Rem lingered in the warmth of the water until the hourglass on the wall was emptied twice over. Finally she pushed herself upright, water sliding down her skin, and stepped out of the tub. Her bare feet pressed into the plush red carpet, as her toes curled instinctively, savoring the softness of the rug below her feet. Rem raised her hand, moving her fingers, and a wave of controlled air slid across her body, drying every last drop of water from it.
The mirror caught Rem's reflection her face unchanged, her body unchanged. Forever twenty-one, untouched by the centuries. She tilted her head, studying the red in her eyes, the fairness of her skin. It's not vanity; it's a fact. As long as she carries the mantle of the House of Remembrance, magic will forever keep her at this age. Even if she has children, time will never mark Rem. The House of Remembrance alone holds the gift of eternity, and from them flows all the magic that has blessed humanity. Magic Constructs, artifacts, and machines all of it has come from her family line the eternal leaders and protectors of humanity.
Rem let this thought drop with a shake of her head. On the table by the wall rested a set of clothing: a plain black blouse and a pair of rugged blue jeans, their material was thick and travel-ready, styled after what tourists wore on Elsera. Rem slipped into them quickly. A sigh slipped from her lips when she uncovered the undergarments folded beneath. White. A bra and panties. "Oh come on… really?" she said aloud. "Come on, Amaia, you can do better than this." Ren flicked her wrist, crimson light flashing as the fabric deepened into a blood-red color, matching her eyes. Satisfied, Rem put them on beneath her clothes.
When Rem pushed the door open, Amaia stood waiting in the corridor, her armor still glowing its blood-red hue. Rem's gaze slid over her from head to toe. The metallic plates breathed menace; the aura of blood and slaughter radiated around Amaia like a living smell, pressing faintly against the senses. Rem considered demanding something less conspicuous for Amaia to wear, but the thought vanished. Intimidation is sometimes the simplest defense. Witha woman like Amaia at her side it will make sure fools think twice before getting close to Rem.
"Well, no time like the present." Rem straightened her shoulders and let her voice sharpen with command. "Let's get down to business. We're off on our adventure. I'm sure we can return to the Arc at any time. It's not like you're the only magical construct here, Amaia. Everything will be fine without you around for a while."
Amaia's lips curved up faintly, her eyes bright with something close to pride. "You are correct, Lady Rem. I am but one of many countless magical constructs awaiting your command within the Arc. Your father, Ishtar, only felt relief at the thought of you having such forces at your beck and call. As for venturing to the surface, a simple teleportation spell will suffice. Would you like to do the honors, my lady?"
Rem's smiled. As she lifted her hands, palms out, and her voice dropped into a rhythm of a magical incantation.
"I am the dream of an endless night.
I am rage incarnate.
I am that which awaits in the endless dark.
I am the sorrow that defines eternity.
I am Rem of the Remembrance, and I Remember.
I, Rem, sole heir of the House of Remembrance, channel my ancestral magic to travel to the world of Elsera below."
The floor pulsed. A glowing circle spun into existence beneath their feet, its lines bright and jagged with power. The light swelled, forming a pillar that rose and engulfed both of them. It burned white, so bright it washed away the walls and ceiling.
The next breath of air was different. Cold, damp, touched with the grit of stone and ash. The light collapsed, and the two stood side by side in a narrow alley, the sky above blocked by the roofs of Darkgloom. The Arc was gone, Rem's quarters were gone. Only the silence of the city's backstreets greeted them, broken faintly by the distant hum a new world and a new adventure.
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