The same old room. Though he'd only been alive for a few months, this room - the familiarity of it - made that small amount of time seem to stretch endlessly. He could hear the cathartic sound of Mitzu playing a harp in his room three doors down, and some strange clanging from Laion's space. None of them had been working since they had disposed of Olli. The whole of Kutelo had come to a standstill for the elites, and them. Only the lowliest of workers were still forced to continue with their daily tasks, and if they refused... the punishments were even more severe than usual. Perhaps it was to prevent the whole of Kutelo having a class battle. It had likely been a long time coming.

Filing away the last of the overdue paperwork that he figured he may as well complete, Seishin let out a groan of annoyance. That groan likely would've stretched on a while longer had it not been abruptly cut off by an object travelling through the air at terrifying speed, lodging itself in the wall right beside Seishin's head. Seishin turned to gaze at it, plucking it from where it was fixed. An arrow, the tip slightly damp.

He turned to look at his doorframe, unsurprised to see Aytsa stood there, a pout on his lips.

"Crap... missed," he sighed to himself, pushing his black tresses back. Seishin raised a brow.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" the blonde interrogated, but Aytsa didn't seem to pick up on the obvious malice that Seishin had attempted to threaten him with. It was typical of Aytsa to not read the blatant signals dangling before him - Seishin knew that even if he had all his limbs torn off, he'd simply stitch them back on and continue in his usual blasé manner, which only served to irritate Seishin more. Did Aytsa truly have no self preservation? But, with knowledge of this, he didn't really blame Aytsa for whatever he'd just tried to do. He knew he might've done the same had he lacked as much sense as Aytsa did.

"Well, I might as well try to get rid of you now," Aytsa shrugged, "because we all know you'll be the hardest to kill later on."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Seishin responded drily. "If you wish to play an elimination game then please remind yourself that we will retaliate," Seishin sighed. In truth, as much as he hated all of the boys, there were things he liked about each of them, too. He had no emotional connection to any of them, but they all had their uses. Aytsa served as a good comic relief to everything with his absolute idiocy and constant attempts to seem likeable. Thinking about this, he realised that killing everyone would leave him entirely alone, and [Y/n] might eventually get sick of him. He almost laughed at the thought. For her to eventually get sick of him, she would have to like him in the first place.

Seishin turned to Aytsa, who had nonchalantly perched himself on the edge of Seishin's bed, making some comment under his breath about how it was more comfortable than his own. Seishin closed the drawer of files in his desk.

"So..." Aytsa hummed, "what do you think we're going to do about [Y/n]?" He tilted his head and Seishin could see that he was purposefully trying not to show any weakness. It was clear that Aytsa was panicking about [Y/n] as much as they all were, but throughout the whole thing he'd been making jokes and trying to pretend he didn't really care.

"She'll come to us," Seishin mused, "one way or another." Aytsa leaned back on Seishin's bed and faced the ceiling, green eyes taking in each and every slight crack or blemish. Seishin wondered whether he was daydreaming, and if so, what he was thinking about. Aytsa then rolled onto his side, facing the blonde once more.

"How the hell can you be sure about that?" Aytsa questioned - Seishin could hear the slight anger in his tone. "I mean, what if she's being tortured? You think she has enough luck to escape two high security situations with ease?"

"Surely you didn't believe what they were saying about [Y/n] being tortured?" Seishin questioned. Now Aytsa seemed nonplussed, and he didn't hide it anymore. "If Vihren truly hate us as much as every single piece of text I've read on them says they do, then the mere human that escaped Kutelo - the human that caused a wave of unrest enough to bring death to the king - will, essentially, be a goddess in their eyes." Aytsa looked down. He didn't know whether he liked the sound of that, either. If that was the case, then [Y/n] might be happy without them. In a way, he would've favoured it if she had been tortured by the creatures in Vihren. She would be able to see that he was so much better than them.

"So... that's why Nyais isn't sending an army there?" Aytsa questioned. "You think he knows this too?" Seishin nodded. "Why is he hiding this?" Aytsa pressed further.

"Probably so we don't go on a rampage," Seishin laughed. "He knows that we'd feel more settled if she was having an awful time there than if she was being treated kindly." Aytsa narrowed his eyes. Seishin had a knowing look on his face, and Aytsa could only assume that he'd strengthened his powers enough to be able to read people's minds without physical contact now. That's possibly how he knew that Nyais didn't truly believe [Y/n] was in danger.

Aytsa thought on Seishin's words for a while, and for about two minutes there was a thick, tense silence that blanketed the room, causing both males to sit in their own graves of discomfort.

To break the silence, Aytsa piped up with yet another question.

"Does [Y/n] hate us?"

"Yes," Seishin answered curtly, facing his desk.

"Do you think we can fix that?" Aytsa questioned. Seishin lifted his gaze and turned it towards the sullen looking boy. He shook his head, and Aytsa let out a sigh. "So... why are you still pursuing her if you don't believe any of us can make amends?" Seishin let out a brittle laugh.

"That's rich, coming from you," he muttered, however he decided to answer anyway - the onslaught of questions Aytsa had directed at him weren't as bothersome as Seishin thought they would be. "I am not sure of the answer to your question, but I would say that that is my answer. She gives me a sense of clarity regarding many of the questions I have about myself," he said. Aytsa was shocked about how calm he was. This was possibly the first time Seishin had ever opened up to anyone - not even [Y/n] knew why he acted the way he did. Aytsa didn't have the same greed for knowledge that Seishin had, but perhaps this would give him an advantage later on. He couldn't be certain, however.

To push away his pride in having extracted such a response from Seishin, Aytsa let out a cold laugh. "You're stupid to think that anyone other than yourself can answer questions like that. Sounds like a sob-story excuse to me," Aytsa shrugged. Seishin rolled his eyes, regretting having spoken, despite knowing that Aytsa didn't feel the words he spoke.

"So why are you pursuing her, then?" Seishin quizzed the boy, fully turning himself to face Aytsa now.

"Love, I guess...?" Aytsa responded, but his response was more question than answer. He truthfully had no idea. The more he thought about it, the more he understood Seishin's answer. Aytsa needed [Y/n]. He wasn't sure why. Was it love? Was it dependence? Was it a strange mixture of both? He had never asked himself these questions before - he had merely accepted that he wanted [Y/n] to be his and his alone. But now he couldn't help but ask himself why. What use was she to him? If he were Rayne, he would answer that she could use her for many psychological tests and experiments, but that didn't appeal to him at all.

Maybe he just wanted someone to hold, and someone to be held by. Someone to look after and in turn look after him. He cringed at how soppy it sounded. How had such an innocent ideal driven them to kill for their goals?

"How can you say 'love'? You were born out of hatred; you'll never understand what love is."

Aytsa tilted his head.

"Born out of hatred?" Aytsa queried. His eyes darkened a little. Seishin didn't speak as though he had been making a speculation or using a strange metaphor - he sounded like he was addressing a fact, and thus a fact about Aytsa that he knew and Aytsa did not. Seishin sighed.

"I suppose I should be the one to tell you if you still do not know," Seishin hummed.

"Tell me what?" Aytsa pushed, biting the inside of his cheek in a strange nervous habit that he had developed. His sharpened canines punctured the skin, but he didn't react.

"We found out who your parents are," Seishin mumbled, deciding to use the plural 'we' to throw some blame onto the others in case Aytsa went into a frenzied rage. But, much to his surprise, Aytsa just raised a brow.

"That's it? You know I don't really give a shit, right?" Aytsa laughed, looking back up at the ceiling. "You made it sound like you were about to tell me something important."

"If you don't care, I won't tell you," Seishin said, his words acting like a lure to Aytsa. "It's not information that should be shared with too many, anyway." Aytsa wondered what Seishin's intentions were in trying to make him curious. But now, when Seishin worded it in such a way, Aytsa wanted to know. No, he needed to know.

"Tell me," he demanded, his tone changing as he sat up, more serious and dark this time. He didn't like Seishin's games and wanted him to give a straight answer. The blonde shrugged and nodded his head.

Two names left his lips:

"Leya and Rayne."

Aytsa hadn't really registered what Seishin had said at first; Leya was a familiar name to him, Rayne had talked about her once or twice when mentioning Nyais, but he assumed it was just some other Leya.

When Rayne's name left Seishin's lips however, the boy held his breath.

Eyes slightly wider than usual, he let out a slightly confused, deranged sounding laugh.

"Sorry..." Aytsa rubbed the back of his neck. "What?"

* * *

Dressed in the usual brown leather and fur of the inhabitants of Vihren, [Y/n] made her way across the main part of the camp, heading from her tent to the great cave that Feron inhabited. It was big enough for him to slumber in as a dragon, however he usually went in as a human. Despite his human form being so tiny in comparison to the gaping opening, he never looked out of place or ridiculous. Some great emanating aura managed to fill the space around him, making him look colossal.

[Y/n] had been invited to join Feron for dinner. The cave was lit by many flaming torches, but it was still unbelievably dim. As she progressed in the cave, it grew brighter - soon she saw why. A large pit of fire, maybe the size of a house, roared in the centre of the cave. On the left from it was a long stone table, seats of the grey rock carved around it. [Y/n] approached it carefully, noticing Feron seated and watching her approach. There was a seat clearly indicated for her by the empty plate sitting on a placemat opposite Feron. He gestured for [Y/n] to sit down.

The sound of classical solo piano music wafted through the halls of the cave - it was a chorale, or perhaps a prelude? It had the nuances of both. There was something hauntingly beautiful about it. [Y/n]'s knowledge of music wasn't at an expert level, however she could easily appreciate the piece.

"Where is the music coming from?" [Y/n] asked quietly. Feron shrugged his shoulders.

"To this day, I am unsure. No one wanted to live in this cave - the singing cave, they call it - as the mystery of who plays the piano and where it is was never solved," he hummed. "If you travel in the direction of where you think the sound is coming from, the echoes of the cave walls will inevitably lead you somewhere else. If you follow the frequency, you will be led to a mere underground lake." [Y/n]'s eyes widened, and the moment he finished speaking, the macabre piece landed on its final note - a tierce de picarde; the last hurrah of a dying wail, where the passing protagonist heaves their last breath with a smile. [Y/n] turned to look at Feron, who then let out a soft laugh. "I'm kidding. Al has a cave that connects to mine, and the piano is there. He plays it occasionally."

"That's not a fair prank," [Y/n] forced a smile, despite having been pushed into an oddly thoughtful state by the music she had just listened to, "if all I see is magical nonsense then how am I supposed to tell fact from fiction?" Feron shrugged.

"I suppose. Apologies," he smiled. [Y/n] forgave him instantly, mostly because she didn't have the energy to hold a grudge right now. Feron leaned forwards slightly, plucking an unlit candle from its holder (which was placed between them). He held it to his lips and blew softly on it, the wick suddenly bursting to light. He placed it back in the holder, watching it flicker absentmindedly.

[Y/n] watched the spectacle in shock. He could breathe fire in his human form too? Yikes. She didn't want to get on his bad side.

"So..." Feron began, a little awkwardly. "Tomorrow morning you and Al will set off. Are you ready?" he questioned. [Y/n] hesitated before shaking her head.

"No, I'm not ready in the slightest," she sighed, "but I want to do what's right. I know Nyais won't do anything stupid - he's hazardous sometimes, but not a natural disaster." Feron, however, didn't look so sure.

"Any dormant volcano can roar back to live if you heat it enough," Feron speculated, rubbing his chin. "If you already acknowledge him as a possible hazard, then be prepared that things could get out of hand. And I don't want you to sacrifice yourself 'for the greater good' if that occurs. As our Queen, you come first. If you need to flee, then you flee. If you need to leave Al behind, then you leave him behind. Do you understand?"

There was a look of desperation in Feron's eyes. It was as though he was talking to [Y/n] like she was his family, not a human that he'd only known for a number of days. He looked fearful, and the way his slitted eyes narrowed further when [Y/n] didn't respond spoke volumes. She slowly nodded her head, and he let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Why do you trust me so much?" [Y/n] asked, staring at the empty plate before her. She could almost see her reflection. How long had it been since she'd been able to have the home comforts of good soap, deodorant, perfume, makeup? She missed being able to look her very best, but this backwards way of living had become her normal.

Feron hummed at her question, a slightly sheepish smile on his lips. "I realise I must seem insane for trusting you with our entire army. Especially as you were close to the previous king, and even close to the current one," he said quietly. [Y/n] had assumed that they didn't know she had been firmly on Olli's side and had a friendship with Nyais, or at least that they chose to ignore it, but Feron's words seemed to betray that idea. "This... may seem stupid, but you remind me of Helena. My older sister." [Y/n] furrowed her brow, urging him to continue, despite the way her chest suddenly clenched. "Helena was, as you already know, our previous leader. And she fell in love with the son of the leader of Kutelo, Prince Olli, who was set to succeed his father as he, too, was unbeaten in battle." [Y/n] paused, eyes wide. In love? Olli had never talked to her about this, which surprised her as the threat of Vihren seems a lot more imminent than anyone in Kutelo had acknowledged it to be.

"Helena and Olli were to marry," Feron continued, "but I fabricated a tale to tell my sister." He paused, looking down, guilt etched in every small scar and pore on his face. "She was a powerful sorceress, and also part dragon; she planned to bless Olli with a share of her power. He would be the strongest man to have ever walked this earth, though he could only use his power once a day - this was the weakness she promised, as to not kill Olli when passing him her power." [Y/n] nodded. "Olli and Helena did indeed marry, and Olli's father stepped down from the throne, only to be killed a few days later. There was suspicion thrown at Helena for what happened. It was here where the story warps... some say that Helena herself killed Olli's father, but this was not true as I was with her at the time of Keiren's death. And I was telling her that it was Olli who had killed his father to become king, and that he would soon kill her." He placed his hand on his forehead. "I told my sister to kill the king before he could kill her... I was the one who gave my sister that knife. She trusted me... she was so scared."

[Y/n] stood up. She could see that Feron was falling apart. Shuffling around to the other side of the table, she went to place her hand over his trembling one.

"This..." he whispered, "this is the first time I've told anyone the truth... in over 300 years, I never... I never had the courage," he looked down at the empty plate before him, seeing his own magenta eyes staring back at him, warped by the curve of the porcelain. [Y/n] had been upset at first, in truth. Before he told his story, he had compared her to Helena, and [Y/n] almost walked out of the cave in anger. Why could no one see that she was herself, not anyone else? Nyais had compared her to Leya time and time again. The boys had all found their own comparisons for her - strange, yet dehumanising things. Every single time. Why did no one see her as her own person?

But now, watching Feron shake and hold her arm, she realised that his comparison was merely a gateway. A gateway to finally talking about the things that had plagued him for hundreds of years. And at this, she realised that her stresses for tomorrow were nothing in comparison to his. For her, it was about revenge. For him, it was about atonement.

Feron finally let go of her, seeming mortified at the show of weakness he had just presented to [Y/n], who was practically a mere stranger.

"I... I am so sorry," he said quietly.

"Please don't be," [Y/n] said quietly, her hand still on his. "I can't imagine how hard that must've been for you." Feron, looking a little uncomfortable, gestured [Y/n] to her seat again. She did as asked, reseating herself.

In perfect timing, a siren, holding a platter in each wing, walked into the room. She served both meals delicately, before silently departing.

The food silenced both [Y/n] and Feron, and they ate in peace.

The first peace Feron had been allowed in over 300 years.