Shadow of the Abyss

Elena could not believe it, even though it had happened moments before. She was holding her cheeks, the sting of her father's lashing still there. It burned her, searing her of a shame she never knew she had.

"Father." The word felt strange, almost alien, on her tongue. She had uttered these words all her life, but at this moment, they felt out of place. The figure before her was not her father but the Marquess Yandar Rivia.

The Marquess was not a very tall man. He was a head taller than Elena, yet he seemed to tower over her with those burning grey eyes. He was old and could pass as her brother, certainly not her father. But there was agelessness to him. A solemness that predestined greatness.

"Marquess," she corrected herself as fast as the word came. "Nox was unconscious."

"Was, dear daughter," The marquess said in a guttural laugh. "And now I hear he possesses Transcendent Intent. And that power he channeled in the face of that last bolt… "The Marquess's lips became a thin veil line. "You should have foreseen these events, daughter. Foreseen all of it. Conall is a fine man.

A fine man indeed. But you were promised to Nox De Nier. Rumors have it he broke your Maidenhood. I've no idea how true that is, but it isn't relevant. All the Realm knows it to be true, so it is. For you to weep for another man beside your fiancee's bed chamber has brought a type of shame I've not felt before."

Elena's finger dug into her palm, and she bowed her head. 'You are not the only one who feels shame,' she thought. The mere idea of what she had to do sent a chill dancing along her spine. And for an instant, she wondered if it was fear or excitement. 'Excitement!' She paled when she realized that part of her felt any sort of joy of being bedded like a trophy in some bet.

She stumbled at that. It was a horrible thought. A horrible image, yet no matter how much she tried, the feeling of being held by Nox returned to her.

'No! Get it together! I love Conall! Not some playboy!'

"Before my daughter," the Marquess continued as if he hadn't noticed Elena's strangeness. He was sure to have. Any Transcendent was said to be able to read a man simply by the intent they unconsciously radiated. "You could do anything you wanted. You had the power to choose. But the moment those rumors spread.

You lost that chance. We are in the north. And all of the north fervently believe you have been bedded. You must be wed, or you'll be ostracized by not just the north but the woman's circle. I needn't tell you how vicious they are."

Elena shivered at that. She was never one to enjoy sharing accompany of other women who tended to use words rather than a sword. She spent most of her days on the battlefield to get away from such things, which meant she didn't have to wear a dress, and she wouldn't be caught dead doing so, much less spending hours dressing her face to make herself pretty.

She had tried escaping them, but every week, she'd receive a letter from various houses for tea parties or operas. She had refused them all, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted the honor of the battlefield, not a dress and a teacup.

"Nox seems different from what I remember. Even his spirit seemed to have changed. I originally thought he was an otherworlder, but House Nier would have checked.

Distantly, Elena felt herself nod. She had the same thought, too. Not that it mattered if Nox was any other. If the world believed him, Nox, then he was.

Marquess Yandor shook his head. "No matter. I can fix this. We can fix this, but Daughter. You'll need to cut all ties to Conall. I—" A knock at the door.

"What is it?"

Elder Ashe opened the door and stepped in with a bow. "My Lord, the Imperial Palanquin is requesting an audience with all the high lords in the castle. Nox De Nier has also been summoned."

"The Imperial Palanquin?" Elena lifted her head. Those had been reserved for those of the same imperial blood of the King. And since the King had sired no heir, it couldn't have been the Queen since the entire city of Inka would have been aware of such a thing. There was only one person who rode through the realm much like a shadow with a few guards at their heels.

"The Queen Dowager," Elena heard her father muttered. She gulped and could see the fear in her father's ancient eyes. Few things had ever moved him. But the Red Queen was one of them. The woman who ordered her men to slaughter the entire City of Valgar, to slay one man.

For a hundred years, the people of Valgar fought to watch their childrens-children guttered before their eyes, their heads pressed on pikes to be eaten away by the crows. Babes cut from their mothers' belly dragged across the earth to scorch it red.

The Red Queen, Renfi Ironblood, Queen Dowager of the realm

***

"Who?" Altair asked calmly, sipping the last bit of Elysium Root Tea. He looked up at Therion, who had delivered the news. The Forsaken Demon stood dressed much like a butler, though his suit seemed to cost a hundred times more. Altair dreaded asking him how he came by it, though he figured it was probably given to him by some of the ladies-in-waiting he bedded. A gift to him, no doubt.

"The Queen Dowager, Renfi Inronblood, your Grace."

"Ironblood?" Altair frowned. Images of his time in Yarwin flashed across his mind to a young girl he had aided in the past. She, too, was an Ironblood.

"The Red Queen, they call her. The Castilan appears rather pale, as do others," Therion remarked. "Shall I refuse her?"

"No… I heard the Ironbloods were stationed on the Twentieth Floor. It's best I don't." Reluctantly, he stood up, noticing Medusa coming in. She looked him in the eye, and he knew how serious the matter was.

"Let us go…" Altair frowned, recalling something.

"You don't even know who I am! Don't even know the chaos you have brought to this castle." The words of Conall came to him.

Knowing, followed by a cold smile, traced his lips as he sauntered forward.

'Zariel,' Medusa muttered, catching herself when he looked at her. "Sorry… You just looked like him then. It was a foolish notion. Forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," Altair said, though he wondered why she'd say such a thing.

"Let's get you changed all the same," Medusa said. "You can't meet anyone dressed in a robe. It's unbecoming." she snapped, and before Altair's eyes, his robes wove itself into something else.

Transfiguration, one of the Seven Schools of Magic

In a blinding flash, Altair was ordained in a finery meant for Kings, emblazoned witht the Sigil of the Black Moon over his back and along his regalia. He smiled, thanking Medusa before sauntering out, Therion and Medusa hot on his heel.

Along the corridor, as he made his way towards the chamber that housed the Queen Dowager, he spotted the familiar palanquin he'd seen outside the gates a month ago. His brows beetled, but he said nothing, stopping before the Great Hall, blocked by two spearmen. Kings Guard by the blue and white stripes across their black armor and the emblazon sigil of a Red Spear. Both men were in the Ninth Circle.

"State your name!" The one on the left uttered, his voice cold as dry ice. Read latest stories on empire

Therion frowned. "You are in the Presence of Nox De Nier, Duke-Heir. You will watch your tone."

The guards scuffed, their scorn almost palpable. He gave his brother-in-arms a look and nodded as the door opened, one of them shouting.

"Presenting the Duke-Heir, Nox De Nier, of House Nier."

Altair strode past them, indifferent, watching the Marquess, Castilan, and several others on knee before the Castillan Throne. He ignored them, fixing his eyes on the one on the dais that held the Crystal Throne.

Suddenly, Transcendent might lash at him like a collapsing star, seeking to bring him to his knees. He frowned, unaware the color of his eyes becoming like Black Moons devouring all light. Thirteen Monolith filled his Sea of Consciousness, glowing brighter than the brilliance of dawn banishing the night. The Godheads.

Whatever pressure Altair might have felt became like hot air across his being as he stood with his forsaken eyes meeting the scarlet ones ahead of him. He openly stared, measuring the woman, knowing she was doing the same.

Renfi Ironblood was not a woman anyone could call beautiful. She was certainly handsome, possessing more male traits than she did feminine. She was tall but not so large that you couldn't tell she wasn't a woman. Sharp featured, with eyes that could cut, and usually did, he was sure. She sat much like a god, imposing rule within the Hall, seeking to dominate.

"You are the Queen Dowager?" Altair demanded, stunning the hall. He glanced at the men and women on their knees and scuffed, looking back at Renfi, and said, "I shall not kneel. So you can remove your essence."