With a grunt and an unceremonious drop to the floor below, Tempesti managed to squirm her way into the palace, the debris obstructing the entrance shifting further toward the ground. Though some part of her had always been skeptical of the kneejerk reaction that drove her to label this building a palace, once inside it was difficult to deny. The very stones declared with absolute clarity that they, and by extension their masters, were of supreme importance.

Supreme importance, supreme hypocrisy, supreme pomposity.

A wave of noxious disgust bearing a bitter edge of fear swelled within her. She might not remember this place, but second by second it became clearer that her starseed did. It felt almost as though it writhed in the nebulous space in which it resided, ancient memories needling at the periphery of her mind. She shook her head in the hope of knocking loose this growing unease, to dismiss the feeling before it could overwhelm her. The mixed success in this endeavor would have to do for now because if she stood still for too long the thoughts would catch her and if they caught her, who could say how long they’d root her in place?

The idea of clearing the doorway entirely was tempting. Beyond tempting. But Tempesti could only hazard vague guesses as to which piece supported what and she found the idea of being crushed under a pile judgmental slabs of rock less than appealing. At least the planet seemed to share her interest in cleaning up. Hopefully it would only be a matter of time before she could make the entry useable again. Not that she had any intention of spending much time here. Despite the ghost of magnificence that lingered in the palace, everything about the place made her skin crawl. It was all too easy to imagine whispered voices from the shadows, flickers of movement at the edges of her vision.

Half a memory bobbed in the murky darkness, only ever showing one small piece at a time, allowing her maddeningly brief glimpses as she sank into the feeling that the past and present were almost dissolving into one another.

Soft voices, inhuman voices, breezing past her-not-her ears. It was-wasn’t imaginary. Not here-there. Not now-then.
Whispers and murmurs trying to edge their way into her. Through her ears. Mouth. Eyes. Pores.
It was inevitable.
It had always been inevitable.

With a violent start Tempesti was within herself again, the sensations of someone else’s body already fading into an unpleasant echo. She wasn’t certain if housing Elysia’s memories would ever be a comfortable experience. She wasn’t sure if she wanted them to be. Shouldn’t it feel unnatural to remember being in a different body? Living a different life? Dying?

She could no longer mince words around it, could no longer hide. Knew that it was pointless to try.

She’d felt everything up to the end itself. Her first trip to Tempesti. She didn’t think she knew what it was to die. Not really. But she’d gotten close enough to touch it.