Holly! 💖

I.

They bury Silver next to his father in the plot behind their dilapidated little cottage, just as he’d wanted. It’s a warm, sunny day, and the meadow around their home had lately exploded in yellow buttercups and golden cowslips and cool, hushed bluebells, as if the earth had flung its arms wide open in rejoice of the lone casket being lowered into its shadowy embrace. After they smooth over the last clump of dirt and the final eulogy has been read, the tiny procession splits up - some going to loiter in the garden, others heading inside the cottage to dab their damp faces and seek refuge from the heat.

Although Malleus and Sebek never did get to discuss the details of the funeral before Silver passed, they both feel confident in their choice of a modest ceremony – he never was one for frills and fanfare, after all. But even with the small crowd gathered, the cottage is livelier than it’d been in a long while. There’s a spread of traditional Briar Valley fare laid out on the tables – steaming dumplings heavy with ground veal and spices, piles and piles of roast pork and sausages, and fresh apple strudel topped with a blanket of powdered sugar - and Malleus and Sebek can hear the clink of tableware mixing with the murmurs of low voices all around them. But neither of them speak as they quietly sip on their tea.

After a while, Malleus gets up to refill his glass, and he realizes on his way to the kitchen that it’s Deuce Spade who’s been chatting with Kalim al-Asim outside in the garden for the past half hour. He glances at them through the kitchen window as he reaches for the kettle.

They’ve both aged considerably since the last time he saw them. The edges of Kalim’s eyes crinkle severely every time he smiles at something the other man says, but his laugh still rings out as loud and as true as ever. Deuce’s dark eyes crinkle in return, and his hair has frosted over to a dull white that rivals even Kalim’s near-translucent locks. He reaches out to pat a trembling hand on Kalim’s back once his laughter breaks down into a rattling cough.

Malleus turns away, frowning. He goes to rejoin Sebek in the living room, raising an eyebrow at the untouched plate of sausage still resting on his lap.

“Are you not hungry?”

Sebek doesn’t look up as he shakes his head. He sets the plate down on the table and rubs his arms as though he’s cold. It’s a nervous habit that has disturbed him since he was a child, and he scowls once he realizes he’s doing it again.

Sebek had lost his father a few decades prior. He remembers the funeral as though it were yesterday; it felt like he’d just finished washing all the dirt from his hands a few moments ago, and then he blinked, and it was already time to pick up his shovel again.

There are nights where he finds the black maw of the sky is somehow darker and infinitely vaster than usual. Its magnitude, its perfect darkness - blacker than obsidian, blacker than the purest coal, blacker than the gentle luster of a raven’s feathers – immobilize him. Only then, as he lies in bed, transfixed by the endless night, as whispered prayers begin to spill from his lips - at times haltingly slow, at times rushing faster than a waterfall - only then does he admit that he misses his father. The man’s death had ripped a hole in his heart that still hadn’t healed, and Silver’s passing had knocked him down right when he was finally ready to try and get back up again.

He never could comprehend how his mother had remained so stalwart and strong all this time, nor how she’s still retaining her composure at the funeral right now. He’s been watching as she flutters from one guest to another, thanking them for coming, and checking if they need their glasses or plates refilled. It’s striking how young she looks in comparison to his former schoolmates, and he wonders if everyone else felt just as shocked when they saw him and Malleus mingling with the guests earlier.

It takes a few moments for Sebek to put his thoughts together, and then he says, quietly, “I just… I just don’t understand why humans are put on this world for such a short time? What good does it do them - do anyone - to lead such short lives…?”

Malleus doesn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything at all. He tries to think back on all the times Lilia had soothed his fears as a child, tries to cobble together an appropriate answer based on the bits and pieces of hazy memories that flit through the caverns of his mind. But he knows that nothing he comes up with would help.

Finally, Malleus replies, “Yes, that’s… That’s something I’ve long pondered, as well.”

Sebek balls his fists in his lap. “Damn humans!” he chokes out, his voice barely a whisper. “Damn them all!!”

Malleus places a hand on Sebek’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. If he cannot imitate Lilia’s soothing loquacity, then at least he can do this much for the boy, he decides.

The minutes turn into hours, and the small crowd begins to disperse as the sun dips low into the sky. The air is still warm when Malleus at last steps outside the cottage and begins to head home.

Sebek ends up staying behind the longest. Malleus can hear his sobs echoing through the forest all the way back to the castle.

The day he received news of Silver’s passing, a part of Malleus - a small part he never wished to think about or speak of - was surprised that he ended up living as long as he did. Malleus had always feared, in private, that the boy’s broken heart would claim him much sooner, and he never could decide if he felt saddened or relieved that Silver had waited so long before setting off to go join his father.

In the weeks leading up to the funeral, he’d often think of Silver. Sometimes, the Silver he remembered was just a tiny infant napping in his arms, and other times, he was a bright-eyed boy waving around a crude wooden sword in the air. Occasionally, he’d think back to their years at Night Raven College, and he could still clearly picture Silver’s entrance ceremony in his mind. Lilia was positively electrified that day - he trembled with excitement as he stood next to Malleus in the darkness of the mirror hall. The two of them exchanged proud smirks when the mirror announced the boy’s sorting into Diasomnia.

Malleus never liked to think of Silver in his final years.

As the decades passed, his once lustrous hair eventually faded to a lifeless gray, and wrinkles and worry lines tugged down at what used to be supple skin. And yet – even as he approached the twilight of his life, there was still that same glint in his auroral eyes, still that same air of nobility about him that hadn’t dulled in the slightest. And still that same stubborn streak he’d inherited from his father.

Even a weeklong shouting match with Sebek wasn’t enough to get the aging man to step down from the Imperial Guard. They’d both made great strides in their careers, and Silver was fiercely proud of his hard-earned title – the first ever human to attain the rank of Colonel in Briar Valley’s armed forces. But the aging man was struggling to keep up, some days failing to draw his heavy longsword without it crashing to the ground. And Sebek was quick to notice.

“You utter moron!” Sebek had snarled at him one evening. “You’re going to work yourself to death at this rate!”

Silver sighed. “You think I don’t know that? This is what I… This is what my father would’ve wanted, so…”

Any mention of Lilia always brought the conversation to a quiet end. And then night would fall, and then the night would turn into day, and their argument would begin anew together with the rising of the sun.

Malleus finally stepped in when he found out that Silver had cracked a rib while sparring with some of the new recruits during morning training. He signed the knight’s honorable discharge papers later that afternoon.

After Silver stepped down from the Guard, he and Malleus would often walk together through the young prince’s rose garden. They’d go early in the morning, before the sun had climbed too far overhead and her amber rays were only just starting to bleed into the hazy blue of the cloudless sky.

It was something they used to do from time to time when Silver was little. The rose seeds Malleus’s grandmother gifted him every year on his birthday were rarely ever the same - one year, he’d get a mix of floribunda and polyantha seeds; another, damask and tea – and he would hold the baby up to the rose bushes and point out all the different types of flowers. He’d tell him about how old garden roses differed from the modern varieties, and when and where to do your pruning and why it was so important. And the baby would listen and listen.

“Do you still remember how you’d try and help me prune the roses when you were little? I’d hold the shears for you, and you’d try to press down on the handles with all your weight, but they wouldn’t budge. Your entire body would shake all over with the effort and you had the most serious look on your face. It was always so hard for me not to laugh.”

Silver smiled but said he didn’t remember. He began saying that a lot as he grew older.

“Are any of the roses here the same ones from when I was a child?”

Malleus scanned his garden and pursed his lips before answering, “No, my oldest bush is only about 40 years old. Many of these flowers are the descendants of seeds I planted during your infancy, however.”

“Amazing,” Silver whispered. He reached out and traced a gnarled finger along the velvet petals of a young rose, still not yet unfurled.

“What is?” Malleus asked.

“Ah, I was just thinking about something I’d read in a book lately. It said there’s trees in Twisted Wonderland that are older than even the oldest living human. And I was thinking, long after I’m gone, those trees will probably still be standing there, right? And the planet will keep turning, and the sun will keep shining... It’ll be like I was never even here.”

Malleus furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “…And you find that amazing? You aren’t afraid to leave this world and miss all those things?”

“I’m trying not to be,” Silver replied, a tired smile tugging at his dry lips. “I guess I just...”

Silver searched for the right words. “…I just take comfort in knowing that your roses will keep blooming for you long after I’m gone, my Lord.”

Malleus had wanted to snap at him, wanted to whirl on him like a viper and spit, “But what will I take comfort in?”, but the words got caught in the lump forming in his throat. He turned away from Silver and cursed himself for acting so childishly.

At Silver’s funeral, Malleus’s eyes blurred as they lowered the casket into the ground. He tried to focus on something else, on anything other than the sound of dirt and rocks being heaved onto the wooden frame, and he clung desperately to the shard of a memory from what felt like a lifetime ago.

He’s standing in Lilia’s cottage, and Lilia offers Malleus to hold the baby for the first time. Malleus holds out his hands, but then draws them back in hesitation.

“And you’re certain I won’t injure him?”

“Oh, you’re such a worrywart. It’ll be fine…” Lilia thinks for a moment and then continues, “Ah, I know. Just think of him like he’s one of your roses! You’re always so gentle with them, aren’t you?”

Gentle. A word most would refrain from using to describe Malleus, what with all those rumors and stories of his awful powers. (The Halloween incident still hangs fresh in his mind.) But Lilia was correct – Malleus fawned over his roses like nothing else.

When he was little, he would cup their pleasant, pink faces in his hands with a featherlight touch and whisper to them the secrets of his child’s heart. And every year, when the juvenile buds slowly began to unfurl for him, stretching out their newborn petals in welcome of the boy’s fanged smile and glittering eyes, the joy that washed over him was gentler than any spring rain and warmer than any afternoon sun. They were more precious to him than all the jewels in the castle vaults combined - his own dragon’s hoard of living rubies, topaz, rose quartz, and garnet.

And so he nervously accepts the tiny infant that Lilia holds out to him and he shifts the child awkwardly in his arms. Be gentle. He’s like one of your roses. Be gentle, be gentle, be gentle.

The sound of Sebek loudly clearing his throat next to him ripped Malleus from his memories. He whispered a quiet “Thank you” and took the handkerchief from Sebek’s outstretched hand.

Malleus buried a piece of his heart together with Silver that day, and he buried yet another piece when Sebek passed away a couple of centuries later. And when a record-breaking snowstorm ripped through Briar Valley that winter and decimated his rose garden in its icy wrath, he found he simply did not have the energy to mourn any more.

II.

Malleus can tell that someone is standing outside his room. He figures it’s one of the young servants in training; he can hear her muttering the lines she must’ve been instructed to say as she paces back and forth for a few minutes.

Finally, a tiny voice squeaks out, “Umm, Lord Malleus...?”

Malleus looks up from the book he’d been reading and sees his door has been opened just a crack. A young girl dressed in a servant’s uniform peeks through, wide-eyed.

“Yes, what is it?”

Perhaps out of fear, or excitement – or a juvenile mixture of both – she hurriedly blurts out, “Her M-Majesty requests your audience at once!!” and then promptly shuts the door with a soft thud.

Malleus sighs and tells the closed door, “Thank you. I’ll go to her now.” 

“You called for me, Grandmother?”

His grandmother, Queen Maleficia, smiles broadly at him as he steps into the throne room. She bids him to come sit, and he lowers himself hesitantly into the empty chair – the king’s throne - next to her. It’s seldom that he ever comes into this room, and rarer still he’s allowed to sit there. The hard armrests dig into his elbows, but he doesn’t complain.

“Malleus, I called you here to talk about something very important,” His grandmother says with sparkling eyes. “Your birthday is coming up!”

“Yes?”

“Your one thousandth birthday, my dear. A momentous occasion for us dragon fae, for you’ll finally become a full-fledged adult.”

“Ah.” The cobwebbed gears in the attic of Malleus’s mind begin to turn. He has an idea of where this conversation is headed.

“And as such, I’ve been thinking… I’ve ruled over Briar Valley far longer than I had ever intended. I meant to step down from the throne and let your parents rule after you were born. But of course, things didn’t quite turn out the way I had envisioned.”

His grandmother’s smile falters for a moment, and then she continues, “But now, I feel certain the time is right. My precious grandson, you have grown into such a wonderful young man. You are clever and resourceful, and you have a passionate interest in history and foreign affairs the likes of which I’ve never seen in any budding politician before.”

“I know you’ve faced so, so much loss in your young life already, and you’ve come through it with such grace and humility.” She reaches out to clasp his hand in hers, and Malleus shivers at the shock of her cold skin.

“There is no doubt in my heart that you are ready for this. And that Briar Valley is ready for you.”

Malleus isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say, so he just smiles and then whispers, “Alright.”

“Excellent!” His grandmother rises and claps her hands together loudly. “Someone, go fetch me the members of the royal planning board! We have a coronation to get ready for!” She turns to Malleus, and he rises, too.

“Do go ahead and start thinking about whom you’d like to invite, my dear. I’ll have the board reserve some seats up front for your friends.”

Malleus’s birthday comes and goes with much fanfare and hoorah, and once all the confetti is swept away and the banners and flags are taken down and he no longer has to dread passing a window and risk seeing an effigy of his awkward face staring back up at him from the town square, Malleus takes some time to think about whom he’d like to invite to his coronation. He sits at the desk in his room, pen and paper spread out on the table before him. He sits there for a while, as still as stone, until finally, like a petrified creature released from decades of slumber, he slowly, stiffly reaches out, takes his pen in hand, and starts to write.

He starts with whatever names come to mind first – his old classmates and instructors from Night Raven College, the people he met during his brief internship, the politicians and members of foreign royalty he’s had to endure countless boring dinners and stuffy balls with. His little list grows longer and longer, and he grabs another sheet of paper after filling up the first one. As he sets his pen down after a couple minutes of hurried writing, he’s surprised, but pleased, at how many names he ended up recalling.

And now the difficult part: He must choose the fortunate souls who shall be blessed to attend the coronation of King Malleus Draconia. He smirks and starts with the first sheet of paper, slowly reading aloud the name he’d written at the top. And then he frowns. No, you can’t invite Kingscholar; He passed away already. You attended his funeral, don’t you remember? He picks up his pen again and draws a black line through the name. And then he reads the next name and recalls Sebek once complaining about how the television programs wouldn’t stop replaying Vil Schoenheit’s movies for weeks on end after his death, and he strikes through it. And he does the same for the following name, and the one after that. His list turns into a jumble of scratchy lines, and then he moves to the second sheet, crossing out one name after the next. He realizes with a shaky sigh that most of these people are already dead.

But there is one name that he’s not so sure about, it’s the only one that stands unmarred in his clean handwriting amidst the mess of black ink: Ortho Shroud, younger brother of the late Idia Shroud. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen the tall, lanky figure of the elder brother, but he’s certain he wasn’t at Silver’s funeral. Only Ortho attended; he’d mentioned something about once treating some injury or other that Silver had incurred at the equestrian club. Malleus had smiled as he listened to the story back then, and he smiles again now as he recalls Ortho’s animated figure telling the tale.

He leans back in his chair and rests his chin on his hand as he thinks. Malleus never quite grasped just what the boy was, only that he wasn’t quite human, but not fully machine, either. If he truly was some form of inorganic creature, then perhaps there’s a chance that he’s still…

Malleus moves aside his stationery with a sweep of his arm and pulls out the laptop he keeps stored in the drawer underneath his desk. The construction of Briar Valley’s first nationwide power grid and internet network had recently been completed a couple of centuries ago, and electricity now thrummed throughout the land. It took some getting used to, especially for a folk so accustomed to their magic, but the citizens quickly grew to enjoy the novelties of television and the world wide web. Malleus had also recently learned of the wonders of online chess, and he proudly considered himself a bit of a gamer.

He opens up his email and begins his search. There is a faint memory that clings weakly to his brain of Lilia sending him a message not long after he’d departed for the Land of Red Dragons. There was a grainy picture attached showing Lilia’s pale, outstretched hand, his nails painted cherry red, pointing to some snowcapped mountains towering in the distance. If his memory serves right, Lilia had sent that email to a number of addresses, and one of them might’ve had Ortho’s name in it. He scrolls through his archived folders and clicks on the one he created just for Lilia’s old emails. It takes only a moment to find the message he was thinking of. He remembers now that it was the last time he’d ever heard from the man.

He doesn’t dare open the attached picture. He quickly scans through the list of names and addresses in the “to” field until he finds the one he was hoping to see, and with shaking hands, he begins a new email. He types a curt message asking the boy how he’s been and if he’d like to stop by for a few days so they can catch up.

He clicks “send”, and then folds his hands in his lap as he waits for a response.

III.

Ortho comes to Briar Valley later that week, and Malleus is surprised at the pure quietness of the boy’s arrival. He’d expected something more grandiose from a member of the Shroud clan, like dark clouds of smoke and exhaust and great explosions of light. But there is none of that – Ortho merely descends from the sky with all the whispered elegance of an owl gliding through a nighttime forest, and he alights a few meters away from where Malleus had been waiting for him in the courtyard.

They shake hands and say their hellos, and Ortho adds that the current director of Styx sends her greetings. Malleus raises a thin, black eyebrow at this.

His curiosity piqued, he asks, “Is she, ah, descended from your brother, then?”

Ortho laughs, high and bright like the aluminum wind chines that hang from some of the trees in the courtyard. “Oh, no! My big brother never got married or had children. After he passed away, another branch family in the Shroud clan took over Styx, and their descendants have been running things at the Island of Woe ever since.”

As they walk towards the castle gates, Ortho explains that the new management agreed to let him stay with them after his brother died, and he’s been spending most of his time the past few centuries overseeing the island’s security system. (Apparently, he can operate it remotely via “satellite”, but for Malleus the word only conjures up visions of the moon, and he tilts his head in perplexment.)

Malleus asks, “And you’re absolutely sure it’s alright for you to be here? I don’t want any problems with Styx, especially not so soon before the coronation.” His grandmother had scowled deeply when he told her whom he’d been planning to invite, and he was eager to assuage her concerns.

“Yeah, Styx is still as secretive as ever, but they’re pretty lax when it comes to me leaving the island. As long as I don’t divulge any top-secret info, of course.” Ortho finishes with a wink.

“I see. Good, then let me show you to where you’ll be staying.”

They walk together to Ortho’s guest room, and the castle servants scatter before them like a parted sea. Malleus knows they’re staring; he can see the white faces of the chambermaids peeking out from behind half-shut doors, but he doesn’t mind. He remembers how intrigued he’d been when he first met Idia Shroud and the little robot that always seemed to be hovering in his shadow. And how shocked he was when the device opened its mouth and began to speak.

Malleus, too, finds himself glancing now and then at the boy walking beside him. He doesn’t look much different from how Malleus remembers. He’s not grown any taller, and his fiery hair isn’t any longer than before. He still has that soft, round face, and those striking yellow eyes and that small mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth.

Later, while Ortho unpacks his charging apparatus and surveys the room for the closest outlet, Malleus asks the question that’d been pestering him since his guest’s arrival.

“Ah, it made my big brother uncomfortable whenever he saw my face, so that’s why I always wore either a visor or a mask while he was alive. Since he’s gone now, I don’t bother with covering up my face anymore.”

“What? Why would your face make him uncomfortable?”

Ortho looks over his shoulder from where he’s kneeling before the outlet he selected. He states plainly, “Because it reminded him too much of his little brother, Ortho Shroud.”

Malleus blinks. And then he frowns. “Wait…. Seeing your face – you, his little brother, Ortho Shroud – reminded him too much of his little brother…. Ortho Shroud. And that made him… uncomfortable?”

“Correct!” Ortho grins like an absolute imp, and Malleus wonders if he’d been studying up on fae humor before coming here.

“….I must say, the more I learn about your family, the more bizarre you all sound.”

Ortho laughs again. “You have no idea.”

Once Ortho is done packing, Malleus asks if he’d like to go tour the valley with him. He answers with an excited “Absolutely!”, and they make their way back out to the courtyard. The day is still young, and a sky as blue as freshly picked morning glories greets them once they step outside.

At the castle gates, Malleus asks Ortho to wait a moment. He squats before the boy and takes his smaller hands into his own. Lilia had once told him that children listen better when adults get down to their level, and Malleus wants to make absolutely sure that Ortho understands the gravity of what he’s about to say.

“Listen to me well, Little Shroud. Most of the fae here are kind and virtuous people, and I trust the castle staff not to lay a hand on you. But I cannot say the same about our townspeople and countrymen. I fear a young child of man like you… Yes, even one made of cool metal and not the warmth of living flesh and blood, will attract those who wish you harm. If, when we are away from the castle, I take your hand and draw you close to me, you must not let go, for it means they are near. You must not listen to their whispered temptations; you must not believe their siren lies. Do you understand? If they gaze at you with eyes of black fire, if they promise you Heaven’s greatest rewards, if you turn to them and see your brother’s face and hear his voice calling out your name, you must look away. Can you promise me you will do that?”

Ortho nods his head slowly, and they set off.

They begin with a cursory flight over the valley; Ortho using his machinery, and Malleus his magic. Malleus restricts his speed at first, concerned he might accidentally leave the boy behind. He’s pleasantly surprised to find Ortho easily keeping pace with him, and when he cries out into cold winds asking if they might go a bit faster, Ortho responds with a thumbs up and a sharp-toothed smile.

And so they race over the castle town, past the church, whose twin spires watch over the land like a pair of dark sentinels, past the cobbled streets and the timber houses of the residential districts, past the bustling marketplace and the quiet town square. Malleus explains how all the buildings radiate around the castle like the petals of a flower surrounding its pistil, and he points down to the linden trees - dull and naked in their meager spring attire - that line nearly every street. He tells Ortho that come summer, the whole town will be bathed in their flowers’ intoxicating perfume, warm and soft and sweet like honeysuckle. The cool breeze feels delicious on Ortho’s skin, and the low buzz of Malleus’s voice beside him is as tender as the overhead sun.

As they circle overhead once more, Ortho is surprised that no one seems to pay them any mind. Not the merchants behind their stalls, and not the townspeople passing by; not the swarm of children playing tag in the maze of shadowy back alleys; not the red-faced shepherd barking at his sheep to move, and not his perfectly unhurried sheep. None of them so much as glance their way as they fly by. Ortho glides next to Malleus and asks him why that is, and Malleus laughs. “My people are deeply intertwined with magic; it courses through our veins from the moment we enter this world. Seeing two people soaring through the sky is no more riveting to us than a toad that hops or a cow that lows. Many of us begin flying at a few months old, after all.” Malleus laughs again as Ortho’s mouth drops open in astonishment.

They leave the castle town behind them, flying faster and faster, beyond the evergreen forests and the rolling hillsides and the miles of grassy fields glimmering with white snowdrops and yellow daffodils. Malleus describes with a smile how beautiful the valley looks in the summer, when the wheat is heavy and ripe for harvest and the modest green farmland transforms into an ocean of gold. He loves windy summer days especially, loves how the acres and acres of wheat undulate and dance in time to the rhythm of the breeze, the entire countryside sighing and rolling like gilded waves as far as the eye can see.

They press on, and Malleus leads Ortho towards the mountain range that rises in the distance like the spikes on a dragon’s back. The farmland below transforms once more into lush grasslands and forests, and a massive river cuts across the valley plateau.

The sight reminds Ortho of a passage he’d read in one of his travel guides:

“Briar Valley is a relatively small nation, flanked on all sides by jagged mountains and bisected by a massive, winding river that many of the locals continue to worship as an ancient Lindwurm. The winters are bitter cold, and the summers are pleasantly warm; it is a fertile land, and the majority of the county’s foodstuffs is produced within Briar Valley’s borders.”

Ortho’s eyes follow the twisting body of the river, and he can easily imagine why the fae revere it as a deity - the mouth of the great waterway stretches infinitely wide like the jaws of a python as it spills into the freezing ocean. But it’s the mountains that truly take his breath away. They are a thousand times bigger and a hundred times darker than what he’d been envisioning based on the photos he’d seen, and their obsidian bulk nearly consumes the skyline.

Malleus points a pale, clawed finger at the angry mass of black rock and stone that rises up taller than all the others. “That is the Forbidden Mountain,” he shouts above the roar of the wind. “Legend says the Thorn Witch once ruled over the valley from atop its peak.”

“It’s amazing!” Ortho shouts back.

They stay there for a while, quietly admiring the black obelisks towering before them. Ortho almost wonders if the Thorn Fairy might still be lurking up there somewhere on that dark peak, the shadow of her terrible specter still searching in vain for the lost princess after all these millennia. He dispels the thought with a shiver.

Finally, Malleus turns to Ortho and says, “Come, let us return to the castle town. There’s a place I want to show you.”

Even from high above, the church had looked magnificent; and now, standing before it on the ground, it’s absolutely breathtaking. The fae’s connection with Nature - a glorious mixture of reverence and intimacy – is evident all throughout the building’s architecture. The façade is richly decorated with a host of stone creatures: rearing bucks locked eternally in battle, golden eagles and barn owls and songbirds frozen in flight, and foxes and hares circling each other in an endless hunt. From up close, Ortho now sees that the bulging lines he’d noticed winding around the twin spires are delicately sculpted rose vines, replete with thorns and all. Jagged spikes erupt down the spines of the flying buttresses, reminiscent of a beast Ortho doesn’t quite want to think about, and they stretch and yawn as they support the heavy weight of the towering walls. As they circle the building, Malleus happily points out all the different gargoyles that snarl at them from their guard posts up high; Ortho had nearly overlooked them in the forest of masonry and metalwork, and he stumbles as he tilts his head further and further back just trying to take it all in. All the travel guides that he’d downloaded had lavishly praised the church as the “Pinnacle of the Briar Valley Gothic style”, and now he understands why.

Malleus ushers Ortho towards the heavy bronze doors at the entrance of the church, and they head inside. A few members of the laity sit hunched over in the wooden pews within, murmuring prayers in a language that Ortho cannot understand. His eyes flick up to Malleus’s face, and then down to his hands, which lay unmoving against his side. After a moment’s hesitation, Ortho takes a step forward, and then another, and he quietly walks down to the end of the aisle, walking just the slightest bit faster whenever he has to pass one of the fae mulling about. Finally, he reaches the apse and the alter. He doesn’t notice Malleus joining him a moment later; he is far too entranced by the stained-glass windows that tower before him. The afternoon sun spills through the windows and pools onto the floor below, bathing him and Malleus in a shower of multicolored light.

In his mind’s eye, Ortho can see the master architect urging his laborers to keep building higher, to push the spires taller, up into the sky, closer and closer to the seat of Heaven’s mighty throne. He can see the sculptors playing with light as though it were clay, molding it in their calloused hands and transforming it into the countless stained-glass windows that crown the head of the altar. He thinks about the townspeople emerging from their dull and darkened homes and blinking into the bright light of the completed church for the first time. What must they have felt? Had their hearts ached for something they couldn’t find the name for, like his heart aches now? Had their eyes burned hot with the threat of strange and unfamiliar tears, like his eyes are burning now? Had they felt as overwhelmed and insignificant and small and suffocated as he is feeling now?  Oh, and to think! To consider - how many weary pilgrims, how many desperate worshipers and weathered souls have stood in this very same spot before him, gazing up at these same venerated panes of kaleidoscopic glass and feeling what he feels; how many millennia upon millennia has this architectural wonder united the peoples of its creator in whispered awe and indescribable rapture!

Ortho takes a shuddering breath, and he steps back to admire the windows once more. He’s seen tracery like this elsewhere, in the churches of the Queendom of Roses and the cathedrals of the City of Flowers. The square sections of glass come together to create a series of fantastic images, and they remind Ortho of the illustrated fairytale books he used to read with his brother when they were little.

Ortho tilts his head back and focuses on the pictures up at the very top.

He sees:

The golden fields of corn and wheat that dot the valley’s farmlands.

Lush forests, twisting rivers, towering mountains, and azure lakes.

Smiling children - with horns and antlers sprouting from their foreheads and wings fluttering on their backs - dancing in a circle, arms linked together.

A fae mother sitting before her cottage and nursing her child, the baby’s tiny horns but white specks on its head.

Ortho’s eyes travel further down. The glass panes gradually transition from cool greys and blues and bright yellows to duller oranges and reds. Further and further down, the redder the panes become, like tongues of fire spilling over the window.

He sees an image of a human man and a fae woman holding hands, with shy smiles on their faces. Both the woman’s wings and the human are gone in the next image, and her smile has warped into a scream. He can’t quite tell what happens after that.

“What is that grey substance the humans are forging in that pane there?”

“Iron.” Malleus hisses the word, as though it burns him just to say it.

Ortho doesn’t say anything as he turns back to look at the windows.

He sees:

Human and fae armies marching towards each other with swords drawn and war flags raised.

Villages engulfed in flames.

A smokey battlefield littered with armored bodies.

Flashes of lightning splitting a crimson sky.

And finally, the last image: A black dragon, its wings spread wider than a hurricane. The glass surrounding it blazes as red as blood.

“Malleus Draconia… What… is this?”

“My people’s history. Our triumph.”

Malleus swallows thickly, and then he whispers, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

All Ortho can do is nod. He dare not defile this place any further with his words.

It’s late afternoon by the time they return to the castle. They head to the dining room to get some lunch, and Ortho watches wide-eyed as a horde of servants materialize as soon as Malleus takes his seat.

Malleus lifts his hand, and a servant steps forward to slide the day’s menu into his waiting fingers. He contemplates for a moment, and then announces he will have the slow roasted pork shoulder served with shredded sauerkraut, potato dumplings, and gravy. A young chambermaid asks if Ortho would like any refreshments, as well, and he declines her kind offer with a smile. His oral intake unit isn’t equipped, and he doesn’t feel bothered enough to go fetch it from his room. He looks around the dining room while they wait for the food to be served. It resembles a grand hall more than anything else, with a massive glass chandelier hanging overhead and several huge windows lining the walls, and he figures the long table they’re sitting at could easily seat over thirty guests. 

Presently, the head chef and sous chefs and other kitchen assistants march out in a line. The assistants all carry a silver cloche server in hand, and they remove the domed covers with a flourish as they set the trays down before Malleus. The pork shoulder has been roasted to a brown perfection, and a thick, crispy layer of fat sits atop each slice of meat. The gravy is dense and richly seasoned, and the sauerkraut is the most beautiful shade of lavender that Ortho has ever seen. A stack of steaming potato dumplings completes the ensemble. The head chef nervously searches the prince’s face for the slightest sign of approval or dissatisfaction, and his shoulders sag in relief when Malleus dismisses the troupe with the wave of a hand. The head chef bows deeply, followed in turn by the sous chefs and other kitchen assistants, and they file back to the kitchen as efficiently as they came.

The entire spectacle delights Ortho, and he kicks his feet in excitement while he waits for Malleus to finish eating. He imagines how the dining room must look like when the castle is hosting a party, when the heavy window curtains are pulled back and the rays pouring in from the evening sun dance across the rows of silver plates and golden goblets and the entire room erupts into light. And he thinks of gaudy princes and princesses discussing the silliest of things in their ridiculous costumes, and tireless knights prowling the castle grounds in search of hidden marauders and ne'er-do-wells, and he thinks of royal balls that last until the first light of dawn pierces the sky when it’s still not quite morning but no longer night, and other such things that tickle a child’s heart.

After lunch, Malleus resumes showing Ortho around the castle. They start with a tour of the Imperial Guard’s training grounds out back, and they stay and watch for a while as the young recruits spar with some of the captains. Ortho almost thinks he should cheer on the recruits, since they might like the encouragement, but he also considers taking the side of the captains, since they are so spectacular with their flashy jabs and stunning parries. The captains ultimately prove victorious, and as they turn to greet the prince, the sight of the small, fiery-haired boy clapping enthusiastically next to him perplexes them more than anything else they’ve seen the past few months.

Then Malleus takes Ortho to the highest of the watchtowers, where they can see the church’s spires jutting up not too far in the distance. And then he takes him to the castle archives and the library and Malleus’s private study. Ortho is especially fascinated by the library, and they spend hours going through ancient spell books and history books and collections of Briar Valley fiction and poetry. So many of these texts have never made it outside the small nation, and Ortho uncovers books about species of fae he’s never even heard of, and books written in languages he’s never even seen. He drinks it all in with sparkling eyes and toothy smiles. In his eagerness, he accidentally tips over a heavy bookshelf while attempting to extract one of its paper treasures, and Malleus laughs so hard that his eyes water when the boy ends up buried under a mountain of leatherbound tomes.

The heavy wooden doors of the library close behind them with a loud bang as they leave. They only make it a few steps before Ortho reaches out and tugs on Malleus’s arm.

“May we go see your rose garden now?”

Malleus blinks. “My… what?”

“Your rose garden! All the travel guides I downloaded mentioned it. They say it’s one of the greatest wonders of the valley, and that you can see it all the way from the forests that border the castle town.”

Ortho notices the frown forming on Malleus’s face and asks, “Don’t tell me something happened to it?”

Malleus sighs. “Indeed. Sadly, the whole garden was destroyed when we had that bad snowstorm not too long ago.”

“Bad snowstorm…” Ortho closes his eyes for a moment as he thinks.  “Wait, I remember that! You mean that monster blizzard that struck Briar Valley over a hundred years ago? People were calling it the storm of the century!”

With a solemn nod, Malleus replies, “I do believe that was the one. …Has it really been a hundred years already? I suppose I just haven’t gotten around to fixing it up yet.”

In truth, he’d considered rebuilding his garden more than once, but he never could bring himself to do it. All the seed packets his grandmother’s been giving him for his birthday the past century have yet to be opened, and they lie buried deep within one of the chests in his room.

A week after that awful blizzard tore through their small nation, he and his grandmother gathered together around the dining table for the first time that winter. They both shivered as they ate, and at one point she looked out the window and murmured something about his “poor roses, the dear things”. Malleus was shocked. He hadn’t even remembered to go check if his flowers had made it through the storm. He’d stopped tending to them sometime after Sebek’s death. It was a gradual thing. He’d water them less often - once a week instead of twice, and then once a month, and then not at all. And then he forgot to tell the servants to purchase more fertilizer when his supplies were getting low. And then he didn’t bother deadheading the bushes in the fall. And then he just stopped going to the garden altogether.

There are times when he’ll wonder, where had that gentleness that Lilia had once spoken of, that love in his heart gone? Had that vengeful snowstorm ripped it from his chest and scattered it to the winds together with his roses? Or had it withered and died and returned to the earth alongside Silver and Sebek’s worn and ashen bodies? Or had it been stolen from his heart long ago, had Lilia taken it with him as he climbed those great mountains, up higher and higher, beyond the radiant clouds and into a world he wasn’t yet ready to journey to?

And there are other times where he’ll go look at the skeletal remains of his garden and he’ll wonder if those rumors about him being detached and apathetic and cold were true. He knew many in Briar Valley believed so. He knew they’d hesitate to even speak of him, as though his name were an ill omen. And he did not blame them. His love was never anything flashy or obvious, was never as bright and as brilliant as the shy half-smiles that Silver would reserve for his father.

No, Malleus’s love was soft and quiet, the glass of his heart opaque, not clear. It was often timid, often awkward, but his love was always there. Even now, even if he could no longer detect its gentle thrum coursing through his veins, his was still the love of that lonely little boy who’d hold his ear against the warm mass of his rose bushes and listen as the flowers revealed to him their perfect wisdom.

And the people he cherished in his heart of hearts were his roses, too. All of them – Lilia, Silver, and Sebek, his parents and his grandmother, and his dear friends from school. To try and rebuild his garden - to press those expectant seeds into the wet earth and wait for the tiny buds to emerge into the light of a January day, to look with bated breath for the sepals to fold open and reveal the sacred pink gems held tightly within their green grasps, to awaken to the sound of the cardinals heralding Spring’s arrival and race to the garden while the sky is still yawning off the night’s indigo embrace and to rejoice at last at the first newborn blooms - it felt blasphemous, like summoning the dead back to life. And his heart was simply too dark and too heavy still for such a thing.

Malleus watches silently as the light of excitement rapidly fades from Ortho’s eyes, and he snuffs out the last dim sparks with a shake of his head.

Ortho sighs. “Well, it’s too bad I couldn’t see your garden, Malleus Draconia. It always looked so beautiful in those pictures I saw. But I’m glad at least the castle and the town and everything made it through the storm okay.”

They resume walking, and Ortho decides privately not to mention the garden again.

Later, after the lilac night had blanketed the valley once more and a calm hush had fallen over the castle, Malleus stalks through the dark halls trying to shake off his restlessness. He passes by Ortho’s room and can hear him murmuring through the closed door. It sounds like he’s talking to someone, but Malleus can’t imagine whom. He hovers at the door for a moment, and then he continues on, not wanting to disturb the boy.

IV.

The next morning, Ortho and Malleus are to have breakfast with the Queen. Ortho wakes up early so he can hook up his oral intake unit in time, and he opens the windows before setting to work. The sun has just barely risen, and the sky is a pleasant gradient of pinks and oranges and yellows and blues. The chilly air is abuzz with thrushes and chiffchaffs singing their daily praises, and the loud cries of haughty wrens undercut the performance. March was in full swing in the valley, and before long the chorus would be joined by the excited twitter of the goldfinches and the sugar sweet call of the willow warblers as spring rolled on.

Just as Ortho finishes equipping his unit, Malleus knocks on his door and softly asks, “Little Shroud, are you ready?”

Ortho answers, “Yes!” and he goes to join Malleus in the hallway. They walk to the dining room together in comfortable silence. Ortho stayed up late last night, gripped with an innocent mixture of nervousness and excitement, but he’s still bright-eyed and brimming with energy. He knows very well that few outsiders are lucky enough to get invited to Briar Valley’s royal castle, and that even fewer still get to receive an audience with the Queen.

Two servants standing before the dining room pull the heavy doors open for them, and they go to where the Queen is waiting for them at the head of the table. She rises from her seat as they approach.

Ortho bows deeply, just as he’d practiced the night before, and says, “It’s an honor to meet you, your Majesty. Thank you so much for permitting me to come here.”

The Queen smiles. “And I thank you for accepting my dear grandson’s invitation. I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay.”

Ortho confirms that he has, and then he looks up and studies her face. The Draconia family’s resemblance is plain to see. She and Malleus have the same bright green eyes, long, black hair, and those sharp fangs that peek out when they smile. Only the thin crow’s feet around her eyes and the slight gauntness of her high cheek bones betray the difference in their ages. She’s a good head shorter than Malleus, but her presence is so much more intimidating. Malleus’s great aura feels like an April shower in comparison to the tempest of energy emanating from her body, and it takes every ounce of Ortho’s willpower not to crumple to the floor when she goes to shake his small hand.

The Queen bids them to sit, and they all take their seats, with her at the head of the table and Ortho and Malleus flanking her on either side. Bowls filled with wax-white sausages floating in steaming water sit before them. A gorgeous, herbal scent - a dazzling mixture of cardamom, mace, parsley, lemon, and other more deeply buried smells - wafts from the bowls. Their plates are decorated with large dollops of dark brown mustard, along with a number of soft, golden pretzels. A crimson-colored juice of some sort swims placidly in their goblets.

Malleus takes his fork and deposits some of the sausages onto his plate. “They’re filled with very finely ground veal and bacon - made from pork loin, rather than pork belly. Poached just long enough for the meat to turn this greyish-white color. They’re one of Briar Valley’s specialties,” he explains.

He waits for Ortho to fill up his own plate, and then continues, “The skin is edible, but we typically don’t eat it. Just take your fork and knife and cut the sausage open lengthwise, and then peel back the skin and eat the meat. And do be sure to try the mustard.”

The explanation finished, Malleus and the Queen take their cutlery in hand and begin to eat. Ortho watches how they expertly incise the sausage casings and extract the white meat as though they were performing surgery. He picks up his own fork and knife and tries to copy their nimble movements as he slices open the fibrous skin. He is pleased to find the meat tastes just as delicious as it smells, and his mouth pulls up into a smile from the rich blend of spices.

Ortho next dips a piece of sausage in the grainy mustard and gingerly takes a bite. He gasps at how sweet it is - he’d been expecting something spicy. It’s nearly too sweet, but only just nearly, and in a strange way he can’t explain, the sugary flavor perfectly complements the savory meat. He eagerly dips another piece of sausage in the mustard and brings it to his mouth, and then another, and another.

The Queen laughs at the boy’s exuberance. “Please take your time, my dear. There’s plenty more where that came from, and if you’d like another serving, just let one of the waitstaff know.”

Ortho begins to reply, but quickly remembers his mouth is full of food, and he shoots his hand over his mouth in embarrassment as he nods. He takes a sip of the juice and considers the flavor for a moment – it’s a pure, bright blend of various kinds of wild berries and other fruit, and the cool liquid somehow invigorates his appetite even more.

As Ortho sets to work on the pretzels, the Queen finally begins her questioning.

“Malleus tells me you went to school together at Night Raven College. I’d been envisioning someone a tad older when he told me that, so I was quite surprised to see just how young you are. I take it your species must age slowly, like ours does?”

Ortho chews contemplatively on his pretzel. “It’s not that I age slowly, it’s just that my appearance doesn’t really change as time goes on. I guess you could say?”

“Oh, really? My, how very interesting.” She takes a sip from her goblet, and her pointed tongue darts out to capture the stray drops trying to escape down her lips. “He also told me you hale from the Isle of Grief, from the Shroud clan. Is your family doing well these days? I haven’t heard from Zephyr in quite a while.”

“Ah,” Ortho says, but then closes his mouth. He’s not sure if it would be impolite to tell the Queen that Zephyr Shroud had passed away four decades ago, and that someone new is leading the family now. He pushes around the last piece of sausage on his plate as he searches for the safest answer. “The Shroud family is doing well. We…. recently got a new clan head, and she sends her greetings.”

The Queen continues, “I see. Please do send her my thanks and well wishes in return. And I hate to pry….” (Ortho privately thinks she does not) “…but are you involved at all with Styx’s operations, by any chance?

“They make my equipment for me, and I help run security at their headquarters, but I’m not involved in their research, no.”

“I see, I see. Good, yes, that’s good.” She nods, but Ortho can’t tell if the gesture is directed at him or herself. She pushes her empty plate away and folds her hands on her lap. Ortho sees a glimmer of hope, and he thinks this strange and awkward conversation might soon come to an end. But all his hopes are dashed when the Queen turns and asks one of the servants for two more bowls of sausage and another plate of pretzels. “Now, what do you mean by “equipment” exactly? And I noticed you hardly seem to have any traces of magic about you. How were you able to attend Night Raven College, may I ask? And is your hair actually on fire? I’ve always wanted to ask your family’s clan leaders, but it slips my mind whenever I see them, and I don’t remember until they’ve already passed. It’s as though each time I blink, you’ve got someone new in charge!” She finishes with a curt laugh, and her bright green eyes bore into Ortho expectantly.

Ortho glances across the table and gives Malleus a plaintive look, but he is seemingly far too engrossed in his pretzels to offer any help.

After breakfast, the Queen excuses herself to go attend to some royal matter or other, and Ortho and Malleus quickly retreat to the library. They wander up and down the rows of shelves for a while, only half paying attention to the books they pull out and flip through. When they happen to meander towards the same shelf and meet in the middle of the aisle, at last they talk, having recuperated enough for conversation.

Ortho starts first, and he exhales like a pierced tire. “That was…. Intense.”

Malleus sighs, as well. “Yes, my grandmother can be quite… severe in her inquisitiveness. I do apologize if she made you uncomfortable at all.”

“Oh, it’s alright. I remember my mom used to drill me and my big brother like that whenever we came home for the holidays, so it was kind of fun, in a way.” Ortho smiles to himself reservedly, as though recalling some precious secret.

“Anyways,” he continues, “I wish my big brother could’ve been here. I’m sure he would’ve loved to meet the Queen.”

Malleus raises an eyebrow. “You really think so? I always had the impression he wasn’t a very sociable fellow.”

Ortho laughs. “You’re right, he wasn’t. But her Majesty resembles a character from an anime he really liked, and I bet he would’ve gotten a kick out of meeting her.”

Malleus isn’t sure whether his grandmother has just been gravely insulted or highly praised, and so he resigns to simply hum in agreement. He tries to imagine how a meeting between the two would even look, but the image refuses to form, his brain balking at him like a stubborn horse. He gropes through a haze of hundreds and hundreds of years of memories and tries to conjure the elder Shroud’s face in his mind, but all he sees is a blur of white skin and blue hair and sharp teeth.

Finally, he looks over to Ortho and slowly admits, “You know, I can’t quite… seem to recall how he looked…”

Ortho flashes him a reassuring smile in return. “That’s okay, I will assist you.”

Some part of Ortho’s body emits a beep, and then his chest plates slide back to reveal a black lens at their center. Before Malleus can ask what he’s doing, the lens turns from black to bright white, and now Idia Shroud himself is standing before them. He’s dressed in the navy-blue coat with the white triangles down the sleeves that he’d always wear at Night Raven College, and his long, fiery hair undulates like waves around him.

For a moment, Malleus is stunned. And then his stupefaction quickly melts into hot anger. Necromancy is strictly forbidden amongst his people, and by no means will he permit this black magic in his own home.

“Wretched spirit!” he snarls. Dark emerald green energy swirls around him, and he raises a glowing hand towards Idia. The books piled around them fly open and the bookshelves begin to shake as a whirlwind of paper dances around the room.

Ortho runs between Malleus and his brother and waves his hands frantically as he shouts, “No, no, no wait! It’s just a hologram, Malleus Draconia! It’s not a ghost, it’s okay!”

Malleus’s slit pupils dart between the two brothers. He tries to focus on Idia for as long as his rage allows, and at last he notices the miniscule dust particles passing through the beams of light that make up the specter’s body. Malleus lowers his hand and dispels his built-up magic with a shake of his arm, and Ortho sighs in relief as he watches the green sparks dissipate into the air. The airborne books crash to the floor a moment later.

Malleus says quietly, more so to himself than to Ortho, “My apologies, I thought you’d…” He doesn’t trust himself to finish the sentence. He knows just speaking the words would stoke his wrath again.

Ortho quickly scans Malleus’s vitals and blot accumulation levels, and he can feel the tension seep from his own body once he confirms the storm of danger has passed. He looks over and sees Malleus staring at the floor, working his jaw in contemplation. Ortho waits for him to speak again.

Finally, Malleus plucks one of the thoughts swirling around in his mind, and he asks, “Can you… Can you project the other students, as well?”

Ortho nods, and the lens in his chest whirs for a moment before the room suddenly fills with a crowd of figures. Malleus scans the familiar faces. There’s Deuce Spade and Ace Trappola and the Child of Man together by one of the windows. There’s Leona Kingscholar, frozen in the middle of a yawn, surrounded by his pack members. And there’s Vil Schoenheit, a compact mirror in one hand, his other paused midair as he fusses with some miniscule imperfection in his mascara that even Malleus’s fae eyesight couldn’t ever hope to uncover. And then he sees them. They’re standing together in the corner of the room.

Malleus takes a step forward, and then stops.

“Do they… Can you make them move?”

“Yes, by taking the footage I recorded while at school and running it through one of my AI programs, I can configure the holograms to perform pretty much any action you can imagine. I can also simulate their voices, if you’d like.”

Malleus opens his mouth as if to speak, and then he closes it again. He shakes his head and says, “Ah, no. No, that’s fine. I’m not even sure why I asked, please don’t mind me.” His gaze lingers on the three of them while he talks. He continues staring at that spot long after Ortho shuts his lens off.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Malleus has a fitting to attend to, and then yet another rehearsal for the coronation. The servants hurry and fuss around him like honeybees on a wildflower as they double-check and then triple-check their measurements. He slowly disappears underneath the long bands of white measuring tape, and Ortho tries his best to stifle his laughter while he watches, looking away guiltily whenever a surreptitious giggle escapes his lips. But Malleus doesn’t pay him any bother; his mind is too focused on other things.

The holograms have been haunting him all morning. He sees them when he looks into the mirror, he feels their presence when he’s alone. They’re always at the corner of his eye, always just out of arm’s reach. As though taunting him. He wonders if they plague him so because of how real they looked. He had seen movies projected onto screens before, and he still remembers the ghastly window projections Lilia would dig out every Halloween. But that footage was always so grainy, so dull and lifeless. The holograms that Ortho had conjured earlier were deceptively vibrant, they had breathed. They were alive. If Malleus had reached out and touched them, he scarcely doubts he’d have felt warm flesh under his hands.

The murmurs of the servants around him pull him from his thoughts, and he is gradually befreed from the prison of safety pins and sewing needles and measuring tape and color swatches. He turns slowly as he hears someone approaching, half dreading it might be another radiant phantom coming to vex him.

“Malleus Draconia, I’ve been detecting a delay in your response speed since this morning, as well as periods of increased heart rate. Is something on your mind?”

Malleus’s shoulders sag in relief. With a sigh, he answers, “Ah, it’s just you, Little Shroud. No, I’m fine. I’ve just been preoccupied with the preparations is all.”

Ortho smiles with all the innocence of a lamb. His barracuda teeth glint portentously. “…Did anyone ever tell you I can detect lies?”

“I am not-“

A chambermaid interrupts to ask if Malleus is ready to start the rehearsal, and he gratefully follows her to the throne room. He hears Ortho walking behind him. He tries to ignore the second set of footsteps he knows isn’t really there.

The cool reprieve of night is accompanied by a sudden rainstorm, and Ortho excuses himself to his room at the first crack of thunder. The blinding marks left behind by the lightning raking its great claws across the sky still terrify him after all these years, and he closes the windows and draws the curtains shut, not wanting to look at those awful flashes of light.

Later, Malleus passes by his room during his usual nighttime stroll, and he again hears Ortho’s excited voice floating through the wooden door. He stands there listening for a few minutes, and then finally knocks on the door. He asks loudly, over the pouring rain, if he might come in, and Ortho shouts back, “Of course!”

When Malleus opens the door, he sees Ortho reclining on his bed, and Idia Shroud sitting in a chair nearby. Malleus groans and closes his eyes, shaking his head. But Idia is still there when he opens his eyes, and he takes a hesitant step back.

“What’s wrong, Malleus Draconia?” Ortho asks wide-eyed, looking between his brother and Malleus. “Is my hologram bothering you again? Here, I’ll turn it off.” The apparition disappears without a sound, and Malleus takes a shuddering breath.

“My apologies, I just wasn’t sure if he was really…” Malleus shakes his head again. “No, it’s fine. What were you doing just now? I thought I heard you talking with someone.”

Ortho sits up and hangs his legs over the bed. “Oh, I was just talking with my big brother.” He watches as Malleus’s usually stern face scrunches up in confusion, and stifles back a laugh.

In his stupefaction, Malleus blurts, “And what were you talking to him about?”

“All sorts of stuff! I was telling him about our breakfast with the queen, and all the cool books we found in the library. Oh! And I’ve been showing him all the pictures and videos I’ve been taking so far.”

Malleus thinks for a moment. “Ah, so when I heard you speaking with someone in your room the other night…”

Ortho nods. “I was just talking to my big brother, yeah.”

“I see,” Malleus breathes out. And then, quietly, “I see… That’s quite surprising.”

“What do you mean?” Ortho asks.

“I suppose I hadn’t expected a robot to be able to be so sentimental, missing your brother and talking to his photo like that.”

“I mean, of course I miss him! But there’s nothing in my programming that makes me feel this way. It comes from my heart, the same as you.”

Malleus blanches. “You have… a heart? The literal organ, you mean?”

“Erm, no.” Ortho winces. “You see I’ve got this magical circuitry onboard and-”

“And there it is again,” Malleus sighs.

“What?”

Malleus crosses his arms. “To me, you have always been a very confusing amalgamation of machinery and human. And I fear I shan’t ever understand exactly what you are.”

During his time at Night Raven College, Malleus had only ever heard fragmentary rumors about the Shroud brothers. The other students would whisper that something terrible had befallen their family in the past, and that Idia had created the little robot in his grief. But neither of the brothers had ever offered to divulge their past to Malleus, and he never asked them to. He kept many things close to his heart, and he respected others who wished to do the same.

“Well,” Ortho says as he folds his hands in his lap. He stares at them for a moment, and after looking back up at Malleus, he continues, “I can try and explain it to you, if you’d like.”

“Only if you don’t mind, I don’t wish to pry.”

Ortho shuffles further down the bed and pats the empty space next to him, and Malleus sits down.

Ortho takes a deep breath, and then begins, “Well, this story starts a really long time ago. There were these two brothers named Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud, and they always dreamed of going on adventures together…”

Malleus leans over, trying to grasp onto the shaky whispers that spill from his mouth like a confession. He had always thought of Ortho’s voice as bright and animated, like the titter of a goldfinch on a summer morning. But now, for the first time, as he listens to the boy talk, he finds his voice is very small. It’s as though his words have been crushed and shattered, the fine bits and pieces sent adrift like dust in the wind. He notices for the first time, too, just how small Ortho is, he notices the smallness of his hands. Is this not but a child’s body shivering hesitantly beside his? Is this not but a child’s tiny hand gripping nervously onto his own? For him to be carrying such an endless ocean of sorrow inside of him, how has he not drowned from its tremendous weight already? How has the earth not opened up and swallowed him whole, trapping him inside the same deep, dark pit that Malleus has been staring up from for centuries now?

The story comes together slowly, dripping like water, steadily taking shape like some great crystalline structure in a cavern long forgotten by time. And at long last, the pure light of revelation dawns before Malleus’s eyes. With a gasp, he tells the boy he understands now. Yes, that secret truth that has stood unnoticed before him for half a millennium, that has always slipped by him unheard, like a distant cry swallowed by the winds - now he sees it, now he hears it. Now he finally understands.

Exhausted, Ortho closes his eyes and sinks into the bed.

Malleus reaches out and cups Ortho’s cheek in his hand. A dim warmth emanates from the synthetic skin. As he sits there in the cold darkness, he wonders and wonders just what haunts the boy in his electric dreams.

V.

The rainstorm fades away into the black night as quickly as it had appeared. The next morning, the sun rises sluggishly, as though weighed down by the lingering dampness that hangs heavy in the air. The dawn chorus, as well, lacks its usual fervor, and only the intermittent cries of a distant blackbird accompany the horizon’s slow transition from black to red to blue.

If Ortho had been at all bothered by their conversation last night, he does not show it. He greets Malleus cheerfully when they sit down for breakfast, and they discuss only the drab weather and what plans they have for the day. When Ortho asks if he might accompany Malleus on his morning rounds, he readily agrees.

First on Malleus’s agenda is a violin recital. Sometimes he will perform for his grandmother, and he used to enjoy showing off a piece or two for Lilia, but as of late he’s been playing for only himself. The usual forlornness of the music room is somewhat stifled now that he has Ortho with him, and he searches for a chair the boy can use. Ortho watches him, shifting speculatively from one foot to another.

After Malleus locates a second chair and goes to take his seat before the music stand, Ortho timidly asks, “Remember when we were talking yesterday after your fitting, and that maid came and interrupted us?”

“…Yes?” Malleus replies, pausing as he picks up his violin case.

“Well, I still want to know if you’re doing okay. I keep detecting irregularities in your adrenaline and cortisol levels.”

“I assure you, I’m quite fine.” Malleus puts on his best smile as he unlocks the case and takes out his instrument. The smooth blend of maple and spruce feels reassuring in his hands, and he sets his jaw as he begins his tuning. “Now hush for a moment, please. I need to focus.” Ortho acquiesces, and he dutifully goes to sit in the corner of the room. The violin’s mournful voice somehow dissolves the tension that had been sitting uncomfortably in Ortho’s body since that morning, and as Malleus decisively strikes his bow across the pearl white strings for the final, piercing note, a firm resolve solidifies in its place.

Next is a morning meeting with the royal council, and Ortho resumes his endeavors while they walk to the council chamber. He breaks into a trot to keep up with Malleus’s long strides.

“Talking things out can help you feel better, you know!” Ortho implores.

“And that would be lovely,” Malleus huffs through gritted teeth, “- if only I needed to feel better!”

The servants passing by wonder to themselves if the boy is purely brazen, or if he’s just ignorant. They watch as the black column of their prince stalks faster and faster down the hallway, unable to shake off the white and blue speck following him.

The council meeting provides a short reprieve from Ortho’s questioning, and Malleus listens eagerly as the advisors, merchants, secretaries, and other council members take turns giving their rambling reports. The meetings were one of Malleus’s greatest delights; he was always eager to hear how things were going outside the castle, and the merchants would often bring back fascinating stories of what they’d seen during their travels. Most of the members pay no heed to the small boy sitting quietly next to the prince, but Ortho catches some of them glancing his way. Their blue and green and yellow eyes remind him of cat’s eyes marbles, and he admires how they catch the light. He ducks his head whenever they notice him staring.

Malleus’s excitement quickly disperses together with the conclusion of the meeting, and Ortho, in turn, swells up again with curiosity. The other council members file out of the room first, some of them still quibbling and grumbling over the issues they’d been discussing, and Malleus and Ortho bring up the rear. Ortho tugs on Malleus’s sleeve after they pour into the hallway.

“Are you-”

“I’m fine!”

For the rest of the morning, Ortho clings to him like a shadow, his perturbations hanging over Malleus’s head like circling buzzards. No matter how many times Malleus shoos him away, no matter how fiercely he glares, no matter how much venom he tries to inject into his refutations, the boy simply flutters back to his side moments later, as unbothered as a dandelion on the wind. Even teleporting to another part of the castle proves fruitless – Ortho’s location systems keep tracking him down within a matter of minutes.

Finally, around noon, Ortho corners him in Malleus’s study. He asks once more, “Are you sure there isn’t anything bothering you?”

Malleus sets down the book he’d been hiding behind and sighs. “You really aren’t going to let up until I talk to you, I suppose?”

“Nope!” Ortho grins.

“You’re truly vexing, you know that?” Malleus replies, a tired smile pulling at his lips. He gestures to a nearby chair, and Ortho sits down.

“Very well then. If you must know, it’s because of those…” He waves a hand in the air as he searches for the word. “Those holograms you showed me yesterday. I can’t stop thinking about them, for whatever reason. I don’t know if it’s just because I haven’t seen photos of them for so long or…”

“Them?”

It takes Malleus a moment to coax the names out of his mouth. “…Lilia, Silver, and Sebek.”

Ortho nods his head. “Oh, yeah. I remember you were really close to them.”

“Yes, they were like family to me…” Malleus murmurs, trailing off in thought. He licks his lips and asks, “…Does it not… Does it not make you sad, seeing your brother’s picture? And talking to him as you do?”

Ortho shakes his head. “It’s perfectly normal to feel uncomfortable when looking at pictures of your deceased loved ones. I just happen to be one of those people who doesn’t. And when I talk to my big brother, it helps me feel close to him. Everyone processes grief in different ways, after all.”

“Grief?” Malleus scoffs. “It’s been ages since they passed. Why would I still be grieving? It’s not like I hole myself in my room all the time, sulking about.”

“That’s not…” Ortho frowns. “Grief isn’t always loud and in your face. Sometimes… Sometimes it can be really quiet.”

“Mm,” Malleus sighs. He was familiar with that sort of quiet grief, the kind that would strike him faster than a cottonmouth, usually on still mornings or hushed nights, when his loneliness was at its most palpable. It always felt like an ambush, the way it would suddenly materialize in his heart like a rainstorm on a clear day. It was not like the burning, bone deep sorrow that had gripped his body after Lilia left, and neither was it suffocating, like how he’d felt at Silver and Sebek’s funerals. But it hurt him just the same.

“And how exactly does talking with his pict- his hologram make you feel better?” Malleus asks, genuinely curious.

“So my big brother and I had always wanted to travel the world together- Well, more like I wanted to get him out of his room, for once.” Ortho laughs, and Malleus smirks.

“But anyways, we never ended up being able to travel much since he was stuck dealing with Styx stuff most of the time. That’s why I like to talk to him and tell him about the places I go to, and the things I see. I know it doesn’t make up for the memories we never got to make together, but that hologram kind of helps me process all the stuff I regret not being able to do with him.”

“I see.”

Ortho takes his lower lip into his mouth and nibbles it pensively. “Is there anything you regret not being able to do with Lilia Vanrouge and the others?”

Malleus nods gravely. “Of course, for I never got to… Lilia was already gone by the time Silver and I arrived at his farewell party, and that has always weighed heavily on my mind. I know there’s nothing I can do about that now, but… I still would’ve liked to have at least spent one last night together with everyone.”

Malleus opens his mouth to continue speaking, and then closes it again. Ortho waits patiently, watching as Malleus furrows his brows in thought.

Finally, Malleus continues, “…I wished desperately, perhaps more so than anyone else at Night Raven College, to have the kinds of school experiences I’d always read about. I wished to have study sessions with my classmates, to go visit my friends and stay up late talking with them, to go to parties and other social gatherings… And yet, when I finally received the party invitation I’d always longed for, I didn’t even go. I still marvel at my foolishness to this day.” He finishes with a shake of his head.

Ortho crosses his arms and closes his eyes. “Hmm… I might be able to assist you with that. Could we reserve the castle’s ballroom tonight?”

Malleus blinks. “That shouldn’t be a problem… But why?”

“You’ll see!”

Later that night, after Ortho explains his plan, he instructs Malleus to go put on his old house warden uniform. It’s been ages since he last wore it, and the fabric feels alien to him. He tugs at his collar and fiddles with his gloves and fingers the lining of his coat, as restless as a snake eager to shed its skin. Even standing before the mirror, it feels like he’s looking at someone else, like the pale, awkward face staring back at him belongs to some unfortunate stranger. He clicks his tongue and turns to make his way to the ballroom. Ortho greets him when he passes through the towering doors.

“Now, it consumes a lot of battery power for me to run so much footage through this specific AI program all at once. I’ll probably be able to display the holograms for about two hours before I’ll need to stop. Okay?”

“Yes, that’s alright. I don’t imagine this will go on for very long, anyways.”

Ortho glides up to the gallery on the second floor, and he turns to face the dance floor. The plates in his chest once again unfurl to reveal the lens of his built-in projector, and in the blink of an eye, the ballroom is filled with the glimmering holograms of their old Night Raven College classmates.

“Is everything okay? May I start the music?” Ortho shouts from the gallery.

Malleus stills his nerves with a deep breath. “Go ahead!” he calls out, and the ballroom’s speakers start thrumming a moment later. At once, all the holograms turn and look up at him expectantly. Even from where he’s standing atop the stairs, he can easily pick out Silver, Sebek, and Lilia’s white faces peering at him from the crowd. Silver steps forward and offers his hand. Malleus rushes down the stairs and takes it.

The first few steps are awkward and offbeat. Again and again, Malleus moves his hands or feet too close to the hologram’s body, and his limbs pierce through the projected light like a clumsy blade. He winces, both at his inability to perform a simple waltz, and at the sight of his fingers halfway embedded in Silver’s waist. Eventually, Malleus figures out that if he counts the steps, it’s easier for him to move while hovering his hands just above Silver’s body. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three. Their steps finally line up with the beat, and they glide across the dance floor with confidence and surety.

For the first time that night, Malleus smiles, and Silver smiles back. How he ached to pluck that smile off the boy’s face and safekeep it in his pocket forever! Alas, all he can do is drop one arm and raise the other, signaling Silver to turn. He watches silently as Silver twirls beneath him, and their hands rejoin at the next step. After a few minutes, the music swells – it’s time for the swap.

Silver swings away and takes his father’s outstretched hand, while Sebek separates from Epel to come join Malleus. Malleus almost wants to turn around, to just stop right there and simply watch Silver and Lilia dance, but Sebek’s brilliant smile captivates him like nothing else. They move quickly, with Malleus leading the way, and Sebek forceful and heavy in his movements. Where Silver was reserved, Sebek is thunderous, and Malleus laughs as they whirl and race across the dance floor. When the music finally swells again, Sebek hands off Malleus to Lilia with a bow.

Malleus again fumbles for a few moments, having to adjust to Lilia’s much shorter height. He curses as his one hand shoots right through Lilia’s face and the other cuts through his shoulder. After a couple of hesitant steps, he at last finds his rhythm once more, and they move leisurely to the steady thrum of the music.  

Like a pair of jubilant cranes declaring their great love, like the push and pull of the moon and the ocean’s tides, they take turns leading and following one another. The throng of students parts before them, clearing a path for the two to drift down. As the song races on, more and more couples stop to watch them, and soon it’s just Malleus and Lilia floating across the dance floor. Malleus can feel their eyes boring into him, but he doesn’t care. He has been bewitched. He grows more and more drunk on every turn, every dip, every carefully placed step and dizzying revolution. The floor disappears underneath him; the ballroom fades away. There is only him and Lilia and the music. Rapture’s final trumpet could’ve sounded in that moment and he wouldn’t have noticed.     

As the last, winsome notes of the song gradually fade away, Lilia reaches up and ruffles Malleus’s head, and Malleus closes his eyes. For nearly five hundred long years he has lived trapped underneath the immovable weight of his sorrow. He has beaten his fists against it and kicked it and raked his claws down its sides, he has wailed and screamed and roared until his voice grew hoarse, he has cursed Heaven and Hell and begged for salvation from both, but he was never able to get it to even budge. The past few days, he finally felt it starting to shift. And just now, when that small hand he so desperately yearned to feel the touch of had reached out to him, it nearly disintegrated on the spot.

Finally, the song ends, the air stills, the spell is broken. Malleus opens his eyes, and the world reforms before him. He raises his hand and rubs his head where Lilia had touched him. He had almost felt it, almost felt those familiar, thin fingers running through his hair. Maybe if they just start the song over and go through the dance again, he’ll feel it next time.

“Little Shroud!” Malleus cries. “Please! Do it once more!”

“Okay!” Ortho yells from above, and the song begins again. The holograms disappear for a moment, and then reappear in their starting positions a second later. Malleus retreats to the top of the staircase. Then he turns around and takes Silver’s hand.

This time, there is no awkwardness, no clumsy missteps or fumbling movements. Malleus and Silver spin with all the grace of a courting swan, he and Sebek whirl as determined as a maelstrom. When Sebek releases him into Lilia’s arms, he handles the transition with ease, his hands finding their correct positions all on their own.

Yes, this time, when Lilia goes to pat his head, there is the slightest hint of the cool fabric of Lilia’s gloves ghosting over his skin. And as Lilia pulls his hand away, a scent not unlike one Malleus has smelled a thousand times before washes over him – it’s sharp like iron, and musky and sweet like jessamine. He’d always thought it fitting that Lilia smelled that way. The canary yellow bells that adorn jessamine vines were often mistaken for honeysuckle, and many a thirsty child had fallen paralyzed to the forest floor after drinking its sugary nectar. Its sweet smell was both a warning and a temptation, and Malleus found it purely intoxicating. He breathes in the air greedily.

Oh, if they could just try again! Surely, he’ll feel that hand’s tender caress next time!

“Little Shroud!”

Ortho restarts the music and resets the holograms again. And again and again, for hours on end. As the night marches on and the firefly lights of the stars begin to dot the sky, Ortho ignores the high-pitched beeping of his low battery alert.

It takes a few minutes for Malleus to realize the holograms have vanished. He’d been keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he twirled Silver around the dance floor. When he finally opens his eyes, ready to take Sebek’s hand next, he sees only the dark, empty ballroom.

“Little Shroud!” he calls out, and then louder, when he doesn’t get a response, “Ortho!”

He teleports up to the gallery and finds the boy sprawled out on the floor, his eyes closed. He goes to check for a pulse, chiding himself once he realizes his simpleminded error. He flips Ortho onto his stomach and searches for the battery indicator light the boy had mentioned before, and he sees it blinking an angry red.

Malleus lets out the breath he’d been holding with a hiss, and he gathers Ortho into his arms. He staggers as he rises from the ground, the boy’s small frame proving much heavier than it belies.

He takes Ortho back to the guest room and deposits him on the bed. He fumbles as he hooks up the charging cable to the port on the boy’s back. Nothing happens at first, and Malleus worries that he’s done something wrong, but then a voice sounds out, “Time Until Full Charge: 3 hours and 42 minutes”, and a faint, green light begins to glow near the battery port. Ortho’s eyes open a moment later.

Malleus peers over him as he asks, “Little Shroud, are you alright? Can you hear my voice?”

“Malleus… Draconia…?” Ortho blinks a few times, and then sits up. “…Yes, all my systems are operational. According to my memory dump files, it appears I crashed due to a critically low battery. I’ll be good to go as long as I fully charge my battery tonight.”

“Ah, thank goodness…” Malleus exhales, relieved. “I do apologize, I was so absorbed in my own whims I lost track of time. I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

Ortho looks away. “It’s okay... and I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” Malleus asks, confused.

“I was trying to give you one last night together with everyone, but I went and ruined the whole thing…”

“You didn’t ruin anything!” Malleus exclaims, and then he clears his throat. Quietly, he continues, “You didn’t ruin anything. You gave me something I wasn’t aware my heart desperately needed. And I thank you sincerely for it.”

“Mm,” Ortho mumbles, only half listening. He blinks rapidly and looks around the room - at the door, at the bookcase, at the bedside table. Everywhere except at Malleus.

Malleus frowns. “Is something the matter?”

“I guess I just… I don’t know.” Ortho lets out a shaky sigh. “When I saw you dancing with those holograms, you looked so happy. And that made me really happy, too. But then I started thinking, you’re my last friend from NRC, right? One day, you’re going to be just another hologram to me, same as everybody else...” He brings his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. It reminds Malleus of how Silver and Sebek would look when they got upset as children, and a feeling he can’t find the name for begins prickling in his chest.

Perhaps encouraged, perhaps despaired, Ortho’s words pour out faster and faster. “I never asked my big brother to make me, but he did. And then he just up and left me behind. Everybody does. And there’s nothing I can do about it…”

His voice shrinks to a whisper. “…I guess I just don’t like that I never got any say in the matter.”

Ortho clears his throat, and then a heavy sob wracks his small body. The tears he’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally burst free and rush down his scrunched-up face. Malleus desperately wants to look away, but the moonlight reflecting off the boy’s tears paralyzes him.

He thinks back on all the times in his life when he had failed to comfort someone. He still remembers the night of Lilia’s departure with perfect clarity, he remembers the pure white of the snowflakes that fell on Silver’s face, how they mixed with the iridescent tears that spilled from his eyes, and how they melted from the warmth of his quiet sorrow. And he remembers the hard line of Sebek’s shoulder trembling under his hand at Silver’s funeral, he remembers how small the huge man had looked, crumpled over, folded in on himself, crushed under the immense weight of his endless grief.

And now he stands before this child who has wrenched back the heavy curtains of his heart and led him into the blinding light of the world for the first time in nearly half a millennium. At times, he viciously fought back against the small hand that guided him, refusing the open pastures before him like some forgotten creature long left to rot within the darkness of its cage. And at times, he was only eager to follow its gentle coaxing, desperate for even the slightest bit of reassurance that he really could escape the pit of his sorrows and the ground wouldn’t swallow him whole again.

Is there truly nothing he can do, nothing he can say to soothe the poor boy’s heart? Must he once again be rendered dumbfounded and dazed by those silent tears?

He decides this time will be different - it must be.

He sits down on the bed next to Ortho and takes some time to gather his words. After a couple seconds, he utters, “I see. Yes, I can certainly understand how you feel.”

“While I cannot say I agree with what your older brother did, I will say this...”

“When Lilia announced he was going to be raising a human child, I thought he had finally, truly lost his mind. I eventually figured out why he must’ve seen no problem with it, since he would far outlive the boy - he’d have his hands full for a couple of decades at most, and then be free to continue living his life as he pleased. I’m sure you can imagine what a shock it was when he ended up passing so much earlier than Silver did.”

“It wasn’t until I got older that I realized I had it all wrong. He must’ve known very well that he was going to die before Silver, and that’s precisely why he decided to take him in. For he knew that he couldn’t… He knew that he wasn’t strong enough to live in a world that had taken his heart away from him.”

“But he must’ve felt that I was strong enough, and that I can do what he could not. I suppose older generations always have such hopes for those who come after them.”

Ortho finally looks at him. He wipes the wet mess from his face and takes a deep breath. “Maybe my big brother felt the same way, that I’m strong enough…”

“Perhaps he did. I certainly think you are, at least.”

“…Thank you.”

Malleus stays with Ortho until his battery finishes charging. Ortho is due to return home the next morning, and they talk about all the things they saw and did together on his much too short visit. And then they talk about everything and nothing, about their memories from their time at school, about all the different people and things they missed, about all their budding hopes for the future. And finally, enveloped in the twilight darkness of that small room, they promise to keep in touch.

They fall asleep to the sound of the cardinals heralding the dawn.

VI.

Malleus squints as he and Ortho walk into the soft light of the courtyard. They stand still for a while, just listening to the gentle hum of the windchimes. The foul weather from the day prior has vanished, and the sun’s golden rays stretch triumphantly overhead. Ortho remarks that it somehow feels like it was both forever ago and only just a couple seconds ago since they last stood there, and Malleus quietly agrees.

He turns to Ortho and places his hand on the boy’s shoulder. It’s time for him to go home.

“And I will see you at the coronation?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“And you will let me know when you’ve made it back safely?”

“Yup, I’ll email you soon as I get back to the island. And then we can schedule a time to play some online chess together!”

Malleus smiles, and Ortho beams up at him in return. “Good. Take care, Little Shroud.”

“You, too, Malleus Draconia.”