The red sun set for the last time.

  As it fell from the heavens, the smoke of a thousand fires rose to choke out its flame.

  The God King was dead.

  His throne smashed; his bones scattered in the wind.

  Another world lost.

  Chapter 1

  Fia woke to the sound of rainfall. The first moments were always the worst. To her eyes, nothing had changed. It was the same world she had always woken to. But she knew better. Soon, the rain would end, and the sun would begin to peek out from behind the clouds. It would be a beautiful day, bright and cheery. An inescapable nightmare.

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and began to dress. Routine had been so important. It had kept her focused and given her purpose. Now, it was her prison. All that was left to her. But she would persevere for Sophie. It is what she would have wanted. That much she knew. Her stomach began to growl. Even prisoners needed to eat.

  Pushing her way through the scattered mess of oil and brushes, she made her way to the kitchen. There was plenty of food. There always was. Always the same. Eggs, bacon, and bread. On days Fia grew tired of the breakfast, she would venture out into the market or to one of the few restaurants still open in the city. There were many fine dishes to sample in the Upper Wards, and now that money was no longer an issue, she had sampled them all. But she always found herself drawn back to the simpler meals. The kind she had always shared with Sophie.

  The sizzling eggs and the savory smell of bacon called to her. Gathering her meal, she made her way downstairs to the shop.

  Down below, she settled at the counter and began picking at the eggs. They were burnt, but the sulfurous odor was comforting. Even as the days bled into each other, little changes made all the difference. She sat a while, watching the world outside her shop. It was still early. The streets were empty save for a few lonely carts. Farmers pulling their measly crops to market. When they had set up their shop, the markets had been full of exotic wares from all over the continent. Jewels and precious metals from the mines in the north, silken fabrics from across the Sapphire Sea, and rare spices brought in from the farthest edges of the empire. Fia still remembered the look on Sophie’s face when she had first offered some to her. Her innocent smile was betrayed only by the mischievous glint in her eye. A kind of sugar, she had said, beloved by the southern Kings of old. Fia’s eyes had watered, her face burned, and Sophie had laughed and laughed.

  Sophie had always been fond of these types of games. Little pranks that gave life to the monotonous. A world of laughter could not be as bad as they all said. But even more so, they had been a way to share her curiosity and thirst for adventure with Fia.

  We may not be able to see the whole world, but here in the Capital, we can still see its wonders and learn of its peoples.

  Bringing Fia to the Capital had been her dream. The culmination of years of preparation. Of study. Of sacrifice. When the summons finally arrived, it was like a great weight had been lifted off Sophie. The shadow that had stolen her face was banished, and her sister returned to her. It would have all been worth it. There just hadn’t been enough time.

  The war ended all of that, though Sophie had refused to admit it. She had soldiered on bravely as the city closed its gates. The stream of foreign merchants with their fantastical stories and remarkable goods had dried up. The world had shrunk, crushing their dreams as more and more of it was left in darkness.

  The city no longer had a need for shops like theirs. They needed practical solutions to the horrors of war. A potion for mortal injuries, a charm to protect their homes, a spell to hide away for a time. Sophie was a skilled mage and could provide all that they sought, but the magic of war, to her, had been no magic at all.

  These days, the shop was well cared for if a bit unused. They had rotated out much of the old merchandise, placing them in the back stores with the rarer and more expensive items, as well as Sophie’s own personal collection. The shelves were now filled with salts, balsams, flowers, and mushrooms. Common enough ingredients but oft used by soldiers. The charms on display were simple: fortune, protection, health, and the like. Even the books were just for show. No one sought after grimoires anymore, and thus, they had all been stored away. Customers were scarce, and there were certainly no new ones. Just the regulars now, with the same requests every day, though none were scheduled for this day.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Her food had grown cold, barely touched on the plate. Today was not a good day for bacon. Perhaps she could find something else to satisfy her hunger. The morning was growing late. She would need to hurry if she wanted to make it to market before the soldiers did.

  She slipped on her boots and stepped out the door. Looking back, she saw the sign still read Closed. She had forgotten to change it.

  The shop must always be ready. You never know when a customer may reveal themselves. We cannot afford to lose any business.

  There was no business, but she wouldn’t forget again.

  Now, the streets were bustling. Fisherman, risen with the dawn, now returned to spread their haul to markets throughout the wards. Soldiers rising late from a night of drunken debauchery rushing to their posts. But inescapably were the countless bands of refugees. They filled all roads and alleys. Some begged for food, others for work. They had come out of fear, but now they were trapped, and the city was slowly starving them. Too many mouths, not enough beds.

  At the end of the street stood the market. At its entrance stood a large woman. Berta. She was head and shoulders taller than Fia and twice as thick.

  “Fia,” she called out. “Fia, I have been waiting all morning for you!”

  “Berta! Yes, my sister sent me.”

  Berta waved, beckoning towards her excitedly.

  “What did she say? My back has been bothering me something terrible. You know she is the only one that has ever been able to help with it!”

  Always the same. But Berta had been good to them.

  “My sister sends her apologies. The King’s men require too much of her, but she promises to have the brew ready by tomorrow. Come by in the morning.”

  Berta’s eyes darkened, and she turned away, “This damn war. And where is our King? Another feast, I suppose…” She looked back at Fia, and her face softened, “Not that I blame your sister, dear. Please thank her for me and tell her I will be by bright and early!” She smiled, placing a hand around Fia’s waist, and guided her through the gate into the market.

  Fia knew every stall. Every face unlocked a dozen memories. But today, the names themselves were lost. She had thought she would never forget them, but they drifted in and out now. Some days, she remembered them as clearly as her own; on others, she wondered if she had ever truly known them at all. But she never forgot Berta’s.

  Fia had meant to buy fish. The day’s yield had been especially fruitful, and she was craving the rainbow trout found only in these waters. It had been too long since she tasted it, but when she saw the great clock, her heart sank. It was well past noon; she needed to leave.

  She hurried towards the east gate, but it had already begun. From across the market, she could hear Berta shouting.

  “You think you can break the King’s laws just because you wear his colors?”

  Her pace quickened, and the next words faded into the market hum. She didn’t need to hear them; it wouldn’t do any good. As she slipped out of the gate, the sharp ring of steel echoed through the hall. Perhaps pastries in the Upper Ward would be best.

  Apple tart and strawberry shortcake did much to lift her spirits. The Upper Ward was not scarred by the war like the rest of the city. Its citizens were nobility, Lords, and Ladies. They wanted for nothing. Fia stuck out amongst all their opulence, and the eyes of all watched her every move, but her sister’s title afforded access to all the wards, and they could say nothing to her.

  When she had finished eating, they brought her sugar and tea. She sat alone, staring out the wide window down on the city below. Plumes of smoke billowed up, caught in the wind and snaking towards the clouds, and the bells of the Vigils sounded. She knew where they were headed, but there was no use in dwelling on it. The tea turned sour all the same.

  The sun began to set as she called for the maid. A young, sweet-looking girl, scared to death. She hesitantly pulled a bill from her blouse. Seven pieces of silver. An unthinkable amount to spend on cake. Fia did not look the type that could afford such luxuries. Indeed, in her purse was barely thirty coins. She smiled reassuringly at the girl, taking the bill and placing it on the table with the silver. Then she took two more pieces and pressed them into her hand. The maid gasped, shaking her head in silent protest.

  “Go on, take them. Get yourself something nice. No point in saving it.” She smiled again.

  “T-t-thank you, m’lady,” stammered the girl, bowing as she exited the room.

  It would make no difference. The coin would change nothing. But Sophie would have done it, and the poor girl deserved a moment of happiness before the end; it was the least she could offer.

  Fia took the long way home. She did not want to see it. She wandered through the twisted labyrinth of the Middle Ward as the shadows grew tall. Sophie would have been waiting for her. She would have been worried sick. But there was no one to worry over her now. She was all alone.

  As she turned the last corner onto her street, she saw the light in her shop burning. Had she left it on? No, that couldn’t be right. As she drew closer, she saw that the sign had changed. Open. The words shone bright in the darkness, sparkling like stars for all to see. It was a simple spell but one of her sister’s favorites.

  She began to run. No one was ever in the shop. It was the wrong day. The only person that had been in the shop was…

  She burst through the door, “Sophie— “

  Fia stopped short. It was not Sophie who stood in the shop before her. Instead, a tall, thin man, back turned and muttering to himself.

  He turned at her shouts, lifting his gaze and smiling kindly at her.

  “Excellent. Just in time. Have a seat, dear girl. I have a proposition for you.”

  Cycle: Timor 1-1