Helo

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning, 10am
Location: Edward’s home, for Drake’s party
Interactions: Nahir @Rodiak

---

"How did you know I liked green so much?"

“Lucky guess.” Rohit replied, smiling before bidding the lord adieu. It was an easy guess, written in the man’s stars, but Drake had other guests to speak with and it was not the time for long conversations about the Astral Arcana. He spun the ceramic bracelet around his wrist a few times as he walked and grabbed a couple of the hors d'oeuvres. He quickly grew bored of fiddling with the bracelet and spun his far more satisfying ring around a few times.

He collected a glass of mead from a servant, a bright and refreshing drink that went well with the atmosphere here before noticing Shehzadi Nahir at a table. Rohit headed in her direction and quietly took a seat in a nearby chair for a moment.

“People watching?” He remarked. “Ooof, that guy looks mad.” His head nodded in the direction of Calbert. There was a crash in the distance as a servant tripped and a platter of stuffed mushrooms littered the ground. “And I’m betting that guy’s wishing he was on present stacking duty right about now.” He added with a light chuckle. Rohit bowed his head respectfully to the Shehzadi.

“How’s Caesonia, and more importantly, how are you, Your Highness?” He added.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10am
Location: Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: Charlotte @princess, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy, Cassius @PapaOso

---

“Did I hear shots? I know I’m at the right table!” Callum said, taking a seat shortly after Charlotte, as if merely mentioning shots had summoned him. He glanced around but once his eyes settled on Charlotte he stared for a few seconds longer than what was considered polite. He tried to imagine what Ana had described, but nothing about her gave Cal a sense of dread. She really threatened Ana and Edin??? That was even harder to picture, but then again he didn’t know her all that well.

He realized he was staring and shifted his attention to Cassius. “Sorry if the bastard comment was out of line, I didn’t mean it as an insult. I think the name Vael suits you better than Damien, but I’ve never cared much for your father. Or my own.” Cal said before finishing off his glass of wine. His attention shifted back to Charlotte, studying her reaction to how he spoke of the king. Searching for any sign that she might be an ally.

“Yours seems great.” He said to Charlotte before smiling at Lorenzo. “It’s an honor to sit with the best-dressed Duke in Caesonia.” He added nodding to Lorenzo. “Oh, look! Shots are here!” Callum’s attention was immediately drawn to a server carrying a tray of spirits.

“To the two of you,” Cal said standing up and gesturing to Cassius and Charlotte with the shot glass he’d picked up. “A stunning couple. And to Lord Drake, of course.” He added before downing the shot.

From out of the corner of his eye he saw the same ghastly image of Darryn he’d seen back in his room. Red eyes aglow with judgment, watching as Cal celebrated just hours after learning of Darryn’s death. It made that shot sit in his stomach like curdled milk as Cal tried not to focus in on the illusion.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Flashback: Night Sola 23, 1739

Callum & Riona Part 9

---

Riona floated, suspended somewhere between dreaming and awake. Worn cotton sheets felt soft against her skin. Sunlight spilled through the windows, turning the inside of her eyelids a reddish-gold. She breathed in crisp sheets and traces of woodsmoke from the hearth.

A gentle touch pulled her closer to consciousness. Fingers combed through her sleep-mussed hair, then skimmed down to cup her cheek with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

In that drowsy moment, she couldn’t tell who it belonged to. Not until he whispered her name against her temple. “Riona.” Her chest tightened.

As his warmth began to pull away, her hand shot out to catch him. Needing to make this last just a little longer. “D-dan…”

Her eyes fluttered open and the blurry shape in front of her swam into focus. Callum.

“How you feeling?” Cal asked, grabbing Riona’s outstretched hand, figuring she wanted help getting back up. “Just missed our friend’s dramatic exit. He claimed he was here looking for secrets, like us. Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you to ‘remember what the giant said in the alleyway.’ Have you been having clandestine meetings with giants in alleyways?”

His words washed over her, something about a dramatic exit and secrets. None of it made sense. Riona blinked, just laying there awkwardly holding hands with Cal, as she tried to unscramble, scrambled thoughts. Dan was here, wasn’t he? No, he’s gone. Has been for a long time. A flash of red hair, violence—

Clarity slammed into her like a fist. Her gaze snapped to Cal, zeroing in on the dark stain across his side. “Sh*t, you’re bleeding!”

She tried to scramble up, only for pain to shoot up her feet. Glancing down, Riona saw her shoes had been reduced to blackened husks. What in the hells? She shook it off. There were more pressing matters.

With Cal’s help, she stood up. “We need to get you to a physicker. Now.” Fingers fumbling, she yanked at her apron. It wasn't much, but it would have to do to stem the bleeding. “Hold still,” she ordered, her voice steadier than she felt as she pressed the makeshift bandage against his side.

“I was bleeding, got a healing potion. And so did you. From the window man.” Callum explained slowly. He gently pushed the apron away and lifted his shirt to show the healed-up stab wound. “See, all better. No royal physician, I don’t even know how I’d explain this one. What happened to your shoes?” He asked.

Riona’s jaw dropped as Cal lifted his shirt. Where she expected to see a gaping mess, there was smooth skin. She leaned in closer, her eyes squinted in disbelief. Hesitantly, she reached out to brush her fingers over the spot. Warm. Whole. Not even a hint of a scar. If it weren’t for the blood, she’d have sworn she’d dreamed up the whole attack.

It looked... completely healed. That was... amazing. Despite their best efforts, Riona and Cal never managed to create healing potions or salves this potent or fast-acting. A mixture of awe and skepticism swirled in her mind.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” she asked, just in case. Something stank about this. No way their would-be assassin gave them such a valuable potion without a catch.

When Cal mentioned her shoes, Riona’s eyes dropped to her feet. “Funny, I was hoping you could tell me,” she replied. She carefully removed what remained of her footwear, wincing slightly. Parts of the charred remnants crumbled in her hands, still radiating a peculiar, unsettling warmth.

As she examined the damage, Riona realized, with a grimace, the cause of her pain—tiny bits of the material had worked their way into her skin when she put weight on her feet. Lovely.

She turned her attention back to Cal, she asked, “You didn’t start a bonfire while I wasn’t looking, right?”

“Only the illusion kind, but that wouldn’t have included you? Weird.” He tried to remember if anything the intruder had done could’ve caused this. “Mr. Window Lurker did something, you saw the…thing with all faces right? The thing that kept screaming? Maybe it was when he summoned that?” He asked, he’d have to ask if he ever ran into the scroll thief again.

“Faces?” Riona echoed, brow furrowed. “Cal, it was just us and that creepy window guy…” She paused to think about it, “But if he had magical healing potions, maybe he used illusionary magic too?”

“Yeah, I figured, I guess…” He trailed off, wishing he hadn’t been the only one who’d seen the creature but not wanting to sound afraid of an illusion either. “He must’ve melted your shoes too.” Cal added.

“Anyway, it still feels like I’ve been in a fight, but nothing hurts as much as it did before the potion. Except my head but that could be my fault. How about you?” He asked, the shoe thing was weird, not the weirdest thing that had just happened, but still. “Did you catch what I said about the giant?” He added.

“Aside from this,” Riona held up her shoes and wiggled her foot, “same. We might want to use our stash of healing stuff before we go to bed, just to be sure.”

Her gaze swept the room, taking in the aftermath of the brawl. Nothing looked broken beyond repair, but it was pretty damn obvious there’d been a fight. They couldn’t just leave the room like this.

Cal’s question pulled her back. “Uh, giant? Um…” The words trickled back: ‘Remember what the giant said in the alleyway.’ And with them, another memory surfaced. Karleen. The hulking figure. ‘My master wants to meet you.’

“Right, the alley, got it.” Riona said. Was Mr. Window Lurker working with Karleen? Even though Karleen denied it, Riona thought Karleen was one of Sh*tlord’s servants. But… if he was his ‘master,’ why the need for a reminder? Didn’t she meet him on a daily basis now?

Mulling it over, Riona started straightening the room. “Did Window Lurker say anything else? Because honestly all I remember the giant saying is ‘meet my master’ and that master being Varian.” She asked, shoving a chair back into place. “Oh, and can you check for blood? You can use my apron to wipe it up.”

Callum grabbed the apron and worked on wiping away any traces of his blood. “He said; If you’re not full of shit, tell Riona; remember what the giant said in the alley, she does that and she gets your scroll back. Play nice and the sword might find its way home too.” Cal said, repeating the words and using an accent best described as ‘generic dumb henchman’ as he spoke.

“Of course, if you got a bad vibe from him or the giant, ignore the message. And I guess I should mention he did offer to trade the scroll for you, which, not a point for him being trustworthy.” He added, readjusting some of Wystan’s furniture until the room looked the way it should.

That was when Riona finally noticed that the sword was missing. The only key they had to that room. Taken. Fan-freaking-tastic. “Well,” She quirked a wry smile at Cal, “good to know I’m worth more than a priceless magical scroll.”

Turning to the secret entrance hidden behind the wall, she said. “If we want back in there, we’ll need to get the sword back or find another way in, somehow.” But maybe, a little voice whispered, staying out of that creepy cursed treasure trove was the smarter move.

Wait. Riona patted herself down, alarm spiking. Dagger, gloves, journal—where...? She paced the room, checking behind and beneath furniture. The gloves and journal turned up, but she couldn’t find her dagger. “My dagger’s gone,” she announced, and she had a pretty good idea who took it. “That guy didn’t take the compass from you did he?”

“Nope still safe.” Callum patted the pocket the compass rested in. “So how tall was the giant?” He added, gesturing to the door. Time to leave before they caught, they were already pressing their luck.

Riona swept her eyes over the room one final time before nodding to Cal, signaling that she was ready to go. “Lord Roman’s height give or take. Maybe a little more. Pretty beefy looking too… So yeah, intimidating, but… Didn’t give off that ‘I eat kittens for breakfast’ vibe, you know?”

Trust wasn’t on the menu for Karleen or the stranger, but the fact remained: either could’ve killed them and they chose not to (in the end). Which meant they—their master—really wanted something from her and/or Callum. The question was what, and if they could use that to their advantage. “I’ll try to get the scroll and sword back.” Riona eased the door open a crack, peering into the hallway. Empty. For now.

“Try not to get eaten by the tall but not-really-giant-tall-guy over it.” He reiterated, sounding disappointed that giant didn’t mean as tall as a house in this instance. Callum retraced his steps back through the hallway and back to the portrait, retrieving the burnt matchstick he’d left behind. “Need anything before you head back to the hut?” He asked Riona.

Glancing at her bare feet, she answered, “Shoes.”

“I’ve got plenty of shoes if you want a pair.” Cal offered.

Riona snorted as Lordling Smithwood came to mind. “Guess the shoe’s on the other foot now.”

TLDR

Riona briefly sees a ghost from her past before regaining consciousness. Callum and Riona discuss what happened, including the message from the intruder; to remember what the giant told Riona in the alleyway, while they clean up Wystan’s room and leave.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10am
Location: Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: Cassius @PapaOso, Drake @Lava Alckon, Calbert & Gideon @princess
Mentions: Charlotte, Wulfric

---

Callum watched Lorenzo as he spoke; rather, he watched the warm pink glow that engulfed the Duke as he spoke about Charlotte. It was another illusion, but that didn’t make it fake; Lorenzo shone with a captivating confidence. Whether or not he was worthy of the title of Duke, was beyond Cal, but it was clear he was more than worthy of the title of father. So, as Lorenzo led his daughter to a table, Callum softly applauded the man.

A wide grin spread across Cal’s face as Cassius addressed him merely as stranger,, not your highness, not prince, no pompous title. For a second, and it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds, Callum was just some guy getting invited to sit at a table. “I’d love to join, but I’ve got a few more words left.” He said with a shrug, before turning to look at Calby. Callum cleared his throat, let go of the brief moment where he felt like just some stranger, and tried to look princely.

“Count Damien, I feel the need to remind you that a Duke likewise deserves your respect. If you take issue with the conduct of a Duke, then bring your concerns to one of your betters for consideration. It is rude to do so publicly.” Callum addressed Calbert with a hand raised, signifying that he did not wish to listen to the Count. And why shouldn’t he? He was a Prince, it had its benefits, and smugly chastising Calbert Damien was even more fun than ordering knights to leave their shoes behind.

“Drake, Duke Edwards, my sincere apologies for adding to any discomfort at your lovely party.” He gave a standard polite smile before lifting his wine glass. “To Lord Drake, the reason we’re all here to celebrate. Happy Birthday.” He said before taking a drink. Then Callum followed Cassius and the Vikena’s to a table. He glanced around for Wulfric as he walked. Shit, did Wulfric miss this? He needed his brother to see him making an effort.

That was the new plan, how he was going to help Riona, Quack, and the Thornbreakers. He’d be more useful if his family trusted him and a better relationship with Wulfric was his best chance at that. Earn some trust, keep getting invited to secret meetings, and know the things they knew; there was no reason Callum shouldn’t be doing that. Other than he didn’t want to, and if he was going to stop holding back it couldn’t just be when he felt like doing things.

It hadn’t gone well this morning, he’d have to fix that. Cal mentally added making an elixir with a relaxation charm to his to do list. He’d use every tool at his disposal to do better.

But right now was a good chance to get to know Charlotte Vikena, whose eyes once glowed red, who once brought a dark, dreadful, energy, as she threatened Edin and Ana.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 10am
Location: Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: Cassius @PapaOso
Mentions: Wulfric, Ana, Jimmy the cat, Drake, Ari, Farim, Stratya, Barry(Ryn), Zarai, Roman, Lorenzo, Charlotte, The Damiens, The Edwards.

---

As Callum walked the garden he watched his brother lead a horse to the stables. He ate a mouthful of bread. He watched his sister hold up a scruffy orange cat. He ate another mouthful of bread and wondered if that was real. Where did Ana even get a cat? He didn’t see Ari anywhere, Drake was busy talking to many people, so Cal continued eating and wandering. He almost went over to talk with Farim but didn’t want to crash what might be the man’s date with Ana, that was way too awkward.

He caught Stratya looking at him, so held up the half-eaten bread loaf and waved it at her, followed by a thumbs up. He saw Count Damien and his wife, but neither wanted to talk to or even acknowledge them. He felt the same way about Duke Edwards and the Vile Dutchess. He saw some of the other Alidasht royals and nobles but didn’t know any of them well enough to want to talk to them right now, so instead he filled his mouth with more bread.

Is that Barry!?!? Cal spotted a man who looked exactly like the man he’d talked to in an alleyway but he couldn’t remember if Barry was real or if he’d imagined him that night. Hadn’t Barry mentioned Marek might be aligned with Edin? He almost approached Barry, but he didn’t want to take the risk that he might also be an illusion and he wasn’t going to start talking to imaginary people with Wulfric around.

He saw Zarai seated, talking to someone else he didn’t know, so he avoided her too. Callum wasn’t in a meeting new people mood. He chewed obnoxiously on the bread, wondering why Ari wasn’t here and he looked around for Roman but didn’t see him around. He made his way over to the bar just as he finished the last mouthful of bread. He left moments later, a glass of red wine in hand. Well a second glass of wine in hand, the first one had been gulped down in front of the bar, untasted and just something to wash all the bread down with.

Duke Lorenzo’s voice cut through the music, heard over the rest of the softly spoken conversations, and louder than Callum’s thoughts. Count Damien’s bastard His mind echoed the words as he turned to look. Standing next to Sorian’s best-dressed noble was a man who had to be the Damien bastard and Charlotte as well. Oof, Calby looks pissed. He smiled a little, might as well draw some heat off Lorenzo and see if he could turn Calbert’s face a shade darker than the wine.

”CASSIUS VAEL, THE DAMIEN BASTARD?” Callum shouted matching the Duke’s volume as he headed in their direction. ”I can’t believe we haven’t met yet!” He added, his voice still inappropriately loud but not quite shouting. He was going to have to relax his stance on meeting new people today but he’d make it worth it.

Once he made his way over to them he smiled and offered a hand to Cassius. ”I’ve heard the most delightful rumors about you, sir. Nice to match a face to the man, the myth, the legend! And how fortunate for you that ya don’t look too much like your pops.” He spoke, grinning, and giving a wink to Calbert. Maybe this party wouldn’t be too bad after all.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Morning, 10am
Location: Edward’s home, for Drake’s party
Interactions: The Birthday Boy! @Lava Alckon

---

Rohit took a moment to take in the sights of the meticulously decorated gardens of the Edwards estate. A lush landscape surrounded the tables, with green standing out as the theme of the party, and soft music filled the air. A small array of servants followed behind him, continuing forward to place a collection of gifts, wrapped in shining emerald paper and each topped with a golden bow, on the table with the others. Rohit approached the birthday boy, dressed to match his gifts in golden sandals and pants with a vibrant emerald sherwani decorated with golden constellations, a fit designed to please Tārā herself.

“You must be Lord Drake, happy birthday! They say those born in Sola are aglow with the compassion and wisdom of The Emerald Star Empress, Tārā, and it is always an honor to meet those with such traits. I am Rohit Amar, son of Vali Navi Amar of Kimoon, and bring you the finest offerings from Kisoma.” Rohit spoke with easy confidence but ran through a checklist in his mind. Said happy birthday, complimented, and gave a proper introduction. Yes! Nailed it! He glanced back at the gifts of tea, jewels, and jade paperweight carved into the shape of a dragon. Rohit was especially proud of the last one, a dragon for a man named Drake, it was too fitting.

“Thank you for having me.” Almost forgot that part. But still nailed it! Rohit smiled and offered his hand to Drake, who he understood was the son of a Duke, a title similar to his father’s. “Oh, hey, is that a cat?” He asked suddenly noticing the little orange fella being offered to Drake. His outstretched hand swiftly moved to scratch the cat behind the ears. He noted another well-dressed noble leading a fine horse away, Should have brought live animals? He wondered.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Lord Leo Smithwood

Time: Morning
Location: Spa to the Guesthouse
Interactions: none
Mentions: Count Hendrix, and summons for Riona @JJ Doe
Daily Misfortune: None! Leo’s feeling great! For now...

A well-rested, and no longer hot pink, Leo awoke in an extravagantly comfortable room at the spa. He bathed and dressed for his return to the guesthouse, checking himself before he left. Nothing strange with his voice, appearance, or anything else he could detect. Today he was problem-free so far, which only added to his suspicion that it was something, or someone, in the guesthouse causing his issues.

Despite Count Hendrix’s desire to use Leo as a step to fling himself further up the social ladder, Leo did find that the Count was growing on him. Like mold or fungus, growing where it wasn’t exactly wanted, but there nonetheless. At least Hendrix had amusing stories when they weren’t about extra cookies. Still, he avoided the man, if even he still lingered around, as he left the spa. Count Hendrix ranked low on Leo’s list of potential pranksters, but Hendrix wasn’t fully ruled out yet.

Instead, he returned to the guesthouse, more than willing to bet something strange would occur to try and ruin his good day. He was cautious to touch as little as possible as he made his way to his room.

Or what he thought was his room, and for a moment he thought he was in the wrong room until he saw his lion slippers. The furniture had not been moved more desirably, no, it was replaced with the most ridiculous collection of items he’d ever seen. A toddler bed shaped like a boat, a terrible ugly and bizarre armchair, tiny end tables with tiny lion-shaped lamps, and…was that a potty training chair in the corner??

It seemed he was plagued by two pranksters, one who acted with stealth and one who intentionally failed at any task assigned to her in the most aggravating ways possible. Riona, of course, was the latter. He picked up a few of the objects and waited for something to happen. When no strange alignment popped up he helped himself to the coffee and croissant that waited for him on a tiny pink table where his desk should be.

A few bites and sips later and still nothing strange had happened. In fact, he still felt great, almost giddy even! He found himself softly chuckling about the furniture, including a candle that looked exactly like one of the hideous shoes Riona had previously filled his closet with. At least her intentional incompetence was creative. Eventually, he poked his head out the door, requesting more breakfast and for Riona to be sent over immediately.

Leo ended up taking a seat in the only chair that came close to being ‘adult-sized,’ an ugly, cheap-looking, chair that flared out at the top. It was too narrow at the seat, uncomfortable so, but a determined Leo continued to wedge himself in the chair as he drank the rest of the coffee. He only realized he was stuck when he went to go sit the coffee cup down and the chair remained attached to his butt. A roar of almost drunken laughter filled the room.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: 9am to 10am
Location: Danrose Palace to Drake’s Birthday Bash
Interactions: none

---

Callum got ready for Drake’s birthday party, a quick shower to scrub the scent of the dungeon off him. He dressed entirely in black, it only felt right, after hearing about Darryn. Beaten, beheaded, the body turned into a puddle. Why? It didn’t even feel right to be going to a birthday party right now.

He stared at the words carved into his wall for a moment. He took the knife from his desk and underneath Alibeth’s name, in a small font he carved ’I did want him to die.’ Proof that his mother was the monster he thought she was. Once he’d finished he returned the knife to his desk and grabbed a bottle. He paced and drank and stared out the window, wondering where the sun got the nerve to be so bright on such a dark day. He opened the window and let a long pour of whiskey run down the side of the palace.

“Sorry I let you down, Darryn. You deserved better.” He said. “Gods, I wish I could stop say that to people.”

He left for Drake’s party shortly after. On his way out of his room, he saw Darryn watching from a corner. His skin a pale gray and covered in bruises, blood flowing from a wound around his neck, and his body melting into the floor. Callum met the gaze of red eyes, glowing and angry as they watched him leave. The price of the spell he’d used to show Ana, a day spent seeing things that weren’t real. “And here I thought I’d just be seeing imaginary butterflies all day.” He mumbled as he locked his door.

He was followed by guards, who stayed a handful of paces behind him before he even left the front door of the palace.

---

Callum made his way to the Edward’s backyard, everything entirely too bright and green for his liking, and a bracelet was placed on his wrist. Staff walked around with plates of food, and thousands of tiny spiders crawled out from an array of deviled eggs, swarming the plate. Callum hoped that wasn’t real either, but if it was he hoped that plate got dropped on the Dutchess. He took a risk and grabbed a spider-covered egg and stuffed it in his mouth. It didn’t taste like spiders at least but something else grabbed his attention. A table with loaves labled ‘alcoholic bread,’ grabbed his interest. He grabbed one, breaking off pieces and stuffing them into his mouth as he wandered around, avoiding taking to anyone he didn’t normally talk to, and wondering when he’d last eaten real food.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Flashback: Night Sola 23, 1739

Callum & Riona Part 7

---

They followed the secret corridor back until they were back in Wystan’s room. The same heavy mechanical sounds followed as the wall lowered behind them sealing up the room and its dark artifacts once more. He returned the candle he’d borrowed to its spot in the bedroom before snuffing the flame with his fingertips. Then he grabbed the sword, keeping hold of it rather than returning it to the wall. “Time to go before Wystan gets back.” He whispered. Cal scanned the room, making sure nothing was left disturbed, and made a mental note to grab the burnt matchstick he’d dropped by painting in the hallway.

“Good idea. Why don’tcha leave the sword behind too while you’re at it? Then Wystan won’t find out you tried to steal from him.”

The unfamiliar voice startled Riona, and she whirled around to face its owner. A figure lurked at the open window, all features but their amber eyes obscured by a dark cowl and mask.

“Stealing? Haven’t you heard of finders keepers, losers weepers?” Callum looked toward the window, falling back into the ‘I’m just a drunk prince causing mischief’ routine. “Maybe I’ll give Wystan his sword back when I get my trumpet back.” He added, haphazardly pointing the blade toward the window, waving it around like a toy. “Or maybe I’ll keep it, since I found it in my house and all. Now, identify yourself, creepy window lurker.”

The cloaked figure—a man, Riona guessed—snickered and clapped in a mocking ovation. “Spoken like a spoiled prince.” He pushed off from the window and strode forward, one gloved finger jabbing at the blade. “Better leave that pretty sword behind. Or a little birdy might just tell dear old dad what’s inside there.” The stranger cocked his head toward the false wall.

Riona’s heart stumbled in her chest. How long had this man been skulking about, watching them?

“Yes, please tell dear old pops that you were lurking outside palace windows, spying in the middle of the night. The king would love that!” Callum answered as he attempted to swat the man’s hand with the blunt side of the blade. “Why do you care whether I hang this sword on the wall or not? Planning on stealing from a room full of old junk?” He asked, trying to figure out what the stranger was even doing here in the first place, and how much he knew. Cal’s mind wandered further; could he run a man through with a sword? That would make a noticeable mess in Wystan’s room. Maybe force him back out the window and hope the fall ended things? Could he do it? It was better that no one knew what they had found here.

He remembered the scroll he’d grabbed, Illisonary Flames, inflicting the sensation of burning on a pyre might get information out of the stranger or distract the man long enough to push him out the window. He could do that, a perfect opportunity to test the scroll out. And it all became evident to Callum that his snooping around Wystan’s room was one thing but the masked stranger had seen Riona as well, it was too big a risk not to do something.

“Servant, hold my sword please. I don’t need it for this.” Cal extended his sword arm towards Riona, the blade was far more useful in her hands than his. The corners of his mouth twisted upwards as his eyes stayed locked with amber eyes that peered through a mask and cowl.

The man heaved a sigh, eyes rolling in their sockets, “And they say you’re the least blood-hungry of the three.” He shrugged and, to someone who wasn’t there, said, “Don’t say I didn’t try to play nice.”

That was all the warning they got before his fist cracked into Cal’s face. Without pause, he yanked Cal down by his collar and drove his knee upward, smashing it into Cal’s head.

The sword hit the ground with a clang.

Riona was already lunging, halfway to the man before she even saw the dagger appear in his hand. Her shoulder collided with the intruder, shoving him away from Callum.

She wanted to check on Cal, but the stranger was quick, too damn quick. He regained his balance with infuriating ease and came right back at them, dagger ready to strike.

Riona hitched up her dress and her fingers closed around the blade she kept strapped to her thigh. She whipped it out just in time to deflect the incoming slash, steel ringing on steel.

Don’t bleed on Wystan’s floor. That was his clearest thought. Callum cupped his hands around his bleeding nose. His face felt numb, his ears rang, and metal clanged against metal. Too loud. Someone might hear. He rolled over, pushed himself up off the floor, and flung himself at the stranger's back His arm immediately tried to coil around the man’s neck and grabbed a handful of his cowl. Cal knew he needed to ensure the stranger couldn’t scream.

“Urere hostem meum” He half spat, half-whispered in the stranger's ear. Burn my enemy, and each word was meant. The stranger wasn’t a man, only an enemy, one who threatened their plans. Callum wanted the stranger to burn, and the prince braced himself to feel the same pain.

Suddenly, Cal and the intruder writhed—bodies jerked, faces twisted, and sweat slicked their skin. Riona couldn’t see the flames searing their flesh, but she didn’t need to. The shared agony was unmistakable. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, wrestling to stay quiet while they grappled in the dark.

Cal clung to the intruder with white-knuckled ferocity. Each new wave of pain visibly drained him. The stranger looked to be hurting just as bad, but as seconds passed, his movements became eerily controlled—like someone who’d survived worse than fire.

The difference between them was obvious, a chasm of hard lessons and harder living. The man had a survivor’s edge, hardened by life they could only imagine. Cal? Tavern brawls taught Cal how to take a beating, not how to give one.

Callum was screwed.

Sure enough, Cal’s hold slipped. A blade caught the half-light and plunged into Cal’s side before Riona could suck in a breath to shout a warning.

Riona saw the stranger’s hand tense, ready to rip the knife free, or worse, tear it sideways and spill Cal’s guts across the floor. She wasn’t going to let either happen. Riona charged at the stranger with her dagger.

Again, too slow. The intruder’s hand shot out, clamping around her wrist. He twisted. Hard. Tendons stretched. Joints groaned. With a sickening crack, sharp pain exploded outward from wrist to shoulder. A scream caught in her throat.

A blur of motion. Her head snapped back and stars burst in her vision. Before she could process the high kick, the stranger’s boot slammed into her stomach. Air rushed from her lungs. She hurtled backwards, hitting the dresser. The impact dropped her to the ground, dazed and gasping.

Callum didn’t just feel flames eating away at his skin, he smelled it. A rich and rank scent of burnt meat and hair filled his nose, leaving its taste burning in his throat. Reality melted away, the illusion felt more real than anything. He barely felt the knife over the searing of the flames.

He saw Riona’s shape move, but the details were lost, his vision a wet blur of panic and tears.

This was his future, if he got caught, if he failed, his pyre would not be an illusion. All it would take was for his focus to slip for a second and that would be the end.

The curse persisted; it held both caster and victim suspended in peak, unchanging, agony.

“Only I. Can make this. Stop.” Words drifted out from behind clenched teeth. A partial bluff, Cal wasn’t sure he could make it stop. But he could make this continue, for as long as he could keep uttering the curse. His legs shook, threatening to give out but his grip around his enemy’s neck stayed locked. He felt the other man’s throat rumble. He was… chuckling?

He spoke again once the magic that fueled the illusory flames burned out and the illusion dissipated. “Who do you work for?” He’d hoped his question would sound intimidating, wished for a voice that could compare to the inferno he’d just conjured. Instead, it sounded like a whimper, it sounded like ‘please, don’t make me do that again.’ And that made the other man laugh.

Something wet dripped from his side as a new, sharp, pain snapped into focus.

Before Cal could blink, he was on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The man straddled him, knees pinning Cal’s arms into the floorboards. Cal tried to free himself but any movement sparked more pain from his side.

A gloved fist forced its way between his teeth, preventing him from casting, while a free hand pawed at Cal’s clothes, rough and purposeful. Fingers found‌ something tucked away and freed it. The scroll.

With a flick, the parchment unfurled. The man’s eyes devoured the words, and he let out a low whistle. “Nasty,” he commented before shoving the paper into his boot.

“Now then.”

Callum had no other choice, he wasn’t losing that scroll, and he bit down on the man’s knuckles with no intention of letting go. That was his scroll, the closest thing to real power he had, he needed it. His head shook with a desperate attempt to rip something from the man.

The intruder cursed, but instead of pulling back, he shoved his fist deeper‌. Cal’s throat spasmed, and his gag reflex betrayed him. His jaw went slack, releasing the fist.

“Good boy,” the man crooned, flexing his freed fingers.

Then he rained down blows—face, ribs, gut. Each impact was precise, brutal, ensuring the prince wouldn’t be able to get up anytime soon.

Riona’s skull throbbed, world tilting this way and that way. Through the haze, steel flashed. The intruder wrenched his blade from Cal’s side and raised it high.

Without knowing how, she moved. One moment she was on the ground, dizzy. The next, she and the stranger crashed to the floor.

Scrabbling at his face, her nails hooked into fabric and when she yanked, the mask came away.

They both froze.
Their eyes met.

A young man’s face stared at her, skin peppered with freckles and faint scars. Fiery orange brows and lashes framed amber eyes, widening with sudden realization—the realization that she could pick him out from a crowd. And that was a problem. A bloody big problem that had only one solution.

His lips peeled back in a snarl as he came at her again, wiry muscles coiled tight with lethal intent. They grappled on the floor, a tangle of straining limbs and ragged breaths. She fought like a wildcat, tooth and nail, but his scarecrow body had a strength it had no right to.

Weapon. She needed a weapon, and fast. Riona wrenched herself away, scrambling towards the first pointy object that she saw. The sword. Just a few steps away.

Stupid. Stupid mistake.

The second she got to her feet, an arm snaked around her throat from behind. And tightened, cutting off her air. Riona clawed at his arm, legs kicking out wildly. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision as she struggled. The room swam, colors bleeding together. Her lungs burned and screamed—

—just like the townspeople.

Nana. Des. Papa. Mama… Is this how it ends?

Memories crashed over her: smoke-choked air, the clash of steel, screams cut short. Her people. Her family. All of them gone, while she—

You survived, the voices hissed. You lived when they died.

The ginger’s assault had left Riona aching from head to toe. But the pain was nothing compared to the guilt that had hollowed her out.

Was it all for nothing? The voices pressed, relentless.

… No.

Are you going to die here, chocked out by some random bastard, without accomplishing anything?

Useless girl! Another choir of voices hissed. All this time wasted. You should’ve died with the others!

No, Riona thought, clinging to consciousness. I can’t.

Why?

Because I promised I would make them pay.

Then, they whispered in one ear, it’s time.

Riona’s eyes clouded, gazing inward at the embers smoldering for years, glowing brighter. Hungry. Anticipating.

They whispered in the other ear. Use the power we all suffered for.

Flames ignited from the embers. The fire grew, and with them, the shadows darkened.

You’re going to die… this is your last chance.

Sparks flew as magic stirred.

Don’t let all of that anger, and hate, go to waste, Ríoghnach.

The girl stood alone on an endless expanse of black powder, torch in hand. The grains shifted restlessly, like an ocean of darkness. Fourteen years worth of people’s suffering. At her feet, a fuse snaked across the dunes, promising destruction.

Do it, the voices urged in unison.

Ríoghnach’s fingers tightened on the torch.

Set us free.

An unnatural silence smothered the night, as if the world had taken a collective breath and held it. Callum’s skin prickled hot and cold all at once—the same eerie sensation from the gardener’s cottage.

In the darkness, shadows deepened. Shapes writhed and twisted within the blackness. Unseen things seemed to lurk just out of sight. Watching. Listening. Waiting.

A faint sound tickled the edge of Callum’s hearing. It grew louder, swelling into agonized wails mixed with the roar and crackle of an inferno. The scent of burning wood filled his nostrils, followed by the stomach-churning stench of seared human flesh.

“Feed us,” something said.

TLDR:

A mysterious figure catches Riona and Callum and a fight breaks out. Callum attempts to curse the intruder and something very strange happens with Riona…

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Night
Location: The Dungeon
Interactions: Ari@Tpartywithzombi

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Callum didn’t like the basement floor of the palace. It had that old and damp creepy smell, shadows danced everywhere you looked, and rats scurried around the floors. Something about the air down there made the hair on the back of his neck rise with warnings. But after last night he doubted anything could compare with the amalgamation of horrid feelings he’d experienced in Wystan’s room. He shuddered even thinking about it, but it made the descent down those basement stairs easier.

None of the guards stopped him, they watched, a couple of them followed and he guessed they were going to make sure he wasn’t trying to free Ari. He wasn’t, he just didn’t want her to suffer down her alone. And he didn’t want to be alone, or sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it, the thing from last night. Every time it was too quiet, he heard it, all that screaming…

He tried to stop thinking about it. Instead, he focused on keeping an eye out for rats, the dungeon rats were known biters and it would be nice to get through one night this week without an injury. He stopped by the wine cellar first, grabbing a dusty bottle from the room he’d once spent hours psyching himself up to sneak into as a kid. This time he grabbed two bottles, it was going to be a long night.

Once he found his way to Ari’s cell, and the redheaded curled up on a sad pile of straw was hard to miss, he tapped on the cell bars with the wine bottles. “You look miserable! And I hear misery loves company.” He said as he sat the wine bottles down and removed his shoes for the second time that night. He stuffed the end of one bottle into a shoe and smacked it against the stone wall.

“You didn’t think,” he hit the bottle against the wall a few times. “I’d let you suffer down here alone?” The bottle smacked against the wall a few more times. “Didya?” He pulled the cork the rest of the way out with his teeth and spat the cork on the ground. He then did the same with the second bottle before offering a bottle to Ari between the bars of the cell.

“I’ve got wine, a deck of cards, and secrets to share. Ya know, if you’re bored.” He whispered.

Callum spent a good portion of the night whispering the details of the previous night to Ari. He plans to search the castle for hidden rooms, how he found the hidden room in Wystan’s room, and what all was found there. How he’d almost put a strange crown on his head, how he’d felt that crown’s dark pull, but he’d left with a cursed scroll and magic compass.

He mentioned he had help, but didn’t give up Riona’s name, not because he didn’t trust Ariella. Riona’s involvement and use of magic just weren’t his secrets to tell. He mentioned the weird intruder, maybe exaggerating his own usefulness in the fight between them, and the curse scroll that had been stolen, but not before he’d used it once. Not before he’d felt what it was like to burn. The weird plot twist; that the intruder might not have been an assassin but a potential ally, who at least gave him and his unnamed accomplice a healing potion before disappearing into the night.

He left the dungeon in the morning, a few shared bottles of wine later, when guards fetched him to join in on a family meeting.