Hated by her lineage, Iliya Dalaminai dwells in self isolation, awaiting the day her cousin marries so she might escape the Throne.
Feared by the Gods, Sorein Chakrine's crown is mainly a relic put on display at royal ceremonies to ward off evil.
Wh...
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Sunset bled into darkness when Iliya finished the journal completely.
With more questions than answers, she hoped Sorein might be able to shed light on the descriptions of Nioreir. Still, he was only told the same stories she had been. The tunnels beneath the world. Rhydian had even laughed at her once for considering they might be real.
She thought she knew better.
This journal knew better.
No matter how much she tried, Iliya could not find an answer to the Initials she'd come to see engraved on the book itself.
Within the pages, a detailed list of directions on where to go within the Estate and how to access Nioreir. The man – she guessed – elaborated explained how to enter a room with information he claimed she desperately needed.
Nioreir. Home of the living darkness.
D. R. also mentioned attire, explaining leather would be a better fit than guards metal because she could more freely wield mana.
From the sound of it, Iliya knew she'd been signing Sorein up for danger and still hadn't had the heart to tell him more. Not only to hear him deny her. She needed to see it for herself.
She needed a witness.
Iliya spent the evening slipping into her training gear, a pair of black militia pants and her brown leather jacket. Where they were going, she wasn't worried about heat or sweat. Her hands spent time tearing through the knots of her lasting panic and braiding it back. Two braids on each side, joining together into one long tail.
She wound the tail into a dense bun on her head, pinning it into place so she might not worry about getting caught in any potential binds.
Iliya was just about to leave when a breeze of purple light flared from her balcony and Siofra appeared.
Without a second though, she shook her head and waved dismissively to her friend.
"Tonight is not the night, Sio," she said hurriedly, kicking on her leather riding boots. "I'm sorry."
Siofra caught her breath quickly, brows furrowing. "What are you talking about? I just returned from Solraidas."
If she'd ever bothered letting Iliya know any of her plans, she might've accounted for that, but the thought was lost on her. She hadn't seen Siofra since the attack and couldn't face the anger she secretly harbored. It coiled up in her chest like a vicious snake, amped to strike.
Her friend time and again both prioritized Chiori Faire and RIM more than their relationship, a fact Iliya was normally pleased and willing to let go of.
But this time the anchor of her frustration settled next to her writhing snake of rage, pinning her into an uncomfortable corner.
