Vescrutia: Legacy

Khei didn’t answer at first.

She stared at Qarinah for a beat longer than necessary. Only the drum of her fingers around the neck of the bottle betrayed the tense silence between them.

Then came the exhale. Slow. Controlled.

“Well,” she said, voice flat as slate. “That explains the wine.”

She poured herself a glass without looking, letting the silence breathe a little longer. The liquid caught the dimming light like blood. She didn’t drink it.

“So that’s it?” she asked, finally raising her gaze. “Tired of me already, so you're pawning me off to one of your friends?”

A pause. Then a smirk—bitter, but real.

“I should’ve known the ‘day off’ came with fine print.”

But even as she said it, there was no venom in her voice. No protest. She didn’t argue the point, because some part of her had known this moment was coming.

She leaned back in her chair, wine glass resting between two fingers, and looked toward the horizon.

“The Onyx Conclave, huh?” she repeated, like tasting the words for the first time. “Sounds ominous, but I bet they’re not contentious at all.”

Her gaze slid back to Qarinah.

“So when do we leave?”

She asked it plainly—no fear, no flinch. Just a question. Like someone already imagining the worst and measuring if they could survive it.

"Oh–"

But then, a pointed silence as Khei came upon a realization. One that caused her voice to lower a decibel lower than normal. Not in anger or fury

But Something closer to loss.

“You're.. not coming, are you?”

Qarinah watched Khei in silence. Her eyes, usually glinting with veiled amusement or distant calculation, held something softer now—something quieter.

“No,” she said at last. The word barely rose above a murmur, carried on the edge of her lips, and tinged with hues of regret. “I’m not.”

She shifted in her seat—not with her usual feline grace, but slower, as though the centuries that draped her shoulders had grown suddenly heavier. The illusion peeled back, just a little.

“The Horsemen have already begun to stalk their roots in our world. I can feel it.. their rot spreading in whispers, in shadows where the eye cannot see. The effects of which habe.. ailed me. And when they rise—when they truly rise—I intend to meet them with everything I have left.”

Her hand ghosted over the stem of her glass, then withdrew, fingers curling inwards like something reluctant to let go.

“So I will sleep. Deep and long, hoarding what remains of my power until the veil between us and the apocalypse finally frays.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips, weary and wistful. It did not reach her eyes.

“And you,” she breathed, voice soft as dusk, “will go forward.”

She leaned in then, resting her elbows on the table to calmly reach for Khei’s hand—not theatrically, but with a genuine wamrth.

“This is not exile, Khei. And it is not abandonment.”

Her gaze locked with Khei’s, unflinching. Heavy with meaning.

“I could never be tired of you, dear heart.” The title lilted off her tongue like a memory. “I'm doing this because this is a path only you can walk. Because you were never mine to keep. And because you are strong enough to walk it without me.”

She said, giving Khei's palms a gentle squeeze if she allowed her. “You are welcome to stay within my castle, if you wish. The decision is truly yours to make, but I can't imagine the woman I've come to know would be willing to shy away from greatness.”

Khei let the Qarinah's words linger—her gaze dropped to Qarinah’s fingers curled over hers, and for a moment, she didn’t look like the occult sorceress or the veiled predator she'd come to know. She just looked tired.. Beautiful and radiant as ever beneath the peeking moonlight, but hollowed at the edges.

It was oddly humanizing.

“Damn..”

She thought to herself, vaguely reminded of the only positive memories she held as a child. A mothers kindness.

When she finally spoke, Khei’s voice was low. Muted. Like the words had to slip past something in her throat to make it out.

“..way to bury the fuckin’ lead.”

There was no sting behind her words—just a quiet, reluctant understanding. The kind that felt more like surrender than agreement.

She ran her thumb along the rim of her glass, thinking. Then she scoffed—a soft breath of wry amusement. “This is a vampire thing, right?” she muttered as her lips curled into a crooked smile. “You're not just being a drama queen?”

Her gaze flicked up to meet Qarinah’s, and this time, there was no smirk to hide behind. No shade. No shield.

“I’m not afraid of the path. I’m just… pissed I won’t get to walk beside.. someone I trust.” She cringed at her words, unsure where this sudden sentimental feeling came from.

She pulled her hand back, not harshly, just enough to cradle the wine glass again. And stared into it like it might offer answers.

“But whatever. Sleep, then,” she said, voice low and steady. “Whoever the hell this Conclave is, if you trust them, I guess I can give them a chance.”

She finally took a sip from her glass—steady, unflinching. Then she paused..

And her brow furrowed.

“..This isn’t blood, right?”

Qarinah’s lips parted at the last question—then curved into a genuine laugh. Soft and rich, like silk unraveling in the dark. It slipped between them, low and lingering, warming the space in a way the moonlight couldn’t.

“Oh no, dear.” she said with a wry smile, eyes glinting again with mischief. “I'm afraid I don't share from that shelf of my collection.”

She leaned back in her seat, the moon catching on her cheekbones, gilding the fatigue she tried to hide. But her voice, when she spoke again, was clear. Measured.

“As for the Conclave..” she began, swirling the liquid in her cup before raising it thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I trust them. But I do think it’s worth forming your own opinion.”

She paused, staring at the Khei through the crimson in her glass.

“They are not of this world.” She continued softly. “A consortium of warriors gathered from across the known galaxy, far and beyond Vescrutia's sky who have dedicated their lives toward the maintenance of cosmic balance.”

She curled her hair around her finger as she spoke, reflecting on the first and only encounter she had with the otherworldly patheon.

She remembered that day fondly.

Hundreds of years ago, when her legend lingered in the shadows like a plague.

“A balance they maintain through the eradication of anything that could pose a threat to the growth and development of the universe. Be them planetary, celestial, or even something as small as an idea. Their judgment is unprejudice and absolute.”

She took a sip from her glass, as if the memory itself had weight. When she placed it down again, it was with care.

“They approached me once,” she said. “Eons ago, when Vescrutian soil still trembled beneath my cloven hooves. Back when I was less… contained.”

Her lips pulled into a knowing smile—slow, amused, dangerous.

“They were intrigued by my aptitude. My… proclivities.”

She let the silence do its work, the air thick with implication.

“I’ve lived a long time, Khei. And let’s just say, a dreadfully long life lived as a prolific vampire tends to leave stains that transcend both space and time.”

She said, licking the stray rivulets of red from lips. “Anyway.. They approached me with the intent of recruiting me to their ranks. A flattering notion, but one I had to decline as it would have directly conflicted with my lifestyle at the time. However, their invitation did not have a time limit.. and I think they'll be more than willing to accept a Primordial in my place. Or at least, the human girl who managed to bring the Devourer of Worlds to a heel.”

Khei was still for a moment, taking into account all that she'd been told. Her eyes stayed fixed on Qarinah, briskly enamored with the sight of the Vampiric goddess in her prime and what that would have looked like.. but from there, Khei's gaze had gone inward. Not retreating, but reflective.

A beat passed. Then:

“Wow.” Her voice was flat, dry as desert sand. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

She blinked once. Twice. Then sighed, dragging a hand through her hair as if it might clear the static in her chest.

“So let me get this straight…” she leaned forward, elbows to the table now, expression unreadable. “You turned down a seat at an intergalactic death panel because it clashed with your… nightlife?”

Her brow arched. Her mouth twisted with something wry—half smile, half wound.

“Fair. Honestly..”

The humor didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“But aside all of that, you planned all of this, didn't you?”

She let the question settle, not really expecting an answer. Then she shook her head and reclined again, restless in her own skin. Her fingers danced along the rim of her now-empty glass.

“All this training and investment in me and Ulduin. This was always the play, wasn't it?”

She didn't wait for an answer, she already knew the truth.

“You sneaky bitch.” She muttered with a smile as she poured herself some more wine. “I don’t know what’s worse—being hunted by zealots, or being courted by them.”

Finally, she turned back to Qarinah, softer now. Tired.

“But if you believe they’re part of the answer… I’ll go.” A pause. Then she added, “If they know about the Primordials, then they'll either be thrilled to meet me and help me get stronger.. Or they'll be realllly thrilled to mount my skull on a fucking pike.”

A ghost of a smile curved her lips—something proud, if not for the underlying issue.

“Sounds fun.. just sucks you have to sleep through it.”

“It won’t be tonight,” Qarinah said, her voice smooth but quieter now, touched with something solemn. “Or tomorrow. But soon.”

Her fingers, always so deliberate and poised, began to drum a quiet rhythm against the table—subtle, yet uncharacteristically restless. It was the smallest crack in the polished veneer of a woman who had stood untouched by time for centuries.

“I must preserve what strength I have left,” she continued, her tone laced with a reluctant finality. “Unless, of course, you wish to face the Apocalypse alone.”

She offered Khei a faint, almost teasing smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Her gaze drifted toward the moonlight that spilled like silver across the courtyard, and for a moment, she seemed far away. Counting days. Measuring breaths.

“The Conclave knows of the Horsemen,” she said, voice distant, reflective. “Several of their founding worlds have already been turned to ash beneath the Horsemen’s heels. They’ve bled against their weapons and understand what’s coming in a way few ever could.”

She turned her eyes back to Khei, and in them gleamed a rare mix of admiration and warning.

“Granted, they don’t take kindly to godlike beings who grow wild…” she murmured. “Or to monsters who refuse to yield or kneel.”

A beat passed.

“But you,” she said, her voice softening with conviction, “you’re neither. Not fully.. And that alone makes you terrifyingly rare.”

With a graceful flick of her fingers, her glass refilled itself with a deep, crimson pour, swirling as if stirred by unseen winds. She lifted it slowly, eyes not leaving Khei’s.

“If they are wise, they will train you. Hone you like a blade too precious to break.” She smirked. “If they are foolish, they’ll try to contain you… or kill you.”

She leaned in, eyes glittering now with pride, mischief, and the tiniest flicker of dread. “Either way, I imagine you’ll leave a beautiful trail of destruction in your wake.”

A rich laugh curled from her lips—low, sultry, and full of secrets. Then she raised her glass toward the girl across from her, as though offering benediction to a storm on the cusp of landfall.

“To you, my dear. May your perpetual growth and tireless ambition light the pyres of Vescrutia's future.. And may the stars never grow comfortable in your presence again.”

Khei didn’t move at first. She let the silence stretch, heavy with implication. Her fingers coiled loosely around the stem of her glass, knuckles pale beneath the flickering light. A slow breath slid from her nose, like steam escaping a cracked seal.

“Didn’t ask to be made into a weapon,” she said, voice low, more gravel than grace. “Or a symbol. Or whatever the hell I’m becoming.”

Her eyes rose to meet Qarinah’s—calm, unflinching, but no longer guarded. There was something raw in them now. Acceptance, maybe. Or defiance wrapped in resignation.

“But if the universe is already on fire…” She tilted her head slightly, the a smirk tugging at her lip. “Then I’d rather be the one lighting the match than the one choking on the smoke.”

She raised her glass, steady now, and touched it gently to Qarinah’s with a soft, deliberate clink.

“To the mess I’m about to make.”

The leaves barely stirred under his step, his presence more like a passing thought than a man. Yet when Zeik emerged from the edges of the courtyard, it was as though the world itself took pause. Even among kin, his sudden appearance could shake the core of a seasoned heart.

Eyes turned. Conversations faltered. That familiar, unsettling chill—the kind felt when the void peers back—swept through the gathering. But Zeik, ever the paradox, broke the tension with a quiet laugh that held both warmth and warning.

“Q,” he said with a slow grin, “I’d taken you for a deserter.”

There was mischief in his voice, but something unreadable stirred beneath it.

“And to find you smiling, with company no less, and in such good grace? It warms my old bones.”

He winced, catching himself. A flicker of discomfort crossed his expression as his gaze fell to his vampire kin—old, cold, and still.

“I meant… no disrespect.”

The words were whispered, nearly lost to the wind. Yet in that softness lay something dangerous. His humility, like his smile, was never without its edge.

Qarinah’s gaze lifted the moment she felt it—that familiar shift in the air, the slight pull at the edges of her senses that only came from old blood.. ancient company.

She didn’t need to see him to know. The man's presence was unmistakable.

Her smile curled slow and sharp as she rose from her seat, letting the hem of her velvet dress fall like water around her legs.

“Deserter?” she echoed with a soft scoff, brushing nonexistent dust from her shoulder. “Oh, you wound me.”

She stepped toward him with a fluid grace that made the moonlight hesitate on her skin, the years between them folding like silk. For a heartbeat, she considered embracing him—but thought better of it. Zeik wasn’t the type to lean into warmth too easily.

“I smile more than you give me credit for,” she added, her voice rich and aged like spiced wine. “Though I’ll admit… the company as of late has given me more reason than most centuries ever dared.”

She turned, hand gesturing with a dancer’s poise toward the young woman still seated behind her.

“This is my friend.” she said, voice dipping into something near reverence. “Her name is Khei, though I understand.. she isn't especially fond of it. Nevertheless, you'll find she is truly lovely.”

Her gaze lingered on Khei for a beat longer than necessary, before it drifted back to Zeik.

“And Khei,” She said smoothly, “this is Zeik Hellgate. The King Of the Astral City. My oldest living friend.. and perhaps the most powerful human I have ever known.”

There was a fondness behind her tone. Old history consecrated into trust and loyalty. A soft breath of laughter escaped her—barely a sound. “You’ll find he’s as dangerous as he is polite. Try not to let that confuse you.”

Qarinah flicked her finely sharpened and painted ebon nails and a new chair formed beside their table, plush and inviting. A crystal glass followed, filling itself with ice that seemed to fall from the shadows.

“May I pour you a glass, my dear?”

She asked, gesturing toward the empty seat with a playful tilt of her head. “Or must I tempt you further?”

“Haiii~”

Khei’s voice came smooth and dry, the playful lilt of her accent curling just beneath the surface—somewhere between deadpan charm and deliberate mischief. She didn’t bother rising. In truth, she wasn't aware that Qarinah was expecting company. But at the mention of his name, something flickered behind her eyes.

“Hold on. I think I know you.” She said tilting her head, eyeing him like someone inspecting a relic they'd only ever heard about in fables.

“Zeik Hellgate.. do you know you're a bedtime story?” she asked, voice low and dry, laced with a smirk. “Thought you’d be taller. Or glowing. Or, I don’t know, crackling with ancient wizard rage.”

She swirled her wine, then took a sip like she wasn’t sitting across from one of the most dangerous living beings in the known universe. Stories tell of how the Cursed Flame was there during the fall of Arcturus, others tell how he and the Thunderer, Zero Venkage orchestrated it along with the fall of Kemet. But the stories in Edo were hardly worth their weight in salt.

“..Edo's full tales about you.” She would make her own opinions. “Mostly good.”

Her gaze cut to Qarinah, a slow grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You have interesting taste in friends.”

Back to Zeik again, more serious now—but only just. Beneath the sarcasm, there was a flicker of something genuine. Respect. Curiosity. Maybe even recognition.

“Anyway. I'm Khei. I'm human too, and apparently I like to keep very dangerous company.”