Hated by her lineage, Iliya Dalaminai dwells in self isolation, awaiting the day her cousin marries so she might escape the Throne.
Feared by the Gods, Sorein Chakrine's crown is mainly a relic put on display at royal ceremonies to ward off evil.
Wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Guilt had been a fickle teacher.
Iliya didn't remember much of her transport from the ballroom to her bed, only Ezre lecturing her about the stunt she pulled that nearly cost Qudja her life. She was barely conscious, dozing in and out through a rant she could barely remember.
She prayed it meant she didn't have to hear it again.
Her whole body felt submerged in cement, leaden and unable to move. Considering the weight of the water glass beside her made her muscles shake. She'd pass for now.
Iliya didn't know why they'd brought her to the bed instead of the infirmary. It seemed odd to her considering it was the safest place in the Estate, located on the other side of the library and even farther beneath. She had no idea how many beds were filled right now.
The couch across the room was empty, as well as the armchair. Silence filled the room in an eerie way that spiked her adrenaline enough to sit up. There were no sprites, no cheering outside.
Any joy Solstice had created was swallowed whole by the killing field downstairs.
Even the dust sprites were gone.
Reaching out, Iliya took the water left on the table and washed away the dryness. The single action sapped the rest of her strength and she slunk back into the sheets.
The sun wasn't yet high, she had time.
Iliya closed her eyes, deciding to try again later.
~~~~~
Blood still stained the marble floors of her family home.
The sight before her gave more insight into why they'd chosen to treat her in bed. Iliya couldn't drag her attention away from the carnage in front of her. Despite the bodies having already been removed, she was certain there must've been more than she ever dreamed.
Too much blood.
Too much wreckage.
Her stomach flipped and she raced the rest of the way down the stairs, tears filling her eyes. She needed to see them. She needed to help.
Thoughts raced through her head as she attempted to figure out how long she'd been unconscious. How long her family had been struggling to handle the destruction on their own.
She only knew her body moved on its own, her mind reeling.
Iliya found herself in the kitchens next, her vision glazed over as she scavenged the left over refreshments from the Sealing. She found muffins and cakes and treats that might sound appealing and filled a basket with them.
Her sadness stuck to the back of her throat like fire. No matter how useless this felt, no matter how little anyone might care, she needed to help.
The next thing she knew, she was in the Infirmary, so dissociated she couldn't remember walking through every corridor and room. Heilos, Iliya hadn't even looked at herself before dressing in sweats and stumbling through the halls.
