Ask Wys

Title: Ivory Word Count: 8,588 (a/b 15.5 pages in Word)

The room was silent save for the gentle scratching of pen on paper. The scrawl was fluid and gentle, but still carried a firmness to it, which was visible in each individual stroke. Despite its elegance, that alone could not save the page from being unceremoniously crumpled and tossed to the side, joining a pile of several other such scripts. The writer gave out an audible sigh and slumped back into their seat, rubbing the bridge of their nose at the same time. She had been at this for hours, and had made little to no progress, and her frustrations were mounting. Her proposal had to be perfect, bold enough to garner interest, but stable enough to solidify a longstanding relationship with those frequently stuffy scholars. 

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but she quickly straightened herself, looking out into her office. The afternoon sun shone brightly through the open windows, reflecting softly off the tile floor. The sound of her earlier scrawling had been replaced with the chirping of birds, trickling of water from the pools within, and the gentle hum generated by three large, bronze, pendulums that swung near the middle of the room. She had said she thought they were impractical, but the artisans in charge insisted that they remain, saying something about them adding an “air of elegance and mystique” to the room. Despite her initial protests, she had become accustomed to their presence, over time, and enjoyed them more than she’d like to admit—though this was aided by her own contributions to their design. 

She made a circular motion with her right hand, and one of the various gold bangles on her arm shone with a faint blue light; abruptly, the pendulums stopped swinging, and centered, aligning themselves. With another motion, the surface of the pendulum nearest her desk became glass-like, but rather than magnifying or reflecting anything in the office, it showed a scene of the outside. What was once the cold metal of the pendulum gave way to a crowd of people bustling around, setting up scaffolding, stalls, and any number of other things. This view did not stay static, however, and the view shifted to an elaborate archway that quickly revealed an equally elaborate courtyard, filled with an abundance of vibrant flowers and trees. This view never ceased to please her, for despite the arid climate, they had managed to cultivate a number of exotic plants and other flora within the city. Her sense of peace did not last long, and was quickly replaced by her usual sense of duty; the woman’s focus shifted from the scene before her to the one showing her what was happening. 

“Nyula,” the woman called out to the pendulum, “Nyula, can you hear me?” 

Silence answered her calls, though more movement on the surface of the pendulum could be seen as her view changed periodically. The woman gave out another sigh and gently touched a coil around her neck, which lit up similarly to her ring just moments ago. She called out again, however, this time her voice was much more powerful and resonated deeply through the “window” before her. An excited shout could be heard from the other end, and a hand could be seen fumbling on the other end of the window, causing the scene to shake and warp to keep up with their erratic movements. 

“Ah, your majesty! Greetings! I was just surveying the grounds in preparations for the summit. As you can see,” she said while enthusiastically moving the window to show the surrounding area, “things are progressing smoothly. Nearly all of the vendors are accounted for, and the security detail has been sorted by Captain Keld.” 

On the other side of the window, the queen remained imperceptibly quiet, but did ease back in her seat. The scene before her shifted around to reveal the person with whom she was speaking:  a young woman—mid-twenties by her looks—with tanned skin, a strong jawline, and countless freckles. The woman stared back, moving the window further and closer from her face. 

“Your Majesty, are you there? I can’t see you! Do you have the window set to one-way again? No fair!” She brushed an auburn lock of hair from her face and furrowed her brow, moving the pendant she was using to communicate with directly to her face. 

The queen smiled softly, and wagged a bejeweled finger, which resulted in a different set of runes to glow and the window on the pendulum to ripple for a moment, then settle. “There, can you see me now Nyula?” Almost immediately, the queen was greeted by one profoundly large pupil, though the rest of Nyula quickly came into place as she moved her pendant further away from her face, coming into focus. She beamed happily, as she continued to speak with the queen. 

“There we go, I can see you now! You know, that’s really a terrible habit of yours—you know, spying on others. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me!” She pouted heavily, but despite what was said, Nyula lacked any tone of sadness or dejection in her voice when she spoke. 

“Hm, are you trying to lecture me on etiquette now, Nyula?”, said the queen in an almost playful drawl. On the other side of the window, she could see Nyula’s face shift from joy to discomfort as she realized what she had said. 

“Ah, n-no, n-not at all,” she muttered, apologetically. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that at all, and I only meant--” the queen motioned her to stop, which she did immediately. She saw the queen was about to speak, and braced herself to be reprimanded. 

“Nyula, as your queen, I expect you--”, Nyula gulped hard, “--to know when I’m joking or not.” A sly grin crept over the queen’s face and Nyula appeared to nearly melt where she stood. The queen let out a giggle which turned into full-blown laughter as she noticed Nyula scrunch her face in irritation, having been led along in the conversation. “Oh come now, don’t look at me like that! I figure you’d know by now that something like that hardly bothers me, at least coming from you; I appreciate how blunt you can be at times, it’s refreshing!” Nyula was still pouting on the other side, but quickly relaxed and regained her earlier demeanor. 

“I can tell when you’re being serios or not, most of the time, but sometimes you can be so hard to read! I really can understand some of the nicknames you have, especially when I’m on the receiving end of those cutting remarks.” The queen appeared more somber at the mentioning of this, but the feeling didn’t stick. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for teasing you, even if you do make it easy sometimes. Let’s get back to business then. How is construction going in other areas of the city? We want to make sure that local infrastructure is not disturbed too much by the upcoming festivities.” 

Nyula straightened herself and cleared her throat before speaking again, “My queen, construction in the surrounding areas is proceeding smoothly. Artisans are working on ensuring the integrity of the runeways, and exploring strategies for minimizing disruption to key city centers. Additionally, they have been coordinating with Captain Keld to provide them with up-to-date layout changes to ensure the safety of the delegation, yourself and anyone else who might be attending the festival.” 

The queen nodded, letting her speak more on progress around the city, and jotted down some notes to file away for later. She would have to follow-up with Captain Keld to discuss some specifics for security detail, and set up a meeting with their lead artisans to see exactly how they might be altering the runeways—and offer input if needed. She became lost in thought, for a moment, considering the preparations and how things were going, and though she trusted everyone involved, she wanted to make sure everything was perfect. She only paused her thoughts when she was brought back into the conversation by Nyula calling out to her. 

“My queen, are you alright? You seemed out of sorts for a moment.” 

“I’m alright Nyula, just...a bit stressed with how things are proceeding. Everything appears to be going smoothly, but I still need to double-check on some matters and you know we need this to go perfectly.” 

“If I may speak candidly, my queen,” Nyula paused and waited for the queen, who motioned that she could continue, “you are worrying far too much! Artisan Iiven and Captain Keld are both very capable and have very capable people working with them. Though, Glin could do with a good reprimanding from the captain—ah, don’t tell him I said that! Uh, and I’d like to think I’m doing a good job on oversight as well. You put me on this task—I would hope—because you trust me, and because you have your own tasks to attend to for the upcoming events. Let me worry about the goings on and I will report to you anything that might need your immediate attention.” 

“I do trust you, Captain Keld, Iiven, and everyone who is working hard to make sure that everything for the festival is a success. I really do...I just can’t help but worry. It’s pretty much my job,” she said, laughing wryly. 

“I know you’re just worried, and that’s all the more reason for me to do my job and serve you better! Let me know what it is you need, and I will go get it, or go find it out for you. If you absolutely need something, I will let whoever it is know, and ensure that they make time to meet with you, though I doubt anyone would turn down a meeting from our esteemed queen. Your office alone is a national treasure, why--” 

The queen groaned and let out a sigh, cutting her off in the process. “Yes, yes, you can come by my office and gawk at it later. I guess I just don’t see the same appeal as you do considering I’m here nearly every day.” 

Nyula squealed gleefully, but made sure to adjust herself to a more serious tone before speaking. “As you wish my queen! I’ll be sure to stop on by and update you if anything else comes up,” she said, smiling widely. “Is there anything else you need from me at this time, my queen?” 

“No, not at this time. Thank you for the updates.” The queen stared down at her desk, pensively, then at the collection of crumpled papers set to the side. “Actually, Nyula, I...no, never mind. That will be all for now. As always, I appreciate your service. Stop by my office later and keep me apprised of how things develop, especially if there are any interesting vendors in the remaining applications.” Nyula bowed politely and assured her that she would do so. With a flick of her wrist, the queen ended the conversation, deactivating the enchantments on the pendant and pendulums, which quickly resumed their rhythmic swaying. The queen leaned forward, placing her elbows on her desk and cradling her head in the crook of her arm. She exhaled deeply, shuffling the papers on her desk; while her conversation with Nyula had been refreshing, it hadn’t sparked any new ideas for what she would propose to the delegation. 

She leaned back into her chair and thought that she needed something to energize herself, get her thinking. She tapped a panel on her seat, and a small set of glyphs illuminated in a circular pattern on each arm. Placing her hands on either arm, she deftly moved her fingers in motions so familiar to her that they were second nature now. A gentle whirring came from her chair as two ornately engraved wheels backed her away from her desk and moved her over to a table that was up against the back wall of her study. Unlike the rest of the room, the table was modestly adorned and rather plain; it was covered sparsely with the only notable items being a golden tea kettle and matching cup set. 

Once she was close enough, the queen gingerly grabbed the top off of a nearby container, revealing a greenish ball, which she grabbed and placed within the golden kettle. She paused for a moment, and peered inside the kettle, to make sure that there was, in fact, water inside; she wasn’t sure if she had filled it the night before or not. To her satisfaction, the ball floated gently on the water inside of the kettle, soaking it up and beginning to expand. After closing the lid, she placed the knob of the lid between her index finger and thumb, holding it until a warm, tingling sensation was felt beneath her fingertips. She removed her hand and shifted to grab a medium-sized cup and accompanying saucer. She took a few moments to survey the rest of the table and see if there was anything else she needed, and grabbed what appeared to be a brown, marble-like object from a nearby bowl and placed it into the cup. In the few moments between starting the kettle and sifting through the accompanying sundries, a steady stream of steam had begun to rise from the kettle. 

The queen placed the knob on top between her thumb and index finger again, which promptly dispelled the enchantment heating the water. Grabbing the handle, the queen gently poured the tea into the cup, and watched the marble inside slowly dissolve into shimmering particles. She had always enjoyed watching this phenomenon; to many it was just a mundane reality, but to her, it felt magical. She liked to think of the granules like stars in the afternoon sky, shining their light in a pocket sky held firmly within the confines of her cup. She placed the cup and saucer in her lap for a moment and commanded her chair to wheel itself towards one of the many arched windows lining her office space. Wheeling herself directly up to the archway, she extended an arm out and stopped, being met by an invisible force. Small sets of runes engraved into the archway glowed as she applied pressure to the space before her, and slowly faded as she retracted her hand. 

She sipped her tea and reflected on what lay before her: a legacy, one of many from her family, or so she’d been told. She’d been told that they had been blessed by the gods, with the power of magic, and that her family especially so. While magical capability within the royal family fluctuated, a constant trait for them had been their ingenuity, cleverness, and adaptability. Their runeworks were second to none; not even the lead artisans could match their fluency or adeptness with runes, or such had been hammered into the queen since she was very young. The queen had never really agreed with this idea, noticing that the concerns of the royal family often deviated from those over whom they ruled, and the parameters they used to gauge the world did not always align with the reality in front of them. This is probably why, when it became her time to rule, she made sweeping changes to the requirements to become an artisan, as well as the limitations of what they could work on or create. While some things were still far from being sanctioned by the royal family, the role of the artisan had greatly expanded under her rule, and that was something she was very proud of. She wanted to see, not just what she could create, but what the world could create, if given the tools and power to do so. 

She took another sip of tea, and er train of thought was cut short by a stinging sensation upon her lips, to which she quickly retracted her mouth from the cup. A warm trickle could be felt moving from her mouth towards her chin; she swiped a thumb across her lower lip and found the rich stain of red etched into the grooves of her thumb. She looked carefully at the cup in her other hand, and noticed a small chip in it, and was surprised, not that it had cut her, but that the cup had even chipped at all. Most everything within the palace was engraved with a type of enhancing rune, to strengthen them and make them more durable, that and most palace staff were so particular about anything she used, she would never expect anything like a chipped cup to make it through the staff’s strict vetting process. She placed the cup back on the saucer and into her lap, wheeling herself back to her desk. 

She placed both to one side of her desk and eyed the blank pages before her. “Well,” she thought, “I guess I have more work to do.” With nary another thought, she began writing again, scrawling in the same fluid motions as she had done before...  

----- 

She awoke with a start, feeling stiff and mildly uncomfortable. She’d apparently fallen asleep at her desk, though while not wholly uncommon, was something she had been working to avoid as of late. The nearby candle had nearly burned through entirely, and she slowly began to calculate how long she had been asleep. Her aids often wondered why she used candles instead of the more efficient glow lamps, but even if less efficient, she found candles to be more lively and provided her with a comfort she found difficult to put into words. Giving out a mighty yawn, the queen stretched and adjusted her posture and robes to be a little less disheveled. Glancing at her desk, she frowned at the scant lines that had managed to survive on her page. She hadn’t made nearly as much progress as she had wanted, and while she had made some progress, she felt that she would just as quickly come up to another wall. 

Her concentration was broken by a sudden flickering of the candle, as if from a breeze, however the room was ensorcelled to prevent the effects of weather from affecting the inside; not even the gargantuan pendulums were capable of creating any wind. Intrigued, she surveyed the room, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Turning her chair around, she looked towards the back wall and also saw nothing other than shadows dancing along the stones and tiles. She let out a sigh, and considered that the stress of the summit was getting to her if she was concerned about one flickering candle. Turning back around, she made to put away her papers until the next day, when she noticed a peculiar mark on of the pages. She wasn’t quite sure what it was—a stain perhaps—that looked like water, but more viscous. As she moved to touch the blotch, she felt a droplet hit her hand, followed by another. Hesitantly she turned her gaze upwards towards the ceiling, to see a writhing mass of what seemed to be flesh, roiling above. Her mouth was agape for only a moment before the mass detached and began falling directly towards her; far quicker than she thought she was able, she mashed her hands on the side panels of her chair, sending herself and the chair flying backwards, nearly toppling herself out of it entirely. 

She looked on in horror as the clump enveloped her desk, extinguishing the nearby candle, and writhed for a moment, before coiling off to the opposite side of the desk. Despite the shock, her mind was sharp, and she made a sweeping gesture which resulted in the entire room becoming lit by glow lamps. The queen breathed heavily, only now registering the snapping and popping noises reverberating through the room. 

“Guards?! Guards, assist me at once! There’s an intruder in my chamber!” Despite her calls, she didn’t' hear any of the reassuring commotion of those who would come to her aid. She touched the coil on her neck and called again for the guards, screaming with as much energy as she could muster, but was only met with the same eerie crackling of whatever had made its way into her study. Suddenly, the noises stopped, and the room fell silent save for her own ragged breathing. As time passed without any sound or movement, her initial panic was replaced with a tinge of curiosity. Whatever that thing was—which may very well still be inside of the room—made it through to the chamber, undetected. She was finally able to take stock of her surroundings more and noticed that even the pendulums had stopped their usual motion, even though they had been working moments before. 

Slowly, she wheeled herself towards her desk and surveyed what was before her. Even though she had seen the mass fall on top of her desk, nothing was out of place save for the candle, which had been extinguished. The same strange residue could be felt on the desk and a slight sheen could be seen on some of the other objects that had, otherwise, been untouched during the commotion. Cautiously, she moved away from the desk and towards a ramp adjacent to her work area, leading down from the platform that held her formal workspace. Her eyes roamed everywhere, quickly flitting from the light catching on the tile, to any inkling of movement, like a shadow on the ground. As she made her descent, she couldn’t see anything, not any indication of whatever it was that had fallen from the ceiling moments before. 

Could she have hallucinated everything? She had been told by the court physician many a time that extreme stress and fatigue could cause people to imagine all sorts of things, unworldly or otherwise. She made her way to the door to her study and contemplated simply leaving and getting a proper rest instead of investigating further; clearly, she was exhausted. She would investigate whatever she had seen in the morning, when she was more alert. Having decided on that, she made to open the door when she remembered her documents strewn across her desk. She paused a moment, tempted to go back and remove them, but decided simply to keep the entire study locked until the morning—a simple deterrent to prevent prying eyes. She was the queen, and nary a soul would question her keeping her own study locked. As she went to open the doors again, her hand stopped suddenly, and her hair stood on end. Something was very wrong. 

That’s when she heard the same telltale snapping and popping that she had heard earlier, but so much closer than before. In that moment, her voice caught in her throat—she dared not even breathe. As calmly as she could, she lowered her hand to the panels on her chair, and as deftly as before, swiveled around, albeit with more force than intended, slamming herself into the door that was now behind her. It was in that moment that she came face to face with a creature she had never seen before. 

On the back of one of the pendulums, the writhing mass was revealed, squirming sluggishly on the surface. Not wasting another moment, the queen concentrated and a second ring on her neck shone with runes. The next moment she shouted with all her might, “Hkvzih!”, and stones from the ceiling detached, reshaping into pointed blades which hurtled towards the mass on the pendulum. A resounding clang could be heard as the spears struck the metal pendulum, shattering on impact and releasing a cloud of dust. To her surprise and horror, the mass appeared completely unaffected by her sudden attack, catching her off guard. 

“What?! Just what are y--”, before she could finish her sentence, she found her voice gone, or rather, suppressed. She could feel the lower coil on her neck activate, and sting, which had never happened before. She tried to pry it off of her neck and found she was unable to do so. As she struggled, the mass stopped its roiling, and began to take shape with a long strand—about as thick as a human torso—extending towards her. As it got closer, she noticed the consistency of whatever was encroaching shifted regularly, going from transparent to almost water-like, or a thin membrane of sorts. Switching tactics, she went to move herself to a different part of the office, but found herself unable to move her chair. 

She sucked her teeth for a moment, but had decided long ago that she would not be held at the mercy of others for what she “couldn’t” do. Concentrating again, she twisted one of her rings so that the jewel was on the underside of her finger, and jammed it into the arm of her chair. Her chair began to whir and thud as runes appeared all across its surface—the chair’s form changing from a seat to a crude armor of stone with the queen housed inside. This act appeared to dispel whatever force had frozen her in place, allowing her to move freely; she used this moment to move away from the tendril of fleshy mass, and headed towards the right side of her office. She could hear her own breathing again and noted that the coil around her neck no longer stung, which she assumed meant that she was free to speak again. Slamming her palm against the wall, she yelled, “Ivevzo,” which resulted in a doorway suddenly appearing along the wall. 

She dug her stone-covered hand into the wall, pivoting her wrist like a key unlocking a door, and began to pull when she was once again stopped against her will. The force exerted on her was much stronger this time, and she felt her armor being tampered with. Suddenly, she heard a cracking noise, and she was forcefully ejected from her armor suit, falling to the floor amongst the fragments of her suit. Reeling from the sudden shock she gasped, forcing herself to get onto her elbows to support herself. She grimaced in pain, collapsing, and clutched her shoulder; she couldn’t tell if she had broken something or merely dislocated her shoulder when she was flung to the floor, but both the force and damage had been far greater than she had first thought. 

She looked back at the doorway and then at the monstrosity that was now redirecting itself to where she had landed. The doorway was still intact, so with her good arm, she began crawling her way towards the passageway. As she drew closer, she regretted not taking up more physical training sessions recently, and sputtered slightly, having to pause to catch her breath. She didn’t have a moment to lose, and quickly stifled her gasps, clawing towards the doorway. She dared not glance back, focusing solely on the doorway before her, nearly within reach, however she did not need to look back at the creature to gauge how much distance it had covered. In a feat of agility not previously shown, the entirety of the mass lurched forward to congeal between the queen and her only viable escape route. 

For a moment, her resolve faltered. Whatever this was defied the laws she new, mundane, natural, or magical—seemingly impervious to physical damage, unaffected by spatial laws, and completely ignorant or uncaring of mortal formality. Despite her circumstances, the queen regained her composure and spoke out. “I am Queen Mahená, ruler of these lands. I will not be terrorized by you or your kind! Do with me what you will, but know that you will incur the wrath of the entirety of the kingdom and all who inhabit here. I have nothing more to say, so do as you wish.” The queen’s voice faltered, belying her growing fears as she closed her eyes and braced for impact. She imagined being crushed by the invisible force that had held her twice before, pierced by some unseen blade, or anything else that the creature would conjur.  

A moment passed, then two, but nothing came. Opening her eyes, the queen watched as the mass lay inert and unmoving—something far more terrifying. She held her breath, not knowing what to expect next, when slowly, what appeared to be a humanoid hand began to jut forth, followed by a series of hands and arms, extending out to her. She watched in awe as the mass of appendages extended and stopped, just before her own. Suddenly, a chorus of voices—soft at first, but soon dissolving into a more singular voice that carried much more firmly—came from the being before her, addressing her.  

“You may have little to say to us, but we have much to discuss with you.” The voice sounded like it was her own thoughts; she couldn't see any opening like a mouth, and surmised that it was speaking directly into her mind. She had read that some beings could do so, but she had never encountered one such creature before. It unnerved her, and she wondered if it could read her thoughts as well. 

As if on cue, the creature spoke again, voice ringing within her mind. “You are quick to think; we are pleased and are more certain of our choice now. We apologize for the method of communication, we believed that this would be easiest given your increased burden. We can adjust.” At the same time, an elongated tendril formed from the goo-like substance before her, shaping into a humanoid torso, neck, and head, though the creature was bald and had an eerily large, lipless mouth, extending wider than any normal human mouth. The being’s face also had a small nose and circular, beady eyes that held a faint, white glow within. A strange pattern or continuation of glistening spines or pins, Queen Mahená couldn’t tell which, connected by light jutted from around the entirety of its head, appearing to break and reform periodically, along with the liquid-like consistency of the creature was as well. 

Whatever it was spoke again, moving its mouth slowly and slightly out of synch with its words. “We hope that this is more suitable to conversing with you. Let us assist you.” Without waiting for her reply, the creature lifted her up without touching her, then shifted, to reveal her reassembled chair, and placed her in it. She gave an audible gasp as her shoulder touched the back of the chair, and the creature extended more hands, cradling her shoulder. Surprisingly, its touch was warm, and she felt a tingling sensation, as the pain subsided; as it retracted its hands, she also noted that her damaged robe had been repaired in that area as well. 

She looked from her shoulder to the humanoid structure before her, and blinked several times before recomposing herself to the best of her ability, given her position. Though visibly shaken, she worked to exude more of the regal presence she was known to display before speaking next. “Who, or what, are you,” she demanded, mustering as commanding of a presence as she could. 

“We are Wys, and we have come to speak with you, Queen Mahená.” The response was curt, and just as incomprehensible as she had suspected it would be. The queen mulled the name over in her mind for a moment—Wys, pronounced like ‘wise’—it was peculiar, and she wasn’t sure if it was serious or mocking. She sighed, frustrated, but she kept her composure. This Wys creature was not to be trifled with, but neither was she. 

“It’s good to know that you can hear me as you are, but I think you misunderstand. You didn’t exactly answer my question. Wys sounds like your name, but it does little to describe who or what you are,” she said, gesturing vaguely to its amorphous form. Wys said nothing for a moment, and grotesquely twisted its neck until its face was completely upside-down. Noticing the queen’s subtle look of disgust, Wys smiled, the edges of its wide maw creeping further along the edges of its face, and twisted back around before speaking again. 

“We are Wys. We have thought how to describe ourselves to you, and believe that the closest description would be that of a spirit, or a god.” The queen’s eyes went wide at the mention of Wys being a god, and narrowed them just as quickly. 

“A spirit or a god? Really? Far more like an apparition or demon,” she said with venom on her tongue. “Forgive my incredulousness at your statement, but I find it hard to believe that any such being would act in such a way—though if you are a deity, I suppose it’s beyond my comprehension to assume what you would do or why.” She folded her arms, guarded to what was being told to her. 

“Yes, it may be hard to fathom our intentions, but we assure you that ours was not to harm or scare you,” Wys said, seemingly oblivious to the queen’s growing animosity. 

Fury rising in her voice, Queen Mahená stated, “It wasn’t your intent? It wasn’t your intent to break into my study, bind me against my will, and attack and injur me?” She paused and adjusted her robe. She had to maintain as much control over the conversation as possible and set the pace, but speaking with Wys was proving far more difficult than she had expected. “I have spoken with monarchs, merchants, common folk, and all sorts in between, but I have never spoken to something so brazen as to declare that they had no intention of performing actions tantamount to regicide after the fact.” 

Wys bowed its head apologetically, which the queen did not expect. “Again, we apologize for the rough treatment. It was not our intention to cause you any harm. We were afraid that you would not listen to us if we let you go, and determined that some force was required to keep us in your audience.” 

The queen scoffed at this. “You, afraid? I can hardly imagine anything of your sort would have much to fear, all things considered.” 

Wys was unphased by the queen’s off-handed remark, and responded with the same amount of aloofness it had shown before. “Oh, there is much we fear,” Wys said, coiling around itself, “though it is hardly any of your concern.” Wys appeared to gather its body, and floated closer to the queen. “Now, Queen Mahená, we would like to discuss important matters with you. We have been watching you and believe that you would benefit from our assistance.” 

“Your assistance?”, she spoke through gritted teeth. “You are truly the boldest creature—spirit, god, or otherwise—I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. How gracious of you to deign to assist a mortal such as myself.” Despite her indignance, she knew that there was little she could do to resist its request. Even so, she dared to test the waters and see how far she could push, and how it would respond. So far, Wys hadn’t done anything else to her aside from apologize, though she was sure it could do much more if it wanted to. How would Wys respond to her provocations, she wondered. She’d never been confronted with something so peculiar, so terrifying, or so fascinating before, and she gripped the arms of her chair, waiting for what would come next. 

Wys bowed again, but instead of speaking, glided over to one of the ponds in the middle of the room. Wys craned over the edge of the pool, and reached several tendrils into the water, extracting a small orb made entirely out of water from the edge. Using a different set of tendrils, Wys began morphing and shaping the water. First a stem, long, but sturdy, next leaves that glistened in the light, and lastly, an ornate arrangement of petals, completing the image of a flower—one she had never seen before. Wys wafted over to where the remains of the queen’s attack lay, shattered and broken on the ground. Gathering up the pieces, Wys compressed them within its body for a moment, and fashioned a small pot, simple and elegant, and placed a combination of ground-up stone and more water into the pot. The last element was the flower, which was gently placed into the pot. 

“Here,” it said, giving the potted creation to the queen. “We believe that this is what humans sometimes do to show the sincerity of their words when apologizing. We do not see how it helps, but we do sincerely hope that this gesture will foster enough belief in our words to hear us out.” With hesitation, the queen reached out towards Wys and grabbed the pot by the base. Everything about it felt normal, and the magical qualities of the flower arranged in the middle felt completely natural, almost indiscernible from an actual flower save for minute fluctuations in mana quality. She rocked the pot back and forth, but the water within the pot, which covered roughly from the lip to a quarter within, did not spill over, much to her surprise, and the flower-like object remained sturdy within the pot. 

“...Thank you. While I cannot wholly believe your words or intentions just yet, you are going through an awful lot of trouble just to speak with me. I also strongly believe that if you had wished to end my life, you very easily could have done so on several occasions since our meeting. I can...at least hear you out. I am your captive audience after all.” The queen continued to look at the crystalline flower glistening in its pot, and she wondered how something like this could have been created; not even her best artisans could replicate something of its caliber. For a moment, she was distracted from Wys and her myriad of questions about it, especially how something so powerful came into the palace without causing enough commotion to rouse the entire capital. 

“We appreciate your willingness to converse, and as an added point of good will, we assure you that we did not harm anyone within your kingdom as came in. We assume that you wonder how we came in undetected; we will show you. Please, pluck one of the leaves from the stem of the flower you possess,” and Wys motioned to the plant it had just given to her. Mahená did what she was asked, and gently tugged at one of the leaves protruding from its stem. With a soft popping sound, it came loose; the outer edges of the leaf shifted and hardened, while the inner area became like that of the surface of water again. 

“Place it up to your eye and follow my movements.” She did, and aside from minor magnification, everything looked the same. Wys called out to her while ascending higher up in her office, and pointed, with one of its many armed appendages, to a particular point in the ceiling. “Concentrate, channel your mana, and focus to where we are pointing.” The queen squinted to see where Wys was pointing to, then she took a deep breath from her core and exhaled. With her efforts concentrated, the seemingly useless bauble began to feel like an extension of herself, only sharper and more aware. Opening only one eye, what she saw through the lens shifted dramatically, showing not just what lay before her, but runes inlaid throughout the ceiling tiles and their energies. Many of the runes appeared gilded in a gently pulsating golden energy, though some varied in minor ways such as hue or fluctuation in energy pattern. 

She looked where Wys was positioned, and noticed a large glyph, one that she recognized to be used in the defensive array of the palace and one she had used in her chair for its armor transition; however, it had been altered in a way that she had never seen before. Wys placed hands on the slab the glyph was resided in, and she watched as the energy surrounding the glyph fluctuated, changing entirely—the aura of the surrounding stones quickly altering like trees caught in a blaze. She removed the lens from her eye and looked up at the ceiling normally, shocked by what she saw; what had been the ceiling had been peeled back like a curtain, to reveal an array of stars, dotting the night sky. The cosmos above were fully revealed, as if the ceiling was never there at all, and she saw the expanse before her with as much clarity as if she were looking at them through a telescope, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words. 

“What...what is this?!”, she asked, mind reeling from what she saw. Wys descended from the ceiling, and the stones returned to normal. Wys let out a wheezing sound, which Mahená thought might have been its attempt at a laugh, as it gestured with its body, expanding and contracting slowly. 

“This, Queen Mahená, is what we wish to speak to you about. This is merely a fraction of possibility, and we would see it expand far beyond what we have seen thus far. We would give this power to you, as you have proven yourself worthy of such a gift.” Despite the wonder and awe she felt at Wys’ display, she did not take consolation in its words; she did not trust receiving anything from the abomination that lay before her. God or monster, neither was clear, however she knew that few things were truly gifted for free—something she had learned well from mortals. Something so grand, she thought, surely came with equivalent cost. 

“While I appreciate your kind gestures, you will have to forgive my incredulity towards the things you say. Why would you give me such a gift, let alone one that I know nothing about? I can’t tell what kind of sorcery you’ve used; it goes beyond anything my or even our scholar’s knowledge. What have I done to prove worthy for such gestures—I've met you for the first time just now and it was hardly an... appropriate presentation.” 

Wys shook its head as if to disagree. “We have known you for a very, very long time, well before you ascended the throne. We have seen you struggle and persevere, overcoming a number of challenges. We have seen you, Queen Mahená, all of you, and we are certain that you possess the traits necessary to receive our gift of knowledge.” Wys’ body weaved closer to the queen, who instinctually receded as far as possible into the back of her chair as possible. She dared not wheel herself further away for fear that she would aggravate Wys and invite another show of force. More than that, however, she was puzzled by its words. 

“You say you have known me for a much longer time, but I am certain I would have recognized something of your stature presenting itself before me.” She stared at Wys, who gazed back, as imperceptible as when they began talking. She was not used to being unable to read the room, which caused her to continue marinating in considerable unease. 

“You are correct. We have never presented ourselves to you before—you were not ready, but you are now. You. Are. Desperate,” the last word coming out like an excited hiss. “Even enduring the pain of your youth, you were never so desperate in the way you are now, and we can help—we want to help. We want to take the passion, forged by your experiences, your condition, and see it blossom.”  

Mahená furrowed her brows, clearly perturbed. “I have never seen my ‘condition’—as you put it—as anything to be ashamed of or in need of fixing. If anything, I’ve seen it as something that has allowed me to see the world differently from others, in a way that has allowed me to surpass their expectations and limitations imposed on me by those who would dare to control me.” 

Wys clucked what sounded like one of several tongues, as if to chide her, while floating behind her chair. “My dear queen Mahna, while that may not be the case now, we both know that wasn’t always the case. We can see how that’s not the case from just moments ago, no?” Wys moved its face next to her ear, and whispered insidiously, “Regardless, you need us, and we would love nothing more than to oblige.” 

The queen tried her best to hide a growing scowl, for she knew it was true. As confident as she’d become in who she is now, this was not always the case, and she hated that something as grotesque as Wys could see her so clearly. It had become obvious that, while Wys had never interacted with her, it had been watching her for a long time, which generated a sense of nausea. Still, she remained poised, not moving, and continued to face forward. 

“What. Do. You. Want?”, she said, in short, broken words. Wys smiled and whipped around her chair to face her again. Wys opened its mouth wide, and reached many armed appendages inside, to which the queen closed her eyes. Unfortunately, she reacted too slowly to avoid hearing the squelching and snapping noises that followed. 

With an audible pop, Wys extended one long arm in the queen’s direction. “We would provide you with this tool. Take it.” Queen Mahená opened her eyes and saw a pale, beige-colored ball with a red slit down the middle, roughly the size of a marble. Hesitantly, she held out her hand, and Wys dropped it into her open palm. It felt cool to the touch, and was hard, like a stone. “This,” said Wys, gesturing to the orb, “is a tool that will impart the knowledge we wish for you to know, and allow us to teach you more, in time. When you are ready, consume the orb and we will commune with you, sharing the knowledge capable of changing your world, and your kingdom.” 

“I have to eat this?”, she asked, alternating glances between Wys and the pill in her palm. “What if I choose not to?”. 

Wys wheezed, jostling its body. “You do not have to, though we would be disappointed. It is your choice entirely, but we have high hopes in what you will decide to do.” 

She knew better than to keep it, and yet she found herself gripping the orb tightly. She sighed, completely deflating into the back of her chair. Forcing herself to swallow the feeling of dread brewing in her gut, she spoke, “I am still very confused. Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve shown me...to give me the choice to refuse everything you’ve offered? What do you gain from this? How will this solve my or my kingdom’s problems? If you’re so interested, why not intervene directly rather than meet with me?” Queen Mahená couldn’t contain her frustrations any longer, and with hands trembling, shouted, “You’ve terrorized me, and by default, my kingdom all evening! Why should I trust anything you’ve said, let alone assume that you would honor your word when you’ve put nothing less than a knife to my throat this entire time?!” To punctuate her words, she flung both the plant that was in her lap and the pill she had been handed, at Wys, who simply caught both within its body, releasing a dull gurgling sound. 

Queen Mahená panted and hunched over in her seat, having exhausted her energy and pent-up frustrations that had accumulated, not just from her encounter with Wys, but with navigating the growing political tensions between her kingdom and neighboring areas. She had been planning the festival for over a year, as a means to foster good will between her kingdom, the neighboring areas, as well as extending their influence by inviting delegations from across the known world. Few had responded, some positive, some neutral, and some less favorably than hoped. This is why she had been so stressed as of late, and struggling to put together a presentation, or plan, to foster positive relations with as many neighbors as possible, especially from the city of scholars. While they were not a militant party—they remained neutral or actively did not participate in open conflict—however they had a strong influence due to their abundance of knowledge and ability to apply scant resources to great end. This made her repeated dead ends all the more dire. 

“Our dear Mahená,” Wys cooed, “we have meant no real harm in our encounter, and we even entered quietly. We have apologized as much as we can. You are stressed, desperate, and we know this. We can see it on your face and feel it in your mana.” Wys brought the plant and pill back over to her and placed them gently in her lap. “The choice is yours, but we have faith you will make the choice you need.” 

Queen Mahená smiled wryly before staring Wys directly in its eyes. “Faith? Of course you could afford to say such things to a mere mortal. Honeyed words without the weight of consequence behind them. Fine,” she said, resigned,” I will consider your offer at the very least. I will not promise that I will take this medicine. Am I desperate? Perhaps, but I am not so desperate as to agree to the terms of anything that bursts into my chambers seeking opportunity. Not yet at least.” Wys simply nodded to the queen’s statement and backed away from her. 

“That is all we have asked. Thank you, Queen Mahená, for your time.” Wys looked back through the windows lining the queen’s study, and into the night sky. The smile that had sat on its face for most of the encounter faded when it turned back to face the queen. “We would have liked to discuss much more with you, but we will have to wait for another opportunity. We must go now, but we will always be close. If you need us, call, and we will answer.” With that, Wys fashioned a disjointed bow, and dissipated, fading from view into the air.