The forest had fallen silent, its denizens hiding from the humid heat of the midday sun. Calyx shifted Nerys, trying to release some of the ache from her shoulders, and peered through the leafy canopy at the great star. The shadow on its eastern edge seemed to be a little wider than yesterday. Frowning, she lowered Nerys down, propped her against the soft moss upon a fallen tree. With cool fingers brushed against her pale cheek, she roused her. Nerys looked up with feverish, pain-filled eyes.

“Are we there?” she murmured.

The desperate hope in her expression constricted Calyx’s heart, but she shook her head. “I thought we would have come across something by now. I want to go scouting, figure out where the hell we are, but I can’t take you with me through the Betwixt. Will you stay here for a little bit?”

Nerys leaned her head back against the green cushioning and closed her eyes. “Where else would I possibly go? Look at me, Calyx, I’m a wreck.”

Calyx bit at her lip, unhappy how accurate that description was. Her brow creased deeper, and she crouched down in front of Nerys.

“Will you be alright?”

Nerys’ eyes flashed open. “What are you, my Guardian? Will you just go, please? I will still be here when you get back – unfortunately.”

Calyx bit back her automatic retort, rose to her full height. She rolled out her shoulders, roused her magic in ripples across her skin, and quirked a brow at Nerys.

“Don’t die while I’m gone.”

Nerys snorted. “You wish.”

A half-smile crooked Calyx’s lips, and then she disappeared.

Abruptly alone in the quiet, deserted woods, Nerys allowed a heartfelt sigh to escape her. She slumped back against the massive log, relinquishing her hold on her self-control. Soft, silent tears shimmered down her cheeks, and for once, she didn’t fight them. She tucked her chin in, looking down at the wound in her chest. Angry red glared beneath the green and black lines of infection that spiderwebbed across her flesh. At their centre, the parasite itself glinted dully in the sunlight. As she gazed down at it, it hummed, and the dark stain of Chaos gathered close about her. Unintelligible, insidious whispers echoed around her ears. They crooned to her, offering a way to end the agony. She shook her head to dispel them, tearing her gaze away from the crystal with an effort. The hoarse mutterings faded unwillingly, but soon the world returned to natural silence, punctuated only by the drone of insects attending their busy lives. Nerys tipped her head back, stifling her sobs to spare the stab of the crystal, fisting her hands in the leaflitter on the forest floor. She drew comfort from the earthy feel, opening her heart to Andoherra, drawing what power she could into her waning form. Her magic stirred, a breath of wind on a sweltering day, but it merely shifted to better comfort and returned to slumber.

She hoped Calyx would not be gone long. For all her bravado beneath the blonde’s scrutiny, her strength was fading. Chaos remained at her peripheral, as aware as she was that her time was running out. She wondered if Calyx actually had a plan, and whether it had an ice-lily’s chance in the desert of working. She didn’t want to die, but she was finding it harder and harder to cultivate the will to live. She considered a prayer to Malevelyn for salvation, but the ghost of a wry smile touched her lips. Malevelyn might find her current predicament fitting – considering her life course thus far. She had, after all, helped murder her descendant.

Deciding against prayer, she settled herself to wait, trying to keep her consciousness from swimming too far out of her reach. Her breath came laboured, and the dull aching kept up a steady metronome. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the elements around her to pass the time. The warmth of dappled sunlight, the richness of the forest’s heartbeat, the soft soughing of the wind… The breeze brought her hints of life – loamy, damp soils, warm leaves, the musky spice of a passing beast. It eddied, shifted, changed course, and Nerys’ eyes flashed open.

Soft padding drew closer, from the direction the wind had promised it would. Something followed her scent on the changeling breeze. Nerys stiffened her spine, tilting her head into the silence, listening hard to gauge the angle of approach. She caught sight of a sleek feline shape slipping between the trees. It was approaching from the side, unaware that she had seen it, stalking her with measured strides. Nerys watched it out of the corner of her eye, swallowed as she identified it – an onza. The snake-leopard was a ferociously efficient predator, and not one to be trifled with without the aid of magic. It continued its effortless prowl, its abnormally long, striped legs covering ground in large stretches. Its hare-like ears were fixed on her position, and the black swash of its coat, peppered with green and yellow rosettes, made it fade into its surroundings every time it paused. Only the flick of its forked tongue between bared, double-rowed teeth gave it away.

Nerys cast her gaze about, reached for a short, stout stick. The onza noted her movement and paused, considering. Nerys took advantage of its hesitation, hefted her impractical weapon, and delved into the deepest depths of her core to the slumbering well of her magic. She forced it to rise, every inch of her body straining, moulded it into a feeble fireball that hovered sickly over her palm. The beast pricked its ears, met her gaze, and judged her wanting. It advanced, its forked tongue caressing its jowls between long, viper-like fangs. Sharp, reptilian claws unsheathed as its whip-snap tail lashed. It drew within striking distance, gathered itself to pounce. Nerys snarled, teeth bared, and braced for collision. It leapt.

Exploded.

Smattered with gore, Nerys scowled up at Calyx’s impish expression.

“You know, I’m getting really tired of saving you.”

Nerys’ expression darkened further, and she threw her useless stick at Calyx. The blonde raised an eyebrow as it fell far short of her.

“Good thing I was here.”

Nerys reached up to wipe a smear of blood from her cheek. “Tell me you have good news. I’m sick to death of this bloody forest.”

Calyx nodded, leaned down, and helped her to her feet. Nerys glowered, but allowed herself to be hefted into her arms once more.

“Gods, you reek,” Calyx smirked, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, if you hadn’t splattered me with bits of snake-leopard…”

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Calyx shifted her against her shoulder. “There’s a small town, perhaps three leagues from here. If we set a good pace we should reach it before sundown.”

“Thank Malevelyn for small mercies,” Nerys murmured with a sigh.

She laced her arms around Calyx’s neck, braced herself against the swing of her stride. Calyx set out, her course unerring, this time knowing exactly where she was going.

As she had promised, they cleared the edge of the forest before sundown. Only a short span of open country separated them from their destination. Calyx shifted her burden, squared her stinging shoulders for the last leg. In her arms, Nerys stirred with a low moan, her face contorted with pain.

“Calyx,” she mumbled, “Stop. It hurts… everything hurts – please, Calyx, stop… I can’t…”

“We’re nearly there,” Calyx whispered, redoubling her stride, “Hold on, Nerys, just a little further…”

She traversed the field with as much speed as she could manage, trying her best not to jar Nerys more than she could help. By the time they made the town perimeter, Nerys had passed into oblivion. Calyx strode past the guards at the gate, stifling their challenge with a snap of her glare and a show of her teeth. She headed straight for the inn she’d discovered on her scouting foray.

Sparing no ceremony, she slammed open the door with a flick of her fingers, and the innkeep scurried to attend her.

“A room,” she growled, “Now.”

The man quailed before the Lat’Nemele, scampered for a key. “O-of course, My Lady!”

He returned, offered his arms to relieve her of Nerys, but Calyx curled the brunette protectively against her chest and snarled. He skittered away up the stairs, and the Lat’Nemele swept after him with all the furious glory befitting a Sorceress of her status. Patrons stared in startled silence, fear and amazement etched onto stunned faces. The innkeep did not glance back, and beads of perspiration gathering upon his brow. He led the way to the best room in the house with all haste, unlocked the door, and stood back for Calyx to stride past him. She did so, turned back to arrest him with a glittering glare.

“Food. Fresh clothes.”

“At once, My Lady!” The innkeep bowed low, retreated backwards, closed the door with a quiet click.

Calyx’s shoulders sagged. With the last of her strength, she bore Nerys to the lavish bed in the centre of the room. She set her down, collapsing with a groan beside her. Nerys lay unmoving, barely breathing, and Calyx raised herself up on one elbow to gaze down at her. She pressed the back of her hand against Nerys’ brow, felt the fever burn. With a grim frown, she turned her hand over, palm hovering just above the brunette’s tousled head. Taking a deep breath, she released her magic in a soft trickle. She gifted it to Nerys subtly, so as not to rouse the Chaos, trying to buoy her flagging strength. As the golden strands seeped into Nerys’ broken soul, her breathing slowed, came more easily. The taut lines of her face relaxed to peace, and she shifted with a murmur. Slowly, her eyes opened, glittering in the soft semi-darkness.

“What… did you do?”

“I leant you some magic,” Calyx said.

“I didn’t know… that was possible…”

Calyx shrugged it away. “I didn’t either, but I had to try. I assume, by the fact you’re awake, that I was correct. You can be thankful our magic is so similar.”

Nerys blinked, heady with the slow spread of borrowed power through her veins. Held in check by the upsurge of magic, the pain was far enough away to let her breathe. Moving with care, she propped herself up with her elbows behind her and raised her gaze over Calyx’s shoulder to the aperture in the corner.

“Is there… a bath…?”

Calyx nodded, and a rare, genuine smile curved Nerys’ lips. Calyx smiled back, unbidden, as Nerys rolled over.

“Gods… what I wouldn’t give to be clean.”

She pushed herself upright in slow degrees, made her way haltingly across the room. The sound of rushing water soon filled the air, along with cloudy wafts of steam. Calyx perched on the edge of the bed and settled herself to wait. She, too, was eager at the thought of cleanliness. She’d been carrying Nerys for forever, or so it seemed, and she couldn’t wait to soak her sore back and shoulders.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her musings, and she got up to admit the innkeep and his husband, bearing large trays laden with fine foods and two crisp, beautiful dresses.

“I hope these are suitable, My Lady,” the innkeep said, holding them up for her to see as his husband deposited the trays on the table. “Forgive me, they were the best we could find at short notice…”

His hands trembled, but he held the dresses steady, and Calyx made a show of inspecting first the fine white silk, and then the gossamer blue. They were exquisite.

“These will suffice,” she allowed.

He nodded in relief, and they retreated from the room.

Calyx hung the dresses on the side of the wardrobe and followed her nose to the tantalizing fare spread across the small table. A summer-fruit tartlet caught her eye, and she reached for it, but before her fingers had quite closed around the delicate pastry, Nerys’ meek voice floated out of the washroom.

“Calyx…?”

The embarrassed appeal in that single word piqued Calyx’s curiosity. She padded across the room to stick her head around the door frame. Nerys was standing beside the filled washtub, still clothed in her tattered dress. A light blush coloured her cheeks, but she held her head high, defiant.

“I can’t get this damned dress off. It keeps catching on the crystal.”

Calyx smirked and conjured a pair of scissors.

“Hold still.”

She cut a long line up Nerys’ back and across the underside of the sleeves. Waving the scissors away, she peeled the fabric off, moving around to the front to extricate threads from the crystal’s grasp. Nerys whimpered under her movements, and she glanced up in apology, but continued to work until the remnants of the dress were free. At last, she stood up and slid the garment from Nerys’ shoulders, sending it cascading down to a rumple at her feet. For a split second, Calyx stared, enraptured by the flawless lines of Nerys’ body. She caught herself and, blushing hard, spun away.

She retreated, but snapped over her shoulder to cover her embarrassment, “Will you hurry up, so I can bathe too?”

Nerys paid her no mind; she soaked her broken heart in the washtub for a good half hour. When she emerged in a soft towel, bare legs stretching smooth for miles, damp hair framing her glowing cheeks, Calyx was hard-pressed to keep her eyes away. Nerys perched on the edge of the bed, the towel barely high enough to cover her as it dipped beneath the crystal. With a sigh, she reached up to run a brush through her long, raven hair, and the towel inched lower.

“Damn it, woman,” Calyx growled, stalking across to the wardrobe, “Will you put some clothes on, please?”

Nerys met her gaze. “I’ve been constricted in that dress for days, Calyx, and this is the best I’ve felt in a long time. Give me a chance to breathe, would you?”

Calyx muttered inaudibly, hooked the blue dress up with one finger and removed herself to the washroom. There, she made the most of the moment, immersing herself to the neck in piping hot water, soaking her aching muscles at last. She pushed Nerys from her mind and indulged, soaping her body and her hair with an assortment of lathers and rubs to wash away the grime of travel and torment. To keep her thoughts in check, she aimed them at what might happen upon her return to Esadora. That curled her lip – she better ready a damn good explanation, for lightning-fast delivery.

At last, she emerged, swept the water off her body with a swish of her hand, and slipped into the soft silk of the blue dress. She twirled her fingers, drying and styling her hair, checked her reflection with satisfaction in the looking-glass, and returned to the bedroom.

Nerys had moved to the table and was delicately attacking the array of food. She was still sitting in her towel.

“Are you kidding me?” Calyx scowled. She marched over to snatch the white dress up, tossed it at Nerys. “How long do you need to breathe?”

Nerys raised a smouldering glare. “If you must know, I couldn’t get it over my head. It hurts to move like that, at present.”

Chagrined, Calyx dipped her head. “Here,” she offered, “Stand up and I’ll help you.”

Nerys glared at her, but she swallowed her dainty mouthful and rose with all the grace of a queen. Calyx arranged the dress, held it up over her head, and, to her relief, towel and clothing managed to drop down as one. Nerys sighed at the soft silk, smoothed it down across her belly and hips. The shimmering folds clung to her skin in liquid waves, accentuating her figure, and Calyx briefly wondered if that was worse.

“Happy now?” Nerys scoffed, turning back to continue her supper.

Calyx huffed, sat down opposite her, and reached for the pitcher of wine. She filled her cup to the brim, drained it, refilled.

“Are you going to share that?” Nerys asked. She swung her goblet pointedly by the stem.

Rolling her eyes, Calyx filled it. With slow deliberation and a challenge set upon her face, Nerys lifted it, drained it, and held it out once more.

Calyx scowled. “Are you’re intending to drink it all? Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted Andoherran wine?”

“I don’t care, dear. This vintage happens to be my favourite.”

Calyx deposited the pitcher and pushed to her feet. “Guess I’ll go order some more, then.”

Nerys flashed a sweet smile, and Calyx stormed away to fetch two more pitchers. Upon her return, she set them down with a clatter on the table, and Nerys bridled.

“Don’t spill it!”

She reached protectively for the one closest to her and topped her goblet up once more. She sipped it, slower this time, eying Calyx over its rim. Calyx ignored her, helped herself to a sweet pastry and washed it down with wine.

“I appreciate what you’ve done for me, Calyx,” Nerys commented, conversationally.

Calyx almost choked on her mouthful. “Well. You’ve hardly made your gratitude obvious, but… you’re welcome, I suppose. Although, as you know, I have an ulterior motive for keeping you alive.”

Nerys raised an eyebrow. “I know, dear. Still, I am grateful for your kindness. You could have left me in my tattered rags, and saving me from those thugs really was a boon… I’m curious, though – when you’ve cured this curse to save your princess, how will you kill me?”

Calyx took a sip of wine. “I don’t intend to kill you.”

Nerys cocked her head.

“I intend to release you,” Calyx continued, “Give you time to fully regain your strength. If it happens before I manage to leave for the Old World once more, we can see who slays who in a fair fight. Because I, too, am curious.”

Nerys laughed, soft and sweet. “That’s your plan?”

Calyx nodded. Nerys shook her head, raised her goblet.

“Well, here’s to a true test, then.”

Silver clinked as Calyx tapped hers against it. She set the rim to her lips, drained it once more, and offered Nerys a refill as she topped up her own. The corners of Nerys’ lips twitched in amusement, but she accepted.

“I’m not sure I can match your pace, dear.”

“We’ll see,” Calyx mocked.

As it turned out, Nerys could, indeed, match Calyx’s pace. Between them, they emptied several pitchers as the night grew late and the world outside grew quiet. They spoke of non-committal things, Nerys filling Calyx in on the events of the last two decades – Fayne’s reign, and the current thriving state of all five Kingdoms.

“She’s made an excellent Queen – surprisingly,” Nerys topped off her monologue, “The only problem is the Dark of the Sun. That was… unexpected.”

Calyx snorted, almost spilling her wine. “Hardly! If you’d served the right Queen, you would have known that the Dark of the Sun is exactly what happens if you remove the Bal’Talanor bloodline from the Throne.”

“How so?”

“Oh, no! I haven’t had nearly enough wine to make me spill Royal secrets.”

Nerys pouted.

“Come on, Calyx… It’s the end of the world, and I’m dying. What could possibly be the harm?”

Calyx pursed her lips, but they melted into a giddy grin. “You make a fair point.” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Andoherra only remains in existence thanks to blood magic – and it’s tied to the Bal’Talanor Queens.”

Nerys frowned, stifling a shiver at the mention of blood magic. Even by her standards, that branch of magic was sinister. Calyx glanced about the room, even though they were alone, before she continued.

“Every year at Equinox, the reigning Queen performs a blood sacrifice, feeding the heart of Andoherra by means of the Throne.” She stifled a shiver as she spoke. “It’s terrible, Nerys – the thing comes alive and pierces them with spines of stone, leaching their blood until it is sated. Some years, it’s only a little. But sometimes...”

She broke off, let the words hang, and her face creased with remembered horror. Nerys watched her expression, gripping her own goblet with white knuckles.

“And… if the blood oath is not fulfilled…?”

Calyx swept an extravagant hand at the world at large. “This happens. Wild magic, destruction, Chaos… The world becomes unstable without the consistent influx of magic. In the end, Andoherra will tear itself apart. An eventuality which is not too far away now that the shadow has begun to swallow the sun.”

“Lovely,” Nerys said, “And I was having such a nice evening.”

Calyx looked up, an uncanny depth in her eyes. “…were you?”

Nerys met her gaze, a bright challenge burning. “And if I was?”

Calyx laughed, topped up their goblets. “Let’s talk about something else, then. I’m curious… why Fayne?”

With an exasperated sigh, Nerys drained her wine.

“It’s a legitimate question,” Calyx pouted, “I mean, I can’t deny that she’s beautiful, Nerys, but she’s such a bitch.”

Nerys stifled a giggle, and then a hiccough as she shook her head. “I don’t know… She rescued me as a child, raised me. We had a deep bond. There was a moment, just after I had come into my power… Mm, no, I forget the details…” The way she said it made Calyx doubt very much she’d forgotten anything about it. “Anyway, in my third decade, she came to me one night, upset about something… I suppose the affection I had for her came into its own – simple comforting turned to something… more.”

Calyx shifted forward, intrigued. “Did she return your affections?”

“Oh, yes – in secret. Of course, she could not acknowledge me in the light of day – a Lat’Nemele is not supposed to harbour affection for anyone, and especially not for the Mistress she serves.” She paused to sip at her wine, and her eyes clouded. “But she encouraged my emotions, kept me in the palm of her hand for a century. And then... well…”

Calyx slammed an outraged fist down on the table, making Nerys jump. “Let’s kill her!” she slurred.

Nerys stared, dissolved into laughter.

Calyx snorted her affront. “I’m serious! Hell, you don’t even have to come – I’ll do it for you.”

Grinning unevenly over her goblet, Nerys shook her head. She stopped and, with a groan, put a hand up to steady it as it swam. Opening one eye, she looked over at Calyx.

“What I think we should do,” she mumbled, “Is go to bed… I think I’ve had enough wine to last me the rest of my life.”

Calyx giggled, covered her lips with mischievous fingers, and hiccoughed. “P’rhaps you’re right.”

She got to her feet, wavered, and broke out into ridiculous laughter. An echo tumbled from Nerys’ lips as she watched Calyx sway around the furniture towards her. Holding on to the edge of the table, she pushed to her own feet, reaching for Calyx’s hand to steady herself.

A crackle of magic flared between them. They froze, gawping as it split into strands and whirled around their clasped fingers, glowing brightly.

“What the hell is that?” Calyx whispered, tearing her hand away.

Nerys managed a shrug, frowning. “I didn’t do anything…”

A purring fitted about their ears, sparks of power like fireflies in the semi-darkness. Calyx watched them with her mouth agape, and Nerys, still frowning, reached over to lift her jaw shut. As her fingertip connected, a bolt of power surged with such intensity that they both gasped. Time stood suspended for a long moment. Their vision locked, sapphire and amber linking with startling clarity. The air shimmered, humming, and Calyx lifted a gentle hand to caress Nerys’ cheek. Magic teased around her fingertips, and, with a sigh, she leaned in to close the space remaining between them. Nerys rose to meet her, soft lips curious, ravenous, spurred by the strange magic that sang between them.

But at last, hands braced against Calyx’s shoulders, Nerys pushed back.

“Wait, Calyx…” she said, shaking her dizzy head, “This isn’t a good idea.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Calyx agreed, pressing her hands over her ears to drown out the sweet song of power, “You’re right, let’s just…”

Her meandering mind failed her, and she waved vaguely towards the bed.

“Yes,” Nerys nodded, “Sleep it off. That’s what we should do.”

Careful not to connect so much as a fingertip, they stumbled to the bed. Calyx flung back the covers, gesturing theatrically for Nerys to precede her. Nerys obliged, gave her half a bow in return, overbalanced, and collapsed in a heap into the feathered mattress.

“Ouch,” she said, turning over and looking down at her chest. A vague tint of surprise coloured her features. “Oh… I forgot about that.”

“Thanks to the company?” Calyx grinned, tumbling onto the bed beside her with a groan.

Nerys snorted. “Thanks to the wine, dear.”

Calyx rolled over to face her, a perfect pout on her ruby lips. “Only the wine?”

Nerys shifted onto her side, keeping a safe distance. Partly sobered by the pain in her chest, she tucked a hand under her head and met Calyx’s gaze with a spark of amusement. “Well, I concede the company was better than I expected.”

Calyx’s pout evolved into a smile, unexpectedly gentle. “I enjoyed your company, too.” She paused, sighed. “You know, I remember the first time I watched you wield your magic…”

Nerys tilted her head, curious. “You do?”

“The gallery, above the Great Hall, the day Fayne took the Throne. You were-”

“I remember,” Nerys nodded, “I had no idea you were watching that long.”

“I couldn’t help it…” Calyx murmured, half to herself, “The play of energy in your hands, the tease of magic, the way it rippled around you, sure and precise… I could hear your power, as if it were a part of me,” Her voice dropped to the barest whisper, “You were the most breath-taking thing I had ever seen.”

Nerys bit at her lip. She hesitated, and then, gently, reached out and trailed one finger down Calyx’s cheek. Magic hummed, sweet and gentle.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“It’s true,” Calyx said, leaning into the featherlight pressure of her fingertip. “You still are – breath-taking, I mean.”

Nerys whispered, “Well.”

Warmed by wine, enraptured by magic, she buried her fingers in Calyx’s tousled hair. Hesitating for the barest fraction, she drank her in, warring with herself. Calyx stared, lost in her starlight gaze. Soft magic sang between them, reaching across the divide. With a sigh, Nerys answered it, and Calyx rose to meet her. In soft darkness they collided, coiled hearts unleashed beneath the tide of a burning kiss.