Nara
The night in Castling was alive. Music, cheers, and lights spilled into the streets as the solstice celebration reached its zenith. Vendors called out over the clamour, children darted through legs and laughter, and dancers clad in leaves twirled atop a stage pulled by slow-moving horses. The scent of roasted meats and spiced wines mingled with candle smoke and the rich aroma of the summer earth.
In the joyous throng, a lone figure slipped between revellers with practiced care. Her hood was pulled low, shadowing her striking features. But when a bump jostled her, the hood slipped. Eyes, sharp and green, flashed in the moonlight. She quickly replaced the hood and scanned the crowd. No one noticed. Her name was Princess Nara.
An absolute beauty. Pure skin with dark hair. Her eyes were green, eyes that only the Ruler and heir to the throne of Castling and leader of Hasteron beared.
She exhaled slowly and turned down a narrow alley, escaping the chaos. "Herbert," she whispered. Louder this time: "Herbert."
No answer. Then—arms around her waist.
She spun, ready to strike, but her fist was caught mid-air by a man smiling broadly.
"You still go for the face. There is a better and easier place you could attack."
Herbert! You—"
"Rascal? Wretch? Scoundrel? you-"
She narrowed her eyes but couldn't help the tug at her lips.
"Before you call the heavens down, Herbert said, "you must know on my last breath I
tried to halt myself, Sadly I could not resist."
"You can," Nara replied with a smile beginning to appear on her face, "but you have bound yourself not to. It is one of your strengths."
" Here I had thought you would be more happy to see me..""
He turned away in mock rejection. "Say your piece, Your Highness, so I may return to the mountains and a life of vegetables."
She laughed. Despite everything, he always did this—broke through her guarded heart.
"How do you keep doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Leaving me speechless."
"One of my strengths."
Herbert leaned close to her. "I've longed to see you," he whispered.
She tensed.
The cheers outside swelled. He hesitated, noticing the change in her.
"Nara?"
"There is something I must tell you," Nara said with a look of sadness on growing on her face.
The noise from the street grew deafening. The pair turned together to see if they were being watched. Then Herbert gently tugged her hand.
"With me?"
She paused. a bit unsure Then, "With you."
They rejoined the festival, her gaze locked on him even as the crowd embraced them. Dancing followed. A man with a loud voice encouraged lovers to step into the moonlight and sweep each other away. Nara watched an old woman drag a reluctant young man to the dance floor and smiled.
"May I?" Herbert asked, hand outstretched.
Nara looked around a bit frantic, "People will see us."
Herbert scanned the area and saw that the merry. "No, they won't trust me"
Nara stared at his outstretched hands for a while, as if within it lied the answers. She smiles and slowly took it. They danced among the crowd, unnoticed, two shadows in the starlight.
As they slow danced, nothing else mattered. It was just them. Eyes locked on each other, hands held tightly like it was meant to be. Soon other couples joined in. then they had to leave.
****
Later, they arrived at an inn. A woman on the porch handed Herbert keys and examined Nara closely.
"Shy one," the woman said. "Good. You may just survive." she said with a smile.
The woman turned and left.
Herbert took Nara's hand and guided her into the Inn.
the inn was lovely—flowers adorned the walls, roses scattered on the bed.
"In your dreams, you said you'd see a room full of flowers where you were merry and safe," Herbert said. "Was it like this?"
Tears welling in her eyes, Nara nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
"Thank you?" Herbert asked with something like confusion in his tone. "what for?"
Nara embraced him. "I want to be here forever"
Tears began to drop from her eyes.
Herbert smiled and pulled her close, and they began to slow dance to silence.
Then the bells rang. loud.
Nara leaves Herbert arms and looked to the door. Then up came the sound of a stampede outside the inn. Nara walked to the door.
Herbert studied her confused, this time serious"What's wrong?"
She opened the door of the inn. Outside, People are running, like their lives depended on it. They were screams and cries. Nara got on the porch. Herbert soon joins her.
"I have to leave." Nara said fright growing on her face.
Herbert fixed his gaze on her. Surprise and disappointed at the same time. " I don't understand"
Nara attempted to leave, but Herbert grabs her hand and turned her back to him.
She saw the confusion on his face.
Suddenly, they heard Horses neigh. A patrol of guards entered the street. They both saw this. Nara became more frightened.
"Herbert, I beg you," She pleaded, "I have to go"
Herbert noticed the fear on her face. - He had never seen her like this.
He turned and closed the inn door. He took a
good look at Nara. Then forced a smile.
"This way," Herbert said as he took her and pulled her into the street.
Then a loud voice echoed " There goes the bells. Quickly now, I need to be home for dinner. To your homes.
Herbert pulled Nara into an alley so she can catch her breath.
Nara, did I do something wrong? Did you not like the inn?"
She shook her head. "It's not that."
"Then what is it? The guards only clear the streets. They don't enter homes. I... I thought the inn would make you happy."
"It did. It does. But I told you there was something I needed to say."
A beat. Then she looked up at him. Tears in her eyes.
"I may not be able to see you any more."
Herbert's brow furrowed, a frown tugging at his mouth. "I don't understand."
Nara took a breath. "Prince Dale. He has agreed to see me. To decide if he will choose to marry me."
The words lingered between them like ash in still air. Herbert looked away, jaw tight.
"I leave at dawn tomorrow."
He laughed quietly—a hollow sound.
"Say something," she pleaded.
He turned back to her. His eyes were red. "Have a good night, Your Highness."
He began to walk away.
She grabbed his hand. "I wish I could choose."
"No man born of a woman could say no to you," he murmured. "But it is your duty. We were doomed from the start."
"With me?" he said softly, then turned and walked into the dark without looking back.
Tears rolled down Nara's cheeks. She stood alone, watching him vanish.
"With you," she whispered to the night.
****
The streets had quieted. Nara moved slowly through the empty thoroughfare, each step dragging, as if the weight of her choices had tethered her to the cobblestones. Above her, the castle loomed, a cold and silent silhouette against the starlit sky. She continued inside. Her hood on.
Inside, children sat cross-legged on the floor of a warm study. The air smelled of parchment and cedar wood. Sir Charles, grey-haired and sharp-eyed, stood before them, gesturing animatedly.
"And there he was, facing what would be his demise," he said, his voice rich with drama. "Alesandro, last king of Vasilios, swore that the Vasilians would rise again. But he was beheaded before thousands. And thus ended the Hundred-Year War. Castling victorious."
"Victory, Castling!" a child chimed.
The others echoed the chant. Sir Charles chuckled.
"Happy solstice, children."
They responded with chaotic cheer.
A figure appeared at the door. Nara. Her hood was down, her face bare and vulnerable. The children fell silent.
Sir Charles rose. "Bedtime, little ones."
They murmured their goodnights and passed Nara, bowing and saying, "Your Highness" as they left.
Nara stepped into the room. "The fall of Vasilios?"
"They must know our history, so they do not repeat our mistakes," Sir Charles said. "The most important person in a kingdom is not the king, but—"
"The next generation," Nara finished.
Sir Charles smiled.
She bent to pick up books the children had left. He watched her. "You told him."
She nodded. Her eyes glistened.
Sir Charles approached and embraced her.
"Now, now, my child. Let it out."
"I destroyed him."
"He knew this would happen. He knows that marrying the Prince of Dame is a necessary part of peace. It could unite our kingdoms by blood."
She pulled from his arms and stared out the window. "It's not fair. My heart should be mine to give."
"Even if it costs a million lives?"
She didn't respond.
He stepped beside her. "Weigh the sacrifice, Nara. Is your love worth your people's lives?"
He continued, "Every time I see those green eyes of yours i can't help but fall sad, because I know that there are things you would face that no man will wish on his enemy. But you have to be brave. For your people, for Castling."
She struggled, but nodded. "I will try."
"You are brave," he said. "I need you to be brave still. I need you to be a queen."
They embraced again.
She left the study, her heart heavy, her steps slow.
Sir Charles stood at the door long after she was gone, staring into the silence.
"Things are changing my dear Grace, Thins are changing."
Halia
Sunlight rolled across the hills of Cy in thick golden waves, glinting off the stalks of a wide cornfield. The dry wind whispered between the stalks, tugging at leaves like it sought to eavesdrop. Two girls, barefoot and wide-eyed with the Vasilian birthmark, picked their way through the grass at the field's edge. Halia was twelve, smudged with dirt, her ragged dress brushing her knees. Ran, only ten, followed closely, her steps quicker, her face tense with anticipation.
"Not too quick," Halia warned, eyeing the swaying corn with suspicion.
"They're on the south side," Ran whispered, glancing over her shoulder. "Now is our chance."
But before they could move further, a voice called behind them.
"Well, I know what will happen if you get caught."
Halia and Ran turned to see Elena and Cleo stepping out from behind a tall bush. Elena, fourteen and already tall, stared with cool disdain. Her sister Cleo smirked beside her.
"My father will throw you out," Elena said, folding her arms. "There's been a change. Ran, give Halia the knife. She'll be harvesting today."
Ran hesitated. "But Elena—"
"Now."
With a grimace, Ran pulled the small blade from beneath her tunic and handed it to Halia. The metal glinted in the morning sun.
"After you," Elena said sweetly.
Halia stepped into the corn. The stalks whispered around her as she moved, hands trembling slightly. She reached out and grabbed the first stalk.
"That one's rotten," Elena called.
"No it's not," Ran snapped.
"I don't think I asked you," Elena said, eyes narrowing.
Halia moved to another stalk.
"Rotten again. What do you think, Cleo?"
Cleo grinned. "She should go deeper."
Halia shot her a withering look, but obeyed, pushing further into the thicket. The deeper she went, the less of the others she could see.
She raised the knife.
Suddenly, arms grabbed her from behind.
"I've got you, you little corn thief!" a man roared.
Halia screamed, twisting and kicking. Her fist found soft flesh—he grunted and doubled over. She fled.
Back at the edge of the cornfield, Ran paced nervously.
"We should help her," she whispered.
"Don't be stupid," Elena muttered.
But then they heard crashing through the stalks. Cleo and Elena stiffened. Ran moved forward.
"Halia?"
The stalks parted—and Halia emerged, panting. Her face screamed one word: run.
Behind them, the man bellowed, "Where are you, you little prat?!"
The girls fled, feet slapping the dry dirt.
The ran as fast as they could. Giant footsteps behind them.
Ran stumbled to the floor. Halia stopped, ran back to her and help her up. Cleo and Elena didnt stop. They ran out of the cornfield. Ran and Halia contiuned after them. They exited the corn field but froze. A group of people with the Vasilian mark, stood in front of them, all eyes on them. they saw Cleo and Elena in the hands of a man struggling. Then the man chasing them came out from the feild and grabs them. "Got you now"
****
Later that day, the sun now high and scorching, they sat cramped in a wooden cage near the edge of the field. The bars were rough-hewn and splintered, patched together from old, weather-worn planks. It smelled of mildew and iron, of sweat and fear.
"Get us out," Elena snapped, rattling the bars with her palms.
"Wait till our father hears," Cleo muttered, folding her arms. "Stupid peasants."
Ran huddled beside Halia, their legs touching, her little fingers twisting in the hem of Halia's dress. Halia wrapped an arm around her without looking away from Elena.
"Don't think playing nice will save you," Elena hissed. "Ran won't protect you this time."
A loud bang against the cage made them all flinch. A man peered in with a crooked smile and a hungry glint in his eyes.
"Vultures in a trap," he chuckled. "I'll make sure to cook all of you."
"Julian," another voice called from the side. "Don't scare them."
Bear stepped into view, a broad-shouldered man with a steady gaze and an unsettling calm. His face was handsome but unreadable, his skin sun-darkened and marked with the Vasilian tattoo that branded everyone in Cy. His name hardly suited him, for he looked more like a farmer than a creature of the wild. but what he lacked in looks, he had in character.
He scanned the girls, pausing on Ran, then Halia.
A moment later, Darius came storming up the dirt path. Fat, sweating, and perpetually red-faced, his presence was as overbearing as his voice. "Bear! Let them go!"
Julian scowled, jaw tightening. Bear remained still.
"They were stealing," Julian said, stepping forward.
"Impossible. My daughters are good girls. They wouldn't unless they were… coerced." Darius jabbed a thick finger toward Halia. "Her."
Bear turned, gaze heavy on the two sisters. "Did she force you?"
Elena and Cleo nodded quickly, eyes full of mock fear. Ran's mouth opened—but Darius fixed her with a warning glare, and she swallowed her words.
"Ran," Bear said quietly. "Anything to add?"
Ran looked at Halia. Halia looked back, unreadable. Then Ran shook her head. No.
Bear stepped forward and unlatched the cage.
"You're free."
Elena and Cleo bolted into their father's arms. Ran followed but lingered just long enough to cast one last look at Halia before she was pulled into a stiff hug.
"What about her?" Bear asked, nodding toward Halia.
Darius didn't even turn. "Do what you want. She broke the law."
Bear knelt slightly, offering his hand. Halia wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand but didn't flinch.
"I'd bet he put you up to this," Bear murmured. "You like it there?"
She blinked, confused by the question.
"I'd take my hand if I were you."
She did.
They walked slowly back toward the field together, the sun casting long shadows over rows of yellow stalks. Dozens of workers bent over the corn, sweat dripping from their brows. Buckets clanked and sloshed as children darted between rows, laughter and fatigue mixing in the dusty air.
"Do you know why we do this?" Bear asked.
Halia hesitated. "Because the dry season is coming."
"Correct," he said.
He pointed toward the women near a large stone shed, methodically sorting kernels onto drying racks.
"They dry it. The men harvest. Children fetch water. Everyone plays a part. Or we starve."
Halia glanced at him, then toward the workers.
"Is he your father?" Bear asked.
"My uncle," Halia replied. "He wants me gone. I guess he got his wish."
Bear paused as they neared the shed. The air was hot and filled with the earthy scent of drying corn and the distant smoke of cooking fires.
"Here's the deal," Bear said at last. "I won't report you—if you help the women dry the corn."
She stared at him, hesitant, disbelieving.
"Deal?"
Her eyes lit up slowly, and she nodded. "Yes."
"Run along."
She turned and walked toward the women, head high. They eyed her warily but made room.
Bear stood there for a long moment, arms crossed.
Julian came up behind him, voice thick with disdain. "You're a strange man."
Bear didn't reply. He simply watched Halia begin her new task, her small hands already sorting kernels with surprising care.
Nara
The sun had begun to raise by the time Nara stood before her mirror again, her gown of silk and emerald brocade catching the first golden rays. Her hair, intricately woven and pinned, shimmered under the light and her green eyes, piercing. Behind her stood Morgan, her ever-watchful maid, hands folded tightly.
"Pardon, my lady. Your carriage is ready," Morgan said softly.
Nara nodded. She smoothed the front of her gown, her fingers briefly lingering at the collarbone. Her reflection gazed back at her with a strange solemnity. "Thank you, Morgan."
Outside, the castle's front steps gleamed. Her parents awaited her—her mother, resplendent in violet robes, and her father, tall and stern beneath a silver circlet. He also had green eyes. Graceful guards stood in rows, their armor catching the light like scales of glass.
"You look beautiful, my dear," her mother said as she embraced Nara.
"You too, Mother."
Her father stepped forward, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Be kind. Be wise."
Nara bowed her head. "I will, Father."
Morgan motioned to the carriage, a polished vessel of white wood and iron, ringed by riders and guards. Nara turned to it—only to halt, heart jolting. A horse neighed nearby.
Herbert.
He sat astride a dark steed, clad in travel leathers and a stoic mask. "My men and I will escort you to Dame, my lady," he said, voice like iron over coals.
She stared at him, unable to speak. Morgan gently nudged her forward. She contiuned inside the carriage.
"Eyes sharp, weapons high. let's ride gentlemen"
Herbert started forward and everyone followed. They rode out of the place.
****
Inside the carriage, Nara sat stiffly while the world rolled by. Her fingers curled and uncurled on her lap.
"You look worried, my lady," Morgan said.
"I am fine."
Nara peered through the small window. The road had grown narrower, flanked by tall grasses and thinning woods.
"Where are we?" she asked.
A voice from outside answered. "At the outskirts of Cy. It is a safer route, my lady."
She regonized that voice anywhere - Herbert.
She opened her mouth to reply—
"Halt!" a guard barked.
The carriage shuddered as it stopped. Hooves stamped the dirt. Nara leaned to the window.
"There's a body on the path" A knight yelled!
"Go see what it is" Herbert ordered.
Two guards dismounted. One approached cautiously, he looked around the bushes and trees at their sides for movemnt but nothing. He got to the corpse and knelt beside it
"It is a man," the guard said.
The man was big.
He looked at the man's face. There was dirt all over it. He wiped the dirt and then he saw it. The vasilian birthmark.
"A Vasilian!."
Thwack. A blade went through his eyes. the dead vasilan rose as he retracted his blade.
"Ambush!" another shouted—just before an arrow pierced his chest.
From the roadside brush, Vasilian warriors erupted with war cries, blades flashing.
"Formation!" Herbert roared. "Sir Lionel—"
But a Vasilian warrior leapt from behind, landing atop Lionel's horse. A sword thrust. Blood. Lionel collapsed.
"Attack!" the Vasilian screamed.
The woods exploded into violence. Swords clashed. Skins slashed.
Herbert ran to the carriage, wrenching the door open.
"Nara, we have to move!"
She grabbed Morgan's hand. Together, they leapt out.
A soldier lunged at them—Herbert intercepted, steel clanging. He struck the attacker down.
Three guards on horseback surrounded them.
Ffffps. Ffffps. Arrows found skulls. The guards fell.
"Get on the horse!" Herbert bellowed.
Morgan climbed atop one, Nara behind her. Herbert mounted the last.
"Go!"
They galloped.
Behind them, one Vasilian mounted a fallen guard's steed and gave chase.
"They're escaping!" he snarled.
He hurled a spear. It found its mark—a guard fell. The Vasilian rode harder.
Morgan glanced back. "He's right behind us!"
Then—a branch.
It struck her head. She tumbled from the saddle.
"Morgan!" Nara screamed, reining her horse.
"Keep riding!" Herbert cried. "Leave her to me!"
Nara hesitated, her breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts as tears streamed down her cheeks. The clamor of chaos behind her echoed through the woods, but her heart clung to the image of Herbert—there, and in need. She spun her horse around.
Herbert was already off his steed, crouched beside Morgan, who lay sprawled across the bloodied grass, her gown torn and her brow slick with crimson. He reached for her, hand trembling with urgency.
Then—
Thwack.
The hiss of a flying arrow ended in a sickening impact. It struck Herbert square in the chest. He staggered, clutching the shaft embedded in him.
From her saddle, Nara looked back. Her blood ran cold. "Herbert!"
He glanced up, pain carving itself into his expression. "Run! Nara, run!"
But she didn't. Not yet. She urged her horse forward, desperate to return to him.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice raw and cracking. "Please!"
Another arrow.
It found his skull.
Herbert collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, blood blooming beneath him like a dark flower.
Morgan, shaken from her daze, found her feet. Tears streaked her dust-covered face as she stumbled toward Nara. "Run, Princess! Run!"
Before she could reach the horse, the Vasilian warrior—who had played dead in the road—charged forward. He grabbed Morgan by the dress and flung her back. Excitement glittered in his eyes like a boy unwrapping a toy.
He began to tear at her gown.
Nara screamed. "No!"
She kicked her horse to charge, but Morgan met her eyes—and in them, Nara saw pleading, resignation, and a fierce command.
Run.
Choking on sobs, Nara turned. She fled.
Tears blurred her vision. The wind tore at her hair as she spurred her horse faster and faster—until the world blurred into streaks of green and brown. Branches clawed at her from the edges of the path, lashing at her arms and catching in her cloak.
Finally, her horse stumbled to a stop at a fork in the path. Nara dismounted in one motion, heart pounding. She turned the horse toward the northern trail, slapped its flank, and whispered hoarsely, "Go."
The beast vanished into the woods.
Nara turned the opposite way. She ran.
Roots snagged her boots. Branches whipped her face. But she pushed on, lungs burning, legs aching, until she burst into a clearing.
A small, vine-covered cottage stood crooked beneath a canopy of trees. The shutters were drawn, the chimney long cold.
She raced to the door and banged her fists against it. "Please! Help me!"
Silence.
She banged again, frantic. "They want to kill me! Please!"
The door creaked open.
A woman, perhaps forty, stood there. Golden-haired, eyes sharp as flint, and bearing the Vasilian mark faintly on her neck. Her gaze scanned Nara—face, clothing, then those unmistakable green eyes.
The distant sound of hooves echoed through the trees.
"Please," Nara begged again, nearly collapsing. "Help me."
The woman stepped back. "Inside."
Nara didn't wait. She stumbled in. The door slammed shut.
The woman moved swiftly, brushing aside a threadbare rug and opening a wooden hatch in the floor.
"Get in," she ordered.
Nara obeyed, descending into the darkness below. The hatch sealed above her just as—
Bang!
The door to the cabin exploded inward.
Two men entered. Caleb, tall and cold-eyed, held a bow; Claus, broader and cruel-faced, held a curved sword.
"Where is she?" Caleb snapped.
"Where is who?" the woman asked, wide-eyed, feigning confusion.
Claus didn't wait. He stormed forward, seized the woman by the throat, and lifted her off the ground.
"I won't ask again."
He released her suddenly, then prowled around the room like a bloodhound. His eyes settled on the faint outline of dust disturbed near the hatch. He followed the signs.
He threw the hatch open.
"There you are."
Nara screamed as he reached in and yanked her out. She hit the floor with a bruising thud.
Claus shoved the woman aside and turned on Nara, lust and violence in his stare.
Caleb stepped forward. "He wants her alive."
Claus growled. "What I want won't kill her."
He began to unbuckle his belt.
Nara scrambled backward, sobbing. "Please! Please!" Her voice broke.
Claus advanced, grinning as she backed into the wall.
"No one's coming to save you," he whispered.
He grabbed her wrist. She struggled, screamed, kicked. But he was stronger.
His fingers closed around her throat.
Then—
Thwack.
Claus froze. Caleb gasped, eyes wide. A blade protruded from his forehead. He crumpled.
Behind him stood the woman, panting, blood on her hands.
Claus turned, enraged. "You bitch!"
He lunged.
She pulled the dagger from Caleb's corpse and swung, but Claus caught her wrist and drove her back.
He choked her, lifting her off the floor.
"Run!" she wheezed.
Nara forced herself upright. She bolted for the door.
Claus dropped the woman and charged after her. He tackled Nara to the ground.
She thrashed, but he was on top of her, hands tearing at her gown.
She screamed. Screamed until her throat felt like sand.
He pinned her by the neck, the belt in his hand.
Across the room, the woman lay motionless.
Nara reached toward her, eyes full of terror. "Wake up... please..."
Claus leaned closer, his grin monstrous.
And then something changed.
The green of Nara's eyes sharpened, glowed. Her body stilled.
A hum, subtle and eerie, filled the air.
Claus's smile faltered.
Then—
Boom.
He burst.
Flesh, blood, and sinew exploded outward, splattering the walls. Shards of bone cracked against wood.
Nara lay beneath what remained, soaked in gore, her eyes wide with horror and shock.
The woman groaned, sat up slowly, and looked at the carnage.
She stared at Nara—a trembling, blood-drenched girl in a pool of viscera.
For a moment, she stepped back, shaken.
But then she moved forward, heartbroken.
She knelt, took Nara's hand. "It's fine. Breathe."
Nara struggled to draw air. Her chest heaved.
The woman stroked her cheek. "You're alright now."
"Help me," Nara whispered, her voice barely audible through her sobs.
The woman nodded, her own hands shaking. "What's your name?"
"Nara... it's nice to meet you."
"Eulalia," the woman said softly. "My name is Eulalia."