ania ✨️

II - The High Priestess

Lilian had been wandering these sandy plains for hours or minutes, days or seconds; they weren’t quite sure. Time seemed optional here. They kept walking along a road of black stone, a path so smooth, they worried they would slip at any moment. Around them, sand danced in the gentle wind.

They kept walking, and nothing changed.

They kept walking, and the wind picked up in speed.

They kept walking, and sand blew into their eyes. Their hair became tiny whips, their steps became stumbles, and their breath no longer came quite so easily.

Still, they kept walking.

The wind did not stop, and neither did they. They needed to reach the distant sky. That green, thin line on the horizon. They needed to get there. Nothing else existed except them and that horizon.

It was a long time before the wind finally stopped. Only then did they slow, their destination as far away as when they started. Nothing changed around them for a long moment, until they felt a presence beside them.

Asra.

He sat on the back of a large beast, one that Lilian had never seen before.

“Master,” Lilian breathed out, “where are we?”

Asra did not turn to them when he responded. “Far enough from home, I think.”

Lilian stopped, confused. “Far enough for what?”

Asra kept going, but his voice sounded as if he was right next to them. “For answers. Clarity. And I need it soon.”

Lilian’s brow scrunched, finally feeling the sting from the sand. They rubbed their eyes as they tried to make sense of what he said. Answers for what? What could he possibly need answers for? When they opened their eyes, Asra was beside them, the beast nowhere to be seen.

“A storm is coming,'' he said, his eyes far away.

Lillian followed his line of sight to the horizon, where they had so desperately wanted to be. The scenery changed now, and kept shifting.

“There will be a crossroads soon,” Asra said, finally turning to face Lilian.

“How soon? Where will it lead?”

Asra smiled. “That depends on which path you take.”

His hand reached out for their's, but he hesitated. Lilian yearned to grab it, but their mind would not listen to their heart. Asra’s hand fell limp.

Suddenly, another gust of wind shook them, stirring the sands high in the sky once more. They grew so thick, so strong, that Lilian lost sight of the sky, of Asra, of anything at all.

All went silent. The last they remembered was Asra’s final whisper: “for now, Lilian, rest.”

And their sleep became dreamless.

.^.

Lilian woke early with the dawn light filtering through the thin curtains. Their sleep had always been unsteady, light and disturbed by the littlest sound, but they didn't mind the early waking they were condemned to. They enjoyed the tranquility of the morning, before the rest of the world woke up. Just them, the rising sun, and the birds twittering a merry song.

They turned, ready to chastise Asra with a teasing speech for his laziness, but they were met with an empty bed. Right. A pit in their stomach opened up.

He’s only been gone a night, and they missed him so much already.

They busied themself instead with packing for their trip. It took them, admittedly, much longer than they expected. Sure, they had never been on any trip as far as they remembered, but it never took Asra this long to pack.

The vague details on their visit didn't help at all. The Countess had said she’d provide clothing and other necessities, but to what extent? How much free time would they have, was it worth bringing entertainment? Perhaps they’d be so busy, they would not even have time to read a book or work on a craft. Not that they had many hobbies, the last of which - a half knitted scarf - sat abandoned in the back of a drawer. Maybe they should bring a a couple spare pairs of underwear, they thought with a flush.

Lilian’s bag ended up holding a spare change of clothes, a night shirt (which was one of Asra’s old, tattered shirts), some crystals and other spell components, and, of course, the tarot cards. They could only hope that the Countess would allow them to return to the shop if the need arose.

They left their shop, wrapping their travel cloak around their shoulders, and locked the door. Once, twice, and a third for good measure, with a whispered a cross-me-not spell to top it all off. Hopefully, no more masked strangers would intrude.

Facing the Palace in the far distance, Lilian’s stomach dropped a little. They had never made a trip this long, let alone on foot. In fact, not so long ago, they were only able to walk around the house, and even that was a struggle.

Once, Asra took them to the Shopping District, insistent that they needed to choose new clothes. Lilian didn’t see the point at the time, as the clothes they wore were perfectly fine, but followed him anyway. By the middle of their trip, having bought a grand total of a single shirt, Lilian’s legs gave out from under them. Asra had to carry them back to the shop, silent the whole way. Their strength had come far since then, but enough to go all the way to the Palace?

Maybe they’ll manage to catch a ride with someone.

With a deep breath, they stepped forward, ready to begin their journey. As they did, like a sick Fate bearing a terrible omen, the hair at the nape of their neck in alarm. In their peripheral, they could see a dark shape, looming in the alley by the shop. They turned, slowly.

The shape was certainly that of a human man, though larger than they had ever seen. A heavy hood of weatherbeaten furs hid much of his face from view, but they could see his stormy frown watching Lilian intensely. His skin was covered in scars, both large and small, clean and jagged, and chains wrapped around his arms and neck. And, he was standing right in the middle of the path Lilian needed to take to get to the Palace.

A twist in their chest, Lilian attempted a small smile.

“Sorry, could you move?” The figure said nothing, eyes still holding Lilian firmly in place. “I’m so sorry, it’s just, I need to go that way and I can’t quite get past.”

Their voice grew quieter and quieter as they spoke, and the man stood for a moment longer before he slowly moved to the side, heavy chains rattling in tandem.

Thoroughly jostled, Lilian shook off as much anxiety as they could and squared their shoulders. They marched forward, but halted when they heard a voice like thunder speak.

“He will return, uninvited.”

Lilian looked over their shoulder, the sun shadowing the stranger into a dark silhouette.

“He will offer you what you wish for most, when you need it most.” The figure raised his head, gloomy green eyes piercing Lilian. “Turn it away. Or you will fall into his hands, just like the rest of us.”

Lilian’s eyes darted away, anxiety swirling like a hurricane. When they looked back, they saw nothing of note, anymore.

Was there someone just there right now?

No, they must just be anxious from the trip ahead of them. They continued forward.

.^.

The market was bustling when they arrived, a bright orchestra of bartering, chattering, and advertising. Once, the scene would have sent them into an immediate panic attack, but they were able to handle it now. The noise blended into a harmony, tucked away in the back of their mind, instead of crashing into them like an angry sea, and overwhelming their senses to the point of shutdown.

One cherished voice rose above it all.

“Lilian! Are you hungry?” The Baker asked as Lilian rushed towards them with a smile on their face. “I have that pumpkin loaf you like in the oven. Won’t be long now!”

It didn’t take long to make their decision, even with a Countess waiting for them and time rapidly passing. Their stomach rumbled, and they could never pass up their favourite pumpkin bread. They sat down at the counter.

The Baker pushed a cup into Lilian’s hands, a delightful minty smell wafting from it. “And where is Asra? Sleeping in?”

Lilian’s smile lost its spark, and they covered it by taking a sip of their tea. “He’s on a journey.”

The Baker laughed knowingly as they laid out flecked dough into pans. “And where’s he off to this time, hm? Maybe he could bring me some of those good spices.”

Lilian only shrugged.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“What’s new?” Lilian said with a half smile, taking another sip. The Baker sighed.

“Well, Asra’s off on a mysterious journey. That’s to be expected. But, what I didn’t expect is your mysterious journey,” the Baker said, eyeing Lilian’s travel pack. “You’re not just doing grocery shopping with that thing, are you?”

Lilian blinked.

“There’ve been whispers all morning, you know!” The Baker began twisting the dough, a glint in their eye. “They say that a Palace carriage rode into the neighbourhood in the dead of night. Supposedly the Countess was paying someone a visit.”

The Baker eyed Lilian from the side. They took a deep gulp of tea, and then another. On one hand, they were friends with the Baker. They were sure that they wouldn't twist the story, or that they’d share it with any of their customers. On the other hand, gossip spread like wildfire across the market, and it didn’t seem as if the Countess was particularly keen on her trip being known. Why else would she visit them in the night? She did not say anything about secrecy, but Lilian didn’t know enough to make that decision for her.

Besides, being the centre of the market’s gossip sent a shiver down their spine.

Lilian shook their head gently with a smile, and finished their tea. “How’s that bread coming along?”

The Baker tsked. “You magician types, mysterious as ever. You and Asra both!” They walked over to the oven, pulling out a row of loaf tins.

Soon enough, the Baker handed them a small parcel, wrapped in fabric. “There you go, all ready for the road. Now, run along; you wouldn’t want to keep the Countess waiting!”

Lilian handed them a coin in exchange with a gentle laugh, and walked off towards the stairs that led to the Palace.

Vesuvia was built at the end of a mountain plain, much to Lilian's chagrin. As far as they'd come with their physical strength, intensive exercise put them at massive risk of collapse. Perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts; their fear of their body giving out prevented them from ever wandering further than the market or the beach, which, in turn, surely only contributed to their weakness. Either way, ten stairs were enough to wind them, and as they focused all their attention on catching their breath, they missed the figure bumbling out of the little booth inside the city wall.

For a brief few seconds, Lilian heard the rhythmic muttering of a bright voice, though did not process it until they had collided with a soft body, sending a crate of pomegranates tumbling down the stairs.

"Oh, perfect! As if I wasn't already late!" The person chastised, as she began to catch all astray fruit. Lilian, on instinct, quickly ran down the stairs to save the fallen pomegranates, snatching one from right underneath a hoof.

"Oh, thank you!" The woman said as Lilian handed her the missing pomegranates, "how sweet of you to help. And after I bumped into you like that!"

"It's alright, I wasn't paying much attention either," Lilian replied, smiling through their thick breath. They really needed to become more active.

"Here," she said with a wink, rubbing one of the pomegranates on her sleeve, "as a thank you."

Lilian took the fruit, smiling at the stranger. Well, at least one social interaction today has been successful.

"Do take care! I'll see you around-" the woman paused, eyes widening as realisation dawned on her face. "Wait, I know you!"

Lilian's stomach dropped to their knees. Perhaps they spoke too soon. "Erm..."

"You're Lilian the Magician, right? Countess Nadia said we were expecting you today!" At Lilian's blank expression, she continued. "Call me Portia - I'm Milady's headservant!"

Lilian nodded slowly. The Palace uniform, the pomegranates, the rush. In fact, the name 'Portia' itself seemed to ring a bell, though they had no idea where from. The market gossip, perhaps?

"Hi," they said, immediately slapping themself mentally. Could they get any more awkward?

Portia only giggled. "How lucky are we! Come on, I'll show you the quickest way to the Palace."

"Does it still involve dozens of flights of stairs?" Lilian asked with a groan.

"Indeed, it does!" When Portia saw the remarkable lack of enthusiasm on Lilian's face, she laughed, "come, now, I'll make sure you don't even notice it!"

Lilian followed Portia as she began bumbling up the stairs, telling a story that Lilian hardly heard over the blood rushing through their ears.

They tried their best to be attentive to Portia's yammerings, but Lilian got the impression that she wouldn't even notice if they stayed silent. She kindly paused and waited every time Lilian would have to catch up, at times even offering an arm to aid them up.

Stairs were hard.

"We really should have sent a carriage for you, I'm so sorry! I forgot how difficult this trip can be for someone who doesn't do it several times a week," Portia said after the fifth time she had to pull them up.

Lilian shook their head. "It's, ah, it's alright. I'd have, ah, felt weird in a carriage, anyway." They tried to take a deep breath. It didn't help.

"Here, let's rest for a bit."

"Don't we have to get to the Palace? It's getting late and the Countess is waiting."

Portia waved her off and sat down, pulling out a small pocket knife. She began to slice through one of the pomegranates. "The Countess won't mind. She seems scary, but she's actually really nice!"

Lilian sat beside Portia. "She actually didn't really tell me much about what she wants from me."

Lilian hoped Portia would catch onto the open end of the statement. If there was any opportunity to find out more about this whole excursion, it was now.

Portia hummed. "I don't really know much either. Milady can, hmm, hold her thoughts close to her chest." She eyed Lilian, and held out a pile of pomegranate seeds. "It's nice that milady is trusting someone else to help her."

Lilian looked away, popping the seeds into their mouth. So, the Countess is mysterious and untrusting. Fair enough, they supposed. "I'm not so sure if you can call it trust. I'm not even sure how much help I can be."

"Milday doesn't choose just anyone. She thinks you're right for the job, and I do, too!''

''You don't even know what the job is.''

''Irrelevant!" Portia grinned widely, sending Lilian a teasing wink.

Lilian gaze met Portia's, a small, genuine smile on their face. "Well, I will at least try as best I can."

"That's all anyone can ask for."

Portia clearly cares very much about others; and about the Countess. A good sign, Lilian thought.

The two sat quietly as they finished the pomegranate, a surprisingly comfortable silence. Lilian had only ever found the silence welcoming when they were with Asra. It was nice, not to worry about their painful social inept around strangers.

"Well, are you ready to keep going?" Portia stood with a bounce, holding her hand to Lilian. "We're not too far now."

Lilian took her hand, but as they stood and looked toward the Palace, a dreadful pit made a home in their stomach.

It only got worse the closer they got. Portia tried to keep the air light, asking empty questions and telling stories that did not further any discussion. The sun had begun to set, and Lilian's belly was full of knots, their lungs thick with cotton, and legs aching.

As they approached the Palace gates, Lilian was sure they were in no state to face the Countess.

Portia turned to them, reaching out to smooth back their hair and dust off their shoulder. "Hey, I'm glad you're here. I know I've said this but Milady could use some good help, and you really seem like a good sort to me."

Lilian only managed a half smile in response, face flushed.

The Palace was imposing, Lilian thought as they looked up at the towering structure. It glittered with gold spires, a marvelous stained glass window at its centre. It would take their breath away, had they any breath to be taken. Their anxiety only grew.

Two guards stood by the gate, eyes fixed on Lilian.

"Ludovico, Bludmila, may I have the absolute honour of introducing you to Lilian," Portia said dramatically, but when the guards did not move, she rolled her eyes, "our new guest, remember? The magician?"

The guards slowly lowered their weapons, and, with a nod, began to open the gate. Lilian bowed their head as they walked past.

When the gates slammed shut, Portia took Lilian's arm and led them across a bridge. Eels twisted and swirled in the glimmering water below. They looked ill, out of place. Surely, eels did not inhabit rivers? Then again, apprentice magicians did not wander Palace grounds either, and yet, here they were. They managed to nod to the eels in solidarity, before Portia pulled them away from the bridge's edge.

All too soon, they stood in front of the massive, gilded doors, and Portia gave three, skull-rattling knocks. On the third one, the doors swung open.

Portia turned to Lilian with a smile. "Ready?"

Lilian gulped, and nodded with only a milisecond of hesitation.

The Countess' bedroom was aglow with the midday sun, tiny dust particles dancing in the rays. An unusual sight it was, for the bed to be occupied still, and yet, the piles of blankets were just beginning to stir.

Oleander, esteemed magician and royal consort, sat up with a groan that could be likened to that of a mule, blankets falling to the floor with a soft thump. She sat there for a while, struggling to open her eyes, as wakefulness slowly began to stick in her brain. When her eyes no longer closed on their own, she looked around the room, wiping the wetness from her eyelids, and noticed the distinct lack of her companion next to her. Her mind slowly caught up: the sun, warm and high in the sky, the lack of her wife in the bed, the sound of servants working in the gardens from the open balcony door. Right, she was to attend brunch with her friends this morning. Nadia must already be there.

Perhaps Oleander should have felt more of a sense of urgency - after all, the brunch had clearly started already, and she was sure to be the only one missing - but this was the first morning that they could take their time getting ready for a while, and they were absolutely going to use it. Oleander loved her job very much, taking care of Vesuvia's youngest and helping them become wonderful individuals, but, heavens above, was it a tiring task. Her friends could wait a little longer.

The magician rolled out of bed with a sniffle, wiping at her endlessly wet eyes; she really needed to wash her face as soon as possible. She stood up with a slight sway, adjusting the sleeve that had fallen down her shoulder. Suddenly, she felt quite relieved that Nadia was not there to see her in such a state. Nadia had seen her in worse conditions, sure, but a part of her always wanted to look as good as possible for her wife. The desire to impress your beloved never goes away, she was sure.

Oleander padded across the room, noticing an elaborate outfit draped over the chair of the desk. Another Nadia Special, it seemed, and Oleander read the note attached to it:

''My dearest, I hope you will forgive me for my decision to not wake you, despite surely condemning you to tardiness. You seemed so at peace and deep in your slumber, it felt terrible to interrupt that. Please, do take your time - we shall be waiting. I love you, Your Nadia x''

Oleander smiled. How did she get so lucky? She may not remember her past, but she must have done something right to deserve such a wonderful life now.

Filled with the overwhelming need to kiss her wife, Oleander wasted no more time in readying herself for her friends. It didn't take long - it was her day off and she was only seeing her closest friends. There was no need to present herself as in utmost luxury. And so, within about fifteen minutes, she was out of the door and making her way to the private dining room.

There hallways were strangely empty, though Oleander assumed it was due to the weather. The Palace staff must be making as much use of the morning temperatures to work in the garden, before the heat becomes unbearable.

It didn't take long to get to the dining room. Once. it might have taken Oleander twice the amount of time. To the unitiated, the hallways were identical, but to Oleander, each corridor, room, and door had its own quirks. For example, the private dining room door had a slight purple stain from that one time Julian spilled wine during one of his riveting monologues. Oleander smiled at the memory, and pushed the door open.

''Hi, everyone,'' she said, waving with both hands, ''sorry I'm late.''

And was subsequently met with deafening silence.

Every single one of her friends was staring at her. Asra had gone pale, Julian and Portia's mouths were agape in a hilarious sibling similarity, Muriel's eyes were dancing around the room uncomfortably, and Nadia had stood in alarm. Oleander shot them a weird look back.

''Are you all good?''

''What's wrong with your eyes…?'' Asra said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ah. Now, Oleander understood. It took everything in her to not slap her hand to her face, and instead, she decided she'd tease them a little.

Her hand flew to her forehead, eyes scrunching in mock-despair, in a theatrical display that Julian would surely be proud of under different circumstances. ''Oh, what a terrible calamity had befallen me! I've contracted the disease that I almost single-handedly got rid of myself and hasn't had a confirmed case in years!!! Whatever shall we do?!'' Quickly, they opened one eye and shrugged. ''It's conjunctivitis.''

With those two little words, all the tension in the room melted away, and it seemed everyone took a collective sigh of relief as Oleander sat down next to her wife. Who, with no hesitation, lightly smacked her on the arm in chastise.

''What! Guys, seriously? My eyes look nothing like the Red Plague eyes! Just compare them to Julian's!''

''You can't blame us! You've had it once already! And you died!'' Asra exclaimed, with no real malice, ''sorry, that red eyes bring back bad memories!''

''How did you even get that?'' Portia asked, piling her plate with more muffins.

''Why don't you try working with babies that attract every single illness under the sun for seven days a week?'' Oleander said, allowing Nadia to pile on her own plate, even with the disapproving shake of her head at Oleander's antics.

''I literally work with you.''

''Okay, but you don't have the immune system of a hamster,'' Oleander pouted, crossing their arms and slouching, ''you'd think having the body of an Arcana would give me some kind of immunity, but nope.''

''Sit up, my dear,'' Nadia said as she set Oleander's plate down, and gave her a scolding look before she could complain about improving her posture.

''Are you sick.'' A low, rumbling voice came from the other end of the table and Oleander shrugged.

''Not really, it's just annoying because my eyes are really wet and gunky.'' An idea popped into her head, and she turned to face Nadia fully. ''But, you know what would make me feel better?''

Oleander leaned forward, clearly going in for a kiss. When she did not feel her wife meet her in the middle, she opened her eyes to see Nadia staring her down, one eyebrow raised. The realisation hit her then, and she, once again, slouched deeply and fake-sobbed. ''Ughhhhhhhh, I can't kiss you or you'll get sick too! Why must the universe be so cruel?!''

''Perhaps,'' Nadia said, turning back to her own plate, ''it is for the better. I do not think you deserve a kiss after that little display of yours.''

''Oh, come on! It was funny!''