There were fractures, shards, figments, shadows.
Things that lurked behind crystalline walls at the bottom of her mind, past a deep, deep pool. At least, that was the way she'd come to view it, mentally. A piece of land amongst the darkness of consciousness, with an unfathomably deep pool of water carved into it. Sometimes, the waters lapped slowly at the shore. Others, it was mirror still. But she knew it was deep.
Deep enough to hold old, old memories, of someone she once might have been. Of people she once might have been. Was once.
There were fractures, shards, figments, shadows.
There were levels to the pool, because of that. Branches, tunnels beneath the water that lead to other chambers, other crystal walls and barriers and mirror still surfaces. She knew some of them by now, where some lead. She'd travelled through the underwater paths so, so many times. She'd also spent plenty of time sitting on the edge of the pool, hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees, watching its empty surface. Well. Not her. Her perception of herself in her mind. In whatever that place was.
How long have I been here?
A long time. Years, the pool would say back, and though she knew it was only her own mind and recollection 'speaking' to her, she was long since used to it. Perhaps in a way, it was some other person. Now and then, she did see other faces beneath the water's surface. An old woman, gnarled by time and disappointment in events far outside her sphere of influence, despite her best attempts. A young woman, stricken and inflamed by events she couldn't control, till she herself burned up. There were others, murky and shadowed. Some sank deeper, beneath the crystal walls somewhere in one of the tunnels. Others remained beneath the water, but lingering. She wondered if they were waiting for her to reach out for them.
Sometimes, she did reach out, when she travelled under the water and through the winding tunnels and caves. Touching the crystal walls triggered… thoughts. Memories. Awareness of a world beyond the void she and her pool sat in. Mostly memories, though, from an old woman.
The Crone.
Mara.
She'd seen through the eyes of that old woman as people had addressed her with various titles. So rarely did they say her name, though. So very few. Every now and then, the old woman had looked into a mirror and spoke the name aloud, as if she might forget herself if she didn't. She'd watched as the old woman stood on the edge of a deep, deep pool so similar to the one she sat at in her mind. But it wasn't a pool there.
It was a lake.
Vast, deep. Mara had stood on its shores and stepped into its waters and there'd been a comfort there.
Maybe that was why the pool remained with her in her mind. An old comfort returning to offer itself again.
Or maybe she was just trying to rationalize things that didn't need to be rationalized.
Now and then, she'd look in the mirror still waters, and her reflection blurred. Remained unfocused no matter how close she got. She saw red leaking into the water, curling and coiling like smoke till the pool was filled red. She jerked back from it, from the person who leaked the red into the water. There was rage there. So much rage. And sorrow. And confusion. She might have reached out for them, if it wasn't for the scalding rage that billowed from them. She'd watch as the figure would start to sink into the pool, deeper and deeper, along with its leaking red, till it vanished amongst the dark depths and knew, somehow, it'd passed through some tunnel and was behind one of the crystal walls. She preferred it there.
She didn't go looking for it, or whichever tunnel it was down. Now and then she'd see wisps of red when under the water, but never followed it.
She'd focused on other tunnels and caves, on watching fractures and shadows move and form behind the crystal walls. Sometimes, she'd reach for them, place her hand against the warm crystal and see… sparks. Fragments. Pieces of something. Someone.
Mara walked long stone halls, listening to someone or another listing off… orders? Requisitions? Trade agreements? She wasn't fully sure, but it was some sort of exchange--Mara's assistance in forming linked gateways, or hiding something away behind one of hers, and in exchange, food, supplies, things the people needed. Some areas were better off than others, having far more land to enable full scale agriculture and raising livestock. Or some made advances in fishing the great depths, fending off the beasts and serpents beneath the waves in order to drag edible fish and such back to the surface. Some were doing fine with their great hunts from atop the backs of their winged serpents, though few could claim that honor.
No one had enough to properly feed, clothe, and house the entire population of Morgan, though. So deals needed to be struck. By her, or trade advisors… but mostly these days? It was her alone.
She felt bad for the old woman.
The angry, scared, woman's fist hit a wall, knuckles cracking and splintering as much as the solid structure itself. More people, gone. She couldn't do anything. Again. How many more? Friends, family. How many more would she lose? She wanted to keep them all safe, but… it was clear, bitterly, that she wasn't nearly strong enough for it. The thought drifted in her mind, if Chaos had that power--she crushed it with another slam of her fist, the pain rooting her to the here and now and the stupidity of even thinking that.
If she wasn't strong enough… the bitter smile crept across her face was cold in the wake of wondering if, perhaps, the next Morgan would be better suited than she was. There was a painful calmness to that consideration. A hollow acceptance.
She wondered how many times the woman failed, if she was at the point of giving up. She wondered if the woman ever reached out, ever looked to others around her. Or maybe she didn't have that? Maybe her losses left her bereft of such aid and support?
That was a tragic thought, and one of the few thoughts she spared for the angry woman leaking red, when she'd come into contact with the red smoky waters on rare occasion before she could pull back. She stuck to the other tunnels and caves and crystalline walls.
"Mar--eeee--!"
It wasn't her name, and truth, she was somewhat baffled why someone would even make a nickname off of Mara, but the old woman-- no. Not the old woman. Mara, but younger. Not the Crone. The Mother? The Maiden? Titles and terms played through the watcher's mind but she wasn't sure which applied to this Mara whose eyes she watched through.
She sat in a courtyard garden, stone walls high, high beyond the ring of open archway windows and doorways that allowed view and passage from the courtyard to the covered hall. Plants of brilliant colors filled the space not occupied by paving rocks and benches. Emerald and peridot shrubs and long leaves and slender, adventurous vines. Flowers stretched wide in whites, reds, and purples, perfuming the air with sweetness that was just overpowering enough to overlook the malodorous winds that sometimes crept over the high walls and arched roofs from the low tide beyond the keep's walls and cliffs they were situated upon.
Small creatures skittered through the flora, insect-like the watcher thought, but… one landed on Mara's outstretched hand that held small seeds in the palm, and through her eyes the watcher saw the sunshine shimmering through glass-like iridescent wings and gleaming grey, gold, and blue scales forming markings that were rather similar to those plants… but it wasn't an insect.
If anything, it looked like a tiny lizard with wings.
"Mar--eeeeeeee--"
The voice chimed again, and the tiny glass-winged lizard hissed before it snatched up multiple seeds in its maw and zoomed away back into the protection of its floral home. Blue eyes lifted from the collection of leaves and petals it vanished amongst to turn upon the soft hushed sweeps of brocaded fabrics and tender leather shoes. The young woman who emerged from the shaded walkway around the courtyard--and from a particular doorway into the keep, she determined, from the presence of a couple guards stepping out from the same--was sunshine incarnate. Brilliant golden locks braided into crowns atop her head, yellow dress gleaming with gold and green threads to form rich vines and flowers, warm cream fabrics accentuating and carefully covering her otherwise…
The watcher couldn't quite see her face, though. She only had the impression of a beaming smile, but could not… quite see it. A glare of the light, perhaps. A fog in the figment.
"Lady du Fild--"
"Oh don't call me that," the golden woman whined, soft leather shoes stomping against the paving stone she stood upon as she came to stand before the bench Mara sat at. "I told you! I'm Bea, or Beatrice if you must, but don't make it formal when it's us."
Her voice was so warm, so eager, Mara didn't have the heart to point out the guards standing just yards away from them…
"...I'll try to remember, Beatrice. Certain rules have long been mandated of me, so I beg your patience and thank you heavily for your generosity." She couldn't drop the stiff speech expected in courts, or before the public, or in meetings, or….
But Lady Beatrice gave the watcher the impression of a smile once more, and she took the seat open beside Mara. The warmth that radiated from her… was not physical. But the watcher could tell. Mara held a fondness for this golden girl. Their friendship was… genuine.
It was a rare treasure for Mara.
"I tend to forget some of that… but even if you must call me something more formal, can't you just use my name? I'd like to think we're closer than needing all that pompous pageantry." Her hand waved in the air, metals catching the sun and Mara could only smile gently in response to the dismissal of centuries of social regulation.
Her hand rested in her lap in contrast to Beatrice's grand gestures, still cupping the remaining seeds for the tiny creatures she knew were lurking just beyond sight. Hungry and surely to pounce once more when the golden girl had left.
"I can do so, yes… I did notice you decided to not even refer to me by name, once more," she pointed out gently, a faint teasing edge to her tone.
Beatrice's laugh was as light and warm as the rest of her. "You mean 'Maree'? It's an endearment, silly! Like Bea."
A dark brow quirked as she tried not to laugh. "...an endearment like yours is to shorten the name, but I fail to see how 'Maree' shortens 'Mara.'"
Beatrice gave a huff, again waving off the notions. "Endearments can be anything affectionate! And that's what 'Maree' is." Said with such confidence and finality that Mara did need to laugh. The little Lady's tutors would be proud of her firm assertion. She was.
Mar-ee was a name that frequented the flickers of memories often. Another name, but one given out of affection. Gentleness. Similar memories flickered here and there behind crystal walls of Lady Beatrice du Fildor, a shining example of the Maison du Fil D'or--the House of Golden Thread.
Her ensemble highlighted her family's colors as a constant requirement when in the public eye, the same as all members of the main Fildor bloodline. Golden, glistening, shining….
Beatrice held a genuine warmth, though, that Mara didn't frequently find in others.
She liked watching the small flickers of memories Mara held of Beatrice. The tiny glimpses of friendship and trust that seemed… rather rare amongst the various courts and houses Mara dealt with.
There were similar other fragments in places--people Mara dealt with for trade agreements and advice, though they were far more shadows and blurry forms than… people she could make out. Enough to confirm Mara's frequent role, allow her to watch as Mara spent so many days and hours pouring over ledgers and transcribing numbers and notes from different reports… but she couldn't quite make sense of the things Mara wrote. Vague, distant impressions at best.
She still enjoyed watching it.
Her favorite glimpses, though, were a mix of the angry woman's and Mara's… for the latter, they were brief instances of movement, of brightly colored costumes and fabrics, silks and ribbons… and heights. Acrobatics. She enjoyed those memories. Indulged in them when she found them. They were among the few she really enjoyed of hers.
Of Mara's though? Memories of landscapes, of lush forests and high cliffs over wild seas. Of tiny winged-lizards, and far larger types of lizards and gigantic winged-lizards that remained high, high in the skies… or the monstrous serpents who dominated the vast seas. But always… crows.
Three-eyed crows.
They watched Mara, followed her. Intentionally or not, the intelligent eyes gleamed at her from amidst inky feathers and the watcher felt sure it was intentional on their part. Watching. Following. Accompanying. Never allowing Mara to be truly alone. There were bits of lore attached to those memories on the crows--their three eyes symbolic of wisdom and hidden knowledge, of reaching between the world of the living and beyond. Legends that combined the birds with the Guardian of Morgan, the Gateway Keeper.
Morgan…
She always felt a pain of… of sadness? Pressure? Guilt? When the name of the asteroid, of its guardian, passed through her mind. She was the guardian of Morgan. One of them. One of countless. Just like the woman leaking red, and Mara. Another would be Morgan next, when her starseed returned to the Cauldron, and was reborn. It was required. It was wanted. There was pain, again. Sorrow. Anger. A desire for that starseed to return, to go to another, someone more capable. Someone who could do more.
But it would still be her. Her starseed. It would still be her. Why had that never been considered?
Something embraced her. Once, it had restrained her, when that wish and desire had consumed everything in flame and pain and sorrow…
But now. It was long since loosened. Always was gentle. Always was protective. But it was an embrace now. Not a restraint. Just waiting. Patient, there.
How long have I been here?
Long enough. Years, the pool answered again, and she looked up from its glass surface. A bird perched on a skeletal tree branch she'd never seen before. A new creation in her mind. Three golden eyes stared down at her, the bird nearly part of the darkness itself that surrounded her.
Long enough, it said again, but this time her mind seemed to converse with her from the three-eyed crow. Or something else spoke to her. Something beyond her floating pool and bank and tree in the darkness. Something beyond the crystalline walls.
She tipped her head back, white mixing with black through her vision, and she could see the darkness give way to crystal, dense and fractured and solid and iridescent and vast and shadowed and far beyond her darkness.
Long enough.
There were fractures, shards, figments, shadows.
She watched as the crystal turned images into kaleidoscopes and fractal patterns, fracturing further, stretching farther. Turning shadows into images and images into shadows. The sound of wind and wild waters broke through the darkness and she realized it was not from a memory, but through the crystal walls.
Long enough.
She felt herself moving, limbs stretching, skin rubbing against crystal that pulled away from her gently. The embrace opened, bit by bit, and she reached through the crystalline wall and it did not stop her. It had been patiently waiting for this. For her. Because it was still her. It was always her. That never changed. Never would. Never could.
Red boots lightly tapped on the smooth crystal and rock that surrounded the crystalline walls--or what once had been. They still stood tall, iridescent and warm to the touch, protective and she could still see the hollow she'd exited. It was still there, looking something like a bed carved out of the crystal till enough of a hollow existed to allow her to sit within its structure, or lay down, and…
Blue eyes looked out over the sea beyond the cliff the crystal sat upon, its structure reaching out over the surface of the tall cliff and mixing with the stone. Or emerged from it. She couldn't quite tell. Tree-like roots or veins of the crystal broke through the stone flesh of the asteroid all around her, stretching down along the plane of open ground away from the cliff. Like a path.
Her smile was gentle as she began to walk, red and purple fabrics blowing around her in the winds, tossing her black hair. White streaks caught the sunlight amongst the dark locks. She could see the remains of what used to be a large fortress--high walls, a keep at the highest point, larger than any other structure within. Beyond it, she could see through the broken walls, remains of a small town. Stables. Other structures. Beyond even that, on the other side of the keep, a wider town lay in ruins. Wood had long since rotted away, though a few particularly stubborn, thick walls and roofs still lingered.
One of many settlements, probably home to one of the great houses of Morgan elites… though she couldn't pinpoint anything familiar about the place from Mara's memories.
Her memories?
That was going to take a bit to consider.
She drew her phone from subspace, pausing to look at all the missed messages, voice mails, calls…
Names she remembered, some she didn't.
Flicking through the screens, she found the Home app, glanced back to the crystal cocoon that had protected her for so long… and hit the button.
It'd been long enough.
