Lillia was screaming. Lillia was alone. Lillia was underdressed.
None of those things should have been possible because beyond all other truths, Lillia Ashvalin was…really pissed.
Lillia needed her full body to be pissed. She skipped the dramatic statements about life and existence beyond death and sat up. She didn’t need to retread that old ground. She’d reconstituted herself from consciousness before, and this dungeon had forced her to become a quick learner.
“Are you kidding me, Havoc?” Lillia asked nobody.
She was entirely and utterly alone. So alone that there were no walls for her voice to use to come back and say hello.
Maybe that should have helped. It didn’t.
“I was alive. We had won. Then you just turn around and…Ugh!”
Lillia flopped back down. At least the clouds of the place between life and death were comfy.
She kicked the air like she had when throwing a temper tantrum on her childhood bed. She screamed into the clouds. They at least made a good substitute for a pillow.
The worst part of all of it, the part that was worse than dying, was that Havoc had been right.
Lillia saw her legs back there, if only for a moment. There wasn’t much there to save at the end of the fight.
Maybe Havoc being right should have helped. It didn’t.
Lillia could feel the warm glow of the land of Wheat and Silk behind her. It and accepting her trip back to the dungeon could wait. She just needed a minute.
Once she had screamed into the clouds for long enough, Lillia turned back over.
There was someone there.
Oh god not again.
The woman averted her eyes as Lillia turned over, but Lillia recognized them in the brief moment she saw them, even though she’d only ever seen them as opaque glass.
“Cathria?”
The woman chuckled. It was sing-song. Free.
“In a sense. Yes.”
“In a sense?” Lillia hugged herself to cover up as best she could. Then, with her palms on her collarbones, her fingertips brushed against the silver of the clasp around her neck.
The Usurper’s Cloak had followed her through death. Right.
She called it into being. Lillia didn’t know if she felt safer under it than she had exposed.
Cathria, or Cathria ‘in a sense’ had given her space to figure that out. Once Lillia sat up with the cloak around her, she joined her on the cloudlike floor.
Lillia pulled her knees into her chest. Cathria sat cross-legged beside her. Lillia spoke first.
“If you’re here,” Lillia said. “Did I just kill you?”
Cathria sighed. “Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?”
“Life as an archmage is full of wonders. Complicated, headache-inducing wonders.”
“So—”
“You killed the Spellmite Architect. Which is a version of myself that exists past the point that the me you’re currently speaking to exists within.”
“And the glass one?”
“—is a snapshot of a time before that,” Cathria said.
“So there are three of you,” Lillia said. “The dead part, the glass copy, and the dungeon monster.”
“Yes, and before you tell me to choose a form. I know. I know. It’s all part of a complicated web of contingencies that I laid out to prevent my death.” She shrugged at the end of that. “Alas. Here I lie.” She looked at her legs crossed in front of her. “Or sit.”
“Is everyone in the dungeon, dead?” Lillia asked.
“No. This version of me is here due to the death of self I inflicted upon myself to become the Architect,” Cathria said.
Lillia nodded as if she understood completely. The archmage clarified anyway.
“A large part of me died when I became the Architect. Enough that I showed up here, but not every part of me died. Much of me stayed within the Architect. Which—”
“Cannot die because it’s part of the dungeon,” Lillia suggested.
“Clever girl,” Cathria said. “I certainly don’t envy your need to learn all of this about the dungeon while fighting your way through it. I certainly wouldn’t consider a pitched battle of life and death to be my preferred study room.”
“It’s not great,” Lillia said, “but I think I’m learning. Old tutors would be proud of me.”
“I believe there are many people who would be proud of you.”
A faint glimmer of hope sparked to life in Lillia’s chest. “My…”
Cathria put a hand on Lillia’s shoulder. “Whomever you’re thinking of. Yes, Princess. I cannot speak with those who’ve moved beyond, but you do not need to speak to someone to understand how they would feel about something.”
“Did you know my parents?”
“No, you did. I am from well before the time of your parents. But you will know whether they would be proud.”
Lillia tucked her chin into her knees. She wanted to say that it was obvious. She wanted to say that she was sure of anything about her parents. But how many things had she been told over the past five years? How many whispers had eroded her own understanding of the people who raised her?
Lillia wanted to say she knew. She didn’t.
The spark of hope flickered and was snuffed.
Cathria stood up. “All right, come on. Up you get. Back to the grind.”
“Already?”
“I don’t see you getting more motivated during this conversation,” Cathria said. “And there is a version of me in there that will be much more helpful to you than I can be from here.”
“Do you share memories with her?” Lillia asked as she stood.
“No, I just have the pleasure of watching.”
“You’re complicated. This whole situation is complicated.”
“You are far from the first person to say that, but I do hope you will be the last.”
“The last?”
“If you could find a way to kill the Spellmite Architect outside of its room at some point, it would be greatly appreciated. I think I’m about done with this.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, the fleeting moments of consciousness are lovely, but there’s a lot of floating around between them.”
“How do I get the Architect out of its room?” Lillia asked.
“Oh, I haven’t the slightest,” Cathria began. She placed a hand in the small of Lillia’s back and guided her toward the acceptance text. “I also would say that is a goal for the future, as opposed to a pressing current matter.”
“I do want to help. The other Cathria helped me with the puzzle.”
“The other Cathria is going to help you much more. Part of why I don’t think you should put us to rest quite yet.” She pulled away from Lillia and patted her on the shoulders. “Good, ready to live once again.”
She looked very much like a mother in that moment.
“Run along now if you want to be free of the dungeon. You’ve got quite a ways to go. Even if you’re planning on freeing others, freeing yourself should be the top priority.”
A nervous laugh escaped Lillia. She was usually better at holding those down. “I was expecting a lecture on how a monarch needs to help everybody else first.”
“A sentiment that is often said and rarely practiced,” Cathria said. “Your dedication to that cause is up to you. But knowing you’re in here alone, I would probably continue to consider the needs of others. Sympathy and doe eyes will only get you so far.”
“I don’t have doe eyes,” Lillia said.
“Oh, sweetie.”
Lillia rolled her doe eyes and looked to the left, the direction Cathria was pushing her in. The glowing text was there. Welcoming her back to life.
“Run along.”
“Will you be here next time?”
“Hoping to die, are we?” Cathria giggled again. “I won’t be here every time, but if you’re on the wrong end of a blade often enough, I’ll ensure I stop by.”
“Okay.”
“Now go, finish the amulet, use it, and give me something interesting to watch.”
“Yes.”
Lillia closed her eyes. Thinking about something was paramount to doing it in this space.
[Accept]
Lillia was cold. Lillia was underdressed. Lillia—
“HAVOC!”
Her new throat scraped around the scream like it had only just remembered how to be flesh.
Lillia shot up, crushing the chitin in her hand as she did. Iridescent dust covered her, and scales clattered as she shot to her feet.
Havoc was on the other side of the hearth, having replaced some of the makeshift equipment he’d had with actual blacksmithing gear summoned from his skills. He was also back in his old clothes.
“Oh, you’re back. That was shorter than last time.”
Lillia snapped an Ambusher feather between her fingers and summoned shoes so she wasn’t standing on the gross dungeon floor.
“You know, it took me a while to figure out how to get out of there. Thought I was gonna have to crawl through the ceiling or something.”
“You killed me!”
“And you look way better than you did.”
He didn’t look at her neck when he said it.
“After a sword to the head!”
“You’re welcome. Wasn’t a picnic for me either.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Anything else would have been a waste of potions,” Lillia said. “But you being right doesn’t make me not mad.”
“Don’t turn my words around at me.”
“If you don’t want your words twisted, don’t say them to somebody who’s in politics!” Lillia stomped for emphasis on the last word. The click of her heel against the ground echoed through the cathedral.
Lillia took three deep breaths.
One.
Havoc was right. Killing her had been the right option. Her not liking it didn’t make it wrong.
Two.
They were supposed to be celebrating right now. Neither of them died in the fight against the Architect, and they made it back to the hearth safely.
Three.
Lillia wanted to know what Havoc had picked up from the Architect.
Her shoulders sagged and she relaxed at the end of the last breath. Lillia folded her hands in front of herself and looked up to Havoc.
He seemed suspicious of how quickly she’d turned a boil into a simmer.
“I can collect myself when I need to. I just rarely want to do so,” Lillia said. How many times had she needed to swallow her words in front of her aunt back at court?
Fat lot of good the silence did her, she’d ended up here anyway. At least the forced calm was a practiced skill.
“You sure?” Havoc was the one on edge now. Lillia could almost feel his skin bristling, ready for her to blow up again.
He was used to women with longer and hotter tempers.
“Yes, Havoc, I’m sure.”
“Well, okay then.” Havoc sighed. “Got less than I wanted from that Architect thing, especially considering we gotta make something for Rickshaw, because someone—”
“I was under the impression we were done arguing.”
“Because we gotta go back to him,” Havoc finished as a correction. “It’s all over there on the workbench.”
Lillia walked around the fire. Havoc hadn’t summoned the entire forge he’d had back in the Hearth of Memory, but even the workbench and anvil made the room feel shockingly full compared to how Lillia remembered the cathedral.
She didn’t know why Havoc said that there wasn’t much.
Not only was there the last piece of the amulet on the workbench, but there was a near dozen vials of ichor blood, a strange fabric Lillia didn’t recognize, and finally a blackened recreation of the eclipse staff that the Architect had wielded.
Lillia paused as she counted everything. Reached out, but didn’t quite touch the staff.
“See? Bunch of junk,” Havoc said. “Neither of us are casting spells. We got one-third of an amulet, and then a mix of catalyst and defensive materials.”
“The staff is beautiful.”
“At least we could have hit something with them all. If we got another one of those, we would have been great.”
“I can use the defensive material for my dresses.”
“You can use chitterpede chitin for your dresses. I’m not too enthusiastic about getting that drop from something that big.”
“I have the other two-thirds of this amulet.”
“What?”
Lillia traced her finger across the remnants of the amulet. It vanished into a small mote of light after a moment of contact.
[Amulet of the Creator - Completed]
[Bond Added - The Glass Spellmite]
[Can be activated once per day to summon Cathria, Archmage for an extremely brief period.]
[Can be activated once per day to summon the Glass Spellmite as a familiar for a short time.]
[An amulet forged by a great mage to save herself from infinity. A failure in its purpose: a boon to those who use it.]
Lillia summoned the amulet to her neck. It was a small silver locket, forged of the same black glass Cathria and the Spellmite had been made of. It hummed against her chest for a moment, and then steadied, following the beat of her heart.
Havoc had been watching Lillia play with the amulet. He nodded, then turned to stoke a fire that didn’t need stoking.
“Fine, that part’s pretty useful.”
“Havoc, we’re resting before we try anything else? Right?”
“Of course. Think we earned it.”
Lillia placed her palm on the Amulet of the Creator. She closed her fingers around it. She thought about activation. The effect forced her to speak.
Lillia’s voice erupted out at a volume she didn’t know she had outside of screams. The word echoed off the walls around the dungeon, shaking dust loose and making Havoc jump.
“Cathria!”
A brilliant flash. A piercing light cut through the room and for a moment the entire space looked as if it were made from glass.
A new voice cut through the flash. “Let’s make some magic!”
The glass Cathria was floating in front of Lillia with her staff drawn back as if she were about to fire a spell. Slowly, she turned, observing the peace in the room. She lowered her staff. Stopped floating. Her feet clinked against the stone.
“Did you mean to summon me, Lillia?” Cathria asked.
“Lillia, is that the—” Havoc began.
“I’ll explain.” Lillia held up a hand before Havoc could pull out a weapon. “And yes. I meant to summon you.”
“Lillia. I believe I’m a rather important ability to you. Perhaps it would be best not to waste my assistance.”
“We’re about to rest,” Lillia said. “I just thought it would be nice to let you out of the amulet if it was going to recharge either way.”
Cathria opened her mouth. Closed it. Reconsidered. Then spoke. “That is an extremely kind thought,” she said. “I’ll admit, I don’t know how long I last if I don’t cast anything. Usually, I just throw out a big spell and shatter.”
“I’m sure I’ll need that in the future.”
“Is that the Spellmite Architect?” Havoc asked.
“Yes,” Cathria answered. A hairline crack glimmered across one of her glass fingers, then sealed again.
“No,” Lillia corrected.
“But I am.”
“But not in the way he’s thinking,” Lillia said. “Havoc, this is Cathria.”
“Caught that much by you screaming her name.”
“She made the Spellmites a long time ago. I talked to her on the way—well, on my way to meet up with you and kill her, I suppose.
Havoc nodded slowly. His brow furrowed. “I hate mages. They make shit so complicated.” He emphatically stoked a fire that didn’t need stoking.
“There’s room by the hearth if you want to see how long you last without casting.”
“That would be lovely,” Cathria said. “I’m interested in hearing about how you plan to tackle the third floor.”