◆ VAMIR ◆

 

The courtyard is a sea of red, black, and gold. Soldiers in quilted tunics, heavy chainmail, and surcoat line up in formation, facing the balcony of the Royal Palace. Leading the line is a cluster of knights on the largest bay horses I have ever seen, with shiny coats in bright shades of black and brown, and flowing tails and manes.

In the middle of this cavalry is a black carriage, flanked by spearmen and bannermen carrying poles with the red-and-black flag of House Ilialana—the sapphire insignia of the Azuries in its center—and the red-and-gold banner of House Cardan with its eighteen-ray sun crest.

This whole charade could have been avoided had we decided to travel by airship, one that could significantly cut travel time from three days to a mere five hours.

But here lies the problem: The airships have run out of fuel.

In the Glass Empire, airships can be a bane or a boon. A modern, man-made technology that hails from the Empire of the Elders, Eldcolire, airships are used chiefly for shipping and transportation. But the Glass Empire remains largely traditional, with most of its people still deeply steeped in their faith in the Old Gods. For devout worshipers, airships are an abomination; a blasphemy that dares to defy the will of the gods. It is, as they say, "man's attempt to reach the heavens and become more powerful than even the divine beings".

A folly, if you ask me.

But it is precisely because of this belief that only five of the eighteen kingdoms in the Glass Empire have accepted these man-made marvels as part of their everyday lives. And with a joint military treatise, kingdoms are forbidden to use airships in battle. Any monarch who infringes this law shall face the gallows with its swift and public hanging.

Still, this did not stop the kingdoms from building their own anti-aircraft weapons and defenses. When you have neighbors who are eager to identify your weaknesses and use it against you, it is far better to be safe than sorry.

Going back to airships, fuel is required to fly them. They run either on denatured cryostone gas or liquefied deuklodite stones—precious commodities that power up entire empires.

The first fleet of airships designed to run on cryo-gas came all the way from Eldcolire. Eventually, the Glass Empire learned to build its own airships. No sooner, however, did we realize a major drawback: the empire starkly lacks its own source of cryostones, a mineral that can only be found in the tundra and alpine regions of Eldcolire. Importing cryo-gas all the way from Eldcolire is not only costly but highly inconvenient as well, considering airships had to traverse the hostile empire of Willorion.

Everything changed when House Torzumin of the Moon Court discovered local deuklodite stones, which turned out to be a more feasible and longer-lasting alternative to cryo-gas.

Ossola, my motherland, is surrounded by valleys and rolling hills dotted with deuklodite mines. We are the first to harvest the stones in masses and purify them into fuel; using it not just to fly airships but to power most of the homes and machines in the city.

Much of the Ossolan population works in the mines. But while deuklodite stones have become an economic blessing, they also come with fatal consequences. Soon we realized that with the lack of proper gear, deuklodite stones harnessed in their raw form can be extremely toxic to humans, causing miscarriage and infertility among Omegas. To make matters worse, prolonged exposure can cause the lungs to harden and collapse, a disease we now call "crystal lungs". Death is extremely painful for those who suffer from it.

I look toward the hills where the mines are situated, and heave a deep sigh. The recent war had caused a labor shortage, with most of the men having been deployed to the borders to defend the kingdom. For many cycles, the mines have been abandoned, and the few remaining miners have fallen ill with the early stages of crystal lungs.

Ossola and the rest of Ilialana is fast running out of resources. The kingdom has almost depleted its remaining supply of liquefied deuklodite, just enough to power the city for five more cycles. Perhaps even less. To curb the fuel shortage, the Council has agreed to suspend the use of airships until supplies are restored, one that could take three more cycles.

I can only imagine the prospect of conquering weakened kingdoms like Ilialana—a rich source of deuklodite stones—can be alluring for opportunistic parasites like Athar Khriskhana. The tyrant king possesses one of the largest airship fleets in the Glass Empire, second only to the Moon Court's, an enemy state to Khriskhana whose anti-airship defenses he would not dare challenge.

A horse's whinny jolts me from my troubled thoughts. From the barren mines, I shift my attention back to the congregation before me. An assemblage of the palace staff, all in black, stand at the back and to the side of the courtyard. In front of the royal entourage stand Nenaias and his eldest son Aran, along with the youngest in the family, Braegen, carried by his Omega father. The babe is merely ten cycles old, sucking on his thumb and cooing, completely oblivious of the events unfolding before him.

These are the future of Ilialana, the very people I must protect.

I walk over to them, my eyes never leaving Nenaias's face. The daylight makes him look even more gaunt and sallow, like a ghost of his old self. I take Braegen and hold him with an arm, as I draw Nenaias close to me with the other.

I have always felt a sense of kinship with Nenaias, not just because he is an Omega, but because underneath the air of grace and calmness is a headstrong, valiant man who's developed a strong sense of responsibility to his family.

I know in my heart he will do everything in his power to protect Isarrel and the children, but the recent events had racked him, mind and soul.

"You need to go back inside the palace," I implore. "It will not be good for your health if you stay too long out here."

Nenaias waves away my remark and looks at me through bleary eyes. "How is he?" he asks instead, referring to his mate.

"He..."

He is not getting any better.

I shake my head as though it can cast aside the intrusive thought. "Ievos is with him. He'll be fine. Listen, brother. You need to get some rest. Have the stewards watch over the children."

"Yes, but... Brother, I do not think I can do this on my own." Nenaias buries his face in my chest, gripping my arms as if holding on for dear life. Braegen lets out a string of meaningless, happy babbles, not the least concerned that his Omega father is crushing him between us. "When Isarrel passes, I will become king regent. And I can't...I just can't..."

So, Nenaias knows. It is no longer a matter of "if", but "when". My heart shatters at this realization.

"Brother, you must be strong," I tell him, voice cracking and barely audible. "Please watch your health. I do not like to see you wasting away into nothing. Aran and Braegen are ill-equipped and far too young to be losing both their parents. Not now. Not ever."

I tell him about the dowry and what to expect in the days to come. Nenaias looks a little relieved at this, his face gradually softening as I offer temporary consolation.

"From here on, you are in-charge until Isarrel...recovers," I murmur in his ear before releasing him. "I will send in a messenger once I arrive in Cardan. I will make sure to get word every cycle. If anything happens, you must let me know at once."

Nenaias nods in agreement. "Thank you, brother. Maybe one of these days, you can come and visit us?" he asks meaningfully. "Come see the boys. And maybe then, the mines will be back in operation. You can bring the Summer King with you, even. He can see for himself how we operate the mines."

Telling Nenaias that my fate hangs in the balance would not give him comfort. All the words I've been wanting to say to my brother, all the emotions I've never felt before, are threatening to spill out.

I may not be able to return home anytime soon—or ever. I will not be here to see the boys grow up and age into manhood. I will certainly not be here for my brother's funeral.

What am I to do?

Before I could open my mouth, Braegen starts getting fussy, kicking and squirming his way out of my grasp. "There, there, everything will be alright, darling," I croon as I rock him soothingly and hand him back to his Omega father. I kiss the top of his head as I say a silent prayer to the gods to keep him safe and healthy.

"Uncle?" A pair of small hands grab onto my leg. Little Aran looks up at me with an expectant smile. He resembles his Alpha father, from the glossy, dark red hair that curls over his ears, to the intense light-brown eyes that sparkle with enthusiasm and intelligence.

I bend down and peer into the boy's face. "How are we today, Aran?"

"Very well, thank you, Uncle. Consort-father told me you are traveling to the sun!" the boy declares, pointing to the sun crest banner behind him.

I glance amusedly at Nenaias, who shrugs and smiles slyly. "I am going to the Summer Court, yes. It's up in the north," I reply, pointing toward the mountain road.

"And you are to marry the sun? When? You must bring him over!" the boy demands, tugging at my coat with balled-up fists.

I chuckle as I pat him gently on the shoulder. "Maybe someday, dear," I say, offering a reassuring smile. "For now, what do you say you head on back inside the palace and play with your brother?"

Aran frowns at this. "You will come back tomorrow, yes?"

The smile slowly fades from my lips. Of course, the child still has no concept of time, has not experienced the kind of longing and confusion of someone leaving them behind. I have gone through such losses in the past, evoking the most heart-wrenching and unique feeling of loss as the days go by. I have recovered from them, and the emotional scars will always be there to remind me that I have healed.

One day, Aran will understand.

I engulf the boy in a tight embrace and kiss him on the forehead. "I'll be back before you know it. I swear to you."

The boy deserves more than broken promises, and I am determined to commit to the words I've strung together. Life is about to give my nephews a brutal start. They should be around people who know how to keep their promises.

"Please watch over your brother and fathers for me, until I return." I rise to my feet and give the boy a gentle pat on the head.

"And the whole kingdom, too!" Aran gives me a snappy salute that makes my lips curve and my eyes blur. I lift a hand into a wave as the boy ducks back behind his Omega father's legs.

Finally, I turn my eyes to the tall, heavy-set man standing a respectable distance from my family. Judging by his intricate armor and the sword belted to his waist, he must be the army's commander, General Barandir. Everything about the man screams dominant Alpha, exuding an air of strength and sureness of their own prowess and authority.

The general approaches as he clears his throat, drawing an impatient stare in my direction. At least, it feels like impatience. "Your Grace," he greets, placing a fist over his chest as he bows slightly. "My name is Barandir." He lifts his head and stares back at me, his jaw tight, voice deep and carefully measured. "My mission is to bring you safely to my king."

There it is, the truth of the matter: I am merely a mission to this man, and perhaps to everyone else in his army.

I look over General Barandir's shoulder, my eyes briefly sweeping the faces of his men. Already I can see judgment in their eyes:

Our king is marrying some nobody-prince!

Our king deserves someone better.

Weakling. He will not survive.

The dagger, Azuri, now safely hidden under my coat, feels ever-present. I shake my head, seeking to dislodge these dark, intrusive thoughts.

"I'm ready to go." I straighten my coat and draw my shoulders back, dragging my gaze back to General Barandir.

The general gestures toward the waiting carriage. "We must make haste, Your Grace. We cannot travel by night. We must cross the Duchy of Lorraine before sundown, lest we add an extra day of travel."

Orrian appears beside me, pulling a dull gray woolen cloak around my shoulders. One of the soldiers opens the side door of the carriage as my steward ushers me in. I sit on the softly padded velvet seat and Orrian sits across from me, looking me in the eyes. I could not decide if I see pity or concern looking back at me. Maybe it's both.

I turn away and peer through the window, my throat aching with tightness as I fight off another string of tears. I have never lived so far away from my family before. Bidding farewell to the people I had known all my life is difficult enough, but the reality that everything else is uncertain at this point, fills me with so much dread. I have never felt so unmoored.

I startle as General Barandir shouts a command to the army, and the carriage lurches forward. As we speed away, I look back and see Nenaias's forlorn figure get smaller and smaller in front of the palace, until he disappeared from view altogether.

Within a few moments, we take off for Cardan, a new world where I start a new life.

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