Chapter 12: CHAPTER TWELVE - FRACTURED

The council buzzed to an end with the crinkle of folded scrolls and the scrape of chairs; the Accord was nearly halfway through the season, but the amount of work to catch up with lost years was unending. Naomi slipped from her seat as Cassien rose from across the table, their eyes meeting for a split second - hers sad with uncertainty, his narrowed with cynicism - before each turned away to leave. Between the need for basic care and the constant flow of work that needed to be done, the two barely even had time to process Alistair’s insinuations, let alone speak to another. Naomi’s gloomy mood was further exacerbated at losing the bird charm, and Cressida had already scoured the entire castle in hopes of finding it. The shadowed corners of Calypsa Castle remained hollow, cold without the stealth of secret romance between the two star-crossed lovers.

As they waited for the shuffle of people to leave, Prince Aryn cleared his throat. “Duke Rivain. Duchess Rosenthorn,” he said, voice carrying across the room. “May I request both your assistance?”

Cassien and Naomi did not look at another as they approached the Imperial twins who stood coolly by the tall stained windows of the chambers, the darkening sun casting muted rays across their faces.

Princess Seraphine was both striking and transcendent all at once in a deep red garb, a weaving hood worn halfway atop her head. Though her posture was sharp as always, Naomi could see veins beneath the translucence of her skin, the circles of her eyes tired and sickly. It was rare now for the princess to attend council meetings, so it was surprising to all assembled when she made an appearance for today’s meet. Prince Aryn fared only slightly better, clearly exhaustive despite being dressed handsomely in a silver collared doublet.

“We apologize for disrupting the little free time you have,” Aryn said, placing his arms behind his back as he faced them. “But this is quite urgent.”

“The Moonshard is being held in a protective vault, but the wards that keep it secured are failing. We require both your magic to reinforce it,” Seraphine coughed, her body wracked.

Cassien shifted his weight as Naomi’s fingers curled around the hem of her sleeve. Neither dared meet the other’s eyes as Aryn spoke up, rubbing Seraphine’s back soothingly.

“The vault’s arcane wards draw upon raw, intangible magical energy,” he explained. “The two of yours are far more potent for its purpose.”

Cassien squared his shoulders. “And we have to do it together?”

Naomi felt insulted at his inflection, speaking up. “At the same time?”

Aryn raised a brow. “Is that a problem? I figure the two of you would take any excuse to spend time together.”

Naomi swallowed quietly. “No, Your Highness, it’ll be fine.”

Seraphine’s pale gaze flicked between them. “The Moonshard has to be removed from the vault during this process while you reinforce it. Seravethian guards offered to protect it in the meantime. In fact, they’re transporting it as we speak.”

“Is that a good idea?” Cassien questioned. “That gives them an opening to steal it.”

“Why would they give it to us just to steal back, when they could’ve kept it in the first place?” Naomi interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Who knows?” Cassien narrowed his eyes at her, his aura darkening. “Maybe they just want to earn someone’s favour.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Annoyance flared in Naomi’s voice.

“You tell me.”

“Enough,” Aryn commanded firmly, his eyes flaring silver. “This is no time to be fighting.” The two’s tense emotions immediately dissipated, like cold water thrown atop hissing coals as he initiated his power. “What Seraphine meant was that both Seravethian and Imperial guards are currently watching it.”

Seraphine pressed her fingers against her temple, eyes closed, as she stifled another cough. “Are the two of you no longer getting along? Will working together prove more of a hindrance than a solution to our problem?”

Cassien’s jaw clenched at Seraphine’s question, frost prickling at his fingertips. He let out a slow breath and loosened his stance. “No. Everything is fine.”

Aryn gave a slight nod, though unconvinced. “We should conduct it as soon as possible. The less time the shard spends out of the vault, the lower the risk.”

“You should prepare yourselves,” Seraphine said as she began to walk towards the doors, Aryn steadying her. “It is quite a taxing process to reinforce the wards.”

Naomi and Cassien exchanged a momentary glance - almost furtive - as they wordlessly followed the twins outside the chamber, towards their unknown fate.

**

They eventually were led to a more remote section of the castle, away from the common paths of guests and servants alike. It was rarely ever entered, Aryn explained, besides exceptional cases such as a discovery of magical remnants left behind by the Conquest. The chamber was plunged in black, the only source of light being metal scones against the walls, and a pale glow from the transparent vault at its center. It was square with crystal‐clear walls resting on a gray marble pedestal, carved runes spiraling down into the floor. Circular glyphs swirled faintly on the transparent surface as Cassien and Naomi stood on opposite sides, each pressing both hands against the smooth surface.

He pushed his frost magic outward with icy tendrils crawling beneath his skin, while she summoned warmth, a golden glow pooling in her palms before seeping into the vault’s edge. Their mirrored stances created a bridge of light and cold between them, yet neither dared turn to meet the other’s gaze. Every heartbeat drummed in their ears as their two magics intertwined within the runes etched around the vault, a cruel and deafening silence between them. Princess Seraphine and Prince Aryn had left awhile back to check in on the shard, leaving the duke and duchess alone in the hush of their frigid emotions.

Naomi’s heart hammered in her throat as she broke the silence. “I need to ask-”

“We need to talk-” His voice cut in at the same time.

The two looked at each other then, eyes locked for the first time in days. Cassien could see the sadness in her eyes, and he forced away the urge to simply hold her. But the thought of the gifted charm having been in the King’s possession sent a stab of pain through his heart, and his resolve steeled. He merely nodded for her to continue.

Naomi pressed her lips into a thin line. “So I take it you know what I’m talking about.”

“I suppose there’s nothing else but that,” he said, an edge in his voice. The token in his pocket felt like a ball of lead. “I thought you would’ve at least had the decency to tell me first before doing it, at least.”

She recoiled as if she were struck, golden light sputtering in her palm. “Do what?”

He shook his head, frost crackling at his fingertips. “You know exactly what I mean. Drop the act, Naomi.”

Naomi scowled, her hands sparkling with rage. “I don’t know why you’re talking about me. We’re here to talk about you-”

Cassien cut her off sharply, golden eyes flaring. “Don’t lie to me. But maybe I should be more upset at myself; after all, the songbird sang, and I fell for its tricks.”

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Tears pricked at her eyes at his blatant accusation, her heart squeezing. Her lips formed the first insult she could think of. “I shouldn’t be surprised that a brute can’t form a single coherent sentence to explain what the hell it is you’re talking about-”

Their confrontation was cut short as the metal doors to the chamber burst open, and a breathless royal guard staggered inside, hair dripping with sweat. His metal glove was pressed against his stomach, though it did little to staunch the flow of blood and flesh that spewed. Cassien rushed towards the man before Naomi could even process it, catching his body from total collapse.

“T-the… princess,” he groaned weakly, a red hand print stamped onto the smooth floors. His eyes rolled back in blankly as a final, breathless word escaped.“S-save….”

Cassien placed the guard gently to the floor and rose, every muscle coiled with fury.

“We need to go,” he commanded, sweeping his sword from his hip as he strode towards the exit, Naomi following behind, their argument forgotten.

They hurried down their isolated vault room before they reached the beginning of a corridor that split into a T shape - one leading back toward the holding chamber, the other into the main hall that eventually branched back to the central point of the castle. Blood dripped in tiny rivulets along the walls, heavy pools of blood dragged across the ground. Naomi could not stop staring in horror at the bodies that lay across the space, the air reeking with death.

He glanced at Naomi. “This way,” he said, voice grim, and led her towards the left passage. Each step echoed hollowly as they followed the trail of red, and she kept her eyes averted from the blank stares of the dead. She was shocked at the lack of reaction from Cassien as he stepped over the bodies.

“Wait,” Naomi halted, stopping at the split of the T. Her finger pointed towards the right passage, where more blood was streaked. “There’s two paths.”

“We shouldn’t split up,” Cassien gritted his teeth.

Naomi’s gaze was unflinching. “I’ll take the right,” she ignored. “You go left.”

“We don’t know what we’re facing,” he argued.

Her face flushed with anger. “I can handle myself.”

Cassien grabbed her wrist as she turned away, their eyes locking. They searched each other's depth for something, any semblance of truth or trust - but they only found emptiness and prejudice. He released her. “....Go.”

Her throat went dry - a tiny, desperate part of her hoping he would’ve refused once more - before she turned and ran. Blood smeared the floor in winding ribbons, as if a sick stream of clairvoyance as she sprinted down the long hall, shadows flashing at every window she passed. At the far end, a figure lay collapsed against the wall with a ring of dead imperial guards around, weapons scattered. Naomi drew in a breath and hurried forward - the princess’s already crimson gown was soaked with an even deeper shade of red from her chest, a thick dagger protruding from her body.

Naomi dropped beside her, hand shaking as she assessed her critical condition, the princess’s chest barely rising. Naomi turned her head, forcing as much air from her lungs as she called out. “Cassien! Cassien, come back!”

Her voice echoed down the hall, unheard. She looked back at the princess whose eyes barely fluttered open. “Your Highness!”

“Hold on,” Naomi whispered, voice tight as she hovered her hand over around the wound, careful not to disturb the blade, channeling every ounce of her radiant magic into stemming the bleeding. Soft gold light blossomed around her palm, the blood slowing slightly, but her efforts were futile; her magic’s purpose was never meant for healing.

Seraphine’s hand gripped Naomi’s. “T-trust…” A spurt of blood gushed from her lips, staining her ghostly skin.

Naomi’s head spun. Trust was always the folly of every single thing Naomi was taught her entire life, and now it was coming back to bite her.

A rapid echo of footsteps thundered down the corridor, ripping Naomi from her thoughts. Before she could turn, a sudden shard hurtled from the darkness, carving through the air with a streak of white in its wake. It struck from behind her belly with a sickening burst and she cried out in blinding pain, staggering over the princess’s lap in a hunched form. Naomi’s breath became ragged as the frost spread around her flesh, struggling to push her stance back upwards.

Her hand shook uncontrollably as she looked down, a gleaming icicle stained with red, protruding from her abdomen. With a shaking breath, Naomi’s fingers closed around the jagged shaft of ice. Pain flared hotter than any flame as she summoned every remaining ounce of her strength, gold splintering like a web through the ice. The icicle shattered free with a crack, clattering to the floor like shards of glass as the frigid frost creeped around her open flesh. Her vision wavered, the world spinning as the warmth drained from her body. Footsteps came closer from behind her, but she was out of fortitude. Naomi gasped once, her heart solidified with utter contempt and anguish, before everything went black.

**

Cassien slammed open the doors to the shard’s holding chamber, sword drawn and ice magic ready for any assault. He was met with the thick coppery scent of blood in the air, and the collective heap of bodies thrown about the room - helms cracked, bodies gashed open, swords snapped in half. Prince Aryn lay crumpled against the far wall, his silver doublet darkened with soot and destroyed threading, exposing parts of his bare chest. Dark bruises bloomed across his skin, and his eyes closed towards the ceiling but his chest still rose shallowly. At the centre of the room was an iron cage with the door blown off.

The Moonshard was missing.

Cassien’s blood ran cold as he rushed towards the prince. “Your Highness!” he hissed, shaking Aryn’s shoulder. A groan answered him, but Aryn’s eyes remained closed, breath shallow. At the very least, he was alive, caught in part of the skirmish but otherwise unharmed.

Cassien tore his eyes back towards the empty holding cage as his mind swirled with turmoil. There was no doubt in his mind that this was orchestrated by the Seravethian’s - he needed to find the King, now. He stood, body tense towards the door just as two individuals entered.

Naomi stumbled in, one hand pressed to her side where fresh blood stained a rough, improvised bandage strewn from a cloak’s fabric, her other hand clenched in a fist of golden light. Her skin was sickly, streaked with blood, her hair swirling in wild waves. Alistair was just behind her, arms wrapped around her in support with a possessive grip that froze Cassien’s movement.

Alistair’s voice boomed. “Duke Rivain! Stop! You dare assassinate the Princess and involve the Duchess in your schemes to steal the shard?!”

“Don’t lie! You’re the one who attacked-”

“Cassien,” Naomi choked, tears streaming from her eyes. Cassien felt his heart shatter at the sight of her injured form, but her next words jolted him back to reality. “Why did you do it?”

He froze. “What?”

“I found the Duchess almost dead in the halls,” Alistair spat, voice laced with venom. “And was lucky enough to chase you off before I could tend to her. To think you would involve someone as precious as her…”

“I would never hurt Naomi or steal the shard,” Cassien growled, his eyes blaring with golden rage. “Get your hands off of her this instant.”

“As if I’d let you harm her any further,” Alistair’s green eyes gleamed with deceit. “Especially as you stand…” He paused, pointing a single finger at Cassien’s lower pocket. “..with the shard in your possession.”

“I don’t have the shard, it’s the token-” His blood ran cold as he reached into his pocket, unbelieving as his hand wrapped around a smooth semicircle object, pulsating with power. Cassien yanked out the Moonshard - where the token had been.

Cassien’s mind was a scattered mess, unable to comprehend what was happening. Where was the token? His eyes met Alistair’s, dark and cunning as the realization hit him: they had been set up. Through trick or some hidden feat, everything had been orchestrated by the Seravethian king.

“Why?” Naomi gasped. Tears welled in her eyes as he stared at the impossibility in his palm. Naomi felt as if her very heart was being torn into two.

“We have to stop him, Naomi,” Alistair said, a false calm in his voice. “Do what you must. For the legacy of Monroe. Rivain has been, and always will be, your greatest enemy.”

Naomi shook her head, voice trembling. “I can’t… I don’t want to hurt you,” She held her hand out, palm upright. “Please, Cassien - just give me the shard.”

Cassien’s jaw clenched. He stared at her with half-broken defiance. “Naomi, he set me up. He twisted everything, he stole your-”

Her tears fell faster. “You set me up!” She cried, her voice guttural with torment, with the shard’s glow reflecting in her wide eyes. “You set things up to steal the shard! You set me up to love you!”

Naomi’s words ripped a cataclysm of agony throughout his body. Without another word, she lunged, hand outstretched toward the shard. He jerked back - too slowly - lost in the haze of her broken admission as they grasped the shard together. The shard’s soft pulse raced into a thunderous vibration, the entire room trembling under its power. Frost and light erupted in a dazzling storm around their joined hands, the raw magic thrashing like a caged beast.

Naomi landed against Cassien’s chest, her weight pulling him off balance as they crashed to the floor, faces inches apart. Cassien’s golden eyes were torn with disbelief and utter sorrow, as Naomi’s pale blue gaze cracked with grief. She struggled against his strength fruitlessly as she struggled to keep one-handed pressure against her wound, face twisted with pain, but Cassien could not bring himself to push her back.

Then, with a single, ringing crack, an unseen bolt of pure energy sliced through the chamber. It struck the shard that was held beside their faces, and the crystal erupted in a cascade of gleaming silvered dust. A resounding blast of raw, unadulterated magic exploded as loose bodies and items swirled around the room in a violent storm, with even King Alistair thrown back against the stone walls. Unknown to the two, his eyes shone with a blinding green light, a nefarious smile wide across his face as the shard’s dust surged towards him like a pressurized vacuum.

What was an unexpected consequence of the king’s malicious plan, however, was two fragments that remained - like tiny slivers of moonlight - as they embedded themselves in Cassien’s left and Naomi’s right. Pain seared deeply within them, their vision swallowed by a whole of purple light as they lay collapsed against each other, amidst the fractured breath of what once was.