midday of lies.

The sun shone brightly in the middle of the sky.

The Flame-blessed train wound its way through the countryside, passing by small villages and farms on its journey to the west. White-bricked churches of the Holy Order of the Flame stood atop the occasional hill, while livestock idly chewed the fields and watched the world go by.

Inside the train, in the luxurious first-class cabin reserved for nobles and wealthy alike, sat Damian Roswald, Crown Prince of Sidralis. Until just a day ago, he had lived in relative comfort and safety while his father, King Xavier V ruled from his sickbed. Then, the king had been murdered by unknown assailants likely connect to the Collective Church of the Deep, the bitter enemy of the Flame. 

Pursued by attackers, Damian had lost two of his party members—the Captain of the Flameguard and his sworn protector, Lynn Brightwell, and Tia Alessia, a young maid recently employed by the Crown. Upon attempting to rescue Tia, Damian had endured a difficult but ultimately futile fight, until he was chanced upon by Lynn, some Priests of the Order, and one Marquis Nicholas from the Duchy of Lombrass.

"And that's the story you're going with?"

The marquis arched one eyebrow at Damian as he finished recounting his tale. The train rattled on, proceeding at a consistent forty-miles-per-hour as it neared the halfway point of their journey.

Damian brought a steaming cup of tea to his lips and took a long sip before answering.

"I don't see what you're suggesting, Marquis. Have I any reason to lie?"

Nicholas scowled, his ugly face getting even uglier, the white scar on his cheek crinkling.

"You think me a fool, Your Highness? Every mother and their baby felt the Deep stirring, all throughout Rosweiss. The whole damned city is up in arms, and you're insisting that—that all you did was fight off a handful of Apostles?"

Damian returned Nicholas' scowl with a cool, impassive expression.

I don't think you're a fool, Nicholas. It's the very opposite. That's why I'm lying to you.

The truth was wildly different.

Damian had encountered a version of himself from the future—one that had brought back a stark warning about Damian supposedly helming some form of calamity. He had ultimately been betrayed by that other Damian though, and had his connection to the Angel of the Flame severed by none other than Morgan Blackbriar—the First Seat of the High Table of Tenebrae, and the self-proclaimed 'King of the Deep.' 

But Damian had good reason for obfuscating the truth.

Firstly, he doubted anyone would believe his story about this 'future Damian,' when not even he himself truly understood what had happened. The very concept of time travel seemed impossibly fantastical, completely beyond the remit of either Angel.

Then there was the matter of Morgan Blackbriar.

The High Table effectively ran and governed Tenebrae, a semi-independent district in the royal capital of Tenebrae, responsible for most of Sidralis' economic power. Blackbriar had challenged Damian, but ultimately Damian didn't know if Blackbriar had killed King Xavier. Despite his wicked transformation into a powerful fiend of the Deep, Blackbriar didn't seem intent on wielding his power to conquer Rosweiss—not yet, at least.

If I tell the Marquis everything that happened, he'll have the Order of the Flame riled up and marching on Tenebrae. The last thing the kingdom needs right now is a civil war in the royal capital. All I can do for now is get to the Duchy, regroup, and figure out my next steps.

To that end, Damian had accepted Marquis Nicholas' offer for the Duchy of Lombrass to shelter him. It wasn't an ideal situation to be so far away from Rosweiss—six hundred miles or so, and a full day's travel by train—but he doubted that his unseen attackers would follow him into the countryside. And if they did, they'd be easier to catch and interrogate.

Damian drew himself out of his thoughts and returned his attention to Nicholas, who was awaiting his reply, his piggy little eyes watching the prince's every movement.

"I am extremely grateful for the Duchy's generous offer, and highly appreciative of the dangerous situation in which it places yourself and your father. If I knew anything that could be relevant, I would tell you. I swear it upon the Angel."

A hollow declaration, considering I'm disconnected from the Angel…but he doesn't know that.

Damian finished his tea and placed the empty cup back on the saucer. Butlers and maids—all wearing traditional black suits or white-frilled dresses—walked up and down the aisle, checking in on the other passengers.

Nicholas had hired out the entire train for safety's sake. The only other passengers were in the first-class cabin with them—a handful of Nicholas' retinue, and Lynn and Tia. The women were sitting apart, each looking out a different window of the train. It seemed that reconciliation between them would take more than a single night.

Lynn caught Damian's eye and tilted her head at him in an obvious gesture.

He sighed. 

This conversation had definitely been put off for long enough. While he was telling lies, he figured he may as well keep up the deception for just a little longer. He tried to ignore the gnawing sensation of guilt in his stomach, telling himself that he was keeping them all safer this way.

The pain in his chest disagreed.

"If we have nothing more to discuss, Marquis, I would like to speak with my companions."

Nicholas sighed heavily, and his expression relaxed. Even so, he was still a brute of a man—over six feet tall, with wavy brown hair, narrow eyes, and a near-permanent scowl. His hawkish gaze lingered on Damian for a moment longer, then he pressed his hands together and stood, his body swaying slightly with the rocking of the train.

"Of course, Your Highness. I shall check with the conductor, but I believe we'll make Aerissia Station by night."

With a slight nod, Nicholas departed, the carriage door rattling shut behind him.

Damian stood, stretched his back, and approached Lynn. On the seats to his left, Tia had fallen asleep, her head against the window. Blonde hair spilled down over her shoulders, and her large breasts rose and fell with a hypnotic rhythm. 

To his right, Lynn sat with her arms folded. She wasn't wearing her usual armor at that moment, but instead long fitted pants and a white blouse that was feminine but tasteful. The outfit lent her a womanly air that reminded Damian she was three years his senior. Her brilliant blue eyes shone fiercely as he stopped before her.

"We need to talk."

"I figured. I didn't think there was any other reason you were staring me down like that."

"I was not staring—! Listen, let's just find somewhere we can talk, alone."

Lynn huffed and stood up, opening the compartment door and stepping into the next part of the first-class cabin, which was thankfully empty. After choosing a pair of seats in the very middle of the car, Lynn fixed Damian with her most penetrating glare, her blazing red hair falling down over her face.

"So, what actually happened last night? And don't give me whatever bullshit you just fed the Marquis. I want to know the actual story."

Damian sighed, feeling a headache coming on. He could be more honest around Lynn than the Marquis, but he still needed to pick his words carefully. There was one particular topic that he did not—could not—broach, until he knew more. 

And that, of course, was the true identity of Tia Alessia.

Damian's future self had called her Tia Blackbriar; and in the tussle with Morgan Blackbriar, he had repeatedly called her his daughter. Damian wasn't foolish enough to disregard what he'd heard—and more importantly, the other Damian had given Blackbriar documents created by a future Tia, whom he knew as the First Seat of the High Table.

Damian hadn't had the chance to speak with Tia yet, and he wasn't entirely sure how forthcoming she'd be about her parentage. Until then, he wanted to keep Lynn's attention focused solely on the danger the Apostles posed—and nothing else.

But firstly…

"I have my own questions I need answered," Damian said, sitting back and crossing his arms. "Where did you go last night after your little tantrum? And more importantly, how did you know where to find me, and why did you bring Marquis Lombrass with you?"

Lynn scowled at the word 'tantrum,' but didn't rise to his taunt. Instead, she took a deep, faltering breath, and said:

"You might not believe me, but it all had something to do with you. A you that I've never seen before."