Larksong Grotto untitled tapes

Her heart sank a little when Redd did not agree to an alliance. Perhaps she didn’t even believe in such things. Avicus had, though neither of them was quite like their mother, were they? Just as Masque wondered if her sister ever dealt with Sapphique, she noticed Redd looking westward. Shadewood lay in that direction, of course.

It’s harder than I thought, building something from scratch, she found herself saying, but it’s a challenge I want to take. I loved the rise—I still do—but I was meant for something else.

She glanced at the place where she’d been born, thinking of all the people and places she missed there. But Masquerade hadn’t forgotten what had driven her from them, what even now prevented her from rejoining them. It wasn’t just pride, though that was admittedly a factor.

That made her think of the new ranks Redd had mentioned. New Snow and Carrion would carry the torch passed to them by the likes of Ashlar and Masquerade herself. She was glad she’d left some small imprint on the place, though the fact remained: Masquerade’s entire schema differed from theirs in several fundamental ways.

Whether or not you want a formal alliance, Masque said, the pain hitting a level where she felt she could stand and walk again, I want you to know you’re all welcome at Dragonspine.

Her heart thumped anxiously in her chest as she bent to gather the rabbit in her mouth. Her eyes asked if Redd might accompany her at least partway to the borders, even as she effectively muzzled herself. Masque felt a little strange, pressing the issue, but she couldn’t resist; she wanted it so badly.