Cloudlight

Solene woke slowly.

Warmth clung to her skin—not the heavy, feverish kind of injury, but the soft, safe kind, like morning sun through frost-kissed glass. She stretched instinctively—then froze with a hiss.

Pain. Dull but present.

Her ribs ached. Her shoulder screamed. But… she was alive.

And clean.

Her eyes adjusted to the silver-blue glow of the room. Pale light shimmered from the walls—no visible windows, just soft ambiance, as if the place itself breathed moonlight.

She shifted under the blanket and caught the scent of winter and wildflowers.

Then she saw them:

Laid across the carved wooden bench near the bed—a set of robes and armor. Sleek, regal, unlike anything she'd ever worn. The metal was matte silver, edged in soft, radiant frost. The robes were tailored in long flowing layers of white and storm-gray, lined with pale fur. No sigils. No house crests. Just power. Quiet. Earned.

The room's door creaked softly as Nyxara stepped back in, holding a shallow bowl of fruit and bread.

Solene sat up carefully, clutching the blanket around herself. "You took off my clothes."

Nyxara grinned without a shred of shame. "I saved your life. Modesty was a casualty."

Solene blinked. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Nyxara set the bowl down and leaned on the bedpost with arms crossed. "Let's just say… I've been above Tartarus for a very long time."

Solene gave her a look. "Is that literal or poetic?"

Nyxara smirked. "Yes."

Solene groaned softly, rubbing her temples. "You're worse than Seraphyne."

"Ah," Nyxara said, flicking an imaginary speck from her shoulder. "The demon with the sharp tongue and softer heart."

Solene narrowed her eyes. "You know her?"

"I know of her. I know her heartbeat. Just like I know Nerys's flame and Lira's constant worry."

Solene sat upright fully now, every muscle alert.

"They're alive?"

Nyxara raised an elegant brow. "Of course they are. Didn't think I'd let you bleed out for nothing, did you?"

Solene's face flooded with color.

Nyxara's smirk widened. "There it is," she teased. "I was beginning to think frost couldn't blush."

Solene scowled and pulled the blanket up higher.

Nyxara stepped closer and rested a hand lightly on Solene's shoulder. "You'll see them again. At daybreak."

Solene's eyes darted up. "That's hours from now."

"Enough time for your blood to stay inside your body," Nyxara said with a wink. "You'll heal. Properly. Then I'll take you to them."

Solene hesitated, then nodded once. "Alright. I'll wait."

Nyxara offered her a piece of fruit. "Good. Because I've waited a very long time for you, Solene Cael. I'd rather not rush the rest."

Solene took the fruit slowly.

And for the first time in days—

She allowed herself to eat.

—Part II—

Nerys—

She didn't remember falling asleep.

One moment she was sitting near the fire, back propped against Seraphyne's shoulder, their warmth shared in the hush of exhaustion.

The next—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound was slow. Rhythmic. Wrong.

Nerys's eyes snapped open, her hand flying instinctively to her blade.

Seraphyne was already upright beside her, jaw tight. Lira jolted awake near the corner, heart pounding so loud it was practically a second heartbeat in the room.

Another knock.

Then—

"Open up, Sis…"

Nerys froze.

The voice on the other side of the door was smooth, practiced, honeyed with something that almost sounded warm.

But underneath?

Rot. Violence barely veiled.

"I know you're in there. I'd recognize that scent anywhere—burnt steel and old regret."

Seraphyne pulled Nerys gently behind her, body already coiled with magic. Lira slipped into the shadows without a sound, her eyes wide and wild.

Nerys moved forward, teeth clenched. "Alden."

"Oh, you do remember me."

The door remained shut. But the voice seeped in like smoke.

"Listen, Nerys… I just want to talk. You. Me. The demon. Maybe Lira, if she hasn't pissed herself already."

Seraphyne's lip curled.

"We're all family here. No need for dramatics. Now… how about we talk about Solene."

Silence.

Then:

"You've been playing hide and seek with her, haven't you?"

Nerys didn't answer.

She wouldn't give him the pleasure.

"She's not with you. I know that much. Her trail went cold hours ago. But… what a fight she put up. Left poor Rem's guts all over the cobblestone. That girl's got bite."

Seraphyne growled low under her breath, her fingers twitching with restrained magic.

Alden's voice grew quieter, darker.

"Turn her over, Nerys. The Ice Witch. Give her to me, and maybe I'll let the rest of you keep your tongues."

No one moved.

"But if you try anything…" He chuckled. A low, amused sound.

"Well. My pets don't take prisoners."

Nerys stepped forward, her voice a dagger. "She's not here, Alden. You already know that."

Silence.

Then—

"I know," he said calmly. "But I love watching you squirm."

The voice faded.

Footsteps receded.

But the threat didn't leave with them.

Seraphyne let out a shaky breath. "He's not going far."

"No," Nerys said. "He's waiting."

Lira crept back into the firelight. "What now?"

Nerys tightened her grip on her blade. "We hold. We don't move. Not until Solene gets here."

"And if she doesn't?"

Nerys looked Seraphyne in the eyes.

"She will."

—Part III—

Solene—

The furs were impossibly soft.

The scent of icelilies drifted in from the next room—something between snowfall and new bloom. For one perfect moment, Solene forgot where she was. Forgot the bruises, the blood, the pressure. She sank deeper into warmth, her breath steady and full.

She was safe.

And then, light footsteps.

Nyxara entered the room, her white hair tied loosely at her back, horns casting elegant shadows across the wall. She was barefoot, robes flowing, eyes half-distracted—like she'd been mid-thought in a language older than time.

Solene sat up to greet her—

Only, she didn't.

She rose.

Lifted not by muscle, but by Nyxara's energy—a shimmering warmth that wrapped around her like a loving wind, held her aloft, and stood her upright as if gravity had simply changed its mind.

It wasn't magic. Not like hers. It didn't crackle. It didn't hum.

It just was.

Solene blinked, still hovering inches above the floor. "What are you—?"

But before the words left her mouth—

Flash.

The warmth became motion. Wind. Light.

She gasped—

And in the next breath, her body was clothed in flowing robes and silver-armored plates—the same outfit that had been laid out the night before. Every clasp secured. Every fold perfect. Not tight, not uncomfortable. Just hers.

Nyxara smiled, serene and dangerous.

"Sorry, little flame," she said, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. "I had to rush you. Some unwelcome ants are trying to catch you in a cage."

Solene narrowed her eyes. "Alden."

"Of course," Nyxara said. "He's loud, sloppy, and predictable."

Solene's heart raced. "The others—"

Nyxara raised one hand.

"Let sister Nyxara take care of everything."

Snap.

---

The world shifted.

The room melted away like snow under fire.

Stone turned to splinters. Crystal to dirt. The icelily scent vanished, replaced by stale smoke and damp wood.

The hideout.

And standing in its center, fresh from starlight—

Solene.

And beside her—

Nyxara.

---

Three gasps cut the silence.

Seraphyne, mid-step toward the door, dropped to her butt, blade half-drawn in sheer reflex.

Nerys stumbled backward into Lira, who fell with a startled yelp. They all stared.

Solene blinked.

"Hi," she said awkwardly.

Seraphyne's mouth opened. Closed. "You were—what—how—"

Nerys's lips trembled, eyes wide. "You're—alive?"

Solene gave a soft, sheepish smile.

Nyxara stepped forward, graceful and glowing faintly.

"Please forgive the dramatic entrance," she said. "I do like to make an impression."

And as the three stunned women scrambled to stand, and one of them dared to hope again—

Solene stepped into their arms.

And the world felt whole again.

—Part IV—

The warmth of Solene's arms around Nerys. The tremble in Seraphyne's breath. The way Lira clutched the edge of Solene's robes like she still didn't believe she was real.

It was more than a reunion.

It was a resurrection.

Solene closed her eyes for a breath, holding them all close.

Then—

Nyxara cleared her throat softly. The gentle echo of her voice silenced the moment like a bell over water.

"We can have introductions later," she said, stepping further into the room, her silver eyes glowing faintly beneath her horned brow. "But first, you all need to make a choice."

The words were soft.

But they cracked through the silence like thunder.

Everyone turned toward her.

Nyxara's tail curled behind her, slow and serpentine, the blue scales along her arms shimmering under the dull light of the hideout.

"You can stand here. Fight. Right now." Her voice didn't rise, but the air tightened around her. "You'll lose. Not just your lives. But each other. The things that matter."

Nerys's jaw clenched. Seraphyne narrowed her eyes, already bristling at the word lose.

Nyxara held up one hand.

"Or—" she said, voice softening, "you come with me. To my home. Away from this city's reach. You heal. You train. You grow. And you choose when to return. On your own terms."

Solene turned to her slowly, eyes wide. "You'd take us all?"

Nyxara looked at her, and for a moment her voice cracked with something almost human.

"Of course," she said. "You're mine now."

That sent a ripple through the room.

Lira looked overwhelmed, staring between them all.

Nerys was watching Solene closely, her expression unreadable.

Seraphyne asked the question none of them had yet.

"Why help us?"

Nyxara's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Because I'm bound by old rules and older regrets. And though I can bend some threads—" she glanced toward the ceiling, toward something far above them, "—this world still limits me. I can't shape the board. I can only lift a few pieces out of danger."

Solene stepped forward. "So… you're not allowed to interfere directly."

"I'm not," Nyxara said. "But I'm also very good at walking the line."

She turned to the door, where cold wind filtered through the frame.

"I feel Alden's approach. His scent is like rot in rain. If you stay, you fight him. Here. Now. And you will die."

The room went still.

"You have until he breaks that door," she said, her voice low and calm, "to decide."

And then she waited.

---