UE Rewrite: B5 — 11. The Weight of Souls
Added 2025-08-09 22:18:44 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Elinor (Our Lich Empress!)
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The twin moons were falling below the horizon, their ethereal glow overtaken by the rising sun to blanket Nethermore. Tempest descended toward the palace courtyard, his electromagnetic organs crackling with residual energy from their flight.
Internally, she processed all the reports flying in, her parents and leaders in the Serving and Military Courts compiling a complete record for her on what had opened up to them.
Carlos revealed that a giant library had opened up in the west wing, which spiked her curiosity. Investigating that would need to come much later.
Elinor stood at the front of the great wyvern's spine, chains manifesting beneath her feet to anchor her against the wind that whipped her dress around her legs.
Tiffany took her front seat, nervous orange sparks occasionally dancing off her fingertips—her nerves weren’t about the flight but what she’d soon do.
Paloma took the back, as Theresa had done earlier, even if the young maid felt uncomfortable about Elinor’s position.
Her father stood opposite Elinor, hand gripping his wife’s, her chains anchoring him to Tempest’s scales. The wyvern was large, but the seating room was limited.
The city spread beneath them like a vast chess board of light and shadow—some districts glowing with restored runic power, others sealed behind shimmering barriers that caught the rising sun like uniform, perfectly squared soap bubbles.
We have air access to the city, at least for now. I really need to find the central control terminal for this city, and something tells me…it’s in there.
From this height, Ke’Thra’Ma’s central spire dominated everything, rising from the palace core like a smooth and spiraling obsidian needle, piercing the heavens.
It stretched impossibly high, its peak currently lost in a low-hanging cloud. Even from here, Elinor could see the faint runic patterns twisting up its sleek surface, dormant but somehow watchful, as if the White God’s presence still lingered in the stone itself.
Some parts of the city grid still show activity, but they all appear to lead to the core… The spire runes are gradually spreading outward, testing all its circuits and pathways, most likely. Once it runs its diagnostic…will everything remain the same, or will changes be applied?
And if it decides we’re intruders rather than inheritors? We’ve opened ourselves up completely—no shield, no protection. I’ve gambled everything on Ke’s ego, wanting challengers rather than prisoners.
Only time will tell… Ke, what was your end design?
She watched the lights flicker to life in the spire with an amused smirk. He’d built the tower to look down upon his kingdom. To remind everyone—quen’talrat, ri’bot, yaltha’ma, all races—that he stood above them all.
Now, it was hers.
Her mother was the first to speak, likely attempting to distract herself from where they’d be going in the next thirty minutes or so—to visit a particular swamp creature.
“The R&D District pathways are clearer than I thought they’d be,” her mother whispered through the Nexus, voice carrying an undertone of distraction. “From the Agricultural District to the Administrative… We have access to two main roads—Southern and Eastern—our primary arteries now… What biological wonders might be found?”
Her father’s frosty eyes swept the city with the tactical precision of an architectural engineer. Still, Elinor noticed how his gaze kept drifting to her mother, studying Tiffany with an intensity that she’d seen from time to time throughout her life: concern.
As Tempest banked toward the palace’s main entrance, Elinor spotted the gathering crowd below. Hundreds of humans, yaltha’ma, and ri’bot had assembled in the grand courtyard, their faces turned skyward as she flew in.
But it was the two figures standing apart from the masses that drew her attention—one massive and patient, the other conspicuously absent until moments ago.
Camellia.
The spider princess stood in her arachnid form near the palace’s colossal entrance, her metallic black exoskeleton gleaming under the restored runic lighting. Eight legs, each thick and slimming down to deadly points, supported a body that could have filled a master bedroom.
Her ruby-pattern markings pulsed with soft bioluminescence, creating hypnotic patterns across her thorax. But it was the smaller form cradled carefully in silk nearby that made Elinor’s undead heart constrict with anticipation.
Azalea.
The middle child of the thélméthra family looked almost peaceful, if not for every limb, head, and her cephalothorax and abdomen being separated. Her guess was the insides were scarred black, too.
Damn, Ke… Did you really have to dismember the girl?
Even from this distance, Elinor could see the similarities to Camellia, yet more refined than the hunting spider.
Azalea’s legs were more elegant in structure, with a sleeker, more distinctive head shape. In contrast to her big sister, the younger sibling appeared almost delicate, her form perhaps two-thirds her sister’s size, which was not something she expected from a thélméthra princess.
In terms of brute force, appearance-wise, Camellia had her beat.
The crowd parted swiftly, allowing Tempest to land with surprising grace for something his size. His claws clicked against the black granite as he lowered himself to allow them to dismount. Her people maintained enough distance to show deference while staying close enough to witness history, no doubt curious about what new surprise she’d bring.
More than a few were already admiring her proud wyvern with whispers of fascination. Naturally, Tempest held his head high once they were off, his mirror-like scales creating their own personal spotlight, outshining the rising sun.
“Empress!” Camellia’s mental voice thrummed with barely contained emotion as darkness bathed her, shrinking into her human form. “Thank you… Thank you for this opportunity.”
Elinor held her dress while sliding down Tempest’s wings, her parents and maid following. Righting herself, her boots echoed in the vast courtyard, the sound somehow amplified by the architecture until it seemed the city itself announced her approach.
I can’t promise anything, Camellia, sighed, approaching the preserved form. I may have two Monarch Slots available, but whether I can raise her is another problem entirely.
The redhead’s hands twisted at her front, head dipping as she glanced left at her sister’s broken form, guilt flowing through the Nexus. “I understand… All of this was my mistake.”
None of that, Elinor chided, intrigue sparking within her as she caught not black but white flame-like markings hollowing out Azalea’s internal skeleton. Blaming yourself only benefits yourself… Action and change are what matter, and you have done that. Now, allow me to help you the rest of the way.
The crowd pressed closer, whispers rippling through both human and ri’bot observers, yaltha’ma quietly praying off to the side in some kind of ritual toward the arachnid.
Many of the Serving Staff had heard of Camellia’s rescue during the reset, racing through closing doors with seconds to spare. They’d spread the glad tidings that a new, powerful ally would soon awaken to join as their guardian.
It put a lot of pressure on her to perform, but that was what it meant to have this much trust from people. It’s what it meant to be an empress.
Elinor stepped forward, voices dying to allow only the whistling wind to cut through, pressing against their clothes. She placed her hand on Azalea’s crystallized shell.
Breathing stilled.
Hearts beat faster.
And green fire licked up Elinor’s arm, dancing to her fingertips, and a small smile lifted her lips—her soul was strong…even stronger than her big sister.
[Raise Undead III: Activated]
The familiar surge of power rose within her, the same resistance Camellia had sending a pulse through her bones. Yet, she pressed forward, [Overlord]’s compensation engaging.
Emerald fire poured from her hands, seeping through the crystalline shell to bind chains to its core and plunge into the abyss to snatch its slumbering spirit to reunite them once more.
The exoskeleton cracked, hairline fractures spreading across its surface like a spider web of light. The crowd gasped as pieces began to evaporate within the twisting and turning fire, a new shell emerging within the energetic frenzy of fire.
Where Camellia’s exoskeleton was deep black with ruby markings, Azalea’s natural coloration took on a different hue:
Midnight blue transitioning to something more like deep slate. The colors returned with vibrant intensity—sapphire blues that shifted to azure in the light, with patterns that seemed to wander between the lines of blue and pink depending on the angle.
“Welcome to the empire,” Elinor whispered, “Azalea R. Hassleriana.”
[Undead Raised as Monarch of Assassins]
[Azalea Rhododendron Hassleriana: Monarch - Assassin Core- Legendary-F [Restricted to Rare-S] - Assassin - Night Stalker - Lv.1]
[Monarch Slots: 1]
[Monarch of Death’s Kiss Unlocked - Queen of Assassins]
[Assassin Advanced Classes and Subclasses Available]
[Apprentice of the Needle Available]
[Apprentice of the Needle Advanced to Instructor of Shadows]
[Instructor of Shadows Advanced to Academy of Death’s Kiss]
[Venomists Available]
[House of Death’s Kiss Available]
[Art of the Silent Bloom Available]
[Shadow Bloom Available]
Azalea’s jewel-like eyes illuminated—multifaceted orbs that glowed with an inner light that shifted from electric blue to soft pink and back again. Her first movement was to lift one reattached leg experimentally, then another, each motion precise but somehow…wrong.
“Oh,” came a bright, melodious, and feminine voice that immediately filled the courtyard and had every lung paralyzed in awe. “Oh, this is…different. I feel like I’m moving through honey! No, wait—like someone replaced all my silk glands with cotton stuffing! Is this what being…weak feels like? Sister!”
Elinor swiftly took a step to the side as a backdraft of air rushed to fill the space where the giant spider had been. The girl pounced on top of the redhead without a moment’s hesitation, forcing the big sister to drop to her back with a strained laugh.
“I’d recognize your scent anywhere! How…did you get so tiny?! And look at me! I’m so fragile—it makes me quiver! My senses are so dulled. Where’s Mom? Hmm? What is with that reaction through your nervous system? Mmm. Is she dead? Oh… I see. Hmm. Hmm… Empress?”
“Calm down, Little Sister,” the redhead laughed. “I know you’re calibrating your senses, but…there is a lot to discuss.”
The potent world destroyer seemed to read her sister like a book, elegant frame rising slightly to look around, no doubt examining dozens of things simultaneously. Her mind seemed to click multiple complex developments into place without a word needing to be said, speaking rapidly, yet acting like a bubbly teen at her favorite amusement park.
“Mhm. Mhm. So many new developments and changes. I mean, look at you! You’re more slim and agile than I am right now! How fascinating…”
She tapped one leg against the granite with obvious interest, the sound ringing out with crystalline clarity. “The acoustic properties are all wrong. I should be able to feel the vibrations through the substrate for at least… Oh, maybe a hundred meters? But I’m barely getting five—no, ten, if I refine my organs. Progress!”
Welcome to the Undying Empire, Azalea, Elinor announced through the Nexus, allowing warmth to color her mental voice. I am Empress Elinor, as you know, and you’ve been chosen to serve as my Monarch of Assassins.”
“I see! I see”
Yes, Elinor chuckled, powering through. I plan to restore your whole family, and Camellia has discovered some rather joyous secrets your mother was keeping.
Azalea’s body and head tilted at an angle that would have been impossible for a human neck, her multifaceted gem eyes glowing brightly with unsettling precision. Then, she turned back to her big sister, curiosity still lacing her tone as she shifted to internal speech.
“A silent communication system beyond physical phenomena? How delightful, Empress! I recognize the structure of dominance. And our family reunited…then that must mean that the White Ape killed us.”
Camellia’s eyes creased, unable to look at her sister as pain flashed across her face, and she curled in slightly. No words came, though.
“Mmm. A shame. A miscalculation.
“Camellia? I like that name. It fits you.
“Mmm. Mmm. Mother was right to leave us in the nest… Sister, you feel positively guilt-ridden! That twist and spike of hormones—the constipated sensation of gut twisting. You’re angry at yourself!”
“I convinced Violet and you to join me… I provided the opening the White Ape needed to kill her. I betrayed Mother.”
Elinor was about to intrude, but Azalea was like a kitten with a ball of yarn, unable to be still or stay quiet for more than a few seconds—it was somewhat ironic, considering which monarchy she was over.
“Mmm. Mmm. Expected but unproductive, Mother would say, Cami. I like Cami. But we have returned. Our rise will be glorious, Big Sister! Cheer up. We can go hunting, just like you enjoy. I want to explore!”
“Azalea…”
“Mhm? Have we found Violet or Mom yet? No? Spit frog! We’ll find them.
“Oh, what secret was Mom keeping?! Oh! Oh! Let me guess, we have another sister? We do! Is she here? Aww… Well, okay.
“Hmm. So many questions, so much fun!
“Did you—oooh, that’s how you became like the Empress…”
“Azalea, please. This isn’t the time—”
Camellia gripped her arm in a defensive gesture as the giant spider fixated on her, likely now cycling through her new Feats within Elinor’s system.
She was processing things at an impossible pace. Elinor thought Camellia’s mental processing and powerhouse of activity was something powerful, but Azalea was moving at an entirely different pace.
Elinor could see how Camellia might feel like she’s falling behind her sisters if they operated at this level. What did that mean about Violet or their new, youngest sister?
“I just need a little bit of DNA, and I can be just like you! Oh, and there’s always time for family discussions! It’s just like you to stutter a little in our mobile conversations,” Azalea interrupted, her smaller form practically vibrating with energy.
“Azalea—”
“No! No! I get it!
Before Camellia could respond, a flurry of wind brought Azalea right in front of Elinor, making even her father tense up a little nearby.
“May I experience what it is like to be you, Empress? This is an incredible advantage that, eh, Violet? Yes! Violet would be so envious of. Being able to change our shape at will opens up so many possibilities! It is something Mother was good at that none of us could match. Please, Empress!” she cried, bouncing on her spear-like legs.
“Empress, may I? Cami is so pretty! I want to be pretty, too! No one suspects the beautiful ones to be scary. They always see the big, scary guardians and then little, frail, thin me, and run toward me! Isn’t that wonderful? Right into my mouth! It happens a lot.”
Elinor didn’t even try to use words; Azalea was about action because words were too slow. She simply reached over to extract her mother’s knife tied to her hip, placed the blade against her finger, and cut it off with one motion, unable to suppress a small smile at the sheer energy radiating from her newly risen assassin.
By all means…
She couldn’t even see the thread attached to the falling appendage as it blurred up into the arachnid’s terrifying, open jaws, disappearing behind the diamond-like fangs.
The transformation was immediate and fluid—her form seeming to collapse in on itself in total darkness, just like her sister, reforming into something entirely different.
Where Camellia had chosen a tall, athletic build with striking features, Azalea emerged more petite, perhaps five feet four inches, with a dancer’s grace.
Her hair cascaded down her back in waves of deep sapphire that lightened gradually until the tips were nearly frost-white, with streaks of vibrant pink running through like frozen lightning.
Her eyes were a shocking pink that seemed to glow from within, and her skin held a pale, almost porcelain quality that made her seem fragile despite the power Elinor could feel thrumming within the Nexus.
She stood completely naked for approximately a quarter of a second as the shadows lifted before—
“Azalea!” Camellia’s mental shout was accompanied by ruby hair spinning faster than thought, wrapping around her sister to form a bandeau top and brief bottoms before the gathered crowd could fully process what they’d seen. “You must understand the Empress’—”
“Culture?” Azalea finished, perfect white teeth gleaming as she danced away from Elinor, examining herself. “Mmm! Mmm! I see! I see! It’s so much better than your previous weaves, Cami, even if you feel weaker, you’re actually stronger!”
“W-What?!” Camellia’s cheeks colored as her smaller sister gripped her elbow behind her back and grinned up at her in what looked like pride. “My silk…”
“…is stronger than it was! Yes.” She tugged at her top with fascination as every ri’bot, yaltha’ma, and human watched with wide eyes at the transformation. “Mom would be so proud! It’s as if you learned how to twist your spinneret correctly to your own shape instead of trying to copy my technique. Tremendous progress, Cami!”
“Oh, well…yeah. You really think—”
“Mhm! Mhm! Mom kept nudging you that way, but you never believed her. That always confused me. Mom knows best.”
“I—was she?”
“Oh… Oh! You didn’t know? That makes sense. Mmm. Oh, what is that beautiful creature!”
Azalea practically became a blue blur as she launched forward and jumped over ten meters to attach herself to Tempest’s neck.
“Braahr?!” the dragon choked in shock and had a lot of the crowd chuckling.
“He’s gorgeous! Oooh. The electric vibrations and plasma particles—internal light generation—the polish and reflections! Empress, I need one. Please!”
“Azalea! Get down…”Camellia’s silk-like hair extended up to twist around her now pouting little sister to pull her back to her side. “You’re freaking him out.”
“You know he’ll get used to me. I’m an acquired taste. All my pets in the nest loved me. They never wanted to escape!”
“That’s because…you kept them paralyzed, and when they did try to escape, you’d drag them back to see what they’d do next. Adapt, Sister.”
“I love adapting!”
“I know…”
Elinor glanced left at her mom’s sparkling orange irises that said, ‘I love this girl.’
Yeah, her witch queen of a mother had found another science lover who had senses that went beyond phenomenal. But that excitement would soon return to dread, and it was about that time.
“Azalea,” she interrupted, speaking aloud for the crowd, “we can discuss cultural anthropology later. “For now, I need you and your sister to secure our new home. Ensure every corner of the accessible areas is safe. And, in general, catch up with each other. Can you do that?”
“Oh, absolutely!” Azalea’s grin was bright enough to light up the courtyard if Tempest wasn’t already doing that. “I haven’t had a good hunt in—oh, these vocal cords are astonishing. Ahhh-mmm. Rawr! Haha! Well, I suppose I have so much to experiment with and test! Come on, Cami—let’s see what you’ve learned while I was napping. Onward!”
“Cami!”
She grabbed her sister’s hand and practically dragged the larger woman toward the palace entrance, chattering mentally twice as fast as before the entire way.
“You’ll have to tell me everything! Every little detail! Why are we serving a dead lady—not judging, she seems lovely—and why does everyone keep staring at us like we’re guardians? It feels a little nice, actually. Mmm! Mmm! Oh! Oh!”
As the sisters disappeared into the palace, Elinor turned to find her parents watching with expressions that ranged from amused—her mother—to carefully neutral—her father.
“That went well,” her mother observed, orange witchfire still dancing around her fingers. “She’s going to be a handful. I like her! She reminds me of you when you were twelve, Elinor, always so curious, poking around my library.”
Mmm. I was actually looking for where you hid your latest sweet stash that you hid from Dad.
“I knew you weren’t buying those Girl Scout cookies for your students,” her father snorted.
“Yes, well, if I didn’t hide them, they’d be gone in a day!” she defended with a huff. “You two devoured sweets like no one’s business.”
Maybe Butter brought back a few from Earth. We can hope, Elinor replied with a chuckle, then gestured toward Tempest. Shall we? We have one more stop to make, Mom. Are you ready?
“No…but yes,” her mother whispered, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I’ve made up my mind.”
Elinor could see her father wanted to press what that decision was, but, very unlike her nosy, overprotective father, he bit his tongue.
Progress.
Paloma—the maid accompanying her—stood uncertainly near the wyvern, clearly trying to be brave despite her apparent uncertainty.
Elinor swiftly sent a private communication while descending the ramp toward the ruffled dragon. Yes, you are doing wonderful, Paloma. You will take the back seat again.
“But…Empress, I haven’t exactly been helpful. Am I a burden?”
No. You are my company, not a burden. Do you not enjoy shadowing me?
“No! Of course, I do. It shows me so much about the empire and what is happening.”
Good. And, Paloma, she whispered, using her chains to pull herself into the air to land on Tempest’s back, you are more than just the girl who helps me get dressed, finds outfits for me, or brings me my meal. You’re not a pretty showcase. You’re an intelligent young woman who can contribute in your own way to our empire, even if you think that contribution is small; I assure you, it is bigger than you realize.
The maid’s cheeks burned, and she looked down, but there was a smile on her cheeks.
“Thank you, Empress.”
Now, get in your seat. We’re ready to go.
“Oh! Right away, Empress!”
They took the same position as before as Tempest readied himself to take off. There were no cheers or shouts from her citizens, but smiles, respectful bows, whispered excitement as they took off. Now, it was time to see what her mother had decided, because this decision would reshape their entire future.
The wyvern launched himself skyward with powerful wingbeats, the city falling away beneath them as they traveled south toward the Xaltan swamplands.
The wind was fierce at this height and speed, pressing against them with almost physical force, but Elinor’s chains held firm. The maid’s eyes were squeezed shut, her lips moving in what might have been prayer. In fact, she felt her cry for help through the Nexus itself, directed at her.
I noticed you were praying before, too. Afraid of heights? Elinor asked gently.
“Y-yes, Empress,” Paloma managed, her voice barely audible through even the Nexus. “It’s… It’s actually incredible. I never left our small jungle town and never even saw a plane fly overhead, much less a dragon. It’s terrifying, but incredible.”
You’re brave. I like that.
She felt the maid’s spirits brighten further, fear dampening. “Thank you, Empress. It’s because of you. I can’t believe you’re just standing on his back. I mean, I can believe it. But it’s still incredible.”
We all have our talents. And, well, I’d debate that first part, she whispered back, glancing at her as wind whipped her braid around. I think you’re plenty brave on your own.
The young woman didn’t need to respond to that with words; her warming heart was felt.
Below them, the swamplands spread out like a dark cancer on the landscape—twisted trees and stagnant water that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it. It hadn’t taken more than a week for the hag’s influence to transform parts of the former Xaltan territory into what, on the surface, appeared to be a perfectly tame jungle, manicured to fantasy perfection.
Only…it was a lie.
An illusion that her undead eyes could penetrate to see the nightmare underneath.
“Empress, it looks so…”
Twisted? Elinor responded to the maid’s wide eyes. Yes, a trap fit for a hag. Luckily, she owes me her entire existence, which is under a contract overseen by an actual goddess.
“Wow… That’s intense.”
Tempest circled lower, his keen eyes scanning the canopy until—there. A structure that shouldn’t exist, woven from living wood that had been convinced to grow into walls and windows, doors and towers. It looked organic, as if the swamp itself had decided to build a home.
Take us down.
The dragon slowed in his descent, and Elinor saw her mother’s white hand, gripped in her father’s. This was going to be hard, and she was already feeling the cramp in her gut.
Hold in there, Mom, she delivered privately
Her mother’s gaze momentarily darted to her, trying to convey strength, but there was real fear behind it. Any path she took held hidden fangs. The only question was where they’d bite.
Her father’s armor gleamed as he took her mother by the hand, and they slid into the vibrant, illusory grass. In truth, it was silky-colored, in a state between life and death, beneath their feet. Paloma went next as Elinor joined them. No words were shared as they took in their surroundings.
The mansion—if it could be called that—seemed to pulse with life. Vines shifted constantly along its walls, flowers bloomed and withered in accelerated cycles, and the very air around it shimmered with power that made Elinor’s teeth ache—natural and unnatural at the same time.
But it was the figure standing at the entrance that drew all attention.
A nalvean woman, was Elinor’s guess—blue-scaled, salamander-like, with a long tail and delicate features that marked her as female according to Klaus’s reports.
She stood frozen at the door, and not figuratively frozen. Literally. Her body was locked in a pose of eternal greeting, though her eyes—those moved, tracking them with desperate awareness.
“W-What is your business with the mistress?” The voice came from the statue, somehow, lips not moving but words forming anyway. “She doesn’t like unexpected—”
“Oh, but I love unexpected visitors!”
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, and then the mud itself began to rise, forming into a shape that shed its earthen coating like a snake shedding skin. What emerged was…beautiful, in a way that made you want to look closer and run away simultaneously.
The hag had chosen a new face for this meeting—a human woman, perhaps in her thirties, with olive skin and lilac hair that seemed to move of its own accord.
But her eyes…
Those ancient, yellow-slitted eyes hadn’t changed.
“My dear Empress!” Evelyn Autumn spread her arms wide, her dress, made of shadows or silk, rippling with each movement. “What a wonderful world this is. So…ripe with potent potential. So dangerous beyond one’s territorial divide. And you brought the whole family! How delightful. How…portentous. Does this mean…”
“Evelyn,” Elinor greeted, keeping her voice neutral and speaking aloud since that was where she’d taken it. “Yes, my mother has made up her mind.”
“Aww. No fun or gossip. Straight to business, as always,” the hag laughed, a sound like wind chimes made of bone as her monstrous eyes slid to Paloma with hunger, causing a quiver to run down the maid’s spine. “Mmm. But where’s the fun in that? Come, come! Let’s at least pretend to be civilized. Tea? I’ve prepared something special. Well, Liriel here prepared it, didn’t you, dear?”
The frozen nalvean made a sound that might have been agreement or despair.
“I don’t have time for—”
“My dear empress… There’s always time for tea when discussing the division of souls,” Evelyn interrupted, her smile widening to show too many teeth. “After all, we’re about to do something that I haven’t done… Oh, how long has it been? Oh, six centuries? Seven? The last time ended rather badly…” she trailed off, one long fingernail rising to curve along the nalvean’s throat.
“Not the ritual. No, I do not make such mistakes. But the outcome of that poor soul was quite…tragic,” she clipped, vision drifting toward Tiffany. “I can smell it on you—that delicious mixture of determination and despair.”
“I do smell rather delicious today, don’t I?” her mother chimed, returning the smile. “The wonders of blood sacrifice in the morning, natural undead body sweat, and burned sage.”
Through the Nexus, Elinor felt the storm of emotions her mother was barely containing—fear, anticipation, grief for something not yet lost.
“Naturally… But surely not this time, because you, Tiffany, are a special sort of soul… One I so desperately desire. We could be sisters…but that is for another desperate discussion. Yes? Come!”
“I will have to decline, just this once, Madame Evelyn,” Tiffany shot down with a slight quake that ran down her spine, as if preparing herself to confess her heart. “It simply cannot wait, and I know you wish to taste the emotional spike brewing within my soul, between light and dark…sampling Shade himself. I know you’ve talked to him.”
Elinor’s fingers immediately curled into her palm, her vision narrowing at the implications—the ties to the entity trapped inside the planet, who had provoked her mother’s murder.
The hag’s vision narrowed, now looking somewhat torn. “Oh, you seductive thing, you… It is a thrill to deal with one who understands my kind so intimately. Yes, I do obtain such delicious flavor from this ceremony, and now you tempt me like a child before sugarcane. You naughty, naughty thing, you… What have you decided, dearie? I’m dying to know which poison you will swallow.”
Silence stretched between them, all eyes on her mother.
Tiffany’s cheeks pulled in, sucking on them, chest puffing up in a deep, stress-releaving breath, before whispering, “…I want to be split it: two bodies, one soul.”
“Heh…hehehehehe!”
The hag’s cackling filled the clearing, sharp and raw, like steel on bone as something bubbled underneath the surface of her skin.
Her father’s fingernails bit into his palm, but he kept his peace, his own hand white now inside of his wife’s. Neither Elinor nor he knew what that truly meant, yet this was not a good response from a creature with a particular sort of appetite for suffering.
Voice twisting in double layers, drool leaked out of the hag’s mouth as her too-wide smile grew larger, eyes gleaming with euphoric delight.
“You…are a treat, Tiffany… Perhaps we can skip the tea. Right this way…”
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