The Mother of Monsters

Teyva and the two uniformed men, who she assumed were some kind of elite guards, arrived at the part of Osan called ‘The Pinnacle’ after a ride that lasted almost ten minutes. While a magnificent piece of ingenuity on the part of the Azar, the magical device was far slower than a modern elevator. She didn’t mind though, it gave her a chance to center herself and take a few calming breaths. She had been meaning to shore up her mental defenses along with those against mana manipulation. Her experience with Yaya Yftha hanging over her head. She leaned against The Marble and closed her eyes, feeling the movement of that smoky energy wreathing itself around her. She pulled on it tightly, honing it as close as she could into a shell around her body. 

“It’ll have to do,” She muttered when the lifter stopped and the two men led her through a pair of ornate doors. Unlike all the other doors she’d seen before that were made of some kind of metal or stone, these were made out of a dark wood and reinforced with some kind of silver-like metal. She didn’t get a chance to ask them what it was as they quickly marched their way through the door. 

Their brisk pace took them down a brightly lit hallway towards a familiar pair of individuals standing before another pair of doors. Elat and Azrael were standing next to someone she didn't recognize. She waved before hazarding a glance to the right and was nearly struck dumb by the sight. The entirety of the Wildlands stretched out through a long line of windows that framed the entire hall. She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus instead of stopping to enjoy the view.

When she came to a stop Azrael reached out to grip Teyva’s arm. 

“How was it?” She asked, glancing up at Elat.

“Yaga Yftha is inside,” He said, thumbing over his shoulder. “The King seemed pretty upset that you were left at the gates.”

Azrael nodded, “He said he had a lot of questions for you but wouldn’t elaborate to me.”

Teyva nodded and glanced at the woman who stood stoically to Azrael’s left. She was dressed in the same spiffy uniform as the two men who had led her all this way. A single gold chain hung from her high collar to her shoulder, marking her as having some sort of rank over them, probably. Teyva glanced back to see the two men had already departed, their work done. The severe-looking woman narrowed her eyes at Teyva and looked her up and down.

“Lady Akura, I ask that you address the King as ‘Your Majesty’ and speak only when spoken to. There is a decorum to be maintained within the throne room,” She said hurriedly, looking Teyva over, “It is a shame we can’t do anything about your clothes on such short notice.”

“My clothes?” Teyva blinked, looking down at her tattered gear. “Oh.”

Azrael sighed, “This is Karal, the head of the Balastar, father’s Elite Guard.”

Karal raised her hand to her heart and inclined her head a fraction of an inch before continuing on as if Azrael hadn’t interrupted her, “The King is expecting you right away, please, follow me,” The woman clipped and turned on her heel, pushing the doors open and raising her voice for all to hear, “Lady Teyva Akura and her… guardian! Lady Azrael Unabi and Sir Elat rejoining the court!” The woman called out after a moment of hesitation on what to call The Marble. Teyva restrained a grin and stepped inside.

“Wow,” Teyva breathed, taking in the room. The chamber was completely circular with a rising ramp going up either side staring at the mid point. The ramp rose to about halfway up the wall before forming a second layer to the room where a single throne sat. The walls were a jet black stone that shined like glass and was adorned with tapestries depicting centuries of history from the looks of it. Some were tattered and torn, others burned, but all still remained. It was the ceiling, though, that captivated her. She saw the sky above them, the stars, brighter than ever, constellations traced out with glowing lines. The stars themselves provided light to the room.

She turned her gaze back to the raised platform and the figures standing on it. One of which she recognized with a barely restrained frown. The second could only be one person. Sitting on a throne made of black glass and silver was a man of regal bearing with jet-black hair. He had a long, rectangular nose and that Azari square jaw. His beard was long but trimmed into straight lines that made his chin look like a battle-axe. His eyes were unblinking and oddly warm despite being the color of arctic ice. She swallowed under his gaze, stepping forward behind the woman who had introduced her. With a small command, she ordered The Marble to remain at the door.

He stood up and Teyva was forced to notice the twelve other guards lining the outer walls of the room. All of them turned to him and kneeled at once. Azrael and Elat hurried to join them. Teyva blinked at them and then looked up at the King, a moment of panic rising in her chest. She started to kneel but his voice made her freeze in place.

“Please, don’t,” It put Nephral’s strangely handsome voice to shame. There was so much power behind it that she felt a chill go down her spine. She looked up at him and straightened her legs, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Stand and face me,” He said, “Before we speak, there is someone who would like a word,” He went on, gesturing to the space to his left. Teyva followed his gesture and locked eyes with the last person she wanted to interact with. Yaga Yftha stood with her arms behind her back and a carefully constructed expression of calm on her face. Teyva watched the woman’s throat tense and knew she was restraining herself. Even so, she stepped forward.

“It is thanks to you in no small way that our King’s Daughter, Azrael Unabi, was returned to us. For this, we extend our gratitude. You will without a doubt be rewarded for your honorable deeds,” She hesitated, forcing herself to keep a straight face. The king glanced her way and raised an eyebrow. She exchanged looks with him and let out an aggrieved sigh.

“And for my part in your ‘mistreatment’,” She said the word as if it were needles beneath her nails, “I offer my sincerest apologies and hope for your forgiveness in this matter.”

Teyva looked from her to Azrael and then to Elat. Azrael gave her a gentle nod and smiled. Teyva turned her gaze to the King and then back to Yaga Yftha. She knew the woman was not truly sincere in her apology, but it did feel like reward enough to have her be forced to apologize in front of all these people. Teyva offered her own needle-toothed smile and inclined her head; “Water under the bridge, Master Yftha. I hope we get to share a drink sometime in the future.”

Yaga gave her own restrained smile; “If only I would be so honored,” She turned to the King and bowed her head, “Majesty, I will take my leave now as I must return to the Eastern Patrols.”

“Thank you, Yaga,” He said and then said something else under his breath that had quite the reaction. She frowned at him and rolled her eyes before turning on her heel and marching down the ramp that wrapped around the room. When she got to the bottom she found herself just ten feet away from Teyva. The two exchanged measured looks before Yaga left, having to brush past The Marble who refused to move immediately for her. Teyva pretended not to notice and instead made eye contact with Azrael who shot her an amused grin.

The king looked between the two of them and then at the door before raising his hand and gesturing to it. “Leave us.”

The guards quickly marched out in even rows. Unlike Yaga, The Marble gave them a wide berth and allowed them through the door with no trouble. When they finally departed he glanced back at his daughter and her lover. “You too, I want to speak with her alone.”

Azrael blinked and looked at King Thrake and then at Teyva, “But-”

“Azrael,” He said in a low, warning voice, “Now, please.”

She turned a bit white before giving her father a sharp nod and turning to Elat. The two of them quickly made their way up the ramp and through a door behind the throne and up a stairwell. The door shut behind them and left Teyva and the King alone. He crossed his arms behind his back and looked down at her. His expression was calm, but something roiled behind his eyes. Teyva kept her back straight, though, even as he began to walk toward the edge of the ramp and descend toward the lower level. His eyes still on her, hers locked with his. She felt her heart in her throat, her blood turn to ice, and her gut twist and shrivel up. Nothing had prepared her for the look he gave her.

Even less prepared her for the sheer weight of his mana. His presence bearing down on her with a weight that made Yaga Yftha’s seem inconsequential. Teyva felt her knees immediately begin to tremble as he drew closer and in an effort to relieve the pressure she let her walls fall. She was nowhere near strong enough to push back against him. As he drew closer the weight abated. Only when he was finally face-to-face with her that she realized the two of them were close to the same height. She’d noticed she was taller than most of the folk in the city streets but he had seemed so enormous on his throne.

“We have a lot to talk about, it seems,” The King said, “I am glad you are stronger than Yaga had suggested. You are going to need it in the future, I think.”

Teyva opened her mouth to respond, but words didn’t come. He canted his head to the right and then before her very eyes seemed to transform. Not in any physical way, but he broke into a wide smile and those cold eyes of his began to sparkle with mischief; “You can speak freely, no one’s here to judge you. Sorry for the scare, I had to be certain of what I suspected.”

“What did you suspect?” Teyva managed.

“Not here, please, walk with me,” The King rumbled, glancing toward the door that Azrael and Elat had left through. “I’d like to show you my gardens if you are so inclined,” He reached out a hand to her and Nephral let out a low growl. He pulled his hand back with surprise. “It’s alive!” He gasped, his eyes wide with fascination.

“Of course I am alive,” Nephral murmured.

“It speaks as well! What are you, my little friend?” Thrake asked.

“I am Nephral,” The feline said proudly, “I am a Sphinx and my mother’s advisor.”

“Mother?” The king murmured, looking at Teyva who was forced to shrug. 

“I call myself the Mother of Monsters,” she said, reaching up to stroke Nephral’s head. “I have many children.”

He made an inscrutable face and inclined his head; “Very well, Mother of Monsters, if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to the gardens above, I wish to have a private word and ask you a few questions,” He held out his arm for her to take and she eyed it for a moment before looking up at him. She sighed and slipped her arm in his, walking with him up the ramp and past the throne. When they slipped through the door into the back he showed her up a stairwell that lead to a small platform and another floor lifter. There was no one managing this lifter, though, and instead, the King himself reached for a small panel on the wall, running his fingers along a few raised stones before stepping onto the platform.

As they ascended, he kept his eyes on the ceiling above him. She followed his gaze and spotted several places where the platform could stop. 

“You saved my daughter’s life, I know I had Yaga say it as a punishment for her overzealous greeting but I wanted to thank you personally,” He said absently before turning to look at her, “Azrael speaks highly of you and defended your honor with quite a bit of ferocity.”

Teyva felt her face warm and she cleared her throat, “Azrael’s… a good friend. The best friend I’ve ever had, if I’m being honest,” she paused and turned to him. “I promised to bring her here and to help convince you she wasn’t at fault for what happened with the Humans.”

He frowned, “There will be some arguing that what the Count of Balthin did was an act of war against our people. I’m sure the Four will have quite a bit to say about that,” He sighed, offering Teyva a sad smile, “It’s good to see Azrael smile like that though, I was afraid her mischievous side had been lost to age.”

“It took a little work to drag it out of her,” Teyva admitted, “She’s a badass, that’s for sure.”

Teyva blinked and covered her mouth, realizing the kind of language she’d used in front of a King. She glanced his way and to her surprise, she saw him trying to restrain his own laughter. Eventually, he gave in and let out a snort, “A good word for her, I’d say.”

Teyva closed her eyes and let out a breath, trying to remind herself that even Kings were people too. The lift came to a stop and a pair of doors opened ahead of them, the scent of flowers and humidity assailing her senses. She blinked away the head rush and stepped out into the gardens with him. Looking up, she could see the floor of the level just above them but that was where this room’s similarities to any sort of normal room ended. It was like a greenhouse built into the side of a tower. Massive windows at the far end of the room let in what was left of the day’s sunlight. Around her, trees grew as tall as twelve feet, surrounded by flowers and other plant life that she’d never seen before in her life. All sorts of colors blended together to form a rainbow that swirled around the room in various intricate patterns. 

The doors closed behind them as they stood in silence, appreciating their surroundings.

“I love this place, it helps me think,” He said, inclining his head forward, “Walk with me.”

He led her forward into the lush surroundings. Remaining silent for a while as she took it all in. He spoke up when they reached the window, looking over the vast wildlands beyond. When he finally spoke he released her arm and turned to face her completely. His mischievous eyes transformed back into those deadly serious spears of icy blue. When he spoke, she felt her stomach bottom out and her blood run cold.

“If I said the word Transmigration, would it have any meaning to you?”