2026-01-18 05:00:03
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Wills and Woes
Dragon and Snake rode into Bron at dusk, the city’s lanterns already glowing like fallen stars. It was the letters, Glass’s letters, that had drawn them here, each one threaded with worry she tried too hard to hide.The moment Snake dismounted, Glass was already running.She crashed into his arms without ceremony, fingers clutching his cloak as if she might never let go again. Snake froze for half a breath, then wrapped her up tightly, resting his chin against her hair.Pattern, watching from the wide staircase, shook his head fondly. “Sometimes,” he said, “I forget she’s your baby sister.”Snake didn’t look up. “Remember it always.”Glass laughed into his chest, muffled and bright.That was when the children spotted him.“Uncle Snake!”They came like a storm, Lake first, then Core and Echo, then Mist, all of them colliding into him at once. Someone tripped, someone laughed, and Snake very nearly went down under the weight of Liroid affection.Dragon clapped once, grinning. “Now that
HeartBreak
Glass did not leave in anger.That was what frightened Pattern most.There was no slammed door, no sharp words carried on magic or wind. No warning tremor in their bond. One moment, she was there, cold, wounded, controlled, and the next, there was only absence.A silence so clean it screamed.Pattern felt it when the sun dipped below the horizon. A hollow space where her presence should have been, like a limb suddenly gone numb.“Glass?” he called, already standing.Nothing.The house itself seemed to notice. The enchanted ivy dulled. The starlight chandeliers flickered once, uncertain. Even the air felt thinner.Pattern tore through the estate like a storm given flesh.Servants fell to their knees. Guards scattered. He searched her chambers first, empty. Her jewelry was untouched. Her traveling cloak gone.“She planned this,” he whispered, panic finally clawing through his perfection.She had not run.She had chosen.By dawn, the estate was awake with fear.Pattern stood in the centr
Sheltered Daughters
Pattern’s estate glowed like a kingdom unto itself.Bron’s nobles, accustomed to polished marble and modest gold, stood speechless whenever they crossed its gates. Towers wrapped in enchanted ivy pierced the sky, white-stone halls veined with living silver, chandeliers formed of suspended starlight humming softly above. The floors shimmered like crushed diamonds beneath bare feet, and the gardens breathed with life: fountains pouring lily-scented water, statues carved from glowing moonstone, each face caught between beauty and sorrow.Within one of the inner chambers, Glass stood behind her youngest daughter, fingers moving with precise patience as she braided Echo’s hair. Each twist shimmered faintly, the braid responding to Glass’s magic as though it understood it was being shaped.Servant girls fluttered around Mist and Core, who lounged nearby, passing the time over a game of cards.Mist was quiet, an ethereal beauty with eyes that always seemed to be listening to something no one
Tan and his schemes
Tan strolled through Bron as though it still belonged to him.The streets bustled, too orderly for his liking. Too clean. Too obedient. Liroids, mortals, and half-blood traders all moved with their heads down, careful not to draw attention. Peace, they called it.Tan called it rot.Beside him walked Branch of Obedience, robes pristine, expression carved from practiced restraint. His staff clicked softly against the stone as they moved.“I miss the trouble,” Tan said lightly, hands clasped behind his back.Branch did not look at him. “You have been warned. The peace now is better than the wrath of Cirax.”Tan snorted. “How long do we plan to obey that old wench?”Branch stopped walking.Slowly, deliberately, he turned. “Careful,” he said, voice low. “She hears all. And she will not hesitate to kill you for insolence…blood or no blood.”Tan’s smile did not fade. If anything, it sharpened.“I have a plan,” he said. “Solid this time. It will not fail.”Branch exhaled through his nose. “Le
Brief Introductions
Evilside did not summon Passion with thunder.There was no spectacle, no court, no elders whispering in shadows.She called her alone.The underground palace breathed as Passion stepped inside, roots pulsing faintly, the air heavy with ancient grief and power. The great tree stirred, its bark shifting, and Evilside’s true form emerged slowly, vast and watching.“You will marry into the Norm Lands,” Evilside said, voice echoing through root and stone.Passion froze.“Their emperor is Kavan,” the goddess continued, unmoved. “God of Winds Koros’ cruel son.”Passion swallowed. Every child knew Koro, volatile, proud, untamed. To be his son was to inherit the storm without mercy.“He keeps a large harem,” Evilside added calmly, as if speaking of the weather. “You will not be his first. You will not be his favorite. But you will be his anchor.”Passion’s hands clenched. “You want me to survive him.”“I want you to own him,” Evilside replied. “Piece by piece. Law by law. Bed by bed, if necess
Farewells
They spent every stolen hour together after that.No grand declarations, no more arguments about fate, just quiet moments stretched thin, as if time itself pitied them. They walked the academy gardens at night, spoke in whispers, and memorized each other’s laughter. Passion slept beside him often, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat like it was a promise she could carry with her.The night she insisted on staying fully in his arms, Sky gently stopped her.“No,” he said, voice trembling despite his calm. “I won’t taint you and leave you alone to face punishment.”Her eyes flashed with hurt. “I am not afraid of punishment.”“I am,” he answered. “Not for me. For you.”They fought then, quietly at first, then through tears. Passion accused him of trying to protect her from a world that had already claimed her. He told her love was not proven through suffering. She cried against his chest, fists clenched in his shirt, until exhaustion replaced anger.In the end, she accepted
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