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.

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.

This is part 3 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

Amidst the kingdom on its path to recovery, Ravela faces a haunting personal truth and pledges to seek justice and atonement for her transgressions. A deep conspiracy comes to light, intensifying the political intrigue. Ravela's strained familial relationship comes to a head as moral debts are called into question. Meanwhile, Kemeia's mystical powers surface in response to declarations of loyalty, further complicating the tangled web of emotions ensnaring those involved. As love, guilt, and redemption intertwine, the future of the kingdom hangs in the balance, with the possibility of new beginnings emerging from the chaos.

Amidst soft moans of the slumbering earth, the sentinel bows before the altar of trust. A testament to the strength in surrender, she too shall become a confluence of power, where petals unfold beneath her gaze, bathed in the moon's tender hymn.
- Whispers of the Waning Moon, Selene's Ethereal Embrace, Volume IX, passage 44

RAVELA


Palace Courtyard
Evening

As Kemi turned to flee, the realisation hit me like a thunderbolt. All the signs I had overlooked suddenly came together with piercing clarity. The muteness that I never questioned, the familiar glint in her eyes, her fear of me, everything pointed to the unspeakable truth. Kemeia, the woman I had grown to respect and desire, was the very person I had destroyed – Cormac, my Cormac!

I saw her run but I could not stop her, words wouldn’t escape my lips and my legs refused to move. The torrent of memories and truths were bombarding me, keeping me frozen still, each more damning than the last.

The unspeakable horrors I unleashed upon him... 'Oh dear Selene!', upon HER, in the barracks. I remembered the chains, the cold, merciless metal that bound her, to that cursed bed. The ‘love spell’ I cast on her friends and comrades, turning them into the unwitting instruments of my twisted retribution. In my blinded rage, I had condemned Cormac, Kemeia, to a fate worse than death.

Worst of all, I had observed, hidden in the shadows, as life was brutally raped and beaten from HER eyes by the very men she once commanded, the men she had loved and trusted. The horror of this act was unspeakable, the part of me that needed to witness every moment of his no HER downfall was worse than me just being a ‘mad queen. I had become something far worse. I was a spectator to the atrocity I had authored, finding some perverse satisfaction in seeing my vengeance exacted.

How could I have used my power, my sacred gift, in such a monstrous way? The realisation was a searing blade through my soul. Every shred of fear in Kemeia's eyes, every tremor in her voiceless sobs, now made horrifying sense. They were not just the reactions of a healer who feared a tyrant queen; they were the scars left behind by the monster that I was.

In that moment, I understood the magnitude of my sins. I had not just broken a body; I had shattered a soul. My use of the goddess’s gift had become my damnation, a curse that I had inflicted upon the one person who had ever truly loved me.

My knees buckled beneath the weight of this revelation, and I fell to the ground, a broken. My cries filled the courtyard, a lament for the love and life I had shattered. "Don't leave me, my Cormac, don't leave me, my love," I pleaded, but the words were nothing but an echo in the emptiness, a futile attempt to reach out to the ghost of my past and fleeing Kemeia who was already distant.

Lying there on the cold ground, my sobs were the only sound in the echoing silence of the courtyard. For a long time, I remained there, paralyzed by the magnitude of my sins. My Sorgente, a divine gift from Selene herself, had been twisted into a tool of terror, terror that I had inflicted upon my own Cormac. How had I fallen so far? How had I let my heart and mind be so thoroughly corrupted?

Many moments passed when finally, I found the strength to stand, though my legs trembled like autumn leaves in a storm, and my hands shook as if possessed by a will of their own. The kingdom, my rule, the power I wielded - all insignificant now, fleeting shadows compared to the stark reality of my actions. I had condemned an innocent man, a man I loved, to a fate worse than death. The realization was a weight so heavy, I felt it might crush me.

As I stood there, regaining my composure, a cold clarity settled over me. This was not madness driving my thoughts, nor was it a fleeting surge of emotion. It was a calculated, deliberate resolve, born from a newfound understanding of my actions and their consequences. There was no chaos in my mind, only a focused, icy determination.

There was justice to be served, a reckoning to be had. ‘Ambassador’ Aldana, that deceitful Truthsayer, and every soul complicit in the betrayal and destruction of Cormac would feel the full extent of my fury. I would be their judge, jury, and executioner. My retribution would be as swift as it was merciless. Once justice was served, I would embrace my own damnation, whatever form it might take.

Yet, moving forward, each decision, each action, would be tempered by a rational mind, fully aware of the gravity of my choices. I was no longer blinded by rage or grief, but rather guided by a clear vision of justice and reparation. In doing so, I would finally confront the truth of my own being, accepting the consequences of my deeds.

This was the necessary passage towards a conclusion that I had to face, devoid of delusions or excuses. My journey forward was set, and I would walk it with the full knowledge of what I had become and what I needed to do.

Unlike me, my kingdom would not suffer for my sins. Before I am gone though, I will ensure that Wildevale would thrive under the guidance of Lunete and Sechnall, be protected by the valour of Myrrine and Marta, and flourish under the divine grace of Kemeia. As for me, I would depart, leaving behind the legacy of a queen who finally understood the true cost of power without control and the unfathomable pain of destroying her own self.

LUNETE

Palace Courtyard
Late Evening

I had been walking in the shadowed alcoves of the Palace Courtyard when I saw them. Kemeia and Ravela together, their hands intertwined, sparked an idea in me. I could gather fodder for some light-hearted teasing later. It was a welcome distraction from the weight of recent events, and I couldn’t help but hope that something beautiful might bloom between them, especially since Ravela had been so tight-lipped about how it had ended with Cormac.

But as their walk progressed, the atmosphere shifted. Kemeia’s sudden flight from Ravela’s side and the ensuing despair in my sister’s voice shattered the evening's calm. “Don't leave me, my Cormac, …” Ravela’s words, laced with pain and desperation, echoed through the courtyard.

As I heard those words, I froze in my hiding spot and the pieces started falling into place. Ravela’s cryptic behaviour, Kemeia’s persistent fear, and now this declaration. It was clear, though unfathomable, Kemeia was Cormac, transformed by Ravela's own hand.

Ciro's revelations about my poisoning, no my bespelling incident resurfaced, casting a new light on the past events. He had explained how Cormac was initially presumed guilty, leading to his disappearance, believed by many to be dead. Even uttering Cormac's name had become illegal, a forbidden act shrouded in mystery. But, with the recent exposure of Ambassador Kijek's true role in the spell, it now seemed that Cormac had been wrongfully accused all along.

But now, the true extent of Ravela's vengeance seemed to be unfurling before me. It wasn't merely a change in form; it was a deeper, more harrowing transformation. In a fit of vengeful rage, Ravela had not just altered Cormac's gender; she had most likely stripped him of his very identity, recasting him into Kemeia. A person even she couldn’t recognize until this accursed moment.

Clearly, she had stripped Cormac of his voice, his identity, and remolded him into Kemeia. But what else had she done? I knew all too well of Ravela's tempestuous wrath, but this revelation suggested a level of cruelty that I did not yet understand but knew to be true. My heart ached for Kemeia, and a dreadful suspicion gnawed at me – what if this was just the surface of my sister's dark deeds? The fear that there might be more, unknown and unspeakable torments inflicted on Kemeia, haunted my thoughts.

As I pulled myself free from my thoughts, I observed Ravela rise to her feet, her stance a familiar yet unsettling sight. The hard, unyielding resolve that seemed to be teetering on the edge of something I couldn't quite grasp. The look in her eyes was one I recognized, one that spelt doom for whoever was in her path.

As she began to move with deliberate purpose, my apprehension grew. Her path seemed to lead towards the dungeons where Ambassador Aldana was held, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear. It was not just the potential confrontation that worried me, but the shadow of something darker, an erratic undercurrent in Ravela's demeanour that I had noticed before but never fully understood. It was a fear of what might lie beneath the surface, an unease about the true extent of whatever it was brewing within her.

As she was walking, she directed a guard to bring the truthsayer to the dungeons, chained. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him but, this provided crucial context to the rapidly evolving situation. The arrest of a truthsayer, known for their inability to speak falsehoods, was no small matter. It signified a drastic escalation in Ravela's campaign.

In that moment, I knew that I needed to intervene, yet – how does one sway a sister so deeply ensnared in her own vengeful crusade? I paused, reflecting on our sisterhood – a tapestry woven from threads of love, the shared grief of our parents' passing, and Ravela's role as not just my sister but in place of the mother I needed.

My heart ached with the realization that I, unwittingly, had been the catalyst for her unravelling. If only I hadn't been so vulnerable, so easily ensnared by that cursed Arcum mind spell, none of this would have happened but NO! 'No time for guilt, Lunete,' I scolded myself silently,

'Focus. This is the time for action, not regret. I am no longer a child and capable of challenging the Queen herself.'

With this newfound resolve, I stayed in the shadows, following Ravela discreetly.My thoughts racing, desperately seeking a strategy, a means to breach the walls she had built around her. This was more than a mission to rescue Aldana or to save Ravela from her own destructive impulses; it was a battle to salvage what remained of her and I knew that the gravity of the situation left no room for hesitation.

As I trailed behind her, the moon casting long, solemn shadows on our path, I braced myself for what was to come. I was yet to figure out when or how to intervene, but my resolve was clear. Tonight, a reckoning awaited. A confrontation that needed to reach the sister I once knew, to perhaps salvage the fragment of her that had been frayed by time and tragedy.

The uncertainty of the outcome scared me, yet I was driven by the hope that somehow, through the darkness of her current plight, this moment onward, I would be the shield that guarded her and the guiding hand that leads her back towards the light.

RAVELA


Palace Dungeon
Late Evening

The cold stone of the dungeon corridors echoed under my steps as I made my way to the cell where Ambassador Aldana was held. The damp air was thick, heavy with whispered secrets, betrayals, and the silent screams of those I had condemned. 'Oh, Selene!' I thought with a tinge of irony, 'What tales these walls could tell.'

“Lesser prisoners. This country needs lesser prisoners for its own conscience.” I muttered and while I felt the familiar stirrings of rage within me, the emotions were now well under control.

This change within me was unexpected, and I knew Kemeia, my Cormac!, was the inadvertent architect of this transformation. It was a bitter irony; the soul I had condemned was the same that brought about my healing. I was not worthy to be Queen. Not even worthy to be considered human anymore, given the depth of harm I caused and still my love protects me.

Oh Cormac! Kemeia!

As I approached the cell, I magically summoned a stool and seated myself with deliberate poise. There, in the dim light, stood Aldana, chained to the floor and a far cry from the figure she presented at court. Stripped of her ornate robes and heavy white makeup, she was clad in nothing but rags, her magic shield her only remaining armor.

I gazed at her, my smile sharp and mocking. "So, this is what you present as your true face, but I suspect otherwise." I mused aloud. "All this time hidden behind a mask of powdered rice and pomp. Now, nothing more than a pig in rags." My voice carried a cold, merciless edge as I leaned forward. "But this pitiful ‘facade’ you uphold with your nique magic, it too shall ripped apart. We us see the raw, unadorned truth of you, stripped of everything."

She held my gaze defiantly, her eyes betraying a hint of fear as she realized the gravity of her situation. "Parasia will hear of this!" she spat, but her voice wavered, betraying her bravado.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Parasia? Oh, my dear, I think not." My fingers danced in the air, weaving patterns as I prepared my first spell. "You see, you're not in Parasia's courts anymore. You're in my dungeon, under my ‘mercy’." The air crackled with the building energy of my magic.

Leisurely, and with an air of malevolent grace, I began to cast my spells. Each movement was deliberate, a tangible manifestation of my will and malice. I watched her closely, her eyes widening in terror as she realized the relentless nature of my assault. The room hummed with the energy of my magic, each attack a heavy blow against her dwindling shield. The barrier flickered, strained under the onslaught, and finally shattered, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

As the magic dissipated, it revealed a new face, not that of the Parasian diplomat, but a young woman with the brown hair and the distinctive features of the Arcum people.

The knowledge that this woman was an Arcum infiltrator, masquerading as Aldana, was as I suspected. "An Arcum spy, in the heart of Wildevale, playing the role of a Parasian ambassador? How utterly daring," I remarked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "And here I thought Aldana’s taste in makeup was merely atrocious."

The woman before me, now bereft of her magical protection, seemed smaller, almost pitiful, yet there was a defiance in her eyes that I couldn't ignore. It was the defiance of a cornered animal, dangerous and unpredictable. "What was your role in Lunete’s enspellment and what have you done with the real Aldana?" I demanded, my voice hard as the dungeon's stone.

Her response was a mixture of fear and defiance. "You think you've won? You know nothing of the depths of our plans," she hissed, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

My laugh echoed off the walls, "Plans? Oh, I am sure they are as intricate as they are doomed." My eyes narrowed, and I leaned in closer. "But you will tell me everything. I promise you that. And your suffering will depend on how swiftly you spill your secrets."

For a moment, there was silence, then, without another word, I cast a spell, a simple yet effective one, designed to cause pain - a tool to loosen tongues. She cried out, her body writhing in agony on the cold stone floor.

And yet, as I watched her suffer, a strange feeling crept over me. This was not the satisfaction I had expected. Instead, there was a hollowness, an echo of the person I once was. "Kemeia, what have you done to me?" I whispered to myself.

"Speak!" I commanded, my voice now laced with an urgency that surprised even me. "Tell me everything, and perhaps I'll show you the mercy that is rapidly becoming my new companion."

As she struggled to gather her breath, I pondered over my next move. This moment was pivotal, not just for the information she might provide, but for what it signified in my own transformation.

And so, I waited, the dungeon's oppressive silence weighing heavily upon us, a silent witness to the unfolding drama and my own internal conflict.

The woman, still gasping from the pain, lifted her eyes to meet mine, a mixture of defiance and resignation flickering within them. "Your mercy?" she rasped, her voice strained. "Your mercy is as hollow as your promises, Mad Queen of Wildevale."

Her words stung, more than I cared to admit. Once, such insolence would have fueled me further, spurring me to inflict even greater torment. But now, something had shifted within me.

With a heavy sigh, I settled back onto the stool, fixing my gaze intently on the Arcum spy. "Tell me everything," I demanded quietly, the words almost a plea, "about how this conspiracy was executed."

The woman, still writhing in pain, met my eyes with a blend of defiance and resignation. "You expect me to betray my people for your mercy?" she spat, her voice hoarse with pain and disdain.

Ignoring her retort, I cast a quick spell to enhance my strength. Rising, I reached out and lifted her effortlessly by the throat, my magically augmented grip unyielding. As I watched her struggle, her breath faltering, a wave of disgust washed over me. This wasn't me, not anymore. Reluctantly, I released her, setting her back on the ground.

"I ask for forgiveness," I whispered, more to myself than her, "but understand this, a woman who has lost her love is the most dangerous being in the world." My words carried a weight, a confession of my own loss and pain.

I reached into her mind, probing for information. She screamed, the pain clearly excruciating, but her mental defenses were formidable. Even with my sorgente powers, I couldn't breach the protected recesses where the conspiracy's secrets were hidden.

Therefore, I shifted my focus, delving deeper into her memories for something more personal. Names began to surface, hers and her family. A husband and a daughter. Good this was all I needed.

I leaned in close. "I have found them, Elara," I whispered, my words deliberate and cold. The look of terror that replaced the defiance in her eyes told me she understood the gravity of my words. "My agents will fetch Jarek and Mireya to these very dungeons. Your eyes shall bear witness to their end, an end that will be etched into your very soul."

The words tasted bitter in my mouth, yet, I watched as the spy's composure crumbled, her eyes brimming with tears. "Please, no!" she begged, her voice breaking. "I'll tell you everything, just spare them!"

I stepped back, feeling a hollow victory.

As she divulged her secrets, Elara laid bare the intricate web of Arcum's deception. For over a year, they had orchestrated this charade, with Elara, a master of magical disguises, at its heart. She confessed to being the one who laced Lunete's food with Kijek's spell, a poison intertwined with her essence, allowing her to carry it safely. Kijek's role was as insidious as I had imagined, planting the Arcum spy with the explicit purpose of orchestrating a confession from him, planting the false evidence and that damn ‘blood gold’.

Arcum had infiltrated lands far and wide with trained frauds posing as truthsayers to influence politics outside their own lands. Even the Parasians were complicit, granting Grithra their consent to proceed with this plan. The real Aldana, it turned out, was safe at home, far from the dangers of our court. The rivalry displayed in public was a charade to keep me off balance.

But the most shocking revelation was yet to come.

In a moment of careless honesty, Elara let slip her knowledge of Cormac's fate. She knew about his transformation and the cruel ‘love spell’ I had cast upon his soldiers. As the words tumbled from her lips, her eyes widened with the realization of what she had just revealed. Panic flickered across her face, but it was too late to retract her confession.

As I processed her words, a seething anger began to simmer within me. Yet, I remained outwardly composed, my fury contained like a tempest within a bottle. I stood silently, fuming but restrained, waiting for Elara to finish.

Her shame was palpable as she admitted her role in his torment, having disguised herself as one of the soldiers on more than one occasion to spy on HER and to partake in the vile rapes to avoid raising suspicion, yet thankfully she had kept this dark secret to herself only, burdened by the guilt of her actions.

But now it was too late, a red haze clouded my vision, the old familiar fury boiling within me. Seizing Elara by the throat again with my magically enhanced strength, I drew her close, my voice a venomous whisper. "You, who dared play a part in Cormac's torment, shall now taste the same bitter fruit," I hissed. "Not just you, but your entire family. You will all suffer as he suffered, a fitting retribution for your unspeakable crimes."

My grip tightened as I leaned in, the fury in my eyes unmistakable. "Your husband, your child... they will all know my Cormac’s anguish and despair. It will be a slow, relentless agony, a mirror to the pain that he endured. This is the justice of Ravela, Queen of Wildevale."

As I stood poised to seal their fates, Lunete emerged from the shadows, her voice sharp and commanding. "Stop, Ravela! I bore witness to everything. Remember the Law of Personal Retribution. It forbids you from passing judgment in personal vendettas. Violate this, and you forfeit your crown."

Her words pierced through my fury, and I hesitated, my grip loosening slightly. "I don't care about the crown," I turned my head and snarled at her, my anger barely contained.

Yet Lunete's gaze was unyielding. "The kingdom needs you…for now. You cannot let personal rage dictate your actions. Be who you are meant to be, not what your anger makes you."

With a reluctant sigh, I released Elara, stepping back to let Lunete take control. Watching quietly as she addressed the trembling spy. "Your sentence is a lifetime in prison, Elara. A gais will be cast upon you, one that will hide the names of your loved ones from your memory. Their faces will haunt you, a constant reminder of your deeds, but their names will escape you. Whenever you think of them, it will be your actions against Cormac that come to mind. As for mercy, it lies in Kemeia's hands, should she ever choose to visit you."

Upon hearing her sentence, Elara's facade of defiance crumbled. "Please, not their names," she pleaded, desperation lacing her voice. "I beg you, leave me their names."

Lunete's response was unyielding, her voice echoing in the dank dungeon. "This punishment is meted not just for your role in the conspiracy but specifically for what you did to Cormac. Your actions as a woman, against one who was forced into that role, must reflect the gravity of that betrayal."

As she finished, I noticed the truthsayer being brought in, his face etched with fear, Lunete's voice was cold, "You'll be sentenced soon. For now, enjoy the solitude."

Lunete's gaze, now filling with tears, pierced through me. "Your actions against Cormac, and what you've done to Sechnall, have torn my faith in you apart," she declared, her voice a mix of sorrow and resolve. "The pain you've inflicted, the manipulation through your spells... they have consequences.

Sechnall's suffering, his headaches, they're not random ailments – they are most likely the results of the mind spell you imposed on him to protect his own conscience from what you forced him to commit.” I nodded shamefully, acknowledging the truth in what she had peiced together.

"You've crossed lines that can't be uncrossed. You are my sister, yes, but that relationship has been strained beyond measure. From now on, to me, you are the Queen, and nothing more… unless genuine forgiveness is sought and granted by all those you have wronged."

Her words cut deep, like a frost-edged blade piercing my heart. Her command was clear, "You must lift the memory blocks from every soldier, ‘Queen’ Ravela, but this must be done with utmost care and the outcome shall be discreet, to protect the reputation of this nation.

The trauma buried in their minds could devastate them if not handled delicately. They will need extensive healing for their souls. This task is not just your penance, but also a path to possible redemption, if such a thing is within reach for you."

She paused, her eyes reflecting an understanding of the complexities involved in such a task. "Kemeia's consent and involvement are crucial in this process. Without her agreement and active participation, the journey may not be complete. And Marta... her wisdom and insight will be invaluable. I am confident she is already aware of Kemeia's plight and can provide the guidance we need."

Her words underscored the weight of the task ahead – not a mere lifting of spells, but a careful unravelling of deeply entwined traumas, requiring the combined efforts of those most skilled in the arts of healing and understanding.

Her final words to me resonated in the echoing halls of the dungeon. "It's time to reflect, to rest. You have a long journey of atonement ahead, and it begins now."

As I turned away from her, a tumult of emotions churned within me. I felt shattered, a fragment of the person I once was. Yet, amidst the ruins of my soul, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at Lunete's newfound strength and resolve.

Retreating to the solitude of my quarters, each step was laden with the weight of my sins, the ghosts of my past actions haunting me. 'Lunete has seen through the veil of my misdeeds,' I thought, 'and now she carries the burden of truth.'

Her words replayed in my mind, a relentless echo reminding me of the irreversible changes I had wrought. 'She possesses the clarity and vision that I lack,' I admitted silently to myself, 'Lunete is the future of Wildevale.'

She was the beacon of hope and change that our kingdom desperately needed. 'In her, our people will find the guidance and compassion that I failed to provide,' I reflected with a mix of regret and admiration. And I, in contrast, was its troubled past, a reminder of the cost of power unchecked by conscience.

'My reign as Queen is over, not just in title but in spirit. My time has passed.' In my heart, I knew Lunete's ascension to the throne was not just inevitable but necessary for the healing of our land. 'She is no longer the child I had presumed her to be and she will be the one to mend what I have broken,' I thought, 'She will lead Wildevale to a brighter, more just future.'

The night air was still as I gazed out of my window, the moon casting long shadows over the palace grounds. My pursuit of vengeance had now started the delivery of justice instead. In that moment, I understood that my journey forward was not as a ruler, but as a penitent, seeking redemption for the wounds I had inflicted upon those I loved or otherwise. This clarity of purpose was entirely Kemeia’s gift to me, my debt to service.

A debt? A soul debt? , a memory of Cormac's words echoed in my mind, a recollection from his journey to the Anatol isles. He had spoken of a Kuumas belief, a cultural axiom that despised indebtedness, viewing it as a 'soul debt.' A situation fraught with complexity and obligation,' I recalled him saying. 'And now, I find myself in such a debt to Kemeia, a soul debt that binds me more profoundly than any physical chain.'

This journey wasnt just about penance. It was about giving my all to the one I've wronged, the one I've loved and hurt the most. My heart throbbed with a mix of pain and longing for my Kemeia. 'To hold her, to feel the warmth of her lips, to show her the depth of my remorse and love... Oh, how I crave her touch.'

‘Could this be the path to salvation? A life by Kemeia’s side, as whatever she desires?.’ Fueled by this thought, I rushed from my quarters, my heart leading the way.

'I must see her, feel her, be with her. The path to healing, to absolving my soul debt, begins with her, with us.' My steps quickened as I headed for the stables, desperate to find a horse to bring me to Kemeia, to start the necessary journey of mending the fractured pieces of our lives.

Yet even then, an afterthought snuck in. 'Winning my love aside, I still need to beat that Myrrine Dungdaisy. Can't let her think she's gotten the better of me, now can I?'

KEMEIA


Selene's Hall - Apprentices' Dorm
Night

I sat in the quiet of my dorm room at Selene's Hall, my heart aching with a mix of confusion and pain. The unexpected visit from a palace soldier, inquiring about my safety, only added to my irritation. 'Why can't they leave me in peace?' I wondered, struggling to contain the turmoil of emotions swirling within me.

Suddenly, a knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. I hesitated, unsure of who it could be at this late hour. The door creaked open, revealing Myrrine, looking concerned.

"I rushed here when I heard you fled the palace," she said.

Surprised, I couldn't help but question how she knew about what had happened. Myrrine's casual response made it clear. "I have my ways of keeping informed about palace affairs," she said with a wry smile.

I smacked my forehead, realizing the obvious. Myrrine hailed from a lineage of assassins, deeply embedded in spy networks. 'Of course, she would know,' I thought, almost amused by my own naivety.

Anticipating her next question, I tried to keep things light with Myrrine, so I signed to her about memories of an old heartbreak. I carefully avoided mentioning the real events that were on my mind. My signs were brief, trying not to give away too much.

Myrrine watched me sign, her eyes following my hands. But suddenly, before I could finish, she moved in and kissed me. It caught me off guard, and I froze for a second. It was gentle and unexpected and despite my surprise, I found myself feeling a bit better, comforted by her warmth and closeness.

Breaking the kiss, Myrrine grinned at me and said,"Save the sob story. I suspect that the tyrant hag is involved and has you twisted up. Trust me, I'll have you untangled and writhing for very different reasons.” mmm…this was not the time…

But then she kissed me again, hard and deep and I let her. Her hand gripped the back of my neck, yanking me closer. Her tongue slid past my lips, demanding and drowning me in her heat, teasing out silent moans I couldn't control. We only stopped kissing to snatch desperate breaths before diving back in, lost in a raw, wild urgency.

Locking eyes with mine, Myrrine growled, “Kemi, you are mine now.” Her lips crashed onto mine once more, fierce, claiming. Her breath scorched my skin, marking me with every hot exhale. My neck, my shoulder, she was laying claim on me and each touch told me where I stood with her. In that instant, with her hand in my hair—firm, controlling—I was hers, completely. I was the pet to her mistress, utterly alive and consumed by a willing surrender to her command.

As we struggled for breath, Myrrine's gaze pierced me anew. "Here's an assassin's word," she rasped, "to love, to claim, to shield." She spun me around, pulling me onto her lap in front of the small mirror in my quarters. Her lips grazed my neck, setting off a trail of fire as she murmured, "Look at yourself," even as her hand coaxed my robe to fall open, unveiling my full breast to the cool air. Her fingers traced the outline of my nipple, taut with arousal. My eyes fluttered, vision blurring as breaths came in raw, heaving bursts. "So exquisite, so alluring," her whisper tickled my ear, insisting my gaze stay fixed on our intertwined images and my unconditional surrender. "Completely, mine."

In that moment... Cormac just... disappeared. Heat surged, almost too much, and a wave of... wetness, undeniable, submission... swept over me. Thoughts scattered, only feeling... Myrrine's touch, the heat, my own surrender.

Then it hit me... the bells, those tiny bells around my waist, I had forgotten to remove them. They had been singing softly all along, a delicate chime with each shift and twist. Myrrine's old tease echoed in my head, "I wonder what secrets those bells might tell." Now, they rang clear—ringing for her.

As the thought flickered in my mind, the bells at my waist tingling faintly, Myrrine spoke the words, as if plucking the very notion from my tangled thoughts. "Seems these bells jingle just for me tonight," she murmured with a knowing smirk.

She whirled me around in her lap until my breast was in front of her lips, the bells chiming a secret tune at the sudden movement. One hand holding both of mine behind my back, her lips latched onto my nipple, her tongue swirling leisurely while she teased the other with a tug and flick that sent shockwaves through me. A carnal shock, one I had never known, intense and wholly new reminded me of who I was now.

Her other arm snaked firmly around my waist, my entire being enslaved by her touch willingly. I shivered, every sense heightened, my back curving in a silent plea. In this moment, I was hopelessly and utterly hers, helpless, a plaything to do with as she pleased.

Then that accursed noise shattered our private world; that damn knocking. Myrrine grumbled a biting "Bloody timing, bugger off!"

But it kept up, persistent, desperate. Then it stopped. The door's bottom edge glowed like sunrise, the sign of a fire spell about to bust it wide open.

Panic gripped me, I signed to Myrrine with wide eyes and quick hands, "Say something!"

"Calm yourself!" she spat out, interrupting the blinding glow. In a madness of haste, we grabbed our robes, fumbling to cover bodies still thrumming with arousal.

We scrambled, robes snagging on still-eager limbs. Mine barely tied, Myrrine’s half-open. Hair tousled, chests heaving, I looked down, and felt the ache. My nipples pressed hard against the fabric, wanting more, even as we tried to look somewhat presentable.

I sucked in a deep breath, dishevelled and buzzing with frustrated desire, I crept towards the door. Skin still flush with wanton need, Slowly, hand shaky, I cracked open the door.

There stood Ravela, her face a mask that swiftly crumbled into desolation as she took in our unkempt hair, flushed skin, and the bed's state.

Myrrine, upon glimpsing Ravela's stricken look, growled softly, "Ah, the brooding storm queen graces us. Time for me to find clearer skies," The undercurrent of tension was clear in her gruff voice as she hastily made for the door.

Ravela, her eyes downcast in gratitude, turned to me once we were alone. "May I?" she asked, her voice a brittle shell of its former command. With a reluctant nod, I granted her entry to the space I called home.

She perched uneasily on my bed, her eyes searching mine before she uttered the question that seemed to lodge in her throat. "Kemeia or Cormac – who are you now?" My hands hesitated before they shaped my reply in the air: 'Kemeia is all that remains.'

Her hand reached out, and I let it come to rest on me without retreating. She bowed her head into my lap, her words tumbling out in a horrifying flood, confessions of the brutal spell she had cast upon ME, how she had witnessed my agonies unfurl. Through broken sobs, she lamented the soul she had destroyed, her unfit rule as a queen, and her irrevocable transformation at the hands of the person she had tormented….me.

"I saw what they did to you, those days in the barracks... on the day..." Her voice broke, choked by the memories that haunted us both. "The day they left you for dead, and threw you in the river like refuse." Her confession spilled forth, raw and unsettling in its honesty.

Ravela's grip on my hands tightened, a silent plea for... for what? Forgiveness? Understanding? Her sorrow was palpable. "I did not only watch; I relished it, convinced of your guilt, taking pleasure in your torment," she admitted in a hushed tone. "It’s a realization that suffocates me more than those waters ever did to you."

"Your form, your spirit... those men, your men!, Oh Selene help me, the silence you've endured, I imposed that on you. I shaped the dagger and drove it into our hearts myself." I heard her words and something reached into me and gripped what little of Cormac remained.

"I'm here to beg for…but no, not for forgiveness, I have no right. I'm here to beg for a chance to make amends, my Kemeia."

My touch was instinctual, fingers threading through her hair as she laid bare her guilt and the pledge she made: to strive toward redemption, to atone for her sins by serving the one whose life she'd shattered.

As she gathered herself, Ravela's eyes finally met mine with a clarity that seemed newly found. "Seeing you with Myrrine," she said with bitter finality, " I'm resigned to my destiny, to be of service to the one I love without hope of return."

Before I could dispute what she said, before I could sign even a single word, she knelt at my feet, her face the very image of anguish. In a hushed whisper laden with the weight of ultimate surrender, she uttered the sacred words no one should state to a Sorgente, "I give you my life."

An avalanche of power burst forth from within me outside my control, a torrent I could not dam. Energy flared from my fingertips, an unintended bolt striking Ravela as she fell, motionless, to the ground. That once voice echoed in my mind, " I told you that all the kings and queens will fall to their knees before you, my precious one. Look, the first submits to your command."

RAVELA


Selene's Hall - Apprentices' Dorm
Night

Consciousness returned as I lay on the unforgiving ground, the chill of the floor biting at me through my clothes. The softness beneath my head was a stark contradiction to the hard dirt though and, with a jolt, I recognized it was Kemeia's lap supporting me.

I gazed up into her face, fraught with concern, her hands carving desperate messages in the air with a language that was still alien to me. Her signs, swift and urgent, flickered away from my comprehension like evening's first shadows stealing over the land.

Amid the foggy daze clouding my thoughts, I a crystal-clear voice, pure and mesmerizing. "Understand!" it it sang out, a command that threaded through me with the carrying the haunting beauty of a forbidden song. Suddenly, Kemeia's signs snapped into focus, the alarm in her silent language now as readable as any shout of concern, **Are you alright? What have you done?**

Straining against the whirl of thoughts that churned within me, I righted myself, muscles protesting. 'Selene's judgment,' a conscious choice accepted, but how had i changed? What mark had the goddess, and… Kemeia stamped upon me?

With unsteady legs and a mind still reeling, I reached toward Kemeia. Her arm a lifeline. "Help me up," I rasped, "I need to see... myself in the mirror."

As her firm grasp guided me to stand, I could not shake off the peculiar sensation constricting my chest—a tightness that circled my heart like a band of anxiety. I locked eyes with my reflection in the small mirror in her room, the likeness staring back at me unchanged, yet the feeling of inward constraint persisted.

Kemeia, catching the question in my eyes, offered a silent nudge of encouragement. I let out a stiff breath, and with a voice more composed than I felt, addressed my reflected image, "Perhaps the goddess's judgment is not for the eyes but for the heart alone?"

I turned to Kemeia, "my heart feels caged now, What tricks has Selene played within me? What has she woven into the fabric of my spirit that tightens its hold with each beat of my heart?"

My thoughts were whirling when Kemeia's hands carved out her scorn in the space between us, **You fool. You are bound to me now. To my commands forever**. They weren't just signs—they were the unvarnished truth. I had laid my freedom at her feet like a dog dropping a kill it hoped would please its master.

"Fool," I spat at myself, turning Kemeia's accusation over, tasting its bitter truth. My rant broke from me like a flood, wild and torrential. I shrieked my admission of guilt, clawing at the invisible shackles I had wrapped 'round my soul. "For what I've done, for the nightmares I carved into your flesh, this... this is my punishment! I deserve every shard of hate you shoot through my heart!"

Before reason could take hold, before the echo of my own rant could die away, Kemeia struck me. It was a slap so resounding that the world seemed to pause in shock with me. Pain flared, bright and undeniably real, steering me back to the present.

Her next words were signed with a clarity that left no room for misinterpretation, **You dolt. I loathed your very shadow. I wished to never lay eyes on you, but damn it, the love...** Her hands hesitated, trembling with the heavy burden of an emotion that refused to die, **...the love won't go. Hate never did stand in contrast to love; only indifference has that power. Love will always thaw the frost of hate when the heart yearns to forgive. That's the creed of the goddess. As the old saying goes, 'Wherever you are, whatever you do, be in love.' I've loved you through it all, and I will love you still.**

Her words pierced deeper than any weapon she might have wielded. Choking back the knot in my throat, I edged closer, my soul aching for the balm of her touch, but she warded me off with a raised palm. The wounds weren't ready for the bandage I longed to be.

And as if the gods themselves laughed at my plight, Myrrine burst into the chamber. Seeing what she saw, the swiftness with which she shielded Kemeia told me more clearly than even Kemeia’s own signs that she was untouchable—for her protection ran deeper than skin, deeper than vows; it was rooted in the same feelings I felt for her.

With a blade in hand and with a steadiness that belied the storm of her emotions, Myrrine dared me with her gaze. "Kemeia is mine to sheild. Step forward without her wishing it, and you're a dead woman walking."

My eyes narrowed as they met Myrrine's, a smirk twisting the corner of my mouth as I straightened to my full height. "My, aren't we the gallant guardian, Myrrine?" I jested.

"As if I, bound by my own surrender, could bring harm to Kemeia." I turned to Kemeia then, my smirk growing as I added, "You see, I've passed Selene's judgement. I've laid bare my soul and carved out my very essence for her scrutiny. I stand here without malice, my intentions as transparent as the tears Selene shed by the banks of the River of Truth."

Myrrine eyed me cautiously, then looked towards Kemeia who nodded in affirmation. She then looked me in the eyes, her expression softening just slightly, "Consent, though. You cannot lay a finger upon her without it."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Oh, how delightfully tiresome. Must we now play at courtship rituals and chaste permissions? Or perhaps you'd like written consent notarized by Selene herself?"

The air between Myrrine and me crackled with the kind of tension that's ripe for devolving into the pettiest of battles. The jabs and insults would now come naturally as if they were second nature.

"Ravela, I'd bet my best dagger that you danced on Selene's last nerve so fiercely that even she is rethinking this whole 'judgement' endeavor," she quipped with a smirk.

"And you, Myrrine," I retorted, "you are always so puff-chested and ready for battle. When was the last time you healed anything besides your fragile pride without my dear Kemi’s help?"

"You insolent foggy harridan," Myrrine scowled. "Never mind healing, I'm surprised you can see past the haze of your own vanity to spot Kemeia's affection."

"Oh, charming!" I sniped back. "This coming from the queen of quacksalvers, a fraud so bent on ‘fixing hearts’ you'd shatter your own out of sheer contrariness."

"Harsh, dragonhag," Myrrine spat. "You'd think someone who fancies themselves a phoenix risen from caches of ire would possess a touch more grace. Hope springs eternal, I suppose."

And our exchange would've likely continued, each volley surpassing the last in creative vitriol, if not for Kemeia's intervention. With a sigh that somehow echoed through the room despite the absence of sound, she stepped between us, arms outstretched as if to hold us both at bay from each other and possibly from our own worst instincts.

Myrrine and I both fell silent for a moment, our glares still locked, but now with Kemeia standing between our duelling presences. She gazed at each of us, resigned amusement flickering across her features, before beckoning us closer. Unable to resist the pull of her silent command, we hurried to her side, nearly knocking into one another in our eagerness, and then we smothered her in a joint embrace that could best be described as lovingly suffocating.

Kemeia's laughter, soundless to most but as clear as a bell in our hearts, somehow made the mayhem of the moment feel less like a battle for dominance and more like a comedy of errors. She kissed us both, her lips meeting each of our cheeks in turn. It was a sensation of a love so wonderfully whole it could make the goddess weep with envy.

But suddenly, I became acutely aware of the tension in my chest as if a knot was being pulled tighter around it, suffocating me. I pulled away abruptly, distancing myself as I fought the urge to gasp. There was only one thing that could bring such constriction.

Turning my back to them, I found myself instinctively reaching towards the confining pressure. My fingers found the laces of my dress, frantically pulling at them in a bid for relief. My mind raced with wild thoughts, 'This cannot simply be fear or nervousness... it's not sorrow, nor regret, but...'

I noticed the only apparent alteration to my form, my breasts. They were now voluptuous, standing out with a magnetic allure that was impossible not to acknowledge. Ample and ripe, rising and falling with my every breath, the pink of my nipples prominent and succulent. The hue a delicate rose akin to the first blush of dawn.

They were larger now, each one puckered to a proud and tender point, pulsing with their own life, with an assertion that they were crafted for ecstasy. They were longing to be enveloped, to receive the tender attention of a lover's mouth, to be suckled with reverence and hunger.

I remembered Cormac’s whispers the night he confessed them: the mesmerising breasts of the Elven courtesans. In our bed, under the blanket of night's shadow, he had spoken hesitantly, only after much persuasion from me during a conversation where I had asked him to describe the ideal female form which he had repeatedly insisted that I possessed.

I remembered his gaze growing distant, enraptured by the memory of their enchanting forms. I knew these were the very breasts he had dreamily described; I possessed each trait he had envisioned, the full, tantalizing curves that he had hesitantly revealed were his fantasy.

‘Cormac you liar!’ I chuckled to myself. ‘I was only near perfect in your eyes…until now’. The literal embodiment of Kemeia’s deepest desire, the perfect woman, mostly unchanged but now adorned with the two ethereal delights that were entirely Kemeia's to possess.

Reveling in the vision of carnal satisfaction, I could only conclude that Myrrine, for all her bravado, stood no chance.

There, even in these moments of supposed enlightenment, here I was, vying for victory, competing, even with Myrrine. If this was the toll demanded by fate, then so be it, and I was certain Kemeia would savor these newfound gifts as greatly as I would cherish her indulgence.

Oh, Selene! It would seem the transformation also includes a Libidinous mind. And Kemeia, ever the man in certain appetites. Some things, it appears, remain steadfast.

The moment to unveil the truth had arrived, a show and tell of the latest twist. I made a deliberate half-circle, the gown cascading off like a fallen leaf, I stood before them in unveiled glory. I met Kemeia's gaze with a playful challenge, "Look upon what you've won, a body meant for your love's deepest desires.”

The rush of blood to my cheeks did not escape my notice, but neither did Kemeia's reaction and of course, Myrrine. I couldn't resist the biting jest aimed at her more ‘moderate endowments’, "In the garden of desire, the little buds have a way to go before they can contend with the magnificence of ripe femininity."

There was no reaction from Myrrine; she simply stood resolute, turning ever so slightly towards Kemeia, with a sense of finality, and declared with a clear voice, "I give you my life."

Neither Kemeia nor I could react before the room suddenly lit from sparks flying off Kemeia’s fingers, a wild and uncontrolled burst of her Sorgente energy.

And then the joyous laughter, oh how it soared within my mind. The same divine voice that had commanded me to ‘understand’ just moments ago.

This is part 4 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

"When the night's silence is broken by the snoring of the guards, and the royal cat claims the throne, know that the age of solemnity has ended. The realm shall flourish under the banner of shared laughter and the occasional prank."
- The Chronicles of the Mirthful Dawn, Book of Beginnings, Laughter 1, verse 10

KEMEIA

4th day of Rainmoot
Late morning
Selene’s Temple at Selene’s hall - Marossa

There we were, Myrrine and I, cloaked in the garb of commoners, tucked away in the lively throng of marketgoers outside Selene's Hall. As I watched the royalty parade before the crowd, I felt an uncharacteristic yearning for the shadows and, for a moment of peace from the gazes that lingered a bit too long.

The murmurs slipped through the busy chatter. "Is she one of the moon temple guards?" Some would whisper, eyeing Myrrine's stature and the splendour that Selene had graced her with. It was evident in her newfound height, hourglass figure and gleaming hair.

Their gazes then shifted to me, surveying a figure often deemed ‘ripe’. Children would halt their games, gazing at me with wide eyes and wonder. "Is she a real-life doll, mummy?" they'd ask, stirring a deep blush on my cheeks with their words.

Clearly, our presence stirred more than just the morning air; it stirred desires. But, it starkly contrasted how people saw us when we wandered the streets draped in our healers' robes. There they saw Selene's grace, and their eyes were full of hope. Here and now, their feelings were very different as they admired the curves that turned heads wherever we went.

I couldn't help but sign to Myrrine, *"It's peculiar, isn't it? In the temple's service, we're healers first and foremost. But step out in civilian wear, and suddenly, we're the highlight of rumours and sighs."* I jested with a light-hearted eye roll.
There it was: her voice filled me with warmth. "Well, my love, even in the heavens, we appreciate a good show. And while you hold the power to make kings and queens bow, it's equally intriguing to note how others... 'erect their standards' in your mere presence, is it not?" My cheeks burned with a sudden heat. My goddess had a knack for the odd bawdy comment. But that is precisely what made her a cherished friend, not a distant deity.

Prayer had become unnecessary in our relationship. She had never insisted on such formalities. And she only endured them because we mortals had stretched the divide between divine and human through our own stupidity.

Consequently, I could not share this with the world yet. But, by now, she and I were having daily chats. We were not a goddess and her devotee but two friends sharing fun secrets. After all, celestial or not, a bit of heavenly gossip made for the liveliest of spiritual soirees.

"So, how does it feel to be the market's living treasure?" Myrrine's tease broke me out of my reverie, her words laced with mischief while securing an arm around me with playful intent. Her sparkling eyes coaxed an unvoiced laugh out of me, revealing my flustered amusement.

I pretended to sigh deeply. I signed in mock frustration. *"If one more person asks me if I was crafted from clay, I may just surrender and let them pour water on me to test it out."* She laughed richly, unrestrained. Reminding me of the joy found in simple jest as I returned my focus towards the ceremony at hand.

The air in the courtyard was filled with the energy of new beginnings. Marta Coona, now our high priestess, anointed Lunete with the title of 'Queen Luminara.' Ravela, standing to her right, couldn't help but let tears streak down her smiling face as she watched. There, to the left of Lunete, was Commander Sechnall, silent and solid as stone. His gaze was unwavering, concealing the depth of their relationship.

Here I stood among the gathering, my heart full, knowing what we had all been through to get here. Ravela had come clean about the pains and horrors she had caused. It was messy and nearly shook the very foundation and sanity of our brotherhood. Sechnall had nearly fallen to righteous fury. His blade had been only a whisker from Ravela's throat. But we needed that outpouring. It was part of our path to heal.

And time, with its tender brush, did indeed heal many of our wounds. They were once again my brethren, my dearest friends. We stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing again. It wasn't perfect. There were days the shadows crept back. But, we were learning to laugh at them, to find light moments to string into a new story.

I had even promised the fellas that I'd meet them later for some long-due drinks. Their company was always good for the soul, filled with laughs and friendly cheer.

As for Ravela's vow to abdicate the throne, it was no longer a matter of personal choice. Her stepping down was critical politically too. Because, Wildevale was now under the watch of not two, but a trinity of Sorgente.

Yes, indeed, Selene's judgement had touched Myrrine as well. She now possessed her own powerful Sorgente, making her, in some ways, far more dangerous than Ravela had ever been. a figure of both reverence and a dash of wariness.

Arcum and Parasia were still reeling, the echoes of our skirmishes ringing in everyone's ears. We’d swept the Arcum spies right off our doorstep, sharing the tales of our sweep with friends up in Glamorgan.

We put our foot down, closing our ports and holding back our harvest from Parasia's tables. It wasn't long before they came to us, ready to talk turkey.

But with Amangons casting his long shadow over us, we couldn’t afford to hold grudges long. It was clear as day – we needed each other. To craft an alliance that held the scales of power against him.

Thus, the mantle of rule shifted smoothly with the kind and gentle Queen Luminara at the helm. Her reign promised to be one where nature and herbalism would thrive.

Meanwhile, Ravela had taken on her priestly duties. She publicly declared her new stability and dedication to her sacred calling. With her new role and with Myrrine and I serving as humble healers, we sent out a nice, quiet message. Wildevale preferred the embrace of peace to the fists of war.

And just as quietly, without making too much fuss, the other kingdoms got our message.

They would keep an eye out for us, like good neighbours, and we would offer help with our healing hands. A token of goodwill and an offering of sanctuary for all who sought our care.

There was something thrilling about the idea of spreading my healing far beyond the whispering trees of Wildevale.

How I, as Cormac, relished such ventures. It was a calling I felt deep within, and I couldn't wait to answer it along with my two lovely ‘servants’.

Yet the irony of my 'doting attendants' was not lost upon me, their fates interwoven with my whims by the decree of Selene. But heavens know, more often than not, I found myself dutifully dancing to their tunes instead.

Without warning, a quick swat landed upon my backside, jolting me to the present. "Chop-chop, my sultry little minx," Myrrine's intoxicating voice stirred a flutter in my core.

"Madam Chinedu waits for no one. The rhythm beckons for my alluring little Kuumas."

She winked at me, the gleam in her eye promising mischief. "And don't forget, it’s your well-deserved day of rest. Leave the tending to us. You have a special dance lesson. And, a planned booze-fest with your rowdy bunch. I think we'll see you only when you stagger back, flushed and giddy. That's just how I want you when I tell you to slip into that exquisite little number.”

A sudden heat spread across my cheeks at her mention of the 'exquisite little number.’ I tried to sign a flustered question. But, she met me with a dangerously delightful smirk. Then, she gave me a firmer, more possessive spank that sent a jolt right through me. "Now, depart, little kitten. Save your energy for tonight’s festivities as you will sing with the heat of your dance."

RAVELA

Late morning
Selene’s Temple at Selene’s hall - Marossa

Today was resplendent, the perfect backdrop for Lunete's ascension to Queen Luminara. Her title was apt, for she was to be a guiding light for our people. As her sister, The sight of her claiming the crown brought forth unending joy, and I let the tears of pride cascade freely. No shame in showing vulnerability anymore. I was now a priestess of the order, and I had shed the trappings of Royalty with my decision to seek the goddess.

I was known as a priestess, yet that was merely the start of my sacred roles. Secretly, I had been ordained the 'Spellblade' priestess of the goddess. It was a sacred duty assigned to those deemed worthy to mend their past and dispense divine retribution. We were a grim necessity in this world, wielders of swift justice. Like two sides of the same coin, just as Kemeia embodied Selene's welcoming arms, we were the sharp edge of her divine law.

The road to redemption stretches long ahead, but when dear Marta... I mean, High Priestess Marta Coona entrusted me with this sacred duty, I embarked upon this newfound purpose with no hesitation.

As Lunete was crowned, I discreetly scanned the crowd to see my dear Kemi and that dimwit assassin-healer. And what do I see? A spank! The audacity! "Steady now, take a deep breath, priestess. It's part of the spiritual journey to watch as some unwashed buffoon abuses your cherished one's dignity," I murmured under my breath. That Myrrine, quite the gutter-snipe, isn’t she? She might not be entirely unworthy, but Oh, Goddess, if only I were in her hideous boots!

I continued to smile and weep away as the ceremony wound down, paying very little attention to it once she was crowned and Kemi had left for her lessons. My mind was on what would be happening later in the day. Myrrine's insistence on puppeteering Kemi's moves for the day irritated me. I may be bound to serve Kemi, but I still had a trick or two up my sleeve to show them who was the real queen here.

As the ceremony came to a close, we walked back into the private chamber behind us when I heard a quick rustle and found Lunete with her hands around my neck. In a throwback to her childhood antics, she quickly hopped onto my back for a piggyback ride. Of course, I accommodated, resting my hands on her legs just as I've done countless times before.

"By royal decree, you'll haul me around, Priestess, until you agree to stage Kemi's long-overdue Saltatus," she playfully commanded. I groaned; Kemi's dance was my exclusive spectacle, yet here I was, sharing it with the healing harpy Myrrine and her stabby sticks.

"In your dreams, will anyone else claim it! It's mine," I answered with mock severity. Our little banter continued for a good five minutes until she finally let me put her down." Remember, sister, this is a battle I intend to win one day. Best you surrender before it becomes a Queen's order," she declared with a wry smile as she leaned against a smiling Sechnall.

With the memory spells now removed by me, his mind was free of at least one great burden, yet despite all the efforts by myself and, most importantly, Kemi, I knew that he still carried my crimes against her AND him to heart.

I could never forget the day of my confession. He was on me with his sword, a hair’s length away from slitting my throat, and I had let him. I had even wished it at that moment, but there was Kemi, sinking to her knees—her silent, impassioned plea somehow filled the room with the echo of an angel's cry, halting the sword's descent.

Days passed, and with Kemi’s touch and Marta’s guidance, we found a way forward. The memories stayed, but the sharp edges of guilt softened.

Yet, there was a price, a secret I carried – a promise to Sechnall to relive the memories of all the men. To bear witness to the nightmares I created for Kemi and them again and again. Alone, I would cry through the memories in my chamber, facing the pain I inflicted on the one I loved every day, hour upon hour.

But then, the tears would dry, and I'd emerge as though from quiet contemplation. It wasn’t a pretence, though. It was my repentance, a cry for reprieve not from the heavens but from the depths of my own soul.

“My lovely Queen Luminara,” I declared, ensuring that my voice carried none of the grief that flooded me at the thought of the penance due today “It is time for this priestess to leave. Her daily prayers await. ” She smiled back and said, “go ! go! I understand that you have many a plan.”

As I turned to depart, Sechnall's steps approached. I slowed to match his pace, a smile audible in his voice as he spoke, “I…all my men, release you from your pledge.”

Before I could fully grasp his forgiveness, he continued with a light heart, "It has taken us some time, but we do have our old captain back with us, only in a far more delightful form."

“Rest assured, ‘blessed’ Queen,” he said cheerily. "Your fair captive will be safely returned, perhaps addled enough to succumb to your evil charms." he joked as he gently rested his hand on my shoulder with the warmth reserved for a friend. I simply nodded with teary eyes and a heart filled with gratitude before I hastily fled to the castle to attend to my more pressing matters now that I was relieved of my burden.

Myrrine

Early Noon
Palace - Chambers of Justice and Renewal

The witch finally did something right. Took her until the end of her reign to set those dungeons straight, locking up only the real monsters. For most, though, the Chambers of Justice and Renewal would offer a fresh start, their purpose being rehabilitation over punishment. all thanks to her.

And guess what? The very spot in the courtyard that saw the tyrant fall apart – the place where Ravela faced the truth about Kemeia and Cormac – that’s where redemption happens now.

I could tell you every dirty secret, every cruelty she imposed on my Kemi. If I were a tad crueller, I would've watched her meet her maker under Sechnall's blade, encouraged it even. Even now, sometimes, I’d still like to give her a good shanking, just for the thrill of it — let Kemeia get her healing on. Rinse and repeat.

But, despite how much she grinds my gears, credit where credit is due. Wildevale's ahead of the curve now, a haven of kindness and a safe place for those dealt a bad hand. That legacy, as much as it makes me gag to say it, is Ravela’s handiwork. Most won’t sing her song, and it will be Lunete who will get the glory — which she should — it would always be Ravela who planted the seeds and left them to the new queen to tend.

Strolling past the lively open space, I couldn't help but take in the sight with a swell of satisfaction. The women gathered here, detainees just like their male counterparts in the centre nearby.

Once confined by their crimes, they were now learning - bending over scrolls and harps, brushes and easels, throwing punches, and threading needles. “All the makings of a proper revolution,” I mused. It was heartening, watching them scribe new chapters of their lives, teaching each other, teaching us how right paths can be forged from wrong turns.

I wandered further in and, lo and behold, found Elara holding court over a clutch of ladies with ledger books in hand. That woman had a mind like a steel trap, must have been all that time spent skulking around as Arcum's finest sneak. nd now here she was, our very own library at her disposal, she was dishing out lessons like she was born to do it.

Her precious little girl, the guest of honour for the day, plopped down next to her, happily nibbling on a bowl of fruits. It was one of those moments that tugged at your heartstrings, you know? When we unearthed the truth—that her heart bled more for her ill child than for Arcum—we had to act. We'd gone out of our way to snatch both Mireya and Jarek out of Arcum. Kingdoms rise and fall, but a mother's love, that’s forever, isn't it?

As I watched her in her domain, I couldn’t help but think to myself. ‘Look how the tides had turned, Elara. Arcum had you on a string, the promise of safe passage and healing for your little one from the north priestesses' touch. But there it shattered, didn't it?’

Lo and behold, there stood my Kemi. The moment my dear heart laid her hands on the child, the moment life seeped back into her under her care, Elara broke. Pieces of her scattered on the ground as she begged Kemi, desperate for her forgiveness. The scene of her penance, drowning in her own shame, begging Kemi over and over to undo her part in her agony. It haunted me to this day.

She had even somehow snagged one of Amangons' ghastly slave collars while cooped up in the clink. I'm still scratching my head over that one. She's quite the crafty one. The nerve, though, she went and bared her throat to my Kemi, Like she was some object to be claimed. I scoffed, Kemi's little harem was already too crowded. though deep down, I had to tip my hat to Elara's guts.

Kemi, bless her soul, didn't entertain that twisted auction for a second. Helped Elara up with all the grace of the divine, peppered her cheeks with forgiveness, and gave her a chance to start over. Her sentence? Educate others for three spins of the seasons, her freedom sweetened with family visits. Do her time, and she gets to waltz free. Kemi's heart's as big as the moon, I swear.

I sidled up to Elara, who caught my approaching figure with a quick flicker of acknowledgement. "Hold tight, love," she mouthed, her hands wrapping up the final threads of her lesson. Nodding, I stepped aside, leaning against the cool stone wall to give her space.

The chatter of the departing group faded as I ambled over. She offered me a worn smile, as comforting as ever. "Myrrine, dear," she stated softly. "Before you make your escape, drop by Raima, would you? She’s been fading a little, and your healing might be just what she needs." A reminder of how deeply she cared for her flock.

She glanced at her daughter, who was finishing her fruit, and added, "And could you share a kind word with my little one? She gets so excited when Aunty Myrrine visits."

“Of course, and of course," I replied, breaking out the biggest smile I could spare, brushing a stray lock back from her face. "But first, did you manage to get that special thing we discussed?" I asked, barely containing my excitement. This woman never missed a mark when her heart was in it.

As I settled in beside her, I lifted her kiddo onto my lap, the little munchkin fitting just right as she bubbled over with laughter.

"You know, things that start with 'M' are the absolute best, right?" I whispered to the tiny bundle of joy, her eyes sparkling up at me, pure and full of happiness.

Mireya’s face lit up with an ear-to-ear smile. "Yeah! Like 'Myrrine' and 'Mireya' and 'Mommy'!" The enthusiasm in her voice was downright infectious.

"Spot on, my little angel," I said, laughter bubbling out of me. "Only the most fantastic things in the world."

"And what have I taught you about things beginning with 'R'?" I asked, watching as she wrinkled her nose and replied just as I had coached her, "Ew... the worst." I couldn't help but burst into laughter at that.

Elara threw me a look that could curdle milk, letting me know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't entirely thrilled with my brand of education. But then, her edges softened, and she let out a reluctant chuckle.

"Well, the Queen herself took on the task of brewing that potion. Did it with such flair and finesse that you’d think she was spinning gold. Swallowed my infusion like it was dessert," as she slid those glowing vials across to me.

"We're still brewing on that other batch, though. The variation that's meant to pack more punch. The Queen’s in her element, and we are just a whisker away from the finish line," Elara added. Her gaze lingering on those vials as if they were newborns.

Honestly, I was this close to 'accidentally' dropping one of these vials just to see Her Majesty lose her composure for once. Despite the old bat’s attempts to worm her way into my story with Kemi, I've got to admit this potion stunt was her brainchild. And she was okay with me being part of it, sharing this power with my Kemi. My cherished Kemi, sworn to me by the stars themselves,' danced through my thoughts as I rolled the vials between my fingers.

My predatory smirk must have caught Elara’s eyes as she groaned, "I'm almost tempted to spoil your little game. It's scandalous how you toy with our guardian angel. Lucky for you, her heart's big enough to room your antics," her voice thick with exasperation.

A sheepish grin took over as I acknowledged her jibe and swiftly steered our conversation back to the day's buzz. the ascent of our new queen, a day that would be etched in the memory of our people as the dawn of a new era.

This is part 5 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

Now that a year has come to pass, Kemeia taps into deeper mysteries with Chinedu's guidance, and she uncovers an unexpected aspect of her goddess. Elsewhere, our haggling rivals rally together to snuff out a sneaky plot brewing under their noses. As twilight settles, our favourite little healer unwinds in a high-spirited booze binge with her comrades in arms. While our fractious duo find themselves stumbling upon an unexpected layer to their own dynamic.

“Where once was discord, harmony takes its stand, as former foes join with clasped hand. In the serenity of the healer's silent command, two rivals will traverse shared love's uncharted land. Together shall they all rise, by creeping affection's mighty strand.”
- Ballads of the Healing Breeze, Ode to the Lover's Dreams, Song 9, lyric 3

KEMEIA
Late Noon
Madame Chinedu's Parlour

"Arch back, drop into the depths of your longing, your body a canvas for your lover's desires. Feel their breath against your neck, hips grinding in a rhythm of two hearts beating as one. Grind closer and melt into the rhythm. Every movement needs to be a silent plea for more, a surrender to their command." Chinedu's voice encouraged as we moved in unison, bodies close and basking in the energies of the dance.

Today’s practice was the Erosia Ardentique, the dance of surrender. Over the last few months, my two ever-present 'guardians' steered me toward this expressive form. Clearly, they were egged on by a fervent imp queen and a lovable High Priestess. ‘Woe becomes me,' I half-seriously chided myself as I instinctively swung my hip into the good madame Chinedu.

"Whew! My dear, you are a natural," she exclaimed, our dance never missing a beat. Her form pressed closer, causing me to arch back further as we swayed. "You dance as if touched by Elyssia herself, embodying the unceasing flame of love, both pure and forbidden. A compliment I have given no other," she confessed, her breath warm upon my ear as we broke apart.

I offered her a shy nod and dipped deep into a bow full of gratitude. It was then I heard her voice within. 'Elyssia bestows her blessings upon you, my dear. I eagerly look forward to the day you call out to her, many many times, abandoning your pleas to me.'

Oh! I thought and protested, 'My every breath is for you, my goddess.' But the cascade of her laughter swept over me, morphing into a lilting charm that drenched my senses. 'Be at ease, my cherished blossom, for I am the silence and the moan,' she confessed. The vibration of her words transforming into an intoxicating purr that coated my thoughts with desire.

‘I kept this carnal revelation hidden within the folds of our sacred dialogues. Yearning for it to moisten your spirit at the destined moment of your most improper fervour.' The warmth of her voice pressed close, wet whispers that teased the edges of my being. 'I am no stranger to the yearnings of all those I love, but you have merely tasted the dewdrop of my expanse,' her tone drew tight like a lover's grip. She growled low, awakening a slick primal heat within me, 'Elyssia awaits a devotion drenched in a desire that begs to be sated. Do your depths yearn for her summons?’

My thoughts stuttered, buried in the haze of her command. A delicious shiver coursed through me as I nearly became unaware and uncaring of anything else. "Tsk, tsk," Chinedu scolded with a twinkle in her eye, approaching me with a beautifully carved wooden box. "No drifting into steamy fantasies now. Not the time for such distractions, my dear." I blinked as I tried to startle myself back into reality. With flushed cheeks, I turned to face her.

"Open it," she commanded, so I lifted the lid. Inside lay a glistening silver perfume bottle. Its shimmering colour clearly showed that it held rare Lurelith Blooms from the elven lands. A scent that was known to make the minds of all those who smelled it, wander into erotic fantasies.

Accompanying it were Roselip Tint and Kohl, set to adorn my lips and eyes with their inviting hues. Elanor's Glow, too, promised to polish my skin with a lustrous sheen. And there they were – more bangles eager to chime with every gesture, and that would dangle provocatively. And... oh my!

I frantically signed, "There's no way I can wear this out," but Chinedu just smiled wryly and said, "Of course you can. With this pendant on, they'll see you just as they always have. It seems we've both been boxed into this choice by some insistent fans and their demands." She shrugged, faking a sense of defeat. My mind seethed, 'They're all wicked for finding joy in this setup!'. As I was cursing them, her voice in my head taunted, silken and seductive unlike ever before, 'We are indeed my sweet siren, we are indeed.'

Resigned, I signed back, 'Alright.' I disappeared into the changing room, emerging with every inch of my skin acutely aware of what was and what was not clinging to me. Then Chinedu stepped forward with yet more jewellery, two rings linked by a delicate latticework of chains to five smaller ones. Now, I knew for certain who had orchestrated this addition. Despite the heat creeping across my skin, I resigned myself to Chinedu's hands.

"Keep your head up, love," she coaxed, deftly placing the two rings at the entrance of my nostrils and gently pushing forward. With a nudge, it glided through effortlessly. Settling like a fantasy fulfilled, a piercing leaving a faint trail of enchantment in place of pain.

She moved on to adorn my left ear with five delicate rings, each sinking into the flesh as if it had always belonged there. All the while, she smeared my face with lush creams and powders, "No mirrors for you today. That's an order," she declared with finality, her hands busily sealing my fate.

She slipped the pendant over my head, and with a playful shove, she banished me from her shop with a bold shout to the streets, "Lookout, world!" I felt a flush of heat ripple through me. The disguise was a shroud for others, but for me, it clung to me like an unsung confession, stirred awake and shamelessly alive.

RAVELA
Noon
Palace - Chambers of Justice and Renewal

I arrived just in the nick of time to eavesdrop on Myrrine and Elara exchanging what appeared to be particularly spirited repartees. And there, taking in the scene, sat the sweet little munchkin on the lap of the resident homewrecker. 'Good' I thought to myself. perfectly timed to interrupt this lively exchange.

Lady "laughter-is-my-scalpel," with her hair as if dipped in a clown's paint bucket, threw a look my way and coughed up what sounded suspiciously like a barb wrapped in her buffoonish circus flair.

Elara's response only added fuel to the fire. Sure, I was now draped in holy robes, far above such pettiness. But, this harpy was itching for a tussle against the kingdom's top femme fatale.

I walked as I should, with all the saintly poise I could muster, halting within whispering distance. Gazing directly into the eyes of my rival with strands like a sunset gone wrong, I whispered. "Ah, Elara, such a pleasure, and ah, the bearded lady herself. Ruined any good men's lives recently, or has it been a slow month?"

"Ey Look who’s crashing; the banshee thinks she's joining the maiden’s tea party," that pain-in-the-rear sniped. "Maybe we dunk her in water and see if she melts? Or is that too much to hope for?"

"Listen, Elara, I'm aware that you've been marinating in less-than-stellar company, but there's something I need from you." Before I could elaborate, Mireya, that delightful little imp, scampered off Myrrine's lap. Clearly, the child had discerning taste and came bounding over, tugging at my gown, "Aunty Ravela... what's with names beginning with 'R' being so dreadful?" she probed, gazing up with those big, curious eyes as if I could unravel the mysteries of the alphabet for her.

"Looks like someone with hair the colour of yesterday's lunch is trying to lead astray our young ones, eh? "Mireya, sweetie, there's nothing wrong with 'R' names. It's just your mentor - well, not your mother, but the other one," I soothed her, all while shooting a glare towards the source of my irk seated next to Elara.

I scooped Mireya up and took a seat on Elara's other side, creating a safe space away from any dubious influence. Fingers combing through her hair. I turned to Elara and said, "You've handed over the potions to our little memory-challenged friend, right? Your execution is flawless, dear, but entrusting her with tasks of memory? Doubtful," making it a point to lock eyes with Myrrine as I mentioned 'her.'

"Sure as hell have it, don't get your panties in a twist," Myrrine cursed, her impatience naked as a jaybird. "Curb the cursing. This isn't some back-alley brawl," Elara shot back, giving Myrrine the stink eye. I couldn't help it; the smile creeping across my face felt like a checkmate move. “Just so you know, We're setting up a new sanctuary – an orphanage right here in our own backyard.”

“And you dear – you're tapped to shepherd the flock,” I pointed at Elara, her eyes widening with the realisation. Her grin unfurled like dawn’s first light as I laid out the entire picture. "It was our little healer who suggested that our finest teachers should enjoy more than just gratitude. Maybe a lovely home just outside the palace grounds where a family can thrive." Her joy burst forth, radiant and promising, as if we'd hung the stars ourselves just for her. A sight that only sweetened my own triumph ‘Oh goddess! Why did I not seek you out earlier.'

‘Kemi...my sunshine and my salvation!”

"You've been such a good influence that we trust you with a longer lead. Behave, and you can stroll through Marossa more freely... how's that sound?" Her eyes sparkled with hope, and she lunged for me with a bear hug that almost knocked the breath out of me. "Priestess, I can’t—this is—thank you—” she gushed, nearly in tears.

I waved off her gratitude before she drowned us both in sentiment with a beaming smile and an imperious flick of my wrist. "It's settled then. Just see to it that your little one doesn't pick up any gutter habits. This is especially important because of one knife-happy miscreant in particular. My gaze landed pointedly on Myrrine as I released myself from the fierce embrace.

The termagant cracked a smile at the news for Elara. But, when I lobbed that last quip her way, her death stare could've skewered me. If stares were daggers, we'd both be lying in a pile of ashes more than once by now, but for Kemi's sake, I somehow endured. Lord, give me strength; I've even come to bear, barely, a smidge of respect and, dare I say... a touch of fondness for that tart.

One of the women sidled up to Elara, leaning in to murmur something urgent. Elara's face clouded with concern as she listened, and then she fixed us with a steely gaze. "Ladies, it seems Amangons is on the prowl. The Black Brigade are wandering close by, about two dozen men with their commander, Branoc. Beware, he’s got slave collars in tow."

Her eyes bore into us as she gave the marching orders. "They've slipped under the radar, making a beeline for Dunmoss Hamlet. They'll be expecting clear passage there in about an hour — but not if you get there first. Time to give them a proper welcome at the gates. Just the two of you should do," she finished with a wicked grin.

Elara proved her worth once again, her spy craft nothing short of remarkable. How she kept those eyes and ears in every shadow was a true mystery. But, Kemeia vouched for her, and that was enough for me.

“Thanks much Elara. We will handle the needful from here on,” I said gratefully as I handed over my ring. "Take this. It offers free passage around the palace and city for you and yours.” Let the recovery team know they're heading to Dunmoss in two hours," I said. "You've more than earned a day of freedom. Someone will come over to fetch the ring in the morning."

I gave her no chance to respond, already on my feet with a snap, "Let's roll, carrot top. It's about time we show those black-hearted dogs a proper welcome." I made a beeline for the doorway. From the corner, Elara chimed in, "Horses are at the gates. And Myrrine, leave Raima to me. After coordinating with the rescue team, we will meet with Kemi at the tavern." The words hung in the air, a woman of remarkable mettle and truly a cut above the rest.

"Listen here. You know I don't take lives. But, those rabid mongrels with the slave collars are fair game for a beating," Myrrine growled. Disdain painted her words a shade of danger.

"I'm not in the mood to be merciful. But killing is a last resort. They will wish I had killed them, given the special brand of poetic justice I have planned for them," I added. My voice was sharp as the edge of a dragon-scale blade. " Remind me to enchant your daggers before we reach our destination. " I continued with the instructions. "Make sure you put all that practice with your newfound speed to good use. And do remember to heal the bastards in case I do too much damage. I want them to answer for their crimes,” I commanded as I climbed onto my mount.

With the goddamn harpy pitching in with her knife-happy hands. We were sure to kick those bastards square in the teeth and make it back in time to bathe in my sweet Kemi's glow before nightfall.

KEMEIA
Early Eve
Eirik’s Tavern O’Tales - Marossa Town Centre

There I was, nursing my ale and trying not to squirm in the scandalous garments or lack thereof, hidden under the magic of my pendant.
"Captain!" Oisín, our squad's liveliest rascal, slurred, loud enough for half the tavern to hear. He earned himself a quick elbow jab from Melorik, who, despite his towering frame, had the softest heart. "Pipe down, you dullard. Kemi's story's that she's from the Anatols, remember?"he muttered under his breath – a bear's version of a whisper.

We settled on a tale that put Cormac to rest, claimed by the dark in his dungeon cell by a lurking foe. Ravela played her part, shedding tears as she owned up to her mistake. Her wrongful judgement against a man whose innocence was beyond question. She announced her willing desire to step down as queen and seek life as a priestess to seek penance.

We kept our story straight. Making sure everyone and their dog knew about the involvement of Arcum and Parasia. We had every truthsayer put on a public show. Forcing them to prove their 'talents' before getting their just desserts. For all the acclaimed spells and enchantments in the world, we found that nothing could truly wrest truth from a person. There was no greater magic than the whisper of their own conscience.

Oh sure, there were all sorts of dark arts out there. Slave collars that bound the will, spells that invaded the privacy of one's thoughts – yet none were infallible. A mind fortified by will and discipline was its own bastion, impervious to sorcery. And so we rested easier, knowing that, in the end, no magic could overrule the sanctity of free will.

With a sly grin, Orlando...ironically named as he was our resident Orlando (who had not read the many tales of the infamous womanising troubadour from Anuvar), tossed his brazen question my way. "Kemi, you've got quite the romantic dance card, eh? I reckon I'd trade my left nut for a night with the company you keep."

A smirk crossed my face as I signed back to him, "You'd probably need to auction off the whole set to match my luck, my friend. Fancy swapping lives? Though, fair warning, you'd end up the sole damsel between the two delightful dragons." I commented, and his expression puckered, likely mirroring the shrivelling of his pride below the belt.

With the faint sound of the inn door opening, a cold draft made its way and nipped at my flesh with an unwelcome intimacy. Though I remained poised, I had to resist the urge to shiver. I silently cursed my barely there clothing that failed to stave off the cold. Gratefully, I managed to stave off any betraying blush from my cheeks.

Surely, the goddess must be sharing a chuckle at my expense up there, the way things are panning out. I'm no fool; I know precisely the shenanigans Ravela and that rascal Myrrine are plotting for me this evening. Bless her heart, Lunete brought me into the loop, mindful of the traumas of my past. Still, against my better judgement, I found myself nodding to their plan. I even aided Elara with the concoction despite being keenly aware of how they intended to use it.

More often than not, I couldn't shake off the feeling that those two were simply blokes in women’s clothing. But I suppose I should let them delight in what they've orchestrated. Given their love for me, this evening might smooth over their differences. All the more reason not to ponder over it too much. . Tonight, I offer as a gift to them and with some luck, they may find it within themselves to offer a piece of themselves to each other.

Suddenly, I felt the touch of a hand I'd come to cherish on my shoulder, urging me to scoot over. Without turning, I allowed her to take the seat at my side, my grin stretching wide as I leaned into her shoulder. "Kemi, me lass, with the ceremony at an end," the high priestess whispered, keen to blend in with the bustling scene, "where better to rest than by the side of the daughter me heart's claimed." Yes, I was her daughter now.

In the span of a year, our bond had deepened further, transforming from the formal roles of mentor and pupil to that of a loving family. She had moved beyond her role as my teacher and warden to being a steadfast source of love. Whether I faced tears or triumphs, her embrace was a sanctuary. During the nights when old horrors dared to revisit, I went to her first. Her consoling presence and tender care would always chase away the darkness that sometimes threatened to overwhelm me.

She was the one who breathed life into me. She drew me out from the watery grave. She named and nurtured me, imparting lessons of humanity and instilling within me the virtues of kindness and mercy. Though we shared no blood, she saved me, and she willingly stepped into a role that she chose for herself. She chose to be my mother.

The encounter at the shrine, under the goddess's watchful gaze, remains etched in my soul. The memory of her hands holding mine as she wished for a daughter is as vibrant as if painted across the sky. I answered with the easiest yet most heartfelt 'yes' of my life.

Certainly, I longed for the family ties I once cherished. And Ravela's initiative to seek forgiveness for Cormac's fate brought them back into my life in a manner. Under the pretence of making amends for Cormac, She carved a place for us at their table. She would visit them regularly and play the dutiful Samaritan, even donning the role of cook on occasion. And there I was, always accompanying her, disguised in plain sight.

Within a few short months, they had opened their arms to us, embracing us as part of their kin. The secret of who I used to be was a truth too dangerous to reveal. Yet somehow, the affection that my mother, the woman who birthed and loved Cormac, offered me felt no less genuine. It was a solace to experience that connection once more, even if it wasn't whole.

"Hey! Ye lot, fetch a barrel of ale for me and me bonnie girl," Marta roared with the authority of her military past. She looped an arm around me in that warm, tight bond unique to those who've shared the trenches. High priestess or a bit of a hellraiser, Marta was certainly my role model to emulate.

Sechnall materialised beside us, tankards sloshing, a smile spanning his face. Despite my best efforts at sobriety, it seemed my fate was sealed. "They say there was one among us who'd sink ale in a single draft. Let's see if that fire's died down or still burns bright," he taunted.
With a resigned heave, I brought the tankard to my lips. A deep breath, and up it went. I raised the cursed vessel and chugged it down. And would you believe it? The bottom of the tankard gazed back at me all too soon.

"Good godess, would you look at that..." I marvelled inwardly. "Half the size, yet the feat's done. Ah, Cormac, it seems you've left more of yourself in me than I realised." Her voice chided from within, 'Impressive that only now do you realise that you are more than simply Cormac's shadow, including talents of a less... commendable nature. One must wonder, though, the value of excelling in the art of ale swilling my love.' I couldn't help a sheepish grin, feeling very much caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

Time flew as I polished off drink after drink. I was half wasted, and my head was filled with foggy thoughts about the devised mischief for later. It was then that Elara arrived with company in hand, clearly enjoying Ravela's permission to wander the town.

Pain lingered in the eyes of Elara's companion, Raima. I had met her when I visited the chambers. But, clearly, her health had taken a turn for the worse. Her skin was pale with suffering. I reached out without a second thought, and the diagnosis was clear. She was struggling against a growing cancer hidden within. A moment of focused intent and... gone. her face washed over with a telling blush of recovery and ...oh no!

Marta caught on to my slip-up in an instant. She leaned toward Elara, her voice low, "Turns out our Kemi's given a dose of spirited warmth along with the cure." Her grin was mischievous as she eyed Elara's flushed companion. "Right as rain, she is, but perhaps eager for a jolly close-up with one of the fine gentlemen tonight." Elara managed a nod between laughs, then whispered, "Kemeia, spare a touch of that miracle hand before I head home?" I have planned a cosy night with loved ones," she murmured discreetly. "And a special night to share with my better half."

Saints preserve us! From healer to balm for the loins, many a cure in that, I suppose. Not for me to question, and if it eases another's plight, why not? I settled my palm in hers, allowing my energies to flow. A minor headache appeared to be the culprit of her discomfort and it was gone in a heartbeat. Her eyes fluttered shut for a spell, and when they opened, she was aglow, a rosy blush blooming across her cheeks, a telltale sign of arousal.

Elara caught her breath and leaned in, "Exactly what was needed... much obliged," she exhaled with a hint of excitement. "You might want to wander home shortly; give it half an hour. Your precious attendants will be back from their errand; all spruced up by then." With a sly smile, she murmured a word or two to Raima, who seemed to glow a little brighter. She then guided her to the other side of the table before she shuffled off discreetly.

Just then, Marta declared that we needed another round of drinks. She pointedly asked for 'The Maiden's Ruin,' but only for me. The jolly lot of military thugs assuring me that I'd be at the centre of our good-natured ribbing till we wrapped up.

BRANOC
Late afternoon
Dunmoss Outskirts

We had slipped by unnoticed until now. The orders were simple: snatch up one of those Sorgente Churls. Those slave collars required a willing neck. The goal was to pick one off and get the others to roll over.

The order came down from high up – three Sorgente Strumpets were bad news. Group 'em up. They'd ash an army before you could say 'witchcraft.’ So we had to take 'em down piecemeal. Our mark today? That damn healer. The main one, not the redhead. Invisible as farts, we'd slip in, snag her when she stumbled out of that pisshouse, Eirik's and waltz right out of that shithole city unnoticed.

Our inside rat dished the dirt on her moves. She was up to some tavern wenching at Eirik's dive. We just had to cool our heels, then nab the Light-skirt when she took her stroll. Any other time, those Sorgente bints would be hawk-eyeing her, so we had this slim window to jump.

We'd heard plenty bout that ‘healer’, her sinful body and the kind of curves that don’t just sit there. We had a simple snatch-and-fuck plan. First, nab her, and once she was in our grip, we'd enjoy ourselves till we were spent. By then, the mental queen or that other cunt healer would have sold their own mothers to get her back.

After that, the King wanted her dead. Can't blame him; after the shit healers stirred up on him before. Says they're more trouble than they're worth. The one we bag would be off to warm the king's bed, actin' as his private whore and a handy tool against those high-and-mighty priestesses.

The men were licking their chops at the thought. That healer's reputation for being a fine piece had spread like wildfire, and the fact she was honour-bound to heal, even after we busted her wide open. Ain't no better time than when you're balls deep in some healer slut who can't say no to have her work her magic.

We've had our fair share of rape and pillage, but this – this was shaping up to be one cunt of a party. We got enough of our own bruises and wounds that need healin’ – making sure we'd take full advantage of her. Teach her what happens to winners’ spoils when the battle's won by real men. Even the soft-cocks who usually steered clear of our victory fucks were up for a go if it meant feelin' her hands on 'em.

Creeping up to that little rat's nest, I shoved my merry band into the trees just off the path. Our invisibility spell had about four hours before it would piss off, limiting its duration. We stripped down our tin suits; an invisible bunch is no good if they're clanging louder than a whore's bed on payday.

Lined up my bastards and let the spell fly from my staff, fading us out but good. Lit up just enough for each other to keep the sign language clear. We flashed our hand-codes, checking our magic rings to make sure we saw each other.

A quick run-through of our shadow dance, and we started ghost-walking out of the woods and – fuck-a-duck! The bloody royal strumpet in the flesh, standing there like she's waiting for a dicking. The witch looked right past us. "Come out, you bastards. I have a gift for you.” she’s barking, thinking she's the boss. Spell's holding up solid; she’s blind to us.

We all became statues, not a whisper. Gave the crew the word to circle this bitch, keeping our distance for slicing room. I inched back, fingers tingling for that spell to send her six feet under. This bitch needs to eat dirt, and if she ain't kneeling, she’s dying. The grunts got their edge ready to slice if she didn't drop at first blast.

Right as the curse is about to blow, my fucking staff! My whole fucking arm's missing! That staff thumbs down, belching out its last like some blown-up dregwhore on the street, wailing and spitting its death rattle.

The air was filled with the blood-curdling yells of my lads when I suddenly saw a flicker, and a crimson-maned she-devil just appeared before me, grinning like the sick psycho she was. She swiped, and bloody hell, my other arm too was just gone – not a drop of blood, not a sliver of bone, just poof – vanished! The bitch took my legs out next, dropping me on my face like a turd in the dirt. There I was, flailing like a beached whale on my stumps, listening to the pitiful whimpers of my crew replace their battle cries.

Suddenly, a grip like iron clamped around my skull, heaving me upward. It was that red-haired nightmare, flashing a smirk that could curdle blood as she hauled my limbless torso toward a nearby tree, propping me against it like a butchered carcass. Peering down at what was left of me, I don't have words for the horror – I was nothing but a trunk now; my limbs were gone, sheared clean from their sockets. Clean off, no fleshly tethers – nothing. What in the blackest depths had happened? What breed of demons were these women?

"Behold the masterpiece—amanslimbsgone seems about right! Hah," the demoness cackled like a bitch in heat, taking a real shine to my fucked-up predicament. I was rattling like a leaf, shittin' myself in terror as that ice-cold queen bitch marched up, glaring at me like I was the scum of the fuckin' earth.

Those eyes, cold as a witch's tit, She crashed into my mind like a battering ram. My guttural shriek filled the air like some poor sod on the rack, agony clawin' up my throat. The shock of the entire shitshow made my innermost shields crumble like dust. And there she was as she clawed through my darkest wank fantasies like they were her sodding birthright.

"Turns out the gutter filth were plotting a little abduction, eager to use our healer as bait for one of us. " She declared contempt so thick you could choke on it. "But first, they wanted to slap in chains, have a go at playing lord and master. Guess they fancied tying down someone who’d heal them despite what they would to her—sick bastards.

"Myrrine, would you kindly attend to these swine one more time? Seems that a final little snip-snip may be in order before their judgement is rendered." The redhead just grunted in response. Before I could brace myself, I felt the searing shame. In one swift, cruel stroke, she robbed me of my prized jewels.

That's when the true horror dawned—these weren't just cruel harpies; they were bloody monsters from the pits. "I confess. The delight I find in my savagery and in your exquisite anguish satisfies me more than it should," she gloated, baring her true sadistic colours.

“Silence!” she barked at my crew, now reduced to whimpering pups. "Any more from your snivelling lot, and you'll all be carrying a lament far more grotesque than any of the cries you hoped to pry from my healer, mark my words."

“Excellent," she drawled, relishing the quiet that had fallen. “Now, pay attention, geldings: I present to you a pair of doorways from your misery. Choose, but choose carefully—the kindness of my mercy awaits, or wallow in the despair you so richly deserve.”

"Option one," she said with a sneer. "Live as the worthless stumps you are – rotting in the dungeons. There, in your own filth and darkness, you'll linger, unable to end your suffering. A pitiful existence, isn't it? If that’s not bleak enough, I might let you earn your keep pleasuring your more able-bodied inmates – after all, some solace is better than none, eh?”

Or perhaps, she mused, "Option two appeals more? Become the servants to those you've harmed. You've left them widowed, their lives in shambles, some even bearing the scars of your brutality. They need attendants, not monsters, and you will fulfil that role, begging for the clemency you don't deserve."

She drove the point home, her gaze piercing, "Your future will be left to the mercy of the goddess's touch, reborn as women, perhaps some even graced with beauty. Should you gain their pardon, your chains will fall away, and you will be free to live. And in time, you might embrace new destinies, maybe even bear the children of real men. Nurturing life rather than destroying it." She let that last sentence hang. To bear the child of another man. That would be the best outcome of our choices.

As the recovery team's footsteps neared, she finished cruelly. "I’ll grant you a period of reflection. Until your decision is made, the dungeon will serve as a reminder of what awaits those who choose the first path." And as the echo of her merciless words faded, her decree was met with pleading grovels and desperate voices for the second option filling the void.

MYRRINE
Late afternoon
Dunmoss outskirts

On our way back to our rides, with the dust settling underfoot, I sidled up to Ravela. "Seems we're a solid pair in a scuffle. How about we knock off the jibes, except when they're truly called for?" She pondered a moment, then, with a slight tilt of her head she spoke, "agreed. Let's call a truce."

Before I could get another word in edgewise, she interjected, "And those fools we left limbless? Not my style, not anymore." Her expression softened a shade as she added, "Bank on it. Most will bend soon enough. Irrespective of their choices, they should all be whole again with their limbs sprouting back within the week's end, but those who cling to their sorry ways —well, they'll find themselves in the capable hands of the law instead of helping in the Chambers. The pieces will fit back into the puzzle one way or another, trust me."

"We've got no shortage of women knocking at our door for help," she mused. "We could really use an extra pair of hands or twenty." Her gaze grew distant as she added, "All this? Simply a bit of theatre for the gutless king to learn a lesson." A wry smile crept across her face. "Let us, however, refrain from disclosing the transient nature of their condition until such time as it benefits our narrative."

She leaned in with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "I might even cut a couple loose. Let them run back to their dear king," she said. Her grin growing with each word. "But not before they witness our women's liberty firsthand. And of course, they would be warned about a catch that comes with their returned freedom. A fortnight after leaving, poof! They'll be seeing the world through a woman’s eyes. Can't wait to see them come crawling back once they've spilt the beans."

"Better not cross swords with you, eh?" I let out, half-joking, after she laid out those plans. The way the lady is playing this game, Amangons would have to be a self-flagellating fool to set his ugly foot near us again. And, I gotta admit, watching the lady strut about, proud as a peacock, it’s doing more than just ruffling my feathers the wrong way.

We've been circling each other, like cats in an alley, mainly over Kemi, but tonight's truce could be the start of something downright spicy. We had shaken on it, agreeing to bury the hatchet for the evening but hey, no better moment to hash things out than the present, right?

There have been times I've thought about putting Ravela in line, showing her who was the boss but right now, I was the one getting hot under the collar. Especially since the scuffle earlier, she put me in my place, and I... liked it? Blast it. I’m in too deep now. Clearing my throat, I nudged, “Hey, about tonight, maybe we should... you know, practise a bit beforehand? For Kemi,” I said, my voice dipping with a mix of nerves and something more... eager.

She blinked at me, speechless for a good moment. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed as her gears turned. A flush spread across her cheeks, and she finally cracked a cheeky grin. Her voice turned into a husky whisper, "Behind the trees, now," She hurriedly demanded as she laced her fingers with mine, pulling me along eagerly.

Tucked away from prying eyes, she pinned me to a tree with a surprising ease. She caught my wrists with one hand, sturdy as shackles, while her free hand traced a path up my neck. I could hardly believe the woman's nerve! I was just about to protest when she leaned in close, her voice breathless and thick with desire, "We've been looking forward to this, haven't we?"

The charged air around us sizzled as I felt her body press against mine in a way that robbed me of reason, setting off sparks where we touched, sending my damned mind spinning as her smackers found the crook of my neck.

"I can't believe how much I'm into this,” I mumbled breathlessly. Lost in the haze of her kisses, I barely registered that my traitorous legs had spread open enough to let her thigh grind against my embarrassing dampness beneath. I let all sense of control fade away as her hand continued to wander over my captive curves. "Myrrine, darling, you're positively dripping with anticipation." She purred, her grin widening as my knees buckled and my body sang with need.

She breathed, pulling me close, her mouth claiming mine in a kiss that screamed possession. I was lost in the dance of her tongue, a heady rhythm that drove every rational thought from my head. Breath gone, voice stolen, I swayed under her expert touch. She was fire and ice rolled into one, and as she delved into the depths of my desire, I was melting under the intensity of pleasure.

A tug at my robe, and my breast tumbled free; her fingers clamped down on my nipple, sparking an electric jolt that coursed through me. A yelp of surprise broiled in my throat, but her mouth swallowed my protests, sealing the passion between us. My knees wobbled, my balance tethered to the urgency of her touch.

After eternities of exquisite torture, she descended with a trail of searing kisses cascading down to claim my nipple. even as she smothered my moans with her hand over my lips. The sound that spilled from me was muffled only by her hand with my own tongue shamelessly licking away at her skin like a starved animal. My arousal was as clear as the day; Ravela had me completely undone, and shockingly, I welcomed it.

As her fingers wandered up my dress, I realised I wasn't bound anymore. I wasted no time getting my hands dirty. I clenched her hair, ensuring that she was suckling me like it was her last meal, while I went hunting under her garments for a bit of payback.

The spark of her touch set me ablaze, and there I was, gasping as her finger slipped into me like it knew exactly where to go—straight to the furnace of my lust. But I wasn’t about to let her have all the fun. No way. I was on the prowl too, and when my fingers found her slick, craving depth... goddess, she jolted and latched onto my nipple with a bite. A sweet, crude affirmation, like her teeth were signing a love note right there on my skin.

Over the year, Kemi had shared herself with each of us but never the three of us together. The idea of sharing seemed too much like crossing a boundary. But that was only going to be true until tonight. This tease of what was to come signalled that we were geared up for a night that would blur that line just fine. In the love games we were playing, I had Kemi's reins, Ravela had mine, and I had a strong feeling that by the end of the night, Kemi might just have Ravela's.

"As great as this is, we've got a date with Kemi," I moaned, breath coming in rapid pants. "Right behind you... oh godess," she breathed out, her mouth leaving my breast before diving back in with fervent hunger. In the split second before the explosion of pleasure, her lips found mine, our combined moans spiralling together, keeping our hot, muffled secret just that—secret.

Just as was coming down from my high, legs still trembling, she extracted my fingers from between my legs and placed them between my lips. “Just a reminder of who the queen is here,” she said with an amused smirk as she looked at me expectantly.

I hesitated at first, but then her scent hit me, heady and thick. My tongue worked the fingers clean. Her taste was dirty and delicious, a flavour I couldn't get enough of. My gaze, heavy with lust, surrendered to hers. Each deliberate lick a wordless surrender, that screamed my descent into willing depravity.

Once she had deemed my submission as ample, with a growl of approval, she responded in kind. Her tongue swirled slowly and deliberately over her fingers as she savoured the remnants of my glorious defeat. Enjoying it as though it were the finest nectar. Her victorious smirk telling me she'd taken everything I had to give.

We finished off with a desperate, needy kiss that said, ‘There's more to come'. We barely had time to sort ourselves out before we scrambled towards our horses. Kemi’s name practically buzzing on our lips, and we were eager to get back to her and pick up where we left off.

To be concluded in part 6

This is part 6 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

In this final chapter, our lovely healer, the former queen, and our favorite assassin prepare for a deeply personal night. As they gather for a meal that promises more than just food, secrets and emotions come to light. Most importantly Kemi's emerging abilities promise to turn this night into an entirely new beginning.

“Beneath the moon’s sultry sighs, nightfall will wrap the world in Elyssia’s tender embrace, where whispered promises and fevered breaths meld. As the faithful surrender to desire’s sweet pull, under the goddess’s tender gaze, love will bloom into redemptive passion.”
-Elyssia’s Sacred Lament, Vol. VII, Passage 39

RAVELA

Evening
Ravela’s Priestess’s Chambers at Selene’s hall - Marossa

The deed was done, and the 'mad queen' had vacated her throne. She could fade into the sunset now that safer, more capable hands cradled Wildevale. The painful wounds, those deep gashes of the soul I had so cruelly inflicted upon Cormac's men, were hopefully more manageable now.

They would always be there and stay as nasty traumas to those I had wronged. But I prayed that they would continue to heal and scab over as most injuries do. The wrongs I had done would remain. But, the crushing guilt for my past vileness would keep fading with each day as long as I, no WE, had our dear Kemi by our side.

The moment had finally come to embrace the future, and I was looking forward to what was going to be a delightfully sinful night. More importantly, I hoped that what followed could be our new way of life moving forward. Even my tangles with that fire-maned vixen just ended in a ‘most appropriate’ manner earlier today, and we had gone from fighting like wildcats to purring on the same pillow, from butting heads to... well, more ‘intimate’ collisions.

This was entirely Kemi's fault for widening my world and teaching me to embrace more than one heart.

Kemi's lessons in love aside, I was delightfully thrilled at the thought of Myrrine yielding to me. Never in a million years would I have imagined that I craved to dominate another one's loins. Dominant I am, but never in the realm of moans and whimpers. But here I was, though, victorious in this entirely new domain. How wonderfully satisfying it was to control with desire instead of dread.

Oh, how every part of me relished it, Myrrine’s submission, a most satisfying draught for my only briefly parched nethers, I meant soul. Watching her licking her fingers clean of me felt so delightfully wicked.

There was something downright primal about her wet, eager eyes. They screamed she was ready to drop and give me twenty, or however much I damn well pleased. Mmm… even now, just the thought was bringing me to a simmering boil. Today, I discovered what it meant to be on the demanding end of another’s willing surrender. As much as it surprised me, I could get used to it. The way the moment unfolded with Myrrine was nothing short of exhilarating.

What I felt was different, but it was not unlike the effect Kemi had on me. Her love had slowly made me crave the soft and tender instead of the past's rugged and tangy. With Kemi, I was always careful. Always making sure my touches were gentle, almost reverent. It was in many ways similar to what I shared with Cormac. I was the one submitting and serving, and I tried my best to make her feel that I was the one enveloped by her.

There, as always, visions of my Cormac flashed through my mind. The robust solidity of his body pressed against mine as I willingly chose to be his dear wench in my chambers. Myrrine couldn't fill that big gaping void—literally, no one could; oh goddess, even my thoughts are now deviant. But, her eagerness under my command scratched an itch I'd never known I had.

'Who knew you had a thing for making a sturdy broad your plaything, Ravela?' And while I mourned what I had lost with my dear Cormac. After today's encounter, maybe my heart and, let’s face it, my desires would find it easier to forgo the incessant ache for what I may never have again.

There was no room for regrets tonight, not when there was so much love left to be explored. Myrrine and I had a single soul, her beloved doll and my divine salvation, on our minds and in our hearts. Yet, as we chose to bind ourselves to Kemi, our feelings bled over to each other as well. We were now feeling each other's desires in the mix. This was going to be our night of shared desires. To be laid bare, not just to Kemi but to each other.

Those devilish potions we cooked up? They were just the spice to sprinkle on an already heated feast. I was aching for Kemi to ride the wave just as boldly as we had crafted them. In doing so, she might finally shed the shackles of pain I had clamped onto her gentle soul and step, hand in hand, into a shared dawn.

Tick-tock, supper was knocking, and I had quite the spread to whip up for the three of us. First to tickle the senses would be the Twilight Fowl Strips, delicate pieces of wild bird. Full and soft like the feather pillows in our chambers, they would be served on toasty slices of bread and anointed with a wild berry reduction. For Myrrine and yours truly only, as we were carnivores united.

At this point, most of the kingdom and even the heavens knew that Kemi loved her greenery. And so she would indulge in a Dreamer's Green Salad. A mix of soft baby spinach and plump havenberries from the elven lands. The secret to making it worthy of her worship was the honey-roasted crunchy walnuts.And finally, the coup de grâce would be the very hard-to-procure Anuvarian vinaigrette. A dressing unlike any other.

Our main attraction featured a hearty Beast of the Forest Stew. Thick chunks of braised beef stirred lovingly in a wine-infused broth that was just begging for a thick piece of bread to sop it up. Kemi, on her side, would pay tribute to the garden with a Golden Veg Toss. A merry mix of buttery potatoes, carrots, and roasted beets, a veritable crown jewel of the earth's bounty.

But oh, the sweet grandeur that dessert promised would come from Cormac’s favourite, Whisper Foam Bliss. It was a mousse so delicate it felt like the captured essence of a cloud. This beauty would then be topped generously with wild berry compote and floating on a bed of vanilla bean cream. It was almost forbidden to serve such seduction on a plate. The dessert was going to be dear Kemeia's ruin, and I looked forward to the sweet torture we had planned for her.

While the kitchen whirred with the aromas of cooking, I couldn't help but notice Myrrine working behind me. Fresh out of her post-work soak, she'd slipped into her evening wear. A wispy, transparent number that barely covered her lovely assets. This slip of a thing clung to her like morning dew on grass as she bent over to work on her contribution for the evening. Mmm… A treat for the hungriest of eyes.

I caught myself gawking at the wanton vision that she was. My sly little fox. Legs splayed just enough to flaunt her soft, eager flesh. Giving me a glimpse of her fiery secrets. Such a sinful sight no man or woman could resist.

As she stretched forward, those sweet lips between her legs, the soft, blush-pink flesh of her womanhood peered out. Her pucker puckering, her dewy folds laid bare, inviting, no, begging for me to lay claim.

Then there were her breasts peaking from the side. She was also now blessed with magnificent orbs thanks to Kemi’s unspoken desires. Generous enough to overflow a greedy hand, I now also knew that they were exquisitely supple. Ohh, naturally, they promised endless indulgence.

I could almost feel their weight, imagine their bounce. I could even hear her gasping pleas as I brought them to a flushed, aching life. Oh, the lovely sounds they’d make, slapped red and aching for release. Under my rough touch, they would sing of a lover's abuse spun into ecstasy.
I could hardly contain the heat raging inside.

She'd be a debauched mess laid waste by my touch, flustered and wrecked on the floor. How could I resist having her on her knees before me? How much I wanted her broken down and built back up as the expression of my deepest, darkest cravings?

Was this how Cormac saw me? How his blood must have surged downward, filling him. Did I render him firm with such desire just as it stews me in the juices of want? Surely his body must have ached, as mine does now. If only I could experience her with him.

Together, we would have broken her in the most delightful ways. Oh, the electric surge of imagining his virility skewering her as I would bear witness to the taming of this magnificent huntress. Goddess, I truly was changed now. Revela willing to share? Ha! In the past, my jealousy would have raged like a siege fire, reducing my foes to ash like a conquered village.

But alas, Cormac, MY Cormac was no more. It was just my precious Kemi, gentle and pure. She may have Cormac's soul, but she wore it with a delicate grace and innocence now. I was bound to her and I swear to be the one to stoke his passion within her. I was her ever-loving companion and would play out her every unspoken wish.

I would caress her as she would crave with the warm and gentle loving she would expect from me. And then there was Myrrine, oh my! A challenge, a beautiful beast waiting to be unravelled. Cormac or not, we would watch her shudder and break in ecstasy as Kemi, and I would consummate our triumph over her.

Well, as a woman of power and discipline, I should probably resist dirty dreams or such temptation. But then again, what good was power if not to indulge oneself now and again? Besides, a little red-headed appetiser could only help enhance the main course laid out for the night when Kemi would come home.

MYRRINE

Evening
Ravela’s Priestess's Chambers at Selene’s hall

Home sweet home - no more sneaking around the dorms ‘cause my silent songbird and I were moving up in the world. The whole 'priestess quarters' where Ravela struts about is just a fancy way of saying we've got ourselves a love nest. Trust a queen-turned-priestess to swank about in a cottage fit for a royal brood.

The place had been decked out by Her Majesty as a shiny home-shaped bait for Kemi. But now, with our truce in place, it was destined to be the backdrop for the next chapter of our steamy love saga. No more bickering over who gets Kemi's cuddles each night when we could both squash her between us, right?

Here I was, fresh as a daisy and dressed in this little scrap of nothing that had less fabric than a Kooma's hankie. I had planned to wrap myself in a robe until after. But heck, I couldn't resist dangling my sizzling appetisers and leaving them on display for the witch-turned-white dove. The first treat's free, love.

I had my hands full, setting up those nifty memory crystals and lining them up with our chosen songs. Ravela, the sly fox, came upon a neat trick and figured out we could capture music within them. Connect them to the assassins' whispering shells, and voila! The air's alive with the stored melodies that we had planned to let serenade us all night.

Until now, the place had been rather bare-bones, pretty much a priestess's chambers, only bigger. But today, we spruced it up proper, and turned it into a fancy home for all of us. We had hauled in some new bits and bobs: a dresser for gazing at your own reflection endlessly. An ornate table begging for shared suppers. And best of all, a cloud disguised as a couch that could cradle us through the tales we would whisper into the night.

All hail Ravela and Lunete's lot. In just one day, they had magically whipped up a dainty perch in the open air. Picture this: us putting our feet up while the sun sets, with that temple view for company. And dear Kemi bending the ear of whoever’s up there, goddess and all.

Oh, that new bed, though, was something else. It was a proper fortress for our nightly romps. It's massive, just the right size for sharing, you catch my drift? Plucked from the plumpest birds of paradise or some such nonsense. It was a true luxury—a queen's gift and whatnot. It was right squishy, just how a bed in the throes should feel. Nice and silent, save for the chorus of our pleasured moans and the sinful slap of skin on skin that I expected to be getting a lot of.

Sheets of Elven silk, smoother than a scoundrel's tongue and twice as tempting. Perfect for caressing Kemi's dripping ecstasy. Those silken threads will be the only thing keeping our secrets when her juices flow.

And the pillows, dusted with magic from the goddess' own garden up north, are softer than a lover's sigh. Ideal for Kemi to grip onto for dear life as I spread her wide. Almost as if it was made with the sole purpose of helping me explore the depths of her intoxicating playground. Her tender nipples, those delicious little berries ripe for a good nibbling! Her lush, rosy folds, ever so eager, just waiting for a spank or a plunge. We're about to give those Elven gifts a run for their money, no doubt.

Tonight, that bed was going to witness an epic saga. The unravelling of Kemi's and our inhibitions. We would christen those sheets with our untamed lust, and may the goddess help anyone who came in the way of our planned carriage of carnal mayhem.

This one gift had caught us totally off guard, though. A set of chains whose origin was a mystery. Crafted from the most exquisite red gold and glistening like the finest of sunsets, they had been fashioned to secure the wearer's every limb. The highlight was a leash collar. It connected to everything and promised control over the wearer.

Even the tiniest chains had their place, attached to magicked piercings meant to present captivity like an art form. The vision of my little Kemi ensnared in these bonds, completely at my mercy. Mmm. Even as I lost myself in the thought, picturing her bound and helpless, the vision changed. I saw myself bound instead, with Ravela's predatory hunger fixed upon me. Oh!

Suddenly, there she was. Standing in front of me like a hot-blooded vampire, with her presence enveloping me in her gaze. Her breath against my exposed neck sent shivers down my spine as I began to melt. With a deliberate grip, she wrapped her claws around my waist and yanked me close. She ensured that I stumbled under the surge of bare arousal that coursed through me.

"My, my... such a needy little kitten, aren’t you," she growled, her words fanning my flames as her tongue traced the sensitive skin of my neck. She lingered at my earlobe, sucking it into the warmth of her mouth, drawing a whimper from deep within as my eyes fluttered in helpless captivity. Honestly, what did I expect? Flaunting my assets like a tart with an agenda. I was practically begging for a good, hard reality check
.
That moment was my own undoing, aided by this unexpected and craven sense of debasement. My head fell back and draped itself against her, eyes losing focus, and my arms dangling uselessly, like those of a rag doll in the thick of ecstasy. Her arm deftly unfastened the knots at my shoulders, and the pitiful fabric that clung to me slipped away like a whisper in the wind.

There I was, nude, exposed, and entirely vulnerable to her predatory gaze, fingers, and everything else. Her husky whisper, "Stay still, relish the now," had me trembling as her hand slid behind me, taking my arms with it and securing them. She had rendered me utterly captive to her touch.

Her leg slid between mine, insistence implicit in the movement, prying my thighs apart with authority. Cruelly, her limb turned against my thigh. She forced my leg upward until my wet folds were openly exposed to her. Trapped by her thigh, my elevated leg quivered, helplessly dangling aloft. “With your words stolen, you are all the more captivating, don't you agree?” she taunted, each syllable dripping with desire, doing things to me that I was unprepared to admit.

I was rendered almost mute, and only an inarticulate moan could escape my lips. It was my instinctive consent in response to her hand drifting lower. With deliberate intent, she continued her journey towards my inner sanctum. “Mmm, this is what you seek, isn't it?” She murmured with her finger poised torturously at the entrance. She managed to entice a husky plea of "Yes" from the depths of me.

"Not unless you beg for it, love," she taunted. It was a trap, but it set me ablaze. “Please,” I gasped, the plea barely escaping my lips. Her eyes glinted with triumph. "Please what?" she pressed, and the words I never thought I'd utter now poured out. Honey–sweet, thick, and unstopping, I pleaded desperately, "Please take me, Mistress," to which she simply smiled. "Delightful choice," she purred, her satisfaction clear in her voice.

That moment her fingers found their mark, I was spiralling. Her mouth descended on mine so fiercely it felt like she was consuming my every breath. Her touch brought a trembling weakness to my knees. My body screamed a truth I hated to admit —I was as ripe as the juiciest fruit in the orchard, aching to be taken. Cage me, claim me.

The thoughts raced through my mind as the boundaries I had so carefully set started to blur and dissolve. Her every command was woven into the rhythm of my heartbeat. As she willed, I moved, with a harmony I'd never known before. What I carried for Kemi was bound by devotion and a fiercely protective ardour, but my craving for Ravela was a fervent, submissive ache.

I was reduced to a heap of longing in her arms. Her abuse settled into my flesh like a welcome torment. Her control over me was intoxicating. She was dangerous and addicting all at once. With each gasp and yearning whimper, I sought her dominance.

My traitorous bum ground against her with an involuntary rhythm, pleading for more. She had me on edge, aching for release, but with sadistic pleasure, she held me there, right on the cusp. "This is Kemi's gift to enjoy. You will wait till then," she growled before spinning me around and forcing me to my knees.

Ravela had me in the palm of her hand, head down in a perfect pose of defeat. She wasted no time. Her robe was up in a flash as she bared herself with an urgency that reflected my own. "Get to work, you little whore. Make me feel good," she ordered. "Edge me closer, but keep the crest at bay. We wait, we pine, we ache, until Kemi grants us release."

Overcome by the powerful scent of her arousal and the lingering traces of our previous rendezvous, my hesitation vanished. I could barely pause to think before I, the devoted harlot, buried my face in her sweaty, ripe, and gloriously sullying essence.

This would be my life moving forward, trapped between an angel and a queen. They would stand there, on either side of my world and splinter my being. In their hands, I would be split in two. Let the goddess bear witness to me willingly offering myself to the fall.

KEMEIA

Late Evening
Selene’s hall Gardens, Outside Ravela’s priestess chambers

Here I was, reveling in high spirits, quite literally, after clanging tankards with my comrades. 'Ah, the merry warmth of booze and boisterous company!' Weren't Sechnall and Marta the sweetest? A gentleman and the other, a rowdy mum escorting a slightly tipsy healer through Marossa's night. A night as safe as any, but I confess, my legs seemed to have imbibed as much mirth as I did—left, right, left, what's the difference when in my happy place?

We wove our way back to Selene's Hall, with my happy feet refusing to play ball. On a clear-headed day, a walk that would be a mere ten minutes was now twice as long, if not longer, but who was counting? Ohh, wait a minute. I was... my two nutters were waiting at home with their 'surprise.'

I was barely a stone's throw from reaching Ravela's, no, scratch that, our home, when I suddenly found myself swaddled in a hug from behind. "Ah, there's my little Queenie... oops, I mean, Lunete," I signed, my tipsy brain turning my attempted message into mush. But then, a swift turn brought me a face-full of passionate kiss that left me dazed. What in the blazes?

My glazed eyes caught Sechnall's unfazed expression amidst this unexpected smooch-fest that his partner had launched into. As I floundered in her grip, trying in vain to escape, his smirk betrayed his amusement. "Word on the street is your touch has been leaving folks rather... invigorated today. Her highness fancies a taste of your bewitching remedy," he dryly remarked.

Well, that sly fox Elara must've tipped her off. I bet she had her sneaky little network broadcast the news to the queen within a matter of minutes after the 'incident' at the tavern. Oh, and our Highness slipping into plain Jane clothes just for this visit? Couldn't help but think it was time for a bit of comeuppance.

So what did I do? I yanked her right into my arms and sunk into that kiss so chock-full and sparking with energy that her knees wobbled like jelly. ‘Gotcha!’ I chuckled to myself as I gently handed our befuddled queen over to Sechnall. "Enjoy yer evening with the frisky filly. Seems she is primed for a rather stirred-up evening," Marta teasingly quipped to him, definitely not her holy self tonight. Oh, how I loved turning the tables!

I glanced at the man, his face aglow with surprise, and grinned cheekily. With a naughty sparkle in my eye, I tiptoed towards him, and with an impish giggle, I sprang up into his arms. Taken by surprise, he could only grasp my plump backside to steady us both. I wiggled against his grip, my bum snug in his unprepared hands. Oh, how I loved this, teasing him, such strength yet entirely at my mercy as the poor soul desperately tried not to cop a feel.

Before he could react, though, I drew him into a deep kiss while I shot Lunete a sly, sultry look. Poor thing was still bewildered from earlier, and now she was bearing witness to this. Well, they both asked for it, and clearly, I intended to deliver. I chuckled inside, thinking of my 'brass balls' since I quite literally had lost my own. I knew I'd just lit a fire in Sechnall's loins, One that our little queen would be on the receiving end of all night.

Thanks to my little performance, the dear pair had turned a delightful shade of scarlet. Her breaths coming in uneven rushes, and the noticeable bulge straining against his breeches promised hours of lasting turmoil from the little surprise I sprung on them. Little did I expect to wield such delicious vengeance, but I guess it was all part of who I was now. Elyssia's blessings were unfurling within me. In that moment, I finally grasped the depth of the goddess. She was far more than the silence and the moan. She was also the full chorus of whispers and exultations.

As the dazed couple stumbled away, struggling to keep their hands off each other long enough to reach the privacy of the nearest tree or dark corner, Marta leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Oh, ye are delightfully wicked, stirring up such a ruckus. Seems the goddess shared her little secret with you," I attempted my best 'who, me?' expression but the charade crumbled into giddy laughter before I could even play the part right.

It was apparent Marta knew of the new gifts beginning to manifest within me. There was little doubt in my mind that she enjoyed her own direct, if undisclosed, channel to the divine—a secret she had yet to confide. Also her wisdom and foresight seemed to scream that she was graced with divine favour that had been carefully hidden in plain sight.

As she addressed me, her voice bore a solemn inflexion. "Child, now that ye've acknowledged the bewitching power ye hold, take to heart my warning. As the gift Elyssia granted you flourishes, you have the power to both heal and break hearts. Beware the latter lest ye cause unwitting sorrow."

Her voice grew steadier as she spoke, “Yer destined to wield a power so vast, it will compel all the high-borns of Argentia to their knees before ye. Not solely from deep respect, but from every manner of emotion that yer heart could possibly evoke, should that be yer wish.”

She clasped my hands and gazed into my eyes, her own brimming with pride and a shadow of worry. “Only those held dearest to the goddess are graced with splendour to put the finest of Selene’s stars to shame. Beware, as your burgeoning beauty has the might to command vast fleets and wage endless wars, but she entrusted ye with this gift. You, my daughter, you are the best of us."

I gave her a knowing look and signed back, "I'm aware, Mother. The little mischief I orchestrated with those two was all in jest." I couldn't help the giggle escaping as my grin widened. "My newfound gifts are certain to stoke desires, but I reserve my heart and my longings exclusively for those two charming oddballs at home." I continued signing with a hint of mischief in my gaze. “I might as well enjoy the joys of life with my two dearest eccentrics. They hold my heart captive. But more immediately, they intend to hold my loins captive tonight."

With a hug as warm as a summer's day, my dear mother wrapped me in her arms before planting a big, wet kiss on my cheek. Yet, even in the moment of farewell, she couldn't resist one final jibe. "Now, scamper off to your beloved brutes," she quipped with a sly smile, “time to play the merry little tart ye are for the night."

As I made my way to the door, the heat rose in my cheeks. And it was not just from the drinks, but from a realisation that sent ripples of mortification and thrill down my spine. My attire was mere gossamer threads of sorcery. The illusion hid everything. Lunete and Sechnall must have felt EVERYTHING when I brushed against them... Oh my!

And…there, like clockwork, behind the nearest tree, I could hear them. Her impassioned cries and his deep, rhythmic grunting. I couldn't help but steal a glance back and stifle a silent laugh. Those two randy lovebirds couldn’t even make it to a proper nest.

The poor tree, which they were assaulting, would bear witness. And I was certain that its leaves were involuntarily fluttering in applause to the rhythm of their eager, messy, and noisy rutting. 'Eager as bunnies in spring, aren't we?' I thought to myself.

And there it was, the sultry echo of her voice that was desire embodied, ‘My love, the fervent adoration you'll offer Elyssia tonight... I await with bated breath. Offer her... offer me the gift of your unchecked desires. Let your devotion be an offering trembling with want.' "Yes, goddess... I mean, no, mistress... oh, bother!" I mentally fumbled, feeling my face go red as I continued with unsteady steps, the cold evening air making me all the more aware of my body's reaction. Oh, heavens! If even the goddess of carnal delights desired this, who was I to refuse such a ‘sacred’ performance?

Feeling my heartbeat quicken in anticipation of the night's impending debauchery, I pushed the door open. I was nervous, ready, and even eager for this evening of devout ‘worship’. Tonight, in the hands of my loves, at Elyssia's altar, Kemeia ascends.

THE END

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