Sigil: City of Doors

The room felt painfully empty.

Only the hearthstones glimmered under the fires of the roasting logs. There were no other lights to speak of. Outside, the footsteps of midnight Harmonium patrols would march by, sounding hollow and sharp. And curled tightly in fetal form beneath a heap of sheets lay our present protagonist.

She drew herself together more closely and began picking with her tail at a seam in one of the pillows. Thoughts drifted from one to the next, unsettled. Some thoughts lingered on the immediate disappointment of playing host to a partner-less bed, and others on the machinations and plots of herself and those she chose to surround herself with.

Several came to mind.

The first, was that of "Marius Darktale" and his recent escape from her scrutiny; she had only herself to blame. The man was meant to be a tool--perhaps even a sacrifice--in achieving the relic which Vorr Zgotar was seeking.

Sweet Andrew, the capricious warlock, had been given the secret knowledge that "Marius" still lived, but only for the purpose that he keep vigil over the recently resurrected mage. After all, Vex had spent a fortune in diamonds and time to bring "Marius" to life again and she wasn't about to let him slip away.

But such precautions were in vain. Andrew held no loyalty to her, and could not be trusted. The very moment that an opportunity arose for him to be the most damaging, he took it, and spilled the secret of "Marius'" new identity.

It was a set back, and that was frustrating. Her hands curled into the sheets, gripping them so tightly that they wrinkled like an accordion.

But Vorr was not without plans. He had a new assignment for the temptress that would require considerably more finesse. She just needed time...

Vex still had little notion about why Vorr so desperately wanted this relic of his, but she knew that if he wanted it, that she must want it more.

That was the wonderful thing about mortals. Their lives were so short that their ambitions in life knew no limits; and because of this, Vex found it profitable to learn of their desires, for their dreams were an excellent measure by which to gauge the value of things.

Her hand relaxed. The room was still empty. A sneaking shiver crawled along her shoulders.

She thought of Shardek, the man who had been with her since childhood.

He had ambition once, long before she'd met him, but that had been stolen along with his freedom. As punishment, he was sentenced to serve her and for over fifty years he had performed his duties well, without complaint and with precision.

He was the epitome of grace and good manners--of how a servant should be. If it were raining, he held the parasol to keep her dry. If it were mealtime, he instinctively catered to her. And if she wanted him for intimacy, he pampered her in ways she did not deserve.

She never felt want for anything, and she never took that for granted.

Unknown even to Shardek, he was the reason she'd been exiled to Sigil in the first place. Vex had broken into an abyssal vault in an attempt to steal something precious--the key to Shardek's memories--but she was caught, cursed, and banished.

Now, months later, she'd cast off the burden of her punishment, but in doing so had sacrificed her only claim to Shardek. He had been her warden, but no more.

The alufiend sprawled out along her bed, pushing her heels into her satiny cocoon. Fabric valleys grew and stretched beneath her limbs until she finally relented and lay still upon the sheets again. But the room was still empty, and she alone, without even Shardek to occupy her.

A paper note lay open on the pillow nearby. At such close distance, she could still make out the floral printing, and the cursive ink running across the page.

The words stuck out:

"You choose your friends unwisely."

Vex smiled to herself.

Charming. But I haven't any friends.

(( Edited above: for clarity, and lack of redundancy! ))

Vex turned in her bed that night, alone.

Again.

It was becoming a chronic condition, this solitude. And she felt it gnaw at her senses, like maggots slurping up flesh from a rotted ear. It disturbed.

And yet, the silence was refreshing.


-----


The metal-barbed arm of crimson jerked back with a snap. The blade sunk in. And blood gooshed down in torrents. It splattered her nude, pristine legs, but between the humid Beastland breezes and the overwhelming sensation of suspense, the wet went unnoticed.

Ceszar's body dropped to the ground, thudded against the lawn of the grove before her, and then went still. Already, the impressions of his last loving touches had begun to fade from her skin.

"Two more," she thought, as her golden eyes drew lines up to the knight before her.

The newest crystal spun above her finger, poised upon a perfect, vertical axis.

As it turned, the facets glinted, and upon them she caught brief flashes of herself: a visage of lucious red lips, rosy cheeks, pert horns, and a crown of scarlet locks. The reflection was a rapturous one, even in slivers. This was the face of the temptress, whose inclinations were carnal and corrupting. The kind of person that an indecent man might lust for.

As the gem turned again, a different woman stared upon the facets. A woman of chopped blond hair, fair in face, with painted lids, and skin near pale as snow. This woman smiled, having a face full of simplicity and contentedness, and one inclined to honest laughter and caring. The kind of person that a decent man might love.

For a while, she let the glamor remain, and continued to stare upon the snippets of Kalina Sensbane rotating over the gem. Though assuming the woman's form had been against her better judgment, she had learned several interesting things, and no doubt altered the course of events. Somehow.

The dalliance with Domiscus had been admittedly enjoyable; he was bright, and possessed of a fierce protective nature. But he was also daring. He described dabbling with a particular substance as a catalyst. But for what?

Then Ceszar; she had not known him to be so devoted a friend. Such concepts seemed unlike him. Yet still, he lingered in the Sensbane home, even going so far as to extend their family an invitation into his own abode. Why, to grow closer to Jach, that he may sooner slay the man?

Legault had been curious as well. He was reserved and noble--when he wasn't drinking. And through it all, his loathing for her held such depth that she had to admire it. Yet despite his convictions, he was still a man at heart, susceptible to the gentle sound of a woman's earnest apology.



These thoughts fell silent as she studied the gem in her grasp.

This was the third fragment, and three like it remained in Raifael's possession.

Soon, the phantom would be whole.

Two arms extended out before the mirror, bearing aloft a chain of silver and diamonds. Inset upon the pendant lay a deep blue sapphire, of such radiance that when the light caught it, something within the refractions seemed to stir, alive.

The woman brought the pendant to her lips and kissed it softly.

”Soon, His gates shall be sundered…Only the multitude remains.” Then she fastened the pendant about her throat.

A pair of hands joined upon the womanÂ’s waist, and a set of eyes loomed into the mirror, just beside her own. They were absent of expression, yet as deep and unyielding as the Abyss from which they came.