The Tribunal

The grand hall of Lysandra’s Grand Nexus, the ancient Castle at the heart of Terra, hummed with tension. Hovering orbs cast a soft glow over the assembled dignitaries, their light reflecting off polished marble floors and gilded walls adorned with tapestries depicting the history of Terra’s many nations.

Lady Vespera Galeth stood at the center of it all, her regal bearing a stark contrast to the turmoil roiling within. Her eyes scanned the assembling crowd, noting the uneasy alliances and simmering rivalries. The fate of the High Kingdoms hung in the balance, and she knew that every word, every gesture in the coming hours could tip the scales towards war or peace.

The chamber was dominated by a large crescent-shaped table elevated above the floor, etched with the emblems of the High Kingdoms, where each ruler and their chosen advisors sat in judgment. A small circular platform stood before the table for speakers to address the council. Rising up behind it were dozens of curved rows of seating, each tier higher than the last.

To her right, Archmage Thaelira Starfire of Etherveil glided in. The Luminarian's ageless face betrayed no emotion, but Vespera could glimpse the calculations running behind those ancient eyes, something she personally knew a little too well.

High Arbiter Lyris Ithilwen of Uloria glided down from above, her luminous wings casting prismatic patterns across the polished floor. Her serene expression belied the steel in her gaze as she took her place among the assembled leaders.

With a rumble that shook the very foundations of the hall, Forge-King Thrain Ironfist of Char strode in. His craggy features were set in a mask of grim determination, his blue and red eyes sweeping across the assembly.

From the shadows emerged Chieftain Grukor Bloodfang, his massive frame dwarfing the Terran honor guard that flanked him. The Orukai warlord's scarred visage twisted into a sneer as he surveyed the gathered dignitaries, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his brutal axe.

Among the gathered leaders, Vespera cast her eyes over the four other dignitaries whose presence on Terra was more rare, but whose vote was just as impactful. Ambassador Zyx'loran of the Narathul, his form a constantly shifting kaleidoscope of colors and textures, stood tall and proud. His multifaceted eyes seemed to take in every detail of the proceedings simultaneously.

Elder Spore of the Mycellid Collective swayed gently, tendrils of bioluminescent fungi spreading across the floor beneath him. The air around him shimmered with spores, each of them sparkling in a series of patterns, not unlike a brain's neurons firing.

Queen-Delegate Xithara of the Chitinid Hive moved with precise, insectoid grace. Her exoskeleton gleamed with intricate patterns that shifted continually.

Lastly, Boughlord Sylvanus of the Thallusians towered above the rest, his bark-like skin adorned with vibrant moss and delicate flowers. Living branches grew from his shoulders and crown, swaying gently with his movements, while his eyes glowed like amber sap in the chamber's light.  

And there, at the center of it all, stood the focus of their gathering – Morvana. A being of terrifying power, now diminished, bound by chains of pure Elementum Thread that seemed to drink in the shadows around her. Yet even in her weakened state, all could feel the creeping chill that emanated from the center of this great hall. 

Vespera raised her hand, and a hush fell over the hall. "Esteemed leaders of the High Kingdoms," she began, her voice carrying a weight of uncertainty. "We gather here today to seek truth and justice in troubled times. The recent events have shaken our worlds to their core, and we must approach this matter with clear minds and open hearts."

She turned to a figure cloaked in formal robes. "Accusator, please read the charges brought against the Arch-Lich Morvana of Slayn."

The Accusator stepped forward, unfurling an uncomfortably long scroll. His voice rang out, crisp and emotionless: "Morvana of Slayn stands accused of the following crimes against the High Kingdoms: Sabotage of the Weaveways, resulting in the deaths of hundreds. Corruption of the Thread itself, threatening the very fabric of our reality. Aggressive actions against peaceful worlds, including the blockade of Slayn's own Weaveways, an act of war in itself."

As the litany of charges continued, the gathered leaders began to shift restlessly. Grukor's low growl grew louder with each accusation, while Thaelira's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Thrain's voice cut through the growing tension like a hammer striking an anvil. "Enough! I have brought you the architect of this madness. What more do you need to hear? Let us end this now. Guilty!

“Why are you so eager for this to be over?” muttered Xithara, the Chitinid Queen, her mandibles clicking softly. 

Thrain stroke his crystallize beard “I’m just ready to move on to a new era of universal peace and cooperation—”

“With Char at its center, of course?”

“You have words to say to me, insect!? I will have justice!”

Before Xithara could respond, Grukor's voice boomed across the chamber. "This is a farce! You throw around words like justice, yet it was Uloria and Etherveil that launched a preemptive strike against Slayn. Where is their trial?"

Ambassador Zyx'loran's form rippled with what might have been amusement. "An attack that failed spectacularly, if reports are to be believed. Perhaps we should be more concerned with incompetence than aggression."

As laughter rang out across the hall, High Arbiter Lyris's wings flared with barely contained fury. The air around her crackled with celestial energy, causing nearby delegates to step back warily. Zyx'loran's form rippled in response, his body coiling into a defensive stance.

The chamber erupted into a cacophony of shouted accusations and threats. Asterae guards moved to flank Lyris, while Narathul protectors formed a living shield around their ambassador. Grukor hefted his massive axe in threat, as Thrain howled with laughter, his eyes blazing with blue fire. The Elder Spore released a cloud of spores that left several diplomats coughing and disoriented.

"SILENCE!" Vespera's voice cut through the mayhem like a blade. The fighting ceased as suddenly as it had begun, all eyes turning to the Terran leader. 

"Arch-Lich Morvana," she intoned, her words heavy with the weight of judgment, "you stand accused of crimes against not only the High Kingdoms, but against the beloved Tapestry itself. What say you?"

A hush fell over the assembly as all eyes turned to the diminished figure at the center of the hall. Morvana raised her head.

"You fools," she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper yet carrying to every corner of the vast chamber. "You sit here, bickering like children. You leap to conclusions about the Tapestry, without asking any of the right questions!" 

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Vespera pressed on. 

“What questions, Morvana…? If you know something, something that led you down this path, just tell us. This is not the time to be coy.”

Morvana’s gaze locked on Vespera's. “Our old promises, my friend... they're like candles in a storm. And no matter what I say here and now… the storm is coming.” Morvana's voice was soft, almost tender.  "And we... we are so very small." 

Vespera felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath her.

But before she could speak, Thaelira's voice cut through the tension. "The ravings of a desperate necromancer do not move the council, Arch-Lich. It's time to face the consequences of your actions."

"Fascinating how quick Etherveil is to condemn its star pupil," the Elder Spore's tendrils writhed as bioluminescent patterns danced across his surface. "Was it not your academies that nurtured Morvana's... dangerous curiosities?"

"Fascinating how quick Etherveil is to condemn its star pupil," the Elder Spore's tendrils writhed as bioluminescent patterns danced across his surface. "Was it not your academies that nurtured Morvana's... dangerous curiosities?"

The tribunal devolved into bickering once more, but Vespera barely registered the commotion. She gripped the edge of her chair, struggling to maintain her composure.

With the last of her strength, Vespera raised her hand, a subtle gesture her guards. "Take her away," she managed, her voice barely audible above the din. "We will... we will reconvene in the morning when cooler heads prevail."

As the guards moved to escort Morvana to a private cell, the two women's eyes locked, then Morvana was gone. Vespera felt herself falling, falling...

"Run!" Morvana's urgent whisper cut through the darkness. The pounding of feet echoed off ancient stone as two figures raced through winding corridors, their shadows dancing in the flickering light of arcane sconces.

"Left here!" Vespera hissed, yanking her friend around a corner. Two young women clutched a small, pulsing object between them. Their robes were singed, and the acrid smell of ozone clung to them.

They burst through a hidden door, and gasped as the grand library of Etherveil stretched impossibly high, its shelves groaning under the weight of ancient tomes and forbidden knowledge. “This way!”

Morvana grabbed her friend, pulling Vespera behind a massive shelf. "I think we lost them,” she panted, a manic grin spreading across her face.

Vespera leaned against the cool stone wall at the end of the shelves, trying to catch her breath. "That was too close. If the Keepers had caught us..."

"But they didn't." Morvana’s eyes shined with excitement. "Let me see it!"

Vespera hesitated, then carefully lifted the prize they'd stolen – a small cube covered in shifting, impossible geometries. Its surface rippled like liquid metal, etched with symbols that hurt the eyes to look at directly.

Vespera couldn't help but smile, despite her racing heart. "It's beautiful. But… what is it?"

"I'm not sure," Morvana admitted, turning the cube over in her hands. "But it's old. Older than anything in the vaults. Can you feel it? The power?"

Vespera nodded, reaching out to trace one of the cube's ever-changing patterns. As her finger made contact, a jolt of energy passed between them. For a moment, the air seemed to shimmer, and Vespera caught a glimpse of... something. Vast and terrible and beautiful all at once.

"Did you see that?" she whispered, pulling her hand back.

Morvana nodded, her expression a mix of awe and determination. "There's so much we don't know about the ancient Weave-works. So much power, just waiting to be understood and utilized."

Vespera bit her lip, excitement warring with apprehension. "What if the Keepers were right to keep this hidden? We don't understand this thing any more than they do."

“But they’re just keeping it hidden away!” Morvana insisted. "Knowledge is power, Vespera,  and how will we grab it and share it if we never even try to understand this?” She held  the cube aloft.

Vespera sighed, picturing her mother's icy disapproval, her father's lectures on the 'proper' use of Thread-craft. "You know what my father would say. 'Some doors are meant to stay closed, some knowledge too dangerous to pursue.'"

“Sounds exactly like my mother. But, the truth is, they're scared, Vespera. Scared of the darkness, scared of their own shadows, scared of change!” 

“But we're not like them, are we?” Vespera ventured. 

Impulsively, Morvana grabbed Vespera's hand. "Let’s promise each other," she urged, her eyes burning with intensity. "No matter what happens, no matter where our paths take us – we'll always share our discoveries. This is how knowledge grows, how we push back the darkness. Together."

Vespera squeezed Morvana's hand, ignoring the flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with their daring escape, and everything to do with Morvana’s cold, soft fingers gripping hers. "I promise. On the Thread itself, I swear it."

"I wondered when you would come," Morvana said without looking up.

Vespera stood at the door to Morvana's cell, hesitating. With a deep breath, she dismissed the guards and entered.

The dungeon was carved from rough-hewn stone in the very foundation of the historic castle, slick with moisture and etched with runes of power so ancient their meaning had been lost to time. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and in the shadows, things seemed to move just beyond the edge of perception.

Vespera approached cautiously, her heart racing. "Why did you never answer my calls?”

Morvana's laugh was a dry, brittle sound. "Oh, Vespera… Surely you must know." 

“We could have faced this together, whatever it is. We once shared everything.”

Morvana's gaunt eyes met hers. “That was with Vespera — not Lady Galeth. Not with the power you wield. The truth… was too dangerous to leave Slayn.”

"But our oath," Vespera pressed, her voice cracking. "We swore on the Tapestry itself."

"And I broke that oath," Morvana snapped. Then she looked away, pain in her eyes. “I had no choice. I wanted to answer… I did…”

Vespera knelt, taking Morvana's hand. The familiar touch sent a jolt through them both, momentarily bridging the chasm of years and secrets. 

"Tell me," Vespera pleaded. “What did you find?"

Morvana's breath caught, memories of shared discoveries and unspoken feelings flooding back. But the weight of her terrible knowledge crushed any lingering sentimentality.

Morvana leaned forward, the magical restraints crackling around her. "I... can't. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't know what it is yet. But you must believe me, it was not Slayn. 

Vespera's brow furrowed. "But why keep this secret? Why not tell me sooner?"

"Because I don't know who we can trust," Morvana hissed, her eyes darting to the cell door. "More so than usual. Whatever this is, it's beyond anything we've seen before.”

Vespera's mind reeled. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that executing me won't save you," snapped Morvana. 

After a brief silence, Morvanna's hand suddenly reached out and grabbed Vespera's dress,  trying to control her ragged breaths. “I need your help, Vespera. You must find a way to convince them! There is nothing I could say to them, you know that, but you… I just need time. Time to understand what we truly face."

"I... I'll try," Vespera stammered, rising to her feet.

"Speak quickly, Terran. Your politics bore me."

The rising sun hid behind the dark morning clouds, as Vespera cornered Chieftain Grukor in a shadowy alcove. The Orukai warlord's massive frame dwarfed her, his scarred face unreadable. 

Vespera met his gaze unflinchingly.  "The Orukai value honor above all, do they not? Consider the honor it takes to seek understanding in the face of fear. Consider the honor it would take to stand for Morvana’s life, to let her ask the questions she says we fear, instead of racing to destroy her."

Grukor's eyes narrowed, but a flicker of interest passed across his features. "Pretty words. But what does Vorrak gain from sparing the witch?"

"Knowledge," Vespera pressed. "Morvana believes a threat greater than her looms in the stars. If true, her wisdom of the Necros thread could be invaluable. No? Even the mightiest axe is useless against an unknown enemy."

"You are more intriguing than most of these simpering diplomats, I will give you that. I am becoming persuaded.” He leaned in, his voice low. "But intrigue alone does not bring justice or honor. Show me you're willing to spill blood for your convictions, and perhaps... perhaps the Orukai will consider your plea."

Without hesitating, Vespera grabbed the Orukai’s battle axe by the hilt, pulled herself close to him — and then ran her palm down the razor-sharp blade. Her blood dripped down her arm, as she raised it to show him. “Blood has been spilled.”

To her surprise, Grukor let out a booming laugh. “I do like you, Lady Valeth. Very much. Let us see where the tribunal falls.”

As Grukor stalked away, Vespera allowed herself a glimmer of hope. Throughout the morning, she had moved from one tense negotiation to another. If she could secure, at least, the Orukai vote, others might follow. There were those who respected Vorrak's martial prowess, and still others who would align themselves with the perceived victors. All night she had been up, weighing the political landscape meticulously, identifying the key figures whose support could sway the others. A path forward, narrow and treacherous, began to lay itself out before her.

But her momentary optimism faded as Lyris materialized behind her, wings mantled imposingly.

"Your machinations have not gone unnoticed," Lyris said, her voice a mixture of disappointment and concern. "You would risk the safety of the High Kingdoms for one necromancer?"

Vespera steeled herself. "I seek the truth, that’s all. If there's even a chance Morvana's fears bear—"

"Truth?" Lyris interrupted, her perfect face tightening into a frown. "Lady Galeth, the Seraphim have already granted us their divine guidance in this matter."

“Yes, your invisible deities. Arbiter, I do not doubt your faith, but —”

"Invisible only to mortals, my dear. Oh, how I wish I could share with you the depths of the Seraphim's glory. I have glimpsed but a fraction, and it has changed me forever. When they speak, it is with the voice of the Thread of life itself. The Seraphim see all possible futures, every branching path of destiny. Their words are not mere prophecies, but the very fabric of fate."

Lyris’ voice trembled with emotion. "How can I ever doubt such perfection?"

Vespera listened patiently, then spoke with careful reverence. "I do not doubt your gods' glory, High Arbiter Lyris. But they do not speak to the masses; they speak to you. And infallible gods require fallible interpreters."

Lyris recoiled as if struck. "Watch your tongue, Terran," she hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Your arrogance blinds you to forces beyond your comprehension."

She drew herself up to her full height, wings flaring. "The Seraphim's word is truth. Defy their will with the Arch-Lich, and Uloria will stand against Terra's folly. The consequences will reach far beyond your pitiful friendship — or your insignificant world."

As Lyris turned and stormed away, the weight of her threat settled on Vespera's shoulders. This had become a very dangerous game. Terra could ill afford Uloria and its allies as an enemy. And they would be, unless more than a majority voted to save Morvana. 

But the numbers were not on her side.

In the high stands above the Tribunal Hall, Vespera sought out the one person she could trust implicitly. Dr. Moriarty had been watching the proceedings from high above since it had begun, always preferring to see the eagle’s view of the world. He listened patiently as she outlined her fears, her hopes of finding a peaceful solution.

But Moriarty's response was devoid of sympathy. 

"My Lady," Moriarty began, his voice uncharacteristically tense, "If the alliances are falling away as you fear, you must consider the bigger picture. Nearly every Weaveway runs through Terra. We are the crossroads of everything."

"Which gives us the power to take a stand—"

"It makes us vulnerable," he cut in. “If the choice falls to Terra, and you side with Morvana — half the kingdoms could turn against us, and they would have access to our very doorstep. Trade will collapse. Alliances will shatter. Here at court, you’d lose your influence." He leaned closer. "And then what? War? How many thousands will die?"

Vespera gripped the railing. "So I’m forced to condemn an innocent to preserve the peace? Is that what you're telling me?"

"You're the one voice they all trust.” His voice hardened. “But they all know about you and Morvana. Save her now, and they'll never trust your judgement again."

Vespera felt the last of her hope crumbling. "What am I to do, old friend?"

"What you've always done," Moriarty replied. "Lead. Make the hard choices, so others don't have to. But I think... I think you already know that."

The grand doors swung open, and Morvana was led in, her wrists and ankles bound by chains of pure Thread, each link seeming to writhe and twist as if alive, constantly adapting to contain her power. Despite her captivity, Morvana's head was held high. A palpable tension electrified the air. 

Morvana's gaze swept the chamber before locking onto Vespera's. A tear slipped down Vespera’s cheek before she turned away. 

The votes were cast, one by one. 

Vespera's heart thundered in her chest as she tallied each verdict, hope and dread warring within her. For a breathless moment, it seemed her frantic negotiations might bear fruit. The scales teetered on the edge of mercy.

Then Grukor rose, his massive frame casting a shadow across the assembly. His voice rumbled like falling gravel. "The Orukai value honor. But we also know the danger of a wounded, vengeful enemy. The Arch Lich is too great a threat alive." His massive fist slammed down, shaking the very foundations of the hall. "Vorrak votes for death."

It was a perfect tie. All eyes turned to Vespera, the final vote. A hush fell over the assembly.

This was the very moment she had feared. The knife has been put in her hand, and all of history now waited for her to plunge it in.

Time seemed to slow as Vespera rose to her feet. Her gaze met Morvana's once more, and in those ancient eyes, she saw a flicker of understanding. It did nothing to ease the ache in her heart.

Vespera's voice, when it came, was steady. "For the preservation of peace between our peoples," she began, each word tasting like ash in her mouth, "I cast my vote... for the execution of Arch-Lich Morvana of Slayn."

The chamber erupted into a cacophony of reactions — cheers, protests, and everything in between. But Vespera heard none of it. 

Her world had narrowed to the icy stare of her old friend, a gaze that seemed to pierce through her very soul, chilling her to her core. In that moment, Vespera knew that while she may have preserved the peace, she might have just doomed them all.

A single drop of water fell from the ceiling, landing with a soft plop on Morvana's cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away, as she could not feel its weight nor its cold. Her gaze instead was fixed on the dancing shadows cast by guttering torchlight. The ancient glyphs pulsed around her, a constant reminder of her powerlessness.

It was only very slowly that a scraping sound began to catch her attention. 

Then all at once, an old weathered stone in the wall began to shift, then slide away entirely. Morvana tensed, ready for some new torment.

Instead, to her utter shock, it was Dr. Moriarty who emerged from the hidden passage, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled, his eyes wild with urgency.

"Well, Doctor, you're the last person I expected to see," Morvana said, eyebrows raised. 

Moriarty glanced nervously over his shoulder. "We don't have much time."

Hope flickered in Morvana's eyes. "So, it was all a ruse then, was it? Vespera has this planned all along?"

Moriarty's expression softened. "I'm afraid not. As you know, sometimes it's safer to leave our most loved ones with an untarnished mind. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her."

Morvana's face fell, but she quickly steeled herself. "Then why are you here?"

“Because you’re the only one who will believe me.”

Moriarty produced a small device from his pocket, its surface covered in pulsing runes. "We recovered the Ether Shard from the wreckage, after the craft was ejected through the tear into space. Just before the Weaveway corrupted, the shard had picked up… some kind of dispatch."

"What did it say?" Morvana leaned forward, her restraints forgotten.

"Nothing we understood. It was language, but none spoken on any of our worlds. More important than what it may or may not have said — was when it was sent.”

 A chill ran down Morvana's spine. “Tell me.”

“The missive had been bouncing around space for thousands of years, since… the time of the ancients who built the Weaves."

"By the dark gods," she breathed. But there was no time for shock. The path ahead was clear. "Then we must get to work."

Moriarty's eyes met hers, filled with a mixture of fear and determination. "That’s what I was hoping you would say."

With a gesture from Moriarty, the magical restraints binding Morvana flickered and died. Together, they slipped into the secret passage, navigating a labyrinth of forgotten corridors that honeycombed the ancient foundations of the timeless castle.

They emerged from a rusted grate into a hidden cove, far from the gleaming towers of Lysandra. A small boat bobbed in the murky water, its hull scarred and patched but serviceable.

As they prepared to board, Morvana paused, looking up at the star-filled Terran sky. 

She had been certain she would never see it again, but now... Her eyes narrowed as she gazed into the vast expanse above. So much mystery awaited.

"Come," Moriarty urged, already in the boat. "We have much to do, and precious little time."

As they pushed off from shore, Morvana cast one last look at the receding shadows of Lysandra, as the mists of the bay enveloped them.