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!Dearest Reader, Welcome to the Eclipsed Fates Prelude, an interactive story experience. Before we begin, why don't you remind me of your name and pronouns again, my darling. <<button "Yes, of course" "info">><</button>>

<div id="sidebar"> <div class="sidebar-header">  <div></div>  <h1 class="story-title" data-passage="gameTitle"></h1>  <div class="sidebar-toggle"> <span id="sidebar-toggle-icon" class="lnr lnr-menu-circle"></span> </div> </div>   <div class="sidebar-history-nav"> <span id="backwards-button" class="lnr lnr-arrow-left"></span> <span id="forwards-button" class="lnr lnr-arrow-right"></span> </div> <div id="sidebar-body">  <div class="story-logo" data-passage="storyLogo"></div>  <h2 class="story-author" data-passage="storyAuthor"></h2> <nav class="sidebar-nav"> <ul class="story-tools"> <li> <span id="restart-button" class="lnr lnr-redo"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Restart</span> </li> <li> <span id="saves-button" class="lnr lnr-download"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Saves</span> </li> <li> <span id="settings-button" class="lnr lnr-cog"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Settings</span> </li> </ul> <ul class="story-menu" data-passage="storyMenu"> </ul> </nav> <nav id="social-media"> <p>Social media</p> <ul data-passage="socialMedia"> </ul> </nav> </div>  </div>  <div id="story" role="main"> <div id="passages"> <div id="passage-start" data-passage="start" class="passage"> </div> </div> </div>

<<nobr>>  <a href="https://www.sincerelytheirs.com/product-page/st-presents-eclipsed-fates" target="_blank" style="font-weight: bold; color: #FFFFFF;">Pre-Written Letters</a> <br> <br> <a href="https://www.sincerelytheirs.com/product-page/eclipsed-fates-chapter-one" target="_blank" style="font-weight: bold; color: #FFFFFF;">Chapter One</a> <</nobr>>

Eclipsed Fates

by <a href="https://www.sincerelytheirs.com/" target="_blank">Sincerely Theirs</a>

What is your name? <input type="text" id="nameInput" placeholder="Type your name here"> Pick a Title: Royal, Princess, or Prince. <input type="text" id="titleInput" placeholder="Type your title here"> What is your subject pronoun? (e.g., he, she, they) <input type="text" id="subjectPronounInput" placeholder="Type subject pronoun here"> What is your object pronoun? (e.g., him, her, them) <input type="text" id="objectPronounInput" placeholder="Type object pronoun here"> What is your possessive adjective? (e.g., his, her, their) <input type="text" id="possessiveAdjectiveInput" placeholder="Type possessive adjective here"> What is your possessive pronoun? (e.g., his, hers, theirs) <input type="text" id="possessivePronounInput" placeholder="Type possessive pronoun here"> What is your reflexive pronoun? (e.g., himself, herself, themselves) <input type="text" id="reflexivePronounInput" placeholder="Type reflexive pronoun here"> <<button "Submit">> <<set $name to $("#nameInput").val()>> <<set $title to $("#titleInput").val()>> <<set $subjectPronoun to $("#subjectPronounInput").val()>> <<set $objectPronoun to $("#objectPronounInput").val()>> <<set $possessiveAdjective to $("#possessiveAdjectiveInput").val()>> <<set $possessivePronoun to $("#possessivePronounInput").val()>> <<set $reflexivePronoun to $("#reflexivePronounInput").val()>> <<goto "name2">> <</button>>

Ah, $name! How could I forget such a beautiful name. Now, let's get on with it shall we? It seems that a letter has come for you. Would you like to open it? [[Yes|Invitation]] [[Go Back|info]]

<img src="images/invitation.png" alt="YOUR Company is requested at Isabella Hall, at Clarencia Palace, in the center of Kronostia, on Friday evening, April 25th, 723 at 7' o clock. We will be celebrating the arrival of the Royal of Danevryn with a formal Masquerade." style="width: 500px; height: auto;"> An invite to the Clarencia Ball? You must be quite special! Well, let us get you ready then. With the Royal of Danevryn there, we'll want to dress to impress. Maybe you'll even catch somebody's eye... [[I'm excited, let's pick an outfit|outfit]]

<img src="images/outfits.png" alt="All Outfits"> !Select an Outfit //Beware, this choice will have consequences...// <<link "Outfit 1">><<set $outfit to 1>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>> <<link "Outfit 2">><<set $outfit to 2>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>> <<link "Outfit 3">><<set $outfit to 3>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>> <<link "Outfit 4">><<set $outfit to 4>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>> <<link "Outfit 5">><<set $outfit to 5>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>> <<link "Outfit 6">><<set $outfit to 6>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>> <<link "Outfit 7">><<set $outfit to 7>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>> <<link "Outfit 8">><<set $outfit to 8>><<goto "flyonwall">><</link>>

With an outfit that beautiful, you will certainly attract many admirers! Now, once we arrive at the ball, there will be many places to venture and many people to see. What do you say we take some time to see what everybody else is doing before we dive in? Which area of the ballroom would you like to check: [[The Dance Floor|kamren]] [[The Secluded Corner|Netherius]] [[The Moonlit Balcony|Thaliyah]] [[The Mezzanine|Harabella]] [[The Place You Should Not Venture|King]] [[I am ready to make my entrance|entrance]]

<<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio love stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned play>> !Seems as though we've found Sir Renatus Langston and Kamaria bint Qamar... !!!//Click anywhere on the screen to be truly transported into their world// “No, thank you.” Three words Renatus has already spoken countless times tonight. Ren knows he should not have come to the celebration at all. He has little appetite for company at the moment. With each new request for a dance or a conversation, he finds himself retreating deeper into the shadows on the outskirts of the ballroom. His disguise for the night has clearly done little to mask him from desperate admirers. Soon. He will leave soon, and be done with this awful night. Enjoying things is simply out of the question given the request his father had relayed to him and Nexton at the start of the evening. Ren hadn’t even wanted to attend this welcome bid afterwards, his presence now was just to observe, to make sure his brother had a handle on things, and then he could be gone. Kamaria’s observations of the Clarencia ball are for far less noble intentions. Thalios’ request to meet her here had sounded like one of his twisted jests at first. But the god had been serious. If he were anyone else, Kamaria would have cursed him for dragging her to such a polished event amongst all the filth polluting her lands. As if her evening were not already wretched enough, the deity was making himself impossible to find. She had circled the disgustingly pampered crowd gathered in the ballroom thrice over and still no sign of him. Her hatred of these people aside, she could not even ask anyone’s assistance with her limited knowledge of their colonized tongue. “//Aetadhiru, 'ana la 'afhamuku.//” Ren sometimes felt bad about using the native language he had studied in his youth to scare off potential suitors, but it always served him best with anyone who was particularly obstinate. On her fourth revolution of the hall, Kamaria’s ears perk up at the sound of her native tongue. Her gaze narrows on where the words had come from. A man, tall and clad entirely in black, including a cloak that masks most of his face from view. What little she can glimpse of it, she catches sight of a silver cloth wrapped across his eyes. A practice of some tribe she can not recall the details of? No matter. She has a new target. “You.” Ren nearly sighs at the single word, more direct than some of his other pursuers perhaps, but the same intention clearly behind it. An excuse is ready on the tip of his tongue. Then, he sees the woman standing before him. Even masked with a dark cloak that mirrors his own and a silver gilded mask, ren can still determine she is beautiful. Enchanting enough in her elegant simplicity that it gives him pause. She seems to take this as invitation to continue. “//Abhath ean rajul huna allaylata. 'Iinah tawil wa'ashqar wayueti antbaean bialghaba' almutlaqi. Yajib 'an 'ajidah ealaa alfur.//” Ren has never been fond of music. He prefers silence. Always has. But the symphony of phrases that escapes the woman before him is so enchanting he could listen to her speak forever. Her words seem to dance around him as they escape her lips, far too swiftly for him to follow along. Heat rises to his cheeks as he realizes she is staring at him expectantly, awaiting an answer he does not have. Rather than manage anything quick or graceful as he has always been taught to be, one word escapes his lips before he can get a handle on his own stupidity. “//Khalab.//” Kamaria’s eyes narrow on the stranger. No use, clearly. She should walk away, but something gives her pause. She cannot see his eyes through the ridiculous mask covering them, but she can feel the intensity of his gaze. It is unnerving, but she has never been one to back away from any challenge put in her path. Not until she has what she wants. “//Hal taerif 'ayn alrajul aladhi 'atahadath eanhu?//” Ren curses his younger self for not continuing his studies after the blasted ritual his parents had concocted to ruin his life–or save it rather, but wasn’t that just semantics? Though he supposed, if being alive this long had led him here before this woman now… “//Raqsatun?//” “No.” Kamaria turns to leave. Renatus is not sure what overcomes him, but he reaches out, grabbing the stranger’s arm. She shoots him a wicked look that seems to promise death. He continues. “You speak the common tongue?” She says nothing but he can see the understanding in her eyes, a pretty brown shade that reminds him of freshly ground cinnamon. “One dance, and I’ll tell you where to find who you’re looking for.” She is looking for someone. That much Ren had been able to understand from her flurry of words. Of course, he has no actual idea who that someone is or where they may be, but perhaps he can draw her attention off of this other mysterious stranger by the time they are through with a dance. “Fine.” Kamaria is not usually in the business of bargaining with mere men, but she has little more to go off of. Holding this man at knifepoint and demanding information out of him seems like it would end poorly, though she won’t take the option off the table. No, instead she will silently curse the fact Thalios is nowhere to be found, //and// the fact his enchantment had only slightly altered her physical features enough to give her some semblance of anonymity. She should have requested to look like some old hag who no odious palace boys would attempt to court. For the first time that night, the first time he’d ever willingly done such a thing, Renatus led the woman onto the dance floor in the center of the ballroom. The ballad that filled the air was that of a familiar waltz. The sort he’d had the steps to ingrained in his mind since childhood. With an effortless grace, he swept his dance partner closer, placing one hand respectably on her waist, intertwining the other with hers. She can hardly deign to look at him. Unusual, very unusual for Renatus, though he finds he quite likes it. Finding someone who values him beyond his looks has never come easy, and someone who at least doesn’t seem to care about said looks at all feels like a fair start. “What is your name?” “No.” Renatus raises a brow. “Interesting. Very unique. Beautiful.” He deadpans. The woman’s expression remains stiff and impassive, though Renatus thinks she might be struggling just a bit with the dance. No matter. For once, he has no problem taking the lead, in dance or conversation. “Don’t you mean, //khalab//?” She snaps mockingly. Despite the harshness of her tone Ren finds himself smiling. A true smile. Even as his cheeks warm a bit at the reminder of his embarrassing exclamation earlier. “I did mean //khalab//.” He says, allowing his gaze to roam over her slowly, taking in every inch of her. Beautiful, yes, definitely beautiful. Kamaria rolls her eyes. “Men.” She scoffs. The man who has forcibly been made her dance partner tilts his head at her curiously. Again, she feels that chill of someone’s heavy gaze upon her even though she cannot see his eyes. She wonders how well he can even see beyond that blindfold of his. Would he be able to deflect a swift punch to the throat with any accuracy? “Ren, actually.” Kamaria’s eyes narrow on the man. Then she realizes what his words mean. His name, Ren. no matter to her, of course. He will not be getting hers. “Why do you speak the language of my people?” She bites out, only filling the silence to prevent Ren from doing so. “li'iiqnae aimra'at jamilatin.” Ren’s dance partner’s expression finally shifts, either in a repressed grimace or smile, he can’t quite tell. He takes it as progress nonetheless. Enough so that…sharing some small truth about himself doesn’t feel nearly as impossible as usual. “I wanted to learn. As much as I could.” “You still have much to learn.” “Yes. very much.” Ren agrees. He is almost certain she is smiling now. Very faintly, but it’s there. The slight quirk of her lips somehow softens her entire face. Makes her come alive in a way he has only ever longed, or perhaps dreaded, to be. He decides then that he will ask her to teach him all he has to learn. Not just of her language and people, but of what it is to radiate such life in a world of darkness. He doesn’t get the chance. The woman freezes mid-step, clearly catching sight of something over his shoulder. Renatus pauses too, not caring they must be making a scene just standing in the middle of the dance floor while others sway around them. “I must go.” “Wait.” Ren says, though he has no idea what to possibly follow up with. Still, to his surprise, the woman does wait. She has stepped back enough that his hand has fallen from her waist, but her fingertips are still grazing the edge of his other hand. That small touch suddenly feels like a lifeline, one he can’t bear to be cut off from. “Your name?” Kamaria almost smiles at the foolish man before her. Even almost offers up the one thing he has asked of her. But the things she hadn’t allowed herself to face before, the enticing quirk of his full lips, the exhilaration of his touch, the intensity of that gaze she cannot see…They all seem to suggest something dangerous. Something dangerous that she has no desire or plans for. So, wordlessly, she pushes past Ren, not even daring to think his name a second longer as she makes her way to the corner where she had spotted Thalios. Back to the mission at hand. !!Now where shall we go? [[The Secluded Corner|Netherius]] [[The Moonlit Balcony|Thaliyah]] [[The Mezzanine|Harabella]] [[The Place You Should Not Venture|King]] [[I am ready to make my entrance|entrance]]

<<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio love stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio riptide play>> !Seems as though we've found Sir Nexton Langston and Mr. Aetherius Silva... !!!//Click anywhere on the screen to be truly transported into their world// Not for the first time, Nexton finds himself surrounded by a sea of suitors he has no interest in pursuing. He adjusts his mask with a polite smile, ignoring the heat of his father’s sharp gaze from across the room. It serves as a constant reminder that Nexton carries the Langston family name and, with it, a never-ending duty to entice everyone around him. //With desire, comes power//—he’s heard it far too many to ever forget it, even if its meaning has always eluded him. If being treated like a prize to be won means power, he wants no part of it. These people know nothing about him—nothing about his goals or dreams or fears. Frankly, he's unsure if anyone truly knows him at all. Aetherius, however, is certain that he knows Nexton (or at least, he’s one of the few people he can recognize in the ballroom of masked guests). He makes a beeline for the Guard, nearly colliding with a waiter in his excitement. Once he reaches him, he places a hand on his shoulder, addressing the crowd that has gathered around the man. “Pardon me, my Ladies and Lords, I’d like a moment alone with Sir Langston.” He receives a fair amount of dirty looks, but fortunately, they listen to him, dispersing to the other side of the ballroom. In mere seconds, Nexton shoves Aetherius' hand aside, seizing his arm forcefully to drag him to a secluded corner of the Hall, hidden from view. “What, pray tell, are you doing here?” he hisses. He doesn’t mean to be so rough, but the fisherman has a habit of getting under his skin in a way nobody else can. Not to mention the lecture he’ll receive from his father if he’s seen fraternizing with the other man. It was only a few months prior that the two of them caused a spectacle at another ball when Aetherius claimed them to be betrothed to fend off Nexton's suitors. Aetherius had such a pleasant experience that night that he was unable to resist the opportunity to attend another ball (or to dance with Nexton). Was he invited? No. But, it was a masquerade, so it wasn’t as though anybody would recognize him. “The same as you, of course,” he explains to Nexton, flashing a smile. “Enjoying the ball.” “The ball to which you were not invited?” Aetherius pouts. “What makes you so certain that I’m uninvited?” “I was made to commit the guest list to memory so that I might survey the area for unwelcome intruders throughout the evening,” Nexton begins, “And it would appear that I have caught one.” “A great catch indeed,” Aetherius smirks, leaning closer as he removes Nexton’s hand from his arm. “Here I thought I was the fisherman.” Nexton snorts but can’t help the smile that threatens to grace his lips. That’s the issue with Aetherius—he can never seem to maintain his composure around the man. “Yes, well, you’re the least adequate one we’ve had in decades.” Aetherius places his hand over his heart dramatically. “You wound me, sir!” “I speak only the truth.” This time, Nexton does smile, and Aetherius can’t help the way his gaze lingers on it. He’s never quite seen such a gorgeous smile. It’s addictive, and he prides himself on being able to bring it out whenever he’s around the guard. “Will you dance with me?” He blurts out. He’s never been one to be subtle about his interest in anyone, and Nexton is no exception. Nexton quickly turns, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of his father. If he accepts Aetherius’ offer, he’ll only earn himself another lecture. Not to mention he’s still meant to be keeping guard, even if he’s not officially on duty tonight. He’s incapable of doing a proper job in Aetherius’ presence. The man is unbelievably good at distracting him. “I cannot,” He finally decides, bowing his head. Aetherius is no stranger to rejection. In fact, were it anyone else (save for Riyah), he would accept it with a smile. But he can see the distant look in Nexton’s eyes and the disappointment in his posture. He’s unsure why Nexton feels the need to say no, but he’s certain it’s not due to his own wishes. He takes the man’s hands in his, catching Nexton entirely off guard. “Please?” He pushes, lashes fluttering dangerously. “In truth, I mainly came tonight in hopes of a dance with you. Would you really deny me my one desire?” There it was. That pesky word: //Desire//. What Nexton is afraid to admit is that, for once, he is in terrible risk of sharing his suitor’s desires. “You’re incredibly frustrating.” “I know.” He sighs, relenting with a gentle smile. “One dance.” Aetherius breaks into a wide grin. “That is all I need, Sir Langston.” !!Now where shall we go? [[The Dance Floor|kamren]] [[The Moonlit Balcony|Thaliyah]] [[The Mezzanine|Harabella]] [[The Place You Should Not Venture|King]] [[I am ready to make my entrance|entrance]]

<<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio love stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio still play>> <<set $visitedPath1 to true>> !Seems as though we've found Princess Arabella and Havilah Mareekar... !!!//Click anywhere on the screen to be truly transported into their world// Looking over a sea of people—her people—Arabella feels a sense of exhilaration fill her chest. It’s rare for her to attend balls; those not hosted in the Palace are strictly forbidden for her, making this one of the first in a year. And a Masquerade nonetheless! Despite the mask and the crown weighing heavy on her head, she’s never felt lighter. That is, until she catches sight of the woman standing down the corridor—now, as her breath catches in her throat, she is quite certain that she is floating. Havilah’s grin is laced with anxiety, golden eyes sparkling as they find the Princess's. Instantly, she is filled with awe. She’s seen the woman thousands of times, has committed every wave of her hair and freckles on her skin to memory, but the candlelight of Arabella’s bedroom can only reveal but so much. Bathed in the glow of the diamond chandelier, Havilah is left utterly spellbound. //Magic//. That is the only word that can come to Arabella’s mind when staring at the other girl. A gown, unmistakably made of sand, hugs her figure, pooling at her feet to conceal shoes that are no doubt forged from the same dragonscale that has been used for her mask. The mask which does little to hide those piercing, Serpentine eyes that always seem to grace Arabella’s dreams. “You look absolutely beautiful,” Arabella voices, crossing the corridor in a few quick steps, leaving the Mezzanine behind her. She would gladly forsake the company of even the highest nobility in exchange for a stolen moment with her best friend. “Though, in truth, you’ll stand out in the crowd.” Havilah’s naturally sun kissed cheeks go rosy as she raises a hand to the mask, hovering over it. “I feared as much.” With a wave of her hand, the scales shifted to cover her eyes, trapping the glow behind the roughness. “Better?” Arabella couldn’t help but laugh, barely resisting the urge to touch the other woman’s face. “Sweetheart, can you even see a single thing?” She smiles sheepishly. “No. However, I can sense plenty, even without sight. It’ll be sufficient enough to avoid any run-ins with the walls or other guests.” “I pray so. I fear your disguise will be ruined should you collide with the wall and reduce the entire room to sand." Arabella grimaces at the thought, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no guests have wandered up the stairs to where they reside. It had been her idea to sneak Havilah into the ballroom. Surely, if almost all of the guards were stationed at Isabella Hall to oversee the Masquerade, they’d be none the wiser to the fact that the Princess’s dragon had mysteriously disappeared. Normally, she’d run such an idea by Nexton for his approval, but the fear that he may say no and ruin her delusion somehow outweighed the fear of getting caught. They’ll have to avoid him. “Come now,” Arabella motions for Havilah to follow her over to the rail of the Mezzanine, surveying the crowd once more. Havilah glances over the edge of the rail, momentarily removing her mask so that she can properly take in the sight. It’s been decades since she’s had the privilege of seeing so many people in one place. The temptation to jump up and down in pure excitement is overbearing. Instead, she lets out a squeal, turning back to Arabella. “Thank you for this, Bella. From the bottom of my heart. I can’t even believe that I am truly here!” She lets out a joyous laugh as she dons her mask once more. Arabella smiles earnestly. “Frankly, neither can I.” “I suppose we should thank the $title of Danevryn for the opportunity,” Havilah says, glad that the mask hides the sarcastic arch of her brow. Unfortunately, the downward curl of her lips and bitterness that seeps into her tone betrays her. Arabella looks over, surprised. Somehow, she had forgotten what this ball was even about. They were just another suitor, even if $subjectPronoun happened to be one of Royal status this time. She’d undergone these wasted attempts at finding her a love match to rule beside her since the age of thirteen. She didn’t see what the rush was—her father and mother were perfectly fit to rule for a while longer. Arabella had no desire to do so just yet. Not till she could have the one person she truly wanted by her side. “Your highness!” The two women turned to find one of the guards behind them. Sir Mildrod, one of the few men who would oversee her when Ren and Nexton were off duty. He was an older man with a permanent scowl and wrinkles that had likely come from dealing with her all these years rather than old age. “Sir Mildrod.” She curtsied, even if it wasn’t required, and, cluelessly, Havilah followed suit. “Is my presence needed?” He nodded. “The $title of Danevryn is arriving and your father requests that you be in the ballroom to greet them.” The sigh that escapes her cannot be stopped. “Can’t I have just a moment longer?” “It’s urgent, your highness.” She groans, throwing her head back so far that it nearly sends her crown to the floor. Beside her, Havilah giggles, leaning close enough to quickly whisper in her ear. “It’s alright, Bella. I’ll acquaint myself with the ballroom while you meet them.” What Havilah doesn’t mention is that she’ll be sure to watch the entire encounter, praying that this will not be the suitor who finally steals her princess’s heart. A dragon is meant to protect what is precious, after all. !!Now where shall we go? [[The Dance Floor|kamren]] [[The Secluded Corner|Netherius]] [[The Moonlit Balcony|Thaliyah]] [[The Place You Should Not Venture|King]] [[I am ready to make my entrance|entrance]]

<<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio love stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe play>> !Oh...we were not meant to venture here... !!!//Click anywhere on the screen to be truly transported into their world// “The Palace healers say my condition is worsening. They don’t know how much time I have left, just that…my end is swiftly approaching.” “I am sorry, your majesty. That is horrible news, indeed.” The concern on Stephen Langston’s face is for once not entirely fabricated. King Edward turns to face his oldest friend. In a rare display of vulnerability, he lets the full weight of his future lay bare on his face. He is tired, so, so tired, and yet there is still so much to be done. “It is no longer the time for preparations to be made. It is time for action.” “I fully agree.” Stephen does his best not to let his anticipation show. Everything in him screams to call in his sons right this moment, to inform them all their hard work has at last paid off. But just as always, his king surprises him. “This royal of Danevryn will marry my daughter. I am afraid Arabella can no longer be granted the freedom of choice. Not with so much on the line.” “Your majesty–” “I know, Stephen.” King Edward releases a long sigh, placing a heavy hand on his commander’s shoulder. It takes everything in Commander langston not to flinch away. He fights past the urge like the war-torn general he is and instead meets the eyes of his ruler, waiting for him to continue, as Stephen has always waited for him. “It pains me to do so to her, but it must be done. I must leave my kingdom in the hands of two competent rulers.” A list runs through Stephen’s mind of all the ways he has bred his sons to be competent. They are dutiful, noble, and attentive. They know the kingdom well, know Princess Arabella well. That wretched girl would find no two finer suitors in all the lands. But he can see it in his majesty’s eyes. Stephen may plead his case, but his boys will not be chosen. Not when the King still believes he has one final alternative option. “If that is what you wish, your highness.” King Edward smiles sadly. “All I wish is to leave this life with no regrets. My only one remaining is that I have failed to pair Arabella with a suitable match.” Stephen cannot help it, he meets the gaze of the most powerful man in the kingdom, unflinching challenge burning within his eyes. “That is your //only// regret?” King Edward holds his stare. Decades of a long sordid history flash between them, their final chance at any closure slowly slipping away with each of the king’s dying breaths. Just as King Edward begins to speak– A shuffling sounds in the nearby hall. The two men jump apart, though they were not standing quite so close to begin with. Command Langston sighs. King Edward nods and forces a smile. “See to it that word is sent back to Danevryn. My daughter shall soon be wed to their heir.” !!Now where shall we go? [[The Dance Floor|kamren]] [[The Secluded Corner|Netherius]] [[The Mezzanine|Harabella]] [[The Place You Should Not Venture|King]] [[I am ready to make my entrance|entrance]]

<<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio love stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio brooklyn play>> !Seems as though we've found the Moon God Thalios and Ms. Riyah Nasser... !!!//Click anywhere on the screen to be truly transported into their world// Riyah is exhausted. Though she would never dare admit it, Aetherius had been right. Volunteering to work the ball tonight had been an absolutely terrible idea–perhaps not quite as terrible as his plan to sneak in uninvited, but well, what has her life come to if her ideas only have merit when compared to those of Aetherius? Deciding her arms may very well fall off if she is asked to lift one more tray, Riyah mutters a few apologies before excusing herself from the kitchen. Making her way back into the ballroom, she can’t help but scan the crowd for one person in particular. She spots Aetherius first, swaying across the dance floor with Nexton. Of course he’s managed to succeed in his goal tonight. Riyah is happy for him, mostly, but as her eyes finally land on her true target, a bit of envy seeps in too. Princess Arabella is laughing, smiling broadly as she leans in close to whisper something to a beautiful woman Riyah has never seen before. Something cracks in her chest and she quickly looks away, redirecting her path towards the terrace. Thalios’ night had been little more pleasant than Riyah’s. Well, that’s not entirely true. He had found some amusement in playing tricks on the courtier’s present tonight; filling blushing ladies with unreasonable anger towards strangers spotted across the hall, making puddles appear on the dancefloor, tripping noblemen who raged when the water suddenly vanished moments later, all sorts of small magics that displayed but a fraction of his true power. But that had quickly grown tiresome. Or more correctly, he had grown weary of spending another moment in that ballroom. It is sickening, watching those vultures parade about with all the luxury and fortune they have stolen from his people. They will all pay one day, that much he is sure of. Just…not tonight. Acceptance of that truth had drawn him outside, to a quiet terrace where he can soak up some of the moonlight streaming down from above. Nothing ever refreshes him more than a beautiful night sky, and the heavens do seem to shine down brighter on Kronostia than any other kingdom. that much he has always made sure of. It is the least he can offer his remaining people: an exquisite sky gleaming above them, the moon and the stars shining above with the promise of hope, the one thing that can not be taken from them. Riyah made her way out onto the balcony and immediately slumped against the railing, her head falling into her hands. She isn’t sure whether it’s the exhaustion taking over or something else entirely but she needs a break. Thalios stiffens as someone joins him in his sanctuary, only relaxing when he realizes who the assailant is. Riyah Nasser. He has seen her plenty around the palace, not that she would recognize him like this, in his natural godly form. But recognition clearly isn’t a problem he should worry about given her complete disregard of his presence. Her head remains in her hands for several long moments, her groan of frustration temporarily disrupting the silence between them before her head lifts up and she gazes at the sky above them. Her shoulders seem to sag with invisible burden, her weary eyes and ashen face betraying what must be incredible fatigue. He wonders if whatever silent prayer she is speaking towards the heavens is directed at him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Riyah nearly jumps out of her skin as the silence around her is unexpectedly shattered. She was so distracted by her own whirlwind of thoughts, she had entirely missed the man leaning against the rail just a few feet away from her. A hot flush billows into her cheeks as she straightens. Something about the stranger radiates a regal air, one she usually only associates with Arabella. His fine garments and the exorbitant silver mask he wears seem to betray unreasonable amounts of wealth and status. Which means Riyah has likely embarrassed herself in front of some important nobleman. One who is still looking at her expectantly, his vibrant blue eyes dancing with amusement as he watches her. “Excuse me?” She finally manages, mastering her expression and posture back into something less relaxed, more respectful and attentive, as is expected of someone in her station during a gathering like this. Riyah knows how to play the part well. “The moon.” Thalios drawls, giving Riyah some reprieve from his watchful eye as he fixes his gaze back on the night sky. “It’s beautiful, is it not?” “Yes.” Riyah agrees, her gaze darting back inside, wondering how long she must entertain polite conversation before she can make her departure. She had come here to be alone, and yet again she has failed her mission. Thalios catches the direction of her stare. “They run you ragged in there, don’t they?” Riyah does not allow her surprise to show at the question. “It is an honor to serve the royal family.” She says, the words coming out just as practiced as they are. Thalios scoffs, a teasing grin overtaking his face. “How truly honored you sound.” Riyah’s eyes narrow. “Are you accusing me of lying?” “Everybody lies, darling.” Thalios shrugs, gracefully sliding along the rail to draw closer to Riyah who remains unwavering even in the face of his nearness. Such fierce determination, he has found, is exceptionally rare. “No matter. fate has a way of righting such harrowing injustices.” “Injustices?” “a woman as exquisite as yourself being forced to serve that hoard of fools. That is injustice of the highest degree.” Riyah wonders briefly if she is being tested, even as hints of scarlet threaten to paint her cheeks at the compliment she can’t quite believe to be genuine. Has someone caught on to her scheme with Aetherius? Decided to send some gorgeous man to trick her into speaking ill of the crown? She will not allow herself to fall prey to such tricks so easily. Riyah forces herself to meet the stranger’s hypnotic gaze, to ignore the way the ring of silver amidst the blue of his irises seems more luminous than the moon above them. She holds eye contact as she leans closer to him, just enough so that her fingertips brush the edge of his arm where they both rest along the bannister of the terrace. “Tell me, do you truly mean that?” She says, allowing her power to slip through into her voice. A slow flirtatious smirk crawls easily across the stranger’s face as he leans closer, so close his cool breath tickles her ear as he speaks. “Every word, gorgeous.” Thalios nearly chuckles when Riyah jumps back at his comment, a delicious flush of crimson coloring her face. It is a shame that such easy words have her so easily flustered. He’s noticed in his time amongst mortals that they do such a poor job of highlighting the beauty of some of the most lovely of their kind. A shame indeed. “I should return inside.” Riyah decides, shaking off her ridiculous nerves as she mentally prepares herself to return to work. Thalios pushes off the banister falling into step beside Riyah just as she turns to leave. “As should I.” Whatever Riyah thinks about his joining her, she’s replaced that unreadable mask of hers from earlier, far more effective than the //actual// masks most of the guests inside are wearing. Just to see if he can prod some reaction from her again he adds, “Care to join me for a dance?” Riyah scoffs. “I am returning to work, not to dance.” “Of course.” Thalios nods dramatically as they reach the edge of the terrace, the threshold leading back inside the ballroom incredibly unenticing to cross. “Back to proudly serving the royal family, correct? Perhaps I should ask the Princess if you can spare me a dance then.” Riyah looks absolutely appalled. “You wouldn’t dare!” Thalios grins. “I most certainly would.” It would be worth a conversation with that dreadful princess just to see Riyah’s reaction. Riyah releases a long breath, though a smile threatens to break out across her features. When was the last time someone had asked her to dance? Certainly no one had ever done so with such admittedly charming determination. Rolling her eyes, she offered one hand to the stranger, hoping no one will question her out on the dance floor in her ridiculous uniform with such an obviously affluent dance partner. “Lead the way.” !!Now where shall we go? [[The Dance Floor|kamren]] [[The Secluded Corner|Netherius]] [[The Mezzanine|Harabella]] [[The Place You Should Not Venture|King]] [[I am ready to make my entrance|entrance]]

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<<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio love stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio riptide stop>> It is time for your arrival to the Clarencia Ball. I do hope that you've taken advantage of the oppurtunity to get to know some of it's guests first. Oh, and did I mention? !!You are the $title of Danevryn that this Ball is being thrown for. Good luck. [[Continue|CheckOutfit]]

<<if $outfit is 1>> <<goto "Nexton">> <</if>> <<if $outfit is 2>> <<goto "Havilah">> <</if>> <<if $outfit is 3>> <<goto "Kamaria">> <</if>> <<if $outfit is 4>> <<goto "Ren">> <</if>> <<if $outfit is 5>> <<goto "Riyah">> <</if>> <<if $outfit is 6>> <<goto "Aetherius">> <</if>> <<if $outfit is 7>> <<goto "Arabella">> <</if>> <<if $outfit is 8>> <<goto "Thalios">> <</if>>

<<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio love stop>> <<audio glitch play>> <<audio bad play>> !Oh, no...I fear something has gone wrong... The palace of Clarencia is more breathtaking than $name could have ever imagined. Stepping into Isabella Hall feels like stepping into a dream. The magnificent ballroom is bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of flickering candles and sparkling chandeliers. The air is filled with a beautiful soft melody, played by the musicians tucked away in the far corner of the room. The sound of laughter and easy conversation accompany the fine tune. Everyone and everything in the room seems positively radiant. As $subjectPronoun steps further into the hall, $name’s eyes scan the crowd of elaborately dressed guests. All the finely tailored suits, extravagant gowns, and cleverly crafted masks make each person stand out in a unique way despite their anonymity. $possessiveAdjective gaze glazes over them all with only mildly piqued interest. Then, $possessiveAdjective eyes land on one person and time seems to stand still. As the man’s stare meets $possessiveAdjective own, $name is taken aback. As if spellbound by some sort of magic, $subjectPronoun and the man begin to walk towards each other, the rest of the world fading away. “Good evening.” The man bows his head politely. He is wearing an elegant blue suit with silver trimmings that perfectly match his mask, an eclipsed moon that does nothing to hide the beauty of its wearer, or the intensity of his startlingly blue eyes. “Good evening.” $name says, bowing $possessiveAdjective head in turn. “I am $title $name of Danevryn. And you would be..?” A small smile graces the man’s lips, a twinkle of something $subjectPronoun can’t quite understand shining within his eyes. “You don’t remember?” $name tilts $possessiveAdjective head curiously, studying the stranger with more intensity. He is tall and broad with waves of silver hair, perfectly full lips, and eyes that seem endlessly blue. Regal and stunning, truly, but not at all familiar. “Have we met?” Something in his smile suddenly seems sad. “We will.” His smile broadens into something brighter once more as he offers $name a hand. $subjectPronoun places $possessiveAdjective hand tentatively in his and he raises it to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss against the knuckles. “Until then, my love. enjoy your evening.” A million questions race through $possessiveAdjective head as the stranger releases $possessiveAdjective hand and begins to turn away. “Wait!” He throws one last mysterious grin over his shoulder at $possessiveAdjective. “Don’t worry, dear. We’re only just beginning.” [[Continue|Final]]

<<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe play>> <<audio love play>> !You see Princess Arabella across the Ballroom... The palace of Clarencia is more breathtaking than $name could have ever imagined. Stepping into Isabella Hall feels like stepping into a dream. The magnificent ballroom is bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of flickering candles and sparkling chandeliers. The air is filled with a beautiful soft melody, played by the musicians tucked away in the far corner of the room. The sound of laughter and easy conversation accompany the fine tune. Everyone and everything in the room seems positively radiant. As $subjectPronoun steps further into the hall, $name’s eyes scan the crowd of elaborately dressed guests. All the finely tailored suits, extravagant gowns, and cleverly crafted masks make each person stand out in a unique way despite their anonymity. $possessiveAdjective gaze glazes over them all with only mildly piqued interest. Then, $possessiveAdjective eyes land on one person and time seems to stand still. As the woman’s stare meets $possessiveAdjective own, $name is taken aback. As if spellbound by some sort of magic, $subjectPronoun and the woman begin to walk towards each other, the rest of the world fading away. “Good evening.” The woman curtseys politely. She is wearing a gorgeous purple gown, an exorbitant amount of jewels highlighting her beauty, none so much more than the crown atop her head. “Good evening.” $name says, bowing $possessiveAdjective head in turn. “I am $title $name of Danevryn. And you would be..?” A brief bit of surprise flashes in her eyes before the woman’s easy smile returns. “I am–” [[Continue|Glitch]]

<<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio love stop>> !Well, that was certainly a wild ride! It seems that there is a lot in store for you here in Kronostia. If you wish to experience all the twists and turns of this magical universe, head over to Sincerely Theirs now to begin your journey with Chapter One. And this time, perhaps you will have better luck in selecting the suitor that you'd like... <a href="https://www.sincerelytheirs.com/eclipsedfates" target="_blank"> <img src="images/end.png" style="width: 500px; height: auto;"> </a>

<<audio riptide stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio brooklyn stop>> <<audio earned stop>> <<audio still stop>> <<audio bad stop>> <<audio babe stop>> <<audio love play>> !You see Thalios across the Ballroom... The palace of Clarencia is more breathtaking than $name could have ever imagined. Stepping into Isabella Hall feels like stepping into a dream. The magnificent ballroom is bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of flickering candles and sparkling chandeliers. The air is filled with a beautiful soft melody, played by the musicians tucked away in the far corner of the room. The sound of laughter and easy conversation accompany the fine tune. Everyone and everything in the room seems positively radiant. As $subjectPronoun steps further into the hall, $name’s eyes scan the crowd of elaborately dressed guests. All the finely tailored suits, extravagant gowns, and cleverly crafted masks make each person stand out in a unique way despite their anonymity. $possessiveAdjective gaze glazes over them all with only mildly piqued interest. Then, $possessiveAdjective eyes land on one person and time seems to stand still. As the man’s stare meets $possessiveAdjective own, $name is taken aback. As if spellbound by some sort of magic, $subjectPronoun and the man begin to walk towards each other, the rest of the world fading away. “Good evening.” The man bows his head politely. He is wearing an elegant blue suit with silver trimmings that perfectly match his mask, an eclipsed moon that does nothing to hide the beauty of its wearer, or the intensity of his startlingly blue eyes. “Good evening.” $name says, bowing $possessiveAdjective head in turn. “I am $title $name of Danevryn. And you would be..?” A small smile graces the man’s lips, a twinkle of something $subjectPronoun can’t quite understand shining within his eyes. “You don’t remember?” $name tilts $possessiveAdjective head curiously, studying the stranger with more intensity. He is tall and broad with waves of silver hair, perfectly full lips, and eyes that seem endlessly blue. Regal and stunning, truly, but not at all familiar. “Have we met?” Something in his smile suddenly seems sad. “We will.” His smile broadens into something brighter once more as he offers $name a hand. $subjectPronoun places $possessiveAdjective hand tentatively in his and he raises it to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss against the knuckles. “Until then, my love. enjoy your evening.” A million questions race through $possessiveAdjective head as the stranger releases $possessiveAdjective hand and begins to turn away. “Wait!” He throws one last mysterious grin over his shoulder at $possessiveAdjective. “Don’t worry, dear. We’re only just beginning.” [[Continue|Final]]