Act XIII ║ The Tower

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𝓥𝓲𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂𝓪

Heir of Night
All Rights Reserved
© 2020 L.C. Rose

I see The Night Court at a distance, waves pressing against the vessel that carries me

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I see The Night Court at a distance, waves pressing against the vessel that carries me.

But it's not the lush and rich scenes of Indris Quay. No, I see no high peaking estates or necro-rock constructs. The aroma of luxury is absent and the luminous cityscape never materializes.

Yet, the coast appears—and only my sheer will keeps me from tumbling off the ship at what the first rays of the sun reveal.
Broad, sparkling rivers and snaking streams flow throughout the undulating emerald and gold of the grasslands and reeds lining them, the burnt gold of the sandbanks flanking either side.
And as the carrier sails, not towards it but passed it, my eyes descend on where the grand port city had once watched over the sea... cinders and smoke and ashes.

The entirety of the land has been laid to waste.

I feel myself wanting to pierce the wind with a shriek of horror. I want to yell at the crewmen to stop and aid; give any reprieve possible. But in the ship beneath me, the sailors are silent, deathly quiet as the coast, at last, breaks over the horizon and the sight becomes truly visible.

Belrynn.

Or rather, what's left of it.

I throw myself awake, sweat slipping down my back, and force myself to breathe, to open my eyes and note each detail of the dawn-filled bedroom

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I throw myself awake, sweat slipping down my back, and force myself to breathe, to open my eyes and note each detail of the dawn-filled bedroom. Real—this was real.

But I can still see embers rising from the debris left behind where the city once stood, the ship slipping by, unnoticed and unbothered by the view of the fire-eaten beachfront.

Bile stings my throat.

Not real. Just a dream. I was here to stop anymore of it from happening, from repeating...

I scrub at my face. Perhaps it was the quiet, the hollowness, of the past few days—perhaps it was the weight of the unexpected words between the prince and I, but ... It was fear, and maybe shame, that coated my tongue, my bones.
I shudder as if I can fling it off, and kick back the sheets to rise from the bed.

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