Queen's Light

Amata {Part II}

Walking. Endlessly, tirelessly, seemingly for ages. Lungs stinging in brisk air, legs shaking with effort, hands going numb as they swung—

A splash, and all there was to see was the revenant-like face reflected in the water. Gaunt cheeks, grayed skin like stone pulled taut across sharp bones, eyes like a void of black, thick strands of shadowy hair encompassing it all. She straightened, blinking at the face reflected in the water. A face she had not seen in...quite some time. Or what felt like it. She reached a hand to the side of her head, catching sight of a lifeless hand, partially concealed by the tight sleeve of the dark and billowing robes she wore. Tendrils of blood-red mist emanated from her fingertips, wrapping around her arms before blowing away in some mysterious breeze, following the trail of her cloak.

"Do you remember this place, Úmrtia?"

She stiffened upon recognizing the voice. "The place of the Rupture. Where we first made our acquaintance."

"Correct."

Úmrtia glanced back towards the puddle of water. "And this...image...you have deigned to show me..."

"All is going according to how it will be," came the reply. "How it should."

She let out a breath, rather slowly and deliberately, as though breathing were not something she was accustomed to. "This...what you are planning...is larger than the other times." She turned to face him, the full force of her empty eyes boring into him. "I do hope you realize that no matter how you go about things...you were always doomed to end with me."

He blinked through the fire in his gaze. "No. By then, you," he gestured, "shall be back in your cell where you rightfully belong. Where you do not have jurisdiction over our existence."

She tilted her head, almost intrigued by the flaws in his reasoning. She opened her mouth to speak, but froze as something within her mind clicked into place. "You were behind Rhiannon's poisoning. You caused it...planted the seed into another's mind for carrying out." The shadows cascading from her hazy form coalesced in her hand. A glaive appeared in her grip, metal of glinting black and intricate in design. She pointed it at him. "Just when I did not think you could make more of an enemy out of me."

"You did that yourself," he spat, sparks flying like spittle. "When you became what you are."

"You wish to bring the world to its end," she slung back, "but you fail to realize that I am the end of all things, the absence of all existence. You bring about the destruction of this world, you merely further my reign."

"Yet, who of us allowed herself to do something so foolish as to fall in love with a mortal?"

She stilled, though the shadows surrounding her raged on. "You and I both know he is no mere mortal. You have certainly made sure of that. You have defied me, have hidden him from me, have taken everything and everyone away from him. We both know his importance. Know this, old friend. When next we meet, my glaive shall be at your throat."

She gasped. How was she...sitting upright? And out of breath?

Anger overwhelmed her. She grabbed the candlestick on the table beside the bed. "That...rat...BASTARD!" She threw it against the wall. It slammed against it with a clatter, firmly denting.

A knock sounded at her door. "Everything all right in there, Majesty?"

The guard. "Yes," she called. "I'm all right. Return to your post."

Amser above, she hated him. Just—just!—when she had been about to sling her glaive into his neck, he left. She supposed he was right to do so. While being decapitated didn't necessarily end in the death of an Aspect, especially one of the Cardinals, it most certainly wasn't pleasant.

Why was it, that after two years—why was it now that she was able to see Charles? How had he been hidden from her for so long?

She was certain that there was no easy answer, no simple circumstances. Gods, if she didn't want to just rip War in half. She suspected that was more of an urge on the part of her humanity. Still. Imagining the snap of his bones in her grip brought on a wave of satisfaction.

Rhiannon threw her covers aside, shivering as the cold seeping in from the windows reached her. The coals in the fireplace were long since dead, and it was yet too early for the maids to come to rekindle them. She placed her feet onto the ground, rolling her head from side to side. A bit on the dizzier side today. No matter. She stood and stretched, strolling to the window without bothering to throw her robe on. Though the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, the city had not yet awoken.

She knew what to do. The time felt right.

She dressed and packed quickly. There was little opportunity for her to steal away without notice. She dressed in her traveling leathers, throwing her thick woolen cloak about her shoulders. What little provisions she would require on the journey could be acquired in another town on the way.

Taking a small slip of parchment from her desk and dipping a nearby quill into an inkpot, she scrawled a hasty note to the Scholar. "Aylen—you're in charge now." She removed her signet ring, marked by the dragon with its tail in a knot, and rolled the paper within it. Slipping past the guards posted by her door proved difficult, but manageable, and soon she passed by Aylen's chamber door, tucking the roll of paper within the ring underneath the crack in the door.

She had one more stop to make.

Out in the courtyard, most of the foliage had faded into vibrant shades of oranges, yellows, and reds. All except one, which had merely ceased to bloom. Taking a cloth and some rope from her pack, Rhiannon gripped the sword embedded into the ground by its hilt, pulling it out and wrapping it up, securing it to her side though it was still covered.

It was more than a day's journey on horseback, weeks or more on foot. Paying for passage on a ship would risk someone discovering her identity, but taking the route across the bridge connecting them to the mainland added another four or five hours to her journey. In the end, she decided on going by way of the bridge. It was longer, but safer.

The stablehands had not yet arrived to their posts, making it easy enough to saddle up one of the castle's sturdier horses and make her way beyond the castle walls on horseback. The roads within the city were sparse, only just beginning to show signs of life by the time she made it into the market district. Once she was past the city gates, she spurred the horse into a full gallop, wanting to reach the other end of the bridge before nightfall.

She did not rest. Did not stop for food or drink. There was one thing on her mind, and that was her destination.

By midday, the weather had warmed. Not wanting to exhaust the horse, Rhiannon stopped by a small stream to the side of the road, taking an empty water skin from her pack and dismounting. The dizziness she had woken up with appeared to have increased over the course of the day. Her steps stumbled a bit, but she was quick to right herself. Perhaps she was not as badly off as she at first thought. She led the horse to the burbling water, allowing it to drink.

Meaning to fill the water skin, she knelt down—and almost immediately fell to the ground, consciousness having utterly abandoned her.