Upon the theatre grounds, gilded earth of green and gold tempered by time and performance, two troupers, initiated, dance and cavort, vehemently battling for the privilege to become a dancer reborn.
Ghilinthra expels a brief proud laugh. Her opponent, Olaire still struggles with her clumsy twin blades.
"Your form lacks grace, girl!" Ghilinthra taunts. "How do you intend to safeguard marionettes afloat with a bloated girth of blades such as those?"
"...!" Olaire clenches her teeth and responds with a twirl of her blades.
Predictable. A whirlwind easily evaded. Or exploited.
Ghilinthra grins not even waiting for the storm to come swallow her whole. Then with a sprint before the pounce, she harmoniously swims all around the volatile layer of Olaire's storm.
"...! Impossible!" Olaire gasps as dread forces her to blindly unleash volley upon volley of martial wind at an ever ascending Ghilinthra.
But Ghilinthra, impatient for the decisive blows brews lightening within the whirlwind before springing free with bolts in hand.
Olaire dodges, barely evading defeat as expected, but Ghilinthra dares not wish for her victory to be cheap as she now fluidly swirls towards the her stumbling opponent winds and lightening in tow.
"You're mine now!"
"Eagh!" Olaire falls to her bottom frantically kicking away as Ghilinthra closes in for the perfect strike. "Nononono! I can't lose! Not like this! Not to shallow gem like you! NOOO!"
Ghilinthra can wait no longer and brings her heel in for the blow ever so decisive upon the grounds proper.
"Agh! No.."
How could she be so foolish?!
What caused this drastic turn of events that could spell the doom of all that she dreamed of? Could it be her friends dearest, fill to the brim of anxious anticipation? Were the Preceptors to blame, constantly watching her akin to hunters eyeing reckless prey? Or was it her own doing, permitting her own thoughts of fears and doubts to cloud her judgment?
Whatever the symptom, the affliction remains the the same, Ghilinthra now lies atop the sacred stage, leg twisted menacingly after stumbling upon her landing.
All who are bearing witness become paralyzed, fearing Ghilinthra to be dead, only for their hearts to be trapped in their throats as she rises.
Eyes dare not blink as mists of frost spring from her palm, ice binds her wound as she renews her performance with drive and ambition ruthless ten score.
All doubts or uncertainties have now vanquished as there is nothing but the demonic pain and the desire to prevail in the dance.
With blades in hands, pride drives Ghilnthra down upon Olaire twin blades recovered. Though her efforts are deem valiant, Ghilnthra's initiative is severely hampered by her restrictive leg allowing Olaire to steal it from her.
Though slower then Ghilinthra, Olaire swings true, staggering and withering her crippled adversary, but nowhere near breaking her.
"This has gone on long enough! Time to smash this gem into a thousands shards!"
Upon Olaire's firm stomp, a crude mess of ice and frost ensnares any and all beyond it's summoner.
The match is over with a blunt strike to Ghilinthra's nose.
*
"Nearly finished. Keep still!" Euera's assurances are a small comfort to the excruciating mending of Ghilinthra's leg. "Stars above, did you plan to have me die of terror?"
Even with good fortune blessing her with lodging and a soother to treat her, Ghilinthra harbors no illusions to her condition. Many moons will pass before her leg is restored.
"... " Not even a wince from Ghilinthra, only the same glazed unfocused gaze with her words drowning in her breath. "'Twas never the plan to scare you all so... Inulis, Eurea... I'm sorry... truly..."
"Save your apologies." Inulis, Maiden-anointed, silver braids most sacred draping her shoulders kneels before the bed-ridden Ghilnthrea. "Just promise us one thing, and try not to scare us like before."
"Well, we won't be troubled like that anytime soon, especially after the Preceptors deciding her- agh!" A smite to Eurea's head silences her.
"Must you remind us? For one meant to balm and mend others, you sure excel in rendering others spirits to mere cinders!"
"'Twas not my intent!" Eurea cries before turning to Ghilinthra nearly devoid of spirit. "Ghilinthra. Forgive me, I- I spoke without thinking..."
Words that might as well been naught but ash. What can be said for the one under her care? For Ghilinthra so sure and decisive in the rite's completion, to fail over a simple blunder.
And the cold report from the Preceptors might as well plunged a dagger to her heart.
"But... perhaps... destiny has different ideas."
A wince from Ghilinthra, but Eurea continues. "Enlighten me, why are you so eager to be renewed? You act as if souring the dance spells your doom!"
"Would your spirits fare better if you blundered initiation sacred?" Inulis retorts. "All while preceptors and spectators bear witness?"
"I-I... permit me to reword..."
"No, no, let's not and say we did." Inulis declares casting daggers upon Eurea.
Such a stare evaporates words before Eurea can conceive them.
"This cannot be..." Ghilinthra's murmur is near silent. "How can ever face her again, after vowing I would be her blade oath-sworn?"
"Ah! Inulis!" Eurea cries mending the smart on her head. "Can you not smite my crown so while I'm deep in labor?"
"I was only making sure that is ALL you are doing. Nothing more and nothing less." Inulis turns to Ghilinthra. "Don't despair for long. Destiny might have schemes far grander than being blade to a mere- aha- than being a blade to anyone rather than of royal blood."
"Why even bother being reborn a blade when the stars fated your blood to be of- AHGGGAHGAH!"
"You. Truly have. The loosest tongue!"
"Unhand my ear, you brute!"
Such petty animosity from these two carves a smile smile upon Ghilinthra's face. To see Inulis bridling Eurea's ear before the shaman retaliates by stretching her cheek all while they bicker and escalate, it's enough to spark a chuckle.
"It does my heart well to have our paths intertwined."
Knowing her friends are passionately invested in their squabble once again, Ghilinthra finds the courage to out at the spiraling settlement she secreted herself to. Many moons have come and passed and she never foolishly discarded the pleasure of sight of beauty second to none.
A theatre majestic within a tower does not do Pira'El justice. Tis a spiraling labyrinth blending plazas, gardens, theatres, stalls and quarters all woven chaotically yet harmoniously so.
All while the water ever flowing from aqueducts, fountains, eventually return to the sea boundless and vast, with vessels fat with mariners come and go to their hearts content.
Never a far cry truer from where she hailed.
And Ghilinthra cannot even traverse this wondrous web with her leg horribly bent so. If only that is the punishment, most severe, for her to suffer. Now it is only a matter of time before word reaches those eager to reclaim her. She'll simply elude them, become entangled in Pira'el's maze, and she has faith that her two compatriots can-
The sudden creaking of the door comes close to stagnating Ghilinthra's beating heart. It certainly paralyzes the bickering duo as they watch the door open with dreaded anticipation.
"Impossible!" Ghilinthra breathes. "How could I be so careless?!"
Inulis is first to break free from the spell and stands fast against the cloaked stranger entering without invitation.
"Are you aware that you are in the presence of First Heiress Ghilinthra?" Inulis decries, propping herself as the barrier between Ghilinthra and the newcomer. "Unless you are here to treat her ailment, I suggest you leave with the utmost haste!"
No words, just action. With hood removed, almost all now believe this to be a bizarre dream. Even more so for Ghilinthra who gazes upon a youthful soul tempered by wisdom and command. As the clock is discarded, winter blue locks touch dark amber skin guarding her honor and decency while her twilight blue dress shrouds even her feet.
There is no doubt: Pira'El's Steward is here before this trio.
"What is the meaning of this, Ghilinthra?!"
"My lady, please!" Inulis begs. "'I begeth thee that proper protocol dictates that First Heir-"
"Are thrown to the wind!" Ghilinthra cuts off before rising only to tremble, fall and gently spared by the newcomer's aid.
"Forgive me, Lady Milithwren... to blunder as I have... please permit me to correct myself! I promise my performance to be flawless as any dancer aspiring should dream of."
"Cease the formalities, Ghilinthra." Milithwren sternly demands. "It is unnerving enough as it is that my dearest friend treats me like I stand atop a pedestal."
"Of course... Mili." Strange it sounds to speak it after so long.
"Hmmm... yes. Still holds it's charm." Milithrwen giggles before turning to Eurea and Inulis. "Leave us, please." Firm yet gentle Milithwren's words.
"M-my lady, as the one watching over her-"
"Don't worry. I am more than privy to mending her wound. Still, you have my thanks for watching over her."
With gratitude bestowed, both departed leaving Milithwren alone to tend to Ghilinthra.
"Stars above... what were you thinking? You nearly perished with the fall you had!"
"Given how you were there to bear witness, some part of me wishes that were so."
"I have not seen you for nigh four decades and this is how you seek to repay me?" Milithwren frowns. "If you wish to speak, I much prefer to hear to say how glad you are that we are reunited once more!"
"I am elated!" Ghilinthra insists. "To be by your side again is the greatest honor in all the realm!" Her face sinks. "Still, I will now always carry the shame of the stage humbling me so... not only to be reborn a dancer, but one to surpass all who danced upon it's hallowed grounds." She scoffs. "Truly... how could I allow such hubris to afflict me so?"
Milithwren smiles delicately angling Ghilnthra's leg. "How could the First Heir of Northern Shards ever fail within the Theatre who extends its arms to all who wish to be reborn?" Her warm chuckle loosens the shame gripping Ghilinthra's heart. "Given your exemplary mastery in the arts, and your... proud disposition, I would be surprised if such hubris did not cloud you as it did."
"And now I will continue to bear that dishonor for as long as I live, Mili. For even if I prevail over the ritual repeated, my victory will forever ring hallow."
Milithrwren sighs. "You truly have not changed."