Mavyn wouldn't have concluded a backyard existed if not for Valen bringing her right at the lip of another cliff. Behind her, the walls of the Judgment Seat palace loomed without a promise of an end. Must have been from all those stairs. After dragging their battered bodies from the Garden of Eden back to the palace, Mavyn forced Valen to allow her some time to collect her thoughts alone. "It is called rest, egghead," she remembered saying to an immortal being with enough power to snuff her fire in an instant. "I've been thrown all over the place for the last few days, hours—whatever. I need to recuperate."

From the blank stare Valen threw her way, he hadn't pieced together what she meant. Not a sliver. She sighed and curled up on the floor, using her arm as a pillow. Her world disappeared for nothing but a blink, but when muted colors and cold sensations zipped through her consciousness again, the familiar weight of a blanket rested on her shoulders down to her legs.

After that, Valen prompted her to get ready for the Solstice Conclave, which he described as "soon". How the Kathari kept track of time in this place void of celestial telltales, Mavyn had no way of knowing. Yet. Valen waved his hand, and her clothes changed from the comfortable back to the grand gowns.

"Get ready," was all Valen said before he zapped them...to an edge of another cliff. The palace walls lumbered behind her, and the mist coated the horizon and the cliff's probable bottom in thick droves of murky gray film. She whirled to Valen, about to drop onto his head a cartload of comments, when her periphery swept across a sight she never saw before.

Her jaw fell in the field of stars bleeding beyond her. Valen waved his hand to part the mist, revealing an ocean of color and celestial gleam. It was the sky, complete with the blobs of brushed shades of red, purple, and yellow for the moons and planets, the blaze of white and blue for the stars, and the wisps of pink and green for clouds of dust and rock suspended in a dense space of darkness and light. It was...

Valen took her hand and led her along the edge towards the rim of a bridge. On the horizon, a small, open pavilion waited for them. Without an ounce of hesitation, Valen stepped into the polished marble floor, bringing her along for the journey. Mavyn stuck close to him, their shoulders almost touching. She was used to the mystic, the occult, and the esoteric, but when the concepts she only read in paper now leaped straight for her eyeballs, it could be terrifying.

The grip on her hand squeezed a bit tighter as if sensing her apprehension. She looked up at him to find his stare out into the open show of lights. Never on her. Not a second.

It was expected. The Kathari weren't beholden to human dispositions. Never had she seen Valen laugh or utter a deliberate jest. Prisca was a stoic rock who talked, even if strings of nonsense. Roassa, while bubbly and easily placated, never wasted a breath for things she didn't find intriguing. And Noclys...

Mavyn's lip curled with disgust at the thought of that baboon parading around as a Kathari. To think she'd see him again in the Solstice Conclave was enough torment. What about the Monarch? She shook her head, earning a glance from Valen. She wouldn't even start with them. Even as a child, the ruler of the entire Underworld reminded Mavyn of her place, of what she came here to do, and what she mustn't do in order to survive.

They reached the end of the bridge, coming up to a set of short steps leading to the pavilion. A quick lean past the bridge's tall balustrade told her it wasn't set on anything. The pavilion merely floated on thin air, buoyed by the clouds of dust and clumps of the inky void. Mavyn pursed her lips, conceding to Valen's gentle urge to get her to the first step. The space between the pillars rimming the domed canopy shimmered when she came in front of it. Was it...?

Her hand rose up in curiosity, fingers reaching for the unknown. The moment her skin touched the glimmering space, a set of ripples spread from the brief contact as if she touched water. "Do not fear." Valen's soft voice brushed against her ear lobe, tickling her neck. His hold on her hand tightened a fraction. Oh, those words were more for him than her. Physical contact was how he moderated the layer of Death Matter he placed on her to whizz under everyone's senses.

Mavyn braved a breath, her corset digging against the base of her spine. She squared her shoulders and strode forward, expecting to bounce against the water-like surface. Instead, her hand passed through the thin film, creating more ripples scattering from her wrist. Next came her shoulders, face, and the train of her gown. Even going through himself, Valen never let go of her hand. Once he cleared their first hurdle, he led her towards the center of the pavilion where the rest of the Underworld's Kathari settled in chairs around a circular table.

At the head of the table sat a stone chair on a dais, and on it settled the Monarch. The luscious strands rippled down the child's short arms and drowned her crossed legs. Her rich, sparkly red dress pooled all over her seat before dripping past the throne's edge like a bloody waterfall. Red eyes followed Mavyn's move as she and Valen took the only empty seats, wedged between Roassa's husband and Prisca.

The pavilion was spacious, resembling the palace halls and ballrooms Mavyn only saw from a distance. Unlike the rest of the Underworld, a golden ambience settled over their heads, accentuating the gleam of the amber embellishments scattered around in the form of friezes, architraves, velvet curtain rods, balustrades, and chandeliers. Precious stones glinted at every random interval on the floor, the observable ceiling, and the columns, distracting her from the fact that this was a serious meeting among the immortals and that she was a Living witch among them.

"Now that we are complete," the Monarch's thin, child-like voice floated across the space. "Let us commence the conclave with a celebratory toast."

She snapped her fingers, and a series of goblets sparked to life in front of everyone, Mavyn included. It took all of her self-control to not flinch at the sudden flash. Tracking everyone from the corner of her vision, she went with the major consensus of gripping the goblet by the stem and raising it to her lips. She tilted her head back, spotting Noclys at the Monarch's right hand. Next to him was Roassa. Where was his partner? How come he made it to the Conclave without one?

The cold drink touched her lips, dousing her tongue with smooth sweetness that disappeared down her throat in an instant. She brought it down even when the rest of the Kathari downed theirs. Valen noticed her motion, turning to her with a raised eyebrow.

Mavyn opened her mouth, but her tongue thickened against the roof of her mouth. Her skin started burning, and her vision blurred and quivered. What...oh.

"It's poison," she rasped, bracing the rim of the table. Her chest heaved as everything squeezed and stretched, fire licking her insides. "Valen, it's poison."

A hand reached out to her, and she remembered nothing more.