The words of the toast sounded far away, distant as a memory. Lyra's eyes were drawn upward as the burning light of the sun was obstructed, and then it all began. Explosions rocked the world and the barrier that draped the city shook and then finally began to crumble. Figures began to fall from the sky, and Lyra watched them with a curious gaze. Then the gas came, and all around her, the crowds of people began to react as one by one they were cut down either by sword or bullet.
Guns were obnoxiously loud. That one thought broke through to the surface of Lyra's consciousness as she winced as another shot rang out not a far distance from where she stood, drink still in hand. The gas was quickly spreading out to fill the entirety of the garden, moving almost like a living creature, searching out and extending tendrils of whispy greenish-blue mist that warped and surrounded everything it touched.
"What the fuck is going on here?" Naila's voice broke through the errant thoughts, drawing Lyra's attention. The woman was crouched, and though she wasn't breathing heavily her limbs shook ever so slightly as she seemed to struggle to straighten to her full height. Whisps of the smoke clung to her clothing, slowly dissipating but the effects lingered.
"My body isn't moving right." The woman said, raising a shaking hand as if to emphasize, "It's like I tell my legs to move, but it takes too long for them to get the message."
Lyra's brows came together and she looked around at other groups where the gas was thicker. Indeed, wherever the gas touched magic seemed to be affected strangely. Fireballs sputtered into sparks in the air, illusions were broken, and as she looked even magical items seemed to weaken and lose their effectiveness. More men fell from the sky, but as she watched them Lyra saw that they did not use magic themselves, but rather ordinary tools and weapons without magical enhancements. Some wore masks as well. Her thoughts clicked in place as a strange picture began to form.
"Did you find Brenner." Lyra asked softly.
"Yeah, he's over near the fountain. The guy with one arm is with him too."
"Florian?" What was Florian doing at the reception at all, and with Commander Dornkirk no less. He was Zaichari, but Lyra doubted that the two held any sort of comradery.
"I saw Finn as well." Continued Naila, motioning in the bard's general direction, "And that girl with the white hair. I think she's got, good bodyguards. I saw one break one of those masked guys' kneecaps."
Brenner, Florian, Finn and Kala. Lyra searched the sea of green that had spread quickly during that brief exchange, but she could not see Talon nor his family. As her eyes scanned she found her attention drawn toward a tree where a lone man stood, a man with burning embers for eyes.
The song begins, Em'fala. Do you remember how to play it?
A thrill swept through her soul as Lyrielle looked out over the stage that had been prepared. The Dark One had come here for a reason, but why? What was his goal? The obvious was Talon, the incarnation of Arcas and a force that directly opposed what the Dark One stood for. Was this a means to capture the prince? Lyra thought of her discussions with Talon, and with Brenner, and more began to fall into place. A mysterious trip into the Warrens left the Commander suffering a magical blight that seemed to wither and decay him. Then, on the day of the Wedding reception an attack by an unknown group who use a weapon that seemed to dampen magic? It seemed too much of a coincidence, but did that mean the Dark One was here by chance? More importantly, did it really matter?
Do you remember how to play it?
The words echoed in her mind once more. Was she supposed to aid Kalzasi, the prince who was the reborn vessel of Arcas and enemy to her master, or was she meant to aid the attackers to ensure they would succeed in whatever it was they hoped to accomplish? She had sworn an oath to Sahfri to bring Zaichaer to its knees, but that did not mean she had to ensure that Kalzasi itself survived. She and Brenner had shared some moments that Lyra had begun to feel were... different, but her goals were not aligned with his either. If he had orchestrated all of this then was she not meant to oppose it? If she did, would that cause the rest of her carefully laid plans to crumble and fall apart?
The questions swirled in a loop in Lyra's mind, making her hesitate. All things had a solution, one that could be figured out, dissected, and recorded. She was Lyra, a master of multiple world magics and one who controlled her own destiny. She should be able to see through the intents, solve this riddle, discover the reasons why...
Do you remember how to play it?
Sounds of people screaming, bullets in the air, and the swelling tide of gas were a confusing swirl of conflicting stimuli that made Lyra's mind fracture and struggle to comprehend. To Lyrielle though, she could hear it. A faint, nearly unnoticeable melody that underlay the cacophony of tones and screeches. There was a rhythm to it all, and as she watched the gas she realized that it seemed to follow that soundless music too.
We hear the song. Lyrielle whispered in the back of Lyra's mind, her voice washing over the countless buzzing thoughts that had begun to crowd Lyra's thoughts, It is not a complex thing. We know it. Let us sing as we used to, so very, very long ago.
Naila's voice barely cut through the growing whispers of Lyra's mind, and when she looked back Lyra saw one of the men in masks approaching. Naila stood between Lyra and the man, a dagger held in trembling fingers at the ready as the gas began to sweep in around them. There was a burning in Lyra's chest as she saw the man step forward and raise the end of a riffle to aim at Naila's chest. As if in slow motion Lyra reached out and touched the shadows at the man's feet, and with barely a flick of a thought a thin spike of darkness pierced upward straight through the man's chin and out through his skull.
You see, we do remember. Lyrielle purred.
"Go to where Brenner is." Lyra said to Naila, who looked back at her questioningly, "The longer you are in this gas the more your body will fail. Brenner can aid you." It was likely that Brenner would not be attacked, as he was the most likely person to orchestrate this, but Lyra did not say this.
"Alright, what about you?"
"I will follow shortly." Lyra smiled, and for some reason, Naila flinched, "Stay close to Florian as well. I will collect you once all is sorted here."
For a moment Naila looked as if she wished to argue, but after another look into her master's eyes, she nodded once and began slowly walking toward where Brenner and Florian were last located.
Lyrielle hummed softly to herself as she stretched her arms over her head. The gas was closing in, surrounding her and she could feel her body beginning to grow sluggish. Unlike Naila, however, her body did not require world magic to remain functional. The combination of Lyra's essence that permitted every organ and pumped through every blood vessel meant that while she could not move effortlessly, she could still function at a slightly below-average level. It did not really matter though, for the body was just a body. It wasn't who Lyrielle was. It could barely contain her.
Tilting her head back she let out a long breath, black smoke billowing from her lips and falling like fog to the ground around her. It started slow but gathered momentum until it all but gushed out of her in waves, billowing out in a wall of black that pushed against the gas that surrounded her. She had almost forgotten... but not completely. As she spread out Lyrielle felt the mark on her soul glow hot with divine power, and she drew on the growing shadows that were spread by her ever-growing form. She used them, pulled them into herself, solidified herself just enough that her form would not easily dissipate. Her mark resonated with her, for it was a part of her. How had she forgotten that?
The melodies from her rune were faint, but she could hear them still, undertones to the grand song that she could hear beginning to build louder and louder. Then in an instant, she pushed herself out, feeding tendrils of her essence through the glass to become a layer of dark smoke along the ground that encompassed the entirety of the Palace Gardens. It felt... right. She touched every shadow she passed, and with a thousand whispers, she spoke fear of an individual to cast a melody of dark foreboding and unease in the hearts of everyone present.
As she spread out she touched the gas, searched it for meaning. It was so familiar to her, but she could not focus on it now. She felt as Brenner moved through her smoke, and shifted her attention there to see as he threw the projectile. So it was true. He had orchestrated it all. She could do nothing for Talon, but for now...
She crept up as smoke along Florian's body, not fully forming but whispered words so soft that only the one-armed man could hear, "Go with him. We will follow."
As she said this a tendril of herself would flow toward Florian, a whisper waiting for acceptance and would be drawn into the man if he breathed in. She would then turn her focus to the garden at large, trailing from conflict to conflict to incite different emotions each time, preparing for a crescendo when the time came.
