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My child is now on a ventilator, his little heart is fighting for his life, and the doctors have told me the harsh truth: without urgent surgery, the ventilator will stop... and his heart will stop! 😭

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❌ If the operation is not performed immediately, I will lose him forever! ❌

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Halle 👋

Dear friends around the world,

Greetings to you from Gaza, the land of peace and love.

Please take a moment to read my story.

I am Heba Al-Dahdouh. I currently live in the completely destroyed city of Gaza. Since the war on Gaza began on 7/1/2024, my family—my father Nasif, my mother Asmaa, and my siblings Khaled, Ahmad, Muhammad, and Malak—have been living in constant fear, crying, and suffering due to shrapnel, shells, and bullets.

We have no food, no electricity, no cooking gas, no schools, no homes, no cleaning supplies, and no clothes. Our house was completely destroyed. My school has been bombed, and my brother Khaled's university is now rubble, depriving us all of education. The war has forced us to live in displacement centers, which are just tents unsuitable for living, especially in winter.

Every day we live death, terror, and panic a thousand times because of the ongoing bombardment of my city. The war has killed more than 50 of my relatives and neighbors. At the start of the war, we sought refuge at my aunt's house, but it too became rubble. Imagine: we have survived imminent death more than 20 times and have been displaced among shelters more than 13 times. My siblings and I have suffered from many illnesses due to malnutrition, and we need medication continuously.

If we stay in Gaza, we might lose our lives. Recently, we have been seriously considering leaving Gaza for a safe place. However, travel costs are extremely high. We need over $50,000 to leave Gaza. Due to exorbitant prices, rampant unemployment, lack of security, the ongoing siege, and relentless bombardment, we have lost all our money. How can we live in such insecurity, with constant shelling and shrapnel flying above us? Dear compassionate friends around the world,

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Her condition is critical, with severe symptoms like abdominal pain, bloody stools, and rectal bleeding. Immediate action is needed to prevent the cancer from spreading further.

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A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter Four

Word Count : 8.7k

Warning(s) : N/A

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon...)

Lyphon

I always preferred eating outside to eating inside. I want to eat where there is sun on my back and I’m surrounded by fresh air with a cool breeze that quietly passes by, ruffling my hair a little. Maybe surrounded by beautiful flowers or plants or trees. But in general, eating outside is better. I don’t care if it’s a feast or a small snack, it doesn’t really matter so long as I’m filling my stomach and I’m not stuck inside a dull castle.

And the Spring Court is the perfect place to have a picnic. It was Lucien’s idea originally, Tamlin was hesitant but complied, leading us to a field and setting everything up. Lucien explained that there several snacks, foods, and treats were set up with tea and some fruit juices. He had helped me avoid sitting on any snacks or creases that would cause a spill. Now we all just sit in silence, enjoying our lunches.

In the background I can hear birds singing as a gentle breeze dances with the vines of a nearby willow tree. A small creature is running through the grass, probably a bunny. I imagine it’s still quite beautiful here. My family had visited this Court a few times for official business. Each time I was enchanted and thought it was gorgeous here. Our plants never looked as lively, vibrant. Our gardens could never compare to the one’s of Theron’s for example. Even after he taught us how to garden better. Maybe it was the soil. Maybe our home could never host life properly, or at least normal life.

Of all the Courts I believe Spring was always my favourite. Winter was too cold, though Gyn always loved it’s frigid weather and her ties to it. Autumn was too cruel, or at least the Vanserra’s always had incredibly untrustworthy characteristics to them, except Lucien, who has proven he’s nothing like the Vanserra’s I’ve met. Summer was nice, but it usually had more tropical plants, less fields of flowers and more water. Dawn was always nice though, a comforting feeling place that always played neutral parts well. Day was…so lively. It was always bright and everyone had a never ending energy until the sun set. It was exhausting, but the libraries were always magical and incredible. We could get lost for years inside them and we’d be content with it. The Night Court was dreadful, misery everywhere and no light underground. Velaris was nicer, but I always felt a little cooped up there, I couldn’t explore a lot. At home Gyn would take me on walks, we’d explore for hours, she’d tell tales of things, I’d listen. We’d be home well past sundown. Despite how much older my brother and sister are, there were still some spots they’d never found before. Creatures they’d never met. Our home can be a living hell, but it never fails to offer endless adventure outside, endless fantastical elements with calm danger.

There were some nights where I was upset, and I’d thought I was quiet and sneaky, that I could get away with crying myself to sleep. Whether it was from stress or genuine hurt, it never mattered. Achlys and Gyn would scoop me up in my blankets and we’d leave with the moon being the only thing illuminating our path. To calm me down they would hum or sing lullabies, show me beautiful, gentle animals and flowers, and tell me stories of a brave Prince who greatest battle was against his heartless Father, the King. It worked everytime. I would fall asleep, comforted and happy. I always woke up in my bed, smelling flowers, a vase of them beside my bed, freshly cut and from one of their personal gardens. Gardens Theron helped plant, gardens that could rival those of the Spring Court’s. Which makes sense, Theron was a male my age who became the High Lord of Spring. He was smart like Boreas and Cosmas, befriending my siblings so he’d have their protection and support. Though their original intentions faded after time, we all did become and stay genuine friends. Long gone are those days though.

Sighing I take another bite of my sandwich. It’s funny, thinking of such old memories. And now that I think of it..this is where I met Reqius. He was a servant, one of the gardeners, he attended to several sections of roses, all of which he expertly kept alive and gleaming..yes I met Reqius in the Spring Court. And now all I have left of him is Ellian. That poor, sweet boy. By the Mother I hope he’s alright. He was always strong and brave, even after what happened to Rima and Terris. He had Reqius’s kindness and determination, so of course he was never easily shaken.

“Enjoying your sandwich, Lyphon?”

Lucien’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, returning me to the Spring Court and our lunch. I hum, nodding.

“Yes, it’s well made, thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank us for. The chefs made everything, we merely brought everything here.” Tamlin speaks up, his voice rough enough that he clears his throat afterwards.

“Yes, well, you still allowed us to eat outside, which is a nice change. So thank you for that.”

The two are silent for another few minutes, everyone enjoying the snacks or sipping drinks. Tamlin speaks again though, that serious High Lord attitude appearing again.

“I have news.”

I imagine Lucien perking up at this, interested by the announcement and excited on my behalf.

“Did Lyphon’s family contact you?”

I chuckle a little before Tamlin can answer. While the notion is nice, the reality isn’t quite the same.

“I doubt they would. They know that we know better and that we’ll return on our own time, I doubt they’re worried about me or my siblings. I would be more surprised if they did.”

“His family did not contact us, no. I had asked Helion about any records regarding his family, and recently he has invited us to stay a week in the Day Court. Because of this invitation I believe he has found something. He never disclosed that however. So the beginning of next week is when we will visit.”

I hum quietly. Helion…High Lord of the Day Court. I’ve not even the slightest idea about who he is or what he’s like. I can remember one of his ancestors though, or who could be his ancestor. His name was Atalo. He was clever with a quick tongue and charming personality. I suspected that it was all a charade, a carefully made mask, but no one ever batted an eye at him because of it. He was also quite intelligent, and generous enough to allow some to visit the libraries. I wonder how alike the two are. Somehow I doubt Helion will be too serious, like Atalo.

Visiting for a whole week…that should be interesting. It would be nice to visit the libraries again, see any new editions to them. Plus, it would be interesting to see what records Prythian has on us. I’m sure there’s a few ugly patches, but as far as I’ve been aware we were never all that bad, we helped more than we challenged or caused trouble since we had several of our own issues to deal with.

Humming I switch trains of thought.

“Lucien, you previously mentioned you aren’t from Spring. Are you from Autumn?”

Lucien is quiet for a moment, softly humming as he thinks, likely deciding whether to answer me or change the subject. He sighs a little, taking a sip of whatever drink he chose before settling on his answer.

“I was..but I left and came here instead since Tamlin and I were old friends. He let me stay and made me his emissary.”

I hum a little, carefully searching for my glass and taking a sip of my juice. There’s clearly more to the story, but I won’t push, it’s likely a touchy subject anyways.

“I see..tell me. Are the others High Lords cruel?”

Tamlin grunts, almost scoffing.

“It’s a mix. Beron is notoriously cruel, along with Rhysand. Tarquin is more on the kind side. Kallias and Thesan tend to be more neutral. They’re not cruel, but they don’t jump to be kind either. Helion seems to be between neutral and kind, but I’m sure he has the capability to be cruel.”

I chuckle quietly.

“Anyone has the capability to be cruel, should they be pushed far enough. Even the kindest of people can crack and eventually shatter, usually leading to a terrible consequences for everyone surrounding them. Though some are just naturally cruel, whether they intend to be or not.” I say, my head falling back a little. If my eyes weren’t so bad I’d be staring at the sky, maybe watching clouds float by, observe their odd shapes.

That being said though, I’m hoping Gyn and Achlys aren’t stuck in Autumn or Night. Sure we had friends in both in the past, but that was a very long time ago and those ties have been cut. Briefly I wonder what it would take to rebuild those alliances. Probably a lot of bargaining, honestly.

“You sound like you speak from experience.” Tamlin says, sounding almost thoughtful.

“Yes, well, I’ve seen it many times before. The kindest souls being pushed to their very limits and yet still, being expected to act as sweet and unbothered. The cruel ones see them as nothing but stupid pawns to walk all over, and when the time comes when they snap..somehow everyone is surprised.” I hum, “there was one such case many years ago with a family, who had been causing us a lot of trouble, and we suspected it was entirely on purpose. We learned quickly they were abusive to their servants, one in particular.”

“I can still recall the marks on their body that couldn’t be as well hidden as the others. It was disgusting. And he was a sweetheart too. Achlys was concerned and warned the family that they’ll end up biting themselves in the ass. But Gyn and I saw it coming miles away. Gyn had a dagger made for them and offered them a job in our main palace. They said no, at first, deciding to stay loyal, hopeful…”

A silence follows, it feels somber and still. Even the breeze feels a little stiff and tense. We all know the ending.

“They endured half a year more..and then they snapped. It was at a banquet they were hosting. We were in attendance. Their eldest son threw a fit, the perfect image of a spoiled, narcissistic brat that thought he ruled the world. He took the brunt of it, and then…chaos erupted. He apparently carried the dagger with him everywhere, and he’d used it to slit the son’s throat.” I sigh, what a night that was. “In a matter of minutes he’d pulled us outside, given us a load of evidence proving their involvement with underground dealings that spelled out their plans of eliminating us and taking the title of ‘Ruling Family’. He’d also set fire to the manor. The family ended up demanding us for compensation, and we refused. Revealing the collected evidence and arresting them. Thankfully, he’s doing much better now.”

I smile a bit at the memory. Had it not been for that devilish family, he probably would’ve been much happier for longer. Not stuck in some hell with a loyalty for the demons surrounding them, hoping them to truly be secretly angels. The poor soul.

Tamlin hums at the story, Lucien stays quiet, mostly. I can hear his eye moving a bit from time to time. I wonder if his eye ever gets dry, probably not as it’s enchanted for one, and likely not made of flesh. I’m sure both my siblings would be fascinated.

“Where is he now?” Lucien asks after a moment, I’m guessing he’s checking that he’s not poor or homeless, something we’d never allow to happen. Homelessness is a death sentence in our Court, it’s basically a crime to allow anyone to sleep anywhere outside, not unless they were given strict permissions from us.

“He took up Gyn’s offer. Though he requested to work in her palace instead. She complied, so now he works and lives there. It’s a good ending to that story. I can’t imagine why anyone would abuse those who serve them, especially if you rely on them. They say there is strength in numbers and well…who will help you when they turn on you? Or when you fall? You’ve essentially made sure there’s no chance of anyone catching you. So what will you do when you need help?”

I hear nothing, so I imagine Lucien nodding at the information, satisfied with the outcome perhaps.

We return to the silence of before, continuing to snack on our food, drink our drinks. I listen for anything nearby. The wind stays gentle, there’s the odd bird singing a few notes, and sometimes a small critter running somewhere. If I’m not careful there is a good chance I’’ll relax too much and fall asleep.

“Well, it’s time I go back inside. I have a meeting in a half hour and plenty of paperwork to sort through.” Tamlin speaks up, standing up afterwards. He leaves, walking back towards the manor, Lucien sighing a little.

“I suppose lunch is over then..ugh back to dreadful work then. Do you want to come inside with me, Lyphon? I’ll have the servants gather everything.”

I shake my head.

“No, I’ll stay here a while longer. Thank you though.”

Lucien stays quiet for a moment before turning and heading back to the manor, leaving me to my lonesome.

Gyn

I’m relying heavily on muscle memory to get me through this. I haven’t had to fight or use a weapon against someone in a very long time, so actually training again is…interesting. At some points I briefly get excited when I recognize the preparation of a move from my opponent or when I guess their next move correctly. But those moments aren’t very common and honestly they feel more like deja vu than getting a question right on a quiz.

Across from me Tarquin is braced and ready for any possible oncoming attacks on my end, not that any are coming, I’ve sort of forced myself into defensive to the point I’m not sure I’d ever let myself try anything offensive for fear of making a fool of myself. Thank the cauldron Tarquin doesn’t seem to mind though.

We circle each other. While I eye him warily he simply looks at me with amusement. I suspect we both think a child could fight better than I am. Sighing I go back into a defensive stance, this is starting to tire me out more than yesterday.

“You’re not even going to try to attack me once?” Tarquin teases, making me scowl. By the gods this makes me think of Achlys again. We’d both mock and tease each other when training together, pissing each other off endlessly.

“Maybe some other time Tarquin, besides, didn’t you say you wanted to practice some offensive moves?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yes, well, that was with the hope and assumption that you wouldn’t make me overuse every move I’ve learned. Not once have you attacked me. Since when have you ever been strictly on the defensive?”

“Today. I haven’t had a reason to fight recently, so this feels abnormal to me right now.”

He raises a brow, looking rather amused by something.

“And you think I’ll go easily on you because of that?”

I scowl, an expression that’s probably quite common for me.

“Not at all.”

Tarquin smirks, going in for another jump attack. One arm keeps his midsection protected, the other raised with a sword in hand. I’m already on the edge of the rink, so I angle my body more leftwards and back up, moving along the edge. If he jumps me or hits me hard enough I’ll definitely loose..though right now that isn’t sounding too bad. I’m getting pretty worn out, my breathing is already a little strained and my movements are slowing down, even if by a little, my reaction time is slower too, and I’m sure by now he’s picked up on that. Though he hasn’t bothered to capitalize on it..for some reason.

The attack is followed by a few more, smaller and more controlled ones, ones that require less energy but are still effective, especially when used correctly. His movements are swift, and I actively have to put more effort and energy into dodging than before, a few strikes nearly hit.

Tarquin makes one last move, light glinting off the steel as it narrowly misses the bridge of my nose, instead severing a stray hair halfway. The thin strand falls, but rather than landing on the sandy floor of our little sparring arena, Tarquin catches it, pinching it between two fingers. His smirk grows as he holds it up for us both to see.

“You’re getting slow.”

Sighing, I can only nod. The arm carrying my own sparring sword drops, the blade feels heavy in my hands and I’m all to aware of the sweat dripping down my neck, back, and sides.

“Yes, well, I’m getting tired.” Breathing and speaking are two things I cannot do simultaneously, right now at least. “Honestly, I’m not sure I can even continue after this..goodness, I yield. If you need me-”

“You do not yield.”

“Excuse you?”

He chuckles seeing my expression. But repeats what he said nonetheless.

“You. Do not. Yield.”

I raise a brow, though my annoyance still clear. Huffing I take a step back, or try to. It would be enough for me to technically lose. But Tarquin isn’t having any of it. He grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him and backing up into we’re both in the center of the ring, inches apart. I’m not enjoying the victorious look on his face.

“You are not allowed to yield or leave this ring until you’ve attacked me. And no ‘low effort’ attacks either, I want you to treat me like an actual opponent. Fight me like you would on the battlefield.”

Only then does he back up, going into a defensive stance. I narrow my eyes this time, more from concern and warning.

“I’d really rather not, Tarquin.’

“Just try.”

Exasperated and getting pretty foul mooded, I back up. He looks confused for a moment before I charge, running at full speed with my sword pointed right at his chest. He raises his arms higher, twisting his sword to use it as a sort of shield. He moves forward too, planning to take the sword head on, but I move left at the last second, raising the sword to strike him in the head, and then kick him in the knee instead.

He grunts as he almost kneels. Swiftly I kick at his nose, then at his chest, both attempted strikes are blocked by one arm, the other being used to raise his sword and aim a strike. He stabs at my chest, I barely raise my own sword fast enough to block that. I jump back, giving us both space as he stands to his full height and starts to approach, smiling.

It’s his usual smile, the one that’s soft and in any other context would make me think of calming waves and shining pearls. But right now it just puts me more on edge. I wonder if he smiles at his enemies like this before killing them.

Huffing slightly I run at him full speed, keeping my sword and body lowered. At the last second I dodge to the side, spinning just enough to get behind him and kick the back of one of his knees before pressing the sword against his throat, not enough to do any real damage, of course.

He grunts as he lands, using a hand to keep the sword’s edge away from his throat. He must not have been very affected by the attack however, since he’s quick to roll forward, taking me with him. I think I feel my spine crack a few times. I groan as we stop with him and planting of his body weight laying atop of me, specifically my chest. Now I’m taking in even less air. I’ll probably pass out in a minute.

Hissing I put more effort into moving the sword back towards his neck. My arm shakes as he pushes back. While he’s a bit more distracted I raise my legs, high enough to wrap them firmly around his diaphragm, before squeezing like a boa constrictor. This might not work out well for me though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hold his breath longer or be able to last longer without oxygen than the average fae.

He almost tenses up immediately. One hand works on keeping the sword away from his throat, the other works at untangling my legs or at least loosening them enough that he won’t have to fight for air every breath. He’s not giving up fast enough though, so I reach out with my free hand and place opposite his hand on the sword. Twisting the sword in my other hand, I make sure it’s flat against both our palms. Despite wheezing a little, Tarquin manages to chuckle slightly.

“How are you supposed to slit my throat with the sharp edge facing away from me?”

A strangled laugh escapes me, I sound a bit exasperated, desperate too.

“If I get it close enough, strangling you will all be too easy. All I need to do is angle it properly between your neck and jaw.”

He barks a laugh, the sound startling me and I’m temporarily unsure of how to react. Is he ok? Is he pushing himself too far? Do I need to do something? He stops before I can check for any health problems though.

“You nasty, nasty girl.”

“You’re the one who told me to fight like you were my enemy. I don’t necessarily need a quick victory, I just need to win..or lose. Whichever will make you let me leave faster.”

He grunts as I pull the sword closer to his throat, cursing the hand trying to remove my legs switches between hitting my side with the hilt of his sword and with as much force as he can use at the moment, and trying to push the sword away. Each strike to my side feels like fireworks of pain exploding and worsening with each strike. He doesn’t even need to hit me anymore for my whole side to ache and throb, but it’s worse at the main strike point, which would be my bottom rib.

With a rough gasp I tightening my legs around him as much as I can, both legs shaking as I struggle to keep squeezing his diaphragm. It’s paying off though. His breathing has become short, quick gasps that I know aren’t getting him much air. Close, so close to victory. Until I’m not.

His one arm raises again, poised and ready to strike.

“No-”

Pain explodes in my entire side as the hilt of his sword strikes the bottom bone again. I feel a crack, probably the rib fracturing. Lovely. Unfortunately I falter, one hand slipping briefly from the sword, giving him enough time and strength to rip the sword from my hands and toss to the other side of the arena. He hits my fracturing rib again, I hiss, agony and lack of energy causing my legs to loosen, practically flopping to the side as Tarquin quickly unwraps my legs.

I barely notice him turning until it’s too late. Instantly air is whisked from my lungs and I try to inhale, only to meet the resistance that is his weight pressed onto my diaphragm through his knee. The point of his sword presses against the middle of my throat.

Oh if Great Great Grandfather could see me now..I would surely never be able to return home until I floored him in the first 10 seconds. I would be quite the disappointment. I might’ve had an excuse as a child. But not now. I’m fully grown and I’ve already been trained. To think Ulysse was so successful I can barely fight now. Cauldron I might just cry myself to sleep tonight. Coming from a family who takes pride in their strength and ability to defeat others…of course I feel like a weakling now. A failure almost.

Anger boils up inside at the thought. After everything I’ve had to go through to prove myself, to get a peaceful, quiet living, this is what I’ve become? It was really this easy? To defeat me, weaken me, make me give up?

I basically snarl like an animal as a grab a fistful of sand and throw right as his eyes. I don’t give him time to process as he raises a hand to block the sand, possibly get some out of his eyes. I punch him in the throat, then raise a leg to kick him in the crotch before using that leg to shove him away. As he lands, wiping the sand from his eyes, I stand up, marching over to my sword and picking it up. When I turn he’s still keeled over, coughing though. I have to make this quick. It seems we both are going till the other taps out, so I’ll have to force him to. Pressing a blade to his head won’t do that, but almost slitting his throat probably will.

Before he can get up, I stand over him and put the blade in the curve between his jaw and his neck, before carefully pulling up. I don’t actually want to hurt him, but I need him to give up. He almost curses, scrambling to push the blade away, but I don’t let him move it. He’s trying hard not to cough, but it’s clear he’s about to and if he does blood will likely spill..well maybe, I’m not entirely sure how sharp these swords are. Huffing he hits my leg three times.

Sighing with a bit of relief I move the sword away, tossing it to the other side near the stands that hold other practice blades. Moving a few feet away I sit down on some of the steps, wincing as my side throbs again and the pain spasms when I cough a little. Tarquin practically has a coughing fit for a minute, but he’s okay otherwise, thankfully. When that’s done he stands up, takes a few deep breaths, and turns to me.

“Congrats.”

Quietly he walks over, offering a hand. I take it, almost distracted by the contrasting feel of soft yet calloused. He pulls me up into a standing position.

“Ah well, thank you. Though I’m certain you did more damage than me. Much more. So good job for that.”

He frowns at that, eyes instantly going to my side. One hand reaches, about to touch the growing red patch, but I grab his wrist before it can.

“Please don’t. My rib was fractured. I know you’re gentle, but that will still hurt.”

Concern colours his eyes as they flick back up to meet mine.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize- let me take you to the healers.”

He’s quick, I’ll give him that. I can’t form a response fast enough before he’s slipping the hand hovering above my side into my own hand, tugging me towards the exit.

“No- it’s fine, Tarquin. I’ll be fine. Just let me rest and I’ll look after it once I’m more energized.”

Stubbornly though, he shakes his head, pulling me along.

“No. We’re going to the healers. I won’t risk you accidentally harming yourself further by using this chance to practice your abilities more. I trust you know what you’re doing, but I’d rather have you healed immediately than wait for you to do it yourself.”

Sighing I increase my pace to match his, following him as he expertly moves from hallway to hallway in search of the healers wing. Or just healers. I’m assuming there’s a mini-hospital in the castle, but I could be mistaken.

We both fall into a comfortable silence. Him, determined to find a healer and searching. Me, lost in thought as I stare out any windows at the vast sea. The silence is softly broken though when Tarquin asks a question.

“What was that, back there? Do you hate losing?”

I’m quiet for a moment, thinking.

“No..not quite, at least. I- I think it was more just, in my family, strength is something that we were raised to put a lot of pride in. Me and my siblings, we were all raised with the ideal that we couldn’t afford to lose, not even once.”

“Couldn’t afford to lose..what do you mean by that?”

“I suppose a simple way of saying it is that by my family’s standards, loosing means you’re weak. And in a family that values strength highly..well my Great Great Grandfather has a set of standards that, if not met, mean he’ll make you an outcast or just straight up disown you.” I wince at a few memories that pop up. “The Mortis name carries a lot of protection at home..if you’re apart of the family or at least respected, you’re well protected and regular or weaker creatures won’t attack you, you won’t really be challenged. But otherwise..you’re open game.”

Tarquin hums, nodding slightly.

“I see, well. I think it’s a bit foolish to place all your seashells in one basket, if strength is the only thing your family values..then they’re blinding themselves to many other wonderful things, and building up themselves for failure. Or at the very least, a very miserable family. You didn’t need to beat me for me to know that you’re strong, Gyn.”

His words make me smile, the smile growing into a giggle as I grin at him.

“Thank you, for that. I’m sure it could take me a while to fully agree, but I’m at least aware that my Great Great Grandfather should try using more baskets.”

He chuckles, smiling back. We walk for a few more minutes before we arrive at a door labeled ‘Medical’. He knocks, the door swinging open immediately. A fae woman looks between the two of us, then at my side and motions for us to come inside.

Tarquin leads the way until the woman motions for me to sit on a bed. I seat myself on the edge, and she begins her examination.

“Is your side the only place of concern or are there any other injuries I should be made aware of?”

“Only my side, I’m fine otherwise. My rib is fractured, I don’t know how severely though.”

“I see, very well.”

The woman grabs a clipboard, scribbles a few things down before reaching and, quite gently, brushing her fingers across my side. I grit my teeth as fire follows the light touch, exhaling slowly to stop myself from screaming or cursing too much. Both Tarquin and the healer notice the reaction, of course. And the few tears that threaten to spill. Tarquin gives my hand a squeeze, muttering an apology. I just give him a light squeeze back.

“Well, I’m not sure what the cause of this injury was, but your rib is a hair away from being broken. It’s an easy fix, thankfully. Though I will need to touch you to heal you..”

Tarquin’s eyes widen at her statement. I almost chuckle, but instead respond before he can.

“That’s fine, just get it done with, please.”

The healer nods, nimbly she works at healing me. I hiss at the pain, but it lightens up fairly quickly. It only takes her a few moments to heal my side completely.

“There we are. Everything is fine now, you’re good to go.”

I nod, hopping off the bed.

“Thank you, do I need to pay you?-”

“No, I’m a healer that works under the palace, so I have no fees for anyone I heal. I simply heal anyone brought here and get paid at the end of the week.”

“I see. Well thank you.”

She nods, turning and taking her clipboard with her, heading into an office area. I’m about to say goodbye and head to my room, but the guilt ridden expression on Tarquin’s face stops me.

“Are you alright-”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I had nearly broken your rib. Had I known that would happen I probably would’ve just let you go and rest. I probably should have in the first place. I’m-”

“It’s fine Tarquin. You did nothing wrong. You fought me fairly and I just happened to be injured. This isn’t the worst I’ve ever experienced either, so please don’t let this weigh heavily on you. I appreciate that you didn’t bother going easy on me..at least I don’t think you did. I would find it quite insulting if you decided to baby me after insisting I stay to fight.”

He seems slightly less upset, but still feeling guilty. He nods, acting a bit like that was all I needed to say to convince him. Sighing I shake my head. He almost turns to leave, but this time I stop him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.

He tenses for a moment, but he returns the hug.

“I’m okay, Tarquin. It’s okay. I strangled you for cauldron’s sake. I should be apologizing to you instead. So please don’t be upset because I got hurt. So did you.”

He sighs, conceding.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll try to…forgive myself I suppose.”

“Thank you, are you busy today?”

“No..I only have one meeting today, thankfully. And that’s just before dinner.”

“Good. Let’s go on a walk. I know you’ll still feel bad or down for a little while, so let’s go on a walk. Clear some of the air. You usually feel better after walks or visits to the beach, right?”

He smiles a little, nodding, letting me push him out of the healers room.

Achlys

The High Lord’s office reminds me of what was my Father’s. A simple yet intricately carved door opening to a spacious area meant for greeting or waiting with two couches facing each other with comfortable and soft pillows placed in the corner between cushion and arm. Then a few small steps that lead into a sort of study area. Both walls lined with bookshelves, two long tables placed two feet away with several cushioned chairs placed around them. Papers, books, quills, and ink pots line the tables too. And then there a few more small steps, leading up to where the High Lord sits, waiting or writing and signing away behind a fancy or elaborate desk that likely has a few hidden compartments for secret or important documents.

I suspect that an important part of the design is intimidation and condescension. I can remember a few times where the long walk from the door to the desk was nerve wracking, all the while my Father wouldn’t even spare me a glance, and I hated how it felt like he was superior and above me, that I wasn’t worth his time, but those rotten documents always were. Just like how he tried to make my baby sister the same, making her sign dozens of practice sheets everyday since she turned 12, and scolding her when she tried to get her work done faster, claiming she wasn’t even reading the pages, that she was making herself to become a poor High Lady.

I work to quiet down the building anger. Snapping at a High Lord has never really done me any favours. And it’s not even like Eris is the one who’s made my sister slave away at a desk for hours on end.

Sighing, I step into the High Lord’s office. It’s warm, probably from the fireplace near his desk that burns away.

Eris looks up from the pages in front of him, placing his quill down. He beckons me forward, waiting patiently while I walk forward. It takes a moment for me to finally reach the desk and sit down in one of the seats placed in front of the desk.

His amber eyes track me the whole way, following me like a predator would when they’re not sure whether they’re stalking prey or another predator. He doesn’t appear tense, but he’s also not relaxed in any sort of way. I’m sure I am only another dangerous problem that has made itself known.

We both stay quiet for a moment, waiting to see if the other will speak first all while staring each other down in silent scrutiny. I decide I’ll be the first to speak.

“You called, High Lord?”

The barest hint of frown. The barest hint of amusement.

“You’ve made me curious. Your family has always brought me fascination, and it is easy to recognize that your siblings would be incredibly helpful to me, and you would be more comfortable if you were all here.”

I don’t bother hiding the disgusted frown that grows on my face. Sure, it would be nicer if we were all together again, but it would be even better if we were together away from this place, outside of the hellish Autumn Court.

“We won’t be your slaves, High Lord. Nor will we ever be. No Mortis ever bows before anyone else. While a reunion would be nice, don’t expect my siblings servitude as a returning favour.”

He chuckles quietly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you’re smart, and something tells me that you already have a few guesses as to where your siblings have been placed.” He hums, “I’m going to assume you know you have nothing in Prythian. You can threaten me all you like, but we both know for the time being they are nothing but empty, dangerous words. So let me extend a hand. You tell me about your sister and brother, and in return I will send letters to the High Lords on your behalf. Does that seem fair.”

The disgust melts into a suspicion that does well to disguise itself. I can feel the muscles in my face relax away back into the neutral mask every High Sovereign’s child has become intimately familiar with. My gut tightens though, a sense of unease washing over me like a filthy water that makes you itch to bathe.

“That’s..quite generous of you. Why make such an offer? It seems like you have quite the disadvantage in this deal. Only receiving information and finding my siblings for me in return? I have no doubts you have something else planned. Something that requires that information.”

“Not at all.” He shrugs, “I’m merely curious about your family.”

He smirks, glad I haven’t seen the full picture yet.

“But I’m also playing the long game here. In the end that information can play key roles for me in getting what I want, and I’ll have the satisfaction of having more information as the middle man or messenger. You will never know if I have more information on your siblings, their conditions, and their whereabouts and you’ll have to trust that I’ll share that info with you when I receive it. But, if you decide that you won’t take the deal, you’ll need to collect the information yourself and I’ll willing to bet that you’d rather take the quicker route and find them faster.”

This is a familiar feeling to that of being locked in a chess match against my cousin, Melchor. He’s intelligent in a way that he can trick you into making moves that only benefit him all while making you think it was the better move. Subconscious trickery. But Eris has revealed some of his hand. Nothing too important of course, he’s only given me a slight hint at his intentions and personality in the wad of information I could’ve guessed on my own. It almost feels like a battle of wits.

“Let’s say I do take the deal. Realistically, there isn’t any guarantee that the High Lords will respond in the first place, nor is there any real guarantee that they will respond truthfully. If they’re smart, they, like you, will know or realize how much of an asset my siblings are. And if they’re as scheming and cunning as when we were younger, we’ll be nothing but bargaining pieces for them.”

“That is, assuming, that all our High Lords are in fact the cunning, cruel creatures that made the High Lords when you were younger. Like my Great Great Great Grandfather, Eldmar.”

I almost shudder at the name. I remember Eldmar, quite well actually. He left quite the impression. He had a regal and authoritative presence and he was quite a clever man. You never knew what he was thinking, and he was always able to control any conversation or negotiation he was a part of, always in his favour of course. He was scary in how strategic he was. It was always odd, being around him. I recognized that I was the more powerful one, and yet I genuinely felt like I was outclassed when I was near him, that I was the weaker one.

“And are they? Like their ancestors? Or are have things changed that much already?”

His eyes narrow slightly, an amused twinkle in his eyes. They haven’t changed that much at all then.

“Some..are different than what you might expect. But I suspect that is because of different circumstances. Most aren’t that much different though, so I can’t say your suspicion is miss placed. How about you just tell me where you suspect they are, and I’ll tell you what their chances are with that Court’s particular High Lord. And I’ll still send letters.”

“Or you could just tell me about the different High Lords that rule today.”

“No. Either you tell me your suspicions and about your siblings, or I let you go about your own research. And I won’t provide you any aid in that case.”

I roll my eyes, but consider the different pros and cons. He’s only asking for information, information he plans to use later on for his own goals. Though his terminology was vague enough where if I agree, I’ll be saying I’ll give any information on my siblings that he requests. But..he’ll also contact other Courts and try to find my siblings. If I went out on my own and went searching for my own answers, I would have a much harder time. I have nothing tying my to Prythian, so getting a job would be difficult or earning any money. I could be perceived as a threat and treated as such if I ever approached any High Lord. I have nothing. But he has something and is offering some of his resources. Groaning I make my choice.

“Fine. Our cousin hated us dearly and I’m going assume placed in locations that played on some of our biggest fears. I hate caves and my prison was placed inside one. My sister is terrified of deep waters, so he’s likely placed her prison somewhere with lots of deep water. Likely the Summer Court. Lyphon hates being buried alive, so somewhere where it wouldn’t be difficult to move a lot of dirt. My best guesses are Spring, Day, and Dawn.”

Eris considers the information, nodding slowly before moving his papers aside and grabbing blank pages and placing them in front of himself.

“I’ll send a letter to Summer. And one to Spring as a starter. We’ll wait for the replies and proceed from there.”

The sound of a quill writing away fills in the silence. I read each word and line as they’re written, following without problem. Reading upside down is something I learned when I was still young. It’s quite handy.

---

High Lord Tarquin,

There isn’t a chance that you have a female by the name of Gyn Mortis under your care at the moment, is there? Or a large, strange prison somewhere deep in the waters that surround your Court? Recently I’ve found one such prison in my Court, it’s prisoner making me quite curious. I wish to find his two other siblings that have also been imprisoned. He has informed me that he suspects his sister resides in your Court at the moment. Should she ask which brother is in my Court, simply answer her elder brother. Do lend a helping hand and bring this family back together?

—High Lord Eris

---

High Lord Tamlin,

How does Spring fare? Recently a strange prison was found in Autumn and the prison had made me quite curious. It is in my interests to help in finding his two other siblings. He has informed me that he suspects his younger brother, Lyphon, could be potentially be found in your Court. Should you find or have found him, please contact me.

—High Lord Eris

---

Once the letters are written and sealed, ready to be sent, he places aside for later, returning his attention to me.

“So then, tell me about your family. Your sister and brother, preferably.”

“What exactly do you want to know? Anything?”

He smiles softly, the smile disappearing quickly.

“Anything. Indulge my curiosity.”

“If you’re really so desperate. Tell me what you already know so I don’t waste either of our time.”

He rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair while he toys with a quill, spinning it between his fingers as a drop of ink threatens to spill.

“My my, so spoiled and demanding. I don’t know intimate details, only history and impressions about someone based on the writings of the author. I’ve studied the various wars your family was apart of. I’ve gone through all the records my family has about anything that involved your family or Court.”

“And what have you learned about us? You’re smart, I’m sure you’ve already read between the lines.”

A small, prideful smirk grows on his face. He’s glad someone’s finally noticed, I’m sure. Eager to brag or maybe he’s just glad someone finally hasn’t underestimated him. If there is one thing I’ve learned about Autumn, never underestimate a Vanserra, especially ones that parade themselves as weaker or uninterested. Not that Eris checks those boxes, but still. New High Lords are always underestimated and yet to earn the respect of their fathers or forefathers. An unfortunate thing, but it comes with the presumed lack of experience. Observation and experience can be two very different things at times.

“Your family seems oddly peaceful for one that presents itself as violent and threatening. I’ll guess your patriarch is quite selective in what your family gets themselves involved in. All things considered he might even have some morals.”

I snort at the comment. Oh if only he knew or met our oh so wonderful Great Great Grandfather.

“He’s never had morals. He does things when he gets bored or because he gets irritated. He doesn’t do things for ‘good’. Gyn and Lyphon have morals, maybe not as many as some, but more than most in my family.” I don’t stop my snicker, “take a war over freeing slaves. The Knight would fight to stop the annoyance of begging for help and freedom. It could go either way, he would slaughter for either side. Gyn would fight for their freedom. I would simply offer to kill them all, free them that way. And well..Lyphon would probably use everyone’s bodies to help him fight.”

I laugh, quite loudly actually, but it’s true. Lyphon never spared a corpse, if it was available and not too badly damaged it could help him.

“Though, he would likely follow Gyn, he’s like a sheep or a puppy in that case. He looks to her for help and guidance at times. They always connected well, and Gyn was determined to be a good older sister, make life less miserable.”

Eris quirks a brow but hums, spinning the quill the opposite direction now.

“Interesting. I was under the impression that your family had a strict hierarchy, that you all looked to and obeyed your Great Great Grandfather.”

There’s a dark chuckle from me.

“Not necessarily. Pops rarely appears and even more rarely reclaims the control he’s generously given to some of his descendants. There is, I suppose, an hierarchy of sorts. It’s mostly based on power and the relations we have to The Knight. For a while now Gyn and I were considered 2nd in commands, we didn’t rule the Court, naturally. But we were given respect and power for being successful results of selective breeding and proving to be quite useful.

“I’m liked for my obedience because I’ve never had a problem with the orders given. Gyn, on the other hand, can be too timid to speak up against our Great Great Grandfather. So she’s subtle in the ways she defies him. Fighting in wars, but sparing those who wish for peace, and offering them a home, though in a different form. But Pops loves Gyn, so he never punished her. In fact he took interest and praised her for her knowledge in biology and her strength. That being said, we are family you know, not sheep. We only obey as often as we do because we trust Pops’ judgement. He’s never been wrong.”

Eris narrows his eyes slightly, a look of consideration and realization on his face.

“You sound like you trust each other a lot…not quite something I’ve heard of from a High Lord’s family. Usually, from my experience, most High Lord’s and their families aren’t usually on good terms with each other. But it sounds like you might just have..a decent family.”

I frown slightly at that. It’s true, most High Lord’s families I’ve met could be compared more to a den of wolves that have been starved a few days. Or snakes. Something nasty that’s thirsty for blood, rich with envy, and hungry for power that they may or may not use correctly. That being said, my family isn’t all that much better.

“I’m not sure I can agree with you, on that point. We may trust each other for certain things, but we’re as ugly as the rest. Look at me and my siblings. Ripped from our beds by a traitorous cousin and shoved into metal boxes that leeches power from you until you’ve been freed before being tossed into places where he hopes we won’t be found. There is no shortage of hatred, fear, and blood in our family.”

The confession shouldn’t give away too much information, and I don’t believe it can really be used against us. It might sound like it could be easy to sway someone in our family into betraying and killing off family members or imprisoning them. But Pops is quite..meticulous in his control of the family and its members.

An entire tradition has been made out of him rooting out anyone he finds don’t meet his standards. His word is law in the family and if he judges you to be worthless in the family, then you’ll be removed. Countless cousins, aunts, uncles all killed or banished because they’re too weak or useless. Our family is more comparable to a unit in the army than a proper family, I think. Some of us are close, but usually it’s a relationship and bond built up over the years, not something you feel or recognize naturally. Sometimes it just feels like we’re dolls in a doll house, and Pops is the master that controls us.

The door of the office opens and we both turn to see who’s entered. It’s a servant, carrying a silver tray with a tea pot, two tea cups, and some small dishes and utensils for anything we might want to add.

Eris gestures for the servant to approach. They’re quick and quiet as they approach and place the tray on the desk between us where no papers are. They’re just as quick to leave. Reaching forwards Eris takes one of the cups, pouring himself a drink.

“Feel free to refresh yourself with a drink. I don’t imagine this conversation will be over for a little while..”

I hum, reaching forwards to pour myself a drink.

“Maybe not.”

~~~

Thank you for reading and for your patience. Writer's block sucks. Enjoy your day/night.

~~~

Btw, this fanfic is available on Quotev and AO3.

🌍✨ A Voice from Gaza: Fighting for Hope ❤️‍🩹

Hi, my name is Mosab , and I’m from Gaza. Life here has been harder than I could ever imagine, but today I’m sharing my story with hope in my heart, because your kindness has already given us so much strength.

This journey hasn’t been easy. The war has taken 25 family members from us—25 beautiful souls we loved deeply. Their laughter, their presence, their love… all of it is gone, leaving behind memories that are both precious and painful. Every day, I carry the weight of their loss, but I also carry their spirit, which gives me the strength to keep going.

Our Journey So Far

When I first reached out, I couldn’t have imagined we’d make it this far. Your support has been a light in these difficult times, and we are so deeply grateful for every single contribution.

But the road ahead is still challenging. Every day, we’re reminded of how much we’ve lost and how much we still need to rebuild.

Here’s what life in Gaza looks like for my family right now:

🏠 Safety: The uncertainty of tomorrow weighs heavily on us.

😢 Loss: The absence of the 25 family members we’ve lost is a pain we carry every moment.

💔 Dreams on Hold: The future feels so far away when survival takes all our strength.

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$5 may seem small, but for us, it’s a little relief, a moment of comfort, and a reminder that kindness still exists. ❤️

Can’t donate? Reblog this post to help us reach someone who can. Every share matters more than you know.

✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters ( #309 ) ✅️

Chuffed

Donate to Help Mosab saving who's left of his family

My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Life as I knew it has been completely destroyed. I have lost my home, my

Why Your Support Matters Your kindness isn’t just about helping us meet our goal—it’s about reminding us that we’re not alone in this fight. It’s about hope. It’s about survival. And it’s about giving my family a chance to rebuild our lives, even in the face of unimaginable loss.

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With all my love and gratitude,

Mosab and Family ❤️

A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter Three

Word Count : 7k

Warning(s) : Descriptions of corpses, blood, and possible gore/violence.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon..)

Lyphon

There was something to be admired about my siblings and their strength. I could sense them from a mile or miles away when we were all at our height of power, though none of us really knew it. I’m sure even now if they entered the Court there would be some slight change, some shift and a little more silence from the wildlife.

Achlys and Gyn truly were ‘The Knight’s Children’. I’d barely been a child when there had been a massive war between several Courts and some far off kingdom. It was a mix of who was against who and the alliances are a little foggy in my mind, but there was one thing that truly stuck out.

One of the Courts managed to form an alliances with our Court and rather than sending out large armies to crush our enemies like usual, Great Great Grandfather had appeared to personally order Achlys and Gyn out into the heart of the battle. He had some sick sort of humour and aura when he arrived. I nearly threw up and passed out, I was terrified for both of them. But our Great Great Grandfather only laughed at my reaction and winnowed us to watch from above. He wasn’t surprised by what happen, but everyone else was. Achlys crushed opponents using their own armour, killed them using their own weapons. He turned every metal thing they had on them against them. And when he seemed to get bored, he either buried soldiers alive or crushed them with boulders made of crystal. Meanwhile Gyn flooded the field with our enemies blood and turned the rest into trees and flowers. That battle had finished within 10 minutes, maybe less. It was horrific.

And then we all went home like nothing happened. Well, Great Great Grandfather challenge me to become as powerful as them, to become their equal. I never fully reached their power, but I came close enough that I was rewarded for my efforts.

For ages and ages I practiced and trained out of pure terror and drive. I didn’t want to disappoint my Great Great Grandfather who clearly saw something in me. But I also wanted respect from my older siblings. So for centuries I perfected my skills and powers, pushing myself to the limit until I couldn’t anymore. And then, when another war came and we were summond by our allies, I was thrust into the fighting too. I never disappointed any of them that day, Gyn and Achlys almost seemed to see me a little differently too, but they kept their looks subtle and their thoughts silent.

And now..I’ll have to restart the entire process. I’m stuck in the Spring Court until I’m strong enough to winnow home again, until I can at least make myself somewhat useful to my family again. I can’t go home completely weak and useless, Great Great Grandfather wouldn’t allow it. He might have a sliver of sympathy or empathy for us, but if we’re too weak in his eyes, we’re not family. We’re something to either dispose of or forget.

Sighing I try to focus on something else, anything else. All these thoughts of home and our Great Great Grandfather are making me anxious, dreading something that isn’t even set in stone. Hissing slightly I will the thoughts from my head, eagerly breathing in the smell of the unditsturbed earth around me.

I frown slightly at the sight of breaking headstones, all barely readable with moss covering many they’ve been so forgotten. I’m aware that this cemetary is abandoned, I asked for one that was abandoned specifically, but it doesn’t stop the disgust and disappointment from seeping into my mouth like a foul poison. Was no one truly here to take care of this graveyard?

Enough, enough. I roll my neck, wincing when loud pops fill the air as I cloes my eyes. Now is not the time to be nitpicky. I have to concentrate and focus purely on my task. I’d love to rush ahead and attempt to resurrect everyone here, but that would leave me so exhausted I wouldn’t be able to move, leaving an entire field of half living creatures to wander and terrorize everything. And High Lord Tamlin wouldn’t be pleased. So I focus on one single soul, one deceased. The grave before me.

Knowledge of names and personal history can be helpful, but it’s not really that neccessary. Truly, all you ever need to do is find their soul, follow that invisible, string from corpse to soul. It’s fascinating, following the string. Some have many strings attached to them from all their different lives, some only have the one. Mates will always have a tether between them, connecting both souls for all eternity. If left for enough time, the string will be weathered, a little harder to follow, but still connected. There have been multiple times though where I attempted to resurecct someone, only to have their new body appear before me, questioning why I summoned them while they were alive and living. Strings always look the same, they never tell you if someone has moved onto their next life or not, so I’ve learned to be cautious, look for any signs of life outside the soul.

Stretching a hand out and pressing it to the ground, I search for the string, reaching subconciously for that small, invisible line tying bones to soul. It’s closer than I realize. The body must be in a shallow grave of some sort, not buried six feet below, maybe half of that. Carefully I follow the string, tugging and pulling softly until I can feel the soft ground below shift. Dirt is moved and pushed away until the pale, stained ivory bones and rotted flesh of a hand and arm push past into the open air.

More dirt is pushed away until the torso of the living corpse can sit upright. An annoyed scowl is present on the man’s face, though the skin around his face is missing a few chunks, showing off dirt stained and holey parts of his skull. His hair is on the longer and more light brown side while his eyes are a dark brown. He’s quick to glare at me, though I ignore the look completely, too focused on my victory to care.

I resurrected a whole human, fully. Quietly I stand up, moving to the next grave beside him, earning me a scoff. I move some dirt away, digging a little with my hands until I’ve dug around two feet. Shutting my eyes again and pressing a hand to the cool dirt, searching and finding the string practically immediately. This time the corpse of a woman sits up, looking around confused and grimacing at the sight of the decomposing man beside her. She avoids looking down though, refusing to see the state of her own body.

I almost giggle giddily as I repeat the process another two times. Two men and two women watching me with mixed emotions as I pant quietly. I’m reaching my limits, but four is a good number. Shakily I reach for a fifth grave. I’m becoming out of breath and the smell of death and dirt and insects and rot and mold will not leave my nose. It probably won’t for several hours. Coughing I snatch at the string, yanking it with a little too much eagerness. Unsurprisingly a hand shoots out, gripping my neck with a surprising amount of strength for a dead man. My lungs instantly loose access to air, though the smell still preasent and nearly heavy in my lungs. My limbs feel like lead, slack at my sides, though still warm from bloodflow. A slow, thumping headache creeps in after a moment. My head feeling as if burning hammers are playing drums in my head. The other bodies watch nervously, as though wondering if my death would free them or trap them eternally. Clicking my tongue I stare right back, managing to open my mouth and rasp out a quiet, ‘help me’.

One of the woman stands, wobbling over on weak, half eaten legs. Her hands prying open the wretched hand around my throat. I cough as air fills my lungs again, I nearly double over. Most of the headache recedes and I watch the arm flail around, swatting and clawing at the air. The woman retreated back to her grave, content to lie down and avoid looking over here. It would seem the only thing alive for this grave is the arm, everything else is still dead. So then 4 corpses and an arm. A good start.

With a grunt I wave my hand, silently commanding them to bury themselves again. I smile softly when the command is successful. I still had enough to do a mental command as well then. Leaning back and resting my head on a headstone, I snap my fingers, all the strings being pulled taught again as the souls rejoined the afterlife, whatever it is.

Gyn

The uniqueness of my family and our abilities has never been lost on me. I’ve always been aware of how different we are compared to everyone else. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s noticable and not many perceive it as good.

I’ve been told before that none of us felt..like regular High Fae, and to be fair, we’re not. Our lineage and family tree is more mixed than most and in the way that I suspect some were convinced into making deals for power sakes. The goals of my Great Great Grandfather always speak for themselves, clear through the silence.

While there are plenty of differences for others to focus on, many have stuck to prescense and powers. From all my years of being alive I’ve yet to meet another creature with our powers. The first word ever used to describe our powers has always been ‘gorey’. It’s a fair assessment, especially for me. I’m the third in my family to specialize in the manipulation of cells. Not just blood or bones specifically, but cells, the very thing keep so many of us alive and moving and thinking. The complexity of cells is fascinating to me, so at least I wasn’t really bored when studying biology. And as helpful as it can be, being used to create new life or healing many, many people, the fact that it can be so terrifyingly deadly is always what’s focused on.

I’m not sure if it’s my natural expression, or my prescense even, that makes people think, convinces people, that I fully wish to kill and harm everything around me, and I will if I want to. I never really had the intention or the wish to slaughter everyone, even if the chance presents itself. Even in wars I was hesitant, and whenever I was given the opportunity I would ask my enemies if they truly wanted to fight me and die or live a more peaceful, quiet life. Everyone around me disapproved of what I was doing, they scoffed and would mock me. Achlys would demand what the hell I was doing, he never too far and mocked me or called me horrible names since he knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it coming from him. But I could see it in his eyes, the ugly envy that made him silently demand why he couldn’t be given such a destructive gift, why I was ‘wasting’ it. And I never fully answered his questions, until he snapped and yelled at me. I was stuck staring at the floor, wishing I would just cry like a normal person. And I could say was :

“Why can’t I try to save just a sliver of people? Why can’t I try to give some happiness and peace to souls who never wanted their lives thrown away like the garbage their treated as? Did you even bother pause and look at the world around you, in the heat of everything?

”You never notice their fear, how their hearts pound and their breathing quickens as we approach. For fuck’s sakes Achlys, we’re living death to them! We embody reapers coming to tear out their souls and laugh as we break their bodies. Is it really so bad that I stop and give a choice to some. How many in my garden are actually miserable, how many want to leave. Tell me that. And tell me when have I ever trapped anyone in my garden, refused to let them leave. Believe it or not, I hate their fear.”

Achlys never asked after that..he must have really listened since during any war or battle he always brought me a small group of soldiers afterwards, all brave enough to have some faith in us. I’m definitely glad that my brother is so understanding, I’d probably be hopeless without him.

Anyways. Lyphon’s powers aren’t what I would call ‘gorey’. Yes, he raises the dead, but what do expect from a corpse? Unless they’ve died yesterday, it’s not going to be a pretty sight. Achlys’s powers aren’t gorey either, he works with metals, earth, and stone. It’s more how we all choose to use these powers. Course if we’re fighting someone or an army a lot of blood with spill. The blood will stain our hands red over and over again until our skin matches the colour of the blood beneath. But that’s the way it’s always been, and I doubt it will change.

Sighing through my nose I roll my neck and open my eyes. My room is a very comfortable, wonderful room and a place I’d love to practice in. However, I don’t want to scare any servant checking in on me. Nor do I want Tarquin to watch me practice in case he becomes worried or looses some trust in me to paranoia. Not that I think he would ever loose trust in me because of this power, it’s more I want to be better prepared for when I do tell him. I can’t try to demonstrate something and let it go horribly wrong, unable to fix the problem I made. Plus I don’t need the immediate pressure of eyes on me right now. There’s too many things that can go wrong.

So, with that being said, I’d gone exploring for the past week, hunting for any place that would work for privacy and calmness. And I found the perfect beach yesterday. It’s a good distance from Adriata with white sands and soft, gentle waves that could lull me to sleep if I let it. And at night the waves and sand glow with any movement or weight put on them. Unfortunately I told Tarquin I would return by dinner, which is normally at 6, so I can’t really stay late today. And sunlight is better for reading. I want to master a few things before attempting to change my eyes in any way.

I brought a few anatomy books and one about meditating and keeping calm. The anatomy books are for reminders, I already know everything, but I’d like a bit of a recap just in case. And the mediatation book is just so I don’t freak out or have a meltdown. Having a panic attack when something goes wrong won’t help me, so learning breathing exercises and routines to keep calm is a good aid.

Humming softly I close my eyes again, letting myself search through my body, refamiliarizing the feel of each type of cell when they’re healthy, checking for anything concerning. I only open my eyes once I’ve made sure that everything is in fact healthy and functioning correctly. As tempting as it is to close my eyes again, I focus on watching my hands. In the past I always used my hands as practice do to their simplicity, other times I was just having fun, making the ends of my fingers and nails turn into claws or talons instead.

For old times sake I decide to do that, slowly having my nails grow until they’re long and pointed but slighty curved and thicker. I let the nails grow around my fingertips until it looks like the ends of my fingers are sharp, white talons. Humming I reverse the process, which goes smoothly, to my relief.

It seems quick, rushing to try this next thing, but I’ve already practiced enough and from what I remember this shouldn’t exhaust me too quickly. I could be wrong since when I tried doing this for the first time in my life I had already built up plenty of stamina beforehand. I suppose I’ll be using this moment as a comparison for later.

There was one other thing that I brought with me, a small, miniscule really, jar of a few teeth. Disgusting sounding I’m sure, but they’re my own and it was an easy process, pain free. I just had these ones fall out and then some grow in their place. Simple and easy.

Grabbing the small jar, I take out a tooth, placing it in the center of my palm. I sigh, closely my eyes to take a few deep breaths. This always required more focus, even if I’d done it a thousand times before.

I start small, changing the shape of the tooth into a ribcage, letting it grown into a full skeleton of a bird with the muscles and ligaments following soon after. The body grew as exhaustion slowly crept up on me. Before I could realize everything was finished the now living bird in my hand hopped two or three times, chirping a little and singing a few notes. My eyes fly open, widening at the image of a beautiful, living swallow. It’s head, back, and wings were all a stunning blue that faded into a silver going into it’s tail. It’s underbelly was white and soft looking. It’s eyes were so dark but fixed on me as it watched curiously.

I was successful. I made a small bird, grew it from a tooth. Soon I could make something bigger, maybe a dog or a bear. Or even a horse. But start small, I’m already getting tired, which is what I get for only going on walks for a week and neglecting to practice. Giggling I pet the small bird, it’s feather were soft and smooth. It chirps a few times, flying to stand on my shoulder. What a day, I’ll need to start practicing on the way here. Based on the sun it’s around an hour till dinner, so now is a good time to leave.

I pick up my books and jar, humming softly and then grunting as I stand, brushing off any sand on my legs. The swallow sings along to the humming, much to my delight. Turning I head back to a path that leads up a sort of steap hill. The beach is only accessible through the path since there’s sort of a cliff or wall of dirt blocking it off. That or you jump down, but I wouldn’t recommend it since it’s at least a 10 foot drop.

I’m almost panting when I reach the top. I huff, feeling shame build up at the realization that I’m probably not as fit as I’d like to think. That or I was using too much air to hum. I’d rather the latter honestly.

At the top I look back down at the beach, at the cool blue waves. It really is a haven in the Summer Court sometimes. I sometimes wished I could stop time and just enjoy where I was a little longer, I definitely wish I could recreate a place like this, visit whenever I like and just rest. Though maybe later in the day, midday is way too hot. Cloudless sky with a hot ball of fire just glaring down at you, not great. And I’m moon pale, one of these days I’ll be lobster red and wincing at every muscle movement as I apply aloe verra to my burned, tight skin. Honestly I’m not even sure if Tarquin burns, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if no Summer Court citizen had ever burned in their lives.

The swallow chirps, hopping a few times and drawing my attention. Curious I look at it, watching as it flies off my shoulder and onto a familiar one. With a start I realize the little bird landed on Tarquin’s shoulder. Tarquin was here. What was he doing here? Did he see anything?

The High Lord chuckles quietly, petting the bird a few times before turning to me.

“Afternoon, Gyn. How was your practice? I’m hoping you thought it went well.”

His smile is gentle, something akin to a soft breeze or a quiet sunrise. I almost feel stupidly tense, like why am I so tense about him knowing anything? But another small part of me is restless and anxious, demanding to know how much he’s seen and knows. Still, I don’t want to make it seem like I don’t trust him, that could hurt or insult him and he’s been nothing but kind and understanding. Really this fear is probably for nothing. But it’s not quick to go away and I only barely make myself look less upset.

“It went well..I’m making progress. I-” I pause slightly, swallowing my words and briefly looking away at the grass. “I don’t want to sound rude, or defensive..but what are you doing here? I thought you would be busy in Adriata till dinner.”

There’s another quiet chuckle.

“You don’t, you’re being reasonable. I wasn’t as busy as expected today, and I had some free time. So I decided to try and find you, and wouldn’t you know it, you found the glowing beach.”

“The glowing beach?”

“Yes, me and my cousins would come down here at night sometimes to swim or have some fun. Usually we had to sneak out, but it was fun and beautiful. It was like our own secret place that only we knew about. And here you are, practicing here. You picked an excellent spot. If I was anyone else I probably wouldn’t have found you.”

My eyes widen a little, drifting to look at the beach again. I can almost imagine a teen version of himself, Cresseida, and Varian just running down the path towards the waters, diving in and later dancing and singing around in the sand, probably bringing bottles of alcohol and getting drunk. The thought makes me hum, I almost smile.

“Yeah…I don’t want to..ruin any good moods, but how much did you see? It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s more that I just- I…I don’t want you to be afraid of me or concerned everytime I try to use my abilities.”

He’s silent for a moment, timid breezes attempt to fill in the emptyness. The swallow chirps occasionally, Tarquin petting it he while thinks, considering something. My gut tightens, my fingers curling into my hands to create tight fists that turn my knuckles white. My eyes flick from sand, to grass, to sky. Why do I feel like a child caught breaking a rule, about to be scolded by a too calm parent?

“I..saw everything, or at least what I think is most of what you were doing. The claws, this cute little bird.” Somehow, I’m sure my heart has plummeted into my stomach. Tarquin seems to notice, my face must really love to tattle my emotions. But he moves closer, a little bit like he doesn’t want to startle me, or make me uncomfortable. He stops a foot away, maybe closer.

“But I’m not scared of you. I’m not sure I could be. Concerned..a bit yes. I don’t want you hurting yourself just to try and perfect what you could do in the past again. And whose teeth were those?”

My gut loosens, some burning following, but it’s better than a tight coil and a wish to disappear to avoid a possible negative reaction. My fingers uncurl and stretch or flex a few times, my nails leaving little moons in my palm, none bleeding thankfully.

“Mine. It didn’t hurt, I just had them fall out and replaced with new teeth. None of what I was doing was painful, it was just a little tiring to make the swallow..I’m sorry I was defensive before. I wanted to master a few things before showing you, that way you’d worry less.”

“It’s fine, Gyn. I should apologize too, I knew you wanted privacy, but I still came here and watched, unbeknownst to you. But I’m not afraid, and I can trust that you won’t..permanently hurt yourself.”

I’m the one that stays quiet this time. I don’t really believe it’s necessary for me to see if he’s lying, but I scan his face anyways, eyes darting around for any tells that weren’t there. I sigh a little, nodding. I’m relieved about his obvious honesty, but still a little tense about being found and observed without my knowledge. I’m going to have to focus on sight next time, sensing any life nearby. There are plenty of silent or illusive creatures at home, I used to almost constantly make sure that every sense was heightened enough to sense each and every living thing, yet make sure I wasn’t overwhelmed by it.

With a sigh I turn, starting to walk. “We should head back to Adriata. Can’t have everyone worrying over a lost High Lord, can we?”

Tarquin smiles, a bit tightly, jogging to catch up, but keeping a steady pace once he was beside me. We both fall into a comfortable silence as we head towards the golden city.

Achlys

The Forest House may be mostly underground, but it’s beautiful. Inside it’s warm and decorated in reds, oranges, and golds. Portraits and paintings hang neatly on the walls, serious and cruel faces staring down at any passer by. I almost smile.

Servants work away in hallways and rooms, cleaning and keeping their heads down. Sentries silently stand at doorways or move to their next station, staring me down as if they’re ready to kill me if I give them any reason.

Sighing softly I look ahead, Fenix is leading me to the throne room, presumably. He seemed rather annoyed that his brother found out about me and took interest. So much so that he’s asked that I meet him, tell him a little bit about why I was found in his lands.

Naturally I don’t believe for a second that he really sees me as anything more than a potential pawn or a threat that he needs to get rid of, and considering that no Court but Winter would know about us, he wouldn’t need to worry about being discreet.

Everything about Autumn is about cunning and power. Even centuries back, I can still remember Regus Vanserra. Quite intelligent that one. He was the fourth son, it was unlikely in the first place that he would become the High Lord. But he waited patiently for years pretending to be nothing but a social prince with no interest in becoming anything more. Behind his parents and brothers backs he plotted though, forming alliances with Gyn, Boreas, Esord, and Nytarur. The heirs he knew would be the next generation of High Sovereigns, and ones he did not want to make enemies of. Regus played the long game, slowly poisoning his eldest brother and Father, training to kill the rest of his brothers when the time came. And he was successful. He made his eldest brother and Father’s deaths look like heart problems, and the other two brothers died in hunting ‘accidents’. He took the title and became quite the High Lord. Part of me was glad he decided to ally with Gyn, because then we weren’t his enemies.

I’m sure that any descendant of Regus is cunning and especially good at tricking others, weaving them a web of lies that they get trapped in but leaves him unharmed. I’ll bet Gyn would agree, she was in Prythian a lot longer than me, she got to see the generation after us. And apples don’t really fall far from the trees.

Fenix and his four guards stop at a pair of well carved oak doors with golden handles and a depiction of the Autumn forest and five of the past High Lords, Regus, his father and grandfather, and who I am guessing are his son and grandson. Everyone waits for a moment, quietly standing a foot from the doors. Then they open, groaning a little as they move. Our little group moves inside, my senses are assaulted by the smell of cinnamon and something smokey. At the head of the room, sitting on the cushioned stone throne, is a male with Autumn’s infamous red hair and eyes coloured amber. He doesn’t smile or sneer when we enter, merely keeping a cool, calm face as he watches us. Around his head sits a gold crown crafted to appear like flames resting on his head. So this is today’s High Lord. He’s dressed well with colours that compliment him and jewels that match, but not too much of anything, a perfect balance that doesn’t feel obnoxious.

Our little group moves until we’ve made it just past halfway in the room. The guards salute and Fenix offers the High Lord a bow, though it’s more mockery than an actual sign of respect or acknowledgement of power. I wait for after everyone’s finished to bow myself, smiling a little. The High Lord raises a brow.

“So this is the male you found..what is your name and why were you found in my Court?”

He’s good at his acting, I’ll give him that. His tone is careful, a planned boredom. His eyes hold a steely ice that was carefully crafted probably over a matter of years. I know for a fact that the entire Court buys every look, every word. It’s just a pity that I was surrounded masks for so long it became easy to learn when one was using it, unless someone was an exceptional liar. I’ve only met few who were able to fool me. Gyn, Cosmas, and a mortal King that ruled while I was in my 200s. No one ever knew when Cosmas was being truthful, it felt like a gamble every time I talked to him. And Gyn is as careful as I am, picking up on others emotions and anything we can learn about others and then using that information to our advantage. I just didn’t expect her to use the information against me, it was fine since I got her back a century later.

I grin at the High Lord. This could be fun.

“Achlys. I had a jealous coward for a cousin who used an ancient prison to contain me, throwing me into a cave in this Court. Don’t worry, High Lord, I’m only a temporary guest.”

He’s quiet for a moment, digesting the information and deciding what to do. It’s not every day something like this happens afterall.

“Which Court are you from? I’m sure your High Lord would have no issue collecting you.”

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me at the question. Fenix doesn’t really react, just a bit of tensing around the shoulders. The guards keep still, but a few glance nervously at me. Either they’re nervous because of my chuckle, or they think I just tried to ensure my death.

“I don’t you’d be able to. Besides, those of my Court are incredibly picky about which apples they like to keep on the tree. I’m sure I’ll only be here another month and I’ll be out of your hair.”

The High Lord narrows his eyes, hiding the curiosity and covering it with annoyance.

“And why won’t I be able to contact this Court of yours, hm?”

“Well Prythian has forgotten about my home. My Court is mere legend in your history books, if we haven’t been erased entirely. It is not found in Prythian, nor any other continent. We call it the End Court.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, something like…recognition. My own mask slips on, keeping the amused face and uncaring attitude. But why does he seem familiar with the name? The Court hasn’t been in contact with Prythian in centuries, but he knows of it. It would appear that I rang a bell and I didn’t know he could hear it. I’m curious about how much he actually knows.

“Achlys of the End Court..an interesting claim. And how am I to trust that you aren’t insane or attempting to deceive my Court?”

“I’m sure you can find records. We made deals and alliances with this Court multiple times. Though, I suppose I wouldn’t be surprised if those records were burned a long time ago. You have to admit though. My prison is nothing like what you’ve seen in Prythian.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I’m well traveled. Not even the Night Court has the metal needed to create such a thing. And most of the prisons here aren’t just enchanted large cubes that act as a power numbing cell, they’re made of stone and have multiple cells, multiple inmates, less chains, and usually more light.”

He hums, leaning back slightly on his throne.

“What else is there to tell me? Are there more prisons like this around Prythian?”

Should I tell him? With them outside Autumn they aren’t within his reach. However, that if they’ve already been found by now, he could already know about them. Every Court has their spies, keeping their High Lord well informed of everything. Instead of answering I stay quiet, raising a brow and keeping an amused face. I’m sure you already know, High Lord.

He grunts, practically confirming my theory. They’ve been found, and he knows exactly where they are. I’m sure he sent out spies the second I was found, I don’t doubt he knew of me then and got Fenix to confess of my existence, thus giving him a chance to get a closer look and attempt to give me a role.

“I’ll let you stay, however you’re under my rule here until you return home.Till the day you leave, your loyalty is to me.”

It’s a fair deal, and I wouldn’t want to cause issues for my family by causing nothing but chaos here. Naturally there a few things that I won’t do if asked and I’ll always put my family first, but for now I can play along. My siblings wouldn’t be too impressed if I started a war the moment I was freed.

“Very well..”

“Expect to summoned during the week and that you’ll join every meal while having at least two sentries watching you at all times. I don’t think I want to let a wild hound loose in the Court.”

I almost snort, I’m being compared to a dog now. Wonderful. But I’d expect nothing less of a Vanserra. First Fenix with his condescending eyes, always trying to sneer at me as if I was mud on his new boots. Now a High Lord yet to see me as anything other than a mosquito. Patience is a virtue and I can exorcise it.

If he’s expecting a response I don’t give him one. My face has gone to a neutral, just watching him. He stares back, subtly studying me. Once he’s satisified, he returns to the bored mask.

“You’re dismissed. Leave.”

He waves a hand and we all turn, this time with me at the head. Fenix lets out a low growl, not happy with the meeting or me being ahead of him. The doors open again, letting us leave and walk back into the hallway. Subconciously I lead the way, heading straight to my room at my regular pace, which the guards and Fenix scramble to keep up with. Fenix hisses, grabbing my arm and yanking. I don’t stop, but I look over my shoulder at the angry male.

“You walk behind me. Don’t think for a second that you have any power in this Court. You are nothing but a tool for me to use, do not think otherwise.”

I almost scoff, raising a brow at him before shrugging him off.

“I don’t like slow walkers. And I’m heading to my room anyways, calm down.”

The Autumn prince snarls a curse and snaps his fingers, two guards grabbing onto my arms and yanking me backwards. Hissing, I almost go to kick one of them. Fenix walks in front now, motioning for them to follow. Both guards kick my legs, forcing me to my knees, before walking, dragging me with them. A little rude of them. Clicking my tongue I stand again, matching the pace of the guards, who glare and attempt to kick my legs out again. It fails when I move quick enough to dodge and then on at a time.

The one on my right snarls, punching me in the gut. I cough a little, but stay standing. Fenix stops at a door, pulling it open and walking outside into a courtyard..of sorts. Sentries off duty train with wooden and metal swords, sparring or beating a punching bag like it killed their spouse and owes them money. In the center though, is a post. One with several metals loops attached, like something you would tie a rope through or hook something to. Fenix tosses a pair of cuffs to the guards, the left one catching it and snapping one around one of my wrists.

Ah..I see where this is going. Either way at least some of my blood is spilled. I’m either going to be flogged or I’ll be mobbed. Of the two, I would prefer the former. Less broken bones, typically only one area is targeted. Not like Fenix really cares, he’s just trying to teach me a lesson, make me fear or respect him to any degree.

The training sentries go quiet and stop whatever they’re doing to watch as I’m pulled towards the post. I don’t bother fighting much, there’s over a dozen men here, all with weapons on them. Normally I would use this against them. However, I don’t need to piss of a High Lord that controls fire by killing everyone here. Nor do I want to exhaust myself by using my powers that much right now. The guards are quick to loop the remaining cuff through a large loop and snap it around my remaining wrist, forcing me down on my knees and tearing the back of my shirt afterwards. Both snicker as they back away. Glancing quickly behind me I can see Fenix choosing a whip and calling a large male over, handing him the whip. I think it’s leather with some sort of dust on it. The Autumn prince looks at me, almost smug but burying it in time.

“A mutt like you needs to learn quickly that you’re nothing here and will remain that way. No disrepect will ever be tolerated. 50 lashes.”

I almost roll my eyes but I brace myself anyways. Gyn isn’t here to act as my healer, this is going to hurt since I still feel pain. I can hear the whip unravel, some anxiety builds. This isn’t the first time this has happened, it’s not the first time I’ve been punished using whips or tools specially made to counter High Fae’s instant healing. Doesn’t mean I enjoyed any of it though.

There’s a quiet swish before the whip strikes my bare back, a fiery sting following quickly after. Fenix knows what he’s doing, he makes the whipper wait a moment before another strike. I wonder if this will scar permanently or if Gyn can return my skin to normal, even when healed. I wonder briefly if either of my siblings have to face something like this, and I pray to the Cauldron they don’t have to. I keep still as they continue to strike my back, thankfully not hitting the same spot twice, but I can feel warm blood trickling down my back and sticking to what remains of my shirt, gluing it to my skin. My abilities numbed a while ago, around lash number 10. They must coat the whips in faebane for maximum pain and scarring then.

At 40 lashes my punishment is interrupted by the arrival of another Vanserra, one of Fenix’s brothers. At least I think that’s who he is. His hair is long and red, eyes brown with a cunning, almost morbidly curious look in them. He watches me for a moment before moving to stand next to Fenix, who looks rather annoyed by the interruption.

“What do you want? I’m busy at the moment.”

“I heard something was going on in the Sentry Courtyard, so I decided I would come and see what all the commotion was about. What is this exactly? A misbehaving servant?”

Fenix is quiet for a moment, glaring down at me.

“Yes..that’s exactly what this is.”

“Really? I thought he was Eris’s guest. I don’t think he’d be impressed to find out you’ve taken a whip to his back. He might take one to your back.”

Fenix’s scowl deepens, disgust grows like a mold in his eyes. He snatches the whip from the sentry’s hands, pulling his arm back and swinging it forward with most if not all his strength. The whip strikes my back swiftly, leaving a fresh, wretched pain and trail of blood in its wake. I hiss at the feeling, fire spreading once again with a ferocious sting.

“He’s not a guest.”

His words are filled with venom, enough that I’m gritting my teeth and leaning my head on my arms. Mother save me, this isn’t going to end that quickly. Mentally I sigh, of all places I get sent to Autumn. I’m really feeling like I’m fucked.

~~~

Thanks for reading, feel free to give feedback. Enjoy your day/night.

~~~

You can find this fanfiction on Quotev and AO3. On Quotev I go by Ciar, on AO3 I go by Gyra (they're different because some names are already taken).

The thing is, Tamlin should have the ability to grow any kind of plantation. He should be able to clench his fist and cause an entire forest to shoot up from the ground. He could snap his fingers and where there was once an army is now a rich, dense wood with bodies and scattered limbs spilling out from the roots.

And Eris should be able to cause decay, whatever he touches begins to wilt. He can reduce any life to rot. Wave his hand and entire Court's crops is gone. He should be able to clench his fist around an entire Kingdoms food supply and have self-proclaimed Gods wrapped around his finger.

Kallias should be able to reduce an entire land to a desolate wasteland of snow and ice with a single glance. If he raises his eyes to the sky the sun should be blotted out with darkness and the world should be reduced to freezing temperatures and sudden deadly frosts.

Tarquin should be able to entirely consume land with the sea. Taking a small puddle and turning it to a devasting flood. He should be able to drown entire Courts, and swallow islands and countries with a sweep of his arms.

Helion should be able to reduce a land to scorched earth, withering corpses. He should be capable of shining the sun down on a people and causing things to instantly turn to ash in the wind. With a single command an entire continent could be absolutely nothing but an empty corpse.

Rhysand should be able to drain the light from a kingdom, cursing them to eternal darkness. Leaving them in a kingdom wide blindness and watch as people slowly succumb to their own madness. On the battlefield, their sight is entirely taken and they die at the hands of their fellow men and weapons in blind panic.

I am not too sure about Dawn or Dusk's powers, since that is very much an inbetween. Someone figure that out for me.

But anyway, my point is, the power of the High lords should be directly tied to the magic flowing in their Courts. They should embody the very essence of their Courts, they should be raw, unstoppable power, with no one 'more powerful' than the others. They all balance each other out in some way.

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After more than 400 days of war, frequent displacement, rising living costs, and a severe shortage of food supplies, we are struggling daily.

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A Court of Shackles and Glass

Chapter One

Word Count : 2.8k

Warning(s) : None

Next Chapter

Lyphon

Everything is painfully dark in here. I can't see any of the walls of this damned prison, nor can I even hear anything, not even the whisper of a breeze. I haven't able to since I was locked inside this dreadful place. All my movements are restricted by chains linked to cuffs locked around my ankles, wrists, and wings. By now the feathers have definitely gone dull. No doubt Achlys will pout for weeks about his lost beauty and demand to find Gyn to fix his problems again. I won't lie though, finding Gyn immediately to fix whatever is wrong with me now sounds like a good idea. Assuming I'm even going to be freed from this hell.

It was certainly a bold move on Ulysse's part, a stupid one, but a bolder one than I'm sure any of us could've expected. While it cost us to underestimate him and his ambitions, it will cost him more once we've been freed. Especially when one of us is an expert in anatomy and tends to use psychological warfare more than her actual weapons. They used to say, probably ages ago, to never underestimate the wrath of a Mortis. I can only assume Ulysse went against that warning, since he didn't seem all that concerned about Great Grandpa and his love for his Great Grandchildren. I wouldn't be surprised if Great Grandpa killed him honestly. I'm half expecting to see a grave when we get home.

A sharp, faint ring echoes through this lifeless prison. One that makes my ears twitch, aching to hear anything else. What was the ringing caused by? Is the top finally opening? That makes me excited and afraid. I'll be exposed to light again, and I haven't seen anything remotely bright or dim for who knows how long. I'll need to find Gyn fast, she'll be able to heal any damage, and I'd rather not go blind instantly and eternally.

It feels like ages before there's another faint, echoing ring, followed by another and then another and then another. I have no idea what that sound could be. If it's people, I could be freed. If it's a beast...I'm basically a sitting duck. Damn you Ulysse and your rotten soul. Hissing, I look up, or at least what I think is up, it's hard to tell when everything is pitch black here. The sound is coming from above me, so I'm assuming, and hoping, that I'm not upside down right now. If I strain my ears enough, I can hear something like a voice, or voices. I can't make out exact words, but voices are better than growls or hisses.

A low, aching, and loud groan suddenly sounds, like ancient metal doors scraping and opening against each other, and right in my ears. I wince as I cover my ears, which does very little to help block out the noise, but it's better than nothing I suppose. The groaning on gets higher in pitch until a loud slam echoes in this prison, making my ears ring to the point I'm convinced they'll start bleeding at any moment. Light peers in from above, and despite it being moonlight, it still almost feels blinding. A few tears fall, my eyes burning despite my arms shielding my face now.

Sound floods in more clearly now, no doors are blocking my ears from the outside world. Voices whisper and gossip about what could be in the endless void that is the uncovered cube of ancient metals. Rumours begin to build about the markings on the outside being to protect anyone from a cursed creature inside, how they should shut the doors again. A sense of desperation builds at those words, and whether I know better or not, I call out.

"Don't shut the doors."

There are gasps, a few shrieks. My voice is a little rough from lack of use, but not as bad as I imagined it would be. Soft footsteps approach from above. Two more people have come to watch at the edge, to try and spot where I am. A soft breeze blows in, the coolness practically making me shudder. Wind, finally, I can feel something from outside. But the wind also carries the scents of the two newcomers. One smells of apples and a burning hearth, the other of rain and the earth. The rain and earth smell makes me tense, more alert. It's now I can sense the power, it may have been eternity, but I can still recognize the power and aura of a High Lord.

"Well well..so it appears there is someone down there. Who and what are you? What Court do you reign from?"

One of them speaks, I don't know who that is, but I don't think they're the High Lord, not that I'm feeling lucky at the moment. Still, giving them an answer can lessen suspicion, make me less..dangerous in their eyes maybe. Or, it can make it worse when they won't recognize my name and Court. One answer is better than no answer, if I give nothing they might close the doors, and here I have no windows.

"Lyphon Mortis, son of Erebus Mortis, late High Lord of the End Court, and the younger brother of Achlys and Gyn Mortis."

Silences follows, someone says something low enough I can't catch it. People start moving away, but the doors don't creak, so they're being left open. Something falls and whips the air in here a little, somewhere above my head. The voice from earlier speaks again.

"We're going to need more rope."

Gyn

The entirety of this massive prison groans, metal upset and screaming for whatever is happening to stop. I wince at the sound, but it's better than the random rush of water or incessant, rage-inducing dripping from behind me. My own bones almost groan with the prison, they've been aching for ages now, stuck in an uncomfortable, terrible position. Legs bent and sat on, torso leaning forward, arms stretched to the sides, and wings clamped shut. All limbs chained to the walls, my neck chained to the ceiling, but unable to move from the tightness of the cuffs and taughtness of the chains. My legs beg for me to stand, my back pleading for me to slouch or at least shift, and my precious wings just want to stretch and feel the wind against my feathers again. Oh what I'd give to fly again. And all of my body pleading for me to stop soaking in the water as high as my chest, nearly to my face at this point, some hair dangling and dipping into dark waters. The two wings on the lower end of my back is already half in the water, soaking and making me want to shiver again.

The prison wasn't always this water filled, but slowly it's built up. And given enough time, I'd likely be stuck here, eternally drowning but unable to die. True hell indeed.

With a groan the prison suddenly tilts backwards. Water rushes at me, drenching my entire body and leaving me holding my breath for a moment, then choking and spitting out water for another few. Unfortunately, despite gravity trying to pull me back into the water, now below me, the chains don't allow it, I'm dangling above the water. There's another groan and the prison rights itself, returning to it's original position. I wince and brace myself for the oncoming impact of the rushing, practically tidalwaving, water. There's a loud rush and a strong force hits my wings and head. I nearly black out, but I'm left awake, under water and with a nasty headache. I scream, the sound muffled by the water and turning to bubbles that rush to top. When the water sinks back to chest height my scream echoes, the shrill noise nearly deafening me.

I hack and cough as small droplets rise from my lungs and drip back into the dark, chilly water. I groan, head wanting to hang but instead making the collar choke me. With a wince I right my head again. Air blesses my lungs as the only good thing of today. What the hell was that just now anyways? I can only assume Ulysse made sure this prison was cast underwater, so maybe a large sea creature? No..maybe not..but what else could it be? This prison is ancient and massive, nothing small could move it.

I grunt as the prison moves again, this time there's a draggin sound by the doors ahead of me, something like..sand? Possibly dirt? My body shakes when the prison abruptly stops moving, the chains rattle and clink, swinging for a little bit. The ancient doors that keep me locked in here more than the chains open, light from the day floods in, reaching my knees. The darkness flees from the front, behind me probably becoming ever darker. The sudden brightness makes my vision go white, eyes burning with a pressure behind them that makes a strangled scream escape me. I struggle to turn, to look away, let my eyes adjust and not go blind instantly. A few hot, burning tears fall and quickly slide down my face and neck. All six wings flap violently, trying to free themselves and block the light, protect me, unfortunately it doesn't work. Gods it hurts. Another pained noise comes from my throat, something between a sob and a cry. As much as I'd love to feel embarassed right now, I don't have it in me.

Footsteps approach, swiftly, each one echoing in this hollow chamber. At the sound I realize most of the water has flooded out. Voices shout warnings and commands to stop, to back away and 'get away from them! They could be dangerous'. I wince, twisting my head again, skin scraping against the rough, damp, and cold collar around my neck. My arms pull and push, trying to cover my ears and eyes, it only makes them scrape badly against my shackles though. More tears flow and another mix of a sob and cry echoes in the prison. The footsteps approach faster until some of the light vanishes from my vision, the pressure behind my eyes easing away.

The smell of the sea and lotuses envelops me, catching me a little off guard. The stranger in front of me gently takes my face, turning it back to face forwards again. The first thing I see are bright turquoise eyes, concern is laced in them and I can't help but feel guilty. But at the same time, I'm a little captivated by their eyes. They're a beautiful turquoise, almost like they've captured the sea and trapped them in a pair of eyes. It almost catches my breath, and my wings almost flap a little. They smile slightly, which is when I notice the stranger's dark skin and white hair, I almost smile back.

"Be careful, you're going to hurt yourself..now can you tell me who you are? Where you're from maybe? Or why you're in here?..Do you understand me?"

His voice is soothing, almost melodic. I smile faintly, but for very briefly, I need to give him answers.

"I understand, don't worry. Thank you for the concern..my name is Gyn Mortis. My home is likely not a place you know of, but I'll say anyways. I am from the End Court, it is north of the Night Court. I am in here because my Father, it's former High Lord, died and my cousin imprisoned me and my two brothers in seperate prisons. Rumours had been going around that one of us would inherit the title, so out of jealousy he forced us into these. I do not know how long I have been in here and I can only guess where I am."

I end coughing after speaking. I haven't spoken in a while, nor this much. The stranger pats my back, chuckling a little while looking a bit surprised.

"Easy there, don't push yourself. And I'm sorry, you're right, I don't know of the End Court..but I will try to help you."

I smile a little, nodding and whispering thank you. He turns to call behind him, ordering for a blanket and a locksmith.

Achlys

The flame, small as one on a candle, seems as bright as the sun. I try not to wince or squint, acting like my eyes aren't ready to bleed at the brightness. I'll need to find Gyn, get her to make my feathers beautiful again and fix my broken, breaking eyes. But that'll have to wait until this jackass lets me go.

I sigh as the russet eyed, ruby haired male in front of me stares me down. He and some of his servants had found me and managed to get me out of the damned prison, which immediately returned itself home, no doubt family members will either shout for joy or throw a hissy fit when they're informed of the returned prison. The servants stand a few feet behind the male, heads all facing downwards, all of them apparently finding the dirt ground of the cave fascinating.

Russet eyes squats, the fire right between us now. I opted to sit rather than stand, it seemed more comfortable and I've already had to stand for who knows how long anyways; I was switched between standing and sitting every so often, but for the longest time now I had to stand, making my legs feel weak, tired, and stiff. I could swear he's smirking slightly. It's tempting to just slap him, maybe see how he reacts. I don't, of course, but it's nice imagining it happening.

"Well then, I've freed you, whatever you are. So you owe me one. Now you're going to kill my someone for me."

I narrow my eyes this time, almost tilting my head. If I didn't know any better I'd think I'd returned home with the prison. Of course I was only freed to be indebted to Russet Eyes. I hiss lowly, much to Russet's amusement.

"Don't look so pouty. It's only one life. Besides, it'll probably be easy for you. I doubt they locked up a human in something like your little prison." He smirks again, I almost scowl. "Don't tell me you're nothing but a weakling. Gods, I didn't save someone useless did I? What a waste of effort."

At that I nearly punch him, I'd certainly love the feeling of his face being broken by my fists, blood pouring everywhere. I almost smirk at the thought, that would be wonderful.

"Shut it. I have no doubts I am more powerful than you, nor do I have any doubts that my skill is greatly higher than yours."

He snorts as I stand, moving to leave. If someone hasn't already found my siblings, I might as well find them myself. He stands though, pressing a hand on my chest, just over my heart. A warmth builds until it's borderline burning and there's a chance my shirt is about to be set on fire or start smoking. I glare at him, cracking my neck as I flex my fingers. It's been some time, but now that I'm not trapped in that damning prison I can use my abilities again. It feels good to watch his daggers rise and hover a hair above his scalp, like some mock crown that could kill him at any moment. Though because of how long it's been it's not as stable, some of the daggers occasionally wobbling. Clenching my hands into fists the daggers fix themselves, staying still and perfectly angled to stab into his head. I'm going to need to practice more, make sure I'm back to my original skill and strength again.

Russet raises a brow, humming faintly. "What is your name?..You're not from here, are you?"

"If you're really so curious, red locks, it's Achlys. And I come from hell."

He bristles a little at the nickname, but snickers at my last answer. "Red locks..no. You can call me Fenix Vanserra, welcome to Hell 2.0."

~~~

Hello, thank you for reading this. Feel free to let me know what you think. Have a good day/night. You deserve to be happy.

~~~

P.S. This fanfic is available on Quotev and AO3