The walk through the upper tiers was a journey through a dying dream. The white fog had transitioned from a mist into a heavy, physical shroud that muffled the sound of their boots against the crystal pavement.
Asteria walked in a tense silence, the weight pressing against her back like a constant, pulsing reminder of the treason she was about to finalize.
Beside her, Valerius was a phantom of shadow and silver, his face set in a mask of marble. They didn't speak; the history Myra had revealed to her sat between them like an unbridgeable chasm.
They reached the Lunar Garden – the Queen's private sanctuary – not through the grand gates, but through a service crawlspace that opened behind a waterfall of liquid light.
As they stepped out, the air changed. It was no longer cold and stagnant. It was vibrant, humming with a life that felt alien to the rest of the kingdom. The garden was a riot of impossible biology.
Flowers with petals like stained glass bioluminesced in shades of indigo and orange.
Trees with leaves made of silver foil rustled in a wind that didn't exist, and vines of pulsing mercury climbed the white stone pillars. It was a whole ecosystem built from the Queen's remaining will, a myriad of colours painting the darkness.
At the edge of the furthest balcony, overlooking the dimming lights of the city she had caged, stood Halesia. She looked smaller than she had in the Cathedral. Her mantle was gone, replaced by a simple, flowing gown of white silk that trailed behind her like a funeral shroud.
"Your Majesty," Asteria and Valerius began in unison, their voices thin against the vast silence of the garden.
The Queen did not turn immediately. She continued to look over the edge, her silhouette framed by the dying glow of the artificial suns.
"Yes?" she asked, her voice light, almost airy. "My most honored thieves have returned to the scene of the crime. How poetic."
Asteria felt her jaw tighten, her teeth grinding together. She took a step forward, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"I've brought... compensation," Asteria said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline. "A gift. I believe you'll enjoy it, Your Majesty."
Halesia finally turned. Her face was pale, her sapphire eyes devoid of the terrifying light they had held before. She looked tired – not just sleepy, but ancient, as if the centuries were finally catching up to her now that the Spark was no longer anchoring her soul.
"Oh?" The Queen tilted her head, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "What could a thief possibly offer the woman who owns the sky?"
Asteria walked toward her, every instinct screaming at her to run. When she was a few paces away, she knelt on the mossy stone, the leather-wrapped case held out before her. She kept her head bowed, her eyes fixed on the Queen's bare feet.
Halesia drifted closer, her movements silent. She looked down at the case, her brow furrowing. She was clearly intrigued, her senses picking up the strange, abyssal frequency emanating from the object. "What is inside of it? It feels... cold. Like a memory of a winter I never had."
"A mask, Your Majesty," Asteria replied, her voice hushed.
"A mask?" Halesia reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from the leather. "Now why would I ever need one of those? I have spent hundreds of years making sure every soul in this valley knows my face. I am the sun, little thief. The sun does not hide."
"Your Majesty, I implore you to accept this humble servant's apology," Asteria said, the lie tasting like copper. "I believe you will enjoy this mask. It is for the sunset you have been watching. A shroud for the Queen who has seen enough."
The words struck a chord. Halesia's hand stopped trembling. She looked out at the city again, where the last of the golden lights were flickering out, leaving only the grey, brittle reality of the glass behind.
"A shroud for the sunset," Halesia whispered. She looked back at the case, her expression shifting from suspicion to a haunting, desperate curiosity. "Valerius... did you help her find this?"
Valerius stood a few paces back, his hands folded behind his back. "I only provided the directions, Majesty. The choice to bring it was hers."
Halesia knelt, her knees hitting the stone with a soft thud. She took the case from Asteria's hands. The leather felt like stone, or perhaps glass – a material that defied easy categorization. She unlatched the silver clasp, and the lid creaked open.
The [Mask of Glass] lay nestled on a bed of black velvet. In the twilight of the garden, it seemed to pulse with a dark life. The liquid crystal was clear, yet it held a depth that suggested an infinite void. The frozen tears at the corners of the eyes caught the bioluminescence of the flowers, shimmering with a sad, iridescent light.
"It's beautiful," Halesia murmured. She reached in and lifted the mask. It was light, almost weightless, yet the air around it seemed to warp. "It smells of the deep sleep. It smells of the silence I promised them."
She looked at Asteria, and for a fleeting second, the girl saw a flicker of the young woman from the cliffside – the daughter who was tired of holding back the sand.
"You think this will make me happy?" Halesia asked.
"I think it will make you peaceful," Asteria answered.
Halesia stood up, holding the mask before her face. The deafening silence of the garden seemed to amplify, the hum of the flowers dying away as the mask's frequency took hold. She didn't hesitate. She didn't call for the guards. She was a woman standing at the edge of a cliff, looking for a reason to jump.
"Then let the dream be finished," the Queen said.
She pressed the mask to her face.
The moment the glass touched her skin, it didn't just sit there. It fused. The liquid crystal flowed around her features like a living thing, sealing itself to her brow, her cheeks, and her jaw. The "weeping" tears began to glow with a soft, pulsing indigo light.
Halesia's body went rigid.
Her hands dropped to her sides, and her sapphire eyes vanished behind the translucent veil of the mask. A great, shuddering ripple of energy moved out from her, a wave of absolute silence that turned the glowing flowers to ash and stilled the silver leaves.
[Your memory has been lost.]
The Queen was still standing, but the artificial sun had finally set.
Asteria watched, frozen, as the Queen's resonance began to bleed into the mask, the blue light of the Abyss swallowing the gold of the Spire.
The end is nigh.
Though, the spell's voice echoed in her head instead.
[The Glass Gambit has been updated.]
'...This isn't a good sign, eh?'