Page 40 of Sokâr

“Indefinitely.”

'May this Nameless approach?'

He nodded, and Lu’ma didn’t hesitate. The splotching bruise on Her Radiance’s temple was healed, and as she checked her arms, she was relieved to see that her Host was once again whole.

“Lu’ma,” the Resh’Agar called.

Startled, she looked up.

“You are coming with us. You will no longer be stationed in the Servitor. You will take the spare chamber in my wing.”

She stared, uncomprehending.

“You are under my protection now. Not just my Sokâr’s.”

'This Nameless does not understand','she signed. Still reeling. Still numb.

“You don’t need to. Just followme.”

Lu’ma looked towards the open door—to the darkness and emptiness within. One Her Radiance wouldn’t have to bear any longer. She almost smiled, but stopped herself.

Hands do not smile. Do not feel.

Attendants are tools. Only hands. Only bodies.

Yet, when she looked again at the one Her Radiance called ‘Kailorien’, her heart lurched in her chest. Squeezed.

Safe to report: His Quintessence has commanded Her Radiance to stay in the Resh'Agar's wing.

Not safe to report: This Nameless is destabilized. Consider the risk of Fraying. Once Frayed, a Hand is useless. Once Frayed, a Hand must be replaced.

Correction: This Hand will not be replaced. No other Hand can protect Her Radiance. Not like This Nameless.

Not like I can.

The walk to the Resh’Agar’s wing was silent. The great Lattice corridors curved like veins of emerald light, coming alive to the sound of their footsteps as they passed. Lu’ma trailed behind His Quintessence, arms full with the belongings she had so carefully gathered from Her Radiance’s sparse, unloved room.

Trinkets. Journals. A half-mended glowshawl. The pillow Her Radiance always favored. Each item tucked with care into a woven satchel the Sokâr carried with her on her walks.

The Companion Hall and Resh’Agar’s Wing were carved in three ring structures. Two thresholds and a core suite of chambers, including a sitting room and bathing pool. Lu’ma had never been permitted past the outer threshold of the Resh’Agar’s wing. No Attendant had. Nonewantedto go there. It was said to be a place of endings, heavy with shadow and death—where mana writhed in pain and the walls bled from the Runesgram’s madness.

But this…

This wasnotshadow.

As the grand double doors opened at his gesture, light spilled through in soft silver threads. The chamber beyond breathed serenity and power all at once. Crystalline panels curved upward into a dome etched with ancient runes, and beneath them, a sprawling atrium shimmered with suspended lanterns, their light reflecting on marble floors veined with precious stone. A low fountain trickled in the distance, the air cool but not unkind.

Lu’ma stood still. Stunned. Her sandals squeaked on the polished floor.

“Take the spare chamber,” His Quintessence said, voice clipped. “It’s yours.”

He turned to face her, arms cradling Her Radiance. His voice was strong and steady, as though her weight hadn’t burdened him at all as they’d walked through corridors and up a flight of stairs.

'The Resh’Agar wishes this Nameless to prepare it',she signed, confused.

“No. It is yours. That room belongs to you now. You serve no one else.”

Lu’ma blinked rapidly, unsure how to reply.