The Start of A Plan

The Start of A Plan
The giant room that served as a dining hall was full of people. The tables all groaned with food and at the front of the room was Ardas. 

He tapped his fork on his goblet, calling the attention of the entire hall. 

“It is… with a heavy heart and best wishes I announce that two of our brilliant students will not be returning in the next year as they have elected to return home. Let us wish them both off with the best of wishes…”

The fact that he hadn’t said who or what kind of employment told him that it was likely a lie in some way and just a means of separating them further. 

Ophel entered the hall and rushed over, sliding to sit beside the other Leandros though he remained as stiff as a board as she leaned into him.

Penelope cleared her throat and picked up her bag. “I have to finish packing. I’ll see you later.”

She fled the room, and Leandros flew after her, following her until she reached a private room. She slammed the door closed and punched the door hard enugh that it splintered.

“Enil?”

She appeared, wringing her hands. “Kyria…”

“Take my trunk, please? I will sail to Ascelpius tonight.”

Enil nodded and levitated the trunk. Penelope took one last look at the room before straightening her spin and leaving with her eyes focused ahead, already glinting with plans.

“A moment, Penelope,” Ardas said as she reached the main corridor.

Penelope clenched her jaw, but came to a stop. Her eyes widened a bit, clearly figuring something out. 

“I was surprised about your sudden withdrawal. Will you not reconsider? Your friends will miss you, and you could easily—”

“No.”

Ardas narrowed his eyes. “I must insist.”

“Your parlor tricks can’t overwhelm the obligation of my lineage.”

“...Well, do know that Zarantia’s doors are always open to you.”

“I would not walk through those doors under threat of death.” She glared at him. “I’d rather blow them down.”

He cleared his throat. “Should I expect your return at all?’

Penelope met his gaze. “If Leandros comes to harm, my return will be the last of your concerns, Dominus Tenebrus.”

His eyes widened, and he froze in place as she walked past him with Enil following her down to the carriages. She climbed into the carriage with Diomeios and Enil hovered over the carriage.



Naos paced the length of the hall, glancing at the pool of memories. Most of them were from Leandros, but the level was lesser than it had been days before. The damn shifter had vanished as had he boy and the basilisk. 

Worst of all, the sound of rushing water had come back, glittering water dripped through the canals into his altar room in a steady drip. Within days, it would be a flow, and he bet the memories he’d been stealing and containing would be mostly gone. How was that possible? The pool glowed. The traces of violent red that had been flickering in its depths for years had vanished a while ago. He touched the surface and the surface rippled, resisting and pulling away from him. It went dark for a moment, and eyes glowing with fire and sunlight looked at him from within the pool. 

Her eyes. 

They narrowed with fury before the stone vessel exploded, shredding his hand and robes and flinging him across the room. He groaned as his body hit the wall and watched the majority of the liquid inside dripped down and evaporated out. He snarled and struggled to his feet, but his shoulder throbbed and his leg faltered, so all he could do was watch it.

Morgana strode into the room, her lips pursed as she looked down at him. He considered ordering her to contain it, but Morgana had no power. What little magic she might have been able to wieled so many lives ago had dried up.

She had been dethroned brutally, send crashing to the mortal world with nothing. If only he could get to Taravon, all of this would end. 

Or rather, it would end in his favor.



Leandros usually didn't listen to the heralds floating through the mainland, being a son of the thrown meant he knew exactly how much of it was true before it was distributed.

Almost none of it. 

Today though, something interesting caught his attention 

“The Council speculates a new alliance between Kyria and Caeros.”

He stopped and tuned in to the herald as he spoke, describing how a messenger had seen them together sharing an intimate boat ride, dressed nicely. The insinuation of it was that Penelope had been on a date with another ruler’s heir. He could imagine it like he was right there. He’d lean close to whisper in er ear before her face lit up with laughter he could almost hear.

His heart clenched so painfully he considered going to Healing Halls. His hands shook and he heard himself screaming somewhere in his mind. He hurried home before he exploded, waiting for the cabinets to burst apart, the refinery of the palace would bend and break, yet nothing happened. So he threw things, overturned tables, blasted holes in the wall as he could, screaming until the pain was too much, and the world was rocking beneath his feet.

He sat down in the destroyed foyer and curled up on the floor, staring out into a bleak nothing he couldn’t understand. He realized as he slipped into sleep that he hadn’t been screaming and the only thing he’d managed to do was throw himself around and cry, even his fury about this was muted and tightly controlled. 

What the hell was happening to him?

When he woke up, his eyes were burning. His face was tacky from tears, and his chest ached. He struggled to his feet and to the bathroom, willing himself to shower when the sight of him caught his eye. There was a black hole where the ache in his chest was coming from. He pressed his fingers to it. The skin was solid and pressing on it didn’t make it hurt more, yet it burned. There were more spots. A lot of them were on his arms where Opel liked to hold onto him. He looked into the mirror and froze as the image of Naos looking just as lost stared back at him like he was viewing a dream.

The Naos staring back at him looked haunted. His eyes were rimmed red and glossy with grief and loneliness as he bowed over the sink and choked. Leandros felt the rush of bile, the burn and tar and licorice taste of whatever that was. Then, he heard sobbing as he slipped down to the floor and curled up on the cool tile, feverish and in agony. 

“Persephone,” he heard in Naos’ voice, so broken, so sad that Leandros couldn’t imagine what had turned the maniac he knew to be Naos into this broken mess or how they could possibly be connected. “Come back… Please come back.”

Who the hell was Persephone?

A servant knocked on his door. 

“Your presence is requested for dinner."