Luna
The Memory of Betrayal
“He was one of a kind, your father!”, Ometheon exclaimed, as he took a swig from the dark bottle. They were sitting in the centre of Vayadona's room, on the soft carpet, just she, Ometheon and Lysira. With them around, the darkness felt less pressing, the silence was broken by cheerful laughter and that lone voice in her head was almost quiet for once.
“Of course he was”, Lysira replied calmly. “He was the first. He who emerged from the light. It is said that his companions eventually settled into this world, adapted to it, or shaped it as your mother did. But Simia... there was always something otherworldly about him. As if he was never fully tied to this existence. There was wisdom and serenity within him that exceeded that of every other elf”
Ometheon shook his head. “That is not what I meant, Cowardly Heart”, he replied. “When people speak of Simia, they make him out to be a god. They speak of him as if he was no true elf at all, but something else entirely. I couldn't disagree more” His words caught Vayadona's interest. “What was he like then?”, she asked, moving a bit closer towards him.
“He was a good man”, Ometheon replied without hesitation. “And that's what he deserves to be remembered as. Not a god, not something so fundamentally different from whom he truly was. Gods are mortal constructs, designed to be incomprehensible, but Simia was anything but a complicated man, no matter what your mother would like everyone to believe. He appreciated the simple joys of life. The laughter of children and the growth of flowers. The first light of dawn after a bleak night. He had a great sense of humour too”
“You knew him well?”, Vayadona asked. Immediately, Lysira shook his head. “Ometheon just likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much”, she interjected sharply. “I saw your father almost every day, whenever I accompanied you. He was serene and composed. Not a foolish jokester as Ometheon would like you to believe”
“Is it foolish to find joy in simple things?”, Ometheon replied, as he took another swig from the bottle. “I certainly never claimed so, dear. And please, you claim you knew him well? Perhaps that fools Vayadona, for she doesn't know any better, but never forget I saw you during those official meetings. You were intimidated by King Simia, as so many were. Always hiding behind Vayadona's back, not even looking at him openly. And yet you claim you knew how he truly was?”
Vayadona tensed up at the sudden sharpness in his tone and Lysira narrowed her eyes. “But you do?”, she hissed. “What would our king ever do with a man such as you? He was good and caring, whereas you never cared for anyone but yourself” Ometheon raised an eyebrow and he looked from her to Vayadona, long and intense enough for her to blush. “Untrue”, he then replied. “I must say, you know me a great deal less than I thought you would, yet I'm supposed to believe that you're an authority on King Simia? We both know you only ever cared for one person at the king's court, all others be damned”
Lysira's expression hardened and briefly, Vayadona raised a hand, hoping to get them to focus more on her. But she knew already, it was futile to stop them when they were like this. As she understood, she used to be friends with both of them before... before the dragon gave her a second chance, but she could not even start to imagine how she used to keep them from each other's throats.
And yet, today marked the first anniversary of her miraculous return. It had felt wrong to invite one of them over and ignore the other. This past year had been exhausting, confusing and, quite often, terrifying to her and each night, she had went to bed with more questions. But she had learned too, of beauty and of might and, more than anything, of friendship. No, much as they could not stand each other, she wanted them by her side right now. She wanted to celebrate and enjoy this new life she had been given.
“Don't even start right now”, she growled and she was not the only one surprised by the sudden ice in her voice. Lysira and Ometheon, who had just been about to argue, as they had done over and over again in the most tedious moments of this past year, were both silent at once and just looked at her. She let out a sigh, followed by a stressed smile. “Please”, she continued. “I don't want you to quarrel tonight” She took a deep breath, pausing for a second, before she continued, no less stern. “If not for my mother telling me, I would not remember my own birthday and even now, it doesn't mean a thing to me. But this day does and I want to spend it with those I care for. Is it so difficult for you to put your differences aside for one evening?”
Lysira and Ometheon exchanged a glance at this time, it was at least a bit guilty, if not apologetic in the slightest. Then, they nodded at each other, barely notable, but enough to ease the tensions between them. “Apologies”, Ometheon mumbled and Lysira glanced at the floor between them. The silence that followed was almost awkward, until Vayadona let out a sigh. “And hand me the bottle”, she spoke, now softer again. “I would like to celebrate”
A thin smirk formed on Ometheon's well-constructed face, though as he raised the bottle, it quickly turned into something mischievous. “Sorry, princess”, he chuckled. “It's all empty now” With these words, he placed the empty bottle on the floor and rose from the ground, elegant despite how much of the wine he had consumed in the past hours. “But worry not, I shall save you”, he proclaimed. “Another bottle of wine will be ours within minutes!” Despite their earlier dispute, he even smiled at Lysira, who slowly raised an eyebrow. “Another for you too, Lysira?”, he asked and the elf-maiden gave him a reluctant nod.
With a playful wink, he left the room, leaving Vayadona and Lysira alone for the moment. The latter let out a sigh the moment he was gone. “That man...”, she growled. “He has a way to get under my skin. I'm sorry for lashing out at him earlier, it's just...” She narrowed her eyes. “Why is he here today?”
Vayadona shrugged. “He's really not that bad”, she replied, briefly having to avoid Lysira's sharp gaze, as memories of Ometheon's kiss flooded her mind. “Try to get along with him and he might surprise you. I... think he's a good man with good intentions. Plus, he makes for decent company and the wine he brought has been excellent”
Lysira shook her head. “Knowing him, it's probably contraband from Simyala”, she replied. “They make good wine over there, which is why your mother has placed a hefty tax on it. Ometheon might not be a beggar, but he could never afford such luxuries. And... whatever you might think of him, he's not a good man. He may claim to have noble intentions, but already his theories take root within our society like poison. Should your mother's realm crumble, I assure you it'll be because of him and he'll just stand by idly with that godsforsaken smirk on his face”
“
She is right, the poor thing”, the voice intoned and in the silence that followed, its words rang hollow in Vayadona's head. “That's not it though, isn't it?”, Vayadona asked. “That between you and him, it seems personal to me” Lysira was quiet for a second, before she nodded. “You're right it is”, she admitted. “There was a time where I would have considered him a friend, yes, but... after what happened to you, his demeanour changed. He might act all kind to you now, but you should have seen him in those long years. Acting as if he's the only one who lost you, as if the rest of us has no right to grieve”
“He grieved for me?”, Vayadona asked and Lysira looked up again. “You were dear to him”, she revealed and her eyes widened. “To... all of us, I mean. We all grieved for you. You were the light of our people and yet, he acted as if his loss was somehow worse than what the rest of us had to suffer through. We grew apart after that, me and him. And I finally understood that what I once interpreted as a clumsy sort of kindness from him was truly nothing more than bitter mockery”
“He... has been mocking you indeed”, Vayadona admitted and Lysira gave her an almost triumphant nod. “Ometheon believes in nothing. Not in our gods. Not in your mother. Not in your father”, she hissed. “How can you expect him to believe in concepts such as kindness or love? He's cold-hearted and dangerous” Once again, the memory of their kiss forced its way into Vayadona's mind and she blushed vividly, as she had to think back to that day in Pyrdacor's Garden. “No...”, she mumbled. “He's not... he's really not that bad”
Lysira rolled her eyes. “Of course you know better”, she sighed. “It's just like that thing with the rats. I keep telling you it's a mistake, but you don't ever listen, do you?” Vayadona had told her about the rats, of course. Though she had the fleeting suspicion she meant more to Lysira than she could ever feel in return, they were friends nonetheless. As such, she had told her almost everything that happened during these lonely nights, safe for that voice in her head. She hadn't seen a single rat in the castle for months, not even down in the cellars if the servant's gossip could be believed and yet, each night they came to her, sometimes half a dozen at once, while the voice whispered to her, told her what to do, how to hurt them and how to heal them again. By now, most of those who came left alive and without any lasting injuries. It would not be long now until she could heal her fellow elves as she used to, at least if she could convince her mother to give her a chance.
“That's hardly the same!”, she hissed in return. “Besides, you trust me with the rats, don't you?” Lysira gave her a nod, but Vayadona could clearly see her reluctance. She knew, her friend was not sure about it and truth be told, even the princess herself had her doubts on some nights. But the results spoke for themselves. She used to be a healer and a healer she would be again. And though any memories of her old life were still beyond her reach, there were days where it barely bothered her anymore. Today was such a day, or at least it was supposed to be one.
“I'm sorry...”, Lysira sighed. “You shouldn't have to justify yourself on this day. I... there's a lot of bad blood between me and Ometheon, yes. And what you're doing to those rats... I may understand why you're doing it, but that doesn't change the fact that I think it's wrong” Vayadona opened her mouth to speak, but Lysira cut her off immediately and her expression was stressed, almost... hurt? “But you, I... if you think this is what you have to do, then I am going to help you in whatever way I can”
“
She's nothing but a poor, lying fool”, the voice hissed and though its words were harsh, the tone was almost comforting this time. “
No one loved you more than her and no one will hate you more than her if you ever tell her about me” Vayadona frowned, long enough for Lysira to notice. She forced herself to smile, as she moved closer towards the elf. “Hearing this means the world to me”, she replied and she meant it. “I know I'm no longer half the person I used to be, but as long as you're by my side, perhaps I'm not a lost cause yet”
Though there were visible tears in Lysira's eyes, a slow but sweet smile formed on the elf-maiden's face. “To me you've never been”, she assured her. Her expression changed ever so subtly, from the familiar smile of her friend to something she hadn't seen from her yet. The look in her eyes, a deep sadness, but beneath it a longing. Vayadona needed a moment to realize that she had seen the same expression in Ometheon's gaze. It was gone just then and Lysira avoided her gaze, her cheeks blushing slightly. “Vayadona, I...”, she began, before she took a deep breath. “There's something I...”
Just in this moment, the door got pushed open again. Ometheon staggered in, a bottle of wine in each hand. “Fear not, for I am back!”, he proclaimed and immediately, Lysira's smile faded. She herself merely groaned at his pompous entrance, as he closed the door behind him with one foot. “And with me, I bring Simyala's finest! One bottle for the fair lady”, he continued, as he placed one bottle in front of Vayadona. “And for you too, I guess”, he then added, as he handed Lysira the other bottle, accompanied by a sly wink.
“I didn't know they still allow you to enter the queen's wine cellar”, Lysira replied coldly. “I hoped the guards would have learned their lesson after the first few infringements” Ometheon's smirk grew almost sly. “My dear, those are not from the queen's cellar”, he replied. “Far be it from me to plunder Queen Orima's private stock. Those, I assure you, are my own”
Hearing this, Lysira suddenly clutched the bottle he had given to her. “Not anymore”, she replied, before she took a deep gulp from it. “It's a good wine” Ometheon chuckled warmly at her words and seeing him like this made it hard for her to believe Lysira's words, about him treating her harshly before. “Seems it warms even your cold heart, mylady”, he replied, before he looked at Vayadona. “And what about you, my princess?”
Vayadona took a sip from the wine and she actually had to suppress a frown at how strong it was. “It's... good?”, she replied. “I really don't know much about wine, I'm afraid. I never had any” She knew, at least, that too much wine could be intoxicating, that it could even be harmful and as such, she made sure to drink only a little bit with each sip. She felt warm inside, fuzzy and comforted, right now and not just because of the company.
“Well, that's not exactly true”, Lysira brought up. “Your favourite used to be the white wine from the shores of Carhaneola” Though she meant well, it was clear to see, her remark was yet another painful reminder of what Vayadona had lost and the princess' smile faded slowly. Nowadays, she barely knew where Carhaneola was, much less what its wine tasted like.
Ometheon noticed her expression a little bit before Lysira did. “Now, don't listen to her”, he said, his tone kind and gentle. “It doesn't matter what you enjoyed back then. Focus on the present. There's a whole world to rediscover. Who knows, perhaps this time you'll like this wine more” She smiled at him, before she raised the bottle. “Well, it is my favourite for now”, she replied, taking another small sip.
She moved a bit closer to Ometheon and he reached out for her, placing one of his hands on her own. “More stories, please!”, she proclaimed. “I want to hear more of my father. Of how he truly was” Ometheon clasped her fingers gently as he bowed his head. “If you so desire, though I have to warn you...”, he promised, as he glanced at Lysira. “I know some truths your mother would prefer to keep hidden”
His tone was calm and serious now, but Vayadona noticed the glance he threw at Lysira. There was something almost triumphant within it, which clashed with the kindness he had been showing her from the moment she first met him... at least from the first moment she remembered. “Such as?”, she asked, quickly regaining his attention, but not before she saw the expression on Lysira's face.
“He actually inspired my philosophy”, Ometheon revealed. “Few know this, fewer yet care, but I regularly conversed with your father. Statesmanship, philosophy, religion, though most of our topics were fairly mundane by comparison” Lysira rolled her eyes. “Show-off”, she muttered beneath her breath, so quiet that Vayadona barely heard her. Ometheon certainly did too, for his smirk widened, but instead of addressing her, he looked back at Vayadona.
“It's true though”, he continued. “Your father inspired my worldview, he encouraged it even. I don't know if he fully shared it, but I would not be so ardent in my convictions if not for Simia's lessons” Though Vayadona could see the frown on Lysira's face, Ometheon's words were fascinating. For almost an entire year, she had yearned for such a talk, yet her mother would deny her even the most basic details about her father. He was a god now, after the queen had made him such, but if Ometheon could be trusted, then that had been the last thing he ever wanted.
“The king would never entertain your childish tantrum”, Lysira spoke, though her voice lacked her usual confidence. Ometheon merely chuckled, as he looked firmly at Vayadona. “What about you then, my princess”, he asked. “Would you like to hear what everyone knows about your father? What the nobles and courtiers and servants of this keep praise about him all day long?” He shrugged. “Or would you like to hear my... tantrums about the king? Truths which no one else can tell you”
Lysira almost flinched as Vayadona gave him her kindest smile. “I long for it”, she replied and instead of answering right away Ometheon raised her hand between his fingers, giving it a gentle kiss. “Then I shall oblige”, he spoke, his tone soft and his gaze warm. Lysira, however, rose from her seat. “I think I'll take my leave”, she muttered, as she turned to the door.
Vayadona frowned at her words, before she shook her head. “Stay”, she spoke. “Please” She demonstratively freed her hand from Ometheon's grasp, but her friend merely gave her a long, sad smile. “I had too much wine”, she mumbled. “Might be a bit too strong for my liking” With these words, she walked towards the door, while Vayadona staggered to her feet behind her. “Wait!”, she called out for her.
“Come on...”, she spoke, as she had reached her. Lysira had stopped and turned around, though her gaze was icy and thoroughly fixed on Ometheon. “If this is about him...”, she began, but Lysira merely shook her head. “This has never been about him, Vaya”, she sighed. “He never mattered. Except now he does, doesn't he?”
With one last glare, she finally looked away from Ometheon and the harshness on her face faded the moment she focussed on Vayadona again. “I'm sorry”, she added. “I don't think I'm the one you should be spending this evening with” There was clear sadness in her gaze, but also something Vayadona interpreted as understanding. For most of this year, she had trouble with picking up the finer nuances of facial expressions. In recent weeks, however, she had learned a lot. Right now, Lysira seemed torn.
With warmth in her smile, Vayadona placed both hands on Lysira's shoulders and pulled her into a brief hug. “We'll talk tomorrow then, okay?”, she asked and Lysira gave her a nod, this time without meeting her gaze. “Tomorrow”, she confirmed, though her voice was shaky. Then, without another word, she turned around and left.
“
What a foolish child”, the voice hissed. “
Suffering in silence to the bitter end. There was a time where she shouldn't have been, but it is long gone now” Vayadona shook her head, irritated by the voice suddenly chiming in, before she closed the door behind Lysira. When she turned around, Ometheon was approaching her.
“She didn't have to leave, not because of me”, he stated. “Though I have admittedly hoped for some... privacy. Just you and me on this special day” Vayadona shook her head as she approached him. “She didn't leave because of you”, she corrected him, as she wrapped her arms around him. “She left because of us” Following these words, she pressed her lips against his, giving him a brief, but passionate kiss. Ometheon lifted her up and spun her around and briefly, Vayadona was able to forget the worries that had plagued her from the moment she first awoke, on that fateful day one year ago.
With her head resting on his shoulder, they sank onto the ground. Resting on his lap, Vayadona could feel the warmth that radiated from his body, not the uncomfortable heat of Pyrdacor, but genuine warmth, the kind that made her feel safe and welcome. One of his hands moved through her hair and as she looked up into his deep, kind eyes, she could not help but smile with joy.
“So then...”, Ometheon remarked slyly. “With poor, cowardly Lysira gone for now, what shall we do with the rest of the evening” He glanced over his shoulder, at the wide canopy bed that stood as the single largest piece of furniture in the centre of the room. “I mean, I may have an idea or two”, he added, as he tried to lift her up again,
This time, she pressed one hand against his chin, pushing him back with a fiendish grin on her face. “Don't get ahead of yourself”, she replied. “You promised me stories and that's all I want for tonight. You're perhaps the only elf at court willing to tell me of how the world used to be when my father led this kingdom. Mother means well, but her truth is... subjective, to say the least. And Lysira may be the best friend I have, but she trusts her queen too much. You though...”
Ometheon shrugged. “I was hoping for something else, but so be it”, he gave in. “I enjoy your company too much to deny you such a wish. Stories you desire and stories you shall get” As she tried to get up again, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close once more. “But stay”, he whispered in her ear. “Like this. And listen”
In this moment, as Vayadona looked up and at Ometheon, she knew without a doubt that she had fallen for him. He was handsome and charming, but this went beyond simple attraction. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, but she felt no discomfort. Instead, she would give it all just to remain like this forever. Resting against his chest, she could feel his heartbeat and as he spoke, his voice vibrated through his body.
“Your father was our king, yes, but his reign was not a strict one”, Ometheon explained. “In fact, he was so lenient with his subjects that it barely felt like a connected realm at all. Tie'Shanna was not the capital back then, just one of many cities and though none dared to openly crown themselves, many elves had powers comparable to that of your father. They followed him out of the one trait they could never gain, the one not even your mother, for all her virtues, possesses. You see, King Simia had their respect, their utmost adoration. To his people, he was as awe-inspiring as the sun itself, as endless as the sky above us”
“My father...”, Vayadona mumbled. “Mother told me that my memories might return, though Pyrdacor has been less supportive. I don't know if he thinks it's impossible or a waste of time, but...” She looked up and into Ometheon's eyes. “I'm missing out on something here, don't I?”, she remarked. “My father... Just once, I want to see him as you can. As Lysira and mother and everyone here in Tie'Shanna can. His face, his voice, when I close my eyes and think of him... there's nothing there. A hint of a fragment, but even that might just be me deluding myself”
“There's a lot I don't know about you and your father”, Ometheon admitted. “But it's clear that he loved you deeply and unconditionally. So does your mother, but where she has to be in control at all times, your father believed in freedom more than anything else. As a king and as a father, he has never been one to impose rules on you or on his subjects”
“I cannot blame her”, Vayadona mumbled in return. “Mother is afraid to lose me again” Ometheon nodded slightly. “Nor can I, much as I have my differences with her”, he agreed. “Your mother lost more to the Nameless Horde than I ever had. She means well, but all that loss has made her cautious and bitter”
For some reason, Vayadona felt deep anxiety in this moment, a sudden discomfort that didn't seem to be entirely her own. “The Nameless Horde...”, she mumbled. “Mother barely speaks of it, but... they are responsible for my... they have killed my father, haven't they?” Once again, Ometheon gave him a nod. “Though that was towards the end of a war that lasted for over a century”, he revealed. “Nowadays, we call it the Nameless Horde, but back in the day, it had as many names as there were ways to die. An army of humans and giants, bolstered by demons and led by Maruk-Methai, a man who was all of these things and neither. Your father gave up his own life to slay this beast and with his final act, he brought an end to the invasion. A generation of elves has been born and grown up without ever knowing the war that haunted our younger years”
“
He speaks of things he knows little about”, the voice growled. “
Dangerous half-truths, but boundless confidence” Vayadona frowned, though she ignored the voice's input. “And the Nameless Horde just disappeared after the death of their leader?”, she asked. Once more, Ometheon gave her a nod. “They scattered. Without this presence to unite them, the different factions within the horde soon fought each other as fiercely as they once fought us. Some of them even negotiated peace with your mother, in exchange for free passage back to their dark realm beyond the mountains. Others ventured south, into Zze Tha, though the god-dragon does not speak of their fate”
“
Of course not”, the voice hissed. “
There's a reason Pyrdacor did not lift a finger to help your people as they were struggling against the horde. He claims to have underestimated the threat, but it is a thin lie. Not even your mother believes him” Vayadona tensed up again, listening to Ometheon and the voice at the same time. Both spoke softly, but where Ometheon made her feel warm and comforted, the voice's words had the opposite effects. They were cold, harsh truths, as they had always been.
“Few believed your mother could rise up to the occasion after your father's death”, Ometheon continued. “They thought her a broken woman, devastated by the loss of her husband and her only child. The petty kings of Simyala and Vyavinda even considered declaring their independence” He shook his head. “She proved them wrong. Simia may have been the first to step into this world, away from light and dream, but without your mother, there would be no realm for our people. The god-dragon would have swallowed us whole by now”
“
A rare truth”, the voice admitted. Vayadona looked up and into Ometheon's warm eyes. “How was she... before, I mean”, she then asked. “I cannot remember and... whenever I speak to her, especially when it's about father and the world before the Nameless Horde... it seems as if there's something between us. As if she's afraid to let me close, for...”
“SEND HIM AWAY!”
The voice's sudden roar was loud and shrill enough to interrupt her and involuntarily, Vayadona gasped. There was no anger in these words, but a sudden urgency. “What, I...”, she began, before she realized that there was no way Ometheon had heard the same and that it had to seem as if she was talking to herself.
“
You heard me”, the voice hissed. “
Something happened. You need to send him away right now” Ometheon looked at her for a long, quiet moment, concern clearly visible on his face. “Is everything alright, Vayadona?”, he asked and she immediately shook her head. “I don't think we should...”, she began, as the voice cut her off once more.
“
If you don't send him away right now, you are going to lose him”, it snarled and though the tone was hollow, she did not fail to notice the aggressive tone in it. In this entire year, the voice had not spoken to her like this, with such urgency. It had never demanded, not until now. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw something moving beneath the wardrobe. A rat, of the kind that had come to her every night, quietly watching her.
“
Too much depends on him and you”, the voice continued. “
But something is going to happen and if you don't send him away, he will see you as you truly are, with all your flaws and imperfections. You may think he'll love you either way, but decide for yourself if it is worth the risk” Immediately, Vayadona's eyes widened and though everything inside of her screamed to keep him close, she pushed herself away from Ometheon.
“It's...”, she began, before she shook her head. “Perhaps today isn't such a good idea after all” Ometheon's expression grew decidedly more confused, but there was still strong and obvious concern as well. “Is this about Lysira?”, he asked and after a moment of consideration, Vayadona gave him a nod. “She's hurt and... this doesn't feel right until I had the chance to talk things out with her”, she spoke. It wasn't even a genuine lie, but of course she couldn't just tell him the full truth either. Lysira knew of the rats and of her ambition to regain the powers she had lost, to become the healer her people deserved to have. But she was the only one. Not even her mother could be trusted with this knowledge.
To her surprise, Ometheon merely sighed, before he gave her a short, calm nod. “I'd lie if I'd say I'm not disappointed”, he admitted. “But I understand. You should talk this out with her” He pulled her into a brief hug and as they separated again, his mischievous smirk had returned. “I'll take the wine though”, he chuckled. “I may need it after such a crushing disappointment”
Vayadona flashed him a small grin. “Don't be too disappointed”, she whispered, as she gave him a peck on the cheek. “We'll continue this soon, yes?” Ometheon moved his head and what started as a nod quickly turned into a bow. “How could I say no to that?”, he replied. “But talk this out with Lysira first, yes”
She smiled brightly as he walked past her and she felt a blush rising in her cheeks as he glanced over his shoulder again, just before he left the room. The moment he closed the door behind him, however, her smile dropped, replaced by an expression of sudden, severe anger. “What was that?”, she hissed into the silence of her room. “Did you just threaten me?”
The voice did not reply at first. Instead, the rat beneath the wardrobe approached her, hesitantly at first, but then swiftly and in the open, without any fear. Vayadona narrowed her eyes, as she knelt down next to the creature. “
Not a threat, princess”, the voice replied calmly, as the rat kept eye contact with her. “
A warning. Something unexpected happened and you were betrayed. Had he stayed, he would have witnessed what is to follow and he is not ready for it yet”
“What is to follow...”, Vayadona growled, as the rat climbed up her lap. It looked at her calmly, uncannily so and as she extended one hand, it stayed with no obvious fear, even sniffing at her fingers for a moment, before climbing into her open palm. “I am not in the mood today. This was supposed to be a special evening”
“
It still can be”, the voice assured her. “
You are imperfect by design. Your mother will always hold you back and the dragon will always stir you down one path, his path, where you have to follow his light, his dreams, always a pawn, always beneath him. You are flawed, but listen to me and I shall make you perfect. Worthy of Ometheon's affection and the love of your people”
“You speak ill of my mother and of the god-dragon, yet somehow I am supposed to trust you?”, Vayadona replied sharply. “What do I know of you? You've been a part of me from the moment I first opened my eyes and yet you won't even tell me your name! I'm sick of it all, of Mother's worries, Pyrdacor's lies and of your secrets!”
“
You know that I would never lie to you”, the voice replied, calm and precise, chipping away her will to resist with each cutting remark. Beneath her own calm facade, there was violent anger, gnawing and constantly growing. “
But make no mistake, my patience is not endless. Be calm and quiet, for I am about to teach you the most valuable lesson of them all”
Vayadona stared down at the rat, as the voice spoke. In this moment, she heard nothing but its soft words in her head, soothing and so familiar, yet eerie just the same. “I said...”, she hissed and even her own voice sounded muffled and hollow in her head, as she moved her free hand to the rat's head. “I am not in the mood!” With these words, yelled at the top of her lungs, she bent her wrist, twisting the tiny neck within her grasp and breaking it in an instant. “Can't you just leave me alone for one night, demon?”
To her surprise, the voice chuckled, a hollow, but genuinely amused tone. “
I am hardly a demon”, it replied. “
I hardly am, at least in a way you can perceive” There was silence again, as Vayadona stared down at the dead rat in her hands. Just she and the voice and... something else? Muffled words behind her, a gasp... her eyes widened, as she realized what had happened. “
But instead of shouting at me, perhaps you should have kept your eyes on the door”
Vayadona did not want to turn around. A cold, dreadful chill ran down her spine, as she slowly let go of the dead rat in her hands. Then, with fear in her gaze and with trembling hands, she turned around. She had not heard the door being opened, but there it was, wide open. She had not heard anyone coming in, but there she was, her mother, staring at her in sheer disbelief, her eyes blind, yet piercing and sharp at the same time.
“What is going on here, child?”, Queen Orima asked, as she staggered into the room. Vayadona flinched and instinctively backed away from her, as the queen closed the door with a flick of her wrist. Her blind eyes darted from the princess to the dead rat on the ground. “So it is true”, she merely spoke. “I did not want to believe it...”
“Mother, I...”, Vayadona gasped, but the queen cut her off. “For how long?”, she growled and Vayadona tensed up at the cold anger in her mother's voice. “Most of the year”, she mumbled sheepishly, unable to even meet the blind queen's gaze. “Most of the year...”, Orima replied. “I saw your progress. You've been a gifted healer before and I took it as a sign that your former self was slowly returning, starting with your skills and then, perhaps, your memories” She shook her head. “You haven't regained your skills, have you? You've just learned all of it from scratch, night after night, cutting open those disgusting pests and healing them, better and better with each tiny life you took”
“I... had to learn!”, Vayadona argued. Of course, she could not tell her mother about the voice, of the secrets it whispered. It felt more familiar to her than anything else in this world, a fragment of the place she had come from. And she would keep its presence a secret, even if her mother would hate her for it. “I want to heal our people, how can I do that if you're not even letting me near an infirmary?”
“Heal our people?”, Orima asked. “Yes, I thought you were almost ready. Now though, I see that you're the one in need of healing” She pointed at the dead rat on the floor. “This... this is sick. You have to understand this... do you?”, she continued, her voice now more aggravated. “Look at me and tell me that what you've been doing is wrong”
“
You cannot lie to her”, the voice warned her and Vayadona took a deep breath. Calm... she had to be calm for this. A warm smile, as she had practised for months. This was her mother and they could trust each other. She would understand... “I know...”, she admitted. “I was... frustrated and exhausted. I've been trying to get better for so long and this... it seemed easy. It seemed like the right idea at the time, but I knew it's wrong for quite some time now”
Orima was quiet for a moment. “I understand...”, she replied, as the voice sighed within Vayadona's head. “
I warned you”, it hissed, as the queen opened her blind eyes again. For the first time, Vayadona found herself unable to deduce what her mother was thinking right now. “There's one more thing I need to know”, she spoke. “Have you been enjoying this? Toying with these rats, cutting them open and healing their injuries, discarding them once you are done... have they only ever been a means to an end to you, or have you been enjoying the power?”
Vayadona's kind smile grew decidedly more stressed. “What sort of a question is this?”, she asked. “No... no of course not! Mother, I would never...” She paused and took another deep breath, as her smile faded entirely. “I never enjoyed it”, she spoke, lying through her teeth. Her mother shook her head. “I wish I could believe you, child”, she sighed. “I've been trying to ignore it. Your mood swings, the anger, the frustration... but now I realize I allowed for a sickness to fester within you”
Now, Vayadona narrowed her eyes. “Sickness?”, she growled. “They're just rats. You treat me as if I murdered our people. Mother, I would never harm anyone! I've been a healer once and I merely trained how to become one again” Queen Orima shook her head with visible sadness in her move. “It's not just that you killed them, not just that you fail to see anything wrong with it”, she spoke. “But rats... Vayadona, rats are creatures of the
dhaza. Powerful magic is required to control them like this, to keep them still for so long. I don't know if this is Pyrdacor's doing, but if this corruption is related to the
dhaza...”
“What then?”, Vayadona snapped, even though the mere thought was enough to make her tremble in fear. The
dhaza, the false wind, the nameless evil that gnawed on this world... Few spoke of it as openly as her mother did, but Vayadona knew that it was something to be afraid of. But fear quickly made way to months of anger and frustration, at her mother, who would always hold her back and at herself. “Would you cut me down where I stand?”
Her words seemed to have taken the queen by surprise. “Cut you down?”, Orima hissed. “Don't be foolish. You are my daughter and I promise you once that I will always love you. Unconditionally and wholeheartedly” She shook her head. “But you need help. The Vayadona I knew would have never harmed a living being. This... callousness, this anger... that is not you”, she spoke. “I see a darkness within you”
Involuntarily, Vayadona's smirk returned, cold and thin. “You see?”, she hissed. “Well, that's precisely the problem here, blind queen” She took a step towards her mother, who remained unfailingly calm as she approached. “I did not ask for this, for any of it!”, she roared and as she spoke, months of frustration, resentment and anger finally broke through. “I had a life, one I cannot remember, but it has been a good and happy one from all you told me. I died for our people, I tried to save the wounded even as our camp was being overrun by the Nameless Horde... and you know what, it sounds like a good death. I cannot remember any of it, but I know, the woman I used to be would have wanted it to end that way. Helping her people to the last and being remembered for it!”
By now, tears had formed in her eyes and she was trembling with rage, but she would not back off now. “But you... you could not let go of the past, could you? So father had to become a god and I had to come back into a strange world, where everyone expects something of me, something I no longer am!” She raised one finger, pointing it at the queen in sheer spite. “I did not ask for it, for any of this, but you brought me back regardless!”, she barked. “And now you dare... yes, you dare to tell me that I am sick? That there is something wrong with me? If there is, it's because you couldn't let go of me! If I am imperfect, it's because of your ritual!”
Telling her all of this felt liberating and though tears streamed down her face as she had finished, Vayadona could finally breathe in relief. Her mother had been silent throughout all this, but she was genuinely shaken. Her blind eyes stared at her and though the queen had never been one to cry, small tears formed in their corners. “Imperfections...”, she finally managed to mutter. “Child, this has never been about your... imperfections. There is a darkness in your soul and for too long, I have allowed it to fester. It's just a few rats for now, but the daughter I knew would have never killed a living being like that... there's no saying how much worse your condition will get if I don't take immediate action”
“
That was a threat”, the voice warned her, quite unnecessarily, as Vayadona could see her mother's body language clearly. “What then?”, she hissed, as she clenched her fists. Though she backed off a few steps, she lowered her head, ready to jump at the queen if she would try to harm her. “
I warned you before”, the voice continued. “
Should she ever learn about me, she will not hesitate to kill you. That's the true worth of a mother's love”
“What indeed...”, the blind queen mumbled. “Do you think I intend to harm you?” For a second, the shadows in the corner of the room grew darker and the hairs on Vayadona's neck stood up, as Orima glared at her. “Do you truly think I could harm my only child?”, she hissed. “I love you with all my heart, but do not mistake this love for weakness! For too long have I turned a blind eye on your nightly escapades and on the god-dragon's poison in your mind” She shook her head. “The ritual has been flawed, but not by my design. It has always been Pyrdacor's ritual and now I see that this has been his intention all along”
“
Finally she understands...”, the voice hissed. “
He is but a dragon. He devours those who put their trust in him” Orima frowned briefly, as if she had heard these words, before she shook her head. “From this day forward, you will not see him again”, she declared. “The dragon has plans with you, yes, but he will not march against Tie'Shanna to enforce them. And if he does, I will teach him to fear the fenvar” With these words, she narrowed her eyes. “And your affiliation to this... Ometheon has gone on for too long as well”
“He isn't...”, Vayadona immediately protested, but her mother cut her off sharply. “Perhaps”, she growled. “But as long as I don't know where this darkness within you comes from, you will be kept from all.. questionable influences. And what else is Ometheon but a firebrand and wastrel” She turned around and clapped her hands, just once. Vayadona could hear heavy footsteps and she knew that she would remain guarded from now on. “You will be watched at all hours”, Orima spoke and her voice was trembling. “I pray that it is not too late to cure you”
The princess narrowed her eyes. “You cannot do that!”, she snarled, as the queen glanced over her shoulder. “Quite the contrary, my child”, she spoke. “I can and I will. You may cry and protest and pout, but even you must see that something is deeply wrong with you” She shook her head. “I am not doing this because I wish to punish you”, she claimed and for a second, there was that expression of love in her blind gaze. Right now, however, it seemed barely genuine to Vayadona, in her growing rage.
“Wait!”, she barked, as Orima turned to leave. Her mother stopped, though she did not turn around. “Yes?”, she replied, as a terrible thought flashed through Vayadona's mind. “How could you... who... who told you?”, she growled, her voice now trembling with rage and, yes, perhaps an ounce of shame. She knew that what she had been doing was wrong, but she had her reasons and to hear that her own mother considered her sick... no, there was only one elf in Tie'Shanna who could know of this. She had told only one, she had trusted only one.
“Lysira”, she hissed, her voice trembling somewhere between rage and disbelief. “She was the only one who knew, so... she told you, didn't she?” Orima was silent just long enough for Vayadona to fear that she would ignore her entirely. When she spoke, her voice lacked anger, instead it was oozing sheer sorrow. “My child, how far have you fallen that you are so quick to accuse your best friend”, she sighed. “Lysira cares for you, no less than I do. If she told me, it's because she is worried for you, but I assure you, no secret escapes the Queen of Tie'Shanna in her own palace”
With these words and without turning around again, she left, with a burly guard closing the door behind her, undoubtedly positioning himself on the other side and leaving Vayadona alone in her rage. The princess was staggering back from the door, just barely suppressing the urge to throw herself at the wood and howl. But she was not a petulant child and though tears welled up in her eyes, she managed to keep her composure, if barely.
“You have planned for this”, she hissed into the silence of her room. The voice did not reply at first, but she felt it, as she had always done. “You knew she would come, so you sent the rat. You taunted me and distracted me, so that I would confirm mother's suspicions!”, she continued, louder now. “That's why you had me send Ometheon away. Not because he would reject me, but so that you could toy with me!”
Now, the voice replied, at long last. “
I would never toy with you”, it spoke. “
You may think me cruel, but cruelty is beneath me just as well. No, for you to truly grow into the woman you were always meant to be, I had to open your eyes. You have seen her now, as she has always been. Blind queen, foolish queen. Cold of heart to all who do not meet her standards. The moment she suspects that something is wrong with you, she is quick to remove all of the freedoms she has granted you. This is her true face. Be obedient, or be unworthy of her love”
“And what if she's right?”, Vayadona mumbled. “
Is she though?”, the voice replied. “
Tell me then, princess, do you feel sick? Corrupted? Evil? Do you feel that you are in the wrong here? All you've ever wanted is helping your people. I gave you the means to do so, when your mother has been depriving you of your destiny, of your potential. And unlike the god-dragon, I do not mean to keep you beneath him. No... you will be free to soar as you should have always been. No master above you but one of your own choosing”
Now, tears welled up in Vayadona's eyes at last. “You are just like them”, she hissed. “No better than Pyrdacor, or my own mother!” She shook her head. “But... she was so quick to turn on me. Her words, so hollow...”, she continued and her voice broke at last, as she sunk to the ground. “And Lysira... she betrayed me. She... was the one who told mother. She has to be!”
“
Indeed she did”, the voice confirmed. “
Rejection, worse yet, words unspoken... nothing turns love to resentment faster than that. Let your mother deny it for all she wants, but you can see through her lies now. It has been a regrettable lesson, but a necessary one nonetheless” As Vayadona buried her head between her arms, sobbing at last, she felt a strange, otherworldly comfort. The voice, humming gently, as it had never before. “
You may hate me for now, but you will see why this was necessary”, it spoke. “
You begin to see it already. In the end, I am the only one who will always remain with you, no matter what. Your mother does not trust you. The dragon is using you. And your own best friend betrayed you on the first chance she got, out of something as petty as a broken heart” Once again, it was quiet, but this time, Vayadona could feel its presence clearly, holding her close, more soothing than anything her mother had ever done for her. “
Tell me then, Vayadona, daughter of gods, what are you going to do about this... and how may I help you?”
Luna, again
This time, waking up came easier to her than before. Perhaps it was because the memory lacked the sheer horror of Pyrdacor's booming voice in her head, but when Luna opened her eyes, she immediately knew who she was and where. Luna Tailor, prisoner to Asch and his queen. Vayadona, though if her jailer's words could be trusted, she had rejected that name long ago.
She was shivering, not because of the cold, but because of what she had just seen. Just a few moments ago, it had seemed so simple. Vayadona had tried to do what was right, she had believed in herself so genuinely. The shock of Orima's rejection... even now, Luna felt a bitter taste in her mouth, even if she could see things clearer than the princess. The queen had loved her daughter dearly and even in this moment, her anger had been born from love and concern.
This time, she was not screaming in confusion and fear. No, this time she was merely clutching her chest, sobbing at what she had just witnessed. And this voice... it seemed so soothing just a moment ago, but now all she heard were cold, calculating lies and half-truths. Manipulative and corrupting... how, just had the princess seen things so differently?
It was only then that she realized that she was not alone in the room. Sitting in one corner, a few feet away from her, was none other than Curunir, staring at her with an inscrutable gaze. Pale moonlight was shining through the window, right upon his pallid skin, the sharp cheekbones and his large, hooked nose. His hair was carefully combed back and as black as the darkness behind him, while his bloodshot eyes stared at her. The look within them was cold and deep beneath, but carefully restrained, was inhuman hunger.
Seeing him so close was enough for her to flinch. “What are you...?”, she gasped, as she crawled away from him as much as her bed allowed it, pressing herself against the wall, with her eyes darting around the room, looking for anything she could use to defend herself. “What are you doing here?” She was not even sure what caused this frightened reaction, for the man had not harmed her, unlike Asch, whom she felt almost comfortable around by comparison. It was a primal fear, something subconscious and severe.
Instead of replying immediately, a smirk formed on Curunir's face. “Are you afraid of me, girl?”, he asked and she could not do anything but stare at him, as she nodded. His smirk widened. “It means your instincts are still intact”, he confirmed. “But your fear is misplaced. I told you before that I keep my beast in check. Out of all the monsters in this tower, I am the least of your concerns”
His voice was deep and surprisingly pleasant, but there was a growl within, something inhuman and feral. Paired with his obvious lack of breathing, it made for an uncanny combination, enough to make Luna truly terrified of him. “Where is Asch?”, she managed to stutter. “And the queen... the queen would kill you if you harm me!”
“Perhaps she would do that”, Curunir admitted. “Perhaps she would not care at all. Pardona, she's living proof that someone can be beautiful and powerful and brilliant, truly without equal, but also a spiteful, jaundiced monster” He raised one hand to point at her and though the clawed finger was two feet away from her, she still flinched. “You've seen it, haven't you?”
“She's been manipulated”, Luna replied and Curunir chuckled. “A good excuse for all the ill she brought upon this world, wouldn't you agree?”, he growled. “Now, I don't know the details of her colourful past and I must admit, I feel slight envy that you get to experience it so closely. In my old life, I worshipped Hesinde with true devotion and to have such wondrous knowledge denied to me, it breaks my heart”
Luna narrowed her eyes. “You don't like her?”, she asked and Curunir's smirk widened, revealing perfect, pearly-white teeth. “Strange that it took you so long to realize that”, he replied. “Then again, Asch told me you were raised by sheep-herders from Tobria. I don't expect much from such an upbringing”
“I can read and write!”, Luna protested, but through her brief anger, she realized that she had calmed down enough to swallow her fear of him. He was sitting still, nothing about his pose was threatening and there, on the nightstand, she spotted the needle Asch had given her a few days ago, the one with the symbol of Hesinde on it. Curunir followed her gaze and his smile faded. “Don't even think about it”, he warned her.
“Or what?”, she replied sharply. “Why don't you tell me what you want from me? And where is Asch?” Curunir shrugged. “Me? I want nothing from you, nothing at all”, he claimed. “Notably, I'm the only one in this tower who doesn't want a thing from you. Asch has taken a risk with you and he wants success. Pardona has been promised great potential in you and she wants the Marked Second to do her bidding. And a few floors beneath us, there lies a true monster, chained and always hungry. He... well, even now he can smell your delightful scent, that special blood of yours and it drives him nearly mad. He wants nothing more than to kill everyone in this tower and then suck you dry to the last drop” His smile returned, thin and cold, but not fake, as she realized. “I say that makes me the only one you don't have to be afraid of and yet you cower before me”
“There... there is someone in this tower who wants to kill me?”, she asks and Curunir gave her a nod. “Walmir, yes”, he told her. “It is in his nature. In mine too, but I refuse to be a slave to my base urges. But make no mistake, should he break free of his chains, I will not be able to hold him back. Asch fought him to a standstill before, but only because Walmir underestimated him. At the height of his power, not even the queen could hold him off”
Immediately, Luna gazed at the window to her side. It was night, perhaps just a few hours had passed since she had last been awake, or perhaps she had been asleep a full day again. But there was still heavy snowfall, with white covering the entire landscape. “And I would not even think about running away if I were you”, Curunir warned her. “You are not chained and I have no order to stop you, but... resistant to the cold as you may be, half-blood, in your current condition you will freeze to death before you reach the nearest settlement. This is a prison, yes, but one only a madwoman would try and flee from it”
He was right. The cold had never affected Luna as badly as the humans around her, one of the few aspects of her elven heritage she was truly aware of. But she was not immune to it. Right now, she was wearing a thin linen dress, enough not to freeze in this damp tower, but out there, where the wind howled across the fields, she would not survive for long.
“Besides, his prison will hold. It is just as ingenious in its design as your own, but much more restrictive”, Curunir assured her. “After all, I personally saw to it” Luna gave him a long look, somewhere between disdain, confusion and fear. “So this is what you do for a queen you don't like?”, she asked. “You build a prison cell and do her bidding like a lap dog”
This time, the beast hissed, more displeased than truly angry. “I follow her because I must”, he spoke. “I am not a zealot like Asch, no... but I have a connection to Walmir and through him to Pardona's god, though I would never stoop so low as to worship him. Or her, while we're at it. I have been called here, for the first time in decades and trust me, it is not a call I can just reject”
“And where is Asch?”, she asked, trying to suppress her panic from growing once again. Curunir sighed. “You are so afraid of me, yet you're quick to ask for him. I wonder why that is”, he spoke. “You may be an elf, but raised by humans, you could not even begin to grasp how his mind truly works. He might comfort you in one moment, then carve your eyes out with his bare hands if he feels like it in another. You matter to him only as long as you have value to his queen and the moment this is gone, he would kill all you ever loved in an instant, perhaps because Pardona ordered it, perhaps because he felt like it. He follows a code of honour, yes, but be assured, it is not your definition of honour”
“I don't trust him either”, Luna replied. “But he won't kill me. With you, I am not so sure. So tell me, where is he?” Curunir glanced at the door. “Accompanying the queen for a few miles. Funny thing, for she is faster on her own and there is nothing in this land that could pose a threat to her”, he spoke. “Pardona has work to do in the north. A queenly visit, from what I heard. Asch will return in a few hours, but he asked me to be there once you wake up. There's no saying how you will react to those memories, so I presume he wanted to make sure you don't hurt yourself by accident”
“How considerate of him”, Luna spoke coldly. “And what now? You are not here to just chat with me, are you?” Curunir shook his head. “Child, as I told you before, I am the only one in this tower who doesn't care about you in the slightest. I don't consider myself a monster though, so I am content with you being alive and well, considering the circumstances”
His tone was honest, but after the memory she had just experienced, Luna found it hard to trust him. He was not human, even if he looked like one and there was something deeply unsettling about him, from his constantly bloodshot eyes, to his smooth, but chillingly cold voice. “He has not given you any orders for me?”, she asked.
Once again, Curunir shook his head. “I do not follow Asch's orders”, he told her. “Though he explicitly said that you're free to do as you like until he returns. I'd advise against trying to escape though. You'd freeze to death without supplies and to get to them, you'd have to get through the queen's own warding spell”
“Let me guess, trying that would kill me”, Luna spoke and she was surprised by how little of her previous fear remained. She was still unsettled by Curunir, yes, but scared? No, perhaps he truly meant her no harm for the time being. “It would be painful”, Curunir replied. “So, yes, you are free to roam the tower, but stepping through the wrong door might be an unpleasant experience” He moved one hand into the pocket of his cloak, pulling something from it and as he opened his fist, she recognized the memory stone, dark and smooth, with strands of molten gold whirling within.
“Asch gave me this for you”, he told her. “I tried it on me to no avail, but you are attuned to it and you don't need the night elf to hold your hand, do you? If you so desire, you may use the stone and explore the next memory, but knowing Pardona, I doubt you'll find much pleasure in her past” Under her watchful gaze, he placed the stone on the nightstand, notably hesitant to approach the thin, sharp needle that was lying on it.
“Or?”, she asked, sensing that this was not the only option here. Curunur raised his eyebrows, before his smirk returned. “You've grown fearless, half-blood”, he told her. “Foolish, maybe, but I can respect that. My stay here has been long and dreadful and I don't doubt that yours has been any more pleasant” He rose from his seat and took a deep, elegant bow in front of her, his cloak whirling around. “I have to feed the beast downstairs. The queen wishes to weaken Walmir further, but he needs to remain sentient at the very least or else he stops being useful to her plans”, he told her. “You may accompany me if you wish to move around for a bit. Stretch your legs, explore the tower. I promise, I'll warn you if you approach a door you better not open”
Immediately, Luna narrowed her eyes again. “You want me to accompany you?”, she asked. Curunir gave her a nod. “I would not complain”, he replied. “Unlike Asch and Pardona, I was human once and unlike Walmir, I still remember those years. Even after he turned me, I regularly conversed with humans. They're so much more fascinating than he gives them credit for. And you, though your blood is elven, you've grown up among them for all your life. Your mind works like that of a human”
“I... guess so?”, Luna asked, unsure where he was getting at with that. Curunir rolled his eyes. “Good enough”, he sighed. “As I said, I truly mean you no harm. In a way, we're both here against our will, so why should we be hostile with each other? Walk with me and I'll show you what the queen is working on. If you have questions, I'll answer them to a certain degree. In exchange, I ask for nothing but polite conversation. By the Twelve, we both could use that”
He was right, Luna could use a walk. She was scared, yes, not necessarily of him, but of this tower, of the queen and of the monster that lived here according to his words, but perhaps this was a chance to learn more about why she was here. Perhaps there was a way to escape even. Staying in her room would not help with that.
And yet, she remained hesitant. The memory stone was lying on the table. She could always refuse Curunir's offer and remain here, away from him and safe for now. There were answers in these memories as well, something she could use against the queen, she was sure of it. Perhaps getting through with them sooner rather than later would be for the best, so that she could prepare for Pardona's inevitable return. All she knew was that she could not just do nothing. She had to escape somehow, she had to find Will and get back home, to her parents. And though she felt weak, helpless and scared, she knew that giving up was not an option. She had to choose her next move with care.
[Go downstairs with Curunir] [Refuse and explore the next memory]