aside, unwilling to give it a foothold when she had barely enough strength left to deal with the grief she already shouldered.
For some time she stared at the flames, trying to rest, working against the tension that coiled in her muscles. The unrest served only to urge her to action, and it took everything in her to will the feeling away.
Later in the day, just as Jenner had said, the healer returned to see to her. Ariana lay on the bed, gazing at the paintings on the wall as Aulora added more salve to the wound on her side.
Her eyes wandered over depictions of great battles, several of the keep itself. One in particular caught her attention. As soon as Aulora was finished with her, Ariana rose and stood before it.
The city was the same save the presence of life in the painting, where it had been absent in what she had come to assume was only a hallucination.
'I have been here before,' she lifted a hand, stopping just before her fingers touched the canvas, and traced the outline of the temple in the air.
The healer came to her side. Ariana could feel the warmth radiating from the elderly Adorian, despite the chill in the room. 'One of two nearly identical cities. Arcadia is what you see before you, Eidolon is its twin.'
Ariana nodded. 'Ruins, now. Is that all that is left?'
Aulora grinned, turning from her, and lifted a weathered hand into the air. 'Ah, but perhaps there is more than what appears. Not everything in existence is visible to mortal eyes.'
Emotion swept strangely over Ariana, rushing up her spine and feathering out to her hands. Something rested on her tongue, caught just before her lips could form it into words like the image of a dream awoken from too quickly. It remained there long after the healer had left, leaking into her dreams as she napped in the chair.
Their robes flowed unnaturally, like living things encircling their frightful forms. Eyes like onyx moved in unison over the expanse of the room and the dark-haired figure that knelt before them. It was Garren.
A dull groan began to sound low in her mind as they spoke, intensifying and drowning out the clarity of their words.
Suddenly, she watched in horror as an all-too-familiar face was brought to stand before Garren.
Gregor. He fought wildly, failing to pull himself free.
The sound grew sharp and piercing, the pain blurring her already obscured vision.
'Who? Who is it that you think you see before you?' She heard Garren's voice, though his lips remained motionless. Straining to listen, she was troubled by the sudden grief on Gregor's face — true sorrow, and not for his own circumstances.
Dark things moved among the shadows, tilting their heads and hissing as they turned in her direction. They could see her.
'Garren!' She called out to him, but he lowered his head, lifting a chalice to his lips. The liquid appeared as black as night, fanning out upon his skin in tangled veins the moment he drank of it.
A golden spiral burst forth from the ground, like two great arms, wrapping around his body — feeding from the darkness.
'Who are you?' she asked him, surprised when he opened his eyes. He gasped, shielding his face with his arms and letting go of the cup. It crashed loudly, spilling its contents to the ground.
Ariana opened her eyes, lifting herself from the chair to look nervously about the room. She was breathing hard, an echo of the shrill sound still reverberating in her head.
A clearer image of his face was burned into her memory than she saw in her dream. Her skin seemed still to tingle with the feel of his hand on her arm, her cheek with the touch of his palm. She thought of it as she tried on some of the dresses, changing from the plain garments the healer had replaced her bloodied ones with into a pale blue gown, trimmed in gold, so fair in color it seemed almost silver in the right light.
It had not occurred to her to look into the mirror before now. Having seen her reflection in a looking glass only once, the uncertain likeness on water's surface was all that was afforded her in Palingard. She passed by the dressing table and it pulled her back to sit. A countenance gazed at her that she had not seen since she was a child. She had never realized how much she looked like her mother, despite how often she had been told.
A young girl, whom she assumed to be Kaitlyn, came to the door to announce Michael's arrival and ask if Ariana minded his company.
Michael set down a platter of food and seated himself.
'I'm not used to such formality,' she said softly, still looking at the mirror as she made light of it. 'What would she have done had I declined?'
The lack of color in Michael's face, contrasted with the red-tinged whites of his eyes, belied his exhaustion. 'I suppose she would have ushered me away.' His dour expression shifted as he took note of her apparel.
'Fits wonderfully, as I thought it might. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything? I was told you were taken to Duncan.'
She turned to look at him. 'I'm pleased to hear you aren't passing off the meeting as chance. I'm not some spoiled frolicsome lady of your courts so let me spare you the idea of treating me as such.'
A pregnant pause hung over them, leaving Ariana unsure of what to say next. Finally, Michael rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, replying quietly as he did so, 'You certainly are worldly for having been raised in such a sheltered place. Would I be correct in assuming that he was adamant about your education as well?'
'Do I strike you as dim-witted?'
Michael was on his feet, courteously excusing himself before she could speak again. She managed, however, to laugh with enough enthusiasm that it stopped him before he made it out of the room.
'Wait, wait, come back. That was said purely in jest. I know perfectly well what you meant, and no he didn't. Duncan and Bella and certainly Sara's family concerned themselves with my education.' Her heart ached to think about Sara's well being.
Michael reclaimed his seat, surprised to discover that it was no longer his alone. Koen, gangly limbs and all, had made himself comfortable in the chair's fleeting moments of vacancy.
Michael awkwardly repositioned himself, seemingly wary of inciting more pithy comments from Ariana by asking the beast to move.
'What little I know of Eidolon was told to me so long ago that I hardly know the truth of it,' Ariana plaited several strands of hair as she spoke, fastening each braid together like Sara used to do for her on occasion. 'Is the soul of man so ephemeral that it may be stolen with simple words?'
Michael shook his head, his eyes turned downward. More thoughts flickered in his eyes than his reply indicated.
'Not so simple. Words are spoken by the Ereubinian who takes the soul, but the act itself is accomplished through what has physically become of the Laionai, through their connection to what is known as the Mortal Coil. The blood of Ereubus was bound to shadow by the Goddess before the ancients walked Adoria, but the Lineage are merely a conduit for transferring the souls to the Coil and because they do so, they in turn are granted power by it- the greater the number of souls collected, the greater the power. If the writings are to be believed, the Laionai feed from the souls taken. It is a dark web indeed that the Goddess Ciara has woven.'
'Why is Adoria spared when Middengard has fallen so far?'
'I can't say that we have been, Ariana. The divide that protects us is an unknown thing, unspoken of in any of the histories or scrolls. We can't count on its strength in all situations — though some would tell you differently. The Adorian language is a living language, sustained by light, and can't be spoken by those who are born of Middengard, whether they are of dark lineage or not. We are the only ones who can pass the divide or usher another in. We know that the divide and the language are tied together, but not how.'
Rising to his feet, Michael motioned toward the untouched food. 'You really should eat something, or at the very least try.'
She nodded, 'Are you leaving so soon?'
Michael nodded apologetically. 'The winter festival approaches. Rumor, I'm afraid, has already begun about your arrival. I had hoped to let you settle in a bit first, but the council has suggested formally introducing you on the eve of Lisida Olein, when there will be a feast and the celebration of the winter moon. I agree. I think you'll enjoy yourself, maybe see a lighter side of our realm.'
She nodded, remaining silent as he left. All she could think of was Sara. Here, Ariana sat in embroidered finery, and her dearest friend — if she'd survived the siege at all — may fear her every breath.
