Five years have passed since Emeth Light Spinner cast the Spell of Obtainment and was presumed dead. But little does the world know that she survived, and lives on as the dark sorceress Shadow Weaver. As the second-in-command of the Horde, she has b...
⚠️ Trigger warning: This chapter contains mild references to sexual abuse. If you're not in the mood for that, feel free to skip the first scene of this chapter.
In this vision, Emeth Auctor saw a world in which sorcerers and princesses were on equal footing in terms of magical power.
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Numb.
That was how Micah felt as he sat down in the Alwyn tavern to open Light Spinner's notes with Nell, three months later, and see if there were any clues on how to disconnect someone from the Black Garnet. Nell had translated the text into something less ostentatious than Light Spinner's flourishing vocabulary. As he read it, Micah zoned out.
If your misplaced attachment to her renders you unable to do your duties, you don't deserve to wear Bright Moon's crown.
"What's going on?" Nell asked. Then his gaze fixated on Shadow Weaver's felinetta, a huge beer in her hand. "Oh, criminy."
Carmen's face lit up, and she skipped over to the table, beer sloshing all over her pale dress. She wrinkled her nose. "Aw, bother. Hate wearin' wet clothes. Guess I'll take this puppy off an' throw her away."
Micah's face flushed. "You could get arrested for parading around naked."
Carmen burst out laughing. "You're right hilarious. I was jokin', yeah?"
"What are you doing here?" Micah asked pointedly. "You have some nerve, coming to Bright Moon after what happened in Dryl."
"An' you got some nerve, wearin' a shirt that makes you look like a Kryteyan," she said with a smiled, taking a vacant seat. Micah slid the notebook under the table, passing a look to Nell, who shrugged tiredly in his direction. "I like partyin' sometimes," Carmen chattered. "It's fun."
Nell tilted his head, and Micah shared his concern. After seeing how crazy Shadow Weaver was, he hadn't expected her servant to seem so...innocent. "They don't have parties in the Horde?" Nell asked.
"Mike thieved my lady's holo-pad couple'a years back," Carmen said around her drink. "Ain't sure why this is surprisin' t'ya."
"Don't call me Mike," Micah said.
"Cheer up, sandface. I'll call him Nellie instead. Fair trade?"
Nell sighed. "Carmen, why are you here?"
"Came to party. Already said that."
"That's what you told me last time, and then you murdered a man in cold blood."
Carmen's eyes widened, the catlike pupils narrowing. Micah frowned. Did it...bother her? Killing bothers most people. But often, there's a greater goal that outweighs the cost.
Why did he kill? Did he do it to protect? Or was he secretly...secretly...
"You look like your mama just died," Carmen broke in. "You awright? I'll buy ya some wine if you want."
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