The Queen of Umbrelai
LARKIN
Larkin came to the mouth of Morrath every day.
Princess Ivanoxa had never asked him to. He did not possess the magic to enter Morrath safely. But in truth, he was not accustomed to being away from her for long.
So he waited. Perhaps she would come today, annoyed that he had kept her waiting.
"What took you so long, imbecile?" she might say.
Larkin did not mind.
He slowed.
Something was wrong. The air had changed. The wards trembled beneath his feet. Not failing. Unsteady.
Then he saw her. She lay half in the mouth of Morrath, blood pooling beneath her, one hand still stretched toward the outside world.
His face went white.
“Princess Ivanoxa?”
He took a hesitant step forward.
"I came for instructions."
No answer.
Another step.
"I come every day.”
The ground beneath him shuddered. A figure rose silently from the darkness beyond the ward.
Flagsar.
All three heads watched Larkin.
"The Vaultline has been breached," Flagsar said quietly.
The mountain trembled again.
"Morrath is becoming unstable."
Larkin opened his mouth.
Flagsar raised one finger to his lips.
Behind them, a figure with teal hair was crumpled on the ground.
It stirred.
Teal hair. Larkin frowned, then recognition crossed his face. The princess had warned him about her once. Larkin never forgot a face.
Dali Vaelor.
Flagsar stepped over the threshold as though the ward were little more than mist. He lifted Nox into his arms with surprising care, carrying her back through the mouth of Morrath.
Larkin's eyes dropped. Something glinted beside Dali's hand.
He crouched. A vial of stolen essence.
He looked up.
Flagsar watched him. One of his heads gave the smallest nod.
Larkin slipped the vial inside his coat.
The wind changed. A great shadow swept over them.
Deep landed first. She saw the body in Flagsar's arms, and froze.
She lowered her head.
"Our queen."
More shadows descended.
Umbrelai. Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds.
They gathered without command.
Flagsar looked toward Deep. "We have prepared the Mistress of Nightmares and Goodbyes. She will rise as our queen."
Deep gave a curt nod. "She is ready."
Her eyes shifted to Dali, still struggling toward consciousness beyond the ward.
"She is too weak.”
Another Umbrelai landed beside her.
"And if she is not?"
Deep smiled.
"Then she may try."
More creatures descended until the mouth of Morrath disappeared beneath wings and shadow.
Far below, voices began to rise.
Soft. Ancient. Patient.
"Umbrelai."
"Umbrelai."
"Umbrelai."
Larkin looked once toward the growing chorus.
Deep looked at Larkin and at the vial in his hand.
"Justice for your princess," Deep said quietly.
He nodded. Then he turned and ran.
Deep
The chanting continued, low and relentless, a single word worn smooth by repetition.
"Umbrelai."
"Umbrelai."
"Umbrelai."
Deep stood before the ward, looking at the barrier as it shimmered. She had stood here a hundred times before. She knew what it was supposed to feel like.
Then she felt it.
A breeze.
Faint and impossible, curling against her cheek where no wind should exist.
She frowned.
That couldn't be right.
She reached toward the barrier.
Her fingers passed through. No pulse of warning magic, no answering hum against her skin, just empty air where power should have pushed back, where something should have bitten into her palm and held.
The wards...
Before she could finish the thought, a scream split the air. She could not tell whether it was anguish or rage, only that it scraped up from somewhere below the throat, somewhere the body isn't meant to make sound from.
She turned, already knowing what she would find.
Dali was awake.