LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II
MY MOTHER LOOKS TOWARD me with soft eyes. “No, I will stay here.” She says after I ask once more if she will be going with us to Provas.
She may have not been formally invited to Provas, but I was told in the letter I could bring anyone along with me, and because she is my mother, I will still ask out of respect.
“Do you wish to have anything to do with the royal line any longer?”
“I never wanted to be a royal at all. I led a simple life before your father, and I will continue to live a simple life now that you are where you should be.”
Axynth is closely near her as she declares her want to discard the royal line from her life completely.
Axynth has not spoken to anyone much since the death of Lorsius, outside of my mother he has only spoken to Amias. No matter how horribly Lorsius treated Axynth, I am aware that there is something to be felt on losing someone you are bonded with by the Blood Bond Ritual. My father and Axynth always tried to lead Lorsius away from the path he was going down, I can only see the guilt of failure in him as he stands before me. I recognize that guilt of failing a sibling well.
“This is up to you, ma. I will not try to convince you otherwise.”
Her history as a royal has never been a history she is honored to hold, nor is it the history she wishes to live on with. There were plenty of times my mother had to do what she did not want to . . . and there were also plenty of times she could not do what she wished to. This was never the woman I knew as a child. My mother was a carefree woman who lived simply in the world of commoners and relished in her life as one. Quick with wit and sharp tongued, that is not who I know now. This is not the woman my father fell in love with. As I ponder on who she was then, I see that she is who I get my want for freedom from. Most importantly, my freedom from the crown to lead a life of leisure.
“I still want you to feel comfortable coming to me for help.” Her hands clutch onto mine as she speaks to me. “Just because I no longer want to be in the line of royalty, does not mean I do not want you to come to me for aid in decisions.”
Smiling, I nod. “I will only come to you when needed or for urgency. I do not want to pester you too often . . . where will you stay?”
“My father’s old home,” Axynth announces. “And wherever else she wishes to go.”
My mother looks at the clock on the wall. “Oh, it is nearly time. Go find your brothers and sisters so you all arrive on Provas in a timely manner. Is the gentleman Levora brought home going with you as well? He is a nice young man.”
“He is. I will see you both when we return.” I nod to them before ascending from my mother’s old study and to the gates of the palace where everyone waits.
Phyv and Levora stand closely together next to Amias, Roaner, and Morano.
“Just how long are we to stay in Provas?” Morano asks with an arched eyebrow as he pets Nyt’s head.
Out of us all, Morano would stay home and never leave if he did not have to, in fact, he hates traveling but does so because he must. And, although he is not his dog, I am certain Morano would request that Nyt stay with him as the two of them seem to be a match made in heaven.
“As long as it takes for Stravan to tell us who is trying to conquer our land and people with a rabid mutation.”
“How does it feel to be visiting home, Phyv?” Morano asks to make conversation with the awkwardly quiet man.
Phyv shrugs. “Provas was never truly a home when I was there, it is just a nation I was born into.” He picks up Salem who stretches upward along his leg to be lifted.
“Well,” Levora begins. “We will make the best of it.”
“Why is that?” Roaner questions.
“I was born an orphan.”
“But you have a family now,” Levora takes his hand and then holds the other out to me.
Her fingers curl into mine as my brothers place their hands on my shoulders and I ascend us to the Realm of the Fae.
PROVAS CITADEL – REALM OF THE FAE
The gates to enter the main palace are large and intricately engraved white gold. If I look closely enough I can see the wings and vines encompassed with leaves, and small flowers.
We formally wait in our specific order for the guards to return from telling Stravan and Dyena of our arrival.
When I turn, I see Ivella approaching with a man I have never met nor seen before.
He is tall, extremely muscular, and their faces favor one another. His skin tone is just a shade darker than hers, and his eyes are exactly the same green.
This must be her little brother, Ira . . . well, not so little anymore.
Vaigon and Vorzantu come rushing toward me with low yelps and screeches.
Amias flinches and shouts as Vorzantu’s wing nearly touches him and he runs to be closer to Morano who stands the farthest away.
“Amias,” Morano consoles him. “They are small Dragons, they are not going to hurt you.”
“Say that to the Water Dragon that tried to swallow me whole when I was out at sea.”
Vaigon and Vorzantu settle upon my shoulders as Ivella approaches and Ira cautiously looks between us.
My brothers are already trying to ask questions through the bond, and I block them out.
Amias looks warily at the Dragons as they stare him down.
“They can sense your fear,” I laugh.
“And just exactly why do they take to you so well? Not to mention the strong resemblance between their scales and eyes to your hair and eyes.”
I do not answer them as Ivella reaches, touching the chin of Vorzantu with little caresses.
“They take to him because they chose him as their father.” Stravan announces from the opposite side of the gate that is now opening for us.
“Dragons yield the appearance of the male or female they resonate with while in the egg. And that male seems to be Laven, as for Ivella,” he smiles. “They just love their mother. It only makes sense that they chose to cling to you, Laven. You were named after the Greek God of Fire—it is only natural that this happened . . . unless there is other reasoning behind them choosing you.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and he smiles.
“Ivella,” Dyena grins, rushing toward her. “You look different,” she says as she lovingly tucks her hair behind her ears.
The tiny, sharp point above her ear lobes are revealed. The peaks of her ears are not as sharp as those of the Fae, but it is noticeable now that her hair is not covering her ears.
Dyena quietly gasps, and pulls her hair back down, quickly comprehending that no one knows of her developing Fae appearances.
Wait until they find out about her wings.
When I glance at Ira, he is still standing there stone faced without a sliver of emotion to be seen. He must know as well.
Stravan and Dyena exchange a wary glance and he gives Ivella a slight nod. His eyes meet mine before glancing away. A fair warning that he will want to speak with us alone.
“What was that?” Morano asks after witnessing the small exchange between Stravan and I.
“It may have to do with Ivella.”
“And her Fae ears?” Amias chimes in. “I knew she would pop a wing.”
Once again, I block them out.
“Phyv and Levora, correct?” Dyena warmly greets as she looks between the two standing next to each other.
“Yes,” they say in unison.
Levora shakes her hand but Phyv keeps to himself after he bows before her.
“Good to see all of you given our last interaction.” Stravan tries to lightly joke.
“Yes,” Morano sarcastically responds. “How funny of you.”
“We will dine in Du Porva Plaza.” Stravan chuckles as he speaks to us all. “There is a celebration being held in the Plaza this afternoon, but first we will show you all to your chambers, then attend.”
“What of our meeting?” Morano asks.
Stravan smiles, knowing he would ask that. “That will be held tomorrow. I would like for you all to enjoy the beauty of Provas before we talk politics and war.”
This man is completely different from the man I knew weeks ago.
He is . . . softer?
There is a quiet laugh that bursts from Amias and Morano, even Roaner has a smirk on his face. They were listening to what I said.
Vaigon and Vorzantu fly from my shoulder and to the ground. They both sit face to face with Nyt and Salem and the four of them cautiously smell one another.
“What an odd interaction.” Ivella says as she tilts her head at them.
Slowly, they seem to take to one another, but that is until Salem hisses and Morano points. “Now you see why I do not like the feline.”
“When the human world meets the immortal realms.” Dyena laughs.
“And Phyv,” Stravan addresses and Levora grasps Phyv’s arm. “Welcome home.”
* * *
Beauty is the foulest way to describe the view from the balcony of my chamber. This is impeccable. It is spoken among many how Provas in the Summer captures you. It is hard to look away from anything. The large fields that span across the horizon, spouting out the brightest poppies one could ever see. Then there are the fields that lead to waterfalls and waterfalls to oceans. Even farther out are the small villages, towns, and cities.
The part of the palace we are on has glass ceilings that can be opened if you wish, as well as a balcony that circles directly around the chambers on this floor.
Vaigon and Vorzantu still sit on my shoulders as they watch Stravan’s fully grown Dragons play in the sky. They both begin their own play in the chamber, following the exact lead of Tuduran and his brother Calypton.
Just down the hall from me is Ivella. I wonder if Stravan and Dyena did this on purpose—placing her and I on the same floor, stunning views, and putting no one else on this level of the palace with us. Even her brother was shown to a different wing of the palace below.
If Ivella were to bring anyone with her, I would have thought it to be Zevyk. The only way to know if they both are wholly finished with one another is to ask and stop wondering by searching for a ring.
We are only given the opportunity to speak with each other when something drastic happens, never because we both seek one another out. She made it clear that night she found me that she does want me to come to her, and that she too wishes to come to me. Yet neither of us do.
They flock to her, but they begin to fight again over who will sit in her arms.
“Wait until they realize they will grow to the size of oceans and never be able to cuddle in your lap like pups again.”
Ivella nods with a smile. “I wish I could keep them this small.”
“They are rather adorable to be known as the largest predator in our world.”
When they calm down Ivella looks up to me. “Stravan and Dyena have sent a messenger for us. They want to speak with us now.”
“Will they come?” I ask looking toward Vaigon and Vorzantu.
“No, I asked Ira to stay with them while we are gone.”
“He does not need to come with us?”
“No, just us,” she lays down the Dragons on the bed. They leisurely roll into a ball beneath their wings before falling fast asleep on the duvet.
* * *
We are led to Stravan’s study where he and Dyena await. They waste no time clarifying why they called us here.
“So,” Dyena begins. “When did you discover your wings?”
Ivella swallows before speaking. “Twas the night before yesterday.”
“You should have sent someone for me,” Dyena speaks in a warning tone. “And you were able to summon them to leave?”
She nods. “It took time, but yes. Laven was with me.”
“And what of your Wolf?” Dyena continues after glancing at me. “Did you shift into your Wolf when the wings summoned?”
“No, only the wings appeared.”
Stravan stands. “Within time you will shift. If you were able to summon your wings—accidental or purposeful—you could phase into your Wolf any day now.”
“It is good your body is beginning to shift into itself before the war can come.” Dyena soothingly says. “Even though you and I will be in the Healer’s Tent it will be good for us to be on the watch for those who try to get into the tents with ill-intent.”
Ivella will be in the Healers Tent?
Stravan scoffs. “Some Healer you are.” He mumbles beneath his breath.
“Oh, hush.” Dyena snaps. “You really must let that go, Stravi.”
He gapes at her. “You dug your nails into my wound, forcing me to tell you it hurt before you would heal me!”
She smiles. “Because you refused to admit that you were in pain, and I knew you were.”
Ivella and I quietly laugh before the conversation continues from where it began.
“There are very few people who are half Fae and half Wolf. It used to be seen as abominable because people did not understand it, or they wanted them to breed, or hold them as trophies given you are beautiful creatures in full form.” A Wolf with wings. A creature of only imagination, a creature told in children’s stories, until those imaginations and stories became real and the world grew too scared and curious causing harm.
Dyena nods at Stravan’s words. “It was not until recently that Stravan and I have come across a Hybrid of any kind in a long while. For myself, there is you and Roaner. As for Stravan, there is Roaner, Esme, Greyce, and you, Ivella.” Even now to this day, given how protected the Realm of the Hybrids is, there is still fear of a Hybrid like Ivella being taken and used for show.
“The strength and abilities bared by a Hybrid can be immense, nonetheless, unordinary. You inherit powers from both sides that strengthen one another every day.” Stravan explains. “We want to warn you to be careful because self-destruction is possible if you do not have your abilities under control.”
“Would she be affected as a bred Hybrid would?” I ask. “Essentially, she was given life again through Dyena, she was not truly born a Hybrid.”
Dyena nods, understanding. “Yes, but her being a stillborn and being brought back to life through me, made her a Hybrid. As if she was born a Hybrid. It is important you stay careful. We are unsure of how many people are still out there that wish to do what used to be done with Hybrids.”
“You know I do not leave my home often. I am either here, training, or at the academy.”
Here?
Why would she be here?
“Is Roaner still helping you train in wielding your powers?” Stravan questions.
“Yes.” Ivella nods.
“With your father’s impeccable agility and strength; he can change the earth into water and water into earth. Within my mother’s bloodline, they are Caliothen’s.”
Stravan’s eyebrows raise. “It has been some time since I have met a Caliothen.”
Caliothen’s can use their voices to sing or talk their way into anything they want or need. They have the ability to talk or sing someone to commit murder, fall into delusion, chaos, and even lead them to their death. Which is why many of them were slain in past times. Even to this day they are still broadly seen as a danger to societies. Then, there are the Vaultais that are also within her powers. Vaultais voices bring pure death, and it is easily triggered by anger or protection, but a seasoned Vaultai is capable of wielding such powers whenever they see fit. The type of the death their opponent suffers is based solely on the wielder. This bloodline still runs strong in the Sorcerers Realm and the Fae.
“Those who can speak or sing nations into sleep or death . . . it is no wonder you were who received half of me. My powers from the Vaultais and yours fit like a match, but in its own ways. Through our voices alone, we can make continents crawl.”
“And,” he chuckles. “We want to be sure you and Roaner are taking the correct measures in your training.”
When I look to Ivella she is holding a guarded expression. “I have not attempted to wield any of my mother’s powers.”
Stravan attempts to question, but I shake my head, stepping closer behind her. She should not have to speak of her mother, let alone why she chooses not to channel into a power she received from her most profound abuser.
“No one else would be capable of teaching you other than a Hybrid themselves.” Stravan says. “As long as you and Roaner continue your training, you shall thrive.”
Faintly, I give a smile. “She already does.”
Stravan simpers as he looks between the both of us. “I do know of a trainer in Ramana, the Realm of the Hybrids, that could keep your training more consistent if you would like. There are others that are half Wolf and Fae that she has helped. She trains in all brackets of strengthening, controlling, wielding your powers and also trying to understand them.”
Ivella gives a slight nod. “I would consider it. When could I meet them?”
“Whenever you would like, just let me know when you are ready.”
“You have bloodlines of many strong Orviantes, Ivella.” Dyena begins. “There are the Caliothens, the Vaultais, and what else?”
“My father can bend water and earth.”
“And I am guessing other members of your family can also bend elements?” Stravan asks.
“Yes, most of us are Elemental Benders.”
“As does she,” Dyena refers to Ivella. “Your powers from the Vaultais and the Caliothens together are great. Though, to bend elements within it make them all the greater.”
“Unfortunately, we do have a celebration to prepare for tonight.” Stravan says as a hand rests over Dyena’s back who is smiling up at him. “So, we must end this here. In the morning, after morning meal, we can continue.”
* * *
“How has training with Roaner been?” I ask as we walk down the hall that leads to both of our chambers.
“It has gone well, though it is not often. Only when I have the time. If I am not training with Roaner, I am training with my father, mother or Ira.”
You could ask me to train with you, is what I wish to say. But, instead. “You learn from their training well.” Is all I say.
She smiles. “They train well, although most of the training I am going through I have already learned. I must now relearn them.”
“Did Roaner know of Vaigon and Vorzantu?”
“No, only you and my closest relatives know . . .” slowly she drifts off with her words before glancing upward, staring directly into my eyes. “What was it you were going to tell me the other night? You were going to speak of your sister.”
“Do you know of the Six of Spring?”
“Yes.”
“Levora was one, as was Phyv and their friend Greyce. There are three left to be found, and I fear pleas from Galitan, Misonva, and Vosand will come soon. It is just too close together with what is currently happening.”
“How were they taken?”
“Through portal to the Mortal Lands.”
This takes her by surprise. “How did they survive?”
“They are lucky they survived.” I add. “They kept themselves hidden, but I do not know how hidden and this worries me. They say they were careful, but–”
“But how careful?” Ivella finishes.
I nod.
Ivella smiles at this tiny bit of progress. I do not need to know this is what she is smiling in satisfaction for. I can feel it.
Grinning like a fool, I look away from her, and toward the setting sun that beams hues of orange and pink across the sky.
She turns as well, and the golden hour catches her opulent skin that has darkened since the first heat of the sun.
“How does it feel to be a High King?” Ivella playfully asks.
I laugh. “No different than when I was a High Prince, surprisingly. Possibly because I have always picked up after Lorsius and did duties that he should have done. I think all my life I have felt this way—now that I hold the title, nothing feels different. Just a singular piece of paper giving me my ownership over the Throne.”
“You have had your Coronation already?”
“No, you would know of it.”
She smiles again and I think of a thousand more things to say to keep that smile. “Do you think you would ever truly feel like a High King?”
“I am not sure when that would happen. I am not sure I want to feel like a High King at all.” There is too much to change within Vaigon for me to feel like a King. Especially not with the people under me. This is a generation of people that praised Lorsius, not me.
“What do you wish to feel like?”
“That I am unsure of as well.”
“And that is fine too.”
“Is it?” All my life it has been made out to seem as if you need to know at every moment what you must be in this eternal life we are given, I have never truly felt the pressure until now.
“You move at your own pace, Laven.” Her tone deepens, searing her words into my head. “Not at the pace others expect you to.”
And what I hate the most, every interruption between us when we are furthering our relationship and strengthening our bond before we can proceed any farther to more.
Her brother exits her chamber with the Dragons swarming in our direction.
Ira does not give a single glance nor a word before nodding to Ivella and ascending down the hall.
“We did not get to speak of this with Dyena and Stravan because we ran out of time, but today is Dyena’s Coronation.”
“Oh,” I was under the impression that Dyena has been High Queen all this time.
“And also mine, in a form.”
Oh . . .
“How do you mean?”
There are two ladies making their way towards us with a dress draped over both of their arms as they approach.
“I am now the Right Hand to the Queen of Provas.”
