Chapter VIX

Blade I

Annea II

The waves crashed upon the rocky beaches of Devyr, cracking and flooding the stones. They were small waves, though, and reached barely on to the land, just a short distance on it. The sound they made was rather pleasant, not to mention they gave the rocks a symmetry of colours. Every rock on the beach was the same wet grey, making the beach look as if it had been made with this picture in mind.

This was the southern coast of Devyr, a couple dozen miles inside on the road, a day away from the church they had climbed up to. An empty church, to their surprise, in the middle of a small merchant town.

The road had also been mostly vacant. An occasional trader or traveller walked past, but there was nearly nothing. Trees to their north, bushels and rocks. Creatures that creaked and howled, skittered and scattered, itched and scratched. They observed, they ignored, they did all that animals do.

Birds, too. A lot of birds. Mockingbirds on the branches, swans and mergansers in the plenty ponds and streams nearby. Waddling bitterns, as well, who waddled about and stared in the infinity above them, moving about without a care in the world.

And Julius, like the absent-minded bitterns, at one point almost tripped over a hedgehog were it not for Annea to warn him. He was distraught. Had been distraught since they started their journey. Silent, quieter than even Edwin. His stare was clouded, teary. But his face was bitter. Angry. She had heard him utter his disappointment, his inability to do anything to protect his city. But how could he protect it? Escape was the only option. The city had fallen before they had even come. And he knew that, yet was still sulking…

His mood was reflected by the greying clouds in the horizon. A storm was coming, though they had till night. She could tell that much. Hopefully, they would arrive near Kaaran by evening. The place they needed to go to, as Kyran had told them, was a castle just off the coast. Thannes, the barony of Queen-Mother Elanna, previously owned by Duke Travos. It was just before the capital of Devyr and had apparently been used as a treasury and a resort. What Elanna had done to it, however, was unknown. Julius, and therefore Annea, had no personal contact with the Avenns inside the kingdom.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted, and the sound of waves were swallowed up by a loud, thumping noise coming from up ahead. On the road were two horsemen on black steeds. One wore a suit of black and gold steel. The other was cladded in red metal with many an engraving and lined with golden accents and creases, especially on the shoulders which were as big as the man’s head and appeared to look like raven heads. As they came closer, Annea could notice that the man in front, the one in red, wore a gilded tabard with an emblem. The emblem of a black raven that carried a bloodied spear in its mouth. The emblem of Devyr.

The two riders promptly stopped in front of the group. Julius, who wore a look of surprise, was the first to walk up to them. “…Uncle Kyareal?” he asked the man in black.

The man’s face was very similar to Maryeal's, and he had long hair slicked back. He gave Julius a smile. “Long time no see, nephew. How goes…” He tried to continue speaking but was stopped by the rider in red, who raised his hand. He then coughed and looked straight at the prince with ill-meaning eyes through his obscuring helmet of three spikes and two ridges.

He then cleared his throat, fixed his firmly stuck gauntlets and bracers, sat straight up on his horse with such incredible pride and bestrode Julius threateningly. “Prince Julius, I presume?” he spoke with a delicate voice that did not suit hit visage.

Julius stared back, keeping his distance whilst observing. He then let out a sigh. “You presume correctly,” he answered. His eyes and tone were… unenthusiastic, to say the least.

“Good,” the rider said and lifted off his helmet, his long, straight copper hair popping out as he did, and his fiery eyes calmly investigated every breath the prince took. He was no doubt an Avenn, with his copper look and pale skin. “I am the Lord of the land you walk on, the master of the air that you breathe,” he spoke out pompously and pridefully, waving his arms and hands as he did. “I am the kind caretaker that gives you this earth’s light and the dragon who keeps the beasts away,” he placed his hand on his heart. “I am-“

“Elannyr Faros Avenn, yes,” Julius interrupted him and crossed his arms. “We have met before, unfortunately.” He kept staring at Elannyr. His brow was raised, as if something was off. And the longer Annea stared, too, the more she thought something was from with the boy on the horse. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin paler than it should have been. His veins were more visible. Was he taking some sort of medication?

Elannyr cleared his throat. “N’yes, indeed we have. Though I am far greater than you now. You are but a prince, and I am a King. Very sad. For you,” he said with a childish voice.

Julius stroked his brow. “Aha,” he exclaimed, either annoyed or unimpressed. “And why, exactly, is the king of Devyr riding on a road with just my uncle as a guard?”

The king looked to his left, towards Kyareal. “Why, he is the designated heir to the Crusade! The strongest of all crusaders and inquisitors alike! Quite an impressive feat, for an Ethrios…” he said. “And if you weren’t as dense as you look, you would quite easily understand that we are out hunting.”

“On a road?” the prince asked.

“My road,” the king responded.

“…Anyroad, if we may now be excused, your Grace, we have a road that needs treading upon.” Julius gestured the rest of the group to follow him and started walking towards the left.

Elannyr, then, moved abruptly to the right, intercepting the prince. “Ah-ah! Not so fast! I have questions for you,” he said and stared him down with great queerness.

“Ask away.”

“Have you, per chance, seen my dear sister Elynne?”

Julius, who was both surprised and yet, somehow, unsurprised, looked at Elannyr and nodded. “I have both seen and talked to her, yes.”

The king nodded. “Good, good… great, even.” He kept nodding and smiling in silence for a while, before both the smile and nod faded. “So, uhm, where exactly is she?”

“Fiosa,” he lied.

“Truly? I demanded that they release her…” He looked aside, calmly, before roaring. “We can’t have that! She has a wedding to be in! And yet she still walks around that damn castle like a little strumpet! Inconceivable harlotry! Betrayal of the highest order! How dares that accursed little baron think he is great enough to ignore a King’s orders!?” He flailed his hands wildly. The horse, too, started acting up. It took him a while to notice he was throwing a tantrum before stopping, at which point he propped himself upright and shook his head. “No matter. She will come home, soon enough. I have already taken in account her unwillingness and prepared accordingly.” He put his helmet back on. “Be on your way now. And be fast, lest I mistake you for a boar.” He waved at Kyareal and they rode past. Julius’ uncle made an apologetic bow as he went by.

“I feel sorry for the Devyrians,” Edwin said.

Julius sighed. “…Likewise. Let us continue on. No telling when the storm will be above us.”

Later, as the Sun had nearly set, they reached a number of piers by a small encampment of sorts. A place where visitors were ferried to the castle. There should have been a ferryman here, maybe a couple of guards, or even an onlooking villager from one of the nearby shacks.

There was no one. Vacated and decrepit buildings were all that surrounded the small piers. The boats were still there, anchored and rocking on the light waves. Where everyone could have possibly gone was a mystery. If something had happened here, it should have been reported long ago and new men should have been stationed. Annea gripped her sheathed sword tightly. This place was unsafe.

But they would still need to cross the strait to the castle. Julius believed their task was a priority. And whatever Julius believed, Annea believed as well. That was her duty. That had been her duty since birth.

The three of them rowed the boat across the water. They pushed hard, quickly propelling themselves forward. The first signs of the oncoming storm were forming as lightning cracked and wind blew. But, without a doubt, they would outpace it. The castle was mere minutes away, surrounded by seawalls and four high spires in the water.

By the castle pier they docked and tied their boat down. There was another boat here with them, as well as a single frigate by a larger port. The island was decently large and had houses surrounding the imposing black fortress in the middle. The castle itself was stretching its towers high into the sky. It was built atop a slope and observed the nearby sea. Nothing could slip past.

Annea noticed that the outskirts were empty. Not a soul was outside. Then again, a storm was coming, meaning they might have gone inside. This did not change the fact that the emptiness was unnerving. More so if it were silent, as well, but the waves were loud enough by themselves.

“My father came here numerous times,” Julius spoke. “Travos apparently preferred this place to his palace in the capital. I cannot see why. The island is bleak and isolated, more of a fort that any sort of resort.”

“I dislike this place, my lord. It’s far too empty…” Annea said, still tightly gripping her hilt.

“It’s lonely here.” Edwin walked forward, up the stairs leading towards the castle entrance. He looked left and right, then stared towards the castle. “Not a soul.”

“Well, if the castle is vacant, at least we can merely pick up what we came for and go.” Julius and Annea walked up. “Though I doubt the castle itself is empty. Travos’ wife never left it since he died if the rumours are true.”

“Hmm,” Edwin audibly pondered. He seemed as if he was focusing on something with his eyes. Then, he raised his brows slightly. “We should enter.” A crackle in the sky soon followed his words.

“And quickly, before the rain starts.”

Three sets of stair steps led down towards a carpet coated in black and filled with red triangles. It was a lengthy carpet that led forwards, underneath two archways and besides two statues of Avenn ancestors. At the very end of the carpet was a passageway into another room. A raven’s head made from stone and with two amber eyes overlooked the passage they went through.

This was the throne room. Six flags hung from the oval ceiling. Four belonging to Devyr, heraldry and all. Two bore a black castle on an island accompanied by a sea of grey and silver. Underneath these two flags were entrances near pillars that led to other rooms.

And then there was the throne, firmly placed at the end of the carpet and seated atop three shorts steps. It was a simple chair of stone, accented with gold and rubies and a soft cushion. To its right and left were stairs that led upwards to a sort of podium behind the very throne that observed the entirety of the room. It was fenced and had a door at its very end.

Annea remarked how very dim the room was. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling though it barely lit anything up. There were a few lanterns and candles here and there, but even they served their purpose sparingly.

One more thing she noticed was the castle’s emptiness. Besides Annea, Edwin and Julius, there was…

A man by the podium. Dressed alike a steward – a short tidy coat of black and slicked hair, greying from age. That man was speaking to someone. A woman not from this castle. She was a visitor, like them. Annea knew her well.

The steward suddenly turned his attention towards the group. “Ah, visitors! Forgive us, the Queen-Mother shall soon arrive to speak with you all.” The man bowed apologetically, first to the lady, then to the group, and left through the podium door.

The woman, then, walked down the stairs and towards the three who stood near the entrance. She had long brown hair tied at the top into a fluffy ponytail that dropped to her shoulder. Her skin was fair and her body slender. She wore a beautiful dress of deep violet and a gemstone around her neck filled with Dammrian blue. Her eyes were, just like her hair and like Julius’ eyes, a wonderful brown.

The prince walked forward and lightly bowed. “Aunt Haffea, it has been a while,” Julius spoke with a friendly smile. “I did not expect to see you here.”

Julia Haffea Ethrios, the older sister of Maryeal. Why, of all people, was she here…? Annea avoided eye contact, but she felt her loving eyes gazing at her. Still, she did not say anything to Annea. She merely smiled back at Julius. “Neither did I expect to see my favourite nephew. Mary is still at the eastern front, is he? Sent you here to do his labour, no doubt.”

Julius chuckled. “No, no. Not at all. We came here to speak with Elanna regarding some, erm… artefacts that once belong to father. He gave them to Travos for safekeeping, or so I was told.”

“Ah.” She nodded. Did she know what they came for? “Well, I myself came here to visit Elanna. We used to write each other letters, but they had stopped some time ago. And, seeing as I really had the need to leave the court and stretch my legs, I decided to come here.”

“I have noticed you came here alone. Did you sneak out?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say sneak out… I did leave them a notice, after all.” She giggled. “And besides, the road from Valorya to Devyr is safe, provided I don’t pass through the woodlands. All the bandits are up in Roddan and in the deserts of Shallias, no?”

“Are you aware that the country is at war, dear aunt? Even Dammrias…” Julius’ attitude suddenly soured. “Dammrias was occupied a few days ago.”

“Ah. Well, Kyrione is known for their… naïve occupations, for lack of better words. You’ll find the city in top shape once it’s freed.”

“You do not seem all that surprised.”

“Should I be surprised? I knew war was coming, as did nearly every great house on Saarast. Did dear Mary forget to tell you?”

Julius’ face was flat. “…Did he ever tell me anything? I suppose you were not in Terwall to see how our every interaction was him either patting me on the head, asking me how I was, or rarely gifting me something. He is barely…” Julius sighed. “Forgive me, had to stop myself before I started a tirade.”

“No need to apologize, Allie. Your father is distant not just towards you. His spirit left Gaiia long ago, and we all know of his… apathy.” She stroked the prince’s cheek. “Regardless of him, you grew up to be a fine man and are sure to make an even finer king. Keep your chin up, alright? One temporarily lost city and the lack of a father’s attention aren’t enough to break you, I’m sure.”

Julius gave a single chuckle. “Well, when you phrase it like that…”

The group’s attention shifted towards the podium just as the door opened. The Queen-Mother entered the room and started walking down the stairs. She wore a large and very detailed robe. It was a mixture of impenetrable black, bloody red, and had traces of white. Her black hair was adorned by an onyx circlet.

She sat down on her throne. Haffea and Julius walked up – Annea and Edwin stood at a distance. Julius bowed. “My lady,” he said, “we apologise for disturbing you, but I have a favour to ask of you and dearly hope you may help us.”

She nodded and smiled. “Dear Dammrian prince, I must apologise as well, for making you wait this long. You, as well, dear Haffea.” Her gaze wandered off towards Edwin and Annea. She did not take her eyes off them. “The house of Avenn has been the right hand of the Fatherlands since time immemorial. Though our relations might be strained at this very moment, I shall assist you if it is within my grasp.”

“We have come seeking the King’s Blade, the sword my father had given your husband two decades ago. I am aware it is a priceless artefact, but it is of great importance to me and I have no doubt Travos would have loved to give it back himself.”

Elanna leaned against her hand with a raised brow. “It is true that my late husband was an avid collector of various weaponry and seldom-found books, however… I do not believe he has such a thing in his possession…” She then made an expression of wonder. “Hm, but considering his collection, he just might have such a thing.”

“Might I ask that we look through the collection?”

She shook her head. “Take no offense, dear prince, but I would rather none but me rummage through his prizes. It has been but a few months since he had passed, and it would cause me discomfort should someone decide to touch his things.” She smiled. “But I promise you that I will look for it myself and bring it to you.” She nodded. “Tomorrow morning. I can see that all of you are gravely tired and deserve a night’s rest. A storm is already above us, as well, so you should stay here either way.”

Julius lightly bowed with his head. “Very well. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“I will call for my steward shortly. He will show you to your rooms.” She then looked at Haffea. “And you, dear friend? Have you come searching for something, as well?”

“Indeed I have,” Haffea said. “I’ve come searching for an old friend.”

Julius returned to Annea and Edwin. They would have to wait, for a while, while the two finished their conversation. And then, they would have to wait for the morning.

The steward had arrived some time after lady Elanna retreated into her quarters. He had assigned them rooms on the second floor, though they were not right next to each other. Annea’s room was in the eastern wing, two rooms away from Julius who was in the east to west intersection.

Annea’s room was of decent size and had a wide bed. There was a desk and chair, as well as a basin and some empty shelves. The walls were a dark grey just like the outside, and the room was as dimly lit as the throne room. But the light might have been her own fault in this case. She did light only one candle, after all.

She lit it up and sat on the windowsill. There was a blackened sky outside that sometimes burnt ablaze. Wind blew harshly and it was very, very loud. The sound came from both outside the window and from the hallway. Rain drizzled down the glass, as well. One could easily think they were underwater from all the rain, she thought.

Sleep was not on her mind. She idled by, head against her hand, and just kept staring outside. She watched and she thought. She wondered why that person had come here today of all days, just as they had come.

Images of burgundy fabrics came to her mind. Swords lined up against the wall – the spoils of battle. Thirteen of them total, some stainless, some rusted, and a few bloodied. Her blood, too. A cut across her upper arm. It was not deep, but a scar still remained. Thirteen blades, all recovered by a thirteen-year-old girl. Thirteen lives, all taken by her. Executed without questions, just as father had told her to.

Arrows striking their targets. The first arrow was to the right eye. The second to the left eye. The third through the forehead. The fourth pierced the heart. She observed his every shot. The prince never missed. He did not train daily, either. He was lazy, but even in his lethargy he was better than most. He neglected so many of his duties, yet he still came out on top. He was bad with a sword, but he did not want to be good, so he never improved. Annea wanted to teach him, but how could she teach someone who did not want to be taught? But she did not need to. All she needed was to be by his side forevermore. Both his blade, and his heart. Just as she had been told.

A roar of thunder broke her free from her thoughts. She lifted her eyes to the glowing skies. Every bolt of lightning cast a light on the raging seas below.

Annea jumped down to the floor. She stretched her arms as high as they would go and let out a small groan. She walked up to her bed and looked at the sheathed sword she propped against the frame.

This castle was safe. But, even as safe as it was, she could not let her sword out of her sight. She put the sheath on her belt. The sword was the only steel on her right now. She would not use it today. There was no need to.

Annea tightened her belt around her waist and went towards the door. If she could not tire by sitting around and waiting, she would tire by walking around and exploring the castle. No one forbid her to, after all. So, she grabbed the candlestick from her desk and turned the doorknob. The darkness in front of her embraced her.

And the darkness did hold tightly. The only light came from the candlestick in her hand. Well, there was the occasional flash of lightning, as well, but that was merely temporary.

The hallway she walked through stretched far to both sides. There were closed windows with long black drapes farther down, away from the rooms. Opposite them were paintings of men and women, both young and old, bearing copper and white hair. Some had black hair, too, though it was hard to see with such weak luminosity.

And, as she went further through the castle, farther away from the windows closed by shutters, the brightness became dimmer. Even her candle could barely light the way. Slowly, everything was swallowed up and hidden away. Slowly, her fire started to become feeble.

In that pitch black darkness, the walls could barely be seen. Which was why there was no surprise one she bumped into one…

It was a soft wall, strangely enough. Had a leathery feeling. Quality leather. Weirdly muscular to the touch. It smelt familiar, like sweat and wild herbs.

This was not a wall. Walls were made out of stone, or wood, maybe even metal. This would-be wall was even capable of turning around. It had golden eyes, honeyed eyes, beautiful eyes that stared right into the soul. And a face that, like a wall, was unphased.

“Ouch,” he said after a period of silence.

“I am, er… I apologize. I didn’t see you there,” she answered.

“I noticed.” He cleared his throat. “Taking a walk?”

Annea nodded. “I wasn’t able to fall asleep, so I wandered off. What about you? Business or just walking?” she asked half-jokingly.

“Walking.” He then slightly tilted his head. “What business would I be up to?”

“That’s… I don’t know. I was not being serious.” She sighed. For one reason or another, suppressed anger always welled up inside her when she was near him. Yesterday, and today, it became unnoticeable. Why it existed in the first place, though, was something she did not know. Maybe she was dropping her guard? Was that smart? No. Yes? He was harmless… Unless he was not. He had a very nice weapon though. That was… a bad reason for her to become careless. But, still…

“The, er, girl that came to me by the beach, who was she?” Annea asked. She was still curious as she just disappeared after that.

“Talye.”

“I know her name. But where did she run off to?”

“No clue. She’s following me, apparently. Was in Dammrias with us.”

She raised a brow. “I hadn’t seen her.” But the one time she had seen her, there was something specific about her face. Similar to Edwin’s face. “Is she your sister?”

“No. I think. Only met her recently.” He scratched his cheek. “Is Julius your brother?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

“Same nose.”

…Did he really notice that? She always thought that her nose was absurdly like Julius’, but no one had ever mentioned it before, so she thought it was merely her imagination. “A coincidence. Can’t be that many nose shapes going around, right?”

“I suppose.” He looked to the far end of the hallway where the windows where. Lightning just cracked. “Annea.”

“Yes?”

“Meet me here in a few hours,” he said, eyes still fixated towards the distance.

“Do you need to tell me something?”

“Might have to. In a few hours.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll see.” He turned around. “Something’s wrong with the castle.”

“You know that for a fact, or is it just intuition?” she asked. “…Edwin?” But he had silently walked away in the darkness. She gave out a sigh and continued walking. There was a parlour next to the foyer most likely. Might as well go there.

The light by the entrance was, at the very least, existent. She could see well enough without a candle now. There was still no one here. The entirety of the room was empty. She guessed it was possible to keep no guards on an island off the coast, especially when a storm was raging outside. Still, if she so desired, she could kill the Queen-Mother and no one could stop her. No reason for that, though, was there?

A sound from the parlour made her stop dead. It was a clink of some kind. Porcelain. Was someone drinking tea? This time of night?

She snuck up towards the doorway and peeked inside. Sure enough, there was a cup on a small plate just sitting atop the table. A fireplace burnt fiercely. Everything was orange and yellow, even the person that was pouring herself tea.

Annea entered and closed the door behind her. “Evening,” she said, extinguishing her candle and approaching the table.

Lady Haffea perked up. “Oh? Ah, evening. Forgive me, but I don’t believe we’ve met…” She smiled and reached out with her hand. “Haffea Ethrios. And you are…?”

Annea sighed. “No one is listening to us. No reason to pretend.”

“That is true…” Her smile faded as she lowered her hand. In two quick steps, she rushed Annea and wrapped her arms around her back. Without issue, she lifted her up and spun her around. “Oh, how you’ve grown, dear Annealys!”

“P-put me down!” she protested.

Gently, she placed her back on her feet. “Can’t I profess my excitement? Barely held myself back when I saw you first.” She grabbed the teapot. “Would you like some?”

“I… sure, mother. Rose hip?”

“Mhm. Isn’t much else here, but it’ll do. Sit down, would you?”

“Yes, yes…” Annea pulled out a chair and sat down. “Why’d you come here?”

“To see an old friend.” She placed a cup in front of Annea and began pouring. “She’s not here, I’m afraid. A withering husk is all that’s left of her.”

Annea puffed on her tea to cool it. “You mean Elanna?”

“I mean Elanna. Ah well, I suppose she’ll go about like this for a few more months before her heart gives in. A pity.” She sipped from her cup.

“Still, did you come all this way from Velyvet? Without any sort of protection?”

“Oh no. I have a short sword underneath my skirt. And this, as well.” She reached through a compartment in her upper dress and took out some kind of apparatus that looked like a crossbow but had two steel tubes coming from its stock.

“…What’s that?”

“A gun. It’s pretty great – you just aim it, pull the trigger and you kill a man! Even goes through armour. A pain to reload, though.”

“You can actually use it? I thought very few people could use cannons and the like…” Something about an advanced form of alchemy. From what she had heard, cannons could only fire if the user could connect with the powder inside.

“You could use it too. Its hereditary, after all.”

“The gun is hereditary?”

“No. The gun is mine and it goes to the grave with me. You being able to use the gun is hereditary.”

“Ah.” She nodded with her head.

Her mother hid the gun. “But enough about tools of murder. Tell me, daughter dearest, how is your yet-to-be husband, Alneal?”

Annea started choking on her tea. “I-I-I-I’m sorry?”

“You know, the whole reason your father sent you to Dammrias, despite my protests… oh, if I had my gun then, let me tell you…”

“You… wouldn’t shoot him, would you?”

“Debatable. Now, speak. Unless there is another lover in your life.”

“Must we have this conversation? Nothing is going on between me and Julius. He’s still sweet on his former betrothed, and I guess he will stay like that for some time.”

“Ah, well, that is how it goes. He will have to marry soon, though. You, at least, have the choice not to, since you’re not a princess for the time being. Just a knight.”

“Legally only in Valourya, mother. People talk behind my back in Dammrias. Never to my face, though. Guess killing another knight my first day made them afraid…”

“Ahm, you did? Hadn’t heard about that…” She chuckled. “No one will talk badly about you once you come back home. Once Valourya is free.”

Annea raised her brow. “In our lifetimes?”

“This year.” Haffea finished her tea. “But let’s not get into politics. I haven’t even asked you how you have been. When was the last time we talked privately? A year ago? Two?”

“Last year. Julius’s birthday.” Annea fixed her bangs. “And I’ve been fine. All I did the past year was travel around. We weren’t inside Dammrias for longer than a month.”

“At least you aren’t bored, no?” She stood up and took a deep breath. “I believe I am going to rest. I’d stay with you longer, but I am tired from my journey. You are too, aren’t you?”

“Not really.” Annea stood up. “I think I’ll walk around the castle some more.”

Haffea nodded. “We’ll have to act like strangers again come morning… but at least we’ll spend more time together. We’ll be going the same way after all.”

“We will. Good night, mother.”

“Good night, Annealys,” she said and walked out of the room. Annea remained for a while, staring at the empty white cups. Staring at the emptiness within. Wondering why she felt no happiness upon seeing her mother. She wonder, then, when was the last time she had felt anything but anger? It was either that, or complete indifference. False smiles, false worries every time they were needed. This… bothered her. Truly, she was just like a sword. Angry when needed, and nothing else.

She placed her hand on her breast, wondering if there was a heart there. Such a strange thing to wonder, and yet… when was the last time she felt a heartbeat?

Annea shook her head and lit her candle. These thoughts were unnecessary. She felt joy, she felt love, the beating of her heart. She just could not remember. That was all. That was all and nothing more.

Her walk continued. She was back on the upper floor, dragging herself through the hallways. She felt as if the hallways were increasing in number and starting to stretch out. It did not help that it was dark and that everything looked the same. Always the same sequence. Door – painting – drape. Same thing across from it. Door – painting – drape. Sometimes, there was a window. In which case it was drape – window – drape.

Her head hurt. Was it the tea? No. Her head started hurting earlier than that. Was not nearly as bothersome before.

There was a hallway. A different hallway. It led downstairs and then some. But… what wing of the castle was this? All she did was wander around. Making her way back to her room would be… difficult.

She went down the hallway and down the stairs. The air felt cold down there, colder than it did anywhere else in the castle. They led towards an entranceway that held even more stairs. A spiral staircase. It led downwards, into a room of damp rocks and stone. There was dirt at the very bottom. Hard dirt and gravel. And an archway that led into another room.

It was a large room. A stalk, alike a mushroom, was in the very middle. It just stood there, like a pillar, stretching towards the ceiling. A grey, mushy pillar. Like rotten flesh. It was wrinkled up, filled with small holes that revealed yet more meat, covered with scabs and scars. And it looked like it moved, like the flesh dripped downwards and upwards.

And the smell.

The horrible, horrible rancid odour. Foul as all hell. A carcass rotting in the sunlight for half a week would smell better.

She moved next to it, towards a collection of old wooden furniture. Old, but clean furniture. Shelves, tables, desks, and chairs. There were jars on the shelves. Some were ceramic and others were glass. Petrified pipes and bones floated around in those jars. There were labels on those jars. Some were smeared, others faded away. But a few had legible writing. Organs and body parts, human and animal.

On the middle desk that stood between all the shelves was a leather-bound booklet. A journal of some sort. There were others books and parchments and scraps of paper strewn about, but this one stood in the very middle, in a clearing between all of that.

She opened the journal. There was no signature, and the first few pages were unreadable. She turned page after page. Some were stuck together, some were ripped out, others were scrawled and erased. The first readable entry was from a year ago, but it described a rather mundane life. It belonged to Elanna as the entries spoke of her husband Travos.

Then, some pages later, came an entry a few days before the duke’s death. The tenth of April, Ninety-Seventy-Eight of the Sunlit Years.

It spoke of a great change within her. How her heart hurt terribly. How she could not recognize herself in the mirror. How she, for the last few nights, had strange dreams where she wandered around Karaan past midnight and murdered. How she had dragged her victims into an alley and bit by bit, piece by piece, ripped of their flesh with her teeth. The taste of flesh, the savoury meat and thick blood. She described it all.

There was an entry each day from now. The description of the same dream. Of a calling below. Her eyes becoming bloodshot and filled with an indescribable darkness when she looked at herself in the mirror. Her screaming, her husband calling for physicians and healers, her…

The first murder she had committed vividly. No, this was no murder. Her husband had been proclaimed dead on the sixteenth of April. Heart failure. She had placed some sort of seed into his ear that had been given to her by ‘the benefactor’. She had never sent the corpse to the capital for a proper burial and her son succeeded the throne on the seventeenth. The corpse was placed here, in this very room. In the very middle, in order for the seed to grow and take root.

Every other page was her saying that she was no longer herself. Her face was not her own, but the face of many others. Her name was not her own, but the name of one other. She did not know that name. But she knew the faces. She saw them torn apart each time she dreamed. The last few pages talked about how she ate the residents of this island. Those she could not send away. The last entry was dated a week ago.

I AM

Was all that was written. Everything after that was either empty or covered in blotches of black and yellow. Dried up blood, as well. Circles and runes, ungodly sentences and forsaken words.

Annea slowly backed off and turned towards the stalk. Her hand was on her hilt. She approached it. Stared at it. At the bark of flesh and sinew. “Travos…?” she uttered.

No response. The man had died, after all. This was just a tree that needed to be cut down. A repulsive, rotting tree. But she would not stain her sword here. She walked back up the stairs with candle in hand. Edwin had told her to meet her, and she might as well tell him about this place.

Up the stairs and through the many hallways she went. She took plenty of rights as she walked. Going one way was bound to bring her someplace, and it did bring her to one of the outer hallways, next to the windows. The storm stifled. At least it seemed to have. Opening the window was one way to check…

A clear night sky. It stormed mere moments ago, and now it was as clear as day, even though it was night. The Moon was especially bright. Judging by its position, it was somewhere around three in the morning, maybe a bit before.

But, really, it was such a bright, bright white Moon. Mesmerizing. Like a pearl in a bottomless sea. Flawless.

It should not exist.

This Moon up in the sky should not exist.

This Moon should not exist.

It was far too big.

Far too bright.

And ran down through the middle, cracked by blue lightning.

Steps further down the hallway – she took her sword out and pointed. They were still approaching. Golden eyes in the darkness, bright like the Moon.

“Edwin,” she said, “what’s going on? The Moon, the air… something is wrong. And in the basement, there was a mushroom made from human flesh.”

Edwin looked outside. “I see.” He neared the window and looked downwards. “Don’t think we’re inside the castle.”

“What?” She stared below. Nothing. There was nothing. Just the island and the calm sea, reflecting the Moon. “What makes you think that?”

Edwin the produced a small card from his pocket. He made a swipe which was followed by a burst of white, fading petals. His sword was there, in his hand, even though it was not there a moment before. With his sword, he stabbed through the window. No cracks formed. It just phased through.

The window was gone. As was the hallway they were in. This was another place further inside the castle, somewhere near the main bedroom, she believed.

…But how? Annea was, without a single doubt, bewildered. “What the hell did you just do?”

“My key reveals the truth. It shows me the way.” He tapped on the black orb that was the sword’s pommel and looked sharply forward. “There.” He started walking.

The knightess followed. It was through a dark path that he led the way. It stretched for far longer than it should and nothing around it seemed to change. Everything stayed the same till they reached a large wooden door at the far end.

It was slightly open. Light came from within. Slow, calculated steps, as well. Edwin grabbed the door handle and looked at Annea before pushing it open.

A staircase leading upwards and no visible light source. Blood, or at least what seemed to be blood, was dried up on the stairs in parallel lines that led upwards. They climbed up.

At the top was a large room without a ceiling. The floor was covered in an inch-thick liquid that had no clear colour. The sound of scraping steel and banging echoed here and there, and there was a faint sound of rain that followed.

In one part of the room sat a person. The Queen-Mother. She sat on the floor, her legs crossed and staring up at the sky, eyes filled with wonder. Did she even notice them approach? She must have. She just did not acknowledge them.

“What are you?” asked Edwin.

She tilted her head towards him. “Why are you here, child? Have you fallen, as well? You, of all?”

“She’s gone insane,” Annea said.

“What are you?” Edwin asked again.

Elanna stood up. “…I don’t know. I have forgotten. In this body did I wake without my faces. I’ve lost them all. Who was I…?” A weak rain began to fall. The liquid below rippled. Elanna looked back up to the sky as her veins turned black. “But I know why I am here. This world… no matter how many times it repeats, the souls grow. If I connect it to my home, we will never starve again.”

Annea did not understand. But she felt that this person was somehow wrong on a fundamental level. This person should not exist. Not in this world. This Moon should not exist. Not in her world.

Edwin swung his blade upwards, cutting through Elanna. “Show yourself.”

Her face fell apart as it was cut in half. No blood was spilled. No bone was exposed. It was as if cutting through a doll’s head and seeing that it was empty. The body collapsed and melded with the liquid where the rain rapped with increasing violence.

It then retracted. All of it went towards the edges of the walls and solidified. New walls began to form as the old ones shifted and changed. They were in a new room, with a new layout.

“This is I.” Elanna – no – the being that was inside her showed. It descended down from the ceiling. A reddish body filled with contorted faces. Talons for hands and feet, bony appendages for hair, a void for eyes and fingers for teeth. A three-pointed tail filled with blinking eyes.

Annea did not believe the things she had seen up till now. This creature in front of them was now even less believable. She must have fallen asleep after she drank her tea. She must have.

“Oh,” Edwin gasped audibly.

Annea readied her weapon. “It probably bleeds, right?” Should have worn her armour, she thought. Really should have put on that armour.

Annea and Edwin approached, carefully. She was the first to swing her blade, but… The liquid reformed once more. It came from below and bashed her in the stomach. Felt like a proper damn punch, that one.

Edwin swung his sword as she was launched away. He cut through the newly formed liquid and would cut the creature down, but it caught his blade with the talons. It threw him backwards. He rolled on the floor before standing up.

The knightess charged, this time watching for the liquid. She avoided the first strike and slid next to the demon. Her strike was true. She stabbed through the chest, through a gaping mouth.

She could not pull the sword out. Only narrowly did she avoid lethal talons across her face, though this left her unarmed.

Edwin came from behind during this ordeal and slashed the back. The creature recoiled for a moment before swinging its tail and grounding Edwin. He got up on his feet and backed off, visibly bruised.

Annea tried to retrieve her sword, but could not approach in any way. She was powerless. Useless without a sword. At this rate, they would both die. That was inevitable. Why? Why could she do nothing at all? If only she had another sword. If only…

Edwin ran up to her. Another blast of liquid came after them, but they dodged aside. Edwin threw his sheathed blade at her, and she caught it, drawing it out instantly.

Once more, they rushed ahead. They avoided the pillars of colourless water that came after them and struck simultaneously. Edwin cut off the demon’s left hand but was immediately kicked back. Annea swung with full vigour at the creature’s head. It went through. But only enough to make an unnoticeable cut before the sword broke.

She leapt backwards with her broken blade, nearly tumbling down as she backpedalled. Edwin staggered up and avoided another blow. But they could not continue like this. Only Edwin could attack. Only his weapon could cut through.

They would die. She accepted her death. A voice kept asking her if she would finally succumb. If she would finally accept her mortality. Deep inside her heart, it kept asking her this entire time. Every time. Every battle. The same question over and over again. ‘Accept your mortality.’

No. It was never a question. Always a demand. A demand to remember that she was mortal. If only she could shut it up. If only she could shut the voice inside her heart up.

She dropped her broken sword.

All five fingers were above the heart.

She dug in.

Blood.

Why was there no blood…?

Annealys Sarevenn drew out a sword tinged with copper from where her heart should be. Golden and bronze was the blade. A bladed crossguard. A burning orb for a pommel. And a deep blue jewel where the sword connected to the grip. This was her heart, was it not…?

She felt its strength as she rushed forward. Her movement was not human. Her form was not human. In one single moment, she reached from one end of the room to the other, where the demon was. In an instant, as time stood still, she ran the being through. From shoulder to hip, stomach to thigh, chest to eye, neck to pelvis. Faster than she herself could blink.

The demon collapsed into large chunks. So did the room. So did this false dream. This place was a lie. By killing this creature, she revealed the truth. She knew that. She understood that as she fell to her knees.

The sword she had struck into the fiend was now lying on the floor in a puddle of thick black blood. They were… this was the large bedroom belonging to the Queen-Mother. She stood herself up. The bronze sword in her hand was no longer there – it was replaced by a card. Bronze like her sword. A person wearing a crown of white rode on a chariot dragged by two horses, one black and the other white. The person wielded a longsword and above them, at the very top of the card, was a half-circle with the number VII in it.

“You broke my sword,” Edwin said, walking up.

“I’m… sorry.” She scratched the back of her head. “But we killed it. Whatever that thing was.”

Edwin looked at the large bed within the room. Annea followed suit. Queen-Mother Elanna was in the bed, her last breath long gone. She was there, peacefully, as if they had never killed the demon inside.

At least her body was no longer a puppet. And it looked like she had passed in her sleep. They… had no worries, did they?

“There’s the sword. I feel it.” Edwin pointed at the weapon mounted above the bed. Another sword. This one was white as snow and wrapped with slight silver. Emerald gems were set in the pommel and around the guard. A regal sword, all in all.

“We’ll tell Julius tomorrow,” Annea said. “That way he can also confirm Elanna had died. Although…” Even if she had passed away in her sleep, the king of Devyr had seen them coming this way. Her mother was also a visitor here. This could launch an incident, if not a war. And with the current state of the Fatherlands…

“Don’t worry,” Edwin said. “Worries are for the future.”

“…Sure.” She sighed. “At least I’m tired now.” She yawned and turned around, heading for the door. “Are you coming, Edwin?”

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” he asked her, still staring at the wall.

“Before you helped us after the shipwreck?”

“Before…” Edwin turned around and looked at her. “These memories shouldn’t… whose are they…” He shook his head. “Think there’s something in my sword.”

“Uhm… are you alright?”

“I’m talking nonsense. That’s all.” He put his hands in his pockets and sighed. “Sorry. Fighting that fiend made me hazy.”

Annea nodded. “Ah. Same for me. Let’s just get some sleep to clear our heads.” She opened the door and left. Edwin followed after her.

She played with the card in her hand. This was her heart, this was her sword. Today’s events seemed like a dream. They would fade away, as if they never happened. She felt no pain, she had no damage. The demon was just a nightmare, as was the basement. And if she wanted to check the basement, how would she go there? She had no way of knowing.

She tucked away the card into her pocket. This was her heart, this was her sword. Her own weapon that had been stuck in the demon was once more in her sheath. It had black stains, but Elanna probably spilt oil on the floor before Annea’s sword fell. After all, what had happened in that dream did not happen in this world. Those were two separate worlds, two different dreams. A demon could not exist in this world, but could in another. However, her sword was still stained and Edwin’s was broken. Elanna still died, too. But they died in this world with means possible only in this world.

…Why did she understand? Was she merely pretending to? No, this was in her head. All of the truth. Her sword – her key told her that. It knew more than her, so it taught her. None of this had happened the way she saw it happen. Imagination, that was all it was. Imagination and fabrication. This entire world was just a fabrication. She could change it. If she merely pushed herself hard enough, she could change it.

She shook her head. Calmed her mind. She felt as if immeasurable power was within her fingertips, the power to shape reality. But she did not want it. There was no reason to want it. Annea wanted to be by Julius’ side as her father had told her. And she would. That was all that was wanted.