Teyva alighted on the edge of the rupture in the Pinnacle wall. The throne room was silent save for the howling wind and the distant shouting below. Thrake still sat where he had been. He looked paler, though. Why did he look so pale? He looked a bit winded when she glanced at him before her fight with the human. Something wasn't right. Teyva clenched her teeth and hurried to his side, sliding to a knee. She slipped a clawed hand around his back and felt the slick heat of blood on her palm. She swore colorfully, looking him in the face and brushing the dark hair out of his eyes. He let out a quiet breath, his eyes snapping open and searching the room for a moment before turning to look in her direction. His lips twisted into a knowing smile, “It’s done?”

“It’s over,” Teyva nodded, looking down at his wound. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Thrake said hoarsely.

Teyva felt a chill of rising panic run up her spine. She didn’t have any abilities that could dispel magical effects. The sword she’d taken from the human could, but she doubted that it could dispel its own effects, that would defeat the purpose of its abilities. Maybe there was a word magic combination she could use. She slipped back a few inches and held her hands over the injury. “<Remove Magic>!” She hissed. Light flared beneath her fingertips and faded.

Teyva winced and leaned into the spell this time, “<Great Remove Magic>!>” She shouted, her mana dropping by almost half of her maximum. She felt the wooziness hit her all at once and swayed, catching herself with one hand.

“Damn!” She spat, “I thought this thing could be dispelled!” She grumbled, rubbing her head.

“Teyva,” Thrake growled.

“Maybe if I-” Teyva continued, not hearing him.

“Teyva!” Thrake shouted, grabbing her wrist. Frost began to form on his fingers. He closed his eyes and let out a breath as she came to her senses, looking down at him. “The effects ended a while ago.”

Teyva blinked and looked down at the wound and then up at him, “Then why? Do you not have any healing spells? Can't you regenerate?” She shook her head, “Why am I asking? I’ll just-”

“Teyva!” He barked again, “Healing magic isn’t perfect, no magic is,” he said calmly, “Maybe in the moments afterward it would have worked. But there is more going on than the injury itself, isn’t there?”

“I could close the wound at least, give you more time? I have a doctor at my command now, a good one. She can help you.” Teyva pressed.

“More time with this pain?” He asked her, looking her in the eyes. “Die a slow death as a sick man without my friends to grow old with me? I know enough about medicine to know this is a mortal wound one way or another. I know what I've lost. Would you wish that end on me?”

Teyva’s shoulders fell, she slipped down onto the floor and pressed her hands to the surface beneath her. “What do you want me to say?” She demanded, “That it’s okay for you to die like this?”

“Of course not, I don’t want to die like this either,” The king said, turning to look up at the throne with a snort. “Slain by the after-effects of some half-wit assassin’s sword? Pathetic if you ask me,” He glanced her way, “I can think of better ways to die.”

She met his eyes and felt her blood turn to ice, she slipped back from him. What the hell was he saying? What was he looking at her like that for? She felt a lump form in her throat and tears well in her eyes. They froze as they raced down her cheeks, little icicles forming on her jaw.

“I want you to do it,” Thrake said, “I wouldn’t have anyone else do it.”

Teyva shot to her feet, shaking her head. “Hell no! Give the Cycle what it wants? Fuck that!” She shouted, pacing away from him and throwing her hands into the air. She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced over at the hole where she’d come in. Nephral was standing there, his eyes big and morose. She clicked her tongue and looked away from him. “Don’t look at me like that!” She growled, turning away from him and clenching her fists, her talons digging into her skin. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before looking over her shoulder at Thrake.

“I need to tell Azrael,” She said quietly.

“You will tell Azrael that the humans killed me,” Thrake said, “Nothing else.”

“But-”

“Is that wrong?” Thrake asked, turning his head slowly to her. She could see the pain in his eyes. She couldn’t even imagine how much the wound hurt him. His heart shattered. His world crushed. She looked away again and then up to the ceiling. Her thoughts raced. She’d barely known this man a few months but it felt like her entire world would fall apart without him. He’d taken her in, cared for her, taught her, cherished her, and protected her. He’d been stern and proud but he could also be kind and jolly. He was a big dumb dork who liked to sneak out and mess with the cooking staff. He was more of a father to her in those months than her own real father had ever been.

Now he wanted her to end it for him?

She walked over to him and knelt down at his side before pressing her head down against his. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I should have been faster. I should have left the human soldiers alone. I should have-”

“You being here at all saved the people of this city, Teyva,” He said, reaching up and holding the back of her head. He squeezed her, “You will be a good Queen.”

“I’m not ready,” Teyva croaked.

“Neither was I,” He chuckled. She sat up and pressed her lips together drawing up every ounce of resolve she had. Tears streamed down her face as she turned her arm into the Hero’s sword. He looked down at it and nodded, “Good choice.”

“What should I tell Azrael?” She asked shakily, placing one hand on his cheek and resting the point of the blade against the center of his chest. As she did, she muttered a small spell, “<Negate Pain>.” And began to slide the blade down and into his heart.

“That I love her, that a father couldn’t ask for a finer daughter, and that I left a letter for her in her room,” He said, leaning his head back and his eyes fluttered, “You as well, Teyva. For what little time we had,” The king said, and breathed his last.

Teyva let his head down and sat there for a while, she changed her hand back and ran her fingers through her hair, heaving as emotions began to build up in her chest. Rage. Pain. Heartbreak. Fury. Hysteric sobs came next, thoughts and feelings batting around inside her skull as a sound chimed in the back of it all. A prompt. A flash of light cruelly shook her from her moment of grief and she looked down at Thrake’s body as the center of his chest began to glow brighter and brighter. She hadn’t even had a heartbeat to process his death when more came to bombard her. The light rose from his chest and coalesced into a stone the size of a human heart, crystalline and jagged. It floated in the air above his chest until she took it in her hand.

Another prompt quickly followed. This one more ornate than any she’d seen before. Framed with gold and embossed with bold letters.

Teyva’s eye twitched, her grief evaporating in an instant, “Are you fucking with me?” She shook the stone in her hand, “Really? How dare you!” She snarled, raising the stone over her head and glancing down at Thrake. No. He wouldn’t want that. She glanced at the stone again and her lip twitched. She looked at the prompt. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you!” She spat, stepping back from Thrake and held the stone out. “You want a wish? I’ll give you a wish!”

She drew in a deep breath, “I wish Cycle, the evil piece of shit that governs all of this bullshit, was dead!”

The prompt, still hanging in her vision, flickered and vanished. Another light formed ahead of her, on the opposite side of Thrake’s body. Teyva bore her teeth at it, holding up the stone. To her surprise a woman took shape in the air, wings spreading out from her back. She was lovely in an otherworldly sort of way. Her glowing hair fluttering around her body. Her eyes were closed to the world around her. She turned her head towards Teyva and smiled, inclining her head. She wore a simple gown that flowed down to the floor even from where she stood, hovering in the air. Teyva lowered the stone and tilted her head. “And who are you supposed to be?” She snapped.

“I am Journey,” The woman said, “I have taken this form so that you can look upon me in some sensible way.”

“I didn’t ask for you,” Teyva hissed, “Where’s the other guy?”

“I’m afraid your wish cannot be granted,” Journey said, sounding almost apologetic, “That stone was created by Cycle, it cannot be used to destroy him.”

Teyva tilted her head, “It was a good try, I guess,” Teyva sighed, “So what’s your deal? What do you do in this fucked up world?”

“I govern the path of things, the journey. I am your quest system, for example,” The entity explained.

Teyva’s eyebrow rose, venom in her gaze, “Cool, I’ll take you then.”

“I am the- what?” Journey froze, confused, and looked down at Teyva.

“You didn’t make this stone, right? So It can be used on you. I’ll take you. You’re my bitch now,” Teyva snarled, “If you really are the quest system then I’ll use you to get back at Cycle one way or another. I’m not going anywhere until I’ve looked your buddy in the eyes and put a blade through his heart, just like I had to do to my father!” She bellowed.

“Now listen here! If it weren’t for me keeping Cycle in check, he would have sent hundreds of heroes after you by now! If you tear me away from the-”

Teyva cut her off with a terrible cry of rage: “Bring it on!” 

She held the stone over her head, “I wish that the Being known as Journey was my servant!”

The crystal shattered into a thousand pieces as Journey fell to the ground, catching herself on her hands. She drew her wings around herself for a moment as the shards of the crystal tumbled about. The glow faded from the woman’s body and she looked up from where she sat, rage and confusion on her face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Teyva stepped right up to her and knelt next to her, “I’ve taken control. Cycle can send whatever he wants after me, I’ll be the one deciding how they get here.”

“I cannot just bias the quests in your favor!” Journey shouted as Teyva got to her feet and started walking towards the steps leading to the throne.

“I’m not going to ask you to,” Teyva said, “I can’t level up if he only sends weaklings after me,” She stepped onto the raised platform where the throne sat and made her way to that sacred seat. She ran her fingers over it, looking down at Thrake’s body. The royal funeral would be one to be remembered, she promised herself. “Fatten them up, those heroes, let them bring everything they have. Send as many as you want. I don’t care. I’ll put each and every one of them down until the bastard gives up and comes to face me himself.”

She turned away from Journey and reached into her inventory, pulling out the [Heartstone], “Just a little blood, right?”

Osan would be her dungeon, a living fortress. Azrael, Conrad, Myranda, and Sari would be her Four. The monsters of this world would be her legions. She’d conquer this continent, punish Katal, and turn her eyes on the rest of the world. Come what may, she would have her vengeance. She pressed her bloody palm to the heartstone and it began to glow. She held it out over the throne and it drifted from her palm, merging with the stony surface.

“This is my world now.”