A sudden stinging sensation caught her attention. Her cheeks heated ever so slightly as red light filled her shut eyes. They opened the nearby window. A bright ball of golden light burned on the horizon. The sky had against the shades of orange and pink popping through a sea of clouds. Anemone looked back towards Aronia and then at the window again.

  “I feel like trash…. Did that scare last the whole night?”

  Everything had happened so fast that time had escaped her. It was as if sleep had run away from her. Anemone headed over to check on Aronia. There was sweat on her brow, but Aronia was not thrashing about. If anything, even the natural scowl on her face was gone. Anemone reached for a towel out of a bowl of still near the bed. Slowly, she wiped the sweat away.

  “Is this really all I have to look forward to?” Anemone whispered.

  An unsettling sensation grew in her gut, and she bit her lip.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Nin… you can’t think like that.”

  Anemone quickly shuffled back towards Aronia’s desk. As she leaned into the table, Anemone shut her eyes for a moment. Dawn was on the horizon, and it tugged at her nerves. It repeatedly whispered the labors of her day. Anemone dragged her feet towards the bookshelf and reached for her grimoire. With half-closed eyes, she sat back down at the desk. On the desk were sketches of unique specimens. There are oversized insecta reports with detailed notes about strange migration patterns. Instead of reading them, Anemone stacked the notes and drawings together. Then she gently placed them on the side. As the sun disappeared behind clouds again, she turned on a Vulcan lumenopal lamp.

  She chanted, “Grimoire-Ars: 1st Tier: Acquire: Lost Historia- (Pg. 21)”

  A light shone, and the grimoire’s pages flashed open. On top of the grimoire, another book appeared. Before the day swept her away, Anemone wanted another peek at this book. A book stolen by that Denizen. The golden light she saw on Aron made her think of him.

  “L’wah, huh? That Denizen was a slippery criminal… I can’t believe he stole this.” Anemone whispered.

  Her finger absently slid along the spine of the book before her. Soon, Anemone could only think of those golden flames L’wah had used on that day. A small flame lit within her from seeing something uncommon. Green, pink, red, and blue. There were multiple Vulcan-Ars with different-colored flames. Each had different attributes. But gold? That she had never seen. They were as mysterious as the black embers in her dreams. Unlike the black flames that left her with emptiness, the golden one had a strange calming sensation.

  From his shaggy woolen hair to his mysterious gray eyes. Everything about him was strange. He wasn’t strapped in armor or fresh garbs. No, there were burns on one of the long sleeves of his shirt and pants. His weathered clothes, soiled in dirt and cut all over, made him look like a pauper. However, it was his eyes that said so much. They were weathered, sullen. Only his voice had some life. The thought made her nose wrinkle as she crossed her arms. His demeanor was almost like that of Spriggan once he had had one too many brews. As if he had lost something irreplaceable.

  “He could give the undead a run for their money. Yet his introduction was a faceplant flat into the ground—how lame….”

  Nonetheless, his ability to block her every strike had to mean he was more capable than he let on. Anemone began tapping her finger.

  “I bet he wasn’t even a real Denizen. Just a round-eared elven nobody messing with Acaulis.” Anemone mocked. “GOOD! That Albionian royal’d and spoiled prick deserves it.”

  After she saw the encounter between Acaulis and L’wah, a wide grin grew across her face. Anyone who messed with Acaulis was someone Anemone could not hate. Afterall Acaulis was jerk to anyone—especially non-Elven Aos-Si. As a prince, Acaulis had more power than most around him, and he flaunted it.

  “The Lost Historia…a tome with an actual Anathema-Ars on it. I wonder why someone would place a curse on this.”

  There were many books in Tir-no Nog’s collection. Especially those hidden by the Council of Nine. The fact L’wah had stolen such a read and removed the curse from it was almost sheer luck. Anemone would never have gotten such an opportunity. Although she had planned to return the book, she never did. Something deep inside made her keep it without telling anyone but Aronia. Such a find would never fall at her feet ever again. She had to do something about it. Anemone skimmed her fingers across the pockmarked pages.

  “Pre-Aos-Si Nyctography… words made from holes punched into pages.” Anemone mocked, “It’s such a hassle to translate!”

  She continued laboriously translating as the thought of seeing him bogged her thoughts. Pre-Aos-Si Nyctography was dead, and no one had taught it in centuries. It proved to be a hassle finding books about translations. And with most of her days tending to tasks and repairs for the Kingdom, Anemone had translated little. If L’wah understood such an old book, that meant something. Even if he was a fraud, most adept historians would not read Pre-Aos-Si Nyctography willingly. Most of the literature of that era sat and collected dust.

  “Leave it to Tir-noNog’s old archives to have a language as old as time.” Anemone sighed.

  She began tapping her foot under the desk. After a few moments, Anemone reached for another book on the bookshelf near her. The title read “A Fool’s Guide to Pre-Aos-Si Nyctography and Lexicon, 5th edition.” Words jumped out of the book into her eyes, scanning the page line by line. Every sentence is registered at a simple pace. Alphabet similarities popped up along with the rules of grammar and syntax. Each page added more context, but sometimes she had to read a couple of examples and passages twice. She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with slumped shoulders.

  “How are there four other versions of this?” she groaned.

  “Nin, are you still trying to decode that old thing?” Aronia grumbled.

  Anemone almost jumped out of her seat. As she turned around, Aronia leered at her in a half-dead state.

  “Yeah, I can’t help it. Ever since that day, I’ve wanted to know more.”

  “I’d say, give it a rest.” Aronia sluggishly waved.

  Anemone rested her arm on the table and leaned her chin into her hand, side-eyeing Aronia.

  “And I would say you should be resting. Stay down. I’ll tell our CO what happened. Hibernica will write a note.”

  “You had just bought me those sheets too…” Aronia sighed.

  “Don’t worry about it. At least your bedding has some heat resistance. I’ll just buy more.” Anemone smiled weakly.

  Aronia paused before she spoke. “I can’t believe I’m so frail.”

  “Aronia, nowadays, everyone with Vulcan-Od experiences Heat-Haze. Relax.”

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  “Easy for yoo to say. You don’t—”

  Aronia’s muscles spasmed, and her bones cracked, making her stop talking. As she became Aron again, his head turned away. The room was quiet as it had been before Aron woke up. Not even the wind whispered. Only the sound of Anemone turning pages and her heart yelling in her ear spoke in the echoing silence. Anemone retrieved another book from the shelf. On with translations between nyctography, aos-si, and faeish. Though she translated most letters, the grammar seemed strange. Anemone ran her fingers through her hair, scratching her head. She wanted to pull her hair out. But it was not thanks to this tedious task. As frustrating as it was, it made her blood rush. She was thinking about the day her mother had left. That day, Aronia had told Anemone to talk to Titania. The day before, she left Tir-noNog yet again.

  Much like Baccata and Hibernica being on bad terms, so were Anemone and Titania. Anemone knew Aron was right; she did not know how much time she had left. Between both Aron and Titania. Aron was functionally suffering, and Titania could never sit still. A frown formed at the thought of their lives being disconnected. As much as she wanted to admit it, staying in Tir-noNog was the only way she could see any of them. The attack certified that danger was always looming. But the forest kept everyone reasonably safe. Safe enough for Aron to fight off the Heat-haze. Safe enough to see Titania for however long she stayed behind Tir-noNog’s barriers.

  Even though Titania was a boomerang and Aron was not interested in leaving Tir-noNog, she loved them both. And leaving them behind made her heart stop. Anemone hung her head and sighed.

  “Let’s not talk about this…”

  The sun blushed on the horizon with pink, almost pulling Anemone’s attention. Anemone ignored the light that beamed from the window. Her hand scribbled as much as she could with quiet’s chokehold on the air. Even the scribbles of her own writing bothered her. As a distraction from her thoughts and what had happened, she focused on translating. Unfortunately, the text now looked like mush. Her eyes began swelling, and her nostrils dripped. Anemone jumped up, and she reached for her bag next to Aron’s desk and wiped her face.

  “Nin, I’m sorry about the other day,” Aron called out.

  “What do you mean?” She inhaled.

  “I dinnae mean to scare you… I just kno I’m on limited time. I dinnae want you two to stay like them.”

  A heavy groan left Anemone. It did not matter. Afterall, Anemone and Titania were seldom on the same page. Despite Titania giving her an invitation to talk later, she was gone, as usual. Only a day later, and the queen of Tir-noNog already had more pressing issues.

  Anemone rose to her feet and sat at the edge of the bed.

  “So, you heard Hi and Baccata fighting again?” she questioned.

  “I dinnae need to. I kno they cannae stand each other. And yoo kno Mum is stuck bein’ the High Priestess… and junk.” Aron groaned.

  Anemone comfortingly placed her left hand on Aron’s hand, gently gripping it. Heat rushed into her hands; she still felt a lingering burn from the heat-haze. Her shoulders tightened, and there was hesitation in Aron’s voice that Anemone had never heard before.

  “I need you to make up with her—with Titania… before it’s too late. I kno she’s queen and all, but just like me she could—”

  “—It’s fine.” Anemone interrupted Aron. “Really. Just get better. We can talk later.”

  Aron sat up.

  “Nin. Don’t—”

  “Don’t worry. There's still time. You’ll be fine, and she’ll come back as always and ditch me.” Anemone smiled weakly. “Rest up. You are not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah. I guess yer right.” Aron sighed.

  “I’ll be at the nursery over in the Third District, okay? I’ll see Florentina when I pass back through the First District.”

  “Near Willowbrow’s? Muspell that’s near the river! Guess yer not going for a wee dander.”

  “Not at all a stroll! I’ll be fine.” Anemone leaned back. “Strange dreams aside, and you cooking those sheets… I’m fine.”

  Aron rubbed the back of his neck with a weary laugh.

  “Going to Mum’s for your dream, aye? Tell her I said, ‘Come home’. Those two need her.”

  “I’ll let Florentina know.”

  Anemone let go of Aron’s hand and turned away. Before she could get up, he grabbed her hand again. Staying seated, Anemone looked back with a pinched expression.

  “Nin…be careful. The Gallu-utukku are relentless.” Aron’s brow wrinkled as he stared deeply into Anemone’s eyes. “After seeing what happened to the Fourth District…I don’t want you—”

  Anemone interrupted, “—I know, and you worry too much. I killed a gallu-lycan after all.”

  “You said Rubus helped you.”

  A deep huff of air left her lips with a twitch in her brow. “That doesn’t matter now. I’ll be fine; you need to rest, not worry.”

  Anemone shook her head and took a deep breath. She leaned towards Aron. They gently pressed each other’s foreheads together. Anemone a tingle in her nose, almost made her pullback. She wanted to say more, but all she could feel was a lump in her throat. Anemone placed her right hand on Aron’s birthmark. The feeling of his heartbeat throbbed in her hand as she pressed her forehead to his. Every time the beat stopped, her heart sank. They had not gotten the time to talk about what had happened that day on the hill. Time had escaped them thanks to all the repairs needed for the city, and she continued to delay this conversation from happening.

  “I hope Clausa treats you well.”

  Her hands trembled as she let go of him, and she stumbled to a stand. She did not have the emotional wherewithal to manage that conversation either. Forgetting about it and moving forward proved to be far more manageable. Even though she wanted the Trials to come, she did not know what was next. Sure, Titania had planned to send her to Albion, but that might still be up in the air. Especially with her roaming somewhere only the heavens knew. Being betrothed to Clausa would only end if she died in her excursion—a harrowing thought. Regardless of the outcome, she had no choice. In three days, they would finally restart the Trials, and she would face her fate. Be whatever may come.

  “Why did you have to remind me…”

  “I’m sorry it slipped.”

  Anemone almost choked on her spit. Silent, shallow breaths filled her lungs, and her blood boiled. The subtle shakes of her hand began to grow violent. Even balling up her fist could not calm the sheathing rage that arose. Anemone pressed her face into one of her hands.

  “Why is everything a daft circumstance…”

  “Nin—I’m sorry.”

  “It's not just you!” Anemone huffed. “My mother, Spriggan, that daft arranged marriage for a DAFT treaty! MY LIFE! Every daft thing!”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Aron mumbled.

  “There’s nothing you can say. I know I already sound like a dramatic princess—BUT DAMN!” Anemone yelled. “I’m not an object to be traded. What happens when he learns his fair maiden isn’t a pure MAIDEN!”

  “Everyone knows fae are free lovers. Don’t wurry.” Said Aron

  Anemone groaned, “You’re missing the point.”

  Anemone threw her hands up and walked towards the door. She placed her hand on the wall hanging her head on the wall. Every breath made her shoulder drop lower to the ground. The weight of her body almost made her buckle. It took a moment for her to gather her thoughts. When her body finally calmed down, she turned to face Aron. Both locked eyes, and Aron shrugged his shoulders. Anemone rolled her eyes.

  Clausa was Albion’s upcoming royal selectee. Better brother, to Acaulis and a handsome elf by many standards. His face was broad and angular. The body was rock solid, especially the toned legs. Unlike Aronia, or Aron, who was far leaner. And every time she thought about Clausa’s bodies against hers, she only thought about how heavy they would feel. It was a burden she wanted nothing to do with. More than likely, Titania wanted her to secure her place among the political class of Albion. However, Tir-noNog was already more than enough for Anemone. Just the thought of ruling “support” to someone who would become a king made her gag. If she had to rule anything, it should have been her home! Not being the second fiddle to someone else’s kingdom.

  “His bakery is great, but he’s built like a brick house.” Anemone laughed.

  Aron smirked, “Not a fan of avalanches?”

  “No. I don’t even enjoy spelunking.” Anemone snickered.

  “Oh, but that’s mandatory for the trials. How else may you come to claim your honor?” Aron smiled.

  “Your timing for flirting is horrible.”

  “But you smiled.”

  Anemone let out a weak smile and saw Aron grinning. The whole point of taking the Accolade Trials was to get freedom and prove her worth. Joining the Arbor Magna would have allowed her to escape Tir-noNog. However, Titania had removed that option from her life. Anemone could not imagine why. Titania had ruled Tir-noNog for at least a century herself. Unlike her grandparents, known as a dynamic duo, Titania was a lone ruler. Anemone only ever tried to be as strong as her, but it was for naught. Anemone shook her head.

  “Aren’t you afraid of losing me?”

  Aron froze. “Of course, I am. But you’re a princess… I’m a holy priestess.”

  “Albion gets to strong-arm everyone, and I’m the bargaining chip… yeah. Sounds great.”

  “Do ya want TirNog to disappear like Albrecht?”

  “Of course I don’t— I want…!”

  Although Anemone understood what her duty was to her people, she had her own desires. Her blood ran cold. Albion had decimated the Dwarven Kingdom with some kind of energy beam. The arsenal they had was so astounding that it could leave an entire kingdom in ruin from hundreds of miles away. No one ever said why, but there were all kinds of speculations. The recent Gallu-Utukku attack on Tir-noNog gave her chills. However, Albion could easily do worse. Anemone returned the literature to her grimoire and shuddered. She didn’t let the worry stop her from getting ready and leaving.

  “Rest up. I must go rebuild my kingdom.”

  Anemone grabbed her grimoire, strapping it to her hip. Then she jetted down the stairs and out the door. Unable to even look back.