Distracted no longer, the Princess Auriel swiftly brandished her sword at her enemy. Eyes previously glazed over found their focus. He was scarcely swift enough to parry her strike when she suddenly lunged forward.

"That's more like it!" exclaimed the black-bearded man, whose own amber eyes filled with fire anew. He flicked his own blade to throw hers clear and thrust his foot against her exposed thigh.

The silver-haired maiden stumbled backward. "Cheating!" she cried. "No kicks!"

"There's no cheating in warfare, sister!" countered the man.

"Oh? Well, then."

Auriel snapped her fingers, and in mere seconds, she was treated to the sight of her brother straining to throw off three sentries in gilded armor who'd leaped to her defense. Though even his bare hands proved enough to deflect their axes and swords, their relentless bashing kept him at bay while the maiden straightened up.

"Hey!" he cried, though that was all he could muster before he took a haymaker to the face.

"There's no cheating, brother," came Auriel's mocking reply.

Done taking the hits, the black-bearded Prince let his own sword fall to the ground to catch a weapon in both hands. By his will, the weapons' handles sprouted blades of their own: lengthy steel that loosed blood from the wielders' guts all over the ground.

He tossed them aside and gripped his sole remaining assailant by the neck. No blade would pierce that one's body this day; it was the blood that poured from every orifice in his head that spelled his end.

The whirring of steel caught the Prince's ear, and he turned just in time to catch Auriel's thrown weapon by the blade. The girl's face fell at the display.

"What?" she whined, sprouting a bitter pout. "But I had you."

The Prince chuckled. "Not this day, little sister," he teased. "But you impress nonetheless. Would that our siblings shared even half your ferocity."

She regained a bit of brightness at this. "As if they ever could. They still shudder to slay simple rats."

"Calling in the sentries was rather a callous move."

"That's what they're there for, is it not?"

Though the Prince kept his smile, a subtle darkness fell over his eyes. His sister disregarded it with a flick of her long silver hair. Turning away, she moved to place her sword in the rack.

"Already finished?" asked the Prince.

"Quite so," Auriel replied. She furrowed her brow and filled her voice of bass. "'You may share Aurin's fierceness, but mind your lesser strength.'"

Prince Aurin laughed heartily at her mimicry. "Father really said that to you, of all people?"

"Who else but the last-born?"

Her sword stowed, she turned to ascend the stairs leading out of the small arena, but her brother rushed forward to catch her by the arm. She inclined her face toward him only slightly, unwilling to let him see the hint of sorrow in her eyes.

"He thinks no less of you, Auriel," said Aurin. "You have nothing to prove."

Auriel exhaled sharply. "If only that were so."

She turned then for a moment only to focus on the sentries wheezing in the dirt. She sent power through her eyes to set them alight, then turned from the makeshift pyre. "It's your turn for conscription duty," she said as she left. "Get three more." She then left the arena as swiftly as possible to stop him saying anything more.

"You have nothing to prove."

The words echoed in her mind as she walked: the words of a fool for certain. Beneath their father's vicious eye, they had everything to prove. Only the eldest could enjoy the luxury of thinking otherwise.

The sound of her feet against the floor changed tone as rough-hewn rock gave way to magnificent marble. Only in the space reserved for battle was roughness allowed to reign. The palace proper was home to a bevy of wonders that blessed every eye that saw them.

Auriel walked by ivory statues that danced and sang for her pleasure. The paintings hanging from the walls rearranged their colors to create new scenes in hopes of catching her eye. She passed scores of gilded sentries ready to throw themselves on their own spears should she only give the word, but in the face of her silence, they contented themselves by falling on bended knee as she passed.

Silver, silk, velvet, and gold. Wealth to humble the wealthy. Auriel regarded it all with a dispassionate eye; to her, it was all mundane.

She was similarly nonplussed as she wielded her will to strip away her glimmering battle cuirass. It melted and molded around her to transform into a silver gown that trailed behind her as she walked. Crystal heels took shape to replace her battle boots, and she handled the added inches with practiced grace.

She clicked and clacked through the Holy Palace for quite a long time, taking care to avoid the Throne. Only briefly did she look upon the one door she passed that would lead her there, and a reflexive grimace followed.

Devoted to indulging in her greatest joy, Auriel picked up speed to tear herself from considerations of the King. A sentry briefly stopped her to beg permission to carry her up the stairs, but she only had to look at him to force his tongue to still. She then ascended the spiral staircase on her own and hastened to her private chamber.

"At last," she sighed as she eyed the treasure that she sought: a mystic mirror, clad in crystals and reflecting nothing in her room. It instead depicted an array of scenes. Her bedroom door locked itself behind her as she moved to sit in the cushioned chair before the mirror. She reached out to caress its surface and sift through the options it offered.

She stopped first on a man with a curved sword slicing his way through victims dressed in armor identical to his own. His nimble hands and quick wit gave him superiority over former allies he’d come to perceive as enemies. When the last was slain, the haze of battle lifted from his eyes, and horror took its place. He was quick to turn his sword on himself.

Auriel scoffed, then swiped her fingers across the glass surface to change the scene. There was no blood this time, but still, conflict reigned: a harried matron flipped a table laden with savory victuals, ruining a meal she’d painstakingly prepared for her family as they watched in horror. Madness filled her gaze as she shrieked spitefully at them all, laying fiercely into each in turn.

“Still unsatisfied,” mused the Princess with a chuckle. “Whatever would it take?” After a shrug, she pushed her finger into the glass. The furious woman’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell unconscious upon pristine wooden flooring. Her husband rushed to her side, somberly gripping the hard-working hand the silver maiden had marked.

“Perhaps the lad, then,” she said. She swiped the surface once more, but was only briefly treated to the image of a woman with her hands in a blond man’s face before the mirror went black.

Auriel recoiled. “What’s this?” she uttered. She tapped the glass to no avail. She summoned light to her fingertip and tapped it again, but still, nothing happened. Furrowing her brow, she slapped the glass in frustration. All she managed to do was make the mirror wobble. But without her prompting, it showed her something in the black at last: a pair of violet eyes focused intently upon her.

She jumped from her seat at the sight. “What is this?” she repeated. A duplicate pair of eyes appeared, and Auriel’s breath caught in her throat. “No!” she cried as she punched the glass in desperation. Her divine might cracked it with ease, but she was horrified to see an extra eye for every fragment her attack had wrought.

“Stop!” she shrieked as she struck the mirror again. She shattered it completely this time, but was denied relief when the glass shards that came flying managed to slice her olive skin. Unaccustomed to pain, she was quick to cry, and she threw herself away from the mirror and collapsed onto the floor.

But the eyes followed her there.

They appeared on the ground. They appeared on the walls. They danced over every surface she could see: endless violet eyes staring daggers at the Princess as she helplessly screamed and wept. Her cries soon drew her brother to her door, which he kicked open to find her cradling herself and squinting out a torrent of tears.

“Sister!” he cried as he moved to take hold of her. “What is this?” She slapped at Aurin in abject terror, but his great arms held her fast against him. He looked around the room for the source of her distress, and his eyes darkened at the sight of the shattered glass.

“You’re still using that?!” he exclaimed. “What did Father say!? What have you been doing?!” But she offered no answers but fearful shrieks, her mind too addled to grant her speech. Resigned to simply offer comfort, Aurin hugged her close and tenderly pulled free the shards that had embedded themselves in her skin. Her holy blood at least let her wounds heal with incredible speed, but black scars remained wherever the glass had touched.