The mist rolls over the land, blanketing the things in its path. The outlines nearly visible through the density. The mist is unlike the clouds that had the tendency to clump and sway together. Every white puff following each other in unison to a destination far beyond the horizon. The line from where the sun awakens to bath the sky in gold-reddish light and drench the white clouds into silver flecked with gold.

The Farside had a Moon; it cast cobalt iridescence on the entire vicinity, deepening the sky to a darker, velvet hue. In the morning, the sun lightened the grounds to an egg-shell blue and the sky became similar to the appearance of a flowing river of water. Yes, things were very different in the Farside. She probably should have planned her travel itinerary before she took the plunge. Not that she even had the intention of entering the Farside. Fingers contemplatively touch the crown of her head before they drag languidly through black, silk tresses. They had certainly grown in length, reaching to brush her pale shoulders. And they glistened, not blue but the darkest blood of violet or maybe it was the crystal dust that had somehow managed to fall on her hair.

The Farside is her home now. No. It her Kingdom. Never mind the indigo shadows and the sun's rays with threads that are sometimes not strong enough to penetrate the heavy mist. She can feel a small grin creep onto her face. It is her new kingdom after the destruction of her old one. It is the power behind a crown that she will never relinquish. Hands grip the arm rests, excitement bubbling under her skin. It is her platform to exact revenge..

"Cyclonis!"

Eyelashes bat in amusement. The grin does not fade but diminishes slightly in quality. "Yes, Aerrow!" She responds with mild coolness in her tone. "I heard you promoted Kilgard to the royal guard." The anger is barely kept from his voice, the indignation understated. The grin fades completely, her face tightens in resolve and she retorts stonily, "That is within my rights as Queen. I felt Kilgard had the qualities that could be of use to me."

"He is a brutal, horrible man who brings pain to all who meet him. He can't even be trusted." Aerrow snaps darkly, eyes narrowing so they flash like freshly cut emeralds. Cyclonis cocks an eyebrow and regards Aerrow with a placid, ostensibly composed demeanor, "Why else would I allow him entry if I didn't think he would be suited to join my ranks." She raises her hand to silence further arguments and she knew more was forthcoming, "I do not appreciate you questioning my decisions. Aerrow" Voice is deceptively low but the undercurrent of annoyed reproach is clear and jagged as shards of glass.

The shards grind into his bones, fuelling the simmering rancor that renders his body taut. "And I don't like it when you ignore me!" It spills from his lips, equally tart. Nimble fingers clench into fists at the brazen defiance that the boy could so fearlessly display. Moreover, his coarse retort begged for an appropriate response. She could feel her power seep from the pores of her skin to play on her fingertips.

"Aerrow." She stands up at her full height to turn on him, eyes flaring in restrained fury that skims the surface of her twisted visage. "Know your place!" Pronouncing each word as if she is dropping a curse on him and the more venom and malicious intent the words have, the greater the effect will be. "The royal guards are my soldiers. They are mine to choose. I command them and they answer only to me."

Aerrow gave her his typical, harsh look of judgmental disapproval, "Well. You need to do a better a job of commanding them. They sometimes terrorize the outer villages." A smile flits across her face, hard and viciously triumphant, "Those are the villages not under my rule. I see it as a fitting punishment for their refusal to join the Cyclonian Empire."

"You can't do that!" A surge of hot emotion erupts in his head and clouds his eyes; the animosity he feels at her transparent sense of injustice emerges as a vivid, intimidating color to his usual cloak of black and red. "You can't terrorize people into joining Cyclonia. It is wrong and I will not stand by-"

"Shut up. Aerrow!" Cyclonis' gaze sharpens; voice strong as steel and it arrests Aerrow to the spot. She takes slow, purposeful steps toward him. "Do not forget that you too belong to me and..so do your precious Storm Hawks" The brutal edge of a laugh bubbling up in her voice as she stops in front of him.

His face stiffens and his mouth, usually shaped to speak words of heroic density, is reduced to a single terse slash, preventing any more utterances of insubordinate thoughts.

"They may be in Atmosia, supposedly safe but I think you know better-how far-reaching my powers are." There is a cutting sneer in her voice and idly, she raises her hand to trace a finger across his cheek. He flinches, her touch is cold, rigid and on his skin, it seems like it gives stimulation to the thing that is eating him up from the inside. "I can end all of you in just one word." Her voice directly into his ear, her nasty condescension resonating so dread curls in his stomach. Casually, her touch turns into a soft, caressing motion that stirs Aerrow's blood with dark disquiet. "I have been very" "Patient" Her teeth bite at the word. " With you!"

Aerrow draws his eyes into little slits, his face blank. "And I should be grateful!" He tries to say it tonelessly, but sarcasm somehow worms its way in. However, instead of angering her, it widens the smile into mocking and ruthless, "No, You should be grateful that you're alive-and married to me." Added as an afterthought, salt on his open wound.

He reacts with thinly-veiled acrimony, "Yes, marriage is one of the top things I am grateful for." Said evenly but the bitterness is not masked enough for her to not notice. She fixes him with an appraising look, the usual pensive glare that made people think of her command over their life and death.

"Sometimes I wonder if it is worth keeping you alive. You're certainly not that much of an attractive arm candy."

"And here I was thinking Master Cyclonis was not shallow."

A small grin climbs to settle carelessly on her thin lips.

"You were the apt choice when I needed a warrior by my side. That is no more the case. I have a more than sufficient collection of warriors. So if you wish to remain in my Kingdom, I expect to hear no more of your insolence." A burning, haunted look frightened and held him captive as did the ominous, stinging words that attacked him from all sides. He lowers his gaze to the floor, an expression of supplication. He cannot look at the satisfied smirk, pleased and tinged with scorn.

She brushes past him, the sharp edge of her mantle, billowing behind her, bit into his cheek and slapped his face. Memories flood his mind and fill him with despair and regret. The self-loathing and self-recrimination like poisoned tipped needles pierce every inch of his fallen body.

'Cyclonis could kill them all. Piper, Junko, Radarr, Finn. I put their lives in danger every time I decide to act out.' Nails dig fretfully into gloved palms. 'But I am the King of Cyclonia. I have a duty to the people. I can't just do nothing while she torments them.' Aerrow heaved a heavy sigh, burdened with sour frustration. 'She can kill my friends with just one flick of her wrist. What am I going to do?'

The Farside is a turbulent, volatile place for the inhabitants who find themselves within a trap..

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