In the halls of Akasa's Sacred Castle, where shadows danced like whispers and every room seemed to harbor a thousand secrets, a council of sorts was convened. The muffled murmur of voices seeped through the stone corridors, hinting at the gravity of their conversation. By its secluded position, the chamber was likely a guest room—modest in size but no doubt rich in history, its walls steeped in tales of triumph and betrayal. Within its confines, four figures gathered. Two bore the proud, tempered bearing of Ardenians, while the others, unmistakably Fulmenian, carried themselves with an air of stormy grace.
Leyla, the elder Fulmenian, stood with her daughter Masha at her side. Her face was a storm of emotions—her wide eyes betrayed the shock that had yet to loosen its grip on her young soul. What she had witnessed earlier had unsettled her deeply, her innocence strained against the weight of harsh reality. Leyla, however, was of sterner mettle. Her gaze was sharp, her mind cutting through the fog of uncertainty. This was no mere aberration, no fit of childish rage. Something far darker coiled beneath the surface, and she would see it unmasked. Her attention shifted to Ayzat, the Ardenian Paladin accompanying Aqasha.
"Ayzat," Leyla began, her voice steady but edged with steel, "you were with Mei before the play. Did you notice anything…unusual? Any flicker of behavior that might explain what's happened?"
The Second Paladin turned toward her, his expression carved from stone. "No," he replied, his tone measured, devoid of passion. "She was nervous, as any performer might be. She worried about her portrayal of Luxoah—uncertain if she could embody the queen's light. Beyond that, there was nothing." His eyes drifted to a point far beyond the room, as if searching for answers that eluded even him. "She was a kind child, sweet-natured. Nothing in her demeanor spoke of violence, let alone an attack on Aqasha."
Leyla's frown deepened. The answers he gave only raised more questions, each one a thorn in her thoughts. Her instincts, honed by years of navigating peril, told her there was a truth yet hidden, a shadow unspoken. "Her Katana," she pressed, "it was sharp. Every prop is supposed to be dulled, yet hers could cut. And I saw flames—actual flames. Mei cannot wield such magic, so how could they be there?"
Ayzat shrugged, the gesture as unyielding as his expression. "I can't say," he admitted. "The props were inspected before the play began, and the blade was dull. Perhaps the flames came from her light magic, heating the blade until the coating caught fire? It's rare, but not impossible. She could have achieved it unconsciously, under the strain of the performance."
His words hung in the air, plausible yet unsatisfying. Leyla's lips pressed into a thin line. No, those flames had been no mere accident of heat and coating. They had danced along the blade as if alive, as if the weapon itself harbored some unholy fire. It wasn't something that burned from the outside—it glowed from within, a sinister radiance that defied explanation.
Leyla's mind churned, her thoughts circling the puzzle like a hawk hunting prey. Whatever force had stirred Mei to violence, it was no ordinary whim. The answer lay hidden, shrouded in shadow and flame, and she vowed to uncover it—even if it meant prying it from the jaws of darkness itself.
Leyla's questioning pressed on, her calm yet probing voice carving through the tension like a blade. Meanwhile, Masha's gaze shifted to Aqasha. The young Ardenian stood apart, her posture tense, ears pinned back against her skull. A faint sheen of sweat clung to her coat, and her normally proud demeanor had given way to something far more brittle. It didn't take a practiced eye to see the shock lingering in her every movement. Sensing her distress, Masha sought to bridge the gap with kindness.
"Aqasha," Masha ventured, her voice soft with hesitation, "are you alright? Did you notice anything…strange about Mei before all this happened?"
Aqasha's ears flicked, and her expression hardened like cooling iron. Her lips curled into a scowl, and when she answered, her voice cut through the air like a whip. "No," she said, sharp and abrupt.
The curt reply struck Masha like a slap. Her ears flattened, and her teeth ground together as she struggled to rein in the storm rising within her. Anger burned hot beneath her skin, but she held her tongue—for now.
Leyla, ever perceptive, caught the silent exchange. Her sharp eyes flicked from one young alicorn to the other before settling on Aqasha. The Ardenian's hostility didn't faze her; instead, it only deepened her resolve. Ayzat had been forthcoming, calm even, in the face of her inquiries. Yet Aqasha's defensiveness was like a wall of flame meant to conceal something—whether it was fear, guilt, or pain, Leyla couldn't yet say.
"Aqasha," she began, her voice measured and gentle but with an undercurrent of authority that couldn't be ignored, "I know this must be difficult. You've been through a lot, but if there's anything you remember—anything at all about Mei—it could help us understand what's going on."
But the question was almost out of her mouth before Aqasha erupted. "Can't you just leave me alone?!" she snapped, her wings flaring as flames danced brighter along their edges. "I was [i]attacked[/i]! And no, I didn't notice anything about your precious Mei... She just turned on me, out of nowhere…" Her voice cracked with fury, her eyes blazing with fire that seemed to reflect the rawness of her emotions.
Yet even in her rage, Aqasha faltered when her gaze met Leyla's. There was no anger in the Fulmenian's eyes, only concern, patience, and a quiet strength that could not be shaken. Aqasha's flames dimmed, and her shoulders slumped as the fight drained from her. Her mouth opened, an apology forming on her lips, but before she could speak, Masha's temper snapped.
"You didn't even get hurt!" Masha's voice rose, sharp as a dagger. Her own wings quivered as she stepped forward, anger spilling out of her like a torrent. "Mei is about to face trial for something she'd [i]never[/i] do, and you're just standing there, acting like none of it matters! Don't you have a shred of empathy in that arrogant body of yours?!"
The words struck like arrows loosed from an archer's bow, each one sinking deep. Masha's fury wasn't just for herself but for her friend—for the injustice of seeing someone she cared for thrown in a cage while the one alicorn who might hold the key to the truth stood aloof. It was more than she could bear, and the fire in her eyes burned just as fiercely as Aqasha's had moments before.
Aqasha's anger reignited, flaring hotter than before, her calm shattered by Masha's accusations. She wheeled on the young Fulmenian, her wings trembling as flames sparked to life at their edges. "Who are you to call me arrogant?!" she snarled, her voice rising like a crack of thunder. "I was nearly [i]stabbed[/i]—by someone I trusted, someone I spent weeks training alongside! Her eyes were filled with primal rage, and you stand here lecturing me?"
The venom in Aqasha's tone struck Masha like a blow, but the young Fulmenian refused to falter. She matched Aqasha's fire with her own voice, as sharp as a blade unsheathed. "You're only thinking about yourself!" Masha lashed out, her words cutting deep. "You don't care about anyone else, not even those who've stood by you. You can't even see how lucky you are—to be taught by the Second Paladin and the High-Priest of Flames themselves! And how do you repay them? With arrogance and ingratitude!"
Masha's accusations poured out in a torrent, each word fueled by her frustration and righteous indignation. Leyla, standing nearby, watched with a growing sense of unease. She cast her daughter warning looks, sharp and disapproving, but Masha was too consumed by her anger to notice.
Aqasha's wings flared wider, her flames growing brighter, hotter. Her voice was a blade in return, cutting as deeply as the one aimed at her earlier. "[i]I'm[/i] entitled?!" she spat, her tone venomous. "You've been pampered your whole life, coddled by your mother, the [i]Third Paladin[/i]! What do you know of hardship? You live in your perfect little world, thinking everything is just, everything is fair. But you don't understand anything about real struggle!"
The words hit Masha like a slap, her chest heaving with indignation. It was too much. Her claws unsheathed, and in one swift motion, she lunged at Aqasha, her body moving before her mind could catch up. Masha had never been one for words when action would suffice, and her fury now demanded release.
And then, in the span of a heartbeat, chaos erupted.
Ayzat, who had been watching the exchange in silence, finally opened his mouth to speak. But before he could utter a word, Leyla stiffened. Her sharp eyes caught something—a flicker in Ayzat's aura, a subtle inconsistency that sent a chill down her spine. Her fur bristled in alarm, instinct screaming that something was wrong.
A flash of yellow and blue streaked through the room as Leyla moved with startling speed, her body a blur of motion. Before Ayzat could utter a word, and before Masha's claws could find their mark, Leyla intercepted the young Fulmenian mid-leap, delivering a forceful kick to her side.
The attack struck Masha's ribs with brutal precision, sending her hurtling across the room. She collided with the nearby wall with a resounding crash, the impact shaking the shelves and dislodging their contents. Books tumbled to the floor, followed by the sharp shatter of pottery and the dull thud of a lamp. The wreckage lay scattered around her crumpled form, a chaotic testament to the force of her mother's intervention.
It happened so swiftly that Aqasha had no time to react. She flinched at the thunderous noise, her flames flickering uncertainly, and her wide eyes fixed on the scene before her. Surprise and fear painted her face as she processed the sight of Masha sprawled amid the broken remnants.
Ayzat, however, remained unfazed. He arched an eyebrow, his expression one of mild amusement as he addressed Leyla. "Oh?" he murmured, his tone light and almost teasing. "That's some harsh parenting…"
But his words barely had time to settle in the air before Leyla turned to him, her eyes blazing with a fury that cut through the room like a sword. Ayzat's amusement faltered, a flicker of surprise crossing his face at the unrestrained intensity in her gaze.
Leyla let the weight of her aura as a Paladin seep into the room, the force of it palpable and oppressive. Her voice, low and steely, carried the promise of wrath as she addressed him. "Your behavior is one thing, Ayzat, but if you dare to lay a hoof on my daughter, there will be consequences." The words dripped with anger and the fierce, unyielding protection of a mother.
Aqasha cowered behind Ayzat, trembling at the sheer force of Leyla's presence. The release of the aura was unlike anything she had felt before, and it filled her with a primal fear that kept her rooted in place.
Ayzat, unflappable as ever, chuckled softly, the sound as light and breezy as if he'd been told an amusing tale. "My, my," he said with a playful wink, his tone dancing on the edge of mockery. "Alright, Paladin. But don't forget, hierarchically, I'm still above you." With that, he turned toward the door, his movement fluid and deliberate. He gestured for Aqasha to follow him, his laugh now softer and genuine, as if he found joy in the absurdity of it all.
Once the Ardenians had left the room, Leyla's resolve wavered, and her attention snapped back to her daughter. She hurried to Masha's side, kneeling beside her to inspect the damage she herself had caused. Masha, though tough, looked up at her mother with wide, tear-filled eyes. Confusion and hurt clouded her gaze as she struggled to understand why Leyla had acted so fiercely, why the punishment had been so harsh.
But instead of a harsh rebuke, Masha felt her mother's wings encircle her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Are you crazy?!" Leyla's voice trembled with pain and worry, the sharpness of her words softened by the tremor of relief. "Can't you think before you act? That's not the way of a Protector!"
Masha flinched at the words, her mother's disappointment cutting deeper than any blade. That last sentence struck her in a way she didn't fully understand, but the weight of it was undeniable. She knew she had been wrong—too hot-headed, too reckless—but she still couldn't grasp why her mother had acted so harshly.
Leyla's voice softened, but her words carried the same urgency. "If I hadn't been there…Ayzat would have…" She faltered, the sentence breaking under the weight of what might have been. She pulled Masha close again, her embrace fierce and desperate.
Masha remained silent, her shock and confusion written plainly across her face. She felt the warmth of her mother's embrace, but couldn't reconcile it with the sudden ferocity of her earlier actions. Questions swirled in her mind. What was that reaction? What happened that make her act so quickly in such a way?
But none found their way to her lips.