Chapter 40 Lenna
Chapter forty
Lenna
Lenna blew out a shaky breath as she quietly shut the bedroom door behind her.
The faint clinking of pots, and the muffled voices of Sparrow and Merrick in the kitchen, were the only sounds in the house that she could hear over her rapidly beating heart.
Lenna couldn’t make out what they were saying, even as she pressed her ear to the door.
But the curiosity over their conversation was short lived as an awkwardness washed over her, turning quickly to guilt for eavesdropping.
Forcing herself back to the situation at hand, a faint blush crept across her cheeks at the implication that she was being far too nosy. Lenna kicked off her shoes and readjusted the mound of pillows against the headboard, making a firm back rest for her to lean against.
She needed to learn to wield the Prism.
Quickly.
Lenna rolled the weight of the Prism between her palms, the cluster of grey quartz fracturing the light from her nightstand lamp.
For so long, her desires had been pushed aside, her choices stifled, in favor of another’s goals and dreams. She’d been deemed unimportant, merely property of her husband, her wishes and wants judged harshly if they didn’t align with Doortan’s society.
But in this, in using the Prism to get justice for the slain King and Queen of Irridessen, she could do a lot of good for the world. Her power was truth, her sword an oddly shaped rock, and her spoils the potential for a life in these lands.
Doortan felt a million miles away, as if years had passed, not days, since she wove down the dirt path back to the cold Manor, the heavy humidity making her wheeze, as she slogged through the muck, trying desperately to ignore the pounding in her head.
But here, in Irridessen…
Here, life felt vibrant, bright. Hopeful.
Lenna inhaled slowly as she coaxed her mind into the Prism, the stone beginning to glow, only half wondering if this was a terrible idea to do alone.
She sunk deep into the tangled web of memories. Without an anchor, Lenna could barely make out the slightly brighter thread against the rest–the thread to her own past and the intersecting and interwoven strands of lives she’d interacted with.
All around her threads knitted together, shooting off far into the distance, going all the way back to the origins of the Prism’s creation.
Closer to her lay a shorter path, though no less intricate, all bisecting into a pulsing gold orb.
Esmeray had explained that the orb led to the present, and if Lenna pushed through that golden light, her subconscious would simply return to her body, pulling her safely out of the Prism.
It was an escape hatch, Laurent forewarned, in case an Oracle got so lost in the past that their minds couldn’t discern how to get back out.
Lenna tentatively glanced again at the orb, reassuring herself that she would use it if she couldn’t get out herself, before rising over the threads, debating where to start.
Gently, and ever so carefully, Lenna latched her mind onto the thread of her own past, concentrating on finding the point in time where she was waving goodbye to Marlo and Orla as they escaped from Doortan’s clutches and began their travels to a new life.
Lenna found the memory easily, pride bursting through her, as she once again watched the ship sail away from port and out to sea.
The threads unraveled as the vision faded, shooting out of the memory itself, coiling in multiple directions, some brightening, some dulling.
Lenna eased her consciousness along the two threads that outshone the rest, guessing those connected to Marlo and Orla, and gradually wove her way down the length, trying to get closer to the present, to see where they were on their travels.
Right before the golden glow of the present forced her back to reality, Lenna sunk deep into the threads, thinking this would show her Marlo or Orla’s previous morning.
She dove into the memory, the anticipation of seeing Marlo again making her giddy.
The light faded as she slipped through the thread.
Nothingness.
Only swirling, murky fog, so thick Lenna couldn’t figure out up from down. The fog rolled around her, faster and faster. Lenna scrambled out, panic overtaking her, back from whence she came, away from the sheer density of the smoke.
Lenna dry heaved, jolting off the pillows, as her consciousness slammed back into her body. The Prism dulled. Lenna grappled to piece herself back together as a wave of nausea threatened.
She focused on her breathing first, until her lungs could take more than shallow, panting breaths. As her fear subsided, she stretched her feet, then fingers, working her way up her body, relaxing her tensed muscles, until the numbness and terror wore off, the buzzing in her head abated.
A sinking feeling in her stomach dulled the rest of her nerves. She failed. She had wanted to see them again, to hopefully follow that thread just a bit more to check on Marlo and Orla, make sure they were either already to the port in Bardon, or getting closer to their destination.
Doubt dug in its talons. Maybe she hadn’t used the Prism properly, maybe she was too close to the present. Lenna mulled over the thought for a moment longer before deciding to try again. She had to master the Prism–she could figure this out without bothering anyone to anchor her.
She’d try a different memory. One that could build her confidence up and confirm that she was using the Prism correctly.
Lenna decided to find Diana, to check on her old friend she hadn’t heard from in years.
Steeling herself against the small pit of dread that bloomed from the sensation of falling into that smoky nothingness, she dove down again, pushing that kernel of anxiousness away.
Lenna again traveled down the path of her past, searching through the web to find the last point in time her past crossed with Diana’s. She started rifling through the years, her teeth clenching at the flashes of Leon that blipped across her mind’s eye.
There.
A small thread, dull and thin, arched out from her own, weaving through a different path.
Lenna speared for it, going deeper into the Prism.
Her mind slowed, sluggish as she pushed through, slipping around Diana’s thread for a recent memory of her dear friend.
But another, brighter thread shot off of Lenna’s past, wrapping around Diana’s.
From the positioning of the thread, its closeness to the orb of the present, Lenna sunk through the threads at their point of intersection, curious, since she hadn’t seen Diana in years.
It was overcast and raining as the small procession stood atop a hill. Mourners dressed in their finest memorial attire gathered around a headstone. Though the storm around them raged, no one paid it any heed.
A numb shock rippled through those gathered. Lenna felt that uneasy pit in her stomach grow as her consciousness darted through the crowd to read the engraving on the slab of white marble.
But the moment she lay eyes on it, her mind stumbled back, away from the freshly filled grave, away from the group gathered to pay their respects. Away from the stone jutting from the soft earth that read, In Memory of Lady Diana Merle.
Dead.
Her oldest friend, her confidant that she had not spoken to in years, the friendship she allowed to stale and dissipate, resigned to a cold body given to the ground.
Reeling, her heartbeat pounding in her physical chest, Lenna whirled around, desperate to rip herself from this memory, her gaze falling to the mourners gathered.
And there, standing in the middle of those assembled, dressed in his finest black coat, stood Leon.
Lenna stared at her estranged husband for a moment, disbelief and rage warring inside of her, before she launched herself back into her body, a humming roar following her as she tore from the Prism.
The Prism’s glow faded slowly, as if even the stone sympathized with Lenna’s shock and betrayal.
Diana was dead.
And Leon had gone to the funeral without telling her, without any sort of notice to his wife that her friend passed.
Lenna leaned against the headboard, staring, unseeing at the ceiling above, twisting her thin wedding band from a lifetime of lies ago around her shaky finger.
Tears welled up, her breathing coming in uneven bursts.
Crushing her lids closed, a single tear escaped, slipping down her cheek.
Where would Marlo and Orla go? Could she get a letter out to them?
She didn’t know.
Didn’t know where they were, didn’t know how to get word to them.
She had simply failed.
Again.
Blindly, Lenna threw herself back into the Prism’s depths, the only escape from the troubled thoughts in her mind. She let the threads swallow her, wanting to get lost in them, fumbling through the dimmer strands to find something bright, something, anything, to dig into.
A brilliant thread near hers, only briefly intersecting, caught her eye. Without much thought, she flung into it, ripping through time so quickly that she couldn’t make out the flashes of visions that flickered through her mind’s eye. As her travels down the past’s timeline began to slow, she dove.
Bright light streamed in from massive floor to ceiling windows, overlooking a beautiful courtyard.
Shoes clipped abruptly against white marbled tiles.
“Your Highness,” a familiar female voice called out, “your sister was looking for you.” Lenna turned, eyes wide as she beheld a young Sparrow dressed in what Lenna could only assume was Opal Palace fashion.
A pale green gown fluttered around her ankles, cinched in at the waist with a braided belt.
Small gems, arranged to look like flowers, twinkled with each swish of her skirt.
She looked younger, as if she was only in her mid-twenties, the shining face of a wealthy female growing up in court.
Her acat had already appeared, the harsh black ink so contrasted against the soft gown.
Lenna turned to see who Sparrow spoke to, as Adara stepped out from behind a large opal pillar.
If Sparrow wore the attire of royals, Adara was dressed as if she, herself, was a goddess.
A pearl white gown swept behind her with tiny diamonds threaded through the silky material.
Adara looked to be around the same age as Sparrow, her face rosy and pink, her brilliant blue eyes vibrant, though they narrowed onto the fae.
Adara raised a perfectly groomed brow. “What does Esmeray want?”
Sparrow shrugged a delicate shoulder. “She just told me she was looking for you, and to tell you she was heading up to your rooms.”
Adara looked down her nose at Sparrow, drawing herself up straight, her immaculate white wings snapping shut behind her.
“I do not have time for Esmeray’s whims. Didn’t you hear?
I’m going to sit in a council meeting with my father.
” With a glare, Adara sidestepped Sparrow and proceeded down the hallway, past marble statues of Kings and Queens past. “Tell Esmeray if she deigned to act like a Princess for once, I’ll see her in the council room. ”
With a prim sniff, Adara departed down the grand hall, throwing a mocking glance back towards Sparrow. Sparrow’s lips thinned as she bowed her head to the Princess.
As Adara disappeared, her expression changed from innocence and piety to mischievous.
She straightened, throwing a sneaky smirk over her shoulder, making her way to a set of double doors that opened to an intricately carved balcony.
“She’s gone,” Sparrow chirped, leaning over the banister precariously, tilting her head up to whomever she addressed.
Lenna watched as a young Esmeray swept down from above, wearing leather pants and a baggy black tunic. “Gods, Adara is such a bore these days,” Esmeray complained, hooking a booted foot onto the railing.
Crinkling her nose, Sparrow shot a glare at Esmeray. “Why do you smell like dragons?”
Esmeray feigned outrage, clutching a hand to her chest. “Sparrow, if my parents didn’t want me hanging around the dragon lairs, they wouldn’t have made the entrance to said dragon lairs so easily accessible.
” Esmeray tipped her chin to a marble statue of a Queen long dead across the hall.
“If you want, I can show you. The hidden entrance is behind that statue.” Esmeray leaned closer to the fae and whispered conspiratorially, “There’s a magic pathway that connects the Opal Palace to the Obsidian Palace.
It’s supposed to be super-secret. Only my parents and a few of the higher up council members know–so naturally, I like to sneak through and explore the catacombs beneath the Obsidian Palace whenever I fancy. ”
“I have no interest in talking to beasties that want to eat me,” Sparrow blanched, causing Esmeray to laugh, the bright sound tugging the corners of Sparrow’s lips up into an uneasy smile.
“Well, fine. Did you get to chat with my boring sister?”
Sparrow grinned fully, canines flashing, eyes shining with mischief. “Adara’s going to the council meeting, so we have a few hours to spare before anyone truly realizes we’re gone.”
“Let’s go,” Esmeray crowed, hopping onto the balcony.
“I’ve been itching to get out of the Palace for days.
I want to go wander around a different city.
Ooh, let’s go to Baubble–the barkeep there will let us drink at his tavern for free.
” No acat graced her arms, and Esmeray’s skin looked so odd without it.
Sparrow giggled, reaching her hand out to her friend.
Esmeray gripped it, and the pair waned in a flash of green light.
Lenna eased out of the Prism, her thoughts still rattling incessantly though the raging, the screaming, had dimmed.
With a heavy sigh, Lenna placed the Prism on the nightstand, burrowing down into the plush bed.
Lost in swirling emotions and heavy grief, Lenna closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep.