The message from the Spell lingered in the back of Asteria's mind like a cold fever.
[What choice will you make, Queen of Nightmare?]
'Choice?' She snarled internally, scrubbing at a stubborn spot of wax on the floor of her quarters. 'What choice am I supposed to be making? Instant death or inevitable death? Damnation this couldn't get any harder...'
Her thoughts were interrupted by a vibration in the wall — a low, melodic hum that only that — disgusting and perverted — glass could produce. Although it wasn't the chime of the mines nor the shackle that was on her neck, it carried the same command.
"Asteria," Velarius' voice drifted through the wall, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "Come. I find myself in need of my favourite attendant."
The title made her skin crawl. "Favourite Attendant" It was a leash wrapped in a compliment. She stood, smoothing the grey silk of her gown, and made her way to his study.
Velarius was standing by the door, his long coat flared behind him like the wings of a predatory bird — exactly what he was. He didn't say a word, merely gesturing for her to follow.
They walked in silence, moving deeper into the heart of the palace than she had ever been permitted to go. The air grew colder, the light shifting from the warm gold of the living quarters to a sharp, clinical blue.
"I have a task for you," Valerius said, his voice echoing off the crystalline arches. "One born of necessity, and perhaps — a touch of curiosity.
He stopped before a set of massive, translucent doors etched with the history of a thousand years. "The Gallery of our Ancestors. It is the golden-child memory of this horrid kingdom. Usually, only the high priests or Her Majesty herself tread here, but the dust of the ages is beginning to dull the clarity of our forefathers. Clean them, will you, my dearest?"
He opened the doors, and the pressure in the air tripled.
Asteria stepped into the Gallery and her instincts immediately went into a frenzy.
It was a long, cavernous hall, lined with statues of the former kings and queens of the Glass Kingdom. They weren't carved from stone; they were cast in a pure, crystalline glass. Each figure stood in a pose of divine authority, their features captured in terrifyingly perfect detail.
Valerius stayed at the threshold, leaning against the doorframe with that same, unnerving smile. He was inspecting her — watching her eyes dart around the room, waiting for her reaction.
Asteria felt a wave of nausea, followed by the surge of something much darker. To a normal person, this room was of art and heritage — to Asteria, though? It was wrong. Very wrong.
The statues weren't just glass. As she looked around the room, it exploded into a blinding web of blue and silver. Every statue was a reservoir. They were pulsing with a heartbeat of raw, concentrated essence so potent it made the air taste like a buffet. And Asteria hasn't devoured in months.
The insatiable maw in her chest didn't just growl; it roared.
'I want to devour them.' She realized, her fingers twitching at her sides. The urge was visceral, a primal craving that made her mouth water and swallow her saliva at the smell alone.
Staring at the statue of a king three generations dead, she felt as if she could swallow the entire thing whole. She imagined the rush of adrenaline, the ecstasy of that much power flooding her soul.
'It's exactly like... a battery...' She thought, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she forced herself to bring up a polishing cloth. 'This whole hall is a storage facility. But who needs this much? Why is it all funneled here?'
She began to work on the base of the nearest statue, her movements precise but unnaturally sloppy. She could feel Valerius' gaze on her back, a physical weight. He was like a predator watching a cub. He knew what she was feeling, he was testing her restraint — wasn't he?
As she moved deeper into the Gallery of Batteries — as she called it — toward the far end where the shadows seemed to pool like ink, a new sensation took hold. Deep within her soul sea, the [Monarch's Talisman] — the relic she had carried from the far future — began to hum.
It wasn't a physical sound — not really. It was a spiritual one, a high pitched scream of recognition that vibrated throughout her very being. It felt like hot coal pressed against her heart.
Asteria stumbled, catching herself against the glass sarcophagus of a long-dead queen. The Talisman was reacting to something nearby. Not just the essence in the statues, but something below.
She looked down at the floor. Beneath the polished glass tiles, she could feel the faint, glowing lines of a massive security ward. And directly beneath her feet, the Talisman's calling reached a fever pitch.
'It's down there,' She realised, her eyes widening. 'The other version of this talisman and that stupid "Vault of Splendor" that got me into this mess.'
The relic from the future was calling out to its past self, bridging the gap between what was and what will be.
She looked back at Valerius. He was still smiling — of course he was — his golden eyes fixed on her. He had seen her stumble.
"The history of this place is heavy, isn't it?" He called out, his voice echoing through the Gallery. "Most cannot stand the weight of so much... vile poison — I mean legacy. It tends to make the heart race."
Asteria didn't answer, she didn't want to or need to. She turned back to the statue, her knuckles white as she gripped the polishing cloth.
'Is this what he was after? A bit of enjoyment from his new plaything?' She gritted her teeth, her internal voice was a sharp edge of defiance.
"Why did you bring me here, my ever-so-sweet and honest master?" She snarled, choosing the simplest and worst method of finding out.
"Oh? You caught me! I just wanted to test something, you see. Maybe I'll reward you for this display of courage! After all, I am the most cunning man in the whole Kingdom of Glass!" He smiled warmly like a fanatic reciting his scripture, his golden eyes searching through her own; digging their way through her soul.
'Lunatic.' Is all she could think. 'He's not sane! At all!'
"Cunning? Yeah, you seem awfully cunning..." She mumbled, knowing he could probably hear her with his transcendent senses.
"I'm glad you're aware. Now, chop chop! You don't have all day to clean, do you?" He exclaimed with bitter glee.
'Fanatic. Insane. Lunatic.'