Light of the Heavens

VI. Hints of the Past

Vassa leaned back against a crate, eyes drifting closed. Like all her kind, she required little sleep and was able to maintain awareness even when resting. It was a merciful trait, though at present the danger of attack was somewhat lower. The impromptu bar on the tiny cabin's door would delay anyone attempting to gain entry. Seben's idea ensured that they would have ample warning if someone tried to come into the room uninvited.

The apprentice fire-speaker was sound asleep on the floor to Vassa's left, wrapped up in the masked woman's bedroll again despite protesting that Vassa should take it. She'd been too tired to effectively argue after the first few days on ship of being on high alert. The masked woman felt worn enough herself that slipping into the shallowest part of sleep was a welcome relief...for a brief moment.

—fingers wound in her hair, lips against her own, then a soft voice whispered beside her ear with that smoky sweetness that concealed a wrath worthy of the ancients. "Did you think I would not find out, Vassa?"

"I aided them for love of you," Vassa whispered. Of all the pains in her body from capture and torture, her chest ached most of all. "You are destroying yourself for power. There is so little of you left. This madness has to stop."

Fingernails dug into her cheeks, forcing her to meet those crystalline blue eyes that foretold only the devouring rage of winter. "You promised me that you would ever be my right hand. That you would serve me until time itself ended, even if the whole of the cosmos turned against me."

Hot tears burned in Vassa's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I gave you everything and then you threw me away!"

"I needed the gateway open," the voice said, tone flat and indifferent. "At least you served some use before your betrayal."

She pulled in a deep breath. Even after having so much of her own essence drained, after being humiliated and tortured, some part of her still wanted to plead, to seek the return of the love once given. "Lys—"

The answer was sudden rage. A burning pain exploded through her face as magic surged out of her captor's hand. "How dare you speak my name?"

Vassa sobbed, resolve to be composed broken by agony. Few knew how to inflict pain as Lysaerys could, except Vassa herself. The magic burned and twisted under her skin like living fire, burning not the fragile muscles that could only sustain so much punishment, but the threads of existence that made them up. That magic could only ever be destroyed by Void, so the pain inflicted through it could be eternal if the caster knew their art.

"You are nothing to me, Vassa," the voice whispered again beside her ear. "Every night you were gone, another warmed my bed. Do not plead with me as if you are some special thing, unique in your love. I hold the hearts of many."

Vassa gasped through the pain, trying to pretend that Lysaerys's words weren't a knife twisted in her already bleeding, broken heart. She wished it was a lie, designed for the sole purpose of doing her harm, but Lysaerys never used a lie when the truth was far more agonizing. They had known each other for too long to miss signs of deception or the lack thereof.

"You were useful for a time, my zhendai. No longer. Things without use do not remain at my side," Lysaerys said, releasing her chin. Those blue eyes flicked their gaze at one of the other, less distinct shapes. "Every time she gazes in a mirror, let her remember her sins. Do as you will. When you are finished, cast her out."

"As you wish," Sethon all but purred. Vassa hated even the sound of his voice, but most of all the way he looked at the one she loved most of all. He would delight in destroying what remained of his rival in exchange for Lysaerys's illusory affections.