This is part 2 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

You can read the prior parts by Armond 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

As Wildevale grapples with a spreading plague, Kemi and Ravela find themselves united in their fight against chaos. Amidst the turmoil, a bond forms between them, hinting at the start of an unexpected but sincere affection. In facing their darkest challenges, they discover a possibility of love and understanding, bringing a ray of hope to a kingdom in distress.

Beneath the gilded domes of rule, a queen's heart shall waver, guided by the healer's silent strength. In their mingled steps, a new dawn shall awaken, wrapped in the gentle folds of Selene's light. In their union, a fractured kingdom finds solace, as silent understanding bridges hearts once apart.
-Hymns of the Lune, The Crystalline Prophecies, Scroll XII, stanza 32

KEMEIA

The Queen’s Royal Chamber
Nighttime

Engulfed in the comforting embrace of darkness, I felt myself drifting into an abyss of nothingness. The agony of aiding Ravela still seared through me. Pouring my Sorgente into her felt like setting my soul aflame. As my essence seeped out with each moment, it left a scorching trail of pain and emptiness that felt like it I was being hollowed out from within.I longed to scream, to release this torment, but no sound would come. I was mute, not just by nature but also by choice. It was who I was now, and I was unwilling to cause alarm to those around me.

Weary and burnt, My empty husk yearned for the tranquillity of endless sleep. 'Let me rest,' it pleaded silently, surrendering to the fatigue that clawed at every fibre of what little was left of me. 'There is nothing for me here.'

But then, softly, like a whisper carried on a gentle breeze, the voice echoed in my mind,

“Look ahead, my cherished one, beneath the moon and sun."

The darkness began to recede and before me, under the delicate boughs of a cherry blossom tree, stood two lovers locked in a tender embrace. Their first kiss, a moment of bliss, painted in gold and wine hues amidst a shower of soft petals.

"Together we shall roam, in the skies where stars are spun."

The scene dissolved, giving way to another, in a very different time and place – a mother proudly watching her daughter cook, their rich black hair and skin mirroring my own, dressed in robes and hats unlike any I had seen before. A legacy passed down, a bond unbroken.

"Though the path unwinds anew, with much still undone,"

The vision shifted again. I gazed upon a small nightingale, lifeless upon an altar unlike any I had ever seen. In its final moments, it seemed to have poured its soul into a song of unparalleled beauty. Yet, as the melody lingered in the air, a faint twitch suggested a spark of life still within.

"Rest well, dear heart, for your greatest journey has just begun."

A cascade of what could be my many lives unfolded before me - the maiden, the mother, the crone - each surrounded by love, desire, and protection. Faces blurred, identities unknown, yet the feeling of being cherished was unmistakable.

In that moment I understood. My journey was far from over; my story was yet to be written. And right then I felt the pull of consciousness beckoning me back.

Gasping back into reality, the sharp scent of smelling salts filled my nostrils, and my heavy eyes fluttered open. The first sight that greeted me was Ravela's face.

Alone with Ravela! A surge of panic propelled me to scramble away, my mind echoing with a singular, desperate thought - escape. The fear, deeply ingrained from past horrors, gripped me tightly. But as I struggled, my surroundings slowly came into focus, and a stark realization dawned on me – I was in the royal chamber, the same chamber where, as Cormac, I had shared many a night with Ravela, yet the urgency to distance myself prevailed.

Ravela's anguished cry pierced the silence. "Why do you fear me so, Kemeia? Whatever harm I've caused, I swear I'll atone for it," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy, a yearning to comfort her, to love her yet again but fear held me captive, rooted in the past horrors and the dread of what revelations might bring. If Ravela ever discovered I was Cormac, it could unleash a maelstrom of madness and further pain. I no longer harboured hatred for her, only a deep-seated fear and sorrow for what we had lost, for what she had destroyed.

Struggling against my weakness, I tried to move away, to put distance between us. But my body betrayed me, too exhausted to obey.

Then, something unprecedented happened. Ravela, the unbreakable queen who never showed vulnerability, crawled up to me and rested her head on my calves, her body wracked with sobs. Tears, a sight unseen even during her parents' funeral, streamed down her face. I had witnessed tears from her before but this…this show of misery from Ravela was foreign, unsettling. She had always been the epitome of strength, the unyielding monarch of Wildevale.

Cruelty, icy cold, insanity – these were the words that had recently defined her in my mind. Yet here she was, vulnerable and broken, pleading for mercy, a stark contrast to the queen who ruled with an iron fist.

As she continued to weep, her grief so raw and exposed, something within me cracked. Now my tears came unbidden, flowing quietly but relentlessly. I pleaded to the voice in my head, that guiding whisper, but there was nothing. Just silence.

How I wished for the impossible – to be Cormac again, just for this moment, to comfort her. But that was a dream as shattered as my past self.

As my tears kept falling, in my heart, I knew I couldn't change what had happened. I was Kemeia now, not Cormac. But even in this new life, there was something I could do. I was a healer, and healers comforted those in pain.

Ravela's sobs gradually subsided into quiet whimpers, the most agonising of her emotions momentarily spent. She lifted her head slowly, her eyes red and swollen, meeting mine. In them, I saw a flicker of realisation as she noticed my tears. For a moment, she just stared, as if seeing me for the first time.

Then, with a softness uncharacteristic of her usual demeanour, Ravela edged closer. She hesitantly climbed onto the bed, her movements cautious, as though questioning her right to such intimacy. Yet, I didn't recoil. Gazing intently into her eyes, I pushed past the fear that always lurked when near her. Opening my arms, I welcomed her closer, allowing her to rest her head against me. There we lay, two fractured souls finding a moment of solace in each other's embrace.

Our tears mingled, silent testimonies of our shared grief and loss. There were no words spoken, none were needed. In this embrace, there was a fragile understanding, a bridge built from the ruins of our past. For these fleeting moments, we were just two beings, united in our sorrow, finding comfort in the presence of the other.

The room was silent, save for the soft sounds of her weeping. If our tears could be our solace, then let them fall. Let them wash away some of the agony that clung to us both. In that moment, I realised this was another form of healing. Not with magic or herbs, but with shared grief, with the understanding that sometimes, just being there was enough.

‘My chosen, now that you truly begin your own healing, your burdens will soon lighten." Ah, now you speak up,’ I mused wryly, feeling a mix of relief and mild irritation. "I could have used your guidance a moment earlier, but perhaps you knew that you were not needed then." Some lessons and comforts, I realised, could only be learned and given through human touch and empathy, not divine intervention.

The door to the chamber creaked open, and in stepped Myrrine, her arms laden with food. “Took it upon myself to inspect the food,” she began with a note of pride. “Only a trained eye like mine can...” Her voice trailed off as she took in the scene before her - Ravela and I, holding each other, eyes swollen and crying what a duo we looked.

Carefully setting down the food, Myrrine approached us. She extended a tender hand to me, brushing my forehead with a kiss that was both comforting and protective. Turning to Ravela, her hand hovered for a moment before she gently touched her shoulder.

Ravela's icy voice cut through the warmth of the moment. "I did not give you leave to touch me," she said, her tone as frosty as a winter's morning.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her, my hands moving quickly to sign my response. Her expression faltered under my chiding gaze, and she let out a reluctant huff. "Fine, just this once then," she grumbled, a queen conceding to the absurdity of the moment.

The humour of it all wasn't lost on me. With a smirk, I signed, “There’s a tale from the Isles about mules so stubborn, they’d rather sit in the rain than move to shelter.“

Myrrine, translating, struggled to keep a straight face. Ravela shot me a look that was a mix of embarrassment and a grudging smile. For a brief moment, our shared laughter lightened the room. I hoped for more such moments in the future.

A few moments later, Ravela stood up, her composure back in place. "Sit up, Kemeia," she instructed, moving with a grace that belied the weariness I knew she felt. She fetched the steaming bowl of chicken and vegetable broth, bringing it over to me.

As she began to feed me, Myrrine joined us, holding a plate of soft, Marossan Milkbread soaked in herbal butter. The care they both showed was comforting, yet I couldn't help but notice the competitive spark between them. This attention, while overwhelming, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time – a feeling of being the most desired and cherished person in the room.

As the meal unfolded, it turned into a contest of care, with both Ravela and Myrrine competing to attend to me. It felt almost surreal, this peculiar pampering, a silent struggle for my favour, felt almost like a dream, far removed from any past moments of attention I had known.

Towards the end, a playful tussle ensued over a bunch of grapes. Ravela, with a triumphant smirk, managed to feed me the last grape. Her gaze met Myrrine’s, a silent declaration of victory.

But Myrrine, quick as a shadow, swiftly leaned in and kissed me deeply, a move that caught me off guard. Her lips were firm yet gentle, and I found myself responding before I could even think. As she pulled away, her sly grin met Ravela's glare, one that could have turned lesser beings to ash.

For a fleeting moment, I panicked, wondering if Ravela's wild insanity would surface. But observing her now, a hint of something different shimmered in her demeanour. Perhaps these were the first, hesitant steps towards healing, a gentle unravelling of the tightly wound Queen I had always known.

Just as I was musing this, Ravela's expression shifted into one of surprise. She turned towards me, her brows knitting together in a display of confusion. "Why do I feel so...so..." she trailed off, searching for the right words. Her eyes searched mine, seeking an answer, her usual composure giving way to an unfamiliar vulnerability.

She seemed to be grappling with a feeling that was foreign to her. "Did you do something to me?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. I shook my head gently, indicating a 'no' in response.

The confusion on Ravela's face deepened, then slowly, it transformed into a look of relief, almost wonder. It was as if she was seeing the world through a new lens. She gazed at me again, her eyes softer than I had ever seen. "Thank you," she murmured, a simple yet heartwarming expression of gratitude.

And then, as if the weight of her crown and the burdens of her past were momentarily lifted, she lay back on the bed next to me. Her body relaxed in a way I had never witnessed, and she appeared to drift into sleep. The last thing I saw before she closed her eyes was a smile, small and genuine, a rare glimpse of the woman behind the Queen.

Myrrine, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, leaned close and whispered, "Now's our chance for a bit of fun, with the old dragon snoozing away." Her words barely left her lips when she was interrupted by a muffled, "Think twice before acting, or you might find yourself glowing in the dark”.

I couldn't help but let out a silent chuckle, amused by their banter. Myrrine just grinned and settled beside me. Lying there, sandwiched between the two, I felt an odd sense of harmony. As sleep beckoned, I closed my eyes, a contented smile on my lips, embraced by the warmth of an unexpected family.

RAVELA

'Miradelth'
Late night

In the veiled depths of 'Miradelth', my dream-haven, I roamed. This damned forest, a relic of my youthful Sorgente training under Mistress Eireann's heavy hand, was where I'd learned to cage my inner inferno. A place I'd abandoned, along with so much else, as my mind descended into ‘wrongness’, as I now realised, over the years. Yet now, here I stood, the once wild and raging wildfires that dotted its landscape reduced to mere embers.

As I ventured deeper, this forest, once a tempestuous realm, now rested in a state resembling ethereal calm. The sun, absent for years, cast gentle beams through the canopy, infusing the air with a tranquility that bordered on the surreal. It was as if the forest was maturing, trying to find a balance between its wild heart and a desire for peace.

Standing under this serene sky, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the vibrant, albeit enraged, energy that once thrived here. "Dammit, Miradelth, you've gone soft," I mused. The forest, in its daytime splendor, felt almost otherworldly, a realm transformed from the furious haven I once knew. "Is this the beginning of peace, or just the calm before another storm?" I pondered, half-expecting the flames to reignite and consume it all in a fiery outburst.

As I moved through the forest, the fantastical creatures of my imagination greeted me. Winged serpents with scales that shimmered like jewels, and majestic stags with antlers reaching towards the sky, creatures born from the fables of my childhood. "Still playing their part, I see. Creatures of a queen's whimsy, nothing more." I chided myself, they were but echoes of my youthful fantasies, yet ever loyal to their creator.

Ahead, I saw the path that led me to the heart of the forest, to Selene's altar, a sanctuary. The near forgotten monument in my mind, once a source of solace in my younger days, now beckoned, no commanded… me to present myself.

"Cormac always nagged me to come here... for clarity," I mused, recalling his insistence on meditation. As a Nique, he needed to meditate, his ritualistic way of gathering whatever power he needed each day. I believed it pointless for me as we Sorgente were gifted and always had the power within. Now I was realising that as always, his wisdom far exceeded mine.

Cormac, my equal in many ways, perhaps even my better.

The forest, with its radiant beauty and tranquil strength, stood in stark contrast to the turmoil within me. It was as if Miradelth was showing me a different path, one that I had long abandoned.

"Perhaps this isn't the end," I conceded, a rare glimmer of hope piercing through my cynicism. "Maybe there's still a chance for redemption. If not for me. For my kingdom atleast." As I approached the altar, I felt a stirring, a call to perhaps right some of the wrongs that were of my own making.

At the center of the altar, the once revered statue of Selene stood alone, a stark contrast to my memories. It was as if neglect and my own inner turmoil had manifested, covering it in dirt and grime. "What have I done, not just to myself but to you?" I wondered, my heart sinking at the sight.

In haste, I tore at my robes, soaking them in the nearby pond to cleanse the statue. Even the pond’s water seemed tainted, reflecting the state of my own soul.

As I scrubbed the statue clean, I noticed the distress etched into Selene's face, cracks spidering across her visage, her eyes firmly shut. "She can't even bear to look at me."

But refused to succumb. I gazed into the statue's eyes, making a solemn vow. "This may be but a symbol, yet it reflects my conscience, my own self, turning away from me in disgust. I swear to dedicate every breath, every ounce of my being, to make amends." My voice was a whisper, but the resolve within me was as loud as thunder. "I will right the wrongs I have inflicted upon others, even if it costs me my life."

As my oath to myself echoed in the sacred stillness, the statue's visage shifted, taking on the features of Kemeia. A sign, perhaps, of where my journey of redemption must begin.

With newfound determination, I turned away from the altar, "I know where I must start," I declared, as the dream began to fade, pulling me back into the embrace of sleep, outside the realm of dreams.

But sleep did not come and instead I lay awake in the quiet of the night, my gaze lingered on Kemeia's sleeping form, absorbing the exotic allure of her Anatolian beauty. The moonlight caressed her almond skin, highlighting her raven hair and the delicate contour of her nose. Her lips, a shade reminiscent of ripe strawberries, parted slightly with each gentle breath.

A sudden, almost primal urge overtook me – the desire to claim her, to make her mine. My finger traced the line of her neck, a tentative exploration of her soft skin. I watched, captivated, as Kemeia unconsciously mouthed a silent moan, a response that fueled my yearning further.

But then, guilt surged through me, halting my advance. What was I doing? I had just recognized my role in Cormac's downfall, and here I was, consumed by desire for another. Was this right? Yet, it felt so natural, so compelling. Kemeia was divine, a goddess's gift in human form. Perhaps this was a test from Selene herself, a challenge of my resolve?

Lost in this whirlwind of conflicting emotions, my finger now tracing her collarbone, I failed to notice the change in Kemi's breathing until it became unmistakably erratic. Just as realisation dawned, I found her eyes open, wide and fixed upon me. There was no accusation, no fear, just an unfathomable depth that left me exposed, and vulnerable.

In that moment, suspended in the stillness of the night, she reached out and drew me closer. Her eyes were unflinching and devoid of the fear that once lurked within their depths.

She then pulled me into an embrace, enveloping me in warmth and safety. And then, she kissed me. It was a kiss laden with tenderness and depth, reminiscent of how Cormac used to kiss me, yet more. More selfless, more nurturing, more complete.

In that kiss, I found something I hadn't known I was missing. It wasn't just the sensation of being desired, but the profound feeling of being truly accepted. I responded instinctively, holding her close, allowing myself to be lost in the moment, in the affection that flowed between us.

As we lay there, entwined in each other's arms, It was as if, for the first time in a long, torturous while, I had found a fragment of peace.. We remained in each other's embrace, the world outside fading into insignificance, until sleep claimed us once more. Drifting off, I clung to this fragile promise of a new dawn, a potential new chapter in the saga of my life.

KEMEIA

4th day of Rainmoot
Palace – Eastern Hall Temporary Infirmary
Late morning

"Overwhelmed," I thought, watching the steady stream of sick being brought into the Eastern Hall. The temporary infirmary was teeming with the afflicted, and I couldn't help but feel a rising sense of dread. "This... this isn't sustainable." i thought to myself.

The area covered by the stasis spell was brimming, almost at its limit. Panic fluttered in my chest as a soldier hurried towards Sechnall, his voice urgent, "More are coming, in the hundreds!"

The realization that we could only maintain one large stasis sphere at a time was a serious blow to our plan. It was clear that even with my help, Ravela had reached her limit. "We can't stretch the spell any further," I signed to Marta, the reality of our situation sinking in. "We need another solution, and fast." With the hall already straining under the pressure of the afflicted, even our best efforts might not be enough.

Yet in this hour of need, as if guided by the unseen hand of the goddess herself, the fluttering of wings caught my attention, drawing my gaze towards the open window. A white dove, its feathers a stark contrast against the dimness of the hall, flew in through the open window and perched on my shoulder.

I was not really surprised when I noticed that It bore a message and a small bag tied to its leg, waiting patiently as I carefully untied the contents. I unfolded the note, reading and re-reading the contents as it thanked Selene repeatedly, I did not react yet. I needed to check the contents of the bag first and as I carefully examined it, Ravela’s voice broke through the silence. "Kemeia, what's in the note?"

I took a deep breath, steadying my thoughts before I began to sign rapidly, as Myrrine translated my words for everyone.

"It's a message from the priestesses from the North," Myrrine's voice echoed around the hall, carrying a mix of urgency and relief. "They were forewarned of this day. They couldn't reach us in time, so they sent this directly to Kemeia. It's a miracle of Selene that it found her without knowing who she was!"

I continued to sign, "The priestesses have given us a recipe for a cure, one that can be made in large quantities." I held up the small pouch, "And this bag contains preserved Panacea, their last stores."

Ravela, without a second thought, called for the castle's herbalist, instructing them to begin preparations. This was the breakthrough we needed and the room buzzed with a newfound energy. With this crucial ingredient and the guidance from the priestesses, we had a fighting chance.

Marta, watching the flurry of activity that followed, allowed a small, weary smile to grace her face. "A fighting chance, at last," she murmured, her eyes reflecting relief. She looked at me when she then said, "a blessing from Selene herself against these… shades." It seemed fitting, a name for the malevolent spirits we were combating. "Shades," I signed in agreement.. Ravela gave a brief nod of approval, her focus already shifting to the next task at hand.

As the tension in the hall reached a fever pitch, the familiar voice whispered in my mind, ‘my love, did I not promise aid?’, its tone laced with a knowing warmth. ‘Assistance has come, borne on wings, as literal as one might imagine.’ A reminder that even in our darkest hours, we were never truly alone.

When the herbalist arrived, and instructions were shared Ravela offered to assist him. "I'll join you," she stated, "My magical knowledge might prove useful." Lunete, with her training as a herbalist, volunteered to accompany them as well. Now I was starting to see how all of us had a role in this.

As Ravela prepared to leave, she paused and turned towards me. "Kemeia, you are a miracle," she said, her eyes no longer those of the queen, when looking at me atleast, now showed only gratitude. "You never cease to amaze me. But this message is our call to lighten your burden" I heard her words and yet I wondered,. 'If only she knew the truth of who I am,' .

The thought lingered in my mind as I watched her leave. Perhaps the time was nearing when Ravela would have to know everything. Especially now, with the possibility of a scalable solution emerging, the truth about my past might become essential.

RAVELA

'Palace - Kitchen (Temporary Herbalist Chambers)'
Mid day

In the makeshift herbalist chambers, once the bustling palace kitchen, we faced our first real test in crafting the cure. The foundation of our concoction was the Calendula extract, revered for its healing properties. Next to it, the Lemon Balm, its citrus scent a refreshing contrast, awaited its turn. "Remember, as the priestesses instructed, this mixture is lethal to the shades," I reminded those around me, emphasising the significance of what we were making.

Our preparation included two exceptionally rare ingredients. Azureleaf, a gift from the distant Anatol Isles, known for its remarkable anti-toxin properties. "Handle it with care," I instructed, aware of its potency. The second, Twilight Vine, glowed faintly in the subdued light of the chamber, its luminescent leaves essential to activate the concoction's elements.

Echinacea, known for boosting immunity, was carefully measured into the pot. Its role in bolstering immunity was paramount in our fight against the plague. Next, the Hawthorne, with its heart-strengthening attributes, was added. Its berries, both bitter and sweet, much like this bitter battle against an unseen enemy, sweetened by this hope of a cure.

A mere dash of Panacea transformed the mixture into a mesmerizing silver-blue hue, precisely as the priestesses' recipe had described. The final component, Turmeric, a rare and exotic root, was crucial for the mixture's completion. I watched intently as the herbalist measured the turmeric. But in a moment of inattention, an excess spilled into the tiny pot. The mixture reacted immediately, bubbling violently and morphing into an unintended orange hue instead of the desired shimmering gold.

For a heartbeat, my old self, quick to anger and retribution, threatened to take over. "Imbeciles! Must I oversee every minor detail?" I wanted to lash out, to let my fury reign. But then, the rational part of me intervened.. "Patience, Ravela. They are trying their best," I silently chastised myself, suppressing the instinct to erupt.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my voice. ""Gather yourselves. We start anew. Precision is key, for the fate of Wildevale rests in our hands," I said, more calmly than I felt. This setback was a test, not just of our skill, but of my ability to lead differently - with understanding rather than fear.

As we regrouped for a second attempt, I watched myself struggle with following the nuances of the effort at hand, my knowledge in spellcraft faltering in this unfamiliar domain. "This is not your forte, Ravela," I muttered under my breath, frustration simmering within.

Lunete, noticing my struggle, intervened. "Let me handle this part, Ravela," she said, her voice resonating a confidence that I had not heard before. She started giving instructions to the herbalist at work.

Only now did I remember that Lunete had found her calling in the quiet, yet no less powerful, realm of nature's gifts. I remembered how, as a child, she would spend hours in the palace gardens.

Eirlys, a visiting sage with a wealth of knowledge about the healing powers of plants, had recognized Lunete's natural affinity for herbalism. She nurtured it, guiding her through the intricate balance of herbs and their properties.

Watching her now, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. Lunete was a truly skilled herbalist, her expertise evident in every precise instruction and assistance she offered. Her path, so different from mine, had led her to a mastery that was now proving invaluable in our time of need.

"Your teacher would be proud, Lunete," I said, a genuine note of admiration in my voice. "You have truly mastered the art she taught you."

Lunete looked up, a faint smile touching her lips. "We all have our strengths. This has always been mine," she responded, continuing her work with practised ease.

Her words were a gentle reminder of the talents that surrounded me, talents I had often overshadowed with my own presence and power. It was a humbling acknowledgement that, despite my prowess in high spellcraft, there were realms of knowledge and skill where I needed to rely on others.

In that moment, I recognized the need to trust in those around me, to appreciate and utilise the strengths they brought to the table. Lunete's expertise in herbalism was just one example of the wealth of abilities that resided within my court, abilities that I had often overlooked in my pursuit of power and control.

"Thank you, Lunete," I said. "For everything you're doing. You're more than just my sister; you're a vital part of what makes this kingdom strong."

Lunete's smile widened, and she nodded, acknowledging my words. As I stepped back, allowing her to lead, I realised this was a lesson that, perhaps, was long overdue for a queen who had often walked alone.

As I stood there, watching Lunete and the herbalists at work, my mind wandered. to the unexpected moment shared with Kemeia the night prior. The memory of that kiss filled me with a warmth I hadn't felt in years. There was something about it that felt strangely right. The way her lips met mine stirred memories of Cormac, yet it was different—more selfless, more nurturing.

The turmoil I had braced for never came. Instead, it felt harmonious, a convergence of past and present that was quickly filling a void in me and promised a potential future unfurling with possibilities.

The kiss with Kemeia was a moment of solace yesterday but today it felt like a spark of something else. She was filling a void that Cormac left behind, maybe I could fill her void…mmmm…Kemi

"Ravela, the first batch! We've done it!" Lunete exclaimed, her voice slicing through my thoughts like a well-aimed arrow.

Startled, I quickly realigned my composure, masking my brief annoyance with a practised grace. "Ah, Lunete, ever the herald of good tidings," I muttered under my breath with a hint of sarcasm. "And here I was, enjoying a rare moment of... reflection."

Now that I was rudely brought back to the present by the realities of my kingdom, 'never a dull moment in the life of Ravela,' I thought. It was time to attend to what was most important, to get the cure to the healers.

The Eastern Hall teeming with healers and the afflicted, buzzed with cautious optimism as I made my way through. "Attention," I called out. "The first batch of the cure is ready. It is a testament to our resilience, the skill of our herbalists, and … Princess Lunete." A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, their faces turning towards Lunete with admiration.

I turned, addressing Marta and Ciro directly. “While I have every faith in the wisdom of the priestesses, we must proceed with caution. This cure needs to be tested at the earliest so that we may prepare more for widespread use." Marta called for Myrrine to collect the batch and start testing right away.

I scanned the room until my eyes found Kemeia. She was tirelessly working, her face etched with fatigue, yet upon hearing the news, her lips had curved into a genuinely warm smile. It was the first unsolicited expression of joy I had witnessed on her since her arrival at the palace. Did my heart just skip a beat at the sight?

"Kemeia," I called out, my voice carrying a blend of softness and queenly command. "When we are done here, would you join me for a walk in the courtyard? Some fresh air would do us both good, don't you think?"

Kemeia paused, her gaze meeting mine. There was a brief flash of something undefinable in her eyes - was it a surprise? Anticipation? She nodded slightly, accepting my invitation with only a fraction of the hesitation I had expected.

KEMEIA

4th day of Rainmoot
Palace Courtyard
Evening

Walking towards the Palace courtyard, "Amangon, this time, you've been outplayed," I mused to myself, a sense of triumph despite the exhaustion. The cure, the ability to produce it en masse, had marked a significant turning point in our struggle against the shades.

As I stepped into the open space of the courtyard, a few moments ahead of me, stood Ravela. She had just completed assisting with the last of the necessary containment charms, a feat that edged us closer to regaining control over the crisis.

Observing her from a distance, I couldn't help but acknowledge the changes I had seen in her in just these few days. The ‘mad queen’ now seemed more human, more accessible, more beautiful. Her self control, her involvement in the creation of the charms, her evident fatigue. "Ravela, perhaps, in this fight, we may have found common ground, I do not know what may happen but maybe now is the time for us both to acknowledge the truth." I thought.

As I neared her, she turned, noticing my approach. Her gaze held a warmth but it hinted at something more primal, but primal in a good way that ‘selene help me’ i desired. She extended her hand towards me, "Kemeia, thank you," It was a genuine thanks but hidden behind the obvious was a call that, despite our history, beckoned me closer with an almost magnetic pull.

Tentatively, I reached out, placing my hand in hers. The contact, simple yet meaningful, made me feel just a little better.

Her gaze held mine, "Walk with me, Kemeia," she said, gesturing towards the garden paths. "There is much to discuss, and perhaps, in the quiet of these gardens, we can find the words that have eluded us in the chaos thus far." Together, we walked further into the courtyard, her hand, holding mine, felt surprisingly comforting accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle evening breeze.

As we meandered through the courtyard, Ravela shared small stories from the past. Each tale was a thread in the tapestry of her life, revealing facets of herself that had remained hidden behind the façade of the 'mad queen.' Her words, laced with nostalgia, painted pictures of simpler times.

As we strolled through the courtyard, her stories unfolded like familiar yet distant echoes from my past life. These were tales I knew well as Cormac, but hearing them from Ravela now, they took on a different hue, more balanced and introspective. It was as if she was piecing together fragments of a life once lived, but with a new understanding, a new perspective.

She spoke not just of events, but of emotions, of the creeping illness of the mind that had begun to cloud her judgement over the years. "It was like a shadow," Ravela confided, her voice laced with a vulnerability I had never heard before. "A gradual detachment from myself, from the world around me. It's been a battle, one that's been harder to fight because I couldn't fully grasp or even acknowledge it."

Her words resonated with a painful truth. Here was a side of Ravela I had never fully understood, not as Cormac and not as Kemeia. A woman grappling with her own mind, struggling against an unseen adversary that threatened to consume her from within. An adversary that she was only becoming aware of now. It gave me a glimpse into the internal struggles that had shaped her actions, for better or worse.

Then, Ravela's voice softened, her gaze distant as she recalled a summer ball - the one before Lunete's tragic coma. "We danced until the stars faded," she reminisced, a wistful smile touching her lips. "Cormac and I... under the moonlight, he kissed me right here in this courtyard. It was bliss."

Oh Selene, this courtyard, this very spot - it was where she and I..no Cormac had shared that unforgettable kiss. My heart raced, panic gripping me as the memories overwhelmed me. Memories of what Ravela did to Cormac, to me.

Tears blurred my vision as the realisation hit me like a wave. I couldn't stay here, couldn't bear the weight of these memories. I turned abruptly, fleeing from the courtyard, from Ravela, from the past that haunted me.

I heard her call out, her voice filled with panic and a desperation I had never known her to possess. The words were distant, muffled by the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood in my ears, but I couldn't stop.

My heart ached, torn between the healer's instinct to comfort and the survivor's urge to flee but my legs moved of their own accord. Propelling me away from the courtyard, away from Ravela, Each step away was a step towards self-preservation, a desperate attempt to protect what little was left of me.

Yet in my haste, was my mind playing tricks on me? The echoes of Ravela's voice morphing into words that couldn't be true. "Don't leave me…my love!" The phrase seemed to chase me, a haunting refrain that tangled with my panicked thoughts.

Could it be? Could Ravela have pieced together the truth? No, it was impossible, just a figment of my tormented imagination. I was Kemeia now, not Cormac. Yet, the words clung to me, a shroud of doubt and confusion.

And so, I fled, leaving behind the echoes of a name I once bore, a love that was once mine, and a truth that was too overwhelming to face. The courtyard, with its shadows and memories, faded into the distance, a silent witness to the heartbreak and revelation that had unfolded within its walls.