She hadn't noticed the pain in her last moments until slowly and precisely it was stripped away until it was gone. It was the most natural thing in the world that she should feel it no more. Everything was white. She looked around at the billowing wisps of white cotton clouds around her and was puzzled. Something was wrong yet it brought with it no anxiety. She reached out her hand to touch it. It separated easily to release a flurry of colour to her. That was strange. She had lived in shades of grey for years now. Her hand went to her cheek. The scars were gone and her eyelashes tickled her fingertips. It was a strange sensation. She knew she should be happy. Something wonderful had happened that her eyes were back in her head and she could see - and it wasn't that she was unhappy about it, just that everything was as it should be. There was no cause for great joy anymore than there was for great sorrow. She looked again at the blur of colours until they settled into shape. That was the first twinge of regret to penetrate through the haze that detached her. More than anything she hated to see them cry.
The voice should have startled her.
"Moskva Koranov?"
She turned from her view and the wisps knitted back together blocking it from her. There was a new source of colour now in the youthful and strong man that stood before her. His dress was of a much older fashion than hers - which she noticed only now were no longer the bloodied travelling clothes they had been only moments ago. His hair fell down in loose brown ringlets and his eyes were perhaps a paler green than her own but with an equal intensity. He looked behind her to where the gap was no longer to be found.
"You left behind a strong family. Do not worry for them."
She looked around to where he was looking then back at him. She nodded. "I know. I've relied on that strength a long time. But I feel I should not be able to cast away that worry so easily."
He smiled at her. "You are still disoriented from the manner in which you were taken. But it will pass in time. You did well to come to your peace in the little time you had."
"Even in the very worst of times my Gregori needed only to hold me to bring me peace."
"Then you have been a very lucky woman, Moskva Koranov. Luckier than most."
"I know that too."
They looked at one another for a long moment before finally he held out his hand to her. "Come. I am to have the honour of being your guide and guardian on the journey before you."
She looked back again at where the hole had been. "I can't stay here, can I?"
"This is Nowhere. It is not a place to belong. The bonds of the world behind us are too strong in here where there is nothing else to hold us. In time you may learn to traverse it safely without being drawn, but right now you must leave here. Leave the world be. It must learn to exist without you and you without it."
"I feel like I know you. Who are you?"
He smiled as she accepted his hand and they began to walk. "My name is Alexander Glantri." He waited for her to look up at him with surprise flooding her face. "But you can call me Uncle Alex."
Moskva blinked. "You're serious."
"You know it to be true, my dear niece. You have learnt more about me than I knew myself. I never knew I had a brother, much less that he began such a fine family."
"It was a surprise to me too. And to Lillian."
Alexander sighed as they continued to walk through the mists which were now starting to thin. "Sweet Lily. It is what my true father called her before the tragedies. Her soul is lost forever now but her torment is over. You are to be thanked."
"I did nothing. She escaped by her own actions."
"But with pride in her heart for the family you represented. And I know you are not one to underestimate the value of truth."
"You seem to know a lot about me."
The mists were gone and they were walking along a rocky ledge. There was a large drop to one side and a sheer wall to the other. They both kept walking as if it was the most natural thing to do under the circumstances. "I do, Moskva. Did you know there are those back in the world who believe you and I share the same soul?"
"Prospero did have his theory."
Alexander waved a hand. "And nothing more. The storyteller saw in those events a good story to tell. It is true that we have both known a common purpose and in our mortal lives we came of the same blood. And now we have suffered the same fate. This is all enough for me to understand you as you have demonstrated you understand me. That is the extent of our bond."
Moskva stopped short just before they were to enter a cave cut from the rock face. "Not entirely, Uncle. There is a soul that links us."
"I did not wish to bring that up so soon. You have not yet discarded all the pain you bring with you."
"I've lived with it for a long time."
"And now you're dead. You will have to let it go."
"How?"
He smiled to her kindly and waved into the cave. "That is why I came to meet you. There is a way to go yet."
Inside the cave was pitch darkness. Nothing at all to see. Moskva stopped and stood.
"I should have brought my cane."
Alexander spoke from a distance ahead of her. "You never needed it. Keep walking."
"What if I fall?"
"Your cane never touched the ground from the time you were told your son was in the Beggars' Court until you drew your sword in front of Ratibus. You did not need it then and you do not need it now. This should be the simplest of tests for you, niece. To trust in yourself."
"I didn't realise I was going to be tested." She began to walk forward.
"It is what you understand. You have tested yourself constantly since the day you first pulled yourself to your feet."
"So you're saying I created this?"
"It is more complicated than that, but yes. The journey manifests itself in a way you understand."
"Great. Just how many of these tests are there?"
Alexander stepped out into daylight and a flowery meadow. He waited for her to join him before answering. "You set yourself high standards, Moskva Koranov."
She rolled her eyes at him then looked around her. There was the spark of delight as she bent down to pick a small blossom from the grass. She stood up again, sniffed it, then let it blow from her hand in the light breeze. She took the arm offered to her and they resumed walking.
"Don't you sometimes wish you could go back?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Doesn't it bother you when bad things happen to Glantri? Don't you want to put things right?"
"It is not my place to alter affairs in that world any longer. And it will surprise you how little attention you will pay to them. Time does not work the same."
"But you know what is happening. You knew I spoke with your mother."
Alexander sighed and patted her hand. "She was my mother. There are things you cannot help but to know." He stopped and stood Moskva in front of him. "Let me demonstrate. A month has passed in the world since you left it."
"That's ridiculous, it was only moments ago."
"All life is nothing but a series of moments, Moskva. Theirs have been plentiful. Now tell me, do you know what is happening there?"
"No."
"Now tell me, how is your son?"
"I don't know..." She frowned. "Wait. He is... angry."
"At who?"
"At me. Boris. Alphaks. His cousin. Eva. But mostly himself." She looked up at her guide. "He shouldn't feel that way. What can I do?"
"You can have faith in him that he'll work it out."
"But I'm his mother, I should help him."
Alexander smiled. "You already have. You taught him everything he needs to get through this. He has to do it himself just as you cannot walk for him."
"It wasn't I that taught him to walk, Alexander."
"No? There are no other footsteps he follows. Trust that they will lead him well."
"I can't trust in that. I can only trust that he'll know when to make footsteps of his own."
Alexander chuckled and resumed walking. "Then there is nothing for you to fear and your concerns for the world are answered."
"As simple as that?" She followed after him.
"Why complicate things?" He dropped from sight.
Moskva ran over to where he had been and skidded to a halt just where the grass stopped. She looked down into a deep chasm. His voice drifted up.
"What's keeping you?"
"What's down there?"
"The path of course. Now hurry. There are those who might take advantage of your hesitation."
Moskva immediately straightened up and turned around. She caught a flicker of movement but nothing more. She was already starting to walk in that direction when Alexander called to her again.
"Leave it. You're not an investigator any more."
She sighed and turned back to the drop. "Who's out here?"
"Agents."
He had barely said the word when two figures stepped toward her. Her hand automatically went for her sword but it was not there. Instead she folded her arms and studied them. They wore a symbol. It was one of the last things she had seen. Alphaks.
"What do you want?"
There was a warning tone on Alexander's voice. "Moskva don't talk to them. Just come down."
"We're here to see the job is fully done. Our master would have let you be but you, your Undead friend, and your niece killed all but one of our people. You understand revenge, don't you?"
Moskva smiled. "Yes. I do." And before they could do a thing, she jumped.
Her feet crunched down in the snow but she stayed on them. Alexander was shaking his head but looking relieved. "You had me worried."
"Did you really believe I would fight them?"
"I did not know. Do you understand yet why you were killed?"
She frowned. "I never considered it until now. It happened fast. I imagine I am disliked by all those who would have wanted their clerics in Glantri. Much as you were."
"Indeed. But why Alphaks?"
"I have on occasion allied myself with Boris. That's it, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so. There is a storm brewing there and you unfortunately got in the way at the wrong time. Boris should have been more careful when he sought you out again."
"As should I. He didn't know it would lead to this."
"You forgive him?"
"What is there to forgive?"
Alexander smiled and pointed his arm out along the road barely visible under the snow. "Let us continue."
They walked along in silence until they passed an oak tree twisted in on itself. The snow was dropping off and Alexander picked a leaf from a lowered branch. He wiped the couple of snowflakes from it and handed it to Moskva.
"It's a sign. We're nearly there."
She took it from him and studied it. Her eyes were still focused on its structure when she spoke. "What's waiting for me, Uncle Alex?"
"Are you worried?"
"Uneasy. You know I've been here before."
"Yes. But you have never travelled. That's why we need to keep going. You will be safer the further you come with me."
"Safe from what?"
"It is inevitable that our nation will cry out for your return. Most people realise you cannot go back."
"Most."
"You understand."
"And if I am needed?"
Alexander offered her his hand. "As I was needed? You were there to take my place."
She took his hand and pushed the leaf in her pocket as they resumed walking. "You make it sound like we did it all singlehanded."
"We both know that's not true. And it is a lesson that has not been lost." He pointed across to the horizon. "Look."
She looked where he pointed. It was utterly amazing. Reds and pinks and purples attached the sky to the line of hills. The sun was bold in its dying colours and it was almost as if a finger or purple cloud was reaching back towards her. Moskva gripped hold of Alexander's arm.
"It's beautiful. I haven't seen it in so many years."
"That's why you see it now. But you still knew beauty."
"You don't have to tell me that, Uncle. I was happier than I ever imagined I could be again. I know the beauty and the value of that."
"Of course you do. But it is good that you can say it."
She gave him a puzzled look but he was already walking. She followed.
He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stood by it until she had entered the great hall. Only then did he step forward and let it swing shut behind them.
"Wow." Moskva was turning very slowly on her heels to take in their new surroundings. It was a long hall decorated with tapestries and old paintings. Intricate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Occasionally a drop of wax would fall from them to the woven carpet below. A spark of magical energy would remove it forever. "Where is this?"
"The Palace of Doors."
"I see. I have to find the right one to go through?"
"You already know where you have to go, Moskva. It's almost time."
A couple of sentries walked across the corridor where it opened into a larger chamber several feet ahead of them. Moskva took a step forward, then stopped. She looked back to where Alexander stood.
"You're not coming?"
"I'll be here when you're done. I'm afraid I am not allowed guide you in here. But I can continue to guard. You will not be interrupted."
"I feel I should be scared."
"Fear is a figment of mortality. Remember that strength is part of the soul."
Moskva nodded and turned back. She walked forward. She was tempted to look back but she held it off until she reached the end of the corridor. She glanced quickly before entering the main chamber. Alexander had the head of something she did not recognise impaled on his sword. She quickly continued.
The large chamber was even more spectacular with more elaborate chandeliers and fancier tapestries woven with colours that could only be the result of magic. She stopped to look at one, almost mesmerised by the patterns that seemed to move. She was about to reach out and touch it when she stopped.
"I have to keep moving."
She turned her back on it to come face to face with a sentry. His expression was mean as he sneered at her. "Where are you going, Miss?"
It had never been an easy question. She blinked and hesitated. "I'm going... I have to..."
He yawned. "Do you know where you're going?"
She suddenly pulled herself to her full height. It was still shorter than the sentry but it was more difficult now for him to look down his nose at her. She knew.
"Yes I do. I'm going to the Throne Room."
He stepped back and nodded, then pointed to a small unattractive door out of the chamber. "Through there. You may take no weapons."
"That's alright. I brought none with me."
He raised only an eyebrow and stood out of her way.
Moskva crossed the hall to where he pointed. The door opened before she reached it. Everything sparkled when she looked inside. More magic, more colour, more everything. She stepped through the door and shielded her eyes against it. A woman's voice boomed across.
"No weapons may be brought inside!"
She looked around for the source but could see none. It sounded like it came from beyond where the most sparkles were. It was too bright to see. It had to be the throne.
"I bring none."
The pain started. She fell to her knees and clutched her stomach.
"No weapons!"
"I don't have any!" She squeezed her eyes tight shut and tried to stand. Another wave knocked her back to the ground.
"Are you still so blind, Moskva Koranov?"
"I don't understand. My sword - all of them, they're gone."
"You carry more than your sword. Do you not remember? You always used it as a weapon and once that was even literal. You even swore that next time you would win!"
"I don't know what you..." She looked up, then very slowly pulled herself to her feet. The pain tried to pull her back down but she fought against it until she was standing. "Next time I would win because I have all of his and mine too."
"Can you let it go?"
"I don't know. Who are you?"
Something in the bright light started to take shape in the form of a person coming closer. It spoke to her in a much more gentle voice.
"I am No One. Usurped. Will you let it go?"
Moskva opened her hand. Several tiny balls of light twinkled back at her. She nodded and several of them drifted away, slowly at first, then faster once certain of their release. They flew to the now swirling lights around the throne that was slowly becoming visible. She shivered.
"There's more."
The woman was almost out of the light.
"I've held it a long time." She looked down to where the rest blinked at her, waiting for her word. She sighed. "But I have no need for it now. Go. All of you." The lights darted away. She thought she might even have heard them laugh.
"How do you feel?"
"Light."
"Good." And then the woman was by her side and examining her hand. She looked up at Moskva who took an involuntary step back.
"Tania? You shouldn't be here."
She smiled and released Moskva's hand. "Your niece came into your life when you most needed a daughter. That is why you always saw her. But this will be the last time."
Moskva looked into her own eyes. "Leyna."
"Not her either. I might have been for a short time. For as long as I was useful in having you protect me. Us. But the fate that awaited me if my body had come of age... I was not alone. The soul you know as Halzunthrum would have destroyed me and there is nothing you could have done to prevent it but what you did. You had the dreams. You know you were told the truth."
"I know. But it didn't stop it..."
"Hurting?" She picked up Moskva's other hand and opened it. A ball of light sat contentedly in the palm of her hand. "There is nothing more to hurt for. You saved me from torment, torture, and eventual extinction. You destroyed an evil that has haunted your world too long. And you have used this well to bring justice to your land. But you do not need it here, nor can you continue if you do not let it go."
Moskva looked down at her hand then back at the soul. "What will become of you?"
She smiled. "My chance will come again and I will take it with the strength that even my brief time as your child has granted me. Now go. Do what you have to do."
Moskva nodded and kissed the soul's cheek. "Be good." She walked past her and into the swirling lights right up the steps to the throne. It sat in all its prominence and elegance with the exception of an ugly skull that rested on the left arm. Moskva picked it up in her unoccupied hand and brought it up to her for closer investigation. The eyeless sockets stared back.
"No More."
She dropped the skull on the ground and crushed it under her boot heel without even looking. As she opened her other hand, she smiled. The light started to glitter brighter. She turned her hand over so that it fell on the plush cushion. It bounced twice, then settled. Then it became brighter. The energy from it grew and grew, the aura of brightness expanded until Moskva could see nothing else. It engulfed the entire throne room and possibly the entire palace... she shielded her eyes but it did little good. She was about to cry out when she realised it didn't hurt. Slowly she opened her eyes.
Alexander stood before the wrought iron gate and smiled at her kindly. "We're here."
"I hope you didn't have too much trouble. At the palace."
"You will be allowed what you deserve, Moskva. Trust that that will be seen to."
He began to undo the catch on the gate.
"Will I see you again once I go in there?"
He opened the gate and pushed it out, then came back to her and took her hand. "If you wish it. I will not be far. Come. No more hesitation." He stepped forward and she followed.
They were barely through the gate when he stopped and raised her hand to his lips.
"It has been a pleasure, my dear niece. Be well." He let her go and stepped backwards away from her.
"Uncle Alex? Where are you going? Thank you!" He winked back at her then disappeared. She found herself quite alone so looked around her. Everything was grey. Her hand went with a yet remaining instinct to her eyes. They were there and the scars were not. She tried to touch the grey. It melted beneath her touch. The grey dissolved and strings of colour came in one by one until she was standing outside a low stone house. Smoke billowed from the chimney and the bright curtains welcomed her in. She took one step on the path and the door flung open.
"Moskva! My precious little girl!"
She ran the rest of the way and straight into her father's arms. He swirled her off the ground and around as easily as he had done when she was a child and he was as young and handsome as he looked now. Finally he put her down and looked her over. It gave her time to put her hand in her pocket and take out the oak leaf. She handed it to him.
"I missed you Papa."
He laughed as he took it and kissed her head. "Come on. If we keep your mother waiting any longer we'll both be in trouble."
"We'll have no more of that."
The voice came from the doorway where a woman leaned against the doorpost.
Markus Koranov wrapped an arm around his daughter and brought her forward. "No need for introductions. I believe you two have met, if briefly."
Moskva nodded, kissed her father, then freed herself. "Yes. But I plan to stay a little longer this time."
And suddenly she was in her mother's arms. Tania Koranov kissed her head. "Welcome home, baby. Welcome home."
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