INTERMISSION

-- 1 –

I only breathe when you command me to. I only work my magic when you tell me it is necessary. Why must you deceive yourself as well as me? Why must you force yourself to believe that you hold so much control over the workings of this world…when you hold nothing but aged sand and stagnant air in those ancient hands and lungs of yours? What is your aim, that you would be so feverish in this effort? Hasn’t your time passed? Why me…

Why me.

Cerulean eyes settled upon a single blossom, placed among many others. Gentle yellows, pinks, and blues surrounded one solitary black, forming a protective ring around the sole flower as though preventing it from desecration or defilement. Ripped from their homes in soft, warm earth and stuck in a crystal vase to rot away. Taken from every instinct they knew and transplanted in such a fashion as to make them lose a part of themselves…bit by bit…petal by petal.

Those bluest of blue eyes turned to the doorway leading into her personal chambers. Only moments ago, the man she loved had stridden out that arch toward a new adventure. Determined, he held his chin up and hands firmly clasped in each other as he went.

The man she loved…bah. Where did that come from? She was really losing her grip on things. That wasn’t good, either. If the Master found out about—

She stopped herself, realizing just how frustrated and annoyed she looked with a glimpse in the mirror. This is a simple job, she told the glass, her reflection chiding her in return. This is a very simple job, and yet you’re losing all confidence in the process of carrying it out. What is wrong with you, Rosa Farrell…? What is…

Oh dear.

Something hit her, hard, as she uttered those words in the echoing corridors of her mind. She’d made a mistake. When Cecil had left, he called her Rosa Farrell.

Her name, as far as the marriage parchment read, was now Rosa Harvey. Rosa Ya to the people who knew her best. Yet, when her husband had spoken her maiden name, she hadn’t corrected him.

Desperate anger welled up inside of her small form. She pounded once, twice, on the oaken desk before her, delicate features curled around themselves with a ferocious resolve. How could she be so damned stupid?!

Before she could scold herself any longer, a light emanated from somewhere very near. Not so much a light, though, as a sucking away of what luminescence was already there. It hovered, a simple presence and yet a complex pattern of emotions and feelings. It was easily definable. It was who she’d expected to see, yet wanted so desperately not to.

The lonely black rhidora swung its bulbous head around to meet the newcomer’s dark gaze. In response, a wicked smile curved out from small, sparse lips. A hand outstretched and drew the plant to it, magnetic air vacuumed inward and recycled as stagnant scent. Shaded eyes blinked once, twice, three times as the smile disappeared and the slight hand brought the solitary flower to a pointed nose. Simple pleasures.

She knew this was only a projection. A holograph of sorts. It was deadly frightening anyway.

~Lyria~

Instinctively, she took a few steps back. The desk slammed softly against the back of her thigh, causing a slight noise to exit her throat. Before her, the dark man who was her master shifted his gaze to meet hers. The flower was tucked in his cloak, and his snarling countenance grew harder. A soft, yet harsh voice sounded from his small, thin lips. When he spoke, Lyria could see his teeth; razors, pointed and sharpened like an animal’s. Why he’d decided upon this form was unfathomable.

~Lyria, you fear me. As…pleasing as that is, it still unsettles me. Why fear the one who gave you life, dearest? You disappoint me…of course, you know this already. That is the reason behind this little visit.~

Lyria’s gaze instantly met the floor of the royal chamber, blue spheres awash in discontent. She knew exactly what was happening, and was more than prepared to accept her punishment. After all, it couldn’t be too bad. What could he do, kill her? Leave this kingdom without a monarch of any sort? Madness.

Her confidence, though, was soon eradicated when his laugh echoed forth one pronounced time. He cocked his blue head to one side, some sparkle running swiftly over his eyes, only to disappear in a split second.

~Isn’t it amazing…one small mistake can influence so many other aspects of one’s existence, you know? One seemingly insignificant mishap has the power to haunt a person through the rest of their life. It does no good to run away from these mistakes, either, you understand, because the consequences come to bear…when they wish to do so. Not when we do.

~You…do understand what it is I speak of, don’t you Lyria? I should hope so.~

Meekly, displaying much less confidence than she thought necessary, Lyria nodded. "Of course I know what you speak of, Master. I only realized this mistake within moments of your current…visit. And as you well know…by now it is too late to rectify this unfortunate event. I do hope that you can forgive me and we may—"

~That is enough of your senseless blather, Lyria darling.~

Even staring at the floor, as she still was, she could sense his eyes appraising her. Running the length of her body in a sort of dance. He enjoyed making his underlings squirm. Especially when they did something wrong. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, paying homage to this…thing…simply to save one’s own life.

~It is no matter, Lyria,~ he continued. ~You…disappoint me. Greatly. Remind me, how long have you been here, set in place and working under my service?~

"Three months, sire."

~And in three months, you do not even know your last name? How is it possible that I appointed such a simpleton to carry out such important duties? Do you think my judgment may be…slipping, Lyria? Could that be possible?~

That last word was spoken with such venom dripping from it that Lyria instinctively looked up to make certain her master hadn’t fancied himself a Naga. She blinked rapidly through locks of golden brown hair, uncertain that she should speak after so many masked insults had been thrown at her.

"Sire…it was a mistake. I promise you, give you my word, that such things are isolated incidents. This will not happen again, Master, I swear to you. I—"

~If it does happen…Lyria darling…then you must be aware of what will happen to you. I want you to tell me what you think your fate might be, should you slip up once more. Enlighten me.~

An intense feeling of unease welled up inside of her then. She felt her palms begin to sweat; the skin at the back of her neck tighten and restrict; her brow furrow in such deep emotional concentration that she thought she may scream at any moment. And then she uttered the words.

"S-sire…I do believe you may…kill me."

Much to her surprise, he laughed. Long and hard, so much so that he seemed to double over a few times. He slowly regained his composure, just when she’d decided to venture a slight smile. His expression had softened noticeably, and Lyria was unsure whether she should be relieved or scared of that.

~Well well, Lyria. I must say your imagination is…vivid, to say the least. Wherever did you get the idea that I might destroy you, should you fail me? Tisk tisk, dear; I should think you had more confidence in me than that.~

Her smile went wide. "Well I was just thinki—"

~Of course you know you’re way off base, darling. My punishment, should you fail me, will be a thousand times more severe. Death is but a simple prize to be snatched from the jaws of those who would provide it for you, you see. I provide…much more than death. I am more…imaginative than that.~

He leaned in close to her, so close she could swear this hologram was breathing. Lyria shrank away, feeling the desk behind her draw up into her spine. She whimpered again.

~Imagine, darling. Eternity, spent in the solitary confines of a simple crystal shard. Or perhaps, a similar fate, shot from one such jewel to another, in slow succession, just as your spirit and ethereal presence had become accustomed to your current surroundings. Imagine an eternal sense of discomfort. A thorough and pervasive feeling of dislodgement, the likes of which will slowly drive you insane. Completely insane.~

Abruptly, he turned from her then. Speaking with his hideous face directed at the wall. A wall upon which a picture hung, depicting the Paladin king and his "little sister," Rydia.

~You will be more careful, Lyria. You will see to it immediately upon my exit from this dreary little room. Be warned, also, that two men are spying on you. By now, you should know one of them quite well. That is all I shall say.~

He shifted lazily in his navy-colored robes, sighing. So he saw this as tedious, Lyria thought. Nice to know he felt her of that much import.

~Speak your name and title, and be done with it..~

Hesitantly, she stood. Gathering about her the uncomfortable clothing that her wardrobe consisted of, she looked straight toward the back of her master’s head.

"I am Lyria, Fiend of Illusion and prostrate servant of the Master…Zeromus."

~Hmm.~ he uttered. ~By the Gods, Lyria, you say such things with an…inadequate amount of passion.~

With that, he was gone. Lyria felt safe breathing again, crawling to her bed and laying there, staring toward the ever-darkening ceiling. She glanced at the picture of Cecil and Rydia, wondering.

Did he know she wasn’t who she seemed? Would he know eventually if he already didn’t?

Was there some way she could make him…not to care?

Not long ago, the man she loved had walked out of their room, determined to destroy the man she served. Not truly a man, though. More like a spirit. A ghost who refused to let go of his legacy…either out of pride of complete insanity.

Such foolishness, Lyria thought, rolling over and feeling her eyelids drop steadily. Such utter foolishness.