So many called her hideous. Strange. Colorless. Shapeless.
Yet this Nameless had never seen a person so entrancing. Not because she was beautiful, but because the air seemed to shift around her. Her Radiance looked like something painted in a dreamer’s thrall. And when she noticed her Attendant and turned to look at her, those silver eyes pulled everything into them…
Like a vortex.
A siphoning.
“Lu’ma,” she said in that voice that could have been the world’s breath.
‘Your Radiance’,the Attendant signed.‘This Nameless brings sustenance. Tested for poison. Your Radiance has nothing to fear.’
She held up the tray and padded to the pile of books.
“It’s alright,” Her Radiance said. “I do not wish to eat. There is still much to do before the Procession.”
Safe to report: Her Radiance’s health is deteriorating steadily. Complexion poor. Too pale. Too drawn. Voice is frayed, but this is often the case after the Littany.
The Attendant placed the tray on the floor beside her Host. Her hands signed graceful pleas as she bowed her head low.
‘Your Radiance must eat today. This Nameless brought more. Removed the hexing.’
The Sokâr looked down at the tomes. When she spoke again, her voice took on a certain quality. Low. Desperate. Pained.
“Lu’ma…I have found it…at last, I have found it…”
Lu’ma.
Lu’ma.
Not safe to report: The name given to this Nameless. It cannot be accepted. It is improper. It breaks code. But I yearn to hear it.
Just for a moment. Just here. With Her Radiance.
Lu’ma looked up.
‘The answer,’she signed.‘The reason why His Quintessence allowed the Sovereign Flame to bleed him in the Vox Ring.’
She recalled the ritual. Remembered standing at Her Radiance's side, sensing the tension in her slight frame as the Sovereign Flame drew the dagger down the Resh'Agar's back. They'd held it in the Altar Deep, within the Vox Ring, where once the ritual of Estâr had been publicly performed.
Her Radiance nodded, her eyes so full of agony and torment that Lu’ma’s throat tightened beneath her choker. She swallowed to remove the discomfort, rubbing her thumb along the inside of her hand. The ring there scraped flesh, bringing her to her senses.
“I know now what the magic took,” Her Radiance said. “It was his memories, Lu’ma…when he left for this Campaign, he was so cold…we hardly spoke…and I do not…” she took a stuttering breath, as though something crushed her lungs. “I do not know now how much of me he remembers at all…”
Lu’ma rubbed the ring against her palm.
Steadying. Anchoring.
She signed, 'The Void is impartial.’
Her Radiance flinched. “He was never impartial to me…and now he has paid a price for it. To protect me. To find a place for me within this cage. The Council wanted to oust me, and he carved a seat for me beside him with his blood…”
Then quieter, “With his memories of us.”
Lu’ma rubbed the ring harder against her palm.
'Your Radiance, how would they have dared? Krystopolis has waited for a Sokâr for centuries,'she signed.
But Her Radiance shook her head.
