Nearly a year passed and the month of the Gray Monarch approached as the verdant green, peach pink and vibrant rose red tints of the day faded, morose shades took their places. The flowers planted under Aurelithae’s window assumed shades favored by Mhaugreus, the Caretaker of Souls. Lotus Roses brought from the far east blossomed in nightly purples, clam shaped petals of frangipanis–the much-loved flower of her mother–bore a mingling of blue and gray like the robes of the sullen monarch of the dead.

  Their sweet, cloying fragrance swiveled up into her room, soothed her melancholic mind as her soul instinctively cleansed out the remnants of outer mana from the branching, anima veins and nine arkhaine points. The searing pain of her muscles lessened after the fourth hour passed since the long training day with Drussaev and Albrion. Akaerith and Marciemar–a kingly handmaiden of golden complexion, onyx black silky hair–opened the windows, fetched her new robes before liberating her from the high-collared burgundy red shirt, the thick buttery smooth vest and the layered skirt fluttering around her wiry, toned legs.

  Then they ceased completely as the long gown of a lavender shade–edges thinly embossed with silver branches slithering along the stitching, sprouting branches blossoming the star circled Lunarius–kissed her body with its cold, smooth lips. “Are you excited, little dragon?

  At Aurelithae’s thoughts, her smile widened as she watched proudly the gown fitting itself onto Aurelithae’s honed form after the diagonal button line closed up to her chest line, collars stiffly standing, circling around her pale white neck covered in the prismatic scales.

  “Better be. It is a rare occasion he willingly answers summons. In a way he is like your dear father, desiring his neophytes find their own ways, with little assistance of course.

  All this stirred her curiosity towards whom they called Grimslaukh, the Pallid Messenger. According to the little the two willingly parted onto her, Grimslaukh served as the right hand of the Nightscale, an advisor of sorts within the Host. Though he frequented the lands beyond Dhaugruz more than the elder dragon, spreading the gospel of Night in the dark alleys, sowing the seeds of Night and Change.

  Including the rebellion of the atoning from seven hundred years before. A mild surprise to Aurelithae, as she expected another schemer of Dusk behind galvanizing the descendants of the kingdoms under the Twilight’s fallen monarch.

  I may even add, He may have been the tip that swung the pendulum towards the Night’s Triumph during the battle of Dawn and Dusk.

  Aurelithae still remembered the empty gaze, bereft of warmth and cold, staring at her from the rows of faces in the main ceremonial hall of the Grand Cathedral. A being of such power who could tip the primordial intelligences scale, to grant the opportunity of the oppressed that they could triumph during the Golden Years of the Empire enforced by those who lived through the War of the Siblings, strengthened by the whole ordeal and many even died during those few decades. Yet he lacked foresight that Dumath would foolishly try to pursue their own goals.

  The thought broke at the gasps of her handmaidens who quickly rested their hands on their laps, their hands slumped down in reverence when Terrianis manifested out of nothing right in the center of the room. His eyes projected power as the all the colors and their myriad shades swirled in the small orbs slit at their centers, yet Aurelithae could see exhaustion within them. There was a shadow draping over him, only a few close to him could see or feel. “Could you leave us be for a moment. I...” He stopped for a mere instant. “We wish to speak with our dearest daughter. You can all even return to your rooms.” They all bowed wordless, then left–though Akaerith turned shortly and bid a silent farewell towards Aurelithae before she shut the door with care.

  “What do you wish to speak about father?” She asked calmly, her tone masking her slight unease with mild childish excitement. “Though I hope you aren’t here to tuck me in bed. I am old enough to do so myself.” He chuckled a bit, as he seemed to ease a bit.

  “No such thing. You are a fine dragon already. We simply wish to ask whether you heeded our words in regards of your former ventures.” The unease strengthened in her heart, but Aurelithae managed to hold her mask.

  “I have.” Though she altered her play a bit, adding a hint of solemnity into her respectful tone. “There is nothing to return to there, I fear. But if you don’t mind dear father, what brought the question?” She asked, slightly tilting her head up to meet his remorseful gaze.

  “There was a little incident not too long ago.” He began, but relapsed abruptly into silence, his gaze turned towards the stretching shadows as night began to approach. “But it is our problem, that shall be solved soon. Just focus on your studies.” With that he vanished before she could reply.

  *****

  A smoldering mark arose, the stench of burned textile and flesh seared her nostrils, filling her with disgust yet at the shook lightly from the thrill. Aurelithae could still recall the horror she first felt during her fist kill–the drunkard Custodian whose remains got mopped up as far as she heard from Albrion a bit later. Now another custodian–equally as avaricious as that–laid before her feet, in a dark alley, and for a while ruminated whether the disgust was caused by the smell or by the feeling of his groping hands upon her bosom.

  Typhaon crawled onwards her shoulders, her newly gifted claws hard as diamonds, yet not too harsh to tear the soft, lightweight textile of a deep bluish black, and opened his little maw. Upon the silent cry that left its cracked lips the shadow crept along the walls, and like ravenous locusts began to devour the golden plates, the silky breeches and tunic and the flesh beneath. A certain curiosity aimed towards the macabre laws of nature imposed upon the flesh and consumption of it brimmed in her scarlet eyes, watching as the layers of a mortal vessel gradually vanished in the etheric stomach of the shadows until none left to look at.

  “Good boy.” Aurelithae grew fond of the queer creature, like her a quasi higher being, yet not quite as Dumath pointed out. A fellow grafted in the world, though she saw Typhaon as pet, nothing more, nothing less. Compared to Isocrates, the creature proved to be a greater aid in a sense. Mainly in cleaning up the corpses after each of her current tasks.

  As Aurelithae turned towards the streets, Typhaon buried himself into her vessel’s shoulders. For a moment she halted her thoughts as the creature crawled in the folds of the body, until it reached the stomach–its preferred abode to rest after a hearty meal. Aurelithae still not grew fully used to the tickling feeling as his body brushed against the organs and intestines, still she was glad the process came with no sense of pain.

  Walking along the lit streets quite busy as The Harrowing began to somewhat fade from the memories of the plebeian, Aurelithae pondered on his father who still evaded her, yet still felt the distant gaze upon her nape. She regretted not on formulating a better plan on slipping it out from the cathedral. Could have left some trail, leave breadcrumbs pointing at his enemies in the far north. Now she could do nothing more than pray the murders of a few nobilos around the city, and the theft of the scroll would occupy Terrianis’s thoughts. Likewise with the others, though she held little hope regarding them.

  Sussuovar, she trusted not just like Albrion who himself was preoccupied with other, equally dire matters. Though she only met him a few times, the surreptitious elder sibling was accompanied by an aura comparable to Grimslaukh and Mirayroth. All three enigmatic in their own ways, but all three masters in veiling their true intentions. And even though she trusted the last two–foolishly she recognized the fact–her brother terrified him in subtle ways, though she could mask it. A weird feeling it was.

  On the other hand, it was easier to read Drussaev who hid his feelings not, worn them practically openly before all. A few times she did thought it was part of some play, but as she talked with Albrion, she was convinced he was a simple man of their kin. One who simply thrives to etch his name on the Annals of History, doing so with acts of kindness and ensuring the betterment of all. Just like their sister Moirstyria who was the culprit in the sculpting of his dreams and desires.

  Amidst her thoughts she arrived to the Drunken Sphinx. Upon entering, Aurelithae noticed her hands shaking, sensed the murderous thrill turn into excitement. Though she expected not every question lingering in her mind shall be answered, she still could barely contain it. Thoughts began to flow as if a dam was broken in her mind, and she felt a bit shameful of not thinking ahead in the past five days.

  But as the thoughts flowed, her head turned wildly towards her right when she noticed the citrine glint for a moment in the alley a bit further down, across the establishment. Though the girl possessed no scales, her pretty and comely face matched Calaviril’s. Aurelithae had no doubt, but left the matter to cause headaches to his brothers and sisters, and entered through the door without paying further attention.

  “Good. Have you succeeded?” Naghig asked, knowing already the answer.

  “Won’t sniff around any longer.” Aurelithae stated coldly. “How is Euthymius?” She asked then.

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  “The lad seems fine, though a bit disheartened still. Could have been a bit more eloquent. Normal even.” Naghig added with half a smile. “That is not your style, I know.” He added before Aurelithae could speak. She wasn’t sure herself, why she enjoyed using sorcery in such manner, when she possessed the golden flames which were as potent in devouring as Wildfire.

  She pondered whether it came from the draconic lineage, a manifestation of their thirst for domination in all its aspects. Or were it an effect of her soul reconstructing, incorporating parts of Dumath’s whole.

  “Is he here?” She asked.

  “Always.” Naghig answered, though this time Aurelithae wasn’t sure if the orkh jested or not.

  His gaunt visage remained over the sculpture of an aevhen maiden draped in a fine coat often worn by the nobility of Phyrgos, with lapels shaped like the segmented wings of common dragons. Her hair appeared as smoothly flowing as hers, though in a more controlled way, tucked over one shoulder as it ranged across the bust and abdomen. And a leaf crown’s tips protruded from the temples. Looking at it, she felt a bit of resemblance in the face, it followed the same diamond lines as hers, considered the shape gifted by Maerhia herself.

  “Come I lead you down.” Before she could question if Naghig started sculpting her, the orkh stopped and walked across the counter, towards the back.

  They took a longer route, one she felt were laced in spatial enchantments like many of the New Dawn’s dens, though these felt familiar, of an Authority of a Primordial being. As the path seemed long, and wishing to know a bit more, in hopes of cutting a few of the questions she had, Aurelithae broke the silence. “Do you know what he is?”

  “Of course. But Dumath probably told you a thing or two about Him.” His answer surprised her more than she expected. Sensing it, Naghig stopped and leered back at her in the dim surroundings. “Things may have proceeded chaotically, but still within the range of our expectations.” He smiled furtively down at her before shuffling back.

  “Are you an agent of Dusk?” Aurelithae asked, unsure and Naghig chuckled a little. “We are. Including Mirayroth, though I’d advise you against useless questions as those.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She felt a bit ashamed. “But did he changed after… you know, Sister perished?”

  “No, even before that, he was sent at first to assassinate her when the Nightscale sensed your sister efforts would complicate his designs. But as things went, he fell in love, and felt conflicted for a long while.” He stopped, staring ahead into the dim path. “Not anymore though.”

  Before she could ask about Naghig himself, they stopped at an empty wall. It made no sound as the stone parted, giving way into a small room, where Mirayroth awaited, his dark hair free, framing his handsome face adorned with the black scales contrasting his complexion of a pristine, snow white. Almost like her sisters from what Aurelithae recalled in the depths of her mind’s library.

  “Welcome to our humble abode, the safest in the whole city. Here we can be truthful to each other.” He bowed courtly.

  Standing on the cusp of answers, so close to seeing the grander picture of this whole affair involving her, suddenly Aurelithae found it hard to make the first steps. She inhaled the soothing air, stepped inside and curtseyed Mirayroth back.

  Her scarlet eyes focused on Mirayroth’s face, and the words of Naghig–-–repeated as whisper in her mind. Aurelithae now focused on the descriptions of Moirstyria’s companions she penned in her journal, and he resembled more of the niuvhe who accompanied her, rather than Ba’atz whom Moirstyria truly loved, a merkiin whom she rescued from slavery. Though she knew of sorcerous ways one could alter their looks, but her instincts told, Mirayroth was a proper aevhe, his soul possessed the same, strong wave length a result of their nine arkhaine points making them nearly the equals of the Aetherkiin in terms of mana control, arkhaine magnitude and spell manifestation.

  “Is there something on my face?” Noticing her gaze, Mirayroth questioned whilst seemingly gliding towards a banquet table filled with sweet bakeries and drinks. Though there were a few roasted lambs and aurochs prepared, and Aurelithae found them a bit excessive.

  “Mentioned a few things to her on our little jaunt here.” Naghig spoke up quick, sensing an awkward answer forming in her throat.

  Mirayroth sighed. “Though I am unsure, trust me, I betrayed not her in the end.” The words flown calm, his eyes focused on the pale orkh. Deep down, Aurelithae sensed the truth behind his words, noticed the hints which flashed in his eyes for a mere second. Though the notion of him being the merkiin Ba’atz reared itself.

  “That is true. He fought and protected her as our warriors surrounded them in the Veinways of Dhaugruz.” Grimslaukh stepped forth her right, manifesting from the thick darkness itself. His voice she still found equally unnerving but tempting in its velvety, deep sepulchral nature, whilst accompanied by whispers of markedly different voices. His hands rested behind his pale white and black rimmed robe, its hood pulled over revealing his clean, hairless scalp with cracks twisting across it, leaking shadows and a strange shade she seen before.

  Though Aurelithae could make out the banquet table set in the center, utter darkness encircled the whole room, even the entrance which gaped no more behind her. Grimslaukh gestured towards it, and four chairs of high quality with dim brownish frames and cushioned seating appeared on each side, two at its center, two at the edges. By the time she sat down herself, Grimslaukh who stood still, appeared opposite to her, whilst Naghig remained on the right, Mirayroth on the left.

  Overly excited, Aurelithae knew not which question to bring forth, so started filling her ivory plate with some cookies with chocolate bits, a spherical fudge of chocolate covered in rinsed coconut of the tropical eastern islands closer to the south, a pie filled with cherry jam and another with apricot, and filled her cup to the brim with a watermelon flavored juice. Naghig followed her example, though more towards the savory dishes presented like on the tables of kings. Mirayroth grabbed from each type a little, whilst Grimslaukh watched and waited, smiled a little, though contrary to his looks, it disquieted her no more.

  Aurelithae started with the dry cookies, shoved them with the eloquence of her kin, let their drought calm her a little. Two or three years ago, she would have asked about Sigi, but from their dream adventures of the past years, Aurelithae knew he was safe and content in Dhaugruz. Instead, her mind went onto the question she could not truly envision an answer to. “Why choose me? I can understand Sigi. But me, I feel it was a great gamble knowing what I know about your goals, plans.”

  “Certainly, a gamble.” Grimslaukh started with an echoing chuckle. Aurelithae could swear the darkness undulated to the sepulchral tones for a second. “But to us, you were–are–the clearest choice, whilst little Sigi we first believed would have served our goals better as dead. Initially.” A black cup of oily stone manifested in his shadow encrusted hand; he took a sip as if he needed moisture upon his parched throat. “You are the closest to Terrianis’s heart, eliminating you were a choice too, to break him, plummet him into darkness so our cause may spread like a wild anathema.” A chill snaked up her ridged spine as she continued munching on the sweets, washed down by a cup of milk sweetened a little by cinnamon. “But as with Sigi, it would have been a mistake. Your hands are meant to deliver the final blow to this Empire marching towards inevitable doom.”

  The great task lingered before Aurelithae. To plunge the dagger into the heart of his own father. One who clearly held love for her, yet she had doubts about her own feelings towards him. And though she may possess Dumath’s authority, she believed her chances grown only a little at succeeding. If she made the choice.

  “And I assure you, I and the Nightscale truly know, you shall not fail in this task.” Hearing the title, Aurelithae felt Dumath’s joy permeate through her, twinge her whole being as it became hers. Washing down the cookie with the milk, her eyes lingered on Grimslaukh, her ears sharpened to each word and whisper uttered.

  “Is that truly all, that I have been chosen for?” She asked, a doleful tint slipping into her cadence as she feared the answer. After all, they could have just waited until the Inheritance Ceremony.

  “No. But the truth is complicated, certain eventualities will reveal themselves in due time, and others would just confuse you presently.” It eased her, though she believed it not it made her more than a pawn of higher beings as evident from Dumath who manifested in her sight, though for a moment, Grimslaukh haunting dark gaze he felt on her and Herself, though as it passed, she was sure no longer if it was not just a fancy of her mind. “And I know you fear being a pawn, it is natural for those of higher birth. Broadly speaking our goal is to make you the Queen on our board in the grandest of games, the slaying of Terrianis, the Elhyrissiar is your step off the board, to become a participant like us. Besides unwinding the taut threads of Fate.”

  “To herald into a new dawn.” The words came themselves from her, and Grimslaukh lips curved wide, revealing his ivory fangs.

  “I know you came with questions a plenty, but let me impose one of mine upon you that shall answer one you fear to voice.” Aurelithae jerked her head up, wondering if he could peer into his mind. After all, prying the minds of mortals was not a privilege of Septurrion and his ilk as far as the hallowed texts of the old realms stated. “Ever wondered on the possibility of a higher being, a divine ceasing, what would follow it?” She could not answer, the years of veneration towards the One and the Eight made it impossible to even guess. A curse which drew Dumath’s ire and disappointment souring her mood.

  Soundless, Grimslaukh shifted forwards, elbows upon the table, his dark fingers interlocked. “Enlighten me, what fate befell the Grim Sovereign, the former Monarch of Twilight!”

  “He was banished by his siblings, his children and their chosen in the last battle on the Plains of Lost Names.” She answered this time without hesitation. The triumph of the Eight that be, were repeatedly hammered into Aurelithae each year since she was given life.

  “Not quite. They were all present as it was taught to you all of the Empire. The truth is, he had been slain by your grandfather, the great and valiant Primuinis in the old realm of the Teneavhei.” Aurelithae wished to retort, but the effort ceased when Dumath’s own memories becoming hers at that moment. “When the Seven and their hallowed servants descended upon the old realms, their visions of the mortal races mirrored their own. They imposed their duality upon beasts clever or not, bestowed their own preferred shapes upon them, and erased not their chaotic, primeval natures, simply given you all intelligence to keep them under control. But it is still there, awaiting the ripe moment to take the reins back once more.” Revelation slowly dawned in both set of her eyes.

  “So, when grandfather slain the Grim Sovereign, the primordial beast that is Dusk came unbound?” She asked. Grimslaukh answered in a slow, silent nod.

  “From his recklessness, a new Twilight flooded existence. Those devout to it survived, bestowed with the haven of Elhyrissian before your grandfather and his people followed.”

  “What of the aspect of Dusk, Twilight? How was it contained?” Aurelithae questioned, burning from an almost childish curiosity. It amused Him greatly.

  “The Nightscale contained it, once it took enough from the Deossos. Enough so that they can have little power in this little realm of promises and eternity.”

  “And then it was given to Dhaekenia and Mhaugreus.” Aurelithae repeated the words of Augermil, though Grimslaukh shook his head.

  “Another falsehood. They gained nothing, but the old reverence of their father.”

  “I see.” Aurelithae answered looking at Grimslaukh. At first the excitement of the correction upon the tale she heard a thousand and more times already clouded her mind, but with a little nudge realized the meaning behind the last few words. As she torn the chocolate fudge shaped into a perfect sphere, let its cherry and the little sap flood out, Aurelithae’s realization took shape upon her countenance. She turned at the two finished with their own regal grubs, both nodded in affirmation.

  Looking at them, she pondered what piece of the board they were. Pawns or some greater. But the question had to wait.

  Aurelithae looked back, the next question formed upon her tongue. “What is the true price, to be Queen, to egress from the board?”