The silence between them stretched, unbroken save for the gentle murmur of shifting tides beyond the palace walls. The faint glow of bioluminescent corals bathed the room in hues of deep blue and silver, their rippling reflections dancing across the obsidian bench where the two queens sat.
Auernia cradled a golden wine cup in her hands, rolling it absently between her fingers. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. The weight of what she wished to say pressed heavily on her chest, louder than any sound.
Cohinem waited. She did not press, her calm presence a quiet invitation for Auernia to unravel her thoughts in her own time. There was a stillness to her, a patience that often coaxed words from the hesitant.
Finally, Auernia exhaled, her voice low and edged with weariness. "The Sanguine… What remains of them?"
Her grip tightened around the cup. "More than half of our people were lost. Those who survived are scattered, without homes, without a mother." Her gaze fell, distant. "When the crimson faded from the skies, we lost more than just our ancestor. We lost our strength, our guidance, our god. Even now, though we endure, we are but a shadow of what we once were."
Cohinem's expression remained composed, her deep brown eyes unreadable. She understood grief, though it was not something she wore openly.
"You have endured," she said simply.
Auernia let out a bitter laugh. "Endured? Survived, perhaps. But to what end? What does survival mean if we are only waiting to fade?"
Cohinem studied her, noting the tension in her shoulders, the weight in her voice. "You fear the future."
"I fear there isn't one."
The words slipped out before Auernia could stop them. She had never voiced the doubt that gnawed at her, never admitted the fear that clawed at her mind.
Cohinem paused, then spoke calmly. "You think too much like a mortal."
Auernia turned sharply, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
Cohinem met her gaze evenly. "You mourn the past as if it defines you. As if the fall of your people has already decided what is to come. But your race still lives. They still walk this world. If you can see that, you will understand they are not lost."
Auernia opened her mouth to retort but found no words. She looked away, her eyes tracing the dim glow of the coral-lit chamber. "It isn't that simple."
"No," Cohinem agreed. "But dwelling on what is gone will not shape what is to come. You speak of Lilith's legacy, of what she left behind. But tell me, Auernia, what will you leave behind?"
The question hung between them, heavy as the sea.
For the first time, Auernia had no answer. She had always seen her people as remnants of a fading past, never as the seeds of something new. Could she be more than a keeper of memories? Could she be the one to shape the future?
Cohinem let the silence linger, watching as realization flickered across Auernia's face. No further words were needed. Auernia would understand in time.
After a long pause, Auernia sighed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. She was still weary, still burdened, but something had shifted.
"You're infuriating," she muttered.
Cohinem allowed the faintest hint of a smile. "So I've been told."
The silence returned, comfortable now, as their gazes met and held. But it was broken by the sound of urgent footsteps.
"My queen, it's an emergency!"
An elf stood at the entrance, breathless, his face tense with alarm.
Cohinem turned, her poise unshaken. "Speak."
"Cloaked figures," the elf said, his voice urgent. "They're approaching the palace."
…
The wind whispered across a land cherished by life, swaying the tall grasses, bending them toward the earth. The Sun lingered far above, its golden bright light spilling over the horizon, lighting the plains in hues of amber and twilight.
Amid this stillness, a lone figure moved onward—a vagabond, cloaked in tattered grey, his boots sinked into the soil with each weary step. His eyes, shadowed beneath a frayed hood, flickered upward, catching the shimmer of something unnatural ahead.
Beyond the swaying grasses, from the edges of the earth itself, rose an enormous mass of black and brown cloaks, their edges fluttering like the wind. Each cloak outlined a human figure, tall, thin, yet beneath the fabric was nothing. No flesh, no bone, only a void.
The vagabond halted, his breath sharp, his fingers tightening around the splintered staff in his hand. The cloaks drifted forward, soundless, their hems brushing against the ground, yet it did not disturbed even a single blade of grass.
Ahead loomed a mountain, its slopes adorned with countless palaces, spires, and city walls that spiraled upward in opulent rings touching the skies infinitely. The structures gleamed with marble and gold, their surfaces carved with intricate murals displaying scenes of combat, war, and towering Giants.
Yet one among them stood apart—a colossal edifice. It was too vast, its silhouette stretched beyond the skies as though it sought to pierce the thick membrane covering the whole planet. All of this together, formed a scene of indescribable grandeur, a legend or a myth cast in stone and light, bathed in the frozen glow of a sunset that refused to fade.
The vagabond's gaze lingered, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The cloaks moved onward like a tide of emptiness, flowing towards the mountain. The Court.
The Giant King's Court. The vagabond's eyes narrowed, tracing the outlines of the cloaks as they ascended the lower slopes, their forms blurring against the radiant stone.
He sighed, a weary sound.
…
Beyond the plains, in a land blessed by the eternally flaring Sun, plain, lively and golden, the mass of cloaks emerged. Before them stood a cathedral of white, its walls towering and pristine, supported by pitch-black stone columns that gleamed like obsidian under the illumination. Its arches and domes were embedded with bones, human skulls, elfin ribs, the jagged spines of giants, each fragment fused into the stone as though grown from it.
Inside the cathedral, the air was cool, heavy with the scent of sanctity. The columns soared upward, their surfaces reflected a mosaic of corpses, yet the space shimmered with holiness. At the cathedral's center stood a cross, more than a hundred meters tall, its surface rippling with faint light reflecting the countless souls that stirred within its frame.
Before it was a figure cloaked in a clergyman robe, his golden childlike eyes gazing upon the world whole.
The cloaks drifted, their helms brushing against the neatly arranged pews, and gathered before the cross. The man in the clergyman robe did not move, "His" gaze still lingered on the cross. Settlements sprawled beyond the cathedral's walls—human voices murmured in the distance, their lives unaffected by this, unaware of this.
"He" sighed, "His" hand brushing the surface of the cross, feeling the symphony of cold and warmth beneath "His" fingertips. "His" lips parted, a whisper escaping into the air.
"To think..."
…
In the ocean, before an enormous palace of coral that rose from the depths of earth. The water shimmered, its surface reflecting the Sun that hung high. The cloaks drifted above the waves, their hems trailing through the water without ripple, their forms mirrored in the clear sea.
…
They appeared.
At the outskirts of all civilization. The cloaks gathered, innumerable, a mass stretching across plains and seas, mountains and fog. Their source, one, beyond the horizons of all existence, situated at the central continent that connected North and South, emerged from nowhere a dark gloomy palace, its exterior pitch black, its grandeur casted a shadow reflecting order itself.
Within the palace, at its very centre, two thrones stood tall and gloomy, surrounded by a shimmer of golds, diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and various precious gems. On the two thorns sat a black crown and a brass book.
Besides the throne, in a pile of gold and emerald, a gold lamp layed.
…
At the outskirts of a land shrouded in thick greyish-white fog enveloped by a pitch-black inky darkness, a veil that devoured all sight, all sound, leaving only the faint rustle of wind. The cloaks emerged at the edges of the land. They attempted to cut through the fog and the gloomy dark veil, an attempt that resulted in utter failure.
The darkness ahead pulsed, its edges rippling with faint distortions. The cloaks halted their movement, before swaying backwards making some distance. The ripples in the darkness grew, the greyish white fog stirred, vibrating before extending outwards as numerous shadows emerged, long, thin, swaying gently.
Black and White tentacles, with golden engravings of mysterious symbols. They emerged from a man with black hair, black eyes, a black and yellow windbreaker, white shirt, black pants with neatly polished black shoes, and a long tophat that strangely stood out from the rest of his attire.
Beside him stood a tall woman, wearing a simple plain black dress with a hazy veil resting on her head. Her hands clasped together in front of her stomach, inky pitch black darkness rippling at her feet, her dark serene gaze reflecting the innumerable cloaks that stood at front.
A second of silence loomed. Then a voice penetrated the thick air.
"O@O*($^&*#^R"
A second of silence stretched more.
Excuse me what? Both the man and the woman, their mouths agape, thought simultaneously.