when Queen Gloriae was rebuilding it, before the roof had even been raised. The sky of Requiem still shone upon the new Oak Throne. This was not her afterlife; this was a whisper of her past.
Mori turned to the east, looked between the birches, and saw two figures cloaked in light. Here were the other heroes of the great war, the founders of Nova Vita: Agnus Dei, clad in green, a woman of black curls and kind brown eyes; and Kyrie Eleison, Prince of Requiem, a young man of yellow hair and winking eyes, Mori's ancestor. They stood in the starlight, smiling softly upon her, waiting for her.
We will fly together through starlit halls, their voices whispered in her mind. But not this day. Your tale does not end here.
"Fly," Gloriae said again, and the queen held Mori's hands, sending warmth and love through her. "Become the dragon. You bear the golden scales like I do, a color of royalty and dawn. Become the golden dragon and fly. Find our sky. Find the light of stars in the dark."
Mori tried to shift here in the temple, to soar toward the sky, but pain blazed around her wrists and ankles, and her breath rattled in her lungs. She was so weak. She was so hungry, so hurt.
"I can't," she whispered. "I am chained. Iron binds me."
"And I wear steel and gold," said the queen, gesturing at her armor, "and I bear Stella Lumen, a shard of metal and light, the sword of my mother Queen Lacrimosa. And yet I can shift."
Starlight cascaded, the song of harps played, and the woman of golden curls was gone; instead a golden dragon stood before Mori, eyes green and sad.
A golden dragon, Mori thought. Like me.
"But… your armor is a part of you," Mori said, standing small and thin before the great golden beast. "I can shift with my gown too, and with a good book that I love, if I hold it close to my breast. But I could never shift with armor, nor a sword, not like Lyana can." She placed her hand upon the golden dragon's head. "You are a great warrior, Gloriae! You fought the armies of Dies Irae himself and slew so many. You can shift encased in steel; I cannot."
Yet why could Lyana shift in armor? Mori wondered. She had seen the knight shift with sword, shield, and helm; they all melted into her dragon form, then reappeared when Lyana became human again. Yet Mori had seen the knight once try to shift while holding a harp, a musical instrument she had never mastered; Lyana had become the blue dragon, and the harp had clattered to the floor.
Gloriae nodded, as if she could read Mori's thoughts.
"We can shift," the golden dragon said, "with what is ours, with what is us. My armor is a part of me, a steel skin. A book is a part of you, a piece of your soul upon parchment."
Mori stood in the court of Requiem, clad in a white gown, yet when she raised her wrists, the skin was red and raw; she could feel the chains around them, even here in this hall of light and ghosts.
"Will these chains be a part of me?" she whispered.
With silver light, Gloriae returned to human form. Softly the queen embraced Mori; her armor was cold, but her hair and arms were warm.
"We are part of you," Gloriae whispered into her ear. "We are with you. Always, daughter of Requiem. We fly with you even in your darkest hours. Surrender to the shackles. Let these chains become like arms of steel. They imprison you. They will let you fly."
The queen kissed Mori's forehead, lips warm and soft, and white light flowed, and for a moment Mori saw nothing but the glow of stars.
When the light cleared, she saw the dungeon again: the bloody floor, the brick walls, and the door before her. Once more she sat here in shadow, her arms shackled to the wall behind her, her ankles chained to the floor.
"Was it a dream?" she whispered, throat dry and voice raspy. Had she truly seen the spirit of Queen Gloriae and the great Kyrie Eleison and Agnus Dei? Had she seen a light from the starlit halls or a light from the past?
Mori lowered her head; it felt too heavy to hold up. Her stomach clenched, her back blazed with pain, and her eyes stung. She missed that hall of marble. She missed those birches.