RE: Monarch

She clung to my sleeve. The touch was numbing, as her slight form held onto me tightly, her face cast downward, a curtain of dark hair covering her eyes. She appeared older than she would have... after... well, you know the story. I wasn't sure how that worked, and there was an odd veneer that encompassed her, smoothing features at the cost of clarity, leaving an image akin to a parchment sketch. But it was her.

Lillian's mouth twisted in fright.

Gods damned Draugblod.

The fear, regret, and guilt I'd been suppressing roared to the surface, a chimera with a vice-like grip on my guts.

"Greetings," I said, trying for kindness without being overly familiar. Suddenly it no longer seemed so important to find the void mage. Aetherya was likely right. Through whatever means—magical or otherwise—they were gone. "You look a bit lost."

"I am..." she whispered.

I looked around, trying to get a sense of the greater threat. There were fewer unbound spirits roving the sky now. Even the city's din had quieted. There was still chaos and confusion, but only the occasional scream.

The crisis was contained, for now.

There was a sudden, irrepressible urge to offer excuses. To explain, in gratuitous, winding detail, why I hadn't been there in her time of need. An urgency.

Somehow, I buried it. Along with the guilt, and regret, and fear, I buried it. There was no point in explanations. She was already frightened, unsure of her environment, what was happening around her. Lillian never knew me in this life. Even if some fraction of memories were intact, I was just another noble to her. Some spoiled son of a regent who'd disappeared without explanation.

So I asked her the only thing I could think of. "Do you want to go home?"

"Yes... but it's the funniest thing." She breathed a shaky laugh. "I can't remember where it is."

My heart dropped. There was a familiar urge to shoulder the burden for her. To put on a brave face, so she didn't have to. Foolish as it was. She'd always had a way of bringing the joy out of me, even when I was sure there was none to give. Returning that?

Well, it was only fair.

"Well, I'm a mage. Could try my magical spell of home divining," I offered, trying to stay light.

She laughed. Gods how I'd missed that laugh.

"That doesn't sound real." Lillian eyed me doubtfully, amused nonetheless.

"Let's try it and see." I put my hand out towards her forehead, shuddered like a soothsayer, then chucked my thumb towards the outlet behind us. "Yep. The divine mana of the eternal plane is pointing... that way."

"One would think the divine mana of an eternal plane would have better things to do." Her lips quirked in amusement.

"Absolutely. But it doesn't mind if I ask for directions, from time to time," I quipped, mentally tripping over how puerile it felt. In the beginning, jokes and making light of difficult situations came so naturally to me. At some point in the journey, I'd lost that. Something I'd only just realized.

I extended my arm to her, as I had a thousand times.

She slipped hers into it, as she had a thousand more.

We walked through the city openly, something we'd rarely done beyond that first month I knew her. It was difficult to be sure of exactly how much awareness Lillian had. She didn't seem to notice the specters, or the mobilized infantry keeping them in check, only to seize on various landmarks and shops. Deeper in topside, she stopped flat, staring at a window display filled with tomes. "I've... been here before."

"Of course you have."

"What does that mean?" she asked, giving me a wary look.

"It means you seem the sort to read many books."

"So... bookish?"

I smiled a little. "We're both liable to consume entire libraries at the slightest excuse, so there's no judgement." It was a lapse. Minor enough that I hoped she'd take it at face value. But as we grew closer to the destination, she spoke again.

"You... seem to know me."

I cringed internally, going to great efforts to keep my face neutral. "Of you, yes. This is the first time we've met."

Lillian shifted, awkward and out of sorts. "Sorry if this sounds strange... again... but can you tell me who I am?"

The barely mended wound in my chest opened as the words tore through me. "Lillian Gray. Whitefall's most promising apothecary."

"The apothecary part sounds right. As for the rest, I suspect flattery," she ventured.

"Not at all. Among other notable accomplishments, your cumulative ideas and research cured the plague. You're cherished and loved by family, friends, anyone blessed enough to find themselves in your circle." I paused. "Too much?"

"Is it true?" she asked.

"Elphion as my witness."

"It's kind. But... it sounds like the way people talk about someone after they're gone."

There was nothing to be said for that. Not if I wanted any chance of keeping myself together. While the religious trappings varied, and draugeblod was mostly a human holiday, the infernals had plenty of texts regarding spirits, and the nature of spirits. Their reputation as malevolent was overblown. Some were, but even those with great animus were widely theorized to derive their anger from the sheer confusion of continued existence in their disembodied state.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The conversation died until we reached Gretna avenue. Lillian stumbled, tripping over a loose stone. It took a moment to absorb the significance of that, but once I had, it registered that somehow she looked more solid than before. More defined.

All that had changed was our proximity to the apothecary. Hope reared its ugly head. I buried it. But it emerged just the same.

"Always so blighted clumsy," she muttered.

You were. And it was always charming. Until the dance lessons. You studied dance the same way you studied anything. Vigorously and without mercy. Once minding your feet in a ballroom became second nature, you rarely stumbled. The grace was always there, hiding, beneath the surface.

Careful to avoid another lapse, I asked, "Memories coming back?"

Lillian paused, pulling away and stepping back. "They... must be." She peered up and down the street, shuffling a few arm-spans away to examine it from different angles. "I remember falling. Right over there." Her head snapped around as she searched for the library. "Hauling deliveries there." Her focus seized on a nearby brothel. "And there! I went there a lot!" She stopped, cocking her head as she took in the gratuitous etching on the doorway. "Why did I go there a lot?"

"Well, it's a brothel. So likely for more deliveries," I prompted her.

"Ah. Of course. This is all very confusing." Lillian trailed off, pressing the flesh of her palm to her temple the way she did any time she felt stuck on a problem.

A thousand dark possibilities encroached in my mind. It was possible this was nothing more than a familiar place triggering her recall. But that didn't explain why she looked more human than before. The blue glow was almost imperceptible now, the slightest hint of aura behind seemingly ordinary cloth and skin. If getting closer to the apothecary was solidifying her hold on the world around her, if the apothecary was her anchor point?

Well, it created options.

There was too much mythology around the dwarves capturing spirits and embedding their essence into constructs for none of it to be true. To that matter, Ozra's golem magic utilized methods exactly along those lines.

Maybe I could still save her.

Maybe.

As we turned the corner, I half-expected to see Gray's Apothecary, exactly as it was. Naturally, that didn't happen. But it wasn't the burned out, abandoned husk it'd been days previously either.

"Was it... always like this?" Lillian stared up at the half-constructed building. The front and sides were almost entirely restored, though the roof was a mess of unfinished beams.

Even as I lied, I felt my credibility stretching. "There was a fire. I've dealings with Gunther, your father. He's always been a good source of business, true to his word, and an excellent apothecary. After hearing he'd fallen upon hard times, this was the least I could do. Paid the masons extra to get it done quickly."

At the time it'd felt more like paying for a long overdue memorial. But maybe it didn't have to be that way.

I approached the front, only to find Lillian, rooted to the ground behind me, her eyes wide, mouth working silently. When she spoke, she was afraid. "I don't remember the fire. Any of this. There are parts I can remember. Little bits and pieces but it's all so hazy." She raised a hand and covered her mouth. "Was I inside when it burned?"

"You died here, yes." I crossed the distance and took her hand. "But somehow, beyond my understanding, you found your way back home."

The silence was long and helpless, as she absorbed that. The constant undercurrent of worry she carried for most of our relationship returned, etching itself in the lines on her forehead. "What more can be done for the dead?" she whispered.

"Magic is shockingly adept at offering solutions for the unexpected. I owe Gunther much. More than could possibly be repaid. I'll do everything in my power to help you."

"Loyalty to my father." Her frigid fingers caressed my cheek, the chill seeping in, numbing my gums, my teeth. "Is that truly the reason for such kindness?"

I took a step back, my head spinning. "Yes."

She watched me closely, her eyes piercing. "When my awareness returned, I was at a loss. Completely disoriented. Everything felt wrong. But as the malaise lessened, I noticed something more. An ache. Like a part of me was broken, missing."

Tremors plied at my arms, my body, my legs. "A traumatic event separated your soul from your body. It would be stranger if you didn't experience a sense of displacement."

"That feeling vanished the moment I touched you." She pursued as I backed away until my shoulders bumped the sidewall. "We're connected somehow."

Maya's visage flashed before me, a reminder that things were different now. I owed Lillian much. Safety. Security. The chance at a normal life, and credit for her accomplishments.

But that was where it ended. My attachment to her was the reason she was targeted. By my father and Thoth. In my grief, I'd idealized what we had. What we were. The Sanctum forced me to reexamine those memories without the gilded tint, which was a harrowing experience in its own right. Even if I'd returned to Whitefall and found her alive, it would have changed little. We weren't soul bound. We were flawed people who found each other in a sea of despair and clung on tightly, even as we drowned.

My path remained unchanged. I'd do everything I could for Lillian, then follow through on what I should have done a lifetime ago.

Leave her be.

"Charmed. Truly." I removed her hand from me gently, giving it a squeeze as I let it go. "But unfortunately, that's not what this is. I'm spoken for. And let me assure you, we've never met in this life."

"Oh." Her mouth formed an expression of surprise. Embarrassment flushed bright red on her cheeks, trailing down her neck. "Oh no. Apologies. From the bottom of my heart. Gods—I'm such a fool. Throwing myself at the first person kind enough to stop and help."

"Well, most in your position are either floating around like clouds or dive-bombing fleeing innocents so I'd say, comparatively, you're doing fine." It was all I could do to stay calm, obfuscate the turmoil within.

"I suppose."

An idea occurred, as I glanced back towards the apothecary. For the most part, it was bare. But the kitchen was complete enough that they'd begun moving in the appliances. "This has been a strange day for everyone. I'll need to get in touch with others soon, people who can help with your situation. We don't know if you can actually drink anything, but someone told me, once, that even the scent of the right tea is balm for the troubled."

Lillian nodded agreement. "Probably my father."

"Probably," I agreed. "Lavender? It's pleasant enough on the nose." I paused, and whispered awkwardly. "And, to be honest, it's all I have on me."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Her smile was pained as she stared down at the ground. "Lavender's fine. Better than fine. It's... my favorite."

"Alright. I'll brew something. We'll enjoy it together, and when you're ready, discuss what comes next." Even as I moved to enter the partially rebuilt apothecary, Lillian remained rooted in place.

"Do you want to stay out here?" I asked, some part of me afraid that if she was out of my sight, for even a second, she'd fade away.

"For a while. Just... trying to get a handle on everything." She smiled that pained smile again. "The quiet helps, sometimes."

As I listened, I realized she was right. The specters dotting the sky were nearly gone. Beneath it, the din of panic and clanking armor was all but silent. My friends, family, and regiment were likely safe. It wouldn't hurt to spend a little more time here.

"Call, if you need anything." I pulled the door shut behind me. In the scant seconds before it closed, Lillian called out. Her voice was so soft, so gentle, I barely heard it.

"Thank you, Cairn."

The shock that followed was difficult to describe. Like I'd suddenly been thrown into frigid water and yanked out. As if controlled by memory alone, I set to brewing the lavender. It wasn't difficult. Someone had been thoughtful enough to fuel the newly installed stove, despite explicit instructions that there would be no one to use it for the immediate future. There was a teakettle and matching cups alone in the cupboard. The interior was painted, almost identical to what it once was, though the choice to do so before the roof was finished was curious. All-the-while, the water boiled easily. I remained within a cage of my own mind, acting out a process I'd carried out countless times, keeping the inevitable at bay.

Just for a few minutes more.

I had time to pour a single cup of tea before Lillian screamed.