Whispers Waltz Around Our Dreams . . .

After finding Khaleesi’s boy, Ozul, alone in the forest, Losa made it her mission to involve herself more in the daily workings of Dierne Hrof. In the gentle healer’s absence, Losa gathered herbs and stored them for winter; she left food for the youngest members of the pack, always drawing away before any could thank her—or even witness her dropping prey near a hungry child’s bed; she wandered the borders like a pastel ghost, noting each path left by pawprints and memorizing every scent woven through the air. Few might be able to locate the reclusive dancer as she traversed the mountains, for Losa firmly grasped her soul between tightly gritted teeth—loathe to touch anyone with the rot festering in her chest. Yet the heiress usually had a very good idea of what her packmates were up to. She had to. Even if she wore no crown, Losa wore the chains of duty proudly, and if she could not be useful in public then she’d make herself indispensable in secret. Worthy of the air she breathed, the food she ate, the space her decay devoured.

When Losa sensed the first sharp stab of fear from Zawyne, however… she cursed herself for ever thinking she could make up for her worthlessness.

The dawn-colored sylph had been trailing along the lakeside, observing the various trails pressed into the sand and pebbles by all who’d visited the crystalline waters to drink; as the glassy pool of water glimmering directly at Dierne’s center, it was here that Losa best formed an idea of who still resided in the kingdom. At one point, the lightning-gloved lady happened upon the scent of her darling sibling… and, just as it always did, that familiar perfume made a bloom of warmth unfurl in her breast. “Zaffy…” A quiet, aching murmur. After glancing around to see if anyone was watching, Losa leaned down to rub her muzzle along the spot where her sister’s paws had tread, inhaling deeply. Sunflowers and sugar. Sunlight and lilacs. A complex signature that wrapped itself comfortingly around the jagged shards Losa forced herself to breathe around. The decision to build distance from Zawyne tortured Losa to no end; however, after agonizing over her choice, the rainbow queen realized that this pain was safer for the future lorer. Better for Zawyne to be lonely than tainted. Losa brushed her face one last time against the single sweet place that smelled of her sister—

And reared back, choking on a scream that echoed from Zawyne’s vocal cords to hers.

It did not matter that Losa had imprisoned her aura—she felt her sibling’s terror as viscerally as if it were her own, her own horror dissolving her guts and python-crushing her lungs and racing through her heart. Fear and sadness and an immediate, blaring, unfathomable panic that spurred Losa away from the water and toward the border, her long limbs churning and her talons raking up the terra, wide eyes blind with worry, all thoughts driven from her mind except to reach Zawyne save Zawyne protect Zawyne—

Several times the ballerina stumbled in the darkness, cursing breathlessly as she sprinted. Night steadily overtook the sky… velvet indigo and silver stars plunging a deep veil across the woods. Vampires. It’s vampires. Losa bit her jowls so hard she tasted blood, helpless to hold back tears. She knew the bloodsuckers would come hunting for the Arcus Irae eventually—it’s just that she always believed they’d be safe in Dierne Hrof, guarded by the Tempests and by the magic that ringed the border. Had the unthinkable happened? Had one of those mindless predators infiltrated the territory? Only Zawyne’s steady stream of shrieking distress told Losa that her dearest one was still alive, had not been slain by pitiless fangs—

A high, wavering howl flew from her jaws the closer Losa charged to the border, a call to let Zawyne know she was coming, that Zaywne needed help, please gods and goddesses let someone hear her and get there soon if Losa could not be fast enough!

“Zawyne?! Zawyne, baby, I’m coming!” She sensed the gates up ahead, could already taste the tang of blood on the night air. Sorbet hackles prickled upright. Not Zaffy, not her, no please no no no. Dread slugged her in the abdomen, pushing bile to the back of Losa’s throat. “Zawyne, honey, please be okay I’m coming honey I’m almost there—”

There—just ahead! Past a break in the trees Losa saw her precious one dart past the border, turning to look over the sun-spot on her shoulder and yell encouragement at the adolescent Tempest just behind her. Seconds later—in a ferocious tumble of flying fur and crushing jaws—that Tempest and the midnight-inked vampire trying to rake her hip with his teeth collided… with nothing. The blue-eyed warrioress flipped over several times as she rolled, scraping a trench through leaves and dirt with her bruised body. And the vampire? The hound from hell, with eyes that glowed the red of Losa’s nightmares? He glared at the girl who’d defended Zawyne with cold, unimaginable hostility, spewing the ugliest threats from his greedy maw before pivoting away to meet up with yet another parasite lurking just beyond Dierne Hrof’s walls. Losa skidded to a stop near her sibling heartbeats after the black dragon showed them all his back—relief and the sickening understanding that she’d almost been too late threatening to bring her to the ground.

“Zaffy…” Her amethyst-and-sapphire oceans fell upon the wound dripping from the side of Zawyne’s neck: crimson against a sunset palette. “He… hurt you.”

Rage. Incandescent, supernova, an eruption of fury—the stunning force of which made Losa’s blurring vision go bloodred. The explosion of her savage aura shattering its bonds would have been felt by every Arcus Irae in Blossom Forest, angry shrapnel that sent sparks from the queen’s heart and set fire to everything around her, brighter than the sun and hotter than lightning. This was the mighty phoenix of Losa’s spirit in full flight—the truth of her nature revealed in one violent blast. All her life her parents and her guardians had tried to smother the wrath that kindled the princess’s very bones. They had wanted her to be snow upon the ashes: cold, soft, burying conflict beneath unquestionable peace. They had glimpsed the danger of her uncontrollable light and attempted to shackle her. Tame her. Because their kind were born of kindness and hope, the merciful promise of the gods… and the terrible ire that Losa harbored went against all that the Arcus Irae represented.

Losa had believed herself sick when her healing presence failed to quell the maliciousness that her sister so easily soothed. She had gazed woefully inward, dispairing at the brokenness twisted inside her. The frayed edges of herself she desperately worked to keep together. All that perfection, carved into her flesh… the rules and the expectations that caged her… the visceral belief that something was wrong with her, that while Zawyne and the other Arcus Irae existed as purity incarnate Losa lived as a disease. Grief which had always chased slavering on her heels finally overtook her. She shut her soul off. Amputated her connection to those around her for fear of contaminating them. And while Losa quarantined her hideous secret, while she allowed herself to wither and die a little every day to preserve her beloved subjects, she found that it was suddenly a little easier to pretend to be the Monarch her kingdom had always longed for. Detached and immaculate… more symbol than flesh and blood.

But she was not sick. She was not wrong. Losa was war wrapped in beauty, destruction disguised as salvation. And with her violence crackling savagely from its bonds suddenly she felt more powerful than she’d ever felt before. “How dare he,” hissed the Dawnfire Princess, voice shuddering with hatred. “Nobody touches my sister. I'm tired of our kind being hurt by this world... I swear to you I will not allow you or any of the Arcus Irae to go unavenged. Ever. Again.”

☽Arcus Irae Princess | Sister to Zawyne | Chained to Duma | Bound to Hurricane | xathira☾