This is part 1 of my first work, a fan continuation of the unfinished Kemeia Ascending. It is entirely inspired by Armond's magical world of Argentia and its Goddess Selene.

Link to the book here Kemeia Ascends - A Fan Continuity

I've named my dedication "Selendora," which symbolises "Selene's Gift." This name captures a world touched by her grace, a place of transformation and rebirth. Under Selene's nurturing influence, Selendora embraces a diversity of lands and cultures, each uniquely linked by the goddess's overarching presence.

I really hope Armond gets to see this, to know how much they've inspired me. As I'm new to this, I'd appreciate any feedback that can help me improve and grow.

All art-work is AI generated and while I have used AI to help with editing, the content was entirely written by human hands :-)

You can read the prior parts from the links below

Kemeia Ascending Part 1
Kemeia Ascending Part 2
Kemeia Ascending Part 3

More of Armond's work can be found here

P.S.: I have tried to emulate their writing style as much as I could to ensure that the tone is not jarringly different but it was not easy. Also while Armond touches on Ravela's mental health, I have tried to flush it out a little further. You will definitely notice an inconsistency in her style of thinking.

P.P.S.: In contrast to Armond's preceding chapters, which exclusively featured first-person perspectives from Kemi and Ravela, this instalment will introduce a carefully chosen array of viewpoints from other pivotal characters, hopefully enriching the narrative with their unique insights and experiences.

In the shadow of a spreading plague, Wildevale is embroiled in chaos, its fate resting in the hands of Kemeia, whose concealed past collides with Ravela's rule. Unsung allies rise, stirring the fraught political and personal dynamics at play. Amidst developing a cure and battling inner demons, , the duo wades through waves of illness and self-discovery, and the possibility of new beginnings in an afflicted kingdom.

"Watch the River Muln, whereupon the currents shall carry the mender of hearts, her spirit interlaced with the divine. Where she passes, the unjust shall stumble, and though silent, her voice shall manifest in the clarity of her deeds, inspiring an unspoken truth."
-Hymns of the Lune, The Crystalline Prophecies, Scroll IV, stanza 17

MARTA

3rd day of Rainmoot
Palace – Infirmary
Noon

As I walked through the infirmary, I could feel the past weighing down on me like it had only been yesterday. We were cautious to carry Ciro's ailing form at a careful distance from the dead Ambassador's corpse. Oh, dear Goddess, we were only witnessing the start of this horror. We were facing the most malignant of plagues. One that seemed to mock life itself.

My memories of the second Abirav war and my time as a medic in the Glamorgan army came rushing back. This vile 'Amangons's Gift' was no simple disease. It was evil, magically crafted by the wretched king and meant to wipe out entire nations. The price we paid to fight it the last time was unbearable, almost as bad as the plague itself—a price I was unwilling to let anyone else bear.

Wildevale, in its current state, was ill-equipped to confront such a catastrophe.

My thoughts were racing, and I considered every option, each more extreme and desperate than the last. Summoning the priestesses from Selene's gardens could help, but they were too far away. They were certain to assist against anything touched by the foul bastard. But, their involvement would take more time than we had. And that time meant lives.

Central to my thoughts was Kemi, Selene's blessed. Few knew the significance behind her name, one that she shared with the first healer. The greatest of us and one whose identity had been kept a secret from most. It was her sacrifice that began the legacy of the nine cup-bearers. She had been the first to bring the gift of healing magic to this world, and I knew that given time, Kemi would certainly rival her blessed namesake.

My dearest mute miracle, the once renowned Cormac and consort to the queen. Now reborn as a woman through cruel magic. She had been stripped of everything, even her voice and her identity had been taken from her. For one who had endured such unspeakable horrors, she had survived. More importantly, she had survived with grace and dignity. Her life was a miracle in itself but her rebirth as a Sorgente was beyond even that.

She and her power were growing, blossoming into something incredible and magnificent. But she wasn't ready, not yet, to overcome the evil from Amangons's Gift. This was a burden too great for one person to overcome, yet Kemi was undeniably the key to our salvation.

I was aware of her role, its criticality at this moment, and the burdens it would impose on her. Consequently, It would be my responsibility to help her find a way for Wildevale and all of us. This was not just a battle against sickness but also against the cruel legacy of a monster. The sheer strength required to combat this malicious poison would be immense. How much more could my dear Kemi endure by herself?

Wait just a minute, though. Wildevale was home not only to Kemeia but also to Queen Ravela, a Sorgente of immense power. Second, perhaps only to the High Priestess herself, and a master of the highest spell craft. The same "mad" queen who birthed Kemi with her cruelty. Who had her very own comrades violently violate her until they left her for dead.

Yet, I knew that her power would be needed to prevent when Kemi healed Princess Lunete, Ravela's power was crucial in containing the curse. Of course, they made a powerful twosome—well, two Sogente donkeys would make a powerful team. But the very sight of Ravela wagging her finger was enough to terrify poor Kemi. Now, with many lives and the kingdom at stake, they would need to work together. She would need to do so despite the trauma that it would cause her.

The plan that was forming in my mind was significantly risky. Kemi and Ravela, two of the most powerful Sorgentes in this land, were vital to Wildevale's future. They would need to work together, and for how long, even I could not hazard a guess. All I knew was that this 'partnership' would need to last long enough to contain this scourge. I feared for my child, my Child? Yes, I truly feared for her and the toll that being in Ravela's presence could take on her already scarred soul.

I had no illusions about the coming challenges we faced. Convincing Kemi would not be difficult. She would willingly sacrifice all due to her calling as a healer, that much I was certain of. But, Ravela's 'imbalance' was a wild card. It could upend any plan, no matter how well thought out. But I hoped that my instincts were right. Something deep within told me that Selene had willed this path for us.

The survival of the entire kingdom and countless lives were at stake—and, knowing Kemi, she could be the mad queen's salvation as well. When working in tandem, the power within the two could be glorious—a power capable of overcoming even the greatest of evil. Yet, encouraging those two to work together was a mighty gamble but one we had to risk.

We had no time to think about the consequences to Kemi beyond this battle, so I had to put the plan into motion. I needed to bring together these two formidable forces with the hope that they would be the miracle that we needed. I hoped, more than anything else, that they would work together while overcoming past evils, traumas and fears. The fate of Wildevale hung in the balance of this most fragile alliance.

The decision had been made, and now was the time to act. Oh, Selene! I looked towards the sky and offered a silent prayer seeking her wisdom.

RAVELA

Palace – Infirmary
Noon

I could hear Marta's steps echoing unnaturally in my ears as she approached me. The shadows around her seemed to flit about in response to this new and potent presence that she seemed to have called forth. This newfound authority was more than just a change in the way she carried herself. It was her unwavering sense of grim confidence that unsettled me the most.

It only took her a moment to take control of the situation as she began barking orders to everyone in the room. Even in my presence, I could feel her orders resounding with authority that matched, no! Surpassed mine. There, I felt it now. A flicker of my ever-present irritation, and then inexplicably, a laugh nearly bubbled up at her sheer audacity. How dare she command in my presence?

As I started to speak, to remind her of her damned place, she knowingly turned towards me, cutting me off. “Yer Highness, this is bigger than yer crown and sceptre. This is about the survival of the kingdom.” I was immediately silenced by the seriousness in her gaze. She had successfully landed her blow with her words and made me reconsider my brewing retort.

As I continued to mull her words, she continued taking charge of the reigns. ”Go fetch Kemeia, but cover yer face. We can't risk spreadin' the plague further, not even if ya feel healthy.” she instructed a young soldier.

Hearing that healer's name stirred my thoughts. A fleeting image of her fear flashed through my mind. It was rather amusing how little it took for me to terrify others. But as quickly as I thought it, I felt the same gnawing feeling that I had before.

Marta caught my eye, her voice unwavering. “Kemi will do what needs to be done. Yet you, Yer Highness, must be careful to avoid causin' her any distress,” she emphasised. "This partnership, it's to be… ‘intimate’ in its nature, lasting days or maybe even weeks. Kemi's essential for this task, and any reluctance to be in your company must be given heed and accommodated for."

So she knew. But why would I cause Kemeia any distress after what she had done for us? My thoughts spiralled, but within me, I knew why. Certainly, her fear stemmed from something terrible I had done to her or someone close to her. This fear, the fear my actions had created in her, this made me.

Marta answered my unspoken thoughts, clearly understanding the situation. "Kemi’s part in this is crucial. Ye are right, an' her hesitance has its reasons, but to delve into them now won't do us any good. What's important is findin' a way for her to work unburdened by the weight of yer past encounters."

As polite as she was, this was a woman with balls of brass, and for one of few, someone had put me in my place. I was contemplating conceding to someone other than Cormac. The irony of the situation was not lost on me, though. Here I was, the Queen of Wildevale, taking orders from a midwife. I mused sarcastically, 'How the mighty have fallen, taking commands from an aged healer in the midst of a crisis.'

Cormac...my confidant!

His laughter, his counsel during my times of doubt, the way he could ease my thoughts with his wisdom, warmth, and very presence—all irrevocably gone. A connection destroyed not by fate but by my own hand. Once again, it all seemed so distant now, almost like the memories of someone else. But it was my doing, and I could never walk away from that truth.

Had I wronged him? Had I viciously abused the gift Selene had bestowed upon me? The implications of my past actions were too harrowing to face. Oh, please, let them not be wrong.

Cormac's fate and my actions were reflections for another time. Right now, the pressing issue was the plague and our desperate need for Kemia’s healing prowess.

At that moment, Sechnall’s voice broke through my reverie. “As Mistress Coona directs, we’ll proceed,” he said, he spoke on my behalf? The gall...No!

Yet, strangely, even as I watched someone else usurp my right of command, the outrage faded as fast as it came. The mere thought of Kemeia managed to suppress my suspicions and, dare I say, paranoia. In this moment, my typical desire to be in charge had given way to a new willingness to collaborate. What surprised me most was that I did not dislike this feeling.

I realised that in this battle against the plague, my role was not that of the commander but that of an ally. My pride as queen seemed insignificant compared to the welfare of my people. I was to be a part of something greater, not apart from it. It was a humbling, albeit necessary, shift from the solitary heights of power to the communal grounds of shared purpose.

For the first time, I found myself in a role unfamiliar to me. It was a strange, almost unsettling feeling. I, the queen, had to proceed with care. I had to follow insight and wisdom, even a midwife’s. 'Queen Ravela, following the instructions of a midwife. What a tale for the bards.'

KEMEIA

Early Lunch at Lalos
Just before Noon

As I sat at ‘Lalos,’ among the lively bustle of Marossa's market, I felt acutely aware of every glance at me and my attire. The light red, gold-embroidered dress clung to me in a manner that highlighted my curves. And each time my hips swayed, the bells chanted softly. I was both embarrassed and a little thrilled at how I felt at the moment.

Myrrine had joined me and was sitting across the table. With mischief dancing in her eyes, she signed, "My delicious Kemi, you're causing quite a stir with that little number you have on ... it's almost sinful how good you look in it. You look almost as good as those melt-in-the-mouth Darknectar bars."

Her words felt pleasant—a little too pleasant, in fact. Selene, help me! I was even slightly enamoured by her attention. Even a bit ‘aroused’ by these new and rather confusing feelings when she looked at me 'that' way. I signed back a little hesitantly. "It feels rather strange, but I guess it's nice to know I have some admirers, even if they're a little cat-cally about it."

Myrrine leaned in closer, her signing taking on a more mischievous edge. "Yes, honey, those catcalls simply prove what I've always known. You are an irresistible peach, Kemi. It's not just the dress or those trinkets or those rather inviting curves that you have been filling out with." She paused, eyeing me up with an exaggerated leer.

Her smile was so vast it threatened to split her face in two. I had a creeping suspicion that she was straddling the line. Something between hilariously obvious and suspiciously sincere. "Yes, you do present as a spicy little treat, but you radiate something much deeper, and it glows brighter with each passing day. Though, what is truly charming is that you are completely clueless about it."

Feeling a blush rise, I was swept by a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Her teasing seemed light-hearted. Yet clearly there was an undercurrent, a suggestion of deeper possibilities. I responded with a series of gestures, trying to convey my appreciation, my uncertainty and my very serious desire for her to shut up.

Yet Myrrine’s smile only widened, her signs becoming more daring. "I wonder what other secrets those bells might tell. Maybe they ring out a melody that only a special few can hear."

The air between us was charged now, an unexplored energy, but compared to my past, the contrast was stark. Before, I had always been the dominant one. The one who commanded attention, who swept others off their feet with a confident charm.

Now though, sitting here in this delicate, almost welcoming attire, I found myself on the other end of that dynamic. It was unfamiliar terrain, where I was the one being tantalised, perhaps even the one to be swept away.

This reversal of roles, of being pursued, of being the focus of someone’s affectionate advances – it was disconcerting, but mmm… what might it be like to be on this side of the dance...

But just as my mind began to wander down that path, the voice in my head echoed within me, 'Kemeia, journey to the Castle now. And take Myrrine with you. There is no time to waste.’

This sudden instruction was the only thing I needed to hear to heed it without second thought. These were 'her' commands and this time, they sounded urgent. In light of this call, my usual trepidation around Ravela seemed trivial.

Turning to Myrrine, I signed, “We must go to the Castle.” My movements mirrored the weight of the call. “Come with me.”

With a slight look of surprise, Myrrine nodded, her expression shifting to one of support. The happy lunch we shared was going to have to sustain us for what was to come.

As I had witnessed in the past, Myrrine drew her two slender assassin's daggers. She gave them a quick glance as they blurred while spinning in her hands. Then, she whispered, "Just in case," and they vanished into her attire as quickly as they had appeared.

We stood up together, the bells on my waist chiming softly, a stark contrast to the gravity of our new mission. As we were leaving, it struck me that Myrrine was the one who embodied the essence of the fighter now. I reflected on how much I had changed from my past, but surprisingly, I didn't long for it anymore. My purpose was crystal clear - I was a healer, and I would remain one until my last breath.

'Look at us,' I thought wistfully as we navigated through the throngs of Marossa's streets. 'Two healers, a mute, and an assassin walk into a castle...but they're being guided by a voice that only one of them can hear.' It sounded like the start of a joke. Together, we made our way through the bustling streets of Marossa and headed towards the Castle.

As we approached the Castle, a guard, face obscured by a cloth mask, hurried towards us. His eyes scanned us briefly before settling on me.
"Mistress Kemeia," he panted, slightly out of breath. "The Queen has requested your presence urgently. You are needed in the infirmary."

I nodded in acknowledgement, and Myrrine translated my gestures immediately. "We understand. Lead the way."

RAVELA

Palace Infirmary
Past Noon
The guard's early return brought Kemeia and another healer into the infirmary. I expected Kemeia's presence, but it was her companion's aura that caught my attention.

Her demeanour looked calm enough on the outside. But when her eyes glanced at mine, they hinted at a trained body, mind and an underlying readiness for battle. A nuanced aura that even a seasoned observer such as I would have missed had it not been from a place of obvious concern for Kemeia. Clearly, she knew of our healer's anxieties regarding me, and her eyes gave it away.

She was a contradiction to what I expected to see in healers. Her aura was a sharp deviation from the norm, and that made her life choices and presence in the infirmary all the more intriguing.

My gaze continued to linger on this new visitor, her appearance hinting at something more dangerous, certainly more lethal. Her presence felt bothersome and so, I reached out with my craft, attempting to probe her mind for more clues. But just then, Kemeia looked at me and instinctively grabbed her hand. I could see the same fear in her eyes from before as a barrier seemed to extend out from her and materialise around this new woman. I realised at that moment that with Kemeia, even when she was unaware, my magic found no purchase.

Marta wasted no time ordering them. “Kemeia, Myrrine, we need you. Try to heal Ciro.” Her urgency was clear.

Kemeia immediately complied and placed her hands on Ciro's chest. As she focused on healing him, beads of sweat started to form on her forehead. Her pained grimace was surely a sign of the strain the task was putting on her. Only when I watched her concentrate did I realise the depth of the well of power that she was drawing from. Whatever this malady was, it was capable of causing true pain to one of the most gifted healers I had witnessed.

Suddenly she turned towards me, her face looked panicked as she tried to reach out for assistance. But before I could respond, Ciro convulsed with an agonising cough, releasing a plume of vile, toxic smoke.

The smoke billowed violently toward Marta, and before I could react, this 'Myrrine' sprang into action. In one fluid motion, she had drawn a slender dagger hidden in her robes and thrust it into the heart of this 'thing'. The blade met the ugliness like it would meet flesh, and with an agonising and demonic screech, the dagger absorbed the filth.

Myrrine turned towards Marta and took a deep breath before she spoke her first words. “Now I know why Kemi needed me,” she said calmly.
It appeared that Marta had recognised the nature of this dagger. Of course, she did. From what I had witnessed thus far, it was abundantly clear that this woman was no mere midwife. Certainly, we needed to discuss what she was concealing later. However, now was the time to listen to her speak. "Those blades ye wield, they're no mere steel," she exclaimed.

"Assassin crafted from the stolen remnants of Amangon's armour after he lost his deathless grip. Poisonous as the darkest of his magics. Yet, in yer hands, they find renewed purpose, from taking lives to saving them."

She then turned towards me and said, “This time 'round, it's a differen' beast from what we witnessed during the war." She took a deep breath to find the right words. Then she said, "This ain't just a sickness, but more like a curse to the wanderin' souls of sinners. Drawn by a false promise of life by possessing the bodies of the living, they're driven solely by the darkest parts of what they once were.”

I mulled it over for a moment before deciding on my response. “So, these souls are the carriers of this 'disease'. They are not multiplying, only spreading death. They latch on to hosts and consume them from within, would my assumptions be correct?" I asked.

Marta nodded. “Exactly. Myrrine's daggers can contain them, but not many. Their burden grows heavier with each soul trapped; soon, they will be unusable.” Indeed, it was clear to me that my assistance was required. However, even as I stood there, paying attention to the conversation, I found myself unable to focus fully. Was I irritated or envious at what those two shared? It gnawed at my insides.

Whenever Kemeia looked at Myrrine, her eyes were filled with awe and trust. It was obvious they had a special bond, a bond that starkly contrasted with what I saw in her eyes when they faced me. Yes, she did not know me as well, but why did my presence only invoke terror in those big, beautiful orbs?

I longed for what they shared, not dissimilar to what I had lost since Cormac. What I was feeling was more than just a desire. It was a visceral need, an aching void that had remained unfilled since his absence. Memories of Cormac, our time together, and all that we had shared flashed before my eyes.

I recalled the terrifying moment when I had lost control of my own power. I had been consumed by rage after a failed assassination attempt, and my Sorgente erupted. The flames seemed to have a life of their own, spreading rapidly and devouring everything in their path. Trees were reduced to ashes, the ground cracked and scorched, and even the very air seemed to shimmer with heat.

Cormac, fearless and unwavering, had rushed to my side. Dauntless in the face of the danger I was to everyone at the moment, he held me close, his soothing words serving as a balm to my tempest. He held on until the raging fire that engulfed me gradually diminished.

He never cried in pain, never showed his hurt, never even flinched, even as the flames licked at his skin. He willingly sacrificed himself while bearing the pain. Just to protect me and prevent the disaster that my fury could have unleashed.

Cormac! My Pillar!

Yet I presumed him guilty and unleashed the most vengeful of my magic upon my very love. ‘Oh, Selene! I pray that you help me find the truth.’ I could not bear this torturous loop of what-ifs and if-onlys, a reminder of a past that I couldn't escape.

The realisation of my own role in the fear Kemeia felt was beginning to take root. It was no longer a feeling but a painful realisation that I had definitely caused her great harm. Not just hurt, whatever I had done, it was something grievous.

Marta's voice broke through my thoughts. “We need to try the same thing on Ambassador Kijek's body. Kemeia, if you can.”

Kemeia looked exhausted and in pain, but she moved to the ambassador's body. This time, though, she seemed more composed. Her Sorgente surged with new vigour that shined through her body's exhaustion. It was as if her very soul had strengthened in just a moment. Blossoming with a potency that I was certain would overwhelm the greatest of us. Almost immediately, the same noxious smoke billowed forth. But this time, it headed in my direction.

I braced myself, but Myrrine was quicker. However, her actions were visibly more strained this time. The dagger, laden with the absorbed souls, appeared to weigh heavier in her hand. Verily, she did require my assistance. Containment charms would prove most effectual against these abominations.

This was a moment of crisis. But, as I watched Kemeia work with her steady, healing hands, I realised that with each moment I spent near her, she brought an unexplainable comfort to me. It was a feeling reminiscent of days long past, a balance I had known once, now slowly resurfacing. Her nearness somehow grounded me in a way I had not felt since... since the days before the abyss gazed back into me.

Although she might hold me in disdain, fear even, there was something profound between us, an unseen thread drawing me closer. Now I was certain that there was an unidentifiable force that drew me to her, a connection I couldn't fully comprehend but felt compelled to explore.

As Marta and Myrrine worked alongside Kemeia, it became clear that our struggle demanded unity. We had to combine our unique capabilities. The time had arrived for me to step up to wield hope. A flicker of purpose ignited, brighter than any other desire I held, For the first time as queen, I felt a true calling to serve a cause greater than myself.

“Then let us find a solution. Together,” I declared, my voice steady and resolute. “For Wildevale, and for our future.”

KEMEIA

Palace – Infirmary
Past Noon

When I walked into the infirmary, my chest was tight with worry. The air around us was heavy with the stench of Death and a vile illness, but Myrrine standing by my side helped soothe my nerves.

As I looked around the room, I saw Ciro lying there and across him was the Ambassador’s smoking body. When I noticed Ravela also standing there, I instinctively grasped Myrrine's hand.

Just then, out of nowhere, I felt this intrusive presence. However, it lasted just for a fleeting moment. It felt like something was trying to probe Myrrine, but it vanished as quickly as it came, like a wisp of mist in the morning light. It did not feel malicious, so I didn't think much of it and instead focused my attention on the task at hand.

"Kemeia, we need you," Marta called out, breaking the silence in the room. "Try to heal Ciro." Her call was all the motivation I needed to spring into action.

I knelt beside Ciro, and my hands found his chest. This…THIS was no disease. It was like some evil, twisted 'thing' had wrapped itself around his soul and was suffocating his very existence. I could feel this hungry, ugly monstrosity that had latched on to him like it had been denied an afterlife and was leaching away his life.

As I touched it, though, it latched onto me. A jolt of blinding pain ricocheted through my body, grasping at my essence with claws of anguish. It felt like a torment as corrosive as acid. A barrage of silent screams was piling up, but I was without voice and was forced to confine my agony within. Though matter, it did not, as I had to focus every fibre of my strength on drawing out this abomination while protecting Ciro.

As its grip on me intensified, unexpectedly, something surged within me. Not like a fire but something warm and bright and alive. So gloriously alive that it rose against the dark like the sun during daybreak. This newfound well of strength within me was like an anathema to this malevolence. Powerful and purifying, it sent it scrambling in fear to find a new victim. In its panic, it unravelled its jagged tendrils. It clawed violently at Ciro's spirit, leaving wounds that bled shadows.

As I healed the lacerations it had inflicted, I became acutely aware of my inability to stop it from fleeing to its next host. Frantically, I turned towards Ravela, seeking her help. I needed a capture sphere, but I lacked the means to convey my need.

Thanks to my inability to call for it, help didn't come on time. Instead, the pestilence, in the form of a toxic ‘smoke’, burst forth from Ciro's body as he let out a huge agonised Cough. I looked in panic, Marta! The smoke was rushing towards her. I could do nothing. I was helpless. My shriek from within was as futile as speaking with my silenced voice.

But Myrrine was my hero at this moment. She acted so swiftly that I was left gawking at her skill. In the blink of an eye, she unsheathed her dagger. Moving with the precision and agility of a seasoned assassin, she plunged it into the heart of the smoke. She knew precisely what she was doing. The weapon, like an extension of her will, consumed the entity with a harrowing shriek.

I watched in silent amazement as Myrrine calmly turned towards Marta, her voice steady, “Now I know why Kemi needed me,” she said calmly.
Marta almost immediately recognised the daggers for what they were. I, too, could recall legends of secretive assassins who crafted such blades from stolen pieces of Amangon's armor from my past life. They were family heirlooms, passed down only to the most trusted of their members. Myrrine's family had cut her loose due to her ‘flawed’ affinity towards healing. However, she had somehow retained this inheritance. It seemed there was more to her than met the eye.

I couldn't help but feel grateful for her presence. There she stood, calm and resolute, her actions speaking louder than any words could. At that moment, she was not just a friend or ally but she was my hero standing against the encroaching shadows.

Just when I thought I knew everything about her, the cunning fox literally pulled another surprise from within her sleeves. It was dawning on me that Myrrine was a veritable trove of secrets uncoiled one after another. Since Lalos earlier today, these revelations seemed to invoke brief, involuntary blushing.

The subtle flush on my face brought a sudden rush of memories and emotions from my past life as Cormac. Amidst the chaos, my mind wandered to those days when I was with one with Ravela.

We had slipped away to a moonlit grassy hideout within the palace grounds. She had been so different then, her laughter free and unburdened, her eyes sparkling with a rare innocence. We had lain in the grass with her head resting on my chest. How I blushed when she asked me about the elven courtesans I had met during a recent diplomatic trip. Laughing, teasing, and joking as we shared dreams of a future that seemed so certain and so promising.

I reflected on the days gone by. When Ravela's outbursts seemed like a distant storm on the horizon, they never quite touched the serene world we had created for ourselves. I cherished how she looked at me then, with trust and love, a stark contrast to what I last saw in her eyes before I was unmade.

But as quickly as the memory came, it faded, leaving behind a yearning for a past that was forever lost. Just as I knew before, I know now there was no going back. The past had given way to my present as Kemeia, embraced by the healer's mantle granted by Selene.

And there it was, the voice in my head, 'You are my chosen healer, Kemeia.' It wrapped around my mind like a comforting embrace. 'The journey before you requires strength, but fear not; you are never alone.'

Roused by 'her' assurance, I shrugged off weariness and met Marta's rallying cry. Approaching Ambassador Kijek's body, I readied myself, channelling my energies once more. He was dead, this much I knew, but the vile ‘shade’ was yet to escape him and had to be contained. This time, though, I felt more in control. It was as if the ordeal with Ciro had fortified me, and I engaged this time with a steadier hand.

This time, the entity within unveiled itself with desperation. It was draining whatever little was left of the body's husk, a last grasp before it would flee to its next victim. But at this moment, my attempt at healing felt different.

It instantly recoiled from my touch. It was as if my mere presence alone posed a threat, a sanctity it could not breach. The dark soul that had clung to the remains didn't dare to linger or fight as it had with Ciro. Instead, it fled instantly, manifesting as a plume of noxious smoke heading towards Ravela.

But once again, Myrrine stepped in. Her swift and decisive action again neutralised the escaping corruption. I couldn't help but marvel at her incredible skill. The dagger, pulsating with dark energy from the absorbed souls, clearly weighed heavily in her hand. It was a physical manifestation of her burden, a tangible sign of the fight she had decided to partake in.

Myrrine's daggers, though potent, bore the heavy toll of the captured spirits. As each one was ensnared, the blades sank deeper into her grasp. Soon, they would be rendered useless.

Despite knowing our limits, I had my task cut out. I started attending to the soldiers at the early stages of the affliction, and then, I sensed Ravela's intense gaze. There was a sense of loss in her eyes, and for the first time, I felt a hint of something more than just the terror that I felt in her presence.

It became evident that our paths were interwoven in unexpected ways. Yes, Ravela, the ‘Mad Queen of Wildevale’, was more than the instigator of my deepest traumas. Yet she was deeply woven into my own healing journey. And thanks to this twist of fate, I now sensed that I, too, was meant to play a crucial role in her redemption.

Just as there remained a void within me – my voice, a void my gifts couldn't fill. Ravela, too, was herself a victim of an illness, a sickness of the mind that clouded her judgement and actions.

Clearly, the remedy to her ailment might extend beyond established healing rites. In my heart, I believed Selene wouldn’t have placed me in this intricate web of destinies without a purpose.

With humble silence, I offered a quiet plea, 'Oh, Selene, guide me. Grant me the wisdom to see the path you’ve laid for us. Tell me my instincts are right.'

Though silent, I was filled with the soft glow of hope. Together, Ravela and I, with Myrinne and, of course, dear Marta, might not only be able to fight this affliction. But also soothe the wounds of the soul that both Ravela and I nursed.

I glanced towards Ravela with a fragile thread of trust. I considered asking Myrrine to help translate my proposal for unity, but Ravela spoke before I could act. "Then let us find a solution. Together,” she declared, " for Wildevale and for our future.”

Roused by 'her' assurance, I shrugged off weariness and met Marta's rallying cry. Approaching Ambassador Kijek's body, I readied myself, channelling my energies once more. He was dead, this much I knew, but the vile ‘shade’ was yet to escape him and had to be contained. This time though, I felt more in control. It was as if the ordeal with Ciro had fortified me, and I engaged this time with a steadier hand.

This time, the entity within unveiled itself with desperation. It was draining whatever little was left of the body's husk, a last grasp before it would flee to its next victim. But this time, my attempt at healing felt different.

It instantly recoiled from my touch. It was as if my presence alone was anathema to it, a sanctity it could not breach. The dark soul that had clung to the remains, didn't dare to linger or fight as it had with Ciro. Instead, it fled instantly, manifesting as a plume of noxious smoke heading towards Ravela.

But once again, Myrrine stepped in. Her swift and decisive action neutralised the escaping corruption. I couldn't help but marvel at her incredible skill. The dagger, pulsating with dark energy from the absorbed souls, clearly weighed heavily in her hand. It was a physical manifestation of the burden she was bearing, a tangible sign of the fight she had decided to partake in.

As Marta had observed, we were not merely battling a physical ailment. Instead, we were up against dark, mindless souls. They spread death and despair wherever they roamed.

Myrrine's daggers, though potent, bore the heavy toll of the captured spirits. As each one was ensnared, the blades sank deeper into her grasp, soon, they would be rendered useless.

But I had my task cut out, and while attending to the soldiers at the early stages of the affliction, I sensed Ravela's intense gaze. There was a sense of loss in her eyes, and for the first time, I felt a hint of something more than just the terror that I felt in her presence.

It became evident that our paths were interwoven in unexpected ways. Ravela, the ‘Mad Queen of Wildevale’, was more than the instigator of my deepest traumas; she was inadvertently woven into my path of healing. And in a twist of fate, I sensed that I, too, was meant to play a crucial role in her redemption.

Just as there remained a void within me – my voice, a void my gifts couldn't fill. Ravela, too, was herself a victim of an illness, a malady of the mind that clouded her judgement and actions.

It was clear that the remedy to her ailment might extend beyond established healing rites. In my heart, I believed Selene wouldn’t have placed me in this intricate web of destinies without a purpose.

With humble silence, I offered a quiet plea, "Oh, Selene, lead me on the path you've woven for us. Assure my simple heart it walks in accord with you."

“Oh, Selene, guide me, Grant me the wisdom to see the path you’ve laid out for us. Tell me my instincts are right.”

The voice, though silent, filled me with the soft glow of hope. Together, Ravela and I, with Myrinne and, of course, dear Marta, might not only be able to fight this affliction. But also soothe the wounds of the soul that both Ravela and I nursed.

I glanced towards Ravela, with a fragile thread of trust. I considered asking Myrrine to help me translate my proposal of unity. Before I could act, Ravela spoke with conviction that filled the room. "Then let us find a solution." Together,” she declared. “For Wildevale, and for our future.”

MARTA

Palace – Infirmary
Past Noon

Ravela's commitment to our cause echoed through the infirmary. This was precisely what was needed at this moment, I cast a glance towards Kemi, who promptly nodded her assent as an assurance to my plan. My eyes then settled on Myrrine, her presence now cast in a new light.

She possessed the compassion of a healer but also the strength of a warrior, a heroine who had remained hidden in plain sight until this moment. "Selene's children," I murmured, "all blessed, each vital in their own time. Never again will I be underestimatin' one of our own, so help us win, my dear goddess."

The first task was confirming my supposition. We needed to determine whether those healed by Kemi were now immune to this ‘plague’. Just then, I realised I had forgotten my place when I had issued orders prior, but since the Queen had not stopped me yet, so I continued doing so. "We need to be testin' if those healed by Kemeia are immune to this plague. I've got myself a sneakin' suspicion they just might be."I declared. The authority in my voice felt like a throwback to ‘those’ days in Glamorgan. A tone I had actively masked but now seeped through, like water through a cracked vessel.

Just to ensure that my breach in protocol was still tolerated, I glanced at Queen Ravela, half-expecting a rebuke. There was a momentary hesitation in her eyes, a flicker of her usual authority. But as she looked at Kemi standing beside me, her expression softened into an acknowledging nod. "Carry out Mistress Coona's orders," Ravela said; her words held her blessing.

"Sechnall," I motioned, "scour the city. Find anyone showin’ symptoms akin to Ciro. Time's no friend to us now, and don't ye be forgettin' to cover your faces!"

Ciro, still weak but determined, stepped forward. "I'll lend myself to your trial, Mistress Coona. If it aids the kingdom, count me in."

"Gratitude, Ciro. We'll be needin’ a sealed cell. We'll take no chances here," I ordered, watching as he acknowledged with a sober nod.

I turned towards Kemi. "Love, what we do next is fraught with risk. Them creatures may fear you, but they might still lash out in desperation. Ye need to be ever watchful, on your guard." She signed the words ‘shade’ to me in response. Aptly named, “Yes shades lass. Suits them well enough, let us all use that word forthwith, and as I said before, be alert.” My words carried the weight of danger now. Kemi was as precious to me as my own child and I had resolved to protect her by any means necessary.

Myrrine gravitated toward Kemi's side, her stance akin to a shield. "I'll be there for her, Marta. Where Kemi goes, I follow," she declared, her eyes meeting Kemeia’s. There was clearly a silent pact between them.

I watched Myrrine wrap Kemi in a protective and tender embrace. "To both of ye," I said, facing them, "More should arrive within the hour. But till then, stay put within these walls." Rest up and fill yer bellies. What's comin' will be a test like no other, more than ye can fathom."

As I set these pieces in motion, I caught a fleeting glimpse of longing and envy in Ravela's eyes. The words 'misery suits her well' crossed my mind, but I promptly chased them away.

With a deep breath, I faced the queen. "Your Majesty, we're needin' your magic to ease the burden on Myrrine's daggers. Conjure spells, make trinkets, anything to trap those shades. We're in dire need of your power."

Ravela's eyes, though clouded with unspoken thoughts, acknowledged the gravity of her task. "I grasp your meaning, Mistress Coona. I shall commence forthwith."

As Ravela moved to examine the daggers, my thoughts flickered to Lunete and her recent trials. "And ye, dear Lunete," I called out, "ye might have a part to play in this yet."

Ravela's usual fire sparked at my words, but I held my stance. "Every role is crucial, Your Highness. We face this together." Her nod, although hesitant, confirmed her agreement.

KEMEIA

Palace – Lunete’s Bedroom
An Hour Past Noon

In the peaceful ambience of Lunete’s bedroom, Myrrine and I kept company, both of us here on Lunete's insistence. Ravela worked on a spell for the daggers just outside. The space, usually brimming with Lunete’s high spirits, was now clouded with a contemplative silence. Lunete, unlike her usual self, was quietly thinking.

But then, my dear Lunete suddenly bolted upright, her eyes bright with what appeared to be a sudden realisation. "I got it!" she shouted as she marched back and forth as if piecing together an intricate puzzle in her mind. "No, not yet, but I'm getting there," she muttered, catching herself mid-stride.

Turning abruptly, she gave Myrrine a meaningful look. "Ah-ha!" It was as if she'd confirmed a suspicion. Then, her eyes shifted back to me. "Yes, almost there," she said, nodding before resuming her pacing. It was clear that Lunete was piecing together something significant, her mind working fervently to connect the dots.

Despite the heavy air of our current predicament, Lunete’s irrepressible zest never failed to amuse. Her lively antics reminded me of that Anuvarian verse: 'Thoughts wobble and bounce like a pot of jubilant jellies. Ideas pounce and prance in the mind's merry melody.' In this comical concoction, every notion does a merry dance!' It was a welcome respite from the gravity of the situation surrounding us.

She then approached me and leaned in curiously, taking in my scent and then Myrrine's, followed by her own, drawing an involuntary smile from me. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she declared, "As I was saying before the news of the plague." With a twinkle in her eye, she continued, "We're going to have a ball once all this is over. And you, you're going to be the guest of honour!"

Her enthusiasm was contagious in the best way possible. Radiating warmth and brightness, she had the incredible ability to lift even the gloomiest spirits. With a cheeky nudge, she continued, "I recommend that Myrrine should sign for you, not Marta! I expect that you would prefer more 'appropriate company' to escort you."

Lunete's light-hearted manner in the face of turmoil puzzled me briefly. Then, I remembered that this was quintessentially Lunete. Her spirit floated above life’s darker waters. Behind her playful demeanour, though, lay a sharp mind and capable hands. She was ready to lend a hand when needed, but until then, it appeared that she had taken on the role of raising our spirits.

I had seen her grow, skilled in both knowledge and arms. She was fit to be a queen, though she wore no crown. Behind her cheerful facade, though, lay the heart of a leader as capable and wise as any ruler—magic or no magic. No matter what role she would play in the future, Lunete would be remembered by all as Wildevale’s joy.

She sidled up closer, mischief colouring her voice. She whispered just loud enough for me to hear, "Think about it. A ball is where the magic happens. Perfect for those first stolen moments. I can well picture Myrrine captivated by your Saltatus," she paused, her eyes glinting, "though there might be whispers of an unexpected challenge for your favour... just rumours, of course." Her playful nudge and wink sent a rush of heat to my cheeks as she teased me freely.

Stretching gracefully and reaching skyward, she pivoted towards me again. "And Kemeia, I can't thank you enough. I am confident that you are our blessed anchor against these vile shades, a true lifesaver," she said, gratitude glowing in her eyes. Her words carried the weight of sincerity and left no room for doubt about the help I had provided.

Then she leaned into Myrrine, murmuring something I couldn't quite hear. Whatever it was left Myrrine looking flustered. ‘Oh, Lunete,’ I thought, still blushing but unable to suppress a smile. ‘You truly are a wonder.’ Lunete's spirit was indomitable, a gleeful sprite in the guise of royalty.

Ravela entered the room. She held Myrrine's dagger, now encased in a new jewel-encrusted sheath, and a handful of small pendants with gems like those in the sheath. "Containment charms," she announced, offering one to each of us. "They're adapted from protection charms, each capable of holding a few dozen of those bastards."

As she approached me, extending her hand with a pendant, I instinctively flinched, avoiding her gaze. Her hand, usually so steady, trembled slightly at my reaction. "Kemeia," she spoke, her voice almost cracking, "I now realise I've caused you great harm, though I know not my crime. We shall talk of it when this passes." Composing herself, she continued in a more authoritative tone. "These are for Mistress Coona, the soldiers, other healers, and anyone in need. Time will grant us more."

As Ravela finished explaining the new containment charms, Marta and Ciro burst into the room. "To the eastern hall, Kemi, Myrrine. We've established an overflow infirmary there," Marta announced, her Glamorgan lilt more pronounced under the strain. "More than sixty are now afflicted, and they're all being carted in. We can't be doing this without ye."

The number hit me like a wave. Over sixty already? How many more? With only my hands and a few trinkets, would it be enough? But then, as if answering my unspoken fears, the gentle, reassuring voice whispered within me, 'Be brave, my healer. Go to those who need you. Aid is coming on feathered wings.' That was all I needed to stop thinking the worst.

I nodded to Marta and Myrrine, signalling my readiness. As we gathered ourselves to leave, Ravela stepped forward. "I shall come with you," she stated firmly. "To better understand how these charms can be pushed past their limits." Lunete, too, joined us, and united in our purpose, we left the room and headed towards the eastern hall.

RAVELA

Palace Eastern Hall
Late noon

The Eastern Hall of the palace, usually a place of grandeur and celebration, had transformed into a wartime infirmary. The air was heavy with the scent of sickness. The moment we entered the place, the gravity of the situation was immediately apparent. The first of the afflicted had arrived, an older man whose ashen complexion and laboured breathing painted a grim picture.

Kemeia moved instinctively towards the collapsed man. Marta requested Ciro to accompany her and Myrrine for their planned experiment. “Ciro, we need to proceed with the test now,” she instructed urgency threading her voice.

Ciro nodded. “The sealed chamber is ready nearby,” he informed Marta, but she shook her head. “No time. We start here. There are already three new patients.”

The group approached the first victim, the man who seemed to be teetering on the brink of life and death. Kemeia’s hands hovered over him, and then she placed them on his chest. As she began the process, he belched the same filthy smoke and this time, it flew towards me.

I stood ready, having worn the containment charm as a pendant. I simply stood there, and the charm did the rest. It Consumed the shade and sealed it within. I could feel it writhing and wriggling like a toxic worm. “Better find a way to burn this disgusting filth,” I thought to myself.

Kemeia moved on to the next patient, a young mother. This time, as the black smoke emerged, it darted towards Marta. But Myrrine, as always, was quicker, her enchanted dagger flashing as she trapped the entity with a precise strike. “This second dagger of mine requires your enchantment as well,” she stated, her gaze meeting mine. I nodded, acknowledging the necessity of empowering her weapons further.

The next to receive Kemeia's gift was a soldier. As her healing energies enveloped him, the putrid apparition appeared yet again. This time, towards Marta again and handled deftly by her pendant.

Marta, observing the pattern with a keen eye, remarked, "It's clear now. Even with Ciro standing right next to Kemi, the vile smoke never dared reach him. Seems like once Kemi's healed someone, they're spared from these fiends' pursuit." She sounded relieved but then added. " But we can't be jumping to conclusions just yet. Further evidence must support our theory."

This was going to be very good news. It appeared Kemeia's healing touch did more than mend flesh. It offered unspoken sanctuary against this grotesque attack. Thank Selene, we had Marta. Observant and wise, just like Cormac.

Just weeks before what happened to Lunete, we had stood together on the palace balcony. His words echoed with a foresight that now seemed prophetic. “We need to always watch, listen and learn, Ravela. Even the smallest detail can teach us immeasurable lessons.” That night, under a tapestry of stars, he had been my voice of reason, my beacon in the darkness.

Cormac, my counsel.

The stark realisation slashed through my nostalgia, the bitter and searing truth was clear as day. I had killed him. 'Cormac, I raped you, your soul, and I murdered you!' The weight of this truth ignited a fury unlike no other within me. Vengeance, a cold promise to myself, loomed in my heart.

"They will pay," I seethed, "every last one who played a part in this atrocity will die by my hands, and then... what of me? The greatest criminal of all." There I stood, motionless, my facade unbroken. Yet my eyes betrayed me if only momentarily. Swiftly, I turned away, concealing my traitorous eyes. I could not allow them to see the Queen of Wildevale, the indomitable Ravela, in a moment of weakness. With a swift motion, I wiped away the evidence of my anguish. The only witnesses to my inner turmoil.

As the shadows lengthened in the Eastern Hall, my gaze swept over the scene with a mixture of disdain. 'This hall, once a testament to royal majesty, is now a sanctuary for the dying,' I thought bitterly. I watched Kemeia's unwavering dedication to healing the afflicted. She held strong despite her energy waning under the relentless tide of patients. I couldn't help but feel a deep respect for this delicate little thing. "One healer, over two hundred lives reclaimed," I murmured. "Yet at what cost to her own strength?"

Surrounding Kemeia, the other healers mustered their abilities, though their light paled next to her radiance. Master Reynard, quick to learn, had taken upon himself the task of teaching the others. 'Even the mediocre fools try,' I mused, observing Master Reynard's attempts to replicate Kemeia's technique. Even the swine Jarlath, whom I found as useful as a blunt blade, contributed in his own meagre way. 'Small flames may yet ignite a larger fire,' I conceded internally, though it was clear their efforts were but a drop in this ocean.

Kemeia continued her healing, a champion against a seemingly endless enemy. Mages scurried around, replenishing the containment charms. "Mere bandages on a gaping wound," I thought. I watched in frustration as a few charms shattered, releasing their captive horrors that had to be hunted again. 'We are but stalling, playing a dangerous game with time working against us,' I grimly thought to myself.

As night cloaked the hall, Kemeia's endurance reached its brink. In a moment that seemed to stretch and tarry, she faltered and crumpled to the ground with a gasp. Myrrine, too drained to assist, could only watch in dismay.

Thankfully I had been walking near, and I hurried to her side. As I knelt beside her, my hands cradled her head, drawing it with care into the sanctity of my lap. The chill of her pallor needed the comfort of the warmth that stirred from within me, an instinctual need to shield and nurture her.
"Fetch water quickly!" I commanded a page, ensuring that my voice betrayed none of the turmoil that raged beneath my facade. The startled servant dashed off to obey without question.

Tenderly, as Kemeia's weary eyes met mine, I found myself silently beseeching her. 'Why must you hate me so?’ my heart implored. As she gazed up at me, the sight of her frail, exhausted, and vulnerable—awakened an unfamiliar ache within me as I gently cradled her.

When the boy returned, breathless and with a pitcher in hand, I poured the cool water into a cup with a steady hand. "Drink, healer," I instructed her gently as I held the cup to her lips. "Let the water revive the spirit within you, for your labours are not yet done, and your presence—so vital."

"This is a war of attrition, and we are fast losing ground," I acknowledged to myself as Kemeia sipped the water I held to her lips. The grim reality was starkly clear: our current strategy was unsustainable.

"We need a broader strategy, one that does not solely rely on the prowess of a few," I resolved, gazing out at the sea of ailing bodies. "If this plague continues to spread, even the might of Selene’s blessed will be insufficient. We must find a way to turn the tide, or we all perish.”

As I was thinking this, Marta approached me, sounding incredibly exhausted. "Yer Highness, we're needin' yer stasis spell for them patients waitin' to be healed," she said. "We're all teeterin' on the edge of givin' out. Rest's what we need, and are of no use to anyone dead from exhaustion."

Her words rang true, yet the magnitude of what she asked was daunting. The very thought of casting a stasis spell of such scale, encompassing hundreds, was beyond the scope of my usual exploits. I admitted as much to Marta, "My power, although vast, knows its bounds. This might be well beyond me."

Yet, as I spoke, My eyes found Kemeia’s. I looked into them, those beautiful, endless, and hauntingly familiar orbs. They held a silent plea, a call to action that I couldn't ignore. Driven by the determination mirrored in her gaze, I commenced the incantation, summoning every ounce of my Sorgente for the task at hand.

The spell I cast began assertively, but soon the grip of exhaustion tugged at my vitality, an exhausting day's toll making itself known. The intricate spellwork quivered, straining against my dwindling force. I could sense the looming threat of failure.

‘You are such a fool, Ravela,’ I panicked inwardly. ' To attempt such an impossible feat, drained and ill-prepared, just for those beautiful, timeless, and... familiar eyes.’ Like a shaking leaf caught in the breath of a storm, my enchantment was falling away. The energy strands holding it together were fraying in a manner that I could no longer control.

Oh, goddess! The magic I had meticulously woven was coming undone. The construct was failing and was threatening to snap. Such catastrophic failure would unleash chaos and recoil back at me with a force that could be devastating.

It was precisely at that moment when Kemeia intervened. Her hands graced my shoulders. Her Sorgente, a wellspring of untapped power, poured into me like the life-giving waters of a river soaking the parched earth. It started by transforming the dwindling sparks of my own power into a steady flame and then into a radiant fire. It was glorious to see my spell surge to life under Kemeia’s influence.

It took shape as a glowing canopy above the afflicted. Before my astonished eyes, the spell continued to expand, enveloping the entire hall and spilling into the palace grounds. It was a spectacle, a shimmering sphere that selectively embraced only the afflicted, leaving the others free to move. This was no ordinary spell – it was a miracle.

Marta, overcome with relief and joy, praised Selene aloud. "The sphere will keep 'em hangin' on while we grab a bit o' rest," she declared to the room. "Selene, be praised!"

In the midst of this triumph, Ciro approached me, "Your Majesty, I've organised shifts for everyone. It's time for you to rest as well." As always, Ciro had done what he did best, my most trusted advisor since Cormac.

'My Cormac! There is much I need to undo, but I promise to carry the burdens of my crime against you to my grave!'

I turned to express my gratitude to Kemeia, but her weak smile quickly faded as she collapsed to the ground.

"Kemi!" I cried out in alarm. I rushed to her side, no longer a queen but someone determined to ensure her well-being. "You have given too much of yourself," I whispered as I cradled her fallen form.

As I held her, I resolved that I would do everything in my power to protect this precious gift Selene had bestowed upon us. Protect her I would, but more importantly, I also pledged to atone for whatever unknown wrong I had inflicted upon her.

Bring her food and drink, something easy on the stomach and mild," I instructed. Turning to a very concerned Marta, I added, "I leave it to you, Mistress Coona. Please ensure it's suitable for her, considering her weakened state."

As I gently lifted Kemeia's frail form into my arms, I felt a part of myself awaken - a part that only Cormac ever truly knew. Her prone body, at this moment, caused a part of me to crack. The walls around my heart had begun to crumble, a reminder that the compassionate woman in me still existed. The woman whom I thought was lost to 'Queen Ravela.'

Turning to Myrrine, I said softly, "Follow me," a queen's command hiding an unspoken plea. A longing for the connection that Kemeia and Myrrine shared. As I moved towards my private quarters, carrying Kemeia, memories of Cormac flickered through my mind. Tiny, delicate Kemeia stirred these memories of my big, strong Cormac. It kindled a yearning I hadn't allowed myself to feel since those cherished moments with him.

The part of me that had and still loves Cormac, that yearned for his touch and understanding, now found a strange echo in my concern for Kemeia. It was a confusing, almost overwhelming sensation, but in that moment, I embraced it. A part I scarcely recognised yearned for solitude with Kemeia, yearned to explore these newfound emotions in the quiet of my own chambers. But reality held firm; Myrrine was a part of Kemeia's world, one that I, despite my power, barely understood.