The terrace bathed in the warm hues of late afternoon, sunlight softening across the desert. A faint breeze stirred the dry air, carrying the earthy scent of sun-baked stone. Beyond the edge, the vast canyon stretched endlessly, its walls painted in ochre and rust, glowing beneath the deepening blue sky. The serene and timeless scene contrasted the turmoil in their hearts.
Lilith sat back in her chair, her hands resting on her lap, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Gaineth stood at the edge, his posture rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. The silence between them was not strained but heavy, as though the weight of centuries pressed down upon the moment.
Finally, Gaineth turned and sat beside her, his expression somber. “Your earlier remarks,” he began, his voice low, “although fair, were best presented in private.”
Lilith’s gaze shifted to him, her expression calm but resolute. “You had already chosen a unilateral path,” she said. “You left me little choice.”
The words landed softly, yet their truth lingered in the air. Gaineth nodded, his jaw tightening. The silence stretched again, but this time, it was he who broke it.
“Barto must pay for what he did,” he said, his tone firm yet weary. “Markus as well.”
Lilith’s brow furrowed, her voice tinged with sadness and exasperation. “You’ve had three hundred years to find and deal with Barto and Markus, yet here we sit, still talking about it.”
Gaineth leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the stone floor beneath their feet. “I know where they are,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Yet finding them is still a problem. Even after all this time, Astiria remains hidden. Rugr, or the boy, can give us the key.”
Lilith sighed, turning back to the horizon. “To what end, Gaineth? Barto will only flee. At least now you know where he is. Once he escapes Astiria, not only will you be unable to find him, you won’t even know where to look. And we both know that killing Barto is easier said than done. You may have physical prowess, but you cannot counter the dark, corrupted magic he wields.”
Gaineth’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening. “Then—I would die trying.”
At that, Lilith turned toward him, her voice softening but carrying the weight of her pain. “If you consider death a worthy outcome, then you are no longer the man I chose all those years ago.”
Her words struck deep, and Gaineth remained silent, his gaze fixed on the distant canyon. He could not deny the truth in what she said.
Lilith’s tone softened further, yet it lost none of its strength. “You are a leader, Gaineth. The majority of what remains of the Demanian race lives within this sanctuary. Yet every day, you are driven by a lust for revenge that threatens to bury them in the same grave that was once Demana.”
She reached out, her hand brushing against his. “What about what we have here, right in front of us? What we have helped shape and build. You do not see it. You’ve wasted the last hundred years steering our people down the wrong path. We are in decline—struggling and lost without a clear purpose.”
Gaineth’s voice was low and strained. “Our purpose is to reclaim Demana from the clutches of the Sa Kamal.”
“No,” Lilith said, holding his gaze. “That is your purpose—something you and others have imposed upon them. They don’t feel it as deeply as you do. They follow only because that is where we lead them. It’s time for change. You, I, and even some of the original generation must step aside. The new generations must forge their path, driven by their purpose.”
Gaineth’s expression faltered, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. “You mean the girl—our granddaughter?”
Lilith hesitated, then shook her head. “No. Not her. She is Arch Demana. If she chooses to lead, it would mean she’s corrupted.”
The words hung between them, unspoken fears rising like shadows. Their shared glance held worry, both knowing the truth of her statement. Corruption was always a possible outcome. And if Kleo succumbed to it, dark times lay ahead.
Lilith squeezed his hand, her touch grounding him. “I don’t mean anyone specific,” she continued. “A group from the third and fourth generations. They’re older now—capable of leading.”
Gaineth leaned back, his gaze drifting across the canyon. “It is hard to let go,” he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion. “We were there, Lilith. You saw the death and devastation. I cannot help that it’s all my mind sees. It’s imprinted on my soul. The Fates mean to torment me until the end of my days.”
Lilith’s hand tightened on his, her voice a quiet but steady balm. “The Fates have tested us both, but they do not define us. Look beyond them, Gaineth. Look forward. That is the only way our people will survive.”
One by one, they squeezed through the narrow crevice, rough stone scraping their battered bodies. Sunlight—searing and relentless after days in labyrinthine darkness—struck them like a physical blow. Squinting, they stumbled into the canyon's shadow, letting their eyes adjust to the glare. Warm, fine grains from an ancient riverbed seeped into their boots, the day's heat a stark contrast to the tunnels' chill.
The dry air carried a faint sweetness, a whisper of freedom. Jack knelt, peering at the sky like a long-lost friend, while Kleo collapsed beside him, her legs giving way.
Maya and Will followed, sinking into the sand with sighs of relief. Will grinned despite the blood streaking his face. “Never thought I’d be happy to see this damn sun,” he said, his voice rough but jubilant.
“Almost worth it,” Maya murmured, her smile heartfelt. She placed a comforting hand on Kleo’s tense shoulder.
Kleo, however, was lost in thought. The relentless pull of her Kadas Shadoom weighed on her. Her mother’s presence, a distant song, tugged her towards the sanctuary, battering her with a storm of tangled emotions: hope, fear, and longing.
And then there was Jack.
A wall of worry had grown within her. She’d seen the initial shock, the recoil in his eyes when he saw her transformation. He’d recovered with humor, fought beside her, and later, with her head resting on his shoulder, had been the man she knew—sweet, tender, funny.
Jack had steadied her countless times in the short time she’d known him, but she feared her Arch Demana form, the monster she’d revealed, would drive them apart. Did he still see her?
“Kleo,” Maya said, somehow knowing her mind and trying to ground her. Kleo gripped Maya’s hand, grateful for her support.
Jack glanced at Kleo, then away, exchanging a silent look with Will. Will slapped Jack’s back. “Relax, kid. We’re alive.”
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Jack smiled, but his eyes remained distant. Kleo watched him, then turned away.
She didn’t know his thoughts, but her fear spoke unprompted. You’re a monster.
Was that true? She didn’t feel like a monster. It mattered what Jack thought. Whether it was fear or insecurity, she wasn’t sure he was being honest with her.
Eyes adjusted, they surveyed the area. The canyon stretched before them, crowned by a winding spine of crags. It was not obvious which way they needed to go, but the pull of her mother’s presence suggested north.
As they prepared to move, shadows shifted along the sandstone walls. A Demana patrol emerged, their cloaks drinking in the desert light. They moved as one, weapons drawn but held low, their embroidered garments shimmering with arcane runes.
Kleo rose, her muscles screaming. Jack and Will instinctively placed their hands on their weapons. Maya stepped closer to Kleo, a calming presence.
The patrol halted, their eyes fixed on Kleo. Whispers rippled among them. “It’s her,” one murmured. “Margo has returned.”
Kleo glanced at Jack, then focused on the figure stepping forward, his hood lowered.
For a moment, hope flared. Rugr. There was a strong similarity, but the man was older, his face weathered by the desert sun, and his eyes holding an awe she didn’t understand.
“You are not her,” he said, “But you carry her face.”
“You are my father’s brother,” Kleo said. “Dungr.”
Dungr inclined his head. “I am. You are Kleo, named Lily at birth, daughter of Margo, granddaughter of Gaineth and Lilith.”
Kleo’s knees buckled. Jack caught her, steadying her. Her mother’s name was Margo.
“We are to guide you to the sanctuary. Only you,” Dungr said, his eyes flicking to Jack. “However, the bonding will be respected.”
He gestured to Will and Maya. “Your companions may remain here or be guided to Old Town.”
Anger flared in Kleo. “This woman is my teacher. It is a necessary arrangement and one you will abide by.”
Dungr’s expression remained calm. “Only Demana may enter the sanctuary. There are no exceptions.”
The air thickened with tension. Then, Kleo changed.
Her jaw extended, her cheekbones sharpened, her skin darkened to obsidian, her eyes ignited with gold, and her lips curled back to reveal fangs.
Her voice boomed, resonant and layered, shaking the canyon. “They will be allowed to enter. Unless you are prepared to stop me.”
Dungr stumbled back, terror filling his eyes. The patrol faltered, their weapons clattering to the ground. Even the desert fell silent.
Jack stepped forward, hoping to calm her.
Dungr, trembling, forced himself to speak. “Your will… will be respected. All may enter.”
Kleo held her form, ensuring her command took root. Then, she returned to her human form.
“Good,” she said, her voice calm but firm.
Dungr bowed, signaling the patrol to step aside. “This way.”
As they moved forward, Jack leaned closer. “Remind me never to make you that angry.”
A tired smile tugged at Kleo’s lips. “If I know you, you’ll find a way.”
They crested a ridge, and the sanctuary unfolded before them—a marvel of balance, both impressive and understated. The mountain range stretched endlessly, its jagged peaks piercing the sky. Sunlight gleamed off the natural stone and subtly altered surfaces, where magic had sculpted the terrain into utilitarian beauty.
Massive, carved archways marked the entrance, seamlessly blending with the rock. Intricate, understated carvings depicted flowing wind and water, symbols of desert endurance and life. Balconies and terraces jutted from the cliffs, softened by flowering cacti and vibrant vines that clung to the stone, defying the arid air.
The sanctuary was a city, yet felt ancient and eternal. Narrow paths and stone stairways wound along the mountainside, connecting its levels. Some sections bore the smooth patina of time, others the precise angles and curves of enchantment.
Water, the true wonder, cascaded down the mountainside, catching sunlight as it fed shimmering pools, cisterns, fountains, and flourishing gardens.
Jack stopped, his eyes wide. “This is… incredible,” he murmured, tracing the delicate aqueducts, the sanctuary breathing with the mountain itself.
Kleo, silent, surveyed the sanctuary, her gaze heavy with unspoken emotion. It was beautiful yet tinged with loss, a refuge born from necessity, its beauty forged in resilience.
Dungr gestured towards a sweeping staircase descending into the sanctuary’s heart. “This way,” he said, his voice calm and firm. They followed, their boots crunching on the smooth stone.
As they descended, the sanctuary revealed itself in layers. Hollowed chambers dotted the cliffs, framed by arched doorways or shimmering curtains of enchanted mist. Demana figures, their robes flowing like desert hues, moved with quiet purpose, their gazes curious but guarded.
Will craned his neck, taking in the soaring cliffs. “You could fit ten cities in here,” he said, his voice awestruck.
“Not ten,” Dungr smiled. “But enough to hold the remnants of our people.”
They entered a vast, circular courtyard carved into the mountain’s heart, lined with columns that seemed to grow from the rock. A massive fountain cascaded into a tiered basin, its gentle music filling the air. Paths led to stairways, terraces, and halls, each a beckoning mystery.
Maya, beside Kleo, murmured, “This place… it feels alive.”
Kleo nodded, her gaze distant. “It’s meant to.”
Jack tilted his head, listening to the subtle hum beneath the air. “I feel like I can hear it.”
Dungr faced them, his expression solemn. “The sanctuary is home, refuge, memory. It celebrates our resilience and hope but also bears our scars.”
His words hung heavy as they continued, the sanctuary unfolding like an ancient story, every step echoing Demana's history, every carving a testament to what they had survived.
Standing in the sanctuary’s grand courtyard, Dungr eyed the gathered group. Word of their arrival had already spread—he could feel the weight of the murmured conversations from the crowd forming at the edges. His attention turned toward Lilith as she emerged from one of the carved archways, her movements quick and purposeful. She held up the hem of her ceremonial dress as she hurried toward them, her gaze locked on Kleo.
Dungr noted the flicker of surprise in Lilith’s expression, even at this distance. He knew it well—the uncanny resemblance between Kleo and Margo, a living echo of a beautiful and painful past. Her pace slowed as she neared, her eyes never leaving Kleo’s face. Gaineth followed close behind, his stride steady but deliberate, choosing to remain in the background for now. This was Lilith’s moment, one that had been twenty-three years in the making.
Kleo stood, her lips trembling, her exhaustion and the overwhelming gravity of the moment written across her face. Jack hovered behind her, steady, ready to offer quiet support. Moments ago, Jack had been awestruck by the sanctuary’s majesty—the elegant curves of carved stone, the cascading waters, the subtle hum of magic in the air. Now, his focus was on Kleo, taking in her strained posture and the intensity of her gaze as she watched Lilith approach.
When Lilith finally reached them, her voice was soft but filled with deep emotion.
“Welcome to our sanctuary,” she said. I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you again. You are called Kleo. I’m Lilith, your grandmother.” She gestured behind her. And that—” her tone grew warmer—“is your grandfather, Gaineth.”
Gaineth offered a faint smile, a flicker of warmth in his otherwise stoic demeanor, but he didn’t speak. He remained a step back, his presence solid but unobtrusive.
Lilith’s eyes softened as she took in Kleo’s features, her resemblance to Margo undeniable.
“You are your mother’s daughter,” Lilith said, her voice trembling with wonder. “You could be mistaken for twins. That such beauty should bless us twice is a boon from the gods and fates.”
Kleo’s quivering lips parted as though to respond, but her voice failed her. Her trembling worsened, exhaustion and emotion overwhelming her. Jack placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his silent presence grounding her.
“My mother,” Kleo managed at last, her voice breaking. “Where is she? I have to remove the seals—I have to meet her.”
Lilith nodded with understanding, her expression softening further. She could feel the weight of the girl’s anguish and determination. “Your mother’s room,” Lilith said. “The very same room where you were born. Shall I take you there now?”
Kleo glanced at Jack, then at Will and Maya, her gaze searching for reassurance. Her voice steadied as she nodded. “All of us.”
Lilith’s eyes flicked to Gaineth, a silent conversation passing between them. She turned back to Kleo’s companions. “All of you,” she said. Her tone carried an unspoken hesitation, but she did not argue.
Behind them, the gathered crowd had grown larger, whispers rippling through their ranks. Faces leaned closer, their expressions a mixture of awe and curiosity. Hushed voices murmured names: Margo. Lily. Yet despite the growing throng, a quiet reverence hung over the courtyard, all gathered, recognizing the moment's gravity.
Lilith turned to Gaineth, offering him a confident smile as she reached for his hand. He clasped it tightly, his gaze resting on Kleo before reverting to the crowd. His posture was strong, but the faint creases at the corners of his eyes betrayed his unease.
Dungr stepped forward, his broad frame parting the gathered onlookers like a prow through water. He motioned for Kleo and her group to follow. They moved in silence, their footsteps echoing against the stone as the sanctuary’s halls stretched ahead, leading them deeper into its heart.
