Page 15 of Between Soul and Vessel
Through bloodshot eyes, I saw a blurry figure standing beside me. In their hand was a strange cylindrical glass device with a sewing needle pressed into the end. The sewing needle was stuck in my arm. Their thumb pushed on the end and whatever liquid was inside the glass began to disappear.
Slowly, warmth began to spread over my body, like a comforting blanket slowly being pulled over top of me. It chased away the pain, the torture. And filled me with a sense of . . . peace.
Willfully, I handed myself over.
Avriel
In the empress’s grand council chambers, murals dominated the dome-shaped ceiling—telling the story of how the empress won the War of the Creators. During the day, light spilled through the arched windows, lighting the murals, and quite literally making them come alive.
When I was a young girl, I had spent hours in this room as my mother prepared for the meetings. While she worked, I would stare up at the ceiling and watch the paintings as they moved, mesmerized by them—and the empress herself, for her bravery and her strength. How proudly she had fought to make a better world for femalekind.
Or at least, at the time, that’s what I had believed.
Back then, I made a vow to myself that someday, I would serve the empress, and so, I became a priestess. After my mother’s death, her job was shifted onto my shoulders, as was the customs of these lands. So now, apart from being apriestess, I also served as the empress’s secretary.
Why the empress hadn’t executed me, alongside my mother, was a question I had asked myself more than once. Perhaps it was because she was egotistical, and she didn’t perceive me as a threat. Or perhaps she was trying to prove something to herself, that the actions of the parent didn’t determine the level of loyalty from the child. Perhaps I was an experiment, one she could easily end the second she grew bored.
Pulling my attention from the ceiling, I glanced around the room, full of light conversations. I had managed to gather eighteen of the twenty council members, which I felt was rather good, considering the limited time I’d had to summon them all.
Seventeen members sat at the round table, placed directly in the middle of the room. The last one, Mercia, the Goddess of Animals, sat on the windowsill, her eyes set on the cardinal flying outside. She lifted her hand from the fluffy cat nestled in her lap and placed it against the glass. The bird flitted around in excitement, its beautiful red feathers glistening in the sunlight.
As I had never been granted a seat at the table or really allowed to stay in the majority of the meetings, I stood at the back of the room in the shadow of a towering column.
To my right, the double doors swung open.
A chorus of wood screeching against stone sounded as the council members shoved their chairs back and quickly stood. They bowed to the empress as she walked into the room, her pace swift, her heels thunderous. Her expressionwas far from composed—she didn’t bother to hide her frustration, wearing her anger as if it were her crowning glory.
“Everyone sit,” she snarled out as she took her seat, the chair magically sliding in, caught on the breath of her immense power.
Immediately, the council members followed suit; even Mercia swiftly left her perch and sat at the table, positioning the cat back on her lap. The fluffy feline let out a small, barely audible meow before she settled in.
The empress’s gaze narrowed on the cat, before it flicked up to Mercia’s. “Must you always bring your animals with you?”
“Apologies, Your Majesty. I can send her back,” Mercia said, lowering her head in respect.
The empress loosed a breath. Waving her hand in dismissal, she stated, “It’s fine.”
Next to stride into the room was a guard, carrying the white-haired female from before.
Upon seeing her, a few of the council members let out an audible gasp.
They must recognize her,I thought to myself.
I scanned their faces, noting which ones clearly did, spotting a common factor—all three of them had been council members since the War of the Creators. Considering that the white-haired female was somehow linked to Nockrythiam and he’d existed during that time as well, it made sense.
Still, their reaction left me even more curious about her.
Her vessel looked much better than when Imari had first brought her here, the wound in her chest completely healedover. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and rhythmic, the color of her skin warmed by her thrumming veins. Clearly, the connection between soul and vessel had been restored, yet she was completely unconscious.
I didn’t doubt she had been given a sedative of some sort.
Again, I wondered who she was.
It was a question I suspected would be answered very shortly. I could only hope the empress would forget I lingered here.
But the empress, who had the eyes of a hawk, spied me and said, “You may leave.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I answered. I bowed to her then started toward the door.
