Chapter Sixteen

I resided in the orphanage for eight months, two days, and four hours. It was during a moment when I balanced a baby on my hip, had a toddler tugging at my skirt, and was engaged in a playful exchange with a pair of six-year-olds that the arrival of the Dawnlight ship interrupted our routine.

"Princess," the word sent a shiver through me, a reminder of the warrior's term of endearment. But by then, I had learned not to turn with hope, for it was not him. Instead, it was four Dawnlight Warriors, accompanied by the sworn Master of Irina, Master Kyros.

I fell to my knees before him, baby and all. “Master Kyros, your presence honors me.”

"Rise, child," he beckoned with an understanding smile, his open arms extending warmth and welcome. "You have endured too much for formalities."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, we extended our hospitality with a communal dinner, though the older nuns kept vigilant watch over wine glasses, including those tempting Sereia and me.

“So you’re a princess,” Sereia's eyes sparkled with curiosity, her words tethering my attention briefly. But then, like a compass drawn to a familiar constellation, my gaze found a silhouette against the cathedral's arched columns.

“Not exactly,” I replied to Sereia, my thoughts veering toward the cryptic figure who awaited me at the periphery of the church. “would you-would you excuse me?”

With a courteous nod to those gathered, I excused myself from the expansive dining hall and gravitated toward the edges of the cathedral, where an enigmatic figure—someone I had grown to regard as an old friend—awaited.

"Ezra," his name rolled off my tongue like a beloved tune, every syllable tinged with the warmth of affection he mirrored in his own address.

"Hello, Irina," he responded, exaggerating the princess’s name because he knew I was not her.

A genuine smile broke across my lips as I closed the distance, enfolding him in an embrace that transcended words, rooted in shared memories and unspoken camaraderie.

"Do not expect clandestine revelations from me; I am as blind to our destination as you are," he quipped, his eyes sparkling with that same unassuming charm that had always been his signature.

His smile was gorgeous. He was a few years older than me, one of Irina’s engagement prospects. Son of a prominent royal family from Astreaus, but the third son, a title which granted him the freedom to train as a Dawnlight Warrior. Enough weakened power to marry into the royal family without threat.

“Don’t worry, old friend,” I quipped, slinging my arm around his tall frame, my fingers brushing the threshold of his broad shoulders. “I wouldn’t dare.” Absence had carved maturity into his form over the past two years, refining him into a man of raven-black, tousled hair and captivating light green eyes. He held a new maturity to him, something distant and broken.

"Where have you been?" My words hung between us, laden with echoes of growth and a shared fracture. The passage of time had etched its marks on both of us, leaving behind the scars of experience.

"Callum Prime, Erebus," he replied, the names of Empire planets rolling off his tongue. The revelation widened my eyes, a testament to the gravity of his missions.

"Recovering prisoners?" I inquired, my voice tinged with the recognition that this was one of the most perilous undertakings for Shadows. The advanced technology of those planets could incinerate you without a moment's notice.

Ezra's nod confirmed my suspicion. "Prisoner extraction and infiltration. The Council is poised for a pivotal vote tomorrow on fusion warfare."

I couldn't help but laugh, wry mirth bubbling from within. "As if nuclear power isn’t destructive enough.”

"Exactly," he agreed, his smile a reflection of our shared understanding. "These times stretch us beyond our years, forcing even the innocence of childhood to bear witness to the madness of adulthood."

The weight of his words pressed upon me, ushering in a silence that brimmed with unspoken contemplation. The term "kid" resonated with a particular memory, a reminder of the Kaimari Warrior. Ezra's sensitivity nudged him to shift the topic, steering our conversation toward another somber subject. “Have you heard news of Astraeus yet?”

I shook my head. "Is ignorance the preferable path in this case?" I mused aloud, absent-mindedly kicking a pebble.
“I heard you’re getting married,” he teased, and I laughed because I knew what this meant. It was a coded message, a signal that Irina's parents were summoning yet another round of prospective suitors and glittering galas. Although I could tell from Ezra’s form, it wouldn’t be on our home planet.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it?” I questioned, my eyes glued to the children who were crawling all over the other Dawnlight Warriors.

“It’s over princess,” his collective nickname for us five imposters. “There’s a war coming, Dawnlight is recruiting like crazy, and Astreaus is bartering anything for forces.”

“Everything including its daughters,” I said sharply. Exhaling a sigh that mingled resignation and anticipation, I let my thoughts drift. “Let tonight be tonight. Tomorrow will find its own path.”

With a subtle undercurrent of shared connection, Ezra extended his hand, our fingers entwining in a silent dance that whispered more than mere words ever could. "You remain a vision of grace," he whispered, his words laden with a familiarity that only intensified our bond.

"Your handsomeness has only deepened," I retorted, igniting a radiant blush that painted his cheeks like the first blush of dawn.

"By chance, do you know a discreet corner where we might steal some wine?" he ventured, mischief dancing in his eyes.

My smile was all mischief, “The nuns have a winery.”
—--------
Our planet did not survive. Relentless bombings had reduced it to ruins, leaving every aspect of our world annihilated. In the aftermath, my four sisters were scattered, their paths diverging across the expanse of the stars. Irina found herself amongst the Dawnlight Masters, Aelia retreated to a distant Dawnlight temple, disguised as a student. Saija was guarded by the entirety of our remaining Astraeus Legion, and Amaya sought refuge under the protective wing of Helios, the Desert Court.

I, of course, of all the planets and armies, had been left only with one warrior, on a tropical ice planet that was trying to kill me, and a broken heart.

We reunited on Pythos, one of the seven capital planets of Dawnlight. Only a mere twelve percent of our population managed to escape the cataclysm in time, our population diminished to two hundred thousand. Some Astrans scattered, too terrified of the Empire, while some journeyed to various refugee camps. But still, most of us were dead on the planet, reduced to nothing more than ash and bone.

The first weeks after we reconnected, all of us were fucked up. We, five fifteen-year-old girls, shared the burden of panic attacks like a grim token, passing them among us like a ball. Among our trials, we took turns donning the role of queen, attending senate gatherings, and shouldering the weight of a shattered reality.

Amid this masquerade, much of the responsibility was assumed by me. Political functions, endless speeches—these were my domain, even as I struggled to maintain the tattered veneer concealing my inner turmoil.

Irina was never the same. Her transformation was profound–she suddenly feared everything. And as her first Shadow, I had to protect her from everything. I slept in her bed with her for two years, then moved to a trunk against the wall, but even I couldn’t protect her from her nightmares, that was her battle.

At times it felt like her parents were more mine than her own. It made me feel so guilty, how they looked at me in her clothing and makeup as a put-together daughter, a strong daughter, and how a large part of me looked at them like my real parents. We wanted it to work, wanted to pretend, and so we did. We pretended Pythos was our home, the high-rise buildings were our castles, and I was the Queen of Astraeus.

Time pressed on, and by the time we reached our twentieth year, the restoration of our planet had been orchestrated by automatons. Our allies, unified in purpose, readied themselves for the impending conflict with the Empire. We had moved back to Astraeus part-time, overseeing the planet's reconstruction and instilling faith into our people. The faces that now surrounded us were unfamiliar, remnants of the outer rim. They bore testimony to the diversity that had permeated our once-homogeneous world. Amid these challenges, I clung to optimism, believing that from the ruins, we could construct a new beginning, a realm of beauty born from the ashes

I had adopted all thirty-seven children from the orphanage. I still smile when I recall the memory. On the brink of departure, with the children gathered in the sand before me, I managed to convince Master Kyros to accommodate their presence. Ezra's approving smile fueled my determination. He, too, had grown from the boy I had known, transformed into a man whose strength was equal to his kind heart.

The Empire's shadow loomed ever larger, threatening to consume our galaxy. The urgency to safeguard our people prompted a risky strategy—to disperse them among the seven courts. Yet, the Empire's onslaught relentlessly decimated our refugee ships, thwarting our attempts at salvation. It was a disaster, something Irina could not wrap her head around, nor strategize around, without crying. So I sat with her parents and learned in those Pythos strategy rooms how to lead a planet at war.

"Your presence at the council today was nothing short of remarkable," Irina's father acknowledged a note of pride infused in his words. My contributions, though modest, seemed to resonate more deeply than I could have anticipated, subtly altering the course of discourse.

"Lessons from the university have proven their worth," Queen Nerida chimed in, a thinly veiled allusion to the investment she had made in my education. Lessons she was paying for her daughter to attend, of course.

As the Senator approached, we fell into a well-rehearsed choreography of courteous conversation, a dance we had perfected over the years, starting when I was just a child of five.

"Irina, your eloquence in today's council deserves commendation," Senator Lyra remarked. "Astraeus' future holds great promise, and I encourage you to explore a path that leads to the Council chambers."

“Your praise honors me, Senator,” I replied, genuine awe imbuing my voice. The name Senator Lyra bore weight; she was a former Dawnlight Master, a living legend who had led fleets against the Empire during the first great war, four decades past.

"You must take great pride," she observed, casting an assessing glance of approval upon me, "in raising a daughter of such poise."

Queen Nerida chuckled softly, her hand brushing a stray lock of hair from my face with a maternal gesture. "Indeed," she agreed, her gaze locking onto mine with a mixture of fondness and complexity. "We are very proud."

Strangely, a surge of emotion welled within me, a dissonance between the role I played and the longing I harbored. I fought against an irrational urge to swat her hand away, to reveal the truth that lay beneath the façade.

"Whoever earns the privilege of your hand will be truly fortunate," Senator Lyra's words resonated as she nodded to me, before moving on to attend to other members of the royal families. "I fully expect an invitation to the impending wedding!" Her parting words echoed.

"Wedding," I sighed playfully in the direction of Queen Nerida, who responded with a gentle smile, once again tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Perhaps we could first focus on celebrating our twenty-first birthday," I suggested, the weight of our complex situation momentarily set aside as I sought solace in levity.