The coliseum grew alight with cheer. Nimyen melodies and applause rang thunderously through the air. The raging blizzard waned and the heavy snow shifted to a gentle mist. The ground underneath him lifted. A deep layer of frost growing over the bloodied snow and his discarded weapons as tendrils of ice blossomed into intricate patterns of winter flora. 

The little wisp yawned and peeked through his robes, gazing at him with doe eyes. Two specs of light akin to wings softly held his thumbs and nipped at them. How was it possible for such a small thing to be a siren? Merfolk and changelings were not unheard of even within human realms, but he had never encountered a creature capable of both this way. 

After the conclusion of the games, he was escorted back to the athletes’ village where he alone dwelt, for the others were presently occupying the infirmary in various states of injury. He looked at the wisp, for whose retrieval no one had come for, and who made no effort to leave his robe pocket.

He took off the bloodied gear and gently nudged the wisp awake. And it did not seem too happy to be disturbed. The little wisp raised its brows arrogantly. Lucen laughed and gently caressed its head.

“ I don’t have have the softest pillows but you can’t stay there it’s bloody” He pointed to his robes. 

The little wisp seemed unbothered but nevertheless allowed Lucen to carry it and place it upon a pillow retrieved from the bedroom. After he finished bathing, Lucen returned expecting to find the little wisp having fled or formed back into its siren form but… it was still peacefully sleeping on his pillow. 

He knelt by the chair and gently turned it over. It’s body was fuzzy and soft within and without, the centre of it dense with white light, undulating to the rhythm of every breath and fall. 

A while later, something akin to a grand feast arrived at his lodging. Filled with refreshments, buns, pastries, and a small inconspicuous pot of blue flower tea. Lucen looked at the wisp and pointed to the pot. 

“ I think this might be for you”

Its little head curiously lifted and sniffed the air, black pupils expanding to fill the hazy viridian eyes. In that moment Lucen felt that he had been tasked with taking care of a little cat. Certainly.

He looked at the pot, the games were not over yet.

He poured a cup of it and placed it under the wisp who climbed onto the rim and unhurriedly began to sip away. Lucen helped himself to the first real meal after the matches. The food in Araya was often quite cold but they had made a signifiant effort to warm it for him, and he appreciated that. Except he was not very fond of berries. After a battle one naturally craved some meat. At times like these he really began to miss Drugar. 

“ Don’t you have any meat?” Lucen swung around the fork lazily. 

The wisp angled its head and blinked twice cluelessly. Right. . . it was strange of him to expect a magical creature to understand words let alone human language. 

Lucen wiped his mouth after finishing the hearty lunch of berries, soup and some sort of winterberry bread. And oddly enough by the end of it he felt full and satisfied. So he left the whole pot of flower tea for the wisp to drink.

The concluding ceremony of the winter games was held that very night in the ceremonial amphitheatre in east Ariansyll. In the four corners of the arena crystalline watch towers stretched to the sky and the webbed ceiling of the hall reflected starlight. The ground underneath his feet glowed at each step and the Hyperions bordering the vicinity sang softly to the wind.And for a moment he too felt the undying magic of Araya.

To the left of the podium stood the final victor and the long line of participants, those who had managed to barely scrape by and the others whose participation was valued regardless. And to the right were two thrones, for the empress and the guardian. 

He gazed about the coliseum, the night was beginning to deepen, stars scattered over the amphitheatre, blinking between the foggy mist brushing past its crystalline pillars. It had been a long time since he had looked at the sky like this. With no intent of studying nor battling. And in Drugar where life did not dull in the night, the sky was rarely visible. And as it turns out he had enjoyed his time in Araya much more than he had anticipated. 

The medal ceremony commenced with the bright colours of distance fireworks. Spectators gathered along the numerous balconies and fields below, and a glimmering ruby carpet lay before the victors leading towards a central podium.

Right beneath the podium sat an orchestra of Nimyi, holding stringlike instruments that Lucen did not recognise. As the amphitheater filled in, the large vine doors  in its path contorted and swung open. Clad in white and silver ceremonial robes the empress and the guardian glided down the arena, conversing gently among each other.

Soft music began to play, resembling voices than it did strings and mingled with the melodic rustling of the wind by the trees. One by one the backs of the awaiting competitors straightened. 

“ Welcome all!” The empress spoke, her voice boomed over the crowds, subduing clamour into a giddy silence, “ And thus, the winter games of the eighth order has concluded”


The expected grandeur of drums and weaponry displays  did not arrive, how fitting, thought Lucen, it truly was a valley of eternal sleep.

Had it been Drugar, the medal ceremony would have stretched over the course of a few weeks, decorated and celebrated with luxurious balls and parades. With half the world as its audience. Yet in Araya it seemed as every occasion seemed to pass quietly under the cover of snow. 

And alas he was denied the little wisp’s companionship. With envy he stared as it jumped down  from his hand and affectionately wrapped itself around the empress’s neck.

Applause descended upon him, and in the wisps’s stead, he received the reward of subduing the “ Fearsome beast”. Contained within a clear glass it was a . . . healing elixir. Lucen twirled the liquid, it’s visage was like water, yet as it was held against light it shimmered silver and emitted a faint fragrance of chamomile. He looked at the other competitors rewards, and saw that no one else had received an elixir like this, still unsatisfied, he shoved it into his inner pocket and  patted it securely. . 

The empress and the guardian moved along the line. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of the princes, his rivals  in battle but the imperial children were no where to be seen. As if the encounters before had been ghosts of his own mind. As he looked around he rubbed his fingers together and a faint shimmer sparked between them, akin to the sparkling of the healing elixir.


Lost in thought, the growing applause deafened in his ears and for a moment he heard the chiming call of the wisp.

A cold breeze brushed past his neck, eagerly he looked about and  for a moment caught the end of pale blue robes. Hazy and undulating as if the person within them was gliding among soft clouds under the moonlight. Naturally, Lucen’s gaze trailed up, his breath ceasing in his chest. . . and met with a pair of glassy viridian eyes, behind a half veil, staring dazedly at him.

The second prince did not seem to realise that he had been caught. 

Just then a small wisp of light ascended the tall pillars of the balcony and twirled around the second prince’s shoulders before disappearing within his robes. Lucen’s eyes widened and the prince awoke from his reverie. He held Lucen’s gaze for a moment in shock and quickly averted his eyes. Only to peer back a second later and find the other’s gaze still fixed on him. 

Asael had naturally been curious about the Drugan warrior who stood as the final victor against all odds. The man who had looked at him in contempt rather reverence or admiration, yet dealt with his wisp with affection, and the only one to have done so. And through which, earned the right to be gifted his blue moon elixir. 

For it was of Asael’s making that the responsibility of choice fell on him, He had been skeptical of gifting such a rare treasure to just any competitor, and he still held his doubts. For victory does not always mean strength, most times it is only ever proof of brutality. So he had reluctantly gone forth to battle himself, looking for a sliver of softness and in the end had found it in their enemy.


In the distance a pattern of fireworks shot off to the sky, blossoming into vivid forms as it scattered against the starry sky. And then Asael looked down once more only to see a set of deep violet eyes looking up at him with deep interest. 

As the fireworks ceased, the second prince’s brow tightened in irritation. When Lucen blinked again the figure had disappeared, with only the drooping pearls of an epaulette visible behind a pillar. Strangely endearing. 

With the second prince insisting on evading his eyes, Lucen could only sullenly turn back towards the celebrating crowds at his feet. Some jeered but many cheered, it was evident that the winter folk took unsavourily to an enemy becoming the final victor, but his encounters with the imperial council had borne no enmity. And thus he did not worry that the reward was poison veiled as elixir. Nevertheless its origins and content needed to be confirmed once he arrived at the garrisons.

As the celebrations came to an end, he looked back towards the empty corridor for a last time. And if he was to ever meet the second prince at the winter border, he needed to treat this person really well.