That could not be allowed to happen. Anything but that. She dashed frantically, mind consumed by those innate negative visualizations. Oh, how horrible it was. To know—perhaps it was already done—that Kabal had lost his life.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. I need to get there in time! Oh, Almighty, let me get there in time.
Everything else was a blur of motion—the dark, speckled walls of Valor, its vastness, the few statues of white marble commemorating the old Highnesses. All of it felt like a stab to her awareness. Like painted representations of the future, she might see inside Stone Bastion.
Anything could have happened. Argon blade in hand, or wielding some fraction of symbolic power... Who knew what power he wielded in his totality? What if, what if?
She screamed.
A man in a corner trembled at the suddenness. Not just him, for with each passing moment, each desperate stride through the halls of Valor, eyes locked onto her. Countless pairs of eyes—men, women, nobles, handmaidens—all watched now as the Princess, the highHeir to the seat of Valor, ran like a depraved beast.
She could already hear the imminent rumors. They would whisper. They would ask about the reasons for such chaos, for such actions. Inevitably, the rational ones would attribute it to the recent terror within the Great Hall. And with that occurrence, ever greater entropy would descend upon Valor. Men and women would flee in fear for their lives.
Dangerous.
In the corner of her perception, each frantic dash caused a passerby to shudder and stumble. That, and of course, the questions about her sanity. Dreadful doubts.
Almighty above
She felt exposed, like a naked figure standing within a coliseum of countless eyes. All of them watching, peering, hoping for some error.
And here she was, giving it freely.
From this singular mistake, Wane might again have a means to question her legitimacy. They would call her a woman without shame, without elegance, without the necessary sanity—things that would weaken the power and might she was to wield.
Yet... she ran. Even with the eyes that scrutinized her every motion. Faces that revealed innate thoughts that bordered on treason. Hands and fingers that pointed at her with confusion... Ivory ran.
Sweat trickled down her face, dampening the white, blood-stained dress she had on. There had been no time to change, and the faint pellucidity of the cloth, now drenched in the bodily fluids, made her feel undoubtedly, truly stripped. Ivory wrapped her arms around herself.
Oh, the shame!
She gritted.
Mist the shame!
MIST IT ALL!
Her heeled legs padded hard atop the glossy floors, a sharp thud that echoed out like a hammer on stone. Solid. She cared little for the sound. Cared little for the eyes, the faces, the people. All of it. Nothing else mattered. Only him. Only Kabal.
She turned a corner. Fewer people existed down the narrow corridor, although the ever-present froststones shone, dotted along the walls. Down there, she knew. Down there was the entrance. The closest path to Stone Bastion.
She quickened her pace, mouth wide, gasping for air. Nothing was helping, just that recursive thought—a singular scene that came to remind her what could be happening. Perhaps I should never have asked him that question!
I should never have asked for love!
Two Excubitors stood guard before a massive gate—dark, brittle with ripples of eltihm across its surface. It was almost a replica of the one shielding the Great Hall. Amazing. One would inevitably fall into deep awe at the magnificence. But not her... not now.
She shouted, "OPEN THE MISTING GATES!"
They shuddered—two Excubitors, giants of men, bodies covered in that thick dark armor with heads encased in silver helms. One could imagine scaring such figures was in the realm of impossibility. Yet, there it was. They were frightened.
Heavens, how horrible did she look!
But in the end... even that mattered little. Only he did.
Mist the consequences, mist the shame. All of that would be dealt with later on. Let the Ivory of tomorrow worry about that!
They hesitated, sharing glances as though stuck under some unfortunate loop. Are they mad?
Nearing them, she bellowed, "I AM IVORY OF VALOR! AND I COMMAND YOU TO OPEN THE MISTING GATE!"
Now they moved. Charged by the fervor in her tones, they surged in a frenzied hurry, hands pushing against the great barrier's might. Not even a grunt echoed from them, although the door did tremble in pressured resistance.
It parted.
She dove in, bursting into an exceptionally wide chamber—the room shaped in an obviously trigonal form. Many structures, many buildings, could be fitted in without a loss of space. Such was the observed size. She dismissed that awareness, quickly locking onto the square structure in the center of the room. A thing set on a three-stepped stage. An entryless door, its center screened with a transparent layer.
The Nariel!
The waygate!
I'm coming for you! she thought, panting. "I'm coming for you, Kabal!"
Then came the bright white light.
Believe this and believe it to be true: true love remains a rarity at the highest level of Casterhood. And remains so simply because of the inherently cynical nature of those creatures.—Observations from an Aspirant, researching within the Whitekeep.
The blinding white light cleared, and Ivory found herself kneeling within a small, square room. darkCrown guardsmen present with raised spears and shields, as if it mattered or held relevance within a true war. A single Vermontian would make a stain of their existence.
"Get me a disk!" she shouted—a disk that was an expansion on the Velis Disk created by Miralin. Enough of the Great Clans had already employed it in their service.
In any case, her orders made quick work of the stunned nature of these people. Although she knew very few of them could accurately deduce her as the highHeir to Valor. They were darkCrowns, after all... Anything with a shred of white hair was inherently superior to them.
She gritted her teeth. There is no place for such thoughts. I need to get to him quickly.
"BE FAST OR I WILL HAVE ALL OF YOUR HEADS BEFORE THE STORM ENDS!"
That heightened the response.
Soon, she stood at the edge of a cliff—the high roof that was nothing but a ceiling of jagged stone. Now, she stood in Stone Bastion; such was the power of the waygate.
Unimaginable.
She tapped the large black circle of metal beneath her twice with her foot. It floated, hovering high into the air before gliding through it. Somehow, it was powered by the user's thoughts, requiring no force, as it was functionally a symbolic event, created like the few Sacred Relics.
It skated through the air, her hair fluttering as the thing hastened in pace. Functionally, too, regardless of the moving speed, the user was unable to slide off. Another important measure.
Ivory winced, gripping her hair. How much time have I already wasted? What if? What if he's already dead?
Tears trailed down, dripping on the bosom of the once silken, now stained, dress. All of it mattered little. Only he did. Only one man did. How easily she had destroyed her painfully built public perception... all for him.
Please... she muttered. Be alive, Kabal. I need to tell you. I need to ask you why you struggled so much to come here. To come to me.
Perhaps, a different woman would have laughed and chuckled at the desire behind the action. Would have claimed love as the reason for it... But... what if?
She clenched a piece of skin on her face. I need to know why you did all of this!
Ahead, she noted the inklings of square structures in the distance, things packed together in varying sizes. Inside, there was the great Black Jails of Valor. She hurried, took a breath, and once again attempted the inner calmness. I need to know why, Kabal! I need to know if all of this is worth it!
The disk slowed, gliding down with a deliberate motion, stopping inches away from the bare, uneven earth, where stone spikes poked out from the floor. She breathed, glanced at the distant building, and dashed for it.
Her heart was pounding, ringing loud within the deepest parts of her being. It drummed like a music of anticipation, of dread. What would she find? Behind those doors, behind those walls of impenetrable and indestructible steel, what would she find?
Would it be Argon standing over the corpse of the man she... Or would it be that sweet Fool smiling, waiting to annoy her yet again? With his words. With his taunts. What would it be? She stepped over a stone, eyes wide, a meter from the answer to that consuming question. To the building. I'm coming!
It exploded.
Huh
A powerful boom rocked the earth, tossing her into the sky, rolling her across the ground like some piece of cloth. Useless. Then came the scent of it all. Fire. Smoke. The screams of burning men and women.
What was happening?