I was in Seclusion for so long that everyone forgot about me

“Accusations?” boomed a voice through the consuming white.

A click.

The searing light was gone. Darkness.

Another click; another light—a woman, on a marble pillar. A delicately adorned raven mask covered the upper part of her face. Lips painted violet, full and smooth. A black velvet dress flowed down a body formed by elegance, not to seduce, but to conduct dark noblesse. It seemed neither wholly fabric nor flesh—more plumage than dress, impossible to define.

“She was tardy, always tardy. Never cleaned her room, tsk-tsk-tsk,” she announced, then drew one of her closed hands from her chest and let it unfurl as it rose, opening into a delicate, reverent offering—precise and ceremonial, as if it were something precious to her.

Then she froze in place—a living monument.

“Next!” thundered the unknown voice again. And as before: a click, a light, a raven woman.

“Blood is in her shoes! There’s blood in her shoes! The groom, the groom she killed. Ruthless, cold!” she hollered my crime, performing a deep courtly bow with one arm to the side, before she froze too.

“Next!”

A third pillar was illuminated, a third raven, a third accusation. “She did. She did it. The village, burnt it all—she did it. The old, the harmless, and the children too!”

My breath got stuck in my throat as I watched her starting to pirouette. How’d they know? How could they know? I was alone. There were no witnesses. There were no—

“I DID NOT KN—!” I started to yell, but my voice vanished into thin air.

Instead, the unknown voice echoed around me, “Silence, Accused!”

And with that, the third woman stopped mid-pirouette. Petrified, a living statue. My thoughts ran wild. Just what was this place? Those things shouldn’t be known to anyone, and yet… they were revealed as if they were tavern gossip.

Pillar after pillar, every little secret, every disgrace, every act of shame—everything I never wanted anyone to find out about—was recited. My life: an open book.

“And did you know, and you did know

—she secretly loved her favorite foe!”

“The forest’s children she poisoned, out of greed for her own purse!”

“She was arrogant to the point her mother would call her a true dragon!”

“One time, she killed a man by walking into his room at the inn by accident.”

“Cities burned!”

“Fields of wheat turned coal.”

“Even her father wasn’t safe. Staked for a pun.”

“And the alcohol, oh the alcohol!”

I sank to my knees, forced down by a never stopping cascade of words. Every raven-kin performed an elaborate movement, slow and filled with purpose, only to be stuck in time as my sins were announced. A monument of shame—a reminder that what I had done would follow me wherever I went, harming even more innocent people simply by existing.

Suddenly, when the circle of now statues was complete, a siren-like hymn rose through the space, vibrating through stone and bone alike. Sung in a language I didn’t understand, but whose deep meaning I couldn’t help but feel nonetheless. It spoke of birth, of friendship. Of the hardships of life, victory, and betrayal. Of an old war history had forgotten, but those who were here refused to. It was their story—how the Crypt came to be.

Their voices stilled, nearly. They were a whisper in the wind now, and like dusk, a choral phalanx revealed itself on both sides before me.

And unlike their frozen counterparts, they wore atop their heads black veils, arranged like angels’ halos. The light that shone upon them seemed to glisten, as if they were graced by the divine even in this wretched place.

Then, just before their choir, two lecterns of black marble appeared—as if they had always been there, simply refused to be acknowledged until the right moment.

Behind them stood two more women who resembled both the choir and the frozen statues in style, but whose natures were quite different. Where there had been only black, those two were clad in blue and green that seemed to have rather their wings nestled against their bodies instead of dresses. Even their feathers appeared longer and velvety, starting black before slowly mixing into either ocean blue or deep jade, becoming vibrant at the tips.

Their veils were silvery white, falling from entangled crowns made of mistletoe, still plum with green leaves and berries. Ebony antlers sprouted high at their sides, twisted and branched.

“My client is innocent!” announced the blue-feathered raven-kin out of nowhere.

“Preposterous! Didn’t you hear our brethren, sister?!” shouted the other angrily.

My apparent defender shook her head. “I did, sister. But not every crime is born of malice, not every sin absolute. You can’t fault an eagle for hunting to survive; it is in their nature!”

The other laughed. “Hah! You speak of nature, but isn’t she a being who can think and act on her own? Someone who can win against her primal urges?”

“And yet, she grew into someone she was never meant to be—poisoned by her very lineage and what followed. If someone was never taught to think differently, and no one ever tried to show her the wrongs of her deeds, how can you expect her to be different from what she was? She didn’t even know she was half dragon!”

The prosecutor slammed a clenched fist onto the lectern. “Ignorance is no defense. She killed, she pillaged, she sinned. Her deaths are countless, her soul blackened!”

For a moment, they were silent—considering how to proceed. And I, I could only stare silently and endure the unfolding trial. I had no excuse for what I did in the name of who I was and what I wanted.

Then, a voice was raised slowly. “But was it done in pure malice? And didn’t she already atone for her sins? Died for her mistakes, caged for her arrogance and reborn through her abyssal interference?”

Everything fell dead silent for a second as she was mentioned. Maera had done all of this, and they knew it. They knew her… and they feared her.

A boom echoed through my soul as the singing abruptly began anew—loud like drumming—then quieted again to grant voice to the prosecutor. “Malice? You speak of malice? Her fiancé died with a smile on her lips! Her father, staked for wanting her to be—”

“Laughable, sister! Her best? Her best?” the defender snapped. “Thought trapped in roles that wanted her gone, her half-sister taking her place as matriarch. Wicked as her smile might have been, it was born of relief. Cornered to the point of breaking, she acted as anyone would who had suffered as she did.

“How long must abuse be tolerated before one’s actions are judged harshly by those who were never affected? She did the only thing she knew how to do to save herself. And we should not forget—even now—she is just a child, a young being.”

I looked at the floor in shame, because I knew what I did was wrong from the very beginning. From the moment I became aware of how easy it was to hurt people, to control and kill them, I took whatever I could and wanted. Of course, the older I grew, the more I learned from my mistakes, the more I tried to look after others, but it never truly settled, not until…

“I am of sin,” I said aloud, surprising both myself and the sisters as I found I could speak again. I ignored their confusion and continued, “All the evil you have counted, I committed in full control of my intellect. I always could have stopped and turned away, walking a path that might have been dark but not filled with blood.”

A murmur rippled through the choir.

“But once I tasted the forbidden fruit, I couldn’t live without it. With age, the only thing that changed was that I became more calculating. My family—the world—took things from me I only realized were part of me after I returned. Yes, I am of sin. I killed innocent people by mistake because I didn’t want to wait for a report. I pillaged villages and cities in my name and for glory, believing I acted in the best interest of my people. But what I built was—so I am sure of now—nothing else than a dragon’s hoard.

“Yet since she brought me back, I feel changed in ways I thought impossible. The true Matriarch von Asche died countless millennia ago. What remains is a me that wants to protect those close to her, to place faith in things others long abandoned—free from the shackles that hold me back.”

“You speak of freedom and protection,” said the prosecutor, “when the one who takes and bestows both is bound to you. And by her nature, she will also be the reason you are never able to truly accomplish either. But perhaps this is punishment greater than you deserve, Ashen Lord.”

The sister lifted her voice. “So you agree that she—reborn—has served her sentence? Then we shal—”

“No,” thundered the all-engulfing voice again, smothering every sound and movement in this place.

And then, before me, the platform extended—shaping itself into a pathway with steps leading towards a throne made of something I could only describe as liquid star-shimmer. It drew one in—like a starry night sky that suddenly stared back—moving with an impossible stillness that pressed against the edges of my soul, a truth never meant for worldly comprehension. I understood instinctively that no mortal could have crafted such a thing. It was divine to its very core—divine in a way that made my senses tremble.

Upon that throne sat a woman of such regal age and refined bearing that her beauty nearly matched Maera’s when I first gazed upon her—that same impossible, eldritch-forged allure, but seemingly colder, older, carved from a different kind of abyss. Her long hair, black as liquid shungite, poured over her shoulders, its ends thinning into a mist that mingled with reality itself. Her eyes—infinitely silver—gleamed with golden lines around irises of two differing hues: one purpul, the other an azure as pure as untouched waters. Looking into them felt like witnessing something I had no right to behold.

A simple crystalline crown rested upon her head, etched with intricate patterns that shifted like slow-forged light. Flanking it were ears that resembled a fox’s in shape, yet carried the layered grace of an owl crossed with a raven. Those raven-like feathers bore a peculiar texture—lighter, finer, almost weightless compared to the other raven-kin. Yet they seemed thick enough to hold warmth even in northern winds. They were layered in a way that made them appear almost silken, each individual plume overlapping the next, blending seamlessly into the natural contours of her ears.

Her lips gleamed with the same shimmering hue as the throne. In stark contrast, she wore a worn scarf—dark as lapis, its ends frayed—as if even divinity wa sn’t untouched by the scars of past journeys. The rough look was further complemented by plate armor that had long seen better days, crafted to fit her form far more closely than any ordinary armor would. It lent her the charm of a goddess who, despite her beauty, was fierce and untamed—ready to strike, or to rule.

She was radiant.

She was battle-worn.

She was terrible.

Yet in that moment, the awe she inspired pressed so tightly against my fear that I could no longer tell where one ended and the other began—just as it had been when I first stood before Maera.

Her gaze met mine, and before I knew it, I was on my knees. Her aura demanded obedience and reverence, and this she would get or take herself.

“Mortal,” her voice boomed through my soul as she stood. And only now did I notice—

—her throne wasn’t a throne at all; no, those were her wings she had been seated upon. As she rose, they unfurled into their true form, and when she stood there in all her divinity—wings spread like an endless, star-strewn canvas—I knew I could never hope to win against such a being.

She raised her voice again. “No, even mortals have more freedom from the fates than you do, chess piece.”

It was all-engulfing, demanding attention from every fraction of my soul and every fiber of my body. It was something that wasn’t allowed to ignore.

“My court seems at odds and has come to the wrong conclusion—you are guilty.”

My breath got stuck in my throat, my stomach turning. She came from her throne, slowly down to me, to simply judge me? Just wha—

“What have you done? Your mere existence is an affront to the natural order. Why are you allowed to live after you fought her and not them? Where is the justice?”

I wanted to speak up, but my words stayed stuck. She was right… it wasn’t fair, and I knew it. I deserved everything that was coming.

As her heel struck the marble stairs, a vibrant sound filled this place, instantly forcing every raven—even the frozen ones—to kneel.

“And yet, guilty as you might be, I cannot judge you. You are bound to a being even the divine fear, a nightmare walking in broad daylight. Caught in machinations far greater than yourself, feeble little chess piece. I would love to smite you, who revels in war and death as much as she does, even if your reasons seem much more noble. Worse, you are now of kind with the Queen of Origins, young and old, soul-stained.”

Another step down, and this time every other raven-kin vanished, leaving only me and her as the surrounding marble began to crumble.

“I know of the plans those two proposed to you. I know why you came here, and I will not indulge either delusion. You brought the doom into my front door and I will make sure it departs that way. So no, you will not gain knowledge of the System here. And I will not be part of their plans either.”

She knew… She freaking knew they had spoken to me and sought my help. But how? How did she know? Did she have access to the System?

I could only stare at her in horror as she crept closer, every step breaking this place down further, reshaping it into something new entirely. It was as if she held control over reality itself—which she probably did.

Even the platform beneath me seemed to crack under the sheer pressure of her divinity. It was different from Maera’s power the night before on every level—stronger, raw, filled with something cosmic that always was there but just out of reach.

Then, just for a second, my vision blurred before returning, leaving me utterly baffled by what opened before me.

The vast room that was filled with darkness before it made way for a broad and tall underground hall supported by thick sandstone columns, each with simple, rounded capitals. The farther they stretched toward her, the more withered and overgrown they became, tangled in thicket, vines, and ivy. Above me, intersecting groin vaults formed the ceiling—a pattern I somehow knew the name of—that kept repeating, only to shatter, letting warm sunlight spill into depths that should never have been reached.

This place felt old and forgotten, a temple long stripped of its glory—and at its center, or rather just before me, stood divinity itself.

I looked into her eyes, expecting mockery or judgment, but instead I saw longing, an arching grief that had taken root deep within her being.

“This place was once teeming with life, you know?” her voice echoed, a whisper that was both silent and booming in intent. “It may not have been perfect, but it was my home. A place I built.”

“What happened?” I asked before I even realized I could.

“Eternal,” her voice came low. “But it would be wrong to blame only her. There were countless beings who could have stopped her, who could have stopped all this death and destruction. I didn’t wish to be part of this war, but like so many others, I had no choice. My presence was obligatory.”

Eternal, a name so common as an enemy that I had aways wondered one thing: “Why did she start the war?”

A smile, then fury flashed across her face. “To impress her. It was always to impress her. Eternal could have been stopped with a single syllable, but for them, it was all some kind of play. It always was. You, little faeling, should have experienced their perfidious Spiel firsthand.”

“Calypso an—”

“DON’T SAY THAT WRETCHED NAME,” boomed her voice through the hall, forcing the ground to tremble and dust fall from the ceiling.

“Those two are a blight upon this world. Neither can kill the other, so they use others to try to do their bidding. An endless game with no winners, only victims. And as I was once part of this game, so you are now. A piece. Just another soul for their entertainment.”

“No, I disagree. I know she is… lost. But I saw it—a chance for her to change, to become better, to leave this path behind her!” I said with conviction.

Yes, this was something I truly believed in. Something difficult to achieve yet, perhaps—but close enough to be in reach.

But the only response was laughter, growing louder and louder, shaking this place as it turned gurgling and wretched.

“You poor, poor being. You are yet unaware of that thing’s true face, of how it shapes your thoughts, makes you believe the words you just spoke were true. But the truth is that it cannot change. That it will never change. You think you can make her forget? Replace that one thing she held most dear? The old dragon already warned you, and I will do the same—do not believe in her.”

“What do you know?!” I snapped, forgetting the goddess before me. She sounded so certain, so convinced of my failure. But on what grounds? What right did she have to judge like this? I knew Maera, I knew she hid much, but I also knew her pain was real—that what I had seen and experienced with her was no lie.

One thing was clear now: this divine being—this raven goddess—hated Maera.

And she had every right to. But that was the old her. This Maera was different, even from before I met her. So yes, change was palpable. That I would make sure of.

But the face before me began to contort in anger, for I had questioned the very opinion of a divine like her. And as her lips parted sh—

“Q-Queen Lyra?” a small, childish voice suddenly spoke from behind.

Surprised, I turned around and saw, peeking from behind a column, a group of young, frightened-looking children. They looked deadly malnourished, their hair dull and scruffy and… ghostly.

The voice, which had been demanding all this time, turned soft and caring. “Little ones, you know you shouldn’t be in this place.”

“W-We were afraid… the chambers trembled, and your voice sounded a-angry… Did we do something wrong?” said a small girl, her eyes starting to tear up.

For the first time, her face looked mortal—like that of a hurt mother. Ignoring me, she rushed to the children, kneeling before the girl and cupping her cheeks, brushing away the forming tear with her thumb.

“No, my little one. None of you did anything wrong. None of you ever did anything wrong. Why aren’t you asleep yet? It is past your bedtime,” she asked, her voice soothing.

“Th-There was that lady with white robes who scared us, so we ran away,” they answered.

“Alicia,” I muttered.

“There is another one of you down here? I didn’t invite her—how can she be…”

A blinding light filled my vision and then… I was in a cave, no, a cavern. Before us spread a gigantic azure lake—if you could even call it that at this sheer size—the far end lost beyond sight. From the cavern roof hung long crystalline stalactites, from whose tips silvery droplets fell down into the water. They looked like glistering tears, landing on small, open shells that absorbed them and produced a sound akin to a chime. The shells swam in uneven patterns, driven by ripples from the drops that missed their mark among the seemingly infinite number.

The melody hung in the air as if it wished to welcome, comfort, soothe, and bid farewell—it was something one would hear at a burial. This wasn’t a place any living being should ever enter.

Then I noticed something else—an old oak tree standing nearby. Slumped against its thick trunk sat a girl.

A tremor ran through my mind, and my throat went dry.

I knew who she was.

Her coal-black hair brushed her shoulders. A simple white robe. Her body was held upright by a long, plain sword buried straight through her chest. Her eyes closed and her expression peaceful, as if she were only in a deep long slumber. And there, standing beside her, was Alicia, watching her like a hawk.

The divine Queen moved towards the Saintess, followed by me and the pale children. Her face seemed more annoyed than furious. Then she spoke.

“Amathiel, I do not remember inviting you into my realm.”

I wanted to ask who, but then Alicia turned around, and I saw her eyes. They had turned into pure, shimmering gold.

“We have been asleep for quite some time, Raven Queen. So do tell me—why does the Eternal Witch lie within this realm instead of the confinement of the true divine?” she asked, her booming voice trying to command, standing no chance against the Queen’s aura.

The Queen laughed in response. “You faulty drone dare question me? You aren’t even supposed to be here and…” She paused, as if searching for something, then shot me a brief glare. “Your seal shouldn’t be broken either.”

That seemed to surprise Alicia, or Amathiel. I really had no damn clue what was happening anymore.

She tilted her head slightly upwards, as if inspecting something. Her eyes flickered for a few seconds before refocusing on the Raven Queen.

“Sealed? Me? One of the divines’ most honored servants? A ploy from the witches, I presume?”

A dark chuckle escaped the Queen. “My dear, dear Myst—no. It wasn’t a ploy, a trap, or machinations. The Tribunal themselves sealed you after your betrayal, after you sided with that thing, thattree.”

Alicia’s eyes glimmered dangerously. “She did what we all should have done. Those long-eared fiends are not needed in this world. How could they do that to me?!”

The Raven Queen sighed, her expression weary. “All of you are invaders, claiming a world not yours, but ours. Siding with the worst anomaly did you no favors. The divine simply grew sick of your tantrums and grew bored, as they do—not caring about the scorched earth they leave behind.”

“You of all beings speaking of scorched earth, Lyra of the Holy Sea? Drowning the world in your darkened feather, in your undead, in your pathetic excuses of—”

I couldn’t even react fast enough before the Raven Queen seized the Saintess by the throat, forcing her silent.

“Go back to sleep, as you are supposed to,” she said simply and released her in the same moment.

Unconscious, the body fell limply to the ground.

The Queen took a deep breath before turning back to me. “Don’t worry. The body is fine. I repaired that wretched seal that the monster knacked. I’d appreciate it staying that way—this drone is rather unpleasant to have around.”

Then her gaze shifted to the children. “She won’t bother you anymore, little ones. I would like you to go ahead. I’ll follow shortly, and then I’ll read to you so you can fall back asleep, alright?

The pale children chirped happily and ran across the sea, dispersing into thin air. Just what kind of undead were they?

“Aska von Asche,” the Queen spoke again, her voice rising, “as a Warmonger, you must know the wretched fate children suffer when their homes burn, their families hanged, their own bodies raped and haggard. We do not accuse you of committing all these crimes yourself, but they are part of your legacy as a Matriarch, as a beacon of controlled power that armies did not always heed.

“The war with Eternal caused even greater disaster, greater suffering on a scale you could never imagine. Those souls, those victims—and among them the children who could neither escape nor descend—rest here. Trapped forever, unable to reincarnate due to the damage Eternal inflicted upon the dead. A broken cycle of fragmented, splintered souls caught in a cyclone of dark emotions the Holy Sea struggles to suppress.

“Awake, I can barely grant them a secluded existence. Asleep, they relive the horrors, the agony. Their screams fill these halls, only to suffocate in their own infiniteness in the end. I can do only so much for those poorest of poor souls.

“This became my duty, my court. To judge those whose souls cannot be reborn, who have no place left in this world. This is who I am—the Raven Queen, Goddess of the Undead, Judge of Fate, Mistress of Wandering Souls.

“And I give you one order only: do not allow the seals of your captor to break. Do not allow them to realize their plan. It must not be freed, to roam this world by its own bidding. The consequences if it escapes its prison are unfathomable.”

I parted my lips to answer, but she shushed me.

“Now leave, tainted blood. Your presence is unwelcome, your request denied. I will not take part in the Spiel any longer. I will return you and the drone to the exit. May you never enter my Crypt again. If you do, the court of ravens will hunt you until your soul is destroyed. So heed my warning.

“But, you may do me one favor. Tell it—tell my mother—to leave my sisters alone.”