Xian Xiao
Elementalist
The streets of Bastion were quiet, the festival's lights dimmed, and decorations were swept away. Laughter and music lingered only as a faint memory, leaving the city to its usual rhythm of order and precision. Yet for Xian, the emptiness around her felt heavier than the silence should allow.
She moved through the courtyard alone, blade hilted but unlit, tracing arcs with the elegance of someone who had long practiced grace and discipline. Each turn, each sweep, was precise—controlled—but beneath it, a tension hummed. Her heart carried a weight the motions could not erase.
The autumn air brought the faint scent of burnt leaves and cooling embers from the gardens. For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of her movements and the stillness of the morning soothe her. She had been happy once—quietly, simply happy—in a way she rarely allowed herself to feel.
Then came the sound: a door opening behind her, footsteps careful, deliberate. Something in the tone, the weight in the air, told her this was no casual visitor. She instinctively tightened her grip on the hilt.
News was coming.
News that could change everything she had allowed herself to feel.
Her thoughts flickered briefly to him—the king who had made her feel wanted, cherished, and alive. She had been falling, quietly, completely, savoring the moments where love had softened the edges of her life.
And now, whatever words would arrive with those footsteps… she feared they might take it all away.
Diarch Rellik
She moved through the courtyard alone, blade hilted but unlit, tracing arcs with the elegance of someone who had long practiced grace and discipline. Each turn, each sweep, was precise—controlled—but beneath it, a tension hummed. Her heart carried a weight the motions could not erase.
The autumn air brought the faint scent of burnt leaves and cooling embers from the gardens. For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of her movements and the stillness of the morning soothe her. She had been happy once—quietly, simply happy—in a way she rarely allowed herself to feel.
Then came the sound: a door opening behind her, footsteps careful, deliberate. Something in the tone, the weight in the air, told her this was no casual visitor. She instinctively tightened her grip on the hilt.
News was coming.
News that could change everything she had allowed herself to feel.
Her thoughts flickered briefly to him—the king who had made her feel wanted, cherished, and alive. She had been falling, quietly, completely, savoring the moments where love had softened the edges of her life.
And now, whatever words would arrive with those footsteps… she feared they might take it all away.
