RE: Monarch-Chapter 247: Fracture LII

Maya's retelling had been laced with warnings, each word leading to this moment. She'd described how completely she'd lost herself in the sanctum—how reason, morality, and even her very personhood had abandoned her. I trusted her completely. But if she'd been returned to what she transformed into in the sanctum, caution was warranted nonetheless. I wasn't sure what would happen if she lashed out—if a lethal blow would actually end my life or further obfuscate the delusion, making it more difficult to crack.

Either way, it was better to avoid escalating out of turn. Maya was resilient. But I'd gotten the sense many times that the series of events that carried her through my absent years had yet to heal—and in terms of healing, the wounds had barely even scabbed over.

This needed to be delicate.

I stepped down into the subterranean, stomach churning with every step, lilting fear steeped in a macabre nostalgia. The basement was much as I remembered it. Gore-soaked stones stretched before me, viscera scattered like fallen leaves across a forest floor. Deep geometric grooves carved the ground into tiles beneath my boots, each channel directing thin crimson streams toward rusted grates that gaped like hungry mouths in the darkness. The constant dripping and underground setting lent the sense of being in a cave, though I knew for a fact the vaguely column-like figures hanging in the periphery of my vision weren't the rock formations my mind wished them to be.

The dim torch at the foot of the stairs didn't illuminate much. It was too dark to make out anything beyond a few hand-span before me, save the looping pattern of jagged writing on the wall, writing I was almost certain hadn't been there before.

But I could sense it. A presence in the shadows before me. Ethereal fingers scratching lightly at the back of my skull, a barely perceptible confirmation that the darkness I stared into was not empty, but occupied.

"M—"

The moment I made a sound, there was a disturbance.

The slightest displacement in the air.

Behind me, the torch went out.

As the darkness grew more complete, a feeling of coolness settled over my neck. My prodding fingers found a slick wetness below my throat, along with the thin line of a shallow cut. Something had cut me and quenched the torch in the same split-second motion.

Not an attack. A warning.

I looked down, keeping my eyes trained on the stone. "It's too dark to make out any detail. You're safe."

"LEAVE."

The second impact—so quick it felt like a stinging slap—left a stinging line across my chest, the resulting cutting deeper than before.

Beyond the pain, it was the immediacy of the retribution that gave me pause. Maya was slow to anger. Slower still to escalate to violence. She was capable of it, and would inevitably change tact if her life or the lives of those around her were threatened, but that wasn't the case here. The response here felt out of hand. Again, I was missing something, just like with Sevran and Zinn.

I pressed the lower section of torn robe against the wound, hissing as it soaked up the blood. "If I knew your predilections ran in this direction, I might have advised other, more enjoyable ways of making your mark."

A wisp of air was all the warning I had before something darted out of the darkness. Unlike the previous iterations it was a blunt instrument that slammed against my chest, bruising my ribs and sending me stumbling backwards until I tripped over a stair, barely breaking what would have been an unpleasantly painful fall.

"Ow." I said, intending something else before the complaint slipped out, my mind too stuck on the sudden tightness in my chest. "Why are we attacking me, exactly?"

"Why are you here?" The voice was harsh, bestial, tinged with loathing, seeming to come from everywhere at once. "You've spoken your peace. Made more than enough observations and comparisons to make a lasting impression."

"But I haven't…" I trailed off, mid-sentence, as the reality of the situation slowly dawned. "How much time has passed?"

There was no answer.

I tried again. "How many times have I come to see you?"

It took a long time for her to answer, and when she did, her voice was heavy with suspicion. "Were you always aware of the repetition?"

"Just… for the sake of expediency, give me your best answer."

"Endlessly." For the first time, the voice was quiet. Barely more than a whisper. "There is no measurement of agony. Always the same way. Proudly announcing that Barion was gone, that you killed him. That its really you, and whatever happened before was nothing more than a nightmare. Promising me it would be different. And like a fool, every time I trusted you. Showed myself to you. And you laughed."

Damn it. I fought the urge to break my fist on the nearby wall and sat down on the stairs, steepling my fingers and resting my chin on them. It wasn't difficult to fill in the blanks. Though the full picture infuriated me. I'd been able to break out of my own trial easily enough because, to some extent, I was too introspective. I'd been hearing Lillian's voice in my head since the day she was taken. It was familiar. Intimate. Questioning, but never spiteful. A reflection of my own conscience. A manifestation of guilt. When the Lithid used that same voice and added its own malevolent edge, the difference was glaringly clear.

The lithid could access memories, twist them to its advantage. But in truth, many of my genuine memories of Lillian had already long since faded, been filled in and reinterpreted by the saccharine filter of regret and nostalgia.

Alternatively, it had plenty of far more recent, far more vividly accurate memories of me and the way I interacted with Maya. If it wanted to do an impression, it could manage a damn good one. Was this fixable? Would she ever even be able to look at me the same way—

I shook my head, clearing the errant thought. There would always be doubts. Fears. In this moment, it didn't matter what Maya thought of me. She could have stated plainly, with no room for equivocation, that she hated me with the wrath of the lord below and that proclamation wouldn't make a speck of difference. Because as long as she remained in here, she was in danger.

The problem was, the Lithid had played its hand well. By drawing inspiration from our shared history—the looping—only it twisted the premise into something that eroded our trust through destructive repetition. Going out of my way to prove that I wasn't the lithid's construct and frantically attempting to establish myself was my first instinct—which unfortunately meant it was the wrong one.

"Hungry?"

"…What?" She sounded confused. Which was positive. The lithid had access to nearly endless information, but it was also fighting for its life, entrenched on multiple fronts. It couldn't possibly cover everything.

"Are you in need of sustenance?" I clarified.

"I… can't remember the last time I ate." Maya admitted. A low growl accompanied the statement, one that, unlike the others, had little to do with intimidation.

Rising to my feet and wincing a bit as the adhering flesh from the cut on my chest parted from the motion, I checked my pockets and satchel. What was currently on my person was consistent with the time at Barion's cottage, where I had, mostly, been destitute. The only implement of use was a small apothecary's knife. I pushed mana through the primary leyline in my arm and found a small tuft of violet fire dancing on my palm. It was enough.

"I'll be back soon."

/////

Soon, as it so often happened, took far longer than I'd prefer.

The lithid made no tangible effort to obstruct me. But there was a suspicious absence of game around the immediate proximity of the cabin. What little quarry remained was tense and hyper-vigilant. A misplaced breath and the rabbits fled, and the slightest brush of foliage sent the dark-coated deer chasing after them. Hunting in the lithid's Everwood was more difficult than hunting prey in the sanctum by an order of magnitude.

Still, the time I'd spent alone, surviving day by day was not wasted. I eventually found a stag drinking from a brook. Its many-pointed antlers twitched at the slightest noise, and it raised its head several times as I approached. Twice, it looked directly up into the canopy I was hidden in, leaving me certain it would flee, only to return to the brook.

In a less than graceful landing, I descended atop it, the force of my landing stunning it for long enough to for the small apothecary's knife to find purchase in several arteries. I used vines to tie together a series of sturdy branches, creating a makeshift sled, which I used to drag the undressed carcass behind me. The hunt had presented an opportunity to retreat and gather my thoughts. And now that I had, I was almost certain this was more complicated than it appeared to be.

Maya had a strange relationship with power. One that, in many ways, set her apart.

The first step remained the same, regardless. I needed to establish trust. Difficult under the circumstances, but not impossible, especially with our shared history.

After what felt like an hour—though with the lithid's influence, it was impossible to say how long had passed—I descended the stairs of the cellar again, deer carcass slung over my shoulder. Experiencing the same feeling of being observed from the shadows, I pushed the bounty into the dark, and took several steps back.

"Will this suffice? I can prepare it however—" Before I could say more, I felt the same displacement in the air and flinched. Instead of another bleeding lash, the form of the deer at my feet was suddenly yanked away, its fur brushing the stone until it was suddenly lifted, and silent.

With that sorted, I returned to my place on the stairs, waiting, as the sound of teeth and gnashing jaws tickled that old familiar fear in my mind that Kastramoth had planted there all those years ago.

"This is difficult." I started, and stopped again, as the sound of eating paused. "When this… happened… before, and someone who appeared to be me approached you, what method did I use to lure you out?"

"You informed me this was all a hallucination. That we were in imminent danger the longer I stayed, and the lithid was using our shared history to manipulate me into staying in hiding. That you didn't care what I'd done to myself, that we'd already had this conversation, and that the fears I held were foolish." The hurt grew heavy in her voice, weighed down by anger and betrayal.

Bastard.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "And then I mocked you."

"That is an understatement." Her voice grew distorted, venomous. "You laughed at me. For believing in the possibility you would understand. For daring to hope anyone would understand. Because who could? The thing I turned myself into was an embarrassment to you. How it was good that Nethtari could never return to the surface again. Because if my mother had the misfortune of seeing me like this, she would die with shame."

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Every accusation was a dagger to my heart. I tried to speak, failed, cleared my throat and tried again. "Does that… sound like me?"

"Tried that angle before, too." Maya responded, her voice breaking. "Made a big deal of how out of character it was. Pointed out the inconsistencies until you finally coaxed me out…"

"And did it all over again." I finished, feeling hope slip away. "Okay… let's just step away from that topic for now. I get the feeling you're likely tired of retreading it."

"Yes."

I flexed my fingers, glimpsing subtle movement behind them, deeper in the cellar, then forced myself to look up at the ceiling. "Uh. Have I tried pointing out how invaluable—"

"—I was to the battle and that you can't possibly beat the lithid without me?" The distorted voice finished.

I nodded my head side to side, frustrated. "Alright, scratch that. Have I mentioned Kholis?"

"Extensively and luridly."

A thought occurred. "Have I ever seemed this out of sorts, or retrospective about what you may or may not have experienced?"

"On the most recent iteration, yes." Maya answered plainly.

"Damn." I steepled my fingers together and squeezed them until they turned white. There was a possibility. Something that might work. From the sound of it, the lithid's initial impression of me was passive, overly comforting and kind. From a bastard's point of view it was an effective strategy. Maya was unaccustomed to kindness, especially when it came from those outside her family. The lithid had already plucked all the low-hanging fruit there. All that was left was directness.

"Have I asked what this is really about?"

I waited, letting the words sink in. The silence stretched on for so long I thought she might not answer.

"What do you mean?" Maya asked, sounding more like herself than she had from the beginning, caution aside.

"Exactly what it sounds like." I responded, not missing a beat. "Because we're cut from the same cloth. I have a hard time believing you would give up this way. No matter how many times you were shamed or confronted. You're too strong for that. You always were. And if there was the slightest chance stepping into the light would free you from this place, get you back into veritable shit where people are relying and depending on you, I believe you would always take that chance. No matter how unpleasant the alternative. So what are we really doing here?"

"You're mistaken."

"Am I?" I rose to my feet, watching as the darkness shrunk back. "Because it's been a while, but I've seen this before. In the Sanctum, when the goddess gave you the trial. To this day, since we were reunited, I've never seen you manifest the demon flame. Twice you developed power—incredible power out of your own potential—twice you've shunned it. Am I wrong in seeing the connection here?"

"Is this some new cruelty? Goading me into voicing what you already know to be true?" Her distorted voice sounded distant, as if she'd moved further away.

"I want to understand, so I can help you."

"It's… ugly."

I breathed a long sigh. "It doesn't matter how you look. This is a hallucination. Not to mention I doubt the lithid's interpretation is adequate, let alone kind."

"You're not listening." Maya shouted, my hair stirring from the sudden shift in pressure. Blood trickled from one of my ears. "You want the truth? Fine. What happened to me is fitting. I am reprehensible, vile, and low. I am ugly, Cairn. Inside and out."

"Why?"

"I cannot explain it."

"Then try, Maya. Because we have no actual awareness of how much time is actually passing in here. All we can say for certain is that the longer we stay, the more advantage we cede to the enemy."

"Suffice it to say I should not be trusted."

"Unfortunately, that won't suffice."

"It must."

"How do you imagine this plays out?" I broke from the bickering, doing the best I could to suppress my growing frustration and argue rationally. "That I just… take your word for it? Wash my hands of responsibility and let you expire after everything we've been through? Because the second you're lost to me, time will fold back on itself."

"What—no." She sounded genuinely unsettled, as if she hadn't considered the possibility. More evidence of the lithid, meddling with her mind.

"I'd burn a reset. Maybe more. As many as I need to."

"Cairn, stop."

"Sorry, but I won't. I can't." I looked up at the ceiling and prepared to lie. "The only way I'd even begin to consider it would be if you shared the reason, and it held merit. Lacking that, we are doomed to repeat this."

Distorted as it was, her voice was wracked with pain. "Is your love truly so selfish? To use the power of the divines to override my will with yours? Clinging to me to your detriment, the same way—"

Even unsaid, the blade struck home. I let it sit there, unaddressed, and weathered the discomfort, subconsciously leaning against the cold stone wall for support. I pressed my hand against the still bleeding wound in my chest, trying to blunt the chill. "Go ahead. Finish it."

"The same way you clung to her." Maya finished it.

There have been killing blows that inflicted less pain. Profound losses that left me less thunderstruck. I pushed away from the wall, forcing myself to stand without assistance, even as my body trembled, and my vision glassed over.

My words felt raw, coarse, as I spoke them. "It's been a while, so perhaps, there is need of a reminder. The moment you desire to be free of me, and come to that decision on your own, it will be done. You will be awarded for your contributions and service. Gifted a stipend appropriate to your deeds. Likely awarded a plot of land in the reaches, as is custom. Before you argue, you've done more for me than any knight or nobleman, and for lesser deeds they are compensated similarly. It will not repay my debt—nothing would. But it would be better than nothing. Anything would be better than abandoning you in this place."

There was no response, which left us halted at an impasse. One that I was simply incapable of budging on.

I was uneasy about resetting, after the recent revelations regarding the Black Beast's origin, but it was my only choice. With any luck, he'd place me at least a day before the sewer incursion, leaving room—

A glowing eye in the darkness halted me mid-thought. It lacked the blank, undefined warmth of a typical infernal's. A large black pupil was ringed by emerald green, the iris so thin that without the luminescence, it would've blended in with the pupil itself. I could almost make out the texture of the skin that surrounded it, hints of dappled mottling replacing the typically smooth texture of her face.

I sat perfectly still, unflinching, refusing to look away. Somehow, I smiled. "As I said. My Ni'lend could never lack the courage."

"There is a reason I've remained focused on my development as a healer after my second awakening. Just as there is a reason I chose the path of a diplomat, rather than a warrior." The eye drew closer, her movement uncannily smooth. A predator stalking prey through the shadows.

"It's never been far from my mind what happened to you during the trial. I wanted to talk to you about it so many times. But after we were reunited, it felt like it wasn't my place." I admitted.

The eye drew closer again. "You are aware that Infaris granted me a vision of the sacking of Whitefall. That I witnessed what happened through a version of myself that had fallen victim to Thoth's influence. Experienced the events as if I was living through them, seeing what she saw, feeling what she felt."

"And witnessing those horrors took a toll on you."

Slowly, the silhouette of her head shook, still wreathed in shadow. "What happened—what I did to your sister will haunt me until the day I pass. Even for her, that version of me, it was beyond the pale."

"It was not your fault." I grimaced. "And even if it was, I've seen the way you are with Annette in this life. How kindly you treat her. The way you accommodate her sporadic curiosities and flights of whimsy as if she were your own kin. You've seen my memories. How alone and isolated she was. Always, even in the center of a crowded room. Her life is so much better now than it ever was."

Maya continued, as if she hadn't heard. "Everything else—I believed to be a product of the other me’s twisted mind. The coloring of her perspective. She enjoyed the violence, I didn't. She reveled in abusing her potential to enforce dominion and power over others because it soothed her suffering. I didn't. She tore people apart. I mended them together."

A violet flame grew out of her palm. The slender fingers that cupped it were crystalline, transparent, and cast small prisms around the room, as well as a length of the arm itself. Her horns were altered, the soft rounding straightened and distorted, twisting to fine points. "That was a lie, of course. No matter how different her life was from mine." Maya stared down at the flame as it grew, reflecting off a strip of chitin that lashed across her jaw, holding it together, scarring and cartilage visible at the edges. "We are the same person. I learned that definitively, not long after you were gone. Because I was suffering. And the violence... soothed it."

The spark left her palm, traveling downward, across the floor, the furniture, the walls, until the cellar was awash with violet fire. Her flesh was a living mosaic—scales gleaming like polished obsidian, plates of chitin catching the violet light like shards of midnight, and patches of hide as dark as storm clouds. Through this tapestry of transformation, islands of her original violet skin remained, a reminder of who she had been, who she still was beneath it all. The great feathered wings on her back unfurled, stretching out and flapping once, fanning the flame.

I took a step forward. "You were lost. Grieving."

"Would you forgive Thoth, for what she's done? If she was lost and grieving?" Maya asked, the edges of her dark lips turned upwards in bitter irony.

I struggled to divert the point. "It's not the same. Regardless of what happened in the previous iteration, you've been nothing but an ally and a friend in this life. You have hurt no one who didn't force your hand or have it coming in one way or another. Your magic and intervention has saved lives. And I'm not just talking about the healing. We were doing the same gods damned thing." I pounded my chest for emphasis. "Hunting down the real threats, corrupted or otherwise, securing the sanctum for the fledgling infernals. Children. At least some of which would have been tormented by those cunning monsters you targeted. Because I can say without equivocation, the most cunning monsters are seldom kind."

"Indeed," Maya responded quietly.

I walked through the fire, wincing as it scorched me, my fists clenched. "You are far from the first person in Uskar to struggle with their own darkness. You've seen mine more times than I can count."

"Always in the service of the greater outcome."

"Hardly." I stopped before her, staring down, holding her gaze. "Oathbane's blood runs through my veins. Not long ago I was still reeling from the discovery of Lillian's passing when House Westmore seized my sister and attempted to steal her away. Tell me. When my father gave me the initial news of what happened to Annette, do you really think my first instinct was to spare them?"

Maya squinted, unsure. "You wouldn't have."

"Oh yes, I would. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All I felt was anger, and the desire to express that anger, and those driveling bastards were stupid enough to give me a proper target." I rested my hand on her neck, brushing the reflective black embedded in her jaw. "If you weren't there, I would have killed them all." I dropped my arm. "Go ahead. See for yourself."

There was a green flicker as Maya reached behind my ear, a slight buzzing blurring my vision as warm fingers pressed into the divot between ear and skull. Her eyes widened, expression warring between surprise and stoicism. "It's not entirely true. You would have spared the children."

"Yet every man and woman of House Westmore would have been put to the sword, in my father's tradition, if you hadn't been there to anchor me. After my resurrection, it would be the first act the people of Whitefall remembered me for. And I would never stop regretting it."

"I didn't stop you. Or advise staying your hand."

I smiled, even as the flames grew. "Your presence was enough—your trust a lighthouse in my storm. No matter how desperately I yearned to make them suffer, to paint the walls with House Westmore's blood, I knew that crossing that line would shatter something precious between us. And you'd be right to doubt me. Because I can't create a better world by repeating the mistakes of the past."

"It's you." Maya breathed. "This isn't another trick. It's actually you."

I nodded, leaning my forehead against hers as the flames engulfed me from below. "We've both suffered. Experienced loss beyond words. Our darkness was made, not born. We are not beholden to it. I'll hold yours for you. Just as you've held mine."

"And if I need it?" Maya shivered.

"Then I'll watch the spectacle as you dance in the shadow, and when it is over, draw you back to the light."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am." Maya blinked away tears, overwhelmed and perturbed. "This form really doesn't scare you? Or... alter your impression of me?"

I looked her over openly. In truth, I'd been prepared for far worse. The asymmetrical nature of her alteration lent an otherworldly aspect, the alternating textures of skin somehow orderly. Her crystalline forearm composed entirely of basilisk crystal was outright beautiful, while her wings and pointed horns all came together to present an image that reminded me of the way historical artists envisioned angels, regal in their irregularity. The pointed teeth looked dangerous—in a way that truly suited her.

My mouth split in a savage smile. I leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"You're magnificent."

/////

I came to slowly, heart hammering as I struggled away from hands that tugged at me before realizing they belonged to members of my regiment. Belatedly, I stopped fighting, still twisting, trying to catch sight of Maya in the gloom.

When I saw her, my heart leapt into my throat. The distress and vulnerability she'd unveiled in the hallucination was nowhere to be seen. She'd already risen to her feet, her expression dispassionate, channeling her mother's stoicism. In one hand, she held a writhing tendril of darkness, fingertips luminescent green. In the other, she held the mirror that Ozra returned.

Maya stared at the mass of darkness with a cold, withering detachment. "Since you went through the trouble of reminding me what I'm capable of? Perhaps it is fitting, to demonstrate it in the flesh." She clenched the mirror, green light growing brighter until there was a squelching noise.

Something shrieked as the tendril of smoke and oil was severed and fell to the ground, writhing.