ELRED VALKALIN IS ON THE RUN. After narrowly escaping the Synketros prison, she finds herself in the scent trail of two notorious communities miles below the island's surface. When she stumbles upon a hidden gathering of fairies from different races...
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2412 Xavem 20, Velpa
There was a time when Elred cared about the maddening trickle of water plonking against the stone to her left. Or about the smell of upturned earth assaulting her senses. Or about the mud staining her tattered dress, arms, face, and hair. There was a time. Certainly, there was one when she cared about being inside this dingy cell, away from the machinations of the world above.
The Sovereign wasn't fooling around when she revealed the presence of an underground cavern meant to house anyone she dared not think about. And Elred found out in the worst way possible—by being the one inside it.
She shifted from her position, her side pressed against the uneven floor of compact dirt. Pain shot up from her back to her shoulders and the back of her neck. Her form plopped back down, reminding her of what happened before she came to in the darkness. The memory burned at the back of her head. It was when they were caught rummaging around the base for the thrones in the Sovereign's possession. And with how pissed off Kriachoria was, it seemed Reeca had found another secret.
Reeca. Or more accurately, Rikavien Torlin. A small laugh tore off Elred's mouth—a disjoint sound in the bleakness around her. What had happened to the young weaver? After Elred saved the varichria from the effect of the Sovereign's spell, she saw Reeca run. Hopefully, the young keiju was able to do it well.
Run, that was.
That's all any of them could do in the world the war brought to the world above. Elred didn't need to close her eyes to think about it. Each image of bloodshed, cruelty, and corruption has been imprinted in her mind for as long as she saw who the Sovereign was, what Synketros really stood for.
And she would always feel like a fool for believing in them, for fighting for them, and for turning her back on things she stood to lose but she needed all along. Family, allies, security, power. All of it gone in a blink of an eye. All because of what?
What has Elred been fighting for all this time?
A sigh escaped her lips. Her hand braced the lumpy floor, nails digging against the blunt jags of the debris scattered around. She tried to get up. Again. Her teeth dug into her lip, hard enough to send it numbing. Slowly, she dragged her aching form up, moving her hands from the floor to the rough stone walls. Progress. This was progress. The past few weeks, she couldn't even move a finger.
Maybe she could try and escape today. If the opportunity presented itself.
Found in her latest progress, she decided to try how far she could go. Could she stand on her two legs? How did Cirasa do it at an age far younger than her?
The thought of her brother made her stop, limbs freezing as if an ice sprite touched her veins and her bones. Cirasa. The last time she saw him was during the emergency tribunal for her, where she was stripped of her rights as the Crown Princess of Abshire and of Helinfirth. He had been there, but he had refused the position.
