1st Month, 16th Day, 968

  Maera

  That was a narrow escape. Misty and I were just about to cross the game trail into the Dreadmoor when I saw them - the blindingly bright lights of Red Lightning’s iron chariot. I quickly cloaked Misty and I into the shadows and dove straight into a bog - that was a bad idea…it was really gross. I ought to have known, based on the tracks I saw a few miles back, that they were patrolling the perimeter…were they looking for me? Must have been. But once I saw the red lights on the rear-end of the vehicle vanish, Misty and I bolted deep into the foliage.

  Four days passed…at last I beheld the mist-shrouded towers of my father’s fortress. I was home at last…but I hesitated again. Misty looked at me again, as though to say “what now?” I had a lot of fun there, didn’t I? I actually didn’t head out immediately: I spent another day doing more of those guild jobs because I was enjoying them so much. I didn’t even need to make my own compass after all: the old seafarer sold me an old one of his. However, duty called and I resolved to head back…but at the final steps, that resolve was wavering.

  Pushing the words of my former captors aside, Misty and I strode towards the black towers that lurked behind the fog. We passed through the encampments surrounding the castle - just as bleak and sorrowful as I remembered it. Collared slaves were busy at work loading supply wagons, while father’s warriors practiced their combat drills; they were preparing for war. Of course there were a lot of twisted ones, but I paid them no heed as I spurred Misty to full speed towards the main gate. Two heavily armored ogres stiffened and saluted as the two of us darted past them - I handed Misty’s reins to the stablehand and continued on foot.

  “Where is my father?” I barked urgently to a nearby guard.

  The dour man said, “His lordship’s the throne room, young mistress.”

  “Thank you, um, at ease!”

  It felt like I’d been gone for years with all that had happened, but it was the same as I remembered it. I entered through the same tall wrought-iron door, ran down a familiar black stone hallway lit only with pale magic light, and waved to the aloof guardian gargoyles resting upon the overhang as I usually did when coming home. The path to the throne room was straight, but it ramped up slowly; each passing terrace had branching hallways leading to other parts of the fortress. The throne room was as dramatic as I remembered - it was high up, with large stained glass windows and intricate black stonework - and there was my father, sitting on his throne, also looking just as I remembered him.

  He was wearing his usual suit of black heavy full-plate armor with a large amethyst gem set into the breastplate, and he had his glowing red longsword laid across his knees. When I drew close, a scrawny young woman removed his horned helmet and laid it on a nearby table; his white hair, spindly like the silk of a great spider, spilled out and came to rest on his shoulders. Even sitting down he towered over me, yet I still took a knee and bowed my head.

  “Father,” I said, “I’ve returned.”

  He regarded me silently, with a piercing gaze that could stop a man’s heart - he inspired such awe, commanded such fear with so little effort.

  “So, you have,” he said. “But without your hellforged armor, and without any of the forces you were entrusted with. Explain.”

  I had to be truthful. “There were adventurers in Swan’s Crossing …including a very powerful elvish mage. They killed everyone, and held me captive - but I managed to escape and return hither; it was a long and perilous journey but I was determined to get back, for I have grave news!”

  Father remained stiff and silent, with his unblinking eyes fixated on me. Where do I even begin?

  I said, “The Kingdom of Galin is still at full strength - the forces of Prince Ramon and Prince Marco met upon the field and were convinced not to fight each other. If you march your legion now, you may well be crushed under the combined might of Galin and her allies…I implore you to consider biding your time a little longer, keep building your glorious host until-”

  Father remained quiet. Eerily so.

  “Ah! That’s right! I found out that the civil war in Galin was caused by a secret cult that worships the supreme-devil…and I discovered that they were responsible for the spellscourge that killed my mother. If you march now, you’d be playing right into their hands. I think the man in the black cloak is a member, and he may have set us up to fail at Swan’s Crossing. They want to destroy the world, and they’re using you to-”

  “I’ve heard enough,” father said. He didn’t even raise his voice…and yet his words terrorized the air itself. He stood up, handed his sword to the other servant girl, and began to walk towards me, slowly, without saying a word, until he was looming directly over me as a tall black shadow.

  “Even if I believed that what you say is possible, that the predictions of my trusted advisor were false - why would you imagine even for a moment that it would dissuade me? Do you think that I am weak, child?”

  I shook my head, I opened my mouth to speak but he said, with a low bone-chilling cadence, “I wasn’t finished.”

  This tone was all too familiar. He began to pace around me.

  “Even if I believed that this black order existed, even if I believed what you say about their motivations, they could never, ever, manipulate or trick me into doing anything that would rob me of my destiny to rule this land. I am aware that he leads a cult from beneath my castle; it was they who suggested I build on top of them… even if I believed the foolish idea that they worship the supreme-devil - I care not, for they’re provided me with useful military intelligence, and powerful new minions to command. My advisor has never been wrong, and I’d be a fool to doubt him. Do you think that I am a fool?”

  I was frozen in place and couldn’t speak, just when I thought it was over he continued. I don’t understand…he didn’t even flinch when I told him about the spellscourge…did he not care? Wait, so the man in the black cloak has an entire underground ruin? No wonder I’ve never seen any sign of a workshop or any quarters. Father continued, gesticulating and clenching his fists at various points.

  “It is my destiny to rule this land. The machinations in the shadows have presented me with an opportunity, and I will take it." He clenched his fist, a fierce grin stretching across his pale, age-worn visage. “Once I have secured the Greenreach, I will have their ports and all of the resources of the island along the coast. My designs for global conquest are the product of my brilliant tactical mind - and no one, not some shadowy cult, not some pathetic order of holy knights, nor the lapdogs of the adventurer’s guild, nor you, can dissuade me from seizing what is rightfully mine. Yes. I have the strength to take this war-torn land, and that alone is proof of my sovereign right to rule it.”

  He leaned in close, uncomfortably close, and his voice took on a gravelly, harsh tone.

  “...yet here you are, insinuating that I could ever be tricked or defeated, or sidetracked. How dare you?” He coughed violently, so much so that he sprayed blood onto the left shoulder of my coat. “Furthermore…you were appointed with but a single task, to ravage Swan’s Crossing, slay every man, capture the women and children who don’t resist, to show that the Darklord of Dreadmoor has returned as a force to not be underestimated…and you failed me yet again. Worse, you lost the hellforged armor that I had crafted for you, took an inordinate amount of time returning here. Do you think that any of that is worthy of pride?”

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  Once he was done speaking, his eyes locked onto mine and I came to a horrible realization. I knew what was coming, and the brutality of it exceeded my expectations. As I was carried back to my cold bedchamber, I had another epiphany: the skunk-haired poet was right all along. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t, perhaps because I’d spent all of my tears during the beating. I was also desperately thirsty, not just for water - I desired to drink deep of the freedom I had as an adventuress.

  I barely registered the fact that I was being healed - by a familiar face, one I had always taken for granted. A scrawny young fox-ears beast folk woman with a magic collar around her neck. I think she was even younger than me, but I knew not by how many summers. I only knew her as the white magus that father had procured at some slave market or other; she who would always mend my wounds. Always with such a gentle hand, with such care in her otherwise despondent eyes, she would mend the damage that deserved. But something was different this time, I heard a voice crying out inside the torment of my heart: No…that’s wrong!

  More words echoed. Words I’d heard recently, from the mouths of the people I’d considered my captors.

  “Nobody deserves that,” Rayna had said.

  “To my mind ‘t’would appear that he only keeps you alive and healed to prolong your suffering - abominable.” Guy had said

  “How can he do this to his own family?” Princess Illiana had cried, tearfully.

  “Less like a daughter and more like a tool - and not one he likes very much.” Malcolm had said.

  “This guy’s a real jerk.” Victor had said.

  After careful consideration, I decided not to warn father about Red Lightning. The words of the twin-tailed witch were starting to repeat in my head again as well…then I remembered her letter.

  “All done mistress!” The girl said, faking cheerfulness.

  “T-thank you.” I said, “Hey, what’s your name anyway?”

  The girl’s fox ears flipped up, “Wha? Mistress, you’ve never praised me before or asked my name!” She bowed. “I am Monica, your humble and unworthy servant, mistress.”

  I reached over and gave her hair a tousle, “A lot has happened. I promise to remember your name from now on.”

  “Ah! You honor me, mistress,” She bowed again. “I have other duties to attend to, would you like me to take your clothes to the laundress?”

  I shook my head, “No, on my last journey I learned to do it myself. Run along. In fact, take a break.”

  “Yes ma’am!” she smiled, the first time I’d seen her do so and not have it be forced, and scampered off.

  I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the envelope. When I broke the seal upon it, I was in for a surprise: it became thicker with a loud “pop”. Oh, the seal must have been some sort of temporary version of whatever magic is in Red Lightning’s magic bags - I simply must acquire one for myself some day. Inside the envelope was a long folded piece of paper and a scroll. The large piece of paper was a letter penned in a gentle, elegant hand - the twin-tailed witch’s hand.

  “Dear Maera,

  If you are reading this, then you’re probably back in the Darklord’s castle. If you were delivered there by our hands, then you will have also received a scroll of transmission in case you wished to call on us to take you back into our care. Though you were once our prisoner, as soon as it became abundantly clear that you had been suffering grievously at the hands of an abusive tyrant we wanted nothing more than to protect you from him.

  By the time you open this, I will have already told you the truth about your mother. I know the pain of learning this must be horrible, and you’ll probably even hate me for it…but please know that it grieved me too, for I never wanted to cause you any distress - but I had to weigh that against the suffering you’d inevitably endure if you remained blindly loyal to him.

  I have enclosed a magic scroll, and instructions for its use. You know which spell it is, and you have seen proof of its efficacy. Once you’ve used it, you will know that what I said is the absolute truth. Even if I’m wrong, I pray that you come to realize that you owe a monster like him no loyalty whatsoever - I can see the good in you, we all can.

  Sincerely,

  Sylfaena Ardenalia tael Anaura

  P.S., Do not confront him about what you discover - it may endanger your life. If you can’t get back out on your own, bide your time. If I am right, Red Lightning may very well have cause to break into Castle Dreadmoor; so have patience!

  P.P.S., I mean it! Don’t go snooping around dark corners of the castle, don’t ask weird questions, or do anything that could get you executed - let me press this upon you again: once he realizes you know the truth he may dispose of you! Get out if you can, but otherwise lay low!“

  I understood what she meant - clearly the message was vague on purpose in case of interception. I never questioned those five words being a lie designed to turn me against him, but, he was already doing that himself. Yes, I think the moment I started to turn was when his heel was pressed against my face. But that’s not entirely true, is it? What Red Lightning and the White Wolves had done was shown me a better way of life…they had clothed me, fed me, and apart from the bindings treated me like one of their own. Suddenly the beatings didn’t seem so normal and I could no longer rationalize them - he hadn’t treated me like family: they had.

  I took the scroll and read the instructions - and I realized that I didn’t need to look very far. The shoulder of that lovely coat Princess Illiana’d given me was soaked in his blood. I took off the coat and positioned it so that I could check it against the other target of the spell: myself. I managed to successfully activate the scroll, and after a heart-stopping pause the results of the spell were made manifest:

  “No match.”

  I began to cry as the full realization hit and those same five words echoed in my mind. The same five that came at the end of a long, brutal explanation that I’d dismissed as the prevarications of a sadistic spell-slinger.

  “He is not your father.”

  Princess Sylfaena was right…and I had called her a witch, I said horrible things to her, and all this time she was just trying to protect me. That nightmare I had, I realized, wasn’t just a dream: it was a memory. The Darklord murdered my mother, probably both of my parents, actually, and if I had any older brothers and sisters they’re probably dead too. I’m not the daughter of the darklord, I’m a child he kidnapped and she’d tried to tell me the truth, to set me free. But other than knowing that I no longer know who I am. Who is my mother, who is my father, where am I from, and where do I belong?

  I fell to my knees, as darkness threatened to take me. It was too much weight, and the void of despair threatened to consume me. Yes, darkness, I knew it well - I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper into its cold embrace. I don’t know how long I lay there, with reality as I know discorporating around me, all was shattered. But then, suddenly, a spark of hope began to burn inside me, as I remembered each of their faces. With each image the flame inside of me grew brighter until I realized that the answer to that last question was already clear.

  I belong with them.

  Victor, who showed me mercy and bonded with Misty. Princess Illiana who always treated me with such kindness and fed me those delicious biscuits. Malcolm, who understood what I was going through having been through something similar himself. Brave Rayna, so full of determination and strength. The steadfast Sir Guy, who tried to guide me along the path of the righteous.

  The wise and powerful Princess Sylfaena who taught me magic and tried desperately to help me. Whose affection I’d rejected, and whom I had treated the absolute worst out of all of them, despite her being the one who seemed to care the very most.

  That settled matters: I am going to help them. The man in the black cloak…the darklord confirmed that he has a bunker under the castle. If that creep is really a member of the Black Order, and I found evidence to prove it, Red Lightning would know exactly where to strike!

  I stood up, cast cleanser to remove the blood and mud from my clothes - paid extra attention to the left shoulder of my overcoat.

  “...don’t go snooping in dark corners of the castle…”

  Princess Sylfaena’s right! If I go looking around for secret passages, I might very well end up as the next twisted-one or suffer a worse fate! That’s right, I already know the hidden lair exists - all I need to do is tell them about it. But how? It isn’t as though I can leave the castle freely, I would need a good reason and I’d be expected back at a reasonable hour. I had no cause to believe he wouldn’t make good on his threat to start executing slaves the next time I was late.

  “...I was the inside man…”

  “...silent as the forest, immovable as the mountain…”

  Yes, I should remain here, if only to be Red Lightning’s inside woman - but I still need to figure out a way to let them know about the hidden bunker. I roughed my own hair while trying to come up with an idea but in the end all I did was make myself look like a feral cat - indeed, and looking at myself in the little mirror I’d made with metalshifting I realized I rather wished I had some of the makeup that I’d seen ladies wear around town.

  Makeup? Wait. I smiled in a strange way, a way I’d later learn is called a smirk.

  At that moment I knew exactly what to do.