damned_institute | Day 32: Sun Room (2nd shift)

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Day 32: Sun Room (2nd shift)

After the couple glasses of water Leon managed to gulp down during breakfast, the mage felt immensely better. He was still a bit tired, but that was nothing a little lounging on one of the sofas wouldn't cure. Stretching his arms above his head, he couldn't help but wish he'd had the chance to grab one of his new doctor's coats before leaving his room that morning. Maybe they would have let him get away with wearing it. Maybe.

He grabbed an empty sofa, pulling out the journal he tried to keep on him at all times. It was nearly complete now. Just a couple more pages to go. It might not improve his spellcasting that much, but any improvement was better than none. It was getting to where it might be too dangerous for him to use spells at all, if it left him so worn out without even finishing a monster off.

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Lia stared in bewilderment, the words heard but not quite yet processed. "But...what you're saying...it's impossible. Aside from breaking us..." Yet despite that, she felt a faint thrill of hope. If it was true, then maybe, just maybe the shields had held. Unconsciously, she rubbed her thumb over her second finger, where her Gray Jeweled ring should be but wasn't.

She bit her lip and shook her head slightly at the question. "No. I don't think we've ever met." There was hesitation in her reply, however, and uncertainty in the faint furrowing of her brow. Unless...

It could be an elaborate trap, but why now, when she was already caught?

"Have you ever heard of the Invisible Ring, Prince?"

Daemon hesitated for half a second as that question sank in, and then surprise flickered across his face.

"You're the Gray Lady!"

He should have known that! Could remember clearly now, although it had been generations since she'd lived and died. Her impact, however, had long been a thorn in Dorothea's side, and he'd remembered her and her court fondly.

Lia winced and shook her head, reminded all too clearly of the deception she'd attempted and ultimately failed. "Her successor. Gran's...older."

It was true from her perspective, certainly. She'd not yet taken up the title, not become the Queen of Dena Nehele. May not ever, she remembered, and pressed her eyes shut against a surge of pain.

"Well. I was."

"Was?" Daemon echoed, his expression solemn. Those words were truer than she knew, considering the fact that her court had faded long before most alive today could remember.

"What do you mean, Lady... Lia? That is what Lord Jared calls you, is it not?" A careful bit of wording, a curious probe, uncertain as to what the last thing the Lady Ardelia remembered was, precisely.

Some of the tension Lia had been carrying faded, her shoulders easing into a posture that was not quite so painfully rigid. The name was not quite a watchword, but it was near enough. "Lia," she confirmed, and offered a smile both weak and sickly.

"I mean that Dena Nehele can only stand as long as the Gray protects it, Prince." Her eyes shadow as she looks down. Despite what he had said earlier, the fear that she had shattered her Jewels in that last desperate attempt to protect Ranon's Wood lingered.

"As long as you live, Lady, Dena Nehele will be protected," Daemon replied quietly, but there was a knowing conviction in his tone as he met her gaze, his own eyes intent. His words were carefully chosen, because he wasn't sure she was ready to hear about all the intricacies this place had just this moment. Not in this context.

"What is it that worries you, Lady? Or shall I attempt to explain more about this place to put you at ease? Although there's little enough about this place that may do that, I'm afraid."

Lia's brow furrowed slightly, and her small frown this time was thoughtful. "You sound very certain, Prince." She could not quite bring herself to ask how, when everything about the situation seemed so strange and precarious.

Her fingers twisted together, and she clasped her hands tightly to keep them still. "My worries are very selfish, I'm afraid. And most of them won't be allayed until we're gone from here." It was true enough. Even if she heard that the others had all made it safe to Dena Nehele, she knew she'd not be entirely able to believe it until she could see them with her own two eyes.

"Please, I'd like to hear what you can tell me of this place."

Daemon wanted to press her, but he held back. Perhaps what he could tell her of this place would allay some of them despite what she thought.

"This place uses magics unlike any we've ever seen. People are drawn here from numerous realms and times, from what I've seen. None have any recollection of how they came to be here. We all just wake up and the deed is done. There's never any memory of capture or journeying. Some believe the last thing they remember is dying, but none here are demon dead. Not exactly anyway." He left out mention of his father for the moment, since they were still uncertain what this place had made the High Lord, exactly.

"During daylight, the place seems normal enough. It poses as an Institute for those mentally disturbed. They tell us the memories we have are not real. Delusions. That we've lost touch with what is real and what is dream. They say we are here to heal. Some of us might have been inclined to believe them, had we not arrived with others that share our memories and knowledge. A fantasy made by one mind is one thing, but a fantasy shared by few or many is another matter entirely."

"Besides that, after darkness falls, everything changes. In the night, this place turns hostile. Creatures and monsters and enemies roam the hall, and it is the one time we are somewhat free to go where we will, although the danger and risk of doing so is high. The man running this place - people refer to him as the Head Doctor - taunts us with clues and traps, but there's often another voice that counters him and tries to help. Up to a few nights ago, it was a man by the name of Jack, but the Head Doctor discovered his whereabouts and is thought to have killed him. After his death, a young woman by the name of Jill took his place and seems to be continuing to try and help us, though the help is often vague and confusing."

He paused there, letting that much sink in, waiting to see if she had questions before continuing. There was more, of course, but even that much was overwhelming. He'd been here for a week already - though usually it felt much longer - and things were still overwhelming for him at times.

It was a struggle for Lia not to protest the impossibility of it all, to rather sit quietly and listen. She had heard tales of other Realms, but only the two, and only tales; so far as she knew, no one in living memory had ever been anywhere but Terreille. She sat silent for several beats, absorbing what he had said. Trying to absorb it, at least, though her already-overwhelmed mind struggled against the necessity of parsing further dizzying input.

"It sounds..." Lia trailed off, eyes narrowing in thought. Something had snagged in the lapsing filter of her mind, hard enough to pull her thoughts from another cycle of confusion. "What if this place is the delusion? Some very intricate sort of illusion web?"

"That would be easier for me to believe if there were other Blood here," Daemon answered quietly. "But nearly everyone here are landens. Or other sorts of humans. And some are not human at all. Whoever controls this place uses magic like none we have ever seen. They have separated us from out jewels and sealed our craft, although we are not broken. There was one night they played an intricate game with me - controlled me, but gave me back the Black and set me against the others here. There is nothing and no one in Terrielle or Kaeleer and probably not even Hell itself that could do that. Not to mention that if this were a web, I would still be able to sense it. There are no other Jeweled Witches or Warlords" - except one - "who wear a jewel darker than mine. Were a Black Widow to weave a tangled web, it might manage to snare me or lock me in an illusion, but I believe I would still be aware of that presence."

Lia's eyes widened as that sunk in, and she swallowed once, hard. Her hands wound more tightly together in her lap, pressing pale indents where the pads of her fingers sat, and she forced her breathing calm. "How, then?" she asked at length. It was neither challenge nor demand, but rather bewilderment. She knew no magic save that which the Blood could produce; the mere idea of something existing outside that felt alien. "If the person doing this isn't Blood, how can they..."

She trailed off, uncertain of how to finish the question without spinning the focus too broad or too narrow. Or, for that matter, how to finish the question so that she had any hope of understanding the answer at that juncture.

"I don't have the answer to that. Not yet," he answered her apologetically. "There are powers at work here that I cannot explain, nor completely understand at times. I'm not sure anyone here does, and if they do, I've not heard their theories. Most have focused on reaching the man in charge as a start, either getting answers from him, or getting rid of it so we might find our own answers uninterrupted. He remains very elusive, however."

"He'd have to," Lia mused, faint frown deepening. "Or use cats' paws so as to keep himself secure to continue his own plans while ensuring no one had a chance to doubt his strength. He'd put himself at too much risk, acting openly." Her own part in such a deception so very recently made her grimace a little, in mingled worry and chagrin.

He watched her thoughtfully for a long moment before asking the question that rested heavy on his mind. "Lady Lia, this may sound like an odd question, but bear with me for a moment. What is the last thing you can remember before waking here?"

Lia winced, gaze slanting down toward her folded hands. "The last thing I remember clearly is the backlash of my power hitting me," she replied after a long moment. "There are hazy bits afterward, but between that and waking here, I...there isn't much."

"Backlash?" Daemon prodded. He had an idea of where and when she meant, but as he'd witnessed almost none of her journey - other than the part she'd been unconscious for - he wanted to make sure before he opened his mouth and told her more than she should know.

Lia's cheeks regained some of their lost color in the form of a slight flush of embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Prince. Of course you don't know - how could you?" It was simple human arrogance, the feeling that the events surrounding oneself were so very all encompassing. She frowned down at her hands, laying into line the order of events and paring off that which seemed unnecessary to tell. In the end, however, the explanation wasn't really all that terribly long. "We were cornered in Ranon's Wood. There were too many to fight; it would have been a slaughter if we tried. I..." She hesitated, gaze clouding. "I had to use the Gray. I didn't expect it to rebound quite so strongly."

"So it's true you found a way to differentiate between the Blood," Daemon said softly, even though he already knew the truth of that statement.

They owed this Queen a life debt the size she could never begin to imagine, and one she couldn't really know about. He wasn't sure how wise informing people of their future fates was. He'd said what little he could to his own father, and he was guessing that Lucivar had done the same with him. How their arrival here in this place might alter what had occurred in their own realm could be devastating.

Lia started at that, faint frown once more deepening. "You knew about the web?" she asked, surprised beyond surprise. She and Thera hadn't even told the males they'd left to organize the defense what the exact intent had been. "How?"

"Word travels fast, Lady," Daemon answered simply. "Especially when certain people are listening and watching."

It was true, if not the whole truth.

"It must," Lia murmured in reply, though she looked ever so slightly disconcerted. "Though it does make me wonder just how long I was unconscious, before I woke here."

Too long, she thought, if word had been given chance to spread. Unless it had been passed on deliberately. That gives her pause, and she utters a quiet hum of thought.

"I'm not entirely certain," Daemon answered evasively. "This place seems to have the ability to manipulate the passage of time as well, somehow. My brother and father - who are also here - have different memories of the last things we remember, but none of us recall any of the other vanishing. We're not sure how they've done it, but the three of us were all taken from different points of time."

At her quiet hum, he tilted his head to the side to eye her with a curious golden gaze. "What is it?"

"You know Jared; I was wondering if he'd relayed what had happened," Lia explained. She raised her gaze, expression thoughtful. "Because you helped us, at the Inn." Though it hadn't been explicitly stated, she inferred as much from their exchange.

How many Warlord Princes could there be who had heard of something so odd as an Invisible Ring, and discerned her own identity from the mention of it?

"Thank you for that, Prince. I should have said so earlier."

"There is no need to thank me, Lady," Daemon offered her a polite smile and an inclination of his head in modest acknowledgment, though his golden eyes were warm with amusement. "It was no trouble. I am relieved you recovered from your injuries well. I have a great deal of respect for your grandmother and your lands, as well as a growing respect for you. You gave your pursuers quite the chase. I don't think anyone else could have done better."

Lia's eyes showed a flash of grief, remembrance of the cost of that pursuit weighing briefly heavy. She marshaled herself and managed a small smile of her own, if one that was slightly washed out. "Still, I'm grateful." There was a flicker of stubbornness in her tone, faint but definite.

"Do you know Gran?" Though the question had not exactly nagged at her before, she was certain it would if she didn't ask.

Day 32: Sun Room (2nd shift)

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