done in countries like Domacca and Merroutas are, it has been nice to spend so much time in a place where we don't need to hide. The Ember Isles are, in essence, one enormous trading port, inhabited mostly by travelers from the Sunlands or Skylands, with few permanent residents. It does not have much in the way of a formal government- most of the people here just follow the laws of the countries they hail from. There is no Inquisition, or guard- the perfect place for internationally regarded criminals to have a nice long rest, Magiano has commented.

My sister and Sergio walk into the room as we idle, and Magiano begins to show them the things he's bought as well- mostly jewels and other trinkets. My sister turns to admire my plaque, and I note that the craftsmanship on the both of ours looks similar; the two lowercase ts in The Puppet Master are stylized into marionette handles, with jewel-toned strings hanging off of them.

After a while of sitting around, comfortably, together, Magiano turns to me. 

He seems to hesitate for a moment. "I have an idea," he says.

I nod, acknowledging him and signaling for him to go on. I could swear he seems nervous.

"How would you feel about the two of us going somewhere together?"

I blink. "Alone?"

"Only me and you, yes," he says, and I notice him trying to feign nonchalance. 

"And why can we not come?" Violetta asks, an eyebrow raised. 

Magiano shrugs, and the movement of his shoulders is a little off from normal. "It's just Dumor. It is a smaller country with a weak government, we can handle it ourselves. You won't be missing much."

"It is a rich country," Sergio says, tilting his head at Magiano.

Magiano rolls his eyes, the corners of his lips tilting up more. "Yes, they are up to their necks in sapphire mines. We'll be sure to bring back enough to share. But it should be a quicker mission; we'll spend less time there than we spent in Amadera, and it's a shorter trip. There's no need to uproot everybody, risk losing our footholds here."

I shudder briefly at the thought of Amadera- we'd intended to stay there longer, but left early because of the biting cold weather- then raise an eyebrow at him. Yes, it is nice to have a place to go home to, but I can tell he has a hidden reason for this request. 

The others seem to pick up on this too, and Violetta almost comments on it, but Sergio gets there first. 

"You'd need to have a few of our mercenaries escorting you, the prices on our heads are too high for any of us to be taking excursions alone. But otherwise, I don't see why not."

My sister purses her lips and looks at Magiano for a moment, before nodding her assent. 

Magiano looks back at me, a hopeful glint in his gold eyes. I stare back for a moment. 

"Of course," I say. I cannot tell what he is hiding, but I trust him, with my entire being.

He smiles bigger and kisses me again. I melt into him, and a spark of excitement runs through me at the idea of the two of us spending so much time alone. I love my sister, and Sergio is my best platonic friend, but I-

I almost start at that natural train of thought. About Magiano.

I am in love with him.

Chapter Text

31 Dicembre, 1363

City-State of The Ember Isles

The Sealands

Sergio

"The Night King has been assassinated."

Violetta starts as he enters the room and tosses a folded sheet of paper onto the table. 

It is mid-day, but Violetta is the only other person in their shared sitting room. The others are still out of town, after nearly two weeks. 

Violetta takes a moment to collect herself. Then her posture droops, and she frowns at him. "By whom?"

He rolls his eyes, and taps the paper.

Violetta's no killing rule is a nice idea, but he cannot say he follows it as diligently as the others. You cannot head an army of mercenaries if you're not going to let them kill anything.

"We had nothing to do with it," he says, though in the long run, they probably did, "A group of his mercenaries who'd stayed loyal to him - or at least seemed to - staged a coup and seized control." He shakes his head, and almost laughs. "I've told you, no one wants to stay loyal to an already unpleasant man who gets shown up by a group of teenagers."

He wonders briefly if he has a right to criticize, as he had been a grown man more or less taking orders from the same teenagers, at the time. He thinks he does. They had been paying him, after all. 

Violetta picks up the paper and begins to read it through. It is a simple news pamphlet, detailing the names of Merroutas's new leaders and the few things they've already done. Sergio remembers them - along with him, they'd made up the five heads of the Night King's army of mercenaries. It does not seem they've cut in whoever ended up replacing him; they number only four, now. 

Sergio only cares about this news because it means, in all likelihood, he will no longer have to ward off attackers sent at them from Merroutas. The others had spoken occasionally about the possibility of taking control, but Sergio has never been interested in ruling a nation.

His eyes wander from Violetta, and he wonders briefly what the other two of those teenagers are up to.

Magiano and Adelina have been gone for nearly too weeks, now, and though he's heard news of their usual chaos coming out of Dumor- a boy with golden eyes and a girl with silver hair, Magiano and The White Rose, stealing gold and jewels and wreaking havoc- as well as updates from the mercenaries he has there guarding them, he's heard nothing from them personally.

He knows they can handle themselves. Magiano had been handling himself on his own since before he was twelve years old, and he and Adelina are two of the most powerful Elites he knows. Still, it feels off, not having them around. Knowing he couldn't get to them, if he needed to. If they needed him too, though that is unlikely. 

He shouldn't be worried like this. He just has to trust that they will be back. He has only known Magiano for three years, and Adelina even fewer, but he knows he would lose everything if he lost them.

He still remembers the day he met Magiano; he had been hunting him for the Night King, and when he was nearly upon him, the skies that had gradually been darkening began pouring down. Magiano had flaunted the fact that he could use the power that Sergio had, even though he himself could not, and offered to make him a deal. Sergio, enticed by the possibility of finally unlocking what even the Daggers could not, had agreed to keep him safe from the Night King's other men in exchange for help with his power.

Years later, he has mastered his power to a science, and he still spends his time trying to keep Magiano and the others safe. It is not even about money, anymore. He hasn't been on the payroll for a while. They are all equals, here, none of them are employees of the others.

No, in the grand scheme of things, he has just grown fond of these kids. Two of them aren't technically kids anymore, and even Violetta will turn seventeen this spring, but he will always, he thinks, be as protective of them as he was when they were. 

The fame and fortune is certainly a bonus, of course, and so is the possibility of revenge. They have not hit Kenettra, yet, but he knows they will eventually, and he eagerly awaits it. 

Or perhaps eager is not the right word. The roiling mess of emotions that come with thoughts of the Daggers, of Enzo, try to wash over him. He also remembers the day he'd met him- how he'd been off put by Raffaele's laughable talk of magic powers, at first, and terrified when Enzo'd shown up as The Reaper and proven them to be true. He had insisted to them, repeatedly, that he had no power of his own to offer, but they were persistent. So, eventually, he'd allowed them to drag him away from his former life. And when they finally decided to accept what he'd tried to tell them in the first place, they'd wanted to have him killed. As if he was expendable. As if he meant nothing to them. They'd acted as if they were his friends, before, but he knows now it'd been a lie. An act.

He had grown to like them, over time, really like them. Especially the prince. Sergio had more than liked the prince, and he thinks he'd known that, too. He wonders sometimes whether or not that was a reason Enzo let him live, in the end.

Probably not.

It doesn't matter.

He has been waiting six years to show them they were wrong about him, one way or another, and he will.

"Do you have any idea of what they're doing?" Violetta asks, drawing him from his thoughts. Her tone is purely curious, conversational. "Adelina and Magiano? Why do you think they really wanted to go alone?"

"Who could say," he says.

He trusts them. He does. Though he hopes, whatever they are doing, they come home soon. 

Chapter Text

02 Gennaio, 1364

City of Tarannen

Dumor

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"I do have something specific in mind."

I raise an eyebrow at Magiano, from across the room we have rented out the last couple of weeks. He is lying on a pile of saftons- Dumorian coins made of gold embedded with sapphire- the size of a bale of hay.

We have made a mess of this small country, in our time here. Perhaps for lack of the levelheadedness and caution usually provided by either my sister or Sergio, we have left no proverbial stone unturned- every wealthy estate or bank we have come across, we have cleared out. Since we arrived we have been coiling around the countries outskirts, but we have finally made it to the capital, and now it is time for us to hit the palace. I am almost disappointed our excursion is going to come to an end. 

Though, I have begun to miss my sister, in all this time, and it will be something of a relief to see her again. Magiano has picked out an exquisite sapphire hair clip for her from one of the first estates we hit, and a few other things, as well. 

"And what of the Dumorian royals', specifically, has caught your eye?" I ask him, a teasing lilt to my voice.

He glances up to me, and the nervousness that has been semi-present in him for the last couple of weeks can briefly be noticed. Then it is gone, quickly as it came. 

"It is for you, actually," he says, and I feel myself blush, "And it is in possession of the king's sister."

My heart beats just a tad faster. Does this have something to do with why he brought me alone to Dumor? What exactly does he want to give me so badly he took me all the way here?

"Are we going to have to take it off of her?" I ask, instead of voicing any of my mental concerns.

He stands, and makes his way towards me. "No, they are not currently in use, just held in her estate on the palace grounds," he says.

"They?" I ask, "Are we talking about a set?"

That nervous hesitation, for just a moment, and then a smile. "We will see."

"You are not going to tell me?" I ask, tilting my head up at him.

"No," he shakes his head a few times, his lips still curved up. 

I tilt my head down and raise an eyebrow. "Do you even know exactly what it is?"

"Of course," he says, then kisses me, briefly, quelling any further sarcastic remarks I might have had. "You will see when we get there."

I simply lean into his side, as he pulls out a scroll of paper, then opens it. Inside is a map of Dumor's palace grounds. "Now, how much damage do you want to do on the way in?"

***

A lot. I wanted to do a lot of damage. 

The Dumorian palace is a grand series of blue- tinted buildings, with the largest, housing the King, in the center. It is surrounded on all sides by the palace city, Tarannen; a maze of streets and pathways lined with buildings and crowded with citizens. Many of those citizens now crowd at the gates and gawk, because as far as they can see, the palace is being reduced to rubble by thick, enormous rose vines, with equally large gold and silver flowers. The plants wind around the buildings and squeeze, making huge cracks in the walls, crushing them. The people inside do in fact feel the sensation of the building around them collapsing, feel the walls trembling and ready to fall away at any moment. 

Keeping an illusion this large and complex going is already starting to tire me- I feel just the slightest bit lightheaded. My sister, if she were here, would have advised me to take things easier. 

I brush off this thought. I am fine. I know my limits, and this is well within them. 

Magiano, with his iteration of my power, has kept us invisible long enough to get into opportune placement. He is also hiding our mercenaries as they watch our backs, and as a choice few of them raid the main treasury for us. 

"The Roses!" A voice from just beyond the gate squeals, excitedly, as Magiano reveals us. 

Or, seems to. We are not actually in the place he has projected us to appear- the top of a fountain in the center of the courtyard, hovering slightly, not getting wet- that would leave us vulnerable to crossbow fire. We are in reality standing in the courtyard's northeast corner, on the path to the king's middle sister's estate, but the illusions mimic our real movements exactly.

"Two of us, yes," The illusion of Magiano says in perfect time with the real one. 

I squint over at the girl who has spoken, through the gate- she is young, with bright scarlet hair too red to be natural. She is marked. 

I notice most of the collected people are marked, in fact. They gravitate toward us, sticking their arms through the gate to reach even though we are much too far away, and my ambition glows, feeding my energy, making my illusion stronger. We are their champions; their voice in this world that hates them. Their protectors. Their Young Elites. 

"My fellow children of the gods," I address them, "We have arrived to make our mark here on those who persecute us for our blessings. The Dumorian crown's vast wealth has made them arrogant; they believe they can get by tormenting us without consequence. This is untrue. The consequence of their actions arrives today."

The background of this claim: Dumor has always been a wealthy country, with it's vast stores of rich natural resources. They have survived well enough through the embargo the Kenettran king enforced upon them, when they refused to give fair treatment to their marked. After all we have taken from their nobles and outlying city governments, hitting the palace will be the final nail in Dumor's coffin. The King will take advantage of Dumor's weakened state, and they will be forced to take his deal. 

I do not like King Enzo, as a person, judging by everything I have heard of him from my friends. But we work well together, in this backwards, unplanned way. I am glad for the things he has done, and continues to do, to save our fellow marked. I suppose we all fulfill our duties to the gods, and to each other, to our best ability, no matter what kind of people we are. 

Magiano smiles and waves as he calls a goodbye, and our followers cheer. They are not attacked, as they might otherwise be, for acting in open support of us; some of our mercenaries are already taking care of Dumor's comparatively pitiful palace guard. Sergio was right- we have needed a lot of mercenaries for this mission.

The illusions of us fall away into showers of gold and silver sparks, and Magiano and I, still invisible, turn and run towards the King's sister's estate. 

The guards who would usually flank the door are gone, either having been scared off by the crumbling architecture or neutralized by our mercenaries, so we are able to walk right in. Both of us are able to see through my illusion, so we are not troubled as we enter the building. 

My breath catches as we enter a hallway, walls lined with beautiful gilded instruments, everything from the musical variety to candelabras to swords and other weapons. Most all of them are also decorated with sapphire, or the occasional diamond. 

"Take what you want from here," Magiano says, noticing my reaction, "But what we came for will be in the room at the end of the hall."

I start down the hall, observing the sights around us, but not physically taking anything. I am not as easily tempted by simple gold and jewels as Magiano or my sister, and I am too curious about what we are here for to care much about the rest of these things. 

Though, I do pause to look at a gold-and-sapphire string instrument, and tap Magiano on the shoulder, pointing it out to him. 

"Oh," he says softly, taking it down from the wall. 

"Even nicer than the one you have back home," I say. It is a lute, of course.

He smiles at me, plays a few bars of a song, and this is all it takes to have me caught up.

I walk over and lean into him. As I do this his eyes move to me, and the song picks up, ethereal and lulling, joyous and hopeful. I have never heard this song before, and I do not know if he is making it up on the spot or if he has composed it in advance, but I know he has written it. It is so beautiful, and it touches me to the core. I feel like light. 

A short silence follows the song's end. I look around at the blue gemstones surrounding us.

"We met," I say, "Because you were arrested for stealing a shipment of Dumorian sapphires."

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I feel him stiffen just a tad- that odd nervousness, back in him for just a second. Then he smiles, and gives me a small laugh. "Yes, we did."

And, I do not say out loud, Because I was arrested for killing my father.

It seems so long ago, but I still remember the night clearly- my first summoning of my powers, the demonic silhouettes I summoned scaring my father so much he was reduced to a terrified mess on the ground. The same silhouettes scaring his horse so much it ran, trampling his chest in the process. That odd, odd whispering I haven't heard since. 

I belong to no one. On this night, I swear to you that I will rise above everything you’ve ever taught me. I will become a force that this world has never known. I will come into such power that none will dare hurt me again.

Suddenly, I feel cold. The world takes on a yellowish tint. I can still feel Magiano's body against me, to some extent, but he seems very far away. 

For a split second, I am back there, staring at my father's corpse on the ground, his chest caved in and bloody.

Then I am back in the present, clutching Magiano's arm tighter than I probably should. 

"Adelina?" he asks, turning so we are facing each other, placing a hand on each of my arms. "Adelina? What is wrong?"

I blink, leaning into his touch, and hanging on his words, letting his concern ground me to the present. I try to cast the short moment from my mind, but I am shaken.

That is not supposed to happen anymore.

Have I been slipping on my herb supplements? No, I don't think so. Maybe I need more? Medical needs are said to change, as one gets older. The ingredients used for them are plentiful here in Dumor; we have picked up a good few of them in our time here. I will be sure to find some more on the way out. 

"It is nothing," I say, but the shake in my voice tells him I am lying. He tilts his head at me, looking serious, and I notice the well-lit room making his gold irises glint.

"I must have forgotten to take my herbs this morning," I say quietly, and his expression immediately shifts to understanding. 

"Do we need to leave?" he whispers, his voice devoid of disappointment, and full of concern for my well being. 

"No," I answer, "It only lasted a second. I am fine."

"Maybe you should let go of the illusion outside?" he suggests, "I think we have this pretty handled."

I almost object, but now that he brings it up, I become cognoscente of the immense strain that illusion is putting on my energy. Could it have caused my slip up?

"Alright," I say.

This will leave any lingering guards able to come find us in here, but like he said, we are almost finished, and we have mercenaries watching us. I close my eye, and slowly release the threads of energy creating my rose plants and my destroyed palace. Instantly, I feel a weight lifted off my chest. 

I nod a few times, opening my eye again. "Better."

He does not look fully convinced. I move so that I am holding his hand, and pull him towards the door. "Come on," I say, letting slip a small smile, "I want to see what you brought me here for."

He finally smiles at that, and the expression warms me, even if I detect a trace of that nervousness in it. "Okay."

We push open the gilded doors, and enter into a kind of exhibit room. 

Glass cases line the walls, and each contains some manner of jewel. I see crowns, orbs, staffs, and even jeweled swords, just on my first glance. 

"The King's sister is something of a historian," Magiano begins, "She likes to keep personal artifacts that belonged to Dumor's greatest rulers."

"And, which of these are we after?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and tilting my head at him. 

I feel his hand tighten around mine, his thumb rub against the back of my fingers. He scans the cases, then points to one directly across the room from us.

"There," he says, and begins leading me toward it. Whatever is inside is small; I cannot make out what it is from this distance. 

"They belonged to the King and Queen of Dumor almost four hundred years ago," Magiano says. "This King and Queen were said to have the most prosperous rule of any in the country's history.

"The sapphires on them are said to have formed when they hosted Laetes himself, cast down in his human form, and he kissed their hands in greeting," he continues, and I smile. He has picked for me something that is touched by the gods, just like us. He really knows me, better than perhaps anyone else. The realization I had weeks ago flashes across my mind, and I try and fail to keep from blushing. 

“The royal-?” A squint at the contents of the case. Two very small, gold bands, embedded with Dumor’s famed sapphires. 

My thoughts begin to slow down.

“These are…" I trail off, looking to him, "These are wedding rings.”

He nods, a few more times then he probably needed to. 

“I didn’t want the others to be here, because I did not want you to feel pressured. I realize now this is still sort of a big production but please, don’t feel pressured.”

My mind feels like it’s shut off. “Pressured into what?”

He takes my other hand, pulls me closer to him, and takes a deep breath. “Adelina, I do not know exactly how you feel, about me. About us. But, I know how I feel.” He squeezes my hands, and the strange nervousness I have come to detect in his demeanor comes to a height. 

“I love you. I am in love with you, Adelina, and I want to marry you.”

I am squeezing his hands back, tightly. I hear footsteps coming, distantly.

I am transported, in an illusion only I can see, back to our first proper conversation, when he gave me the choice to follow him out of Kenettra or go off alone, when we mistook my sister’s footsteps in the distance for that of Inquisitors.

Hurry, love. Yes or no.

I look back up at the real, present Magiano. He does not look impatient and scared like his past self, only anticipatory and hopeful. 

How much has changed, since then, since that day? My whole life?

So much has happened, and he is still here with me. He has taken us miles away from our home just to avoid pressuring me; no matter what I say here, he would not leave me behind. My mind finally begins to process what he has just said, and my throat begins to close with emotion. But I am able to get out one word. 

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

09 Gennaio, 1364

City-State of The Ember Isles

The Sealands

Violetta Amouteru

"They're back!"

Violetta jumps out of her seat and rushes to the window.

Sergio looks up from his book, seeming startled. "What?"

Violetta stares out the window and squints at the horizon. Her range for sensing powers is wide, and at the very edge of it, she feels the tell-tale signature of her sister's Elite energy. Her breath catches as she spots a ship, the size of a speck of dust at this distance, at the edge of the water. "There! They are here!"

Sergio stands and looks with her. After a few minutes, when the ship has come closer to them across the water, he nods in confirmation. "That is one of ours."

"Should we meet them at the docks?" Violetta asks. She knows she could go by herself if she wanted to, but she values Sergio's input. She knows it is important they stay out of sight of potential assailants, and to have protection in case they are recognized by someone they should not be.

Sergio tilts his head at the ship, drawing closer by the minute. He nods, "I don't see why not."

Violetta puts on a coat, and then glides down the stairs out of their apartment and down the cobbled street towards one of the Ember Isles' many docks, which seems to be the one the ship they've spotted is heading for. Sergio is close behind her. 

By the time they reach the docks, the ship is nearly in. It is small, but elegant, clearly for small-scale personal use. 

At this point, Violetta can sense Magiano's less potent Elite energy as well. Both Adelina's and Magiano's energies feel warm and bright- their respective alignments to Amare and Laetes glowing stronger than the others, for the time being. 

"I think they had a good trip," Violetta says offhand to Sergio. It is interesting to be able to read people's emotions without being able to see them- she can even do this with non-elites, if the emotion is strong enough to briefly evoke the energy of one of the gods. She wishes, as she often does, she could garner the input of the one other person she knows to have this power. In the last two and a half years, she has studied and recorded all she has been able to about the energies of the Elites she can feel around her, be it her fellow Roses or the Elites who prefer to remain nameless, who lend their powers to Magiano as their group passes through. She would love to compare notes, seek out similarities between their energies, but alas, according to all of the others, she and the Daggers are meant to be enemies.

She does not believe this; she knows the Dagger Society has done some bad things to a certain person in the past, and she knows said person has a right to be angry. But at the core, their goals are the same: the freedom of the world's malfettos from oppression. With all the things the Daggers have done to save the marked from torment since taking her home country, they cannot possibly be so bad. 

"There they are," Sergio says, and when Violetta looks up she can indeed see her sister and their friend descending a long, velvet-carpeted gangplank, flanked by mercenaries. 

"It is okay to use our real names in public, right?" Violetta asks, glancing at Sergio. 

He seems to consider this, glancing around at the other people on the docks. The extravagance of Adelina and Magiano's entrance seems to have turned some heads, and she can see a few whispers at the notice of her sister's hair, white as the moon in this bright midday sun, paired with her lack of one eye. These are, accurately, the defining features in most descriptions of The White Rose. Some seem to be trying to get a closer look at Magiano, to see if he too may be one of the famed Roses. This is fine- they can only suspect, and the Isles are inhabited mostly by supporters of the marked, anyway. However, it would not be difficult for certain word to travel to those who may pose a threat to them.

Violetta has worked this out for herself before Sergio says, "It's probably best not to shout it across the docks, if that's what you're thinking."

That was what she had been thinking, and she purses her lips trying to think of another way to catch the attention of her sister- Oh!

"Sister!" she calls, her voice carrying across the crowd towards Adelina.

Adelina sees her, and gestures to her mercenaries, who make quick work of parting the crowd for them. 

Violetta rushes up to her sister and embraces her. Adelina's arms wrap around her in turn.

"Welcome back," Violetta whispers.

They separate, and Violetta takes both of Adelina's hands. "Did you have fun?"

Adelina glances down at her hands as Violetta touches them, and when she looks back up, she is wearing an expression Violetta would not expect to see on her sister.

"Yes, I did."

Violetta tilts her head in mild puzzlement, then feels something cold and hard on Adelina's left hand. She moves her hand out of the way until she is holding Adelina's by the wrist, and then moves it closer to her face.

Violetta's heart jumps in her chest.

She rubs her finger over two exquisitely carved golden bands, dotted with large, raw blue sapphires that sparkle in the sunlight.

"You..." She looks over at Magiano, who is looking back at her, a wide smile on his face and his hand on the small of her sister's back. "Did you?"

Magiano just keeps smiling and looks to Adelina, who glances down at her rings again. There is the smallest glint of her old spite in her eye, which lets Violetta know this is indeed her sister. 

"Who could have ever guessed I would be the first of the two of us to marry."

Violetta chills for just a moment at the hidden history behind this statement- the sick gazes and hateful words of the suitors their father would show them to, always directed at Adelina; Father's constant insistence the no one would ever love her because of her markings. 

Then the rest of her meaning sinks in. Violetta squeals, and throws her arms around them both. "You're getting married!"

She pulls back quickly, a hand on each of their shoulders, and gives them a serious look. "You are getting married, yes? Tell me you did not already get married because if you did that without us-"

Magiano laughs. "No, no need to worry."

"Good," Violetta says, pulling them into another hug.

Sergio does not join in the embrace, though he is smiling at them. He gestures to a few men- simple dockworkers, not mercenaries- who begin discreetly unloading many plain-looking chests Violetta knows to be filled to the brim with money and jewels. 

"Congratulations," he says, still smiling at them, a warm note to his voice.

"Thank you," Magiano smiles, "Oh!"

He glances back at Violetta, then reaches into his bag and pulls out an elegantly crafted hairpin, set with sapphires and shaped to look like a swan. He holds it out to her.

"Oh!" Violetta says softly, echoing him. She takes it, and turns it over in her hands.

"It is beautiful!" she says, "I love swans."

"You are supposed to gift something to the bride's family upon engagement," he notes, and Adelina turns to raise an eyebrow at him. He laughs a little, and after a moment of fake-glaring she is smiling as well. 

Violetta studies the swan more carefully in her hands. She can see the dark blue threads from her's and Magiano's energies gravitating toward it, threading through the blue gemstones.

She is her sister's only family. She is still indebted to her sister and to the gods for freeing them from their father, and their mother died when Violetta was so young, she barely remembers her face. Violetta will have to play the role of any family member in the wedding, and she smiles at this thought. 

***

"I want to go to Tamoura," Adelina says, as she and Violetta sit together in her bedroom, where they have come to have a private chat.

"For the wedding?" Violetta asks, just to confirm.

"Yes," Adelina pauses, "Our mother grew up there. I think she would have liked my having a Tamouran ceremony. Magiano and I have talked about it a little, he's for it."

Violetta nods. Tamoura is one of the few places they are still not wanted criminals; it should be easier to set something up there. 

"He has connections in the Sunlands, too, a lot of them. There will be people to help us get everything together," Adelina says, but she is not looking at Violetta; she is fiddling with her rings.

According to Sealand tradition, a woman will wear two rings on her finger the first month after being proposed to, after which the second ring will be worn by her husband. Adelina has twenty-four days left before this time, and it is traditional to be married before then. 

There is something of a flat note to Adelina's voice. She seems a measure distant, like she is only half-listening to what she herself is saying. Violetta reaches over and places a hand on her sister's. "Adelina? Is something wrong?"

Adelina pauses for a moment, now looking at Violetta's hand on top of her own. 

"I never thought I'd be married," she says, still quiet and distant.

Violetta frowns a little, and squeezes her hand. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Something in Adelina's breath catches, and Violetta realizes it is a short laugh. She nods, and nods again. "Yes. Yes, I am sure."

She swallows, and when she speaks, her voice is still quiet, but more present. "I love him. I love him, and-" her voice cracks a little- "and he said he loves me. I just- I never imagined something like that, for so long, I considered it impossible. And now that it's happening I feel- like I'm in shock? I've felt a little in shock all week- and I-"

The glisten in her sister's eye begins to spill over, and Violetta pulls her into a hug.

"Mi Adelinetta," Violetta whispers, "Mi Adelinetta, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be happy. I am so sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise."

I am so sorry I ever let anyone make you feel otherwise.

Adelina does not reply, just hugs her fiercely, her face buried in her shoulder. Violetta lets her get her emotions out, holding her and stroking her hair until she pulls away and wipes her eye.

"Thank you," she whispers, and Violetta smiles.

"I will always be here for you, sister."

Chapter Text

24 Gennaio, 1364

City of Alamour

Northern Tamoura

The Sunlands

Adelina Amouteru

Weddings are not small or private occasions, in the Tamouran tradition.

At least, so-said infamous Sunland Young Elite The Alchemist- not to be confused with the Daggers' The Architect- when we met up with her in Tamoura's palace city, Alamour. She is old for an Elite- she must have been just young enough to survive the blood fever, when it hit. She helped Magiano learn the ropes of his powers, when he was younger, which is how they know each other- she spends a lot of her time helping marked children who are scared and alone.

She is the connection he spoke of having in Tamoura, and she was more than happy to help us, when we got in contact with her. When it was brought up we did not really have much in the realm of family or friends, outside of the four of us, she is the one who brought up that while we may not know very many people, very many people know us. 

And really, we could all use a good celebration.

Thus, we ended up inviting a good majority of Alamour's marked- those who The Alchemist has helped find their way, and taken under her wing, at any point. I stand now just outside what I know to be a cavernous room, filled with very many people, most of whom I do not know.

A seldom few of whom I know very well. 

"Are you feeling ready?"

These words are whispered, and come from a woman wearing the white robes of a devotee of Fortuna, the goddess of Prosperity.

The temple we are in is jointly dedicated to Fortuna, Amare and Aevietes- three of the higher gods, and the three most associated with marriage. Weddings take place here often, as far as I can tell.

The woman looks at me with a certain reverence. To her I am an untouchable icon- The White Rose, a Young Elite, blessed with power by her goddess. I usually revel in this treatment, but right now it only makes me more nervous. She is young, and her darker skin is marked with stark white patches. In her hands is a bowl of burning incense.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I have a hard time answering her question. Everyone in the room I am about to enter thinks highly of me, for various reasons; I know logically that this is true. This does not stop my mind from reeling at the concept of being so vulnerable in front of so many.

I am not physically vulnerable, even- we anticipated that putting word out, even to the underground, of where the four of us would be at a certain time could draw some unwanted attention. Our mercenaries are here, disguised and interspersed throughout the audience or guarding the perimeter.

I might even feel better if I was, in fact. I have had no problem publicly displaying emotion on our many heists, surrounded by people who already want me dead. I have nothing to lose, to them.

But here....

I take a deep breath. It is harder to be rational when I am out here, alone except for a stranger. I stare ahead at the the door in front of me, and focus on the reason I am here. 

I want to see him. No more waiting.

I nod resolutely. "Yes."

The woman nods in turn, smiling a little, and opens the door. 

My vision is blurred, a little, a veil over my face, but I make out the general shape of what I know to be about four hundred people, all of them marked, standing crowded into a very large room. I notice Sergio near the front of the audience. There are intakes of breath, and a few scattered and quickly quieted applause, as I enter, the woman with her incense walking in front of me. 

At the end of the aisle down which we are walking is a bench, with a spring green canopy held above it by a tall woman in a very large hat, and a young Tamouran girl who is the only one in this room that does not seem to be marked.

The Alchemist and Violetta, of course- this canopy is meant to be held by all of a married party's female family members, but as between the two of us we have only one, The Alchemist stepped in as Magiano's mentor to hold the other side of it. Violetta gives me a reassuring smile as she sees me. 

And below the canopy, sitting on the bench-

We reach the end of the aisle, and the woman places her incense on a long, low table, placed just in front of the bench, before going to stand with two other people at the side of the canopy- one of them wearing the bright pink-red robes of the god of Love, one wearing the lavender robes of the god of Time.  

I can make out a blurry figure on the bench, and before I see anything more, I sit down next to him. 

Directly in front of us, on the table, is a large, silver mirror, encrusted with kunzites and roseites and diamonds, with a lit candlestick on either side of it. After I am sat down, I finally lift my veil over my head, and I see myself. 

My long, silvery hair, my scarred out eye. For a moment, there is that uncomfortable cold feeling, that yellow tint to my vision- a memory of my smashing a hand mirror out of hatred for my marked appearance, when I was young.

Then I see him, and it is gone.

We are both looking at each other in the mirror, and he smiles at me. I see my reflection smile back. 

Magiano is wearing silks of gold and white, against my pink and silver. As the three acolytes begin to read passages from The Requiem of the Gods about love and joy and eternal companionship, he quietly takes my hand. 

I stare ahead at the image of the two of us, framed extravagantly by the mirror. We both sit relatively still, and I could almost think this was a framed portrait. No one else's reflections are caught in the silver; only us. For a moment, I can imagine we are alone together, and my heart rate begins to slow.

Then, the acolytes finish reading. They turn their attention to us, and my heart starts beating even faster. 

"Adelina Amouteru," the acolyte of Prosperity says, and it does not even register with me that nearly four hundred strangers now know my true name, "Under the witness of the gods, do you consent to be married to this man?"

My hand tightens around Magiano's. My face feels hot, and I know I am blushing, in front of all these people. 

Magiano squeezes my hand back, and looking only at him, I try to forget they are even here. 

"Yes," I say, in the least shaky voice I can muster. 

"Magiano," the acolyte of Time says, because Magiano does not have and has never had a last name, "Under the witness of the gods, do you consent to be married to this woman?"

"Yes," he says, without hesitation and with such conviction it makes me blush even more.

"Then," the acolyte of Love says, "With the power entrusted to me by Holy Amare, I pronounce the two of you wed."

As he says this, we turn to look at each other directly, not through the mirror, for the first time. 

I stare at him for a moment. He is smiling brighter than I have ever seen him, and I know I am smiling too, even as the uncomfortable warmth in my eye threatens to let tears fall. 

Finally, we kiss each other, and everything else in the world disappears. The room breaks out into cheers and applause, but all that I notice is the feel of his smile up against mine.

Chapter Text

05 Marzien, 1364

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Raffaele Laurent Bessette

"Master Bessette?"

Raffaele pauses in the hall and turns around at the sound of his name. A young page stands a few paces down the hall, an energy of confusion around him.

"Yes?" Raffaele acknowledges the boy, who glances behind himself as if expecting to see someone there.

The boy stares at him for another moment, then frowns and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, sir. My mistake, sir."

Raffaele frowns as he watches the boy turn and walk quickly the other way down the hall.

Raffaele wonders if this strange encounter could have something to do with the odd energy he has sensed around the city, lately. It has been growing stronger over the last few days, but this morning it disappeared, suddenly and completely. As if someone had thrown a sheet over it. As if it were hiding from him.

As if someone were suppressing his ability to find it.

The Rose Society has not been seen or heard of in over a month, since their extravagant (even for them) hit on the Tamouran palace. There are rumors of various other things they had been doing in that area at the time, but there is no solid story.

If they are here, he knows they are probably not going to be friendly. The timing of this strange encounter makes him want to go after the boy and ask him what he knows, but as he is about to, he feels a different energy approaching from the other end of the hallway, warm and bright red.

"Your Majesty," Raffaele says, as he turns again, back the way he had been facing in the first place.

Enzo strides leisurely down the hall until they are standing right in front of each other. The king wears an easy expression, his eyes round and dark.

"Messenger," he says in return, and closes the rest of the space between them.

"I've missed you this morning," Enzo says, when they part.

"Apologies, Your Majesty. I thought I sensed something strange, and sought to find it, but it has disappeared," Raffaele says. "I was on my way back to throne room, now, if you wanted to go together?"

Enzo shakes his head, looking briefly disappointed. "I have to check in with the new head of the palace guard. I will meet you there soon?"

Raffaele nods. "There is no hurry."

Enzo kisses him again, before they start in different directions down the hall.

They recently had to instate a new head of the palace guard, as the past one was arrested for treason and conspiracy against the crown. It is unsettling to think that someone like that was allowed so close to them, and the man's replacement is under close watch.

It is not long at all until Raffaele reaches the throne room, tall golden pillars lining a velvet walkway, mid-morning sun shining in through the large, high windows.

He expects the room to be empty, save a few guards.

It is not.

"Enzo?" He asks, uncertainty clouding his voice. Two figures stand shoulder to shoulder just behind and to the left of the throne, observing the glass case where they keep the crown jewels, and even from this distance the king's face is unmistakable.

His mind swims in confusion- this makes no sense. He just saw Enzo moments ago- he can still feel his energy, not too far away, and in the opposite direction from this figure.

These figures do not give off an energy at all. Raffaele approaches them, slowly, but stops in his tracks when the other figure looks his way.

This other figure is wearing his face.

He can hear the sound of armor shifting as the guards lining the walls see him enter. The false- for this is surely a false image- Enzo looks his way, too, and when he meets their eyes, it is as if the floodgate of that strange energy he has been feeling for days opens. It is orange, and white, and unsettling, and cold, and all of a sudden he can see the individual threads making up the details of these disguises, and he notices an empty space in the jewel cabinet these figures are standing in front of.

"Arrest them," he says, not peeling his eyes away from these figures. He, like all of the Daggers, has a level of authority among all of Kenettra's forces, so he expects, without thinking, to be listened to. Long seconds go by, and nothing happens.

He spares a glance at the guards, only to see them looking back and forth between him and the pair, seeming perplexed.

"...Your Majesty?" A guard asks, looking to the false Enzo for instruction.

"That is not the real king," Raffaele says quickly, before the fake can get in a word, "As that is not the real me."

The guards continue glancing between them, unconvinced.

The false Enzo, too, seems unfazed by his words, and eyes Raffaele over from across the room.

"Bold accusation," they say, tilting their head and cocking an eyebrow in a way Enzo has never done in his life.

He gestures to the guards. "Seize him."

The guards hesitate.

“It is the White Rose,” he says, his tone slipping into impatience, “What else could explain two spontaneously existing copies of a person?”

“Clearly, it is the White Rose,” says the copied version of himself, “And she’s given herself away. Has anyone here ever known me to speak in such a manner?”

He glares at the copy. He can see the individual threads making up the disguise, and just glimpse the silhouette of a boy much younger than himself behind them, as he can see the beginnings of a girl’s figure behind the disguise of the King.

“Guards,” says the false Enzo, and only Raffaele can hear the reverb of a female voice under the words, “Arrest her.”

The guards begin to approach him. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a sharp breath before calling behind him, “Enzo!”

The guards continue to approach him, and he stares unwaveringly back at them. They seem unsure of themselves still, not coming at him as fiercely as they would if he seemed to be a common criminal.

Just as they arrive on his side of the room and reach out to grab him, there is a flash in between them, and Raffaele takes a step back.

It is the flash of flames igniting in the air, and they make a point to wrap around the hands of the guard who had almost touched him, burning them for a moment before dissipating. The man groans, and stumbles back, along with his companions.

“What is going on here?”

Enzo - the real Enzo, The Reaper, the King - strides over to him, his eyes locked on the guards. His voice and expression are a mask hiding cold fury behind the ruse of no emotion at all. Raffaele has not seen him like this since before they had risen to the throne.

“Your Majesty,” Raffaele says, lightly touching Enzo’s arm. The King’s expression immediately softens, turning to him. Raffaele gestures to the false image of them, standing across the room.

The copies stare back at them, with the first hint of doubt in their eyes. Then the false Raffaele straightens, and a wall of flames erupts once again before the guards, who had begun to approach them, taking the display of Enzo’s power as proof of his legitimacy.

The flames do not seem to be an illusion. They singe the carpet and radiate a heat that can be felt all the way across the room. Enzo’s expression falls into that of disbelief.

“That must be Magiano,” the false Enzo says, “Drawing on my power.”

The guards are dumbfounded again, and Raffaele narrows his eyes at the doubles. It is indeed Magiano, posing as himself, not as Enzo.

He turns to the King and says, his voice calculating, “Make a fire close to yourself. Around your body.”

Enzo does not question him. Flames ignite less than an inch above his hand, wrapping around his arms like second gloves, hovering just enough not to burn.

The false Enzo looks to the false Raffaele, who frowns deeply at the flames. He glances briefly at his partner’s hands, before looking back up at their face. “I told you I should have been The Reaper.”

The false Reaper grimaces, then lets out a long sigh. As they exhale, the disguises unravel, and finally fall away. “It seemed the better idea at the time.”

Where a moment ago he and Enzo stood, there are now two new faces. A boy with golden eyes, and a girl with silver hair. In her hands is the Kenettran Queen’s crown, and around her neck is a strand of blue veritium that Raffaele recognizes as the Tamouran coronation necklace.

“The White Rose and Magiano,” Enzo says, staring evenly at them.

The two Elites stand close to each other. The boy, Magiano, glances quickly from Raffaele to Enzo to the guards. “Yes…”

He glances briefly to The Rose, and she continues, “This has been fun, but,”

“We aught to be on our way,” Magiano finishes.

Raffaele can feel the heat emanating off of Enzo, threatening flames. He steps coolly towards them, and just as he calls his power Magiano raises his hand.

The wall of fire from a moment before rushes towards them, and this stops Enzo in his tracks just long enough for The White Rose to throw a sheet of invisibility over them both, as they dart toward a side exit.

Enzo freezes the flames in the air just before they would have been hit, and subsequently snuffs them out. By the time he does this, the room is empty save for themselves and the guards.

Enzo looks back at Raffaele, with a faint worry in his eyes, but Raffaele only takes his hand and pulls him forward. “Come, I can still sense them.”

Before they leave, Enzo directs his attention to the guards.

"Your Majesty-" the one who had spoken before starts.

"Forget," Enzo says, "About keeping your jobs. If you want to keep your lives, find me The Architect, now."

The guards scurry off, while Raffaele and Enzo head in the direction of the Roses' energy.

***

"Hold fire!"

Enzo and Raffaele rush out onto the streets of Estenzia, where Dante and a few other Inquisitors have their crossbows locked on Magiano and The White Rose, who both seem decidedly unfazed.

The men lower their weapons at Enzo's command, but before they have time for further action, several things happen at once.

The first thing Raffaele notices is the punch to the gut.

He stumbles a little and catches his breath- nothing has physically hit him, but he feels winded. He notices the same reaction in Enzo, standing beside him. It is as if a cold hand has wrapped around the energy of his being and bound it out of his reach, and the sensation is incredibly uncomfortable.

He finally looks to see the rest of his surroundings, and is even more unsettled by what he sees.

He cannot see- at least, not as he should be able to.

"Nice of you to join us, Your Majesty," a voice says, and Raffaele jumps, because it is coming from right behind them.

He and Enzo turn around to see The White Rose and Magiano, suddenly a few dozen feet from where they had been taunting the Inquisition. Raffaele doubts this is their true location, but he has no way of knowing for sure.

He is as oblivious to their true position as anyone else is. He cannot feel Dante's energy, or the Roses', or even Enzo's. The energy trail he had been following is no longer there.

This is not the simple blind spot in his power to feel the energy of the world that he was experiencing moments before.

His power is gone.

He needs only to exchange a single glance with Enzo to know he is experiencing the same thing.

"Hope you don't mind our picking up a few things," Magiano gestures to the crown in his accomplice's hands, "It is a special occasion, and this is kind of what we do for fun, you know?"

Raffaele and Enzo exchange another glance.

"It does not have to be like this," Enzo says to the Roses, calmness enveloping his voice. "Return our property and our powers, and we can all leave here unscathed. I appreciate the things you have done for the marked around the world; there is no reason for us to be enemies. In fact, we could be great allies."

The Roses exchange a glance.

"Hmm..." Magiano hums, "You see, we might consider that offer, but there is one thing."

There is a sudden clang from behind them, and they turn to see several Inquisitors, including Dante, with their crossbows knocked out of their hands. As they watch, a few more are knocked to the ground, and then a light flashes.

When the light fades, all of the Inquisitors except for Dante are prone on the ground, and a tall Kenettran man in a long blue coat is standing over them.

"You betrayed our friend," The White Rose continues.

"And he has been waiting just so long to see you again," Magiano finishes, and as he does, they both blink out of sight.

It takes Raffaele a moment to notice them, reappeared on the roof of a tall building across the road. Sergio- The Rainmaker - seems to have tried to make his way over to them only to be stopped by Dante, whom he is now engaged in what looks like an intense sword fight with.

Enzo shifts at their old almost-friend's appearance, his expression changing from emotionless to disappointed.

"I have to take care of this," Enzo says, drawing a dagger from his belt. "Stay out of danger."

Raffaele reluctantly nods as Enzo heads off into the fray. He regrets, not for the first time, that he is the only one of his friends not trained for open battle.

He watches him go for a moment, then jumps again, at the sound of another voice, suddenly beside him.

"I really am sorry about all of this."

He turns to see a young girl, barely of age, wearing violet silks and sparkling jewelry.

"I mean, to an extent," she continues. "Not sorry enough not to do it."

He stares at the girl for a moment. She is Tamouran, and her expression is friendly, if apologetic.

"Clearly," he replies, not accusingly.

The girl laughs, a bit sheepish. Raffaele stares at her for a moment.

"The Puppet Master?" he asks, because he is truly unsure. This girl radiates youth and joy- nothing fearsome about her. Nothing would tip one off to her being the Elite who can steal away the power of other Elites. Except, of course, her appearing at the same time as the other three Roses.

"I suppose that would be me," the girl says, shrugging. "And you are The Messenger? Raffaele Laurent Bessette?"

Raffaele nods slowly.

"This is going to sound strange, considering the circumstance," The Puppet Master says, "But I have always wanted to meet you."

Raffaele purses his lips. "Why, exactly?"

"Well-"

"The Architect!"

They both look up as Magiano calls down the name. He is pointing to the east, and sure enough, Michel is approaching on a balira, accompanied by a palace guard.

"Got it!" The Puppet Master calls out, and makes a strange clawed motion with her hand, as if she were holding a marionette handle. Just as he is dismounting the balira, he stumbles, clutching his chest.

"Sorry!" The Puppet Master calls halfheartedly, noticing this reaction.

Michel turns towards her- he is not too far away from them, now- incredulously.

"Good idea, but no luck," The White Rose says, she and Magiano suddenly appearing near them again.

Raffaele glances down at the White Rose's hands, where she still holds the matching crown to the one Enzo currently wears. He narrows his eyes, noticing something else gleaming there, and glances over at Magiano's hands, as well.

He recalls a certain rumor about what the Roses had been doing in Tamoura.

"Are you two married?" Raffaele asks, equally incredulous.

Both of the Roses light up, The White Rose leaning into Magiano's side.

"Yes, we are, thank you for noticing!" Magiano says, the lilt of a laugh in his voice. The White Rose leans over to kiss him, as they blink out of existence again, reappearing on a different rooftop across the road.

"Oh, by the gods," Michel mutters, almost rolling his eyes before running a hand down his face.

"So," Raffaele says, turning back to The Puppet Master, "This is part of some sort of elaborate celebration?"

She sighs, and nods, "Yes. I would not have specifically chosen 'series of jewel heists' as my ideal honeymoon activity, but it makes them happy, so," she shrugs, again.

Raffaele tilts his head. "Does it not make you happy?"

She frowns a little, but only for a moment. "Well, no. The whole 'robbery' thing was never my idea. But I figure there are much worse crimes, and everyone promised not to hurt anybody, so," she shrugs again, "It is like a compromise, you know?"

Raffaele raises an eyebrow. "'Promised not to hurt anybody'?"

"Well, yes," The Puppet Master replies.

"You assume you could if you wanted to? We are not exactly incompetent," Raffaele says, looking briefly to the rest of the fight.

He still cannot use his power, and what a shame that is, because he is sure the sight of all of this would be magnificent.

The Puppet Master seems to have released Enzo's powers in order to restrain Michel's, Thus he and Magiano are locked in a what looks similar to a game of catch, each of them throwing a sheet of flames at each other, each of them blocking it and tossing it back every time. While Enzo seems increasingly frustrated, Magiano seems increasingly amused. 

Sergio and Dante are still locked in single combat, neither of them seeming to be able to get a leg up on the other. This is mildly surprising- Dante, along with Enzo, taught Sergio to fight, so Raffaele would think it'd be an easy win, but Sergio has clearly continued to get better over the years. 

He notices something else- the sky has begun to go dark. The stories about the Rose Society's Rainmaker do mention him actually using his power- Raffaele wonders if he has truly, finally gotten the hang of it. 

A ways behind them, The Star Thief has arrived, but she cannot get a hit in any better than the rest of them. She circles the Roses from a balira, but every time she gets close she is chased away by extremely real-looking illusions, Raffaele assumes provided by The White Rose, who seems to be watching Gemma out of the corner of her eye as she leans against Magiano.

All in all, everyone is more or less in a stalemate. 

He notices something else- people that have come out of their homes and businesses, who are watching this spectacle themselves, intently. No one seems keen on joining in, but he sees various people shouting cheers, Rose or Dagger supporters getting competitive with each other. (Showing support for The Rose Society has never been banned in Kenettra, as it is in many other countries.) The sight reminds him of the Tournament of Storms- people getting competitive over which quarter of Estenzia will win the races, even though in the end they are all a part of the same city. 

"Well," Raffaele says, "Perhaps you could if you wanted to, if we are tied while you are holding back."

"To be fair, you are down by one," The Puppet Master says. "The Windwalker is not here. As it is, I can neutralize two of you, and then it is a pretty fair three versus three match. If you had a fourth, that might change the game."

"I suppose," Raffaele says, tilting his head. 

"I know you are all very powerful Young Elites. I am sure you know this, but your energies are all extremely potent, especially the king's. His reminds me of my s-," she cuts off, red forming on her cheeks, "Of The White Rose's."

Raffaele pauses, then turns back to face the Puppet Master. "Our energies?"

The Puppet Master smiles, and nods. "The energies that make up our powers. That is why I have wanted to meet you, you see, I can sense them too! Sergio told me a little about your studying them, and I have been doing some studying of my own, over the years, but I have always wanted the input of someone else who can see the world the way I do."

Raffaele raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. He, too, has often thought of meeting another person with a similar power to his own. Before he can comment this, though, a thunderous crash sounds from behind them. 

A bolt of lightning has come down from the sky, crashing down onto a concentrated spot in the road. Raffaele feels a dread rising in him, and focuses in on the space.

His stomach drops as his eyes confirm what he had suspected. Lying in that spot, crumpled on the ground, is Dante.

"Rainmaker!" The Puppet Master yells, her voice horrified and indignant. She makes another clawing motion with her hand, and Raffaele sees Sergio, standing over Dante's body, stumble and clutch his chest, while his own vision rushes back. 

Raffaele is distracted from the horror for a moment, by the near-overwhelming energies of nine Young Elites using their powers at once. He sees Enzo quell the fire he was about to throw in order to turn toward the scene, and he sees a dazzling imitation of Enzo's energy shimmering around Magiano, who does not take the opportunity to attack the King. He sees the threads connecting Gemma to her balira almost falter as she takes the sight in, and he sees The White Rose and her compatriots in their true positions, all for the most part a few feet from where their illusory doubles are standing. He sees Michel's energies covered over and tied down by blue, black, and opalescent threads, the same, now, as Sergio.

"Puppet Master!" The White Rose calls down, looking worriedly from Raffaele to her teammate. 

The Puppet Master pays her no mind, staring over at Sergio. 

"You promised!" she calls, taking a step towards him.

Sergio lets out a seemingly annoyed sigh.

"Is he dead?" he asks, impatiently.

The Puppet Master pauses to look down at Dante, and Raffaele does the same.

He does not look good, physically. He lies on the ground with his eyes closed, and electrical burns marking his skin.

However, his energy is it's normal angry red and orange; nothing like the rapidly fading pale blue of a soul passing into the Underworld.

The anger falls out of the Puppet Master's expression, replaced by something between agitation and relief. At the same time, Dante seems to groan, shifting on the ground, and Raffaele sees Enzo and Gemma's energies change in the same way. 

"I know what I'm doing," Sergio calls over. The Puppet Master sighs, and after a sharp look from the White Rose, Raffaele feels that same constricting feeling again. 

"Sorry," she mutters, and this time Raffaele knows there are multiple reasons for the apology.

"Well!"

Raffaele and The Puppet Master look up to see Magiano and the White Rose now hovering above the square, their voices amplified a few times over. A good margin of the crowd still cheers for them. 

"It is probably a good time for us to take our leave," Magiano continues, giving a wide wave to the crowd.

"It has been lovely to see you all, and I promise you will be hearing of us again soon," The Rose says, leaning again into her husbands side. 

As she says this, The Puppet Master stands up straighter, and barely gets in a wave to Raffaele before she vanishes into thin air. Sergio, too, pops out of existence where he had stood.

Raffaele watches as The White Rose places the Kenettran Queen's Crown on her head, drawing gasps from some parts of the crowd and cheers from others. She and Magiano give their last big waves, then disappear in a shower of silver and gold.

Gemma soars toward Raffaele on her balira, landing just in front of him. 

"Can you sense them? Where are they?" she asks.

Enzo reaches him shortly after her, a couple of medics carrying Dante in tow, and Raffaele shakes his head. 

"If the range of The Puppet Master's powers are similar to mine, I will not have my powers back until they are too far away to be sensed."

The others sigh, before Raffaele continues, "It does not not matter. I know where they are headed."

"How?" Enzo asks.

"Did y'manage to get it out of The Puppet Master while you two were making idle conversation?" Dante slurs, his voice strained, and Raffaele marvels at his ability to sound irritated and disapproving even having just brushed Moritas's fingertips. 

"No," he says flatly. He then continues, "If The White Rose and Magiano are throwing a celebration at the expense of the world's most powerful nations, there is only one left that they have not yet visited."

It takes only a second for the meaning of this to sink in, and Raffaele sees smiles spreading across Enzo and Gemma's faces. 

"They'll have a heck of a force waiting for them when they get there," she says.

Enzo nods. "We should send a dove to Lucent, then."

***

"How is he?"

Enzo stands as Raffaele enters his room, having just returned from checking in on Dante. It is past twilight, and the King is dressed for bed.

"He will certainly live," Raffaele says, and Enzo lets out a breath of relief. He sits back down on his bed, and motions for Raffaele to do the same.

"He will be suffering from chronic pains for a while. It will be a long time before he can fight again, if he ever can," Raffaele continues, taking a seat beside him. 

Enzo's posture falls at that. He leans back against his headboard. "He did that on purpose," he says. "He hurt him, but he let him live."

Raffaele takes one of Enzo's scarred hands in his own. "Do not blame yourself. You did the best you could."

"I probably could have done something more eloquent than poisoning him unconscious and then banishing him to Merroutas on threat of death," he replies.

Raffaele pauses for a long moment.

"Perhaps," he relents, and Enzo exhales, closing his eyes. 

"Any changes in opinion on them as a whole?" Raffaele asks.

Enzo opens his eyes back up and looks at him, then up at the ceiling.

After a moment, he shakes his head. "They were magnificent."

Raffaele laughs softly at that.

"What did The Puppet Master say to you?" Enzo asks, sitting up again. 

"She apologized, mostly," Raffaele says, tilting his head. "She seemed like a very sweet young girl, to be honest."

"The Puppet Master?" Enzo asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, I was surprised as well. When I had my powers back for that brief moment during the battle, I saw her power, and it's most prevalent energy was that of Empathy," he says, recalling the threads he had seen wrapped around Michel and Sergio. "Of course, her second was that of Fear."

"Not completely without her darkness, then," Enzo says.

"It would seem," Raffaele nods. "Her other threads were blue, but there are so many blues... I might think Knowledge, because she mentioned spending time studying her powers, or maybe Joy, for she certainly invoked it."

Enzo seems deep in thought for a moment. 

"Very interesting," he says, finally, and Raffaele nods in agreement.

"I do hope Maeve and Lucent can manage to detain them. I'd love to get them in a room to talk," Enzo says, lying down fully on his bed.

"Perhaps they will. Between the two of them, Maeve's brother Kester, and the rest of her private Elites, I would say they have a fighting chance," Raffaele says, lying down beside him.

He rolls over and kisses him, and when they part, they are both smiling. In a moment, Enzo raises a hand, and all the lights in the room snuff out.

Chapter Text

05 Marzien, 1364

The Sun Sea

Waters between the Sealands and the Skylands

Adelina Amouteru

"How could you?"

My sister and I both blink, as we say our words in unison.

She turns to face me, as she had not been before; while my words were indeed directed at her, hers seem to have been directed at Sergio. 

"You revealed our true positions to The Messenger, Violetta! If he had thought to alert an Inquisitor any of us could have died!" I say, crossing my arms in front of me. 

"It seemed that he had just killed somebody, Adelina! I had to do it!" Violetta says.

"How did taking away my power help, exactly?" Sergio asks, still seeming annoyed. We have just left Estenzia's harbor, our escapade at the Kenettran place only a few minutes over.

"I did not know if you were going to try and strike at one of the other Daggers next! I had to protect them! We do not go out murdering people, that is not okay!" she continues.

"The Daggers do not need your protection, Violetta," Sergio says. 

"And you would rather risk our lives than let them die?" I ask.

"Everyone," Magiano says, slipping an arm around my waist, "Can we please calm down. Fighting with each other is not going to help anything. All that matters is that we all got out all right."

I breathe in, and then out again; I am still upset, but I feel calmer leaning into him.

"And, of course, that we got away with this," Magiano continues, tracing the edge of the Kenettran Queen's Crown in my hair.

I let out a breathy laugh at that, reaching up to peck his lips. The crown is heavy, made of thick metal and weighed down by many red and white jewels, but it fits me well.

When we look back over at Violetta, her hands are folded in front of her, and her lips are pursed.

"I did not mean to put us in danger. I am sorry for that," she says. 

After a moment, I nod. "Thank you."

"And Sergio, maybe avoid hitting well-known Elites with lightning bolts from now on?" Magiano says.

Sergio lets out a breath and nods. "I'll tone it down next time. I never knew The Windwalker, that shouldn't be difficult."

"Good," Magiano says, nodding. 

I notice Sergio and Violetta relax, the tension between us effectively dissolving. 

I sigh. One of the (many) things I love about Magiano is how he can chase away harmful emotions, no matter the nature. I lean my head against his shoulder as we all head up the stairs towards the rear deck of our ship.

Our days of hiding in shadowy corners are long over- the ship we sail on now belongs to us, a part of our small but high-class personal fleet. The combination of this thought and the weight of the Kenettran crown on my head makes the white glow of my ambition burn blindingly, rivaling the pink-red of my passion that has enveloped me since my wedding day, and I revel in it. 

Satisfaction and triumph flood into me as I stand with my husband and my sister and my friend, watching the Kenettran shore shrink behind us. I have achieved everything that I have wanted since I was a child. I am powerful, and I am loved. 

And I am not even finished yet.

"So, that in mind," Magiano says, drawing me from my thoughts.

He claps his other hand onto Sergio's shoulder. "Are you satisfied?"

Sergio looks briefly surprised, then purses his lips, looking out over the open water. 

"We did kick their butts pretty thoroughly. You took one of them out in mere seconds with your power, Rainmaker. Surely you have proved what you set out to prove?" I ask. 

Sergio snorts at that, and after a moment, nods. "We did."

He pauses for another moment. "Seeing all of them again wasn't what I expected, but yes. I think I have."

"There you go," Magiano says, letting his hand slide off of Sergio's shoulder. "You deserve to move on from those guys. You have your whole life left to live; I know you'll find someone who won't decide to ship you off to a foreign country, someday."

Sergio rolls his eyes, but I can see him smiling.

"I presume going back to talk to them is still off the table, though?" Violetta asks, halfheartedly.

"I somewhat doubt they'd want to talk to us, now," Magiano says.

"You never know," she replies.

She sighs, looking out at the ocean for a moment, then looks back up at us with a sunnier expression. "I am glad you both had fun, at least. This is about you, after all."

Magiano and I both smile, and I nod. "Don't worry, Violetta. We will all be home soon," I say.

My sister half-smiles, more earnestly, and nods.

Magiano nods, too. "We won't spend too long in Beldain. If the weather is anything like Amadera, we'll want to be in and out as quick as we can," he says, and we all laugh.

I glance behind us, at the waters to the north, still smiling. Even with my sister's reluctance, I can hardly wait for what comes next. 

Chapter Text

19 Marzien, 1364

City of Hadenbury 

Northern Beldain

The Skylands

Lucent

"We are going to have company, soon."

Lucent steps into the pale-lit hall where her wife stands, staring out of a window.

"Are The Daggers coming to visit?" Maeve asks. Her voice is horribly tired, and it makes Lucent's chest hurt. She knows that Maeve has been plagued by terrible nightmares for the past few weeks, and it is starting to take a noticeable toll on her.

"Nothing quite so pleasant," she replies, reaching Maeve's side.

She glances back down at the letter from Raffaele. It warms her to see her old friend's handwriting- they do not visit nearly as often as they should. 

Though the letter's contents are less comforting, to say the least.

"The Rose Society has made a successful hit on Kenettra. The Rainmaker struck Dante with lightning, and he will be off of his feet for weeks. Raffaele believes they are headed here next," Lucent says. "In the time it has taken this letter to reach us, they could already have reached the city."

Maeve moves away from the window, turning to face Lucent. The fatigue is still evident in her face and posture, but she seems more alert at the news. "We will need to gather my personal Elites, and make sure we are all together when they arrive."

Maeve starts down the hallway, and Lucent follows, keeping pace with her. "We should alert Augustine as well, to make sure the castle's defenses are at their height. I'll want Tristan with me, too, of course."

Lucent almost pauses in her stride at the last remark, and hesitates to speak. 

"Are you sure?" she asks, finally, and immediately regrets it as Maeve tenses, the lines and dark circles under her eyes becoming more evident. 

Tristan has not been doing well, these past few months. He has stopped talking completely, even to Maeve, and he spends weeks at a time alone in his villa on the edge of the castle grounds. And more than that...

Maeve refuses to speak about her nightmares, in the waking hours, but sleeping in the same bed as her, Lucent can glean enough. She has awoken in the dead of night to find Maeve asleep and shaking, muttering the name of her youngest brother as if it were the name of the goddess of death herself. 

Lucent had her own nightmares about Tristan's death, for a long time after it happened, after she was banished. She still has them sometimes, even today, but this is different. It is like the air, the energy of the room shifts when Maeve is having her nightmares. She is emitting the same energy that scares people into staying far away from Tristan, and no power could ever keep Lucent away from Maeve again, but she is worried about her. Very worried.

"Of course I am sure," Maeve says, her voice closed off, and barely above a whisper. 

Lucent nods, and takes Maeve's hand in her own. At first she does not reciprocate the gesture, but then she squeezes her hand back, tightly, as they continue through the halls.

"Raffaele suggests we try to take the Roses captive," Lucent says, as they draw closer to the main hall, where they should find Augustine. 

Maeve nods. "It will be important to locate and incapacitate them quickly. If we can take out their illusion worker and their mimic first, they will lose their ability to be everywhere at once. Taking out the rest of them will be child's play after that." 

Lucent purses her lips, glancing back down at the letter. "We'll probably want to stay indoors."

"A good idea. That's three of them effectively neutralized, and the last should be of no consequence. It will not matter if a couple of us cannot use our powers when we have dozens of soldiers backing us," Maeve says. 

Lucent pauses. "Do you have an idea for how to take out The White Rose and Magiano?" she asks.

Maeve pauses too, looking at Lucent. "Concentration is something one typically needs to keep in order to maintain their powers, yes?" 

Lucent nods, and Maeve smiles. Lucent smiles too, simply because Maeve's smile is something she has missed.

"Then all we really need to do, is break it."

Chapter Text

01 Abrie, 1364

City of Hadenbury

Northern Beldain

The Skylands

Adelina Amouteru

"What catches your eye, my love?"

I tilt my head against Magiano's shoulder as we stare up at Beldain's tall cases of crown jewels. 

We have gotten in to the treasury just as easily as we always do- perhaps more so, even. Some of my excitement has worn off on the long trip to Beldain, and now that we are here, I cannot help but feel this hit will be underwhelming, following our hit on Kenettra. I wonder if perhaps we should have come here first. 

The Beldish treasury is a dank, underground chamber, bitingly cold and dimly lit. It reminds me more of a place where you would keep prisoners than a place where you would keep valuables, and I wonder at how nothing here has become tarnished by the mild wetness of the walls. Sergio has his back to us, perusing the cases on the other walls, while Violetta stands just behind me and to the right, waiting patiently. 

I touch the blue veritium coronation necklace we took from Tamoura, hanging around my neck. We are all wearing our things- I have my necklace, and the crown from Kenettra, Magiano has the Night King's pin and his crown from Domacca. We both have our rings, of course, and Sergio carries the scepter we took from Amadera. Trophies from every nation of the world, save one. Distributed to each of us, save one.

I turn my head behind me, a bit, meeting Violetta's gaze. She looks politely patient, though clearly still nervous, even after all this time.

"Does anything catch your eye, sister?" I ask, and Magiano turns to her, as well. 

She blinks, glancing up at the jewels lining the walls. There are dozens- many diamonds, with the Beldish's devout following of Fortuna, accompanied by moonstones and nightstones and amber. The frozen Skylands all hold a certain reverence for Death, as well. 

My sister looks between us and the jewels, seeming to measure whether I am being serious, then slowly steps closer. She takes in the jewels with a certain reverence that makes me recall her talk of seeing Elite energies in gemstones. I wonder for a moment what she sees, looking at this case.

After a long minute of staring, she glances back at me, then knocks open one door on the case. Behind it I can see a fist-sized chunk of raw nightstone, connected to a silver chain so thin it makes me wonder if it can actually hold the thing. 

"Beldain's Dark Heart," Magiano says, leaning in slightly to see it. The nightstone does not glint in the dim light- it is a dull stone, compared to the others here, but my sister stares at it as if entranced. 

"It is a coveted piece, as old as the royal family," Magiano continues, approval in his voice despite the lack of shine on the stone. 

Violetta pulls it out of the case, hesitating a moment. Magiano and I both nod encouragingly, and I lift her hair so she can close the silver clasp behind her neck. 

When it is on, her breath catches a little, her hand moving to the place where the stone touches the skin over her heart. I puzzle for a moment over this reaction, and think again to her talk of energies, how gemstones in their raw state emit energy more potently. 

Magiano seems puzzled as well, tilting his head and looking at her curiously. I know he can detect energies, too, if on a much smaller range than Violetta or The Messenger. I am about to ask him what he sees, when he shakes his head.

"Any luck on your end?" He calls across the room to Sergio, who is still observing the other cases.

We turn to see him handling a heavy iron ring, encrusted with diamonds and pale blue gems. I assume them to be moonstones, before stepping in closer and recognizing them as aquamarines. 

"Very nice," I comment, as he turns the ring in his hand, letting it catch the light. 

As we are admiring the ring, Magiano stands straighter, seeming startled, and I here my sister's voice, an uncharacteristic, breathless whisper:

"They are close."

Just as I turn to ask either of them what is going on, I hear a bolt turn in the door we came through. 

We all stand in silence for a full second, before Sergio strides over to the door and tries it's handle. It does not move.

Another moment of silence. 

"Well that's just embarrassing, really," Sergio mutters. I barely register the words.

My vision has begun to go yellow, the image of this cold, underground room shifting into a different one. I feel heavy shackles weighing on my wrists, the sick wetness of a dungeon on the floor, where I am kneeling- I am back in the depths of the Inquisition's prison, condemned to burn at the stake, with no idea that Magiano and I will save each other. 

The illusion drags on for more than a second. Panic rises in me as I try to ground myself back to reality- ten seconds, fifteen, thirty, and then- a touch, on my shackled wrist.

No. There are no shackles on my wrist, and I am in a treasury, not a dungeon. I let out a shaky breath as I take the hand the touch belongs to- the same person it has always belonged to, Magiano, my love, my husband. He is looking at me with concern, and saying my name like a question. 

"I am here," I say, and he lets out a breath too, cupping my cheek with his other hand.

"Perhaps it would be worth it to head home early," he whispers, and I nod. The thrill of the situation is gone from me, and my the energy of my power feels too cold. The quick succession between our escapades in Dumor, Tamoura, Kenettra and Beldain must be what is causing this strain on my power. Going home and taking a break will fix this. 

It has to.

Magiano nods in turn, then leads me to the door, and I follow him. 

"There are a good six Elites outside the door, at least," he says, shaking his head, "I should have sensed them sooner."

As he says this, he pulls his arm back, and thrusts it forward, bringing with it a blast of wind so strong Sergio and I both have to brace ourselves. Several of the cases fall over, spilling priceless jewelry all over the floor, and the door flies off it's hinges, back into the hall. 

Seven young men and women, four of them wearing crowns of some sort, narrowly dodge. 

"I'll admit no one's ever tried that, Your Majesty," Magiano says, addressing the woman in the most ornate crown, black iron embedded with moonstone and nightstone and diamond, "But you could not possibly have thought it would be that easy."

Sergio steps forward to stand beside him, and my sister crosses the room to stand with us- am I imagining some kind of glaze over her eyes?- as the queen responds,

"No, I did not."

Her people draw their weapons, but we are unfazed. I assemble the threads of my energy, ready to paint us all invisible- 

Then collapse to my knees, as my mind is torn open by a horrible shriek, like the accidental howling of a too-strong wind. I feel Magiano fall beside me, and see the seven figures approaching through my reddening vision, but I cannot focus my energy enough to help us.

Just as I can see worn riding boots a mere foot in front of my face, the person they belong to stumbles, and noise cuts abruptly off. 

I take several deep breaths before I get up off the ground, and Magiano does the same. We look at each other as we rise, both of us asking and answering the same question- he is unhurt, and so am I. 

We look up to see Sergio, already up and fighting both the Windwalker and one of the boys in crowns at once, and my sister, one hand held in a claw, her still semi-vacant eyes locked on the fight. 

Sergio has two swords out, one being used to fight off the Windwalker's dagger, and the other to ward off the boy, who does not fight with a weapon, but delivers a relentless stream of hand-to-hand blows. The boy holds a look in his eyes so disturbing, so absolutely lifeless, I half-think I am just imagining anything off about my sister. That there is something off about this boy is glaringly, overpoweringly obvious, and I exchange a glance with Magiano to confirm he notices as well. 

I pull the threads of my energy over us, making the four of us vanish, and halting the Windwalker in her assault. The boy, however, continues attacking, blindly, nearly a third of his hits still landing. 

Magiano draws a knife, advancing invisibly to help, when suddenly the entire room shakes. I just have time to see one of the girls not wearing crowns wave her arm in our direction before the entire contents of the room comes flying toward us. 

Hundreds of necklaces, bracelets and rings coat the four of us like iron on magnets, stumbling us and making our silhouettes obvious to our assailants. Before anyone can take aim, Magiano waves his arm in the other direction, and the jewelry flies off of us, back toward the wall. 

The girl waves back, and she and Magiano enter a stalemate similar to the one he had had with the Reaper back in Estenzia, both of them focused on keeping the gems away from themselves. 

Watching this, I notice only the translucent, crystalline gems have been affected- the opaque gem of my sister's necklace has not moved, nor has mine. I feel tugs on my ring and my crown, but I assume they are either too heavy or two intertwined with my body to be moved. 

Magiano and I exchange another look. It has become increasingly clear- we are cornered, and we are outnumbered. It has been a long time since we have needed to legitimately fight our way out of a place- since we have been anything but glaringly superior to our opponents. This could go very bad for us- who knows what could happen if we are captured. We are still deep underground- we need to get past these people, and we need to get out of here, as soon as possible. No time for fun and games. 

I motion for Violetta to bind the powers of the girl controlling the gemstones, but she does not acknowledge me.

I frown, and try again. Still no response. 

"Puppet Master," I whisper insistently, and finally my sister blinks, turning towards me. 

Unfortunately, her's is not the only attention I catch. 

The other boy wearing a crown's head immediately turns in the direction of my voice. 

"Rose," he says, in a heavy Beldish accent, raising his hand in my direction, "I promise this will only hurt for a moment."

As he speaks, a bolt of electricity flies out of his hand in a wide arc, aimed in the general vicinity of my voice. Magiano pulls me to the ground, but Violetta remains where she is, watching the bolt come.

"Puppet Master!" I say again, half standing up, before I freeze, dumbfounded.

As I watch, Violetta raises her hand, and the second the electricity would have hit her it turns black in the air, going still and then folding into nothing. 

Seconds later I feel a horrible chill in my energy, the same feeling that rests under the surface every time I have felt Violetta's power, and that, a long time ago, went hand-in-hand with mine. Violetta becomes visible again, the threads I was using to conceal her turning black and fading away. 

I take a panicked look at myself, but Magiano, Sergio, and I are still invisible. I have never witnessed Violetta's power working this way- destroying the threads of energy people have summoned with their power, without binding their energy all together- and I would be impressed, perhaps delighted, if not for the still-vacant look in her eyes, as she slowly approaches the other group.

Everyone else has stopped moving- even the boy with his dead eyes has stopped, at a motion from the queen. Sergio puts his hand on Violetta's shoulder as she passes him, but she brushes him off. 

She stops face-to-face with the Beldish queen, who raises an eyebrow, staring her straight in the eyes.

I feel Magiano take my hand, and pull me to my feet. When we are standing, he looks at me grimly. 

"Something is wrong," he whispers, motioning to Violetta, and I nod.

"Her energy has gone so dark," he says, as we slowly advance towards her, "The jewels we wear can enhance and influence our powers, but now that stone is overtaking hers. Her connection to Formidite is too strong, and she can't control it."

Formidite. The angel of Fear, the gatekeeper of the Underworld- of course, the deity that aligns with nightstone. A cold wraps around my heart at the thought of such a power overtaking my light-hearted sister, and I silently curse myself for not taking that necklace back the moment I noticed something was wrong. 

Just as we have almost snuck up behind her, Violetta takes one more step towards Queen Maeve, and begins to curl her hand into a claw, making a motion as if she were holding a marionette handle.

Just as I feel that cold, cold energy brushing against me again, I hear Violetta speak once more, in that lifeless whisper-

"You were warned."

Then I stumble, dark and cold enveloping me. I feel my energy constrict and all of our invisibility go down, and I see every person in this room stumble, except for one. The boy in the crown, with the dead eyes, falls completely, collapsing onto the ground. 

Queen Maeve's face goes white, and she rushes over to the boy's side. 

"Give it back," she cries, crouching down and lifting the boy's head with her hand, "Give it back!"

Magiano steps forward and pulls on Beldain's Dark Heart, closing his hand around the stone and snapping the chain. 

He tosses it across the room, and Violetta gasps, her hand moving to her throat. 

"What..." she says, and I feel a wave of relief as I recognize her normal voice, and at the same time feel my powers rushing back to me.

She takes in the sight of Queen Maeve and the boy- one of her brothers, surely- and her face contorts in horror and confusion. 

"Did I...?" she continues, her voice cracking, and Magiano places a hand on her arm. 

"You didn't kill him," he says, looking back at the boy with a kind of still horror. 

I look quizzically over to him, but before I can ask what he means, Sergio rushes over to us.

"We should go while they're distracted," he says, motioning us down the hall. 

The prince's collapse has indeed grabbed the attention of all of our adversaries. As Sergio speaks, a couple of them look up, but I quickly paint us invisible, and the four of us dart down the hallway, Magiano and I having to lead Violetta by either arm.

By the time we emerge into the cold, but bright aboveground, there are tears freezing on her face. 

***

"The Beldish queen is a Young Elite," Magiano explains.

Magiano, Violetta and I are lounging belowdecks, as our ship pulls away from Beldain. Sergio is occupied with the captain, charting our course back to the Ember Isles. 

Violetta sits by herself, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. "I know."

Magiano nods. "I tried to copy her energy once, when I was passing through Hadenbury, and I nearly fainted. It felt like the very Underworld itself coursing through my veins. I don't know how she does it every day."

"What does she do?" I ask, though at this point I already suspect the answer. 

Magiano pauses for a moment. "When I tried to copy her, I could not do anything. Not offhand, at least. At this point, though, I think it is a fairly safe assumption she has the ability to steal the dead back up from the Underworld."

"Her energy was tethering her life to her brother's. Fueling it," Violetta says, not looking directly at any of us. She does not seem- for lack of a better term, possessed, any longer, only distant. I cannot help but feel guilt, knowing I created the situation that has upset her so deeply. 

"When I took away her power, I broke the tether. I killed him," Violetta says, her voice breaking for the second time today.

"He had already been dead for years, Violetta. You must have felt Moritas's energy encircling him- he was well past his time," Magiano says.

"The gods of the Underworld used you as a vessel to reclaim what was always theirs, Violetta. You did not do anything- it was not your fault," I say, trying my best to sound comforting.

Violetta stands, seeming unmoved. She is now wearing her swan hairpin from Dumor, as well as her necklace from Merroutas and her bracelet from Domacca- all of her sapphire and opal jewelry. I think it is an attempt to stimulate the other aspects of her energy, and keep the angel of Fear at bay, though I doubt she will be inhabiting my sister again. There is not enough Underworld energy now that we are away from the Beldish treasury, and the deed she came to perform is already done.

"I think I need to rest," Violetta says, nodding to us before heading toward her quarters. I consider stopping her, but decide against it. Perhaps she does just need some time to rest.

Perhaps we all do. 

Chapter Text

02 Abrie, 1364

City of Hadenbury

Northern Beldain

The Skylands

Maeve Jacqueline Kelly Corrigan

"They've stopped."

The nightmares of Holy Moritas and her daughters, strangling her or drowning her, imploring her to 'return what she'd stolen.' The feeling of death, of the Underworld seeping into her- they have all stopped. It is all gone.

And so is Tristan. 

Lucent does not react to her statement. Maeve thinks she already knew, in the same way she knew about her nightmares, without Maeve having to tell her. 

They sit together on the side of their bed. It is late morning, and Maeve has just returned to bed after a hurried proclamation. Lucent was here when she got back, but her change of dress and her cheeks reddened from cold suggest she has been up this morning, as well. 

"Maeve," Lucent says, taking one of Maeve's hands. Her voice is gentle, but stern, and Maeve stiffens in readiment for what she is going to say next.

"You aren't going to criminalize The Rose Society."

"I already have," Maeve replies, her voice hard and hollow. "They are charlatans and thieves. Internationally notorious criminals. They taint the reputation of Fortuna's Chosen."

"That didn't matter to you two days ago," Lucent says, "Not enough for you to put out a Dead or Alive warrant for them."

Maeve does not respond, sitting stone-faced. 

"Enzo's not going to be happy about this," Lucent continues, "He still wants them on his side-"

"Maybe he will change his mind once he hears they killed my brother," Maeve snaps, looking Lucent in the face for the first time today.

Lucent's posture shifts down, a sign Maeve's finally said what Lucent was waiting to hear.

It is a long moment before she responds.

"You know what happened wasn't their fault," Lucent says.

Maeve's eyes widen. She is at a loss for words, for a moment. 

Maeve's mind rushes back to the evening before- The Puppet Master approaching her, steadily and without fear, destroying her tether to her brother in a tidal wave of energy that none of them could see but all of them could feel.

Her words, a phrase that all of them heard but only Maeve understood.

You were warned.

Maeve does not want to admit she knows that, not to Lucent or to anyone else. Most of all, to herself. 

It takes a while for Maeve to speak, and when she does her voice is shaky, her walls barely remaining in tact. 

"The gods," she clenches a fist in the skirt of her dress, trying to keep a level tone, "Granted me my power."

"Maybe the gods were doing you a kindness by reclaiming it," Lucent says, her tone rising in emotion as well.

"In what way?" Maeve asks, her resolve a hairline fracture away from shattering.

"By taking away a power that was killing you!" Lucent exclaims, and Maeve is shocked as Lucent is the first one to break composure.

"We've all noticed, Maeve, you've been worsening by the day!" she says, "Tristan..."

She chokes up, and Maeve blinks rapidly- this is not how she thought this would go. 

"Tristan's been gone for a long time, and I know that's my-"

"Do not say it was your fault," Maeve says, quickly, firmly, without thinking about it. 

Lucent blinks. She looks at her, looks into her, in the way only she can.

"It was mine," Maeve continues, her voice breaking. "I should have never..." 

She shakes her head, and wipes a wetness away from her eye.

"I just wanted to save him," she finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.

Maeve embraces Lucent, and they hold each other until they have both stopped shaking. 

"Why would the gods give me a power I was never meant to use?" Maeve whispers into her shoulder.

Lucent tightens her arms around her, just slightly shaking her head, buried in the crook of Maeve's neck.

"We may never know," she says. 

Lucent pulls away, and looks into Maeve's eyes again. 

"What I was saying," she starts.

"Tristan is gone, but you're still here. We are still here. We cannot change the past, and we'll destroy the present if we try to. We have to enjoy what time we still have," she cups Maeve's cheek, "With the people we still have."

Maeve nods slowly. She looks ahead for another moment before she leans in.

Her wife's lips taste salty with tears, and Maeve is sure her own do as well. It is a bit of a dreary detail, so Maeve does not dwell on it.

They will have plenty of kisses in plenty of brighter places, plenty of happier states. Now is a time for grieving, after so long, but of course that will not last forever. 

Nothing can, after all. 

Chapter Text

19 Abrie, 1364

City-State of The Ember Isles

The Sealands

Violetta Amouteru

"We're being followed."

All four of them stop as Sergio speaks, drawing his sword and turning to face the darkness behind them. 

They are walking a cobbled path through the small permanent neighborhoods of the Ember Isles. They arrived home a few days ago, finally, after months abroad.

It is the edge of the night, and the stars stretch out bright and clear in every direction, accompanied by the three moons. Sergio has his sword pointed towards the shadow of one of the tall buildings lining this road, and looking Violetta can see a faint silhouette, and the stray threads of jewel toned energy that suggest a non-Elite malfetto. 

"Put your weapon down," Violetta says, her words coming out flat.

It has been more than two weeks, and she still feels the chill of the Underworld inside her, the black threads that make up a third of her being throbbing with a renewed power. She can recall as if it were still happening, as if she had her sister's power of illusion and was calling on it to recreate the event, those same dark threads eclipsing her sapphire blue and bright opalescent ones, wrapping her heart in a pure, concentrated fear. She can still feel the space in her soul left by Holy Formidite herself, as if she had to push some of Violetta out of the way to make room, and that part of her had not returned once the angel of Fear was gone.

Sergio glances at her, but does not oblige until the figure steps into the light. 

Adelina and Magiano both shift as they see the marked girl, not in recognition, but in curiosity. Magiano has his arm around Violetta's sister's shoulders- they both seem decidedly unbothered, unfazed, unaffected by what happened in Beldain.

A part of Violetta that has never had the strength to form thoughts before wants to be resentful- this was their idea, their irresponsibility ending in her pain and an innocent man's death.

At the same time she finds herself disturbed by these thoughts- she knows, in her heart, Adelina and Magiano do to a degree regret going to Beldain at all, that they feel guilt, if not over what happened to the Queen and her brother, then for letting what happened to Violetta happen. 

Lately, though, Violetta's heart has been a hard place for her to reach. 

Violetta starts, as she sees the new face. The girl is about her age, and of Domaccan descent- her hair is black and collected in a multitude of braids tied behind her head, similar to the way Magiano wears his, and most of her skin is a dark brown, darker than Violetta or Adelina's. The part of it that is not is a bright, electric green, a marking of jagged criss-crossing lines stretching from the corner of her lip to the tips of her fingers. 

Violetta knows this face.

Kamaria stares at Sergio's lowered but still-drawn weapon for a moment, clearly afraid, though she does not stand back. She slowly shifts her eyes behind him.

"Violetta?" she asks, and Violetta steps forward, aware and cautious of the other Roses' presence, but relieved to see her.

Adelina narrows her eye, now. "How do you know my sister's name?"

Violetta shoots her sister a look. "I told her."

Kamaria had been one of the last malfettos they pulled straight from execution. She had spent a couple of days traveling with them before they sent her off to safety- to the Isles, the same place they sent all the others, the same place they eventually took refuge in themselves. 

Violetta has lived on the Isles for more than a year, staying home from outings and minor missions more often than any of the others, and it has been hard to avoid being recognized in all that time, when so many people they met with personally still inhabit this city-state. Rather than lie low and avoid this casual recognition, Violetta eventually began to seek it out, when she was left on her own without the others. 

She has never told the others about this. They- Sergio especially- can be so cautious about revealing their identities, or about befriending other people at all. Violetta respects him and knows he only wants to keep them safe, but she knows she has nothing to fear from these people, and it is so good to be around those her age, people she can be level with. People who remind her of why she agreed to be this, in the first place. 

"I did not mean to disturb you," Kamaria says, looking cautiously from Violetta to the other Roses. "I heard that you were almost apprehended in Beldain, and I had to know that you were all alright."

"You aren't disturbing us," Violetta says, smiling just slightly, "It is good to see you again."

Kamaria smiles back. "It is good to see you, too."

Adelina is still eyeing her suspiciously, while Magiano is watching their exchange with something more like amusement.

"It is kind of you to hold such a concern," he says. "We have met before, yes?"

Kamaria blinks her gaze over to Magiano, and when she focuses on him the concern on her face begins to mix with a tangible admiration. It is a moment before she responds, simply nodding, vigorously. 

"Kamaria designed the plaque you bought for Adelina," Violetta says, and when she does Adelina's demeanor shifts from suspicion to surprise to interest.

"Really," she says, her head tilting to rest on Magiano's shoulder. He almost-laughs at this, then absently runs his fingers through her silvery hair.

Kamaria blushes under the attention, tilting her head down and half-curtsying. 

"I'm honored you like it, your Roseness," she says, and Magiano and Sergio both laugh at the honorific, while Adelina just smiles and raises an eyebrow. "Most of the artists here could only dream of their work actually finding it's way into the hands of the one it is dedicated to.

"I have a few other pieces- back at my home, if you'd like to see them?" she asks, excitement beginning to show in her voice. 

Magiano hums. "It is already getting late- we're all heading home, right now. Another time, though?"

Kamaria shrinks a little, disappointed, and Violetta steps past Sergio towards her.

"I would like to go ahead, actually, if that is alright?" she asks, looking to the others a little hopefully. 

Kamaria looks at her a little wide-eyed, then smiles.

"I don't see why not," Magiano says. Sergio and Adelina both look at him as if they are about to argue, but he gives each of them a look, and they both seem to fold.

***

Kamaria's home is a warm and inviting space. She shares it with several other Sunland refugees, all of whom have gone to bed by now. Violetta and Kamaria stand in her room, yellow-painted walls making it seem open even in the night, with several wood-carved trinkets hanging from threads on the ceiling. 

There are plaques lining the walls as well- Violetta spots The Alchemist and The Rainmaker, and slight variations on the White Rose and Puppet Master carvings that hang in their living room right now. The center piece of the wall, though, is a plaque done up with gold paint that complements The White Rose's silver. It is surrounded by a sun painted onto the wall in the same golden paint- Magiano, it reads.

"That is lovely," Violetta says, drawing attention to it, and Kamaria lights up, turning to face the display. 

"Thank you," she says, reaching out to touch the edge of the sun. She pauses for a moment, watching the gold paint catch the flickering lantern light, before she continues.

"There are so many stories about him, it is hard to tell which ones hold true. But I've heard that he and I almost suffered the same fate, as children," she says, her voice growing quieter for a moment.

Violetta nods slightly. She knows this much is true, but she also knows Magiano dislikes bringing up his true past. She will not reveal any part of it still unknown without his consent.

"I-" She pauses again. "I admire him greatly. He inspires me to do the things that I love, to pursue the things that I dream of. We are both Domaccan, we are both marked. We have both been hurt in the past. And still, he has done so much. Saved lives, combated injustice. He is a hero, a legend-" she smiles. "You all are. If he can achieve all of that, it gives me hope that I can achieve a life that I want, as well."

Violetta smiles smally throughout her speech, though she falters on Kamaria's second to last statement.

"I do not know if I would call us heroes," Violetta says. Her expression darkens as she recalls a busy stairwell crumbling in a flash of heat, citizens retreating in panic as rain floods their desert roads. A sister falling to her knees as her brother's body lies still on the ground. 

Kamaria purses her lips, looking away from her carving, to Violetta. She seems to consider for a moment, before sitting down on the side of her bed, and motioning for Violetta to do the same.

She does, raising an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from her previous train of thought. Kamaria stares levelly at her for a moment before speaking. 

"Can I ask, what did happen in Beldain?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. "I am relieved you all got back alright, but you seem... forgive me, I know we do not know each other all that well,  but you seem shaken."

Violetta does not respond, glancing briefly off to the side, the image of Prince Tristan flashing over and over in her mind. 

As moments pass, Kamaria's green-flecked brown eyes fill up with sympathy- or, no. Empathy.

"Do you remember the first day we met?" she tries again, her voice a bit softer this time.

Violetta looks back at her and then nods. She remembers the crowds gathered for the burning, Kamaria shaking and sobbing and panicked and bound, Adelina's over extravagant intervention. She remembers taking Kamaria back to the inn where they were staying, trying to comfort her in the midst of the loss of the only life she'd known, the midst of betrayal and trauma and near-death. 

"Life had not been kind to me since the blood fever hit. As far as my family and my city were concerned, I was marked as a holy symbol, to be used, and eventually, sacrificed," she begins. "But when the time finally came, you stopped them. You saved me, and that wasn't all you did," she says, moving to take one of Violetta's hands.

Violetta lets her.

"My whole world had fallen out from under me, but you- you, Violetta- made me feel safe. You made me feel like I had a friend." Kamaria takes a breath. 

Violetta almost wants to tell her that she can stop- these are such personal thoughts, she does not have to share them for the sake of trying to make Violetta feel better. But the energies, the emotions she can feel rolling up from Kamaria make her think that that is not the only reason she needs to say this. 

"I know what it is like, to blame yourself for something that was not your fault. I know some of the other people you've helped-" her eyes flit to the door for a moment, "I know you want to be there for everyone, to be everyone's comfort. I can see that something has happened, something you might not be ready to confront."

Kamaria rubs Violetta's fingers between her own. She looks down at their joined hands for a moment before continuing-

"If you'd let me, I would love to be here for you now, as you were for me, then. I want to help you," she finishes, "I would love to be your friend."

Violetta feels a weight in her chest, and her Empathy surges. For a moment her vision is blinded by the opalescent glow of Holy Compasia's energy, the every-colored threads momentarily dwarfing her dark ones.

Her face falls forward onto Kamaria's shoulder, and her arms wrap around her middle. Kamaria's breath catches, and she hesitates only a moment before embracing Violetta in return. 

"Thank you," Violetta says, and she means it.

Violetta can still see the prince in the corner of her mind, can still feel Fear thrumming in her energy. Holding the other girl in her embrace, though, they start to feel farther and farther away.

Chapter Text

18 Juno, 1366

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Enzo Valenciano

"Look at this!"

Enzo and Raffaele both look up as The Star Thief rushes into the throne room, holding her left arm outstretched.

She is tailed by a cat and a bird, today, one trotting along at her feet and one perched on her shoulder, as she crosses the room, stopping on the highest step of the dais where Enzo's throne sits.

Her hand is held in front of their faces, at just enough distance for the sunlight streaming in through the window to catch the bright pink-red of the roseites that encrust the silver bands now adorning her finger.

"Could it be," Enzo says, placing his hand under hers to study her rings further- they really do seem to glow, in this light- "The esteemed Lady Gemma Salvatore has finally settled on a suitor?"

She pulls her hand away and fake-pouts, for a moment, as he pokes fun at her-even her animals seem to share her emotion, both of them making agitated noises- but it is not long at all before her smile has returned, and she is running over her rings with the thumb of her right hand.

"My father made the final arrangements this morning," she says.

Her tone of voice is more the pride of a person who has done something good, than the dreamy lilt of a person in love.

For all the difficulty Baron Salvatore had finding a suitable fiancee for his daughter before Enzo took power, he had the opposite problem after the Daggers took the throne. Between already belonging to the oldest and most high-standing house in Kenettra, second only to the royal family, and now being a favorite of the King, every nobleman in the country had begun vying for her hand.

Enzo might have married her himself, if things had been different. He has never had feelings for Gemma, but the marriages of kings and queens and nobles were never based around feelings, never based around love. The best one could hope for was an arrangement based on friendship.

He expects the Baron might have been expecting a proposal from Enzo, for a while, that that was one of the reasons he held off accepting any offers for so long. But Enzo's heart belongs to someone else, and he is determined to find a way to both preserve his country's future and marry the man he loves.

So Gemma and her father have been sorting through different suitors from all over Kenettra (and even beyond it) over the last half-decade. She has had a hand in the decision-making, he's sure, but he's also sure she's made the decision out of love for her family, a desire to preserve their status, and not romantic love. That's simply not the way things work, more often than not, for people of noble birth.

"Who is it that has finally earned the honor?" Raffaele asks, tilting his head. He is looking from Gemma to her rings and back with a curiosity perhaps too intense to only be about their friend's engagement. Enzo can tell he has noticed something, probably something only he can see.

Gemma starts to answer, but as she does, the gems on her ring flash with a brightness that Enzo has only ever seen them produce when Raffaele is testing an Elite. The light holds for a moment, and Raffaele calls for the guards standing across the room a moment before both creatures Gemma has brought with her screech and attack.

Gemma cries out as well, and Enzo acts more quickly than the guards can move, heating up the space between the Star Thief and her animals , not enough to harm, but enough to send the cat jumping off of her. The bird persists, and he coaxes the heat there into the smallest bit of flame-

He bites back a scream, stumbling backward for a step, as he feels a horrible pain erupt on his forearms. He looks down, bile pooling in the back of his throat, to see fresh burns crawling up onto his wrists from his long-scarred hands.

The guards have arrived, and in his periphery he sees them supporting an unconscious but otherwise seemingly unharmed Gemma, but his gaze is focused on the live fire dancing across his wrists, already having burned through the bottom of his gloves. He concentrates, tries to draw on his energy, but this seems to exacerbate the problem, his pain spiking, and then-

Oh. The touch of the hands that have just gripped his arms feel distant for a moment, as cool, calm threads of energy flood into him, weaving with his own. The flames on his wrists extinguish, but he hardly notices. He stopped feeling the pain the moment his Messenger touched him.

Enzo as a rule usually insists that Raffaele not use his abilities on him- Your company is a better remedy than your power, he will often say, and it is true. Enzo has felt the all-encompassing pacification Raffaele's power can produce once, perhaps twice, but he recognizes it in an instant, and he cannot bring himself to ask him to stop.

Raffaele is standing with his face very near Enzo's, one hand wrapped around Enzo's arm just below the elbow. His other hand strokes the newly opened wounds on his wrists lightly, and Enzo knows even this gentle touch would sting if not for the influence of Raffaele's energy.

"Are you alright?" Raffaele whispers.

Enzo nods, and he is reminded the soft sound of Raffaele's voice does make even better comfort than the cool touch of his power.

"I will be fine," he says, but Raffaele does not stop the flow of his energy.

"Really," he says, placing his other hand over Raffaele's where it sits on his arm.

He holds his gaze for a long moment, then slowly withdraws his power. Enzo grits his teeth as the pain comes back, but he is ready for it this time.

He sees the guards carrying Gemma in the direction of the infirmary, and after sharing a brief look, they follow.

***

The Star Thief's eyes flutter open, fittingly, like those of a character from a story, awoken from a deep slumber by love's first kiss.

"Are the animals alright?" Are the first words out of her mouth, and Enzo and Raffaele both smile at her.

Her worst injury is a bite around her ankle, and even that is not very severe- she fell unconscious merely from shock, the medics think. She has a couple of minor scratches on her face, small red lines in the plane of violet covering that part of her skin, that will heal without scarring under the proper treatment. Other than that, she is unaffected.

Enzo has a pair of bandages wrapped around his wrists, antiseptic ointments coating the wounds under them.

"They have been removed from the premises, but they are unharmed," Raffaele says, "They calmed down as soon as they were taken out of the range of your energy."

"What happened?" she asks now, and Enzo and Raffaele look at each other.

Raffaele slowly exhales. "You both were attempting to use your powers, but instead the energy of your abilities turned on you. Your threads corrupted and twisted, blindly lashing out instead of obeying you."

Gemma frowns, but nods. It is a good enough answer, a description of what happened on a technical level, but it leaves out the more vital part of the answer. The why.

That is the worst part. Neither of them have any idea.

Chapter Text

25 Juno, 1366

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Raffaele Laurent Bessette

"Teren is dead."

Raffaele is not looking at Enzo's face, but he sees his frame shift, feels his arm tense under Raffaele's hands.

"I was given word of it on the way here. I told the guard I would deliver the message myself," he says, looping a fresh bandage over the last bit of Enzo's burns.

He is kneeling in front of Enzo's throne; not in front of the entire dais like a common person would, but on the top step of it, his knees touching the gilded chair. He is re-wrapping the wounds that his King did not care to tend to this morning before he left their room.

He can see the energy of Enzo's emotions, as he mulls over this news: surprise, mostly, a little sadness. A thin layer of amusement that confuses Raffaele at first, but is explained in a moment.

"My Messenger," he says, and Raffaele successfully represses a smile at the inadvertent joke.

"Enzo," he says, glancing up at him half-exasperated and half-amused. "This is serious."

Enzo's own smile fades, and he lets out a sigh. "I know."

The wounds on Enzo's arms have continued to grow every time Enzo has used his powers in the last week. They have covered nearly half of his forearms.

"Are you sure?" Enzo asks, as Raffaele makes sure the bandages are held down securely. 

He nods. "I cannot feel his energy below us any longer."

It is something of a relief, not feeling Teren in the back of his mind any time he strays too close to the dungeons' entrance, but the fact that one of their long-regular attempts at executing Teren has succeeded now has very worrying implications. 

They still have not gotten word back from Maeve or Lucent, letters taking so long to cross the Sun Sea over to Beldain. Here in Estenzia, though, Gemma has continued to suffer attack from any animal she gets too close to (causing her to be mostly bound to the indoors, much to her dismay) and Dante's eyesight is suffering, his ability to see in the dark seeming to turn on him. Of course, there is still Enzo's burns. And now, this.

Raffaele pauses for a minute after securing the bandages, thinking about all of this.

He kisses the cloth over the inside of Enzo's wounded wrist, and he smiles. He pulls Raffaele to his feet, standing with him, and kisses his lips as softly as Raffaele had kissed his arm.

They are still very close when they part, Enzo's bandaged hands holding Raffaele's. Raffaele breathes once, then whispers, "You have to stop using your powers."

Enzo opens his eyes, and Raffaele continues, "Until I figure out a way to fix this. It is too dangerous; you are going to keep hurting yourself."

Nothing passes across the King's expression for a moment; Raffaele knows how much his powers mean to him. His status as a Young Elite has molded his entire life.

But eventually, he nods. "If you think it is the right thing."

"I do," Raffaele says, and Enzo nods again.

"I trust you," he says, kissing him again, "With my life. With anyone's life. I'd trust you with the entire world."

Raffaele feels his emotion flood his own heart, and his "I love you," is barely audible before he leans in to kiss him again.

He feels Enzo smile against his lips, before pulling back to say "I love you," back in his warm voice, and Raffaele will never, ever get tired of hearing that.

***

Raffaele sifts through his books late into the night.

He looks through the stories of the gods who gave them their powers- Amare visiting Moritas in the Underworld, Pulchritas fleeing his former realm and taking up the mortal world's oceans, Compasia saving her lover from her father's wrath. Denarius banishing his brother Laetes into the mortal world. 

The pieces come together in his mind, and they are not good. 

He can see the disturbance in his own threads, too- an unnatural light, erratic movements, a blue-white tinge that goes hand in hand with an Elite who aligns with Death, or a person who is dying.

Raffaele does not align with Death. None of the Daggers do.

It takes him longer to come up with a solution. It is not a solution he likes, but as far as he can tell, it is the only one they have.

***

"I don't understand."

Michel frowns at him, as the five Daggers who live in Kenettra sit around a table in meeting. 

Raffaele takes a breath. He knows it is a lot of information to take in. "We all know the myth of Laetes's fall. He was forcibly cast from the heavens, and this through off the balance of the worlds."

"Then he was welcomed back by each of the other gods," Gemma says, "And balance was restored."

Raffaele purses his lips. "Not entirely."

"What are you talking about?" Dante asks.

"Our powers," Raffaele says, "They are the threads of energy from each of the gods that leaked into mortal world through the tear Denarius created when he banished Laetes. That tear has exacerbated in the centuries since Laetes's fall, and now it close to reducing both our worlds to fragments.

"We are feeling the affects first, but soon the entire world will begin to bleed. The sky, the sea, the sun. It will all unravel. It will all cease to exist," Raffaele continues, "Unless we stop it. Unless we give back the energy that we harbor."

"We can't track down every single Elite in the world," Michel says.

"I do not think we need to," Raffaele answers. "As Gemma said, the world returned temporarily to order once Laetes was was welcomed by each of the other gods."

"We need the energies of each of the twelve gods," Enzo cuts in, speaking for the first time since this meeting began. "Each of the twelve alignments."

Raffaele nods.

He watches Enzo for a moment. His face is emotionless, but his energy is not- Raffaele can sense the dread waving off of him.

"To do what?" Gemma asks.

Enzo looks to Raffaele, to confirm what Raffaele can tell he already suspects.

Raffaele nods again, and he sees Enzo's shoulders fall just slightly. 

"We have to give back our powers."

"What?" Michel says.

"It is that or let ourselves die," Raffaele says, "And the world with us."

All five of the Daggers sitting around the table are quiet for a moment.

"Wait," Gemma finally says, "Including Lucent, the six of us only cover nine of the alignments. We're missing Death, Fear, and Greed."

"Queen Maeve will align to Death," Enzo says, and they all nod.

"She might align with Fear as well, given Formidite is the Underworld's gatekeeper," Gemma says.

"Perhaps," Raffaele says.

There is a moment of silence, as each of them think about the final alignment. Raffaele has thought about it quite a lot in the last twenty-four hours, and he has come to another conclusion he does not necessarily like. Looking around the table, he can see the others reaching the same thought. 

"No," Dante says.

"It may be our only choice," Raffaele says.

"Queen Maeve has other Elites with her in Hadenbury, doesn't she?" Michel asks. "Her own brother, Prince Kester, even. One of them could align to Greed."

"We will go to Beldain to get Maeve and Lucent, and while we are there we will have her Elites tested," Enzo decides, cutting off the budding argument.

His energy shifts, very well-masked excitement mixing with the negativity of the situation they are in. "If none of them hold the alignments to Fear and Greed, we will have no choice but to seek out the Rose Society."

Dante almost says no again, directly to the king, but stops himself.

"They may not have the alignments we need either!" he says instead. "They are dangerous criminals, seeking an allyship with them could be a huge mistake."

"Ignoring them for the sake of personal grudges would be a much greater one. We already know for certain The Rainmaker aligns with Fear," Raffaele says, and Dante scowls when he says Sergio's Elite name, "And I find it vastly unlikely we will not find one alignment to Greed among a group most notorious for their over extravagant jewel heists."

"How would we even find them?" Gemma asks, "They rarely ever show themselves, nowadays."

She is right- after their final escapade in Beldain, the Roses in their entirety have not been spotted once. The White Rose and Magiano have been seen on four occasions in the last two years, once every winter and once every summer, down in the Sunlands. They are sometimes accompanied by The Rainmaker, and said by some to be in rendezvous with The Alchemist during their visits, but The Puppet Master has not been seen.

Raffaele remembers the young girl he had met those years ago, who he'd parleyed with while their friends and families were fighting. He hopes nothing bad has happened to her.

"We will worry about that," Enzo says, dread becoming prevalent in his energy again, "Only if we have to."

Chapter Text

09 Luglio, 1366

City of Hadenbury

Northern Beldain

The Skylands

Maeve Jacqueline Kelly Corrigan

Diamond

"Your Royal Highness!"

Maeve looks up, and grins at the sight of her friend running towards her. It is a warm day in her usually frozen city, and the pleasant temperature carries on a light breeze. 

Lucent's red curls bounce as she comes toward her. The sunlight from the clear day makes her hair look aflame, even as the white tint of the memory makes her seem just a little washed out. She has a bow and arrows strapped to her, and a hefty crossbow in her arms. 

"Lucent," Maeve addresses her, nodding, an eager smile on her face as she looks over the weapons. 

"I found something, in the woods," Lucent says, her voice slightly hushed, "Will you look it over with me?"

Lucent holds the crossbow out for her, and Maeve takes it carefully. The safety is on- Lucent would not have been running with it otherwise. As the daughter of a palace guard, she is both careful and proficient with a myriad of weapons. 

The crossbow fits perfectly in Maeve's hands. "You do not even need to ask."

Lucent leads Maeve deep into the woods. They detour a few times, tracking down and besting a couple of rabbits that catch their eyes. 

Eventually they reach their destination, and Maeve's breath catches. 

It is a path lined with thousands of small blue-and yellow flowers, following the bank of a perfectly clear creek, and Maeve recognizes it in an instant.

"Do you think it's the one?" Lucent asks, looking over at her. "From the stories?"

"It must be," Maeve says, taking a step forward, awe sweeping over her.

In the days before mortals inhabited the world, the gods roamed freely throughout it, creating and destroying at their whim, claiming different realms as their own. The Skylands belonged to Holy Fortuna, the goddess of Prosperity, and it is said her favorite place to go was a path just like this.

Maeve takes Lucent's hand and pulls her forward down the trail, still talking and laughing as they have been, if in quieter tones. Maeve can feel a weight to the air out here, an energy that makes her run her fingers through the newly-dark side of her hair. There is something that feels different about this place, like it is as touched by the gods as Maeve and Lucent are. 

The path is lined with tall, moss-covered trees. As they walk, Lucent raises her hand and the day's pleasant breeze grows a tad stronger, and changes direction, swirling around the trees just enough to ruffle them and add to this place's ethereal feeling. 

Maeve smiles and sighs dreamily as Lucent does this, moving her hand up her arm and rubbing the dark lines that mark Lucent as one of Fortuna's Chosen. 

"I wish I had such an ability," Maeve says, sitting down beside the creek. Fortuna had chosen Maeve as well, of course, had blessed her with markings, but she had not gifted her with power.

Lucent sits beside her and nudges her slightly. "You still might. It took me a while to discover mine- you could be the same."

"I suppose," Maeve says.

She stares, looking around at the beautiful scenery they inhabit.

"We should invite Tristan next time we come out here," Lucent says, "I bet he'd love this."

Maeve wrinkles her nose. "No, he's too much of a baby," Maeve says, "He'd probably be afraid of the rabbits."

Lucent laughs, and the sun really does make her hair look like fire in this light. Maeve's best friend is beautiful, especially when she laughs, and she is laughing a lot, right now, her freckled cheeks dimpling.

Without thinking about it, Maeve puts her lips to one of those cheeks and gives her a kiss.

It might be the energy of Maeve's goddess in the air that gives her the confidence, but not the desire. That, she's had for a while now. 

Lucent's laughing stops almost immediately. She turns to look Maeve head on, her eyes wide.

Maeve droops. "I'm sorry, did you not like that?"

Lucent doesn't answer for a moment. Then she shakes her head.

Maeve tilts hers. "No, you didn't, or no, you did?" she asks, because she's genuinely unsure, this being one of those questions where yes and no answers aren't thorough enough.

Lucent pauses again. Her face is now going red. "I did."

Maeve smiles wide, and cups one of Lucent's cheeks. "Can I do it again?"

Maeve can feel Lucent's face growing warmer under her fingers, as she slowly nods her head.

Maeve kisses Lucent's lips this time, and after a final pause, Lucent kisses her back. 

I strong wind rushes over them, carrying with it the pleasant scents of honey and pine and lavender. Maeve doesn't know if it is sent by Fortuna or created by Lucent, but either way, it makes her smile into their kiss.

Nightstone

The next memory is tinted black and she is terrified, her brother is dead, they can’t even drag his body out of the ice cold waters without risking someone else’s life, and her mother is furious with grief. 

Maeve can’t convince her mother it wasn’t Lucent’s fault and she’s going to execute her and Maeve cannot lose two people she loves in such quick succession. She will not.

She knows that she can do something. She has heard the goddess of Death and her daughters in her dreams, she knows she has been blessed with their energy. She will save Lucent and Tristan.

She has come out to the lake where her youngest brother died all alone. She will not risk someone else’s life in this, and she does not even know how she would explain something like this to anyone else. 

Maeve cuts a lock of her own hair, the unearthly beautiful black and gold strands that mark her as a favorite of the gods. She cuts a slit across her own palm and lets her blood soak into it. As she does, she prays. 

And someone hears her. She can feel herself slipping away from her mortal body, can sense the presence of the gods around her closer than ever before, and when she opens her eyes the world is gone.

The night sky is gone, replaced by a plain of light gray. The lake and the woods surrounding it have vanished, replaced by a dark sea that she stands atop without sinking into.

There is another person standing before her. Her dark hair is long, stretching out behind her as far as the eye can see, and she does not have a face. The place on her head where it would be is nothing but a blank plane of skin.

Looking at this woman increases Maeve’s terror tenfold, but she tries to ignore it. Maeve steps forward, and if she could stare, the faceless girl would be staring right at her.

“Holy Formidite,” Maeve says, her voice shaking, for that must be who this is. Holy Moritas’s daughter, Holy Caldora’s twin sister. The angel of Fear.

Formidite has no mouth to speak with, but Maeve hears a voice in her mind that could only be hers.

Return to the mortal world, it says.

Maeve swallows, and straightens. 

“I am here for my brother,” she says. 

Your brother belongs to the Underworld, Formidite hisses into her mind, Return now.

“Please,” Maeve says, “I am here for a reason. I was given the power to be here for a reason. I need to do this.”

That seems to catch the angel’s attention. Formidite steps closer to her, and Maeve tries her best not to shrink back.

You harbor a power you were never made to touch, says the angel’s voice. It will destroy you.

Maeve blinks, and shakes her head.

“I am a Young Elite,” she responds, and she hears a chilling noise in her mind that might have been the angel of Fear’s laugh.

There are consequences for channeling the gods’ powers, Formidite says, and suddenly Maeve is sinking into the dark, cold sea. Remember that.

And then she is submerged, and she can see figures in the water, far below her. Among them, one very familiar figure.

Formidite has granted her entrance to the Underworld.

Maeve swims farther and farther down. Her need for breath has not disappeared, and she does not know how she will get back to the surface. She is almost out of air by the time she reaches Tristan. Maeve grabs her brother's hand and pulls, and then everything goes black.

She gasps awake on the shore of the lake where her brother died, familiar hands shaking her shoulders, perfectly lucid blue eyes staring down at her, their eyebrows knit together with worry. As Maeve’s fear dissolves, replaced with joy and relief, so does the memory.

Moonstone

Maeve is being choked out by the goddess of Death, her long fingers wrapped around Maeve's neck, her black horns cresting up from the curls of her blue-white hair. 

She is back in the depths of the Underworld, deeper then she had ever gotten the first time. She is surrounded by pillars made of moonstone encasing indiscernible figures, and one strange, broken, blackened pillar just behind Holy Moritas.

The goddess's fingers grow tighter around her neck, and Maeve cannot speak, but her vision does not gain the dark spots and edges it would if this were happening to her while she was awake. Still, she feels the pain of her windpipe constricting as if it were real, and she hears Moritas's words, one phrase repeated over and over until it is ingrained in her mind, sending dread and terror coursing through her like nothing else ever has. 

Return what is mine.

When Maeve jolts awake she is shaking violently, and tears are already drying on her face. She curls up, pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them and sobs.

This is the third time she has had this dream in the two years since she brought Tristan back, and though it has not come to her often, it hits her hard every time.

As she sobs alone in her bed she hears a frantic rapping on the door. She does not have the energy to answer, but after only a second the person opens it without welcome and nearly runs across her bedroom towards her. She does not look up to see who it is- only one of the people who would be so urgent, so bold, is still here in her country.

She feels the weight shift on her bed, and feels Tristan's hand on top of her unbraided, sleep-mussed curls. 

"Maeve," he says quietly, and she finally looks up at him. 

He looks so pained. Through the tether that binds Tristan to Maeve, that allows him to live off of her life force, they can each feel everything the other feels, be it emotions or pain. Her youngest brother, only a year older than her, has always been the one she was closest to. They are perhaps closer than any two people have ever been, now, on an emotional level and on a spiritual one.

"The dream, again?" he asks, and Maeve nods. She would push anyone else away, tell them she was fine, but it is impossible to hide anything from Tristan. 

"There was a longer stretch of time, between this one and the last," she says, her voice only a little hoarse. "I think it is getting better."

Tristan takes one of her hands, and Maeve unfurls herself, moving to sit on her knees like her brother. Once she is in the proper position for it, he wraps his arms around her shoulders, and she does the same.

Tristan came back from the Underworld just the same as he had always been- talkative, cheerful, a tad overenthusiastic. She really did it. She saved him.

Maeve and Tristan had returned to the palace the night she revived him and fooled everyone- their parents, their brothers, the entire world. Maeve had gone back to the place of Tristan's death, they said, only to find her brother dragging himself out of the water. She helped him the rest of the way out and rushed him home, and he was fine. He had never died in the first place- there was no crime to be accounted for.

But their mother still demanded justice, for something that, as far has she knew, had only almost happened. It took days of begging and pleading from both Maeve and Tristan to convince the Queen not to hurt Lucent, both of them insistently taking the blame for the accident off of her and placing it on themselves. Their mother was never convinced of her innocence, only to change her sentencing from execution to banishment.  

Lucent has fled to the Sealands- the nation of Kenettra, specifically, an old rival and now tentative ally of Beldain, still detestable if only for it's barbaric treatment of Fortuna's chosen ones. That won't be the case for long, though. Certainly not forever.

Once Maeve is queen- no matter how long that takes- she will change all of these things. She will be a ruler for the history books.

"Tell me it is morning," Maeve whispers.

She hears and feels Tristan laugh, his face in the crook of her shoulder.

"The sun is just cresting the horizon," he says, pulling back from her, smiling. Only a hint of worry still shows in his unearthly blue eyes, (too pure, too jewel-toned to be anything but a marking), though she feels plenty of it still present through their tie.

"Walk with me?" she asks.

Tristan stands, and helps Maeve to her feet. 

"Do you want to get dressed, first?" he asks, a teasing tilt in his voice. They are both still in their sleep clothes. 

She would not, if not for the fact for that they both would probably succumb to frostbite, going outside dressed like this. 

"Meet me in two minutes," she says, and he nods. He kisses her on the forehead before turning and walking briskly out of her bedroom. As her door shuts, the blue-white energy of Death begins creeping back to the front of her mind.

Maeve throws open her wardrobe and begins pulling on the first thing she touches. 

***

Maeve jerks her hand away from the chunk of raw moonstone. As she comes back to herself she realizes there are tears frozen onto her face, and her face begins reddening with both anger and embarrassment. 

She glares at Enzo's lover, The Messenger, Raffaele Laurent Bessette, as he collects the three stones that had triggered her three memories.

"Ambition, Fear, and Death," Raffaele says, nodding to each of the three gems in order. "You carry two of the final alignments we needed. There is only one, now."

"Which one?" Lucent asks, and Maeve startles a moment at her wife's voice. She stills feels all at once like she is in the head of her past selves, kissing Lucent for the first time in those woods, or desperately reviving her brother to try and save the both of them, or missing her desperately and finding solace in the person she has left.

Lucent notices her start, and moves to take her hand, squeezing it lightly. She went through her own alignment test years ago, but she warned Maeve as soon as the Daggers arrived here about the sense of dissociation it brings.

Maeve almost squeezes Lucent's hand back, but stops herself. She observes the two of Lucent's fingers that have broken from frailty. 

She hates The Messenger's theory that their powers were given to them on accident, that they will all be destroyed by them in time. But she cannot deny the affect she sees unfolding right in front of her.

Raffaele looks at Lucent, and then back at Maeve, his gaze calm and level.

"The alignment to Denarius," he says simply, "Greed."

Maeve knows immediately what Raffaele is now thinking, and her chest ignites with fury, such that she is surprised the chunk of amber still on the ground at her feet does not glow.

"Absolutely not," she says in a controlled but passionate voice, "I won't stand for it."

"Maeve," Enzo says, and her narrowed eyes turn to him. He is one of only two people here she would not have punished for using her first name only, without honorifics or titles. "None of your Elites held the alignment to Denarius, and none of mine do either. We have to consider it."

"I agreed not to punish them for their attack on my country," Maeve says, "But I will not tolerate their presence in a civil situation. I am not so forgiving as you, Reaper."

Enzo frowns at her. His own Elite name comes from his habit of taking casual retribution- claiming herself to be less forgiving than him is actually quite a statement. Maeve does not share his fondness for The Rose Society, though, does not relate to the kinship he feels with them. They are gifted by Fortuna, it is true, but they have used their gifts to strike at other children of the gods, at Enzo and Maeve.

Maeve's heart constricts as her own mind betrays her, resurfaces the reason her feelings toward the Roses changed from mild disapproval to immovable distrust. The last memory she relived was so strong, so vivid, and she feels tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill out once more.

It took nearly five years after his revival, three years after that memory took place, for Tristan to start slipping away from her again. He began talking less, and moved out of the palace and into his own private estate. He began emitting the energy of Death, and she discovered for the first time the control over him their tether gave her. As time went on and on he got worse and worse, until Maeve could never feel anything through their tether but the stinging cold of the Underworld, but Maeve still held onto the fact that he was there. 

It was eight years after his revival when he was taken from her again, even in the physical sense. 

Maeve has accepted in the last two years that the Roses were not totally at fault for what happened, but she will never be able to forget how closely they were involved. She will never forgot Formidite's voice coming out of The Puppet Master's mouth, or the horrified look in the girls's eyes after she came back to herself. Maeve could almost think someone as notorious as The Puppet Master had never killed before.

More than anything, she will never forget the feeling of emptiness after her tether to Tristan was destroyed, and the thud of his body hitting the ground.

The Messenger stares levelly at Maeve, his expression just shy of a glare. "This goes beyond the actions of any person, Your Majesty. This matter goes beyond the interests of any nation, even."

Maeve narrows her eyes at him, but he only takes a step towards her. "The entire world is at stake, Your Majesty. Every single one of our lives. I do not like it, either, but that does not matter. We need them."

He gestures towards Enzo and Lucent, respectively, pointing out his burns and her broken bones. "If we do not fix this soon, I guarantee you at least one of the people present today will be dead within the year," he says, and he may as well have struck her with that last sentence. "Is that what it will take to convince you this is real?"

Maeve feels anger welling up in her at his words, but it is quickly overtaken by fear. She looks at Lucent- her wife's expression is grim, but she can see in her eyes what choice she wants Maeve to make.

She doesn't like this. She still doesn't like this. 

But the time for putting her own feelings before her people is over.

"We should put a message out in the Sunland regions, to start," Maeve says, looking back at Enzo, "Unless you have a better guess at where they are."

She sees both gratitude and satisfaction in her friend's eyes as he nods. "That sounds like the best place to start."

Chapter Text

16 Luglio, 1366

City-State of the Ember Isles

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"They're looking for us again."

I look up as Sergio enters our sitting room, and Magiano sighs dramatically.

"Do those people ever quit?" he says, leaning back into the sofa, "Really, they have more gold and jewels than anyone could find uses for in a lifetime. You would think they'd be able to get over a few misplaced trinkets."

"You did take Kenettra's Queen's crown," Kamaria says, a smile on her lips. "That was a little more than a trinket."

Magiano laughs, and makes a dismissive gesture. "Everyone knows The Reaper is never going to take a queen. That crown is the next generation's problem, it is no reason for them to be bothering us."

Kamaria laughs too, more quietly. She is sitting with my sister, on a couch opposite Magiano and I.

The girl has stayed with us more and more often over the last couple of years. She and my sister have become closer; I know that she was a major factor in pulling Violetta out of the depression she fell into after Beldain, and I am grateful for that. 

I am not sure how close they have become, but either way I am not disapproving. She is marked, and she makes my sister happy. She is a lovely artist, and an admirer of our cause... she does have a lot going for her. She is one of the reasons Violetta is so adamant about staying here, I think.

Violetta purses her lips, and folds her hands in her lap. "It has been years since we were anywhere near Kenettra. Why would the Daggers start looking for us again so suddenly?"

Sergio shrugs. "The word is that they only want to meet with us and talk," he frowns when she perks up at this, "But I wouldn't believe it. They have every reason to want us brought into custody. If we go anywhere near them with our guards down we'll end up in shackles a moment later."

"That still doesn't explain the timing," Violetta says, frowning. She looks between Sergio, Magiano, and I, and worry starts working it's way into her disproving expression. 

Her eyes linger on me.

I roll my eye. "We did not even do much in Tamoura this year."

"What we did do, I am fairly sure The Reaper would have no qualms with," Magiano adds.

Thinking back to our recent excursion makes me feel warm. I absently smile, laying my head onto Magiano's shoulder.

We have stayed mostly in the same place since our finale in Beldain, only leaving the Ember Isles a few times a year. I know my sister has enjoyed the feeling of domesticity, but it has made me feel stifled. There is so much more we could be out in the world doing- lives we could be changing, things we could be experiencing. But Violetta has become resolutely opposed to going with us on any of our trips since Beldain, and I do hate to leave her.

I am not sure I will be able to stay for her for much longer, though. I am only twenty-one; I am not ready to settle down. 

Though, my sister is even younger than me, and she seems ready to. 

I know Magiano has grown restless in this time as well. We have talked about this privately with each other; we both love our friends, our family, here, but this is not the life for us. Not yet, at least.

We think the restlessness might be the cause of the changes in my powers, as well. My mind has begun to play tricks on me in the weeks since we returned here the last time, tricks that go far beyond the normal. Tricks that worry me. Tricks that scare me.

The mishaps with my illusions began to get better for a while after I put my powers on a rest, but they have gotten worse, recently, worse than they ever were before. 

"There has been something changing in the energy of the world, lately," Violetta says, pulling me from my thoughts. Her voice is deathly serious. "Maybe The Messenger has felt it too."

I frown at this, and poise to say something, but the words freeze in my throat.

She would betray you to them.

I flinch, openly, then sit up straight.

She hates you, don't you know?

I fist my hand in my dress. It is a horrible, familiar voice, in my mind. I know it is only an illusion, a mistake of my own energy, but that does not help the pain and anger I feel at the sheer sound of this voice.

A voice I had been confident I would never hear again.

You are evil, and you coerce her into doing evil things.

I know I should reach for my drink, but a frustrated part of my mind doesn't see the point. It does not work anymore. Not the way it used too, at least.

Your sister longs to keep company with those who do good in the world.

I do good, I shoot back mentally, but the voice only laughs. As he always would.

It is my father's voice.

She's always been better than you. You are nothing but a force of chaos-

I cave and chug my herbal drink. Still, it takes a few moments for the voice to fade to the point where I can't make out it's words. 

"Adelina?" I hear Magiano's voice, and this is probably not the first time he's called my name in the last minute or so. 

"I am fine," I lie, and none of the people in the room are fooled. 

"This is what I am talking about," Violetta says, "Our energies are changing for the worse."

"I will be fine," I say, narrowing my eye at my sister, "We do not need The Dagger Society's help just because my illusions are running amok every once and a while."

I feel Magiano place his hand over mine. The jovial, casual expression he had worn a couple of minutes ago has faded. The entire atmosphere of the room seems to have shifted while I was out of it.

"Mi Adelinetta," he murmurs, and I feel the tension in my energy begin to dissolve. I take a breath and interlock my fingers with his.

"I do not think we should turn to the Daggers either," he says looking between my sister and myself. "But I can see that something is wrong."

I frown, and he squeezes my hand. "Mi Adelinetta, there is an energy growing in all of us," he says, "In all of our powers, at least. An energy I haven't seen since we were last in Beldain."

"All of us?" I ask, surprised and somewhat skeptical.

"Sergio," Violetta says, "That cold you came down with a few weeks ago. It coincided with the start of all of this."

Sergio raises his eyebrows, looking very skeptical. "How in the world could that be related."

"Your power is, at it's base, to manipulate the water molecules in the air," Magiano says, turning his head to look at him. "You could be manipulating the water in your body by consequence."

"Could," Sergio repeats, still seeming unconvinced.

"Either way, that is still only Sergio and I," I say, "The two of you have not experienced any negative affects."

Violetta glances out the window. "If this does not affect us, it is still not only affecting the two of you. The energy of Death has been appearing in the sea as well," she says, her her voice quiet, "Along with the energies of Fear and Fury." She sighs, looking back at us. "I suppose, if you are all really so opposed to seeking help..." she purses her lips. "Perhaps, if our energies could be manipulated around the encroaching Underworld energies, this would stop."

"That should not be an issue," Kamaria says, looking between Violetta and Magiano, "The both of you have the ability to reach out and touch the energy of others."

I am still reluctant to say openly that I need help. Now that the herbs are unclouding my mind, though, and thinking back on the awful voice I have heard off and on in my head for the last few weeks, I might be willing to try something.

"If you really want to try that," I say, "I would volunteer."

Magiano looks at Violetta. An odd expression crosses her face, but it quickly disappears, and she motions for him to try first. He looks back at me, and I nod.

I feel a sharp tug on my energy.

The pull becomes stronger by the moment, and it hurts. I would compare it to someone pulling hard on my hair, multiplied tenfold- it is as if the threads of my energy have pulled taut, caught on something unseen.

It does not seem I am the only one feeling it- Magiano lets out a pained groan as we both slump forward, knocking heads with each other, and out of the corner of my eye I see Sergio stumble, and grip the back of the sofa to catch himself.

Violetta and Kamaria both stand up, matching worried expressions on their faces.

"What is going on?" I here Kamaria ask, faintly, but the pain is still escalating. It feels as if something is trying to pull out the very essence of my self, and nearly succeeding.

Magiano groans again- he is not what is doing this, I am sure of it. His grip on my hand is tight, and a sheen of sweat has formed on his face. Worry and protective anger pile on top of my pain at the fact that he is experiencing this pain as well.

Sergio's other hand grips the sofa, but he is shaking, and it seems he may fall anyways. 

I see Violetta slowly, hesitantly, raise a hand, and with even more caution, curl it into a grip as if she were holding a marionette's handle.

My power does not even leave me. I feel Violetta's energy brush against mine only for a moment, one firm, insistent touch, and like a cord severed after being pulled taught, my energy relaxes. 

Magiano, Sergio and I breath a collective sigh of relief.

"What was that," Magiano says, mostly to himself, it seems.

Violetta still looks very worried. She says, "When you started to touch Adelina's power, your energy changed. It reached out in all directions, tangling up with any other threads within reach, and coiling up tighter and tighter. I had to untie them to stop it."

"That doesn't make any sense," he says, resting his head in his hands, "I know all of your powers better than anyone's. I've copied you a thousand times."

We all sit in silence, recovering from that, and arriving at what this really means.

Regardless of whether Sergio's illness was a coincidence, whatever that was could not have been. Magiano's power is suffering under the same energy that is warping mine.

"If something has poisoned the energies of the Young Elites," Kamaria says, speaking first, "The Dagger Society is probably feeling it too. I'd bet they want your help."

"It seems we might need theirs," Sergio mutters, grimly, visibly surprising all of us.

He sees us all turn to him, and sighs. "If it is a choice between all of us being subjected to things like what happened just now, and working together with the Daggers for a moment, I will agree to it." 

Violetta looks delighted.

"Are you serious?" I ask.

"It might be worth at least hearing them out," Magiano says, "But we should keep our guards up."

"Of course," Sergio says.

I look hard at Magiano, and he looks back at me for a long moment.

I let out a breath.

"Alright," I say. 

"This is for the best, I promise," Violetta says, smiling.

I look up at Sergio. "Have at least a dozen of our mercenaries on the scene. Even if we are going to invite them here, we cannot trust them."

Sergio nods in agreement. 

Violetta deflates just a little at this. Kamaria takes her hand reassuringly, and her smile comes back, if fainter.

"Well, then," Magiano says, standing up.

"I suppose we should get our hands on a dove."

Chapter Text

29 Luglio, 1366

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Enzo Valenciano

His Majesty King Enzo Valenciano of Kenettra:

If this is about your crown jewels:

We admire your tenacity in still looking for them after all this time, but no, you cannot have them back.

If this is about anything else:

Color us intrigued. You can meet us at the southernmost port of The Ember Isles on the first of the month. Leave your armies and your Inquisition Axis at home, and we will see if we can find something to talk about.

The White Rose

Magiano The Puppet Master

The Rainmaker

"So they've reached out to us."

The voice is Lucent's. Maeve, Lucent, and the other six Daggers stand gathered around a table in Enzo's palace. They have been waiting for a message like this, ready to set out, for weeks now. 

"Is that where they've been hiding all this time?" Michel asks, running over the words The Ember Isles with his finger.

Raffaele tilts his head, tapping the parchment. "Or perhaps only a smart place to meet. The Ember Isles are a historically neutral territory; if we arrived there with weapons and soldiers we would draw the ire of Tamoura and Amadera, at the very least."

Enzo hums. Judging by the handwriting of the note in comparison to the signatures at the bottom, it seems to have been written by Magiano.

"We should set out immediately, then," Lucent says, "Who all is coming along?"

"Queen Maeve and yourself are our only alignments to Death and Time, so you will need to come with us if we are to head straight to the Karra Mountains after the Isles. Michel, you can stay back and help watch over things, if I come along to cover the alignment to Beauty. Dante, you are our only alignment to Fury, and," Raffaele frowns at Gemma, "Gemma, you are our only alignment to both Joy and Empathy."

"You said you were certain The Puppet Master aligned with Empathy," Enzo says.

"That is true, but it remains we have nobody else to align with Joy. It is as likely as it is not that we will find it among them, and this situation is too dire to chance," Raffaele replies.

"I can come along," Gemma says, standing up straighter.

"A sea journey is already risky enough with the way your powers have been acting up," Enzo says, meeting eyes with her across the table. "A trek through the mountains could kill you."

"If we do not complete this mission, it will kill us all," she replies, determined.

"I am fairly sure I felt Laetes's energy somewhere in The Rose Society," Raffaele says, "But that could have simply been all the sapphires they were wearing. If they have it, Gemma, you should return to Kenettra after our rendevous; otherwise, I am afraid you will need to complete the journey with us."

"They will have it," Enzo says, "You have told me gemstones don't give off much energy at all unless they are near an Elite they align with."

"We shall see," Raffaele says, his expression collected, but Enzo knows him well enough to know that he is worried.

"Is that all, then? Dante, Gemma, Raffaele, Maeve, and I?" Lucent asks.

"Well, I'm coming along," Enzo says, leaning forward, surprised she would think otherwise.

"Your alignments overlap into all of ours," Maeve says.

"I am not going to stay behind while all of you risk your lives," he says. "I have people to run the state for me temporarily in my absence. We should only be gone a month or two; things should be fine."

"Are you sure, Your Majesty?" Gemma says, moving her eyebrows in a playful manner, and he smiles. "It is going to be dangerous."

"It is going to be dangerous," Raffaele says, looking to Enzo with more genuine concern.

"I am sure," he says.

"Well, then, it's time to go," Lucent says, starting toward the door.

One by one, they all follow her.

"Enzo."

He pauses at the quiet utterance of his name, and as he does most of the others pass through the doorway. 

"Maeve?" he asks, turning to see that the Queen and himself are the only ones left in the room.

"We are to enter the immortal word," she says, her voice solemn, "I am the only one of us who has crossed that line before. It is scaring, and it poses the risk of never coming back. There is no guarantee that a few years after our return all of us will not end up like my brother did, if we return at all."

Enzo chills at Maeve's words. "I do not find that likely. Raffaele has said that the change in him seemed to be only a result of his death."

"Even so," Maeve continues, "There is a serious chance that any of us could die on this journey. I have a successor, and six whole brothers to regent for her until she comes of age. What do you have? What would your country be left with, if you never returned?"

Her voice is more concerned than accusing, but it still stings, just a little. 

"I have some new ideas," Enzo says, glancing at the hall their friends have disappeared into.

"Tell me it does not have anything to do with your enthusiasm for The Rose Society," she says, tilting her head in a disapproving way.

Enzo raises his eyebrows. "Now, come to think of it," he says, "They are married. They might have a child; that could be one of the reasons they have been out of the spotlight so much-"

"Enzo," Maeve protests, "You cannot. You simply cannot."

Enzo laughs a bit, and Maeve half-frowns at him. "I know," he says. "Naming the child of another noble my heir would be one thing, but that would be entirely another. I know that. Regardless, I do have another plan."

Maeve studies his face for a moment. 

"Well then," she says, nodding to him, "I am excited to hear it."

Chapter Text

01 Augosto, 1366

City-State of The Ember Isles

The Sealands

Violetta Amouteru

"What do you know."

The Elites gathered on this shadowy pathway look up in unison at the sound of Magiano's voice.

There is a pause as the Daggers look at each other, and back up. Violetta and the other members of The Rose Society have been tailing them in secret since they arrived on the Isles an hour or so prior, waiting for them to happen upon a suitably private location.

Slowly, Violetta sees the threads of her sister's powers reveal the four of them, standing at different intervals on the roofs surrounding the pathway the six Daggers stand on.

"You showed up," Magiano continues, giving the Daggers an amused grin.

"Of course," The Messenger says, "We appreciate you agreeing to meet with us."

Magiano hums in response, leaning (somewhat dangerously) on the wall of a taller building packed close to the one he stands atop. He seems to examine them as he looks down on them, and he does not give a worded reply.

Violetta can sense various energies hovering around the Daggers- nervousness, reluctance, strong dislike. Respect, excitement. Curiosity.

They seem to grow increasingly uncomfortable as none of the Rose address them. 

"We appreciate you adhering to the conditions we laid out," Violetta finally says, acknowledging the fact they have indeed not brought along their soldiers or Inquisitors. The six Young Elites stand alone.

"It was no issue. We are not here to fight," The king says. He looks up at her, meeting her eyes. "Even in the event we were forced to, we could defend ourselves just fine."

"Really?" her sister says, voice dripping with condescension, and Violetta sighs, ready to apologize on her behalf before she even finishes her statement. "You did not do a great job of that after we infiltrated your palace."

Magiano and Sergio laugh at this, and down on the ground The Spider narrows his eyes. 

King Enzo gives neither such reaction, simply raising his eyebrows.

"You were impressive, I will grant you that," he says.

"That is very kind of you to say, Your Majesty," Violetta says.

The king nods to her, while the other three Roses look at her and make faces of disagreement or annoyance.

The Messenger looks at her as well, seeming to identify her as the only one of them fully open about this prospective alliance.

"Perhaps we could move to some place more comfortable," he suggests.

Violetta sees the others shift, looking at each other, looking at her, hesitance and reluctance spilling out onto their expressions. Sergio looks back down.

"Do you have one good reason we shouldn't-"

Sergio's words are cut off as his voice catches, and in a moment he is doubled over into a coughing fit.

They all stay still as it happens, staring at him. Once it is over and he has righted himself, he does a good job keeping the embarrassment she can sense in his energy off of his face.

"Rainmaker," Adelina stage-whispers, clearly annoyed.

"Illness can take root in the best of us," The Messenger says, and that only makes both Sergio and Adelina glare at him.

He tilts his head, and Violetta senses something in his energy shift. A satisfaction, maybe. A confirmation. "After all, it is how we all came to be what we are today."

"Enough of this," Adelina says. "You are the ones who have sought us out. Why?"

The Messenger exchanges a glance with King Enzo, then looks back up at Sergio.

"I think you know why," he says, his voice level. "It is the same reason you bothered to invite us here."

There is a tense pause.

Violetta is startled as a wind picks up around her, strong enough to carry her down to the ground, landing in a neat line in front of the Daggers with the other three Roses.

The Windwalker looks as startled as Violetta feels. She turns to Magiano just in time to see those blue, violet and pink threads leaving his energy and returning to Lucent's, and Violetta gives him a disapproving frown.

She herself had told him his power seemed well enough to use today, if need be. She was not giving him clearance to hazard showing off.

He simply smiles back at her.

He calls the wind once more to push open the door to one of the taller buildings lining this ally way, the one he was leaning against a few moments ago.

"Some place more comfortable," Magiano says, gesturing them all inside.

They are no where near their apartment- the others had deemed that too risky. Thus, the ten Young Elites enter through a back door into the lobby of one of the nicest of the many inns scattered across the Isles. 

There is a woman sitting behind a desk, already engrossed in what seems like very pleasant conversation with a girl that Violetta recognizes instantly.

Both of them turn and smile as they all enter. Kamaria looks over the Daggers, the smile not leaving her face, even though Violetta can sense the wariness in her energy. She walks over to them, and before she does anything else, she stands on her toes to whisper something in Sergio's ear.

He listens until she steps away, and then nods.

"If you would excuse me," he says, not waiting to actually be excused before he strides out the front door of the building. 

Violetta gives Kamaria a questioning look. She glances at the Daggers, then shakes her head subtly, motioning for Violetta to sit down on a long couch beside her.

Violetta frowns, but does so. She has known Kamaria for years, now, but she is still hard to read sometimes.

Magiano and Adelina sit down next to them, and the Daggers sit on a different couch across from them. 

Queen Maeve, The Spider and The Windwalker all seem quite impatient, at this point. The Star Thief seems agitated, nervous about more than just this meeting, Violetta would think. King Enzo and The Messenger are the only ones who do not seem very negative in the face of this encounter.

"And who is this?" King Enzo asks.

She bows her head to the king. "Kamaria."

He turns his gaze briefly to The Messenger, who shakes his head with even more subtlety than Kamaria managed.

"I am not an Elite," Kamaria says, catching on to the motion anyways. "I am..."

She trails off, glancing at Violetta, looking for an answer. She almost blushes. What are they, exactly?

"She is a close personal friend of ours," Magiano answers, before she has to. "I hope you do not take issue with her being here."

"Of course not," The Messenger answers.

Suddenly, the front door swings back open. Sergio leads a group of men inside, and Violetta tenses, recognizing them as their mercenaries.

She tenses further when she sees the men they have restrained.

Queen Maeve stands up, shock and outrage clear on her face. Their twelve mercenaries are holding back eight men, all in the colors of the Beldish army.

Magiano and Adelina shift at the new arrivals, looking at each other.

"To be fair," King Enzo says, surveying the scene, "You only asked me to leave my men at home. Maeve was given no such requirement."

"You would think it was implied," Adelina says, narrowing her eye at him.

The woman behind the desk has turned white as a sheet. Kamaria looks over at her, wearing a reassuring expression, and makes the same dismissive gesture Magiano often will.

"It is Young Elite business," she says. "There is no need to worry yourself."

Violetta blinks, realization dawning, and looks over at her. 

"How did you know?" she asks.

Kamaria shrugs. "I know most of the people who live on these islands, and strangers with weapons and fancy cloaks are easy to notice."

Violetta purses her lips, and folds her hands in her lap.

"Did you have to bring it up in the middle of our meeting with them?" she whispers. She is caught between pride in her friend's intuition, and disappointment in the fact that it was needed. 

Kamaria frowns up at Sergio, half-glaring. 

"I did not suggest that he drag them all in here," she says, and he rolls his eyes, "I only alerted him of their locations."

"Well," Magiano says, standing and clapping his hands together, "It is clear none of us here trust each other, all with fair reasons, I think. Why not be open about it? You stand with your soldiers, and we will stand with ours." He raises an eyebrow at them, "Unless, of course, you really only came here to ambush us."

"The soldiers were only precautionary," Queen Maeve says, straightening her posture.

Magiano hums again, and nods at Sergio, who looks just a little displeased by this turn of events. He motions to the mercenaries, and they release the Beldish soldiers and come to flank the Roses' couch; at a motion from the Queen, the Beldish soldiers move to flank the Daggers'.

The Messenger watches all this happen, then turns back to face them.

"You do already know why we asked you here, do you not?" he asks.

"Our powers are sick," Violetta replies.

He meets eyes with her, and nods. "Do you know why?"

Violetta shakes her head. "I have my theories," she says, "But I would be delighted if you would share yours."

***

"This is obviously a trick."

Violetta sighs.

"You cannot possibly believe all of this, Violetta," Adelina says, turning to her. They have moved into an antechamber off the inn's lobby, where they can speak privately about all of the things the Daggers have just explained to them.

"If there truly is a way to permanently remove our powers, they will lead us too it and turn on us the moment we are defenseless!" she says, the orange Fury in her energy flashing.

"It is an easy fix, then: Once we get there, we insist they give up their own powers first," Magiano says. "If they refuse, we'll know they have been lying."

"You're kidding, but that is certainly something we should make sure of if we actually decide to go through with this," Sergio says.

"We are not," Adelina says, narrowing her eye at him. 

"It makes sense, Adelina," Violetta says. She steps toward her sister, who's energy still shines bright with Fury. "Our powers are not doing us much good these days, anyway. They will continue to wear away at us. The only answer is to remove them completely."

"My powers do me plenty good," Adelina snaps.

"They are hurting you," Violetta says, softening her voice, and her sister's mask of anger cracks for just a moment. 

"Even if there is something wrong with my abilities," Adelina says, "Taking them away cannot be the only answer. I won't accept it."

Violetta can sense her sister softening. "Perhaps working together, The Messenger and I could figure out something better along the way."

Violetta doubts this, but she knows it will take more time to convince her fully of this journey than they have. She needs to agree right now. 

Adelina frowns, still.

"You have to trust me, mi Adelinetta," Violetta says, taking her sister's hands, and her anger finally recedes. 

She looks at Magiano, then Sergio, then back at Violetta.

"We will try it," she says, her mouth set in a still-skeptical line.

They emerge back into the main room, where the others have been waiting for them with varying levels of patience. Kamaria stands and walks over to Violetta, asking her a question with her eyes- Violetta smiles and nods, and Kamaria smiles, too.

There is another silence, as the two groups regard each other hesitantly, before Violetta steps forward.

"We have made the decision to take you up on your venture," she says, and one by one the other Roses meet eyes with the Daggers and nod their assents.

"Excellent," The Messenger says, stepping forward as well. Violetta can see a mixture of excitement and relief waving off of him and the king.

"I am not sure if you remember, but we have spoken before," Violetta says.

The Messenger smiles and tilts his head, in a way Violetta can tell is meant to be enamoring. She is unaffected, but she smiles as well, familiar with such tactics.

"How could I forget," he replies.

"It took place while your compatriots were robbing him, after all," Queen Maeve says, and Violetta's composure almost breaks at the venom in her voice.

She looks only briefly at Maeve before she has to turn away, the image of her crouched over her brother Tristan's body coming to the front of her mind, words she desperately wants to say cycling over and over, even though she knows they would not be received well now.

I am sorry. I am so sorry.

King Enzo exchanges a look with Queen Maeve, and though seeming reluctant, she says nothing more.

Kamaria touches her arm, looking concerned, and Violetta breathes, hoping the almost-slip did not show too much.

"Our conversation was cut off before proper introductions could be made," Violetta continues, looking back at The Messenger, who she can tell did pick up on the slip.

"Violetta Amouteru," she says, gesturing to herself and curtsying, and she senses a significant surprise coming off of most of the Daggers. To reveal her true name is quite an offering of trust.

"My sister Adelina, my brother-in-law Magiano," Violetta continues, pointing each of them out- Adelina narrows her eye, while Magiano puts his hand on her shoulder and gives the Daggers a winning grin. "And of course, you already know our friend and teammate Sergio." Sergio simply raises his chin as the she points him out, his expression unchanging.

The Messenger still looks surprised, but also pleased, she thinks. He looks at Adelina for a moment, as if he is about to say something, but decides against it. 

"Raffaele Laurent Bessette," he offers, bowing his head to her. She smiles and nods- she feels 'I know' would be too uncouth an answer, but she does.

"You need to know the alignments of our energies in order for this to work, yes?" she asks.

He nods, and looks almost about to say something else, but she speaks first.

"I align to Empathy, Fear, and Joy; Adelina aligns to Ambition, Passion, Fury, Wisdom, and Fear, and Magiano aligns to Joy, Greed and Ambition. I expect you already know Sergio aligns to Beauty, Time and Fear," Violetta says, and the Daggers are left speechless for another moment.

"As I told you, I have done my own studies of the energies of the Young Elites," she continues, proud of herself.

Raffaele does look impressed, and she smiles.

"The final alignment we needed for our mission was Greed," he says, looking at Magiano and then back at Violetta. "Would you mind terribly if I checked your work, only to make sure? There is so much at stake here."

Violetta shakes her head. "I understand. Magiano?"

He frowns at her, but eventually he sighs and steps forward. 

Raffaele pulls out a bag of stones- from where, she is not sure- and begins placing them in a circle around Magiano. As he does this, both Sergio and Adelina tense.

As soon as they are placed in the right order, the sapphire, prase quartz, and diamond all light up.

Magiano raises his eyebrows at the glowing stones, and Raffaele moves to touch one of them.

Sergio moves in between them before he can get there, a lightning-fast reflex he has surely developed from all his years training as a swordsmen.

Raffaele takes a step back in surprise. Magiano has almost been pushed out of the circle, and Sergio has one foot inside of it, making the aquamarine, kunzite, and nightstones flicker on and off.

"Rainmaker-" Raffaele starts, but Sergio interrupts.

"You can see the stones glowing just fine," he says, his eyes narrowed. "You don't need to do that to him."

Magiano rolls his eyes, nudging Sergio back out of the circle.

"Serg, please," he says, sounding annoyed, "I can make decisions for myself."

Sergio does not move from between them. Raffaele looks at him for a long moment, weighing the outcomes of his next move.

He gestures for Magiano to leave the circle. "No. It is true."

He collects the stones after they have all gone dark, and looks back at Violetta. "You were exactly correct in your findings. I see no further reason to doubt you."

Violetta nods in acknowledgment.

Raffaele purses his lips. "This journey will certainly be dangerous. It is for the best we only take the minimal number of people we need, in order to reduce the lives at risk."

The atmosphere sobers, at that.

"If Magiano simply came along with the six of us-"

"He is not going anywhere alone with you." Adelina says.

Magiano sighs, further exasperated, and whispers something in her ear.

She looks at him, her hands folded in front of her, and a smile now tugging at her lips. She doesn't continue her dissent.

"Then I suppose we should start deliberations," Raffaele says, glancing only briefly at the exchange. "Queen Maeve and Magiano are the only ones here with unique alignments, and thus the only ones who need to come along."

"I am going," Adelina says. 

"That is eight of the twelve, then, between the three of you," Raffaele says, then looks behind himself at his compatriots. "If The White Rose will already be able to cover the alignment to Fury, Dante, I think it best you stay behind to watch over Estenzia, and that you come along to cover our alignment to War, Your Majesty?"

"Of course," the king nods.

Violetta nods, too. Two alignments to Fury stuck together in a closed space for any amount of time sounds like a recipe for trouble.

"Surely you should come with us, Master Bessette," Violetta says, "Since you know better than any of us what we will need to do once we reach our destination."

Raffaele nods as well, "I cover the alignment to Beauty, then."

He looks at Violetta. "Our Star Thief is feeling the impact of our powers' deterioration rather hard. I hope you can you come along to cover the alignment to Empathy, Mistress Amouteru?"

"I can, yes," Violetta says, meeting eyes with him. She knows her alignment is not the only reason it is for the best she come along on this voyage; she can tell it is clear to him she is the only Rose fully open to this alliance. Who knows what could happen, if Adelina and Magiano were left alone on a ship surrounded by Daggers for weeks on end.

"Then lastly the alignment to Time can be covered by either Lucent or Sergio," Raffaele continues.

"I will-" Lucent and Sergio both say, speaking and stepping forward in unison.

They narrow their eyes at each other.

"I am not leaving them alone," Sergio says.

"I am not leaving my wife alone," Lucent shoots back.

"How about," Violetta interrupts, trying to prevent an argument, "You both come along. I know we wanted the minimal number of people, but this will make it equal; four of us, and four of you."

"That does sound fair," Raffaele says.

"Are we settled, then?" King Enzo asks.

Looks are exchanged around the room, and the gathered Elites all nod their assent.

"Now," The Messenger says, "You have time to make preparations, but our ship is ready. It is imperative we leave as soon as possible."

***

"I am sorry you cannot come along."

Violetta is in her bedroom pulling two weeks worth of clothes into a bag, with Kamaria standing over her. "Raffaele thinks the immortal world would kill any non-Elite upon entry," she continues, standing up. She cups Kamaria's right cheek, marked with it's bright green lines. "Even those still touched by the blood fever."

"I understand," Kamaria says.

She places her hand over Violetta's, and looks away for a moment. 

"I am going to miss you," Violetta continues, moving her own head to meet Kamaria's gaze again. "Dearly."

Kamaria smiles, and Violetta's heart flutters. "I am going to miss you too."

They hold still for a moment. She seems to hesitate.

"Back at the inn," she says, "When the Daggers first arrived, and asked who I was."

Violetta breathes in, not quick enough to count as a gasp. "Yes?"

"What would you have said?"

Violetta thinks about her answer, for a long moment.

"You are my best friend," she says. "You are so important to me, you know that. We have been through so much, and come out of it together."

Kamaria smiles again.

There is another phrase, cycling over in Violetta's head. She does not want to say it, yet. She does not want to ruin things.

"Violetta," Kamaria says, pulling her back to reality. "This journey you are undertaking is supposed to be long and dangerous, and I know it is necessary, but..."

Violetta still has her hand on Kamaria's cheek. Kamaria raises her hand to mirror her, and Violetta closes her eyes as Kamaria leans in and touches her lips to her own.

Surprise does not make her hesitate; she is kissing her back immediately. 

Violetta has pictured her first kiss a variety of different ways over the course of her life. This is nothing like she ever imagined, and she could not be happier about it.

"Stay safe," she says, when they part, "And try to come back soon, okay?" 

Violetta is already smiling, and she nods. "I promise."

Chapter Text

04 Augosto, 1366

The Sun Sea

Waters Between The Sealands and The Skylands

Adelina Amouteru

"I hate this."

I narrow my eye at the sight across the deck of our ship. I am not speaking loud enough for them to hear me, thus they carry on, oblivious to the three of us standing and watching them.

"I have to agree," Sergio says, crossing his arms and leaning against the ship's rails.

"Oh, come on," Magiano says, tilting his head at us. "They are only enjoying each other's company."

"He is dangerous," Sergio shoots back, turning to him.

I simply narrow my eye further, not turning my gaze away from Violetta and The Messenger.

They have spent an inordinate amount of time together in the last three days. They seem to be engaged in a riveting conversation, right now, both of them smiling and laughing, standing close to each other. On top of the jealousy I feel at someone else stealing all of my sister's time away, I cannot shake the words of my father's voice in my head, insisting he is turning her against me, that I will lose my sister and my powers in one fell swoop if I do not do something about these Daggers. Something permanent. 

I dismiss these thoughts, of course. Doing something like that would only be a means for actually turning Violetta against me. My father is dead, and these ideas are just malfunctions of my power.

I still cannot stop hearing them.

"Please," Magiano says, "If he tries to work his devastating charms on her, she can rip them away with a turn of her hand."

"It is not only his power," Sergio says, narrowing his eyes at Magiano. "He is a liar and a manipulator."

"What if he is trying to sway her to their side?" I ask, not taking my eyes off of them still. "Take advantage of her admiration of them? Steal her away from us?"

"Violetta is smarter than that," Magiano says, wrapping his arm around my waist, and I finally look at him. "She is not a child anymore. She loves you, and she loves us, like we all love her. We have to trust that no one is powerful enough to change that. Not even the Daggers."

We hold each other's gazes, the voice in my mind protesting every word he has just said.

I glance back over at Violetta, and as I do, my illusions overcome me.

I am in Dalia again, and I see the fourteen year old girl who chased me across the city. Violetta hugs me and begs for my forgiveness with tears streaming down her face, and I hug her back, stroking the bruise on her cheek. The scene plays out, exactly like it did more than five years ago, if with an odd, yellowish tint to it.

And then I am back in the present, staring at the twenty-year-old woman determined to save the whole world. She continues to engage The Messenger, a master manipulator, one of the minds behind the rule and governing of an entire kingdom, with a smile. 

My sister is not a child anymore. She has grown into a kind, intelligent, brave young woman. Even as my voice protests, I have to believe that I can still trust her.

"You are right," I say, turning back to Magiano, standing on my toes to kiss him.

He smiles. "Everything is going to be okay," he says, giving me a quick squeeze.

I smile too, resting my head on his shoulder.

The voice in my head grows quieter, and for once, my herbs have nothing to do with it.

***

06 Augosto, 1366

The Sun Sea 

Waters Between The Sealands and The Skylands

Enzo Valenciano

"What do you think they're talking about in there?"

Enzo looks up, and steps away from the door to The Puppet Master's- Violetta's- room.

"Their energies," he says, taking another discreet step away from the door as Lucent joins him in the hallway. "And the rest of ours. Raffaele is very interested in the point of view of someone else who can feel them."

Lucent raises an eyebrow at him. "Jealous?"

"Never," he says, looking at her seriously.

He means it. He trusts Raffaele more than anyone else in the world. He would never be suspicious of him.

"You do not have to be suspicious of infidelity to be jealous," Lucent says, as if reading his thoughts. "I know if Maeve were spending all of her time with someone else, I would be sad about it too."

"I am not sad about it," he says, looking away. "That would be selfish. Raffaele is allowed to spend time with other people."

"And you're allowed to miss him," she replies.

"I still see him every day," he says, "Really, Lucent, I'm fine."

She looks ready to reply, when they both start, as the door to the room they are standing outside of opens.

Raffaele shuts the door behind himself. Neither of them speak, and he tilts his head at them, a knowing smile on his face.

"You could sense us out here," Enzo says, realizing what should have been obvious from the beginning.

Raffaele nods, still smiling. 

"I hope you were not eavesdropping, Your Majesties," he says, "That would be unbecoming of people of your stature."

"I hope you were not eavesdropping, Messenger," Lucent says, nudging Raffaele as she walks past him.

"I'll leave you two alone," she says, looking between the both of them with a smile.

She turns a corner out of sight, and Raffaele turns to look at him.

"Enzo?" he asks.

"I am sorry," he says, "I was just coming to check in. I hadn't seen you this evening."

"It is alright," Raffaele says, tilting his head again. "I am sorry I have been so busy lately."

"No, don't be," Enzo says, "I am alright. I am as excited as anyone she is so willing to engage with us."

Raffaele smiles. "She would have made a great Dagger, I think." He tilts his head. "Not the other three, though," he looks at Enzo, "I do not think Magiano or The White Rose would have done well under the leadership of someone else."

Raffaele does not mention Sergio; they both already know the reasons he was not right for The Dagger Society. Enzo almost frowns at the thought of it. If only he had been able to control his power sooner, they would have been a great fit.

The Rainmaker has been actively avoiding Enzo this entire trip, and he wishes he wouldn't. There is a lot he would like to talk about, to try and explain. It has been nearly eight years since they had the opportunity to have a civil conversation, and he hates to squander it. 

They begin walking, in the same direction Lucent went.

"I think they have all done well enough for themselves without us," Enzo says. 

Raffaele nods, and kisses him on the cheek. "As we have done well for ourselves without them."

***

09 Augosto, 1366

The Sun Sea

Waters Between The Sealands and The Skylands

Violetta Amouteru

"What was your family like?"

Raffaele looks up from the numerous papers Violetta has strewn about her cabin on the ship, and for a moment she is worried she has overstepped.

Getting to know Raffaele over these last few weeks has been a dream come true; he is just as interesting and intelligent and open-minded as she had hoped. She would hate to ruin it now, but she has had such matters as this on her mind lately, and thus the question slipped out. 

He seems to take notice of her anxiety, and places a hand over hers as he answers.

"My father was taken by the fever," Raffaele says, "My eldest brother, too. There were six of us, after he passed; I was the youngest. Our mother struggled to take care of us on her own, and when a man came to our village offering money, she agreed to have me sold to the courts."

"That is horrible," Violetta says.

Raffaele shakes his head. "We would have starved," he says, "And I insisted. She did not want to do it." His expression darkens for a moment. "Of course, she was cheated. The man gave her less than a hundredth of what the Fortunata Court ended up giving him for me."

"Did you ever see them again?" Violetta asks.

"I have looked into them, since we took the throne. My mother died shortly after I left," he says, "The others are alive and well, though."

Violetta places her own hand over his, so it is sandwiched between the two. "I am so sorry. I lost my mother when I was young, too."

He gives her a small smile. "It is alright," he says, "Are you?"

Violetta blinks. "Pardon?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, tilting his head at her in that way. An old habit he picked up from the Fortunata Court, he has told her. She understands; she knows she has never really shaken the mannerisms ingrained into her as a child, to appear sweet and coquettish and desirable.

Violetta and Raffaele can understand quite a lot about each other. Of course there are their powers, and their affinity for research and academia, but that is only the surface. They are both youngest siblings, for example; they are both partial to those of the same gender. They were both raised from early childhood to be the object of others’ desires.

"My sister killed our father," she says, breaking the ongoing silence.

"I know," Raffaele says. "That is what she was charged with. Why she was imprisoned in Dalia."

"Right," Violetta says, remembering the day, "You were there looking for her. You wanted to recruit her into the Daggers."

"I did," Raffaele says, "Though in the end, to be frank, I think your group has done better on their own than they would have done with us. Your sister does not seem like someone who would enjoy being kept under someone else's authority, to me."

Violetta pauses, at that. She sits quietly for a long moment.

"She did the right thing," she says eventually. "Killing him. In my prayers every night, I thank the gods for giving her the ability to do it." She pauses, again. "It is selfish of me to complain... Adelina had it so much worse. He beat her, and berated her, and did so many other horrible things."

"It is not selfish of you to be in pain, just because you are not the only one who was hurting," Raffaele says.

Violetta holds his gaze a moment, before continuing. "I hated him. He hurt me more discreetly than he hurt her, because he did not want me covered in marks lest he drive away those who would seek my hand, but I was not free of him either. He would make me wear gowns and shoes that were too tight, and laugh when I started to bruise and bleed, or go on about the terrible things that would happen to me if I did not marry well, if I did anything to so much as displease my suitors," she shakes her head. "I was nothing but a pawn to elevate his status, and another object to let out his frustrations on, in the mean time."

Raffaele listens, a solemn look on his face. 

"I thanked her outright for it, that day we all escaped Dalia, once Adelina and I were alone. I have always been grateful for what she did," she says, "But now I think it is haunting her."

"What do you mean exactly?" Raffaele asks.

"I am noticing changes in her energy I have not seen since he was alive," Violetta says, "The Fear in her is becoming prevalent again. I know her power is turning on her by showing her illusions she cannot control, and I think it is showing her him."

Violetta closes her eyes, as she says this. "I do not know how to help her. I cannot keep her power at bay constantly, and I do not think she would appreciate that even if I could," she swallows, trying not to choke with emotion. "I can never repay her for saving us. The least I should be able to do is save her from this," tears burn behind her eyelids, "but I do not know how."

"Violetta," Raffaele says, gently tilting her chin up, and she opens her eyes. "You convinced her to come here. To undertake this journey with us. Once we reach the immortal world, she will be free from all of that." He wipes a tear from just under her eye. "We should arrive within a week. It is only a bit longer, now. She will be alright."

Violetta lets out a slow, shaky breath. "Thank you," she says. 

She takes a moment to collect herself, the both of them sitting quietly.

"Have you been experiencing any side affects, yet?" Raffaele asks, eventually.

"Not yet," Violetta says.

"I wonder why," he says, frowning and tracing his fingers along one of the papers they have lain out. "You are the only one that I know of. Even Prince Kester, up in Beldain, had been experiencing loss of feeling in his limbs, damage to the electrical signals in his body."

"Have yours been any worse?" Violetta asks.

"Mostly the same," Raffaele says. He has told her about the sensory overload his power to feel the world's energy has bothered him with, how eventually it will interfere with his breathing or the beating of his heart. "Perhaps it is the nature of your power," he hypothesizes, "To take away the abilities of others. Perhaps you are the only one of us to simply be unaffected."

"I harbor the energy of the gods the same as any of the rest of us," Violetta says, "The way it has manifested should not change the fact that I am unfit to wield it."

She pauses here, ruminating on what Raffaele's mention of the other Beldish prince has just brought to mind.

"Our powers," she starts, "Deteriorate faster the more that we use them, yes?"

Raffaele looks at her. "Yes, that does seem to be the case."

She does not speak, for a long moment.

"I have not used my powers in two years," she whispers.

Raffaele raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"I had to almost do it, a few weeks ago, to untangle the others' energies, and it terrified me," she says, the words rushing out of her, the sting of her tears returning in earnest. "The last time I took someone's power away, it was Queen Maeve's. Every time I reach out for my energy, all that I can see is her, crouched over her brother's body," she gasps, "All I can hear is the sound of him falling to the ground. I have been so petrified of Fear taking over again."

Tears flow freely down her face, and Raffaele pulls her into a hug. 

"Mi Violettina," he whispers, and she might have been offput by someone else she had known for less than a month using her affectionate name, but from Raffaele it sounds right. Natural. Genuine. "I know that was horrible for you, but Maeve was feeling the deterioration before any of us. Tristan was returning to the Underworld anyway; if you had not severed their connection, he might have taken her back down with him."

He turns his head so that he can look into her eyes, but does not move his arms from around her. She can feel the comforting cool of his energy flowing into her, and she could resist it easily if she wanted, but she has no interest in doing that right now. 

"You probably saved Maeve's life," he finishes.

It is hard for her to believe that. Still, she leans in to the pacification of Raffaele's power. Though she knows it is artificial, it is good to feel the weight of her guilt lift, if only for a moment.

Chapter Text

10 Augosto, 1366

The Sun Sea

The Waters Between The Sealands and The Skylands

Maeve Jacqueline Kelly Corrigan

"The woman is distraught, Queen Maeve."

"I know the feeling," Maeve answers, looking flatly forward at The Messenger.

He frowns at her.

Raffaele has approached Maeve this morning in the cabin she shares with her wife, reciting off details of his latest conversation with The Puppet Master, and she is getting tired of it.

Lucent, sitting beside her, gives her a disappointed look, and she sighs.

"What do you expect me to do about it, Messenger?" she asks.

"You could talk to her," he says, "Explain to her you do not blame her for what happened."

Maeve sets her lips in a thin line. 

Raffaele's weight shifts as he reads the meaning in her silence.

"Your Majesty, if I may," he says carefully, and she might reply you may not, if Lucent weren't here.

"You were both scarred by what happened at your palace that day. On the other side of that, though, you could have saved each other's lives."

Maeve raises an eyebrow at him, a skeptical and warning expression forming on her face. 

"Violetta has not used her power since Formidite overcame her, for fear of hurting anyone else," he says, and Maeve raises both of her eyebrows now, an expression of genuine surprise.

"Your powers were hurting you before any of us, Maeve, and if they had gone on in continued use for much longer you could have been the first one of us to pass," he continues, "The things that occurred while The Rose Society was in Beldain were in many ways terrible and unfortunate, but were it not for those very occurrences, I think it very likely you would both already be dead."

Maeve stares ahead at him silently once more.

She does not know what to say to that.

"We will talk to her," Lucent says, answering for her.

Maeve blinks her gaze over to her wife, not angry, still processing everything The Messenger has just said. 

Slowly, eventually, she nods her agreement.

***

It is late evening when Maeve finally meets The Puppet Master, on the top deck of this ship.

It is not her ship. The one she had used to sail over to The Ember Isles had been used by The Star Thief, The Spider, and her soldiers to return to Kenettra, and The Roses' ship did not have an adequate number of cabins; thus, they are all taking the rest of this journey on one of Enzo's vessels.

"Mistress Amouteru," Maeve addresses her, nodding.

"Pleasant evening," Lucent says, nodding in turn.

"Your Majesties," she says, curtsying deeply, then pauses. "Raffaele said that you wanted to speak with me."

Maeve exchanges a look with Lucent, then raises a hand and beckons Violetta over.

Very hesitantly, she complies. Violetta walks slowly across the deck, until she is standing next to Maeve and Lucent, just beside the starboard railing.

"We have been talking," Maeve starts, "About the things that transpired when you and your colleagues visited my palace."

The Puppet Master takes a deep breath, her composure wavering just a little.

"I cannot adequately express to you," she says in a quiet voice, "How sorry I am. We should not have been there in the first place, and I should never have laid hands on your property. I take full responsibility for our mistake."

Maeve looks levelly at her. Violetta's posture and expression are the picture of practiced decorum, but her eyes are glistening.

"I have thought a lot of things, over the past two years," Maeve says. "I have had a lot of time to think. At the end of the day, Violetta- may I call you by your name?"

Her eyes widen as Maeve cuts off, but she still nods.

"At the end of it all, Violetta, I cannot help but accept that you and Raffaele have been right. The gods never meant to give us these gifts," her heart constricts as she says this aloud, "And I made a mistake by taking advantage of them. I should have let my brother rest in peace, in the first place. While I cherish those extra years that I got with him, I will never be able to forgive myself for what happened to him in the end," she closes her eyes, tears threatening to form in them, "What I turned him in to.

"Holy Formidite used you as a vessel to correct my mistake, and I am sorry for that. She tried to warn me from the path I was to follow before I entered the Underworld the first time, but I refused to listen. What happened was my fault; you have nothing to be sorry about."

Violetta stares wide-eyed at them for a moment, before the glisten in her eyes spills over.

"You do not need to be sorry either, Your Majesty," she says finally, through tears, "I would have done the same for my sister."

Maeve's shoulders fall. After a moment, she raises a hand to wipe a tear from Violetta's cheek, and gives her a tired smile. "That is comforting to hear."

They all stand for a while, silent but for Violetta's crying. The sun finally sets, and the stars stretch out in every direction, in the sky and reflected on the sea.

"It's really something to think..." Lucent starts, eventually. "So many people have put so much weight behind the blood fever, and the marked, and what it all means. Queen Giulietta was convinced it was sent to give her a path to the throne; the old Lead Inquisitor was convinced it was sent to point out those who needed to be cleansed from the world. Enzo has thought it was intended to mark those destined for power, and we've all assumed it was sent to mark the gods' favorites." She takes a breath.

"But in reality, the beginning and end of any intent on the gods' part was Denarius intending to teach his brother a lesson," she finishes. "They never wanted any of this. Not any of it."

Violetta has stopped crying by now, and the cold air of the northern Sun Sea has frozen the paths of her tears into little lines on her face.

"It is confounding," she says, nodding at Lucent, "The trouble you will get yourself into, trying to interpret the gods' will."

Maeve sighs.

Looking back at the last ten years, and looking ahead to where this journey will inevitably take her, she has to agree.

Chapter Text

12 Augosto, 1366

The Sun Sea

Waters Between The Sealands and The Skylands

Sergio

"Rainmaker?"

Sergio's whole body tenses.

He has not heard that voice say that name in a very long time.

He hears boots on the wood of the deck, coming toward him, and he turns to face the other man.

"Your-" he stops himself from using the honorific that had applied to Enzo the last time they spoke face to face, "Majesty. What are you doing up so late?"

"I would ask you the same thing," Enzo replies.

Trying to avoid you, is the answer, but he isn't going to say that. They are on Enzo's ship, after all. Best to keep civil until they're on land.

They stand in a tense silence for a few moments, until Sergio lets out a sharp sigh.

"Your Majesty, if that is all, I should really be going," he says, turning his back on the king and beginning to walk away from him.

He gets a few feet before Enzo speaks again, not a shout, but loud enough that he can still hear:

"You still use the name I came up with for you."

He stops.

"Adelina thought it would intimidate you," he says, without turning back around.

"Did she?" 

Sergio hears the smile in Enzo's voice, even if he can't see it. Something small and bright sparks in him, and he suppresses a frustrated groan.

Feelings. Why do they have to betray him like this? 

"I take it you weren't," he says flatly.

"No," he says. "I was surprised, at first. Then, mostly, I was glad."

"Is that the case," Sergio asks, finally turning back around.

"It is," he says, "I was glad that you had managed to come into your own without us."

Sergio raises an eyebrow at him. 

"You never asked to be brought into any of this, but we pulled you in anyways," Enzo continues, "Then forced you out when we didn't get what we wanted. What I did was wrong, and it wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry for that, Sergio, I truly am."

The scar on Sergio's inner arm stings as the king says those last words. Sergio has many scars, but this one is unorthodox, a small straight line from a cut that would not have been deep enough to scar if the blade used wasn't coated with poison.

Not a lethal amount. Only enough to knock someone out cold for a couple of days. Long enough to get them out of a country.

He stares straight-faced ahead at The Reaper, the two of them still standing a few feet apart.

I'm sorry. Those had been the last words Enzo spoke to him before he did it. 

He takes a few steps forward, so they are both standing close to the port bow, at a distance from each other more normal for two people having a conversation. Enzo's eyes are dark, round, and full of genuine emotion, and by the gods.

He's hopeless.

"You are the one who decided to save me," he says, his voice coming out as a defeated sigh. "You do not need to feel guilt."

A small frown forms on Enzo's face, at his emphasis. "Do not place all the blame on the others. They only wanted what was best. And they were acting in my name."

Sergio frowns as well, and they both hold each other's gazes another moment.

Enzo takes a deep breath, and places a hand on the ship's railing. "Sergio, our societies have been in conflict for a long time because of everything that happened between you and the other Daggers and I. I understand why that is, but I came out to find you tonight because I have to know."

He looks Sergio in the eye. "Is there anything we could do to really fix it?" 

Sergio blinks.

He considers that for a moment, quite a few things he could say running through his head, until he finally meets the king's gaze again.

"Honestly, Enzo," he says, and he pauses here for a moment, but the king does not waver when he uses his first name. "I hated all of you for a long time, after you cast me out. Part of the reason I agreed to Adelina's Rose Society idea is because I wanted to prove something to you. When I finally saw you again, and we, not to offend, wiped the floor with you,"

"A bit of offense taken, but go on," Enzo says, tapping his fingers on the rail.

Sergio snorts, before continuing, "I didn't feel like I thought I would. I had spent so long building up this idea in my head, but by the time we got to it... it wasn't what was most important to me anymore. Adelina and Magiano wanted to rob your palace in Estenzia to celebrate their wedding, and honestly, that was most of what was on my mind."

"Poor Dante will be livid," Enzo clicks his tongue, "You weren't even thinking about it when you took him down."

Sergio grimaces. "That was a bit of a heat of the moment decision. Violetta did get onto me for it afterword, if that makes it any better. But after that, especially, I think it's past time we lay this to rest."

Enzo tilts his head inquisitively. "What are you saying?" 

Sergio sighs. "I think eight years is plenty enough time to hold a grudge. I do not think it would be doing anyone any good, at this point."

Enzo raises his eyebrows. "Then...?"

"We're alright," he finishes. 

Enzo looks a little taken aback, but very pleased.

"Fantastic," he says.

"We are alright," Sergio appends, "But I cannot necessarily speak for all the others. I know Violetta is very on board with all of this, and Magiano has been rather neutral, but Adelina has never liked you very much."

Enzo hums, his good mood not seeming particularly dampened. "I see."

He looks out to sea for a long moment, his pleased expression not wavering. "She calls a lot of the shots in your society, doesn't she?"

"Yes," Sergio says, "Do not make fun of me for having taken orders from a sixteen year old."

Enzo laughs. "You were taking orders from a seventeen year old last time we met. It's not all that different, I would think."

Sergio rolls his eyes. "We were both seventeen. That was different."

They both laugh for a short moment.

"So," Enzo says, "When you say she doesn't like us. You don't think she would try and order an attack on us, do you?"

"Oh, that would be interesting," Sergio says, leaning back against the ship's rail.

"Our own self-contained little war. Who do you think would win?"

"Well, there is a precedent in your favor," Enzo says.

"True," Sergio says.

"Though, as I hear it my Windwalker single-handedly incapacitated all four of you when you hit Beldain."

"Until Violetta took away her power," Sergio says. "You and Queen Lucent are the only Daggers present with real offensive powers, and Violetta can easily take away two powers at a time. When it really came down to it, I think you would be out of luck."

Enzo thinks for a moment, then hums. "Maybe."

"And Kenettra and Beldain would both be out a ruler," Sergio continues.

His tone is still conversational, as they both have been, but Enzo's face closes off a bit, at this.

"Of course she wouldn't ask that of us, though," Sergio says, frowning. "For all the things she'll speak of doing, she does subscribe pretty wholly to her sister's policy of no unnecessary deaths."

"I know that," Enzo says, "It is not that I distrust you. I just worry about what would become of my country if I never returned to it. I could have made more sound preparations before I left, but it is too late now. I have to make sure I get back."

They stand in silence for a moment, after that, until Enzo lets out a breath. 

"I think about it a lot, lately," Enzo says. "Dying."

Sergio doesn't answer that, taken aback for a moment.

"Do you know how the root of Lucent's powers are her bones, and so that is how her deterioration is manifesting?"

He did not know that, but he nods so that Enzo will continue.

"My power takes root in my blood." He rolls up his sleeve and Sergio sees the burn scars that have always covered his hands, spread up his forearm. "It boils, and melts the flesh away. It is lucky the burns start on my hands- if they are allowed to grow all the way up my arms, and spread to my heart..."

He lets out a sigh that is almost a hollow laugh. "It must be a punishment, some karmic irony. I have done that exact thing to countless people- melted them from the inside out. And now, if I am not careful, it will happen to me." He shakes his head. "Raffaele thinks I would only need to hold my power a few straight minutes for the burns to spread too far. I used to do that all the time. It would be so easy..."

He trails off. 

Sergio thinks for a moment.

"At least that sounds quicker than mine," he finally says, and Enzo looks up. "My body will starve itself of water, and all of it's basic functions will shut down one by one. I might die of thirst, or hunger, or some disease I no longer have the capacity to fight. Violetta says there are a lot of possibilities."

"What a way for this all to end," Enzo says. He shakes his head. "In all the times I imagined the future, never once did I think of one where I wasn't a Young Elite anymore."

"Are you going to miss it?" Sergio asks, sincere. 

"My power?" he says, looking up at him. "Yes."

Sergio nods. "I will too."

"I think I would miss living more, though," Enzo says, and they both laugh, some of the tension finally lifting.

There is another pause, before Sergio speaks.

"Enzo," he starts, "Even if we don't die out here... you are going to die eventually. Everyone says that you really aren't going to take a wife, but then, what will you do?"

Enzp looks at him, for a long moment. Then he lets out a long breath through his nose.

"I will shift the line of inheritance. Give the right to the throne to someone else's child," he says. "It is an irregular choice, but not unheard of- there is a precedent."

"You would give up your throne to someone else?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "After everything you went through?"

"No," he answers quickly. "Never. I will remain king until the day I die, but when that day comes, it will be someone else's heir who takes my place."

"Do you know who you will choose?" he asks.

Enzo taps his fingers for a moment.

"My Star Thief, if she is willing," he says, after a moment. "I have not talked about it with her yet, but I trust her, and I trust her family. Kenettra would be in good hands, with her child." 

Sergio raises both eyebrows, but then nods. Lady Gemma had only been fifteen when Sergio had known her, but she had been a kind young girl. 

He assumes her father was the one who put a vote in for her, when it came to deciding his fate. He knows the vote had been three to one, and it is clear who the one was. Even though he had counted all of the Daggers as his friends before things went wrong, he simply cannot imagine her being so cold.

Sergio looks out over the somewhat-icy water for a moment, his thoughts suddenly weighed down in a way they have no right to be.

“You really love him, don't you,” he says, not looking away from the water.

Enzo only smiles, his gaze turning to the ocean as well.

“More than anything,” he says, his voice full of gentle sincerity.

Sergio continues staring out, for a while.

It is about time to put more than one thing to rest. 

Enzo takes a breath, and steps away from the railing. 

"I'm going to get a drink," he says. "You're welcome to join me."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Sergio asks.

Enzo tilts his head. "I'm sorry?"

"Around alcohol," he clarifies, and Enzo laughs again.

"I think I'll manage," he replies.

They both begin approaching the door that leads below decks.

"I did that once, you know," Enzo says, when they're almost at the door.

Sergio looks up at him. "Light a glass of alcohol on fire?"

He nods, and Sergio snorts.

"Back at the Fortunata court, back when all of this was just starting and I was still coming into my powers," Enzo laughs. "It was an accident, but I ended up ruining a carpet, a table, and three chairs."

They open the door, and they are both still laughing quietly as they begin walking down the stairs.

Chapter Text

17 Augosto, 1366

Foothills of The Karra Mountains

Central Amadera

The Skylands

Magiano

"So everybody else has made nice, I guess."

Adelina does not looks up at him as he speaks, simply keeps staring at the daunting silhouette of the mountain range above them.

"I am still not going to," she says.

Magiano shrugs, and sinks down next to her. "Neither am I."

Now that he is on her level, she does look to the side.

"You are not interested in joining Violetta and The Messenger in their energy talks?" she asks, "I know you can sense them too."

He shakes his head. "I can only feel the energy of powers, not all of the abstract senses that they can get at. Besides, I'm quite frankly uninterested in spending so much time with a Dagger. I would much rather be here with you."

She lets out a short breath, a tired imitation of her laugh that makes his heart hurt.

As they have crossed the Sun Sea and finally arrived in The Skylands, the deterioration of all of their powers has gotten worse and worse. Adelina has grown quieter, prone to staring off into the dark and locking herself away in their room. She will not talk about the illusions her powers are forcing on her, sights and sounds that are not real and not hers, but the toll that they are taking on her tells him all he needs to know.

Magiano himself is not unaffected, either. Two years ago, he would have been nigh-invincible in this situation, surrounded by the worlds most powerful Young Elites. Now the threads of their energy glow ever-present in his periphery, shining dangerously with a sickening not-heat, waiting for him to slip up and unravel them all from within.

The horrible, painful entanglement that he caused back on the Isles has not happened again since the first time, but it would be so easy to do it by accident. It hurts to be around the other Young Elites.

But he knows for Adelina it simply hurts to be. He will be there for her, no matter what.

"How could they do this?" she whispers, pulling him from his thoughts. Her eye has returned to the skyline. "After everything that they have done, that we have done, after everything that has happened? How could they all go around acting like friends?"

Magiano ponders this, for a moment. 

"Sometimes," he says, "The best parts of the future can only be achieved by letting go of the worst parts of the past. If it is to their benefit to put it all behind them, I do not see why they shouldn't."

She crosses her arms over her chest, and frowns. He places a hand over one of hers.

"We will not lose them," he says, entirely confident in his words. "Violetta and Sergio would not abandon us. Not for anything."

She looks back over at him, her frown evening out into a neutral expression. 

She uncrosses her arms, taking his hand in hers and not letting go. Then her eye returns to the mountains.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" she says, "The pull of the immortal world."

Magiano follows her gaze. The Karra Mountains loom above them, a reminder of the daunting task ahead. They have never liked Amadera, especially the central regions. He has always blamed it on the weather, but now he thinks perhaps there was a deeper cause for the discomfort they have always felt in this place.

"Yes," he says. The threads of both of their energies pulse with light, perhaps for emphasis. 

"Are you really going to do it?" she asks. 

"Yes," he repeats.

She sits up, turns to look at him head on.

"Why?" she asks, and the light in her eye is hollow. "How?"

"The world is dying, mi Adelinetta," he says, softy, "And so are we. We are the the only ones who can save it."

She shakes her head, running a hand harshly through her hair. It is dark grey in this place, the sun blotted out by clouds.

"This cannot be the only way," she says, "This isn't right! Why are we the ones that have to give up everything?"

"We are not giving up everything," he says, gently taking her other hand from her hair and entwining it with his. Their rings gleam on their fingers. "Not nearly everything."

She stares at the places where they meet for a moment. 

Then, the tension leaves her body, and she slumps forward, burying her face in his shoulder. 

He lets go of her hands, moving to stroke her hair.

"I do not know if I can do it," she whispers into his neck.

"I do," he whispers back.

Her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, and he feels the heat of tears where her face is pressed into his neck.

He wraps an arm around her in turn, his heart hurting for her still. He wants so badly to help her.

It will be over soon, Violetta tells him, when he sees her, her voice quiet with melancholy.

He continues stroking his wife's hair as she tries not to cry, miserable with the effects of a power she cannot control.

Not soon enough, he thinks.

"I love you," he whispers into her hair, "So much."

She does not say anything in reply, only hugs him tighter. 

Chapter Text

31 Ottobre, 1366

Highest Point of The Karra Mountains

Central Amadera

The Skylands

Adelina Amouteru

"Are you still not experiencing any effects?"

My sister looks thoughtful as she walks alongside the Messenger. The rest of us cannot help but overhear their conversation- the cave we have arrived in is quite echo-ey.

We have been climbing this mountain for more than two months, and it has been miserable. As we have all gotten closer to the origin of our powers, we have grown more and more agitated, the beating heart of the immortal world pulsing through us and urging all of our abilities to run rampant. 

All of our abilities, but one, my own voice reminds me, half-bitter and half-grateful. 

"I feel tired," Violetta responds to Raffaele, and it shows. Fatigue weighs down my sister's voice.

"I know that we all do," she continues, and with my eye adjusted to the permeating dark of this cavern, I can see the barest hint of a smile on her lips. "But this feels different. Deeper."

Raffaele nods, his two-colored eyes looking over her in a way I have come to understand means he is studying her energy. "If you are only beginning to suffer now, it will not be for long," he looks briefly from her, to the rest of us, his gaze resting on his fellow Daggers. "This will all be over soon."

Violetta and Raffaele continue their casual conversation, and none of us chime in, but I am thankful for the distraction from the nearly-constant voice chattering in the back of my head.

I do not need the others to tell me that we are very close. We walk the length of this cave for hours, at a point pausing to marvel at the small, glowing creatures that respond to our presence.

Ice fairies, Violetta and Raffaele say in unison, one of them delighted and one of them amazed. 

The blue-white lights lead us through the remainder of the cavern, until I can feel a breeze, and see moonlight. None of us speak, but as the cave's exit comes into view- miles of untouched forest, underneath a blanket of stars close enough to touch- my stomach drops.

The Dark of Night. The point where Laetes fell.

The entrance to the immortal world.

You cannot do this, my father's voice whispers in my head. It will be the end of you.

I grit my teeth, and stop walking.

No one ever wanted you before you had power, little malfetto. They will all abandon you once it is gone.

"So," Magiano says, and the voice scatters for just a moment. He is staring at the cave's end, as we all are, and I can sense him trying to keep up a flippant demeanor in the face of this overwhelming energy. "Shall we all hold hands as we walk through, or do you think that is necessary?"

"I do not think it could hurt," Violetta says, her hint of a smile widening to match his. My heart feels lighter, for a moment, looking on at the two of them.

"I think that might make us all feel better about this, Magiano, that's a great idea," King Enzo says, his voice half-joking but clearly genuine in it's proposal.

He intertwines his hand with The Messenger's. The two men's eyes meet with a look so heartfelt, so purely loving, I wonder for a split second how I could possibly have hated them.

The other six of us exchange a few spare looks, a nonverbal We're really doing this?

After a moment and a fond glance at the two, Queen Maeve takes King Enzo's other hand, and her wife takes her's.

I look at my husband, and he looks back at me, his gold eyes glinting in this light. Despite the immortal energy silently ravaging all of our bodies, I manage a small smile as I intertwine my fingers with his.

Violetta, at the same time, takes both my spare hand and Raffaele's. Sergio looks as if he will walk all the way to the other side of this cave to stand with us, for a moment, but then he simply sighs and offers The Windwalker his hand. 

She takes it, glancing away from her wife. Her gaze is friendly, and a little amused at their situation, if I am reading her right. I do not know what to make of it.

We stand in our horizontal line, the eight of us. 

Looking not at the realm of the gods ahead, but at each other, we take a step forward as one.

I hear multiple gasps, as we cross the threshold. I take comfort in the presence of Magiano's and my sister's hands as we are hit by the full force of this place.

All at once, the energy grows impossibly worse. For a moment the voice in my head is a deafening scream, and my vision floods with bloody silhouettes. We all stand still for a long moment, shaking, tensing, adjusting to it. 

But we all remain standing. None of us fall. None of us turn to dust.

We have made it. The entrance to the land of the gods stretches out before us. 

Despite what should be a victory, my stomach continues to sink with the knowledge of what we are one step closer too. The threads of my power writhe in and around me, more present than they ever have been. I can almost see the orange glow of Fury, of Caldora and of the Underworld, slowly mounting as we draw closer to them, my abilities shrieking in protest as I move forward to return them where they came from. 

We press on, some (but not all) of us dropping hands, all of us exchanging glances.

The scene is almost romantic, if the context of it is set aside. The three moons are enormous and exquisite, hanging over us so closely, making the untouched snow glow white. The trees are thick and a little bothersome to maneuver through, but still beautiful. To someone else this would be the backdrop of a painting, or the beginning of a sweet story; three young couples, happy and in love, joined by their friends, strolling through the woods on a clear winter's night. 

But this is not an art piece, just as much is it is not a beginning.

It is an end.

"Here," Raffaele says as we come upon a clearing.

It takes us a few steps to catch up with him, but once we have I see immediately what he means. A pillar of white-blue light touches down on the snow at the other end of the clearing, and stretches all the way up to the too-close heavens. Just looking at it makes my energy shift even more erratically.

This is where we need to be.

Before anyone can state what should be obvious to all of us, there is a rustling from behind us, in the woods. We turn to look, and see nothing for a moment.

Then the rustling grows even louder, and we can see three grotesque, four legged creatures making their way toward us. I am convinced they are only another trick of my illusions, until I hear someone's breathless question:

"What is that?"

Violetta and Raffaele look at each other.

"Monsters," my sister whispers. "The true demons."

"Beasts filled with the energy of the immortal realm." Raffaele adds, also whispering. "Another result of the rift between our worlds." 

There is a second's pause, as the things draw ever closer. 

Then they break out into a sprint towards us, and I do not need the cacophony of Runs I hear in order to do just that.

I do not pay excess attention to the others as Magiano and I make a break for the light, but I do see Sergio stop to draw his sword and take a slash at one of the monsters. King Enzo stops with him, urging The Messenger to keep running, and draws-ha-a long silver dagger. The Queens of Beldain follow suit, stopping to hold off the monsters while the rest of us try and reach the light.

More of the creatures are emerging through the woods, though. One of them begins to gain on Magiano and I, and when it is almost upon us he turns on his heel and throws a wall of flames at the creature. 

The thing screams, melting, shriveling up as the fire burns away at it.

I barely notice this through the screaming pain in my head. It is as if all the threads of my entire being are being pulled up at the roots.

I fall to my knees at the same time as Magiano does, and out of the corner of my eye I see similar catastrophe on The Reaper's end. The other three move to defend him, but my vision becomes too hazy with pain to see much after that.

When I am sure we are about to be eaten, or torn to pieces, or whatever it is these things do, I feel a familiar dark energy wrap around me, immediately followed by the sensation of an ice-cold punch to the gut.

I gasp, and I hear Magiano laugh beside me, almost the same madman's laugh I heard the first time he spoke to me.

As quickly as it came, my sister's energy leaves us, and there is no time to recover before we are back on our feet and running. I look to the side to see her with her hands outstretched, one in the direction of where we stood moments ago and one in the direction of King Enzo. 

It takes me a moment to realize she is not moving.

"Violetta?" I call in her direction, exertion and worry and pain straining my voice. She does not reply, frozen in place, mouth slightly ajar, and- what is that, on her wrists and neck? Bruises? When did those get there?

I am about to veer in her direction, but The Messenger gets there first. I see him stop at her side and wrap his arms around her, and can only guess he is using his power to soothe on her.

After an excruciating second as the few monsters that slip through Sergio and the royals' line close in, my sister untenses, going limp in his arms for a moment before standing up straight. I see him touch the new purple marks on her neck, seeming to ask her something, and she shakes her head. The two of them join hands again, never breaking the physical contact necessary for him to use his power at it's full extent, and start running in earnest. 

I can hear the monsters close behind us as we all run as fast as we can. When the four of us finally reach the light and stop, we turn and are horrified to see it has not stopped the monsters. Just when I think this is it for us, a powerful wind sweeps through the air in front of us, knocking us all off of our feet, blowing away the snow to reveal shockingly green grass, and carrying the monsters right back over to Lucent, Maeve, Sergio, and Enzo, who skewer each of them as they fly over. 

There are still more, though, breaking through the treeline toward us with every passing second. The Windwalker tries to push some more of them back, but when she tries to call the wind to her again I hear her pained grown from half way across the clearing. She stumbles, clutching her wife's arm, and I see Sergio and King Enzo gesturing for them both to go ahead.

The Queens try and follow the path we all took to this pillar of light, but even more monsters are breaking through with only two people left to hold them off and we all watch in still horror as it seems they are about to be overrun. 

And then there is a flash of light, and the monsters that were tailing Maeve and Lucent let out the same horrible screams I heard moments ago as red flames overcome their entire beings.

I look at Magiano, but his eyes are wide, surprised as any of us.

"Enzo!" Raffaele exclaims, standing up, my sister's hand the only thing keeping him from running back across this field. Now that I am looking for it, I notice the fabric of King Enzo's sleeves, halfway up the arm, are suddenly burned through, and see the red of freshly burnt flesh as he continues to grit his teeth and slash his dagger through monster after monster. 

The Queens reach us, but by the time they do Sergio and Enzo have been swarmed. I can hardly see them through the dark, skeletal monsters, and it is a testament to just how good a fighter each of them is that they are even still standing, but I can see this is not a situation they can fight their way out of. If none of us act, this will be it for them. 

Sergio. The one person in my life who is truly and only a friend. I try and throw an illusion of invisibility over him, then the both of them, but the monsters are not fooled. They continue as the were- perhaps they could never see us at all. Perhaps these things sense our energies in the way that Violetta and Raffaele do. As we watch in horror and grief and helplessness, one of the things finally catches Enzo with it's teeth, right on the arm, and it screams.

It lets go of him almost instantly, it's mouth full of flames melting it to tar and dust from the inside out, and in a second all of it's companions are letting out the same horrible noise as the brightest flames I have ever seen in my life engulf them all.

The noise is horrible, a chorus made up of dozens of inhuman shrieks. It lasts for what I think must be a solid minute.

When it is over, the monsters are nothing but dark puddles in the melted snow, and the sleeves of the king's coat have burned completely away, revealing fresh, gruesome burns all the way up past his shoulder, not to mention the teeth marks from that creature. He stands there for a moment, his marked hands raised to the too-close heavens. Then he collapses.

Sergio catches him before he hits the ground, but he looks unconscious. Hopefully, just unconscious.

The wind picks up again, carrying Sergio and Enzo almost instantly to us with no hoard of monsters to stand in the way. I am sure Lucent is in pain as she does this, leaning against her wife for support, but this time she endures.

Before we have time to tend to them, before we have time to do anything, the energy of this place finally overwhelms us. I feel it all- every thread, every alignment, even the ones that are not mine. 

My vision goes white.

When it returns there are no moons, no stars, and no heavens. Only a dark sea, and a gray sky.

Chapter Text

31 Ottobre, 1366

The Library of Moritas

The Underworld

The Immortal World

Raffaele Laurent Bessette

"Enzo?"

Raffaele stands alone on the grey shores of the Underworld for a moment, waiting for an answer. When he does not receive one, he rushes forward, weaving through the tall moonstone pillars that contain Holy Moritas's collection of souls. 

He does not know where Violetta has gone; all eight of them had stood together before Formidite moments ago, bargaining with her to be let in, but frozen in place. Enzo had been on the other side of the line, barely standing and leaning on The Rainmaker for support, and when the angel of Fear had let them all fall into the water Raffaele had lost sight of him, along with everyone else.

The memory makes his heart pound. He has seldom ever seen a display of power as great as the one Enzo gave at the Dark of Night, and he has never in his life felt fear as strong as that which he felt when it was finished. When the person he cares about more than anything else in the world collapsed, bloodied and close to dying.

Close to. He is not dead. He is not dead. Enzo's energy- beautiful white and pink and red, Ambition and Love and War weaving together like fire- had not faded to the white-blue of Death. He was not dead, not the last time he saw him. 

Raffaele looks around at the faces encased in these pillars as he walks briskly through them, dreading what he might see. In her memory of Fear, Maeve had trouble swimming through the Underworld's ocean perfectly healthy, while Enzo did not seem in and shape to swim or walk.

He has to find him. He will not lose him down here, not after everything.

There is an energy down here, so strong it drowns out any read he might have gotten on the others. He is gradually making his way towards it, but along the way he cannot help examining the pillars. Raffaele tries to make out the organization of them, and notices most people grouped with what seem to be their family members, and it gives him an idea. 

He is looking out for multiple faces now, and after what seems like ages he finally comes across one. He comes to a halt in front of her pillar. 

Giulietta looks peaceful in the center of her column, her eyes closed and her dark hair in neat ringlets. There is no sign on her neck of her throat being slit, nor blood on her simple violet gown. Raffaele tilts his head. Not the one she'd been wearing when she died, he thinks, not really a gown fit for a queen's public appearance, but after more than five years he cannot be sure. 

He surveys the columns next to her, and lets out a short breath of relief. The old King and Queen, Giulietta and Enzo's parents, on her right, with more and more people bearing a mild resemblance to them as far as he can see.

On her left he is startled to see a shock of white skin and blond hair, closed eyes and an expression more peaceful than anything Raffaele had ever seen on him in life. Teren Santoro. He is not dressed in the prison clothes he had worn for his residency as their prisoner, nor his Lead Inquisitor's uniform, but a simple white outfit that is somewhere between the two in terms of grandeur. Looking at the long line of souls he assumes must have been Kings and Queens, he can see none of them are dressed grandly, either. No crowns, no jewelry at all. Nothing to distinguish them from a common person. 

All souls are equal in the hands of Moritas, he supposes. 

Raffaele passes through this row, his mind put somewhat at ease, then freezes. 

One row behind Giulietta, encased in a column of moonstone, there is a familiar face. Suspended above him, unharmed and perfectly at rest. He feels his heart constrict at the sight.

This is a face he never expected to see again.

He touches the pillar lightly, thinking maybe he could touch her with his energy, but the chill of Death ripples through him and forces him to pull his hand away. Still, he looks up at her, emotion and shock threatening to let tears spill from his eyes. 

"Daphne," he whispers, unsure if she can hear him, but overwhelmed at the sight of her. 

She looks so young, now. She had only been seventeen when she died, tortured to death in the Inquisitions's dungeon for refusing to betray the Daggers. All three of them had been seventeen.

"I am sorry," he says, and he is not sure what he is apologizing for, but it seems appropriate. Being a part of the cause she died to protect? Losing track of the man they both love in this dire hour? Or simply, surviving when she had not?

He can picture her, from years ago, standing in her grandfather's apothecary, when he had confided in her his true feelings for her fiancé, guilt over keeping such a thing secret outweighing his fear of her reaction. He had fallen over himself with reassurances;

I would never want to interfere with what the two of you have, and

You have nothing to worry about, and

Please do not tell him.

She had quieted him with a hand on his shoulder and laughed good-naturedly.

It's okay, Raffaele, she had said, her smile empathetic and a bit sad. It's okay.

He looks to the columns on either side of her. He sees her grandfather, and between them a Tamouran man and woman who must be her parents, but he does not recognize anyone else. 

He glances back at Giulietta's column, for a moment, before looking back at Daphne. If he were dead, he would be with one of them, surely. 

Raffaele still cannot sense any of the other's energies down here, only the blue-white chill of Moritas, and very far down the line, dots of pure, unintertwined energy he can only suspect the owners of. That is where they are meant to converge, he thinks. Where Enzo and the others may already be. Where all of this will end.

Before Raffaele turns to go, he lets his fingers brush lightly against her column again, just for a moment.

"I will find him," he promises, looking for the last time up at her peaceful face. 

Then he turns and once again starts walking, towards the point where the gods and angels will be waiting for them.

Chapter Text

31 Ottobre, 1366

Laetes's Column

The Underworld

The Immortal World

Adelina Amouteru

I have walked through this maze of moonstone pillars alone.

The only faces I encountered that were familiar to me were my mother and my father. Seeing my mother again after so long was heartrending, her still and unchanged face so similar to my sister's, while seeing my father frozen and contained in moonstone has done nothing but worsen the constant sound of his voice.

I have come to the end of the pillars, now. Before me is a dark cloud of mist, Holy Moritas's energy undulating and filling up this space. I know that this is where I need to go; I can feel it, deep in my energy, but I still hesitate.

Finally, with no where else to go, I step forward. 

The voice in my head screams with the energy of this fog. Pure threads of the Underworld intermingle with mine, and the voice shouts vile things, threats, temptations, wordless pain. It seems an eternity until it finally clears, and I see what I am truly surrounded by.

I see first a jagged, broken column, black as pitch instead of the blue-white moonstone of the others, and surrounding it, twelve figures. Their hair and eyes and skin are jewel-toned, and their clothes range from glittering gold and jewels sewn into the finest silks to soaking wet rags dripping with the water of the Underworld, but I recognize them all for who they are. 

The mist has to clear further before I see the seven figures standing to the side of me, all of us in another horizontal line. This time instead of holding hands we are impossibly far from each other.

The Daggers, despite looking worse for wear, are all standing unsupported again. The Reaper has what looks like torn fabric from what remains of his coat tied around the wounds on his arms, and The Windwalker is swaying on her feet, her fists clenching and unclenching as she struggles against her weakening bones. Both of their lovers shoot them worried glances, which they try and fail to return with reassuring ones.

Sergio is the only one of us on my left, and for his part he looks very well. His long blue coat is ripped in a lot of places, blood seeping slowly out of shallow cuts, but otherwise he looks generally unharmed by his fight with the Underworld's monsters. 

Violetta stands closest to me, her hands folded in front of her. She is just barely wringing them as she watches the gods. The strange purple marks still decorate her neck and wrists, covering larger space than I remember, and her chest rises and falls with breaths that look labored. I try to meet her eyes, by they are trained solely on the deities before us.

Magiano does look at me. He stands on her other side, his hands moving nervously, but his gaze is relieved when it locks with mine.

"You have traveled a long way to return what is ours," Holy Moritas says, "And taken on great personal sacrifice to reach us."

"We wish to repair what has befallen both our worlds," my sister says, and I startle at the raspy strain it has taken.

"And so you can," Moritas says, looking once over all of us. 

"You all hold lost energies from each one of us," a new voice says, another deity. He is harder to place, but I think I recognize Sapientus, the god of Wisdom. The god Raffaele aligns the strongest with, if I am not mistaken. "If you each return the energy that has taken hold in you, it will drawn in every thread spread across the mortal world. Every child marked with our energy will be free of it, all at once, and the rift between our worlds will close."

"If it is closed, how will we get home?" King Enzo asks, and it is silent for a moment.

Then an angel steps forward, every-colored and iridescent.

"It is possible to travel between our worlds without causing the damage Denarius did, banishing our brother," Compasia says, "I do it almost every night. If you give your powers willingly to us, I will open the door between our worlds and allow you to pass safely through.

"As I could have done, all those years ago. If my brother had thought to let anyone else in on his plot," she continues, looking sharply at another angel, dressed in gold silks, with his green hair tied loosely behind him, who scoffs. "And saved all you poor children this suffering."

"And you would have?" another angel, with loose blue hair and dark skin, asks, looking... hurt?

Compasia sighs, looking apologetic, but says, "I think you would agree it was a learning-"

"Children," a powerful voice says, washing over all of us. 

Denarius, Compasia, and Laetes stand straighter and fold their hands, looking over at the diamond-clad goddess who has spoken.

"Mother," they acknowledge sheepishly.

Fortuna stares at them seriously for a moment, then looks over to us. 

"Turn over your powers," she says, "And you will all be returned home."

"You can place us anywhere?" Sergio asks, and all of us turn to look at him. He pauses under our gazes, before explaining, "I would just rather not have to climb that mountain again, to get back down."

I gasp as the air is filled with a noise like I have never heard before. It is so beautiful as to be unnatural, and I train my eye on it's source to see one of the angels, light teal ensemble shifting as he laughs.

"I think that sounds fair, my child," he says, looking at Sergio. 

Pulchritas, I think, looking between them, The angel of Beauty. The deity Sergio aligns the strongest with.

Pulchritas is laughing at Sergio's irreverence in the face of so many deities, I would assume. My friend's tone was flat and gave away nothing, but I saw him glancing for a moment down the line at the others. At King Enzo with his grizzly injuries, Lucent with her divine ailment, Violetta with this new affliction. I understand what he really meant. 

If we had to make that climb again, not all of us would make it.

"Make your choice, now," Moritas says, "Return our energies and return to your lives, or force us to take them from you and find your place with my souls before your times."

In my periphery I see someone step forward, and my stomach twists into knots as I am forced to remember what we have come here to do.

I look at my hair, out of the corner of my eye. I remember a time when I used to loathe it's shifting silver color, when I believed the lies my father would tell me, and that society would uphold, that it marked me as an abomination, and that I was wrong for existing. I have gained so much in the time since then. A real family, a following, and so, so much power.

My alignment to ambition, the bright white threads Violetta has helped me to recognize, thrum at the thought of it all. Kings and Queens and palaces buckling under my power, crowds of people gathered to support my cause. I will lose all of that, if I give up my energy. When I give up my energy, I mentally correct, but even as I do my reluctance continues to mount.

So much of who I am is tied to my being a Young Elite. Who will I be, without that?

Nothing, my father's voice says, plain and loud and certain. You will be nothing.

Stop it, I think, with my own, real voice, but even as I think it, my minds reels with doubt.

Visions of that long distant past come to me again, visions of my father chasing me through the house with a knife in his hand, of Inquisitors dragging me underground and putting me in chains. I kick and scream and run, but I am powerless to stop any of them. I am powerless. And I will be, again.

I watch the others, Raffaele and Enzo and Lucent, step forward and carve the energy from their hearts. Jewel-toned threads float up towards their respective deities, and Queen Maeve steps forward to follow suite.

I do not. How could I? How can I be expected to do this, to sacrifice everything that I am? What will be left of me when my power is gone?

Nothing. Power is everything that you are, my father's voice whispers, encouraging my inaction, Nobody will want the broken, ill-tempered girl you were before it. The only reason they put up with you is so they can use you for your abilities. That is the only thing they care about.

"That is not true," I mutter aloud, confident the others cannot hear me from where they stand. 

No one could ever love you for who you are, Adelina, do you not understand that?

"That's not true," I say again, at full volume, but the words echo through my mind over and over again, refusing to go away.

Was my power not the only reason I met Magiano or Sergio, in the first place? The only reason they had let me anywhere near them? 

That is true, I think. As my roiling energy spreads away from me, scattering nightmare illusions, I can only think one thing:

It's true.

My power is everything that I am. It is the only part of me worth caring about. Who would want me, without it?

I only barely see the others through a screen of black-and-orange blur, before they are obscured completely by snippets of motion, scenes from my past warped by memory and panic and distress. I feel the pain of a doctor removing my eye, watch my mother die slowly of the fever, hear my father talk eagerly with a business partner about selling me to settle his debts.

I hear the crunch of my father's horse crushing his ribcage, watch Magiano disappear in a crowded square, feel the sickly wet of the Inquisition's dungeons-

I feel threads of energy identical to mine try and take hold of my illusions. Magiano. He is trying to help me.

You don't need help, the voice counters, You only need yourself. You don't need anyone, as long as you have your power. He would leave you, you know he would.

"No," I say, but the word comes out choked. I feel hot tears streaming down from my eye as the memory of Magiano leaving me in Merroutas plays over and over again.

That was so long ago, a quickly-waning rational part of my mind insists, We have both changed! He would not do that now!

The voice comes back with a deafening chorus of he would, he would, he would, and my rampant energy succeeds in shoving his away.

"Poor child," I hear, somehow, above everything else. Moritas's voice is calm in the calamity, full of disappointment and detached pity.

I hear-

My name. I continue to watch the illusions of my past, a midnight riding not-alone in the rain, and I am confused. No one called out my name here.

Then, I hear it again, and I feel arms wrap around my chest. I have fallen to my knees, I realize, as the touch brings me closer to the present. 

"Stop," I hear a whisper in my ear, a girl's whisper, quiet and insistent. "You will be okay, you need to stop."

I am frozen in her embrace, but the threads of my energy pull back just enough so that I can see her. Close up the new change in her looks far worse- her lovely brown eyes, our mother's eyes, have become washed out and gray, and I see at this proximity the violet patches on her wrists and neck are not bruises, but markings; the same kind we have all always had.

All of us except for her.

Traitor sister, my- our father's voice growls, undaunted, She would leave you for others, she already has, she will choose them over you, she wants nothing from you but to complete this plan-

"That is not true," I am startled to hear Violetta say, her arms still around me. Is everyone hearing all of this? Are my illusions that out of control?

"You are worth more to me than the entire world, mi Adelinetta," Violetta continues, "You are my sister, I love you. I would not leave unless you sent me away. Please, please come back to me."

My illusions try to warp into new visions- Violetta turning me in to the Inquisition, Violetta flourishing under our father's affection, Violetta taking my power away before I could use it against him.

Instead, different visions form. Violetta staying up all night trying her best to wrap my finger after father broke it, Violetta and I sneaking out to watch Dalia's festivals from afar, Violetta praising my silver hair even as people used it to mark me as broken;

Violetta coming to my room for comfort when a thunderstorm would frighten her, Violetta begging the Inquisition for my life then running across Dalia to keep up with me, Violetta holding up one end of a canopy at my wedding.

Slowly, one by one, the visions vanish.

My errant threads give way to the pristine moonstone and greyscale of the Underworld, and Violetta squeezes me in her arms.

"Your power has never mattered to me, mi Adelinetta," she whispers, "Before and after it, I have always loved you. So many people love you, not because of what you are, but because of who you are. You are so, so loved, my sister," she squeezes me once more, and I notice her wince even at this little exertion, "Whether you are The White Rose, or Adelina Amouteru."

I stare ahead at her. My one eye bores into her two, and as I hold her gaze the voice grows fainter and fainter. 

It is true that everything I have now, I have because I am an Elite.

Everything, except for one.

I let her pull me to my feet, and lead me up toward the angels and gods.

"Together?" Violetta asks, holding her hand up towards the still-assembled deities.

The voice in my head makes one last resurgent shriek:

You will lose everything, stupid girl, you cannot do this.

I do hesitate.

It is true that most everything I have now, I have because I am a Young Elite.

That does not mean I will lose it all once I am not. I must have more faith than that.

I rub the gold-and-sapphire ring on my finger for a moment, before holding my hand up as well.

My father's voice cries out, but his is drowned out by my own.

I have more faith than that.

I am in incredible pain for a split second, the same pain I felt when Magiano's powers would turn on him, as the threads of my being are torn away. I let out a gasp that ends in a more pitched noise as they are rended from my heart.

And then, they are gone.

My mind is silent, my vision free of false images. I watch threads float up from around my sister and I; to Fortuna and Amare, to Caldora and Formidite, to Sapientus and Laetes, to Compasia. There is a surge of energy, threads appearing up out of what seems like no where, drawn in from the rest of the mortal world, returning to where they belong.

"Thank you, children," comes the kind voice of a goddess clad in violet, the emblem of a sun dial on her chest. Aevietes. Time.

"You will all return here, someday," she continues, just before the influx of energy overwhelms my vision, "A long ways in the future."

There is a laugh in her voice as she finishes;

"A long, long ways."

***

"Adelina."

I inhale sharply at the feeling of arms around my chest, stronger than my sister's. I am kneeling in the snow, the white powder falling into my eye, and I have yet to get my bearings.

"You are alright," I feel a hand brush over my eye, and I can see him, finally. "I was so worried, I didn't know what I could do."

"Magiano," I breathe out, barely audible, as all the events of the last few moments come rushing back to me in full clarity.

"Magiano," I repeat, louder. I hug him back, burying my face in his neck. "Magiano. I love you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says, his voice just above my ear.

"I know you love me," I continue, "I did not-"

"I know," he says, cupping my face and pulling back enough to look into my eye. 

"Thank you," I say, my voice full of sincerity and threatening to break.

Magiano only smiles, and kisses my cheek, never breaking eye contact.

His eyes are brown, now. I shake my head a little bit, letting the snow fall out of my hair, and my throat closes.

It is midnight black in color. The same as my mother's, my sister's, and my father's.

"Adelina?" Magiano asks, soft and concerned, as my face turns blotchy and tears begin to form in my eye.

I shake my head again, leaning into his touch, hanging on the sound of his voice.

"There was a time when I wanted this, more than anything," I say, running my fingers through my dark hair, "but I am not that person anymore."

I blink the tears out of my eye, and try to speak even though my voice is choked with emotion; "I do not know who I am anymore."

Magiano looks at me for a moment, then takes one of my hands and gently guides it to his side. 

I inhale as I feel the rough skin of his scar. I have felt this skin many, many times; what surprises me is the fact that it is still there. Not washed away with our powers.

Magiano lifts his other hand to the left side of my face, traces the still-present scar tissue before kissing it softly. 

"You are my wife," he whispers, before placing another kiss on my cheek, "You are the most interesting and amazing person I have ever known. You are passionate and ambitious and cunning and determined, you are beautiful and powerful, and you have left your mark on the world," he moves to kiss me on the lips, absently running his thumb over my scar, and I kiss him back, tracing my fingers over his. 

"As our powers still leave their marks on us," I finish, when we part.

"Our powers," he tilts his head, "Our pasts. They will always be a part of us, but there is so much more out there, my love."

I smile, frozen tear lines cracking on my face, but I have no time to respond before I am shaken by another pair of arms embracing the both of us.

"Adelina!" my sister says, her face nuzzling between both of ours, and I turn to look at her, brushing the hair out of her face. 

The purple marks on her neck are gone. She opens her eyes after a moment, and they are the same warm brown as they always should be, if a little bloodshot with tears.

"Are the three of you alright?" another voice comes, from far enough above us he must be standing. I glance up and see Sergio, still a little wounded, concern knitting his features together.

Behind him I see the others, a small distance away; Queen Maeve and Lucent hugging silently in the snow, Raffaele talking very quickly to King Enzo and fixing his makeshift bandages.

I exchange a glance with both Violetta and Magiano, before looking back up at Sergio and giving a half-smile.

"We are alright," I say, nodding.

He nods back, seeming content to stand watch over us. 

Magiano, Violetta, and I all at once grab his arms and pull him down to our level.

He laughs as he is pulled down, and after a moment he relents, wrapping his arms around all of us. The rest of us are laughing, too, even through tears. 

Kneeling in the Skyland snow, surrounded by the embrace of all the people that matter to me in the world, I can only think one thing:

This is a life.

Chapter Text

01 Vembier, 1366

The Sun Sea

Waters between The Sealands and The Skylands

Enzo Valenciano

"I'm really alright."

Enzo sighs as Raffaele continues to adjust the bandages coating his arms. The wounds still emit a dull pain, even with the drugs they've managed to apply, but he does not mind it. Raffaele stops his worrying at the upper edge of the bandages, just over the crest of his shoulder.

They are standing on the deck of their ship, the coast of Amadera having just disappeared on the horizon. The gods, true to their word, had let the eight of them back into the mortal world in a snowy clearing just outside of the port where their ship was docked. They are all on their way home now, not even a day after having passed through the land of the dead. 

It has been quiet, for the most part. Maeve and Lucent are headed back to Beldain by land, and so they share the ship only with it's crew, and with the Roses, who have kept mostly to themselves. 

Raffaele takes a breath that comes out shaky. Enzo lifts a hand to touch his face, noticing the growing red color in his eyes, but he shakes his head.

"You were so close," he whispers, "You were so close to dying, Enzo, you had seconds."

He looks up into Enzo's eyes, and seeing the distress on his face hurts Enzo far more than his still-healing burns.

"I know," he says, "I'm sorry. I am sorry I worried you, I am sorry I made you see that," he reaches up to cup Raffaele's face again, and this time, he lets him. 

"I know why you had to do it," Raffaele says, touching the hand Enzo has on his face. "I know it was the only way, I only..." Raffaele trails off, blinking tears from his eyes. Enzo moves immediately to wipe them away, and Raffaele chokes on a laugh.

"You are too compassionate, Reaper," he says, "You care too fiercely for your own good."

"I am not sure I can be called that, anymore," Enzo replies, both of his hands still on Raffaele's face. They are still scarred, as they always have been, like the rest of his arms always will be, now. 

Raffaele laughs a little bit again, and again, it breaks. 

"I was so scared," he whispers, leaning into him, "I thought I was going to lose you. I thought I would turn a corner and see you encased in moonstone."

"Never," he says, stroking Raffaele's face slowly with one hand, "You will never lose me, Raffaele. I will stay by your side until our dying breathes," Enzo's voice turns more vulnerable for a moment, "If you'll have me."

"Of course," Raffaele says, tears still forming in his eyes and thickening his voice. For all that, he does smile when he says, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Enzo replies, kissing his cheek.

They do not speak for a while. Raffaele looks at the freezing sea stretching out around them, and Enzo looks at Raffaele. 

The blue streaks of his hair have faded, as Enzo knows the red tint of his own has. His eyes are still two-colored; instead of gold and emerald, they are brown and a less jewel-toned, but still striking green. Enzo knows his own have faded back into the warm brown they were when he was a child, no longer able to glow red with the changes of his mood.

He will miss the dramatic effect of it, he thinks.

"Raffaele?" he asks.

He turns to him, the evidence of tears having mostly left his face by now. 

"You know that you mean more to me than anything else in the world," he begins, "That I love you, more than life, and I would never want to live a life without you in it?"

Raffaele smiles. He narrows his eyes playfully for a moment, before nodding. 

"And you know that I feel the same," Raffaele says, reaching over to to take his hand.

Enzo holds it tightly, then takes his other hand, as well, turning so that they are fully facing each other.

When they kiss it is drawn out, content, relaxed. Enzo could stay like this for his whole entire life.

They keep their faces close when they part, close enough that only Raffaele can hear him whisper, "Marry me."

Raffaele's eyes widen, still caught on Enzo's. After a moment he smiles again, with a sadness to it, this time, and shakes his head.

"You know we cannot," he says.

"If we could," Enzo says, "Would you?"

Raffale's shoulders fall, staring into Enzo's eyes. He tilts his head, and answers, "Of course."

Enzo beams, and closes the small distance to kiss him again. This one is shorter-lived, ending when Raffaele pulls away, sadness still in his eyes.

"I will not let you give up your throne for me," Raffaele says.

"You will not have to," Enzo replies, "I have another way."

"Do you?" Raffaele says, raising an eyebrow.

"It will work," he promises, "I have talked it over with Maeve, and even she has said that it sounds doable."

Raffaele tilts his head and smiles skeptically. "And how is Maeve involved, exactly?" 

Enzo laughs, short and breathy. "She's not," he says, "I just wanted to make sure I had something that would work, before I came to you," he says.

Raffaele laughs with him for a moment, then stands still and silent as he seems to come to terms with the fact that Enzo is serious.

"Really?" Raffaele whispers.

"Yes," Enzo says, whispering as well, bringing their faces close again. "Do you still want to?"

Raffaele presses his own lips together, suppressing a laugh. Before pressing them to Enzo's again, he says, bright and clear,

"Yes."

Chapter Text

15 Vembier, 1366

City-State of the Ember Isles

The Sealands

Adelina Amouteru

"Take it, before I change my mind."

The King raises his eyebrows at me. We are standing in the small gardens of a well-off local inn; it is perhaps the most royal-fit place on the Isles, and thus, we thought, a fitting place for our parting with the Dagger Society.

We stand among the modest but beautiful greenery, Magiano with his arm linked through mine, Sergio at our flank, and Violetta to my left. She looks shocked, and then proud, as she watches me pull out my gift for the king, and I try to be appreciative of this instead of exasperated.

King Enzo and his fiancee stand parallel to us. I heard the news from Violetta half way through our journey back, and congratulated them with the most sincerity I could muster, which still had not been much.

"This is unexpected," The King says.

He holds my gaze for one more moment, before reaching out to take the red-and-silver crown from my outstretched hand. 

He glances down at our hands, and the gold-and-sapphire bands that gleam there. "Will you be returning all of your prizes?"

"After we're dead," Magiano answers, and we both smile.

We look at each other for a moment, before he continues, "No- actually, not even then."

The King laughs, and at his side Raffaele smiles.

"Know I appreciate being singled out, then," he says. 

"Know I appreciate you saving all of our lives in the mountains," I say.

The king's expression turns more serious, though he is still smiling as he nods to me.

This is not the only reason we have returned his property, though I feel it is the only one necessary to voice.

I have had a lot of time to think on our last weeks at sea; we all have. I have assessed the things that are important to me; the things I want to bring into the future, and the things I want to leave behind. We have so much time ahead of us, so much life to live.

It will be a life. I will make sure of that.

And life, I have decided, is not something that should be wasted on grudges. I will free myself of them, as difficult a task as that may be. 

"We should be off," Raffaele says, stepping toward us. "You are all welcome to visit the palace any time you would like."

"Of course," the king agrees, "We'd be glad have you."

Even without our abilities? I almost say, but quiet myself. I am aware of how keen the King had been on recruiting us into his Society, but I had assumed in the absence of our powers, his willingness to entertain us would fade. He has seemed as genial towards us as he ever has, in these last couple of weeks, and I cannot say it doesn't confuse me. I am glad for it, though. It is reassuring, considering the paths each of us seem be on. 

"We will keep that in mind," Sergio says. As they look at him the Daggers' eyes are unsure for the first time in this meeting, but his voice was not sarcastic. Eventually, they nod.

"Farewell to you all," the King says, "I hope to see you again soon."

"As do we," Violetta says, smiling as they make their exit, and we watch them go.

Once they are out of earshot, I turn to my sister.

"I know you want to go with them," I say.

Violetta looks at me in surprise. "What?"

"I know they have asked you to stay with them, not just as a visitor," I continue, "I can imagine how you feel about the offer."

My sister looks at me for a moment, flustered, before saying, "Adelina, I would never-"

I shake my head. "It is alright, Violetta," I say, "I am not upset."

My sister blinks, then tilts her head. "You are not?"

"No," I reply, shaking my head again, even if it pains me too.

Violetta looks at me for a moment before frowning slightly. "Do you want me to leave?"

I sigh, taking one of her hands in mine. Magiano and I exchange a look- we have spoken about this- before I say:

"Violetta. Of course I do not want you to leave us; you are my sister, you are the light in me. I love you," I take a deep breath. This is hard to say, even if I have been preparing myself for it. "And that is why I cannot allow us to hold you back from a course you truly wish to take. It pains me to think of a future where we would be apart- truly, it does- but it seems the paths we wish to take in life are diverging, mi Violettina," I squeeze her hand, trying to be reassuring, "And I do not think either of us could be happy sacrificing the lives we want to live for the sake of the other."

Violetta looks at me for a long moment. "You will be alright?"

I manage a smile. "Our bond will not disappear because of physical distance, sister. We will see each other again."

Violetta looks at me for another moment, before her shoulders fall, and she pulls me into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Adelina. Thank you."

I let out a breath, and hug her back, matching her strength.

"Where do you think you will go?" Violetta asks quietly, not letting go of me.

I pull back just a bit, enough to meet Magiano's eyes. He smiles back at me.

"Wherever we want," I say, then after a pause, "Wherever we are needed."

"I might venture back to Kenettra with Violetta," Sergio says, "If that is alright with both of you."

Magiano hums. "Someone has to make sure our Violetta does not end poisoned on a ship bound for Merroutas."

Violetta half-glares, and Magiano and I laugh, while Sergio smiles wryly.

"Exactly," he says.

When Violetta and I finally separate, Magiano wraps his arm around my waist. I rest my head on his shoulder, and he sighs, running his fingers through my midnight-dark hair. I am still not used to it.

"I hope we can expect to see you around some of the time, Sergio," he says, his eyes focused not on the other man, but still on my hair. "It will be strange, after so long, to not have the four of us in one place."

Sergio places a hand on Magiano's other shoulder. We both look up at him.

"You will have me as long you need me," he promises.

I smile back up at him.

"Take care of my sister," I say.

"I will," he says.

"I could take care of myself," Violetta says, straightening her shoulders.

I smile at her, too. "I know."

I take my sister's hand. "I know you will do well with the Daggers, Violetta. I am so, so proud of you."

She smiles back at me. "And I know you will do good," she says. "Wherever you are."

Of the things I want to keep in my life: my husband, my sister, my friend. And also, my mission. Our mission. The marked may not exist as a class anymore, the brilliant touch of the gods revoked from us, but the scars are still there, and people will remember.

Even other than the formerly marked, there are still groups out there who are made to feel powerless. The core of our mission, of everything we ever did as the Rose Society, was never really meant to jab at the Dagger Society, or even to make ourselves infamous. It was always meant to uplift those like us- those who feel used, hurt, and cast aside.

It will be more difficult without our powers, but we will continue to pursue that mission, all of us in our different ways. Until no one is ever made to feel that way again.

"Before we move on to all of that, though," Violetta says, "I think I would like to stick around here for a while longer. After that ordeal, I might be eager to stay at home for a little while."

I laugh, and kiss Violetta's forehead. "My sister, on that I think we can agree."

Chapter Text

27 Augosto, 1367

City of Estenzia

Northern Kenettra

The Sealands

Violetta Amouteru

"We very much appreciate your coming."

"I very much appreciate your invitation," Violetta says, following her friend through the Estenzian palace courtyard. "Congratulations, again."

Raffaele smiles, as he leads her along, looking for a moment to the veritium band on his finger. King Enzo wears one of roseite, carved to match, she knows.

"And to you, as well," he says, and Violetta cannot help grinning. The event is still so fresh in her mind.

She had proposed the same day she and Kamaria had arrived in the city for Raffaele and Enzo's wedding; it had seemed an auspicious enough scenario. Violetta remembers how Kamaria had smiled when she accepted her emerald and silver rings, how she had kissed her in the pink light of the morning dawn, and she finds her cheeks turning pink themselves.

"Thank you," she replies, nodding, as they stroll ever closer to the doors to a certain wing of the palace.

They see the gardens in the distance, over a wall and past a gate- it would not usually be so visible, if not for the tall arches that have been constructed there temporarily. The king's wedding is to happen this afternoon, and preparations are in their final stages. Hopefully, this half of the grooms will be there in time, but Violetta is still not sure exactly where Raffaele is taking her.

"I suppose your sister and her husband will not, in fact, be joining us?" Raffaele asks her.

"No," Violetta says, smiling apologetically.

She has not seen Adelina or Magiano in person for about two months. They set out on their own adventures this Juno, heading down from the Isles to the Sunlands. She could have guessed, though, that they had no intentions to attend.

Sergio, surprisingly, has accepted his own invite. She had greeted him happily at the docks, having not seen him in as long as Adelina or Magiano, and he lingers somewhere around the palace now. Violetta wonders if he has truly come to fulfill that promise he made to her sister, of protecting her from the Daggers. She hopes, even if that was part of the reason, it is in part about accepting their friendship, as well.

"Perhaps it is for the best," she continues, "You will not have to endure countless remarks of how their's was more fantastic."

Raffaele laughs. "Do you worry of the same thing?"

Violetta looks to the distance for a moment. She imagines her sister, smiling and teasing her as she helps her into pink silks and a silver veil.

She shakes her head. "I will endure it happily," she says, a smile on her face.

When they finally reach the door they have been making their way towards, Violetta is greeted with a very pleasant surprise.

"Gemma!" she exclaims, rushing forward to greet the ex-Star Thief.

Gemma looks up at her and smiles. The patch on her face that had once been vibrant purple is now a slightly lighter brown then the rest of her skin, the pigment permanently disturbed by the gods' touch.

Violetta and Gemma have gotten along swimmingly in the couple of weeks she has been in the city. Looking around the room they've come into, Violetta knows exactly where she is, and her eyes are drawn to a wide bassinet, the thing Gemma had had her eyes on before they entered.

"Are they...?" Violetta tilts her head, waiting for invitation. Gemma beckons them both over, and Violetta gasps as she sees inside the cradle.

Two babies, indistinguishable from each other, curled up side by side. Only one of them is awake, squinting up at her with Gemma's dark eyes.

"This is Beatrice," she says, touching the waking baby's hand gently. Beatrice tries to tug on the gold ring on Gemma's finger, and she laughs. "And Folco," she continues, the joy still in her voice. She does not does touch him, though, probably in an effort not to wake him.

"They're beautiful," Violetta says.

"Thank you," Gemma smiles, not looking up from them.

Violetta knows Gemma wed the son of the well-respected Archduke of Campagnia this past Vembier, just in time for her friends to be present at her wedding. She had given birth shortly before Violetta's arrival, but she has not been given the chance to see the babies before now. 

After a moment, Raffaele says, "Violetta, you have agreed to live and study here with us, and we are delighted to have you."

Violetta looks up from the babies, confusion passing over her face. "Yes?"

"We would like your help with something else," Gemma says, finally looking up at her, with concern in her eyes. "You are free to decline, but we would very much appreciate it."

"Of course," Violetta replies, blinking, "Anything."

Raffaele and Gemma look at each other for a moment, before she speaks.

"You know, don't you, what became of Enzo and his sister?" Gemma starts.

"I suppose, in a general sense," she says. "She banished him in order to take the throne, and later you assassinated her to take it back."

Raffaele nods and further explains, "Giulietta cared more about the throne she might have claimed than her family. She tried to kill Enzo many times, and eventually, he had to kill her." 

Violetta nods, still confused.

"The history of betrayals and blood feuds among royalty here goes back to the beginning of Kenettra," Gemma continues, beginning to worry the skirt of her dress. 

"What are you asking, exactly?" Violetta says.

A grim air passes between Gemma and Raffaele.

Gemma runs her fingers over the bassinet's edge. "We have plenty of staff here who will take care of my children, and teach them the things they need to know in order to be part of the nobility. What he will need to know in order to be king, one day. But there is no one..." She trails off, and her shoulders fall.

"There is no one who will teach them to care about each other. To love each other, like you and your sister do," Gemma takes one of Violetta's hands. "I cannot have them end up the way Enzo and Giulietta did, Violetta. I cannot bear the thought of it."

Violetta's eyes widen, as she looks back at Gemma.

She has always liked children, though given her general preference for partners, she had years ago accepted the fact she would likely never have her own. 

She glances again to the babies in the bassinet. "I have never taken care of young children before," she says.

"There will be, like Gemma said, staff here to do the work of caring for them constantly. We only want you to teach them," Raffaele gives her a serious and sincere look. "To help them be more like you."

Violetta almost blushes, and averts her eyes for a moment.

"A teacher, then?" she asks.

He nods. "Much like one. They will likely not be old enough for it for a few years, but-"

"We want to teach them to care about each other more than their own ambitions," Gemma interjects. "Will you help us?"

Violetta looks between her friends' worried expressions, then back to the babies one more time.

Nobody taught Violetta and Adelina to love each other. She cannot imagine ever feeling any differently, towards her sister. She would trade her life for hers, and she thinks Adelina might do the same. It seems at the same time ridiculous and deeply sad to imagine these children growing up to want to hurt each other, to be like the king and his sister.

Though, they will be 'the king and his sister', one day.

Violetta looks back up at Gemma and Raffaele, and smiles.

"I would love to try," she says. "It sounds delightful."

***

16 Maggio, 1368

City of Hadenbury

Northern Beldain

The Skylands

Maeve Jacqueline Kelly Corrigan

"You're my favorite Auntie."

Maeve lets out a lilting laugh. "Am I not your only Auntie?"

"No! Momma has two sisters!" Kelly says, as her father scoops her up from behind, perhaps to stop her from finishing her train of thought, to no success. "You're better than both of them!" Kelly continues, giggling uncontrollably.

"Honesty," Lucent says, watching the scene with an amused smile. "A good trait for a ruler."

"Or perhaps only a people-pleaser," Augustine says, holding his daughter up in the air, and making her giggle even more.

"Do not antagonize my heir on her birthday, Augustine," Maeve says, taking Kelly from her brother's arms.

"Put me down!" Kelly says, tugging on Maeve's hands, seemingly less content to be held by her Aunt then by her father. Maeve laughs.

"As you wish, Your Royal Highness," she says, gently lowering her to the ground.

Augustine sighs and shakes his head. "You gave her the throne of our entire country. Catriona's family just cannot compete."

The three of them laugh, before Lucent squats down to Kelly's level and ruffles her dark blond curls.

"Our Kelly Imogen Aisling, already five years old," she says. "Next thing we know you'll be all grown up and ruling Beldain. Maeve had better watch herself."

Maeve and Augustine laugh again at that.

Kelly, though, puts on her serious expression, looking at Lucent.

She leans in toward Lucent's ear, then says in a whisper-voice that can very easily be heard, "Will you do the winds again?"

Lucent's shoulders fall. She hesitates, looking into the princess's hopeful eyes.

"I've told you, the gods won't let me do that anymore," she says.

"Please," Kelly says, putting on her best pleading face, "It's my birthday!"

The three of them pause uncomfortably for a moment. Kelly had just been old enough to remember their powers before they had been lost, and they have had little success explaining to her that they are now gone.

Lucent opens her mouth to speak again, and is spitting out her red curls moments later as a powerful gust of wind blows them into her face.

The entire gardens around them shake, as a sudden wind blows snow and ice from the surrounding trees and bushes.

Kelly squeals and claps her hands, bouncing up and down on her heals. Maeve and Augustine look at Lucent questioningly, and she shrugs, a surprised smile forming on her face.

Luck? she mouths, and Augustine nods, beginning to smile too.

Maeve remembers a day long past, on a divine pathway belonging to Beldain's goddess, a sudden breeze that had overcome them when Lucent was decidedly already occupied. She glances up to the sky, imagining she can see through the blue to Fortuna's domain.

Maeve smiles, too.

***

02 Vembier, 1368

City of Alamour

Northern Tamoura

The Sunlands

Adelina Amouteru

"My mother loved the stars."

I feel Magiano nod, my head resting against his neck. "They are glorious, tonight."

I exhale slowly, staring at the lights dotting the dark blue sky and reflected on the water.

We sit on the pier of Alamour's currently-abandoned shipyard, no one but us out here in the dead of night. It will be our last night in our city for a while, and I find myself missing it already. We have been staying here with The Alchemist- or, just Marjani, now that our powers have left us- and more than anywhere besides the Ember Isles, Tamoura's capital has begun to feel like a home.

It has always felt like home, in a way, I think. Ever since I sat down here, before a mirror, wearing my pink and silver silks, and recited vows that bind me to the man I sit beside now.

We will be heading north again in a few short hours to prepare my sister for quite the same thing, I remember, and the thought fills me with joy. Violetta and I have regularly exchanged letters over the last year, but I will still be so glad to see her again, face-to-face.

I imagine our mother, a girl younger than I am now, staring up at these same stars, on this same pier. The image feels right, in my mind. It feels good.

“Did she have a favorite?” Magiano asks, staring up at the sky with me, softly carding his fingers through my hair. I have always loved it when when he does this, and I love it now.

“Compasia’s Swan,” I raise my hand to point, but frown. I cannot find the cluster of stars among all the others, oddly. They should be clear as day here in Tamoura, this time of year.

“It is Violetta’s favorite too,” I continue, giving up on trying to find the bird’s outline.

Magiano nods, again, smiling. “The lovers who would walk the earth eternally, rather than be apart,” he says.

I lift my head and nod. “I think I can relate,” I grin, “My love.”

He smiles wider, and kisses me. We remain like this, lofty and enveloped in each other, for what feels like several minutes, before we finally pull back for breath.

“I can only hope,” I say quietly, “My sister has found herself someone who will make her as happy as you make me.”

Magiano’s dark eyes sparkle, and the love in them makes heart glow. “Kamaria is a good person,” he says, “They are already so happy together. I have faith that with time that happiness will only grow.”

I smile at him.

“If we are any indication,” I whisper, before I kiss him again.

It has been so long, now. Since we met in the Inquisition’s dungeons, since we had our first kiss, in the starlight filtered through Sergio’s windows. More than seven years.

So much has changed, between now and those fleeting moments. One thing, though, never will.

My eye opens briefly, as we kiss, long enough for me to catch a glimpse of light in the distance. I almost think it is a ship pulling in, and I pull away in order to warn Magiano we should probably move, before looking twice.

The light is a person walking on the water, glowing with silver and starlight. I cannot discern their gender from all the way out here, but I can guess, by the one walking beside them.

An equally iridescent woman, opalescent colors fanning out around her in what could be a dress, or wings, or fins, or all of these things. 

I have seen her once before, and I did not expect to see her ever again. The memory of the angel’s voice rings out in my head-

I do it almost every night.

“Adelina?” Magiano asks, turning to look where I am looking.

As we watch, the angel of Empathy takes her lover's hand, and one of the lights on her face that must represent her eye winks out.

Then it comes back, and Compasia and Eratosthenes dissolve into stardust that rises back up toward the heavens.

At the same time they fade from sight, the first ray of dawn crests over the horizon, and the night's sky begins shifting from blue to gold.