Apologies for the longer wait. This part... well, you'll see, it is the longest part I have written so far for the Dark Eye and getting it right was not easy for me at all. It grew and grew and I have been unable to find any way to shorten it. At the same time, I had a lot of fun writing this part. I can only hope the result will be worth the wait, I hope you enjoy it!
Luna
The Memory of a Mother
Everything that had happened before was still a blur to her, a mystery which she couldn't quite unravel. There were brief flashes, where she thought she remembered, but no matter how hard she tried, the details always seemed to slip from her grasp. Always there, in the corner of her eyes, always just barely avoiding her gaze. Always mocking her with how close it all seemed.
Worse than that, everyone around her knew more. They knew Vayadona, perhaps better than she herself ever would. To them, she used to be a daughter, a friend, a confidante. To her, they were but blurry images in broken memories. Some of them were nothing to her at all. And out of all the sensations she had felt since the dragon gave her a second chance at life, this was the worst of them. The hollow feeling she had when she realized that there were some moments of her past, moments she absolutely should remember, but which she would never truly regain.
They spoke of the princess as she used to be. Her mother had built monuments in her name and her people sung praises to her. Vayadona Heralds-the-Nurdra, the only child of Simia Who-emerged-from-the-Light and Orima Marked-by-Stars. Beloved daughter. Faithful friend. Light of her people. A healer, who kept tending to the injured even as beasts from beyond the eastern mountains swarmed her camp. She, who sacrificed everything so that others may live. She, whose death broke her father. And though she couldn't even recall his face from memory, that was the one connection she still felt. All of the praises, they meant nothing to her, it felt as if they happened to another woman entirely. But the guilt was real. Her mother did not blame her, no one did. And yet, she knew that her father could have still lived if not for her death. That he wouldn't have thrown himself into battle with such fury, such recklessness if he knew that she was still waiting for him at home.
Pyrdacor had given her a second chance, but there were some things even the great dragon could not make whole again. Bringing her back from beyond the grave, even after decades had passed, it was nothing short of a miracle, even for someone boldly proclaiming himself a god. And yet, even he had his limits. He brought her back to life, but there were days where she barely felt like herself. Sometimes, it felt as if she knew the world only from his teachings and not because she used to be a part of it.
“That is because he is lying to you”, the voice whispered and Vayadona tensed up. The voice that had called out for her from beyond the void, the presence that had accompanied her when Pyrdacor restored her. She had mentioned it to the dragon once, but not to her mother. Without any memory of their former time together, she lacked the bond she was supposed to have to the elven queen, but still, she already felt that Orima deserved better than to worry about such a thing.
Pyrdacor had eased her calms a bit. It was natural, he said, to hear one's own thoughts. But then again, he was a High Dragon and there was hardly anything natural about him. It didn't feel like she was just listening to her own thoughts, but at the same time, it didn't feel wrong either. The voice wasn't always there, but when it spoke, she listened. Those were the moments that felt right. The moments where someone finally told her the truth.
“Why would he lie to me?”, she asked into the emptiness of her room. Oh, it was far from empty of course, at least when it came to luxury. She was not certain if she used to receive this sort of attention before... before all of that happened, but her mother surely loved to shower her with gifts. But no splendid trinket, no finely crafted piece of furniture, no elaborate painting could hide the fact that this room was empty of life itself.
“Why wouldn't he?”, the voice asked again. It was neither male, nor female, neither cold, nor warm, not reassuring, nor reprimanding. The only emotion she clearly felt while listening to it was honesty and that was more than enough for her to listen. An honesty which the god-dragon's words often seemed to lack.
“He is but a dragon. Deception is in his nature”, it continued, before it paused for a moment, just long enough for Vayadona to focus on the ground in front of her.
“But you wish to know the truth, don't you?”She nodded, before hesitating again, unsure if the voice was able to see her. “Yes”, she said and though her voice was shaky, she felt confident as she said these words.
“About what?”, the voice asked and she knew at once, she only needed to ask and it would answer. Whatever its nature, it was linked with her ever since she returned from the void, that dreadful, lonely place that still seemed so much more real to her than this room, this palace, this entire splendid city. “Everything”, she replied. “I was... I think I was a healer once, wasn't I? Let us start with... life”
“Life...”, the voice whispered calmly and though it was barely more than that, a whisper in the wind, it guided her hands. She listened carefully, she watched, she learned. Grabbing, holding, feeling it scratching and twitching within her palm. There was power in understanding life. A power she once had. A power she deserved. And though she would learn from the dragon as she learned from her mother, it would be foolish of her to reject what the voice had to offer. The truth behind what they wanted her to be.
Her mother was content with her being nothing more than a daughter and princess, Pyrdacor clearly had something else in mind entirely. And yet, even though everything from before she awoke in their presence a few weeks ago was, at best, a distant blur, she knew that it was not whom she used to be. She used to be more, she used to be stronger and she used to help people. And this gnawing feeling of having lost something of herself, something she used to cherish, it left her with hollow dissatisfaction.
But this other voice, it stirred something within her. Unlike virtually anything else she encountered, it gave her a sense of familiarity, more even than her own mother. It had been with her before, she realized, before she herself even stepped into being. Before the dragon had forced her back into this life. It was almost soothing to have this presence around, the only thing that calmed her in a world that had gotten too large and loud for her own comfort.
“Your mother will speak to you of nurdra and zerza”, the voice whispered.
“Life and death, creation and destruction. She will speak as if one is a force of good and the other a force of evil” As the voice spoke, Vayadona's hands moved almost by themselves, peeling away another layer, uncovering another secret, ignoring the scratching, clawing and biting within her palm.
“Pyrdacor is wiser than her, for he considers them equal. Life needs death, just as destruction needs creation. And from great suffering, something new can grow, something better”, the voice told her calmly and coldly.
“Something like you”It was the first time the voice was speaking to her this directly and Vayadona tensed up, nearly loosing her grip around the small carving knife in her right hand. “Who are you”, she then asked, loudly and directly into the emptiness of her room. The voice was quiet for a moment and when it replied, the tone was warmer than before.
“Your mother loves you, princess, but she fails to see your worth. She would pamper and spoil you and be content with letting your brilliance wither away”, it whispered.
“Pyrdacor values you for your potential, though he is but a dragon, incapable of loving anyone but himself”“You're avoiding the question”, Vayadona hissed. She waited for a moment, but the voice remained silent, causing her to sigh in frustration. “For someone who speaks of truth, you are awfully quiet when I demand answers from you!” At the same time, the voice had not been wrong. Her mother's love was clear to see and though Vayadona found it hard to feel the same for a woman she barely remembered, it was the one thing from her old life she outright clung to. And the dragon... there was a connection between her and Pyrdacor, a sense of familiarity, but at the same time, she knew fully well he was pursuing his own goals, goals which didn't necessarily include her. She could not trust him, but was it any better to trust this strange voice?
“I have been with you since before you were born, princess...”, the voice then whispered.
“And I will never leave you. This is my promise” The princess clenched her fists. “Then who are you?”, she barked, loudly now. “If you care for me so much, then tell me who you are!” She half expected the voice to remain silent for now, at least for a while, but to her surprise, what followed was not silence, but a low, soothing chuckle.
“Beings older and wiser have asked me the same question”, it replied softly.
“For the sake of your youth, I will spare you the truth. A simpler answer for now is that I have no name”
Vayadona narrowed her eyes. “That is not good enough for me”, she hissed, as she clenched her fists. A slight crack echoed through the room and she let out a sigh as she glanced down. There, in her hands, blood-stained and partially flayed, was a small, dark rat. For the past hour, she had explored the secrets of life within its tiny body, the dining knife revealing layer after layer, while the voice had explained it all to her. How a body functioned, what it was capable of enduring. One as fragile as that of a rat, at least. The creature had been terrified throughout the ordeal, biting, scratching, trying to claw its way out of her grip. And yet, even during the moments where she held it more loosely, it made no attempt to actually run away and it remained perfectly silent. She knew little about this world, but it seemed unusual for any living being to remain so still and quiet while being vivisected.
Now, with its skull crushed within the princess' grasp, she let go of the creature. There was a faint memory, the knowledge that rats used to disgust her, but as she looked at one now, she felt nothing, except maybe a slight curiosity. How could she ever hope to save lives if she didn't know how they even worked? How they could end?
“Princess Vayadona?”, a new voice called out for her, a woman this time, and it took Vayadona few moments to realize that this one did not come from all around her, but just from the other side of her door. A courtier? The princess jumped up, hastily wrapping the rat's broken body into a scrap of linen, before pushing it beneath her bed. She would deal with it later, as always. “I'm coming!”, she yelled.
As she opened the door, she was greeted by a sight as unfamiliar as any. An elf-maiden stood in the hallway, willowy and raven-haired. Bright blue eyes stared at the princess and a delicate mouth formed a hesitant, slightly insecure smile. “Princess...?”, the elf asked. “Is... is everything alright? I heard you yelling at...” She glanced past Vayadona and narrowed her eyes. “At... someone?”
“This one must not know...”, the voice growled, quite unnecessarily, as Vayadona put on her most charming smile. It was astonishing how quickly others could be swayed by a gentle expression and the right words. In her old life, she had been solitary and shy, according to her mother and the few former acquaintances she had seen in the past two weeks. But ever since she returned, she found it surprisingly easy to talk to others. To make them see things from her perspective. It was so easy, in fact, that she wondered why she ever struggled with it.
“Think nothing of it”, she replied. “I was talking to myself. Sometimes it helps with remembering... whom I used to be” It was not a lie, not a complete one at least, for she had been talking to herself before. Whenever the voice wasn't around, or her mother, or Pyrdacor, her own thoughts were the one thing that kept her company in the solitary confinement of her room. The smile on the elf-maiden's face turned wider and it was easy to see what she thought. Suspicions laid to rest, that woman clearly allowed herself to feel something akin to... to hope... Vayadona raised an eyebrow as she came to an important conclusion. “Excuse me, it's... do we know each other?”, she asked.
The other woman gave her a slight nod and Vayadona could see the hint of tears in her eyes. “We knew each other well”, she deduced, making it sound as if she truly remembered her. And then, without warning, a thought formed in her mind, the fragment of a memory, flaring up within her head, almost painfully, as her eyes widened. “Lysira!”, she exclaimed.
As soon as she spoke these words, the other woman jumped at her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. She was trembling and after a moment, so was Vayadona. It was just a tiny piece of her fragmented mind, but it was progress. She remembered something from before, even if it was just a name and a fragment of what they used to be. The elf was trembling in her arms, her breath betraying how heavily she had to try to hold back her tears.
“Your mother warned me you might not remember”, Lysira whispered. “That you barely even remember her and that not all of your old memories will return for certain” She placed both hands on Vayadona's shoulder, as they separated again. “Before... before the Battle of the Starfire, we were friends. We've known each other for decades. Do you... remember any of it?” Quietly, Vayadona shook her head. “I remember your name”, she replied truthfully. “We used to be friends, that is all I know”
Lysira sighed and now, Vayadona could clearly see the tears in her eyes. “Your mother sent for you”, she revealed. “I am to escort you to her” Vayadona realized how quick her friend changed the topic, but for the moment she would not push it any further. “Figures she wouldn't just send an old friend over for conversation”, she mumbled. “I gotta get presentable, it'll take just a moment”
The other woman let out a genuine chuckle, a sound as clear as the blue of her eyes. “Silly rabbit”, she spoke sweetly. “You're always presentable. And it's just your mother, no high lords and ladies” She carefully mustered Vayadona. “Admittedly, I wouldn't attend a ball with your dress, but it should be enough for the queen”, she added. “Your mother wants to spend time with you”
“I would have surely visited her on my own by now”, Vayadona replied, sounding more bitter than she meant to. “Unfortunately I am discouraged from leaving my room without company” Gently, Lysira placed a hand on her upper arm. “She's just concerned”, she told her. “Your... death left a hole in this court and two hundred years haven't been able to fill it. This world has grown colder since you last walked among us. The lights are just a bit dimmer, the shadows longer and the smiles smaller. There's dangers now, even here in Tie'Shanna and your mother wishes to protect you from it”
Vayadona sighed and as she took a step back, Lysira followed her into the room. Involuntarily, the princess' gaze fell upon her bed and she hoped desperately that her friend would not spot the mangled rat beneath it. “My own mother once told me that nothing's more hateful than losing your only child”, Lysira whispered. “But losing her twice? The queen could not bear it and more than anything, her people need her. I fear for what this world would do to our kind once Queen Orima is no longer around to lead us”
Carefully, Vayadona gave her a nod. What Lysira said made a certain amount of sense. More than that, she truly believed in it. “Are you sure I can meet her like this?”, she asked, pointing at the large mirror on the wall. “There she stands...”, Lysira replied. “Princess Vayadona, as fair as the day you were taken from us. You know they've written ballads about your beauty?”
Vayadona rolled her eyes, though she smirked as she saw the slightly mischievous expression on Lysira's face. “You're making that up”, she spoke, as the other woman burst into a chuckle. “Written by men who barely even knew you”, she explained. “It's dreadful and I think your mother only allowed it because she wanted to keep your memory alive at all cost. I'll spare you the details”
Now, Vayadona gave her a crooked smirk. “My gratitude will forever be yours”, she intoned, as she looked at herself in the mirror. It was hard for her to tell if Lysira was being genuine here, for Vayadona was simply not sure if her beauty was worthy of song and poetry. Her own face was one of the few she still recognized. Silvery-blonde hair, almost with a touch of white, fell down her back, framing a heart-shaped face. Her skin was smooth, spotless and just as pale, which made the one feature she always focussed on truly stand out. While she had seen a few elves since her resurrection, none of them had eyes like hers. Where Lysira's were bright blue, Vayadona's eyes were a shade of molten gold, as if a fire burned within them. Out of the few people she had met, only one had eyes like hers and he was by no means an elf.
“You knew me well, before...”, Vayadona began, as Lysira wordlessly reached for the princess' hair, tying it into a fashionable braid of the kind her mother wore so often. Her friend paused, almost startled by the question, before she gave her a slight nod. “Better than most, I dare say”, she admitted and Vayadona gave her a kind smile. “Did I always look like that?”, she asked. “My eyes, I mean”
Lysira looked up and right at her, before she slightly shook her head. “Your eyes are the only difference”, she replied. “We used to have the same colour. Sea-kissed blue, as our people used to say when they spoke of you. Whatever magic Lord Pyrdacor used to bring you back, it seemed to have had at least one side effect. His have the same colour in both of his forms”
“Lord Pyrdacor?”, Vayadona asked, just as Lysira was done with her hair. Though the princess was still not certain if she was ready to leave her room like this, she trusted her friend's judgement and turned to the door. Lysira gave her an almost sheepish nod. “The lizardfolk worships him as their god”, she revealed. “He claims to be one at least and as part of the deal he struck with the queen, he's been allowed to open a temple here in Tie'shanna. And though many are hesitant to accept him alongside our own pantheon, not giving him the necessary respect seems just unwise to me. So, he's Lord Pyrdacor until this matter is settled” She glanced at the princess. “Besides, we do owe him for... you know...”
Vayadona shrugged. “So, does that mean you trust him?”, she asked, as the two elves entered the hallway. Her mother's palace was spacious, perhaps the largest building in the entire city and at least this time, she was certain she hadn't forgotten anything from her old life, for it had been built after the war that claimed her life and that of her father.
Lysira was quiet for a moment, as they walked side by side through a hallway large enough for a whole army to march through. Huge and cold and empty. A palace which could have housed thousands with ease, but only served as the home of a lonely queen and her few courtiers. It was hard for her to fathom how lonely her mother must have been ever since she lost her husband and her only child, for Vayadona hadn't been alone for a single moment in her still young second life.
“Have you seen him?”, her friend then whispered and even though she was quiet, her voice still echoed from the walls and the roof far above them. Vayadona raised an eyebrow. “Obviously”, she replied and Lysira immediately shook her head. “I don't mean that glamour he puts on whenever he's at court, the one where he could be mistaken for an elf, from afar at least. Have you seen how he really looks?”
Briefly, Vayadona had to remember back to one of her first memories, to Pyrdacor's shadow on the wall, winged and horned and massive. She shivered at the thought, before she looked back at Lysira. “He first approached your mother in his fair form, the one you have seen before”, her friend explained. “If not for the horns and the tone of his skin, I might have mistaken him for one of us. It was not until he left again that I realized how terribly wrong my assumption has been” Her mouth tightened and she visibly tensed up. “When he first left, he changed forms. Presented himself to Queen Orima's court in all his might. His golden shadow covered the entire city and though he was perfectly calm, it was clear that his wings could have brought a storm with them and his breath could have brought an inferno”, she whispered. “I don't claim to know his intentions, but I think it's important to know that had he desired it, he could have killed us all there and then, your mother and all of her courtiers. Instead, he first approached the queen not as a dragon, but as a gallant elf-lord. If he wanted our death, he would have brought it upon us when he first came to this court”
“Instead he opened a temple and, what, preaches?”, Vayadona asked and Lysira shrugged. “Pretty much. Every day it's either him or one of those snake-headed priests who came with him”, she confirmed. “And it's starting to work even. There's a surprisingly high amount of converts, though I've yet to see the appeal. We already have Nurti and Zerzal and Simia...” Immediately, she paused and gave Vayadona a look of sheepish guilt.
“I mean...”, she began, but Vayadona cut her off. “I already know my mother made us worship my father after his death”, she replied. “I may not remember him, but I doubt he ever wanted to be worshipped as a god” She frowned. “A small miracle she did not do the same to me. Just because she wants to honour him in that way doesn't mean he's a god now. Just because so many of our people seem to believe in him doesn't make it any more real”
“If I may intervene, but I quite disagree”, a new voice chimed in. Lysira gasped, but Vayadona remained perfectly calm as she turned to the doorframe from where the voice had called out for them. She saw an elf there, a tall, well-built man. He had a pronounced jaw and strong facial features, similar to the statues that littered the courtyard, but even though he had the build of a warrior, his green eyes looked at her calmly and with undeniable intelligence. A mane of light blonde hair fell down to his shoulders and his tightly cut dress had a colour that reminded Vayadona of her own eyes. “Belief is exactly what makes it real”, he added in a smooth, deep timbre.
“And who might you be?”, Vayadona began, as the man's eyes widened ever so slightly. He took the hint of a bow in front of her. “Ah, where are my manners...”, he spoke. “My name is Ometheon. I'm a courtier of your mother's and sometimes her advisor” He narrowed his eyes. “We have been acquainted before your untimely demise”, he added. “Though they told me you won't remember me”
“He's an agitator. A firebrand who wastes his fortune trying to cause problems for your dear mother and our people”, Lysira hissed coldly. Ometheon replied with a light sneer into her direction. “And there she is, Lysira the Cowardly Heart”, he replied. “I figured I'd find you with our princess once again. Still tongue-tied on a certain matter with her, I presume?”
Vayadona briefly glanced at her friend, whose cheeks had gained a light shade of pink. “Do I really know him?”, she asked and after a second of hesitation, during which Lysira carefully avoided to look her in the eye, the elf gave her a nod. “Unfortunately”, she confirmed. “Though I never understood how you managed to tolerate him”
“She listened to me because I always spoke honestly to her”, Ometheon claimed. “Something you could learn a thing or two about, Cowardly Heart” His words made Lysira flinch and Vayadona narrowed her eyes. “That's enough, mylord”, she hissed. “Have you come to torment my friend, or do you simply wish to frustrate me by speaking about a past I cannot remember?” She shook her head. “You claim we were acquainted?”
“I for one would even say we were on friendly terms”, Ometheon added, his voice softer now, as he took an elegant bow in front of Vayadona. “As such, it is my pleasure to welcome you back among the living. Quiet miraculous, wouldn't you say?” Vayadona glanced at Lysira once more and noticed that her friend was entirely silent now. She looked at the floor, blushing in what she perceived to be anger at the unwanted company.
“Sometimes I'm not so sure about that”, she disagreed. “I may have a lot to learn about this world, but I know miracles are reserved for the gods. And as powerful as he is, Pyrdacor remains a being of flesh and blood” Ometheon flashed her a crooked smirk. “He is also scales, fire and an unholy amount of teeth”, he added. “May I walk with you? There's a point concerning your miraculous resurrection which I'd love to discuss, though I wouldn't want to keep your mother waiting”
Vayadona raised an eyebrow, before she glanced at Lysira. Quietly, she placed a hand on the other woman's shoulder. Though she did not remember what bond she shared with her, or with Ometheon, it was clear that she was dear to both of them. For the sake of the woman she used to be, she felt like she owed it to them to at least try and form a new connection. “It's your choice”, she offered.
Lysira looked up and Vayadona saw something within her eyes all of a sudden, a melancholy which she couldn't quite place. Her smile was small and thin, though she gave her a mild nod. “Now that he's here already, I suppose I can try and tolerate him”, she agreed. “For you, my princess” Vayadona replied with a pleasant smile. “I'll make sure to remember your kindness this time”, she promised.
With these words, she turned back to Ometheon. “Very well, you may accompany us”, she offered. “Earlier you disagreed on what I said. Humour me then, what is your stance?” Though Ometheon offered his arm for her to take, she left him standing and continued alongside Lysira. The man took a moment to collect himself before he caught up again, the smile on his face positively wolfish.
“You denied Pyrdacor's divinity by saying that belief alone is not what makes him a god”, he explained. “But what else is a god if not mortal belief given form? Our hopes, fears and desires personified. What is a god without belief?” Vayadona narrowed her eyes. “You make it sound as if they depend on us”, she brought up and Ometheon gave her an excited nod. “That's exactly what I mean”, he exclaimed. “There's many among my peers who do fine for themselves without believing in any gods, but a god is nothing without his believers”
“Don't listen to him”, Lysira remarked coldly. “He has always been a blasphemer, but his most recent theory... I don't know if I should be amused or offended by it!” Ometheon's smile was by no means as cold as Vayadona would have expected. It was warm and playful, as he looked from her to Lysira. “Intrigued, perhaps”, he offered. “If my theory is this ridiculous, then why do I have such a sizeable following?”
“And what is that theory of yours?”, Vayadona asked, not without genuine interest. Ometheon straightened his back. “It is clear that a god needs followers, even the faithful agree with me on that. But my theory is, what if it's belief itself that makes them gods in the first place?”, he explained. “I say there's a certain energy within each of us, a spark which the gods require. By praying to them, by devoting our lives to the gods, we devote this spark to them and grant them strength”
Lysira rolled her eyes, but Vayadona was not so quick to dismiss his claims. “That means with enough believers...”, she began and Ometheon gave her a nod. “Anyone could reap this power and become a god, yes”, he confirmed. “The only question I have about Pyrdacor's divinity is if he's already strong enough. This much can be doubted at least, but if what he did with you is any indication, true godhood will be well within his reach soon enough”
“This fool dabbles in matter best left untouched”, the voice hissed, without warning and loud enough to make her frown.
“It won't end well for him” As expected, neither Ometheon nor Lysira actually noticed anything, as she narrowed her eyes. “I... understand...”, she mumbled, trying to ignore the voice's almost angry sound. This was what threw her off. It would be easy to dismiss Ometheon's theory, but the voice seemed unusually agitated.
“If the dragon hears you like this, he'll kill you”, Lysira spoke grimly, but Ometheon merely shrugged. “I'd be surprised if he hasn't heard of my theory already”, he replied. “If I'm wrong, I'm no threat to him, he might even find it amusing. But if I'm right, he'll certainly take an interest in my research. Either way it's good for me”
“We're there, mylady”, Lysira interrupted him, pointing at the door at the other end of the hallway. “Your mother's small audience room” She glanced at Ometheon. “Much as I hate to interrupt”, she added in a cold tone. Ometheon chuckled. “I'm sure you do”, he spoke, before he took a small bow in front of Vayadona. “Another time then?”, he asked. “It is an extensive topic and I am always happy to speak to an interested audience” Vayadona flashed him a brief, but genuine smile. “I can't make any promises”, she replied. “But I'm sure we'll meet again”
“It'll be my pleasure, Princess Vayadona”, Ometheon replied and turned away from them. Lysira frowned as she watched him walk down the hallway. “You should be careful around him, my princess”, she whispered. “He's a dangerous man” Vayadona raised an eyebrow. “More dangerous than the god-dragon?”, she asked, as she gave her friend a wide, toothy smile. “Figured as much”
“Your mother won't like this. You speaking to this man, I mean”, Lysira warned her and Vayadona shrugged. “I'd be grateful if she never learns about this”, she replied, as she placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. Lysira actually tensed up at her touch, though she managed to reply with a short, genuine smile. “Then I'll be quiet”, she promised. “As long as you will try to be careful when dealing with him. His ideas are radical, but even I cannot deny their appeal”
“Is that such a bad thing?”, Vayadona asked and her friend gave her a grim nod. “They are even more dangerous than Ometheon himself”, she spoke. “Imagine what would happen if too many people decided to believe in his ideas over the gods your mother established for our people. If they lose trust in the pantheon, if they start to think that they themselves can be better gods if only they amass enough power” She shivered visibly. “This empire was built to endure many calamities, but should the day ever come where most of us would rather try to gain this power for themselves instead of living good, honest and humble lives, it would collapse before noon”
She knocked against the door, only a little bit, but it swung open by itself. The room behind was bathed in light, a stark contrast to the gloomy, depressing halls of the half-empty palace. Though Lysira had announced it as the queen's small audience room, this mighty chamber was anything but small. Twice as large as her own overwhelmingly large quarters, it was made of white marble, with an arched ceiling high above her. It was as large as it was empty, with the only furniture of note being a set of armchairs around a small table.
There was a large opening in the far wall, interrupted by half a dozen columns, where Vayadona could see a balcony. And behind it and below, the towers of Tie'Shanna, the capital of her mother's realm, sprawling as far as she could see, with its mansions and gardens and with the lower city, so far below of what her mother allowed her to see, yet not entirely invisible either.
The blind queen sat in one of the armchairs facing the balcony, her mane of silvery hair tied into a ponytail and gently falling down to her shoulder. She was not wearing the diamond-carved tiara that served as her crown on this day, yet even now, dressed almost casually and with her back turned, she was regality personified. Her light blue dress exposed her shoulders and on her left, the star-shaped birthmark was clearly visible.
“Vayadona”, she said at once and even though she wasn't even looking at her daughter on top of being, well, blind, Vayadona took a brief, unnecessary bow in front of her. “Mother...”, she mumbled and now, Queen Orima glanced over her shoulder. Though she was still not directly looking at her with her milky eyes, the warm smile on her face widened. “Come closer, child”, she said. “Take a seat”
“You wanted to see me?”, Vayadona asked and her mother gave her a slight nod. “Though queenly duties rarely allow me an afternoon like this, I have decided to leave them be for now”, the queen explained. “I thought perhaps we could spend this day together. I'm sure you must have many questions” The princess frowned, though her dour expression faded as she saw her mother's smile. Then, she gave her a nod. “One or two perhaps”, she admitted.
As Vayadona approached her mother, Lysira remained behind. The princess stopped as she noticed the forlorn look her friend was giving her. Though she barely felt the same connection they once shared, this look moved something within her. She could hardly remember anything from before, but she knew that two hundred years had passed in which Lysira had kept her in her heart.
“Will you wait for me?”, she asked. “Maybe you can tell me more about whom I used to be” Lysira paused for a moment, before a genuinely pleased smile formed on her face. “I'd like that”, she replied. Then, she took a bow in front of Orima and Vayadona. “I'll wait outside, your grace”, she said. “My princess”
Orima raised an eyebrow as the elven woman closed the door behind her. “You should know, Lysira has waited for two hundred years for you”, she replied. “It's true that some of us can mourn for a long time, but Lysira's grief has remained with her for two centuries. If not for the dragon and his miracle, she would have never gotten over it”
“You have that in common”, Vayadona spoke and hesitantly, she sat down next to her mother. Orima reached for her hand, gently grasping it and giving her a wide, warm smile. “We no longer have to”, she spoke. “You are back and that is all that matters” Vayadona remained like this for a moment, with her mother holding her hand, feeling warm, safe and secure. “And the price?”, she asked, thinking back to that dreadful day, when the dragon had ripped her from the void and forced her into a life she could barely even hope to grow into, all for a deal she only just begun to understand.
Orima's smile faded. “Pyrdacor asked for a high price and still I would have given him the stars on the nightly sky on top of it”, she spoke in a stern voice. “You are worth any price the dragon could have named” Vayadona found herself grasping her mother's hand a bit tighter, as even she felt something. Affection for the woman who was willing to sacrifice anything to get her only child back from an enemy no queen could ever hope to defeat.
“Lysira told me he opened a temple”, Vayadona added. “I... don't trust his intentions, that is all” To her surprise, her mother had a knowing smile on her face. “Neither do I”, she admitted. “It's why I asked Lysira to keep an eye on his sermons. When it comes to Pyrdacor, I am willing to trust no one but a handful of people in this palace. And who deserves my trust more than the only woman in this entire realm who is as devoted to you as I am”
“Devotion...”, Vayadona mumbled and she suddenly pulled away from her mother. “That was something I wanted to talk to you about” Queen Orima raised an eyebrow, carefully watching her daughter as Vayadona rose from her seat, to approach the door to the balcony. It was a warm and pleasant day and she could feel the cold breeze playing with her hair as she slowly stepped out of the room. “That's another thing I wanted to speak to you about”, she then said.
Quietly, so quiet that the princess flinched, her mother appeared behind her. In the light of the sun, her white dress seemed not so plain anymore. It seemed to absorb the light, glowing from within, like a thousand tiny stars. Her hair had a similar shimmer to it and though her eyes were milky and blind, even they seemed to glow as the queen looked at her daughter. Standing next to her made the princess feel small, mousy even and all of a sudden, she wished she would have changed her dress from the plain grey silk she wore right now into something a little more fashionable. “Speak then”, Orima replied in a mild tone.
Vayadona took a deep breath, as she looked upon the city. Tie'Shanna was a sprawling metropolis, the largest and youngest of the elven cities, the one Orima had named her entire realm after. Built on the border between the elven domain and the Empire of Zze Tha, where the golden dragon dwelled, it stood in sight of the lush jungle Pyrdacor had made for his subjects. And yet, even though two empires shared a border here, Vayadona could not deny that it felt peaceful. Her fine eyes picked up movement in the streets below, countless elves walking side by side with the Achaz, the most common of Pyrdacor's subjects, trading freely with them, chatting and laughing, sharing their homes and their lives.
On another occasion, she might have been able to enjoy this sight and the radiant presence of her mother next to her. But right now, Ometheon's words were gnawing at her and they only supported her own feelings on the topic. Her gaze remained on the temple district of Tie'Shanna and though she had no idea whom most of the buildings were devoted to from afar, she quickly spotted the patch of land where a new temple was built, larger than any of the others, the walls coated in solid gold.
“I established the elven pantheon to give our people a semblance of order”, Orima explained, having followed her daughter's gaze. “The Nameless Horde that invaded our lands from beyond the eastern mountains drew their power from the Rat-Child and it was unlike anything we ever had to face, anything we could even understand” She leant onto the railing next to Vayadona and let out a sigh. “Your father gave his life to slay the demon that led the horde”, she added. “When I wept over his broken body, I swore that I would do everything to preserve his legacy. To strengthen our people. To unite the fragile tribes into a mighty realm. To give them cities and streets, a standing army and standardized laws. I gave them leaders and above all other, I gave them gods to pray to, to give them hope when times are dire and joy when times are pleasant and to strengthen their resolve should we ever have to face an enemy like the Rat-Child's Horde once more”
“And you turned father into one of these gods”, Vayadona replied, sharper than she meant to. Her mother's serene smile grew smaller. “I gave them many gods”, she spoke. “Gentle Nurti, the beginning that was yearned for and her sister, wolf-headed Zerzal, the end that was promised. Madaya, who weaves light and dream and her brother Dagal Badoc who sacrificed his entire being to spare his people from the Wind of Dhaza. Your father... was never intended to stand alongside them, but once I saw how his people still needed him in their lives, how his wisdom and guidance were missed, I... realized that though gone from this world, he could remain a part of the realm I built in his memory”
“And would he be fine with it?”, Vayadona asked. For once, her mother did not reply at once. Orima looked down onto the city with a quiet, almost forlorn expression. “Your father followed no gods”, she then replied. “He rejected the concept, because he never understood it. I don't believe in them either, but I realized that they could give my people hope when even my strength will fail them. And I know that your father would have wanted that too” She shook her head. “To answer your question, your father wouldn't have wanted to be a god, but if that's what it takes to steel the hearts of his people, to teach them about the virtues he lived for, then it is a sacrifice he would have made gladly”
Vayadona nodded quietly. Her father never wanted to be worshipped. Deep down she knew that already and it only added to her pain. Her death led him down that dark road, to face that Nameless Horde and to die defending his people. Now he had no choice but to be worshipped as her mother demanded it. And if Ometheon was right with his theory, her father would ascend to proper divinity in time, if he wasn't there already. “What about the others?”, she asked. “Were any of them like father?”
Orima looked past her and into the distance, her blind eyes sparkling with joy at a memory that flashed through her mind. “I remember the joy I shared with Nurti and I remember hunting with Zerzal. Madaya still dreams in the wilds of Sala Mandra and Dagal... there was a time where he needed only to ask and I would have followed him, to the end of the world if need be. We would have faced the Wind of Dhaza together, we would have faded alongside each other to a place beyond light and dream and I would have simply remained Orima instead of becoming your father's star-marked queen”
Vayadona clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into the flesh as she blinked. “You turned your childhood friends into gods”, she realized and Orima gave her a grim nod. “They deserve to be remembered”, she spoke. “So many of our people died against the Nameless Horde, so many were forgotten. I would not let our greatest champions befall such a fate. And when a new generation of elves yearned for a pantheon to pray to, I gave it to them” Her smile returned, thinly and hesitantly, but with genuine affection. “You would remember them too, if not for your memory”, she added. “They knew you well and they loved you, each in their own way”
“If not for my memory, yes”, Vayadona mumbled in a numb tone. She could barely look away from those temples, monuments to people she used to know, friends and family, now worshipped as gods for people who didn't know better. Or perhaps they didn't even want to know better.
“There's worse masters to serve than gods of smoke and mirrors”, the voice whispered, now seemingly right next to her ear, close enough for her to feel its breath upon the wind.
“But there's better ones too. A god, a real god, worthy of your people's devotion. There's one who thinks himself to be just that”“Pyrdacor...”, Vayadona muttered and Orima raised an eyebrow. “I allowed him to build a temple and he may preach to my people, yes”, she replied. “But that does not make him a part of my pantheon. However, for what he did for me, for you, he deserves a chance to prove himself” The voice chuckled at the queen's words.
“Foolish queen, blind queen...”, it whispered.
“A single chance is all he needs. And yet, for all the ill he can bring, he might be the only hope your people have to endure the ravages of time”“And me?”, Vayadona then asked, as she looked at her mother. “What if the dragon couldn't have brought me back? Would I be part of your pantheon now?” Though her tone was bitter, her resolve weakened the moment she saw the expression on her mother's face. There was no trace of the frustration she herself felt, no anger, not even the hints of grief Lysira still expressed. There was only a mother's love for her daughter.
Softly, Orima placed an arm around her and this time, Vayadona allowed it. “I let go of them because I knew their time was up”, she spoke. “But you were so young, so innocent. When the healers finally allowed me to see you, when they told me that there was nothing they could do to save you, I refused to accept it. And I knew in that moment, as I do right now, that no matter how long it will take, I will never give up on my daughter”
Vayadona felt tears welling up in her eyes. “I... am afraid”, she then admitted and this time, the voice inside of her was entirely silent. She felt it listening to her words and, with particular care, to what her mother was about to reply. “You knew me and you loved me”, she continued. “You were willing to sacrifice anything to save me. And I... I can't even remember you. The memories we used to share, the things you're telling me about, it is as if you're speaking about a complete stranger. If my memories never return, I fear... I fear that I'll end up a different person from the Vayadona you kept in your heart for so long” She took a deep breath and looked her mother straight in the eye. “What if I'm no longer the daughter you loved?”, she finally gave voice to the fear that had been gnawing on her for several days now.
Orima was silent after this. She looked at her daughter with those blind eyes of hers, her expression inscrutable, for what felt like an eternity. Then, slowly, her smile returned. It was a comforting sight, an expression full of love and light. “Turn around”, she then said and after hesitating for a second, Vayadona did as she was asked. Immediately, a bewildered gasp escaped her throat. “What... is that?”, she managed to utter.
There was a boat soaring through the air in the distance, a genuine sailing boat, sleek and graceful, with a hull made of white wood. It was larger than the boats she had read about, a proper warship, only that it was sailing through the sky, passing over the walls and towers of Tie'Shanna. A pair of large metallic wings was attached to the hull, though they seemed to have little more than decorative purposes, as did the central sail, which most certainly wasn't what kept this massive ship afloat.
“An airship, fresh from the arcane workshops at Vyavinda”, Orima explained. “The first of its kind, but many more will follow” Though her smile was kind as she looked at Vayadona, her gaze had something steely to it. “The god-dragon thinks he owns the skies. I intend to show him otherwise”, she added. “This is the product of a century of arcane research, metalwork and boatbuilding. A new step for our people, a sign of the golden age that is to come for the elves”
“A golden age that was stolen from you before it even begun”, the voice whispered again. This time, however, Vayadona tried her best to ignore its remarks, as much as she yearned to hear the truth within them. Right now, she stared at the airship with child-like wonder. It was massive, larger than most of the houses within Tie'Shanna and yet, it soared through the sky silently and with awe-inspiring grace.
“You have brought me here to see this”, Vayadona realized and her mother gave her a nod. “Losing your memories is a cruel fate”, Orima replied. “I know how frustrating it must be to be part of a world you do not remember” She turned to the airship in the distance. “And yet, there is beauty in this world and a kindness in experiencing it for the first time”, she continued. “I am here to assure you that you don't need to be afraid to meet anyone's expectations. You are my daughter and nothing in the world will ever change that”
Carefully, Vayadona leant closer, placing her head on her mother's shoulder, as they watched the airship soaring over the city. “But...”, she began, though her mother immediately shushed her. “But nothing”, she whispered in her ear. “You are Princess Vayadona of the Fenvar, you are my daughter. That will never change, no matter if you end up different from the woman you used to be”
“She is lying to you”, the voice whispered.
“She may not know it yet, but the day will come where you will disappoint her” Vayadona tensed up, trying her best to ignore the voice, focussing entirely on her mother's warm embrace. “You promise?”, she asked and her mother gave her a kiss on the forehead. “By all the stars that brighten the night, by Simia and Madaya, I promise”, she replied. “And no matter how long you need to recover, I will remain by your side”
Luna, again
She still felt the warmth of the elven queen's embrace as she woke up, surrounded by cold, damp walls. Orima's words still lingered in her ears, her promise still made her heart beat faster. And the voice, that soothing, inhuman voice that had rung right within her head, it still echoed through her thoughts.
“Mother...”, she gasped. Frantically, she looked around, as she realized that Orima was no longer with her. “Mother!”, she yelled, as all she saw were bleak walls of stone, a small room with a narrow bed and a small bowl of water as the only two pieces of furniture. It was dark, though her fine eyes could still pick up the remnants of light that found their way in through the tiny window. From there, cold flooded the room and though it never really affected her, right now she was shivering, partially due to the contrast of the warm summer afternoon she had just witnessed and partially out of sheer, naked fear.
Where was she? Where was her mother? Lysira, Ometheon, even Pyrdacor... not even the voice was there, that presence she had felt for her entire life. “Mother!”, she yelled again, as she jumped up from the bed. She was alone, she was scared and confused, as memories clashed within her mind. Mother... a human woman, plump, stocky and auburn-haired... an elven queen, silver-haired and star-marked, blind and all-seeing.
The door... she heard the creak, saw the doorknob turning. Someone was there. “Mother?”, she asked again, as the door got pushed open. But it was not her mother who entered the room. A man stood in the doorframe, a tall, gaunt human. His age was undefinable, vaguely forty perhaps, but he carried himself with the refined dignity of a man far older than that. He had a long, thin face with an aquiline nose and high cheekbones. Black hair, with early signs of grey on the sides, short and elegantly combed back, as well as thick eyebrows above calm, dark and slightly bloodshot eyes. The man was clad entirely in dark colours, with a fine black cloak draped around his shoulders.
“Who...”, she gasped, as she staggered away from him, quickly pressing herself against the wall behind her. The tall man was quiet, as he watched her calmly, his face not showing even a hint of emotion. Confused, dizzy and out of her mind with fear, she sunk to the ground. “Who are you?”, she yelled and now, the man briefly narrowed his eyes. Then, he strode into the room, before closing the door behind himself.
“I could ask you the same thing”, he replied. His voice was deep and strong, booming even though he spoke calmly and quietly. It was one of those voices that could easily force themselves to be heard, one of those which could silence a crowd with a single word. And yet, though no emotion swung with it, the baritone sound was decidedly pleasant and his calmness actually rubbed off on her. “Who are you?”
“I...”, she began, as she forced herself to take a deep breath. “Who... am...” Her eyes widened and on all fours, she crawled over to the bowl of water on the floor. It was clear and showed her reflection. Vayadona... briefly she expected to see the princess gazing back at her. And yet, instead of the dragon's golden eyes, the ones that she looked at her violet. Raven black hair instead of silvery-white. Her expression was scared, confused and tired. “Luna...”, she then realized. “I am Luna Tailor”
The stranger gave her a nod. “Correct”, he confirmed. “Asch told me what you've been experiencing and that brief moments of confusion are completely normal, when your mind readjusts to your own memories” Now, his thin lips formed a narrow, toothless smile. “I heard you screaming and decided to check up on you”
Luna mustered him from head to toe. Though thin, his posture was unable to hide the wiry strength hidden within his body. “My thanks”, she mumbled, before she narrowed her eyes. “Who are you? And where's Asch?” Though she dreaded the Night Elf and what he might have planned for her, she was certain he would not harm her. This man though, he was a stranger and even on better days, she knew that it was best to be wary around them.
“You may call me Curunir”, the man introduced himself. “And Asch, he is busy. The bright queen is here too and like a cur at the feet of his mistress, he can't wait to follow her every command” Luna's eyes widened. “The queen... Do you mean Orima?” Now, Curunir actually chuckled, just once, before he composed himself again. “Orima Marked-by-Stars has died thousands of years ago”, he told her. “You know who would succeed her, don't you?”
“Vayadona...”, Luna gasped and the man shook his head. “A name from a past she left behind”, he spoke. “I am surprised you do not know her. Isn't every elf growing up with tales of her misdeeds? The temptress of bodies, bringer of desires, she-who-blinds-the-world” Luna gulped, before she slightly shook her head. “I grew up among humans”, she admitted.
Curunir raised his thick eyebrows. “Intriguing”, he spoke. “That might explain your scent” Luna gulped. “My... scent?”, she growled. The man's tone was still affable, but she knew better than to let her guard down. “It is fascinating”, he explained. “Unique among your kind, if not to say downright enticing. It lingered in the air ever since Asch has brought you here and ever since, he kept me guessing about your true origins. An elf so badoc that she doesn't even know the word”
“I know what badoc means!”, Luna claimed, lying through her teeth in a futile attempt to show some strength. Curunir smiled, a bit wider this time. “Sure you do”, he replied. “I do not judge you. Perhaps it is your unique upbringing that makes you so perfect for what Asch and his mother queen have in mind”
In this moment, Luna noticed something about the man in front of her. She had spent her entire life among humans and she knew them well, especially how their body worked. Her heightened senses were all she needed to be certain. His chest was not rising, not even a shallow bit. For the entirety of their conversation at least, he hadn't taken a breath.
He narrowed his eyes as he noticed the shocked expression on her face. Easily following her gaze, he glanced at his own chest and a knowing smile formed on his face. “My bad”, he spoke in an apologetic tone, before he took a demonstratively deep breath. “A habit I picked up a while ago. Sometimes I forget how unsettling this must seem to you”
“What...”, she gasped, as she still stared at him. Physically, Curunir seemed entirely human, but this small detail clued her in that he was something else entirely. He shrugged. “I don't think I am allowed to tell you”, he replied. “Apologies for that” He narrowed his eyes and briefly, there was a hungry streak within them, something he suppressed almost immediately, but not quickly enough for her to catch up on it. “I... would like to talk to Asch now”, she mumbled.
Instead of backing off, Curunir took a step closer. “I could show you what I am”, he offered. “The many colours of the night” She clenched her fists, trying to back off, but in the small room, there was nowhere she could run to. “But you... you reek of fear. You are unwilling”, the man whispered and his tone, though briefly threatening and with an almost feral growl underneath, resumed to the calm, affable state it had before. “I do not feed on the unwilling. A man needs a code like that, rules to keep the beast in check” He took a step away and Luna let out a sigh of relief. “You have nothing to fear from me”, he promised and for what it was worth, he sounded genuine. “In this entire tower, I might be the one you should be afraid of the least”
“Tower... I'm in a tower then”, Luna spoke and Curunir raised an eyebrow. He was still calm, but he had said something he wasn't supposed to reveal, she was certain of it. “Yes, you are”, he then said. “Not that it'll help you much. As long as the queen keeps an eye on you, you will not leave. And even if you manage to get out of here, it's the middle of winter. You'll freeze to death before you reach any shelter” He was going to say something else, when suddenly, he paused. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a displeased snarl. Then, he placed a finger on his lips and Luna, listening carefully, actually heard what he meant. Footsteps, approaching the door.
“She is strong, my queen”, a male voice spoke and Luna knew who it was. Even in her deepest nightmares, she would recognize Asch the Night Elf. “Stronger than you expected. Her reaction to the memory stone is admittedly fascinating” A chuckle reached Luna's ears, fair and cold, like the winter sun shining upon a field of snow. “I can see your fascination quite clearly, my knight”, a woman spoke and Luna tensed up. That voice... Vayadona and not Vayadona. She recognized it from her dream, but at the same time, it oozed confidence, authority and might. It was the voice of a queen, no longer that of a princess torn by her insecurities and doubts.
“It is rare to see you so excited these days”, Vayadona continued, as her voice came closer. “It's these lands, my queen. There's hardly any excitement to be found among humans. They're cowardly and weak. Even those who have a bit of a fight within them, an ounce of bravery, they still break as easy as the rest of them”, Asch replied bluntly. “But the girl has gained my curiosity. I believe her mother's blood might be the reason for this odd reaction. We never tested the stone on a lea elf before”
“Such a desire for truth”, Vayadona chirped. “I felt the same once. Let her see all of it then, if she is truly as valuable as you are led to believe, I shall grant her this much” The voices were close by now, almost in front of the door. “She will not disappoint”, Asch promised. “And neither will I” Luna tensed up, as she heard him talking, just on the other side of the door. Curunir meanwhile seemed nervous, though he remained perfectly still. “You never do, my knight”, Vayadona said softly.
“The girl should be asleep right now. Would you like to be there when I wake her?”, Asch asked and she heard his hand on the doorknob. “Not yet”, Vayadona replied and Luna allowed herself to relax a little bit. She was not ready for any of this, but to meet Asch's queen now, the woman whose memories she had seen, this was something she would never be ready for. “The ritual demands my full attention right now. I'll have the time in a few days”
“As you wish, my queen”, Asch spoke, his voice shivering with reverence. Though Luna did not hear any footsteps move away from the door, the next time the queen spoke, she was farther away than before. “One more thing before I leave, Asch”, she stated and briefly, her tone was colder, enough for Luna to shiver. “The girl is not alone right now. Perhaps you should know that”
Curunir's eyes widened, as the sound of steel being drawn reached Luna's ears through the door. “I see”, Asch spoke. “Thank you, my queen. I shall deal with this” A moment later, the doorknob turned and as the night elf opened the door, Luna saw him wielding a small dagger in one hand. The hallway behind him was empty, no trace remained of his queen.
“What are you doing here, leech?”, Asch growled, his eyes shining with malice as he glared at Curunir. The other man looked back entirely unmoved by the night elf's threatening pose and the steel in his hand. “She woke up early”, he replied. “Alone. Confused. Her memories mingling with those of your mistress. She screamed for help and I tried to provide it” He narrowed his eyes. “Taking a page from your book, shakagra, I suppose I could have ignored her screams instead”
Asch moved faster than Luna's still-confused mind could even comprehend. In one moment, he stood perfectly still. In the other, he spun towards the other man, pressing the dagger against his throat. Curunir growled, the tone being low, almost feral, but it was nothing compared to the wild fury in Asch's eyes. “Be careful about that tone, Curunir”, he hissed. “You are so used to being above anyone you encounter that you have forgotten to respect your betters. Vagrants and beggars, even most of your fellow leeches, you stand above them, I admit it. But do you truly think you can speak like that to me?” His black eyes gleamed with fury. “Me!”, he growled. “Walmir tried the same and I've beaten every ounce of resistance from his body”
“Walmir...”, Curunir hissed, his voice barely audible, as the knife against his throat did not allow him to raise his voice above a whisper.. “A brute with a sword. Frankly, I am surprised he remained on top for as long as he did” Luna tensed up as she saw the light flaring up within the man's closed fist. Magic... growing up in rural Tobria, Luna had learned to respect and fear the arcane arts. Asch was a mage too, of course, but something felt different about the almost casual way with which Curunir's fingers formed the spell.
The Night Elf did not hesitate. Without a warning, his knife sliced across the other man's throat, the blade digging into the flesh deeply, opening Curunir's entire neck from ear to ear with one swift, precise cut. Luna screamed as he saw blood pouring from the gruesome wound. Immediately, Curunir's spell faded, as the man staggered back, pressing one hand against the gaping hole in his throat. Blood, so much blood seeped through his fingers and his eyes were wide with shock.
To her growing horror, he did not collapse on the floor as she expected. Curunir remained standing, glaring at Asch with fury in his gaze. The Night Elf meanwhile seemed calmer than before, now sporting a condescending smirk as he watched his opponent. His mortally injured opponent... or was he? Luna's eyes widened as Curunir removed his hand from his throat again. The flesh beneath was whole again and though it was still stained with blood, it showed no sign of an injury.
“You...”, Curunir growled and his baritone voice sounded more raspy than before. “You knew this would not kill me” Asch briefly turned away from him and glanced at Luna. “Of course”, he admitted. “I still hope it hurt terribly. Killing you, much as I would enjoy it, would go against the queen's orders” He gave Luna a sly wink. “However, if she ever gives the order, here's how I'd do it...”
And with these words, he spun back towards Curunir, once more too fast for Luna to fully comprehend his movement. He did not raise the dagger. Instead, he moved the other hand towards Curunir's left eye and she saw something sharp gleaming within his palm. Curunir gasped and backed off, but the thin needle in the night elf's hand still came to a stop just a hair's width away from his eye.
“This would kill you, wouldn't it?”, Asch remarked and it was less of a question and more a statement. “Even if I were to shove it into your eyeball just a tiny bit, the wound would never heal” Curunir's expression changed. The calmness was gone, replaced by surprise, perhaps even a hint of fear. “I... apologize”, he then spoke and a pleased smile appeared on Asch's face, as he slowly lowered the needle. “See?”, he chirped. “It wasn't that hard. Respect, Curunir. You showed it to Walmir once, before I beat and broke him into submission. Now I expect the same respect towards me”
“I understand”, Curunir claimed. “What would you have me do?” Asch chuckled. “Your former master needs to be fed again. That's always a mess and, frankly, beneath me. Go and take care of it, then clean up after him” The mage straightened his back and though physically human, he was almost as tall as Asch. “As you demand”, he spoke, before he turned to the door.
“One more thing, Curunir!”, Asch called out for him once more and faithfully, the other man stopped dead in his tracks. “Be a good leech. Walmir needs to be starved, so give him just enough to keep the beast in check” Curunir sighed. “A cruel treatment, mylord”, he spoke, his voice having regained his calmness, now with a hint of respect swinging within. “Should he ever break free...”
“Should he ever break free, I'll deal with him once again”, Asch promised, before Curunir closed the door behind him. Now alone with the Night Elf, Luna finally sunk to the floor. Asch raised an eyebrow, as tears welled up within her eyes. “Do not cry, girl”, he spoke coldly. “You are not injured, you are not in danger, so there is no need for tears”
Still, she began to sob, unable to help it, as she stared at him. She could see her own reflection in his solid black eyes, not an ounce of pity on Asch's face, though neither was there cruelty or the subtle horror she felt when she looked at Curunir. He merely rolled his eyes. “I do not take you for someone who breaks so easily”, he told her. “And neither is breaking you my goal here”
“Then what”, she managed to press through clenched teeth. “What do you want from me? You lock me in here, force me to relive your queen's past and you can't even tell me why?” Asch was quiet after that. He knelt down in front of her, now at eye level, before he raised the needle he had used to threaten Curunir with. Up close, Luna realized that it was more of a hairpin, finely crafted and with a familiar sigil on it. A snake, the holy animal of Hesinde.
“A gift”, Asch told her. “Curunir fears this symbol, for it has the power to harm him. He has a control over his base instincts that goes beyond that of his fellow leeches, but deep down, he remains a feral beast, driven by hunger” He waited for a moment for her to grab the hairpin, but when she did not react quickly enough, he simply placed it on the floor next to her. “Should he ever try to harm you, you will be able to defend yourself with this”
“You're avoiding the question”, she said and Asch shot her a cold smirk. “You're right, I do”, he confirmed. “The Mother Queen has granted you the truth, but I don't think you're ready for all of it at once” Briefly, he hesitated, before he reached into the pocket of his mantle. “Just be assured that we don't seek to harm you”, he claimed. “You are safe here. Never forget that”
“Safe...”, Luna hissed. “You think I believe anything you say after you murdered Alfred and Guthmund?” Asch gave her a blank stare. “I don't see how this is relevant”, he then spoke and his voice made it clear to her that this was truly how he felt. “I told them what would happen should they not give you up and I kept my word. If anything, take it as proof that I always mean what I say. You won't find me making empty threats, nor empty promises”
She clenched her fists, heavily biting down on her tongue not to snap at him right then. He was stronger in any way she could imagine and possibly some she could not even comprehend. To antagonize him would be a mistake. “If this is all, shall we continue?”, the night elf asked, as he opened his fist. In it, he revealed the small, shiny stone.
Immediately, she had to suppress the growing reflex to jump up and try to run past him. He was faster, she had seen it back when he had attacked the cart. There was no way past him. “I... I can't do this again”, she spoke, the last memory still ringing within her mind. It felt so real, so much like one of her own memories and this confused her, it scared her and just thinking about it gave her a throbbing headache.
“You can”, Asch disagreed. “You have your mother's blood, yes, but there's strength also and resilience within you” His tone was calm and honest, the closest thing to a compliment he had ever given her. “My mother...”, she mumbled and as she closed her eyes, she saw not the woman who raised her for her entire life, but blind Queen Orima. “You... you know my mother?”
Asch took a step closer. “All in due time, Marked Second”, he whispered. “You have seen the queen's mother, haven't you? Orima Marked-by-Stars, wife of a god, mother of a goddess” His smile was gone entirely, replaced by a cold, harsh expression. “My kind remembers her as the Liar Queen, a woman so cold she failed to even love her own daughter”
Luna thought back at what she had seen, before she shook her head. “She loved Vayadona”, she disagreed. “I saw it. I... I felt it” Asch narrowed his eyes. “You have seen but a fragment of the truth and yet you think you know better than me?”, he growled. “The Liar Queen would have killed me and my brethren as infants had she lived long enough to see our birth. She would have killed her own daughter had she known half of what she would accomplish. That is the woman you have seen, that is the Liar Queen. She earned the hatred we feel towards her” He glanced at the stone within his fingers, before he looked back at Luna. “We have wasted enough time with this”, he added in a sharp tone. “Close your eyes”
For a moment, she considered hesitating, before she saw his arm moving towards her. “Please, n...”, she managed to press out, closing her eyes just as he pressed the stone against her head for the second time. Once again, darkness engulfed her, a void as black as Asch's eyes, swallowing any defiance she still had within her.
And once more, there were threads of gold within the void, shining brighter this time, pulsating, almost calling out for her. Love... as she looked at one of them, the feeling was almost overwhelming. And another, shimmering golden, interwoven with a deep red, radiating sheer power. She only needed to reach out for it...
[Explore the memory of love] [Explore the memory of strength]