Upon Lucen’s return to the southern camp, the night had already befallen its vast barren grounds.  He drew his sword and walked towards the holding tent. Yet as he opened its doors he found that Raglar was missing. Sheathing his sword Lucen looked around. The grass and soil had been upturned, and the trails of blood leading through the camp grounds were gone. Even its scent could not be traced anymore. 

Rage burned hotly in his chest.

It was as if. . . the second prince’s death had been nothing but a mirage, trivial enough to be erased.

Seeing the entourage of the shadow guards breaking through the forest. A soldier meekly approached. He wrung his hands nervously and bowed his head, relaying that the princess had written a letter to the imperial palace, informing them of the retrieval of the blue moon wisp and had been summoned to Ahsara at once by the empresses. And had taken the imperial emissary Raglar along with her.


The solider’s head dropped “ Her highness waited but the commander did not return for a week’s time. . . the princess then left most urgently”


His eyes shifted nervously between the commander and adjutant. When the princess left she had advised him to stay wary of the commander’s temper and now he could only meekly lower his head awaiting punishment in the princess’s stead.

Lucen sighed. Lingering for a moment near the holding tent, watching the upturned earth inside, and walked away to the commander’s tent.

Everything was as he had left them. The weapons, robes, even the cups of tea he and Alara had been drinking were still set upon their saucers with rims coated red with dried tea. He walked over to his desk and looked at the Nimyen anthology laying flipped open. The picture of the two betrothed hand in hand was covered by a layer of fine dust, obscuring phrases he barely understood. 

Had it really been a week?

“ Feels strange doesn’t it?” Lucen closed the book and looked at Lyall, “Does it feel as if a week had passed?”

Lyall blinked distractedly, the hand atop his sword trembled slightly “ The sun never rose in the Ahsara border, I thought a few hours perhaps a day at best had passed commander”


Remembering something, Lucen reached inside his pockets. But his hands did not feel the soft touch of the wisp’s body, instead what he retrieved was a smooth iridescent stone. Lucen’s blood ran cold. He turned it over and pressed its body gently.

 He brought the stone to his ears and listened keenly for its call, yet the soft pulsing of its heart had ceased.
There was no response. Not a whisper, a sigh. . . nothing.

 His grip faltered and regret clawed violently at his heart. He placed the small stone back in his pocket and dug his nails into the palm of his hands.  

What had he done?

He had failed to protect the last memory tying him to that person. 

Blood seeped deeply into the ridges of his palms and when he brought them to his face, he smelled a faint trace of chamomile. 

“ Lyall” He called for the adjutant again. “ What’s a poison without smell or taste, adheres to the skin, disorients upon contact and is deadly to Nimyi?”


Lyall blinked to attention slowly. Then he brought up his own hand and pinched his fingers together and found that he could not feel its touch. “ I will gather the shadow guards and send a message to the battalion’s physician”


Lucen nodded and watched as Lyall stumbled out of the tent.

Was this how Raglar had lead the second prince to his demise? The Nimyi princes were great warriors, although he had never once gazed upon their faces before, he had fought them enough times to understand that each of them bore immense strength and intellect in battle.  There was not a chance that a weak bastard like Raglar had been able to single handedly disarm and kill a nimyen prince with ease.


But Raglar had only done his duty, after all it was for the sake of attaining the blue moon wisp that the two nations battled. For the longevity of Drugar lay in the purification power contained within it.  Still he could not help but feel a welling bitterness in his throat. It was he himself who had done this. . .

Lucen closed his eyes, letting the scent of chamomile permeate his lungs. Then he walked out of the tent. 

This sin was his to bear alone but there was still something he could do.


Outside, the idle camp grounds were lost in a hazy stupor. A strange harmony, intermittent and hollow, a familiar call wailed past the winter boundary. Lucen staggered back and for a moment found that he could not breathe. And it was not only him who had heard it. By the gates of the battalion camp, stood the night sentries, swords drawn, looking north with pallid faces. 

The sound of humming fell and rose. Waning, undulating. 

‘Lucen?’ 

From within the river’s impassible darkness peered a pair of luminescent eyes. He took a step forward.

“ Merfolk. . . sirens, it seems” Lyall came up behind him and pointed to the sky “ It seems that the news of the second prince’s death has arrived in Araya”


Lucen’s gaze followed, a wave of light emerged, splitting the starry sky in half. He had seen these in Ahsara often, the Aurora of sirens. But upon Drugar’s conquest of the kingdom, those who dwelt in its waters and skies  had fled north to Araya, leaving the autumnal land shrouded in darkness. 

And now that light shone over the winter border.

“ About the poison commander.”  Lyall began cautiously, “ it seems that it was wintersbane”

His sense of touch had already left him, and now it felt as if the dexterity of his own mind was failing with each passing second. 

Lucen’s brows knitted in irritation, “ How did that old bastard acquire wintersbane?”


“ Shall I begin an investigation commander?”


Lucen waved his hand in dismissal,  “ That can wait. . . go get treated first” 

“ Yes commander!” Lyall saluted, then stopped, “ The physician urgently called for the commander to receive treatment as well”


Lucen laughed, shoving his freezing hands into his robes. “ It won’t kill me”


“ But sir”Lyall hesitated.

Lucen turned to him, eyes void of warmth.

The adjutant staggered, bowed and grimly stumbled away to the physician’s quarters.

Once Lyall disappeared, Lucen fished out a small box from his chest pocket. It was a simple brown wooden box. He opened it and poured the amber soot contained within onto his palm. With his other hand he took out a small match box and lit it on fire.


South of the winter border, where the magic of Araya was faint and fading the bird’s form was barely visible,  but in Araya it shall regain its complete form. Lucen hesitantly took out the small blue moon wisp and gently placed it in the phoenix’s bosom, covering it in warm aureate feathers.


“ No matter what” Lucen whispered softly, “  No matter what, you must bring the wisp  to the guardian of Araya. Do not go astray” 

The phoenix watched him and nipped his fingers affectionately, then fluttered its wings and soared into the sky. Lucen watched the bird’s light brighten in the Arayan winter. And at last breathed a sigh of relief.

His mind travelled back to the memory of the winter games, the soft hands that had grazed his own at the coliseum, the little wisp that nestled on his bruised palms. The viridian eyes that had evaded his gaze during the medalling ceremony. He did not deserve these soft memories. He could not smear their warmth with his blood stained hands. 

A day past the night of the blue moon, the news of the second prince’s disappearance arrived at the winter border in the form of a disgruntled letter. 

Astara wrote,

 Asael has failed to arrive in Isryx, the refining ceremony has been unsuccessful. 

Arelle was the first to have received the letter, and had not thought much of it. He wrote back mirthfully that Asael had not arrived in the Southern garrisons either. After all hadn’t Astara sent the letter to the garrisons to chastise Asael into coming back to  Isryx without following his brothers? Or so he had thought. Until a small blue bird  perched on the watchtower. The eyes of Serein stared at the crown prince and the first prince with tangible vexation.

It was then that Reven had understood they had been mistaken. It had not been a letter of mirthful chiding but one of grief and worry. From Wengen to the newly established Ahsaran border, from Isryx to the southern garrisons. The forests and the depths of rivers and lakes, every surface where’s ones eyes and ears fell had been searched. But in the end, not a single trace of Asael and the imperial teacher Raglar was found. 

And the last anyone had encountered them was when the second prince has passed the guardian’s words to the fleeing merfolk near the Wengen border. 

Arelle looked up. The sunless sky blazed viridian and silver. And now the songs of merfolk called Asael back home, wherever he may be, the call of his kin and the light of their being shall guide him to Araya. 

Then his eyes drew towards a faint golden flicker in the distance.

 There was a commotion in the garrisons as the soldiers prepared to attack and defend. And then Reven dashed through the grounds, halting the clamouring soldiers. Arelle gathered his robes, gripped his bow and flew down the watch tower. 

“ Brother what is it!”

There was a golden phoenix in the midst of the camp grounds. The bird sat unfazed by the chaos brewing around her, gaze trained intently upon Reven’s looming figure. Then it lowered its head, revealing a small pouch hidden in its bosom. 

Reven raised a hand, instructing the crowds around them. As the soldiers reluctantly dispersed, he pried a small box out of it’s feathers and opened it, stumbling back in surprise. There lying in the soft cushion was Asael’s blue moon wisp, dormant and unresponsive.


“From where did the phoenix come from?” Arelle turned towards the gate sentries.


“ It fell from the sky commander!” They spoke in unison, “ It came from within the aurora commander!” 

Arelle dismissed the soldiers and approached Reven, then took the wisp into his hands. It truly was Asael’s blue moon wisp. Tears gathered in his eyes. He prodded at its stiff unresponsive body and brought it to his ears. Listening, he heard the faint beating of its heart.


“ Reven” He whispered, “ I can feel it’s breath”


“ Asael. . . is alive?” Reven gasped in disbelief and relief. “ Are you certain?”

Arelle hummed, he moved away from the eyes of the soldiers and towards the watch towers. Then in a swift movement opened the petals of his chest, placing the dormant wisp next to his own sun wisp. Feeling at once its dying breath steadying and blooming into life.


“ You must inform Serein and Astara” Arelle pinched the stupefied Reven’s hands, “ Hurry now! We cannot delay”

“ Yes!” Reven nodded, instructing the soldiers to keep watch of the phoenix’s whereabouts. But as he turned away, the luminescent feathers of the phoenix fluttered  and before their eyes burst into a pool of light and scattered in the wind. 

The princes’ letters arrived in Ariansyll at dawn.  The empress and Astara having just arrived in the capital was conversing anxiously with Serein when they saw a small blue bird flying into the eaves of the palace.

Serein calmly lifted her eyes and beckoned Reven’s eyes to her hand. 

“ It seems that the blue moon wisp has been found” She exhaled heavily.

The balcony fell silent, and Astara staggered back, “ What do you mean!? Where is Asael?!”


“  A golden phoenix has carried the blue moon wisp into the garrisons and disappeared, there has been no sighting of the second prince”


“  But you said no trace of them was found near Wengen, how is it possible for a phoenix to find the wisp when Asael . . .” Astara choked on her tears, “ Where is Asael? Where is my child!?”


“ I did not” the empress shook her head in confusion, “ What else does it say?” She knelt by Astara’s side and  held her firmly.


Serein traced her hand over the bird’s wings and in a small puff of smoke it vanished into air.  “ That seems to be all. . .  and that Arelle has set out for Ariansyll and shall arrive shortly”


Astara gripped her chest, “ If the blue moon wisp has been found then surely Asael is alive. . . is he not? Is he not?”


The empress too looked pleadingly at Serein.


“ Rest easy” Serein smiled, “ Wherever he shall be. . . we will bring him home” 

By nightfall Arelle had reached Ariansyll. He ran through the fallen draw bridge and collapsed into the empress’s arms. Through tears he brought forth the wisp in his chest and placed it in Astara’s hold.

Given life by Arelle’s sun wisp, soft tendrils light separated weakly from the little body. It nestled into Astara’s hands and writhed in pain, dew like tears falling down it’s eyes.

The guardian’s watchful eyes gazed upon the wisp. Visible only to Serein a thin silver string arose from its body and stretched over the vast forests of Araya, descending east to Ahsara. At times its light waned but the further it travelled the stronger the trace of breath on its end flowed .