The ruins of the old capital lay in silence, the remnants of a forgotten age bathed in the pale glow of the moon. Crumbling stone arches stretched toward the sky like skeletal fingers, and the wind whispered through the hollowed remains of what had once been a thriving city.
At the heart of the ruins, a sigil pulsed with an unnatural light, its intricate carvings glowing faintly against the cracked stone beneath it. The veins of darkness that spread from its core flickered like living tendrils, coiling through the debris and casting eerie shadows against the broken walls.
A lone figure knelt before the sigil, their silhouette blending into the darkness. Hooded and cloaked, they pressed a hand against the sigil, the glow intensifying beneath their touch.
A voice echoed from the void. "Is this so? Amariah plots against the Founders. This has given us an edge. Let's see how this unfolds."
The figure remained motionless, absorbing the words before finally rising to their feet. Without another sound, they turned, stepping away from the sigil, their form swallowed by the night.
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The Guardian King's palace moved with the rhythm of duty, each servant an unseen cog in a grand, intricate machine. Mirey had long since learned how to move unnoticed, but now, she was no longer just another cog. She was being placed in positions of trust.
Dorcas had assigned her to work in the Founders' palace, a place where only the most trusted servants were permitted. The kitchens, where the grandest meals were prepared, bustled with the energy of constant motion. Mirey worked diligently, her clay fingers deftly arranging dishes, pouring drinks, ensuring perfection in every task.
Tonight, she was given a new responsibility—handling the dinner preparations for two of the most powerful figures alive: Rex and Mariah.
The grand dining hall of the Founder's palace was alight with flickering candles, their flames dancing in the soft glow. The long oak table, polished to a gleaming sheen, was laid with the finest dishes, but an air of quiet anticipation hung over the servants as they prepared for the evening meal.
Mirey, under the careful watch of the senior servant, arranged the silverware with practiced precision. She moved gracefully, though her thoughts were elsewhere, piecing together the whispers of rebellion she'd overheard earlier in the day.
As the last plate was set into place, Rex entered. His presence filled the room, commanding attention. He moved with the calm dignity of one who had seen many years of power and loss. He nodded curtly at the senior servant, who bowed low.
"Is everything ready?" Rex's voice was deep, carrying a quiet authority.
The senior servant nodded. "Everything is prepared, my lord."
Rex's gaze flickered over the spread, but his eyes softened as they landed on the empty seat across from him. He sat down and motioned for the senior servant to step closer. "Where is Mariah? She is always punctual."
The senior servant hesitated. "My lord, she is… dealing with matters in her chambers. I can send for her if you wish."
Rex's lips pressed into a thin line. "Please do."
Without a word, the senior servant turned and signaled Mirey to follow. Mirey, ever composed, moved swiftly toward Mariah's quarters. The hallways seemed quieter than usual, the silence thick with unspoken things. When she reached the door, she knocked gently before entering.
Mariah was sitting by the window, her golden eyes staring out into the distance, as though lost in her own thoughts. Her maid, Elira, stood near her, her expression concerned.
"Lady Mariah," Mirey announced softly, "Grand Father requests your presence at dinner."
Mariah didn't immediately respond. Her fingers traced the edge of the windowsill, her gaze never leaving the darkening horizon.
"I'll be there shortly," she said, her voice distant.
Mirey hesitated, noticing the faint tremor in Mariah's hand. But she said nothing and simply nodded. She turned to leave but paused. "If you need assistance… I am here."
Elira gave Mirey a quick, grateful look as she saw the young servant depart, but Mariah did not seem to acknowledge the offer. Mirey returned to the dining hall, her thoughts swirling with everything she had seen and heard today.
A few minutes later, Mariah entered, her presence almost ethereal as she crossed the threshold, her golden eyes briefly meeting Rex's.
Rex stood as she approached, his face betraying a hint of concern. "Mariah, I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten me."
Mariah offered a faint, strained smile as she took her seat. "Apologies. I was lost in thought."
Rex gestured to the seat beside him. "It seems you and I are often adrift in our thoughts these days."
Elira, standing quietly behind Mariah, hesitated for a moment, before Rex nodded at her. "Please, join us. I insist."
Elira's face softened with gratitude as she stepped forward and took the seat at the far end of the table.
The servants began serving the meal—roast pheasant, freshly baked bread, delicate salads, and wines that glistened in their glasses. The food was rich, but the air around the table remained heavy.
As they ate, Rex tried to lighten the mood, but there was a certain tension between them that lingered in the air.
"Tell me, Mariah," he said, lifting his goblet, "Have you made any headway with the troubling dreams you've been having?"
Mariah's golden eyes flickered toward him, a brief flash of something darker crossing her face. "I don't know what they mean," she replied softly, her voice tinged with weariness. "I see the past... My creations, Our Parents, Maingan, the weight of everything that has happened. I feel it pressing on me every day."
Her gaze wandered toward the windows. "It's as though I can't escape it. I can't shake the feeling that what I've done is coming back to haunt me."
Rex lowered his goblet, his expression softening. "Mariah…" He reached out, his hand briefly brushing hers. "You carry so much on your shoulders. But you are not alone in this."
She pulled her hand away, her voice quiet but firm. "I don't even know if I want your comfort, Rex."
The room grew still, and for a moment, the only sound was the clink of silverware against plates. Elira shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.
"Mariah…" Rex's voice was quieter now, laced with pain. "The things you've seen… the weight of the world you bear—none of it should be on you alone. I care for you more than you know."
Mariah's eyes flickered toward him, but she quickly looked away. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and something deeper, darker. "I've made so many mistakes, Rex. My creations… they are a part of me, but they also… they have become something else."
Her hands trembled as she placed them in her lap. "I created them, but I never thought they would become so powerful. I thought they would stay beneath me."
Rex's voice dropped, his tone gentle. "You gave them life, but they are not you, Mariah. And whatever they do, whatever path they take, you are not responsible for them."
Mariah's eyes glistened. "How can you say that? I gave them everything. I gave them my blood, my soul."
"I know," Rex whispered, his voice almost pleading. "But you didn't create monsters. You created beings who have their own paths. Don't let them define you, Mariah."
The weight of his words hung in the air, unspoken fears swirling around them both. Mariah's jaw tightened as she fought back the tears, but for a moment, it was clear: the past still held her in its grasp.
Finally, Rex stood, his chair scraping softly against the floor. He looked down at her with a lingering gaze before turning to leave. "I'll let you rest, Mariah. Perhaps tomorrow we can talk again, when you're ready."
With that, he walked out of the room, leaving a trail of silence in his wake.
Elira rose from her seat, her face etched with concern. "Lady Mariah, please—let me help you."
Mariah, however, merely nodded faintly, her gaze drifting back to the distant horizon. The weight of the evening's conversation pressed heavily on her chest, but she did not speak. She sat in silence, lost in the shadows of her memories.
Mirey, standing at the door, her gaze flickering between Mariah and the exit, felt the heaviness of the moment settle within her. She knew her place, her role to remain invisible, to listen and learn.
The pieces were still moving, but she knew they were closer now. The game was growing ever more complicated.
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