Flight

Hey guys, so we've seen Empress Sophia Deline on the morning of her coronation. But how did she actually get there. Lets find out.

The palace burned.

But the fire wasn't real--not yet. No smoke choked the dusk sky, no flame licked the gilded towers. But in my mind's eye, it already smoldered. The marble halls where I learned to read, the chamber where my mother died giving me life, the golden throne where my father ranted in madness and cruelty--all of it ash in waiting.

I walked slowly down the corridor one last time. My boots echoed on the cold marble. I passed the mural of the First Empress, her hand outstretched in victory. My fingers lingered on the carved stone beneath it. I remembered being five, hiding behind the pillars while courtiers bickered. I paused at the door to my mother's chamber--now a tomb of velvet and dust. Her mirror still stood by the hearth, its surface silvered and cracked. I couldn't look into it.

In the throne room, the golden chair still stood gleaming in silence. I stepped closer. Sat upon it. The cushions were cold. For a moment, I saw myself not as I was, but as I might have been--crowned, worshiped, feared. Then the vision shattered.

Kimberly placed a hand on my back. "We need to go."

I turned to her. My half-sister. Taller, darker, sculpted like a goddess of war. Her skin was deep bronze, her waist impossibly small above hips that defied armor, and her hair, tightly braided, hung heavy like a warrior's crown. She was the image of her mother, an exotic dancer from a far-off land that our father had taken a liking to. Even now, with her greatsword slung across her back and her traveling leathers dusty from preparation, she looked carved from fire-hardened obsidian.

I was nothing like her.

My reflection was pale, my hair the shade of new gold, my curves generous and impossible to disguise even beneath thick wool cloaks. When servants whispered behind their hands of my beauty, it was always with awe or envy. Men stared. Women watched. Sometimes, I felt like a relic of a better time, a living sculpture. But none of that helped me now.

I hesitated. The golden throne still beckoned behind me.

Kimberly squeezed my shoulder. "Sophie."

"I know."

But I didn't move. Not right away. My body remained still, but inside, my mind warred. If I left now, I was abandoning it all--not just the palace or the capital, but the idea of what I was supposed to become. The Empress. The heir. I could stay. Call upon every spell I had mastered. Make the invaders burn. They'd called me the greatest mage of my generation. I could make that true.

But I wouldn't survive. And even if I did, I'd be alone.

Kimberly sensed it. Her hand lingered on the pommel of her blade.

I clenched my fists. A thread of magic slipped from my fingers--raw and unfocused. It arced through the air like violet lightning and struck the far wall, cracking marble with a hiss.

Kimberly stepped back on instinct, drawing her sword halfway. But when she realized I hadn't aimed at her, she just looked at me with concern. "Careful."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

I took a breath. Magic wasn't supposed to slip from me like that. I had always been in control. But now, I was fraying.

A steward caught up to us near the stables, breathless. "Princess, there's still time. If we rally the northern guard--"

"No," I said. "They'd turn on us."

"They might not."

"They will."

He looked down, ashamed. "We'll hold them off as long as we can."

I nodded once. "Thank you."

We walked toward the stables in silence.

My cousin Oliver was already mounted. His horse stamped impatiently as he adjusted his reins. He looked like a man made for dark forests and cold wine halls: lean, brooding, with eyes too clever to trust. He wore his house colors--green and silver--but his face was unreadable.

"You're late," he said.

"We're here," Kimberly snapped, mounting in one fluid motion.

I followed, more slowly, my body still sore from days without sleep. I winced as I swung my leg over the saddle.

"We ride west," I said. "Along the river road. Avoid the main crossings if we can. I want to reach the forest by dawn."

Oliver gave a tight nod. "And from there?"

"To Aichelle."

The name hung between us like a question.

He didn't react.

Kimberly did. "You sure they're loyal?"

"He's my uncle. My mother's brother."

Kimberly said nothing. But I saw it in her eyes. Doubt.

We rode through the night. The air was cold, the stars scattered above like broken glass. The fields lay dead and wet beneath us. In the distance, fires flickered where rebel camps still celebrated. The Mad Emperor was gone. My father.

I felt no grief.

Only a hollow sort of relief.

By dawn, we reached the river. Oliver led us to a ford he claimed was unused. The water was fast, biting cold, and nearly swallowed the horses' legs, but we crossed without incident. I had to cling to my saddle horn, teeth clenched, as magic surged in my fingers, ready to shield if needed. But the trees on the far side welcomed us like old friends.

"I don't like it," Kimberly said as we guided the horses up the embankment.

"The ford?"

"The quiet." She scanned the woods, her hand never straying far from her hilt. "Too easy to follow. Too easy to ambush."

"We're only three."

"One of us is the heir to the Empire."

I had no answer to that.

We slept in turns that day, under a grove of willows. I conjured a simple illusion spell, enough to blur sight and mask sound, but it left my focus raw. Though I was trained, magic still responded to emotion. And mine ran ragged.

Kimberly watched me wrap my hands in cloth after casting.

"You should rest."

"Later."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but said nothing. That was her way.

Oliver spoke little. He rode ahead, scouted the paths, marked the wind. When we camped, he ate alone. Kimberly didn't trust him, and I couldn't blame her. But I needed him. His lands were our best chance. If Duke Thadeus still held loyalty to my mother's memory, we might find shelter behind his walls.

That night, Kimberly confronted me as I boiled water over the campfire.

"You still think they'll take you in?"

"He's blood."

"So was Father."

I looked away. The shadows cast by the fire made her look like something half-divine. I thought of how different we were. How much simpler life might have been if we shared more than a father.

"He's our only option," I said.

She nodded, slowly. "Just be ready if he betrays you."

--

Two nights later, we reached the outer hills of Aichelle. The city loomed to the south, but we kept to the woods, riding in the shadow of the high walls. Oliver led us along forgotten hunting trails until the great stone gates of the estate emerged from the mist.

To my surprise, two figures stood at the gate--guards.

No, not just guards.

Orcs.

Towering, broad-shouldered, tusked. One had mottled gray-green skin, the other darker with a ring of scars across his bare arms. They held massive spears and wore iron-plated harnesses. And beside them stood two human men in livery.

I pulled my horse to a halt. "Orcs?"

"They've been serving some noble houses since the war," Oliver said. "Mercenaries. Bodyguards."

"One orc is worth fifty soldiers," Kimberly muttered. "They don't come cheap."

I stared, uncertain. Orcs were magic-resistant--nearly immune to most of my spells.

They stood, relaxed but watchful, clearly integrated into the estate's security.

Was this my uncle's doing?

Or someone else's?

The orcs watched us approach, their eyes sharp beneath heavy brows. For the first time since leaving the palace, I felt truly vulnerable.

We rode up to the gate. Oliver called out. The orcs recognized him. Then, slowly, the gates opened.

Inside, servants scurried like shadows. They bowed when they saw me, but their eyes flicked nervously to Kimberly's sword and the blood still staining our cloaks. They led us to rooms in the east wing. Mine had high windows, silken sheets, and a view of the orchard. It smelled faintly of lavender and dust.

Uncle Thadeus came that evening. He looked tired. His beard was gray now, his clothes simple. But his eyes were bright. He bowed.

"Princess."

"Uncle."

He embraced me.

"You did right to come. We remain loyal to your mother's line. To you."

I held back tears. Later, on the balcony, Kimberly stood beside me. The stars gleamed above.

"So what now?" she asked.

I watched the moonlight trace the hills.

"We survive," I said.

"And then we fight."