Athios ruled much of the southern coast of Vecora. City after city, each guarded by walls of limestone, marked their proof of ownership along the coast.
While they all made use of the same materials: Cumaru wood, limestone, and clay, none were the exact same in style.
Some touted picturesque, stacked houses bleached by the sun, others admired deco murals stretching the surface of inner walls, and the more prosperous proudly displayed wealth through gilded silver domes covering local ministry buildings.
Their varied attributes did not stop at the surface; the people found inside all carried their own traditions, values, and beliefs.
It was a testament to how expansive their land was... as it was to their lack of common ground.
To call this land a country was by no means correct. The spread of towns along the coast and wide, flowing tributaries held no shared government, with peace between them limited only by the definition of war. No armies marched. But privateers did sail. The Southern Vecora Coast held plenty of danger for any ship not affiliated with the local lord, even more so for those who could not afford the bribe.
Simply put, Athios was better described as a collection of city-states, each one loosely bound together in an alliance few honored.
Though the cohesion of Athios left much to be desired, that did not mean its strange governmental structure held no benefit.
With the danger of sea travel, land-bound merchants and simple peddlers enjoyed a fruitful, if risky, business venture between cities. Though beasts did exist, with most dealing in flesh rather than gold, it did not stop the brave, ambitious, and foolish glow of young upstarts.
The common merchant would suffer tragedy. But fools never counted themselves as 'common'. Either way, the goods must flow.
The lack of communication between cities led to another benefit: Arriving in a new location meant a fresh start.
A desk covered with manuscripts marked where Effigia sat. Her raven black hair loosely hung down as she religiously toiled to paint a pure piece of paper into one of dense characters. A silver pen flowed along the white sheet, sometimes leaving a darkened blemish when paused, as if its wielder was unsure what word would come next.
Yet, such moments were rare and never long. A plethora of books bore her name, with more added to the repertoire every few months.
Another would soon join their ranks, once she had filled this final page:
'Please, Alastor...' She softly cried, her voice as beautiful as a wren's morning song. 'Take me away from this world.'
Effie's sole love met her passionate gaze with one as primal and deep as her own, yet the violet gems were dulled— ever so slightly —by the complex emotions holding him back.
'You shouldn't ask me for this. My home... it is not kind. The soulless flames hold no warmth, no kindness... no love, for you. To see you suffering for me, I would never let that happen. I could never.' His rough hands grasped her shoulder with a love so kind and gentle, Effie's heart could have stopped from the rising lust. But those arms— ones that hungered to embrace the luscious curves of his soulmate —began to push their entwined forms apart.
Her arms tightened around his sculpted body as she fought to keep him near. A tear-stricken face dug against Alastor, savoring every inch of skin burning against her own.
His strong arms, a torso even a god could boast, and the pounding heart in a chest she had snuggled against for many a night. Every muscle, every blemish, every scar... she knew all too well.
A tinge of guilt swelled in Effie's soul, only matched by the sorrow her narrow shoulders bore.
Some had come from war, others through accident. Alastor would often tell her the stories they held, back when everything felt so simple as they found solace in the other's presence.
But the ones she remembered the most— would always remember, were those she had caused.
Was that why he pushed her away? How she regretted her acts of foolishness. But none of that mattered now. Not when the best thing to ever come into her life was about to slip by, like light from the setting sun passing through spread fingers.
'Flames won't hurt me. They may burn and blister, but I will live.'
A chuckle, half-hearted and grim, met her declaration. 'Burns don't hurt...? We both know what is down there, silly bird. You have seen what it is like. There is no stream for you to nap beside. No sparrow to chase as you run barefoot across green grass.'
Effie's stomach dropped at his words, the hollow pain growing as he continued:
'You may love me... but your life is more than just this. You love water, clear skies... a well-told story. To give all this up is- is to sacrifice everything else in your accepting heart, for the one piece you keep for me.'
'I love you, silly bird. More than anything. In this cruel world, you are my only light.' A sharp gasp slipped from Effie's red lips as Alastor finally reciprocated her embrace, stroking a chestnut lock of hair that hung along her spine.
'Cruel... it really is cruel,' his deep voice— so often dominating —quavered as he relished the feeling of her soft, brown mane, like one would admire fine strands of silk. 'There isn't a choice anymore: I can't stay... and you can't go.'
A tiny fist tightened with solemn resolution as her emerald eyes felt for the struggling man beside her. She never could understand what others found revolting about Alastor.
For what reason did they chase him away? What part of this kind and loving being had caused such hate? Because of the sulfuric flesh he had been born with... was it that shallow and simple of an answer?
'Am I any better here?' Head upturned, her question imbued with an air of mourning, 'My family doesn't just hate you; I- I am not their daughter. Not anymore. And those things you said: rivers, birds, stories... none of it would be the same.'
Inside the isolated forest glade, the lips of a human woman grazed the face of the demon, her hot breath caressing his face while she whispered. Her voice was almost incorporeal, yet even Alastor was moved by the conviction they held:
'I know why you don't want me to go.'
Effie had finally realized why he was going so far to push her away, even if it hurt the both of them.
'You are afraid, aren't you? That I'll regret going?'
A smile bloomed as she felt the demon quake in her arms, though a pair of misty eyes revealed just how bittersweet a lover's smile could be.
'Do you think I'm stupid? Every day we share, without fail, brings a new challenge from this horrid world. But guess what? We are still here, despite it all: together. And—', Choked sobs squeezed her throat, but Effie refused to have her words silenced.
'And I am asking— begging, for it to continue. Because, in all my years of mindlessly following what others told me, only you made me feel like a person with a life of their own. My mother would read me stories about a princess and her knight, but it was you, Alastor— Lord of the Black Rising —who turned my life into a fairytale.'
'You may be a demon, but you are also a knight.'
'My knig-'
"Ah!"
The clattering of metal came with a sudden exclamation, with a silver pen rolling across her floor.
Effigia darted to the ground and scooped up her prized tool, sighing with relief after finding no blemish on its reflective surface.
"Phew, lost myself for a second there." She muttered as she swayed with growing embarrassment. It was not an uncommon occurrence for her to get... absorbed in her work. A fault of her's that had yet to be solved, despite the years of experience under her belt.
But as she held her arms together as if to stifle flowing emotions, not once did her cheeks flush with crimson.
Gathering herself, Effigia put pen to paper once more. The final passage ending with the two main characters walking into a world of fire and brimstone, clasping hands as the flames of a new world surrounded them.
With the final word now in place, she slid a drawer open and gently picked up a tall stack of pages: a manuscript waiting to be published.
Her mouth opened to call for her assistant to take the pages to the publishing house, but shut as she rubbed a pale hand against her arms with a disapproving frown.
The harsh tropical sun tanned all of Athios' residents with its scorching kiss, yet the skin underneath her loose shirt and pants remained pale, save for the network of blue and purple veins throughout her body.
'Another layer is needed?' She wondered.
A powdered pad was applied once the thought entered her head, giving a healthy touch of color to her appearance.
Still, the results did not leave her pleased.
It was not that she failed.
It was merely... how superficial the change was.
While she recognized the ingenuity of humans when it came to make-up, she despised the approach they took.
Why did they settle for an artificial layer? A mask of paint and powder?
No, the products she desired were the epitome of perfect. It was such a shame human merchants and stylists could never meet her demands.
Her black eyes flashed to a slit for a second as she revealed her forearm under a sleeve. The more she saw, the greater her frustration grew with each perceived flaw.
'Hah...Is it that time already?'
A sigh left her lips. Out of everyone she had ever known, only one had ever left Effigia breathless in creating the perfect product.
If only she knew where he had gone...
Thankfully, she was not hopeless in this regard. Though her hands were not as deft, nor was her magic as suited, she had centuries to hone the craft.
All she needed to do was find the right 'source'.
Her self-critique was cut short as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.
Effigia swiveled to face the door as a woman with a head of chestnut curls and sun-kissed skin entered.
"You called, Miss?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the floor.
With an upturned nose, Effigia looked the woman up and down with a judging gaze.
After a few seconds, she stuffed her manuscript into a case and tossed it into the fumbling arms of her assistant: "Send this out."
Nodding, the lass almost flew out of the room with the eagerness of a hare fleeing at the sight of a wolf.
The pathetic sight elicited a snort from Effigia. It was obvious the woman disliked her presence, but so what?
It was only natural the pathetic creature would feel fear.
'To think she is the same species as those...Ugh!'
No.
Sadness wasn't allowed. Not when a new love letter had been penned.
She delved into a round of silent brooding. Small sighs came. Sometimes a muffled cry caught in the fold of her sleeves.
Yet...As she fought to wipe the tears from her eyes, a glistening stand of white abruptly appeared.
Her first instinct was to ignore it. To call the cord a figment of her imagination. Such a thing had happened before, only for Effigia to awaken from the sweet dream her heart concocted.
Then—she heard it.
Her face was a display of pure stupor as the notes blared in her ears. Fingers pinched at skin, inciting a slight pain.
Still unsure, an open palm against her face quickly followed. The strike was hard enough to resound in her room, as well as send a wave of pain to the nerves.
However, the sound only grew in pitch; the string glowed ever brighter in misty eyes.
It was then that she knew: He was here.
He had returned.
So excited was she, Effigia nearly leaped from the window. She had to find him! She had to be the first to welcome him back!
But as she saw the translucent hand gripping the windowsill, she dispiritedly turned back.
If he was going to see her, then the matter of her appearance needed to be corrected.
First: it couldn't be rushed.
Second: the source needed to be of high quality.
These two demands of hers were not strenuous. The issue was: How long would this take?
'I need to start looking immediately!'
She snatched a light robe from her wardrobe and began to march out. Her hand reached out to the door, only for it to open by itself, revealing the familiar curls of a terrified assistant.
"I-I'm sorry...Are you going out, Miss?" She stuttered.
Ignoring the obvious fear, Effigia once more looked over the little lady.
This was the first time she had ever paid much attention to the shy girl. What she saw...Wasn't that bad.
'Young. Skin is clear. Her hair...Rather lovely.'
The face could be better, she thought while tilting her head. Still, satisfactory.
"Jaana, right?"
'Six months of work, and you aren't sure of my name?' Jaana bemoaned before answering.
"Uh—Yes!"
For the first time, she saw a smile creep into her boss's face.
She did not like it. Not one bit.
"Good. Tell me...Do you moisturize?"
A stifled and unnatural 'yes' was her response.
It was all she needed to hear.
The door slammed shut. Both the boss and their assistant within.
A perverse stillness covered the unlit house. None left the establishment for the entire day until a supple, tanned hand pried the doorknob open.
Effigia was finally ready to depart.