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Auresi.

A kingdom at odds with itself; once bursting with the energy and life of magic of the sort that the spirits of the land could be coerced into releasing, it was now ruled mainly by those who considered themselves above the belief of such preposterous notions.

Despite the royal family's wishes, aurus and arges - the magics of the realm - were being stifled. They welcomed the closeness to the spirits and energies of their kingdom, but the lords and ladies who governed much of the land on their behalf put little stock in that which was slowly but surely becoming uncommon to see.

However, as any periphery village could knowingly say, this weakening of belief could not continue indefinitely, as it had one critical obstacle.

Spirits are not too fond of being forgotten.

Kozmotis de Cendres stepped lightly from the threshold of his home. Unlike many other knights of his order, he had chosen to live apart from the castle. His home was quaint, not quite befitting for a knight, but it was where he had grown up and the bustling life of the castle was not his idea of peaceful living, after all.

He had made it not ten paces from the door when a girl - his daughter, Seraphina - darted across his path, long dark hair streaming behind her as she shrieked in delight. Seconds later a young boy scampered after her, yelling, "No fair, Sera! We were playin' Hide an' Seek, not tag!" His grin betrayed his joy, however, and he picked up his pace.

Kozmotis grinned and huffed a laugh to himself. So much for peaceful.

He watched after them, joined shortly by a stout man who clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Koz?" The man said playfully. Kozmotis turned to him, expression baleful as he shooed him away.

"Don't remind me, Sandy... I have been dreading it."

Arye Golding Sanderson, his childhood friend, looked nearly as atypical for this region as Kozmotis did himself. Despite the generally overcast skies and frequent rain, Arye's olive tan never faded. Kozmotis could not help but be aware of how opposite they must seem; His own pale, oddly grey skin and pitch-black hair contrasted sharply with the blonde who seemed to glow on the rare sunny days.

Arye's brother, Sera's playmate, was the same. Aodh was small for his age, but the sun gave him an appearance of unrivaled health and vitality, while Seraphina looked just as lean and grey as her father.

"An audience with Lord Unwin, you lucky dog," Arye chuckled sarcastically, "Oh, what a treat it will be!" His hazel eyes crinkled in mirth, gold flecks twinkling brightly as he suddenly became mock-excited, bouncing a little.

"I know! - he wants you to... scrub the castle floors? Hm? No, no, how about... Yes! Mucking out the stables. That's it. Lord Unwin would like to congratulate you on your promotion to... stable boy! There you go, what a lad! Here's your pitchfork," Arye offered the invisible tool, "and now you're off. No time to waste. But there will be plenty of waste, in time." He winked sillily at his own joke. Kozmotis grimaced.

"I wouldn't put it past him." His friend's jesting was helping to lighten his mood, but even so he was not going to enjoy speaking with the lord of the castle. He was sure the man had it out for him; Kozmotis had been knighted by Unwin's father, the late Lord Baldwin, and Unwin was not glad for the addition to the castle's order. He did not approve of much his father did, Kozmotis mused; immediately following Baldwin's death and Unwin's inheritance of the castle, he'd changed much to suit himself, and had never ignored a chance to antagonize Kozmotis. Perhaps he was ever hopeful he'd leave.

It could have been due to his ashy countenance, - a family trait - as Kozmotis knew his swordsmanship was nothing to scoff at and he had always been beyond reproach in all other matters. Still, there were those who could not get over their fear of the strange.

He was quite sure Lord Unwin was one of them. The man employed several advisory soothsayers, after all, and more than a few men who roamed his realm seeking anything out of the ordinary... and disposing of it. Kozmotis wondered dismally how he, strange as he looked, had not been involved in an unfortunate "accident" yet.

As though he had read his mind, Arye tsk'ed and punched him lightly on the arm.

"Cheer up, no need to frown, my friend... I'm reasonably certain he's not planning to kill you."

Kozmotis sighed heavily, staring at the ground. Suddenly he breathed a drawn-out whistle, paused to listen, and brushed past Arye with a false swagger as the distant sound of hoofbeats grew louder.

"No, no, of course not. He's going to give me a very important mission." He sniffed theatrically, and chuckled as he continued. "Something he would trust to no one else. I am his favourite after all..." He swung himself up onto a horse that had just trotted up; a fine, dark mare with a gold-blonde star peeking out from her silky mane.

"Mora, my dear, what do you think, eh? Will Unwin have some good news for me today?" The mare snorted, tossed her head and pawed the ground.

'My feelings exactly', Kozmotis thought, while Arye bent over with laughter, just managing to choke out "Good luck to you, Koz - and come back alive!". Kozmotis rode off, wishing he could treat that as a joke.

"I have a very important task for you, Sir Kozmotis," Lord Unwin drawled, once the knight had arrived, anounced himself, and knelt. "One I would trust to no one else."

"My lord?" Kozmotis could not believe it. In fact he did not. He was not singled out for anything in his favour; that was just not the way it was for him. What was Unwin up to?

"I will be brief. There is a child in a village not far from here. He has been suspected of witchcraft." He spat out the word as though he wished to be rid of it. "I'm told he is merely an Argix, but seek him out nonetheless."

Kozmotis bowed his head slightly. "Yes, my lord."

"And when you find him, kill him. He is far too dangerous." Unwin thumbed the fabric of his collar absently, tipping his head lazily toward a crackling brazier, staring into the embers. "Oh, and burn the body, mind you - can't have a witch-boy coming back in some other grotesque form, can we?" He grinned quickly, then chuckled. His smile dropped at the look on Kozmotis' face.

He was horrified. "A child, my lord? I'm not sure I... I do not think I understand." There it was; Unwin was trying to pawn off the dirtiest deed to his least favourite knight. Why hire a rat of an assassin who might enjoy the task, when he could force Kozmotis to do it?

Unwin looked down at him as though he'd said something idiotic.

"What's there to understand, Sir Kozmotis? The boy is a witch. It matters not that he is a child, but that he is a servant of the devil. Youth does not equate innocence in this matter. Well?" Unwin paused to confirm this with the knight, who was slowly and subtly shaking his head in disbelief from where he knelt on the floor.

"I..." Kozmotis lifted his eyes to the impatient lord, who had begun to drum his fingers on the finely-carved armrest in annoyance. "My lord, I am sorry. I know it is an order that I must obey, but in this I swear I cannot." The ash-skinned man looked into his lord's eyes, practically daring him to interrupt. Unwin's fingers stopped and clutched at the wood, knuckles whitening.

"Please understand," He said calmly. Unwin scoffed and looked away, clearly not wanting to hear this. Kozmotis continued regardless. "I will not kill a child." The coward might not meet his eyes, but Kozmotis would not avert his sharp gaze.

Unwin sat resting his chin in his palm, regarding a tapestry with such intent that Kozmotis felt he was being wholly ignored. He seemed to be considering something. Finally he spoke, his eyes sliding sidelong back to the knight.

"Ah, that's it, isn't it? You are a father, are you not? A girl, I believe... you have a daughter, yes?" Kozmotis shifted a little, taken slightly aback that Unwin knew anything at all about his personal life. He was not the sort of man to take interest in such trivial knowledge.

When Unwin widened his eyes pointedly to indicate an answer would be welcome, now, Kozmotis quickly nodded. Unwin nodded thoughtfully in return and lazily beckoned to one of his guards. He pointed to the door and the guard bobbed his head in affirmation, leaving with his comrades in tow.

"...And so, because you are familiar with a child of your own," he continued, "you feel sympathetic towards the boy... Am I correct?"

"Yes, I... I suppose that is correct, my lord. Although, I-" The drawling man cut him off sharply with a voice so cruel it was as though a snake spoke with Unwin's tongue.

"And it couldn't possibly be based on the fact that he is a witch, hm? Sir Kozmotis?"

Kozmotis froze. The atmosphere in the room suddenly became menacing. He felt as though a cold blade lay against his throat and that he'd been the one to walk right up against it. As he stared mutely at Lord Unwin, uneasy tremors crept into his very bones, making him feel shaken and queasy. This had all been planned; he was now sure of it. He had to leave, he had to-

The guards.

He stammered in shock and building rage, trying not to let panic creep into his voice. He failed.

"Wh-where did those men go... where have they gone, my lord?"

Lord Unwin did not answer, but settled his chin back against his palm; his jeweled fingers twinkling from where they rested near his growing smile.

Kozmotis leapt up, his entire torso crawling with a sickly cold. He was nearly past the giant doors when Unwin called after him, mirth and menace competing in his tone.

"Such a shame, really... she might have been spared, had you agreed..." The echo followed Kozmotis into the stone hallway, mocking him. His legs could hardly hold him up as the corridor seemed to spin. He just had to make it to Mora - he could catch them, run them down... they were no match for him. He could reach her in time.

He could save Seraphina.

He rode furiously, seeing nothing at all but red-tinted panic swirl before him as he rode blindly to his destination. Had he been himself, he might have noticed a lack of kicked-up dust ahead of him, and no sound at all of horses besides his own.

As it was, he arrived to his homestead to find no fight, no guards... just a deathly stillness. It was silent; Sera was nowhere in sight, and as he looked wildly around he could not see Arye or Aodh either. All he saw were the bodies of his neighbours, a kindly old man and his wife who Kozmotis had often left in charge of Sera. He gulped around a lump in his dry throat and approached the woman's body... Ava, her name was. In life she had been vibrant and lovely. Now she lay face-down in the dirt, run through. Kozmotis touched her gently, wishing her peace.

He pulled his hand away when she stirred. She lived-! But, her wounds made it clear that it was not to be for long. One eye stared unseeing past him while her wrinkled lips formed tiny, gasping words.

"As soon as... you left..." She breathed, clearly straining. "They-" She coughed weakly, sucking in dirt. "Se..ra..."

Her last breath left her. Kozmotis was filled with shame at not being able to take care of his dear friends right there and then, and give them more respect than Unwin's horrid guards had dealt them; but at the moment he knew they would tell him to not be a fool, that Sera was alive, and if he was to get her back he had not a moment to waste.

So he left them, gritting his teeth against tears of shame and fright.

He cursed his gullibility; he'd seen men ride past him to his homestead and thought nothing of it, deciding absently that maybe they were for Arye, and his mind had been too occupied with Unwin's summoning anyways. His ignorance might very well have cost him the last bit of family he had left. He tried not to think on it and instead concentrated on willing Mora into a furious pace.

He burst through the castle gates, Mora's hooves thundering as she carried him like smoke on the wind to where he was sure Seraphina would be, if the large groups of people drifting towards the bailey were any indication. More were milling about when he arrived in the open area, parting for him only because of Mora. They were shouting, cheering, booing, whistling - but not at the knight atop his horse; at the little ash-grey girl standing shakily on a newly-raised platform in the middle of the crowd.

Silence stuffed itself inside Kozmotis' ears, and too much, too much happened in the next instant.

Mora reared, her heavy body heaving and sweating, scattering the crowd.

He caught the eyes of his daughter, tearful and scared. His heart wrenched, his limbs froze.

The dark rope shifted against her neck.

Seraphina dropped.

Silence reigned to his own ears as Kozmotis roared in disbelief, spurring Mora into a gallop to the platform. Simple guards and daring knights alike stood between him and the nightmare of his daughter sickly dangling; he ran them down, berserk. Any of them could have been the fiends that betrayed him, and he cared not for their lives in the moment.

Mora carried him underneath Sera's little form, and Kozmotis choked back a sob as he thrust his sword through the rope. She dropped limply to his lap, and he cradled her with quaking arms.

His world shifted between black haze and swirling hands, tugging at him and trying to pull the body from his grasp, but he held tight in his fever and he felt himself slipping from Mora's solid back. He was lead away, half carried, half dragged, to the base of the platform. Rope bound him and Sera together, along with the thick post pressed dully against his back. Straw was shoved at his feet. Shouts came from all directions, but he heard nothing.

Sera's sweet, paling face lolled in his grasp and he wished for nothing more than for her eyes to open and, and...

A torch was placed upon his makeshift pyre. He welcomed it. Flames spread. His heart lightened.

The fire whipped ever upwards and lapped at him greedily. He awaited the sickening heat, for the flames to catch to his clothing and rip them and his flesh to air-light ashes. He would float with his dear girl away from this cruel life, together. He closed his eyes.

Suddenly, sound broke through his peace and gasps interspersed with cries of horror woke him to the fact that he was engulfed in flames, yet not touched by a single lick of heat. The burning smell he had assumed was his own body came instead from the thick ropes that bound him, now crumbling to nothing in the close conflagration.

A single word rang in his mind and his thoughts cleared.

Go.

He lurched forward, sending the crowd screaming and tripping over themselves to flee. Sera's body, rather than warming in the flames, grew colder and colder in death. He sobbed, confused, wide-eyed, stumbling forth and having the presence of mind to wet his lips with all he had left and whistle weakly for Mora.

Her captors had fled with the others and the stragglers were in no shape to hold her back. She came to him; a beauty among the streaming ashes and smoke, and he placed Sera gingerly atop her before climbing on the mare himself.

He had no strength to dwell on his miraculous escape. Wearily, he directed Mora out of the gates, meeting no resistance, and in fact, no one at all. He stayed awake long enough to point the black mare north, before slumping protectively over his silent daughter.

Thanks for reading! :) Please review if you have the time.

Notes and pronunciations: The title, place names/magic names are based off the latin words for gold(aurum) and silver(argentum).

Auresium (orr-EE-zium)
Auresi (orr-EE-see)
Aurus (ORR-uss)
Arges (ARR-jess)

Arye (ARR-ee)
Aodh (EE-deh; very soft 'deh')