Chapter 7

The Royal Palace

From the outside, the palace looked like something from a dream. All white walls and spires, and glowing windows and gargoyles. Aria couldn't close her mouth as she stared at the magnificent sight. She had never seen a building so giant, and she was reminded of the stories her father used to tell her of the ancient Rhathian Empire. Did people actually live in places like this? She was ushered up an immense set of stairs by Wraith to the front door that was equally white and magnificent, with intricate carvings along its surface. Whisper floated comfortingly by her side, also stricken silent by the sight.

The door was opened by a pair of stately dressed servants in uniforms of a rich red, and the light from the inner halls was blinding. They were bowed inside, and Wraith immediately put her hand on his arm, walking with her as though she was some rich empress. Aria swallowed - she had no idea what palace etiquette called for, and had the sudden feeling that she was as large and clunky as an elephant. She tried to look normal in her floppy, stolen clothes and old cloak.

Immediately they were met by a man dressed in a black uniform, closely followed by the soldier that had spoken to them before in the alley. Aria guessed the first man was some kind of a butler or servant. He bowed shortly to Wraith then glanced at her, taking in her head stone with a slight raise of his chin.

“My Lord Magus,” the butler said, turning back to her escort. “We are happy for your return.”

The soldier stepped up alongside him and made a brief bow. “The Lady Requiem will be ready for an audience tomorrow, she has already retired for the night - but His Highness has been awaiting your arrival for quite some time now. . . .” the soldier paused for a moment, and in a somewhat softer voice, he said, “Shall I prepare the chamber?”

Wraith nodded curtly, and a moment later the soldier left, marching quickly from the hall. Aria wanted to ask what he had meant by “chamber”, but at this moment the butler's head raised another inch. Somehow he managed to make her feel insignificant, even if he was the servant in the situation. “If you would follow me, I will escort you to the King.”

Wraith nodded and a second later Aria found herself following both figures down the hallway; she figured that Wraith probably already knew his way to the King's chambers, and this whole charade with the butler was more for her sake than any kind of efficiency. She swallowed hard; she was so nervous that she felt like she was about to be sick. His Highness? As in, the King?

“Don't worry, you're supposed to be here, remember? They summoned you,” Whisper chirped helpfully. Aria glanced at him.

“Easy for you to say,” she thought back, “you're just a ball of light. It's not like much can happen to you if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Whisper looped around in the air with an attitude that was almost indignant. “Just because I am not made of flesh and blood doesn't mean I can't get hurt.”

Aria snorted softly to herself. “Oh, and what could possibly harm you?”

“You can.”

She was silent for a moment, surprised, and Whisper continued. “If anything happened to you, then I would die too.”

This was a new and startling piece of information, and Aria tucked it away for later examination. She wanted to ask more about the weaknesses of Wisps and whether or not anything else could hurt him, but she was distracted as the butler led them through a giant set of double doors and into a long hallway lined with giant portraits. Each of the pictures were twice as high as she was tall, and held illustrations of magnificently painted people sitting in high-backed chairs, some with hounds or cats next to them, all dressed in royal clothing. The glint in their eyes had quite a bit of arrogance, though the paintings were far from real life. Aria stared at the artwork, unable to keep her mouth from hanging open - she had never seen such grandeur in her life. It was nothing compared to the simple countryside portraits her mother would create every summer.

“This is the Hall of Royalty,” Wraith murmured to her - spoken words in such a place seemed forbidden. Aria felt like they were disturbing the royal kings and queens from their graves. “The portraits go back to the beginnings of the Depthian Empire.”

She nodded wordlessly, and wondered for a brief moment if the old Rhathian Empire had had a hallway like this, with all of their kings and queens. It was a somewhat bitter thought, and she tried not to let it show on her face. Somehow being surrounded by all of these riches made her even more aware of the position of her fallen race. She was starting to get the feeling that the silent eyes of the paintings were somehow staring at her accusingly, singling her out, telling her that she didn't belong. It was a ridiculous thought, and she tried to shrug it off.

Abruptly the hallway came to an end and emptied out into a large, circular waiting room, decorated by ornate chairs and a few plants and vases. The door across the room was heavy and mahogany, and built with delicate designs carved into its sleek surface. Two large brass rings served as door handles, and soldiers stood at attention on either side of the portal, so still that they might have been statues. Aria had to take a second look at them to make sure they were breathing.

She thought that they would stop in this room for at least a little bit, but no - the butler took them straight through to the opposite door and opened it by hauling on the brass rings. Aria's stomach clenched - was this it? Would she meet the King in only a few minutes? She quickly ran a hand through her many braids and plucked at the edges of her shirt; she wasn't ready for this. Wraith stood at her side and slightly in front of her, and she was suddenly all too aware of his regally straight back and high neck. He was standing like a soldier. And what am I, the prisoner?

“May I present. . .” the butler began, and threw the doors open wide, revealing the richly decorated chamber within. “His Majesty, King Morgan.”

Aria was led into the chamber, and immediately she saw the high-backed throne chair set up across from the door, raised up two or three steps from the ground itself. There were rows of benches lined against the walls, similar to a jury in a court house, and she got the feeling that at other times the room was used for hearings. She felt her knees shake slightly as she followed Wraith across the shiny wooden floor, trying not to show her intimidation. She was the outsider here, at the mercy of the Depthians around her - now, more than any other time, she was aware of how helpless her situation was. Her life dangled on the whim of the Magus in front of her and the man she could see past him, who was sitting lazily in the throne chair with his chin propped up on one hand. She had to be strong. To show weakness now would only remind them of their power over her. I just need to remember to keep breathing.

Wraith led her up to a space before the throne where a circle of carpet was laid on the floor, and knelt down on one knee, motioning for her to do the same. Aria followed suit, kneeling, unsure of whether or not she should raise her head and see what the King was doing. A long moment passed, then a rich voice called out, “You may rise!”

It was obviously a voice that was used to being obeyed. Aria stood up slowly again, her muscles straining slightly - she was beginning to feel the weariness from their long journey. She raised her head. Immediately her eyes landed on the man before her, King Morgan, seated in the giant throne. She hadn't dared look directly at him until now, and she was glad she had waited - her mouth almost dropped open. Before her the King was now sitting up straight, a wide grin on his face, and his green eyes were focused on Wraith with a fond light in them. He was much younger than she had expected, probably the same age as the Magus.

“So my Captain has returned,” he said, that rich voice sounding out again. He wasn't yelling, and yet his voice seemed to fill all of the space around them. “And I suppose this lovely lady is the Rhathian that you found?”

Wraith nodded his head, and Aria noticed that he was still stiff and formal, despite the King's friendliness. She couldn't tell if they were friends of some kind or if the King always acted this way. Morgan stood up and trotted down the slight incline until he was level with both of them; he was slightly shorter than Wraith and not as broad in the shoulder. Still, he slapped the Magus on the back and then gave her a warm smile. “Welcome to my palace, my lady! I hope your journey has not been too hard?”

Aria blinked, and didn't know whether to nod or shake her head. She ended up smiling stupidly.

“Is this the king?” she heard Whisper ask, sharing her incredulous feelings.

“I guess so,” she thought back. Living so high up on the mountain for so much of her life, news of political events rarely reached her, and the thought crossed her mind that perhaps this current King had very recently been a Prince. Maybe there had just been a shift in power; he seemed awfully young.

“There have been some problems since you left,” the King was continuing as though Aria's presence was of little importance. Aria felt more relieved than insulted at this - she wanted as little attention from the King as possible. His eyes were trained on Wraith's face. “The soldiers have become rowdy what with all these Rhathians in the palace. I've calmed them for now, but they always respond better when one of their own is talking to them. I'd like you to have a word with the men and explain the situation.”

Wraith nodded wordlessly, his shoulders still rigid. Aria only just now noticed that Shadow was standing behind them both, equally stiff. She wondered if this was normal behavior or if they were both being purposefully distant. It seemed that Shadow was echoing Wraith's mentality; either way, Whisper was certainly echoing hers. The ball of light bobbed irritatedly at the mention of the soldiers, and Aria couldn't help but hunch her shoulders. She had expected hostility upon arriving at the palace, but somehow she still wasn't prepared for it.

Abruptly the King leaned close, unperturbed by Wraith's attitude. His voice dropped low, and if it hadn't been for Aria's keen ears, she wouldn't have heard what was said.

“Also, we have had more of those things escaping.”

Wraith didn't twitch.

“I need you to do something about it.”

Aria was confused, but kept her face blank. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be listening to the conversation; it seemed confidential. Maybe the King thought she was some kind of simpleton, or perhaps Rhathians weren't thought of as being smart enough to understand complex language. Aria's brow had darkened, but the sound of Wraith's response drew her attention. The Magus cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “They are all over the caves,” he said, “And many have escaped even to the highest peaks of the mountain. We were attacked at its very summit; luckily I got to her first.”

“He's talking about the Nightmares,” Whisper offered, and Aria nodded her agreement.

“As for the castle grounds,” Wraith continued, “I suppose we can double the guard, put more Magi on duty, keep a closer eye on the tunnels-”

“It has already been done.” The voice was sudden, and came from near the King's throne.

Aria looked up, startled, and Whisper bobbed up and down in an mirror of her own surprise. What the-? A man was standing next to the throne chair; she hadn't noticed him before, and she was amazed that she hadn't heard his approach. Her ears should have picked up his movement, the rustling of his clothes, or at least the vibrations caused by his breathing - but there had been no warning. And where the hell did he come from? She looked around, partially checking for trapped doors in the floor or walls. How could she have missed him before?

“Drake,” Wraith said, his voice chillier now than before. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”

The man laughed, and his silty voice scraped through the air like a rusted gate. “Why, my old friend, I have been here the entire time!” He grinned, yet his smile was cold, matching his pale blond hair and icy blue eyes, a shade paler than Wraith's own, so light they were almost gray. “I suppose life as a delivery boy has softened your senses.” That cold smile turned on Aria, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. Something about this man was different, though she couldn't quite place her finger on it. Something tingled in the air around him. “And I suppose this is the package,” he murmured.

Immediately Aria glared. Package? Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“Now now, let's have none of that,” the King placed himself more solidly between the two men as Drake began slowly descending from the throne to floor level. He was about as tall as Wraith and equally built, though his uniform was a pale blue. Aria wondered what status he held. The King met her eyes and nodded to her. “Forgive our rudeness, my lady,” he said politely, “it has been a stressful week for everyone.”

Aria nodded, not sure what else to do. The King turned back to Wraith. “So has she met the Lady Requiem?”

“No, we will see her tomorrow.”

Morgan nodded. “Good, it's just as well, the testing does not begin until tomorrow anyway. Let's hope for the best, shall we?”

“Wait, testing?” Aria blurted out, unable to help herself. Her heart gave a sickening lurch at the word. “What kind of testing?” She darted a suspicious glance at Wraith - he hadn't mentioned anything about that. Perhaps they had journeyed together, but that didn't give her a great reason to trust him. Not completely, anyway.

The King turned his benevolent smile on her, and with the utmost patience, he said, “There is testing to see which one of you has the ability to speak with the Omega.”

Aria's stomach clenched. Speak with the Omega? She couldn't imagine it, the very thought seemed almost sacrilegious - the Omegas were revered as something akin to gods. The Depthians even built temples and shrines in their honor, and many partook on pilgrimages from around the land to lay offerings at the entrance to the Omega's cavern. And I'm supposed to go in there and speak to it? For some reason the idea of singing it to sleep hadn't seemed as intrusive as holding a conversation with a being older than civilization. For a moment she thought she was going to be sick. And what kind of testing will it be? She couldn't imagine.

“It will be alright,” Whisper murmured to her. “What's the worst that can happen?”

I could be the first person in history to be eaten by an Omega, she thought, but kept the idea to herself.

She must have looked as sick as she felt, because abruptly Wraith stepped next to her and put a warm hand on her shoulder. His words were addressed to the King. “My Liege, I think my charge is in need of rest. It has been a long and stressful journey.”

The King looked at him and nodded his agreement. “I understand, Captain. You are dismissed. . . report to me in the morning after your meeting with the Lady Requiem. We have things to discuss.”

Wraith bowed his head respectfully, but not before Aria caught the icy glance that passed between him and Drake. Her confusion deepened, but she had no chance to say anything else before Wraith forcefully turned her around and marched her out of the room. She could hear the King and Drake conversing in low tones behind them, but she was too distracted by her own worries to concentrate on what they said.

“Well at least you were able to see the King,” Whisper said. “And you smell lovely, too.”

“Do you even have a sense of smell?” she thought wryly.

“Well of course, I've been enjoying a lot of new senses since our bonding,” was his reply. Aria blinked, and turned to look at the little ball of light for a moment. And what is that supposed to mean? she thought privately. Gods, was there anything she understood anymore? So much had changed, she couldn't believe that not a week earlier she had been singing at the Summit Peak Tavern, her biggest worry nothing more than her next showtime.

Wraith tugged on her shoulder, bringing her back to reality, and the doors to the audience chamber closed behind her. They were now alone in the small lobby that the butler had lead them through just minutes before.

Immediately Aria turned to the Magus, brushing his hand from her shoulder and taking a step back. “You didn't tell me about any test,” she said accusingly, her eyes narrowing on his face. His eyebrows drew down slightly in response. “I thought we were level with each other. What else haven't you told me? And who's this Lady Requiem?”

Wraith continued to look at her for a moment longer, then suddenly the stern expression left his face and Aria realized how very tired he appeared. He seemed to age a few years within a matter of seconds, right before her eyes. Shadow silently stepped next to his side and put a hand on his master's arm, and Aria had to remind herself that the being wasn't human. He wasn't even alive. How is that possible?

“The test. . . didn't seem important at the time,” he finally said, and he shook his head slowly. “There was a lot of other stuff on my mind. I'm not even sure what this is all about.”

“What do you mean, you aren't sure? You ruined my job and dragged me down a mountain based on something you're not sure about? Apparently you're the Captain around here, it's your job to know these things!”

Wraith's head shot up abruptly at her last words and he pinned her with a glare that made her want to sink into the floor. She swallowed hard. “You wouldn't know anything about my job,” he said quietly, and she bit her lip. “Believe me, if I had thought it would help you to know about the test, then I would have said something.”

Aria nodded, angry for a moment at his tone of voice, but her eyes drifted down to her stolen clothing and suddenly she didn't want to fight anymore. He was the only person she knew in this place - it would be stupid of her to lose his friendship now over something so silly. I'm just tired and in unfamiliar territory, she told herself. It's natural to get a little edgy.

She let out a long sigh. “Alright, well. . . now what?”

As though in answer to her question, the smart tapping of hard shoes met her ears, and a moment later the butler appeared from around the corner, entering the chamber through a side hall. He stopped when he saw them and made a curt bow.

“My Lord Magus,” he said briskly to Wraith, “The men in the barracks are asking for you.”

Wraith nodded, once again taking on his soldier role, and Aria tried not to feel like she was being brushed aside. “I will be right there,” he said. “But please have a maid take Aria up to her rooms. She doesn't know her way around the palace yet. . . .” Wraith glanced back at her and for a moment his eyes swept her from head to toe. She waited, unsure of what to expect.

Wraith turned back to the butler, who was as stoic as ever. “Send up a tailor tomorrow morning to her rooms. Make sure she has a set of new clothes by sundown.”

Aria's mouth fell open. “What-?”

“Very good, sir,” the butler bowed again, ignoring her outburst. The man turned and walked away quickly, as though not wanting to be in the same room with them for a second longer. Aria was too shocked to be affected by his rudeness.

She turned to the Magus in alarm once the butler was out of sight, instinctively grabbing his arm as he took a step towards the door. “What do you mean, a tailor? There's no way I can pay for that!” She had seen the prices for tailors before, and a new pair of pants would have cost her a whole week's worth of wages back at Summit Peak, never mind a brand new wardrobe!

Wraith glanced down at her and gave her a slight smile. “Don't worry about it,” he said quietly. “It's my treat. Think of it as compensation for dragging you down a mountain.”

Aria was speechless. Then Wraith made to move again, and she grabbed his arm a second time.

“Wait!” she said, unable to keep the nervousness from her voice. The words burst from her mouth before she had a chance to compose herself. “You're leaving me? Here?”

The question hung in the air for a moment and she began to feel foolish. Here I am, the independent Aria, begging for company like a child. She dropped his arm quickly and tried to compose herself, embarrassed at her show of emotion. For some reason she had imagined them being together at the castle the same way they had been together on the journey, though now she realized the idea was ridiculous. Wraith looked back at her over his shoulder, that familiar smile in place - but she wasn't reassured.

“I'll be in easy reach if you are in need,” he said calmly, “just send a servant to get me - but I have things to do. Perhaps the Lady Requiem has retired to bed, but this castle never sleeps.”

Aria wondered again who the Lady Requiem was, but it wasn't as important to her now as figuring out what she was supposed to do. “But tomorrow. . . the tailor. . .where-?”

“The maids will help you,” Wraith said, and gently pried her hand from his arm. “You will be assigned one any minute now. Don't worry about a thing. There are many other Rhathians here who have already arrived, and they're all perfectly at home by now.”

Aria nodded. Stop being such a baby, she told herself firmly. I survived at Summit Peak, so living in a palace should be easy. She glanced around at the high walls and ornately decorated ceiling, the chandeliers that hung high above her head, and the rich carpet beneath her feet. This place had a new kind of intimidation to it, but she would adapt, and besides - Wraith was only a call away.

“Alright,” she said, and stepped back again, her braids bouncing around her head. She gave him a smile, trying to cover her insecurities. “Have a good night, then. . . and thank you. . . uh, for everything.” She trailed off, slightly awkward; she had never truly thanked anyone before - no one had ever done as much for her as Wraith had. He nodded and squeezed her hand for a moment, but already she could see his eyes growing distracted - probably he was thinking of business. She watched as he turned away from her and started to walk off across the carpet, Shadow in tow.

“Hey!” she called after a moment, not sure why. He looked back at her over his shoulder. “Don't forget about me,” she half-laughed.

He looked back to where he was going, but not before she heard his answer - “Impossible.”

Then he stepped through a door at the side of the room and was gone.

Aria stood for a moment, watching where he and Shadow had exited the room, wondering what kind of errands he had to do at this hour of night. She had a lot of things to wonder about now.

“I think he likes you,” Whisper spoke up, and she gave a slight jolt, having forgotten the Wisp's presence.

“Not bloody likely,”she muttered aloud, and glanced at the white light. “I'm just a part of his job, remember? He was supposed to retrieve me. He just saved my life, that's all.”

“Twice,” the Wisp bobbed.

“So what?” she growled, and turned to survey the room she was in, trying to suppress the feeling of hope that had been slowly growing in her chest. She didn't need people right now, she didn't need anybody - her journey with Wraith was over, and he was gone. She had a job to do. That was what she needed to concentrate on.

Something about the room was bothering her, and it took a moment for her to realize what. It was empty. The butler had disappeared, and now with Wraith gone the space seemed bigger than before. Aria swallowed and looked around again, not sure what she was supposed to do.

“Isn't someone supposed to show me to my room?” she said, exasperated.

“Oh yes, I am!”

The voice came from directly behind her, and Aria let out a yelp of surprise. She whirled around, her heart hammering, and her eyes landed on a plump, short maid with bright blond hair. “Oh gods,” she stuttered, “You weren't supposed to hear that!”

The maid smiled cheerily and winked. “Don't worry, I know the size of the palace can be disorienting, but don't let it get to you - you'll find your way around here soon enough. So sorry to make you wait!”

Aria nodded, unsure of what to say, but a response was unnecessary - the woman strode past her swiftly and motioned to the same hallway the butler had disappeared down earlier. “This way,” she said, apparently unperturbed by the sight of a Rhathian with a Wisp. Aria followed after a moment's hesitation - maybe there really are a bunch of Rhathians in the palace. . . that would explain the maid's friendly behavior, so unlike the butler, who had given her the cold shoulder from the beginning. She wondered whether or not she would get a warm meal before bed. Just what kind of room are they taking me to, anyway? she thought. A prison cell? Four walls and a bucket in the corner? Maybe she should ask, but she didn't want to be insulting - not before making a few friends, at least.

Within minutes Aria was far away from the King's audience chamber, following the plump woman through the labyrinth of hallways.

- o - o - o -

It was only seconds after he was out of Aria's line of sight that Wraith collapsed against the wall. His hand gripped his chest as ripping pain tore through his body.

“Damn,” he muttered through gritted teeth, and a second later he fell to his knees with a groan. He had been expecting this, but he didn't remember it being so intense. The hallway was spinning around him, stone floor mixing with soft light from the torches. He had wasted too much energy on the trip here - his magic reserves were drying out, his body was weakening. If he wasn't regenerated soon, he would die.

Magic drainage was the curse of any Depthian who subjected himself to the twisted ways of the Magi. Wraith had been warned when he had signed up for the training. Only those strong of spirit could undergo the continual regeneration process of a Magi in order to retain their life - and their sanity. Depthians were not given magic by nature, and the artificial means they had discovered to insert magic into the body was by no means beneficial to their health. In fact, it was killing him.

Another wave of nauseating pain ripped through his gut, spiraling around his spasming heart, and his breathing became choked. He couldn't speak, couldn't see, couldn't even feel the ground beneath him. There was no way he could cry out for help - where were the servants at a time like this? Surely they had known he would need recharging upon his return. Sweat dripped from his brow.

A soft hand landed on his shoulder, and suddenly the pain began to lessen, though in no way did it disappear. Shadow. The being was kneeling next to him, feeding him power through their shared bond. At the same time, Wraith knew that the being was feeling the same bone-twisting pain as he was - perhaps they existed in different bodies, but both he and Shadow were of the same mind. They had once been the same person, after all.

“I need help,” he managed to gasp. “Someone. . . .”

But he knew it was useless. Shadow could not travel far from Wraith's body on his own - at least, not in this state, when their minds were in such torment. Sweet Luz, I think I'm going to throw up. He was in too much pain to be humiliated by the situation - he was just thankful that he wasn't having this breakdown in front of his men. Or worse, Aria.

Aria. . . .

Tremors shook his body and he finally crumpled completely to the ground, unable to hold himself up anymore. He was barely aware of what was happening around him, the pain was so consuming, yet vaguely he was able to feel the tremor of footsteps through the ground. He knew the servants would come looking for him sooner or later - Magi were so few that they had to be taken special care of. Still, it was hard not to doubt the palace staff when one's life was hanging in the balance. It wouldn't be the first time a Magus had died at the hands of negligence.

Speaking of hands, someone abruptly grabbed him and lifted him from under the shoulders. A somewhat familiar voice called, “Quickly, take him to the chambers! They have already been prepared!” He guessed it was the young soldier from earlier. Thank the gods someone in this damned place is doing their job.

He was being dragged. Shadow was next to him. His vision swam.

A bitter grin twisted on his face as he thought of where he was going. Yes, take him to the chambers. Return him to that world between life and death, where his power as a Magi would be replenished. Suck more life out of him. Turn me into a monster.

He was delirious, close to unconsciousness, yet suddenly he couldn't forget the look on Aria's face when he had left her in the lobby. She had needed him. She had wanted him to stay. It struck him suddenly that he couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him with something other than awe and fear.

I'm not going to die like this.

He was dimly aware that they were now descending the steps into the vast corridors beneath the castle. Soon he would be in the chamber, his body wrapped and tied, and the rituals would begin. Already he could smell the scent of blood in his nostrils - his own blood, and those of the Magi before him that had undergone the rejuvenation ceremony. The priests would be there, the acolytes of the hidden order that lived to serve the Magi and their dark magic. He could already feel the burning sensation spread across his skin, tracing the shapes of the intricate scars that crisscrossed his body.

His heart was going to snap in half in his chest if it continued spasming like this. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd taken his last breath. He could feel the magic spiraling inside of him, burning along his veins and muscles, seeking an outlet. Now that the intricate symbols carved into his body were losing their freshness, the magic was becoming harder to control. Depthians, after all, were never meant to wield the power of the gods.

They slammed him on his back, and he felt the straps locking his wrists down. It brought mixed feelings of horror and comfort to his gut - horror for the thought of submitting his body to such torture, and comfort at the realization that oblivion was near. No one could survive the rejuvenation ceremony with consciousness in tact. That was one reason for creating the shadow beings - while his body was shaped and carved, his mind would rest in Shadow's body, in a dream-like state. His mind had long since been split in two - the conscious half residing in his own body, the subconscious belonging to Shadow. Now his conscious half would go to sleep, and Shadow would be in full control of himself; for a brief amount of time, his subconscious mind would walk the world as a full man. Shadow would control his own actions, experiencing the world as one experienced a dream, with little order or understanding, but with complete self-awareness. They would remain like this until his true body was finished.

Wraith closed his eyes, no longer trying to see. He sensed a dim murmur on the edge of his hearing, the voices of the Magi priests as they prepared for the sacred rites. He could envision their gold and black robes, the wall sconces and the patterned tiles on the floor. They were probably reading from the spell books now, assuring his proper position in their circle, and preparing each ceremonial knife for the cuts it would soon make into his skin. A cool liquid was suddenly forced past his lips, and he recognized the taste. The cleansing drought; water brought from the mountain streams he had so recently sailed down, blessed and made to purify his body. The ceremony had begun.

Wraith shivered, and with one last gasping spasm, he drifted into unconsciousness.

- o - o - o -

Shadow opened his eyes. He stood outside the closed doors of the regeneration chamber - he was not allowed inside during the ceremony, for his presence would disrupt the channeling of magic in the room. Beyond the doors he could hear the chanting of twelve male voices; their words weren't understandable, but he knew that what truly mattered in the ceremony was not the words themselves, but the meditative mind-state of the priests. His other self would be positioned in the center of the diagrams drawn on the floor; he could feel flashes of the sensation of ropes, the hardness of rock, and momentary pain. He would be tied down by now.

Perhaps Shadow wasn't included in the ceremony, but he was still needed - as was apparent when the small shiver racked his body, and a dull buzzing filled his hearing. For a moment he closed his eyes and put a hand to his head, his sparse body hair standing on end - prickles ran over his shoulders and up the back of his neck. Then there was a sensation much like a bubble popping inside his skull, and suddenly brand new consciousness flooded his head. He clenched his eyes shut tight, and abruptly his limbs became heavy and awkward, hard to control, like a new child adjusting to its body. A small sigh escaped his lips, and his forehead relaxed in mental bliss.

He was whole again. They were whole again.

Wraith was sleeping safely inside his mind, separated from their original body for the time being, residing in the shelters of Shadow's form. It was difficult for Shadow to think of Wraith as being separate from himself, since they were the same person, after all - he was simply the dream to Wraith's reality. The whisper to Wraith's shout. The subconscious embodied in a different form, responding to all of Wraith's thoughts and perceptions on a deeper, hidden level. No, he could not exist as an entity on his own, for he was only half a mind; yet by this method, Depthians were able to use magic, and the ancient order of the Magi remained in tact.

Shadow turned to the corridors that led to the upper levels of the palace. He moved automatically, compelled by urges beyond his simple understanding -- it was not in his nature to question. Wraith's last thoughts had been of Aria; he wondered what she was doing now. He wondered if she was lonely.

He was lonely.

The guards gave him a wide berth as he passed amongst them, eyeing his gray-cloaked figure with suspicion and a touch of fear. Shadow was mute, and he could not speak - yet his eyes perceived everything. Perhaps it was this strange quality that made the men fear him; or perhaps it was the fact that when they looked at him, they got a sense of something alien. A stranger that also existed deep in their own minds.

Shadow began climbing the stairs, his hands drifting over the stone wall next to him. Aria would not fear him.

- o - o - o -

Aria rolled over in bed for the thousandth time, unable to find a comfortable position.

She had eaten a rushed meal once she had arrived in her rooms, and the maid had pulled down the bed sheets for her and stoked the fire on the opposite wall. Gods, a room with its own fireplace! She had never seen one before, and had spent a good five minutes wandering around the giant chambers, admiring the ornate dressing table and wardrobe, the rich curtains that hung from tall windows, and then the enormous four-poster bed that she was supposed to sleep in. There was even a box she had to use to get up onto the bed itself! I could get used to this, she thought, a grin on her lips.

But now she was lying in the bed, and actually getting to sleep was an entirely different story. Her arms were sore and her body was aching from the beating she had taken in the alley - she had several bruises along her rib cage, and a few painful lumps on her head. She clenched her eyes shut, wishing she could enjoy the soft mattress, but even sleeping on a cloud would have irritated her injuries. She wondered momentarily if the King had noticed her bruises and had decided not to comment on them. The thought embarrassed her all over again.

Her ears twitched, and abruptly Aria's eyes opened. She glanced over at the door. The room was dark and full of shadows, the only light from the dying embers of the fire, but her ears could clearly pick up the sound of footsteps. Someone was outside in the hallway. The presence seemed to hover for a moment, as though uncertain of itself, then she watched as the handle to her door gently jiggled. It clicked open. Light slanted inside as a figure slipped through the doorway, shutting the door gently behind him -- the light disappeared. Aria didn't need it to see by, however; she already recognized the feather-light footsteps of the person across from her. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Shadow?” she muttered, realizing only then that she wouldn't get a response.

“What's he doing here?” Whisper confirmed her guess.

“I don't know, do you sense Wraith anywhere?”

Whisper seemed to hesitate for a moment, bobbing thoughtfully up and down in the air. His white light was dimmed so as not to hurt her eyes, and in the soft glow she could see Shadow's form slowly making its way across the giant room towards her. The mute figure unnerved her slightly, but she reassured herself that she was safe -- Shadow wouldn't hurt her, she was almost sure of it.

“I sense him, but not him... it is faint,” the Wisp finally said, and Aria could tell he was uncertain. “I don't know.”

“Well, the man can take care of himself,” Aria sniffed, forcing herself to not worry about her friend. He was a Captain, after all, and apparently on good terms with the King -- she doubted anything could happen to him inside the palace. There was a soft rustling, and Shadow finally drew up alongside her bed; she could see his pale skin and large, silvery eyes in the light from Whisper's glow. His white-blond hair drifted along the sides of his face where it wasn't obscured by rags. She wondered again what he looked like under all the wrappings -- now that they were so close, she could tell his skin was smooth and flawless. He appeared to be a young, beautiful man. If she had to give him an age, she would say eighteen.

Shadow gazed back at her, and this time she could see an awareness in his gaze that hadn't quite been there before. The eyes were no longer so glassy, but more crystalline, somehow brighter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, though she knew she shouldn't expect an answer. Then, because she couldn't help herself - “Is Wraith okay?”

Surprisingly, Shadow nodded, the movement slight but distinguishable. Aria raised her eyebrows.

“Well... I'm not sure why you're here,” she said, figuring that Shadow could understand what she said, “but I'm tired and I'm trying to sleep. I guess you can stay if you want.”

Without any other response, the gray-clad man abruptly moved, climbing up onto the bed next to her without so much as a hesitation. Aria let out a squeak of surprise. “What a moment! I didn't say...” but Shadow kept coming until he had settled down next to her. In the giant bed, he wasn't very close to her at all, but his presence was still unsettling.

Aria turned to look at him, watching as Shadow made himself comfortable, then settled back, propped up against the headboard. His eyes stayed focused on her, unwavering.

“Maybe Wraith sent him to watch over you?” Whisper suggested.

“I didn't think he could function on his own this far from Wraith,” Aria said back, though she figured it was a reasonable explanation. At least it made more sense than Shadow coming to her room on his own accord. Finally she sighed and settled down into her pillow, rolling over so she was facing away from the strange man. Her aches and pains still bothered her, but exhaustion was fast overcoming them, and somehow the room was more comfortable with Shadow's presence, strange as he was. At least he was somewhat familiar.

“Could you dim it down a little?” she yawned.

“Sorry,” Whisper muttered, and ducked under the covers for good measure, the thick quilt hiding his light.

“Thanks...” the word barely passed her lips. Aria felt herself falling into oblivion, sinking deep into the feather mattress. Finally she could relax... and strangely enough, Shadow's eerie presence left her feeling safe. The tension eased from her brow. Five minutes later she was breathing deeply, lost to the world.

Shadow stayed next to her throughout the night, his eyes open and watchful. As a dream come-to-life, he had little need of sleep, but he did rest in his own way -- falling in and out of awareness, wandering through the confusion of space-time and three-dimensional space. His thoughts drifted slowly, obscure even to his own self.

The night went on.