“Hey, how come you have two pieces of meat and I only have one?” Orfen pouted, looking over Racqein’s shoulder at the little bundle of food in his lap.

“Cause I’m the brother and you’re just the freeloader,” Racqein replied, but still picked up the extra piece and set it down in the bundle on Orfen’s lap.

Orfen purred, rubbing his head full of fluffy blonde hair against Racqein’s arm. Racqein leaned away from him, “stop it. It’s way too hot for that...” he said, sparing only the most minimal effort to get Orfen to stop.

The two teen boys, one a lanky Islander with dark skin, shaggy black hair, and the pupiless golden eyes of a MorningSun, the other a werecat with light brown eyes and his cat like ears almost hidden in a voluminous mop of blonde hair, sat shoulder to shoulder under a thin, sparse tree that barely provided any protection from the harsh, high noon sun. Ten or so feet away were the other farm hands, scattered around a much larger, shadier tree, being served a meal by the boss's wife. Racqein and Orfen weren’t allowed to join them, but they felt lucky enough that the boss even hired them; a MorningSun and a werecat, so they didn’t mind creating their own little space together where they at the lunches packed by Racqein’s little sister, Marisol.

Since they were away from others, Racqein had taken off his threadbare eyepatch and was wringing out the sweat collected in it. His right eye, normally covered by the eyepatch, glowed purple as Cruxion spoke in his mind, “you should go home early today. I have a bad feeling.”

“What’s Cruxion saying?” Orfen asked, peering into Racqein’s face as if staring hard enough would allow him to hear the ghostly knight.

“Nothing important.” Racqein said, covering his eye back up with the eyepatch.

“So rude. I’m just concerned about you.”

“Then be concerned about my purse.” Racqein thought bitterly in response.

Sixteen years ago, to the day, Racqein was born without any breath in his lungs. The cursed, unlucky child of a lonely MorningSun man and an Islander girl that was too far from home with no way back. His mother, desperate to not be alone, begged and prayed for his life to anything that would listen. Cruxion is what responded.

He wasn’t a god, just the spirit of an enshrined knight that couldn’t quite remember when he lived or what he died for. Still, he was powerful enough to keep Racqein breathing, speak with him, and even possess his body occasionally. So for sixteen years, Racqein lived with this companion in his mind, surviving due to his help. Even when his mother, who begged and prayed to not be left alone, left him alone with a newborn baby sister when he was less than five years old, he survived.

Racqein and Orfen got back to work as usual, ignoring Cruxion’s warning, and soon the sun was sinking on the horizon. They began their long walk ‘home’ to Cruxion’s tomb. Orfen walked a few steps ahead, his shoes tied to his belt, his fingers laced behind his head, and his tail swishing behind him.

“Something has happened. I can feel it.” Cruxion declared.

“Well when you figure out what it is, let me know.” Racqein punctuated his thoughts with a yawn as he dragged his feet one step at a time down the road...

... The next morning, Racqein would learn what happened...

The second princess, Eleisiya, had disappeared.