Ariadne's hand tightened slightly on the fabric of her gown, but she kept her face calm and said nothing. They had both been fifteen when the war broke out and ended with the Drakalons and Vampires wiped out.
Back then, they used to listen to the tales. Stories of how strong and feared the Drakalons were, how fierce and wild, how their roars shook the skies, and how their wrath could burn entire villages.
Odessa leaned closer as they walked, her voice sweet and sharp like honey hiding a blade. "You remember how it was, do you not? How they roared in agony, how they bled. How their bodies were burned to ashes on these same grounds. Oh, I do. I was just a girl, but I remember it so clearly. The fire, the fall… It was so beautiful."
She laughed again, loud and careless as always. "Oh, Ariadne, you must tell me how you haven't gone insane living among their ashes. Do the ghosts of the Drakalons whisper to you at night? Do they try to crawl in from your window and try to burn you alive for what your father did to them?"
Ariadne stopped walking for a moment and stared straight ahead. The memory came back so clearly, like it had just happened yesterday. She remembered the sound of the Drakalons, how they screamed and roared in pain the night everything fell apart. She had been locked inside her room with guards stationed at every point, inside and out to keep her safe.
At that time, they were still living in Eldvaron, the werewolf kingdom. The very night the war ended and the Drakalons, defeated, Maximus had sent out orders. Everyone in his pack was to move into their new home—Draventhall. He had claimed the land of the Drakalons as his own and no one was allowed to question him, not even Ariadne. She was his daughter, and like everyone else, she had no choice.
When she first journeyed to Draventhall, she had been excited and curious. She had heard stories about the mysterious kingdom and the powerful Drakalons who once ruled it. But all of that excitement disappeared the moment they crossed into the land.
Everywhere she looked, she saw blood. Dead bodies lay scattered across fields and roads with their lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. The air was filled with the scent of death and smoke, and not a single sound could be heard. Not birds, not footsteps, nothing. The whole kingdom felt like it had been frozen in time, caught in the moment right after destruction.
But nothing compared to what she saw when they reached Pyros' Ember—the heart of Draventhall and the castle of the Drakalon King. It was there that the real horror awaited, the center of the massacre and the place where the last of the Drakalons fell.
Everywhere was covered in blood, the floors, the walls... and dead bodies were stacked in corners, scattered across the castle grounds. A lot of werewolves and witches were so badly burnt she could hardly tell what they once were.
The stench was unbearable.
Ariadne was young and had never seen anything like it. And in that moment, all her curiosity turned into fear.
She had screamed and fainted, but when she woke up, she found herself lying in a large room that was clean and beautifully arranged. But peace did not follow.
Every night after that, Ariadne lay awake until the sun rose. And even when she managed to sleep, her dreams were filled with nightmares. She would see the Drakalons rise from the dead, still covered in dirt and blood, and their eyes full of rage and pain. Sometimes, she saw herself in their middle, standing or lying among the piles of corpses, soaked in blood and covered in dirt like she was one of them.
To say she hadn't gotten to the brink of madness was an understatement. And even now, years later, the memories refuse to leave.
"This place holds more than ashes." She said quietly.
Odessa tilted her head. "Of course it does. Ghosts, shadows, and terrible memories."
Then she laughed again, as if it were all a great joke, and looped her arm tighter around Ariadne's. "Now come, we have so much to talk about. And I simply must see what your Modiste has cooked up in this dreary kingdom of beasts."
Ariadne walked forward again, saying nothing while Odessa continued her chattering. She managed a soft laugh here and there, and polite smiles when appropriate, but none of it reached her eyes. In truth, she never felt comfortable with the subject or the careless jabs that always came with it. But she chose not to say a word, if only because Odessa seemed to derive such endless pleasure from it.
Finally, they stepped outside, and the sunlight spilled across the stone steps, casting long shadows that stretched across the courtyard.
The carriage was ready. Beside it, Viggo stood quiet and as still as a statue. His broad shoulders were wrapped in his usual dark cloak, and his hands were clasped behind his back.
When he saw the ladies, he bowed his head respectfully and greeted each of them, but Odessa rolled her eyes in response and gave an amused snort.
"He still lives," She muttered under her breath, loud enough for Ariadne to hear. She then pulled out her fan from her sleeve and began fanning herself lazily, as if his presence offended her.
Viggo didn't flinch or respond as his expression remained blank and his eyes fixed straight ahead. Ariadne did not react either, though she glanced between the two with a sigh.
Odessa's dislike for Viggo was no secret, at least, not to Ariadne. For as long as she could remember, Odessa had complained about him. Back when they moved to Pyros' Ember and Odessa came to visit, she had always wanted to sneak away for some fun. But Viggo had always been the wall they couldn't get past.
Time after time, he stopped them, refusing to let them leave unguarded, denying their plans for adventures, and always insisting on protocol and safety.
Odessa hated it. She hated him.
Just like all the others, those guards who had died trying to protect Ariadne, Odessa had once whispered that she hoped he would die like them. That he'd finally be replaced by someone younger, more charming, and less strict. Someone who wouldn't ruin their fun.
But Viggo had quietly endured. He was loyal and unshaken which only made her dislike him more.
As they began walking toward the carriage, the sound of grunts and clashing swords could be heard from the nearby training grounds. Under the high sun, the soldiers continued to train.
Ariadne's eyes, almost without meaning to, drifted toward the training grounds. Her steps slowed as she searched the crowd of soldiers, scanning over familiar faces until it landed on him—Kieran.
He was in the middle of sparring, clearly still struggling. His opponent moved fast and hit hard, and although Kieran tried to keep up, he wasn't winning. Still, he remained focused and didn't notice her watching. Not this time.
Ariadne, all the same, felt that same strange tension rising inside her. The same sensation that had left her shaken earlier that morning, making her skin tingle and her heart race.
Even now as she watched him, something in her chest tightened. She didn't understand it and didn't like how it made her question a lot of things.
Just then, Odessa, curious and always quick to notice, followed Ariadne's line of sight. Her eyes landed on Kieran, and she stopped walking for a moment, surprised.
"Oh," She said, lifting an eyebrow. "New soldiers, hmm?"
Ariadne's heart skipped.
The moment she heard Odessa's voice, she tore her eyes away from Kieran and quickly picked up her pace toward the carriage, hoping Odessa would let it go.
Of course, she didn't.
Laughing softly, she hurried to catch up and slipped her arm through Ariadne's once more. She then leaned in and whispered close to her ear.
"I saw that," She teased with a grin. "You were definitely looking."
Ariadne kept her eyes forward, trying to stay calm. "I was simply observing the soldiers. They train only to die one day."
"Hmm, certainly," Odessa replied with a sly smile. She glanced back at Kieran who was still on the ground from the last blow. "But that one… he does not look like the others. Even when covered in dirt, he looks more like a god than a soldier. And if I remember correctly... gods do not fall so easily."
"He has," Ariadne cut in without turning to look at Odessa. She paused in front of the carriage and took Viggo's outstretched hand to help her in. "More than once. And he keeps falling"
With that, she stepped into the carriage and didn't turn to look at Kieran again. Odessa remained outside a moment longer with her eyes still on Kieran. She moved her fan slowly, cooling her flushed face as a small, curious smile tugged at her lips.
"Well, well," She murmured to herself. "What a fascinating little beast."
Then she climbed into the carriage with that same smile plastered on her face.