When Brilliant Ó Maoláin was born, they said her mother’s heart stopped from fear. They say the sky wept for a week, and when her father was warned of the child’s tempestuous destiny, he cut out her heart and replaced it with his prized Amethyst. In reality, no one person knows the true history of Brilliant’s upbringing apart from her wife; and this is the version she knows. Faoláin Riegal, elven-born, met Brilliant during an academic exchange a kingdom over. There to view the family’s world-esteemed collection, she had just set her macroscope on a stunning, rare Wulfenite cluster when she was accosted. The first moments she remembers in the noblewoman’s presence were a tilt of the chin with a bejewelled nail, the sweeping back of her raven hair with another, and the words, “You’ll do”. Most do not take kindly to such a statement – neither did Faoláin at first – but somehow, Brilliant’s enigmatic charm and cool disdain drew her in, over many years of contact. Upon joining the family, Faoláin required a new name that ‘fit’ the household’s aesthetic as part of a long-held tradition amongst the Ó Maoláin’s (“Besides”, an unsympathetic and unfeeling Brilliant told her, “It would sound silly otherwise.”).

Her wife chose “Treasure”.

One night, many moons after the birth of their eldest child, Faoláin stroked the shimmering skin of her wife’s face, and asked her for a story to help her sleep. Brilliant stared calmly at the ceiling as she normally did, and just as Faoláin tucked her head back down on her own pillow in disappointment, Brilliant began to talk. Her deep, cold voice spread through the curtains of the four-poster bed like the thrum under a mountain.

“Once, there was a little girl born to the family of a grand empire. She was raised as closed-off royalty, though she discovered from a young age that the touch of gold and gemstones was far preferable to the warmth of living skin. This empire relied on strong leaders – and so great question in the value of life was placed if that life could not sustain it. To this end, for many years, each child in the royal family was put to a test. And this child excelled.”

There was a deep breath. Faoláin opened her mouth, desperate for more, but needn’t have worried the story was ending.

“She was taken beneath the house.” Brilliant continued, no sound of wavering in her voice nor fear at the memory – if anything, there was the glutinous, thick note of satisfaction. “Beneath this house is a network of caves and tunnels, for that was why the house was constructed there; it sat atop a natural vault of intact geodes. Colours the like you have never seen, lit from inside by agrarian bioluminescence. They glittered and sung the whole scale of notes when struck. And more. These earthworks were said to contain…. Voices."

Brilliant paused, and though the expression on her face was her usual brand of unreadable, it was though she was struggling to find the correct words for the next part.
“As per the rite of the test, they locked the little girl in the caves for a week. Perhaps longer…just to be sure of her strength. A little food and water was given as a birthday gift, and that was it.” A small pause again, contemplative. “Many children have died during the test. Some driven to it with tortured minds.”
After a little more empty air, Faoláin spoke. “Were you frightened?”. Her wife turned to her, and with a deep, conquerous fire in her eyes and a malicious smile across her lips, she answered.

“Never. I am not weak.”