Nivara's Transference sent her flying into the closed off building, her mist coiling around her feet as she tripped on the overly smooth stone. Cursing at the stark differences in terrain she hoped nothing was broken. More so what was in her pockets rather than any of her bones.
She swore, her hands skinned by her clumsiness with using Trait while inebriated. Groaning, she clutched her head and forced herself to stand and gingerly checked her pockets for any signs of breakage.
Sighing in relief, the bottles rattled in confirmation as she stumbled safe inside the Watchtower, half thanking Odi for teaching her how to bypass the Axis' entrance. Provided you use Transference for a long enough time it registers Trait automatically and opens. No bribes or formal speeches needed.
She had weaved through the large crowd of Traited celebrating around the main area despite the blockade around the Opalace and slipped away into the cordoned off Watchtower. All they saw was a flash of indigo fog as part of the festival around them.
For once Nivara was grateful for the small space, the crumbling building still marked as needing repairs. It provided just enough space for her mist form to enter and reconverge as her normal self without detection. Only issue was navigating while under influence. Drunken Transference. Not something she wanted to experience again anytime soon.
Chuckling dryly, her Trait illusion began tearing away from her cloak and settling between the cracks in the door and walls. Nivara had learnt from her prior attempts to find a private place to think. If she wanted complete privacy then an abandoned lookout post covered in her mist was the only way to go.
It blocked anyone from entering and helped with the noise from outside after a few tweaks to figure out how to locate and clog up all the nooks and crannies in such an old building. After all, they had made their decision to party and she needed a quiet place to mourn.
Nivara pulled down her hood, shaking out her damp hair before reaching into her pockets to produce three shot glasses and a small, black bottle before setting them on the newly replaced table. She lowered her head before kneeling on the ground and bowing once.
"I'm not one for semantics but you'd both be better off havin' these than me right now."
Her Trait uncorked the bottle and she poured out three glasses: one for Cricket, one for Mesmer and one for Colossus. It was now a rarely enforced tradition to honour the dead in Opalis but each country had their own traditions. The Ashes of the Fallen.
Opalis had once provided a ceremony of their own but now they just used parts of other countries traditions to celebrate instead of remembering why they grieved. The Laia festival. A mockery of jovial gifts and pretences much like its Throneholder.
"I know it's not exactly noble, stealing from a Havalog but you get what you can get."
All three had once been from the Undercity so despite not having their own traditions in place Nivara decided to use a simpler one of her own design. Setting a Flickerwick candle away from the alcohol the wick rose sleepily from its wax cocoon and lit itself on its own.
It was a small reminder of her Caldorian roots but a fitting gesture nonetheless. It was her country's tradition to light candles, incense and gather items that meant most to those who had died. Despite not having any of their personal effects it was still important to remember them and tell the stories they could not.
"I've been thinking about what happened long after it did. About how it could've been different had I..."
Nivara faltered, shivering at the sudden chill inside the Watchtower as the flash of flickering candlelight against the gloomy walls conjured memories of the storm. Cricket's small frame nestled into her cloak as she struggled to stand against the rain, wind and unrelenting lightning not even she could control right now.
"Neither of you deserved to die. I should've guessed Hornet would've done what she did but...I still saw the girl I loved instead of the heartless Traited she turned into."
Nivara could feel the rain pattering against the arkalite as if it was seeping into her very bones. After all, it was why the days of nonstop rain had lasted long into the night and why...why Hornet's Trait had gotten stronger because of her storm.
The guilt that washed over her felt heavy in her hands, the thought of Cricket's charred body being reset back together by a Fire Traited she never truly understood, even now. Her mist wound its way around the tightly packed room, restoring everything to the way it was the night they first met and the night they both departed.
"I remember how strong you were even though you were shaking so much. How you defended me even when Mesmer betrayed us. She turned on us both just like Hornet said she would."
Nivara could barely stop herself from crying, her mist flickering like a projector as her younger apprentice days with Hornet came to the fore. Exploring the stalls of the Undercity, pranking other apprentices, slacking off with training to spend time together and late night meetings. The green eyes of envy had tarnished all of that in sake of revenge.
"How you...you protected me from Hornet's Trait after Mesmer...You were so brave and I...I panicked. She struck you down with her lightning and I couldn't heal you so I-I..."
Nivara sobbed, the fleeting reminder of every report now meaningless without her apprentice and Hornetta by her side. There was nothing left for her in the Excelliars now but it was all she knew. All she had cared about.
"You did nothing wrong, Nessra."
Nivara flinched, the flash of a memory clouding her vision as an unfamiliar white grimoire crossed her peripheral but she ignored it. The shadows of the domed roof began to ripple, a small salamander sized dragon began to grow, towering over the Mist Maiden with ease.
"How can you say that? How can you, of all people, say that?" Nivara yelled, her fury overtaking her common sense as she jabbed him in the chest with her finger.
The dragon stood resolutely, the only source of light long flickered out at the smallest movement. The Flickerwick candle toppled over as the dragon's tail swept across the floor. His black scales melded into the darkness, the countless scars of war fading away but his amber eyes remained.
"I know what it's like to lose someone. No matter how many times I see the future I can never prevent those I love from-"
"Spare me the semantics, Night! This is nothing compared to you reliving whatever childhood bullshit happened to you or your bloody Oathed!"
Nivara turned on her heel, almost losing her footing to inebriation but another jolt of a recollection of a familiar Mediator being escorted out of the Opalace with his mother was too jarring to ignore. She forced herself to face the dragon, tears brimming in her eyes before throwing her mask onto the floor.
"I should've left you in that stupid forest." She exclaimed, tears spilling over despite her sudden laughter.
Before Nivara knew it she was clinging to the dragon's neck, his gruff demeanour helping her soothe the sadness in her heart just a little. The rumbling in his chest led to a harsh chuckle as if his voice wasn't used to such a sound.
"If it matters at all, I am very grateful you didn't."
Nivara sniffed, his soft scales reminding her of her surrogate mother as she smiled gratefully. But the rain dripped through the cracks in the roof, her Trait being affected by her sombre mood.
She shivered, the vague conversation she had with the Mediator drifting into her thoughts. His migraines didn't seem like much to her but the faltering memories of the Opalace made her feel uneasy. Perhaps it was the verdict she had received earlier that morning.
"Aria's already made her decision. She'll announce it tomorrow after the festival." She said gloomily as if announcing a death instead of a career promotion.
"Will you take the position?" Night asked, remaining impartial as he could.
Nivara fiddled with the edge of her cloak, unsure of how to answer since she had been avoiding it with alcohol. Staring at her mask on the ground, still intact despite the contact with the hardened stone she knew her promotion was inevitable. She had to wear the mask of an Excelliar once more.
"I can't refuse, can I? Ethros will eat me alive if I..."
The crotchety dragon began to laugh, his voice reverberating against the arkalite.
"If there's one thing I know about Ethros it's his picky taste in food. He wouldn't be able to stomach you even if he wanted to."
"Thanks, I guess." Nivara's voice cracked, bashfully turning her head away.
They sat down, the Flickerwick candle relighting itself as the dragon resized and bounded onto the table. He sniffed at the Blackwing rum and took a sip while Nivara took the other shot and raised it in the air before knocking it back.
Night stared at her completely stunned and coughed on his own dose of alcohol, Nivara cackling as he fell off the table and clumsily glided into the ground. Shaking himself free of dust, the Mist Maiden paid him no mind and downed the last shot as a tribute to a similar clutz of a dragon.
"So, what do you want me to do?" Night asked casually, nudging closer to keep the shivering Storm Traited warm.
"You?"
"Yes, me. You've helped me so now it's only fair that I do the same." The dragon said matter of factly, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Nivara couldn't help but chuckle, busying herself by pouring another drink and setting the bottle well away from the flaming wick. The haziness of her memory kept drifting towards her earlier conversation with that Mediator.
The fact she needed to gather both allies and information wasn't lost on her. But the drowning sensation that clung to her heart forced her away from creating an army out of nothing but words and ideals. There was no doubt she could. It was a matter of whether she should.
The faces of Mesmer and Hornet burned in her mind but the alcohol helped redirect her ire towards the searing drink instead. She didn't want to dictate or become so obsessed with such a simple concept as power. Nivara knew she needed something to combat the Swarm without escalating the situation.
The imbalance in the Undercity was unavoidable but she needed something to combat the problem peacefully. To mediate the situation. The timid Mediator's insistence with breaking out in Opalis stuck in her mind and made her smile. A vague plan formed in her mind but she kept quiet in front of the savvy Novawraith.
"Let me think about that. For now, I need to get back to the Throneholder in the morning. I have a Regency to fulfill.''
The dragon bowed his head, respecting her decision and refusing the offer of another well deserved drink.
"Very well, my Regent. I leave it to you."
Nivara watched as the dragon curled up onto the stone floor and without a word fell asleep. The Mist Maiden let out a quiet laugh, sipping her alcohol before setting the empty glass aside and putting out the candle with her Trait.
She awoke with the sound of a loud bang, the morning sun making her eyes ache and her head pounding at the slightest sound. Her mist had long drifted away and the incessant noise of bustling attendants overwhelmed her senses. They were preparing to pack away the festivities and prepare for a much more important ceremony. Her Regency.
Bolting upright a little too quickly, her equilibrium tanked as she keeled over and threw up. Clearing away the mess with her Trait she did her best to clean herself up a bit, shaking herself down off brick dust and grime.
Once she was awake and aware Nivara was grateful to see the empty spot of a dragon that had long since moved on. It wasn't safe for him to stay in one place but Night would always rest here when he needed her most.
Then for the first time that day, she took a vial of Silvertongue out of her pocket and forced herself to drink it all and waited for the sour taste to subside. With a shaky breath, she activated her Transference and left the safe haven of the Watchtower.
There weren't many tradesmen outside to notice her mist, the glaring sunlight and half stacked stalls made navigating harder. But they were all too busy with work to notice her Trait stream towards the large doors of the Opalace.
Striding towards the open corridor the faces of her fellow Master's stared enviously as they ushered their apprentices away from the proceedings. They were headed for war and the only Master without an apprentice had been assigned to lead them.
Nivara wielded her Trait with a single thought, her mist realigning and rebuilding over her cloak as it became rigid and metallic as if from thin air. It was tradition for a newly sworn Regent to wear ceremonial armour and despite her disagreements with the Excelliars she wasn't about to tarnish that history. Not when she had worked so hard to learn how to summon it.
"Regent Nivara."
She blinked several times, barely noticing she had already entered the packed throne room. Nivara stared blankly at the Throneholder, the stark white armour making her eyes water. She herself had opted for a darker hue of indigo with swirls of blue and flashes of white. But no one cared about the meaning as long as it bore the white clawed sigil of the Excelliars.
Lady Aria lounged in the arkalite throne, her dragon lying contentedly next to her as if it was nothing more than a casual chat. Nivara kneeled resolutely in front of the duo as per instruction, grateful that her mask hid the bags under her eyes.
"Yes, Lady Aria?"
Nivara fought the urge to yawn, breathing deeply as she noticed Ethros' mouth tweaked into a smile. His knowing grin made her chuckle, acutely aware of how alike he was to another dragon and his assumptions that she was up late celebrating at the festival.
"I understand you are an accomplished healer prepared to care for our troops out fighting those despicable Truants. I will need you monitoring the perimeter and assisting in evacuation if deemed necessary."
Nivara couldn't help but glance back at the other Masters fighting the urge to wince at the booming voice. Hiding a smile, she recalled the last comment alluding to the abandonment of the Undercity to deal with the situation on their own. It sobered her up instantly.
"Of course, my Throneholder. I will not let you down."
Nivara rose from the awkward position, receiving a non verbal dismissal in reply before the Mist Maiden turned on her heel and prepared to organise the war effort on her Throneholder's behalf.
Her fellow Masters from noble houses and even other countries began to follow suit: the representatives from Chimera, Svalbard, Willowridge and even spies from Thundreign followed her lead to leave the throne room.
Without a word, each Master bustled around with pre prepared orders and headed off with a strewn of leftover Trait from Transferencing directly in and out of the room. Nivara watched silently as many of them ushered apprentices away to head off and fight their assigned Truants.
Some loitered behind, gawking at the new Regency like a shining jewel but Nivara tugged at her hood and strode ahead. Even as the younger members were dragged away the Mist Maiden winced at the familiarity of those innocent eyes. No matter where she looked, Cricket was always there.
"Whoever heard of a Regent without an apprentice? No wonder they call her the Unwanted Master."
The harshness of a single comment hung in the silence as the crowd hushed at the abject insult towards a newly appointed second of command. Nivara could feel her peers' eyes on her, expecting her to stop and announce herself as the undeniable choice for the position. But that was before she had seen Mesmer for what she truly was.
Nivara would've resolutely challenged anyone and anything that went against her Regent's decisions but not anymore. Despite all the other Masters present, Nivara continued on ahead and ignored the jeers of scorned nobles prying on the next generation of Traited. The boy who had stepped in front of her now escorted away to assist, his green eyes still wide in wonder. Nivara didn't have to say a word to realise they were already in deep debt to the gangs of the Undercity.
She sighed, making her way through the thinning crowd of bustling people attempting to help in the war effort. Nivara couldn't help but think of how people used to think of Truants. How Mesmer herself had fought them but never provided any insight into what she truly thought about them.
But she couldn't think about that now. The Undercity was where she was ordered to be and that's where she would go. To stop what Aria refused to acknowledge about the Truants. The Lazarus curse.
............
"You really think this is gonna work?"
Kaldra sat tensely on the secluded window sill, repeating the question for the fifth time in a matter of minutes. Nivara threw down her binder, discarding the notion of reading through the various reports while she waited for the guard watch to change.
"If he says it will then it will, Kal." Nivara said, slightly irritable that she had to answer once again.
The Talonslash remained jittery in her salamander form, barely visible against the changing skies and the tell tale shimmer of the Divide. Nivara sighed, her partner's anxiety heightening her own nervousness.
"How can we trust him though? He's not exactly well versed in honesty and good deeds."
Nivara rubbed at her eyes, her mask set beside her as her Trait helped her conversation stay silent and the suspicions away from her door. The mist flickered ominously, almost as agitated as her Oathed was.
"Neither are you, now quiet and keep a lookout."
Kaldra scoffed, flicking her tail before descending into an overly dramatic bow as if she had just performed in front of a large stage audience.
"Of course, my Regent."
Nivara rolled her eyes at the sarcasm, her partner struggling to hide her high pitched giggling. She flicked a small bit of Trait her way but the spritely dragon dodged the condensed mist with ease.
But just as Nivara was about to try again, Kaldra's attention suddenly darted towards the sky. It was like her eyes were glazed over in thought, not quite being able to recall what had just happened.
Nivara leaned back in her chair, craning her neck to follow her partner's line of sight. The glint of a silvery aurora crested over the Watchtower, the sunset partially covered by the arkalite tower. The window slats cast peculiar shadows against the looming Divide. A flash of silver caught her vision.
"Is that...what I think it is?"
The awe in the dragon's voice was enough to confirm her suspicions, the hint of a wry smile crossing her face. The very Detector bot they had been told to look out for pierced the Divide like a knife through paper and careered towards the atmosphere below.
"Looks like you owe Night an apology, Kaldra."
She couldn't help but break into a grin, the sight of a once impregnable prison bursting out into the inky sky above like shattering stars. It was all she could do but rein her Trait in a fraction longer before her storm wiped out the scene above. Hellgrind was destroyed. But only she could know why.
"If his plan actually works then I'll tell him myself when we get back."
Nivara rose from her seat, the twist in her gut at the sight of Hellgrind forged ahead the urgency of her plan. The reminder of the lack of survivors warped into the desolate land of Shuriken.
The Detector bot careered towards the burning forests of Willowridge, the demons beginning to claw out of the miniscule gap in the Divide. Nivara's mist illusion clung to her cloak, the flashes of light and blaring sirens were proof enough that Lady Aria had joined the fight. Ethros would not be far behind.
Kaldra perched on her shoulder before they Transferenced out of the room and towards the very spot Night had predicted. Landing haphazardly into the broken mound of trees and a large crater of burnt brush and wood.
The Wildrush wood had burned away long ago but the smouldering crater from the bot had warped the ground into a mess of unlivable terrain. Perfect to place an unsuspecting Detector bot on its rounds. With the nature of the Divide in question, Nivara had no doubt those who had seen the falling silver device would forget by morning.
"How do we get this thing open?" Kaldra hissed, the hot metal burning her scales.
Nivara's nerves were on edge, the alarming roars of dragons signalling the start of the demon attack. Against the backdrop of a tumultuous sky, Lady Aria struggled to fight against the demons after a decade of peace. Kaldra's lockpicking skills were making no headway, her spiky tail trying to open the steaming pile of metal garbage.
"Hurry up!"
Nivara could feel her concentration over her Trait slipping, her Everchange cloak acting as cover to try and protect her and her dragon's identity. Nivara clenched her eyes tight, suppressing the urge to help her Throneholder and listened for the tell tale slice of metal tearing open.
"Wow. So this is what's been causing all this trouble. I expected some kind of evil looking shadow magic but nope. Just a book."
Nivara whipped around, her hair flying into her face as her anxiety warped into irritation only to soften at the sight of such an ordinary object and laughed. She let out the tension she didn't realise she was holding in, the sight of the goal they had been working towards right in front of them being nothing more than a book.
"Stop being such a drama queen and let's get out of here before someone sees." Nivara said, smiling and began holding out her hand to summon her grimoire.
In a swarm of mist her grimoire flickered from blue to indigo and back again just long enough to allow the black grimoire to recognise it. With a brief hesitation, the crumbling grimoire began to merge with her mishmash of a grimoire to form a Triad. Remembrance.
"Hey, all I'm saying is that it wouldn't kill for her to use some dramatic flair. You hide away your swirly vortex of doom so why can't I get to see a nice ominous looking grimoire for a change?" Kaldra began but her voice faltered at the sight of a fully formed Triad.
Nivara flinched, expecting a flurry of emotion or a torrent of pain at feeling a grimoire start to fade but there was...nothing. It was completely hollow. She had merged with Memoriam only once before but Remembrance had never felt so...empty.
Kaldra nudged her hand, snapping her out of her confusion and brought her back to the jolting time limit set on herself. Empty or not, the newly merged grimoire needed to get back to the Watchtower, now.
"Fine, fine. I'll get you a spooky chanting book with ruddy bells on but after we get out of here alive, OK?"
"Okay."
Taking a breath and preparing herself for the bumpy ride, Nivara held tight to her Oathed and allowed herself to Transference towards their goal. The mist struggled to knit itself together, the dark ash of the disintegrating Triad staining the arkalite only to disappear as the Watchtower came into view.
Nivara stumbled into the hard stone, lying back against the dusty building to try and catch her breath. Remembrance collapsed into the two Abnormal grimoires in an instant, flopping onto her lap lifelessly. But she could still feel the white hot rage from its core. It wasn't Memoriam that was angry. It was Retribution. Her own grimoire.
"No...please. Not now."
Nivara's eyes were drawn to the swarm of dark clouds, the various demons streaking towards a large white dragon. She couldn't help but see the pain in the demon's eyes, recalling the discussions she had with Nightshade but she had to force herself to stay silent. But the previous holders of her grimoire burned, its namesake truly coming into its own at the sight of such carnage. Whatever Lady Aria had done, Retribution would see its end.
"Please...no. No more. I can't hurt her. Not again."
A familiar orange haze surrounded her vision, like an invisible hand around her mouth but still Nivara fought to reveal the demon's sacrifice, Retribution commanding justice even at the expense of its own user. The black grimoire remained hidden behind her cloak, Kaldra staying tight to her shoulder as she shrank down beside it, shaking in fear at the thought of what the Divide had done.
"I know...I know what she did but I can't. I can't bring myself to..."
Nivara's eyes stung with tears, the storm broiling towards the duo still battling hard. Nivara struggled to calm her breathing, focusing on the familiar warmth of the Timekeeper's Trait trying to guide her away from the scene. But the lightning would not falter.
Nivara's Trait erupted, striking her target in the chest and out of the sky. The ire towards the Throneholder ebbed away as Lady Aria descended, catching a furious Stormkeeper's gaze before the cloudswell of battle surrounded her. Ethros' heartbroken roar echoed for miles, the newly sealed Divide now meaningless without its creator.
"I'm sorry. I'm so...sorry. I tried Ethros. I tried but they wouldn't listen. Why wouldn't she listen?"
Nivara lowered her shaking hands and cast her mist illusion aside, her grimoire managing to retain its indigo hue despite the resurgence of her Storm Trait. Her hand burned, fingernails singed by the sloppy command over years of ignoring the storm's call but she knew her mist was still needed. Retribution was not.
"I know what she did...what I did but...please, just this once. Let her go. Let me go, please."
Her illusion formed away from her and the guise of her Undercity counterpart flitted away into the direction of the Axis borders and submerged her in a sea of her own Trait. Nivara could feel Ethros' erratic gaze follow her wannabe Shadow Traited but it was all she could do to direct his attention away for a little while.
Her eyes clenched shut, deciding to act unconscious and try to forget the sheer look of betrayal on Aria's face. But she had protected the demons and Nivara knew it would take more than that just to change things. She needed her plan to succeed.
"Night?" Nivara called out weakly, longing for any sign of an answer.
The blindingly white brick began to shift upwards, the shadows lifting each brick and rebuilt it around Nivara so she could be enclosed safely within the Watchtower. She laid back against the cool stone, grateful for the shade and solitude away from the chaos outside.
"In here."
His voice was barely audible, but Nivara gripped the pale grimoire tightly underneath her arm while her Oathed hung around her shoulder. She winced, standing upright as her indigo grimoire floated behind her ominously.
The moonlight peeked in from the arrowheads as the shadows clung to the cracked stone, a series of scorch marks and broken glass scattered along the entrance of the Watchtower. The scuffs of dirt and dents in the wall were marred by the strong scent of burning but there was no mistaking the signs of a fight.
"What happened? Did someone-"
A loud cough and a spray of blood told her all she needed to know. The black dragon was curled up pitifully against the wall, desperate to avoid the beams of light piercing through the slits in the roof.
"No."
Kaldra whimpered, the lie clear as day even without a dragon present. The Talonslash hunkered down underneath her partner's cloak, the pain too much for her to bear.
"I haven't got much time. She's...fading. I helped her hold on just enough but...I don't have the strength to do it again. I'm sorry."
Nivara gave her partner a comforting pat, the truth behind Night's curse and his inability to lie at all even to races like the Traited. The Lazarus curse didn't just afflict one person but both parties of the contract. Every time Night lied he was subjected to the worst pain imaginable: his own partners.
"Don't worry about that, I'll help you but we need to hurry. Ethros just left to save Aria but...he may be returning soon. If he finds us..."
Nivara began hurriedly but Night's eyes glazed over, his unfocused gaze drifting into his cognitive abilities. Nivara cringed, knowing full well what she had done to her own Throneholder just minutes ago.
"Sounds like someone's worried about me, after all." He said at last, joking weakly.
Nivara's eyes went wide, his dark scales now dull but they were covered in thin, white scars alluding to the necromancy, the torture of his partner's curse. His pulse was barely audible, his shallow breathing weakening with every breath drawn but Nivara knew he was limiting it on purpose, to conserve what little strength he had for what was to come.
She knelt onto the dusty ground, setting what was left of the black grimoire next to his claws. His disinterested gaze suddenly went wide as his scales brushed against the leather cover. Night's expression morphed into a mess of emotions, eyes clenched tight as if the rush of it all was just too much.
He fought the urge to let out a roar but his snout was tucked tight over claws as if suppressing the anguish, rage, sadness that overwhelmed him. Nivara couldn't help but look up at the crumbling ceiling, the feeling of being watched and exposed.
It became more prominent as she half expected to see a collapsing building and an ominous set of wings above her. But the dragon in front of her was in pain, the emotional and physical trauma of his own contracts harming Night for all the energy he had left.
"I did...I did what my predecessors asked of me. What you both...asked of me but I couldn't kill her. I just couldn't." She tried to distract him, struggling to deal with the dragon's outburst and her recent ordeal.
The harsh lighting soon turned a soft amber glow, the Timekeeper's silent presence helping soothe Nivara a little. She stared at the wall, longing to see her Master's face for the first time in years but she knew why Isis had to stay hidden.
Within a single thought, the flaking grimoire opened its sparse binding and the scrawl of a familiar handwriting came into view. The words contained within Memoriam spilled out into her mind, the memories connected with every strand of information slammed into her like a torrent of Trait. The white grimoire had taken her memories and Memoriam intended to give them back.
Nivara stumbled forwards, leaning on her hands and knees as she fought the urge to gag, the tears falling without her realising it. Her hands shook as she stared up at the ceiling, the invisible Divide looming over them despite not being visible.
She knew why she was here, why she joined the Excelliars and why the foreboding feeling of being constantly scrutinised was in fact, true. The Divide, Lady Aria herself and Ethros had all taken a part of who she was from her. Her memories.
Her voice screamed out but there was no sound to formulate how...violated she felt. Nivara grabbed at her cloak, desperate to cling onto something, anything that would ground her to this moment. The numerous times she had been subjected to the harsh light made her sob in agony at what she had lost and more importantly, what she didn't know she already had.
"Don't cry, Nessie."
A soft voice woke her from her haze, her mask discarded in favour of the burning anger against her skin. Nivara let out a breath that was more frustration than necessity, clenching her teeth in a seething expression she couldn't name. Betrayal. Fury. Heartbreak. She didn't know but by hell did it hurt.
"You're dying. You're dying and I can't stop it. I can't stop it and it's all my fault!" Nivara spat, her words making her sound like a child rather than addressing the horror of what had been done to them.
Night smiled, a thin wisp that lasted only a few seconds but he continued to comfort her despite how weak he was. His head rested against her arm, gently coaxing her hands to stop shaking and busy herself to help Kaldra through the worst of it.
"I've been dying ever since they took my partner away." He said simply, stating a fact instead of focusing on the heartbreak. "Finally, I get to see her again. I know I'll see her again."
Nivara's heart hurt, smiling sadly at the separation of his partner and the truth behind her world's current situation. Her hands trembled at the thought of the Divide stealing her and hundreds of others memories: their friends, families, precious moments that defined who they were, discoveries behind their Traits even summoning their grimoires for the first time.
All of it gone in favour of an unlimited power source for a barrier that drained people of their Trait. The essence of who they were and the curse so many were afflicted by. Truancy. Nivara's thoughts drifted past the Divide and towards the ruins of Hellgrind to the demons so many people were afraid of. Except for one.
"But Rider-"
"Not yet. No. You know what has to happen first. You did well, but I unfortunately have to ask too much of you again, Nessra. Please. Protect us both."
Night nudged the black grimoire towards the sullen Mist Maiden, its cover barely hanging on with the measly binding and dwindling pages. She couldn't look at the dragon or the grimoire disintegrating into ash. There was no doubt Night's physical form was in the same state.
"If I don't succeed? If I lose...everything? If we lose everything...I can't go through that again."
Nivara struggled to contain her grief, blinking rapidly to try and stay strong.
"Then I will be there for you. We both will. After all, it's only a choice."
The dragon rested his head against her cloak as if to feel the pelting rain and howling winds it had summoned from decades past. Nivara could feel his heart begin to skip a beat, his breath faltering in and out as if not quite sure how to breathe cleanly anymore.
"Please, Nessra. Let me go."
His voice was quiet but not scared. The dragon sounded relieved as Nivara gently stroked his head, trying to distract him from his decaying scales. Kaldra rested her head against his back, curling up against him to provide some warmth.
His slow smile was all Nivara saw, her tears blurring her vision but she could tell his attention was elsewhere. Night's eyes were half open, his legs were tucked underneath himself, his tail hidden behind him without his missing wings.
"I'll see you soon, Night. I swear...on my Trait."
Nivara suppressed a sob, her dragon's wings sheltering him as his breathing slowed to a halt. Kaldra protected her from the worst of the gruesome sight, Night's decaying scales and claws hidden beneath Kaldra's wingspan until finally, he took his last breath and turned to ash.
The grimoire opened the last of its pages in reverence to its unbroken contract and dutifully absorbed the dragon's soul into its binding. With a flash, Memoriam stitched itself back together as if nothing had ever happened and swept the ashes of the former Novawraith dragon aside.
The black grimoire slammed its restored contents shut, Nivara's sobs becoming drowned out by the crumbling ceiling and the rising mists concealing the room. Kaldra leapt into action as the tell tale warning of the orange hue intertwined with Nivara's Trait was just enough to obscure the descending dragon's vision. Ethros had arrived.
The sudden Transference between dragon and Traited sent Nivara spinning, her identity concealed once more by the tendrils of mist and the mask it instinctively protected. Kaldra tumbled headfirst into the cobblestones, her jaw clenched like a vice over her prize. The black grimoire immediately sprawled out of her grasp and floated towards the distraught Mist Maiden.
"Nessy? Are you alright?" Kaldra gasped, her wings struggling to reright herself from sprawling headfirst into the ground.
Nivara groaned, rubbing her skinned knees and attempted to get her long hair away from her tear stained face. Giving her hands something to do she quickly tucked her braid under her cloak and rubbed the tears away from her eyes.
They faded into mist but her hand remained brittle with flecks of ice like stars clinging to be seen against a storm lit sky. Nivara shook her hand free of the melting snowflakes and patted herself down before gingerly standing up and surveyed the area.
"Go, Kaldra. Before it's too late. I'll find a way to convince him so...just get it to Beggars End in one piece, OK?" Nivara attempted to divert attention away from her and back towards the task at hand.
The Mist Maiden brushed herself down and straightened her Everchange cloak, slightly disheartened that the rough landing had broken her mist illusion. But she was more than grateful to see the comforting clockwork walls of Axis. Kaldra nuzzled her neck, knowing full well why she had been brought here and charged with the black grimoires final resting place.
"I told you. I knew you'd make a wonderful Regent."