Living With Demons

By Francis Verelle, Sasha Kielman and Thomas Jackson

The darkness that surrounds us shrouds the world. Whether we see it or feel it, we know it is in the depths of our minds. Our experiences don't lie and neither do our scars. It begs the question: how do you heal what you can't see? For too long, we've hidden from our demons and been told it was all in our heads. Now it is time to face them. How

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tea, but with Coffee Media
• Release date: May 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781957893259

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Copyright © 2023 by Tea With Coffee Media

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [e-mail]

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Trigger Warnings: Depictions of mental illness (anxiety, depression, and PTSD); references to war and murder

Kazmera’s dreams were full of shadows. They always were, ever since she could remember. Some nights, the shadows reached for her, searching gossamer tendrils that would have collapsed under her touch if only she could swat them away.

Some nights, the shadows enveloped her, swallowing her screams and threatening to plunge her into a darkness from which she would never return.

Some nights, the shadows converged and took the form of a man with pale skin in a black robe, who pointed his finger at her as if to accuse her.

When she saw shadows rising from around the man, she realized he was not accusing her at all. He was pointing past her, to the ghostly shades of her parents, whose death by those same shadows she relived over and over while she cowered helplessly in a corner.

In some of her dreams, she found herself upon a battlefield, reliving her worst nightmare over and over through every permutation that could have occurred—the shadows striking her, striking her husband, wiping out all life, turning the world into a dark and depthless void.

She could do nothing to stop the shadows in her dreams, just as she could do nothing to stop the man who killed her parents all those years ago.

Some nights, Kazmera woke up screaming.

It was after one of those such nights that the next morning, her husband suggested perhaps it was time for her to see a specialized healer. The sun was as high and bright in the sky as it would ever be in the Realm of Selenara, protecting Kazmera from the shadows in at least that way. .

It might help, he said. I know how difficult it is to trust someone new with your story, with the intimate secrets of your mind and life. But it might ease this burden for you.

Such things are not done in the Realm of Selenara, she replied, after taking a sip of her tea. There are those who would say that I am not worthy of the throne, that I was not worthy to be my grandfather’s heir due to my weakness.

We both know that’s not true.

We do, but do they? Besides, we have an entire Realm to rebuild. I cannot let my personal concerns get in the way.

Edan had no answer for her, but only sadness and honesty in his dark brown eyes. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he got up from the table to begin their day.

He was her partner, in both life and governance, and for that she was grateful. Kazmera could not help but feel she was a Queen without a Realm. Edan tried, and had been trying for the entirety of their year-old marriage, to understand just how different Selenara was from the rest of the Realms. The Witches’ Council easily accepted her claim to both her throne and her House’s traditional position upon the Council, much to her surprise. Her choice to fight with them against her grandfather must have been a quite convincing display of loyalty to both the magical and temporal laws of the Realms.

In Selenara, however, the Imperator’s death—her grandfather’s death—six months prior caused a power vacuum Kazmera had yet to entirely fix. Her grandfather’s chief advisor had also seemingly perished during the battle, though his body was never positively identified.

There was only so much she could do each day, and she had resigned herself to that fact. Her people had suffered in silence for far too long; the Imperator would not allow their voices to be heard. But Kazmera was not her grandfather, and for that, those who had been silenced seemed to be grateful. There were more people out and about: children playing outside, cloaks not drawn as tightly, smiles upon faces when Kazmera asked how they were doing and how she could help.

But there were still others who did not trust her, who resented her changes and the Council’s influence, and refused to believe her relationship with Edan was built on mutual trust and respect.

She sighed and picked up her teacup once more. Her ancestor, Queen Arestraia, and her sisters in witchery upon the Witches’ Council did not build the Council and the Realms in a day, or even a year, or even five years’ time. Their influence had lasted for centuries—until her grandfather’s first war.

She could be as brave and as strong as those first witches. But first, she needed to take care of herself, privately, at least. Closing her eyes, Kazmera settled back into her chair, and folded her hands on her lap, breathing deeply. She listened to her heartbeat, to the sound of her breath, and tried to focus.

Kazmera reached deep inside herself, the way the Oracle taught her. She saw the shadowed scars upon her heart, left by her grandfather’s murder of her parents and siphoning of her own magic.

She saw the pit of despair in which she felt trapped for most of her life. Until the moment she recognized it for the first time, forced herself out of it, and forced her grandfather’s magic out of her mind.

Though she practiced centering herself each day, tried to rest at night after her filled days and put her mind at ease, the pit remained within her, as aching and lonely as before.

She would keep trying.

She opened her eyes, blinking to adjust to the sunlight once more. Her tea was now cold, but she sipped it anyway.

Kazmera rose from the table and went to freshen her appearance and change her attire before beginning her official duties for the day.

Much of the palace was unused, filled with dust and ghosts during her grandfather’s long reign. Though Kazmera herself was only twenty-six years of age, and her parents young when they died, the Imperator’s influence seemed to have stretched far beyond his mortal life.

Kazmera’s first step in asserting her own influence was asking the head priestess to assign a temple maiden to serve in the palace library. To unearth old volumes and try to compare the palace records with those maintained in the temple. Kazmera earnestly hoped it would satisfy not just her own curiosity, but help her ascertain exactly how much damage her grandfather had done.

Next was getting the palace staff, who previously served her grandfather, to trust her. It was not likely she would ever trust many of them, but they could at least help her clean, rebuild, and welcome their people to the receiving hall and audience chamber once more. The ravens’ caretaker, though preferring the birds’ company, could at least be trusted not to look at the contents of her letters. Her grandfather would have executed servants for less.

Kazmera was not her grandfather, and she hoped that was evident by her smile and kind manner of address when she had a request. Sweet berries made wine; sour berries made poison, or so the saying went. Once the palace was more fit to receive visitors, Kazmera let it be known she would hold open audiences once a week for anyone and everyone to come and speak with her. So far, they had not been much of a success, but she would keep trying. At the very least, she could provide those who came with food to take home to their families.

Her grandfather’s advisors who remained disagreed with that decision in particular. With them, Kazmera had no problem schooling her face into an imperious expression and reminding them that she was her grandfather’s chosen heir, and she would govern Selenara accordingly. That quieted them, though she knew they would continue to grumble amongst themselves.

She steeled her spine as she entered the council chamber and approached her throne; they would soon follow. One did not keep their sovereign, even a sovereign whose decisions they disagreed with, waiting.

Kazmera did not keep them waiting either, once all had arrived. Thank you all for joining me today. I will ask each of you to provide updates on your work once we have settled the matters for discussion about which I am concerned today.

She looked each of them in the eye before she continued. Most of her grandfather’s men—and they were, unfortunately, all cisgender men, for that was who her grandfather trusted and preferred—were impassive. Whereas the temple maidens and Marta, the woman who served as head of the palace servants, nodded and smiled slightly back at her.

Lord Bartoz, please provide an accurate accounting of the funds remaining to the royal treasury.

He paused for a moment before answering, which could have been a good sign if he were contemplating, or a poor sign if he was trying to decide to answer honestly. There are five hundred gold coins remaining in reserve, my lady. Silver pieces account for the palace staff salaries, and almsgiving, should your ladyship wish it.

It was more than Kazmera expected, but she also knew that was barely a fraction of the wealth commanded by House Ashtoretara in their palace in Galilena. Edan’s family would barely blink at using such an amount to disburse aid across the Realms, but they would blink at such a paltry amount in reserve. She resisted the urge to sigh, instead taking a deep breath and exhaling before answering.

Thank you, Lord Bartoz, she replied. And how much has been spent provisioning those soldiers that returned from the battle in Galilena?

His eyes widened at that question. None, my lady. He opened his mouth as if to elaborate, but then closed it once more.

It was my understanding that the Imperator kept a standing army in addition to his own personal guard, she replied, her tone flat and leaving no room for disagreement. Kazmera had neither, as of yet.

That is correct, as my lady well knows.

How were those soldiers paid?

They were not, my lady. Their armor and weapons were provided by the palace, and remain with the soldier and their family. They were fed three meals a day during training, also provided by the grace of his lordship, the Imperator. This was seen as payment enough.

Kazmera attempted to keep her face impassive. She flexed her fingers rather than wringing her hands together. And now that the army has been disbanded? How would your lordship recommend compensating those who were injured in the battle, or would like to reenlist as a professional soldier?

He opened his mouth, closed it once more, then opened it to speak again. I would recommend that my lady invite all those who wish to reenlist to the palace for inspection by your ladyship and your trusted advisors. From there, you may decide how many are suitable, and how they should be paid and provisioned, if at all and if possible.

Kazmera nodded. I quite agree. Thank you, Lord Bartoz. I expect you will provide me with a detailed accounting of funds and performance records of all those who served at least this past year. After I have reviewed them, we will invite all Selenaran citizens who wish to serve their Realm in some form, whether that be as a soldier or servant or otherwise, to the palace for interviews. When can I expect such material to be provided to me?

Lord Bartoz swallowed. Within the next few weeks, of course, my lady.

Thank you, Lord Bartoz. Please provide it as soon as possible. I will expect an update on your progress next week.

To his credit, he met her eyes and nodded before bowing. While she did not like or trust him, Kazmera at least knew the man’s pride would allow him to do no less than what his queen asked, even if he would have preferred her grandfather.

Lord Ivo, I turn to you next. How much grain is being imported ahead of the winter season?

He bent his head to a scroll in front of him. Lord Ivo, she liked and trusted even less than Lord Bartoz. He had a slippery quality about him, as if his answers would squirm out of Kazmera’s grasp and his evidence would disappear before she could see or analyze it. He would be replaced as soon as she found someone suitable. Surely, there was a learned woman with experience running a large household or business