Princess Aurelia’s book of tales was really much more interesting than anything her tutor had assigned for study.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy reading histories and political treatises and other works children her age usually found boring. The fact of the matter was that she’d already read most of what her tutor wanted, in some cases many times over. Campaigns and Conquests of Maxadin I was one of her favorite works of writing of any sort, in fact, but at a certain point a fifteenth re-reading just didn’t seem as appealing as a new set of fantastical adventures.

  Furthermore, the nonfiction she was supposed to be reading seemed just a little too real for her, right then. Her mother and older siblings had been uniquely irritable in the days before they’d sent her away to Hilomnos to ‘study,’ which Aurelia knew meant ‘get out of their hair,’ and the content on her tutor’s list would’ve been a vivid reminder of that stressful environment awaiting her eventual return to Atum-Ra. The escapism of a swashbuckling fantasy was much preferable.

  The aroma of her sweet drink wafted from her desk, and she felt the mug’s warmth. Food and drink were usually quite prohibited in the great library of Hilomnos, but ignoring such rules was one of the many privileges of her station. Perhaps one of its most valuable privileges, as far as she was concerned.

  The barest beginnings of a drizzle had made itself known on the library’s roof a few minutes earlier, and Aurelia thought rain would be the perfect complement to the morning’s coziness. But she’d barely gotten four pages into the rainstorm before the peace of her secluded reading came to an end.

  An officer of the Imperial Guard burst through the doors of her library hallway cul-de-sac. One of the two officers that had originally accompanied her into the library stepped forward to receive him.

  The newcomer bowed to her, then saluted the Guards by her side.

  “Sir…”

  He trailed off, glancing at Aurelia with fraught indecision, then averting his gaze.

  The soldiers spoke then in hushed tones, brows furrowed, anxious, and speaking rapidly. Loud enough as not to seem as though they were attempting to avoid Aurelia’s detection, but too quiet for her to hear what they were saying.

  She tried and failed to imagine what kind of problem could have arisen that could possibly cause worry to a member of her retinue. Even the boldest enemies of the empire would be foolish to attack a force of the imperial Guard as large as her personal contingent of elite soldiers, she knew. Ever curious, she strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn’t make out more than a few words.

  “Northeast… over the water… landed…”

  Straining as she was to listen, though, brought something else to her attention. The sound of the drizzle had become a fuller rain, and was still worsening.

  She refocused.

  Not only was it growing louder, but it seemed oddly irregular, for rain.

  No, it wasn’t rain at all, she realized.

  Rain had a predictable sort of syncopation. What she heard instead was much more chaotic. It sounded more like the gunfire of military drills her mother and grandfather occasionally brought her along to observe.

  Sharper noises, both scattered and in volleys, and of different calibers of gun and cannon.

  Closing her eyes, Aurelia indexed her near-perfect memory. There were no military encampments in Hilomnos where such a drill could be conducted, to her knowledge.

  She solved the puzzle rather quickly, with that in mind.

  All she’d ever been told about the world, as well as traditional Seteti common sense, told her the conclusion she deduced should be an impossibility.

  So it was perhaps naivete, combined with her vast, precocious intellect, that allowed her to disregard that ‘common sense’ and keep sight of the correct conclusion.

  “There’s some sort of danger in the city, isn’t there?” she asked aloud. “Are we in danger?”

  The unexpectedness of her otherwise soft voice halted the soldier’s conversation at once.

  And her childlike pronunciation of many of the words might have been otherwise endearing or even humorous, even if she’d intended to be nothing more than as deadly serious as anyone might wish to be.

  The Guards stared, each surprised by the accuracy of her guess. One of the two of her personal detachment recovered first, whose frequent postings by her side had familiarized him with her unique nature.

  “My apologies, your highness. We simply did not wish to worry you unnecessarily—”

  A deep and distant shockwave of some great force reverberated through the floor, shaking even the stone marble of the library’s foundation. Aurelia gripped the table to steady herself as it rumbled past.

  “—But your highness’s observation is astute. We will be departing immediately,” finished the Guardsman, offering a hand to assist her dismount of the adult-sized chair.

  As the soldiers led her through long halls of the library, the sound of gunfire outside grew louder at a rate that seemed only to accelerate. At first, a brisk yet dignified walk seemed appropriate to her attendants, unsure of what was polite. As more than just the sound of gunfire became clear, though — as the auxiliary noises of warfare, like snapping wood and the rumble of engines and then even the pained screams of the wounded filled the air, penetrating even through the marble walls of the library — all thought of decorum gave way. Aurelia was scooped up into the arms of the lead officer as the soldiers broke into a sprint through the hallways, trying in vain to outrun what seemed to be the enveloping approach of danger, of a battle developing faster around them and to a higher reach of intensity than any of them thought possible.

  Aurelia, for her superior abstract understanding of the events then unfolding, was no less frightened by them. Noises she’d never before heard, of real violence and warfare, then as if pursued her, and she held tighter to the Guard who carried her with each new and louder rumble shaking the great library’s foundation. At first she felt reassured by the simple fact that they were at least fleeing, until the trio of soldiers stopped dead in their tracks.

  She looked up, wiping away tears with a chocolate-stained sleeve.

  Three burning halos of colored fire had appeared above the Guard’s heads, and weapons of those same flames were forming in their hands.

  With expressions set in grim resolve, all three were staring at the set of closed double doors that separated from view the next passage of the hallway before them.

  The Guard carrying Aurelia set her down, a spear of purple flame taking her place in his hands.

  “Hide yourself. There— go!”

  He motioned to a nearby alcove, half-covered by bookshelves. It seemed a poor place to hide from anyone truly searching, but the Guard’s desperation left no room for discussion.

  Aurelia hurried to do as she was told, cowering behind the bookshelves in the alcove as small as she could make herself, knees pulled to her chest. Through gaps between the books, she could still see the trio of soldiers not fifteen feet away. They drew together defensively, vis totems and drawn pistols facing the doors. Flaming crowns flickered, as they waited.

  Then, Aurelia heard it.

  Not the sounds of warfare, while those continued to grow louder still and rage on all the same. But something new, fighting to the forefront of that cacophony.

  At first, a faint melody, accompanied by its fainter first and second echoes reverberating throughout the library.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Growing louder, outpacing the sounds of violence. Sorrowful and somber, it hunted for them like a specter, flying straight through marble walls and shuttered doors.

  The haunting melancholy might’ve been beautiful. But as she heard it, Aurelia felt only the infection of an inexplicable, greater fear.

  All while she remained frozen in terror, a new, almost foreign impulse urged her to flee, if she could. To run away from that horrible sound.

  But still she managed restraint, however afraid. She could be only in greater danger if she left the protection of the Guard. Whatever was happening had blindsided her retinue, but if the most elite force in Setet had been taken off-guard, nowhere else would be faring much better under the conditions of such a surprise attack. Calculating as much in a matter of seconds, she compelled reason to triumph over instinct.

  Footsteps approached above the waltz’ waxing passion. Hard boots on the marble floor, two steps for every beat.

  They halted across the closed doorway. Still peering through the bookcase, Aurelia saw the trio of her soldiers wavering, any potential foe still unseen. The melody held on a long single note.

  A flicker of strange brightness ran between the seam of the double doors. The locked bolt clattered to the marble floor in two clean halves.

  The way ahead opened, and the Guards fired into the hallway, then dropped their revolvers to brandish totems of vis. But even with those weapons ready, they yielded space, edging backwards.

  A lone woman glided past the threshold, unaffected by the volley. Strange white-blonde hair and pale skin accented a white, alien uniform. Her mere presence forced the Guards back, all three elite soldiers as taken by the same weird fear Aurelia struggled against, herself.

  In one hand, the woman held loose a rapier, its razor-thin blade of flickering ink-black flame. Above her silver hair, the same black fire crossed in two lines like scratchmarks to form her halo crown.

  For a moment, she only stared unblinking at the soldiers before her.

  The Guards struck defensive stances, perfected from years of study of Setet’s most advanced martial techniques. Resolved still to fight even when some unknown trick of vis so convincingly urged them to flee.

  The woman advanced, cutting the air idly with her rapier twice. The foremost Guard facing her flinched.

  She laughed at that, a sound short and abrupt.

  Then the music surged, and she threw herself forward.

  She was alone against three larger foes, and still she lunged without hesitation. With a smile on her face.

  In a flash, one of the trio was on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The other two, separated and off-balance.

  Aurelia could only watch as flames of vis filled the room in a colorful blur.

  It was obvious even to her, untrained in physical combat, that the remaining two Guards were already struggling. As if they were only treading water against a forceful current, as their assailant wore them down.

  The woman had come alone. And yet she revealed no apparent exertion, fighting outnumbered. She never allowed an attack, forcing both to parry new blows so quickly that neither could find an opening while she focused on the other. The edge of her rapier tore through the air, curving as it went more like a dancer’s ribbon or a wire filament than any sort of blade.

  A rhythmic pattern completed, the melody harmonizing with the chord, and the impossible loops and curves of the weapon passed by the neck of the second Guard of the trio. Slipping through the attempted parry, as if the Guard hadn’t even raised her weapon in defense. Her hand shot to her neck, before she fell to her knees, then prone. The white-uniformed woman and the final Guard fought on, as a second puddle of blood pooled on the marble, and new tears dripped from Aurelia’s cheeks.

  She was playing with them. Like a cat with its prey. Aurelia shuddered at the thought of a life so pointlessly ended.

  The music picked up once more, approaching the harmony of the main motif.

  The final Guard sensed the pattern, but the black wire blade oppressed him on all sides. He shouted one last frustrated cry, thoroughly aware of his doom.

  Aurelia twisted away, hiding her face in her hands. With the music’s crescendo, and a final flitting of a blade through the air, she heard the final Guard’s cry of frustration turn to one of pain.

  The melody began to fade out and away.

  Muffled sounds of battle outside returned to prominence. Still, though, as seconds passed, Aurelia heard the final Guard’s still groaning, evidently alive. She dared to peer through the bookshelves once more.

  The white-uniformed woman’s rapier impaled the Guard through his lower abdomen, perhaps his kidney. A blow to maximize pain, and less-lethal than one at the neck. Taking a step forward, the woman forced him to one knee by pressing down her rapier, drawing closer as she came to stand over him, to a distance as if intimate.

  The Guard’s vis dissipated as agony shattered his concentration. He let out a quieter wounded grunt as he fell to his knees.

  The woman stared at the defeated soldier, before leaning in to utter a single word in heavily-accented, barely-intelligible Setetic:

  “Prin…zess.”

  But the Guard looked up, even as he grimaced with the effort, to level a defiant glare back in reply.

  The woman twisted her blade and leaned farther forward, applying pressure, forcing the man down to both knees, prompting another grunt of pain. Then she withdrew the blade from his torso, and pressed its needle-thin point into the marble floor. There was a brief, hideous scraping.

  She tapped the floor meaningfully. A crude pictogram of a crown was etched into the marble.

  “Where?”

  The Guard looked down at the etching, then back up.

  Then he spat in her face. There was more blood than spit.

  In a flash the woman re-impaled him, twisting the blade as it went. The Guard cried out, but then grit his teeth, and reassumed his reproachful stare.

  “Prin-zess… or… die,” the woman growled, jerking the sword with each syllable of broken speech.

  But the Guard’s expression remained unchanged.

  Permanently glaring his response to his assailant: ‘never.’

  Aurelia once more couldn’t bear to watch. Not because of her overwhelming horror and fear, which had not abated. But rather, guilt.

  Battering, inundating waves of guilt. Panic took hold at last, as she hyperventilated, putting a hand to her chest as if that could slow its rapid rise and fall.

  She’d always understood that members of the imperial Guard pledged their lives in service of the imperial family. But she’d never been mature enough to understand the true gravity of such a pledge fulfilled. Perhaps one day, under different circumstances, she might’ve considered the idea long enough to understand what it might’ve meant, in some abstract sense. But that was not to be.

  Confused, frightened, and alone, it was there behind that bookshelf that she confronted its true, brutal meaning. Human beings were prepared to — going to — give up their own unique lives in order that her safety might be preserved, even for a few moments longer.

  Just the thought of such a pointless sacrifice on her behalf, weighing on her conscience, drowned out consideration of all else. It wasn’t right that the soldier out there was going to die so pointlessly, and she knew that absolutely. Hours of her grandfather’s lectures about their descent from the blessed line of the Mater Matriae were at once disregarded. It wasn’t right.

  At that moment, Aurelia knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she allowed the Guardsman out in the hall to die so painful a death, just to keep her hidden for what could probably be no more than ten minutes, in the very best of cases.

  Paralyzing fear still remained. But through determination alone she managed to will it into something just an ounce less crippling. Before she let herself change her mind, she forced herself out into the hall, away from the meager safety of her hiding spot.

  “You don’t have to!”

  Both the white-uniformed woman in and the wounded soldier looked at her with varying degrees of surprise.

  “Your highness—“

  The woman gave her rapier a short, vicious twist, and the guard interrupted himself with another long grunt of pain.

  “Stop, please. Please, don’t hurt him,” she pleaded, tears surging. “Please… I’m here. You don’t have to.”

  The white-coated woman did not respond.

  Her hollow, sadistic gaze missed Aurelia’s eyes. She felt it instead come to rest upon the laurel wreath that crowned her head, denoting her station.

  The woman smiled, her impatience melting away, the black flame of her halo smoldering, flickering, billowing silently.

  Blood spurted from the final Guardsman’s neck before Aurelia saw the whip of the black ribbon blade.

  As his body jerked, a different melody, then eerie and dissonant in some strange new regard, began to seep back into the room.

  Aurelia stumbled backward in shock as she saw the last Guardsman’s death, nauseous at its violence. Sure that her surrender, rationally, should’ve saved his life.

  But something cold wrapped around her ankle, precluding any escape.

  The woman in white let the last guardsman’s body fall, as she approached with a casual lethargy, swirling the point of her rapier in the air idly once more, as if a conductor’s baton.

  In the back of her mind, Aurelia realized the music sounded similar. With her abilities of memory and calculation still unconsciously near-perfect, she realized it was identical to the previous piece, only reversed.

  She forced herself to look down.

  The hand taken hold of her belonged to the nearest Guard’s corpse, its grip cold like steel.

  The second-fallen Guard also shifted, then rose, followed by the body, their movements awkward and inhuman.

  The face of the nearest lifted from the ground, and Aurelia then couldn’t look away. Licks of sable flame peeled from the wound on its neck, while its features remained twisted in a mask of death.

  With eyes devoid of all but black, as if filled with pitch.

  "You should see me in a crown

  I'm gonna run this nothing town

  Watch me make 'em bow

  One by one by one

  One by one by-"

  Billie Eilish