Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
The sky was bruised black and red, and the clock tower froze at 11:59.
A woman hovered before the giant face of the obsidian surface, purple hair raised in a halo around her head as beads of sweat gathered at her temples.
“I don’t want tomorrow to come,” she whispered as she held the minute hand still with her mind, a hand outstretched and trembling, as if an invisible force between her palm and the structure were being held tremulously. “I want the world to wait for me.”
Her eyes flared white. She grit her teeth and, slowly, the minute hand began to rotate backwards.
58, 57, 56
Imogen gasped and swore under her breath with the effort. Was she doing it? Was she strong enough?
But of course she was. She was the Princess of Ruidus. If she demanded the sky to fall, then it would crumble humbly.
55, 54, 53
She bit her lower lip and tasted blood.
“I have a hold of time itself,” she rasped. She held her other hand out, the additional limb anchoring her in place. Her trembling subsided slightly as she let out a shaky laugh. “I control space and possibility and they will never make me do it. They will never-”
“Imogen.”
52, 51, 50
The young girl froze, losing her grip on the spell that manipulated past, present, and future alike. An older image of herself, who was not herself, hovered a few feet behind her.
“Imogen,” she whispered again. The woman raised a hand out and took a deep breath. Imogen watched, her expression falling, as the minute hand sped forward with ease. A loud gong rang throughout the surrounding space. So close up, it was deafening, but Imogen couldn’t bring herself to cover her ears. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything at all.
“You have a duty to your people, Imogen,” her mother spoke gently, and Imogen could barely hear her over the residual ringing.
“They’re not my people, Mama.”
Imogen turned, facing her mother. She plucked the dagger sheathed in the decorative belt from its place against the folds of her skirt.
“What are you saying? Imogen, what are you-”
“And they never were.”
Imogen plunged the dagger deep into her stomach and sank, almost instantly, into blackness.
IMOGEN
3 days earlier
Imogen Temult sat in a throne the color of jet as her advisors spoke around her.
My feet are cold but my arms are hot, she thought to herself. That doesn’t make any sense.
Her eyes lolled lazily from one Reiloran to the next, their large, red bodies gesticulating elegantly as their words reached only for the connection of the minds around them. She wasn’t tuning them out on purpose, but she wasn’t about to rush in to add her two cents either.
I wonder if we’ll have that soup I like so much for lunch, she thought. If not that, then I wouldn’t mind a roasted duck. Should I send someone ahead to request both? Would that be too much? It might be too late in the morning.
“What do you think, my lady?”
Imogen’s eyes blinked rapidly, and an embarrassed noise escaped her lips at being caught not paying attention.
“About…?” Her voice lilted out, appearing both regal and sheepish simultaneously. She could feel more than hear the sighs of frustration throughout the room as the rest of the council waited for her input.
The Reilora to her right, Xalta, spoke gently to her. “About your mother’s arrival to the city, my lady.”
“Where do you go, Imogen,” her mother had whispered to her in her dreams last night, “when you’re not with me?”
To her.
Imogen shook herself momentarily, dislodging the memory altogether. She sat up straighter and addressed the room.
“My mother and the company she keeps are arriving tonight, as scheduled. I spoke with her only last night. We should extend any and all hospitality to her, as well as her entourage.”
She wasn’t sure what the hesitant looks the others gave to everyone but her meant, but she certainly didn’t enjoy not being in the know.
“Have I said something unexpected?” she asked, allowing a hint of an impatient edge into her tone.
“Not at all,” Xalta, her most trusted advisor and right hand for so many years, reassured her. “We were merely wondering as to your expectations going forward.”
Hadn’t they been over this repeatedly for the past year? The night was finally arriving for the apogee solstice. Hundreds of Ruidusborn, like her, would be flooding onto the moon and taking refuge as her mother, as well as her colleagues, would stay in the castle alongside her. There was no deviation to the plan as far as she was aware.
“The refugees stay in the buildings we’ve forged for them on the outskirts of the city. My mother and her compatriots will stay in the guest rooms in the west wing of the castle. We will wait until their mission to free Predathos is at its culmination and then, upon success, we will all of us be transported to Exandria.”
My home, she wanted to add. The place I really belong.
“The Blue Promise awaits us all,” a member of the council rasped, and she couldn’t help but marvel at the wonder that caught in all of their throats when they spoke of Exandria. Sometimes it angered her, the longing she found in their eyes. It wasn’t your home, a petulant part of her mind wants to shout, you can’t miss what you never had. Not like I can.
And always, the overwhelming thought that tumbles through her mind endlessly, like an epilogue to every tantrum she desires, but never throws: You don’t know my pain.
But she doesn’t say any of that. Not here, not to them, the people who practically raised her after her own mother dropped her off at the stumbling age of 6. Not in a meeting of the council of The Weavemind, where she was meant to preside over them all. She missed the days when she was allowed to openly cry over something as trivial as a skinned knee.
She must have looked so small to them all–so alien in a way that they had all seemed to her so long ago. Her slightly tanned skin with scattered purple scars spanning the length of her arms, legs, stomach and back. Her violet eyes, impartial to most things, that would scan every room half-heartedly. Her lavender hair that tumbled around her shoulders and down her back in gorgeous, gentle waves and curls. Imogen thought, when she looked in the mirror, that she could seem powerful, if she let herself. She had the body for it, and the mind, too, if she were being honest with herself. But she didn’t have the drive, nor the desire.
“That’s all for today, I think,” Xalta spoke beside her. Imogen did her best not to slouch into her chair in relief. She gently unfolded her hands from her lap and stood.
“This meeting is adjourned,” she spoke aloud. “I thank you for your time. Until next we meet.”
And as the gentle scrapes and scuffles of chairs being rocked back from their places filled the hall, she turned before anyone could pull her aside, as fast as her feet could carry her into her bedchamber.
IMOGEN
“Were you wanting to wear the pale blue, or the pearl white tonight when you have dinner with your mother, Gen?”
Imogen laid languidly on her back, soft pink cushions and comforters gently hugging her frame as she remained sunken into her bed. She held her prized circlet between her two hands in front of her, watching the ways the gold would allow her to catch her reflection in it when the light hit it just right.
“I don’t know, Elara. Whichever you think is best.”
The lady in waiting sighed before gathering both fabrics into her arms. Walking over to Imogen’s side, she held the dresses up to the girl's body. Imogen raised her arms even higher and lifted her chin up so that her friend could have more room to work.
“Well the white looks a bit like you’re trying too hard, if you ask me,” the maid said, screwing up her face as she compared the two. Imogen let a rare laugh escape her lips.
“Then it’s best we go with the blue, isn’t it?”
Elara nodded, tucking the white dress back up into its previously folded position and crossing the room to let it collect dust in a rarely used dresser drawer. Imogen thumbed the ruby at the center of her circlet absent-mindedly.
“Are you excited, at least?” Elara asked.
“For what?” she responded, distractedly. Elara huffed and leapt onto the bed beside her, getting closer than anyone else in her life ever had.
“To see your mother! It’s been, what, 20 years?”
“22,” Imogen responded, voice devoid of emotion. A slight frown formed on Elara’s face as she looked on while Imogen adjusted the circlet back onto her head.
“And that doesn’t bring forth anything for you?” she asked, a hint of frustration bleeding into the question. Imogen didn’t seem to notice.
“I see her in my dreams,” she threw back as a means for explanation. “We talk all the time.”
“Yeah, but-”
“I’m fine, Elara.”
There was a hardness to Imogen’s tone that Elara knew meant that the conversation was over. She pursed her lips together, holding something back, before slowly pulling herself away from her spot next to Imogen on the bed.
“We need to bathe you,” she said, and Imogen groaned.
“I can do it myself.”
“Not tonight,” and as if on cue, a handful of Bormodos women in their crisp maid uniforms walked into the room, already going about their tasks. “Tonight,” Elara said, a twinge of something Imogen couldn’t quite place woven between her words, “you’re getting the treatment that comes with your title.”
Imogen did her best to be patient as she sank into the tub. She was grateful when one of the women reached in and cast a spell that caused her hand to glow as red as the moon they lived on. The water’s temperature rose to just the right shade of scalding.
“Is that alright for you, my lady?”
Imogen gave a genuine smile. “Yes,” she replied, “it’s perfect.”
The remaining hour was spent scrubbing, plucking, pulling, and cinching as Imogen was made ready for the feast where her mother and the other members of the Ruby Vanguard would be joining them. She was beginning to admit to herself that a part of her felt anxious. She longed to reach out for Predathos. She knew the god would be waiting for her, as always, ready to consume her in a way that always left Imogen feeling like she had an emotional hangover. But wasn’t it bliss, in those moments where Predathos would cradle her mind in its own consciousness? Wasn’t that feeling of belonging that the god gave her everything she had ever wanted?
But no, she couldn’t. Not now, not here, and not ever again, if she was being fully honest with herself. Imogen might have been made Princess of Ruidus, but she knew she wasn’t its true monarch. The real ruler slept at its core, hungry and yearning in a way Imogen recognized and feared when she stared at her own reflection.
There was a knock at the door as Imogen was donning the flowing, nearly translucent gown Elara had picked out for her earlier.
“If I may be so bold as to enter, my lady.”
Xalta stood in the door frame, waiting for permission to cross the threshold. Imogen nodded and waved him in, ignoring the scandalized looks of her assistants. He bowed respectfully before gliding in, a long black box tucked under one arm. Imogen eyed it and, through their mental link, questioned it.
“This?” Xalta said, producing the cardboard box and laying it on the bed. “I was told it was for you to wear tonight, my lady. Your mother requested it.”
Imogen’s brow furrowed as one of the ladies in the room gave a not so subtle sigh of exasperation over the idea of undoing all of the laces she had just tied on Imogen’s dress. She felt the knots coming loose and found she could breathe a bit easier.
“When were you in conversation with my mother?” she asked. Xalta merely folded his hands in front of him and eyed her patiently.
“Earlier this month, she sent word to have garments made for the apogee solstice.”
The silence that filled the room afterwards was heavy with speculation on Imogen’s end. Xalta gave a slight shrug.
“Perhaps she’s trying out the love language of gift giving, my lady.”
Imogen chewed at her bottom lip before releasing it quickly upon hearing a disapproving tut from one of her ladies. She inhaled deeply through her nose, and exhaled slowly out through her mouth. What did her mother want from her?
“Alright, out with you,” came the bold proclamation from one of the assistants, directed towards Xalta. “It’s not right for a gentleman to be in a ladies room as she changes. We’ll fit her into the dress more quickly if you’re out of the way.”
Imogen bit back a smile at the way Xalta’s eyebrows rose in shock. A bemused expression crossed his features.
“Of course,” he replied. As he turned to leave, just before the door shut, Imogen heard him in her mind once more. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Imogen heard Elara gasp and, worriedly, scanned the room for her friend.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
Her eyes landed on Elara and, realizing everything was fine, she felt the tension ease from her shoulders. Her expression changed, however, when she saw what it was Elara was holding.
A flowing, sensuous gown the blue color of Exandria’s sky was being held up in her maid’s hands. White jewels were stitched along it like the dusting of a galaxy. She could already tell it would hug her form in a way that she’d never dared to wear before, and she couldn’t help but wonder why this was the impression she was meant to make.
Imogen hugged herself self consciously for a moment, not really wanting to put on something so revealing. “I don’t know about this,” she muttered. Elara’s eyes darted over to her, still open wide in amazement.
“Imogen,” she whispered, “what are you talking about? You’re going to look stunning.”
A part of Imogen, the part of her that took comfort in self-deprecation, wanted to laugh, but another part of her knew that there was a chance that it was true. She wondered, sometimes, if she was beautiful. She wasn’t sure, since she looked so foreign to everyone else around her in her world, but every now and then she found herself hoping she was.
“Alright,” Imogen whispered into the room of waiting handmaidens. “I’ll wear it.”
LAUDNA
Laudna was doing her best to follow the line of thinking going on in the tent currently masquerading as a makeshift war room, but all of the voices of those in higher stations than her were bleeding together.
“What we need to consider…”
“Yes, but once we attempt that…”
“And now that this is underway…”
Her head was spinning with all of the information she and her friends had gathered over the span of the past few months. The moon was a bomb, was a god, was alive. There was an entire cage around it, there was at least one living species on it, and they were going to…what, exactly? Her head pounded as she rubbed at her temples.
She cast her eyes over at her Ruidusborn friend who seemed for all the world to be as carefree as ever. Fearne had her fire monkey, Mister, in her lap and was feeding him some sort of cookie. Laudna brushed her fingers over Pate at her belt out of habit.
“Oh, Fearne,” she whispered, preparing a message cantrip to the woman across the room from her. Fearne perked up, swiveling her head around until she locked eyes with Laudna.
“Yes?”
“How are you feeling? I think they’re planning to use you as bait to lure your father out, and I can’t say I like it. Do you want me to speak up on your behalf?”
Fearne appeared unruffled as she just shrugged, but Laudna knew better. She saw the way her friend's ear twitched nervously at the question–watched as the easy eye contact suddenly became slippery.
“I’m alright! If it means we have the upperhand, then we might as well try it. I don’t-” and here she cut off for a moment, eyes trained on Mister as he dug around her pockets for more food that she knew he wouldn’t find. “I don’t think we have any better options.”
Laudna gave a small, sad nod before breaking the connection. She looked around at her other companions. Chetney in the corner, whittling something new with a look of concentration on his face. Ashton standing just behind the leaders circle, one hand flexing angrily over the pommel of their hammer. Orym, face drawn into a grim expression, arms folded over themselves as he gazed at each speaker respectfully. And FCG, their head tilting back and forth with each new bit of information, storing it away for later use.
Laudna had been with this group for only a short part of her life, but they already felt like family to her. In truth, a large part of her didn’t want to be here. What was she doing, risking her life for a mission to stop an entire army of people from doing harm in the name of the moon? Who did she think she was?
Patience, pet, we’ll know what power lies ahead in time…
A chill ran down her spine unwillingly at Delilah’s voice thrumming through her skull, smooth as a silk noose. She wished, for the millionth time, that her thoughts could belong to herself. In all honesty, there was something else drawing her to this mission. She had mentioned it briefly to her friends, but she wasn’t sure any of them understood. She couldn’t quite blame them, though, when she herself struggled to comprehend what exactly it was about the moon that drew her to it.
Dreams, she had tried telling them. When the red moon flares, my dreams are different.
Different how? they had asked. But she didn’t know how to say “when the sky is red, I’m in love”, so instead she said nothing at all.
She thought that maybe, somehow, something or someone was waiting for her up there. That there was some sort of secret she just didn’t understand yet–some key to a lock that she hadn’t known to look for. A desperate part of her hoped it was true. She was so used to feeling half full. She hoped the answer to wholeness lied in the mysterious goings on that she and her friends had been chasing down for the better part of the year.
As Laudna looked down at her hands in her lap, she noticed her skin had the oddest tinge of red to them. She furrowed her brows, holding her hand up to inspect it closer, but as she did, she noticed the glow was coming from all around her. Everyone in the tent went silent as the room filled with a dull red hue that did not dissipate. Breaking the spell of stillness, Percy sprung into motion, rushing to the entrance of the tent and shoving the flap open swiftly. Laudna couldn’t see his eyes through the coat of red that reflected off of his spectacles. She found herself too nervous to get up to see for herself what had caused the clench in his jaw to appear.
“Percy?” she heard Keyleth ask. She watched the woman cross the room, her mantle of autumn leaves trailing sweetly behind her, and frowned at the way Keyleth’s hand came up to cover her mouth at whatever sight was before them.
“What is it?” Allura asked from safely inside the tent, still hovering over the pieces of parchment spread out on the table.
“It’s a portal,” Percy growled out. “They’ve opened up a path to Ruidus.”
IMOGEN
Imogen couldn’t believe how tight the dress was.
She was grateful for the circlet they made for her in her younger years. She didn’t want to know what everyone was thinking of her when they saw the plunging neckline, the slit up her thigh, the low, open back. She felt like she was on display in a way she’d never sought out before, and it frustrated her that she hadn’t chosen to dress like this for herself, but for others. She was even more confused recalling that it was her mother’s doing.
Maybe she got my dimensions wrong, she thought to herself, or maybe they ran out of this fabric at the shop and just had to make do with what they had. Maybe that’s why there’s not enough of it.
They told her that the malleus key had been a success–that her mother was being guided to their city and would arrive within the hour. That had been about 50 minutes ago. She had spent that time finally allowing herself to plan what it was she would say to her mother when she saw her. Nice to see you? No, that wasn’t true, and she didn’t want to start off with a lie. Where have you been? Too accusatory, too out of place. She was still mulling it over in her mind when a Reilora guard tapped her staff loudly three times against the onyx floor.
“Presenting,” she boomed, “Liliana Temult and guests.”
Imogen’s mind went white with fear, a feeling she hadn’t anticipated and didn’t understand. She felt Xalta tug her up ever so slightly with his telekinesis, reminding her that she needed to stand.
On shaky legs, she stood behind the head of the table and watched as three figures entered the room from the opposite end. A woman with gray hair and strange, dangerous looking blades at her side. A man with elven features that looked like he had kept his fair share of secrets. And her mother, looking so much like herself, braid flung over one shoulder, walking with a slight limp. Imogen felt the urge to run forward and help her, hated herself for it, and swallowed the feeling. What would she do, coo over her injuries? Why should she parent her parent?
Liliana took the spot to Imogen’s left and, as Imogen nodded to the room at large, they all sat in unison. Imogen didn’t know what to say or where to look. She was meant to be a ruler, she knew, but it was like all of her life’s training flew out of her head at the sight of her mother. As she looked over at her, she saw the other woman was already staring at her trepidatiously. She knew it was up to her to speak first, and eventually, she found her voice.
“I see you arrived in good health,” she said diplomatically. Her mother’s eyes fell momentarily before a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes was gifted to Imogen.
“Yes, well,” she cleared her throat, “there were a few complications, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“And the others? The Ruidusborn? Are they settled in?”
The woman to her mothers left spoke up before Liliana could. “They’re well, Your Highness. You’re most generous for granting them housing.”
Imogen unclenched her jaw and forced a small smile to her lips. “Of course. I do apologize, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
The woman’s gaze shifted to Liliana for a moment, who Imogen noticed was staring a bit too hard at the napkin she had placed in her lap.
“I’m sorry, my lady, I would have thought your mother had told you. My name is Otohan Thull, and it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
“Yes,” said the slip of a man next to Otohan, and there was a look in his eye that Imogen decided she didn’t like. “We've heard so much about you.”
“Master Da’leth, is it?” Xalta asked. The man nodded in acknowledgment.
“You may call me Ludinus.”
Imogen watched her mother worry the corners of the white cloth she had taken between her fingers. She recognized the name from her mother’s occasional visits in her dreams. This man was the leader of their organization, The Ruby Vanguard. Off-handedly, Imogen wondered if he had felt slighted to not be sitting next to her himself due to his rank. If he was offended, though, he didn’t show it.
“The architectural work of this city is fascinating,” she heard him say. Before she could reply, she felt a slight brush against her mind.
That dress looks beautiful on you, sweetheart.
Imogen’s eyes looked sharply into her mothers.
It’s not really my style, and it’s missing about a third of the fabric.
Liliana gave the tiniest hint of a smile at Imogen’s response, and Imogen wasn’t sure why it filled her with timid joy to see that she had made her mother happy, even for a moment.
I’m sorry. I just wanted… She felt her mother’s voice trail off, but knew that the connection was still there. Something was blooming in Imogen that she hadn’t been ready for, and wasn’t sure she wanted to begin with. Why did she keep wanting to comfort this woman? What was going on with her? She went to reach for the despondency that usually came with thoughts of her mother, but found that it wasn’t anywhere in sight.
It was a nice gesture, Mama. Thank you.
“You mentioned complications, Liliana,” she heard Xalta state from her right. “Is there anything we should be on the lookout for?”
“Well,” her mother paused to thank the staff as they lowered the first course onto her plate, “there were quite a few people on our tail. Members of Vox Machina, for one. They’ve got a fair amount of sentry at their disposal.”
“Not to mention the group that gave you that limp,” Otohan added, grabbing a buttered roll from the basket the moment it was placed before her.
“A pesky bunch, to be sure. What were they called again?”
“Bells Hells, I think.”
Imogen froze in the middle of sipping her wine. Her blood ran cold as fear shot up her spine. Liliana frowned as she watched a red rivulet run down the corner of her daughter’s mouth.
“Imogen? Are you alright?”
Imogen sputtered, bringing a napkin up to her cheek hastily.
“Yes, um, of course. I just,” she paused, trying to get her bearings. “I just wasn’t thrilled at the idea of you getting hurt is all.”
A warmth filled Liliana’s eyes that Imogen felt momentarily guilty for creating. Her mother reached out to her, gently laying a hand on her daughter’s wrist.
“I’m fine, sweet heart. Promise. I’ll be right as rain come morning.”
“If you’ll all excuse me for just a moment,” Imogen said, rising from the table. The rest of the people gathered rose too, which she had never fully gotten used to. “I’ll return shortly.”
Getting to her rooms took longer than she would have liked. She shut the door, grabbing the chair next to her boudoir and ramming it underneath the handle. Rushing over to a standing wardrobe, she flung the drawers open and rifled through the objects she kept hidden in the back.
“Where are you…” she muttered to herself. Feeling something smooth and circular, she grasped it firmly, yanking it out of its hiding place. Holding the silver mirror, she quickly plopped herself onto the floor.
“Alright, sugar,” she said, holding the mirror in front of her face, “show me where you are.”
Her eyes flared white as the world melted around her, dripping like too much paint down a canvas before a new image surrounded her. She saw a familiar group of people fighting their way desperately through a crowd of soldiers. She recognized the Ruby Vanguard based on their attire. Her mother must have kept an army down on the ground to stop anyone from traveling up. Why had they left the portal open? Did it have to remain that way until they were all ready to go back? Imogen found she didn’t know the answer to such a question.
It was hard to make people out in the dark, even with the bright red beam of light jutting into the sky, casting a ruby veil over everything in the vicinity. She saw Ashton bashing someone’s skull in–saw Fearne and her fire torch three guards at once. Chetney was in werewolf form and FCG had some sort of blade on his hand, extending it towards an unsuspecting sentinel’s back. Orym was pirouetting in his usual deadly fashion, blade swinging rhythmically as his enemies fell around him.
And there, in the center of them all, was Laudna. Her form of dread was in full display as she hexed those around her, black ichor dripping from her fingers.
Get out of there, baby, Imogen thought. What are y’all doing?
“It’s now or fucking never!” she heard Ashton shout. The rest of them sprinted as quickly as they could towards the beam of light.
No!
The next thing she knew, the six of them were gone the moment their hands met the light, and her room was her room once more. She startled as a knock sounded at her door.
“Imogen?”
She huffed in frustration as she threw the silver mirror under her bed hastily.
“I’m coming, Elara. Just a sec.”
Moving the chair out of the way, she ran her hands over her dress, trying to smooth out any potential creases. The moment she opened the door, Elara pushed past her, forcing her way into the room.
“They sent me up here to check on you. What are you doing? Everyone’s waiting on you before they move on to the next course.”
Imogen ran her hands through her hair nervously. “I just…” her mind raced as she tried to come up with a suitable excuse before finally landing on one she thought her lady in waiting would buy. “I wasn’t expecting to have so many feelings about seeing my mom for the first time in so long, you know? I kind of needed to clear my head for a second.”
Elara’s features softened as she reached out to give Imogen a hug. She swallowed down her guilt as the girl ran a soothing hand up and down her back.
“I get it. It must be difficult to have her so near after not seeing her for so long.”
“Yeah,” Imogen stammered, pulling away from the embrace. “Something like that.”
Elara eyed her for a moment longer. “Here,” she said, reaching a comforting hand out to rest on Imogen’s arm, “why don’t I tell them you weren’t feeling well and need to turn in early?”
Imogen turned the thought over in her mind. It was an excuse to go to bed, which was exactly what she needed, but she had a duty to everyone to be present. She wrung her hands together in front of her, worrying at her bottom lip.
“I’m not sure how well that’ll go-”
“Imogen?”
Her mother’s voice came from behind Elara. Imogen’s eyes met her mother’s over her friend’s shoulder.
“Mama, hi.”
Elara looked between the two before clapping her hands together and turning towards the exit. “I’ll just get out of your hair. I’ll see you tomorrow, my lady.” Curtseying to Imogen and nodding at Liliana, the girl left them both alone in the room, shutting the door behind her with a gentle click.
“Imogen, what’s going on? Are you sick?” Before Imogen could react, her mother had closed the space between them, reaching out and placing the back of her hand to her daughter’s forehead. It took everything in Imogen not to noticeably wince.
“I’m just overwhelmed, I think,” she admitted. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it certainly wasn’t a lie, either. Liliana nodded.
“I understand. It’s a lot to take in, I’m sure.”
An awkward silence rang out afterwards. Both women looked everywhere but at each other, clearing their throat occasionally.
“Well I’ll go ahead and-”
“I’m really tired so-”
They both stopped, laughing lightly.
“Sorry,” Liliana said. “I’ll go ahead and let everyone know you’re turning in early for the night. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Imogen said, and for some reason, she found she genuinely meant it. Liliana shook her head, waving a hand at her in polite dismissal.
“Don’t worry about it at all. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Imogen watched her mother exit her room, turning once to wave and wish her goodnight. Imogen waved back slowly, unable to repeat the sentiment. She counted out a full minute before she let herself begin to undress.
Once her nightgown was on, she climbed into the soft cushions of her bed, pulling the covers up under her chin and closing her eyes tight.
I’m coming, honey, she thought to herself as she drifted off into sleep.
LAUDNA
They were running. Laudna was tripping over her skirts as they raced blindly forward, exhausted from the pace that they were keeping.
“I see a cave ahead!” Chetney called out over his shoulder. “Let’s camp there for the night!”
Laudna blinked, jumping into Pate’s vision momentarily, looking through his eyes to see whether or not the coast was clear.
“It’s safe, I believe,” she announced to the party. When her vision became her own once more, she noted the relief that washed over all of their faces.
“I sure fucking hope so,” Ashton said.
They arrived about a minute later. Fearne plopped on the floor, not bothering to check the area for traps with the rest of them.
“I’m beat, I’m dirty, and I really need a nap,” she lamented. FCG rolled up to her, placing a hand on her head before casting a small healing spell. A cut on her cheek closed up slowly. She smiled up at him with gratitude.
“Thank you, Letters.”
“It’s as good a place as any,” Orym said, tossing his shield and sword to the ground as he tugged the portable hole free from its place in Ashton’s back pocket.
“Buy a person dinner first, Orym, fucks sake.”
Unfolding it without replying, Orym jumped in, a dull thud signaling that he reached the bottom a moment later.
“Catch!”
Bedrolls began flying out of the black pit, some being caught deftly, others being hit in the face. Laudna immediately set to unfolding her supplies. She was exhausted.
“Who’s taking watch?”
“Not me,” she mumbled as she crawled under the threadbare covers. The last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep was FCG’s cheerful offer to be on first shift.
~
For a few years now, Laudna had been having the strangest dreams.
In them, she was in love. The face of the person was never in focus, but she could hear their voice just fine. It was lilting and round in a way that reminded her of a river. They were patient, kind, and good. Laudna would tell them about her day, about her past, about anything at all, and her lover would listen with rapt attention.
She was occasionally told things, too, like how the person wished they both could find each other one day. They were trapped, they told her, and every time Laudna offered to help them, they always sounded so sad.
I’m a whole world away, baby.
In these dreams there was a storm. It scared her at first–all of the red dust swirling around, threatening to choke her. But her lover would grasp her hand, brushing against the red string that was only on her wrist in these dreams, and lead her into a quiet shack. They’d lay in bed, the other person stroking her hair as the wind howled outside, and would talk for hours.
I wish I could kiss you.
Laudna had felt shame and excitement alike rush through her the first time she’d heard this. “If you could see me clearly,” she replied, “you wouldn’t feel that way.”
What do you mean ‘if’? I’m looking at you right now.
It was then that they realized it was only on Laudna’s end that there were parameters. Any time the stranger would say their name, for example, Laudna would hear thunder boom in the distance, drowning it out. Whenever they wanted to let Laudna know where they were, the sound of their voice was so quiet, Laudna couldn’t make it out at all. She wasn’t sure what was keeping her from knowing the person she was falling for, but it only led her to believe that she was making it up.
Tonight, though, she found herself in the familiar landscape of the dream. But now, there was no storm. The sky was red and still. Puzzled, Laudna eyed the area around her suspiciously. The lack of lightning flashing in the distance worried her. She found the quiet unsettling.
“Laudna?”
She turned around at the familiar sound of her lover's voice, and gasped.
The most beautiful woman she had ever seen stood in front of her, clear as day. Her sheer blue dress rustled gently in the breeze along with her long, lavender colored hair. Laudna’s breath caught at the smattering of freckles across her cheeks. The woman approached, reaching two arms out that were covered in lightning-like scars. She grasped Laudna’s arms on either side and shook her slightly.
“What are you doing here? Why are you on Ruidus?”
Laudna’s mouth gaped open, unable to form words. The woman raised her eyebrows expectantly at her.
“Honey, say something. What’s going on? What’s your group doing here? It’s not safe! If they catch you-”
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
The woman in front of her froze mid-sentence, eyes widening. She blushed faintly once the words caught up with her. Letting her hands trail down Laudna’s arms, she took both hands in hers.
“You…you can see me?”
Laudna could only nod. She was mesmerized by the vision in front of her. As she got a closer look, she realized that this woman looked familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it.
“How did you know I was on Ruidus?” she asked, shaking off the feeling of unease.
“I scried on you earlier. My mom-” she cut herself off, shaking her head, “never mind that. I watched all of you go through the portal. Laudna, you can’t be here.”
Here. Laudna shook her head, not understanding.
“What do you mean ‘here’? Are you on Ruidus, too? Are you…” she swallowed thickly, suddenly very worried about the answer to her next question. “Are you a member of the Ruby Vanguard?”
The woman looked away for a moment, her eyes darting around suspiciously. “Not exactly, no,” she answered, and Laudna felt relieved to hear it. “I live here.”
“You’re from the moon?” Laudna asked in shock. “I didn’t know humans lived here!”
“They don’t,” the woman responded. “I’m the only one. I was born on Exandria.”
Laudna’s head spun. None of this made any sense. Her lover had mentioned they were a ruler of a kingdom far away. Could that mean that this woman was somehow royalty here? Was there more power at play on Ruidus than they had bargained for?
“I don’t understand. I thought you were in a high position of power in your realm?”
The woman closed her eyes, seemingly deflating before Laudna. She wanted to open her arms to her in comfort, but she was still slightly intimidated by how beautiful she found her, so she remained still.
“I am,” the woman said. “I’m the princess. It’s kind of a long story. But, Laudna, you have to get out of here. You and your friends need to go back home. If the Dominion of Cruth finds you, especially The Will, they’ll kill all of you. They know who you are.”
The woman raised a hand up to cup Laudna’s cheek. She felt her eyes flutter shut at the gentle caress.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop them from harming you. And I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you here, where I could have tried to stop it.”
Laudna blinked her eyes open and stared deeply into the purple ones she found in front of her.
“We aren’t staying long,” she promised. “Just long enough to get intel. There are dangerous people we’re trying to stop, and…”
Suddenly, Laudna realized exactly who this woman looked like. Dread left her frozen in place. It took a moment of heavy silence before she could speak again.
“Darling,” she whispered, “what’s your name?”
The woman smiled gently, a curious expression crossing her features.
“It’s Imogen,” she said. “Imogen Temult.”
“Temult?” Laudna choked out. She took a sudden step back, removing herself from the woman’s embrace. Imogen’s hands fell as realization hit her.
“You’ve met my mother, haven’t you?”
“Your mother. That makes sense…” Laudna trailed off. She was wringing her hands in front of her so roughly she heard a few pops.
My mother left me, she remembered Imogen telling her a long time ago when they were talking about her family. She took me from my father, my home, and she left me somewhere far, far away. All alone.
“Do you know what they’re planning? The Ruby Vanguard?” she found herself asking. Imogen sighed, shaking her head more to herself as she thought.
“I mean, a bit? I think there are things they’re not telling me, to be completely honest.”
A silence filled the air between the two of them, uncomfortable and empty. Imogen scuffed her toe in the red dirt between them as Laudna crossed her arms defensively over her body.
“I just want to go home, Laudna. I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t want to be exalted, I don’t want to be princess of a land that isn’t mine. I know it’s selfish of me, but I don’t give much of a damn what happens in the next few days. All I want now, all I’ve wanted for years, is just to find my way home. To you.”
She reached out again, taking one of Laudna’s hands between her own after gently prying her arms away from their position around herself.
“Please, honey, please understand. I’m not invested in anything they’ve got in store. I just want to go home.”
“Do they need you?” Laudna asked softly. “In order to go through with their plans. Are you a part of it all?”
Imogen shook her head. “Not as far as I’m aware. I’m just playing hostess.”
Laudna nodded, reaching her other hand up to take a part of Imogen’s hair between her fingers. She ran her thumb over the silky strands she found there reverently.
“Alright,” she responded. “Come with us, then. We'll probably only be here for a day or so. Find us. Find me, and leave this place. They’re keeping the portal open. Come back. Come home.”
Imogen looked into Laudna’s eyes, her shoulders tense and her brow a straight line.
Don’t make an enemy of me, my love, Laudna thought. I couldn’t stand to lose you.
“I’ll…” Imogen stopped to clear her throat. “I’ll see what I can do. Yes, baby. I’ll find you. And when I do, I’ll leave with you.”
Laudna gave a cautious grin, allowing the relief to sink in.
“Promise?”
Imogen leaned in and, for the first time, placed a gentle kiss on her lover’s lips.
“I swear.”