It took hours.
Dusting statues twice her size with nothing but a cloth and a bucket of "Cleansing Light" was a task designed to break the spirit, what else could it be if not torture? The Gallery was the size of a small stadium, a cathedral for frozen egos. For every inch of glass she polished, she had to fight the urge to scream. The air in the hall was so thick with concentrated essence that it felt like swimming through syrup — sweet, intoxicating and impossibly suffocating.
Valerius watched the entire time. He didn't pace, he didn't read. He simply leaned against the threshold, his smirk never fading, his golden eyes tracking her every movement like a hawk watching a field mouse. Yet, as the hours dragged on and Asteria didn't falter, his gaze shifted. The clinical coldness stayed, but a layer of warmth — almost a twisted sort of fondness — began to bleed through.
When she finally wiped the last smudge of dust from the pedestal of a warrior-king, Asteria's hands were trembling with a mix of exhaustion and suppressed hunger. She turned to face him, her breathing rattling in her chest.
Valerius clapped his hands together. The sound was sharp, sarcastic, and echoed endlessly off the crystalline arches.
"Bravo," he drawled. "And here I thought you'd give up, or perhaps offer me a pathetic plea for mercy. Most would have collapsed from the pressure alone!"
"How could I ever dare to complain in your presence, My Lord?" Asteria spat. Her voice was a dry rasp, her words trailing off into a quiet edge. "After all, you'd likely kill me just to see how the light reflected off my blood."
He chuckled — a small, genuine sound that he allowed himself to indulge in. "Quite right. I value efficiency over sentiment." He pushed off from the frame and took a slow, confident stride towards the statue at the far end of the hall. It was the centerpiece — newer, fresher, and pulsing with a light so vibrant it made the surrounding monuments look like dull lead.
It was a depiction of the Queen, her figure of absolute, terrifying beauty.
CRACK.
The sound was like a gunshot. Without a hint of hesitation, Valerius reached out and tore the statue's left arm clean off at the shoulder. He caught the massive limb in his arms as if it were a casual gift, his face a mask of devilish malice.
"I never liked this one anyway," he scoffed, his voice returning to the cheerful, manic lilt. "Her eyes were always too judgemental. Here — consider this your reward. I hope it's to your liking.
He tossed the limb. It hit the floor with a heavy thud, sliding across the tiles to rest at Asteria's feet.
Asteria stared at the glass arm. It was the size of her entire torso, a solid hunk of glass that had been marinating in the essence of the Palace for decades. The hunger within her void demanded for it, yearned for it, a void that screamed to be filled.
"And what," she asked, her voice flat and dangerous, "am I supposed to do with this?"
"Whatever that voice inside your head is telling you to do," Valerius replied. His voice was suddenly devoid of emotion, replaced by a cold, clinical analysis. "I'm awfully curious, Asteria. You are... most peculiar."
Asteria looked from the arm to the man. 'Does he know? Is he trying to bait me-?'
"I'm afraid there is no voice in my head," she lied, her face a mask of boredom. "It's just an arm. It's the size of me. I have no use for a pile of broken glass."
She sighed, turning away. 'I'd really hate to refuse this... it's a feast... but it's a trap. It has to be.'
"I suppose I'll take it away, then," Valerius said. He began to reach down, his hand moving slowly, testing her.
Asteria didn't even think. Her hand moved on instinct, swatting his fingers away with a sharp smack and dragging the sculpture back toward her body. The movement was primal, territorial.
Valerius's smile returned, wider than before. "Oh? You're not telling me everything? Fine. Have it your way."
***
She was back in her quarters now. The glass walls were silent, but she could feel him on the other side, a presence waiting in the dark.
Asteria sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the glass arm resting on the fur sheets. The light from the window hit the crystal, making it glow with an inner fire. Her instincts were screaming. Her soul felt like a parched desert, and this arm was a torrential rain.
'Damnation, it's so tempting,' she whispered. 'It's a trap. He wants to see what I am. He wants to see me lose my humanity.'
But the hunger was no longer a suggestion. It was an executive order.
She opened her runes, her eyes scanning the tally.
[Spell Fragments: 156/1000]
'The only way is up,' she thought grimly.
She placed her hand on the limb. She let go. She stopped fighting the void in her chest and let the Hunger run rampant, oozing out of her pores and sinking into the glass.
The sensation was impossible to describe. It was like receiving water after a lifetime of drought — a feast after being starved in the dark. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over her, making her back arch and her breath hitch. She felt like she was submerged in a river of liquid light and ecstasy.
It was addicting. It was terrifying.
'I could get used to this...' she thought through hurried, shallow breaths. The glass arm began to lose its luster. It didn't break; it simply dissolved, its physical matter turning into a shimmering mist that flowed into Asteria's chest.
[Your dream has grown significantly stronger.]
The essence from the limb was a dam breaking. It was a humbling experience — realizing how truly weak she had been, and now feeling this tidal wave of power coursing through her veins.
Then, the ecstasy curdled.
A sharp, ludicrous pain exploded beneath her ribs. It felt as if a star were being born inside her lungs.
[Your dream is taking shape.]
Asteria collapsed to her knees, her fingers clawing at the fur sheets. The pleasure was gone, replaced by an indescribable suffering. It was as if her soul were being dipped in lava and then beaten on an anvil. She had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming, her body shaking so violently she thought her bones would shatter.
She was no stranger to pain, but this was different. This was fundamental. Her very soul was being rewritten.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the agony subsided. The fire cooled into a refreshing, glacial chill. She felt stronger. Much stronger. The heavy weight of the palace's atmosphere no longer pressed against her; she felt as if she could finally breathe.
[Your dream has taken shape.]
Asteria panted, the pain still a phantom echo on her soul. She wiped sweat from her brow, her heart hammering a rhythm of pure power. She felt like an actual Awakened.
She looked at her runes.
[Name: Asteria]
[True Name: Queen of Nightmare]
[Rank: Dormant] Author's note: I forgot is it dormant or dreamer?
[Class: Monster]
[Dream Cores 2/7]
[Spell Fragments: 98/2000]
Asteria stared at the text. Her vision blurred. 'Monster?'
"Monster?" she whispered. Then, she began to laugh. It started as a giggle and grew into a hysterical, breathless sound that echoed through the small room. "Haha... you're kidding? That's insane. That's almost as crazy as he is!"
She laughed because if she didn't, she might start crying.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sound came from the other side of the wall, but it felt like it was inside her head.
"Well, wasn't that interesting?" Valerius's voice chuckled through the Glass. "You practically ate glass, rolled on the floor in a fit of agony, and now you're calling me insane!"
Asteria froze. Her laughter died in her throat. 'Pervert. He was watching the whole time.'
"Well, look at you now," Valerius continued, his voice dropping into a tone of genuine wonder. "You've changed. It's impossibly peculiar... I see two soul cores within you. A human isn't supposed to have more than one. Though I suppose there are always exceptions. Like you."
"Do you know what that was, Asteria?" he asked calmly.
"Of course not," she huffed, pulling herself off the floor and trying to regain some shred of dignity. "You gave it to me expecting this, didn't you?"
"I speculated," he admitted, "but the reality exceeded my wildest expectations! I'll elaborate: Those statues are filled to the brim with essence harvested from this very kingdom! The limb I gave you... it had been accumulating for over forty years."
His laughter faded, replaced by a chilling silence.
"Forty years of essence — enough to compare to twenty Transcendents — and you devoured it like a snack. Tell me, Asteria..."
Through the wall, she could practically see his golden eyes boring into her soul.
"Who are you? No — what are you?"