Viktor had been to parties before, but not one quite like this. He was a nobleman, of course, and had traveled numerous times between the realms of the Elves and Humans to continue to foster relations between the two peoples. It went without saying that he had seen the decadence present on both sides. Hosting gatherings was more of a human tradition than an elven one, though the elves of the past two centuries had picked up the behavior from the humans as their societies became more and more interconnected. It was strange for him, then, to see that the Azar delegation had the same sort of proclivity.

The Azar had arrived three days prior, meeting once with the King before holing themselves up in the Lower Palace. Only messengers had come and gone, going into the city below the Royal Peak and purchasing foodstuffs as well as other necessities. The invitations had gone out shortly after that, one of the members of the royal family no doubt helping them compose letters with the appropriate wording to not be dismissed by the others as the prattlings of a precocious people. Viktor had heard about the invitations but he had been surprised when one arrived at his home.

In the past month, the usual flurry of communication between the Elves and Humans had come almost to a standstill. Products and luxuries that had been expected by the Elven nobility had dried up almost immediately as trade slowed, the few caravans that had been on the road before the cut-off arriving and unloading what little they had. Victor’s luxury addicted brethren had not taken kindly to the shortage and as his responsibility was to maintain relations with the closest noble in the human lands, most of them blamed Viktor. His eldest daughter’s treason and the loss of his youngest to the human’s silence had left him humiliated and outcast.

Victor ran his thumb over the letter in his hand as he approached the Lower Palace, his weary and bereaved wife clinging to his arm. Something about the letter bothered him. First, it had not been addressed to the Wylafon house as the letters sent to the other nobles had. It had been addressed specifically to him. Secondly, it had not been written in Common but rather in Elvish. While that wasn’t strange in itself, the wording was odd. The honorifics used and tone implied a conversation between a child and parent. An untoward level of deference offered to him on behalf of the Azar delegation. Finally, it was signed by not the advisor of the head of the delegation, but the head herself. Queen Teyva Akura.

That had been enough to draw him out of his seclusion. Curiosity getting the better of him. Why had she reached out like that? It was clear enough that she wanted to speak with him face-to-face, but why? What did he have to offer her? His relationship with the humans put him at immediate odds with the Azar who were hated by his allies. Did she want to use his connections against them? That would be stranger still, from what he had heard in loose conversation the King of the Azar did not care to rile the humans and Viktor’s family had been loyal friends to them for generations. Surely whomever had been guiding the Queen’s hand in this knew that much at least.

He glanced up at the sky as they drew closer to the shadow of the lower palace entryway. It was blue, the sun was shining, the winter storms had abated for a moment and one could even see the vast gold-capped city below. Belya squeezed his arm a little tighter as they passed the columns that held the mountain up above their heads and approached the two guards stationed out front. To his surprise, they were not elves. Rather they were a pair of smartly dressed outsiders. One was Azar, a woman with a simple and almost unassuming look about her. Only the sword on her hip gave her away as a soldier. The other was a man with long ash-white hair and blue eyes that glowed with a strange azure flame.

The man inclined his head, “Invitation please,” Belya looked up at her husband, her sunken eyes mystified by the strange person in front of them. He cleared his throat and handed over the envelope to the man who opened it and examined the contents. He nodded again, “Of course, Lord Wylafon, thank you for coming. The Queen is expecting you.”

“Forgive me for asking, but do you happen to know why she has taken such an interest in me?” Viktor pressed the man.

The guardsman shrugged, “The Queen Mother is a mysterious being, I can only urge you to be patient.”

Viktor frowned, but nodded, he hadn’t expected anything but it was worth a try. The doors opened ahead of him and he was greeted with pleasant scents, glittering gold, and the sound of music permeating the halls of the lower palace. A dozen elves in fine dress were scattered across the antechamber, speaking with one another and on occasion one of the strange members of the Azar delegation. The most notable was a startlingly tall individual who loomed over the surrounding elves, he wore robes and a silver mask over his face. Viktor stared at him openly, catching himself in time for someone to slide in to his right and whisper in his ear.

“That is Paraklytus, he is the Queen’s Advisor,” A magically warped voice said. He turned to see a young woman in a veil standing to his right. She raised her hand to her heart and then stretched it out toward him, projecting her aura in his direction. He felt it wash over him and on instinct he returned the gesture. He couldn’t see her face but her posture relaxed visibly when he presented his mana to her. “I am the Queen’s Spiritual Advisor and High Priestess.”

“You are elfkin,” He said.

“I am Arya,” The woman responded, “A resident of Osan.”

Belya released Viktor’s arm, “I was not aware that the Azar worshipped gods.”

The woman let out a tittering laugh, the sound made Viktor’s chest warm for some reason. “I apologize, yes, you are correct that the Azar do not worship aspect beings as Gods, rather as revered and respected patrons.”

“Yet you are a High Priestess,” Viktor pressed.

“Quite right,” The woman nodded, “The Akurai people worship their Queen Mother as a goddess.”

Belya stiffened and looked around, “Is she?”

The strange priestess tilted her head and Viktor could almost see her smile, “That is for you to determine, isn’t it? She wants to meet you.”

Viktor straightened his shoulders, “Would you happen to know why? I do not know this person, though I am honored by her interest.”

Arya straightened as well, “My Goddess has expressed to me that she is in possession of information that may be of interest to you, but that is a conversation for a private place.”

Belya and Viktor looked at one another just in time for a wave of pressure to ripple over the room. Belya gasped and stepped back and Viktor had to quickly wrap his mana around himself and his wife in order to protect them from the wave of power. Arya did not so much as flinch, instead she turned her attention to the opposite side of the room where an Elven Nobleman had dropped to a knee, gasping for breath. Everyone else in the room was also staring, all eyes on the woman in a white gown with skin that seemed to glow. Her face, like Arya’s, was covered. In the case of the Queen, a veiled dancers mask. The woman raised her head up high and looked down at the stunned man.

“I understand that there is a difference in Elven culture between greeting one another with an appropriate show of mana and rudely asserting dominance. Perhaps next time you will remember the difference yourself, sir,” The glowing woman said, her white hair fluttering around her body in an unseen wind. Her hair fell and she turned to one of the guards standing at the periphery, gesturing to him. He hurried over and helped the fallen man to his feet before escorting him down the hall, presumably to rest.

“It would seem the Queen is adjusting well,” One of the noblemen who had been speaking with the looming advisor commented.

“Such might,” Another murmured, “Is it true that the Akurai worship her as a goddess, Lord Paraklytus?”

Viktor, suddenly very interested in the conversation, turned his head to see a pair of gleaming violet eyes on him. The person behind the mask spoke but his voice seemed to come from somewhere else rather than his head, “Quite right, Her Majesty gave the Akurai new life and each of them are blessed with a fraction of her abilities.”

Belya’s hand wrapped around his arm, “Viktor…” She murmured, a small tremor working its way through her hand.

Viktor swallowed, “I know,” He said, turning his attention fully on the woman who had now returned to speaking jovially with the other noblemen present. Off to the side he caught the eye of an Azar woman in strict-looking clothing, her hand resting on a sword and her expression grave. She watched the room carefully, as if expecting trouble. He looked back at the pale maiden. Every second looking at her made his skin crawl. It was like Myranda’s vision of the age eater come to life. The only thing that was different was that this woman did not physically possess two right hands. He rolled his jaw and turned to say something to Arya but she had left, nowhere to be seen. He cleared his throat, “It would seem we are on our own here.”

“That chain, around her arm,” Belya murmured, “I can’t see where it starts.”

Viktor paused, looking down at his wife and then up at the strange woman. He finally noticed the chain wrapped around her right arm and up into her torso where it abruptly stopped. Was it coming out of her body? He swallowed and set his jaw, marching forward. Belya let out a small gasp before quickly hurrying after him. The pale woman turned as he approached, her yellow eyes gleaming behind the mask. He came to a stop and drew his hand up to his heart, collecting his mana before releasing it with the second half of the gesture, extending his hand to her. She did the same and he felt that same powerful chill wash over him, subdued this time.

To his right a few of the elven nobles sneered at him, looking at one another. He ignored them and looked the Queen square in the eyes. “I am Viktor Wylafon, thank you for your invitation, Queen of the Akurai.”

The woman’s eyes glittered, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you face to face, Lord Wylafon. I daresay we have a lot to talk about.”

He tried to sound civil, “So it would seem, Majesty.”

She turned and offered a bow to the men who had surrounded her, a strange scent coming off of her body. Their sneers faded until they visibly relaxed in her presence, “Thank you for your time, Gentlemen, you’ve been most entertaining.”

They all babbled their gratitude in unison as the Queen turned to the hallway guarded by the stern-looking Azar woman. She gestured for Viktor and his wife to follow, stepping past the armed woman and into the hallway. He took a breath and followed after her, ignoring the surroundings-he had been here more than once-and focused on the woman’s back. Belya did her best to straighten herself up as well, even as he felt her trembling next to him. The sound of boots against the ground behind them clued him in that the woman who had been watching the hallway had stepped in to follow them. A few minutes later they stopped at the door to the main study. The stern Azar stepped forward and opened the door.

“Thank you, sister,” the Queen said.

Viktor glanced again at the gruff looking Azar before following the queen into the study. It hadn’t changed in all the times that he had been there. Bookshelves on the walls filled with books no one ever read. A large desk and a table set in the center of the room to stand around. The doors shut behind them and Viktor spun, seeing that the armed woman was nowhere to be seen.

“That was my sister, Princess Azrael Unabi, she serves as my first General as well,” The woman said.

“You had something you wanted to discuss with us, Majesty,” Viktor said sharply, cutting to the chase.

“Teyva,” The woman said, “Teyva is fine, you don’t need to use honorifics with me. Not with what we have to discuss.”

“And what is there to discuss?” His wife chimed in, finally growing tired of the games.

“I have information for you concerning your daughter,” Teyva said, “I heard about the situation and I wanted to offer you a little help.”

“This is an exchange, isn’t it?” Viktor growled, his eyes narrowing, “What do you want? You do understand my position, yes?”

“You have connections with the humans,” Teyva nodded, “I’m not interested in them, yet, what I want is information on what is going on here in the elflands…” She trailed off, “You know I just realized I never learned this nation’s name.”

“It does not have one, to give a place a name would imply that you have some inherent ownership over it. The elves did not make the mountains, we live here,” Viktor corrected her, “What do you want to know?”

“Viktor!” Belya chastised him, “We do not even know what she has to say is anything we don’t already know!”

Viktor set his jaw and looked the woman in the eyes through her mask. The queen sighed and removed her mask before pressing herself up against the desk behind her and pulling herself up into a sitting position. Viktor swallowed, taking in the woman’s face for the first time. As white as snow, her skin was embedded with gems that spread across it like scales, her eyes had a shape to them that made him think of some kind of predator, not humanoid at all. Her smile revealed rows of long, pointed teeth. Monstrous. She ran her hands over her thighs and tilted her head, looking up to the ceiling. “I know where Myranda is,” She said flatly, “With an absolute guarantee.”

Viktor and his wife froze, they looked at one another and then to the Queen who had been admiring her fingernails. At some point they’d changed into something that looked more like wicked talons. Viktor took a step forward, “You better not be playing games with saying something like that. I do not care who you are!”

Teyva looked up at him, “I don’t play games with family,” She said sharply, “Do not ever suggest such again.”

Viktor swallowed, “W-what do you want to know?”

“I’m getting the impression that Myranda’s revelations had quite the effect, I even heard that one of the Princes was inspired by her,” Teyva said, “So I want to know how deep it goes. If you’ve been looking for her like a good father, I would imagine you know a bit more than the average person of her cult’s influence.”

“So you know about the cult,” Viktor growled, he looked at Belya again and then sighed, “About half of the nobles out there in the halls have some leaning toward her beliefs. They think the King has played favorites with the humans for too long. The others are obsessed with human wealth and luxuries.”

Teyva pursed her lips, “Deeper than I expected. Not bad.”

“Not bad? This controversy threatens to tear our people apart! The elves have never been so divided!” Viktor snarled, “My daughter killed her inquisitor, fled the arbiters, and even issued threats against my wife and myself!” He reached down and gripped his wife’s hand, moving her back a bit to position himself between the Queen and Belya.

“Do you seriously believe she would do that?” Teyva asked, narrowing her eyes, “Threaten you?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Viktor growled, “I… would not be surprised,” He said with a sigh, “Her sister was precious to her and I sent her to the humans as-” He was cut off by Teyva.

“You sent Anya off as an offering,” She snapped, “Do you regret it?”

“Offering? Bertrand is a friend!” Viktor snapped back, “She is not some slave! The situation is…” He paused, his shoulders falling, then something clicked in his mind and he looked up. “How do you know her name?”

Teyva’s eyes flashed and she leaned forward, “I asked you a question, do you regret selling your daughter in exchange for favors from the humans?”

Viktor opened his mouth but before he could even get a word out, Belya pushed past him, “Every day! We both miss her so much it kills us!”

Viktor rounded on his wife, “Belya!”

“No! I don’t know what’s going on here, husband, but I won’t lie about that! You miss her as much as I do!” She barked, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.

He looked at his wife and then up at the Queen of the Akurai, “It’s as she says,” He said, his shoulders falling in defeat.

Teyva looked between the two of them and ran her fingers through her hair before sighing, “Very well. That’s enough for me, you can answer more of my questions after I give you what you want. Was that enough for you?”

“What in the world makes you think-” Viktor snarled only to freeze when a figure stood up from a high-backed chair near the bookshelves to his right. The figure stepped out, revealing themselves as the Queen’s spiritual advisor.

“I’ve heard enough, Goddess, thank you for giving me this precious gift,” Arya said, bowing to the Queen. The Queen slipped off of the chair and extended her hand to Arya who strode over and took it, her head still bowed.

“What is the meaning of this?” Viktor demanded.

“Are you really that dense?” Teyva asked, her eyebrow raised, and reached for Arya’s veil. She cast it off and Viktor felt his heart leap into his throat. Myranda stood up straight, her dark eyes fixed on his own. She curtsied, bowing her head to her father and offering him a sweet smile.

“Father, mother, I’ve missed you,” She said, the beginning of tears forming in her eyes. Belya darted from Viktor’s side and took Myranda’s face in her hands. The aged elf woman let out an agonized sob, touching every inch of the young woman’s face, inspecting it, making sure it was real before throwing her arms around her daughter and howling out in a mixture of grief and relief. Viktor stared, dumbstruck, at his daughter before turning to the Queen who tilted her head with a smile. Something on her body shifted and he realized that the chain around her arm was retracting and melting. It drooped to her side before taking the shape of an arm. A second limb on her right side. A second right hand. Victor’s world began to spin and he looked wide-eyed at his daughter again. Myranda smiled, “I found her.”