>>6259382

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Carnaval takes flight. Her feet raise above the black stone, towards the clouds, which play around her crystal wings. She has felt…
“Oh.” She covers her golden eyes with her pale hand, glancing at the distant shore. Her gaze focuses on the white cliffs, on the glistening sand, then on the waves, their foamed crests, and the group of ships that are coming back, a vessel from the Thronelands leaving behind a strip of black smoke as it drowns, like a final curse before the might of the Holy Land.
Carnaval squints— on the vessel to the right, two young women cry, holding each other at a distance from a tall man. They look like Argia Candente’s companions, from what little she can remember.
That must mean…
On the ship to the right, surrounded by a throng, she spots a naked figure, having finished stripping off the armour the angel made sure to give her.
A figure of a young woman, with silver hair.
She sets her hand against something white on her chest.
“So that’s where you were,” Carnaval whispers, then dives off into the distance, leaving Ansàrra’s palace behind her.
Many questions to ask.
Oh, and should she inform the Star of Morn?
Nay, says her furrowed brow.

[cont.]