Two days had passed since her talk with Ben Finn at the steps of the temple. Kirvi was dangling her legs over the cliff face she and Opal frequented most, peering over the edge at the few people that braved the midday sun to get their shopping done. Even during the day, when no shadows could hide from the searing heat of the desert sun, people were panicked and fearing of the Darkness that could come at any second. She was one of the few who would wander the town as she pleased, despite the ever lingering fear of death.

Humming to herself, she inched a little closer to the ledge so she could see the city from a better angle. The door to her house opened, but before one of her siblings—it was too far to tell just which one—could run out into the streets, an arm shot out and yanked the child back inside. Her mother refused to lose her children as she had lost her husband.

She shifted a little closer. She could see across the expanse of Shifting Sands if she stretched her neck enough. Only the heels of her hands and the edge of her bottom were still on the cliff; her legs were hanging over the edge, totally free in the warm breeze.

"That looks a little dangerous."

The scream tore from her throat before she realized what had happened. Startled, she jumped, and her stomach and heart lodged in her throat, cutting off the screech as her hands slipped from the rough rock that was her perch.

"Oh, shit—Kirvi!"

Just as she began the weightless plunge off the side of the terrifyingly high cliff, something hard thudded into her, shoving all air from her lungs. Struggling to breathe, she choked as she continued falling. Wind whipped at her clothes, ripping her hair from its bun. The heavy thing clinging tightly to her body held strong.

She found her voice a moment later, and she screamed as loudly as she could, orally freeing her dread.

A loud boom shut her up, and a huge blast of energy and sand billowed past her, enveloping her in strange, tingling heat. She jerked, flailing, as the blast actually slowed her descent.

A second later, the breath was knocked out of her again as she slammed heavily onto the ground.

Kirvi blinked rapidly, staring up at the flawless blue sky. Her breath came back into her in a painful heave, and her chest rose frantically as she pumped air back into her lungs.

The lumpy form she was sprawled on groaned, and she gasped, rolling to the side to see Christopher staring at the sky, jaw hanging open as he struggled to breathe.

"Christopher!" she squeaked, and gawked at him, too stunned to try helping him up. "How are you alive?"

He moaned and lifted stiff arm to rub his face. "Ow. Oh, hell, ow." He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto his bottom, swearing and groaning the whole time. "Remind me to never do that again. It doesn't hurt as bad if I land on my feet."

Kirvi's gaze rose up to the ledge she had been sitting on only seconds before. They shouldn't have survived. At least—he shouldn't have, not if he had landed beneath her.

He rubbed the back of his head and awkwardly stretched. "Ow. Holy. Ow. Are you okay?" he asked, cringing.

She gawked at him. "Um… yes…"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you would've heard me, but I guess you didn't, and…" He winced again and gripped his shoulder. "Ow."

Wide-eyed, she shuffled backwards the slightest bit. "Christopher… how are you alive?"

Baring his teeth in a grotesque grimace, he crawled onto his hands and knees. Kirvi's already bugged eyes grew wider. The back of his shirt was torn open in several places, and blood leaked through, blossoming into the thin fibres of the dirty white tunic. "Um, it's something to do with, ugh, being a Hero," he muttered, carefully standing up. His legs wobbled, and he paled several shades, looking ready to collapse. "We, uh, have strong bones… or something…"

Kirvi stared up at him. She was only sore—and startled. He looked like he had just risen from the dead. "What… what happened? And sit down before you hurt yourself more."

Christopher didn't so much sit as he did fall back down. "I thought I'd surprise you," he explained, talking slowly and carefully, and every word was enunciated with pain. "Apparently I surprised you too much. I knew I'd be all right if I landed down here, but you? Not likely. Ow," he hissed again, grabbing his side. Kirvi merely watched him. She was too surprised to do anything but. "I grabbed you when you fell. I tried using force push to slow us down—which helped, some. And I managed to twist around so I'd land on the bottom. Ta-dah."

Force push. That must have been the hot energy that jostled her so badly. And the boom. Still, it didn't explain much. "What is force push?" she asked desperately.

He stuck out his arm to the side, and she watched, awed, as a tiny, bluish blast of energy erupted from the leather glove around his forearm. It sent a shockwave rippling through the sand around them, and a small, warm wind brushed her face.

"I'm too tired for anything better. Sorry." He curled his arm back into his body and screwed his eyes shut. "As useful and lucky that it was I had force push at the ready, I think I'm going to switch it up for fire again."

It slowly dawned on her. "That… that was your will? Your magic?" She resisted the urge to wiggle her fingers just as Ben Finn had when they were talking two days before. She could feel the sheer surprise of falling off the cliff and surviving ebbing away, to be replaced by hysteria.

Another tiny pulse shot out of the gauntlet, and dissipated with a tiny sigh.

"Yeah."

Something barked behind them, echoing off the cliff wall, and Kirvi glanced over her shoulder, past her windblown hair, to see Logie sprinting toward them, yelping frantically. He skidded up to his master and quickly began licking Christopher's face, whining and wagging his tail quickly enough to be a blur.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, boy," the prince mumbled, pushing his goatdog off him. The animal barked again and bounced around Christopher's head, tongue lolling out in a big grin.

"Are you?" Kirvi asked.

He nodded and exhaled slowly. "It's just like when I fell by the demon door."

She frowned, not understanding, and gave his leg a sharp stare.

Christopher groaned and gazed blankly at the sky, obviously trying to smother his pain. "It hurt a lot, but I should've been more hurt, eh? And my leg should still be in pain, but it isn't. It felt better the next day. Just give me a little time. I'll be fine soon."

Kirvi nodded, still confused, and absently brushed her long black hair away from her face, using her fingers to fix the tangles. She stared at him, perplexed. His explanation helped things, sure, but she was still a little lost. "Christopher… where have you been?"

His sparkling brown eyes flicked her way, and he winced again, though this time it didn't look as though it was from the pain of falling onto his back. "I was… um… I was in my Sanctuary," he admitted with a very heavy sigh. Tediously raising his hand, he covered his eyes and rubbed his temples. "After we spoke that night at the oasis, I just couldn't stay here. I held back the memory of Elise for so long since it happened—and it's only been a few months. I had to be alone for a while."

So Ben was right again. The Sanctuary was a real thing.

She was beginning to think that Ben's words had to be taken seriously, despite how light-hearted they may seem.

"Can we go back to your house, Kirvi? I think I need to lay down on something that didn't just try to break my back."

"Oh! Yes, of course." She climbed slowly to her feet, and discovering that she wasn't broken and could still walk fine, she helped him up and they wandered back into the city.

It took much longer than it should have, because despite being impervious to brutal falls, Christopher was still weak. People stared blatantly as they hobbled into town, leaning on each other for support as Logie sprinted in circles around them, barking and occasionally veering off to chase the local chickens.

Just as they were about to make it to her yard, where they would hopefully make it into the loft without too much trouble, a loud voice shouted, "Hey! Chris!"

They paused and looked back at the market as Ben trotted up to them, waving to get their attention.

Christopher groaned softly. "Hello, Ben."

"Where've you been? We've all been worried sick." Ben slapped Christopher's shoulder, and didn't seem to notice as the younger man nearly buckled. "Walter woke up, eh?"

Kirvi scowled at Ben as Christopher perked up. "He did?"

Ben laughed and shook his head. "No, but I got you going there. Were you at the Sanctuary?"

"Yes."

"Elise?"

"Yes."

"Better now?"

"Yes." Christopher's voice grew darker and more irritated every time he said the word.

"Good." Ben nodded at Kirvi, then stopped and frowned. "Well, you two are awfully out of breath. Did something happen?" He arched his brows at Christopher, and the prince growled menacingly.

"We fell off a cliff, Ben," he snapped, then groaned and grabbed his side again. "Ow. I travelled right behind her and she didn't hear me and I scared her off the edge. All right?"

Ben held up his hands and stepped back. "All right, all right, I get the point. You should get some rest then, Chris. I'll keep looking out for ol' Walter up there."

Hope rose up in Christopher's dark eyes. "Is he…?"

"Doing better, Kalin says." Ben smiled slightly; a true genuine gesture, rather than his usual cocky grins. "He groaned the other day while you were gone. I couldn't wait to tell you. It's the most active he's been yet."

Christopher chuckled softly and shook his head. "It's a start. He'll be better soon."

Ben nodded and the smile widened. "He sure will. Go heal up, Hero. See you guys around."

Kirvi murmured a soft goodbye to the captain before helping Christopher through the fence to the backyard of her family's hut. Together, with Logie still circling them, they made it into the storehouse and up the ladder to the loft, before both passing out on the blankets and cushions, sleeping away the pain.

—

Kirvi woke up sometime in the dark of night. She slowly pushed herself off Christopher's legs and looked around the loft. Soft silver moonlight shone in through the cracks and windows of the storehouse, and outside she could hear nothing more than the desert winds and Logie grunting in his sleep. Beside her, Christopher was snoring loudly. Likely what woke her up.

She shuffled over to his side so she wasn't sprawled on his legs anymore, and stole a glance at his back as she did. It was still bloodied and his shirt was still torn, but it didn't seem to be causing him any discomfort as he slept.

Amazed, she lightly touched one of the huge purple blotches that was already covering most of his back. He continued snoring away, not even noticing.

Propping herself against the wall by his head, she sighed and looked around the loft as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Well. She was perfectly awake and doubted much success in trying to sleep again.

Glancing down, she looked at Christopher again. The gauntlet shed a slight bit of pale blue light against his face where it was pressed, illuminating the whiskers on his cheeks and adding dramatic shadows to his slack, sleeping face.

She smiled slightly. He looked like a little boy. With a beard.

With that, she slapped his face and he squawked, jerking awake and thudding his head against the low roof.

"Ow, Archon, why would you make me do that?" he whined, clutching his head and grimacing at her.

"Your snoring woke me up. It is only fair you are awake too. Although," she added, smirking, "I didn't mean for you to hit your head."

Christopher scowled at her and rubbed his head so his already messy hair fluffed up even more. "Well, thanks. Now that I'm awake, what do you want?"

Kirvi bit her lip and glanced out one of the small square windows of the loft. The desert seemed utterly at peace beyond the City of Aurora. "I do not know. I…" She cast a wary glance his way and his scowl deepened. "Do you want to see Shifting Sands, Christopher?"

His jaw slowly creaked open. "What? You're offering to take me into the desert? But I thought it was too dangerous. I thought Kalin had forbidden it."

"Well, she discourages us, but it is not forbidden. Not yet. And if we get caught and get into trouble," she added with a shrug, "we can plead innocence. After all, I am but a child and you are a foreigner. How were we supposed to know?"

A slow smile spread across his scruffy face. "You're right. Are you sure about this, Kirvi?"

She hesitated, looking down at her hands. "Only if you promise to keep me safe."

The smile morphed abruptly into a grin. "Of course. I can do that. I'll be right back."

Kirvi watched, expecting him to get up and run outside to pee, but rather he was quickly enveloped in cool blue light. Her mouth hung open and she reached out to touch it, but just as her fingers would have brushed the tingling force field, it was gone and so was Christopher.

She waited, awestruck, for several minutes. She knew he was coming back from—wherever—when the air began to prickle and shimmer, and the blue light streaked down from the ceiling.

Then there he was. Sitting there like he had never left.

Only this time, the scruffy beard was gone, he had a different shirt on, and there were weapons on his hip and back.

Grinning widely, like a little boy being given candy, he hopped off the loft and held up his arms for her. "Ready?"

Kirvi gawked, and had a ping of regret as she followed him out of the storehouse.

She led the way through Aurora. There weren't any people out, but she knew they had to be careful. She was only vaguely aware of the trouble they would be in if they were caught fleeing the city in the dead of night to explore the desert. Kalin would be furious. Her mother would likely ban her from ever laying eyes on Christopher again.

Even Logie seemed to understand the necessity to stay quiet. He peered up at them as he trotted alongside Kirvi, his tail hanging beneath his legs and his dark, shiny nose twitching. Christopher bent and patted the goatdog's head, whispering something soothing, before straightening and slinking after her into the shadows.

Kirvi nervously scanned the city one last time to be sure that nobody had seen them creep toward the exit. Once comfortable that they were the only living things wandering the city, she pressed a finger to her lips and hurriedly jogged out of Aurora and into the desert of Shifting Sands.

Christopher lunged past her down the stairs into the desert, whooping with excitement. Logie barked, sprinting past him and burying his nose in the sand as if he hadn't been free to play in months. Kirvi slowed and smiled as she watched Christopher skid down into the loose golden sand, picking up handfuls of the stuff. Being cooped up in a foreign city hadn't been good for him, she knew; freedom was what he needed. Freedom to make his own choices and go where he pleased.

She finished walking down the steps and Christopher ran up to her, red-faced and grinning.

"You really wanted out, didn't you?" she teased, smirking at him.

Christopher laughed and scratched at his messy hair. "I don't like being trapped. The servants and nobles at home always thought it strange that I would leave Bowerstone Castle to explore the city or the countryside. Spending a few days or weeks in one place is fine, but after that, I like to move."

She waved a finger at him. "I do not think you are meant to be a prince, Christopher."

His brows rose. "What do you mean?"

She giggled and flicked his nose, making him snort. "I think you are meant to be an explorer. You want to move. You want to be free. Princes cannot do that."

He rubbed his nose. "And I think you're too wise for a sixteen year old girl."

Kirvi shrugged one shoulder and held onto his arm to keep from slipping on the sand. "Show me your will?"

Christopher grunted and held up his hands. This time there were two gloves, rather than just one. "You want to see more magic tricks? Sure."

"You have two?"

"I rarely use two. But yes, I have two. This is fire." He held up his right hand. "This is vortex." Left. "My favourite combination if I have to use two gauntlets. Again. Rare. I prefer using my pistol." He slipped the beautiful weapon in question from its holster on his hip and twirled it elegantly in his fingers before putting it away once more. Kirvi grinned, exhilarated by the show.

Christopher took several steps back, nearly slipping on the sand, and held up his arms beside him. "Stay there. You'll be safe. Trust me."

Kirvi nodded enthusiastically and waited.

His fingers curled into claws as they spread out to his sides. The sand whispered, and he moved his feet to the sides to widen his stance, to brace himself. His knees bent. And the gloves binding his hands began to glow.

Kirvi watched in awe as the gauntlets lit up. Shimmering orange and silver light burst into existence around his hands, and a second later they combusted. Fire erupted over one hand, spitting and flickering as a breeze began circling him. His hair was whipped around his head and his clothes pressed around his body. The wind picked up. The fire rose to a growl.

It encircled him, flying and growing to a roar.

The shriek of the wind and the flames grew louder, and the fierce whirlwind spread outward, the fire licking the sand and creeping toward her toes.

Kirvi gasped and backed up, but she caught Christopher's gaze through the whipping flames. His eyes told her to stay put.

Suddenly, there was an explosive boom and the fire blasted outwards in a miniature explosion. A blast of hot air shot outwards and washed over her, and harmless fire lapped at her skin and hair, sending heat over her entire body before dissipating into nothing.

And Christopher was crouched on the sand, eyes sparkling as they locked on hers, mouth pulled into a proud smirk.

Her mouth was hanging open, and she was pleasantly warm all over, from the whirling fire and the strange tingle that she was beginning to associate with magic—with will.

"That… was incredible," she murmured, slowly walking up to him. Besides a crater where the wind had shoved away the sand, the ground at his feet was untouched.

Christopher straightened and dusted off his hands. "Thanks." A film of perspiration sparkled on his forehead and his breathing was slightly heavy. It had sapped his energy. "Good to know someone appreciates it for its beauty."

"It is an amazing and powerful gift," she remarked, smiling as she reached out and tentatively touched the leather gauntlet. It was the fire one; it was slightly warm still from its exercise.

He started to nod, but stopped midway. His eyes stared over her shoulder, wide and startled, and his jaw slowly dropped. Kirvi frowned, her hand falling to her side. "Kirvi…" he whispered as his dog barked, panicked, "what is that?"

Nervousness shot through her as she turned. Far behind them, but not far enough to be unnoticed, slim black figures were slowly stalking toward them, weapons brandished.

"Sand furies," she hissed, horror lancing her heart. Before the Darkness had overwhelmed Aurora, the sand furies had been their only major predator—the only thing, besides dehydration and disorientation, that they had to worry about when they ventured into the inhospitable desert.

Christopher's arm shot over her, pushing her back behind him. Logie was barking frantically, circling them with his tail tucked between his legs.

The pistol clicked as Christopher pulled it from the holster. "Be careful," he whispered, giving her arm a tight squeeze before slowly lifting his gun. The barrel pointed straight to the fury in the lead, its aim true. His arm didn't even shake. "Stay close to me. I promise they won't hurt you."

Kirvi's fingers loosely gripped his shirt, and she watched, terrified, as the sand furies lurked closer.

Finally, just as the leader bent its knees and growled, ready to pounce, Christopher's finger smoothly pulled back the trigger.

With a boom that made her scream, the gun discharged and the fury shrieked, collapsing back on the sand with a spray of dark blood.

Shot into action, the rest of the dark-swathed creatures leaped forward, screeching loud enough for their voices to echo off the canyon walls. The loose sand exploded around them as they launched off the ground, flipping forward as they wrenched out their weapons of choice.

Christopher didn't waste any time. Within moments, three of the sand furies fell to the ground, screaming as they clutched at the blood bubbling from their wounds.

"Do you know how to reload a gun?" he shouted as he unloaded his next shot. The sand fury dodged the shot, and the bullet sank uselessly into the sand.

Kirvi shook her head and added a pitiful, "N-No!"

He grunted and fired a sixth shot. It seemed to be the last; he stuffed the pistol back into its holster and ripped the long sword from his back. It flew from its sheath with a metallic ring; as soon as it was in his hands, Christopher dropped his stance, bending his knees and holding up the blade, waiting for the sand furies to come closer.

Kirvi screamed as he jumped forward and swiped at the closest monster. The tip of his sword caught in the front of its strange black robes, but the fury leaped back before major damage could be done. It pulled out its strange, curved sword and screamed as it sliced it sideways. Christopher neatly parried it away and spun, cutting the chest of another creature before yanking back his arm and sending the blade through the gut of the first. He ripped his sword from the fury, and it shrieked as it collapsed in the sand, writhing and staining the grains horrible dark red.

Logie burst out of thin air behind Kirvi and pounced on the fallen fury, snapping his jaws at its exposed neck.

Horrified, she looked away, still clinging to Christopher's back.

Christopher moved fluidly as he brought the sword down on the next sand fury. He barely took any time to finish it off before jumping to the next one, grunting as he brought up his bloodstained blade. Logie would pin the fallen creatures, ripping out whatever remained of their lives as he snarled and bit.

With an echoing shriek and a wet crunch, the final sand fury fell to the ground, twitching in its final throes. Christopher yanked his sword from its gut, panting as he stumbled back and smiled awkwardly at Kirvi. Sweat glistened on his brow, plastering his unruly hair to his face, and blood speckled him everywhere, staining his clothes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, shakily sheathing his sword. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

She hastily shook her head, quaking all over. "I am fine. I am unhurt… you… you are the finest warrior I have ever seen, Christopher," she whispered, her fingers quivering as she reached out and lightly touched the blood speckles over his shirt. His chest was heaving beneath her hands. "You did not even get scratched…"

He grinned, showing off his somewhat straight teeth as he wiped off his forehead. Blood streaked across his skin. "Thanks. I think it's a Hero thing. Plus, those things—those sand furies—aren't that difficult to fight."

She gawped at the mass of bodies around them. The first to die were beginning to collapse beneath their black garments; the dead flesh looked to be turning into sand, going back to the desert.

"I…" She shuddered, and his hands suddenly came up to her shoulders. "Oh…"

"Are you all right?" When he received no answer, Christopher held her closer and whistled sharply. Nearby, Logie barked and trotted closer. "Hold still," the prince whispered, and Kirvi obeyed, pressing her face into his chest and digging her fingers into his chest.

Cool, tingly blue light burst into existence around their bodies, covering them in a column of magic. Kirvi gawked, amazed, as it enveloped them until nothing of Shifting Sands could be seen beyond the shimmering azure.

Then her feet touched hard stone, and the blue faded away.

As Christopher groaned, muttering something about hating cullis gates, and Logie whined and limped over to a bed nearby, Kirvi looked around, jaw hanging open. They were in a cavernous room, as large as the Aurora temple, lined with doors and pillars. A large table squatted in the centre of the circular room, with mountains and colourful paint covering the surface. A map. Little wooden pieces were placed on a yellow bar on one side, and Kirvi shuffled forward after Christopher. In the Albion tongue, across the yellow bar, it read Aurora. The pieces obviously marked out where Christopher was in his travels.

Several shelves lined one part of the wall to her left, near the basket where Logie was curled up, sighing heavily. And from one of the doors on the right, where she could just see a small pile of something shiny and yellow, an aged man stepped out, hands tucked politely behind his back.

He smiled, but surprise shone in his eyes. Bowing quickly, he said, "Good evening, sire. Looking a little worse for the wear, are we?"

"I am exhausted, Jasper." Christopher sat on the edge of the map table, rubbing his face. He was smeared with blood.

"I can see that, sire. May I ask who this lovely young lady is?" The old man's smile widened, deepening the already bold lines etched across his face. He gave another deep bow and said, "I am Jasper, madam, servant and friend of Prince Christopher here. And you are?"

"Kirvi," she replied, unsure how to make her title more pompous. "Where are we?"

"This, madam, is the Sanctuary. A safe haven for our dear prince here, as it was for his father before him. It is a place to relax, to become tranquil, and to store anything he may pick up along his travels." Jasper waved an arm to the doors. "A nice apartment, if you will. A bit bare of furniture, but it does its job quite well."

She gazed at the beautiful stonework of the room. It was unlike anything that they had in Aurora, where the building supplies were rare and difficult to work. "Oh. It is incredible. Are we safe here?"

"From anything, madam. Nothing can penetrate this room, besides another Hero, and we have yet to pick up another in our travels." Jasper smiled warmly again. "May I get you anything, madam? You look rather shaken."

"Tea," Christopher rasped. His breathing had calmed, and he was sprawled on top of the table, staring at the ceiling. The wooden pieces were knocked over beside his hip. "Tea and hot water and new clothes. For both of us. Please," he added belatedly.

Jasper nodded and bowed. "Very well, sire. I shall return in a moment." With that, the well-dressed old man trotted into one of the doors, vanishing down the hallway.

Kirvi gently ran her hands over the lip of the table. The wood was beautifully polished, shining and perfect. "This is amazing," she murmured, nudging Christopher's dangling knee with her hand. "You are so lucky to have it."

Christopher chuckled softly. "I like it. It's definitely a place to go when I need it. Jasper was right."

"This is the Jasper you mentioned?" She glanced back at him, wandering across the room to see a framed piece of paper on the wall. It was a pledge with Christopher's messy signature on the bottom. He was promising to help recover and rebuild the lands stolen by King Logan to the Dweller people of the northern mountains. She didn't know what it meant, but somewhere inside her, she hoped Christopher would uphold the vow.

"It is. He's been my servant since I was a boy, living back at the castle." He gave a low chuckle, and she heard the rustle of his clothes as he pushed himself up. "He would always keep it to himself when Elise snuck into the castle."

Kirvi sighed softly and looked away from the pledge. He would mention his fiancée again, wouldn't he? She didn't want to hear about the girl. She was uncomfortable with the idea of even listening to stories about her.

"He seems very nice." She turned past the next door and spotted another plaque. He had made many promises. Perhaps Aurora got one too.

"He is. He's one of the best friends a guy could ask for." He groaned and his sandals made a soft click as he hopped onto the floor. "He'll be back in a second. Then we can clean you up."

Kirvi turned, her brows rising. "Clean me up?" she twittered. Christopher smiled lopsidedly. "I think you need cleaning up more desperately than I."

"Maybe. We'll see who Jasper attacks first, shall we?" He stretched his arms above his head and calmly cracked his neck. "So this is my Sanctuary." He waved his arms around the room, shrugging absently. "It's where I go when I want to vanish."

"It does its job well. Nobody could find you."

"That's the point, typically."

The soft click of heels on the floor met her ears, and she turned to see Jasper returning from the hallways, a silver and gold tray in his hands. He set it on the map table next to Kirvi and Christopher practically leaped on the tea.

"Madam, shall we fix you up? You look a right mess, if you don't mind me saying." Jasper held out an arm, and Kirvi took it, startled at his politeness. He led her down yet another hallway, and they emerged in a huge circular room lined with elegant outfits and huge glass vials of colourful dye. Kirvi's breath was tugged from her lungs as Jasper released her arm and began pacing around the mannequins, muttering to himself.

"There is a basin of water and cloths behind the screen there, madam, if you wish to clean up," he said as he pulled out the sleeve of an elegant gown.

Kirvi wandered behind a large screen and found the aforementioned water. With a breath of relief, Kirvi stripped off her filthy clothes. Dropping them on the floor, she soaked one of the cloths and began patting her skin clean.

Jasper emerged behind the screen after a few minutes holding an armload of finery. Kirvi jumped, surprised, and watched curiously as he set down the clothes on the seat of a nearby chair and began rifling through the pile. "Admirers of our dear prince have bestowed upon him the most bizarre assortment of garments. For whatever reason, he was given women's clothing. Probably to encourage marriage, but…" Jasper shrugged and held up a silk shirt with a low scooped neck and thick belt tied around the waist. "I hope this is to your liking. I'll get your clothes cleaned and fixed as soon as I possibly can for you, madam, but until then, I hope this will suffice."

Kirvi gingerly reached out and touched the fine material. The silk was cool against her skin; so soft it felt like she was touching the pure surface of water. With Jasper's help, she struggled into the foreign garments; the beautiful silk shirt, a knee-length skirt of a shimmering golden hue. She politely refused slippers, choosing instead bare feet for the sands of the desert.

Then, despite protests, she was sat in a chair facing a speckled mirror, and Jasper quickly washed and combed her long black hair, pulling it back in a comfortable yet elaborate bun that twisted around the crown of her head. When he was finally finished, he led her back into the foyer of the Sanctuary, where Christopher was sprawled on his back on the map table, swinging his legs over the side as he hummed to himself.

"Christopher, sire," Jasper said, patting the prince's knee. Christopher glanced up, hair scruffier than usual, and his jaw dropped.

"Wow… Kirvi, just… wow…" He shook his head and pushed himself off the map table. "You look… amazing. I mean, you always looked amazing, but you look… wow."

Kirvi felt her face heat up and she turned away, embarrassed. Jasper chuckled and lightly pushed Christopher toward the wardrobe room. "Oh, goodness, madam, you've made him speechless. This boy never runs out of things to say. Congratulations. It's quite the feat. We shall return once he's decent. Please, make yourself at home."

She didn't have to be told twice. Once Jasper and Christopher were gone, she wandered around to the promises hanging from the curved wall. The Dweller mountain people, the slums of Bowerstone, and many more: all received promises, signed and sealed by Prince Christopher of Albion, that once he toppled his brother Logan's rule and he became king, he would undo the damage Logan had done to their land and their people. And there, at the end, a promise to Aurora, written in Kalin's large, swooping hand in the Albion script, and signed messily at the bottom by Christopher.

She was still looking at it, tears welling in her eyes, when Jasper announced that Christopher was cleaned up, and they should spend the night in the Sanctuary before going home to Aurora.

At the mention of her dear land—the golden, rolling sands raped by the Crawler and its minions; her city, with her people scared and losing loved ones like mice in a trap—her tears finally escaped and she fell to the floor, weeping.