The sacred stone of the Anghidures, won in a battle which had cost eight hundred lives, borne back over turbulent seas where five great ships were shattered; fixed on a golden chain by the greatest craftsmen in the empire; delicately strung about her throat by her adoring prince. She watched Miribel hold it up against the dawn light streaming through the eastern window. At the top, where gold dragons coiled about it, it was almost white; at its base, a bloody purple colour. Its ancient guardians had claimed that, over time, the colour seeped downward, measuring the ages. She had assumed that was nonsense at first, but now, with the passing of so many years, she was increasingly sure it had changed.

“Leave it, Miri.” she said as she saw her attendant carry it toward one of the boxes marked ‘fragile’. “It’s just more junk.”

“But your majesty...”

“I said leave it.”

You can find the complete version of Immemorial in issue 68 of TBD.

Jennie Kermode