Even here, on the highest floor of the Obsidian Keep, Kageyama could hear the screams of his people below. Small rocks pelted the locked windows; iron bars hid the blue stained-glass flowers. The pounding of the wooden doors below echoed throughout the castle. Sounds of misery and desperation poured into Kageyama's home. With most of his staff and most of his guards gone, only the sounds of the mob remained. His people. His citizens, come to demand help… or take revenge from their king, as they took revenge from his parents before him.

He sank down against the wall, fingers tangling in his hair and knees tucked close. Shadows crept closer, slipping around Kageyama like a cloak. Despite his best efforts to stop them, tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped onto the stone floor below.

He should have known it would end like this. Ten years of famine had driven the citizens to execute his parents. Execute was too humane a word for it, though. Too sterile of a word. He could still remember their screams as the crowd dragged them away, could still remember the reek of burning flesh as the first commander of the royal guard, Tanaka, dragged him away, pleaded with him to go back to the Obsidian Keep, where it was safe.

Where it used to be safe.

He never knew what to believe after that. His parents had been so loving and kind, at least—that's what he thought. But his tutors told him that his parents had been tyrants, had starved their people until they could starve no longer. He remembered Tanaka's livid words, remembered how furious he'd been when he found out what people had been saying.

Kageyama didn't know what the truth was. All he knew was that the kingdom's problems were his problems now, and unless he wanted to meet his parents' fate, he had to fix things. He walled off his emotions, he swore he wouldn't think of his parents, wouldn't linger in the past. He would fix things. It was his duty. It was the only way he would survive.

He'd tried everything. Everything. He'd opened up new land for the farmers, had instructed them to rotate their fields when nothing would grow. Still, the earth yielded only frost. He'd imported hardier seeds, hardier livestock. Even they had found this land to be nothing more than an early grave. Kageyama oversaw the mining of the foothills. He used the silver there to trade for food for his people and took nothing for himself, but the silver only lasted so long. He'd lead hunting expeditions, had taken back anything they'd found for his people. A deer or two wasn't enough. Most had left long ago for greener country. No matter what he did, his people suffered. Infants perished, their mothers too malnourished to produce milk. Plague claimed dozens and poured fear into the hearts of those who remained.

And now, now that it was all over, that precious wall that Kageyama had built in his heart to protect him from the terrible fate that hung over his head crumbled. The tears wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop shaking, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The despised crown lay on his bed across the room, staring accusingly—a reminder of the crushing responsibilities he never wanted. He'd tried everything, he reminded himself. He'd tried everything and still failed. He failed like his parents had, like his grandparents had before them, and he would die like they did, at the wrath of the people they were supposed to watch over and protect. He was the last of the Kageyama line, the last shadowalker. At least the suffering might end with him. The whole cursed royal family would be wiped out. It was better that way.

He'd never wanted to be king. He'd cursed the title a thousand times.

He didn't know what he was doing wrong—he worked so hard, tried everything, but nothing worked. And infuriatingly, the neighboring Kingdom of the Sun seemed to flourish without even trying. He could see the green fields from here, in the highest tower. Kageyama grit his teeth. He scrubbed at his eyes with a sleeve. What did they have that his kingdom didn't?

"Kageyama…."

A hand settled on Kageyama's shoulder. He looked up through disheveled black bangs to the only one left of the royal guard: Tanaka. The commander's silver eyes softened, and he knelt down beside Kageyama. The shadows retreated, sliding back to their homes along the edges of the walls and under furniture. Running his spare hand over the stubble on his head, Tanaka sighed. "We need to get you out of here," he murmured.

Kageyama's shoulders sank. It wasn't the first time the commander had suggested it. When Kageyama's last attempt to address the public had earned crossbow bolts to the balcony, he'd suggested it then, too.

"I can't run away," Kageyama whispered.

"You're too damn good for them."

Kageyama grit his teeth and shook his head. His hands tightened on his arms, nails biting in through his sleeves. "No. I'm not good enough. They are starving, Tanaka…. And I can't even find a way to save them. I've traded everything to the Kingdom of the Sun to try to help them. The treasury, the silver, the lumber. Anything and everything."

"Those bastards have it so good," Tanaka grumbled.

Kageyama nodded dismally. "Yeah." Silence welled between them for a moment, grim and hopeless. Kageyama wondered if this was how his parents had felt before they'd been dragged off. He looked down at his hand. Shadows gathered and danced in his palm. A useless flashy power that had done nothing to save his kingdom. He wondered why the royal legacy couldn't be a more useful, practical magic. "I wish they could send a little sunshine our way."

"Yeah."

Kageyama closed his eyes. He wondered how long he had left. He thanked the stars that Tanaka, despite everything, had stayed by his side when no one else had. At least he wasn't alone in these last hours.

The gravity of his last words hit him, belatedly. Straightening, Kageyama looked up at Tanaka. "Hey. What makes the Kingdom of the Sun so different anyway?"

Tanaka raised an eyebrow. He looked like he thought Kageyama had finally lost it. Maybe he had. "Um, I don't know? Different climate? Better soil? That kind of stuff?"

Kageyama's brows furrowed further. He stood up, his tears already fading and forgotten. "They're a small kingdom. Smaller than ours, right next to us. They should have the same climate. And the same soil."

"Well, they're not in the shadow of the mountains, I guess?"

"They're close enough."

Tanaka groaned and flopped down into a nearby chair. "Kageyama, what are you getting at?"

"They have something else. They must have something else, something we haven't considered."

"Okay. Great. Good for them. Why does that matter?"

"It does matter!" Kageyama flashed a half-hearted glare at his commander, and almost immediately regretted it. Tanaka was only trying to help. He took a steadying breath, and explained, "whatever it is that makes them so prosperous… if I can just figure it out then maybe I can save this kingdom, too. There has to be something. A secret, a talisman, I don't know—but there has to be a way to discover it. Or steal it, if necessary."

"Steal it?" Tanaka's expression hardened. "Kageyama…."

"I have to help them, somehow!" Kageyama snapped, hands clenching into fists. He strode over to the wardrobe, feeling certain for the first time in a long time, despite the way his commander was looking at him. He stripped down—to Tanaka's protests as the commander turned away making a face—and changed into something plainer. Black leggings and a dark blue button-up shirt replaced his finer regalia. He considered his reflection in the nearby mirror, smoothing down his dark hair. He looked almost… ordinary. Perfect.

"You're up to something," Tanaka grumbled.

"Hm."

"Care to tell your commander what you're plotting, at least?"

Kageyama pulled on his leather riding boots and threw on a black cloak. A simple silver clasp in the shape of a feather and the craftsmanship gave away some of its value, but it was plain enough to blend into a crowd. "I'm going to the Kingdom of the Sun." He hummed, considering packing more clothe. He didn't want to stand out with a large pack. He settled for packing a couple light changes of clothes, soap, and what little was left in the pantry of the keep: stale bread and a few morsels of dried meat. A small waterskin joined them. He pulled out his withered savings from the bottom of the trunk near his bed. It was a laughable amount; he'd given up almost all of it in trade—nearly every copper spent on seeds, chickens, anything he thought would help. Still, it was probably enough to live on for a few days. Maybe.

"Wait, wait, wait. I thought for just a second that you said you were going to the Kingdom of the Sun—which would be crazy and you definitely didn't just say that. I mean just because we're on good terms with them and they traded with us doesn't mean it's safe—" Tanaka's words stopped abruptly, and he looked at Kageyama with a strange expression. "Well…." As he fell silent, the distant roar of the crowd outside echoed through the room once more. "It's probably safer than here," he admitted, quietly. "But—just so we're clear, it's still crazy."

"I've tried everything else," Kageyama reminded him.

Tanaka groaned dramatically. "Don't be gone long."

"I won't."

"It is still dangerous—if they find out who you are you could be killed or kidnapped or who knows what—"

"I know."

"And you might not find anything there, maybe they are just—I don't know—lucky, and we're unlucky."

Kageyama slipped a dagger into his belt. It was too ornate for a commoner, but the cloak hid it well enough. "I know, Tanaka." He finished packing his things and closed the small bag, slinging it over a shoulder.

Tanaka sighed. He settled for "be careful out there, Kageyama."

"I will." Kageyama hesitated, feeling strange with the last of his coins packed up and a blade at his side, leaving the only home he'd ever known. It was almost a relief. "Tanaka… thank you. For everything."

He wasn't sure, but Tanaka's silver eyes seemed to glisten more than usual as he grimaced. "This isn't goodbye," the commander insisted. "I'm gonna see you to the border. Got it? And if you don't hurry back I'll drag you home myself. It's not goodbye, okay?"

Kageyama's shoulders relaxed. He felt safer just having the commander looking out for him. "Yeah," he agreed. "And thanks."

"Well, it is my job," Tanaka joked, slapping Kageyama on the back.

Kageyama felt the corners of his lips tug up into a grin. "Still."

As the two made their way out through a service entrance and over to the stables, Tanaka joked and talked, filling the space between them. Even if the commander's voice was tense, it was a welcome reprieve from the cacophony of complaints around them. Kageyama kept the hood of his cloak pulled low and kept the shadows close, even after Tanaka's mare was saddled. The two rode tandem away from the Obsidian Keep, away from the capital, until the sounds of angry crowds faded behind them.

With the Shadow Mountains at their back, they rode into the dismal countryside. Frost-tipped boulders broke through the rocky soil. The road before them wound through rolling hills, graced with only the hardiest sagebrush and skeletal trees. Crows circled above, crying loud complaints, probably as hungry as the people they'd left behind. As they rode, Tanaka reminded Kageyama of all the things he already knew. To be careful. To not tell anyone his surname. To return quickly. Kageyama reassured him that he could use his shadows to communicate from afar if need be—it could be exhausting, but he promised to use if it necessary. He reminded Tanaka that it would be a quick mission. In and out. Just a couple days. He could always regroup and return later if needed.

After a few hours, signs of life appeared. Small tufts of stubborn grass sprung up between the rocks. Other birds joined the crows—little finches and mockingbirds filled the air with song. Trees straightened, buds appeared, and eventually the groves that surrounded them were lush and green and full of life. Squirrels chattered and threw acorns down at the two, and birds chased each other through the boughs. Tiny wildflowers dotted the grass below. Dragonflies hummed past them, on the way to unknown waters.

"We've crossed the border, haven't we?" Kageyama asked, one hand held out as a fearless blue butterfly landed to inspect him.

"Yeah," Tanaka told him, tone serious. "Doesn't look like anyone's watching the border though, so I can take you a bit further. No sense in hiking longer than you have to."

As they made their way further into the Kingdom of the Sun, two things became apparent. First, and most importantly, the border was completely unguarded. Kageyama had thought when they first crossed that the kingdom only maintained occasional watch towers to keep an eye on the perimeter, but another hour passed, and still there were no guards, no watch towers. Nothing to keep outsiders from trespassing here. And, second, the Kingdom of the Sun was far more prosperous than Kageyama had ever imagined. He and Tanaka stopped to share an armful of wild apples for lunch, and the grass grew so long that it brushed Kageyama's waist. The emerald hills were freckled in color. Wildflowers nodded in the breeze to the bees and butterflies that flitted from one to the next. Deer peeked out from the trees to watch the riders, and the frigid cold that Kageyama had grown so accustomed to faded to pleasant warmth. The sun which always seemed so pale and weak at home in Ombra was so bright here he had to squint; he could feel warmth settle on his skin like a radiant blanket. Dark, low clouds clung to the earth behind them, but here only soft white wisps broke the brilliant blue above them.

The sunlight glistened on something white just over the hill. A citadel, as white as snow. The capital: the famed City of Light.

It was strange. There was no wall around the city, no visible perimeter. Quaint brick and stone buildings gathered around the citadel, but there was no thing to mark the city limits. The capital was just a loose gathering of homes and shops, with farms and pasture beyond.

A river ran through the capital. The same river that ran through the capital of Kageyama's country—but where it ran slow and murky back home, here it was clear and rushing.

"This is probably as far as I should take you," Tanaka said.

Kageyama slid down from the mare and gave her a reassuring pat. "Thanks, Tanaka. I'll be quick."

"In and out."

"In and out," Kageyama echoed.

"And I'll camp outside the city. No one's watching this place so it should be fine—so if anything comes up send a message and I will be there, got it?"

Kageyama nodded. "I'll be in touch," he promised.

The two stood for a moment, awkward silence falling between them as Kageyama tried to find the right words. He held out a hand. "Thank you, for everything, Tanaka—I'll be back as fast as I can. I will find a way to fix this. I swear."

Tanaka batted Kageyama's hand away and pulled him into a bear hug, squeezing him so tight that Kageyama struggled to breathe for a moment. He hugged Tanaka back, relaxing a little. "Come back safe, and come back soon," Tanaka reminded him.

"I will. I'll see you soon, I promise." Kageyama gave Tanaka what he hoped was a brave smile, and turned toward the citadel, making his way down to the city.

Kageyama slipped into the City of Light through alleyways and back roads, weaving the shadows around him like a second cloak as he made his way into the heart of the city. He all-but disappeared next to the brick walls he edged along, and for the first time in a long time felt thankful for the royal magic he wielded. Only a few alley cats seemed to notice him; they paid him no mind.

The further he walked, the more it became apparent that stealth was unnecessary. He'd expected guards, but if there were any, they were few and far between. People laughed and talked as they walked down the cobbled roads instead, and dogs lazed in the sun with the occasional tail wag and sigh. Cats perched on rooftops and stalked mice behind quaint little shops, and all around Kageyama a thousand windows displayed a thousand goods, from sweet-smelling pastries to fine clothes, jewelry, and metalware. Apothecaries showcased infusions in dark glass bottles, and tailors hung colorful silks and examples of their best work—dresses and jackets, formal robes and the most delicate ruffled shirts.

Kageyama's steps slowed automatically as he admired the city. The pleasant, happy chatter of its people, the easy-going pace of passersby. He took in the plethora of fine shops and the scent of fresh-baked bread and perfume that mingled around him. His shadows slid away, forgotten.

A crowd gathered ahead, blocking part of the road, and the low chitchat of passing conversation collected into a murmur around him. Kageyama's steps slowed. He inched his way through the crowd automatically, to catch sight of what was had gathered so many. He had no leads yet—he might as well find out what was going on.

The cause for all of the attention was clear immediately. At the center of the crowd stood a young man with flowers woven into unruly, fiery hair and a smile brighter than the sun above. Although he stood a full head shorter than Kageyama, his very presence commanded attention in a way that had nothing to do with the delicate gold crown perched among the blossoms on his head. He was radiant, in all senses of the word. He glowed with light; it pooled in his amber eyes and glimmered among the wild strands of ginger hair like a halo. It gathered around his chest, a soft warm glow, and lingered in faint motes that drifted around him. But… it was so much more than that. It would be a crime to call him beautiful; the word paled in comparison to the boy. Kageyama forgot to breathe in his presence.

His eyes were warm and bright, framed in long, coppery lashes. Emotions flitted across them as he spoke, and his soft lips curved into a beaming smile beneath a graceful, petite nose. Even Kageyama's most inspired fever dreams could never weave beauty so stunning. It took every ounce of Kageyama's willpower not to walk right up to the boy and reach out—just to be sure that he was real.

Despite his slender waist and narrow shoulders, the way the boy moved hinted at strength. And his voice… it was unlike any Kageyama had ever heard. Even though he gestured wildly and half his words were onomatopoeias, the way he spoke was candid and pure, and his voice was more music than sound. It was soft and melodic, pure and sweet.

Hinata Shouyou: king of the land that Kageyama trespassed on. His presence screamed royalty. Despite his common way of speaking, every word drew rapt attention. The fiery hair stood out from the brunettes and blondes surrounding him even more than Kageyama's black locks. And although his bell-sleeved white shirt looked simple at first glance, silver embroidery flashed in the sunlight with every gesture he made.

And that glow—the warm light that swelled around him, gathered to his chest, his eyes, his hands and head… it had to be magic. His royal legacy. Like anyone else in the crowd, Kageyama couldn't take his eyes off of the young king. He forgot about the crowd around them, forgot about the stealth he should be depending on to survive. He listened, instead, to king Hinata. He listened until Hinata chirped, "that's it everyone, thanks for coming! Have a good rest of your day!"

And even then, he couldn't tear himself away. The crowd faded around them, and for a moment—just for a split second, Hinata's eyes met his. Amber met blue, and Hinata's eyes lit up with curiosity. The redhead's lips parted in surprise right before reality caught up with Kageyama. Kageyama ducked into a nearby alleyway, weaving shadows heavily around him. His chest heaved as he remembered how to breathe, and his hands shook against the wall. No one followed him into the alleyway. No guards. No angelic redhead. No random strangers.

Come to think of it… he hadn't seen a guard of any kind around Hinata. No one armed or official looking. And he hadn't seen a blade or any sort of weapon on the other king.

Either Hinata was incredibly stupid, or incredibly brave. Even if his people loved him… and it was obvious they did, Kageyama's presence was more than enough to show how much danger the other king was putting himself in. He had waltzed right into the capital, right into one of Hinata's audiences. He could have walked right up to him and carried him off if he'd chosen to. He didn't understand.

Kageyama peeked around the corner of the alleyway, and spotted the small redhead still where he'd left him. He waved at someone as they left, then stretched, stifling a yawn. It was infuriatingly cute. And Kageyama cursed himself under his breath for thinking so. He couldn't get soft with the other king. He had to find out what made the Kingdom of the Sun so special, and how he could use it to help his people. That's it. No distractions. And when Kageyama found himself following Hinata at a safe distance, still wreathed in shadows, he told himself it was because Hinata was his only lead. And not because of the way his heart quickened every time the redhead smiled or glanced back in his direction.

Hinata's magic was the only clue he had. And, when he watched Hinata hum thoughtfully as a farmer described his worries, he realized the Kingdom of the Sun's secret far more profound than he'd ever realized. Hinata knelt down in the barren earth. Dirt stained his ivory leggings as he spread his palms over the ground. He opened his mouth, and the sound that came out was nothing short of divine. Soft, soothing song poured from him, full of love and sweetness, every note pure and warm. The light that gathered near him always grew brighter, wider. It radiated from him in soft rays, and the earth responded in kind. The soil turned darker, richer. Small green seedlings poked up from below to spread miniscule leaves and soak in those brilliant rays. Nearby butterflies flocked to Hinata, landed in his hair and on his shoulders. One last, sweet note left Hinata's lips, and then he was pushing himself back to his feet, patting the dirt from his hands (and forgetting the dirt on the knees of his pants). As most of the butterflies moved on, Hinata brushed off praise from the farmer he'd helped.

Kageyama trailed after Hinata as he made his way back into the heart of the city. He stared after the smaller boy in shock. The secret of the Kingdom of the Sun's success… was Hinata. It flourished because of him. Not because of climate or the nearby Shadow Mountains. Not because of good soil or random luck. It was him. It was the delicate redhead with dirt-stained knees and a crooked crown nestled among scattered flowers.

And that knowledge made Kageyama's mission so much simpler, and so, so much more complicated.