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While Gelvaan was beautiful in its own humble way, comprised of worker folk and simple, sturdy buildings, Whitestone sustained an elegant edge as though gold thread weaved throughout the fabric of the city. Even the poorest of their people were well off it seemed. It flourished under the rule of the de Rolos.
The warm spring breeze carded through Imogen’s lavender hair and soothed the heat of her lightning scars which had spread to whole facets of her body in the last few months. As she walked, she noted the various trees throughout the streets bloomed with white and pale pink buds, and the leaves of the Parchwood Timberlands almost looked like emeralds against the clear blue sky. Everything displayed an air of regality—even the landscape.
Imogen felt particularly out of place in her simple sheer dress, leather bodysuit, well- worn boots, and yellow scarf. Compared to the majesty around her, she looked like a commoner. Well, she was a commoner. She came from a town of pastures and farmland; she’d grown up working as a stable hand.
She’d been afraid to touch anything in the castle for fear of breaking or tainting it. Especially when Lady Gwendolyn had been so scared of her, Laudna, and Fearne, though particularly Laudna.
Sure, Laudna could look scary to those who didn’t know her, but even the scariest things could be beautiful if given a chance.
Imogen tucked her hair behind an ear as her apprehension grew. Laudna often remarked at her beauty, at the prettiness of her scars and the ease in which Imogen wielded her power. However, Imogen only saw her mother. Only saw that which made her like Liliana.
It only proved how sometimes the most beautiful things could be poisonous.
Imogen hadn’t been able to stand being in the clean, respectable castle, and in an overwhelming moment of disgrace, she’d slipped away and didn’t bother explaining herself to Laudna.
I’ll be back, Laudna , she said as she made her way onto the cobblestone streets just beyond the castle walls.
Would you like company, darling?
No, thank you. I’d just like a little time with my thoughts.
Alright. Holler if you need anything.
I will.
Imogen held Laudna’s voice close to her heart. The last time Bells Hells had been in Whitestone, Laudna had been dead. Imogen had been so caught up in her grief that she hadn’t fully experienced the magnificence of Whitestone. It was strange to have been in the city before but not really seen it. She’d been too blinded, too focused on one thing: bringing Laudna back.
Part of her feared that when she returned to the castle, Laudna would be dead. That her resurrection and the months that had passed since then had been a dream. That getting to love her and be with her would turn out to be nothing more than a fabrication of her mind.
Imogen’s empty hand felt cold, strange. She kept rubbing her fingers across her palm as if that would cause Laudna’s hand to materialize.
Laudna was safe, she reminded herself. Safe and alive.
Alive. Much like the atmosphere of Whitestone.
Everything here seemed so full of life—the people, the streets, its creatures, and wildlife. Imogen marveled at everything as she walked, and she became so engrossed in studying the colors, sights, and smells, that she didn’t realize she’d reached the outskirts of the city until she’d wandered upon the Greyfields.
Through the gate and into the open expanse of soft, green grass and hedges, she noted a building. As she neared, she realized it was the Matron of Ravens’ temple, and in close proximity to the temple, stood two statues. The larger appeared to be the Matron herself, her blank face and robes looming over the smaller statue.
Imogen approached, astonished at the intricate design and beauty of the second statue—the winged man. His long hair had been carved half up with loose strands in a bun. He wore a vestige which bore symbols painstakingly carved into the stone between sections of the breastplate, and his wings—large and powerful, curved around him.
Imogen took in the details of his face—sharp cheekbones, blank, intense eyes, and an expression of stony certainty as though he knew his purpose and would give his life for it.
Stoic, but beautiful.
She glanced down at the small plaque at the base of the man’s feet. The Champion of the Raven. In memory of friendship, sacrifice, and the day that he carries us all upon the threshold and beyond .
The Champion of the Raven.
She looked back up at the face hewn from stone. He seemed...familiar.
A flash of black sliced across Imogen’s mind—back to the day when everything went to hell. A broken earth elemental, a bloodied and paralyzed Keyleth, the merciless Otohan Thull whose blade sought to end of the Tempest, and...black feathers. Raven feathers.
It was the winged angel, she realized. The dark angel who had saved the Voice of the Tempest. The dark angel whom her mother had banished into purgatory within the lens.
Imogen ran a gloved finger across the small inscription at the base of the statue and read the sentence again. This man—the man important and revered enough that stick-in-his-ass Lord de Rolo would build a statue for—was gone because of her mother. He was trapped in a lens to be utilized by Ludinus in whatever fucked up way he saw fit to implement his plan.
Imogen had tried getting through to her, yet it hadn’t been enough.
She hadn’t been enough.
She wondered if being Liliana’s daughter meant anything. Imogen previously believed Liliana had spent almost ten years trying to protect her, but after the betrayal at the Key, she wondered if it had been manipulation all along. In the end, her mother had been nothing more than a follower of Ludinus.
With each day that passed, Imogen’s resentment for the Temult name grew. It connected her to Liliana, and she wanted nothing to do with the choices her mother had made—wanted nothing connecting her to a person who would willingly assist Ludinus Da’leth in destroying millions of innocent lives to ensure the reign of a select couple thousand.
Imogen chewed the inside of her cheek and wondered if those they wished to save would ever be able to put their faith in her. She’d barely gained the trust of Lady Keyleth during their visit to Zephrah, and that was only after Orym had vouched for her.
“We’re tryin’ to find a way back for you,” she whispered. “ I’m tryin’. I’m tryin’ to right my mother’s wrongs.” She caressed the tip of one of the Champion’s wings, the cold of the curved surface seeping through her glove. “I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t touch that.”
Imogen jumped, whirling.
Lady Vex’ahlia, dressed in hunting leathers of dark browns and blues, armaments absent, entered under the east archway of the Greyfields from the Parchwood.
“Lady de Rolo,” she gasped, bowing her head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Even in well-worn attire, Lady Vex’ahlia looked regal. She tilted her head. A small smile appeared, yet sadness dimmed her eyes. “I know you didn’t. I’m just rather…protective of it.” The intensity of her focus waned, and her expression morphed into one of stony detachment.
The realization hit Imogen like a fist to the gut. Her eyes flitted to the Champion of the Raven who bore an almost identical expression Lady de Rolo had made. As Imogen stared, she could see the similarities in the bone structure, in the undertone of contempt, in the intensity yet gentleness Lady Vex’ahlia shared with the man carved in stone.
Invisible tendrils of her power leeched from Imogen, seeking Lady de Rolo’s mind. She pulled back. Instead, Imogen nodded at the statue and said, “You share the same face.”
Lady Vex’ahlia clasped her hands in front of her, wrung her fingers once, and then folded them together. She didn’t look at Imogen for a long while since her gaze had fallen upon the Champion’s stone face. Her brows knitted, throat bobbing. “We do,” she said softly.
Imogen extended her power a little, just so she could get a feel for the Lady’s emotions, though she doubted she needed to.
Sorrow greeted her. An old, voracious sorrow that nearly knocked the air from her. It was a sorrow Imogen knew too well—one she had nearly drowned in during the few weeks Laudna had been gone.
“How are you two—” She ventured, pointing a finger between Lady Vex’ahlia and the Champion of Ravens.
Lady Vex’ahlia squinted and blinked away invisible tears. She lifted her chin and sniffed once before she said softly, “That man is my brother.” A sad smile. “My twin brother.”
Imogen didn’t doubt Lady Keyleth had informed the Lord and Lady de Rolo of the events which transpired during the Apogee Solstice, yet this statue hadn’t just been built; it wasn’t in memorial of the Champion’s recent downfall. Though still pristine, it showed minor signs of age—weathering and slight imperfections which would occur with the passage of time. There was something she didn’t know.
“He wasn’t here the last time.” She shook her head, searching for better words. “When we sought your help with Laudna, I mean.” More eloquent words escaped her. “He wasn’t here.”
Lady Vex’ahlia must have known her real question because she said, “My brother has been dead for over thirty years.”
Imogen’s heart dropped.
She pointed to the inscription on the archway above the statue. “He serves the Matron of Ravens. He is her Champion.”
“Oh,” was all Imogen managed. She hadn’t known the weight of that reality.
Lady Vex’ahlia stepped forward, moving her hands from in front of her and clasping them at her back. “To this day, I am indebted to him.”
Imogen had so many questions, yet she knew this was a personal story, and one she had no right to. She nodded and bit her lip. Then she glanced away toward the statue once more.
The warm spring breeze filled the space between them for a moment before Lady de Rolo said, “May I speak freely?”
Imogen scoffed and waved a hand. “You’re the Lady of Whitestone. I believe you could say whatever you wish.”
A breath of air escaped her nose. “While that is true, I do wish to be polite.” She cleared her throat and brushed a stray strand of dark hair from her face. “Her name is Laudna, right?”
Imogen nodded.
“When you came here seeking my help, I kept my distance, and I apologize. It was never my intent to be rude or cruel.”
Imogen shook her head. “Those words never crossed my mind. I knew the risk you were puttin' all of Whitestone in when you found out about Del—about who lived within Laudna. Lord de Rolo made that quite clear.” A chuckle died in her throat. “I am forever indebted to you for what you—the de Rolo family—and Miss Trickfoot did.” Her next sentence ended in venom. “I understand why you’d try and stay away, especially with the possibility of bringin' that bitch back.”
Lady Vex’ahlia loosed a humorless chuckle. “While I agree on that sentiment, it wasn’t because of her that I did not near.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I kept my distance because I saw my brother in you. You came here bearing the body of someone you loved, begging anyone who’d listen to help you do anything to bring her back.”
Imogen inhaled and then slowly released the breath. If she’d been given the chance, Imogen would have dropped to her knees and begged the Lord and Lady. She would have given anything and everything. She would have given her life for Laudna’s.
Imogen brushed away a tear before it could fall.
The Lady continued. “Your arrival here re-opened a wound that had started to close after thirty years, and I couldn’t stand it. You and she were parallels to my past, to memories I don’t possess but merely know of. Of a sacrifice my brother endured so I could return.”
“Return?” she whispered. “Where from?”
“Death.” Imogen’s breath caught, but Lady Vex’ahlia continued. “I was killed inside the Matron of Ravens’ temple, her sunken tomb, and my brother gave his life for mine. He demanded she take him instead.” She folded her arms across her chest. “So when I saw you, shattered and barely holding on amid your grief over the body of that young woman—who in a past life had been made to look like me—and imploring we bring her back, I saw my brother. I imagined him pleading with the Matron of Ravens over my soul.
“Seeing how broken you were awakened a lot of extremely painful memories for me. I remembered my debt to my brother and how I am alive today because of his deal.” She took a breath. “I could see that look in your eyes—that look of desperation to the point of inconsolable, illogical action. Because I’d felt the same. If there had been anything I could have done to stop the death of my brother and his eventual ascension as Champion, gods know I would have fucking done it. I would have given my life right back for him if it had changed the outcome.”
Lady Vex’ahlia stared Imogen in the eyes and her gaze sliced to the latter’s core. “I saw the despair within you, and it would have been really fucking stupid for you to try and wager your soul for hers. The only person you would have been able to gamble with would have been that bitch Delilah Briarwood, and she would have taken both your lives instead of just Laudna’s.”
Imogen hadn’t realized her desperation had been so apparent, yet she’d felt every ounce of it over and over again like a tidal wave crashing over her. Her thoughts had been a storm of apologies and pleadings that swirled and collided within her mind, and nothing— nothing —calmed them.
Please, please, please.
Bring her back.
I’m so sorry, Laudna.
I couldn’t save you.
I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.
Please.
Someone—anyone—bring her back. Please bring her back.
Please.
Please.
PLEASE.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry .
For every moment Laudna remained dead, Imogen hadn’t been able to think anything else.
Lady Vex’ahlia moved closer, and Imogen almost retreated a step back, but she held her ground despite the torrent of thoughts raging within her. “If I could save you from doing something insanely stupid during your mourning and hopelessness, I wanted to. If I could save you from ending up like my brother and leaving the woman you love here to live without you like I must, then I would.”
Imogen swallowed. “And you did,” she said softly.
She smirked. “I also apologize for my husband. The Briarwoods—” Lady Vex’ahlia released a breath of air, her mouth a thin-lined half smirk. “Well, let’s just say he perhaps has the most reason to hate those people more than anyone.”
“From the way he acted, I devised as much,” Imogen said. She shoved down the truth—the fact they hadn’t killed her, that Delilah had returned—and instead said, “You know now what Delilah did to Laudna, so even if Lord de Rolo only lent us aid because of you, then I still thank you.”
Lady Vex’ahlia crossed her arms, and her right brow rose slightly. “Percival is very good at living in the present now. He’s good at focusing on what he has and what he doesn’t want to lose. He spent so much of his youth living in the past, focusing solely on revenge, so I had to remind him of that.” She shrugged. “Funnily enough, he’s actually the reason I died in that tomb.”
Imogen gaped, but the Lady waved her hand. “It’s quite alright. However, I do still use that to my advantage sometimes.” She grinned, a youthful, mischievous glint in her eyes. “Utilize the old “you killed me, so now you owe me” schtick.” Another wave of her hand. “Anyway, I had to remind him of someone else”—she pointed at the Champion—“who had done whatever he could to bring me—the other half of himself—back.”
“It was so long ago, though,” Imogen said and glanced away when visions of the woman before her flashed to cold, pale skin and unseeing eyes. Those images of a dead Lady Vex’ahlia morphed into Laudna, including the jagged cut ears and dark hair. She shook her head, willing them away. “Laudna’s death—her first death, rather—too. It could have been so easy for you to brush us off. Chalk it up to past regrets.”
“Just because we move forward doesn’t mean the past can’t catch up,” Lady Vex’ahlia said quietly.
Imogen huffed a humorless laugh. “I’ve never been able to escape my past, and I certainly don’t think I can flee the fate of my future.”
A somber, knowing expression passed over Lady Vex’ahlia. “Yes,” she nodded slowly, “Keyleth has offhandedly mentioned your lineage.”
Imogen grimaced. With a shake of her head, she said, “I didn’t choose this. Any of this. For most of my life I hated this power. It’s isolatin’ and lonely despite hearin’ the spectrum of emotion of the world around you.” She pressed a hand to her mouth and then looked up at Lady de Rolo. “Do you know anythin’ about despisin’ your family? About bein’ ashamed of who your parent is? About wantin’ nothin’ to do with their name?”
A shadow passed over Lady Vex’ahlia’s eyes. She was quiet for a moment before she said, “I know exactly what that is like.”
Imogen nodded. She grazed a finger along the surface of the circlet but caught herself before she could fiddle. “So you know, then? Who she is to me?”
A nod. “Liliana Temult. Your mother.”
Imogen’s scars began to crackle at the surge of anger. Not enough to harm, but enough that she had to clench and unclench her hands to disperse the energy elsewhere. “I bear her face, her blood, her powers, and sometimes I want nothin’ to do with her.” Through gritted teeth, she said, “I tried to do anythin’ to separate myself from her, but I find I’ve only grown to resemble her more, and I hate it. I feel corrupted by her just through association—just from bein’ her daughter. If I could remove any part of me that mirrors her, I would.”
Imogen closed her eyes and turned her head. She let her power rumble within her core, allowed herself to loosen the reigns a little bit. She didn’t have to look to know her scars faintly glowed purple. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—to say all that.”
“No, I understand completely. Trust me, I really do.” Lady Vex’ahlia placed a hand on Imogen’s shoulder, and at that moment, she was grateful for the circlet—grateful her mind couldn’t immediately intrude on Lady de Rolo’s thoughts. She bit her lip.
Lady Vex’ahlia breathed, “Our father had no love for us—me and my brother.” She chuckled. “I actually remember saying something very similar to him when my brother and I returned years later. ‘If I could pull the blood of you from my veins and give it back, I would’.” She shook her head and made a face. “My point is that you are not defined by blood. Sharing similarities with your mother does not make you like her. It’s your actions and heart which define you, and if you wish to walk a different path than her, then create one.”
Imogen shut out her own thoughts of the swirling red storm, her mother’s eyes, and the tug of Ruidus which called to her. “I’m scared I won’t have that choice.”
“How so?”
“My power comes from Ruidus; I’m Ruidusborn. All of us Ruidusborn are linked somehow, and I’m terrified that whatever power—whether it’s Predathos, Ludinus, or some machination he may have created—will take my agency as it has so many others. I’m terrified I won’t be able to fight the source of my power to stay afloat in the red ocean and not become a part of it.”
Lady Vex’ahlia studied her with considering eyes. “What will you do if that were to happen?”
Imogen huffed a sigh, and after a moment, she gave a weak shrug. “I’ve heard my friends’ thoughts. They’ve already come up with a plan that if I turn, they’ll...take me out.”
“Does that scare you?”
A shake of her head. “It’s relievin’ actually. I wouldn’t ever want my power to be used against those I love—the one I love.”
Imogen’s heart strained at the thought of Laudna. Gods, she missed her. She wanted nothing more than to be near her, kiss her, listen to her melodic thoughts which were like a balm to the fire that blazed in her head. She pushed past the barriers of the circlet and reached for Laudna’s mind.
Laudna?
After a moment, she replied in a breathy tone, Imogen? Is something wrong, darling?
No, nothin’ is wrong. I just...wanted to hear your voice.
Where have you gone, darling?
Imogen got the feeling Laudna didn’t just mean where she had walked to. Instead of going into the thoughts which had overtaken her mind the last half an hour—her mother, Ludinus, Ruidus, her power, and the inevitable battle ahead—she tucked that conversation into her pocket to perhaps have in person at another time. At a more private time.
Imogen bit her lip and instead replied, Went for a walk. She chuckled in her mind. Funny story—I ran into Lady de Rolo.
What?
It’s alright. We’re just talkin’. I’ll be back soon.
Alright.
Imogen hesitated but then whispered, Laudna?
Yes, darling?
I love you.
And I love you, darling. Come back to me soon, please.
Always.
And Imogen?
Yes, Laudna?
I can’t always follow where you go, so don’t wander too far from me.
I’ll never be far from you.
Promise?
With all my heart.
A half-smile blossomed on Imogen’s lips as she looked up at Lady Vex’ahlia who stared intently at her. “Were you talking to her?”
Imogen shook her head, blinking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No, it’s quite alright. I just wasn’t sure. You had a distant look in your eyes, and I realized your mind was elsewhere.”
“Just checkin’ in.”
Lady Vex’ahlia clasped her hands behind her back once more. “I don’t want to keep you.” She gestured with her chin at the direction Imogen had entered the Greyfields. “Go be with her.”
Imogen’s heart swelled, and for a moment, her mind held nothing but the soft, haunting music that was Laudna. Her voice, smell, touch—it encompassed Imogen like a veil, soothing her thoughts which rattled within the barriers of the circlet like a silver coin in a cup.
It was as if Imogen had been laid to rest in a blanket of fallen leaves surrounded by orchids and persimmons, and she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep there with Laudna at her side.
She wanted nothing more than Laudna.
Laudna, with her cold skin, bony angles, and dark eyes which soothed Imogen when her scars seared. Laudna, with her raspy, quiet voice and gentle heart, which grounded Imogen when outside thoughts berated her like that swarm of bees she’d grown to know all too well. Laudna, whose beauty was like Catha—mystifying and surrounded by darkness, yet radiant despite it all.
Imogen wanted all Laudna was, despite Delilah. In spite of Delilah.
Laudna was not Delilah, and it was Laudna whom Imogen loved like breathing.
I’m findin’ my way back to you , she whispered.
I’d love to hear all about it when you return, darling .
“Imogen.”
She blinked. “Yes, ma’am?”
Lady Vex’ahlia took a breath. “I don’t blame you for what happened to my brother. You had nothing to do with it. In fact, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you tried to stop your mother.” She shrugged and placed both hands on her hips. “You’re fighting for the same thing as us. The last thing you want is more innocent blood spilled and more minds given unwillingly to that”—she growled—“stupid fucking elf Ludinus. I can see that.”
Imogen barely restrained a grimace, but instead of focusing on the past, she thought of Laudna. Of the future she had waiting for her back at the castle. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That means more than you know.” She turned and began walking but paused. “In case Bells Hells do manage a way to free the Champion of Ravens,” Imogen ventured, “can I—I mean, does he have a name still?”
Lady Vex’ahlia’s throat bobbed. Her gaze grew distant for a moment as memories seemed to push to the surface of her mind. Then, a slight smile. “Vax,” she breathed. She nodded and looked at Imogen. “Vax’ildan.”
The ghost of a smile reached Imogen’s lips. “Vax and Vex?”
Lady Vex’ahlia rolled her eyes with a huff, though a smile peeked through. “Vex and Vax, thank you very much.”
“Yeah,” Imogen nodded, “that sounds better.”
Lady Vex’ahlia rubbed her palms up and down Imogen’s arms, and with an incline of her chin said, “Go. Be with her. Love her. Don’t waste a second of it.”
“I don’t intend to,” Imogen whispered, an unbridled smile appearing at the thought of her. Her love. Her Laudna.
...
As Imogen walked away, lavender hair rustling in the breeze, Vex faced the statue of her brother. She patted the Champion’s stone wing and hissed softly, “Fucking dick. Of course you had to save her.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m really, really glad you did, but now look where you’re at.” Vex looked up at his blank eyes and imagined the gray slate replaced by sharp hazel irises. “If you’re going to risk punishment by disobeying the Matron and coming to this plane, the least you could do is visit me next time.” Her voice wavered. “Please?”
She ducked her head. No, she shouldn’t think that. The more she saw Vax, the harder it would be to accept his death, to accept the hole in her heart his absence created. She hadn’t seen him since her wedding day 32 years ago, yet sometimes it still felt like he’d left only days prior.
Vex sniffed and blinked away tears. “I know I just requested your presence here, and I know that makes me a hypocrite, but sending ravens to Kiki isn’t helping her move on. She’s been stagnant and angry for thirty years, Vax. She’s going to live to be thousands of years old. You can’t hold onto her. You need to let Kiki live her life out on this plane. Let her be happy, even if it’s with someone else. Know that she’ll always love you even if she lets you go. Letting go isn’t forgetting.” She sighed. “We all need to let you go.”
Vex glanced over the last few words of the inscription: he carries us all upon the threshold and beyond .
She sniffed again but didn’t manage to stave off the tears which had returned with a vengeance. “We’ll all see you again.” Vex nodded as if convincing herself of that statement. “One day you’ll come to take us home. You’ll come to bring me to our mother, and at that time—” she laughed, brushing wetness from her jaw with the back of her hand— “I’m going to give you the biggest fucking hug. You’ll probably have to pry me off you.”
With a shake of her head, Vex whispered, “There are people working to get you back. I believe you’ll understand why I’m not getting involved, but I just wanted you to know that you haven’t been forgotten. Gods know Keyleth hasn’t been able to rest. She—”
“Vex.”
Vibrant autumn leaves, carried by an arcane wind, floated along the grass and across Vex’s feet. She turned to the Voice of the Tempest, the leader of the Ashari, and beheld her best friend. “Kiki,” Vex whispered, pulling the half-elven woman into a hug, careful to avoid her antlers. “I really should put a bell on that tree.”
Keyleth pulled away and smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch?”
“Or perhaps you’re getting sneakier.”
Keyleth barked a laugh and motioned to her mantle of leaves trailing behind her and the tree she’d stepped through. “We both know that’s not true.”
“Oh, so you’re saying I am losing my touch?’
She merely shrugged. “Motherhood, you know? It can be so trying.”
Vex chuckled but still arched a brow. “Whatever you say, darling.” She tossed her braid off her shoulder. “I’m as beautiful as ever.”
Keyleth tilted her head and smiled softly. “You only get lovelier.”
“Well,” Vex sighed, holding her hands out to the side, “I know you haven’t come to insult and compliment me in the same breath.” She stared at the Tempest. “What brings you to Whitestone?”
Keyleth nodded toward the center of the city in the direction Imogen had gone. “What do you think?”
Vex tilted her head. “She seems sincere. She has no desire to purposefully follow in her mother’s footsteps.”
“Orym vouched for her.”
“And what do you think? It’s your opinion I care about.”
“I don’t sense,” Keyleth began with a sigh, “hostility. She seemed anxious, but genuine. She cares—about stopping Ludinus, about saving those who can be saved, and especially about her friends.”
Vex glanced over her shoulder and then looked at Keyleth. “She reminds me of Vax.”
Keyleth cocked her head. “The Temult girl?”
She nodded. “Gods, Kiki. I almost vomited when I made the connection.” She folded her arms across her torso. “I could tell she was holding back, but I could see the desperation, see how badly she was silently begging anyone—anything—to bring that woman back. This woman whom she loved, was dead, and she looked utterly…hopeless.”
A small gasp made Vex turn her head. Keyleth stared at her, eyes wide. “The sunken tomb,” she breathed. “Oh, gods. I hadn’t realized how similar the situations were.”
“It was quite the shock after over thirty years.” Vex tucked a stray orange strand behind Keyleth’s ear, head tilted. “But I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
Keyleth placed a hand against Vex’s but her eyes remained lowered, unfocused. A few seconds after, she hummed an acknowledgement of sorts.
Vex cocked her head the other way. “Keyleth, darling?”
“Yes?” she said, still half absent from their conversation.
With a gentle hand, Vex tugged Keyleth’s face up toward her. The Tempest blinked a few times before her gaze fully focused. Vex smiled tenderly. “There you are.”
Keyleth’s brows scrunched and she shook her head. She loosed a faint laugh. “Sorry.”
“How are you doing, darling?” Vex whispered, softness and patience in her tone.
Keyleth huffed another laugh and waved her hand as though she’d brush the question off with a light response, but her expression sobered. Her shoulders drooped ever so slightly as she ran a hand down her face. “I’ve never held so much power yet felt this helpless,” she breathed.
“I’m just glad to see you on your feet. See you well.”
Keyleth rolled a shoulder, grimacing. “The wounds—they’re still not quite healed.” She pulled at the collar of her tunic, revealing pale pink slashes across her neck and collarbone.
“Oh, gods,” Vex breathed.
A moment of quiet filtered between them before Keyleth whispered, “He saved me, Vex.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean he saved me . I would have died if he hadn’t shown up.” She shook her head. “That woman—the power she wields is terrible and astronomical. It didn’t help they knew I was coming.” Keyleth clasped Vex’s hand in hers, almost absentmindedly. “I was as close to death as the attack on Zephrah six years ago, yet Thull brought me to the brink exponentially faster.” She released a long, heavy exhale. “This has all gone to shit.”
Vex nodded, unsure what to say. She’d promised Percy they’d stay out of it. However, she wouldn’t abandon Keyleth while her mind wandered between past and present. She squeezed the hand Keyleth clutched. “You are brilliant and powerful, and while you can do incredible things by yourself, you are not alone. You have all five continents backing you. You have your friends, and—” Vex shrugged, “—you even have Bells Hells.”
Keyleth nodded. “The Temult girl—she’s powerful. I’m not sure if she even knows to what extent.”
“They killed Delilah Briarwood to bring their friend back,” Vex whispered. “They stand a chance in this fight. It won’t be easy, it won’t be clean, but they stand a chance.”
“You think so?”
“I have as much faith in them as I did Vox Machina all those years ago.”
Keyleth made a face. “So is that a lot or practically none?”
Vex scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s a lot, silly.” Her throat bobbed. “What you’re facing and what they’re facing is...”
“A lot,” Keyleth sighed, “which is probably the biggest understatement of this century.” Another long pause. Keyleth adjusted her grip on her staff and leaned her shoulder against it. “It’s strange,” she whispered.
“What is?”
“That I haven’t received any ravens since—since...” She closed her eyes. “I know why. I know why I haven’t, but their absence is just further reminder that he’s gone. Not gone and fulfilling his purpose as Champion but gone—a prisoner.”
“A prisoner to fucking Ludinus Da’leth,” Vex spat as if his name was poison. She hissed, “That stupid fucking elf.”
“He’s been scheming for hundreds of years,” Keyleth said. “That means he’s prepared. He’s prepared to implement whatever plans he’s been calculating, and he’s got the resources to do so.”
“Her mother works for Ludinus,” Vex said and waved a hand. “The Temult girl.” After a breath, she said quietly, “Are you worried? About what might happen if Liliana or Ludinus get a hold of her?”
Keyleth shook her head. “It’s certainly crossed my mind, and it won’t be good. Having two Exultant sorceresses of the same blood along with an Exultant Psionic Warrior? That does not bode well in our favor.”
“And if Imogen Temult remains grounded? Remains against Ludinus?”
A grimace. “It’ll alter the tides some, but not a whole lot.” Angry shadows flashed in her eyes. “Otohan Thull needs taken care of. With how powerful she is, she’s going to cause a lot of devastation. A high-level warrior like her out of the race will even the odds more.”
“If only the gods would fight for themselves,” Vex murmured.
Keyleth inclined her chin at the Matron of Ravens’ temple. “Have you tried speaking to her?”
“No. I have more faith in my friends than the gods.”
“We’re basically gods,” she said with a smirk.
Vex wrapped a careful arm around Keyleth’s shoulders. “Darling, when are you going to stop tempting fate like that?”
“When it kills me, perhaps.”
“Well, then you must stop saying it.” Vex involuntarily shivered when she remembered Keyleth’s broken body reforming under her hand as life drew into her blood and bones.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, will you?”
Vex shook her head. “You turned into a goldfish, Keyleth. A goldfish. A thousand feet in the air.”
Keyleth sighed. “I was young and reckless and stupid.”
Vex rubbed a hand up and down Keyleth’s arm. “You were also courageous, intelligent, and powerful. You’ve only grown in wisdom and grace, darling.”
She nodded. “I’m trying. Every day I’m trying to be the leader everyone expects me to be.”
“And you’ve been amazing to the Ashari for over three decades.” Vex grinned. “You’re quite astonishing, Kiki.”
A laugh bubbled up and Keyleth blushed. “Thanks, Vex.” Vex gave her a wink and Keyleth grinned. “That never gets old.”
With a sigh, Vex pulled Keyleth into a hug. “I should let you go. We both have duties to attend to.”
Keyleth nodded, but she placed a hand on Vex’s arm. “It’s always nice to see you.”
“Seeing you is always lovely, darling.” She bit her lip—an action she’d never do in front of anyone she trusted less. “I’m always here,” Vex said softly. “Always.”
The Voice of the Tempest bowed her head and turned toward the tree she’d arrived through.
“Keyleth?”
Keyleth paused at the glowing green threshold created from the center of the tree just past the Greyfields archway. “Yes?”
“Stay near, darling.”
She gave a half-smile. “I won’t go far.”