Summer Month: 2 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
misha | shadow kingdom | ales, andromeda
Although the young man had rarely received the solitude that he so desperately yearned for, it was still rather surprising to the dual heir that someone would have the conviction to follow him. The clacking of heels on the stone floor echoed all around him, causing his brain to fog at the level of auditory stimulation he was encountering. He’d spent much of his time off, alone, and with little other than nature to break the silence he was comfortable living in. He struggled to adjust to what felt like an ambush of interaction after having so little, and especially with a sound so pointed and irritating like the one that was currently flooding his senses.
“You are supposed to be dead,” came the voice, sweeter than he was anticipating and more delicate. He knew that even the sweetest of things could be deadly, however, and this caused him to hold onto the distrust in his heart.
“Am I?” He replied, the slightest expression of amusement falling across his otherwise harsh features. He turned to face her, noticing how her formerly polished appearance had become disheveled in the stumble she’d taken moments prior. The sprinkling of dirt and dust that stained her clothing indicated the haste she’d taken in her pursuit of him. Was he really that important to her that she would abandon the ceremony in pursuit of answers? Was she really willing to risk her life to do so? While the woman herself did not particularly pique his interest, there was a certain mystery about her infatuation with him that caused him to stop in his tracks and give her a moment of his time.
“Why are you here?”
“Some ghosts don’t rest,” he answered cryptically, turning his head to one side to study the woman in the dim light. Finally, after a long pause, he added, “now, a question for you: why do you care about my presence when ten other heirs are trying to destroy yours?”
Before she could respond or even contemplate the question, another pair of footsteps were heard encroaching on the space the pair occupied. Without a second thought, the dark-haired man evaporated back into the shadows, making his way down the corridor without drawing attention to himself or his efforts.
…
Although Misha had initially taken a rather negative stance toward the prospect of attending a formal event, he’d settled into the idea by the time a few hours had passed and he’d done the hard work of making his own arrangements for the ball. He’d first had to uncover the mystery as to who or what was supplying the formalwear for the other heirs, and, although he quite enjoyed sewing as a pastime, was relieved to find out that there were a group of individuals who had been tasked with the job of creating clothing for the event. Despite this, no one had accounted for the kingdom of shadows to supply another heir for the event so quickly after the death of Anastasiya, Misha’s sister, and this caused the remainder of his afternoon to be spent making alterations to a piece of fabric that was supposed to belong to her. He thought that the loss of her should have made him feel some level of devastation or sadness, but it didn’t. He wondered why, other than the simple knowledge that he had lost and been lost to her long ago.
By the time the festivities arrived in the late evening, Misha was feeling rather receptive of a social event considering that the stimulation of the morning’s events had caused his brain to spin endlessly for several hours. He was glad for a break from himself, and part of him would have liked to drink anything he was offered if it wasn’t for the looming threat of death that hung over him like a thick blanket. Students were technically not allowed to cause harm to each other at all, at any point in the competition or beyond, yet the officials turned a blind eye to this. They always had. And, while the informal rule was to obey this command until the actual commencement of the competition, it certainly hadn’t stopped some from killing in the past, and it hadn’t stopped them now, either, if his sister’s demise was any evidence at all. Decidedly, Misha wouldn’t drink or eat anything that he hadn’t seen made with his own eyes. He’d made it a point to visit with the kitchen staff earlier in the day to ensure that no deals had been arranged between the staff and the other heirs, nor that they would be so indifferent to him as to willingly allow him to suffer at their hands so soon. While they were not receptive to his presence in the way he had hoped, he wondered if his lack of malicious behavior would have any effect on the impression of him they had already made up in their minds.
Having been one of the first to arrive, Misha was almost surprised that no one had executed him right on the spot. Yet, no one knew that he had not discussed any of this with his father, nor that his father was not and had not been part of his escape nor his return. They assumed that, if Misha died at their hands, the king of the most powerful realm of them all would feel justified in causing a war that he had already been quite desperate to start. When Misha had escaped, his father had used his lack of knowledge of his son’s whereabouts to begin a conflict that allowed their kingdom to swallow up three other lands which had formerly been other kingdoms. Everyone at the academy knew that keeping Misha around was terrible, but killing him would have worse consequences overall.
While he wasn’t necessarily looking for a fight, the dark-haired prince would have no trouble in creating one if given the opportunity. He kept this in mind as the heir from Marmoor descended the stairs into the large space, dressed elegantly in clothing that almost made her look innocent. He’d learned during his errands of the day through the subtle art of being in the right place at the right time that she’d been the one to bring about the end of one of his brothers’ lives. She’d caused him to go insane, to fall from grace without a chance of redemption. And, though it seemed to him to be an inherently bad idea, Misha wondered how close of an allegiance he could form with a competitor like that before she attempted to destroy him, too.
