Chapter 152: sasha pain

Chapter 152: sasha pain The throne room’s vast doors groaned open again, interrupting the weight of the bargain that still hung in the air like incense. Captain Sasha strode through the entrance with military precision, her scarred features composed in the mask of duty she’d worn for decades. But as her eyes swept the scene before her—Rose standing close to the Queen, their voices lowered in intimate conversation—something flickered across her expression. It was subtle, barely a tightening around her eyes, but Rose caught it. The way Sasha’s jaw set just a fraction harder. The almost imperceptible pause in her stride. The Queen commanded respect from everyone in the kingdom, but this wasn’t reverence Rose was seeing. This was something rawer, more personal. Jealousy. Sasha recovered quickly, dropping to one knee before the Obsidian Throne with practiced grace. "My Queen," she said, her voice steady despite whatever emotions churned beneath the surface. "I bring word from the portal chamber." The Queen’s divided mask turned toward her captain, light and shadow playing across the crystalline surface. "Rise, Sasha. Speak." "The portal is ready, Your Majesty," Sasha reported, coming to her feet but keeping her eyes fixed on the Queen’s mask rather than glancing toward Rose. "The dimensional threshold has stabilized, and our mages have confirmed the breach point into the human realm. However..." She hesitated, and for the first time since entering, her gaze flicked toward Rose. "Locating the Veilwalker’s exact position will require more than raw power. The human world is vast, and without a focal point, we could spend years searching." Rose stepped forward, her movement causing Sasha’s attention to snap back to her with barely concealed irritation. "That won’t be necessary," Rose said calmly. "I can guide us directly to him." The Queen’s head tilted slightly, a gesture that somehow conveyed intense curiosity despite the expressionless mask. "How?" Rose lifted her right hand, flexing her fingers with deliberate precision. As she did, tiny sparks of silver light danced between her knuckles—not fire, not any of the traditional elements, but something else entirely. Something that pulsed with the rhythm of a distant heartbeat. "When the Veilwalker was taken," Rose explained, her voice carrying the weight of confession, "I acted on instinct. In the moment before they dragged him through their portal, I managed to place a tracking sigil on him. A small thing, woven from shadow and starlight, pressed into his skin when I reached for him." Her expression darkened with the memory. "No one noticed—they were too focused on restraining his power to watch for subtlety." Sasha’s scarred face went through several expressions in rapid succession—surprise, grudging admiration, and something that might have been wounded pride. "You marked him without telling anyone?" "I marked him to save him," Rose replied sharply. "Which, as it turns out, was the right choice." The Queen raised a hand, forestalling any further exchange. "This sigil—it remains active?" Rose nodded, the silver sparks between her fingers pulsing brighter. "Dormant, but intact. I can activate it once we cross into his realm, and it will guide us to his location like a compass pointing toward magnetic north." "Excellent." The Queen’s satisfaction was audible even through the modulated tones of her voice. She gestured toward the shadows at the far end of the throne room, and a figure emerged from the darkness—a guard carrying an ornate scroll case. The guard approached with reverent steps, his movements careful as he handled what was clearly precious cargo. He knelt before the throne, offering the case with both hands extended. "The cartographer’s work," the Queen announced as she accepted the case and opened it with delicate fingers. The scroll that emerged was massive, requiring two people to hold it properly spread. The Queen gestured for Rose and Sasha to assist, and together they unfurled what was clearly a masterwork of magical cartography. The map showed not just geography but dimensional layers, the boundaries between realms depicted in shimmering lines of power that seemed to move on their own. At its center lay what was clearly meant to represent the outer realm—a vast continent dotted with cities and landmarks that defied easy identification. "Our scouts have confirmed the portal breach point here," the Queen said, her finger tracing a location near what appeared to be a large body of water. "Once you emerge, you’ll need to travel approximately fifteen miles northeast. The terrain reports suggest mostly open ground with scattered settlements." Rose studied the map intently, her eyes following the suggested route. "What’s this structure?" she asked, pointing to a large rectangular building marked near their destination point. "Intelligence suggests it’s some form of governmental complex," the Queen replied. "White stone construction, multiple wings, heavily guarded but not militarized. Our scouts described it as resembling a palace, though built in their realm’s peculiar architectural style." Sasha leaned closer to examine the marking, her shoulder brushing against Rose’s as she did. Rose felt her sister-in-arms stiffen at the contact, then deliberately shift away. "Beyond the structure," the Queen continued, "there’s a fortified compound. Massive gates, high walls, extensive grounds. This is where our intelligence suggests prisoners of significant value would be held." "The issue," the Queen added, her tone becoming more serious, "is that this compound covers enormous territory. Even with your tracking sigil, locating the specific building where the Veilwalker is being held could take precious time we may not have." Rose’s expression hardened with determination. "Then we’ll have to move fast and trust the magic to guide us true." The Queen nodded slowly, then began rolling up the map with ceremonial care. "The portal will remain open for exactly seventy-two hours. After that, the dimensional strain will require a full lunar cycle to reset. You’ll have one chance, and one chance only." As the formal planning concluded and courtiers began dispersing to prepare for the mission, Rose noticed Sasha lingering near the throne room’s eastern wall—the one dominated by the mural of Rose’s past glories. There was something in her posture, something defeated and bitter, that made Rose’s chest tighten with old guilt. "Sasha," Rose called softly, approaching her sister who stood with arms crossed, staring up at the painted battle scene. Sasha didn’t turn around. "Quite the masterpiece, isn’t it? They commissioned it three months after you left. ’To honor the memory of our greatest captain,’ they said." "Sasha—" "No." Sasha spun around, and Rose was shocked to see tears threatening at the corners of her scarred eyes. "You don’t get to ’Sasha’ me. Not after everything." The pain in her voice was raw, unguarded in a way Rose had never heard before. This was Sasha without her captain’s mask, without the armor of duty and discipline. "You hurt me," Sasha continued, her voice cracking slightly. "Do you understand that? You hurt all of us, but you hurt me most of all because I thought—" She stopped, swallowing hard. "I thought we were sisters. Real sisters, bound by more than just shared battles and common cause." Rose felt something twist in her chest. "We are sisters. That never changed." "Sisters don’t disappear in the middle of the night without a word," Sasha shot back, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. "Sisters don’t abandon each other when the kingdom is under siege from three fronts. Sisters don’t leave their closest friend to pick up the pieces and explain to everyone why their hero just vanished." The words hit Rose like physical blows. She remembered that night—the desperate urgency that had driven her from the palace, the certainty that if she delayed even to say goodbye, she might lose the trail of her blood family forever. She’d told herself she was being practical, efficient. She’d never considered how it would feel to those she left behind. "I never said goodbye," Sasha whispered, her voice barely audible. "I woke up and you were gone. Just... gone. Like I meant nothing. Like none of us meant anything compared to people you’d never even met." Rose reached out instinctively, but Sasha stepped back, shaking her head. "The worst part," Sasha continued, wiping at her tears with angry gestures, "is that I understood. Of course you had to find them. Of course family comes first. But you could have trusted me enough to say the words. You could have let me help you, or at least let me know you were leaving by choice instead of letting me spend six months thinking you’d been kidnapped or killed." The silence stretched between them, heavy with decades of unspoken hurt. Rose found herself struggling for words that could bridge such a vast chasm of pain. "I was afraid," Rose said finally, her own voice rough with emotion. "Afraid that if I said goodbye, you’d try to stop me. Afraid that if I explained, I’d lose my nerve. Afraid that—" She stopped, then forced herself to continue. "Afraid that saying goodbye would make it real. That I was choosing strangers over the people who’d become my family." Sasha’s expression softened slightly, though tears still tracked down her cheeks. "We would have understood, Rose. Maybe not immediately, maybe not easily, but we would have understood. What we couldn’t understand was being abandoned without explanation." "I know," Rose said quietly. "I know, and I’m sorry. It was cowardice disguised as practicality, and it was wrong." They stood in the shadow of Rose’s painted glory, two warriors who’d shared countless battles now struggling with wounds that couldn’t be healed by sword or spell. "You know what the really stupid part is?" Sasha said, her voice gaining a hint of her old wry humor. "I practiced this conversation for years. Had all sorts of angry speeches planned about duty and loyalty and proper protocol for deserting your post." She laughed, but it was a broken sound. "Turns out when you actually showed up, all I wanted to know was why you didn’t trust me enough to say goodbye." Rose felt her own eyes burning. "Because saying goodbye to you would have been the hardest part. Because you were the sister I chose, and leaving you felt like tearing out part of my own heart." "Well," Sasha said, wiping her nose on her sleeve in a gesture so undignified it was almost endearing, "next time you decide to go on a decades-long family reunion, maybe lead with that instead of just disappearing like some sort of dramatic ghost." Despite everything, Rose found herself smiling. "I’ll make a note of that for future reference." "Good. Now help me figure out how to explain to the Queen that her new favorite is going to get us all killed in the human realm because she’s too sentimental to plan a proper military operation." "I’m not her new favorite," Rose protested. Sasha’s look was withering. "Rose. She laughed. Our Queen, who hasn’t shown emotion in public since the Crimson Wars, actually laughed at something you said. If that’s not favoritism, I don’t know what is." Rose considered this, then grinned. "Well, when you put it that way, maybe I should ask for a raise." "Don’t push it," Sasha warned, but she was almost smiling too. "You’re still on probation for the whole ’abandoning your duties without notice’ thing." "Fair enough," Rose conceded. "I suppose I’ll have to earn my way back into your good graces." "Damn right you will," Sasha said firmly. "Starting with not getting me killed in whatever insane rescue mission you’ve gotten us into." "I make no promises," Rose replied solemnly. "But I’ll do my best not to get you killed on purpose." "That’s disturbingly reassuring," Sasha muttered, but she was definitely smiling now.