DEMENTED | Romance | Fantasy | Slight Thriller

Chapter Twenty-Five: Visions and Awkward Encounters

LISTEN TO THE ABOVE MUSIC WHILE LISTENING. THIS IS A THREAT. INDILA IS AMAZING.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Visions and Awkward Encounters

A new moon had managed to fall during Ebony's time at Absinthe again, and this called for a night of service. Courtiers lined the chapel pews, all adorned in black and lace to honor the darkness of the new moon. As it was an act of treason not to attend, Ebony didn't want to create another reason for her to be further exiled, and so she twisted her hair tight in a bun and adorned the traditional black lace and veil. She sat at the very back of the congregation, hoping for no more gossip.

But of course, there always would be. Antsy aristocrats, especially during the long, tired hours of the service of the New Moon, always were looking around for subjects of gossip. After the first hour, Ebony felt the first pair of eyes set upon her. She looked up from her seat. The bearer of the pair was a small little girl, with a cherubic hue to a face pinked with boredom and sudden interest. The child pointed at her, grabbing onto the petticoat of who must've been her mother. "Momma, who is that over there?"

Her mother, a Viscountess who Ebony soon recognized, turned in the direction her daughter was pointing, and paled–in shock, for everyone had assumed her dead and making a home in Janaria–Absinthe had been the least likely place she'd be dwelling within.

And yet she was there. The Viscountess turned to her husband, who turned around and gasped, drawing the attention of more courtiers. Soon nearly all eyes were on her. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. They shouldn't have noticed her so quickly. Dammit.

It was very difficult for her to ignore everyone's attention as she tried to pray to the Goddess she didn't dare say she hated. She could see Crimson at the front, adorned in shimmering charcoal silk, and sent a withering glare her direction. The contrition she no longer felt nonplussed her–she had once felt so disconsolate whenever thinking about the damage she had brought to her–and now she simply felt resentful.

The service continued on. Crimson kept her eyes trained forward, but she could feel her sister's eyes boring into her as she stood to play her part. As Queen, she had a duty as the first to pray–the first to kiss the marble statue of the Goddess they all feared so deeply. She swept back her ornate veil, lips brushing across the cold stone.

A vision burst into her mind with a flash of gold. She was no longer in Absinthe's chapel–not in Absinthe at all. Glaciers and frigid air let her know the place–Janaria. The land of the dead.

She could feel the unholy presence on her. The One who she could never think to best. And so she slowly looked up, making eye contact with The Goddess Herself. "My dear Crimson," She purred, voice cushioning the world around them. "It has been so long since you have come to me."

Crimson knew not what to say, for her terror preceded her thoughts. Her quivering mouth tried to form words, but nothing could come out.

The Goddess laughed, one of those throw-your-head-back-and-clutch-your-stomach-it's-so-funny laughs. "I had heard rumors of how powerful a queen you were, but truly in person you're not quite how I expected. You were supposed to change, dear."

She waved her hand away, and with it the condescension. "Ah, no matter. See, I brought you here not to scold you." She brought her face very close to Crimson's, and she shook like a fish out of water. "I brought you here to warn you. This little childish feud between you and your sister needs to end. Now." Her right eye pulsed a bright red. "It is incredibly inconvenient for me, and you very well know it inconveniences you as well, Step above your ego, Crimson. It will kill you. Is that clear?"