Liliana stood there in a graveyard cleared of snow as she watched a wooden box descend into the embrace of the earth. The last time she’d ever see Astrid’s face had come and passed, when she’d looked upon the woman she’d known as a mother lying in her casket, her skin pale as the snow that edged the graveyard.
Someone had arranged her hair beautifully, had artistically applied cosmetics to her skin to give the illusion of life. It was cruel, in a way, how that illusion had given Liliana the momentary hope that Astrid was just sleeping, that she’d awaken from her deathlike sleep to smile at her just one more time. That illusion had been quickly destroyed when no breath stirred Astrid’s chest, irrevocable proof of the fact that her soul had departed its vessel already. There was no bringing her back, no new memories to make.
Liliana wished with her entire being that she’d been given the chance to tell Astrid she loved her, just once more. Her last words to Astrid had been about the children’s growth. She hadn’t even told her she loved her. Had naively assumed she had all the time in the world to assure Astrid of her love, that she’d have thousands more ‘I love you’s before the final one. But those thousands had run out already, the sand in the hourglass had depleted and there were no more second chances. Now her ‘I love you’ fell on deaf ears when she’d knelt before the casket, tears pouring from her eyes again as if she was a faucet for her grief to flow from.
The tears were gone now as she watched the casket lower into the hard earth. Even her grief was muted, having run its course in the week since Astrid’s death. It was still a vicious thing, lurking in her and waiting for any chance to rip into her once more, reopening barely healing wounds. But it was not the untamed, wild and overpowering thing it had been. It was slowly being shackled, becoming a burden she could bear and think around. As her mind cleared more and more of the pain of her loss, it left a hole for other things to fill in its stead. Grief had invited a friend to sit in her mind and take residence in her chest. Rage had slithered in, slowly at first, insidious in its arrival. It had crept its choking vines through her veins until every breath she took in filled her with the fires of it.
She had barely been cognizant in those first days to really think on the why behind the events of that horrible day. But she’d known Astrid was poisoned, and deep in the recesses of her mind she’d known from the second Astrid had fallen who had been responsible. Oh, she’d been told the maid who delivered the food had been questioned and prosecuted. The details were hazy to her, having been told at some point when she was still lost in her sea of anguish. But she knew the person who had poured the poison was rotting in some unmarked grave now. But the real murderer, the true villain in this tale of tragedy, she still walked free.
Guilt ate at her, despite knowing the real culprit. Had Liliana not declined the food, she’d have been the one being laid to rest in a grave today, and at times she almost wished it was true. No, not at times. Always. Her life was not worth Astrid’s, not by half. Astrid had been good, kind, a person worth ten of her. The poison had been meant for her. It should’ve been her to drink it. If she’d taken the food, her ring, or Nemesis, would’ve detected the poison most likely. There could’ve been no death at all, if she’d just taken her lunch. Or even if nothing had detected the poison, at least the world wouldn’t have lost someone who was truly good. Instead, it was left with a girl who barely knew who she was, who was so consumed with rage, grief and hate that she would gladly burn the entire manor down around them all if she thought it would bring Imogen down with her.
She’d had a hard time, once, truly understanding how the original Liliana had turned from an abused and weak girl into someone who was capable or murdering with glee. Now. Now she could understand, because that path called to her with a dark siren’s song she no longer was sure she wanted to resist. What did it matter if she saved this cursed world from being consumed in darkness? What had this world done for her other than hurt her?
No, there’s still reasons to live. To take a better path. Liliana reminded herself, as she had hundreds of times since Astrid had died and her mind had cleared enough to understand, to begin to hate. She still had ties to this world, ties built of love she didn’t want to break.
Liliana’s eyes trailed over the humble gathering circling the grave. Astrid’s aging parents stood together, arms holding tightly to one another. Parents burying their child, a grave offense to the very laws of nature. Parents should never have to bury their child, yet they were. Because of one selfish woman’s machinations. Beside them were Astrid’s sisters with their husbands and children. Children who didn’t entirely understand the concept of death were held tightly in parents’ arms. Liliana was sure they were filled with grief and fear, seeing themselves burying their own children as a real possibility now.
A few servants had come, the cook, the head maid, the steward, the stable master. A few maids Liliana didn’t recognize, but no others. They stayed together in their own cluster, some shedding tears, some watching on with dry eyes. Liliana paid little mind to them. They had never approached her, so she treated them much the same, though she had a bit of gratitude that they showed up for this at least. Better than their coworkers who were absent.
To her left was Silas, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulling her to his side. Offering comfort and seeking strength in equal measures. Since Liliana had come to his cottage, they’d spent a good amount of time together, helping each other heal the pain however they could. Sharing stories, or sitting in silence, whichever was necessary at the time. She’d once thought she could see Silas as a father, eventually. Now she knew, in her heart, she did. Those days of pain in his cottage had forged a bond through their shared grief and hurt, something far stronger than the bond she shared with her own father in this life. Perhaps even as strong as the bond she’d had with her father in her past life.
To her right stood Emyr and Alistair. Both quiet and subdued. Their grief couldn’t possibly match the rest of theirs. They hadn’t known Astrid well enough, though Emyr was more familiar with her than Alistair. She’d cared for both boys like her own sons when they’d begun to spend more time with Liliana, and she thought they were mourning the relationship they could’ve had with her. Alistair, perhaps more so than Emyr, who had a loving mother of his own. Alistair had seen a chance, for a mother figure who would love him no matter what, and would never use him. And he’d had that ripped away before he could truly begin to appreciate it.
Their grief and pain was real, but it couldn’t match the monster that had ripped into the rest of them. Those of them who had held Astrid deeply in their hearts, who had happily given the woman parts of themselves and had lost those parts when she died. They would heal, all of them, one day. But those parts they’d given her so willingly would never come back. The holes left behind would fill with scar tissue, but they would never really be whole again. The empty spot would always exist, even if one day the pain became easy to bear. Even if there would come a time where they could forget the pain for days, weeks at a time, it would always be there.
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Liliana’s eyes traced once more over the assembly. Her Bonds were the last of the guests. Nemesis was at full size and her soft keening in the background sounded like a funeral dirge, disturbingly appropriate. Liliana had hoped to one day hear the singing she’d witnessed in Nemesis’ memories in person, but not like this. Never like this. Lelantos was a quiet sentinel behind them, but she felt his grief in their bond. He’d loved Astrid, as Liliana had. Thanks to his experiences with her, and the feelings Liliana had for the woman. But his grief was different from hers. There was a level of acceptance, inevitability, in his grief. To a beast, death was normal, expected. The weak die, the strong live and sometimes even the strong die. That was all there was to it. Death was an accepted and expected part of a beast’s life. They saw it so often.
The humanoid races, on the other hand, experienced death and grief more strongly than beasts did. Death was something they all knew about, but mortal minds always struggled to really comprehend it. Even Liliana who had died once, and experienced what came afterwards, still struggled with coming to terms with it. Perhaps it was because of how strongly they fought against it, the defenses they built to thwart it. Walls raised to protect them from it, medicines made to stave it off. Mortals spent so much of their lives fighting against death that they never really gave themselves a chance to accept it as what it was, an inevitable part of the cycle of life.
Liliana’s hands clenched to fists at her sides, even as her eyes focused on the priest, one belonging to the Death god Mors. She didn’t hear whatever funeral rites he was waxing on about. Some blessing for a good next life. Apparently reincarnation was known here, and the accepted afterlife. Her mind was too wrapped up in the rage that had been filling her for the past several days, spurred on by the gathering here to really pay attention.
Her father and stepmother were notably absent. It reminded her of another humble funeral from her borrowed memories. Smaller even than this one. When a small child had buried her birth mother, and her father hadn’t even bothered to show his face. For a second time he had failed her in the same way, and Liliana was not inclined to forgive him his sins. Her ability to forgive had died with Astrid, was buried in the earth with her.
Her father might be finally taking the threat to her life seriously. Or perhaps he was incensed that the assassin had the gall to do something like that in his own home, under his nose. She’d heard just yesterday that he was planning on calling in the Inquisitors to launch an investigation into this, since his own had fallen short, too little too late in Liliana’s opinion.
His investigations failed because he’s unwilling to look into the true culprit. She’s his damn blind spot. He won’t even consider the possibility that Imogen is behind this. Liliana thought bitterly. She found she was bitter about a lot lately. Bitter that her father still wouldn’t look at the venomous snake lying in their midst. Bitter that he could so easily call in the Inquisitors himself, when she’d had to scheme and struggle to even have the possibility of doing it herself. Bitter that he was doing it, not because Astrid died, but because he’d been insulted by the assassin coming into his home. Bitter that her father was relieved, it was ‘just a servant’ who died and not his golden goose. No, that last one enraged her. It was bitterness turned rancid and choking in her throat.
She had so much to be angry about, but she was silently honing that anger and hate to a point. Sharpening it like a weapon, so it would cut those responsible. Some weak sense of morality remained in her, or perhaps it was love. She still loved Alistair and Emyr, even as she’d pulled away from them in her grief. Liliana knew her rage, as untamed as her grief had been, could easily become an inferno that would consume them all if she wasn’t careful.
She still had things she could lose, things she wasn’t willing to lose after experiencing firsthand what it was like. Recent events had only strengthened her protective instincts for those she cared for. She’d sacrifice her own life before she let anyone else she cared for leave her for death’s embrace. But because those very people who she held dear to her, the people who held the other parts of her heart and soul, were caught in the middle of the eventual conflict, Liliana knew she had to be careful.
It was hard to tame that rage, to pull it back from consuming her entirely. It filled her lungs with every breath, burned hot in her heart with every beat, and filled her veins together with her blood until she felt like she was burning from the inside out from it. If the rage couldn’t consume what caused it, it would consume her. But she’d made herself a promise, what felt like years ago now, to become more than her rage and pain. And she held onto that promise with an iron grip, using it as a guiding point in this sea of pain and hate that she’d found herself in the middle of. It was a ridiculous thing to latch onto, but it was all she had to hold her steady. She knew, with a bone deep certainty, if she lost that north star, she’d lose herself.
She wondered, for a moment, if perhaps Natalia had somehow seen this coming and had told her what she did to ensure she would walk out the other side of this mess with some parts of herself left intact.
She wouldn’t get rid of the rage, didn’t think it was possible. But she wouldn’t become clumsy in her hate. Wouldn’t make a mistake that would result in more agony, that could lose her the other pieces of her heart. No, she needed to temper the rage, needed to cool it until it was a blade of the strongest steel, with an edge that could sever what she needed it to.
Her rage had two targets, two people she hated now with every fiber of her being. She’d see them fall, see them brought low. And she already had a plan to begin the process. Her father had inadvertently aided her in this, had signed his name on his own destruction the moment he’d called for the Inquisitors, and Liliana was more than happy to let him tie his own noose. But his end could wait. She had learned some patience in her time in the void. Besides, the dark part of her purred, his revenge would taste all the more sweet if he had lowered his guard and didn’t see it coming.
But Imogen, her time had run out. Liliana’s patience for her had burnt away the second Astrid’s heart stopped beating. She was done doing this the easy way, the simple way. Imogen had thrown down the gauntlet and Liliana was more than glad to bring her the war she asked for.
Liliana tossed her handful of white lilies into the grave. They rested atop the dark wood. She took a moment to appreciate the meaning behind them. A final message to Astrid. Lilies symbolized rebirth, the irony of the flower, and her name now was not lost on her. She hoped that Astrid’s next life was far nicer than this one, far better than Liliana’s second life. She hoped that maybe, someday, their souls would find each other again across the divide of time and worlds. Perhaps then that day, she could tell Astrid once more that she loved her, even if the memories did not remain, she believed the love would.
Flowers covered the casket until the wood was barely visible, then earth flooded the ground. She noted idly that the Priest had an Earth affinity, a useful one in his profession she was sure. As the last of the dirt was packed in and smoothed over, Liliana’s spine straightened. Her resolved hardened. Her tears were done being shed, she would no longer indulge the grief that still lurked in her. Her rage strengthened as it felt its time had finally arrived to sit in the driver’s seat of her emotions. The flames licking her from the inside out cooled until they felt like ice inside her, filling her with clarity and frigid determination.
The time for mourning was over. Now it was time for action.