Anastacia trudged through the thick layer of snow after having dashed out of the inn and the city in protest over Rosie trying to decide who she could and couldn’t spend her time with, in the manner of her own choosing. The several hundred meters of snow behind her had done a good job of ridding the necromancer of any spare energy to waste on anger, and she occasionally stopped to reconsider her actions, but always ended up pressing forwards. It may have been a slightly juvenile reaction to someone trying protect her from one thing or another, but the freedom to live her life as she saw fit was the one thing she desired the most, and any move against that irked her greatly – no matter how well intentioned. She did regret letting the secret of Emilia’s current state slip in anger though, but what was done was done. Her plan was to make it all the way to the goblin castle, make a bonfire and stay the night there. In the morning, she could rethink things with a clear head and decide how to go about returning to the inn. She would at the very least go with Iris to see how the new wings suited her, which she did somewhat look forward to, and it would provide her a convenient excuse to go back as well.
Seeing the stone wall of her royal seat, she put on her horned crown to make sure the goblins remembered who she was, and started the last part of her entirely pointless trek through the snow that could have been mostly avoided by following the road. The screeches of her loyal servants could be heard far and wide across the snow, and they were the first thing to tell Anastacia that all was well in her realm.
Stepping into the area cleared of snow by the constant movement of the goblins, she stopped to take a rough count of the current population and give out the first orders of the night. “I’m back, everyone! Can some of you start gathering some firewood for me? We’re going to make a pyre!”
Among the mass of critters excited for the return of their ruler, a few goblins quizzically stared at her, and remained behind when the others ran for the woods to find anything that might burn.
“Is something wrong?” Asked the necromancer and knocked her boots together to shake the snow off them.
“Who friends?” One of the remaining goblins asked and pointed past her into the field she had just crossed.
A shiver ran down Anastacia’s back, there were not many things that could follow her trail without being found out. Spriggans she would know by their scent, a simulacrum would make noise and be recognized by the goblins, and most importantly, Anastacia knew her rotten luck when it came to timing.
She took a deep breath and looked up at the darkening sky. “Whoever, whatever you may be, leave. I am not in the mood for whatever you have to do with me. I’ll give you a moment to run, but if you’re still there when I turn around…”
A cold, metallic and distorted voice answered from some distance back. “Ours is a business that can not wait, Brume. Every moment that passes is towards the end, no matter how distant it still might be.”
Anastacia kneeled to whisper to the goblins. “Gather everyone and hide in the castle, do not come out until things quiet down. Okay?” She instructed them and sent them on their way before turning around to see the poor fools that had interrupted her in such an inopportune moment.
Three figures had appeared about ten meters behind her, none of them with tracks in the snow behind them. The first one, a woman wearing an eerily familiar uniform consisting of a black vest over a white shirt that Anastacia couldn’t quite place. Her appearance, once tidy and spotless had been ruined by a considerable amount of wear and tear on her uniform as well as deep violet stains from tears flowing from her pitch-black eyes. In her hands, she held a small black book as well as a quill, dripping with the same violet tears as her eyes. The second one, small and frail in appearance, entirely covered in cloth bandages with some manner of runes inscribed on every inch of it. Not leaving as much as an opening for their mouth, the only thing that poked through the layers of cloth was a pair of violet crystals that seemed to be growing form the person’s head in random spots.
Between the two, as if their allegiances needed further hints, stood a tall woman with a violet mantle and a silvery mask forged into a shape of a beautiful face. From her neck dangled a medallion depicting The Violet Sect’s emblem of a compass rose and a skull. Under the mantle glistened a mail of quicksilvery rings, similar to the coif attached to the mask. Though the chainmail only somewhat obscured what was under it instead of entirely hiding it, it appeared more as a black void or smoke rather than a person.
Anastacia was immediately struck with the realization that she had not brought any weaponry with her. The immediate surroundings of her castle had been long since cleared of remains that littered the soil around Valor, but the field she had just walked through still had plenty of material for her. Her crown also had a pair of antlers on it that would work in a pinch, but she most definitely wanted to move whatever was happening away from the goblins first.
“I am not here to fight.” The middlemost visitor said, no doubt picking up on the less than subtle hints in the necromancer’s behavior.
“That’s very unfortunate for you, considering that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Anastacia hissed and started to slowly walk away from the castle. “What are you here for then? I thought I’ve been fairly clear about you fuckers needing to leave me alone… but go ahead, spin your lies for a bit so I’ll at least learn something from this.”
“Lies are better left to those menial enough to be placated by them in the first place. Lying to you would do little more than backfire sooner or later.” The sect member stated in a cold and unfeeling tone.
Making sure to keep her distance, Anastacia started leading the trio into a spot where she knew material would be plentiful, but wasn’t so close to valor that they could be seen easily – dragging the guild into the mess so suddenly would only make things more complicated. “What are you here for then, if not to kill me or scam me into joining your troupe of morons?” She asked, taunting them to see if they really weren’t prepared for violence.
While the other two had to trudge through the snow the same as Anastacia, the sect member stepped onto it and weightlessly walked on the powdery surface without leaving so much as a footprint. “I am here to see to my greatest creation: you.”
Anastacia laughed mockingly. “Sorry, but I came here the normal way, so unless you were there to shake the bed, you had no part in creating anything.”
“That is not the you I created. I had no part in bringing a child into this world, nor was it me who locked the innocent whelp into a cell for the fear of her powers, nor was it me who anchored her into a decaying husk to bring false validity to a failing seat of power, no…” The sect member said, still with a machine-like voice but the spite behind the words came through anyway. “It was me who set into motion the events that gave you your freedom, it was I who plotted and schemed to free you from the chains put onto you by Mournvalley and the Red!”
“That just sounds like you’re taking credit for the single good thing Coquelicot has ever managed to do… whoever you are.” The necromancer disputed the claim and kept creating distance to the castle.
The sect member let out a strange sound that almost sounded like a laugh, but it would have felt wrong to call it one. “Do you genuinely think that the last of the red had any reason to disturb the power structure she was so near the top of? Amaranth was a frail old crone, mere years away from stepping aside and handing her the reigns of the inquisition. Do you think you were truly necessary to defeat the other inquisitors? No! She may have been very receptive to culling the noble fat from the top, but did not device the method or time… Those were whispered into her ear by my works.”
Anastacia had to stop for a moment to make sense of things. There was no chance Coquelicot would be in cahoots with the sect, or Anastacia wouldn’t have left Mournvalley after dealing with Amaranth. The new empress, accompanied by her new inquisition would have no doubt managed to fix such a mistake at any point later on as well – as much as that pained to admit. The rest of The Red Inquisition had been very keen on killing Anastacia, all except for Alizarin. Coquelicot’s late husband had died to allow Anastacia an escape from two other inquisitors in an unfavorable situation. The act had no doubt shortened the revolution by months or even years, but Coquelicot could have dealt with everyone besides Amaranth on her own eventually, and the old leader of the inquisition could have been starved by sieging Castle Mournvalley when she was the only one left. Alizarin’s sacrifice only truly made sense if Anastacia absolutely needed to survive for some reason.
“It is as you think.” The sect member confirmed. “Alizarin played his part with excellence, down to his regrettable end. It was through him that I convinced Coquelicot of the benefits of your freedom. Through him I conveyed a plot to rid the world of the accursed red that kept us out of this plane for so long. Through him, I… Tekhelet of the Lost Archives, keeper of the Library of Forgotten, created Brume the White and allowed you to roam this world to study it to your heart’s content!”
Continuing her slow trek through the snow, Anastacia inquired more. “Why would an inquisitor be willing to be your spy to begin with?”
Tekhelet seemed more than willing to boast about her successful plot. “He did not know of our history when I first approached him, but was intelligent enough to understand our purpose – and though red, he possessed the defining quality of our sect…”
“Being a massive pain in the ass?” The necromancer commented.
“And that is the opinion I am here to change. It saddens me that you truly do not understand what we of the violet have always stood for. The reign of red has done more harm than I would have dared to think.” Tekhelet sighed and in a blink of an eye, turned into a cloud of violet mist that blew past Anastacia and materialized back into her previous shape a few meters in front of her. “We, the violet sect, are those that mastered necromancy and found it lacking. Our birthright is a powerful force, but not alone in this world as such. The arcane, the physics, the divine, the foul, the dark and countless others offer infinite avenues of knowledge and power, simply waiting to be understood and brought into the fold. Each aspect of this world that can be mastered and understood is another torch we can lift up to ward off the coming darkness as the eve nears! And such was the crime that saw us exiled by the red hundreds of years ago… and I can see the same curiosity gnawing withing you. It bites into anything it can get ahold of, forcing you to search for secrets and reason within what is chaos to others. Though this is no surprise, after all, you are what remains of the first of our order…”
It was hard for Anastacia to deny that her interest in magic, the workings of simulacra and other things were fairly unique among necromancers. Looking at Mournvalley as she knew it, it also wasn’t exactly hard to believe Tekhelet’s claim of the sect being condemned simply because they sought knowledge and power outside of necromancy, from sources its previous ruling class had deemed lesser and evil. Magic especially was sneered at often, as it was the most obvious and attainable competition to necromancy. The opposite view of what had happened, coming from Amaranth’s notes Anastacia had held for a time, claimed that the sect had sought power through unsavory means, which were some mighty big words for an inquisitor to use. The most likely scenario was that both were true in roughly equal measure and both sides deserved everything they had gotten out of it.
“The ancient machines deep in forgotten places now groan and whirr as the old engines light up to oppose us after eons of sleep. Considering Eminence’s fate, I have little doubt that this is your doing, Brume. We know much of the works left behind by the Aureun, and would no doubt learn exponentially more should you see past your juvenile spite and help us.” Tekhelet made a tempting offer as several glowing violet lines appeared around her feet in the snow, easily recognizable by their shapes as those used on simulacra.
Even with her limited knowledge, Anastacia could tell that the patterns were functional and not simple mimicry, loaning validity to the claim that the sect actually knew more about the simulacra than perhaps anyone else. “Calling me by my actual name would help if you really want me to listen to you, but I have no intention of being anyone’s vassal. Not Mournvalley’s and not yours, and my attitude towards the sect is only a result of what you’ve done, so blame Eminence for it.”
“But you misunderstand, you are not to be a simple servant like these two.” Tekhelet said and gestured towards her entourage that struggled to keep up with the necromancer in the snow. “It is not my place to offer you anything, it is yours to claim your seat at our table as equal to myself, Palatinate, Byzantium and Sumire, as you are nothing less.”
Stopping with arm’s reach of Tekhelet, Anastacia deemed that there was enough material buried below them and the goblins were at a safe distance. The stinging scent of corruption and feeling of unease always prevalent around the sect members and their servants was far fainter even directly beside Tekhelet than it had been anywhere within the machine fortress where Anastacia had confronted Eminence. The world itself still rejected her presence, however, the hue of the sky above and snow below their feet, the sounds of footsteps, whistling of the wind across the field, all twisted just enough to tell there was something wrong. Watching the mist caused by her own labored breath rise up between the gusts of wind, the necromancer noticed the lack of mist that should have accompanied Tekhelet’s words. Though there were countless possible reasons for its absence, it reminded her of the initial encounter with Eminence and the false visage he had worn to at least partly hide the effects of the corruption on his body.
“You say you didn’t come here to fight, but why do you need the numbers advantage? Three on one is hardly fair. You also say you’re not lying to me, but this is not how you really look, is it?” She challenged Tekhelet’s initial claims and therefore the supposed reason for the meeting.
Perhaps sensing that her offer of knowledge and power hadn’t hit its mark quite well enough, Tekhelet let out a raspy sigh. “I have company out of nothing but necessity.” She stated and moved back to her companions as a wisp of smoke. “My talents do not lie in traveling from realm to realm, so for this I have brought my aide, Spurn.” She admitted and placed her metal gauntlet on the bandaged being’s shoulder. “The scribe, once of The Lunar Library, is here should my mission fail and your ire for us is not subsided by reason. A contingency measure.”
“You’re not here to fight but she is?” Anastacia inquired of the nature of the plan B. From her meeting with Tekhelet’s other minions, when she and Iris had found the lich some days ago, she knew that the deathlessness of the violet sect did not apply to its servants. So crownless as she may have still been, taking out the scribe and the horned being was still in the cards.
Tekhelet shook her head. “No. None here has the might to even begin to challenge yours, not alone, not together. Though, as you know… your might matters little without the crown, Brume. Do not succumb to the temptations of rash judgement, apply reason to your actions and listen to what I have to say… Please.” Each action carefully measured to not give the necromancer a reason to attack and the offerings the sect had in its disposal falling to mostly deaf ears, Tekhelet’s tone changed. Pride became desperation and offers became pleads. “Did Eminence convey the reason for our drastic actions before his demise?”
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As far as Anastacia understood, Eminence had spouted his worries about the coming end of the world. Though it must have been mentioned, she hadn’t exactly been in a receiving mood at the time and couldn’t remember much in the way of details.
“As expected of him… For a moment more, I beg of you to stay your hand and listen. We… what is left of us, are not conquerors or marauders. We were not driven out of Mournvalley for our lust for power over others, and it is not the force that made us desperate to return.
“Having left behind this plane after a brief yet bloody conflict with the red, we marched the empty halls beyond the divine realms, in older parts of this creation we made our dwellings among the rubble of fallen skies and planes torn asunder. That is, until we came to the end. Words fail to describe what we saw there, but the mere memory of it is what twists the world around us and corrupts all, knowledge not meant to be held but forever grafted into our minds. We fell, fell, fell, until none but five of us, twisted and horrible managed to claw ourselves into what is from what isn’t. It was there we understood our discovery, the final chapter, the end. It is not silence, it is not nothingness, it is the ceasing of existence. As I speak, the empty halls left abandoned by unknown forces and now by us crumble into it. Each moment, each action, each thought drains something from this world into it, no matter the size or significance, each step is towards the horrible end.” Almost frantic when she finally stopped speaking for a moment.
The dark eyes from behind the mask briefly met Anastacia’s as the false image of Tekhelet faded. A ripple in the air spread from where she had stood, almost like a small blast wave that broke the expertly crafted illusions covering the entire area. The field of snow, previously untouched by anyone besides Anastacia, was suddenly dotted in huge shards of metal ranging from flawlessly polished mirrors to crumbling pylons of rust. Each shard was firmly embedded into the frozen soil but still reached at least two to three meters in height aboveground. Though it was hard to tell from within the formation, the shards formed two circles, one larger and at least hundred meters in diameter, and the other located roughly in the middle of the first one, maybe ten or so meters wide. Both the shards belonging to the circles as well as the few more arbitrarily placed ones were far from uniform in shape, but each one of them was noticeably slanted towards the middle of the formation. In the middle of it all, shadowed by a faint violet mist, was a metal staff. Broken into three roughly equal-sized pieces, it was simple in construction with a sharp base that no doubt functioned as a spear if needed, a grip fashioned by wrapping leather string around the middle part of the staff, and three claw-like points holding a lump of black obsidian in place at the top. Several trinkets and talismans dangled from the staff, swaying in the wind as it floated in place, barely avoiding the snow under it while slowly dripping dark violet liquid from the cracks on its surface.
Tekhelet herself was nowhere in sight, though the unmistakable dread and unease a mere gaze from her kind caused was still very much present in the necromancer – intensified, if anything. The pair accompanying Tekhelet appeared unchanged and unbothered by the drastic change in the scenery.
Suddenly the metallic voice spoke out again, seemingly from every direction around Anastacia. “You now witness what has come of my form, as requested – I have not come to deceive.”
“I have no clue what I’m witnessing. Show yourself!” The necromancer demanded and nervously peered around to see if she could spot any movement.
“Peer into the metal. What remains of me is forever bound to the sheen on its surface.” Tekhelet explained, suddenly sounding like she was whispering directly into Anastacia’s ear.
Doing as was suggested, Anastacia took a look at the shard closest to her and could see a spindly wraith-like creature clothed in a violet tabard over a full suit of chainmail, motionlessly floating behind her own reflection. Though it wore a metal mask very similar to the false image, its was twisted to depict agony. The reflection slowly placed its arm on the necromancer’s reflection’s shoulder, and she could feel the light pressure there despite not being able to see the hand itself. Though she was very nearly taken by the shock of everything she suddenly saw and the paralysis caused by it, she instinctively lunged away into the snow and scrambled back up to check the reflection to see if she was being pursued. Tekhelet’s reflection still floated in place and made no attempts to catch her, but just as she saw that, something invisible brushed the snow off her shoulder.
“What the…” The necromancer muttered just as she noticed the reflection on the mirror surface of another shard, where the floating sect member stood directly next to her, already staring at the same shard like they were waiting for Anastacia to notice. Frantically looking around at every shard that still had a smooth surface for a clear image to be reflected off of, she came to a rather harrowing realization that each shard held a different reflection of Tekhelet.
“Do not be alarmed. My intent is as I said.” All of Tekhelet’s reflections spoke in unison, none of them attempting to move closer to the necromancer. “Allow time for reason, for calm thought and logic. My upper hand is not as it seems, as we walk atop your domain.”
The words may not have meant much to the frightened necromancer, but her mind was already looking for any kind of a foothold on the situation that seemed dire at a glance.
“Think, Brume, think of what you have seen… felt.” Tekhelet hinted at something again.
“Felt…” Anastacia repeated out loud without realizing it, until suddenly it struck her: she had felt the weight of Tekhelet’s hand on her shoulder, and the snow had been moved by something invisible – yet not intangible. With plentiful material under the frozen ground, she could easily conjure a torrent of bone that would shield her form any approach, if it was indeed true that the reflections could still be hurt. Without a crown, killing them was out of the question, but thanks to her experience with Eminence, she knew that pain could still be inflicted on the sect members even if it rapidly healed.
“Very good, Brume, very good.” The cold and metallic compliment echoed from every reflection of Tekhelet.
“Why are you trying to help me?” Asked the confused necromancer, understandably so.
Tekhelet let out a defeated sigh. “Violence is not in my nature, and convincing you is the only path to my desired outcome.” She pointed out. “Let us say I would have capitalized on my apparent advantage and tried to take you by force. Would you not have resisted until either you were dead or achieved escape? Your death would be the end of my machinations as your soul would return to the great cycle, possibly once more to be used against us – truly the last outcome I would wish for. Your successful escape would only mean the growth of your prejudice against us, forever poisoning my intentions. My only choice is to make you understand why we do what we must.”
The apparent honesty was certainly an interesting tactic that Anastacia hadn’t prepared for, though it would take much more than the bare minimum of not lying to even begin to convince her of anything. Looking around while listening to the reflections plead didn’t really reveal anything to expand her options, however. Even if she technically had the upper hand in being able to escape the formation of metal shards, the only place she could escape to was Valor, and dragging the problem there was unlikely to solve it. There she would have less material to defend herself with, and knowing how keen for a fight her fellow adventurers were, it would inevitably turn into a bloodbath – no matter how reluctant to use force Tekhelet claimed to be. For now, there was little more she could do than to let the sect member reveal as much as possible while looking for a better solution. Besides, she had a few choice words to give in return as well.
“You know when it would have been a lot easier to convince me about anything? Before one of you assholes destroyed a machine fortress that was just minding its business and attacked my friends!” Anastacia exclaimed and gestured vaguely in the direction they had traveled in to reach Erratic Judgement. “Not to mention the business with the lich from just a few days ago!”
The accusation caused Tekhelet to fall quiet for a moment as she no doubt spun the words in her head to try and explain Eminence’s actions as well as what her own servants had done to Iris and the lich. “Eminence is… was, a useful fool. Once a great man and researcher of the divine, his mind forever scarred and corrupted by our discovery. Declared himself The Grand Sage of Entropy, and allowed the end to fester within his thoughts. As poisonous to our cause as he was to the world itself in the end… But one of us nonetheless, and to some, his delivery of our message proved the most effective. It was with great sadness that we learned of his demise, but knew it to be an end to a tortured existence as well. I make no excuses of his actions against you or those you hold dear, but ask you to see his desperation as a sign of urgency.” She spoke with what may have been the first hint of emotion in her words, giving the metallic voice a sorrowful undertone. “Of the actions of the half-king and Speaker of Forbidden Knowledge, I take accountability for. For many years now, it has been imperative of us to act in secret, so those unwilling to aid us in our mission have sooner been dealt with than left to roam and spread lies or warnings of our deeds. This was the task I gave to the half-king and speaker as well; the lich was to join our cause… You and your companions stumbling upon the exchange was not foreseen by us, fortunate as it may have been in the end. Had I known where you had escaped, I would have contacted you earlier. I did not receive this knowledge from Alizarin before his unfortunate demise, but from a recent peek into a nameless mind touched by Eminence, I discovered hints – and finally, as you defeated the half-king, my search was narrowed here.”
“It’s not exactly a good look when I’ve seen you guys fail at recruiting two or three times now. Erratic Judgement told you to pound sand, the lich did exactly the same, and judging by the number of bodies carrying your sect’s emblems we found in the Baron of Iron’s keep, that didn’t go much better.” Anastacia pointed out while trying her best to keep an eye on the reflections as well as Tekhelet’s companions, who seemed to be simply following the situation from afar. “I may not have the full picture of what this ‘cause’ of yours is, but it seems to be a hard sell to beings no doubt wiser and more experienced than me.”
“But I think you already know all that matters.” Tekhelet was quick to respond. “I can see the dullness in your eyes as you gaze at this waning world. Through means I do not know, you have seen it as it once was, and are now burdened with the knowledge of how little is truly left.”
It was true that the world now seemed like a pale imitation of the ancient time Acacia had shown Anastacia. Comparing the bright turquoise eyes of her reflection to the darkness behind Tekhelet’s mask, she could see the same subtle dullness in them both of them. No doubt invisible to anyone who couldn’t fathom what exactly it meant, but an obvious hint of hopelessness, disappointment and apathy to those who knew where to look for it.
“There is no deeper purpose behind our cause. We do not seek to rule land, accumulate wealth, subjugate people or act as gods… none of it means anything once all is dust. We persevere in our accursed state to learn all there is to know and buy each and every second we are able in the vain hope that there exists a way to stop the seemingly inevitable end to all.” Tekhelet explained, choosing her words with great care and falling quiet for a while to study their effects on the necromancer. Even before Anastacia could say so, she must have sensed that they had failed to placate their target, who could tell it was not the whole truth – even if it didn’t contain a single lie. “For centuries, we have grasped for the faintest of clues that might aid us, sought out beings of great talent and power to aid us. We have searched for solutions without cease, and one by one seen our options fail to hinder the march towards the end… Despite everything we know and every tool we possess, our options have dwindled down to one… It brings us no pleasure and any alternative solutions are studied even more desperately than before – but time creeps onwards without relenting, and we have already wasted too much.”
“Out with it!” Anastacia demanded, growing tired of dancing around the subject.
“To prevent a candle from burning to its end, you can only snuff out its flame, no grain falls in an empty hourglass.” The sect member still avoided stating their intentions directly. “In a world with no life or motion, the end does not approach…”
The necromancer rolled her eyes. “So that’s your great plan? Just empty out the world so it doesn’t get used up? How is that any better than just letting the world end?”
One of Tekhelet’s reflections suddenly lurched towards Anastacia. “SPEAK NOT FOR HORRORS YOU DON’T COMPREHEND!” She screamed in a distorted voice that made the air around her invisible form distort. “The worst fates we could come up with using our wealth of knowledge, the vilest tools in our possession… would be a mercy. To bring an end to this world in this generation to spare the ones who would face what we already have… a kindness – but no. Those able and willing to aid us will remain, as we cling on to the faintest hope we have of understanding the nature of our world to halt its slow death – or more likely, remain to face the end with us once more. To this end we approach those worthy, some see the necessity of our work, others are too selfish and vain to heed our warnings.”
“And if they’re not with you, they’re against you?” Anastacia suggested.
“Precisely.” Tekhelet whispered as she backed away once more. “This is not a position we chose, not one we wanted, but one we must regrettably fill. Save the red, we bear no ill will towards this world. Do you understand?”
The regret and almost disgust for what she had to say was apparent in Tekhelet’s metallic voice. Of course, she may well have been an excellent deceiver, but Anastacia found not a spec of joy or lies in what was being explained. Even down to the body language of each and every reflection, the sect member appeared defeated and crushed by responsibility. However, it was also clear that she was no exception to their policies, this was not a friendly visit to try and contact someone who supposedly belonged among them, this was the sect appearing to Anastacia just as they had appeared to the baron, Erratic Judgement and the lich.
“What do you expect me to say? ‘Sure, I’ll abandon my friends and the people I care deeply for so that I can prepare to wipe out most life in the world with you guys?’” Anastacia said bluntly.
“The world is a cold place and there is little more I can do than plead for you to apply logic and reason just as cold – to match its atrocity. Emotions are no strangers to us either – as I stand upon the edge of what is left and watch it crumble, memories of love and grief fill my mind. I would have wanted to live my life as carefree as most and do not fault you for wanting the same, but the same cruel grand design that once plunged me into the nothingness has now come to you – and I am deeply sorry for it.” Tekhelet reminisced and almost sounded relived by her thoughts. “But understand that your selfishness now condones the suffering of many more, should our mission fail. Is your happiness worth that much?”
Obviously, this angered Anastacia. She was still only having her first tastes of free life as well as the intrigue and confusion that came with it – and now the supposedly ‘correct’ choice was to give all that up. In some sense she understood the miserable situation the sect was in, certainly better than before, and perhaps even slightly sympathized with them because of the apparent honesty she had been shown. No doubt she could have spent days or weeks deliberating on the moral implications of the situation, but she was no great philosopher or someone with the wisdom to cast any kind of infallible judgement. No, Anastacia was a young lass with much in life to look forward to, thrust into a situation well above her paygrade, and so she made her decision like one.
“You’re going to have to do better than that to get me on board, guess I’m just a bit selfish like that.” She shrugged and shook her head. “For your honestly, I’m willing to blink once and allow you to vanish, but if you’re still there once I open my eyes… Well…”
“Perhaps it was wrong of me to force such a choice upon you, for that I am truly sorry. We never wanted things to be like this.” Tekhelet lamented in response as Anastacia closed her eyes.
Though she didn’t close her eyes for any longer than a blink, it was still interrupted by an agonized scream from nearby. Anastacia turned to see the woman in black uniform, one of Tekhelet’s companions, on her knees in the snow. A black book and a violet quill already falling from her grasp as her arms rapidly vaporized, as if burned by an invisible fire. It wasn’t enough to stop the necromancer from doing what she had planned in case she wasn’t met by an undisturbed bed of snow when opening her eyes, and two masses of decayed bone rapidly burst from the ground below both the screaming woman and the other being accompanying Tekhelet, closing in around their bodies and dragging them both into the frozen soil to be crushed in a mere second. Anastacia didn’t know what exactly what they would be able to do, but there was a reason both were brought there and it would at least hinder her opponent’s plans. From there, she prepared to meet any approach with an explosion of bone shards and frozen soil from the ground around her – but no such approach ever came.
Tekhelet’s reflections simply stood still. “I have done what I can, you need not fear for more.” She said as one of the reflections picked up the black book that had gotten flung closer to it. “And so, we have become each other’s prisoners.”
“What?...” Anastacia uttered, confused by the lack of opposition.
“Upon a field of snow, she stood. Unwilling to take what was hers by right. Her seat around the table forever empty, her burden forever neglected. So fades into obscurity the white with a violet hue, never to be remembered again. The End.” Tekhelet read out loud the words her companion had scribbled into the book as her last act.