The Keraunos palace complex didn’t show much change from Tempesti’s previous visit, at least not visually, but it certainly felt different. Whether that stemmed from an actual tangible change in the energy of the place or from her own excitement was a matter of debate, but it felt as though the air vibrated with possibility. Setting down her rucksack by her little campsite she began unpacking. A pair of small folding lap desks to supplement the bits of debris that had served as her tables during her previous visit. She couldn’t replace them entirely, a proper table wouldn’t exactly fit on her bicycle, but these would do a better job as drafting tables than any of those uneven stone surfaces. To emphasize this point she laid out her sketchbooks and pencils, placing her improved maps at the top of the stack. (Note to self: bring stash of writing utensils to keep here.)

Without refrigeration, she obviously had to limit anything perishable she brought with her, but that didn’t stop her from bringing along a few fresher things to test her brand new clearance sale camping stove. It wouldn’t do to charge at the Primordial Tower on an empty stomach. A small chicken breast, marinated overnight, sealed in a small plastic container, and cooled by an icepack in an insulated lunch bag (note to self: wash and sanitize bag) served as a pretty solid debut meal for the little stove. Placing the soiled containers, plate, and cutlery in plastic bags, she carefully returned them to the rucksack and hauled herself to her feet. No excuse for lingering on a lunch break when there was work to do, after all. The ropes and chalk markings from her previous visit remained where she’d left them, if this place was haunted the ghosts were very polite. While laying these navigation aids Tempesti hadn’t paid any particular attention to the corridors through which she sped, but now their decrepit beauty drew her eye. Chipped, dusty mosaics glittered beneath her feet, swirling and spiraling botanicals intertwined with unfamiliar animals, watched over by the ancient frescoes and stained glass windows that gave only the barest hint of their original beauty. An outstretched hand here, a steely eye there, the edges of a feathered wing, the suggestion of a garden explosive with the sheer force of the life within it. Maybe these would come back too, eventually. She could always hope.

Brushing her fingers lightly across the exposed plaster as she walked, Tempesti got lost in the tiled patterns beneath her feet. Curtains of dirt and grime parted every few yards to reveal the true depth of the mosaic’s colors, the golden accents highlighting each natural form with their soft gleam. Elegant gilt-framed stained glass lanterns hung from the ceiling, a barely perceptible glow returning to several of the ancient crystals resting within. Not enough that it would illuminate the hallway as far as she could tell, but she definitely hadn’t noticed anything similar on her previous visit. The soft crash of the surf beyond the walls drifted through the frame of a shattered stained glass window, tightening across her chest in an anxious haze.

Elysia’s body ached under the weight of the armor, too heavy against inexperienced skin even wearing the padded garment intended to protect her from the worst of it. Too heavy and too hot on her slight frame, the breastplate’s gilding an absurdity in the dying light as Basileus Archelaus’ flagship glided across the bay. He paced across the deck, his rage a churning storm tangible across the ship. Despite the soldiers who refused to meet her gaze he never allowed her out of arm’s reach. Not that she would have gone anywhere, even if the metal in which she stood wouldn’t have dragged her to the bottom, this was her duty. Her duty to her world. Her duty to the past. She would not abandon it to the chaos he described. Archelaus looked up from his pacing, flashed her a strained smile he most likely intended to be reassuring, but fell short when set against the smoke rising from the city. “This is what you’re here to stop. This is the moment to prove that you are more than what you are.” He gripped her arm firmly, she knew that her arm would bear the red impressions of his fingers after he withdrew them. “When we dock, you will walk behind me. Do not stray from my path. The people are afraid and your presence in the city will only escalate that. I’m sorry, but we had no choice but to bring you to the mainland. You know I wouldn’t ask this of you otherwise, but you are the only weapon we have capable of bringing this to an end.” Her throat tightened as he spoke and she threw a desperate glance back toward the island as though it could keep the city’s skyline from drawing closer.

The soft tinkling of an object sent rolling by her black-leathered foot drew her back into her body. Her current body. The one without streaks of purple and blue where ill-fitting armor pressed too tightly against the padding, without dread so heavy it took a physical form within her chest. Bending forward, she picked up an odd little bell. A tiny charm dangled from its round form and a smile crossed her face. Its appearance didn’t match the rest of the palace and she suspected that it came from someplace else. She had no idea where of course, but it was a pretty little thing. The gentle ringing that came forth washed over her in a wave of strange comfort that banished the leaden fear that Elysia always left behind after her visits. Its sweet clarity pulling her through the haze and back into the corridor leading to the Primordial Tower. The door’s crystal gleamed softly in the dim light, waiting to respond to the touch of her magic. Her magic. The planet’s magic. No one could take that from her.