Amaia led Rem back to her quarters aboard the Arc, which currently floated in orbit above Elsera. Inside her room, Rem's gaze immediately caught sight of a giant magically animated picture of her father Ishtar. His enormous, irritating smile stretching wide across his face as the image came to life, and the recording began to play with his familiar voice:
"My dear daughter—" But Rem, already in a foul mood, didn't let him finish. She walked forward, yanked the enchanted picture from the wall, and hurled it into the nearby incinerator. Flames devoured the picture whole, his grin burned away as the glass cracked and blackened from the fire. Rem clapped her hands together three times and said her voice filled satisfaction, "Old man, I can't whip your corpse, but I feel better now."
Rem turned towards Amaia, who stood in the doorway. "If you see any more pictures of my father trying to send me messages, throw them in the incinerator."
Amaia dipped her head respectfully. "Yes, my lady, I will be sure to do that." Her voice was steady, but her thoughts thought of Ishtar's orders to save them. In secret, Amaia would store the pictures carefully into a hidden utility closet aboard the Arc out of sight out of the incinerator. Someday, when his daughter's anger cooled, Amaia intends to put them back up.
Rem's eyes swept her bedroom, her mood uplifted. She walked towards the giant window overlooking the planet below. Her knuckles tapped lightly against the pane of glass as she stared down at Elsera's glowing surface. "Huh. I guess my father wasn't completely incompetent. He definitely nailed the fact that I like a good view in my bedroom." Her jaw tightened. "But still—the fact that he kicked me out and let the entire human race die still bothers me. I'm not even aware of the source of the plague that wiped out humanity, and I was suddenly forced into this lonely journey."
A sigh escaped Rem, quiet but heavy. Behind her, Amaia was already at work, her hands moving quickly across the magical replicators. Streams of magic light wove together into new clothing, fabric forming and folding into suitable clothing. Amaia worked without pause, shaping every seam and edge in silence. Three minutes passed, then Amaia approached, holding the results in her arms.
"My lady," Amaia said softly, "your bath is ready, as well as a new change of clothes as you requested. Nothing in this new change of clothing is white."
Rem rolled her eyes, dramatically, and looked at Amaia with a glare. "Yeah right. I'll believe that when I see it."
Amaia's eyes slid toward the corner of the room, her lips pressed together without reply. She couldn't answer, not when she was bound by Ishtar's command. Rem must always wear at least one white item of clothing, though Amaia herself didn't even know why.
Rem shook off the thought, excitement breaking through her mood. Her first bath in hundreds or perhaps thousands of years awaited. She walked across her quarters and entered the vast bathroom. Glass walls, glass floors, even the bathtub itself—everything is a transparent glass, clear and flawless. Rem stopped, her eyebrows pulling together into a furrow. "Yep. I had a feeling everything in here was going to be transparent. No privacy at all."
Rem's hand rose, a quick gesture through the air. Magic rippled outwards, washing over every surface. The bathtub darkened instantly, the fixtures shifting as the glass transformed into solid porcelain and muted colors. Her tub glowed a pale white sheen now, soft and private. Rem slapped her hands together once, twice, three times. "Nothing a quick spell cant fix. Thank goodness I come from the House of Remembrance, which allows me to use magic to alter the very fundamental principles of reality. Even with all this magic, we couldn't stop that plague. But at least I'm still alive. And as long as I'm alive, I carry the seed of humanity with me."
Rem's words lingered in the air, echoing faintly in the steaming chamber. She thought of her duty, of the weight of survival. "One of my goals in this new journey is to make sure that the family line of the House of Remembrance is carried on." A spark of amusement tugged at her lips as she added, "And from the sounds of it, I already have a perfect target in mind. After all, what would a relationship be like without an exotic, beautiful dark elf queen by my side? Don't ask me why. It's just a childhood fantasy of mine." She looked at her reflection in the mirror wall and said. "In a world with dragons, dwarves, elves, and fairies, why not pursue a fantasy?"
Rem's gaze moved downwards, her mind shifting again. "And I can also solve how this world contains traces of humanity's technology… and maybe its possible link to the plague that destroyed my own people."
Rem's hands moved to the straps of her white dress. She slipped it off from her shoulders and let it pool at her feet, pale fabric folding in silence. She walked slowly to the tub, heat rising in waves from the steaming surface. As Rem lowered herself down into the water, sinking inch by inch until it enveloped her body completely. The scalding water spread over her body, washing away not just dirt and grime, but centuries of mental weight. Rem was not exposed to the outside while locked inside her coffin, but her mind felt coated in the dust of millennia. Now, the water seemed to peel it away, layer by layer.
Rem leaned back, her eyes half-closed, her breath falling into rhythm with the sound of shifting water as she drifted off to sleep but not before thinking to herself. "Ask anyone who has been imprisoned inside of a coffin for thousands of years if they don't feel mentally taxed, and if they say they're fine, they're lying their asses off to you." A faint laugh escaped her, edged with truth. "And in my opinion, you can take that statement to the bank. Not that there is even one here to begin with."
The heat soaked deeper, and the steam gathered around her, curling against her skin. For the first time since awakening, her shoulders eased, and the thoughts pressing on her mind quieted just enough for her to breathe and sleep.
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