Paraklytus adjusted his robes, fretting over a few creases here and there. It was more out of principle than anything else that he found himself making small adjustments as they walked. He was a regal man, aged well for a Labyrinthian. Going on a century in age his handsome face had become weathered by time. His long, jet black hair was pulled back behind his angular ears, and allowed to flow down his back until it stopped with a humble leather tie just below his belt. A pair of simple spectacles sat on his long, thin nose, and rested before two razor-sharp green eyes. He reached up and scratched at his chin, the beard was new, he’d grown tired of maintaining a clean-shaven face over the years. A beard was more practical in many ways.
To his left, Batel Rani walked in silence. Compared to the grim-faced boy of fifty years, Paraklytus’ behavior seemed almost lackadaisical. Youthful, with ash blonde hair cut short atop his handsome head, Batel stared forward with resolve in his eyes. Even so, he couldn’t help but glance over at Paraklytus and his ministrations. He frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Why are you bothering?” He asked, “We aren’t here for a pleasant audience.”
“An Audience with the Queen is an Audience with the Queen,” Paraklytus said, chuckling a little, “There is something to be said about appropriate behavior and standing on ceremony. Regardless of what that ceremony is,” The older Labyrinthian winked. Batel rolled his eyes and let out a world-weary sigh. Paraklytus reached up and squeezed his shoulder, giving it a rallying shake. “We will walk away from this with our heads, my boy, and our pride. We will have done the right thing.”
“I know,” Batel said, “But-”
“Yes, It is a shame,” Paraklytus said with a grave nod.
Ahead of them, the winding halls of the Grand Labyrinth curved to the left and they found themselves standing before a pair of enormous doors. Two guards bearing the hooked blades of the royal guard stood in stoic silence. One of them raised his fist to his heart in greeting to Batel who returned the gesture halfheartedly. They stepped aside in silence, opening the doors for the approaching pair and allowing them to enter the throne room.
Teyva Rani’s throne room was audacious to say the least. Three tiers of rising platforms near the rear of the room ended in a high-backed throne crafted entirely of volcanic glass. Around her, spheres of light danced among the many columns that spread throughout the room in what seemed to be a nonsensical pattern. The disorienting effect of the lights and columns was intentional, of course, just one way the Queen controlled every moment of an interaction with someone who dared to bother her during her meditations.
Instead of giving either of the men time to appreciate the architecture, The Queen of the Labyrinthians rose to her feet and offered the most disingenuous smile Paraklytus had ever seen. More a sneer than anything else. She spoke in a clear, ringing voice that seemed to carry from every corner of the room. Paraklytus had to marvel at the acoustics privately even as he prepared for what was to come. “I hear you intend to leave me, Paraklytus.”
The Grand Magistrix strode forward and inclined his head, “It would seem that word travels fast, Highness.”
She raised her head and looked down on him across her nose, “So you weasel your way into my good graces, bed me, use my resources, and now that you are satisfied you simply choose to walk away.”
Paraklytus forced his eyes forward even as he noticed Batel stiffen in the periphery of his vision, he offered the queen an easy smile. "You and I both know that is not what this is about."
"You are right, forgive the prattle of a simple woman," she said coldly, from her raised position her eyes seemed to glow with a strange yellow light, like a beast. Paraklytus returned her gaze despite the growing pit in his stomach. "You take exception to my pursuits, lover, you refuse to help your Queen break the bonds of mortality. You wish to see her wither and die at the hands of time. Some might call that treason, Parsis."
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Paraklytus' lips thinned, he had cast aside his birth name when he had become a weaver of magic in service to his people. A true Labyrinthian would never extinguish their pride or swear upon their given name. Choosing to become a servant of the greater whole had meant becoming something other than a Labyrinthian, even if it was purely symbolic. His name was sacred to him.
"All that live, die, even Queens," Paraklytus said, "Only the great liches exist in perpetuity. Perhaps her grace would find satisfaction in-"
She cut him off with a snarl, "I will not wither into nothing but bones toddering away about what once was while the world passes me by! I intend to give our people stability! I will see the Labyrinthians through to the next aeon and beyond!"
Paraklytus frowned, "You would deny our child her birthright?"
"You do not have the right to speak of my child, traitor," she hissed and turned to Batel. "And you, you would join this wretch in his witless betrayal?"
"Sister, please, you are playing with things that should be left alone! The place of the soul is not something even we should tamper with! I beg you to open your eyes!" Batel pleaded, Paraklytus forced himself not to shake his head. There was no reasoning with her. She had thrown away what was left of her sense a long time ago.
As if to confirm his thoughts, Teyva Rani bore her teeth and strode down from her spot above them. She marched directly to her brother, stopping before him. She was a head shorter than he was. She looked up into her brothers eyes. "Exile. Flee to the university if that pleases you, but I will never look upon you again. Pathetic. How I even thought you worthy of the title of Archon. That, that will be what I remember as my greatest mistake," she hissed, "Begone, both of you."
Paraklytus bowed, holding his tongue and reaching out to Batel to quiet him as well. There was nothing more to be said.
Paraklytus would never see Teyva again. Never see his daughter. He would watch as his once-queen ripped apart a people that had ruled the world since before recorded history. He would watch the races his people had created and uplifted become subject to unimaginable oppression. He would mourn as war ripped through the winding halls. Paraklytus would be the last of his kind as innocents starved and died around him. He would hold Batel in his arms as he passed, finally leaving him alone.
Lichdom was a sacred right, a sacrifice of pride and identity to preserve the history and knowledge of their people. The little death that caused the change from life to undeath was supposed to be a moment of sublime peace and understanding. Yet even as his heart beat for the last time, he felt as if he knew less than he ever had. All he could think about was the irony, and wonder if Teyva Rani was laughing at him somewhere beyond death.
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The memories came and went as Paraklytus leaned on the rail. He watched the guardsmen, full of new life, talk among themselves in the courtyard. He watched the children play. He listened to laughter and conversation. Around him the university bustled with activity, weaving around him as if he were a great stone in the sea.
A presence behind him broke him out of his thoughts. He looked down at his hands, nothing but bones.
"There is no heart inside of these old bones," He said, "Yet it aches." The figure behind him froze and he looked up to the ceiling, "I have no eyes, yet I weep," He murmured. "I am nothing but bones, yet I feel warmth on my skin," He choked out, his voice trembling. He gripped the rail and wished for one moment he could take a breath. No lungs filled with sweet air. "You don't know these people. Yet you accepted them. You gave them a second chance. You freed them from their suffering."
He turned around and looked Teyva Akura in the eyes. She had Rani's face, the woman he had loved, who he had celebrated the birth of a child with. Yet that was the only similarity. Teyva Akura was frightening in her appearance, her strangeness not lost on him. She had claimed to want to live a selfish life. Even so, she had done more for his people than Rani ever had.
He fell to his knees and pressed his head to the ground. Prostrating himself before her. When she didn't step away he shoved pride aside and spoke from the heart.