Seris Vritra
Somehow, it seemed as if I were the only being in the world who had learned to sit still.
I lounged in a highback chair, intent on the little device in my hands: a strange, putty-like substance. And yet, with every motion I took, the clay in my hands proved to be more than what it appeared. A nudge of mana here, and it warped inward, almost as if I'd pressed my fingers against it instead of my magic. I traced a pristine digit across the rim, feeling at the structure within, but it resisted me, laughing at my attempts.
It was a gift given to me by Chul: one of his first attempts at creating something with acclorite and sacred fire. The boisterous brute had apparently tried to make a shield that would absorb all impacts, but instead, he'd molded a bit of putty that would reshape itself at a mage's poking and prodding.
And Toren, of course, I thought, stretching the near-formless mass out slightly, used that wonderful mind of his, and hinted that his brother should gift it to me.
A smile quirked at the edges of my lips as I beheld the form that was starting to take shape: almost a rope, but not quite.
"And I say that we must add more filigree along the train!" a voice declared imperiously, half-way haughty. "At this part here, it is lacking in any ornamentation! We must make it grand!"
The response was swift and far more measured. "Lady Roa, this is part of the elven style," Merial Eralith said, her gaze serene. Even though the war had ended, she still played the part of political queen and the height of reason. "It does well to complement the looser sleeves above, as you see."
The former queen of the elves proved her point, pulling at her daughter's sleeves, which were made of the finest silk Elshire had ever produced. And that was, in part, due to the phoenix who was fussing at the elven princess's back.
Tessia Eralith, Lance of Dicathen, Princess of Elenoir, soldier, daughter, lover, and great beauty known throughout the world for her strength and purpose, looked incredibly disappointed in both her mother and the Hearthmember who had helped her create her bridal dress. She stood with her arms out, embracing the last few touches she needed before the big ceremony. Alice Leywin smiled tenderly at her near-daughter-in-law's consternation, continuing to apply makeup to the princess' face. It made the young elf somehow more beautiful: her eyes, already gemstones, became jewels in the crown of her countenance, traditional elven runes sweeping like a river from her eyes.
It reminded me absently of war paint… But not quite. It did well to capture that—despite the woman's beauty—she was fierce as any soldier, too.
Roa fluttered back around, holding a part of the dress up to the former elven queen. The phoenix's short red hair was an utter mess, an amusing contrast to the princess beside her. "But look here! If what you said were true, then there ought to be filigree here. But there isn't!"
Merial opened her mouth to reply, ready with something no doubt something swift and decisive, but then she paused, peering at the silk. Indeed, it was hard to put one's finger on it, but there was something lacking in it, wasn't there? It was the purest, perfect white: so white it nearly forgot to reflect the late afternoon sun streaming through the window not far away. The weaves of emerald runes that were stitched through the fabric seemed to breathe with a life of their own, and if I were not a purely rational being, I might have been convinced that the dress was a living thing unto itself, sculpting itself in every way it might try to best accentuate the beauty of the woman wearing it.
And yet still… It felt incomplete.
I reached out the the side table near my chair, grabbing my cup of steaming coffee—made from the purest strains Lady Roa had recently devised—and raised it to my lips. It helped cover my smile as I shared a look with the elven princess. Her eyes glimmered with mirth as she found that I had understood.
"Perhaps you could consult me," Tessia offered with a raised, gray-silver eyebrow, her lips quirked into a smile. "After all, I am the one getting married, and I did do most of the dress's design myself. Perhaps… just perhaps… I might have an answer to your problems?"
Roa blinked rapidly, as if the conclusion had just come to her. It reminded me of a firefly's light flickering in and out. "Oh, yes!" she said, clapping her hands together. "That is a good point, isn't it?"
Merial, for her part, locked up a little, suddenly rigid. She opened her mouth to speak, then let out a slight sigh. "Of course, Tessia," she said, a somber smile stretching across her face. "I should have asked you first."
Tessia brought her hands in front of her, magic swirling about her. Her eyes glimmered with mischief as she beckoned the two closer, then whispered something so only they could hear. I rolled my eyes—I'd already taken a guess at what she would be doing, of course—but found my attention resting on the other queen-to-be in the room.
Sylvie Indrath ran a delicate comb through Tessia's silver-gray hair, weaving it like thread through a great loom. But for all the gentle, loving touch the dragoness gave, she had been silent throughout it all. Absent, in a way the others were not.
She thinks of the future, even now, I realized, finding myself almost in the same vein. A folly of those who have only known the need to look forward.
I set my mug of coffee down, appreciating the heat in my stomach, using it to center myself. No, I was not accustomed to… living in the moment. At least not in this way. But today was one of the present, a time for joy, celebration, and happiness.
Arthur Leywin and Tessia Eralith had long debated where to hold their long-awaited wedding. So many things needed to be considered: politics, guests, power balances, venue, what was to be said… After all, one man was the King of Dicathen, and though he would do all he could to gradually and safely relinquish the power centered beneath him in the coming years, he was king for a while yet. And welcoming a queen? That was no small affair: especially when said queen was the princess of all of Elenoir.
The things we do for love, I mused, a brush from my Heart guiding me back into needed peace. And they found a compromise, didn't they?
A great palace had been raised on the slopes of the Grand Mountains, perfectly between the Elshire Forest and the town that had been called Ashber. A middle-point between Arthur Leywin and Tessia Eralith, and a subtle declaration of the world to come.
"That is a wonderful idea!" Roa said enthusiastically as Tessia finally leaned away, done explaining her grand plan. "Why, when I married Lithen, I did something different, but you would have adored it. But our powers are unique in the way they've manifested, aren't they?"
As if to punctuate the point, a white rose grew from the tip of Tessia's finger, coiling with vines. The princess sighed as a gentle perfume drifted from the petals, easing the spirits of all of us. "Willow is wonderful, isn't she?" she mused, brushing her finger against the vine. "I guess… I'm not used to this sort of thing. Not anymore. It reminds me of my school days, back when I fantasized about what my wedding would be like."
Merial's expression faltered, and she laid a hand on her daughter's arm. She opened her mouth, then struggled to speak. Sylvie's handiwork faltered, and the dragon blinked, as if suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings again.
Alice, however, wasn't deterred. She took Merial's hand, then began working on one of the final necessary pieces with her. A crown of vines, roses, and other elven things.
"I can smell the dishes from here," the emitter said, turning toward the far door. She alone seemed well at ease in the shift of the room, and she shouldered the sudden burden that had befallen the small family. "Do any know what is being made? I can hardly imagine what food we will all be served."
Roa drifted backward, shrugging off the melancholy. "I do not know. All I have heard is that Diella is providing the ingredients. She has always been wonderful at those sorts of things!"
I took that opportunity to rise from my chair, finally satisfied with what I'd managed to make with the malleable acclorite.
"I assigned Cylrit and Caera the job of tending to the feast," I said, gliding forward. "Even among asura, their talents for the culinary art are to be envied. I suspect all of us will have a meal we will not soon forget."
I offered up my creation: a silver bracelet, with the emblems of Dicathen and Alacrya stamped on. It was not the greatest of crafts, as I was not the greatest of craftsmen: but I hoped it would be received warmly. "A gift for your wedding day," I offered the elven princess, smiling.
Tessia took the bracelet from my hand, admiration shining in her eyes. "Thank you, Seris," she said sincerely, drawing it onto her wrist. And when she wrapped me in a hug, leaving me startled for the barest moment, I had the wherewithal to hug her back. "I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me. We could have never put together something so intricate without your help."
I chuckled, drifting back. Indeed, Lady Eralith had asked me to help her plan the event. I'd done all I could to coordinate asura, Dicathian, and Alacryan together for something both grand and personal. Now was not the time to say it, but it had been an interesting experience, working with Arthur Leywin instead of against him.
"I admit, I haven't put my talents to something so…" I struggled to find the words, tilting my head much in the way of my Spellsong. "At ease, before? I find I'm looking forward to this being the norm."
It was Sylvie who answered me, drifting down like a feather on the wind. The young almost-queen of Epheotus smiled, and with a pang, I realized her smile was like Toren's. "It's been a long time coming, Lady Seris," she agreed, crossing her hands before her. "After everything, all we've done, all we've been through… It is almost hard to believe. But this is the world we've earned, isn't it?"
"I couldn't have done it without you, either," Tessia laughed, grabbing the young dragon in a hug and ruffling her hair. "How would Arthur have ever figured anything out without you? He'd would've somehow forgotten to propose!"
"You both tried to propose at the same time," Sylvie corrected with a giggle that made her sound her age. "And I'm not a little fox anymore, Tessia. It's not fair that you get to hold me like this and you get the dress as an excuse!"
The two descended into playful banter that made the sun seem brighter, the scents all the more potent. I smiled warmly, content in myself, when I noticed something to the side.
Merial's fingers slipped as she tried to weave a threaded vine through her daughter's laurel crown. She tried again, then again. She was trembling when Alice finally took the lead, the Leywin woman laying a gentle hand over hers.
The elven queen abruptly laughed, her voice cracking lightly. "I remember when you were a child, Tessia," she said weakly. "My little girl, running about Elshire. Playing with the mists, taunting every dark corner. With Arthur, too."
The scents of cinnamon and warm spice, of autumn spice and baking food, turned slightly on themselves. Before, they were a reminder of what was to come, the longing of home. But they became a reminder, then, of what homes there had been. Merial Eralith, for all her poise as elven queen, could not weave this so easily.
Alice swallowed hard. "Arthur, I remember… I remember when I first brought him into this world," she said weakly, pressing her forehead against the elven councilor's in an act of purest sympathy. "It was nearly twenty years ago, Merial. But I don't know how it could have been. Time seems to forget us sometimes, leaving us all behind."
This time, the queen couldn't keep her emotions contained. Her fingers faltered, and the crown slipped through, tumbling to the floor. "You're right, Alice. You're right. It should have been a heartbeat ago, my little girl. All of it should have been long ago. I should still be your mother, shouldn't I? Why… why are you already so grown?"
Tessia's face, painted in amused laughter, softened as a pond's ripples evened out. Though the runes slipping down her eyes had first made me think of war paint, now they looked like tear tracks. But not tears shed now, no: tears that had been shed long ago.
"I have thought a great deal of what it meant to… grow," Tessia said gently, weaving one hand through Merial's, the other through Alice's. A crown of fallen petals lingered at their feet as the three grew closer. "In a better world? Perhaps in a better world, we could all remain children. Or maybe it is best that we grow. I… don't think I know. But I suppose I miss being a child, too."
I crossed my hands over my stomach, trying hard not to wring my own hands dry. Visions of Caera—so young, so naive, so optimistic—flickered in my mind. Of days when she was only a girl, playing at Ascenders in the garden of the Denoir estate. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something. But words failed me, even as we all found common ground.
I was not my Spellsong, not one who could weave and pull the hearts in such a way. But I had come to understand the heart a bit better: and so as the elven princess spared me a glance as she shared a delicate moment with those who had seen her grow, I knew what she needed.
I let out a terse breath through my nose, turning toward Roa and Sylvie. Gently, I gestured toward the door. "Come on, you two," I said quietly. "Let us finish our preparations. The bride has it all well in hand."
Roa, who had been watching the three with fond eyes, startled. She picked up the crown they'd dropped, setting it gently on a nearby table, before drifting out of the room. Sylvie was next, the young dragon floating closer to me as I took my leave.
And though I kept my face impassive, projected all I could a sense of strength, my heart squeezed fitfully in my chest. I walked through the elaborate halls, my mind turning about itself. Through a conjured labyrinth I meandered, ghosting through hall after hall, a wraith in my own way.
You knew this, didn't you, Aurora? I wondered, coming to a halt in front of a tall, stained glass window, overlooking the western horizon. That pride and fear, leaving a child behind… That the role of a teacher must be self-destructive, that we must seek the obsolescence of our own roles, the ones that we hold so close to our hearts?
The glass was beautiful, splitting the light along painted lines. A dozen elves of transparent green, yellow, and silver danced around a flickering flame. Dancing for what they had lost. Dancing for what they had gained. Dancing for the love and struggle of life.
I stared at a sliver of an elf in the glass, dappled as they were by the light streaming through. And I wished, for only a moment, that I could pull them from the glass, bring them into this world. I wished to ask them questions about their world of glass and split light. What did the colors mean to them? And when they were filled with that vibrancy, how did they live with it?
"What is on your mind, Lady Seris?" a gentle voice asked from beside me. "You look like you're trying to think all the thoughts in the world, all at once."
I let out a light laugh, tilting my head back. The light caught on my one remaining horn, leaving me warm inside. "I wonder at what it is to live, Lady Sylvie," I replied, brushing away a tear that had nearly escaped my eye. "There's been so much loss, and so much gain. I feel as if I should be able to put it all together somehow; map it like one great puzzle. But every time I try… It seems I fail. There's always something more to learn that sets it all ajumble. Now, you see, I am at peace, but it appears that I cannot understand this peace, either."
The young dragon stood by my side. She pressed a hand to the stained glass. "Arthur was like that," she mused. The light shone through her fingers, brightening her wheat-blonde countenance as the rays peeked past the digits. "But he never quite figured out how. I think that everyone is like that, in the end. Always trying to put it all together, make it whole somehow. It kept him from peace, you know."
The young dragon looked at me, amber eyes aglow as we stood in silence. "Lady Caera will be leaving soon, won't she? Following Scythe Cylrit to Earth to track down Oludari Vritra and the rest of the Wraiths."
I hummed, clasping my hands behind my back, allowing a somber smile to stretch across my face. "Indeed, they shall," I said softly. "Your bond wished to take the journey himself, to make amends for 'Grey.' If I recall, it took some convincing for him to recognize he'd earned this happiness of his. Is he still questioning?"
"Thankfully, no. But if he does, we'll remind him that he's not responsible for everything. Sometimes those we care for do forget what they've earned," Sylvie said slyly, patting me on the shoulder. Then, she continued more somberly. "But it's difficult, to think in any other way."
I remained silent, sensing that the young dragon needed to gather her thoughts. Like pebbles scattered across a path, she gathered them as she went.
"The first time I really began to grow, really began to think… It was when Arthur was training in Epheotus for the first time. And I immediately began to train. For war, for combat, for bloodshed… Against my own father. And then, eventually, against my grandfather as well. For years, war was at the forefront of all I was. It was all I could be, trying to protect those I loved."
The dragon peered up at me quizzically. "We're at peace now, Lady Seris. I think there are many, many of us who have never known it, either."
"Many who have never known peace," I echoed, pressing a hand to my chin, considering it as well as I could. We had peace, yes, but… It felt like that wasn't enough to capture all of what we had.
With Agrona toppled, Kezess vanishing in the wake of Epheotus' destruction, and the flight of Oludari Vritra to Earth via his portal technology, I was finally able to help the people of Alacyra forge something new from the ashes their Sovereigns left behind. So many had been hurt. So many had been killed. And so many had been left without hope for a brighter future. And we hoped to give them their lives back and more.
But there was more to face, too. The growing cult that Circe Milview had speared threatened to overturn so much of what was to come… Or perhaps enforce it? And the faction of those disabused by the Sovereign's malice was still strong, led by the Butcher of Saluamatu: those opposed to any asuran recognition in society.
And Sylvie Indrath, daughter of Agrona Vritra and granddaughter of Kezess Indrath, stood at the head of a tide not too different from my own. With the homeland of the asura gone, the many once-gods of that distant land were left to wander Alacrya, wander Dicathen, and even create new islands of their own to live in. And it fell to her to lead them, with all the other young asura who had joined her.
How many of them would simply waltz through the 'lessers' in their way? How many new homelands, new continents, new worlds needed to be discovered to satisfy the sudden void of control?
"I suppose that one can still struggle within peace," I acknowledged, daunted by the task set before us both. But that kindling fire of hope in my chest—that had seen me through this war, and had seen me become myself—nestled deep inside. It was an interesting revelation, to know that I was not alone. "You are wise beyond your years, Lady Sylvie."
The young dragon blushed slightly, turning back to the tiles of glass. "I had a great vantage point," she said mysteriously. "But truly… I do hope to follow in my bond's footsteps as he slowly lets go of Dicathen. In that, the 'gods' can learn from the 'lessers.' I don't want to be a queen. I don't want to have such weight on my shoulders."
"If I may be so bold, you have had no better model for where you need to go, Lady Sylvie. And even outside of Arthur? You'll have help along the way," I said, spying the sun in the sky, inching closer and closer to the horizon. "Toren Daen has designs of his own, ones I look forward to seeing the outcome of."
Only a few months ago, two hundred phoenixes had fought beyond the shores of Alacrya, battling the greatest of Epheotus' warriors, refusing them their destruction. On that day, the stars had come down to earth, fighting the tide seeking to wash away every bit of life on our continent. Two hundred phoenixes, empowered by the thunder of their hearts and the music of their souls, had faced an army of five thousand: and left their foes broken.
Now? Now, the ranks of the Hearth were swelling. In the wake of the Battle for Alacrya and Moon's Shattering, those inspired by the ideals and strength professed by my Spellsong had flocked to the banner of the burning heart. Dwarf, elf, human, Dicathian, Alacryan, asura… All were welcome in the growing ranks of this world's protectors. Even Taci Thyestes, Sarvash Matalli, and more than a few others that I had thought would pose an obstacle in the new world order had, instead, thrust themselves into the heart of it.
The Hearth remained an independent force. One that stood for love, for passion, and for home. And as many worlds opened up before us, it was clear that we needed protectors more than ever.
Toren had spoken to me of it with wonder in his eyes, somehow surprised by what had come to pass. I had held him, then, sweeping him in an embrace that I hoped would convey all I needed it to. My songbird had brought that hope to so many more.
Absently, I found myself brushing the sheared stump where one of my horns had been, the connection that it still had to me lingered, coiling through my heartfire, nudging my lifeforce. Not quite a bond, but close. Enough that I could sense him, feel him when I needed. And that peace I couldn't explain, that peace I struggled so deeply with… It rose again, turning my well-ordered thought into a slurry mess once more.
"Are we to expect another marriage on the horizon?" Sylvie Indrath teased, bumping my shoulder. "Do you really think I don't know that look in your eyes? After so many years with Arthur, you can't fool me."
I laughed joyfully, surrendering my struggle for a moment. Or perhaps falling deeper into it? "Nothing as much, Lady Sylvie. I do not wish for a ring: I have his heart as no other. The songs we've shared are more than enough, I believe. That, my young Indrath, is something you may learn one day, hmmm?"
I realized then, as I laughed freely, why I felt so strangely at ease speaking with this amber-eyed dragon. The warmth in her soul, the care in her eyes? She shared it with another.
The young dragon's teasing smirk remained true for a moment as the mood settled, like a blanket covering a body and keeping the warmth inside. "I suppose I may find love one day, when my task is done. But… I have come for something else. Something that deals with love, I think, but I don't know how to move forward."
I turned to look at the asura fully for the first time, sensing the shift in the hall. My brows furrowed as I began to put together the pieces of our conversation, wondering at what had left Lady Sylvie so ill at ease. "This is not about the struggles that face us as leaders, is it?" I considered the absent stare she'd had as she combed Tessia Eralith's hair, weaving threads in and out. I realized, even as she'd approached, that she had come looking for something. Searching for an answer to a question she hadn't quite learned yet. "What assistance can I offer you?"
Sylvie turned away from the sun, instead offering out her arm. "Would you walk with me, Lady Seris? I need time to compose my thoughts."
I smiled gently, seeing her for a moment as the young girl she truly was: the young girl she'd let me see. When I linked my arm through hers and we began to walk, I realized how we appeared. Both clothed in perfect black, with something other than Vritra in our veins? We had more in common than I had first considered.
For once, even the pull of my burn-white blood had quieted. For all that it desired the end of all basilisks, it seemed to understand that there was something more, here. Something important.
"When Fate was remade, er… Reforged," Sylvie said, taking us further away from the looming party, "I was able to realize just how much has changed in this world. I don't think anyone else knows, or has been able to know. Except, I think, for Toren."
The young dragon ignored my inquisitive stare, instead forging onward, forming her thoughts as they came. "Spellsong told us once. He told Arthur and me, right before the Fateful time of the Second Dawn, of something he had seen. And he told you everything, did he not?"
I nodded slowly, careful to keep my gaze forward. "Yes," I acknowledged quietly. I thought of my notebook, buried deep in my dimension ring. Where Toren spoke of another world, another time, another possibility. I wondered, then as I often did, were he to have read it all the way through, what it would have in store for this world. "He saw much, didn't he?"
Sylvie wet her lips with her tongue, guiding us forward. "Regis sacrificed everything for us," she continued mournfully. "I never got to learn who he was, never got to see him more. He was made from part of me, from my sacrifice to waylay Death's hand on my bond. And I am ashamed to say that… I never let myself grow closer to him. Because I was angry at him, Lady Seris, and I've never learned why. But he knew, I think. He knew. And he understood."
And that, the living weapon may well have taken from Spellsong, I thought, considering all the times I had known that very sensation. Not an easy thing to face.
Sylvie slowed to a halt at a crossroads, a four-way split in the grand halls. The arches seemed somehow taller above us, stretching as far away from us as they could manage. As if they were afraid to kneel down at our level, to bear the weight where we might see. The young Indrath shook, staring at the floor, her arm tensing around mine.
"When he left, he gave me something," Sylvie whispered, her eyes distant, fogged in the way they had been when she was with Tessia. "A gift, maybe. Or a curse."
We remained there, silent for a time, as the young dragon worked up her courage. In the meantime, I traced the arches of the hall, drifted through the weaves of the ambient mana. Yes, they thought they were well out of our sight, bearing tons upon tons of stone where we couldn't see.
"He gave you a glimpse," I guessed, my voice quiet as any autumn breeze.
Sylvie's eyes were shadowed for a time by her bangs, choppy and blunt. She kept her head lowered to the floor, her shoulders bowed by a burden no others knew she carried.
"A vision of what could have been," she agreed softly. "And no matter how I try, even when I ought to be there for who I love, in this time of joy… It will not let me rest, this knowledge I have. I am a balloon ready to burst. But today is Arthur's day. His wedding day, a time for his joy. Not for this… weight."
I let out a solemn sigh, tilting back my head. With a gentle upturn of my lips, I found myself falling back through my past, tumbling toward when I had claimed the notebook of mine. I had thought myself atop the world, ready for the challenge I'd faced. But when I had opened it, read through every line? I found myself more and more confused. More afraid. Almost distraught.
Because, if what I was reading were real… What was real? What was fiction?
"Toren would have known of what you speak," I replied gently. "You could have certainly gone to him."
Sylvie shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Yes, I suppose that may have been better."
"I did not say he would be better," I chided, laughing a bit. "Only that he would know of what you speak. But he came here, to this world, after he had already gained his knowledge, did he not? And yet it is what we have always known."
Sylvie Indrath, held by the weight of her past, her future, and a future that could have been, remained transfixed at this crossroads, between all that she could be. And so she came to me: the one other she might trust in this.
"If there is anything I have learned over the course of this great and terrible war, Lady Sylvie," I said, "I think, at the heart of it all, it may be one thing. Do you know what that is?"
"You'll tell me, I'm sure," the young dragon replied cheekily, the dour mood brightening. I brushed her words off with an apathetic air fitting of a Scythe, though inside I was amused.
I thought of all that had been done. Fate itself, remade, a new Aspect forged of the love of a mother. A space that could only have been made as the Sword and Crown turned on themselves, carving a place for a Heart to beat. And all because of the will of the few. The wills of those who would not stay downtrodden, who would not stay broken. Because when faced with their future, they were determined to make a better one.
"We make our own Fates, Lady Indrath," I replied, believing every word. "Our choices, those ones that define us? They are ours. They belong to us and no others, even when they wound us. You are no more bound by that vision as you were before. But it may not feel that way, I'm sure. So…"
Sylvie looked up at me, amber eyes alight with hope. "So?"
"Have you ever considered writing a book?" I offered, so very aware of the wicked grin on my face.
The young dragon was surprised by the look there, if her laugh was any indication. She raised her fingers to her lips, stifling it. "Why, I don't suppose I have," she mused, though I could see that the idea began to enchant her. "A book? An interesting solution. I think I like that idea."
One of the ways my Spellsong faced the world was through his music. Art, it seemed, was the great balm of the soul. And considering how alike Sylvie Indrath and Toren Daen were, I could think of no better offer than the artist's endeavor.
"Before you write, you'll have to come up with a title," I pointed out. "The only place to start is at the beginning."
Sylvie moved forward again, taking us along the furthest path—the one that would lead back to the main hall, where the wedding would take place. Her steps gained confidence, surety, and stability as a grin spread across her face, just as mischievous as mine had been. Far in the distance, the mana signatures of a hundred familiar faces burned to my Integrated senses. It wouldn't be long now, would it?
"The only place to start?" Sylvie mused, holding her chin with one pale hand. "I'm not so sure I agree with that, Lady Seris. The title might very well come later, when I'm already halfway through writing!"
The scion of the Indrath clan found the strength again to unlink our arms, sure in her direction once more. And all the while, I wondered, more intrigued than ever before. With Agrona's fall, some part of me was afraid. Without a monster to fight against, to keep myself in check with? Where would I go? What would I do with this peace?
But this world always offered me more "dominoes," if only I knew where to look.
I might know what title you'll choose, I thought, feeling at the puzzle that life had offered me. I might. Or I might not. But no matter the outcome, I'm sure it will be wonderful.
After all, we did make our own Fates.
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I don't know when I'll have the other chapters written: it might be a while. But they'll be coming!