LIRO || completed

• 3.1 •

Liro shot into a sitting position. Cold air ran along her arms, and her hair tumbled down her back from its careful position above her head. All she remembered was the stars, her sisters, the huntsman. Everything beyond that was unreachable, as if sealed behind some vault, so deep in her own mind that even she couldn't access it.

Water dripped onto her hand, cool and fresh as the first of winters snow. She hadn't even realized she's sent the glass tumbling. Liro righted the glass, frowning at the puddle that had collected just below her knuckles.

Where was she?

The air was dry, as if it hadn't been rotated around for at least a week. Her mattress was plush, as was the pillow. Not the tree where she'd fallen asleep the night before. Someone had removed her.

Anger rose in her bloodstream. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about who had touched her, how they'd brought her ... wherever she was. Liro felt the heat surge to her palms and feet. She bit her lip, concentrating, thinking of the cool water on her knuckles, imagining the sensation spreading to her entire body ...

Liro leapt up, tangling the sheets as she tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor. Her feet pressed against the chilled stone, and the feeling of burning dimmed slightly. Her hands, however, seemed to ignite, every ounce of warmth that had been in her toes spreading to her fingertips, concentrating itself there.

She ran towards the nearest window, pulling frantically at the latch. It refused to budge, and Liro let out a snarl. The next few windows proved to be just as secure, and she knelt to the ground, pressing her palms and feet to the stone simultaneously.

"Are you quite alright dear?"

Liro craned her neck, searching the room until her eyes found those of an elderly woman who was regarding her with a great deal of concern. Liro cleared her throat, finding herself standing up straight and smoothing the pure white nightgown. Her nails dug into her wrist as she fought to kill the heat, to calm her heart.

"I do believe I'm alright now," Liro murmured, barely more than a whisper, lost on the smallest breeze. The woman's gaze had not relented, and was beginning to make her uncomfortable.

"You're thin as a reed, and mad as a hatter," the woman harrumphed, pressing fresh sheets closer to her chest before turning away. "Why do the strangest things come out of the forest?"

Liro walked calmly back to the bed, her head held high and her heart unfeeling, before speaking. "Where am I?"

"The royal infirmary. Closest place to the forest. We could hardly turn you away, unconscious and unclothed." She strained the last words, pressing disapproval into them heavily.

Liro's heart constricted. The royal infirmary, possibly the last place she had ever wanted to see. The hunters had saved her by retrieving her from the open clutches of her sisters, yet they could have left her with a decidedly larger problem.

"When may I leave?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "As soon as you can walk without displaying your lunacy!" She gathered the rest of the bedsheets against her chest and walked off haughtily, muttering under her breath furiously.

Liro pursed her lips, studying the windowsill. The farmlands were a deep green, tended by adults with hunched backs and small children, tiny enough to evade truly working. The sky, however, was a dismal shade of gray, looking as if it were about to rain at any given second.

She was alone; there was nothing to stop her but the aching in her bones. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't want to leave the mattress. It was much better than anything she'd find on her own.

Liro slipped off the bed, scouring the infirmary for a shirt and pair of pants. Going barefoot wasn't optimal, but it was achievable. And as the woman had pointed out earlier, she needed to be decent before stepping outside.

This wasn't the woods, where no one but the owls would see her; here, she would be hiding in plain sight.

Loose fitting pants and a snug tunic were all to be found, on complete opposite side of the room. Liro shrugged them on, unfastening a tie on the bedsheets to keep her hair back. Quiet as a lynx on the hunt, she slipped from behind the infirmary doors and into the hallway.

Painting upon painting lined the walls, done with an expert eye and patience. She bypassed them without another look, her eyes set on the staircase. She could navigate her way until someone saw her.

Liro twisted her lips upward in a confident smirk, tilting her chin higher and forcing her shoulders back. She'd used the form of trickery on her sisters before; acting like she was unafraid when her insides were trembling. It had worked with them. There was no reason for it not to pull the sheets over a mere human.

She moved through the castle like a ghost, her pale clothes and dark hair fading into the gray stone of the castle. If anyone saw her, they turned the other direction or pressed themselves into walls. Sorcery wasn't forbidden, yet it was feared, and if she had indeed turned out to be a vengeful spirit, they did not want to be haunted by the likes of her.

Liro left the palace and disappeared into the hordes of people lining the streets, haggling over equally terrible prices. Yet by then, the rumours had already sprung up amongst the castle's staff.

There was a woman with the face of the moon, eyes and hair of onyx, movements as graceful as those of a willows. Her mouth was cruel though it never opened, her expressions as revealing as stone.

And though she had merely passed through, they recognized her.

A Sister of Ruin, on the hunt. The idea was terrifying and tantalizing.

Liro heard none of the rumours, even as night fell over the kingdom and the words spread like wildfire.

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