A/N: EDIT: I'm thinking of easing back on Elden Ring Fridays, despite all the hard work Dark and I do, chapters aren't getting much in the way of feedback; not sure if that is due to the site glitches or what have you, regardless, its a real spirit breaker...

...can anyone even see this...? T_T

Here we go! The grand ball continues! After all that buildup, Dark and I could hardly let it end in one chapter, no?

Every review truly does help, large or small, any bit of feedback is better than nothing at all.

Lemme know if you want weekly updates.I own no references, quotes, memes or themes! They're all tributes to legends far greater than me. I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time. Time and feedback will determine if this remains a story. Simple as that. Do let me know~!

Time and feedback will determine if this remains a story. Simple as that.

In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know~!

SPOILERS FOR SHADOWS OF THE ERDTREE AHEAD!

"Blessed be the lord of blasphemy, champion of the forgotten and the accursed. Long may he reign...

~?

Blessed Be He

Sellen watched.

She watched and she waited from the fringe of the ballroom, one finger idly tracing the rim of her wine glass as she observed Rykard and Tanith step back in from the balcony. The young demigod's golden eyes were alight with a quiet contentment, and Tanith's gown swayed around her as she walked at his side, looking flushed and radiant. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. It seemed the two had found some resolution under the night sky.

Good. They deserve a moment of peace.

But peace was always fleeting in these lands.

Fools and dreamers, she thought to herself, not unkindly. Perhaps that's what we need.

Sellen set aside her empty glass and lifted her chin, the many facets of her glintstone crown catching the chandelier light as she moved. On a whim, she removed it and set it aside, exposing her face to the wanting eyes of the court, thereby revealing the gleaming silver tiara she wore beneath. The polished blue crystals lent her an otherworldly air — a familiar sight to most here, yet still she noticed a few lords and ladies eyeing her warily. Let them. The Primeval Current flowed in her veins; a mere courtly ball held few mysteries to a sorceress of her caliber.

As a lively new tune struck up from the ensemble, Sellen glided forward. The music was a sprightly waltz that set boots and heels spinning across the marble floor. She cut through the swirl of dancers with practiced ease, honing in on her target. Tanith had only just returned to the dance floor with Rykard, and already the poor girl looked reluctant to let him go again — her golden eyes flickering with surprise as she noticed Sellen's approach.

"Pardon me, my dear," Sellen interjected smoothly, stepping between Rykard and Tanith with a polite dip of her head. He's gotten tall, she mused; in her low heels Sellen still stood several inches shorter than her apprentice. "Might I steal a dance with our young lord?" Her tone was innocent, but a tiny spark of mirth danced in her eyes.

Tanith blinked, clearly torn. For a heartbeat she clutched Rykard's arm possessively — an instinctive motion spurred on by the dragon heart she'd consumed.

But almost at once the former dancer remembered herself.

"Of course, Lady Sellen," she replied, voice respectful though tinged with disappointment. She released Rykard's arm and executed a courteous step back. "I… I'll fetch us more wine." The excuse was graceful enough, but the pout on her lips as she walked off betrayed her true feelings.

Sellen chuckled under her breath and turned to Rykard. He looked down at her with one eyebrow arched in amusement. "Stealing my partner, are we, master?" he quipped softly, using the honorific he'd called her in younger days. A hint of Naruto's irreverent grin played on his face. Despite the heavy events earlier in the night, he was still himself.

"You've had quite enough excitement for one night," Sellen replied, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from the shoulder of his formal jacket. The fabric was midnight-blue velvet, tailored to his broad frame — Ranni had made sure he dressed to impress, and the result was not lost on Sellen. "Indulge your teacher, won't you? Before you run off with any more pretty girls." She held out her hand, fingers gloved in midnight silk to match her star-embroidered gown.

Rykard gave a low laugh and accepted her hand, his warm callused fingers curling around hers. "As my lady commands." There was a playful lilt to his voice, but also genuine affection. He had always been fond of her, even when she'd been stern with his studies.

Sellen stepped in and settled one hand on his shoulder while he found her waist with his other. The first notes of the waltz led them into motion. For all his bluster about hating formalities, Rykard moved confidently and naturally to the music. Sellen felt the surprising strength and steadiness in the arm guiding her — he held her firmly but gently, matching the rhythm with ease.

Has the boy been practicing? she wondered idly. He used to stumble over his feet during their early lessons, back when she'd practically drag him through basic court dances as part of his tutelage.

Now here he was, leading her as though he were born to it.

They spun onto the open floor, Sellen's azure skirts and Rykard's coat flaring in unison. The jeweled mosaics underfoot blurred as she focused on him. Around them, other couples made way; whether out of respect for her station or intimidation by the coiled serpent peeking from Rykard's sleeve (Irving's little black head was visible for an instant at his cuff) she wasn't sure. Likely both. The serpent familiar flickered its tongue and retreated, apparently content that this dance offered no threats.

"I must admit, you continue to surprise me," Sellen said lightly. She inclined her head, noting how the ballroom's enchanted crystal lights reflected in his golden hair and eyes. "After that spectacle with Queen Marika, I half-expected you to retire for the night. Yet here you are, still charming everyone on the floor." There was an undertone of pride in her voice that she could not quite hide.

Rykard's mouth twitched. "Retire? And miss dancing with you? Perish the thought," he bantered. Then his tone turned dry. "Besides, if I fled, you'd only hunt me down at my quarters and drag me back by the ear, wouldn't you?"

"Hmph. You know me too well." Sellen allowed a ghost of a smile. It felt good to banter like this — normal, even — after the tense confrontations earlier. Her eyes flicked past his shoulder, where a few courtiers still cast uneasy glances their way. She caught a snippet of whispered gossip trailing behind them like the train of a gown:

Marika's nephew… the audacity… Radagon was furious…

Sellen dismissed the mutterings. Court vultures would say what they pleased; it mattered little.

What mattered was the young man before her and the path he was carving through destiny's tightropes. Naruto, the world called him Rykard, but she had seen through the Primeval Current and glimpsed what -who!- he truly was. To Sellen he would always be that impossible, brilliant pupil who had utterly upended her life. Her protégé, her partner-in-crime on some days… perhaps even something more, on nights like these when his hand was warm in hers.

"You handled yourself well with the Queen," she said quietly after a few measures. They turned, and Rykard dipped Sellen expertly beneath his arm; her crown gleamed as she spun, reflecting bursts of light like a spinning chandelier prism. When she returned upright, she saw Rykard watching her with concern.

"Well enough not to get smote on the spot, I suppose," he replied with a half-smile. But there was a tightness around his eyes. "I won't lie, when Aunt Marika marched up I feared for Tanith's head… maybe even mine."

Sellen's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly in reassurance. "Your defiance bought you her interest, not her wrath, it seems." She allowed herself a soft laugh. "Saints, when she smothered you in that… embrace, your face was a picture. I dare say the great Rykard looked like a startled schoolboy."

Rykard groaned in mock agony. "Don't remind me. I thought I was going to suffocate," he said, doubtlessly recalling how Marika had all but buried his face in her ample bosom. He shuddered dramatically, drawing a true chuckle from Sellen.

The music took on a brighter trill and Rykard led her through a series of quick steps, moving in sync through the crowd. Sellen's skirts swished around his legs. She realized with some surprise that she was having… fun. When was the last time she had danced purely for enjoyment, without ulterior motive?

Years, at least. Perhaps not since she herself was a student at the Academy. How long it had been...

As he guided her around a pair of chatty nobles, Sellen caught sight of Tanith hovering near the refreshment table, two fresh glasses of wine in hand. The young woman pretended to be very interested in the platter of fruits, but her gaze kept darting toward the waltzing pair — toward them. Even across the distance, Sellen didn't miss the faint crease of jealousy on Tanith's brow. It was quickly smoothed over when Tanith noticed her watching; the dancer blushed and occupied herself by sipping one of the drinks (half the wine sloshed out, poor thing) much to her chagrin.

Sellen hid a smile. She really has fallen for him, hasn't she?

Not that it was surprising. Rykard had a way of collecting devotion wherever he went, intentionally or not.

"You know," Sellen murmured, drawing Rykard's attention back to her, "some might say you've gathered a rather peculiar little harem." She arched a slim brow when he squawked. "A royal witch for a sister, a dancer from nowhere, a banished sorceress… even a dragon masquerading as a woman." She gave a meaningful nod toward a far corner of the hall, where a dark-haired young lady in a stylish violet dress stood watching the dance floor intently. Adula — or Azula, as that dragon insisted on calling her human form — raised her flute of sparkling wine in a silent toast when she saw them looking, a grin flashing across her sharp features.

Rykard coughed lightly. "When you put it that way, it does sound a bit absurd." A faint pink touched his cheeks, either from the exertion of the waltz or Sellen's pointed teasing. "It's not as if I planned it, master. Things just… happened."

"Mm, they do have a habit of doing that around you." Sellen's tone was wry, but there was an undertone of fondness she couldn't quite deny.

This strange menagerie of allies he's drawn to himself… Perhaps it's exactly what will be needed for the trials to come.

Her own heart had long ago hardened to the idea of attachments. Ambition and arcane knowledge had been her companions, and loneliness a tolerable price. But Rykard's life — Naruto's life — defied that isolation. He created bonds as naturally as breathing, tangling disparate fates around him like an elaborate dance.

As they revolved through another turn, Sellen realized Rykard had grown momentarily quiet.

His eyes flickered over her face, searching.

"What is it?" she asked, tilting her head.

He hesitated, then spoke in a gentler voice. "I haven't properly thanked you yet. For helping Tanith earlier, and… well, for everything." He guided her in a slow glide across the polished marble, away from a cluster of dancers, giving them a semblance of privacy. The music softened for a moment as the melody transitioned. Rykard continued, "If you hadn't pushed me over to her, I might have let Radagon's cruelty spoil her night. And I know that was the last thing you wanted."

Sellen felt a faint warmth at his earnest gratitude. She scoffed lightly to cover the emotion behind her eyes. "I merely supplied the wine, my apprentice. You chose to intervene." Her eyes met his, and for once the aloof sorceress let a hint of true affection shine through. "Though I am glad you did. The girl needed you. And…" She allowed herself a small sigh, "I suppose I didn't want to see you sulking in a corner all night either."

Rykard's smile in reply was bright and boyish — unexpectedly so, for a man who had stood up to a goddess only an hour prior. For a heartbeat, Sellen saw not the towering demigod, but the scrappy, orange-loving youth who used to nap in the rafters of the library and play pranks on stuffy scholars.

How far he had come. How far they had come, together.

The orchestra's waltz began its final crescendo. Couples all around prepared for the last sweeping motions of the dance. Sellen noticed Adula out of the corner of her eye, inching closer to the edge of the dance floor as if gathering courage. No doubt the dragoness was waiting for an opportunity to snatch Rykard next — her bright eyes practically glowed with anticipation.

Sellen smirked. Patience, dear.

As the final notes swelled, Sellen and Rykard whirled gracefully. In a bold flourish, her apprentice unexpectedly lifted her by the waist and spun her once in the air. Her breath caught; she hadn't been lifted off her feet in ages, and certainly not without warning! Yet she couldn't suppress the thrill that fluttered in her stomach as the ballroom briefly tilted around her. The sorceress in her cried out in alarm at relinquishing control, but found his hands steady and sure; moreover, she trusted him implicitly not to drop her.

A surprised laugh escaped her lips as he set her down gently, just as the music ended in a triumphant finish.

Applause rippled through the hall at the dance's conclusion. Sellen's cheeks were faintly flushed — likely the most unguarded expression she had shown in a long time. "You rogue," she chided under her breath, fighting a smile as she adjusted her glintstone crown, making sure it hadn't slipped during that daring move. "Since when do you pull stunts like that on the dance floor?"

Rykard rubbed the back of his neck, looking equally amused and a tad proud of himself. "I figured you, of all people, appreciate a little showmanship." He offered his arm courteously. Around them, new partners were already trading places as the musicians prepared the next piece.

Sellen accepted his arm, chuckling. "Fair enough." As she let him escort her back toward the sidelines, she lowered her voice. "And thank you, Rykard." She rarely used his given name, but in this moment it felt right — a quiet acknowledgement between just the two of them. "For the dance. I fear I've grown rather rusty in these social graces. You made it… enjoyable."

He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. "I can't imagine you rusty at anything, master Sellen. But you're welcome." His tone turned impishly conspiratorial. "Perhaps next time I'll let you lift me—"

"Oh hush, you insolent boy." Sellen rolled her eyes and gave him a light swat on the shoulder, which only made him laugh.

They reached the edge of the floor where Tanith waited with the promised wine. The poor girl had indeed fetched a second glass and not spilled it this time. She offered one to Sellen.

"My lady," Tanith said politely. Only a trace of lingering jealousy colored her tone; she was trying her best to stay poised.

Sellen inclined her head in thanks and took the glass. "You dance wonderfully, Tanith," she said, letting the younger woman hear sincerity in her voice. "Thank you for allowing me a turn." This seemed to mollify Tanith — the compliment on her dancing made her smile shyly. She looked between Sellen and Rykard, clearly itching to be back in his arms now that the sorceress's turn was over.

"Well, don't let me monopolize our host all night," Sellen declared. She leaned toward Rykard and spoke in a mock whisper, "I suspect someone else is eager to sweep you away, my apprentice. Two someones, in fact." She tilted her head meaningfully to where Adula was now quite close by, pretending to study a painting on the wall with forced nonchalance. The disguised dragon's tail — or rather, the hem of her gown — practically wagged with impatience.

Rykard followed Sellen's gaze and bit back a grin. "Ah. I'd best not keep Lady Azula waiting then," he murmured. But before he moved, he turned to Tanith. "I'll be right back, I promise," he said softly to her, as if sensing her unease. There was a tenderness in his voice reserved only for Tanith, and it made Sellen's heart twinge strangely.

Tanith nodded, bravely masking her disappointment and curtsying to both of them.

With that, Sellen gave Rykard a gentle push in Adula's direction. "Off you go. Have fun." She lifted her wine in a little toast. "Try not to step on her toes — I doubt dragon toes heal as easily as ours."

Rykard snorted a laugh and finally released Sellen's arm. "By your command," he said, executing a playful bow that made his auburn hair fall over his eyes. In a flash he straightened and strode toward Adula, who nearly dropped her wine in excitement as he approached.

Sellen watched the dragoness light up like a child receiving a gift, and allowed herself a sip of the sweet wine. Music, laughter, and murmured conversations swirled around her once more. Her dance was done; now it was another's turn. A peculiar pang tugged at Sellen's chest as she saw Rykard offer his hand to Adula with a warm smile — the same smile he had given Tanith, the same he'd shared with her during their waltz. She told herself it was just protective affection she felt. After all, a teacher takes pride in seeing her pupil admired.

Yet as Sellen stepped back into the shadows to observe again, she found herself touching the spot on her waist where his hand had been, and she felt the lingering warmth there.

Attachment, Thops would say, is the enemy of enlightenment, she mused, recalling an old lesson. But Thops wasn't here, and in that moment Sellen decided she didn't particularly care for his wisdom. Enlightenment be damned — she preferred the memory of a carefree laugh and a fearless lift beneath glittering lights.

She sighed, shaking her head at her own sentimentality, and let her keen gaze settle on Rykard and Adula beginning to dance.

"Go on then, you strange boy," Sellen whispered with a smirk, lifting her glass in a private salute. "Show her a good time."

(.0.0.0.)

Tanith's heart was still skipping beats from her last dance with Rykard — and from watching Lady Sellen waltz off with him immediately after. She pressed a cool glass of wine to her cheek in a vain attempt to calm her warm blush. It wouldn't do to appear the jealous lover in front of all these nobles, not when she had just mustered the courage to stand tall against gods for his sake. Still, a tiny pout pinched her lips as she watched Rykard and Sellen swirling gracefully across the ballroom.

He looks so at ease with her, Tanith thought, simultaneously proud and envious.

The sight was undeniably elegant: his dark figure and Sellen's starry-blue gown moving in perfect unison. They made it look effortless. Tanith caught a glimpse of Rykard's face as he laughed at something Sellen said. The soft expression in his eyes was one Tanith had come to know well — warm, fond, full of trust. It was the way he often looked at her… but of course he shared that warmth with others dear to him, too.

Tanith let out a slow breath and tore her gaze away, focusing on balancing the two wine goblets in her hands.

She'd promised to fetch drinks, after all.

A dutiful distraction.

"Steady now," she whispered to herself as she carefully navigated around a group of chatting knights. The rich scent of grapes wafted up from the cups; Tanith realized with a start that she'd already sipped from one absentmindedly while pouting. Her cheeks burned hotter. Honestly.

She placed the untasted glass on a nearby tray for Rykard's return, and took another tiny swallow from the one she'd started. The sweet Liurnian red wine spread warmth through her chest, but it was nothing compared to the fluttering heat that Rykard's presence stirred in her tonight.

This night… oh, this night had been a storm of emotions.

Tanith closed her eyes briefly, the music and voices around her dimming as she sank into her thoughts. In one evening she had faced down Rykard's father — even dared retort to the mighty Radagon — and then confronted a living goddess. Her knees ought to have been buckling from terror. And indeed, when Queen Marika's golden gaze had pinned Tanith in place, she'd felt as though her blood turned to ice.

Yet her Lord Rykard had stepped before her every time. He had shielded her from cruel words and divine attention alike, defying his own kin to defend her, a mere mortal dancer from a distant land.

At first, Tanith had been mortified that she needed saving at all. Radagon's scorn had cut deep; his words had echoed every fear she harbored — that she was reaching too high, presuming too much by loving a demigod.

"You will regret it," he had threatened.

Once, those words might have reduced Tanith to trembling silence. But tonight she'd held firm, buoyed by the resolve in Rykard's eyes as he appeared at her side with those wine glasses (she still smiled recalling how he'd practically barreled through the crowd to reach her). In that moment, he had been her gallant rescuer and co-conspirator in one, sweeping her into a dance that whisked her away from Radagon's disdain.

Tanith took another sip of wine, recalling how her heart had raced when Rykard first led her onto the floor. Her nerves had made her stiff; she was sure she'd misstep, embarrass them both under so many watchful eyes. But then he'd spoken so softly: "You've grown, Tanith," he'd said, his tone almost reverent. That simple observation — not quite a compliment, yet said with such admiration — had sent a delightful shiver through her. It was as if he truly saw her, the woman she had become, not just the frightened waif he'd saved years ago.

After that, moving with him had become easy. With every step of that dance, Tanith felt her confidence blossoming anew. The world around them blurred; the whispers and stares faded into nothing. There was only Rykard's hand in hers, his arm strong around her back, and the music that somehow seemed to play just for them. She remembered the gentle brush of his fingers at her waist, the way his eyes never left her face. In his gaze she found acceptance, and even… desire? She dared hope so. Her blood had sung with exhilaration as she realized she could match him step for step. No longer a damsel in distress, but a partner.

Tanith opened her eyes and glanced toward the tall mirror that lined one of the marble pillars. In it she saw her reflection — a young woman in a scarlet gown that hugged her curves, dark hair pinned up save for a few loose locks that framed her face. Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes bright with life, the vigor of a dragon's heart eaten afresh.

Is that truly me? she wondered.

Truth be told, she hardly recognized this confident lady as the same person who had once cowered in the shadowed alleys of the Altus Plateau, just trying to survive until a golden-haired prankster lord plucked her out of misery.

Her gaze drifted past her own reflection to the scene behind: Rykard had finished the dance with Sellen and was now moving to partner with Adula. Even across the hall, Tanith could see how Adula's face lit up. The beautiful stranger practically bounced on her toes as he bowed to her. Tanith felt a twinge of something — not quite fear, but a cousin of it.

Adula was an enigma to her. She knew only that the woman was a dragon in human form, brought into their circle by Rykard's peculiar magnetism. Adula was powerful, ancient, alluring in an exotic way. How could a mere mortal girl like Tanith compare to that?

Tanith bit her lip, then immediately forced herself to stop. No. That line of thinking was the old Tanith — insecure, doubting, self sabotaging. Had she not vowed to stand at his side "no matter what comes"? That meant standing proudly among these other extraordinary women too, not shrinking away. Rykard's life was unconventional, full of magic, mischief, and yes, multiple companions who cared for him. If she wanted to be a part of it, she would have to carve out her own place with equal conviction.

The memory of Rykard's voice on the balcony came back to her: "I see someone who's stronger than she knows… and someone who means more to me than words can say." Her breath caught even now as she recalled those words. He meant her. She meant something to him — something beyond a dance partner, beyond a ward or friend. The raw honesty in his tone had left her speechless, on the verge of tears of joy. In true Rykard fashion, he'd then ruined the solemnity by joking about his terrible compliments, making her laugh. But Tanith had understood the depth beneath his awkward jest. It was essentially a confession.

Her fingers tightened around the wineglass. How she had yearned to reply in kind! To tell him that her heart belonged to him entirely, that every step she'd taken to gain strength — even consuming a dragon's heart to claim its power — had been so she might one day stand worthy at his side. She had tried to tell him earlier in the night, before Queen Marika's entrance had interrupted. And then on the balcony after, he'd asked if she was sure she wanted this life with him, after seeing how dangerous it could be. Tanith had never been more sure of anything. She had declared her choice fervently: to face whatever storm came, with him.

Those moments were as good as any love vow, but still… she hadn't yet spoken the simple words "I love you." Perhaps they hadn't needed saying explicitly; their eyes and actions had spoken volumes. Yet Tanith hoped she would get the chance soon, properly and clearly, in a peaceful moment without looming gods or prying courtiers.

Tanith realized she was smiling softly at the thought. She set down her half-empty wine, no longer needing its false courage. A new melody began — a lilting, flowing piece that beckoned couples back onto the floor. Tanith watched as Adula gingerly took Rykard's hand, and he led the dragoness into the first steps of a foxtrot. Adula moved with surprising grace for someone who usually had a tail and wings; Tanith could see the willowy woman concentrating hard on the steps.

Rykard said something to Adula that made her throw her head back and laugh — an uninhibited, almost wild sound that caused nearby dancers to startle. Tanith giggled into her palm. Adula's laugh was more a dragon's roar than a human titter, but Rykard only grinned wider, clearly pleased to draw out such mirth.

The sight eased Tanith's remaining worry. How could she be jealous, truly, when each of these women shared a different facet of Rykard's life? Sellen was his wise mentor and co-conspirator, Adula his fierce ally from beyond humanity, Ranni his beloved sister and guide. And she… she was the one who offered him devotion and mortal grounding, a partner who chose him not for his title or power but for the kind soul and mischievous spirit within.

My love is something I can give unto him that no one else can, she reaffirmed it in her heart.

Across the way, Sellen caught Tanith's eye and raised her own glass subtly in Tanith's direction. The sorceress's face was as composed as ever, but Tanith sensed a silent encouragement in that gesture — almost a reassurance. Tanith stood a little taller, squaring her shoulders. She returned a nod of thanks. Lady Sellen had been the one to nudge her onto this path of boldness, ever since urging Tanith to accept a dragon's strength. If Sellen believed Tanith deserved to stand next to Rykard, then Tanith would believe it too.

As the foxtrot continued, Tanith allowed herself to simply enjoy the spectacle for a moment. The ballroom was truly magnificent: floating crystals bobbed near the ceiling like miniature moons, casting shimmering patterns of light over the dancers. The air smelled of honeyed pastries and perfume, undercut by the smokiness of dozens of flickering torches set in silver sconces along the walls. The floor beneath her slippers was so highly polished that it reflected the dancers like a dark mirror, as if another ball were happening upside-down beneath their feet.

For so long, Tanith never imagined she would be welcome in a place like this — a grand royal ball among nobles and legends. Yet here she was, not just present but a participant in the splendor, even a focal point of some drama. The realization was dizzying. And exhilarating. She felt a surge of gratitude and pride. Gratitude toward the orange-haired prankster prince who had pulled her from despair into this dazzling world, and pride that she had adapted and grown strong enough not to be lost in it.

The song drew to a close. Tanith watched as Rykard and Adula parted with a flourish and mutual bows. Adula's cheeks were flushed with exertion (or possibly contained excitement), and Rykard clapped lightly in appreciation of her efforts, earning a playful swat on his arm from the dragoness. Tanith suppressed a laugh. Adula's face at that moment was so utterly human — pouting lips and narrowed eyes — that it was easy to forget her draconic nature.

Before the next dance could start, Tanith saw Rykard scanning the room, as if looking for someone. His gaze found her, and her heart gave a little leap. Even from a distance she read the unspoken question in his eyes: Are you all right? She answered with a bright smile and a slight wave, hoping he could see that she was more than all right. In fact, she brimmed with happiness.

Impulsively, Tanith decided she didn't want to wait any longer to be by his side. She gathered the folds of her scarlet skirt and stepped forward — only to pause when another figure intercepted Rykard's path. It was Princess Ranni, emerging from the throng with her long velvet gown trailing like a night sky behind her.

Oh, dear.

Tanith immediately retreated a step, not wishing to interrupt the siblings. Ranni had been busy much of the night, flitting from guest to guest in her role as Carian hostess, but Tanith noticed that now the princess's focus was solely on her brother. Ranni said something to Rykard with a faint smile, extending a slender hand.

Tanith watched as Rykard's face lit up with a mix of surprise and delight. He took Ranni's hand in a gallant manner, and the two moved toward the center as a new, slower song began — a contemplative ballad that contrasted the earlier energetic numbers. A dance between prince and princess, brother and sister, to calm the mood of the hall after so much excitement; it was a fitting moment that drew approving murmurs from onlookers.

A small, bittersweet pang tugged at Tanith's chest. Selfishly, she had been hoping she might claim Rykard for one more dance, to finally whisper those words in his ear while they swayed in some secluded corner of the floor. But as she observed the gentle rapport between the siblings, she found she couldn't begrudge them this time. Ranni had orchestrated much of this event and endured her share of trials tonight as well — surely she deserved a moment more with her beloved little brother.

Tanith took up the two fresh wine glasses again (she had a feeling Rykard might need a refill after this next dance) and moved quietly to a spot at the side where she could watch. Ranni and Rykard began to dance, a striking pair: Ranni with her ethereal grace, silver hair tumbling in waves over an ice-blue gown, and Rykard tall and strong, one hand respectfully at her mid-back. Their steps were slow, almost solemn, yet comfortable, as if they'd danced together a hundred times (though Tanith suspected this was a rare occasion — Ranni usually held herself too aloof for such displays).

As she watched them, Tanith's thoughts drifted to the future. Marika's ominous warning hung in the back of her mind: "The storm is coming." Whatever that meant, it promised turmoil.

And Radagon…

Tanith doubted he would easily relinquish his disapproval of her.

There would be challenges ahead, undoubtedly.

But the woman in the mirror — the one she scarcely recognized as herself — was ready to face them.

Tanith straightened her back, feeling the comforting weight of the dagger hidden in the folds of her dress (a habit she never dropped from her hard years — one did not attend even a ball without a means of defense). She prayed she wouldn't need it tonight. Let this one night end in joy, she wished, watching Rykard twirl Ranni gracefully. Just one peaceful night before the chaos comes.

She allowed herself to imagine, for a daring moment, what life might be like if she stayed at Rykard's side permanently. Perhaps one day, no one would dare call her "just a dancer" with a sneer. Perhaps she would stand as his consort, respected and feared in her own right — a mortal who defied gods out of love. The idea made her stomach flutter, part fear, part thrill. She had no royal blood, no great lineage. Only her determination and her love for him. Would that be enough to carve out a place in history?

With Rykard, she believed it might.

The final notes of the ballad floated through the air like falling petals, and Ranni rested her head briefly against Rykard's shoulder in a rare show of affection. Tanith smiled at the tender sight, clutching the wine glasses to her chest. She would wait patiently for him to finish this dance. And when he came back to her — and he would come back to her, she was certain now — she'd be ready, steady as a rock by his side, no matter what fell from the heavens...

.

..

...or rose from the depths.

(.0.0.0.)

Adula's heart thundered against her ribs as she took human steps onto the dance floor, desperately hoping she wouldn't accidentally crush Rykard's foot with her enthusiasm. She had faced ancient sorcerers and rival dragons without flinching, but this simple mortal custom — dancing — had her stomach full of proverbial butterflies (a strange sensation, since in her true form any butterflies would likely be roasted by inner fire before causing such fluttering).

When Rykard approached her, hand outstretched and eyes warm, Adula had nearly forgotten to assume her practiced Azula composure. For a beat, her draconic instincts had urged her to roar victoriously that she was chosen next. But she quickly caught herself, recalling Sellen's many patient lessons on etiquette. Instead, she'd managed a confident smile (hopefully not too toothy) and placed her hand in Rykard's.

Now, as the music shifted to a brisk foxtrot, Adula concentrated fiercely on the patterns Sellen drilled into her earlier in the day. "Quick, quick, slow… quick, quick, slow…" she murmured under her breath. By the Elden Stars, having two legs was so much harder than wings and four talons when it came to coordination! Her instincts begged her to lead, to control the movement, but she forced herself to follow Rykard's gentle guidance.

At first, her steps were a fraction of a beat off. She felt Rykard's right hand press lightly at her back, adjusting her timing. Adula bit her inner cheek. The idea that she needed guiding was foreign and a touch frustrating — dragons are proud, independent creatures, not used to being led. But for him, she'd swallow that pride. After all, Rykard had earned her respect in more ways than one.

Their eyes met as they found the rhythm together. Rykard's gaze held no judgment at her awkwardness, only encouragement and that irrepressible humor. "Relax," he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips, "I won't let you fall."

Adula huffed softly. "I do not fear falling." Her voice, usually a resonant alto that could shake a mountaintop when unleashed, was carefully restrained to a human volume. "I fear making a fool of myself before all these tiny staring humans."

As she spoke, she flicked her eyes pointedly at a cluster of young noblewomen who were gawking openly, fans fluttering as they gossiped behind painted nails. Perhaps they suspected something off about Adula — her movements too sharp, her manner too intense. Or maybe they were just curious who this unknown dark-haired lady dancing with Prince Rykard was.

Rykard chuckled and smoothly spun Adula in a half-turn, his hand firmly catching hers again as she came around. The motion caused her indigo skirt to flare and the small gems adorning it to glint like sparks. "Let them stare," he said quietly. "They've never seen anyone like you." He winked. "And they probably won't again. Consider this your grand debut at court."

His words made Adula's chest swell with a strange mix of gratification and bashfulness. Grand debut indeed — if only these mortals knew who they were truly beholding. The thought tickled her mischief. She leaned in slightly and said with a sly curl of her lips, "Shall I give them something to talk about, then?"

Before he could answer, Adula decided to trust her instincts. She pivoted more quickly than the standard step, adding an extra flourish that caused her to press quite close to Rykard. With her next step, she allowed a hint of draconic strength to flow through her limbs — not enough to harm, but enough that Rykard had to brace and firm his stance as she unexpectedly dipped her weight. He handled it well, adjusting without missing a beat. His eyebrows shot up in surprise at her bold move.

There were a few audible gasps from the spectators as Adula, grinning, righted herself and continued the foxtrot as if nothing happened. Rykard's golden eyes sparkled with mirth (and a touch of challenge) at her little test. "Easy now," he murmured, suppressing a laugh. "I still need these arms attached by the end of the night."

Adula smirked, revealing the barest hint of sharp canines behind her polite smile. "I think you can handle a strong partner, my lord," she teased. It felt good to let a bit of her real self bleed through the prim facade of Azula. And Rykard never did shy away from her true self; from the moment he had first called out to her — a fearsome glintstone dragon perched atop the ruins of the Academy — he treated her with a mix of respect and friendly audacity that had utterly disarmed her.

A memory he doubtlessly no longer remembered, else he'd be treating her very differently indeed.

Her mind drifted to that memory: Rykard, hardly more than a boy then, standing in the ruins of Raya Lucaria's upper cliffs and waving cheerily as if she were a common stray he wanted to befriend. "Oi, dragon!" he'd shouted, completely unafraid of the gigantic crystal-breathing reptile glaring down at him. "You look bored up there. Wanna hang out? I've got snacks!"

Gods, what a bizarre little immortal he had been. Instead of challenging her to battle or fleeing in terror, he'd offered her roasted crab and chatted about the weather. Adula remembered peering down in puzzled fascination, wondering if the human was right in the head.

Curiosity (and admittedly, the tempting scent of cooked crab) got the better of her. That was the first time she assumed her seldom-used human form in centuries, shrinking down to meet him eye-to-eye. They'd sat on the very ledge that was her roost, sharing a spontaneous picnic as though they were old friends instead of natural foes. It was the strangest encounter of her long life — and one of the most cherished. By night's end, he'd somehow convinced her to leave the lonely heights and join him on "some adventures." He had promised fun, freedom, and plenty more snacks. Adula had accepted with bemused wonder, not realizing just how pivotal that decision would be.

Now here she was, dancing among mortal nobility, clad in a silk gown rather than ancient scales, all because of that foolish, wonderful demigod. If any of her surviving draconic kin saw her now, they'd roar with laughter or outrage. But Adula… Adula felt more alive in this moment than she had in ages. The bright lights, the music, the tastes and textures — experiencing them intimately as a human rather than a distant observer — it was intoxicating.

The song's tempo rose into a lively section, and Adula found that her body at last moved smoothly. She glided beside Rykard now instead of struggling. Quick quick slow, it was finally clicking. A triumphant grin spread on her face. "I think I've got it!" she exclaimed, perhaps a bit louder than ladylike. A few nearby dancers glanced over at her exuberance, but she hardly cared.

Rykard laughed, a rich genuine sound that made Adula's heart thump for reasons unrelated to exertion. "Knew you would," he replied. "Never met a challenge you couldn't conquer, eh?"

"Of course not," Adula sniffed playfully, tossing her head. The motion caused one of the ornate dragon-shaped hairpins Ranni had lent her to come loose — the pin clattered to the floor, letting a strand of Adula's inky hair spring free. She instinctively moved to grab it, a misstep in the dance, but Rykard smoothly intercepted. In one fluid motion he twirled her away, then back in, and bent down mid-step to snatch up the fallen hairpin from the ground. The daring maneuver made Adula yelp softly in surprise; she ended up with her back against Rykard's chest as he dipped to retrieve the pin, effectively supporting both her and himself on one leg momentarily. Gasps and a few claps arose from onlookers at the acrobatic feat.

Time seemed to slow for Adula in that instant. She felt the strength in Rykard's arm around her waist keeping her steady, the brush of his breath near her ear as he let out a little triumphant "Ha!" upon securing the pin. Heat rushed to Adula's cheeks. Being so close to him awakened a different kind of excitement than battle ever had — a flutter in her core she couldn't blame on draconic instincts alone.

Rykard righted them both, holding up the jeweled pin like a trophy before gently sliding it back into Adula's hair. "There," he murmured, his fingers briefly combing a stray lock into place. "Safe and sound." His touch sent a pleasant tingle along Adula's scalp.

She cleared her throat, hoping her face wasn't as red as it felt. "You continue to surprise me, Rykard," she managed, trying for nonchalance. "Catching a falling jewel without missing a step… are all human males so nimble?"

He shrugged with a playful smirk. "Only the ones who dance with dragons."

Adula couldn't help it — she threw her head back and laughed, a bright, bold sound that echoed against the high ceiling. The absurdity and perfection of that statement delighted her to no end. Some of the nobles looked scandalized at her unrestrained mirth, but others smiled; a few even laughed along, though they couldn't have known what joke they were part of. Sellen was among those smiling; Adula spied the sorceress shaking her head fondly at them from the sidelines.

As the foxtrot neared its end, Adula felt a surge of affection and protectiveness toward the man guiding her through the final measures. Rykard was grinning as well, clearly pleased he'd drawn such a reaction from her. In that grin she saw the fearless boy offering a dragon lunch, the cunning lord plotting pranks on his own family, and the honorable soul who came back and treated a so-called monster as an equal.

Through everything, he had given Adula a place among these people — not as a beast to be slain or an objective to be conquered, but as a friend… perhaps even as something like family. That thought made her glance toward Ranni, who was at the moment speaking with a departing noble on the side. If Ranni was a sister to him, Adula fancied she might claim a role akin to a wild cousin or loyal guardian. She certainly felt a dragon's urge to guard him, horde him even, from those who wished him ill.

Such as Marika, Adula thought with narrowed eyes. The audacity of that so-called goddess to paw at him earlier made Adula's scales itch beneath her borrowed skin. If Marika had tried truly harming him, Adula might have transformed on the spot and shown the "Eternal" just how deadly a cornered dragon could be. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that… yet.

The music drew to a close with a jaunty flourish. On the final beat, Adula impulsively decided to mirror what she'd seen other ladies do and ended the dance with a genteel curtsy. Unfortunately, curtsying was not in her repertoire of practiced skills — she wobbled precariously as she bent her knees and grabbed at her skirt to spread it. Rykard reacted instantly, shooting out a hand to steady her elbow. Together they improvised it into a dramatic bow, as if it were all planned.

Adula smirked up at him, still holding his hand. "Thank you, my lord, for the dance," she intoned in an overly prim voice, playing up the charade of courtly manners. Then she added in a quieter genuine tone, "Truly… thank you, Rykard."

He dipped his head, golden hair falling over one eye in that charmingly unruly way. "The pleasure is mine, Adula." He gave her an extra little squeeze on the hand, and she felt how sincere he was.

Applause and chatter swelled around them. The ballroom's attention soon shifted as partners changed once more. Adula reluctantly released Rykard's hand. She had half a mind to demand another round, but she knew others still awaited their moment with him. Her draconic sense of greed whispered to monopolize him, but she pushed it aside. Instead, she stepped back to allow him a breath and bowed her head respectfully.

"I will remember this night," she said softly. As long as I live, which shall be a very long time indeed. Her bright eyes met his. "If ever you tire of these delicate dances, call upon me. We will soar above this court and dance among the clouds instead." There was a fierce promise in her words — a vow that her friendship was not bound by ballrooms or polite society.

Rykard smiled in return, something knowing and appreciative in his expression. "I'll hold you to that, Azula." He deliberately used her chosen human name, as if to acknowledge both sides of her. "Don't be surprised when I show up on your doorstep with a picnic basket again."

Aha! So he did remember!

Adula felt her heart lighten to the weightlessness of a hatchling's. She gave him a wink, confidence fully restored. "I shall be disappointed if you don't."

With that, she pivoted gracefully (tail-swishing would have been more satisfying, but a dress swirl had to suffice) and strode off toward Sellen, who beckoned her over with an eager look. No doubt the sorceress wanted to dissect every detail of the dance and how Adula fared. The dragon within Adula preened, already imagining boasting of her minor successes.

As she walked away, Adula cast one last glance over her shoulder. Rykard stood for a moment alone, rolling his shoulders as if loosening them after all the dancing. Irving the snake peeked out from his sleeve again; Rykard stroked the little serpent's head with affection. Adula smiled at the endearing sight. Then, from the corner of the hall, she saw Ranni approaching her brother, purposeful and poised.

Adula's eyebrows rose. Now this would be interesting — Ranni seldom partook in frivolities like dancing. Adula found herself grinning and calling out to Rykard in a low, teasing rumble (mostly to herself): "Good luck, Lord Rykard. Mind your toes with that one." She chuckled, imagining that dancing with the Lunar Princess might be the greatest challenge of the night for him.

Rejoining Sellen and Tanith at the sidelines, Adula felt utterly exhilarated and strangely at home. Who would have thought a dragon would find kinship and belonging among humans? But such was the change that Naruto Rykard had wrought in her life.

As the next slow melody began and Ranni and Rykard started to dance, Adula raised a glass of wine Sellen handed her (where had that come from? Perhaps Tanith fetched it) and quietly toasted under her breath: "To strange alliances and even stranger friends." Her slitted dragon eyes flicked upward to the dark expanse visible beyond the tall windows — the night sky glittered with stars.

One star in particular seemed to shine brighter, almost moving against the heavens; ominously so.

Adula's heightened senses prickled, but she kept her peace for now.

This was a night of celebration. May it last a bit longer…

(.0.0.0.)

Sometimes, Ranni thought with a mix of exasperation and fondness, her little brother truly had gone mad.

As she watched Rykard gallivant across the ballroom with one woman after another, she felt like an observer of some elaborate juggling act — except the juggler was dancing and the balls he kept in the air were the hearts of the women in his life. Such a vexing little brother.

From her vantage near the dais, Ranni had borne witness to it all: Tanith gazing up at him like he hung the moon, Sellen spiriting him away from a pouting Tanith for a dance of her own, and Adula all but roaring with laughter as he spun her around. Truly, her brother had assembled a strange menagerie of companions. A foreign dancer with the fire of a dragon in her veins, an outcast sorceress with a sharp tongue, and an actual dragon masquerading in human skin. Ranni's gloved fingers tightened slightly on the cool stone balustrade as she mused.

If any conservative lords had doubts about Rykard's eccentricities, tonight would have confirmed their every suspicion.

And yet… watching the genuine smiles he put on each of those women's faces, Ranni couldn't find it in herself to be upset. If anything, a reluctant admiration filled her. He balances them well, she admitted silently. Most men would drown in such "trying troubles," but Rykard managed to give each their moment.

Perhaps it was Naruto's influence — that mortal soul reincarnated within Rykard — that made him so adept at forging bonds. Ranni herself had always been more reserved, guarding her heart behind layers of frost and duty. Her little brother, conversely, scattered warmth wherever he went, melting even the most hardened.

Ranni allowed a tiny sigh to escape her lips. The night was wearing on, and fatigue nipped at the edges of her composure. She'd played the gracious princess for hours now — greeting dignitaries, quelling rumors in murmured conversation, keeping an eye on Father (Radagon's departure earlier had been a relief), and on the Queen (Marika's appearance still made Ranni bristle internally; the nerve of that woman, eyeing Rykard like a wolf sizing up a lamb). Through it all, Ranni had monitored Rykard as best she could.

Protecting him was second nature, even if it was often from his own shenanigans.

But what she saw tonight stirred conflicting emotions. As Tanith boldly defied Radagon for Rykard's sake, Ranni felt pride — and an unexpected pang of empathy. When Sellen and Adula each took their turns, Ranni recognized the glint of devotion in their eyes as they looked at him.

They all cared for Rykard, sincerely. Possibly even loved him, each in their own fashion.

And he cares for them, she realized. That understanding settled on her shoulders with a weight both comforting and heavy. Rykard wasn't a child any longer; he was a young man with a life rich in relationships and responsibilities that extended beyond just being her "little brother."

Ranni pressed a delicate hand to her temple. Perhaps it was the residual stress of Marika's ominous prophecy, or the knowledge that soon the demigods would have to contend with whatever storm was coming, but an uncharacteristic melancholy tugged at her.

Where do I fit in his life now? she wondered.

Once, she had been Rykard's whole world — the big sister he idolized and infuriated in equal measure. But Naruto's soul had given him perspective beyond their family's sphere. Now he had others to turn to for support and mischief. Ranni wasn't jealous, she told herself firmly (an Elden Princess does not stoop to petty jealousy)… but she did feel a little lonely in that moment, standing apart while he reveled with his newfound circle.

She was shaken from her thoughts by a gentle nudge at her elbow. It was Blaidd, her ever-loyal shadow, leaning down to speak quietly. "Your Highness, you should rest. You've done more than enough politickin' for one evening."

Ranni mustered a faint smile for her vassal. Blaidd's wolfen ears flicked with concern. He could always sense when her mood was off-kilter. "I am well, Blaidd," she reassured, patting his arm. "Fret not." Her eyes strayed back to the dance floor, where Rykard was now finishing with Adula.

Blaidd followed her gaze and gave a soft chuckle. "Our young lord has grown quite popular, it seems." He bared a wolfish grin. "Not that you're surprised."

Ranni huffed, crossing her arms. "Hmph. Ever the charmer, that one. He could sweet-talk a dragon… evidently." She tilted her head as Rykard deftly caught something from the floor — was that a hairpin? Good heavens, they were performing stunts now. The crowd applauded. Adula's laughter rang out, uninhibited and wild. Ranni shook her head with an indulgent sigh. "Honestly, 'tis like watching a circus."

Blaidd's chuckle rumbled. "Shall I go cut in, teach him a lesson on the floor?" he joked, pretending to roll up a sleeve.

Ranni smirked despite herself. The mental image of the towering half-wolf Blaidd trying to delicately dance a waltz was enough to dispel her gloom momentarily. "That won't be necessary," she replied with a light laugh. "Though it would be a sight."

As Adula departed toward Sellen and Tanith, Ranni straightened. Rykard was now momentarily unoccupied, and despite the late hour the musicians were striking up one final slow piece — a graceful, haunting melody of strings that Ranni knew well. It was a Carian nocturne, a favorite of her mother Rennala's. Likely the last dance of the night, she realized.

A subtle resolve hardened in Ranni's chest. She would not let the night end without sharing a moment with her brother. Not as a matter of duty or appearances, but for herself. For them. She wanted, just for a few minutes, to be Ranni and Rykard, siblings dancing together as if they were carefree children and the burdens of the world were far away.

"Blaidd," she said softly, "I am going to join him." The wolf knight blinked in surprise, then nodded approvingly, stepping aside.

Ranni gathered a corner of her long midnight-blue skirt — embroidered with silver constellations — and descended the dais. The crowd around her parted respectfully, whispers trailing in her wake: The Princess is going to dance? Who is her partner? Ah— of course… Ranni paid them no mind. Her focus was solely on the young man ahead.

Rykard had just finished whispering something to his snake familiar (the little creature gave an affirmative hiss and slithered into his sleeve). He looked up as she approached, recognition and curiosity lighting his face. Ranni realized belatedly she hadn't planned what to say. Blast. Social gestures like this were always easier when scripted by protocol.

Ever poised, she simply extended her pale hand, palm up, and graced him with a small smile. "Brother," she intoned just loudly enough for him to hear over the gentle music, "will you grant me this dance?" It was formal and a tad stiff, but Ranni's voice softened on the word brother, conveying the affection she typically kept guarded.

Rykard didn't tease or hesitate. He understood the significance. With a matching sincerity, he bowed in that slightly dramatic way of his — a flourish that made a few nearby ladies titter — and took her hand. "It would be my honor, dear sister."

His hand was warm around her cool fingers. Gently, he led her to the center of the floor. The other dancers fell back a few steps, forming a loose circle; whether it was out of deference or simply to watch the royal siblings, Ranni neither knew nor cared. In that moment, the only ones who existed to her were herself and Rykard.

They assumed the classic stance. Ranni placed one hand lightly on his shoulder, and he rested his on her waist. When was the last time she had danced with him? Perhaps when he was a boy, standing on her feet as she shuffled through a lullaby under the moonlight to placate him after a nightmare. A faint, fond memory. Now he stood tall and confident, no need to stand on anyone's toes.

The Carian nocturne wafted around them, its melody like a lullaby itself — tender, wistful.

Rykard guided Ranni into a slow sway, their steps fluid and unhurried. For a short while, neither spoke. They didn't need to. Ranni savored the quiet closeness: the brushed velvet of his formal jacket beneath her hand, the subtle scent of smoke and night-blooming flowers that clung to him (likely from time spent on the balcony with Tanith). She was keenly aware of the difference in their builds; her little brother had grown broad-shouldered and strong, whereas she was slender and willowy. Yet in his arms, she felt secure, as if enveloped in a protective embrace that mirrored how she'd protected him in childhood.

His golden eyes regarded her steadily, and Ranni mustered a faintly arch expression. "What is it? Has my crown slipped askew?" she asked lightly.

Rykard's lips quirked. "No, I'm just… happy to finally see you relax." His voice was low, for her ears only. "You've been running yourself ragged all evening, Ranni."

Ranni sniffed in mild indignation. "I don't know what you mean. I am perfectly composed." Still, her facade was betrayed by the way she unconsciously let out a deep breath and eased her shoulders. It felt as though a knot between them had loosened at his words. He truly did know her well.

They slowly rotated around the center of the floor, the luminous crystals overhead painting shifting patterns of silver and sapphire over Ranni's pale hair and Rykard's dark attire. Those nearest watched in hushed admiration. Some might have found it improper for siblings to dance so intimately, but most recognized the simple familial affection in it. And if any did not— well, a glare from Blaidd in the crowd swiftly silenced their gossip.

"I heard what you did," Ranni said softly after a moment. "Standing up to Father. Confronting our Aunt." Her sapphire eyes searched his face. "I am… proud of you, you know."

Rykard blinked, clearly not expecting that admission. Then he chuckled quietly. "Careful, you'll give me a big head."

She rolled her eyes. "As if it could get any bigger." But her teasing tone quickly faded to seriousness. "Truly, you were impressive tonight. Our father's temper is no small thing, and Marika… she can be terrifying." Ranni's voice wavered almost imperceptibly on the last word. She seldom acknowledged fear, but recalling Marika's entrance — the sheer oppressive power that radiated from her — she felt a chill.

If Marika decided to make Rykard an object of her… interest, life would grow complicated indeed.

Rykard's jaw tightened subtly, and Ranni realized her own unease had bled through. He gave her a reassuring squeeze with the hand that held hers. "I meant what I said to Tanith: I won't let our family's schemes control my life. Or hers. Or yours." His golden gaze hardened with resolve. "No matter what storm is coming, we face it on our terms."

Our terms. Our. He still included her, automatically. Ranni hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that until relief flooded her chest. She allowed herself to lean a fraction closer, resting her cheek for just a moment against the side of his neck. The gesture was gone in an instant, but Rykard's surprised warmth at it was palpable.

"You've grown cunning, little brother," she murmured, a hint of playful admonishment returning to her tone. "Turning your defiance into such… gallant displays. You'll have half the Lands Between rallying behind your banner if you keep this blasphemy up."

"Blasphemy, is it?" Rykard laughed softly, granting her a wicked grin. "Would that be so bad? Beats them rallying against me, I suppose." Then his voice lowered, laced with concern. "And you, sister? How are you faring… truly? I know tonight wasn't easy for you either."

Ah, so he could be polite when he wished.

Ranni paused, considering. How was she? The weariness tugged at her, yes, but beyond that? She glanced around at the grand hall — at Tanith standing by with devotion etched plainly on her face, at Sellen and Adula sharing a conspiratorial chat like old friends, at Blaidd and others keeping watch. This alliance of fools and dreamers, as Sellen had aptly put it, was an unlikely family of its own.

And She was part of it, by blood and by choice.

"I'll manage," she finally answered, a gentle honesty in her voice that she reserved only for those closest. "Knowing you're determined to forge your path… it eases my mind. I worried for you, after Mother withdrew and Father grew distant. But now…" She looked up at him with a small smile, one hand leaving his shoulder to adjust the collar of his jacket in a fussing, sisterly way. "Now I see a man standing before me, not a boy. A bit of a madcap of a man, perhaps, but capable and true."

Rykard's throat worked, and Ranni realized he was touched, perhaps even near speechless. To cover the emotional beat, he groaned lightly. "Madcap? Is that the impression I give?"

Ranni arched an eyebrow, her old haughtiness flaring for effect. "You danced with a dragon and made her laugh loud enough to shake the rafters. You defied a god and lived. And I could swear I saw you toss Lady Sellen in the air at one point—"

"She asked for that," he protested, though he grinned.

Ranni's laughter was a soft, bell-like sound. How long since she had laughed like that around him? Too long. "Regardless, dear brother, you have a way of courting chaos. I only pray you know how to handle it when it comes."

The song was reaching its final refrain. Ranni felt a slight reluctance — she wished this tender interlude could last a bit longer before reality returned in full force. She knew the coming days would likely be filled with strategy meetings, scouting reports of whatever unnatural event Marika's words heralded, and possibly confrontation. But at least for tonight, they had this.

As if sensing her thought, Rykard offered quietly, "Thank you, Ranni. For the dance… and for always looking out for me." He smirked, adding in a lighter tone, "Even if that sometimes means chasing me with spells when I misbehave."

Ranni feigned an affronted sniff. "Consider it tough love." Then her expression gentled. "And you needn't thank me for that. It is my privilege and duty as your sister."

He nodded, understanding. Family was complicated for them, but their bond was simple: they cherished each other, even when driving one another mad.

The last notes of the nocturne faded, the strings lingering in a bittersweet chord. Rykard stepped back and gave a courteous bow, and Ranni curtsied gracefully in return. Polite clapping filled the air; the final dance had been a lovely, calming note to end the ball.

But the night was not yet done with them.

Just as Ranni rose from her curtsy, a strange shudder passed through her. It was as if an invisible ripple spread through the fabric of the world, stirring the fine hairs at the back of her neck. Rykard sensed it too — he snapped his head up, eyes narrowing. All around, conversation lulled and confused murmurs grew. The very air pressure seemed to drop, the temperature fluctuating oddly between warm and cold. The crystals above flickered.

Ranni's blood ran cold with premonition. She turned toward the tall windows that lined the western wall, those that overlooked the grounds of Caria and the dark horizon beyond. Through the glass she saw it: a light in the sky, growing rapidly brighter. A star… no, a falling star hurtling toward the earth, its tail burning violet against the night!

A collective gasp rose from the crowd. In an instant, Blaidd was at Ranni's side, hand on the hilt of his greatsword. Sellen dropped her wine glass, eyes wide in alarm as she stared at the heavens. Adula's nostrils flared — even in human form, she could smell the tang of sorcery and void emanating from that shooting star. Tanith instinctively moved closer to Rykard, her face a mask of concern.

The star's descent was terrifyingly fast. Ranni's mind raced. Could it be…? No, Radahn yet lives… how can a star be falling? Unless…

This was no natural star, but something forced loose. A memory from ancient lore surfaced: the Eternal City destroyed by a meteor long ago, unleashing a void-born horror.

Her stomach clenched. "Astel," she whispered, lips barely moving as the name chilled her lips. It was a name she knew from her studies of cosmic secrets — Astel, Naturalborn of the Void, a great terror that came from a fallen star to devour civilizations. "Could it truly be...?"

Before she could warn the others, the star collided with the earth in the distance beyond the palace grounds. The impact was tremendous: a flash of blinding light and an ear-splitting BOOM that rattled the very foundations of Raya Lucaria. The chandeliers swayed violently, a few crystal shards shattering and raining down harmlessly among the panicked guests. The ground bucked; lesser folk lost their footing. Ranni braced against Rykard, and he against her, each anchoring the other.

Screams erupted.

"What in blazes—?!"

"An attack?!"

"Gods protect us!"

"Someone find the queen!"

Nobles began to scatter in fright, some ducking under tables, others rushing for the exits in a disorganized crush.

Ranni's ears rang, but she forced herself to stay calm. She gripped Rykard's forearm. "Brother, we must see what has occurred. The courtyard—"

"On it," he answered, already moving. Irving the snake emerged, hissing in agitation. Rykard absently patted the serpent's head to soothe it even as he strode toward the shattered doors that led out to the terrace. Tanith and Sellen followed close behind him, unwilling to leave him. Adula had already broken into a run, lifting her skirts above her knees with no care for modesty, faster than any normal human as she dashed ahead to scout.

Ranni gathered a handful of her gown and hurried after them, Blaidd at her side, sword drawn now. The world outside was chaos. Beyond the terrace, the manicured lawns and crystal sculptures of the Carian grounds were illuminated by a baleful purple glow. A trail of destruction cut through the gardens — uprooted trees, scorched grass, and a gaping trench of earth leading further out toward the sea cliffs.

At the far end of that trench, something burned and writhed, half-shrouded in smoke and unnatural starlight. Even as they watched, the thing uncoiled, rising up. Ranni's breath caught at the sight: a hulking, alien form, chitinous and star-flecked, limbs like long skeletal arms ending in pincers, and a skull-like head crowned with enormous curved horns. Its one intact eye — a brilliant, shimmering orb set in a void-black face — opened and cast its sickly light over the ground. Around the creature, gravity itself warped; rocks and debris began to levitate gently, caught in its aura. Insects of the void danced around it like swirling galaxies.

"Astel," Sellen confirmed in a hushed, horrified tone, coming up beside Ranni. The sorceress's face was pale as she once more donned her glintstone crown. "Astel, Naturalborn of the Void… here of all places. By the Primeval Current…"

The monster let out a chittering screech that reverberated through the night. With a lurch, it started forward, dragging its massive bulk out of the crater it had made. One swipe of a spindly arm smashed a decorative obelisk to dust. It was heading toward the academy — toward them.

Ranni felt a spike of fear for everyone present. Few here were fighters. This thing was beyond any mundane threat; it was practically an Outer God's kin. She instinctively raised her hand and an array of pale sigils flickered to life around it, readying a defensive spell.

She needn't have; for a flash of crimson and gold streaked past her.

Radahn.

Her eldest brother had wasted no time — he abandoned his mysterious dancing parter charged straight toward the monster with a roar that echoed like thunder. At some point, her beloved brother had donned parts of his armor; he wore the great lion-faced helm and pauldrons over his formal attire, looking fearsome and oddly comical in equal measure (his fine doublet now spattered with mud from the impact). In one hand he wielded a massive curved greatsword that blazed with gravitational purple energy.

With a mighty leap augmented by gravity magic, Radahn closed the distance and brought his blade crashing down on one of Astel's reaching limbs. The arm was cleaved clean through with a spray of viscous black ichor, drawing an ear-splitting shriek from the void being. Cheers went up from a few guards who had rallied behind Radahn. "For General Radahn!" they cried.

Ranni felt her heart swell with a moment of relief and pride — Radahn, always the warrior born, had taken the vanguard. If anyone could wrestle a star-beast, it was he, the Conqueror of the Stars. He had to be careful, though; Astel was already retaliating, swinging its spiked tail and forcing Radahn to dodge back. The two titans began trading blows on the ravaged lawn, shaking the ground anew.

Rykard arrived at Ranni's side, Tanith right behind him. He assessed the scene with sharp eyes. "Radahn's on it. Of course he is," Rykard muttered, a complex mix of irritation and relief in his tone. "The big oaf could never resist a flashy fight."

"Better him than the panicked nobles," Ranni responded, summoning a frostbound sigil. She glanced at her brother, noting his stance. There was tension in his frame, but also a distinct lack of urgency. He wasn't drawing his weapon (a serpentine blade hung at his side, still sheathed) or casting a spell; in fact, he looked almost content to watch Radahn handle it.

Surely he didn't mean to let this insult pass...?

Ranni narrowed her eyes. "We should assist him. Coordinate an attack," she urged.

By now, a few of the academy's glintstone sorcerers had run out, flinging azure comets at Astel to little effect. Sellen was among them, launching sharp Shard Spiral spells that ricocheted off Astel's hardened carapace. Adula, on the other hand, had vanished — Ranni suspected she might be transforming in secret, preparing to bring out her draconic form.

But that would take time.

Rykard clicked his tongue. "Radahn seems to be holding his own. Perhaps we shouldn't steal his thunder," he said flippantly, folding his arms as if this were merely a spectacle. But Ranni did not miss the slight clench of his jaw or the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as Astel unleashed a cone of violet cosmic rays, forcing Radahn to raise a gravitational shield. The blast tore up furrows of ground, sending a squad of guards reeling.

Tanith tugged on Rykard's sleeve, voice soft yet firm. "My lord… people are in danger. We… we should help your brother." Her golden eyes pleaded with him. It was clear Tanith wanted to rush in herself, though what a dancer-turned-warrior could do against a cosmic horror was questionable.

Rykard pursed his lips. "This is exactly the sort of calamity Father would expect me to jump into headlong," he said bitterly. "Maybe I'm tired of dancing to their tune. Radahn was always the shining knight. Let him have this moment."

Ranni stared at him. His tone was light, but she could sense deeper currents: anger at being manipulated by their family's expectations, reluctance to throw himself into a fight perhaps not of his making, and— was that also a hint of doubt? Doubt that he could measure up to Radahn's martial prowess? Hard to tell.

Astel shrieked again as Radahn's gravitational pull attempted to pin it. The monster retaliated by opening a crackling void portal that spat a swarm of giant meteorite fragments down. Radahn bellowed as one crashed against his shoulder, staggering him. Soldiers screamed and scattered as fragments cratered the courtyard.

That was enough for Ranni. She would not stand idle. She thrust out her arm, and from her pale sigils burst a salvo of dark moon projectiles — glinting blades of Ranni's cold magic. They sailed through the night and slammed into Astel's side, exploding in flashes of frost and sorcerous energy. The creature screeched, a few of its smaller limbs shearing off from the force. It turned its hateful gaze toward the source of the pain, toward Ranni, its single eye gleaming with eerie light.

Rykard immediately moved in front of Ranni, instinctively shielding her with his body. Irving, the snake, flared out from his sleeve and spat defensively. Tanith likewise stepped up beside them, dagger drawn. The gesture was noble but futile if Astel decided to unleash destruction their way.

Ranni appreciated their protectiveness but had no intention of cowering. She began summoning another complex spell — a renversé of lunar magic coalescing between her hands. Two of Astel's remaining long arms crackled with energy and swung upward, prepared to bring down another gravitational calamity upon the academy.

At that precise moment, a roar unlike any before shook the grounds: Adula's dragon roar. From behind a grove of shattered trees, the great glintstone dragon emerged, having shed her human guise. Adula's scales shimmered with azure light as she lunged at Astel, clamping powerful jaws around one of its arms. With a wrench and a blast of dragonfire, she tore the limb clean off. Astel's shriek was deafening. Adula spat out the mangled appendage, her maw burning with crystalline flames.

"Yes! Go, Adula!" Sellen pumped a fist from the sidelines, perhaps the only person present actually cheering in delight at the chaos.

Radahn seized the opening Adula created: he levitated twin greatswords around himself, eyes glowing with gravitational might. "For Caelid!" he cried, and the floating blades speared into Astel's abdomen, pinning it temporarily to the ground.

This was the chance to finish it. Ranni held her spell, ready to unleash a moonblast. Radahn was charging up what looked like a massive gravity well to crush the life out of the fiend. Adula reared back, frostfire coalescing in her throat for another devastating exhalation.

But where was Rykard? Ranni glanced to her side. He hadn't moved from in front of her. He stood with fists clenched, watching the battle unfold with a troubled scowl. His friends were risking life and limb. Guards and sorcerers were valiantly, if futilely, contributing what they could. Radahn and Adula were doing the heavy lifting. And Rykard… simply watched.

Ranni felt a spike of frustration. This wasn't like him. Naruto might have been a prankster, but he was never one to sit out when others fought to protect what he cared about. She understood his desire not to be a puppet of their father's will, but this was beyond family politics. Lives were on the line. What is holding you back? she wondered, almost angrily.

She stepped closer and hissed under her breath, "Rykard, do something. We need you."

He snapped back quietly, "They seem to have it in hand, Ranni. If I jump in now, I'll just—"

"—just what? Get your hands dirty? Steal Radahn's glory?" Ranni's eyes flashed. "This isn't about glory. Look around." She flung out a hand: several wounded knights were being dragged to safety by their comrades; a ring of academy mages struggled to maintain a protective barrier around cowering noncombatants; Tanith hovered protectively near them, torn between joining the fray and obeying Rykard's unspoken stance to stay.

Rykard's gaze followed Ranni's gesture. She saw conflict warring in his features. Concern, anger, hesitation… and maybe fear. Not fear of Astel per se, but fear of what unleashing himself might mean. Perhaps Marika's earlier interest spooked him; perhaps Radagon's words about Rykard's role stung deeper than he let on.

Astel bellowed as Radahn's gravity well began to compress it. The monstrous insectoid thing fought back with sheer brute cosmic force, inching upward even as space bent around it. Adula's flames washed over its carapace, searing void-flesh, but Astel would not die easily. Cracks of energy sizzled around its remaining horn — an indication it was building to some catastrophic burst.

Time was almost up. Ranni fixed Rykard with a hard stare and spoke the words she knew would cut to the quick: "Will you truly stand by and risk Tanith? Risk all of us, just to prove a point to Father? You said we face things together. Prove it now, brother."

At Tanith's name, Rykard flinched. His eyes darted to the brave young woman he loved — yes, loved, Ranni could see it plain as day now — who was trembling not with fear, but with pent-up urge to fight at his side. Tanith caught Rykard's look and gave a determined nod, as if granting him permission he didn't need.

Rykard closed his eyes for a split second, and she heard him exhale a breath that seemed to carry away doubt and bring in resolve. When his eyes opened, they blazed not only with demigod gold, but with Naruto's fierce will. "Tanith," he said, voice steady, "stay close to Ranni. Keep each other safe." Tanith opened her mouth to object — she clearly wanted to go with him — but Rykard had already stepped forward, unsheathing his blade in one smooth motion.

Finally. Ranni felt a rush of relief and pride. She and Tanith exchanged a swift glance; the latter's face shone with admiration as she watched Rykard move toward the battle.

"About bloody time," Blaidd muttered from nearby, echoing everyone's sentiment.

Rykard advanced at a brisk pace that became a run. He wasn't as massive as Radahn, but he moved with lethal grace. Irving slithered up around his arm and then around his neck like a scarf, hissing eagerly — the little serpent seemed to grow larger, infused by Rykard's adrenaline and perhaps some magic.

Large.

Larger.

Largest.

Rykard hopped atop the now-massive serpent's skull and let it carry him to glory.

Tanith whimpered a little as a massive shadow fell over them. "I'd nearly forgotten about that."

Ranni found herself quailing for an entirely different reason.

As he rode his mound, Rykard's free hand wove a quick sign in the air, summoning a swirl of flames around his sword. No, not just flames — magma, thick and glowing, dripping from the blade's edge. Ranni's eyes widened a touch. When did he learn magma sorcery? That was a hallmark of the Lord of Blasphemy in some visions, but Rykard had not displayed it openly before. Leave it to Naruto to hold onto a fiery trick or two.

Radahn spotted his approach and gave a curt nod, adjusting his stance to accommodate a new ally entering the fray. Adula roared a greeting as well, snapping her jaws at Astel's face to keep it distracted.

Astel, however, sensed the shifting odds and reacted accordingly.

With a keening cry, it unleashed its pent-up energy in a desperate move: the gem-like patterns on its abdomen glowed and a pulse of gravitational force exploded outward. Radahn's hold shattered; the great General himself was blasted backward like a leaf in a gale, slamming into a stone archway with a bone-crunching impact. Adula dug her claws into the earth, skidding back but managing to stay upright. The wave hit Rykard mid-rush — Irving recoiled and skidded to a halt as his master raised an arm to ward off as the force buffeted him of his back and to the dirt, boots gouging twin trails in the much. He remained on his feet, through sheer stubbornness if nothing else.

With a quick flick of his fingers he muttered something that broke the spell.

The second he did, Irving struck like his namesake, giant jaws tearing into Astel to savage its spindly body. Against all odds it managed to escape the serpent's jaws-

But only just.

With a screech, the wounded creature tried to take to the air, its broken limbs twitching as it attempted to levitate and retreat. But it faltered; Radahn's earlier gravity well had damaged its ability to fly. Instead, it began to slither toward the outer gates, perhaps to escape or reposition.

"No you don't," Rykard growled. In one fluid motion, he leapt high — aided by a burst of flame at his feet that scorched the ground — and descended upon Astel from above. He drove his magma-coated blade straight down onto the creature's back. There was a sizzling, crackling sound as the sword punched through chitin and embedded deep. Molten fire spread from the wound like veins of lava, melting through the void-born horror.

Astel let out a piercing, mind-splitting shriek. It thrashed violently, its tail lashing upwards at Rykard like a scorpion's sting. Rykard tore his blade free and narrowly twisted aside from the strike, though a jagged spike grazed his side, tearing his fine jacket and drawing blood. He dropped to the ground in a roll to absorb the fall, coming up to one knee.

Tanith gasped in horror from the terrace, seeing that red stain on his coat. But Rykard didn't even seem to notice the wound. If anything, the sight of his own blood lit a hotter fire in his eyes. He bared his teeth in a feral grin that looked more Uzumaki than Carian. "That all you got, you overgrown tick?" he taunted.

Adula seized the opportunity Rykard's strike had created. She barreled in, massive claws gripping Astel's tail and hindquarters, holding the flailing beast in place. Sellen and the other mages, regaining confidence, started bombarding Astel's front with glintstone ice and magic bolts, trying to corrode its remaining strength.

Irving let out a raspy, almost gleeful hiss, its body coiling tighter around its prey, preventing another escape.

Rykard rose to his feet and raised his blade high; the magma along its length intensified, dripping onto the grass and setting it ablaze in patches.

Then he plunged the sword into the ground. A shockwave of magma fissures erupted forward from where the blade struck, snaking toward Astel with explosive speed. In an instant, plumes of molten rock gushed beneath the void creature, engulfing it in a fountain of liquid fire. Astel's exoskeleton bubbled and cracked under the onslaught. It writhed, caught between Adula's freezing grasp and Rykard's hellish magma. Its many eyes (the smaller ones across its body) popped like boiled eggs. The Naturalborn of the Void was being unmade by primordial earthfire.

"Now, Ranni!" Sellen shouted, glancing over her shoulder.

Ranni didn't need prompting. She had been ready, carefully weaving a grand sigil above her head — a gleaming rune depicting a dark moon and a ring of stars. At Sellen's cry, Ranni completed the incantation. The rune pulsed once, twice, then unleashed a colossal beam of moonlight that lanced downward from the heavens, straight onto Astel's head. It was the full might of Carian lunar magic, focused and deadly.

The beam pierced through Astel's skull-plate, one of the few facets Irving hadn't been able to grasp onto. With a final despairing wail, the void monstrosity shuddered and collapsed. Its remaining limbs went limp, its single great eye dimming to darkness. The violet glow that had suffused the area flickered out.

Silence fell, punctuated only by the crackling of flames and the ragged breathing of those who had fought.

For a long heartbeat, nobody moved. Then Adula, still in dragon form, lifted her head and gave an almighty triumphant roar to the sky, signaling victory. A cheer rose from the surviving soldiers and knights. Those who had cowered began to peek out. The danger had passed.

Ranni exhaled, releasing tension she hadn't even realized was locking her muscles. Thank the stars.

She quickly made her way over the debris toward Rykard. Sellen and Tanith were faster; Tanith practically flew across the scorched lawn to reach him. Rykard had slumped to sit on a piece of fallen masonry, his sword resting across his knees, magma fizzled out. He looked utterly exhausted, sweat mixing with soot on his face, but he was grinning as she nearly tackled him in a hug.

"You're hurt!" Tanith cried, gingerly touching the bloodied tear in his garment.

Rykard waved it off. "Just a scratch," he panted. "Nothing a little flask won't fix." Indeed, the wound at his side, while bloody, didn't seem deep; the tail spike must have only grazed his ribs. Nevertheless, Tanith was fussing over him like a worried bird.

Ranni approached more sedately, relief and pride swelling in her chest. Sellen was already there too, giving Rykard a once-over with a critical eye. "Well fought, my apprentice," she said with a tiny smile. "Though next time perhaps engage a few seconds sooner, hmm?"

Rykard had grace to look sheepish. Before he could reply, a booming laugh interrupted.

"HAH! Little brother, that was splendid!" Radahn emerged limping from the crumbled archway he'd been thrown into, helmet askew and a trickle of blood on his temple, but very much alive and ebullient. "I haven't seen magma sorcery like that since Gelmir's peak. When did you learn that?"

He trudged over and clapped a heavy hand on Rykard's shoulder, nearly bowling the seated Rykard over. Tanith shot Radahn a disapproving glance, but Rykard just chuckled and coughed.

"I've been practicing in secret," he quipped. "Thought I'd try something new rather than leave everything to you, General." He emphasized the title cheekily, and Radahn threw his head back in booming mirth.

Ranni watched the exchange, heart light. The sight of her two brothers laughing together after felling a great foe — it warmed her more than any fire. Adula, now shrinking back to human form (a vaguely embarrassed naked human form until Sellen hurriedly conjured an illusionary cloak around her), gave a tired smile at the camaraderie.

All around, the ball's attendees were emerging, gathering in cautious clusters, marveling at the felled Astel carcass and murmuring about their saviors. Already she caught phrases: General Radahn's might… Princess Ranni's magic… Praetor Rykard's flames…a giant serpent…and a dragon?! There would be much to explain, to repair, to plan for. But that was for tomorrow.

Ranni stepped forward, placing a hand on Rykard's other shoulder.

Her brother looked up at her, a smudge of ash on his cheek and a question in his eyes.

Ranni simply smiled — a genuine, proud smile. "Well done, brother," she said softly.

Rykard's face broke into a wider grin, and he reached up to clasp Ranni's hand in thanks, the gesture saying what words did not.

All was well.

A/N: For now~!

Well? Should this little ficlet remain a story? Yay or nay!

If this story is voted into the "yay" category, I can promise faster updates and much more merry madness to come.

Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this story...and others. If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. It will remain, but it simply won't progress further. I'm working two jobs with ever-increasing hours so I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy. So by all means, speak up! Your voice matter! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustains me. Without them, I cannot write a single word. Simple as that.

So by all means, speak up! Raise your voice! Make yourself heard! Your reviews matter!

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review Would You Kindly?

And enjoy some previews!

Potential ones at that.

As ever:

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

SPOILERS AWAIT THEE!

BEWARE~!

(Previews! THEY BE ROUGH! This is what happens when work rushes an old man...)

Marika swept the curtain aside and plonked down beside him. The action caused her bosom to bounce.

Naruto stoically averted his gaze. This was his aunt. Aunt, aunt, aunt!

Maybe if he said the words enough she'd leave him be.

No such like. The Queen Eternal smiled at him.

"Dearest nephew, I offer you an accord...

His temper sparked.

They saw it, of course. "Rykard, no!"

Too little, too late. "RYKARD YEEEEESSSSSSS!"

He threw back his head with a roar and the world burst into flame.

EDIT: Hey, you made it!

Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this story...and others.

If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Meaning that if the story itself isn't popular? Well...I won't be able to continue it.

I'm working two jobs, trying to make ends meet these days; I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy. So by all means, speak up! Your voice matter! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustains me. Without them, I cannot write a single word. Simple as that.

So by all means, speak up! Raise your voice! Make yourself heard! Your reviews matter! Really, they do!

Looking forward to chatting with you all when I get back from work!

R ~!