Oblivion wasn’t all that bad. As Alnur drifted along the eddies of reality he couldn’t help but feel like he was floating in a vast body of water. Above him was the swirling beauty of the universe, galaxies and nebulas formed from dust, burst into being, and faded into dust once more in the span of seconds. Colours beyond human understanding danced in the darkness, even the black hues of the night sky seemed so much more alive than before.
Something deep inside told him that he was dying, yet he couldn’t seem to care. He felt peaceful.
The stars above seemed to notice Alnur for the first time, they reached a tendril of light down towards him. Inviting him to join in their dance. He reached his right hand up as he tried to grab the light.
The tendril of light paused just out of reach.
Alnur tried to shift his body so he could grasp the light, but his left arm was stuck. He glanced down into the water below and saw a massive pillar of coral where his dead hand should have been. With a gasp he was dragged below the waves as his dead hand sank deeper and deeper.
Frantically, he tried to break his arm free from the grotesque growth, thrashing wildly as he held his breath. His lungs burned impossibly as they demanded air. In a desperate attempt he leaned in and sank his teeth into his arm, gnawing as he tried to tear through the flesh.
A burning sensation bloomed around his brow as the whispers that haunted his dreams began their chorus of cries. Pleading, demanding, even begging for him to free them. In response the fire in his belly formed, a vile heat that threatened to boil his innards in its attempt to escape. He bared his fangs as he roared at his arm.
The flames swelled as they rose through his chest, he exhaled the last of his breath as he let the fire consume him. A torrent of heat poured from his mouth as the stream of fire melted through his arm, but not before melting most of his own jaw.
The pain was unimaginable, but he refused to submit, the voices urged him on. Their fingernails dug into his head as they howled in rage.
Alnur turned back towards the ocean's surface, clawing his way through the water as his body pleaded with him to let go. Even as his vision faded he continued his torturous ascent inch by bloody inch. As he neared the surface, he felt a wave of relief. Despite everything, he glanced down at the dark depths one last time.
What he found was a mask of bone staring back at him. Mere inches from his face. Three perfect circles cut into the surface.
When the thing spoke, the stars above screamed in pain. The water shook in terror. The crown and its inhabitants grew quiet for the first time.
The words were foul, Alnur’s brain instinctively tried to not hear them for doing so would kill him. Though even still he knew the meaning behind the words.
What awaits you out there is only pain and suffering. I offer you shelter.
Alnur’s eye burst from the pressure. There was no pain though, his body was too frightened to send the signals for such a thing. Instead Alnur fumbled with his broken mouth. The words formed in his mind and seemed to be enough for the being to understand.
I need to go. They need me.
The mask looked back at him. The darkness in those circles seemed to stretch on infinitely. Alnur couldn’t help but think for a moment he saw something shift in that void. Maybe it wanted to convince him to reconsider, but if it did, it didn’t push the subject.
Seconds stretched on into what felt like eons as the mask moved a fraction of an inch.
If you survive, we will meet again.
The ocean heaved as Alnur was pulled out of the murky depths once more. He tried to find the light, but there was no sign of it anymore. He laid on his back once more as he let himself drift once more on the water's currents, looking up at the celestial dance above.
Alnur wanted nothing more than to snuff out every single one of those wretched lights. The whispers in his head demanded nothing less.
◆◆◆
The extensive care unit of the Keels medical wing was silent aside from the mechanical whirling of the many machines that were hooked up to Alnur. The young king looked to be in a terrible state. A tube jammed down his throat, iv’s delivering fluids and blood on his arms; not to mention the myriad of red crystalline growths that covered his body. Fel sat on a stool by their brother’s side, holding his limp hand in theirs. They felt sick whenever they looked at their brother's face, two large crystal spikes protruding out from where Alnur’s eyes used to be. Tayla had saved his life, but the method in which she had used left Alnur fighting for his life.
Fel seethed with anger, they had failed to protect their own flesh and blood. If only that wretched voidspawn had not put up a barrier, they could have used the Nightfathers effigy and made short work of the whelp. Instead they had been weakened to the point of struggling against Krak’un of all things.
What a pathetic display.
The apathetic part of their mind gnawed at them. Why do you even care if this brother dies? In the end they always die, leaving you alone again. Fel took a breath and banished the unwanted thoughts. They placed a hand on their brother's chest, closing their eyes they felt the ball of light in their own chest, they tried to tap into its power, but like always they were denied. It had been so long that Fel had forgotten what it felt like to be able to draw on their true strength, hells, with every cycle their memories seemed more and more diluted. A few more cycles and they might soon forget everything of their first life.
They glanced over at the shades that stood in the corner of the room, dark shadows without features, casting eternal judgment.
Well, they wouldn't forget that part.
Fel looked around the room, the extensive care unit was circular in shape, every surface stainless steel, filled with various machines and medical tools. The several beds each faced towards the center of the chamber, having curtains to separate them from each other. Next to the door were two hybrids on guard duty, at the news of Alnur and Phi’s injuries the House of Chimeras sent some of their most loyal hybrids to help keep guard. Alnur held a special place in the hybrid's eyes, before he became king they were a fractured lot that while not directly persecuted, were seen as lesser citizens. Alnur’s connection with the Huntmaster had made him see the hybrids like none had before, offering them equal status and a house of their own, pledging to give his life to them like any other Twin. In doing so, he had gained a force that was second to none in strength and loyalty.
Normally they avoided using these rooms if possible, but today's patients required the greatest care they could offer; even if that meant using tools and machines that were irreplaceable. Tayla was being treated with fluids, asleep from exhaustion, her leg was elevated in a cast. The Stormpriest Thoren was covered in holy sigils and prayer seals, he had apparently cast a high level war chant without the proper amount of verses and was paying the price for his rushed spell. The hybrid Phi was undergoing blood transfusions to replace his spent stores of energy.
There was the sound of shouting from outside the room. The hybrids turned to open the door, but Fel cleared the whole of the room in a few strides, bitter at whomever was making such a ruckus while their family was recovering. They opened the double doors, finding a frail second born arguing with the guards that were stationed outside the door.
“I don’t care if the wing is locked down! Where is my sister! I need to know if she’s alright, and nobody is talking to us!” Despite his small stature, the second born was speaking with a commendable fury. Fel didn’t need her second sight to know that the man was boiling with anger. Fel couldn’t quite remember his name, but he looked familiar.
The man finally cast a look over and noticed Fel. His face turned even paler. Though he quickly cast aside the fear to redouble his questioning. “My lady, er, my lord- Bah, damn it all. Fel, you were with the king's party after the battle with the elder Krak’un earlier. Do you know what happened to my sister? Her name is Zo and she was the relay for the king’s party.”
Right, that’s where Fel recognized the man. “Dolm, behind me are those that need peace and quiet, I will not ask you again to keep your voice down.” They could see the man’s will shake a bit, glancing worriedly behind Fel. “Now, I remember them bringing your sister back. The elder’s void magic did a number to her, the doctors were mentioning having to drill into her skull to relieve pressure.”
Dolm’s mouth dropped, gasping for air as he held a hand to his face. One of the guards put a hand on his back to try and comfort him. “Nightfather, please, don’t take her.” He managed to choke out the words between sobs.
Fel should have felt more for the man, the only thing they felt was bitterness that they felt nothing. After this cycle, would they even have any emotion left at all? “You have my permission to go and see the doctors about your sister’s condition, I will send a guard with you so you can go without interference.” With a wave of their hand, Fel motioned for one of the guards to escort the crying man, the guard nodded sharply and left with Dolm in tow.
Turning back, Fel returned to their siblings' sides. There was nothing more to do but wait and see. As they sat between their brother and sister, they recalled their training from so many lifetimes ago, disconnecting their mind and body with a practiced ease. Their perception of time distorted; the physical world seemed to vibrate as time began flowing rapidly. To the mind, it was like stepping back and watching from afar. A second to the brain, an hour to the body. A sudden creak of a bed and Fel snapped back, time returning to its normal perceived flow.
Tayla was struggling to sit up in her bed while grunting in pain.
Laying a hand on her, Fel tried to stop their sister from moving too much. “Easy now, don’t try and get up yet, you’re in pretty rough shape right now.” They said.
Tayla’s eyes shot open as she flailed and thrashed, but despite all of her efforts she could not move Fel’s hand at all. After a moment her eyes finally seemed to focus, her breathing slowing as she noticed Fel was standing beside her. Tears erupted as Tayla looked around.
They placed a hand on Tayla’s cheek to pull her gaze gently back. “Alnur is fine, well, not fine. But he’s stable, relax, deep breaths okay?” The panic started to disappear slowly.
Even as Tayla seemed to regain her composure, she gasped without warning, placing both of her hands on Fel’s arm. “What about you! Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” There was such genuine concern and worry in her voice and eyes that Fel had to look away.
“I’m alright, it takes more than a few crabs to harm me. You should try and keep your voice down Tayla, let the others get some rest.” Fel gently patted Tayla’s arm as they let go.
A raspy voice coughed and spoke up. “Yeah, some of us are trying to sleep here.”
Fel looked over to see the voice belonged to the Stormpriest, one of his eyes struggling to peek over at the siblings.
“Don’t let us stop you from getting your much needed beauty sleep.” Tayla said, doing little to hide her smile.
Thoren tried to laugh, but was taken by a coughing fit as he rolled on his side facing away from the siblings. He seemed to settle quickly as faint snoring could be heard a moment later from his bed.
Tayla turned back to Fel, it was obvious she had questions about their brother’s condition. Fel interrupted her by saying. “I’ll call the doctors right away, we can also discuss your own condition while we’re at it.”
Blinking in surprise, Tayla threw off her blanket to reveal a temporary cast on her leg. Then as if remembering something, she quickly looked at her left wrist. Her face went pale.
“What’s wrong, the doctors didn’t notice any other major injury. Did they miss something?” Fel reached out to see the wrist with their second sight, but Tayla pulled back sharply. Fel could see the wave of fear wash over Tayla’s soul, despite all of the numbness of their emotions, it was surprising how much it hurt to see Tayla recoil in fear at Fel’s touch; they could take it from everyone else, but they thought their siblings understood.
Tayla regained her composure, grabbing Fel’s hand. “Wait, it’s not what you think, I just, I thought… I’m sorry. I’m just still on edge after everything, I thought I felt something but perhaps the link is just sending me mixed signals.”
Now this was new, Fel was still seeing with their second sight; Tayla was lying to them. It was one thing when Tayla would tell white lies, or small fibs, but the way her soul shook, this was something different. When things settled down Fel would press for more information, for now, it would only cause undue stress to push further.
Fel looked to the hybrids that still stood at attention by the door. “One of you go and summon the doctors at once.” The one on the left gave a sharp salute, their body suddenly disappearing in a splash of sea foam. Now they just had to wait to deliver the bad news to their sister.
The room became incredibly cramped, what with the gaggle of doctors, a Sanguinte, and a Cabal bone shaman all standing shoulder to shoulder around Alnur’s bed. Fel was fighting the urge to scowl, they had been warned that while it was effective at causing others to quiet down, it also caused some to faint spontaneously. So instead they resorted to crossing their arms and leaning, which seemed to still get the message across for others to keep their voices down.
Tayla was sitting upright, her face frozen in thought, the doctors had tried to dance around the issue, bedside manner was all well and good, but sometimes you just needed to be blunt. “Let me get this straight.” Tayla said. “My brother is on the verge of meeting the Nightfather, and there isn’t a single thing anyone in the whole of the Coast can do to help him? The Keel is full of wonders from the lost age, and you’re saying not a single one can do anything to save his life?”
The doctors hung their heads in shame, none were willing to speak up and offer any course of action. An older woman whose hair was thin and white cleared her throat. “We have consulted the Keel’s medical database, it advised putting the king into a medical coma until he can undergo the proper surgery. Your sibling, Fel, gave us their consent to have the king be put into the controlled coma for the time being, my lady.”
“Yes, until he can undergo surgery, right. And, remind me, what did you say about that surgery?” Tayla’s tone was circling rage, growing more tense with each syllable.
Another of the doctors stood forward, his gaze hardened. “My lady, we mourn for the king's condition. We are only offering you our educated opinions on the matter. No one has ever had bloodstone infused into their very body like this! We don’t have the tools or knowledge to safely operate on him.”
Tayla held her hands over her face as she shuddered, fighting back tears as she looked at the assembled doctors. “Is there truly nothing we can do?”
The two guests shuffled awkwardly, both seemed to want to bring something up while also trying not to seem disrespectful. The bone shaman rose a frail thin hand. The shaman stuck out like a sore thumb. Here in a stainless steel room, with advanced machinery from ages past covering every wall and surface, stood a small hunched man in sparse robes wearing a mysterious creature's skull as a mask. The bones that were sewn into his garb clacked as he raised his hand to ask for attention. “If I may speak my lady, my name is Wulvon. I hail from the Sunbleacher tribe. I would ask your permission to examine the king myself. I don’t wish to discredit the fine doctors you have here; only to offer my own expertise in the hopes I can aid your king in whatever way I can.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The doctors tensed up. Fel watched as they seemed to ready themselves to argue, only to slowly wilt as they turned their heads away in shame. Tayla simply waved a hand in consent.
Wulvon shuffled over to Alnur’s still body. He pulled out a rolled leather pouch, opening it to reveal various brushes and writing implements. The old man’s hands were always moving, as he pulled out various reagents and vials and started to mix some concoction in a bowl that Fel had failed to notice the man grab. The last ingredient the shaman added was from a leather bag that hung around his neck, this was the only time he seemed to slow down and take extra care. The man dipped a single finger into the bag, pulling it out, there were a few specks of off white dust on the tip. He proceeded to mix the concoction with the same finger he had the dust on. Removing his finger, the liquid in the bowl bubbled and started to glow.
Without looking, Wulvon grabbed a well worn brush, and began drawing runes over Alnur’s body. When he was done, the king's body was covered in various runes and glyphs of various sizes and shapes. He put his brush down, placing both of his hands on Alnur’s chest. The runes and glyphs sprung to life, shaking with energy. They began moving over Alnur’s skin as they danced and rearranged themselves. The shaman’s eyes glowed a violet hue as he chanted in song, it was a mixture of several languages and cants mixed together with a sprinkling of arcane words thrown in for good measure.
Fel rolled their eyes while no one was looking. More than half of the words and phrases the man was using were pure gibberish. They hadn’t had the knack for the arcane themselves, but their old arcana studies master was spinning in their grave at this sorry display of ‘magic’. Though Fel had to give the shaman some credit, while his chants were gods awful, his alchemy and rune work was flawless.
The runes danced faster and faster, glowing brighter until they seemed to be ablaze. Eventually they surrounded Alnur’s heart as they spun, spinning until they were a circle of light that solidified into a ring. The shaman dropped to the floor from the effort of his spell. Gasping for air as he took an offered hand to help him stand. “It is done.” The shaman whispered, his voice ragged from the spell.
“What is done?” Tayla’s eyes were wide. “What was that spell?”
“You are most lucky indeed my lady, had your medical staff not slowed your brother's heart, he would surely be dead by now. I have no idea how you did it my lady, but it is nothing short of a miracle that he still lives. The amount of restructuring you did of his circulatory system is astounding. In your haste to help him however, you inadvertently caused his heart to be unable to keep up with the new structure of his body. With each beat, he is brought closer to death. I have used my magic to help ease the burden of his heart, hopefully it will buy us the time we need to save him.”
Tayla clenched her jaw.
Stepping forward, Fel placed a hand on their sister's shoulder. “If you hadn’t acted, he would have died in the highlands. We will figure something out.” They tried to sound reassuring, yet they struggled to believe their own words.
Through a ragged breath Tayla responded. “So, how do we save him?”
Now it was the Sanguinites turn to interject. “Well, we could take him to the capital. They do have a fully operational autosurgeon, not to mention the Gene Smiths. That would probably be the best chance at his survival.”
“And how would we transport him to the capital in time? It would take weeks by horse.” Fel said.
“Either we call an emergency air ship, or…” The Sanguinite trailed off.
Tayla leaned forward. “Or what?”
Tapping her fingers together sheepishly the blood priest spoke softly. “We could try and teleport there…”
The room exploded in cries of confusion and disbelief. Teleportation magic was incredibly dangerous, it was all but banned for good reason. Warp magic was essentially poking holes in the fabric of reality and hoping really hard that nothing catastrophic happened in response. Even if you managed to set the coordinates right, and somehow powered the spell, you still needed to then traverse the space between realms. It would take nothing short of a miracle to come out in one piece with your mind intact from the corruption of the void.
The blood priest made a calming motion with her hands. “Okay, okay. I was just trying to list our options. Given how little time the king has I wanted to make sure we considered all of our opportunities.”
“Realistically then, that leaves us to somehow get an airship.” Tayla said as she fell back into her bed. “Fel, can you go to the hall of whispers and see if we have any agents in the capital at this time?”
Fel looked at their sister. “I will see it done. You get some rest now.” They turned and cast a dark look at the gathered guests as they spoke. “I would ask that you all let my sister rest in peace. Please.”
Soon the room was empty. Fel made to leave, only to feel a hand grab their own. Tayla’s face was blank. “Why does the All Mother and Nightfather test us so? Are we truly cursed?”
Squeezing her hand gently, Fel tried to muster some encouragement, but nothing came to mind. The situation was dire. “I don’t know what I can say to help. I hope that Alnur pulls through, but regardless we have to keep it together until he’s safe and sound once more. Our people need us to be strong for them.”
Tayla simply nodded her head slightly as she released her grip on their hand. Fel for their part, turned and left quickly. If there was any chance of this airship idea working, they would have to hurry.
They hadn’t checked the time since Tayla had woken up, for all they knew it was the middle of the night, or noon the next day. The downside of using forced perspective to alter their perception of time was that it messed with the mind's natural internal clock. It always took a couple hours to shake off the weird feeling. As Fel exited the Keel, they were met with the morning sun in all of its far-too-bright splendor.
The square around the Keel was surrounded by Twin’s, thousands of them. Each held a candle, or an effigy of the Nightfather, or the All Mother. Their eyes were filled with pain and sorrow. Fel allowed themselves to see with the second sight, and felt a lump in their throat at the sight. Every Twin had such pure colors of grief and sadness. A chorus of countless chants filled the streets, songs of prayer, wishing for Alnur to recover.
Fel felt the thousands of eyes fall on them, most saw them as a walking omen of death, and low and behold here they were appearing before the masses just as they were praying for the health and recovery of their beloved king.
This was a recipe for disaster.
Hurriedly Fel walked towards the direction of the Hall of Whispers. Hoping to pass through the crowd of people without incident. The crowd did little to hide their disdain. Those in Fel’s way quickly backed away; somewhere along the way it had become folklore that touching a triplet would cause tragedy to befall the poor fool that crossed their path. Some spat in their direction. Some whispered curses, wishing they had never been born.
Fel kept a stoic look on their face. Even through all the apathy and unfeeling, this was the one thing that truly hurt them. Even after all these cycles. A burden they had to shoulder alone, a role they had to play time and time again for the good of a people that would only reward them with hatred and scorn. This was one of the luckier cycles, no manacles or chains, clean water and fresh food, as opposed to the squalor and rotten filth they were forced to eat in the past. No, Fel might be their name now, but the weight of all of their other lifetimes had robbed them of any tears they had left long ago; before any of these people were even born.
One by one Fel tuned out the growing jeers and insults. Each person growing more emboldened by the one that came before. Soon the whispers grew to cries, which turned to shouts. Once again Fel was just an outlet for another in a long series of unfair injustices that had befallen the Twins of the Coast. The people could not change the status quo, nor could they do anything to help their king. So they turned that frustration towards a tried and true scapegoat.
A sad display indeed.
I do this for you all. Even if you can’t remember why, I do. I love you all. Fel thought to themself.
The crowd began to throw anything they could grab, volley after volley of refuse and trash came crashing into Fel. With an odd rock mixed in for good measure. Nothing the crowd threw would be of any actual risk to them, it took a lot more than a rock to actually injure them. As the crowd opened a path, a lone boy stood before Fel, refusing to budge. His eyes smoldered with an anger beyond his years. “Why couldn’t it have been you!” He said through gritted teeth.
Fel opened their mouth, trying to think of a response. There was a hint of truth to the young man’s words. Fel would have gladly traded their own life to save Alnur, yet even after being crushed and beaten by the Krak’un, Fel didn’t have even a blemish or scratch to show for it. They were supposed to be the king’s protector. To the common-folk it appeared like they had failed in their duties spectacularly.
The young man looked familiar. Fel realized this was the child that had given his horse to Alnur when the Court had arrived. Even as they were lost in thought the boy pulled out a knife that Fel had already noticed they were carrying. They made no motion to stop the boy’s stab. The crowd gasped, brought out of their sorrow-drunken stupor by the act of sudden violence. The knife moved at a glacial pace to Fel, old training instincts had awoken without their conscious thought. Their mind slowing the perception of time to a crawl, giving Fel more than ample time to assess the non existent threat. Given their heightened reflexes, they could have easily stopped the attack a dozen different ways, but instead, they chose to simply wait and watch.
To the onlookers, the attack was a flash of steel. The knife came to a stop as the hilt hit Fel’s chest. Even the young man looked shocked by his success, trembling as he returned to his senses. Fel gently reached up, unphased by the apparent stab wound to the chest. They slowly pulled the boy's hand back and turned it slightly to show the truth. What once was a thin knife was now a folded mess of poor steel.
A horn blasted from behind. A dozen guards shouting at those assembled to make way as they tried to reach Fel. The guards were led by Lord Broadsen, his perpetually soured expression a lovely shade of red. His voice was booming despite his aged body. “What in the name of the Gods are you fools doing?! Is this how you act when our king is a step away from the endless sea?! You would have the Celestial Court see as savages and lunatics! And on the day of the send off, have you no shame?!” His words cut deep, the crowd’s emotions shifted to guilt and shame as they looked down sheepishly.
Broadsen and his guards made it to Fel, the Lord glanced at the ruined knife in the young man’s hand, his face twisted as he clicked his tongue.
Fel held up a hand. “Thank you for your help Admiral. I was just reminding this young man the dangers of walking around with a knife in one's hand.” The boy looked up as Fel turned back to the child. “Now, no harm was done. Run along now, young one, and do try to remember what you learned today.” Their tone was light hearted. The boy let go of the lump of metal that once had been a knife and ran, his face filling with tears as he left.
“Assaulting a member of the royal family is an act of treason.” The Admiral said in a hushed tone to Fel.
“Assault? He couldn’t even cut a strand of my hair with that butter knife. What would our king say if he learned we hung a child while he was in a coma? Are we to take a life because of a momentary lapse in judgment?” Fel said.
Broadsen scoffed. “He lucked out, stabbing the one person that can’t be stabbed. Anyone else and his ‘momentary lapse in judgment’ would have led to a murder.”
Fel rubbed the bridge of their nose. “Fine, have someone sent to talk to the boy. Not a guard to shackle him, but one of the maidens in silver, he needs therapy, not a prison sentence.”
“And if he does this again, the blood will be on your hands, my liege.” Broadsen turned to his guards. Giving one of them a command to send a silver maiden to the young man’s house. “Now, we will escort you to the Hall of Whispers so we don’t have another riot on our hands.”
Fel gave a sigh as they glanced back at the old man, whispering under their breath to themself. “What would I do without you, my little hero.”
◆◆◆
Tayla wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep for the next week straight, but instead she was sitting in the war room surrounded by the leaders of each house, waiting for her to give them direction or reassurance of some sort. The war room as they called it was the center most part of the Keel, a command room where the whole of the Keel’s systems could be overseen and controlled. Over the centuries it had kept its old name, despite not having been used for anything resembling war in nearly a thousand years.
It had been a pain to get to the war room, her leg was an absolute broken mess, the doctors said that they could attempt surgery to remove the bone fragments and repair the tendons but also admitted that the Keel was nearing the end of its medical grade equipment. Tayla had told them to hold off on surgery, the injury wasn’t life threatening, and the medical supplies should be saved for emergencies.
That left her the fun of trying to traverse the myriad of hallways and lifts of the Keel with one foot. The doctors had an old wheeled chair brought out of some storage unit that had been untouched for the last couple decades. So that was how Tayla now traveled, wheeling around awkwardly while trying not to crash into a wall or corner and inevitably failing. While she never noticed the slight degree of slope the Keel had before, now she was keenly aware of it anytime she had to push herself uphill along the terribly long hallways.
Word had arrived from the Hall of Whispers, the Celestial Court considered the health of one of its nations kings a priority of the highest order. Apparently they had dispatched a skimmer to grab Alnur. Though when pressed about when it would arrive they had been oddly cryptic, stating simply. “Soon”. Tayla hoped that that meant within the next few days, and not in a couple weeks.
She was only half listening to the many Houses bicker about what needed to be done about their situation, she was staring at her left wrist, more accurately she was staring at the eldritch runes that glowed and danced of their own accord. When she had first seen them she was sure that others would find out about her deal with whatever she had encountered in the hunt, but nobody else could seem to notice them. For the moment she wasn’t in danger, she would have to study the markings later when she could finally find some time to do so.
The master of the House of Mourning was raising her hand, hoping to be given the floor over the bickering of the family Houses. Tayla silenced the room with a raise of her hand, gesturing for the House master to speak, glad to have a distraction from her worries. Gale Goodmorrow was a quiet spoken woman of many years, her braided hair white and thinning. Despite her age she still held a healthy weight to her frame, her round friendly face was almost always beaming with a warm smile. “I would like to offer you my most sincere- that is to say- oh gods, I am so sorry about your brother dear.” She reached up to wipe wisps of tears that tried to form. The other House masters nodded solemnly, Alnur was a beloved king, there were of course those that didn’t see eye to eye with how he ruled, but they seemed to be keeping their mouths shut out of respect.
Tayla cleared her throat. She had been fending off the well wishes and prayers of recovery since she left the medical wing this morning. How long had she been awake now, it felt like days, but a glance at the wall clock proved that false; she had only been awake for two hours. “Thank you, Madam Goodmorrow.” She said, “We can’t afford to beat around the bush, my brother is unwell and I have called you all here to make sure that in his hopefully short absence that the nation does not implode. On that matter, how are we progressing for tonights send off?”
The collective House masters seemed taken aback. The lord of the House of Guilds raised his voice. “My lady, considering the events of yesterday, should we perhaps look into postponing the ritual?” The Guild master was an elective role, voted by the different trades and smithies in the Coast as their representative on the council. For now that role belonged to Grayson, a carpenter of some skill.
Goodmorrow was the one to answer the lord's question. “We cannot afford to wait another year! Forgive me, but we are at eighty nine percent capacity in the cold storage, we would run out of space by winter's end!”
Grayson looked embarrassed. “Apologies madam, I am afraid the inner workings of the House of Mourning are still lost on me, I was under the impression that the cryocrypt could store thousands?”
“Gods, I wish we had that kind of storage. Truth be told, the chemical we use for freezing those in our care is already being rationed as much as we can. We have thousands of tanks, but only enough power and freezing agent for a thousand or so at most.” She reached up and removed her glasses while she rubbed her eyes. “Each year that number is shrinking rapidly, another three to five years and we won’t be able to keep up with the yearly losses.”
Tayla cleared her throat. “I believe we must continue on with the festival's end, we owe it to our lost ones to honor them and ensure they pass into the endless sea in their best condition for the afterlife to come.” Madam Goodmorrow seemed glad to hear that Tayla wanted to continue as planned. “I will leave the details of tonight’s send off to you Madam. Show of hands, are there any houses that can offer assistance to the House of Mourning?” A few lords and ladies raised their hands in support, including the guild master.
There was an uneasy tension in the air as Tayla asked her next question. “With all of the fighting in the highlands have we heard anything from the House of the Unseen?”
The assembled lords and ladies grew still and serious. There were exchanges of looks and nervous wringing of hands. From one of the dark corners of the room approached a figure dressed head to toe in blast resistant leather satchels, covered in soot and grease. They wore a gasmask and heavy leather garb that left not an inch of skin exposed. From beneath the mask came the usual distorted voice of the Sap Master. “My lady, my crew and I have begun a full readiness check of all of our devices. So far, thanks to the diligent work of the scouts, none of the hunting parties were in the vicinity of any of our caches. Though we are checking many of them to be sure.” Their voice was so garbled that it was impossible to tell who the voice belonged to; which was the point.
“So, are we ready for midnight?” Tayla asked, using the ancient codeword.
“We are always ready, by your word.” The usual response, at least that was something positive.
With a nod of her head Tayla responded with another key phrase. “May tomorrow bring our new dawn.” And with that the Sap Master vanished once more to continue their unseen work.
Leaning back in the wheeled chairs back rest, Tayla looked to her house masters. “I will be relying on each and every one of you for the foreseeable future. We must stand as one nation, unified under one purpose. Will you support me through these troubled waters?”
By way of responding, each and every house master stood up at attention and gave a heartfelt cry of loyalty. Tayla was glad that she had such able and trustworthy members of her council to help her in the coming days.
Or would it take weeks?
Would her brother ever wake again? She had to focus to banish the intrusive thoughts trying to pour into her mind through any crack they could find. She wanted to go visit the injured to see how they were fairing.
The Keel groaned to life as the screens snapped to show something approaching the coast. The automated systems blared early warnings of the intruding object. Tayla couldn’t help but notice that the system also prompted a request to shoot it down.
With a sigh, Tayla ran a hand through their tangled hair. It seemed the Celestial Courts idea of ‘soon’ was much faster than she had expected.
