A knock travelled from the entrance to the window wall, the sound travelling like a shockwave, knocking Iris back into herself. She turned, as Elvera gave permission to enter.

The door opened, and a scruffy-looking man in military uniform entered. At the sight of him, Iris got out of her chair and ran in his direction. She ran to him without slowing, but the scratchy carpet taped to the inside of her skull caused her to hesitate to touch him.

“They’re trying to stop me from going!” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at the two concerned overbearers. “Tell them I can go!”

She watched Elliot look at her, then back at the table, then back to her.

“Where are we all going?” he asked.

“The desert.”

“Well, that’s a tough bargain, isn’t it?” Elliot told Iris as she continued to run on the spot, jittery. He knelt to her level and put his hands on her shoulder, calming her as if his palms were sapping her energy.

“What’s your sales pitch? Why do you think you should go?” he whispered.

“Because if I don’t go, she might get hurt,” Iris reciprocated.

“But you know how strong your mother is, there isn’t much you can do,” he said. A tinge of guilt flashed across his face as if to take back what he had just said. “I guess we’re both in the same boat...can you think of another reason you should go?”

Iris thought, but her brain was frozen still, reeling from the flashing, intense sensation. The feeling, the anxious itch still present.

Wait.

“My visions. I died in some mountains.”

“I thought you said they were the Karaxian mountains. They aren’t anywhere near where you’re going.”

“But they might not be! Elvera said there’s a lot of old Spirits in the city as well, maybe they’ll know who I am.”

“So, you need to go, to find out more about who you are?”

“Yes. Yes!” she said. Her share of the brain told a white lie, the rest told the truth.

“...alright. I’ll be on your side. But you need to promise me one thing in return. Okay?”

“What?” she said, unconcerned. As long as she had hope.

“...One day, you become strong enough to protect yourself, as well as Evalyn. Okay?”

Iris grew still, the newly painted grin vanishing. She was set on the idea already, yet hearing it come from someone else felt strange, as if the presence of the idea had gained a lot more weight. She could feel it on her shoulders now. A clear thing, hanging from a chain attached to her aorta.

“Okay,” she said, “I promise.”

Elliot stood up, turning Iris around and holding her shoulders.

“I don’t see a problem with her going. She needs to find out if the mountains in her dreams were the Karaxian range, and Fadaak is a good place to learn about Spirits. Even when you can’t protect her, her powers do. If it turns out to be too dangerous, I’ll come and pick her up straight away.”

The two still looked unconvinced.

“Do you really think they'll take an explanation a second time? They’ll accuse you of not training her properly.”

Iris was confused as to what they were talking about, or who ‘they’ exactly were, but it seemed as though the words had a sort of effect on them. Evalyn’s worried gaze turned back to Iris. It was still one of reluctance.

She stood from her chair and walked over, dropping to her knees and taking Iris’s hands.

“You know that you’re not going to fool me,” Evalyn said, “but Elly has a point...I need you to keep working for me,” she said, with a strained face which Iris could not grasp the meaning of.

“I need you to promise me that you’ll stay right beside me, all the time. When we walk, when we sleep, when we run, when we rest, you’re never to leave my arm’s reach. You understand?”

Iris nodded as Evalyn rose to her full height again. She turned to Elvera with an apologetic look. Elvera sighed and furled her map once again.

“Look, as long as you bring her study books,” she said. “Elliot, I need to fill you in on what you’re doing. Oh, I hope you guys have a day or so freed up.”

“...why?” Evalyn asked, cautiously.

“The Queen wants to see you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Not far from Elvera’s office, the architecture opened into a cavernous space, and the make of the walls shifted once again. The pipes and valves existed, but they were brass, and accompanied by shifting gears and oversized levers. There were more primitive systems at work.

“I’m giving you...fifteen minutes, meaning I’ll see you in a day and a half,”

“What?” was all Iris could muster before Elvera cranked a lever. The brass in the pipes began to shake as the vibrations converged in front of them. Gears turned, and blue gas jetted from the grilles. Iris felt a subtle force tugging at her jacket and touching her hair. In front of her, a hard cut had been created in reality.

No rift, no border of energy, just simply a cut. Like an eye-opening. It revealed an entirely different location. A forest of sorts.

Iris held onto Evalyn’s coat as securely as she could, but the woman hadn’t a care in the world.

“I wonder if I left the stove on,” Elliot muttered.

The whistling and whirring reached a climax, and Iris blinked at exactly the wrong time.

In the next split second, she was off the map as far as she was concerned.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Trees. She had not seen many trees up close before. Some stood proudly in and amongst Excala, but a forest was nothing she had ever seen. Were trees always this big? She had always had the impression that they could stand at least a few storeys tall, but her head was barely clearing what would be the stump. If one could even fell such a tree.

One could make their entire house out of it.

In fact, many already had.

Every tree, from its rough brown base to its green spire tops, were virtually small cities. Miniature doors the size of her head, windows the size of her fist, bridges from one tree to another and pulleys that worked with seemingly no input.

“Where is this?” Iris asked, without even meaning to.

“The Queen’s forest. We’re not sure exactly where it is, so we use her…what are they called?”

Evalyn walked off without finishing her question, and Elliot followed. Iris moved to stick behind, but she noticed her movements were sluggish. She waved her hand. It travelled as though normal, but she felt like she was moving through water.

“Does it feel weird to move?” Elliot asked, noticing that Iris far behind him. She nodded, and he jogged over.

“Just keep your legs moving, and you’ll get over it. We’re moving through time a lot slower right now.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. We just are. The Queen’s always been scared of what’ll happen to the country when she dies. So, in this space, ten minutes is an entire day outside. About…a hundred and forty-four times slower?” I don’t know the details. Let’s go.”

He led Iris down the trail past Evalyn, setting an example by kicking his knees upwards with every step.

They set a rhythm together and briskly followed the path marked out by small lamp posts that reached Iris’s waist. Throughout the forest, she sensed movement, small movements that would shift as quickly as they disappeared. Nothing risked being in sight of her and Elliot, and all that would be left were whirring pulleys, soft lights, and empty windows.

The forest glistened into something that mirrored the image of Excala from afar. Twinkling lights and stars too close to the ground. Seemingly lifeless, yet lived in.

The trees began to lessen as the small burrows gained support beams, structures that burst out of the wood that housed them, sometimes even taking on different materials.

Stone, marble, and stained glass. All were in teaspoon quantities.

Iris could see something directly ahead. It was still a dark void, but she could see the glints and accents of something enormous in size. The outlines were sharp and followed sleek contours as if the wind itself had shaped them.

The pathway finally ended, and Iris found herself at the edge of that darkness. Only shapes preceded her standing, and she wondered when all would reveal itself. Elliot, standing slightly in front, gave a deep bow. For a moment, his demeanour changed. Iris had only seen it once before when he had saluted a superior.

“Your Majesty, we have heeded your request for a meeting. I pray we find you in good tidings.”

As Evalyn finally caught up with them, the space began to twinkle. Lights, the same floating effervescent lanterns that lit up the city’s skyline at night began to sparkle, staving off the blackness.

The contours connected and began to shape something greater. Horns, no, antlers to be exact. The elegance of their curves and spirals suggested they were not suited for striking, but for something else. The skin was armour, thistles flowing in one direction from hoof to hoof, coming together as if its very purpose was to simply be beautiful.

The seat of the crown was strong, as if moulded by the wind's hand. Small, but piercing eyes gleamed through Iris’s being as they came face to face.

Queen Amestris had a form that Iris could barely fathom the beauty of, yet was mesmerised by.

She looked at Iris, and Iris looked back. Two colours clashing intimately with just one look.

“You’re different to the others,” she said. Her mouth remained shut, and her vocal cords, if there were any, did not move. Yet Iris heard her.

“I’m different to Evalyn, yes.”

The Queen leaned further, craning her great neck until they were truly centimetres apart. The Aether she exuded wrapped around Iris’s skin like a duvet. Comfortable suffocation.

“You are old, yet I do not know how old. How goes your Wednesdays?”

“My Wednesdays?”

The Queen stared at Iris as if she had gained all she needed to know.

“She is old, Darminjung, perhaps older than you,” she said, turning to Evalyn, or more accurately, what was inside Evalyn.

“Older than the Wish Giver?” Evalyn muttered. “That’s not terrifying.”

“Her Wednesdays are boring, and so are her Saturdays.”

“We try our best, ma’am,” Elliot said with uncomfortable timing. The Queen looked at him like a hunter would look at game.

“I find that you lack any Tuesdays,” she said.

“What would that mean, if you would so humour my minuscule understanding.”

“You irritate me, ever since you stumbled into the House of the Council.”

Iris watched the two. A strange relationship that did not boil over into anything dangerous. She did not want to fault Elliot, but if it ever did, she suspected he’d have very little chance of surviving.

“How did she come to you two?” the Queen asked.

“I came across her, living on the streets in Sidos.”

“When was this?”

“A month ago, roughly.”

“What day?”

“A Thursday, your Majesty.”

“A Thursday…”

The Queen thought about it, before addressing Iris directly.

“I apologise, child. I know as much of your origin as you do. My mind fails me, and I fear you were before my time, or simply of another land. Being tethered here has dealt me a great deal of isolation. However, I know for certain, that you are more primitive than many of us.”

She reared backwards, her hooves pounding the ground at a rhythmic pace as she began to circle the clearing. As she did, the void cleared itself around her, and the tiny city came to life.

“All life holds meaning, and to a Spirit, that meaning is defined. A concept. An idea. A base principle. A loosely defined thing. Gravity. Safety. Sharpness. Love.”

She turned her head around, addressing her next two words to Evalyn.

“Desire. Wishes. As one loses meaning, one loses self. What is Desire? How to define love? Vagueness steals definition, shape, self, and in return gives power.”

Life returned to the cities. Blobs. Shapeless creatures with loosely defined bodies, heads, and tails emerged. Their borders rippled and changed, reacting to the subtle movement of air. They watched Iris with similar gazes of deep blue.

“Don’t humans feel the same? A loss of self emboldens and promotes…erratic behaviour.”

The entire theatre stared at Iris and only Iris as the Queen circled back around to her. Her presence at full height was terrifying.

“You have neither. Only power. What says I should not kill you where you stand.”

Iris barely registered the words, and Evalyn and Elliot had no time to protect her.

With the strike of a hoof, Iris’s world blackened.

Darkness. No. A flicker. Aether? No. Electrical flicker. Artificial. Ugly.

Grass? No. Grass was green. It yielded to her touch. This fought back. It was red too.

Familiar, sickly familiar. She was back. Her skull had been forced open, and the red carpet had spilled forward, infecting her senses.

“Monday.”

A familiar voice. Familiar phrasing. Yet it did not belong.

“I feel Monday.”

A woman. Long black hair. Curving antlers. Blue eyeliner. Flowing fabric of Yale, Powder, Cobalt. Elegance. Refinement. Lady-like.

She walked forward, closer to that darkness at the end of the corridor. The jittering of the figure grew louder. It was scared. Iris was scared.

“Quiet, I’m thinking.”

Silence. Not a micron of movement.

Her walk was a shuffle. Walking was brutish. She was not.

Her delicate fingers travelled across every bump in the wall. Every visible bump.

The carpet clawed at her dress, but it paid it no heed and glided over.

“These doors. They’re peculiar.”

A delicate hand wrapped around the knob.

“Don’t!”

Iris’s body finally moved. The Queen’s, however, did not. She could not be allowed to get closer. The door was in danger.

“What is there to be afraid of? Unless you are hiding something.”

A lump in her throat. A Monday gluing her voice box shut.

“A peek through the keyhole, at least,” the Queen muttered, swishing her sleeves and kneeling, ever so softly, until her eye line matched the keyhole.

“..I see,” she said. She turned back, having quite literally stared at Iris's soul.

“I know more about you than you do.”

The Queen stood at her full height once more, and her antlers began to glow. The world, Iris’s world, Iris’s mind. She had control over it, albeit for now.

“You pose a threat, my dear. Yet I would be lying if I said you were of no use.”

Iris’s corridor began to crumble, overtaken by a shimmering blue, shining through the cracks in the walls, ceilings, and floors.

“I employ the dangerous, and seduce them with security in their unpredictable existences. Food, water, shelter, and backing. In return you shall allow yourself to be raised by Hardridge and that brat. You will serve me, and only me. That, or you become my enemy.”

Her mind shattered.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes…your Majesty.”

“Good. It will be a Sunday upon your return. I have arranged the weather to be clear, yet chilly. Moisturise well, yet do not forget sunscreen. Make good use of it.”