RE: Monarch

“My prince.”

I glanced down from my perch on the top of the wagon, looking for the source of the voice. A servant stared up at me, blinking away snow.

“Time to prepare for the grand return?” I asked.

“Aye,” the servant said. “The king wants your armor shined before we continue into the city proper. We’ll be needing the emissary as well.”

That was a surprise, coming from the man who wouldn’t even let my half-elf sister sit with us during the coronation.

I dropped from the wagon, and a moment later, Maya landed beside me. She was still shivering, despite considerable effort to appear as if she wasn’t.

The servant stared at Maya’s boots, now covered in mud, with an expression of abject despair. Several other servants picked up the slack, ferrying us to one of the noble carriages. Once inside, we were separated by a curtain as they fussed over our appearance, ensuring we looked perfect for whatever my father had planned.

After they finished, we sat across from each other, waiting for the signal to join the king at the front.

I was lost in thought.

My grandfather once said that Whitefall was like the snow itself. Because after the first big storm of Winterscrest, the snow covers all. From the castle, down to the eastern trade yards, to the rankest alley in Topside, all cushioned and silent and preserved in white powder. Then, in the early morning, the first person wakes, eats his breakfast, then trudges his way to work at one of the smithery, or the butcher’s, or one of the many general goods stores. As his shoes—dirty from the previous day— track brown and black through the snow, he is utterly unaware that he is the first to sully the perfection that surrounds him.

By midday, not a single spotless span of snow remains. The once pristine field that spread across the city is a heinous mix of dark colors, trampled beauty stained with our collective transgressions. A hideous mix of tainted slush and hardy ice. But eventually the winds blow in pregnant clouds, and the grimy streets are blanketed in peace and tranquility, erasing the history of days past, returning to perfection once more.

In the bitterness of my previous life, I thought my grandfather’s ramblings a commentary on humans. That simply by existing and going about our daily lives, we ruin everything we touch. That nothing will ever truly change.

But thinking about it again, after—well, everything—I wondered if instead of a message of nihilism, it was a message of hope. Of redemption. That the world is full of second chances.

Because no matter how bad it gets, eventually, the snow falls once more.

I’d forgotten how it felt to look at my birthplace with anything other than hatred. With anticipation, hope and excitement. My sisters were waiting. My father—despite evidence of infighting and scheming against his own bannerlords—supported my struggle. And my mother. The mother who read to me every evening. The mother whose hand I held as she wasted to nothing, powerless to stop it. She was alive. Waiting. So close I could almost feel her.

The caravan paused as countless wagons, and visitors queued in the long, spiraling line for entry, moved aside.

A tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another. I swiped them away.

Nails traced my spine. I glanced over at Maya, who was watching me with a stoic expression.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes.” I wiped my face again. “Sorry. I just… I fought so hard to get here.”

“Lots of close calls, since our days in the cabin. Some closer than others.”

“Gods yes. They just kept adding up.”

“But you’re here, now. You made it.”

“I’m—” I paused, realizing it for the first time. “I’m scared, Maya.”

“With all you’ve faced, what could you possibly fear?” Maya teased.

“I don’t know. There are countless ways this could go wrong. Not to mention, the last time I was here, I was a shit person.” The words came out in a stream. “What if I fuck it up—like really fuck it up beyond repair, or slip back into old habits, or grow complacent now that I’m home—”

“Stop. Close your eyes.” I trailed off as Maya took my face in her hands. I listened silently, as she seemed to struggle against herself. “Whatever my feelings about… us, there are things of which I’m certain. The first is that it’s impossible to know the future. Even with your power. Life is too complex, built upon layers of twists and turns, variables we cannot hope to define. There’s beauty in that. And tragedy. Fate pairs them, hand in hand.”

“And the second?” I asked, my panic dissipating.

“Open your eyes and look.”

I opened my eyes and gazed out at our surroundings. The people lined up for entry shot curious glances our way. There were so many of them. From wealthy traders and noble lords to commoners and peasants. And while most were human, some were not. I spotted a pair of wood elves, with a tiny child in tow. A few infernals dressed in robes. Even a few dwarves, eyeing the stonework of the city walls disparagingly.

“I barely recognize them. The people.”

“You’re a catalyst,” Maya said. “I know it as well as I know the air that fills my lungs. From the moment we triumphed over Barion, I knew. That if I stayed with you, things would change. We accomplished feats that should have been impossible, even as a team. And no. It wasn’t free. We both paid dearly for it. Which is why—this thing you’ve started? It’s bigger than you. You’ve thrown the world into chaos, undone the status quo. Now guide it home.”

“I feel more like the fire brigade than a leader,” I chuckled darkly. “Like all I’ve been doing is running around, putting out the fires my father made.”

“In your defense, he set a lot of fires.” Maya stared out the window.

I studied her. The elegant golden dress the noble tailor provided, combined with the way her dark hair had grown out in an endearing mess of curls, only amplified the quiet, devil-may-care confidence she carried herself with. So long as I’d known her, Maya was fastidiously practical, with little to no concept of vanity. She wore simple garments that were easy to clean. And seeing her present so well as a noble lady—despite knowing how damn capable she was—left me at something of a loss.

“Why did you leave the sanctum?” I had to know. The question had been gnawing at me since we’d left the enclave, and it was still there, teething on my mind.

Maya barked a laugh. “I almost didn’t.”

“Tell me.”

“Are you sure you want to hear it?” she asked. “It isn’t a pleasant story.”

“Yes.”

Maya sat back, settled herself. She looked nervous. “At first, I just wandered. Explored alone, helped other groups with difficult monsters. It was just something to do. Kept my mind busy. One day I stumbled upon a group taking cover from a fire drake—and it wasn’t going well. Most drakes will retreat, eventually, if properly motivated, but this one fancied itself a dragon, and like any good dragon, it was guarding a horde.”

I winced. I had exactly three drakes to my name from my time in the sanctum. Each one was hard-fought, and I’d only truly gained the upper hand once the drakes tried to cut their losses and retreat. “Guessing it didn’t go so well.”

Maya shook her head. “No one died, but the battle lasted for what felt like days. They kept taking terrible wounds, horrific burns, and with time, my mana was so low I could barely stand upright. An earth mage landed the final blow, got lucky forming these spiked stalactites on the ceiling just as the drake took flight and impaled itself. Once it was over, I started unpacking my bedroll right then and there, in the middle of the cave.”

Better than I’d done. After I felled my first, I’d passed out on a dune and woken up to the smell of rotting drake nearly a full day later.

“They wouldn’t let it go, after.” Maya laughed. “They were almost begging. ‘You’re entitled to a share. We’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Take something.’ And I just told them the truth. I didn’t want a cut of the drake’s hoard. All I wanted was to be left alone.” She stalled then, biting her lip and staring holes into the floor.

“I’m sensing there’s more,” I prompted her quietly.

“It’s… difficult to talk about,” Maya said.

“You don’t have to.”

“No,” she sighed, “I probably should. When I woke up, I found this drawstring bag at my side. It was filled with golden rods—which was nice. Small, considering the work I’d put in. But once I dug around in it, I realized why. There was an artifact at the bottom of the bag. A small, reflective bar of metal. Incredibly reflective. Like it was more mirror than silver. It took me forever to figure out what it did, but the group’s appraiser must have known what it was.” Maya quirked an eyebrow. “Thynon’s Slate of Undying. An artifact capable of reflecting life magic back on the wielder.”

I sucked in a breath. “You can use life magic on yourself. Heal your own wounds.”

Maya grimaced. “I could. The gravity wasn’t lost on me. Nor the possibilities. For a while, it was like I was trying to dig a hole to the mana core. I delved deeper and deeper into the sanctum. Into the lower strata and beyond. Did you ever venture to the abyss?”

I shook my head. “Spent most of my time on the lower strata. Went deeper eventually, but not for long. Had a close call with a curse that blighted my stomach. Could chew food and swallow it, but it never stayed down long. Eventually caved and went to Veldani for help. Kept clear after that.”

“Kelpies,” Maya said grimly.

“You know them?”

“The Elphion damned corpse-horses with matted manes that lurk in the blood swamps? Kind of hard to forget. They got me too. Just looked at me with those beady black eyes, and—“

“—Surprise! Cursed,” I finished.

“Exactly.” Maya crossed her arms. “The more I think about it, the more I think they probably serve as a deterrent. There’s no path to the abyss that doesn’t lead through the blood swamps. The curse doesn’t kill you quickly, and once you’re cursed, the kelpies are more or less docile.”

It felt like she was treading water, circling around something unpleasant.

“How did you cleanse it?” I asked. In my case it’d taken no slight effort from Veldani—nor lack of scolding, and she’d made it adamantly clear to me she’d never do it again.

“I didn’t,” Maya answered.

It took a moment for what she was saying to sink in. Veldani had told me between spouts of profanity that the curse lasted months. Between that and the artifact she’d found…

My mouth dropped open.

Maya, no.

“It was simple.” Maya shrugged. “When I felt weak, I stimulated my muscles to stave off atrophy. When the hunger grew too painful to ignore, I thickened my spine and rearranged my insides until there was enough pressure on my stomach that the hunger faded. Any decay that accrued regenerated easily.”

“Elphion. If I’d known—“

Maya gave me a serious look. “It was my journey, Cairn. Not yours. No matter what you did, my choices were my own.”

I clenched my fists, but said nothing.

“That being said, the cumulative damage was already adding up. I wasn’t exactly being careful in battle, and healing myself with the slate wasn’t perfect. For one, it was impossible to be precise.” Maya sat down and leaned forward, pulling down her sleeved glove, revealing a multitude of dark scars. “There’s a lot more you can’t see. Once I made my diplomatic intentions known to Ralakos, he was merciful enough to give me a method of hiding them from his personal stores. No room in the world for an ugly diplomat, I suppose.” She laughed harshly.

“You are anything but ugly,” I reacted immediately.

“You haven’t seen all of me,” Maya countered, a touch of bitterness in her voice.

Several responses cycled through my mind, some wildly inappropriate, others empty and vapid.

Before I could find a suitable response, Maya moved on with her story. “I was already pretty far gone, but gods, dealing with that curse really opened the floodgates. Up to that point, I’d just been using my magic either offensively, or to heal myself. But the problem with the way I was fighting was that armor never lasted long. I had no intention of returning to the upper layers. And even if I wasn’t in a good place, I had enough sense to realize that if something pierced my heart, or I took a solid knock over the head, it was all over. So…” Her side swept bangs fell in front of her face, obscuring her eyes. “As I delved deeper into the abyss… every time I felled a tough creature… I grafted a piece of them to myself.”

I laughed, because it was all I could do.

Maya started. “What?”

“They must have been terrified.” I smiled. “Imagine. You’re a monster, out there doing—whatever the hells they do. Monster things. And you hear about this infernal going around, not just killing your friends, but wearing parts of them like trophies. Personally, I’d never go outside again.”

“You don’t find it revolting?” Maya asked cautiously.

“Please. If anything, you’re a legend in the making. The creatures intelligent enough to do so probably still tell stories about you.”

“I—um.” Maya smiled. “I had wings for a while.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’d tell you to ask the harpy I took them from, but I’m fairly certain she’s indisposed.”

“Did they work?”

Maya nodded. “To a point. The constant maintenance was hells on my mana, and I eventually tossed them because the mobility wasn’t worth sacrificing the weight of better armor.”

I leaned back, resting my head on the seat. “Gods be damned. I can’t believe I missed seeing you with wings.”

“Harpy wings, Cairn. Not exactly pretty to look at.”

“Yes—but—you had wings!”

“I know. Too bad you were busy, being dead and all,” Maya said. The comment was barbed, but lacked venom. That was an improvement even if it was a small one.

“It took up far too much of my time,” I said seriously.

Maya’s smile faded as she returned to the memory. “Go down a layer, find the strongest thing there is, slay it, patch myself up, salvage anything useful and move on. It became a rhythm. I didn’t have time to think, or dwell on what I was doing. But eventually, my campaign on the abyss came to a close.”

“What happened?”

“A hive of vivisectaurs.”

I sat up straight, my heart pounding. In the sanctum there was a saying, one I more or less followed until my departure: Never engage a vivisectaur in combat unless you’re strong, experienced, and ready to lose a limb. They were part bear, part mantis, all speed and bladed arms without a single drop of mercy to show for it.

I swallowed. “And yet you survived to tell the tale.”

Maya clasped her hands, hiding a tremble “I’m not sure ‘survived’ conveys what happened accurately. The chamber was deceptively designed, carefully hiding the hive until I was in plain view. What followed was entirely one-sided. They tore through my armor first. Targeted everything I grafted and ripped it free. And once the armor was gone, they… shredded me. Really shredded me. If they hadn’t been so dead-set on playing with their food, that would have been the end. But they left me with a single arm.” Maya held her right hand out in front of her. “And as they wandered close to take a bite, I felled them—one, after another, after another. For all their cunning, they couldn’t understand how I was slaying them.”

I forgot sometimes that Maya could kill with little more than a touch.

I’d been on the other side of it once, before we were close, during a bout of madness when I’d intended to set Barion’s cabin on fire. She’d cuffed my neck, her hand glowing with life magic, and for a split-second before the darkness took me I felt the bones obliterate.

That was all it took.

I gritted my teeth. “I should’ve been there.”

“I shouldn’t have been there,” Maya answered quietly. “And I knew it. As I pieced myself back together, and pushed my entrails back into their proper place, I knew it. As I reattached my limbs, forcing my blood production into overdrive to compensate for the blood loss, I knew it. But I was livid. Enraged that they interrupted my routine. Once I’d rested, I butchered the vivisectaurs, arranging their parts side by side so they’d be easier to access once I started the grafting process. I told myself that it’d be different this time. That once I was done, I’d be unstoppable. But then I looked down… ” She trailed off.

I was almost afraid to ask. “What did you see?”

“My reflection, in a pool of blood.” Maya shivered. “Even though all my grafts were gone, and I’d reassembled myself more or less like I was, I didn’t look like me anymore. I looked like her. Thoth’s puppet. The person who murdered your sister. And I realized that by sequestering myself in the sanctum and depriving myself of a greater purpose, I had begun walking a path that led to the exact outcome my exile was meant to avoid.” Maya fished a small amulet from beneath her neckline. It was filled with fragments of the silver-reflective medal she’d described.

“You destroyed it.”

“It was too useful for that. But turns out, I’d almost drained it dry. It shattered, shortly after I finished healing myself after a scuffle on my way back to the Heart. Probably for the best.” She eyed me, waiting for a reaction. When none came, she prompted me. “You’re… not talking much.”

I was still absorbing everything she had told me, all while trying to banish the image of her alone and mortally wounded while I gallivanted around, tracking the corruption. I needed to say something.

“We—“ I stopped. Started again. “Something I’ve learned is that we all have a capacity for darkness. It varies depending on the person, and the power they hold. I have it too, same as everyone else. You just had the misfortune of seeing yours. I’m glad you changed your mind about staying in the sanctum. And maybe it’s selfish to say, but I’m thrilled to have you at my side. Whatever we are.”

Maya inclined her head, finally relaxing. “Whatever we are.”

Somehow, I managed a wry smile.

“I think I’d still love you even if you had four massive vivisector arms fused to your torso—”

Maya snorted. “They wouldn’t have let me back into the enclave. And I wasn’t going to stop at four.”

“—Though it definitely could have impeded certain activities,” I mused.

“Were you always such a lech?”

I pressed a hand to my chest, scandalized. “Like shopping. Or fitting through normal sized doors. Or absentmindedly scratching your nose.”

“On that, we can agree.” Maya tilted her head. She wasn’t quite smiling, but she wasn’t frowning either. For the first time since I’d returned, there was warmth in her eyes.

A knock at the dressing room’s door startled us both. “Milord. Your father requests your presence at the head carriage.”

I stood, offering Maya my arm with exaggerated poise. “Come, emissary. The people await.”

Maya rolled her eyes and took my arm. Her grip was loose, and there was still a careful, measured distance between us.

But it was a start.

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