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The air filled with chalky dust as Lya made her way into Ceros'
chamber. The will o' the wisp's light could illuminate only a very
small portion of the room, which was quite vast. Two flaming red dots
peered intently at her as she crept closer. Her resolve shriveled as
she approached the dreaded lich. She had been with him once before, and
her experience was less than wonderful the time previous.
Flames leapt from one empty sconce on each wall to the next, filling
the room with the deep red of blood, an illusion furthered by the lich's
presence. In the growing red gloom, his eyes became the pits of
darkness she was familiar with. They captivated her, drawing her closer
to him.
He sat on a raised pedestal near the center of the room in a plain
throne, unadorned except by his presence. The rapidly decaying corpse
of the apprentice whose body he now dwelt in sat motionlessly. His
energy was rapidly decaying. He had thought that the body would hold
enough energy to sustain a continued existence, but the truth of the
matter was otherwise. With the Shard's collapse, no longer did the
world of Edor have the necessary energies to prolong his existence.
Though he could not sense that any new planeswalkers had traveled to the
plane, he knew with certainty that it had been discovered, and the
precious mana sources that he had once controlled were now being
syphoned off for use by these unknown planeswalkers.
As she approached, she clenched her hand into a fist to keep from
trembling. Her master was a harsh master. His hard stare turned to a
displeased scowl. She hastened her pace, and shortly stood in front of
Ceros Draio. He sat for a while, and she bowed in supplication. He
gripped her chin in his very bony fingers, and jerked her head up to
stare into his eyes. Pulling up, he brought her to stand before him, as
he himself rose from his throne.
Lya gritted her teeth and looked up into Ceros' eyes. She could see
hatred in those eyes. His hatred of her. She had failed him, for some
inexplicable reason. Her heart quivered in her chest. She feared his
wrath, dreaded what he might do to her. She could feel his cold hand
shake on her jaw. He closed his eyes.
She closed hers. His hand left her jaw quickly, and she flinched,
fearing a hit that never came. She opened her eyes, and breathed a sigh
of relief to see Ceros sitting once more in his throne.
"What have you to report, Anais?" he asked. "I expect good news. Do
not disappoint me."
Her courage slightly raised, she spoke with apprehension. "The armies
approach swiftly. They will be here within the week. Czeron is in
total confusion and is now no threat. You will soon have the power you
crave."
"Why do you help me, Anais? You know you are nothing to me. What do
you get out of serving me? You are so devoted to someone whose legacy
has been perverted and destroyed over the past several centuries. What
do you stand to gain, when you have so much to lose?" His voice had a
rough tinge to them, bordering on anger and frustration. He did not
understand her devotion to him.
She tossed back a strand of hair, which was not braided, and looked
intensely into his eyes. Lya felt her love for her master well up
within her. She was so proud to have brought him back, to have
imprisoned him in his shell. She let him think he was in control, but
he wasn't. Her power kept him from any true dominance. Ceros was now
little more than a pawn in her own power-mad schemes. Still, even
though confident in her abilities, she had left him here a long time,
more than enough to get used to his body. His great legacy of power
both frightened and impressed her. She did not underestimate him.
"I've read the records my position allows me access to. I know your
wondrous legacy of destruction and death. I revel at reading of your
exploits and conquests. You were truly grand, and now you are mine, to
serve me as I wish. You plot and plan, but I know of them all. You
won't break my grip, Ceros. You are a pawn, nothing more." She felt
wondrous, showing off her power, her control. She had captured a god,
and did not plan to let go. Lya felt quite relaxed.
Ceros exploded.
He leapt up from his throne and grabbed her by the throat and lifter
her two feet above the ground with his icy grip and began to squeeze.
Lya began to choke.
"I think perhaps you've misplaced your wits. I am not here because of
you. I am here at my own bequest. You have no sway over me." He
placed his hands to her temples, still holding her above the ground, and
began to squeeze with his thumbs. Lya's eyes rolled back in her head.
"You've over-estimated your ‘power,' and it will cost you. But...I've
taken a liking to you." He threw her back several feet. She lay there,
gasping for breath.
He stepped down and walked over to her prone body, and yanked her up by
her hair. Tears streamed down Lya's face. She begged for forgiveness.
Ceros pulled a dagger from his belt, and sliced it through her hair.
She fell back to the ground, but he picked her up again.
"You were my ‘Illuminated Mistress' once. Were you not proud to have
that title? Were you?!" His voice was filled with rage. "I thought
you were above this, Anais. I see I was wrong. You see, I'm not as
powerless as you believe." Holding her in front of him, he dropped his
knife, and pushed his hand into her chest. She screamed weakly in pain,
and writhed against his hand as it pressed further into her flesh.
He put his hand around her heart, and applied pressure. Lya went
livid. He looked into her eyes and kissed her.
"I'm not a cold, cruel person, just a dead one." He pulled his
blood-drenched hand from her torso. Tears fell more rapidly from her
eyes. "Good. You've passed my test. Anais, you may have your title
back."
He dropped her to the ground once again, and turned his back. Blood
gushed from Lya's chest. She begged meekly for help. He shook his head
and chuckled lightly.
"You're the Illuminated Mistress. Heal yourself." He sat on the
throne, and watched the life slowly leave Lya's body.
Saet bent to Czeron's side. The Crimson Mistress had breathed her last
breath to give Czeron his new powers, and it had overwhelmed his system.
His eyes were wide open, unseeing. His state of catatonia was complete.
Saet untangled Czeron's limp body, and went to attend the dead Mistress.
The nearby initiate was in complete confusion, and began screaming, his
voice shrilly echoing off the walls and traveling far through the Ivory
Tower. His scream was endless, but he had done enough. People began
filing into the room.
Czeron was unaware of these events. His mind was fully in action,
trying to comprehend the savage events of the evening. He had given his
life to the cause of the Crimson Mistress, a cause against the recently
resurrected god-lich, the cornerstone of his very religion was rapidly
decaying like Ceros' body. The visions came to him full force. More of
his future was revealed to him.
Long had he feared the unspeakable, unknowable powers of the mistresses
that led the Order of the Blood. In only very few instances were there
masters, for the duty and responsibility was often too much for a man.
In every instance, the Crimson or Illuminated Master ended up destroying
himself and nearly the world. They were well known for taking what they
wanted, and he did not want this, the oldest of legacies, to fall on his
shoulders. He learned now that there was a reason for this. The
Illuminated Master or Crimson Master, as well as the respective
Mistresses, were granted awesome understanding and knowledge.
Women would use this knowledge to their advantage covertly, subtly.
Many people were unaware of what these wily women did, and when they
were aware, they knew not their motives. Men were boastful, drawing
attention to themselves, often wanting to use their knowledge for
conquest, to expand further the areas that the Order could influence.
Needless to say, this often led to war, and ultimately the death of the
Master, requiring another summoning of Ceros Draio to establish the next
Mistress or Master.
Czeron felt now how seductive the knowledge was. Knowledge was power,
and he was a knowledge vault. If no more magically adept than the
common initiate, he knew more than they, and this made him dangerous.
He did not want the responsibility. Did not want to be responsible for
what the visions revealed to him of the future. He shut off his mind,
he wanted to have nothing of the business so badly, that he would rather
do nothing at all than to have his life dictated in such a way. He
wanted to be free of the curse of his visions. Of their lies and half
truths. Of their betrayal.
Blood surrounded Lya's cold body. The bleeding had stopped. Ceros
sat, shaking his head.
"Anais, you're fooling no one. Get yourself up again." He waved his
hand, and her body lurched.
A whistling gasp filled her lungs with air and blood. Lya began
coughing and choking. She shakily raised herself up from her prone
position on the floor. Her eyes were full of hatred at her master for
humiliating her in such a way. The wound on her chest had healed, but
her anger had been inflamed.
"You underestimate me, Anais. You see, I had you bring down the shard
for one reason: I would die without the necessary mana to sustain my
existence. I feared, for a while, that perhaps I chose incorrectly. My
powers fled me, leaving me helpless, but eventually I felt the magic of
other planes once again. I lost what mana sources I once had, but have
gained new ones. I chose not to let you in on that secret. Silly me."
"Bastard."
"Think what you will, but you are my pawn, not the other way
around." Czeron stiffened. "That witch! She dares defy me?"
"What is it, Master Ceros?"
"The Crimson Mistress just decided to vacate her position. Rather
unfortunate, that. She has passed on her powers without my consent or
aid. She chose her replacement without consulting me. She has payed
the price for her treachery, now, but I cannot tell who the new Mistress
is. No matter. Whoever replaced that decrepit old hag will not know who
you are. I want you to kill her for me. I'm placing quite a bit of
faith in you, hoping you'll complete the job. Surely you don't want to
experience that again?"
"No, Master."
"Good. Now run along and do this job for me. Maybe I will reward you
for your faithfulness."
In her heart, she knew he meant to have her dead after she accomplished
her task. Humbled, Lya bowed and took leave of her master. When she
left his sight, she knelt on her knees and wept.
Lya left the Cathedral of Blood. She had wandered for several minutes,
but had found no one within. It was a very strange occurrence. Almost
never was the Cathedral empty of servants, initiates, apprentices,
Sisters and Brothers. She spied as short distance away, at the Ivory
Tower, the only glimpse of a living being, and headed in that direction.
Her head was adorned now with the thin silver crown of her office,
which she had picked up within the Cathedral proper. Only she had
access to the rooms that contained the items of office. She felt that
the crown was the easiest way of identifying her without putting on the
bulky gown of the Illuminated Mistress. She made her way swiftly to the
Ivory Tower.
Several initiates noticed her approach, and were surprised to see her
wearing the Illuminated Crown, a crown of ages long past, but questioned
her not. They ushered her in quickly, but she left their escort and
went straight to the large room where the Crimson Mistress presided. No
one moved to stop her, for she above all others save the Crimson
Mistress had a right to be there, justly accorded to her rank.
Chaos reigned in the Crimson Mistress's room. Lya was taken aback. No
woman sat in the Crimson Mistress's chair; it was occupied by none other
than Czeron's still, comatose body. She saw nearby the cold, stiff body
of the Crimson Mistress, smothered in her own heavy, resplendent robes.
Blood stained the area around her, and an empty cup lay nearby her
corpse.
"What is going on here?" she asked, the authority in her voice
commanding attention. The initiate who had witnessed the spectacle
hurried forward.
"Mistress Lya," he bowed with great energy, but Lya waved him to stand
up. "Mistress Lya, the Crimson Mistress chose to take her own life," he
stammered out. He looked extremely nervous. Saet casually came up
behind him, and put his hand on the initiate's shoulder. The initiate
stepped back a few paces as Saet took his place before Lya.
"Does this initiate speak truly?" she questioned.
"Mistress Lya, what this initiate says is true. The Crimson Mistress
took her life. She gave her powers and knowledge to Czeron here. He
has been quite incapable of doing anything since the incident."
Lya felt a wrench in her heart. She stared at Czeron's useless body,
and knew with horror what he was going through. She had gone through it
twice now. Her body had been unable to cope with the strain both
times. Ceros had had to return her to life. Ceros would not be so
charitable to Czeron, if the same happened to him. What was she
thinking? Her job was half complete, she realized. Czeron was the new
Master, and he was her target. His dying made things so much easier for
her.
No, she could not let this happen to him. She loved him, she realized.
She had played him, lied to him, manipulated him so long, that she
thought she could never have feelings for him. Perhaps it was his
dogged way of slipping through her plans, or enduring them stoically,
that gave her a sense of respect and caring for his intellect. Czeron
would not die this day.
She ran up to him. Those few people in her way moved aside for her
passage. She reached the throne and gently grabbed his head.
"Czeron," she whispered. "Czeron, come back to me. Don't you die on
me now. Please, come back." She desperately began to pray that he
heard her voice, heard her calling him back to life. Lya's prayers were
answered.
Czeron's staring eyes blinked. He shook his head and looked into her eyes. He smiled.
"Thank you," he muttered, still dazed at the experience.
Lya threw her arms around him and wept. She didn't let go.