The thin air of the Slag Crown was a knife in Veridia's lungs, each breath a sharp, unsatisfying reminder of the dizzying, thousand-foot drop just inches from her feet. She scrambled down the treacherous rock face, her bare feet finding purchase on ledges no wider than her hand as loose scree skittered into the abyss below. Her body was a map of shallow cuts and deep bruises, a testament to the harpy queen's brutal hospitality. Above, the shrieks of the remaining clutch echoed from the peaks, hungry and furious. She was running on fumes. The potent, clean Essence she'd absorbed from Skara was already leaking away, the elegant fire dimming into the familiar, gnawing ache of the curse.
"Running so soon, dear sister?" Seraphine's shimmering form coalesced beside her, an effortless, infuriating glide that didn't disturb a single pebble. Her gown of woven starlight was a vulgar insult to the grit and blood of the real world. "But the audience was just starting to enjoy the aerial acrobatics! The ratings for that final, desperate submission were simply divine."
Veridia ignored her, gritting her teeth as she focused on her next handhold. To acknowledge the ghost was to give the performance power. She would not. Her fingers, scraped raw, closed around a sharp outcrop of rock just as the first Boon arrived. It wasn't a jarring jolt, but a soft, ethereal light that descended from the heavens, a column of silver luminescence that enveloped her. The light was a warm, soothing balm, smelling faintly of night-blooming jasmine and forgotten memories from her life before. It kissed her skin, sealing the shallow cuts not just with healing magic, but with an aesthetic grace. The grime of the encounter seemed to melt away, and her own skin began to glow with a soft, heartbreaking radiance that made her look both tragic and divine.
*Patron Boon Activated: Skin of Tragic Moonlight (Matron Vesperia).*
A rush of pure, intoxicating vindication surged through her. This was it. The perfect reward from a Patron with taste. She rose slowly, her glowing form radiating an effortless elegance she hadn't felt since she'd left the Court. She shot Seraphine a triumphant smirk, a perfect, calculated expression of superiority. "You see? This is how you command an audience. You give them art, not just cheap spectacle."
Before Seraphine could offer a retort, a second, far more jarring energy slammed into Veridia. It wasn't a gentle caress; it was a physical jolt of raw, untamed chaos, like a lightning strike to her soul that smelled of ozone and bad luck. The world dissolved. Scenery smeared into a sickening kaleidoscope of color, the harpies' shrieks warping into a sound like tearing metal.
A notification, crisp and unwelcome, flashed in her vision. *Patron Boon Activated: Chaotic Teleportation (Lord Kasian).*
The ground vanished. She materialized twenty feet above a bubbling, noxious swamp, the stench of sulfur and decay a physical blow that made her gag. The air was thick, wet, and alive with the buzzing of bloated insects. Below, something with far too many slimy, green tentacles stirred in the murky water, its multiple eyes swiveling up to fix on the glowing woman who had appeared in its sky. She didn't even have time to scream before the world twisted again, wrenching her away with the same brutal indifference.
Her next stop was chaos. She reappeared in the middle of a crowded, dusty market, the sudden blare of a hundred voices and smells a sensory assault. Spices, sweat, and cheap ale clogged the air. Mortals gasped and shouted, pointing at the sudden apparition of a bleeding, glowing, horned woman in rags. A child started to cry. A merchant hawking dried fish dropped his wares. A hulking guard in the silver-and-blue of the Coalition roared, "Demon!" and his sword hissed from its sheath. He took a heavy step toward her, his face a mask of shocked fury, but she was already gone.
The world solidified into a nightmare of vertigo. She was on a swaying rope bridge, spanning a chasm so deep the bottom was lost in shadow. The wind howled, a physical force that tore at her rags and threatened to rip her from her precarious footing. The ropes were frayed, groaning with every gust, and far below, she could see birds circling, mere specks against the dark.
Seraphine was laughing. A genuine, hysterical peal of delight that was more terrifying than any monster's roar. "Oh, this is marvelous! The variety! The pacing! Kasian has outdone himself!"
The two forces warred within her. The elegant, steady glow of Vesperia's gift, a harmonious melody of magic, was suddenly assaulted by a screeching, static-filled energy from Kasian's. The sublime silver light began to flicker and stutter, glitching erratically like a faulty tavern sign. Her newfound grace was shattered as another chaotic teleport shunted her sideways, her glowing form blinking out of existence and reappearing a foot higher in the air. She dropped with a grunt, nearly twisting her ankle. The tragic beauty had become a pathetic, glitching light show.
*Not a player,* a frantic voice screamed in Veridia's mind. *A toy. A broken, bleeding toy for them to throw around.* The rage was so pure, so white-hot, it almost burned out the nausea. Almost.
The final teleportation was the most violent yet. It didn't smear the world; it shattered it. She felt a final, bone-jarring slam, and then, blessed stillness.
Veridia collapsed onto hard, cold stone, retching. The world spun, a dizzying carousel of swamp stench, market crowds, and endless sky. The silence that followed was more unnerving than the chaos. It was absolute. The usual night sounds—the chirping of insects, the distant call of a predator—were entirely absent.
As her vision swam back into focus, she realized the silvery light painting the ground around her was still emanating from her own skin. It was steady now, the chaotic interference gone, leaving only Vesperia's gift.
Seraphine sighed, a sound of dreamy contentment. "How exquisitely poetic. A fallen star, illuminating her own beautiful tragedy. Vesperia will adore this."
*A beacon,* Veridia thought, the anger returning, cold and sharp. *They've turned me into a damned beacon.*
The glow, however, served a purpose beyond making her a target. It illuminated her prison. She was in a hidden, circular grove, walled in on three sides by a sheer, unscalable cliff face. And carved directly into the rock before her was an archway. The massive, unadorned entrance to a stone labyrinth. Its darkness was so profound it seemed to swallow the light her own body cast, a square of absolute nothingness.
Her mind raced, a frantic debate between the prideful princess and the desperate survivor. The glowing skin meant staying in the open was suicide. Every predator for miles would see her. The labyrinth offered shelter, but her encounter with the harpy queen proved that even the most remote sanctuary could be a pre-arranged stage. The Vex princess in her rebelled at the thought of running blindly into another potential prison, but the starving survivor screamed that there was no other choice. She stood frozen before the dark maw, a glowing statue of indecision, trapped between the certainty of the hunt and the terror of the unknown.
Then, a voice emerged from the maze. It was not a shriek or a roar. It was a deep, calm rumble, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the stone itself, devoid of malice or hunger. A sound of immense weight and patience.
"The lost are welcome. The hunted may find shelter. Enter."