The marble sent a wave of coolness down the exposed skin on her back and to her arms. She tried to lay flat against the limestone, but contorting her body to such a position hurt like hell, especially with a rather large red cape in the way. She was afraid if she blinked long enough, her eyes may never reopen. But it felt so freeing to just lay there; no worries, no shattered Dragon Gem pieces—just Raya, the beat-up shoes she had worn, and the coolness of the atmosphere.
Used to the dangerous temperature of the open desert, the breeze tangling through the infamous shaded Fang palace was literally a breath of fresh air. Grand windows were opened throughout the hall—letting all the air brush through, and all the worries brush out. As a rigid contrast to the freeing atmosphere, the fabric around her body suddenly fit too tight. Which made no sense, considering Raya took precise care to wear loose, nation-neutral clothing with no absolutely no ties to Heart. It felt like an eternity had passed before she truly realized why: she was hyperventilating.
Her chest was moving too fast for her own good, desperate to suck in the cool air of Fang. Dragons, what she would do for a simple glass of dragon fruit juice. The places she would travel solo next just to feel something brisk and cool refresh her throat. Maybe Talon, as far away as it was. Forcing herself to peel her eyes open, Raya came to the realization that there was already something cold against the nape of her neck. Her breath hitched, and she felt her fingertips instinctively reach for the familiar material of the sheath around her hip—a movement to check where her handy sword was. And it was empty.
"Don't move," a particular familiar voice fiercely spat. But it was deeper, colder, as if the childish wonder had been frayed in the past five years. Still, Raya did not need to be a genius to understand how much of a threat those two words were, unarmed or not.
The only reason she forced her eyes open and shook off the haze, was at the realization that the coolness on her throat was something much more dangerous than juice or the Fang breeze.
It was one of Namaari's blades.
Raya suddenly did not know what to do. Any adrenaline from sneaking around slowly faded, as pain burst to parts of her body she did not know was even possible. The previous impact of the Fang Princess from Dragons knows where left her sprawled on the floor of the library she spent all day searching for. Memories of mere minutes earlier were hazy—a headache was blossoming between her brows.
If she tried to turn her head to locate where her own weapon was, she knew the sharp side of the Namaari's sword would pierce deeper into her skin. And even if she was able to get the weapon out of her hand, Namaari had the second dual blade attached to her hip as a back-up. Hesitating to think of a good way out of this, the Princess of Heart allowed herself a few more precious moments to suck in air. Blinking the messy baby hairs out of her face, when she felt relaxed, she smiled.
"I bet you've dreamed about this moment," cooed Raya with a false confidence—the smile sneaking into that of a grin. She did not have to be told twice about how sarcastic quips left her lips so breathlessly when in times of fear or worry; she used to be told it was from her Ba, since he had that same sweetness about him—but at this point, it felt like just instinct, even after the many long and hard years of being off the map. "I always figured you were weird, but not this weird."
The minute the words escaped her lips, she felt her eyes glance upward out of curiosity. There were two opposite reactions her ironic words gained: shock, or boiling rage. When the scene in front of her finally unblurred and wisped into focus, Namaari's matured face was as clear as pure crystal inches above, looking as if she was the one caught breaking into enemy territory.
"God dammit, binturi."
Raya did not know what it was she did that pushed the Princess of Fang to the assumed limit so quickly. It was not like she was able to ask, before a pain like no other shot through her wrist. It took a heartbeat to register what Namaari had then done.
The marble ground shook with movement as the taller princess altered her stance; left foot stomping onto Raya's right hand. The cool tip of the blade still vigorously pressed against her neck, Namaari's other hand pinned down Raya's left shoulder, fingers holding onto the maroon cloak. The Fang warrior's knee was atop the floor by Raya's hip. The Heart Princess added another mental tally as to why her vest was practically choking her; the friction of the other women's hold was painfully unbearable.
Raya screamed, not even worrying if more attention was drawn. Her throat was dry, and at this point, not even a dozen glasses of ice-cold dragon fruit juice would solve her problem. Her eyes closed once more; a gulp of air suddenly stuck within her lungs, even when she desperately needed to breathe in and out. She felt as if she was right back to stage one when her eyes slowly reopened—vision now once more full of Namaari's devilish smile.
"I said don't move, Princess," the armed warrior said. A finger unwrapped from the blade's handle to lay atop the girl's mouth. "Shut up."
Raya shut up. She felt her face flush, doing the best she could to concentrate deep breaths in and out. Her brows furrowed in spite, taken aback as Namaari withdrew her finger to hold the knife properly again.
Laying underneath Namaari, pinned down onto the freezing marble, felt like more of a loss to Raya and her pride than actually getting the sword plunged deeper. Her days of immature childhood were cut bitterly short, but if there was one thing she learned, it was to never go out without a fight. There was no way in hell she was going down that easily, thrown to the floor after getting caught off guard yet again.
"You really are enjoying this," mumbled the girl, punctuating each word as it entered the bleached real world.
All Raya saw in response was that damn smirk growing. Namaari tilted her head, hair swinging in front of her face. All the jewelry she wore practically glimmered off her skin. Raya hated the fact her first thought was that it looked gorgeous on her—that Narmaari looked gorgeous. The classic cat eye mascara looked as sharp as a needle, elegantly flattering the other princess's features. She was deathly graceful, and Raya was not sure how to react.
The intense pressure on her wrist lessened. Although, if she tried to move, Raya knew she would not make it far before she was pushed right back on her already bruised ass.
"And you really are annoying," Namaari grumbled. "Take a hint once in a while."
"I thought you loved it?"
She assumed those five words were not a good answer, because she felt the piercing on her neck grow tenfold, easily. Raya squirmed—shoulders squaring as if it would make room between her and the weapon. But, as expected, to no avail.
"I'll kill you."
"Do it, dep'la."
One point goes to Raya; there was hesitation in Namaari's eyes, even for a mere split second.
In that spare moment, Raya allowed herself to take in the scenery. Her eyes darted this way and that—to see if there was a way out or an opening to take advantage of, but she was unlucky and came up short. The nation of Fang, although rather small due to the man-made canal cutting them off from everyone else, all looked the same: white, grand, and fiercely elegant. It was nothing like the terrain Raya spent months on end traveling alone.
And the Heart Princess underestimated how hard it truly was to break in to steal something she heard through rumors five years ago. Up until now, she had never stepped foot within the royal palace of Fang, out of fear of being killed on the spot. However, death was nothing compared to the fear of not being able to bring back the one who was forcefully taken years ago.
Fang still seemed to be quite prosperous in the otherwise fucked-up world. And Raya would be lying if she said she did not spend a lot of time thinking about how to infiltrate it, whether to steal or to piss people off. While her name seemed like a slur for a handful of the Fang people, she could not help but litter in the shadows nearby. Granted, it was a lot harder to wander around with all the guards, but when Raya had a plan, this time bringing back her father—she was going to get it done one way or another.
Her Ba taught her to use words first, to reason and come to an understanding . . . Then try blades, only if necessary. Unfortunately, words did nothing but make you an easy target. So Raya hardened, swinging and asking questions later, jumping into danger head first.
Besides, there were only so many times she could try to pick-pocket shops for spare items. With Tail practically a wasteland, and the idea of her footsteps being traceable in the Spine snow, Raya knew it was easy to steal in Talon. It was not like she particularly needed to; there was enough Jade in her pockets back in Heart for a lifetime, however, avoiding conversation and laying low was the easier way. The fast-paced, full shopping center reminded her of what life was like in her own home of Heart before this hellish reality slammed down.
Namaari quickly drew her attention back to Earth with a loud sigh, releasing the grip on the Heart Princess's shoulder to toss the sharpened blade to her other hand—and back again cockily. Raya watched, eyes rolling in disbelief that this was even happening.
"I thought you were dead," Namaari admitted, brows furrowing in an emotion Raya could not quite put her finger on. Bitterness? Maybe even relief, if she was going to reach a bit. "Why are you here?"
"None of your business." Raya could not hide the breathless shit-eating grin of her own at Namaari's confused expression. "Eat shit."
The victory of the moment did not last very long, because she swore she heard a crack as Namaari dug her foot harder into the girl's wrist, causing pressure to return for a handful of blistering seconds. Raya cried out, inhaling sharply. She tried to not focus on the pain, and instead lingered on the fact there was no longer a sword cutting into the first layer of sensitive skin on her neck; no longer a hand personally pinning her shoulder down.
"You're in Fang. You are my business."
Raya stayed silent for once, watching in awe as Namaari drew a finger carefully down the length of the blade. It did not slice through, as the Fang Princess was, without a doubt, smarter than that. However, it was not hard to see the calmly collected confidence that still laced her dominant features.
"So, I'll ask again." Namaari's head cocked to the side, flipping hair out of the way before all her attention filtered back to Raya. A clashing shatter echoed through the hall in the elongated silence, as the sharp blade was forced in between the floor's hard rock, with both strong hands, right next to Raya's ear. "Why are you here, binturi?"
She felt the metal cutting it a bit too close for comfort, but was ready to keep the facade up. At least, that was until Namaari's rough hand grabbed a hold of her chin, forcing her head in a tilt to stare back at Namaari. The scent of sweat and whatever perfume Namaari felt the need to put on in the morning filled her nose.
"Eat shit," Raya repeated with a huff. There was less confidence in the words this time around, but she prevailed. "I'm here to read."
Namaari unsheathed the second sword in a flash, pointing the tip towards Raya. She raised a brow, eyes boring into Raya, to silently question the mocking tone. The hold on her chin remained steady, and she hated that, especially when it felt like Namaari was getting a rise out of it.
If it's a challenge Namaari wanted, then Raya was going to play.
Raya's free hand shot up, fingers curling around Namaari's ankle to gain some sort of purchase when it felt impossible. The pants' material was soft, loose around the other woman's leg. Raya absently squeezed the girl's ankle to test her remaining strength, fingertips curling. There was a small penknife lodged into the wrist tape for times just like this. But before she could slide the blade up to make a cut, the Fang Princess had realized.
Namaari moved her own blade closer to Raya's chin, and she had no other choice than to let go, hand hanging suspended in the air. The gesture altered little worry on Namaari's features; why would it, after all? It was like an ant screaming at a tiger. Raya eagerly watched as Namaari's eyes lingered down the length of her frame, as if checking for any other hidden weapons.
"Cute," Namaari scoffed, letting go of her face. "Try something else other than explaining why you're here, and you're dead."
Raya's mouth opened to reply, before it hit her what was then implied: her response, once more, was not a good one. She did not know where to focus her attention now, for there were multiple spots bursting with pain. Answering with another lame dad joke to draw out the moment was a death wish; dying solidified her Ba's fate, so it was not an option. She zoned into the sword's reflection and the then warrior in front of her. She watched the sweat as it clung desperately to Namaari's face. Her vision traced the dips of the Fang Princess' furiously pressed lips, of her dimples. The way Namaari's well-kempt eyebrows rose confidently, displaying what was going on in her mind.
Granted, it was easy to feel in power when only one of them had sharp weapons.
Namaari interrupted the buzz of silence by spinning the second blade. In one swift gesture, the sharp metal swung towards Raya's outstretched arm in warning. And the Heart Princess obeyed: fingers falling breathlessly back by her side. The blade then returned to resting back atop Raya's neck.
"Spit it out or I'll kill you," Namaari ordered. "Then, you'll never be able to speak again."
"You're beautiful."
Raya would have counted her answer as another point, had she not been overwhelmed with matching confusion.
"What?" Namaari whispered. Raya could feel how the other woman lessened her jaded focus; the tilted twin blade by her neck softened on its pressure, as did the force on her wrist.
So she gulped to clear her throat, forcefully shrugging Namaari off with a painful grunt upon noticing how her guard dropped at the compliment. Raya's leg quickly coiled up—first to kick Namaari in the shoulder, then to sprawl away so she could shakily stand.
"I said you're beautiful," Raya repeated, with a bat of her eyelashes much more confidently than she expected. She watched as Namaari jerked back. A hot breath was caught in her throat, but this time for a plethora of reasons she knew should remain unsaid.
A pause lingered through the library, for both girls to reattach a grip into reality.
"You should have done it sooner, dep'la," the once hopeful Heart Princess murmured with a mischievous smirk, a finger dragging along her own neck, as if to mock where the blade was now no longer sitting. Raya leaned in to gingerly pick up the sword Namaari previously dug into the marble floor. A Serlot's angry face, wide pupils and long whiskers, engraved onto the handle. She raised it cockily with one hand, as her left wrist was by her side in blistering pain.
Namaari stood back, her own weapon raised. "I wanted answers," she scoffed, spitefully. Once a soldier, always a soldier, Namaari was, considering she seemed to wash the effect the sweet words had off her face rather quickly. It was a shame, because Raya actually liked that look on her. "Can't do that if you're dead."
Trying to hide it or not, Raya could practically feel the crash of mixed emotions filtering through the Fang Princess's mind. It was in the way her big, brown eyes darted over the room, the way her hand readjusted its grip on the sword. Raya was able to pick up on these purely because she felt herself going through a flustering matching experience.
Raya coughed, head whipping to the side. Her cape, although wrinkly and covered in dirt, was thankfully untouched and gravity allowed it to conceal her figure once more. A familiar glint shining on the floor a few meters away captured her attention. "Sucks," the woman spoke up, face flushed, "Because I'll be leaving in just a second."
Dragons, it was hot as hell in here.
She shifted from foot to foot for a moment, awaiting what the next move in this stressful stalemate was. Allowing herself to cautiously take a step towards her sword sitting untouched on the ground, Raya was surprised at how still Namaari was standing. The Princess of Heart took it as a good sign; she was not going to let this opportunity run free, and quickly scooped up her precious whip sword and straw hat.
With a nonchalant shrug, she tossed two things onto the floor for Namaari to do what she pleased with. The first was the pair of keys she used to get this deep into Fang. Thankfully, the first guard she came across this morning, a rather large man with short-cut black hair held back by a bandana, was paying no mind to his surroundings. It was child's play to knock him out and snatch up the pair of keys hooked on his belt to enter buildings undetected—but she had no need for them anymore, and enjoyed the ego boost giving them back gave; a way of silently saying she could get another pair if she wanted to return. The second item was the Fang twin blade. It crashed, clattering between the tip, and handle, before laying still. Mental strength thankfully returning, Raya rolled her shoulders and inhaled a breath, taking her eyes off Namaari to glance at the library shelves.
They were big, extravagantly curling above to create the illusion of a dome. Colorful spines littered the shelves. Every other wall had long, translucent banners draped off of them. The white and red with flecks of gold that laced the tall walls in accent created a rich, stark contrast to the dust and barren land of that beyond the canal. Unlike what was left of Raya's once proud home, things still were living within this guarded kingdom. It left a bitter taste in her mouth to know not every nation was hit as hard as hers was; having the Druun eat a more filling meal than the people invited over for the day to celebrate, still marked a lasting impact on the previous glorious nation of Heart.
So, to say she felt out of place in Fang was an understatement; Raya knew she did not belong. Yet still, she stood in a conflicted silence—eyes ripping away to focus on a section of the library littered with woven baskets full of scrolls.
Bingo, that was it.
She took a handful of quick and light steps away, head tilted as she flipped back on the salakot over the messy braids—and slipped her sword into the respectful casing still looped on her belt. Already, she was starting to feel better about this whole ordeal.
Making her way to the chest of scrolls, she dropped to her knees to dig around. The case opened with a sharp creak, dust blowing off from gravity's pull. Raya's side was turned to Namaari, so she kept a keen eye on the traitor just in case. She watched Namaari kick the pair of keys away, but pick up her second sword. Flickering Raya's attention back to the scrolls, she heard the woman cautiously approaching, but took the hesitation as a sign that there would be no blood spilled just yet.
"What are you trying to do here?" Namaari suddenly repeated, words now laced with what sounded like genuine curiosity—although, one of the dual swords settled on top of Raya's shoulder in a soft warning, hitting her hat askew in the process.
She could see the sun bounce off the shiny metal as expected, however, it was the rather careful tone of voice that caught Raya's attention. It was surprising for how long it took the Fang warrior to snap out of the confused silence. She chose not to dwell on it. The last time she was spoken to with what sounded like sincere interest, she earned a knife in her back and a dead kingdom.
So, never again. It was all a facade, surely.
"You'll see," was the hushed answer.
"No," Namaari said. The blade hovered closer to the girl's skin. Cloak stitches were at risk of tearing from the weapon. "You're going to tell me now."
"I don't have to tell you anything, binturi. Remember what happened last time I did?" Raya snapped, stopping her search to glare at the Fang Princess. Her head tilted, hat slipping back comfortably atop her head—eyes widening as goosebumps coated her skin for how close in contact both the sword and Namaari were once more. She swallowed to rid herself of the tingling. "Besides, if you were going to do something, you would have done it already."
"I fight fair; you were practically unarmed."
"Bullshit, you fight fair. You obviously haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you."
Raya uttered a sigh. "I have," disagreed the warrior. While her good hand returned to check through scrolls to find the needed one, the other sheepishly rose and slipped between her cheek and Namaari's blade. With a weak push, she shrugged the weapon off her shoulder.
Royal blue and rich purple ink littered the current scroll she held, and the brunette mentally nodded. She picked up a few others, one being a map and another a list of materials Fang used to excel in trade with the other nations, to lessen whatever lingering suspicion there most definitely was—and then stood up with a spin of her heel.
"I have changed," repeated Raya, face-to-face with the other girl for the first time properly in years.
Whether it was true or not, she did not know, but that did not stop Raya from believing they had crossed paths a handful of times before. Today was different, though; today there was more than just small, shared glances back and forth, through the brush of a tree, or across a river. She remembered seeing groups of Fang mercenaries on Serlots during her travels, but Raya always took off before she could register who the cat's riders were. Today there was sweat coating her skin. There was tension and a heart in her chest racing ever since she hit the floor.
Saying Namaari simply grew up was an understatement; it was like she killed the younger version of herself with no hesitation, giving her up as Druun food before burying her into the dirt six feet under. Whereas they used to be a similar height five years ago, the Fang Princess was several inches taller than Raya. Her arms were sculpted, gorgeously gold bicep cuffs locked around her skin. Gone was the formal wear Raya remembered every stitch of, and in its place was with a beige tank-top just as flattering, dripped out proudly with Fang's royal colors.
She really was beautiful.
Raya blushed at the realization she was underneath Namaari only minutes ago. She tilted her head down, tipping her hat to cover her face so that it would hide how these thoughts made her feel. Silence fell on the pair, as she slipped the scrolls into her belt's waistband. She stepped forward, purposely bumping into Namaari just for the hell of it—to see how far she truly could push it.
"Oh, yeah?" Challenged the other woman suddenly, stepping backward to remain in Raya's line of sight. She held a hand out as if it would stop either of them from walking away—as if Raya would actually consider listening. "And how would that be, dep'la?"
Feet shuffling to a stop to see if Namaari could humor her, Raya paused. Her hand dropped on her hip, however, it did not take a genius to know why: easier to nonchalantly grab her sword, if need be. She cocked her head to the side skeptically. Namaari did not seem to care about the fact that multiple scrolls were laced within her belt. Perhaps getting them to leave the library would provide an issue, but Raya was taken aback by how curious the other girl was for some reason, rather than violent.
"Yeah, like you're interested all of a sudden." An eye roll followed the words, as Raya's feet shuffled once more towards the door she was familiar with, purely because she left trusty Tuk-Tuk near the outskirts of the city—itching to exit the spacious room.
She had changed, and was a firm believer of that fact. How dare anyone argue otherwise when they had no idea what she had to deal with. Growing up alone in a world more broken than her own personal way of trusting was hard. Since she refused to go back to Heart, to cross a bridge of mistakes, she was left with one too many nights huddled alone in an abandoned house, or sneaking into small villages for food for the week. It forced Raya to harness survival skills a young teenager should never have to worry about.
But she did.
"Figured it wouldn't hurt to ask," Namaari mumbled, ripping Raya out of her negative train of thought. "All though, I am interested in why you broke in to steal from Fang's library when you've got a kingdom's archives all to yourself. So, give me a reason why I just shouldn't kill you right now."
"It's been five years . . . ," sparked up the long-haired girl. Her shoulders shrugged, eyes flaring to the ceiling of the building in exaggeration; at this point, she truly was just testing her luck. "Like I said: gotta learn how to pass the time by myself somehow." She paused; vision flickering back to Namaari, squinting resentfully before scaling the other up and down. "Not like you would know, though, right, Namaari?"
If the words, as Raya intended, made a stinging impact—it sure as hell did not show. The other's face stayed as stoic as ever, completely unphased. Not gaining a reaction only managed to hurt her in exchange more—as Namaari's bitter comments did, in fact, feel like twisting the knife to the gut she dug in five, long years ago.
"You're not funny."
"I am. It's just that it wasn't a joke, asshole."
"Well, then you're a bad liar."
"Not a lie, either," Raya said with a mocking yawn, weight shifting to the side as she clicked her heels. "Maybe you're just bad at reading people."
When Namaari raised an eyebrow skeptically, the Princess of Heart immediately wanted to take back her words. They were, as much as she hated to admit it, hypocritical as hell.
"Are you supposed to have that?" The foolish young girl had once asked many immature years ago, dark brown eyes wide with a burning curiosity.
"Pfft, no!" Was what had sounded like an even more curious response, as a colorful scroll was laid out on display in front of the pair.
It was enough of a painful interaction to fuel the shock—memory flooding with the loss that followed mere minutes after a simple conversation between, what Raya wanted to believe was, friends. The release of a crossbow's arrow. A shattered Dragon Gem. Screams of fear, echoing in tune with the rush of footsteps trying to run away. Waves crashing her this way and that, floating downstream.
So perhaps Raya was bad at reading the correct visual response of others. Maybe all the time spent alone and refusing assistance did not help. But she once wanted to believe social interactions did not need to be broken down before she was trusting.
However, not anymore. Other's intentions are always harmful.
"I didn't come here to get insulted," spat Raya. "For you to ruin my life more."
It would be foolish to assume the item she was so close to successfully stealing would not be heavily protected; if the young princess of Fang herself was not supposed to hold such a powerful scroll, Raya doubted they would just let her steal it and walk out after so many discombobulated years.
Unless that was just another lie. Still, something felt wrong.
"What did you come here for?" Namaari repeated.
"Scrolls," Raya continued, trying to shrug off the stupidity of the moment, scolding both herself—and then Namaari. "What's the catch here, though? Why—you know, why is nothing happening?"
"Are you asking me to kick your ass again?"
She could tell the conversation would swiftly filter back into that of a verbal fight of wits; comments that could be either rude or friendly banter, depending on how one took them. Slipping up sentences on her tongue meant she lost, though.
Even if Raya was not staring directly at the other woman, she would have still managed to feel the smirk within the newly proposed question. Namaari's face was smug, eyebrows raised—not in a skeptical doubt, but something more suggestive.
It was a picture that, under different circumstances, Raya felt guilty for knowing she would like it. So she looked away, peeling her head back down, before side-stepping around the other girl. The Princess of Heart unclipped the Sisudatu scroll from her belt, and waved it in the air.
"I've just been dying to see this again."
That was a lie, obviously. Raya was second guessing every move she made since deciding it was time to break into Fang. She thought five years was enough time to kill the nerves, to permanently turn off the switch that flicked on whenever she thought about Fang's Princess. She thought she would be ready to face the possibility of seeing Namaari again after getting her trust, and life, broken. But Raya was not so sure that was true, as she was hanging onto every word Namaari said still.
"You're crazy, Raya."
"Thanks."
"And stupid."
"That one's very nice."
Namaari sighed. "Neither was the first. And resorting to fairytales isn't going to get you anywhere."
"Hypocritical, now, are we, 'Maari?"
"I learn from my mistakes."
"I sure hope so," Raya said, but the word mistakes ran through her head. "You'd have to be pretty dense, otherwise."
"Are you this much of a pain in the ass to everyone you talk to still?"
"This is the longest conversation I've had in a while," Raya said, laughing. Although sincere, there was still sarcasm lingering. "Forgive me for not being the most interesting, alright?"
"I take it Heart isn't doing too well then."
"Not since you fucked up," she answered coldly. It was old news that Heart was the most Druun invested of the land.
"Got tired so soon of the company down in Heart that you had to come here?" Namaari said, head tilted. Her eyes wandered to the side. It was a gesture to point out a tall, white polished statue that stood across the hall, one of the many indications of Fang's wealth. It was easily over ten feet tall, chin tilted proudly up, with a long sword drilled into the pedestal it sat upon.
But Raya had a feeling there was another reason Namaari was pointing it out. Doing a double take, squinting between the other girl and the statue cautiously; whatever playful retort she had saved to say next immediately died on her tongue.
"Excuse me?"
"I can imagine it's a bit hard to hold a conversation with them when the stone doesn't talk back."
"That's why I'm here," Raya answered with an exasperated sigh. She clipped the scrolls back into her waistband, taking a moment to squint at the other woman.
How dare Namaari so nonchalantly bring up the past—the past she caused.
There were times Raya was unfortunate enough to find herself caught between a hungry Druun and someone only seconds away from death. She was not a hero, never wanted such a heavy title on her shoulders. It did not seem to stop a part of her from cracking at the scene, taking time to intervene by shoving the sliver of the Dragon Gem Heart owned into the air. Without fail, the Druun instantly dash off into the opposite direction. Raya always took a second to turn around, to study the individual she saved. She wanted them to remember her face. And then she would roll away on Tuk-Tuk without saying a word.
Even with the handful of people she had saved, it felt as if everywhere Raya looked, there was another frigid stone figure motionless on the road. It hurt to know they were people once, too. With a plethora of loved ones to care for and a soul now trapped beneath rock. Hundreds of others were out there, just like her, living through this treacherous world on their own, having lost family to the plague of Druun.
And Raya understood what people really were—selfish with stupid feelings and a need for power, as human discord was what caused all of this; fighting that her Ba wanted to stop to make the future a better place. But his ideology of blind trust and forgiveness was a trait Raya was not sure she could believe in anymore.
"According to this, after the mighty Sisu blasted away all of the Druun, she fell into the river and floated downstream," young Namaari had said, with hope in her eyes and a smile on her face. "Legends say, she's now sleeping at the river's end."
Raya had been dumbfounded by the story, eyes floating over every square inch of the scroll laid on the floor. "But which river? There's like, hundreds!"
"I don't know. But if we could find it, could you imagine? A dragon? Back in the world! Things would be so much better."
"Yeah …" Raya had trailed off, telling herself to believe in something that might not have even ever existed. "Maybe we really could be Kumandra again."
It hurt Raya now, knowing there was never really a 'we.' There was only Fang's hunger for the power to be on top.
Dipping her hands into water still brought back the shiver of being twelve years old. Looking at her Ba's brown eyes for the last time. The painful rush of being thrown into the river's flow below. She spent weeks trying to compose herself, to screw her head back on straight and stop crying.
Every word Namaari and she exchanged five years ago raced through her mind on a constant loop. The leaves began to change color when Raya finally got her shit together and knew what she had to do. It was hard at first, getting used to packing light to travel the world on foot. She remembered the day Tuk-Tuk was big enough to ride like the back of her hand, as it made life so much easier—and that was the day she had begun searching rivers for Sisudatu.
Raya was here to steal the Dragon Scrolls to make her life easier, yes, but making Fang aware that she was in fact alive and thriving was just as important—that Raya should be considered as a threat.
"You said Sisu was still out there somewhere. That she could return and live among us," Raya said, a finger accusingly pointing at the other girl. "If anyone can get rid of the Druun that you brought back, it's going to be her. She can bring back my Ba."
Because I need her to, Raya thought. She squinted to push back the tears threatening to break through. Because I don't know what other options I have left.
Namaari scowled. "It's a fairytale, Raya!"
"It's a chance at living again and you don't even want to try."
She took a step back, telling herself that even if she wanted to rip that look of Namaari's ignorant yet flawless face, there was no reason to fight just yet. Nothing good ever comes from it, she learned. And she was in no shape to win. This was just another reminder that after they broke the world, Fang did not go through a struggle as hard as the rest of the land did; many of their citizens were still flourishing, living a life behind the flowing canal.
When a new opportunity to bring back her father presented itself, Raya was not going to let it slip away. Her hand mindlessly clutched the golden engraved hair bangle looped within wire around her neck. Something she vowed to herself to never take off, the bangle was a last reminder of her Ba still being out there. It was his favorite design, a gift he gave to Raya's mother before she passed; that was why she wore it on such a big idea. A day that ended up being one of the most tragic days in history. Toying with it was a gesture she nonchalantly found herself doing whenever she was feeling at her worst.
"It's difficult not having the full Dragon Gem all to yourself, isn't it?" Namaari snarled. "No longer selfishly using its power to flourish. You've never known loss until it broke."
Raya's head shook before the other woman finished her sentence. "It did not work like that; the Dragon Gem did nothing to benefit Heart more than the other nations."
"All of your people turned to stone would say otherwise."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Neither do you! Fang didn't—" Namaari sighed, waving a hand through the air to dismiss herself, as if speaking on a topic that she should not have brought up, and the rest of the sentence never came. She looked down.
"What?" Raya said, soaking up all of Namaari like a sponge. "Fang didn't what?"
The silence that followed worried Raya, so she posed another question: "Do you regret it?"
It being destroying the world—trying to exploit a moment of peace, a shared meal. But it also meant breaking a friendship that had the potential to flourish; to kick a girl in the back after handing her a gift.
Namaari still refused to answer, and Raya hated her for it. She wanted to pick her brain apart and dissect everything that made the Fang Princess tick. She wanted to know why Namaari's facial expression softened; why the lines between her brows finally disappeared, and for a moment it looked like she found peace—but it was gone just as quick as it showed up, replaced with a fierce anger. Namaari's fists were turning red, tightening the hold around the dual swords she held like they were going to shatter in her hands.
"You said you've changed so much," Namaari argued, voice quiet yet vicious.
"And?"
"And if they come back, will they even care? Would they recognize you? Will he?"
So much for not fighting again.
"I know what you're trying to imply here, binturi," Raya began, venom in her words, "and I would watch your mouth if I were you."
It was like all of Raya's thoughts, the ones that haunted her at night and kept her awake, were on display for Namaari to grab and dangle in front of her. Sleep felt like a rare thing in general; not only with the threat of people ready to attack at the slight bit of weakness, but Druun on the relentless lose made Raya wary of any closed off corner or possible location for a break.
The sound of her red cape faltering behind her leg was loud in the silence. Raya rested one of her hands atop the handle of the sword. Her eyes scanned Namaari for a sign of anger—something to make her unsheath the weapon and swing with no regrets. But Namaari in turn let her own dual blades crash uselessly against the floor. She raised her unarmed palms up in such a manner that made Raya's blood boil even more.
The action was not in any way to surrender; surely, it was a movement of underestimation. A welcoming test to fight, confident that no weapon would even be needed to win.
Raya pulled her hand away from the sword back, only for her now free fingers to interlock with that of the other woman's shirt collar.
It took all of three large steps until Raya slammed Namaari's back uncomfortably into one of the library's shelves. Books from higher up tipped off of it, splattering on the floor. Raya couldn't care less, although the swift movement ached dormant pain through her own body.
"You're bold today, Princess."
"And you're acting like a piece of shit again." Her body wanted nothing more than to give up and walk away, but Raya tightened her grip, shoving them both again into the large teetering bookshelf. "Tell me something I don't know."
Namaari quickly grabbed the under collar of Raya's cloak back for both stability and power, indirectly pulling them closer. And then paused. Raya saw the beautiful gold flecks in her dark eyes flicker—she saw the scandalous curve of the Fang Princess's lip only inches away, hesitant to speak.
"Raya."
"Don't." Her eyes scanned over Namaari's features, breathing hard. "You don't get to talk about him, or me, or anyone from Heart. Not now. Not ever, after what you did."
"But what you're trying to do is never going to happen and—"
The end of the sentence never properly came, as soft footsteps around the hall's corner alerted both girls of oncoming assumed attention. Ignoring whatever the hell Namaari was doing to regain formal composure, Raya's head snapped in the direction of on-coming Fang people. Her eyes peeled slowly away from Namaari—and then her grip loosened from the woman's shirt, easily shrugging her off the red cloak in exchange, to immediately find a firm grasp of the whip sword once more.
Too worried to speak out, the practical fugitive simply stared at none other than Chief Virana herself—three Fang guards lingered behind, soft chatter dying out immediately at the realization of what the cluttering noise was about.
Silky white dress waved in graceful movement just inches above the floor. Matching her ever-the-loyalists princess, and other royal members, Virana had rich, gold jewelry glisten off her practically perfect skin in the library's dim sunlit glow.
Instead of what Raya could assume would be a simple mother-daughter conversation over the ruckus, silence fell. She was conflicted between staying still out of inevitable fear of the future—or acting out with the complete opposite, by starting up even more drama or cracking a shitty joke.
Neither was the appropriate reaction, for the Fang Chief acted out in response first: the older woman's hand was tightly wrapped around a staff nearly as tall as her—blue, glowing dragon gem piece mockingly encased in gold claws on the top. Raya had only registered the bang the scepter made against the floor, after the golden light reflected through the broken gem. She flinched, sword flying out of the leather pouch, as if the gesture could create a domino effect of traps from the inside.
"What on Sisudatu's green Earth is going on here?"
The words bounced around just as loud as the staff's powerful clash did, to the Heart Princess's surprise, as Virana glanced between the two teenagers. Raya, just like when Namaari spoke, was failing to read what emotion was displayed through such words. Was it an embarrassing shock? Perhaps even that of pure rage? Hell, it might have been a mix of both—and more, at that. The Chief's eyes lingered longer on her daughter, a million words said in the reprimanding look.
Raya was not able to calm down her quickly beating heart, but feet naturally fell into a defensive position when Virana's eyes moved heavily on her. There was, without a doubt, judgment in her look—before the gears finally snapped into pieces. Raya waved the whip sword around in test, and her thoughts were confirmed when she saw the Fang Chief's gaze following the blade.
"That's . . ." A recognizing pause lingered; Virana's eyes squinted in thought, before quickly widening. "Heart?"
"You didn't kill us all," Raya said sharply.
The sword, of all things, was what seemed to ring the bell for the memory train. Makes sense, Raya figured, as it was rightfully so, inches from slicing limbs off in her father's grasps last time it was properly seen.
He should have actually done it, five long years ago. Then he would still be here now—and Raya would not be in this world-shattering situation frighteningly alone.
Namaari stepped forward, hands raised to form a circle by her forehead. Her attention shifted between her mother and the guards behind her waiting for a task, with Raya caught in the middle of it. "Chief Virana, I thought you were busy all afternoon."
Virana shot a glare. "Well, you did not tell me we had a guest," she began softly, but there was something else in her voice, as if she had a plan forming in her mind that Raya knew she did not want to stick around to see what the end was.
When Raya was younger, there were times she could see her father's soft side. Like when it was just the two of them late at night, sneaking around way past when being awake was appropriate—or sparring in the early mornings before training for the royal army began. Her personal favorite activity was wandering around the outskirts of Heart. They would spend all day basking in the sun, admiring all the greenery. He would teach her about plants, about which one's were edible and which ones were dangerous to even touch.
After every question, explanation, or distraction Raya brought upon the two, Benja would regain formality. But he would always find time to crack a joke.
This was where he and Virana were different; it seemed the Fang Chief always wore her that frown, words laced with an authoritative demeanor.
Scooping back up both of her blades and the keys Raya stole, Namaari cleared her throat. "Mother, I—"
Raya ran before Namaari could even get the full apologetic sentence out.
The presence of the room was too heavy to handle, and the survival instincts that pushed the girl alive this far kicked in. A treacherous fight against a single person could be painful enough. However, trying to actually go against at least five, in the heart of their home field? There was no way in hell Raya would be able to smoothly talk her away out of the instant death it sounded like—especially stuck in a newly overwhelming emotional rut.
There was no purchase for her boots to find stability against while running over the smooth limestone floor; sudden turns and dodges left Raya slipping, fingers finding steadiness on nearby structural walls. It was not hard to figure out there were sharp blades hot on her trail, hungry for blood.
When a home free, straight path to her get away ride came into view, she took the time to check the scrolls previously slipped into her waist band.
And physically stopped sprinting to facepalm after noticing one had slipped out.
Caught within a time crunch between life and death, Raya glanced up: she easily spotted the missing scroll a handful of risky meters away—but the quickly growing attention thanks to the clash of chasing Fang warriors, with Namaari somehow nowhere to be seen, hastily approaching made the girl jitter anxiously on her toes.
She snapped her fingers in realization, pulling her father's sword free. Latching onto a side button, she pressed it in and flicked the blade's whip at the scroll. It pierced through the paper, but when Raya jerked the sword back, recoiling all of its length, the scroll stayed in tack at the tip. She peeled it off and shoved it back with the remaining stolen scrolls in her belt with sweaty hands.
And then instincts told her to duck.
The shadow of Namaari's form had caught Raya's attention. She rolled to the side, inches from becoming punctured with the Fang Princess's swords.
"Whatever your planning," a spiteful voice roared, "you won't get away with it."
Pushing herself off the ground, Raya latched the whip into the direction of Namaari's legs in an attempt to defensively stun her to make an escape. It sliced through her pants like butter—but before Raya could see if it made a direct hit, she called it back and ran.
The Heart Princess threw up a snarky middle finger. She did not want the overly optimistic attitude to crash and burn, but it would be a lie if Raya said she was not slightly more hopeful than moments before. "Already have!" she answered cheerfully, feet burning as she ran.
There were several groups of people outside, busy in the sectioned off grass. Groups of individuals hanging out under a tree, sharing a snack as if it was in the middle of schooling hours and they were not supposed to be out. Raya ran past tents of civilians trading goods. If Raya was not achingly familiar with the outside world, she would have assumed life was peaceful here in Fang. And it only made her angry.
Raya only felt soft ease slip into her veins at the coos of her trusty furred pill-bear, Tuk-Tuk. She offered a playful pet, before quickly hopping on and giving his shell a friendly knock; he understood and took off rolling immediately, smooth floor of Fang breaking off into shallow water as he jumped off the man-made island—sending Raya flying for a split moment before gravity played its part.
The city of Fang still had guards hurried this way and that, rushing past children who nonchalantly played in the streets as if a broken girl had not just stolen a few pieces of paper—as if there was not an evil force nearby, loitering in the forest's outskirts just beyond the rivers.
Water splashed around them as Raya steadied herself on the floating pill-bug-like creature. A bright smile climbed onto her face, looking back on instinct at the sight she already knew would be pictured, lingering on the side of the Fang Kingdom: Namaari, fuming, shoulders wide as she inhaled heavily. She held her weapons—mere inches from the island's drop, and squinted. Raya glanced down at her leg, noticing a patch of red painting her pants. So she did land a cut, but clearly it was not too bad considering Namaari was still up and ready to fight.
Scanning up her figure, Raya would be lying if she said it did not feel like eye contact was made; it definitely was. And she only smiled more at how Namaari's head flickered dismissively down first—fidgeting towards her mother, who looked even more pissed. Stood nearby, were Fang warriors and the now embarrassed guard Raya had knocked out to sneak in.
Fang was known for planning ahead, trying their dragon forsaken best to be one step in front whenever they could. It would be stupid to jump into the water after Raya without both a formulated plan, and proper projection from the Druun.
Spinning back towards the barren reality, Raya did not want to think too much into what the hell just happened, but a clear image flooded her mind.
It was weird, even more so, to think she kind of wanted to do it all again.
The fight, originating from something other than a hellish black and purple ball of death; the human interaction, both of bickering and genuine conversation. And most importantly: the soft look Namaari tried her damn best to hide, but Raya saw it several times, clung to it.
The back of her hand wiped across her face, shocked as it returned back by her side, wet. Shaking her head dismissively, Raya dabbed the remaining tears threatening to spill away. Now was not the time to cry. Why she was crying, the girl knew, yet whether the origin was positive, or depressing, was up for debate.
The warm breeze from rocky travels on Tuk-Tuk was a familiar sensation of comfort. With one hand tucked in the reins, and her red cape whipping around in the tug of win, Raya tilted her hat up, before unraveling the scrolls in all its glory over her lap. The time-old paint somehow looked worn out and exceptionally bright both at once, exactly how she remembered it on the floor of Heart's Temple. Raya could only hope the words and pictures littering the page were more than just a simple, ancient fictional story, but the solution to stop her father from staying stone. A blue drawing of Sisudatu, glimmering gem in hand, facing the evil Druun head on welcomed her.
It was the only thing fueling the last flicker of burning hope she had. If Sisu really could bring him back, everything would be better. And with the rivers west checked just as a precaution, Raya was now ready to travel downstream—away from Heart once and for all, tackling Tail head on.
"Well, Tuk-Tuk," the girl began a handful of minutes later. An otherwise safe silence fell on the land, alerting Raya what she assumed: there was thankfully no one following her trail just yet. However, new tears ached to roll down her face, but she held them back with a strong sniffle. "We did it, bud. We're one step closer to bringing him back."
The lack of a name did not withhold the true meaning of her words. Her Ba meant everything to Raya. He was all she had left. And her burning determination and resilience kept her moving forward.
Raya unraveled another scroll, and was pleased to see the map of ancient Kumandra; her eyes were quickly drawn to the bottom left, where Heart sat. She sniffled again, knowing what was once well trimmed trees and a gorgeous Palace was now overgrown and full of dangerous threats. She blinked, looking at the many light blue squiggles throughout the pages.
"What do you say, hm?" Raya quipped, knocking on the shell of her best and only friend. "Do we keep going to check some more rivers before dusk, or call it a day and have a break? I can find some ink to cross off the ones we've already looked at."
Halted to a much slower speed after climbing up the river bank, Tuk-Tuk unraveled onto the soft dirt—eyes peeking up in awe. He offered a worried hum and kept walking, the Fang Kingdom barely visible now that they broke through the thick trees and foggy clouds into the woods.
"Keep going?" Raya quirked, leaning to the left to slip her conical hat onto the hook on the side of Tuk-Tuk's tack and gear saddle latch.
Before she leaned up, the Princess grabbed some cloth stolen from a discarded ship off of what used to be Heart's harbor, to try and treat what she could to her wounds. Glowing through the material of her bag, was the relatively small chunk Heart had left of the blue dragon gem; she kept note of its location, just in case a Druun was nearby.
"Fine by me. I need a drink, anyway. Let's put some space between us and Fang. And then go find us a dragon."
A grumble in disagreement was the only response, but Tuk-Tuk easily gave in at the mention of water. Overworking was a verb not known to them. All there was left to do nowadays was work, so why stop? Especially now, when it felt like there was twice as much on the line.
And Namaari. She was on the line, too, in a way.
It was not hard to notice the unforgiving look the Fang Chief had given her daughter upon Raya's successful dine and dash. As much of negativity came into the world because of Namaari and her actions, Raya could not find it in her to wish the worst upon the other girl. It did not feel right. Spite, and karma? Perhaps. But not that of instant death.
"Maybe in another world, we could have been friends," young Namaari's voice had rang out, echoing within the spiritual room where the Dragon Gem was previously located; the day was still as sore as ever in Raya's memory, especially after communicating with her once more—after being spared from what Raya assumed would be a failed mission the moment her ass landed on the library floor.
That other optimistic world was simply no longer possible, and she knew it very well—bitterly drilled the fact into her head that trusting others unwarranted was completely off the table. But the least she could do was try to bring back a hopeful and familiar piece of it.
Rounding five years alone in the bare wastelands that were previously known as Kumandra, Raya now at least had a mission in mind.
And part of her was privately hoping Namaari would somehow find herself entangled in this mission.