Back in the palace, the Ladies and Princesses were waiting in the East Courtyard, talking amongst themselves about what they saw in the dining room. Corrine, the Virgin Mage, was explaining to Lady Violet and Princess Paloma the workings of Conjuring magic. How one could easily identify a Conjuring by its white eyes and the marking of a Virgin Mage on their tongue.

  “Shioban couldn’t have been a Conjuring. She bears no runes of my sisters.” She explained to them.

  Sitting directly across them were Olara and Dara. The twins had been whispering amongst each other ever since they were led to the courtyard.

  Inside, the room was suffocating cold with the air having a slight icy bite to it. After several complaints by Dara, a young servant by the name of Milla had been fetched to prepare a fire under the open ceiling where Princess Lyn had been sitting. The young princess was enamored with the night sky as the stars were burning bright and slowly falling, preparing for the Flower Summit.

  “We have to speak to her.” Dara whispered to her sister.

  Olara rolled her eyes. “We shouldn’t bother Mother.”

  Dara aggressively grabbed her sister’s right hand. “This changes everything.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Dara squeezed her sister's hand tightly, causing Olara to bite her inner cheek. “Shioban’s disappearance has plagued Mother for over 40 years, Olara.”

  Olara snatched her hand back. “You’ve heard Mother. Skyra’s staff was always believed to have played a part.”

  “Yet, we still don’t know how or where it is.”

  Dara suddenly stood and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. Olara followed suit.

  “Shioban looked just like I last saw her, Olara.” Dara began, then motioned her head in the direction of Corrine. “The Conjurer says it’s not a Conjuring. Stefan was clearly surprised, so it couldn't have been him.”

  “Mesyla?”

  Dara grabbed her sister by the shoulders. “Why would Mesyla play a trick on Stefan?”

  “Workings of Nirean magic?”

  Dara shook her head. “I doubt it. Most of the Nirean witches were slaughtered in the Black War.”

  “Shifters?”

  Dara thought to herself for a moment. “What would be the reason?”

  “Shifters lost a lot in the war.” Olara answered. The taller twin suddenly felt a pair of eyes on her. She whipped her head in the direction of Princess Lyn, who quickly averted her eyes.

  “We shouldn’t talk here.” Olara said quickly. “A Princess of Truth.”

  Dara brushed her sister’s concerns off. “She has no power but the power of song.”

  “Are we sure it wasn’t our sister?”

  “Azeri?” Dara shook her head. “It can’t be. She wouldn’t come here without telling us.”

  “And our brothers?”

  Dara let out a huge sigh. “Don’t you see, Olara?”

  Olara tilted her head. “What?”

  “You have to speak to Mother.”

  ***

  After conceding, Dara went back to their room with Olara not far behind. Alone, she nicked her index finger with a tiny pin and placed it on the floor. A glowing door slowly emerged with the wooden floor turning into steel. Around its edges, the light of flames radiated. Dara’s skin began to peel as the door solidified, revealing her true form. Mostly bones.

  After it was completed, Dara was joined by her sister.

  “It’s me.” Olara said quietly, squeezing between the doorway.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Dara responded, before opening the door.

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  The room was suddenly filled with the warm, sweet scent of caramel and apples.

  “Anything else I should mention to Mother?”

  Olara shook her head.

  Dara nodded, then jumped backwards into the skies of Villam. The Realm of Fate.

  Olara immediately closed the door behind her and stood to the side of it.

  She stood in silence until two knocks on the main door startled her.

  Olara brushed her hair out of her face and took a deep breath before answering it.

  When she opened it, she was surprised to see who was on the other side.

  Lord Flip.

  He was wearing unusual attire, a floral crown and white robe. “May I come in?”

  Olara narrowed her eyes before stepping to the side.

  She knew she could take him if he tried anything.

  “May I ask what brings you here, Lord Flip?”

  Lord Flip took a seat on the edge of one of the beds.

  “Who are you?” He asked bluntly.

  Olara, taken aback, folded her arms across her chest. “I’m Olara. Who are you?”

  “My apologies.” He responded quickly. “I mean to ask. What are you?”

  Olara quickly placed an arm behind her back where a dagger immediately appeared. “I’m not understanding. Is this part of the courting?

  “I can see your face.” He revealed slowly, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

  Suddenly Olara had Lord Flip against the wall with the dagger against his throat. “You’re not Lord Flip, are you?”

  The man kept smiling. “Drop the dagger.”

  Olara laughed. “No.”

  “Drop the dagger.” He said again, much slower this time.

  Olara kept laughing until she realized the dagger was indeed no longer in her hands.

  Olara placed a hand around the man’s throat. “Who are you?”

  “You will remove your hand.”

  Against her will, Olara removed her hand, her hand shook as it did.

  Olara stumbled backwards.

  “Let’s start over.” The man said, no longer smiling. “Today, and for as long as I can muster, I am Lord Flip. The king’s best friend. Now, who are you?”

  “Like I said, I’m Olara.”

  The man’s shoulders slumped. “I wish you wouldn’t lie. I can see your true self beneath. Your….peculiarities. ”

  Olara took a step back.

  “You are older than my memory can reach. You are not a shifter nor Judgement. Are you this so-called, Azeri?”

  Olara clenched her jaw. The man noticed.

  “Are you Azeri?” He asked again.

  “I can snap you in half and no one would ever find your body, do you know that?” Olara said instead, no teasing in her voice. “You are right. I am old.”

  The man’s eyes flared green as he began walking towards Olara.

  With each step, Olara took a step backwards until she was backed against the wall.

  The man’s eyes roamed Olara’s true face. Sagging skin and bulging, black eyes.

  “Tell me who y-”

  Before he could finish, a noise from the door on the floor could be heard.

  The man looked at it before turning back to Olara.

  “Abey Dey.” Forget me.

  The man stepped away and quickly exited the room.

  When Dara emerged from the other side of the door, Olara was still standing against the wall.

  “MALADA!” She shouted. Olara’s true name.

  “MALADA!” She shouted again.

  Malada’s lips slightly parted before she came back to reality.

  “Plaguela, what did I say about names?” Malada shouted back.

  Plaguela put a hand on her hip. “You just called me Plaguela.”

  Malada took a long look at her sister. Her skin was falling off her bones and her long, curved claws were visible. “Enough. What did Mother say?”

  Plaguela revealed a bag she was holding behind her back. “She sends gifts. Why were you standing against the wall?”

  Malada met her sister at the door. “I don’t remember. What’s in the bag?”

  “Food.” She said, smiling.

  “Really?” Malada prayed it was the skin of a fox.

  “Of course not.” Plaguela laughed. “There are relics inside. She knows about Shioban.”

  Malada took a seat on the bed. “And?”

  Plaguela began rummaging through the bag until she found a Dianne Neckband and handed it to her sister.

  “Mother says it is indeed Shioban. She still bears the markings of Skyra.”

  Malada nodded. “Okay.”

  “Mother also says she doesn’t know how its Shioban.”

  “Is it her sister?”

  Plaguela shook her head. “Mother says Skyra has not returned nor the others.”

  “What does this mean?”

  “She also says her sister may have had a little trick up her sleeve before she left.”

  “I’m not understanding.”

  Plaguela took a seat next to her sister. “Mother believes Skyra’s staff wasn’t just capable of releasing oceans of water in this realm.”

  “What does she think?”

  “Mother believes it was also capable of letting things leave.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why Shioban looks as if decades have not passed.”

  Plaguela shrugged her shoulders. “I know. That’s why Mother wants us to go ahead with the plan earlier than planned.”

  Malada quickly raised her head. “Is she sure?”

  “Mother says it’s the perfect time.” Plaguela stood from the bed and extended a hand out towards her sister.

  Malada slowly took it.

  “You remember the words, don’t you sister?” Plaguela said, voice shaky.

  “It’s been a long time since we did this.” Malada answered, returning a smile.

  Plaguela patted the neckband around Malada’s neckband. It was a restoration neckband. She was going to need it after this.

  “Where’s yours?” Malada asked.

  Plaguela lifted her dress with her free hand, revealing a lacy band around her ankle. “Are you ready?”

  Malada nodded, then grabbed her sister’s free hand.

  Plaguela gave it a gentle squeeze in return.

  “Daughters of Fatiana.” Malada recited loudly, the beginning of a spell that was going to drain them both.

  The mounted torches immediately flickered.

  “Daughters of Kaolin.” Plaguela added.

  “In Sickness.” Malada continued, as her skin was slowly beginning to peel. “In suffering.”

  A thread of black magic began pouring out of them both, slowly drifting towards the lone open window in the room.

  “With the power of I, Malada, Entity of Maladies.”

  The chandelier in the center of the room began to sway.

  “With the power of I, Plaguela, Entity of Plagues.”

  More magic began pouring out of them.

  “Vorum Sdre, Lyke edra, Pilera.”

  Malada’s legs began to feel weak.

  “May Bones and Graves follow in our footsteps.” Malada chanted loudly. “We summon Pestilence.”

  Plaguela and Malada both fell to their knees.

  After a long moment in silence, the door suddenly swung open, revealing Prince Mel on the other side.