Damn. She was alone.
Jadis walked through the ruins of her former world. Everything was devastated. She was Queen of nothing. She climbed the steps back to the Palace and wandered up and down the ravaged halls. What would she do now? How could one be queen with no subjects?
She reached the terrace again and she cast her eyes over the dead that still lay there. Her sister's sightless gaze was starting to un-nerve her but she wasn't going to touch the body. That was a servant's job, not a monarch's! A pity it was that all the servants had perished in the storm. But then again, they had joined Caelia. They had got everything they deserved in the end.
She continued her walk around the Palace. She paused outside one of room in particular. The easel was completely smashed but the canvas was still intact. Her portrait was only a preliminary sketch. She assumed that one day someone would happen upon this barren land. How were they to know what happened here? Of the great risks she had taken so her sister would not win?
A plan formulated in her mind. She walked through the Palace again and again until she had found the likeness of every monarch upon a statue or painting. Holding the images in her head, she cast them forth into the Dining Hall. All of her ancestors; all the way back to the first King himself. How foolish and weak he looked when compared to her father and herself.
Finally she fetched the one bell she had been able to find intact and imbibed it with her Will. The note it rang would wake her from a deep and ageless sleep when visitors came to Charn again. Then she could leave. Then a new world could become the paradise she wanted Charn to be.
She dressed in her finest gown and took her place at the far end of her ancestors' images. As the sleep took hold of her, she smiled for the final time. She was going to live forever; and her sister was dead.
The young woman coughed out a mouthful of salty water and sat up. Almost instantly, she was knocked over again by another wave. She somehow crawled out of the crashing waves and looked at her surroundings, still coughing and spluttering.
She was on a beach beneath a small cliff. She ran her hands over the fine white sand and got slowly to her feet, still scanning around.
There was no-one else around. She shivered and ran her hands over her arms in an attempt to keep warm and maybe dry herself off a bit. Horror flooded through her as she realised blood was mixing with the sea water. Her blood. She gasped as the pain rocketed through her and she resisted the urge to rub her wounds.
Where was she? Where had she come from? She was wearing the bloodied and tattered remains of a once beautiful dress of green and gold. Had she been in some sort of battle?
She staggered over to the cliff. Someone had carved a set of steps into the rock. She climbed them, whimpering slightly as her joints ached, until she reached the top. A path wound from the top of the steps into a forest. She looked around her again. Still alone. With no-where else to go, she limped along the path.
The light beneath the trees was warm and green. If not for the terrible state she found herself in, she would have enjoyed the walk. Well, it was currently more of a stumble than a walk.
Eventually she heard a voice in the distant. Or was it two, laughing together?
She tried to run forwards but her injured leg gave way. With a cry, she fell to the ground.
The laughter stopped and two figures burst through the trees ahead of her. They hurried towards her when they saw her lying in the dirt.
"Help me!" she begged them, stretching a bloodied hand towards them. The younger of the two, the one with the shock of red hair, approached her cautiously.
"Hello," he said warily. "Who are you, and how did you come to our Master's Kingdom?"
She paused, thinking. Her face twisted into a picture of abject misery. "I don't know! I can't remember! The first thing I can recall is waking up on the beach!"
"You are safe now," the other said, holding out a hand for her to take. His face was close enough to the red-head's that they could be brothers but his own hair was a blond so pale it was almost white.
As her fingers brushed his, he gasped and pulled away. She fell forwards, again crying out in pain.
"What was that for?" the red-head demanded.
"She is Tainted," the blond said darkly. "His magic is within her."
They both looked at her like she was going to rear up and attack them. Their hands moved to the swords at their hips and loosened the blades in their scabbards.
"Please help me! I'm not going to harm you!" she wept. She stared at them imploringly. They exchanged glances.
"We know," the red-head said. "But what lies inside you may hurt us. Come, we shall take you somewhere safe."
"You put her in the Fallen's prison?! She is a patient and a guest; not one of his gibbering minions!" a new voice exploded.
The young woman jumped and cowered away from the bars as the voice's face peered in at her. An olive-skinned face with inky black hair streaked with grey and currently adorned in a furious expression as it regarded her.
"It's the only place where his powers can be contained! What were we supposed to do; disturb the bookworm and ask to throw her back into Hell? She washed up on the shore like the souls always do, she was supposed to come here," the red-head insisted.
Olive-face pursed his lips. "Open the door then," he snapped. "I can't examine her from out here."
There was a clang from the lock and the door swung open. He advanced in and smiled kindly at her.
"Now, my dear, I won't hurt you," he said reassuringly. She relaxed a tiny bit and edged towards him slightly. He nodded encouragingly. "Good, good," he said and pressed his fingers to her temples. "My oh my, that's a nasty piece of work," he muttered. "She's Tainted alright, by the power of the Word of all things. It's eating away at her and her memories. I can limit the damage but we shall need the Master to fully heal this hurt," he said to the two outside. "The other wounds are superficial; it shouldn't take us long to patch her up."
She felt something spread out in her mind and the fog that had possessed her seemed to lift slightly. She sat quietly while he washed and disinfected her injuries and bandaged the worst of them.
"There, all done," he said. "I want you to think about who you are. Please, try to remember."
She nodded and then she was left alone.
Who was she? What was her name? Did she have one? Everyone had one so she had to have one too. She stood and walked over to the bars of the cell. There was a guard standing on duty in the hall outside. She smiled but he didn't return it. The bars of the cell were odd. They were made of a peculiar silver material. She tried to touch it. A spark jumped across between her fingers and the bars and she yelped in pain.
"Don't try that again," the guard said as she sucked her burnt fingers. She nodded and examined the bars more closely, without touching them this time. She knew what they were made of, she was sure of it.
A memory slugged to the surface. A silver ball hovering in the air.
Adamantine.
Hours, or maybe days, passed. She tried to remember more, she really did. There was the Sphere and many grand and beautiful rooms, and a sinister shadow in the shape of a man. But no name. She still had no idea who she was.
There was another face that flooded her mind fairly regularly. A face that greatly resembled her own but which had an underlying cruelty. She had a name for this face; Sister. She had a family even if she couldn't remember who they were.
Eventually, the red-haired man came back to her. He opened the door to the cell and grinned crookedly at her.
"Want to take a walk?" he asked. "Stretch your legs a bit?"
She nodded. He led her back the way he had taken her the first day. When they reached the forest again, he let her walk a few steps ahead and enjoy the sun.
"Any luck with the memories?" he asked. She shook her head.
"I have snatches here and there but nothing solid," she replied. "So what's your name? Seeing as how I cannot remember mine."
"I have many names. Our Lord once said that we move through life collecting names like we do possessions," he said, striding forward so he was level with her again.
"So which name is your favourite then?"
He exhaled noisily. "Uriel. I like Uriel the most, I think," he said.
"Then I shall call you Uriel!" she said happily. "Nice to meet you!"
"Nice to meet you?" he said drily. "We've already met, princess."
She faltered. "I think, I think someone used to call me that," she said softly.
"Your father, perhaps?" he suggested.
Another face appeared in her mind. A cruel face twisted into an expression of absolute disappointment. There was something else. A burning village across water, the smoke churning into the air and the screams of the villagers ringing in her ears.
"No, I don't think he cared for me. And I have strange image; a village burning. Maybe it was my home," she said slowly.
They reached the edge of the forest and looked down upon the swelling sea. She leaned out over the edge of the cliff and breathed in the salty air. Something caught her eye.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing. Something gold was caught in the rocks at the foot of the cliff. It rocked backwards and forwards with the water as the waves crashed in and out.
"Don't know," he replied. "Let's take a look."
They hurried down the steps and onto the beach. He scaled the rocks easily and balanced himself precariously between two as he stretched down to grab the golden object. She giggled as a wave came out of nowhere and soaked him through. He spat out a mouthful of water and tugged.
"It's a cloak..." he said, pulling it free.
Her laughter stopped in an instant. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She was staring at the cloak hanging in his hand with a lost and hopeless expression. Her hands stretched forward like a child's and he passed it to her. Despite its sodden nature, she pressed it to her face and nuzzled it lovingly.
"I was a princess," she said in a small voice. "My name is Caelia, Royal Princess of Charn, greatest city that ever was and ever will be and wonder of the world."
Her eyes lifted from the cloak to his.
"Oh, by all the ancestors," she said, her voice breaking with emotion and her eyes welling with tears. "What have I done?"
Boop, full circle! Back to where our story began and onto the next leg of the journey!