24.0

For the first time in many months, Zyrdicia was aware how desperately she still needed Azriok. Repulsed by everything mortal now, she had a ravenous craving for Azriok's infernal magic.

She was comfortable admitting to herself that she needed Azriok to unleash the full power of his soul inside her body. She also needed his army of demons. But she was far less comfortable admitting to herself that, more than anything, she needed to feel Azriok's affection right now. She wanted to feel his presence soothe the bitter ache in her psyche. When he was near, it was easy to forget the mortal who tormented her.

She went to the cave to visit Azriok in the newly opened rift between Karteia and Hell every night. They worked magic together until her body could take no more, and she was on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion. She reveled in the attention that the Sephiroth Lord showered upon her. He convinced her that she was finally growing into her own godhood.

At dawn each day, she emerged from her time with Azriok semi-conscious, dazed and feeling decidedly un-godlike. The magical hangover left her body overloaded and weary. She could hardly even stand on her own, much less hike down the frigid, ice-covered mountain back to Geshna or transport herself anywhere magically.

Tristan Ildewynd, Azriok's priest, always managed to get her out of the cave, and back to Geshna. Then she rested in the comfort of his flat in town. But despite her weariness, she refused to sleep. She convinced herself that since she was not really mortal, she did not need to sleep. She instead chose to lie awake, staring off into space at nothing, biding her time until she went to see Azriok again.

The magical exhaustion was accumulating in her flesh with each visit to the cave. She tried to use the exhaustion to sever herself from material reality. She hoped it would dull her pain. But each time she left the Hell Window, the cruel loneliness returned to cut through her like a knife of hardened steel.

24.0.1

Tristan was perceptive enough to recognize that his own efforts at tending to Zyrdicia in the aftermath of her visits with Azriok were incompetent. For all his bravado, he was dismayed by her present state. She was nothing like the jovial, glittering woman with whom he had enjoyed playful banter at Castle Blackpool during her engagement party. The woman before him now was so withdrawn into herself that she was beyond the reach of conversation. She was nearly catatonic with weariness and sadness. He began to worry that she might expire in his charge, in between her visits to Hell Window. The thought of what Azriok would do to him if that happened terrified him.

Tristan called the only person he could think of whom he could trust with the secret of the queen's presence in his abode in Geshna - Lady Andrea Crandall. He informed her that Zyrdicia had not eaten nor slept in a week, and he begged her to help him take care of the queen.

Andrea was connected enough to Karteia's establishment to know that the Dirk Blackpool was using every resource at his disposal to discover Zyrdicia's location in Geshna. Andrea had heard that information on the queen's whereabouts was worth tens of thousands of kolnas, now that there were no royal troops in the city to spy for the Blackpool Crown. She found the situation delicious.

She was delighted to be in a position to be useful to the queen. If there was to be a civil war, she had no doubt which side she intended to serve. Tristan's plea for help gave her an opportunity to prove that to Zyrdicia. Andrea understood better than most that Zyrdicia, despite the adoration she engendered in the kingdom, was still a virtual stranger to the land. For the coming war, she would need Karteians in whom she could confide. And Andrea intended to make certain that she would be one of them.

Andrea was unconcerned with the supernatural circumstances of Zyrdicia's exhaustion. She did not entirely trust Tristan, but she knew better than to ask too many questions about it.

Practical and intuitive, Andrea spent the time talking to Zyrdicia, telling her stories about growing up in Karteia, about the old summer festivals before the war where all the knights in Aperans had competed in Saris's court. As she talked she brushed and braided Zyrdicia's hair, fussed over her like a lady-in-waiting.

Zyrdicia found the sound of Andrea's voice and her presence soothing. Like Portia, this woman sensed that under the circumstances, the appropriate thing was merely to provide company, and cheerfully to be ignored while doing it.

The attention kept Zyrdicia from feeling totally lost in a wilderness of nothingness somewhere between this world and Hell. She sometimes anchored her consciousness to the music of Andrea's voice without listening to a single word. The mental diversion was comforting.

Zyrdicia's loneliness became acute each time her consciousness grazed material reality. Each trip to the Hell Window made it worse. Surrounded by strangers as she was, the loneliness grew until it felt like monster devouring her entire essence. Unable to release anguish in tears, it consumed her.

A full week of utter misery passed before she remembered that somewhere, she still had friends who cared about her. The thought of Lyr's tropical climate brought half a smile to her lips. She had not been warm in a very long time. The space inside the Hell Window was chilling. Outside, Geshna was blanketed in ice. It felt as though her whole world had fallen into an insufferable winter that would last for an eternity.

Reluctantly, she decided to visit Magnus instead of Azriok for a night. She hoped that her vampiric assassin would hold her for a short while, and if he had recently fed, perhaps she would have the illusion of warmth in his arms.