Kressida looked upon her sister's dishevelled body, her sword pointing against the tender skin of Nishra’s neck. The beaming sunlight above the arena cast a shadow across the battleground. As her eyes followed the shadow up to the stands, cold shivers ran down her - something foreign to the harsh summers Abovaria usually experiences. Gone were the cheers in the crowd, feeding the energy of the battle, feeding into the vitality that Kressida had felt; and in their place was silence. The faces of her people looked blankly back at her. Silence then broken with the clapping of the Queen, congratulating the eldest daughter on her victory.

​

“Kressida”, the Queen’s voice bellowed around the empty arena.

“In the name of the Queendom, protectors of the Abovarian Crest, I pronounce you –“

​

“Wait”, cried the voice of the fallen sister, grasping at the dirt, and pushing her body to her feet. The crowd let out a simultaneous gasp as Nishra raised herself up to Kressida.

​

“Sister,” Nishra started. “You may have bested me in this battle, but you do not know the ground beneath your feet. The people need a voice and though the crest shines bright, it also blinds those unworthy of its people. Listen to the silence of Abovaria and hear their message loud and clear.”

​

Nishra turned away from Kressida and to the arena crowds, watching her intently.

​

“It takes one blade to win a battle, but it takes a Queendom to win a war” Nishra called out to the crowd, answering back with a mighty roar, filling every crevice of the royal arena.

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Kressida looked around in a frenzy as the Queen Mother raised her arm from underneath her plush silk robes to settle a crowd becoming more and more restless with the words Nishra spoke.

“People of Abovaria, hear your Queen. The Golden Soldier has bested the Crimson Dove” announced the Queen Mother.

​

“Our ancient laws state that those who best all-in fair combat will represent our great Queendom in the Enthronement. With those ancient laws, I pronounce Princess Kressida, The Golden Soldier, our Warmother and wielder of the Abovarian Crest.”

​

Above Kressida, the sky darkened into the blackest black she had ever seen. From the black, ribbons of gold and red appeared and weaved through the sky, passing around the arena and through the crowd, delicately dancing around the bodies of those fallen in combat before the showdown of the sisters.

​

As Kressida ascended towards the Abovarian crest being painted in the sky, the dancing ribbons glowed bright, weaving around her armour, red energy enclosing through the metal and against her skin, tainting it with deep reds in the shape of the Abovarian crest. But the energy was only red. As Kressida looked down, Nishra’s body was also being raised. Around her, ropes of spectacular golden light weaved through her, staining her body with gold, painting the crest against Nishra’s skin.

​

“By the Queendom of Abovaria, I order you to restrain her!” screamed the Queen Mother, pointing at her youngest daughter.

 

Guards flew into the battleground, but Nishra was already too high above them. The crowd lit up with sparks of life, chanting Nishra’s name. Kressida tried to move, squirming in her armour to free herself, to try and kick her sister down yet Kressida could not move.

​

The sisters lay suspended in the air. The golden soldier, Kressida, was surrounded in ribbons of scarlet, carmine and cinnabar, while the crimson dove, Nishra, was enveloped in ropes of ever golden light.

​

“By the old Goddesses, the crest” called out one of the spectators, looking up.

​

“There’s two” called out another.

​

In the dark sky, with all sunlight swallowed from existence, the crest was complete. But once a crest woven with gold and red, was now split in two, a crest of crimson light above Kressida and a crest of golden light above Nishra.

​

Kressida watched as her sister raised with her, towards the crests above them. Kressida had seen those who wield the crest for the Enthronement and how the crest chooses them, yet this was like nothing she had experienced before. She looked down at her mother, the Queen, so far away, looking up at them with pure fear.

​

Then everything went dark.

​

As Kressida awoke in a cold sweat, she surveyed her surroundings. The room around her felt claustrophobic for being so large and empty. As she moved out of the bed she had ended up in, she placed a bare foot against the stone floor. Below her, a crest of crimson red appeared, crawling up her leg and sending a sharp pain up through her spine. This was not the crest of Abovaria she was now wielding.

 

At least not all of it.