It was closer to dawn than midnight, when the heels of the apprentice's boots echoed on the marble strairs that led in the entrance of the Bloodthorn estate. Of course, the darkness of the night was thick and the memory of recent conversations, even with fine individuals only made it more menacing. The guards did not question the girl's late return, nor her business in the Magister's grounds. Her presence had become usual the last year and they had learnt not to be bothered by the silent creature treading into the shadows like a ghost. The imposing gates opened before her as they pushed, offering no glance to Celysiel, even if her wide eyes in the end found them. Everything was so twisted in the night. People could be too.
Even the azure moonlight, falling gently like a veil over the magnificent gardens, adorned by the snowy blooms provided no comfort. The wind caressed the frost lotus flowers, though bringing its cold touch to the one they belonged to. Celysiel fastened her pace. Her glowing eyes kept looking into the corners where the clouds of shadow would not allow her to gaze further. As if she expected something dreadful to emerge from them. As if someone had read the insolent thoughts she had dare make that evening, now coming to prove them right and far worse, rip the suspicion out of her frail mind.
She took a deep breath and lowered her gaze,, just as the diviner's words came to her mind. "Fear is holding you back."
But could it truly be that it was, when a future so grim foretold her falling to addiction? When this flame inside her was pushing her to solving the mysteries that were heavy on her mind?
"Fear is holding you back."
"To hell with you." she whispered, though no one could hear. Her grasp around herself grew tighter as she porgressed, never looking at the doorway ahead, but only the fresh ground paving the way. "To hell with you."
As she reached the destination at the other side of the gardens, the apprentice managed to hide herself under the shed, safe from the prying eyes of the balconies and the windows, if any. There was a false sense of safety as her digits reached for the string hanging by the door frame, pulling it weakly to notify the residents within of her presence. She did not have to wait long. Unlike the estates of others, the interior of Theradrim Bloodthorn's was heavy with light, showing off the riches that one expected to find in elven nobility. The sudden change of illumination nearly blinded her, making her sharply turn to the side, closing her eyes. When she finally opened them again, bringing her gloved hand over her features, a bright smile awaited her. The bright smile of a fine speciment with long, auburn hair.
"Miss Ashfury." the woman greeted politely, though such kindness was never returned. Even though she was a servant and Celysiel the apprentice, the comparison was clearly against the latter. The other woman stood proud and graceful, while the slouching fel caster lowered her head and walked past the threshold, acknowledging the other's presence with a soft nod.
"Lord Bloodthorn has retired to his chambers, thus should not be disturbed." the servant informed her. "Do you have any wishes? Regarding your morning awakening, perhaps? Dinner? Or shall we expect your schedule to remain unexpected?"
There was sarcasm in her voice, but Celysiel had not noticed, as she had never before. She only nodded, dazed from the light and at loss.
"There was also mail for you. I received it for you, since you were not here to do so yourself" the woman proceeded to inform her, smiling pleasantly, even if there was venom and judgement laced at her tone. Now, the small stack of paper in the servant's hands came under the spotlight, extended towards the apprentice. Celysiel wandered how she had not noticed before.
"Thank you." the youth stuttered, now making no attempts to conceal her weariness. The small stack exchanged hands slowly, though Celysiel could not focus on the woman any longer. If there was something the envelopes held in common, it was that they all carried the same warm handwriting that she was so familiar with. That of her parents.
"I will leave you to your rest." the auburn female hinted, before turning around to remove herself from the scene. Sandalwood and cinammon, her perfumed began to slowly fade, as did the sound of her heels the more she grew distant from the area, though Celysiel did not find herself able to mimick her actions at the same ease. The constant pain at her stomach, a sensation so common every time that such letters arrived, was trapping her and dragging her down.
She had not seen her parents for nearly two years. They were blissfully unaware of so much.
Seeing no point in remaining trapped in the hall, the apprentice began to walk, grateful of the sight of emptiness at every corridor she crossed. There was, perhaps, the low sound of sweeping, coming from an enchanted broom, or creaking windows, but not a soul near her, as her fingers passed each envelope behind the other, checking the dates on each. They were, at the very least, of the last two months, written almost every weak. Some heavier, most likely with a trinket or memento from their merchant travels, though nothing felt like dark energy; at least, they had not tried to send her the shard of a fallen Wrathguard's blade.
Yet suddenly, one who observed her shadow could suddenly see it pause, faint and light, into a poorly illuminated corridor, not far from her chambers and those of her mentor. Even behind her gloved and the heavy shroud of her long, wavy hair, it was easy to trace the sudden tension to have overcome her fingers, her shoulders, her entire body. After a while she took a deep breath and set the letters of her parents aside, as if they no longer mattered, focusing on what lay at the bottom of the stack. It clearly mattered more.
"Thus, you must also realize, at a point where your limitations lie."
For once more, Caerestra's words rang into her mind like a warning. The cloth covering her fingers was coming in touch with a letter rolled tight around a thin branch, shining, while carrying a vaguely familiar smell. The apprentice tilted her head, the manner almost unnatural as her eyes examined the seal, though there was nothing familiar with the groteseque image of a stag skull placed on the cold wax.
A cult. she thought, unwilling to break it. To tarnish and destroy the ominous animal head, release herself from the awful thought that those void eyes on the seal were looking straight at her, knowing very well what she reeked of.
"Fear is holding you back."
"To hell with you." she repeated. Her fingers struggled, though she did what had to be done, flinching at the cracking sound of the breaking. The trembling, that of curiosity, of a person unable to hold back, was increased as the unrolled the paper, holding it open in front of her eyes so she may read.
Five sentences. Vague, peculiar, repeating the same words in pairs. The girl easily traced the use of the word 'your', being the third word out of the four in both first sentences, while the other two, of three words, began repeatitively with the same command. 'Keep it'. Only the fifth differed, progressively sticking to the rule, for there were five words to be found there. Following the pattern, Celysiel came to the conclusion that the author had either done so on purpose, or had a significantly calculative mind. Who he was remained unknown; only one hint of personal touch with the word 'I' existed in the end.
Where the letter was coming from was awfully clear, only from the way the apprentice was addressed in it. However, she could not imagine this writing style defining any of the individuals that she had met until then in the order.
... Perhaps only two.
It was as if a fire had suddenly sparked inside her. Sharply, quite suddenly, Celysiel raised her head. It mattered little that Theradrim was sleeping only some walls away, as well as the servants at the floors below. The sound of her boots was heavy as she began to run, covering quickly the short distance between herself and her chambers.
The scent that greeted her was that of the drying pots of roses over the large table, along with the stench of two rats, whose lives were as short as hours. However, the fel caster paid no mind to those. The door behind her closed swiftly, something which allowed her to reach for her bed. Only by the sight of scattered papers and books over the sheets, it was easy to tell that no one had dare sort the chaos that the girl had left behind. It was only to her benefit. Somewhere admist the vigorous searching of her right hand, her left dropped the letters of her parents, only holding the mysterious note, like it was sacred. Papers were tossed aside, though what she was looking for was not far.
The letter in her right hand was not long, though the rich sentences, the handwriting, the fact that it was signed, even, was vastly different from that to her left, even if the youth desired to think of both men in her suspicions as bishops in chess, always moving sideways. That only left one, though the thought was far from pleasant.
"I am a clever girl, Surveyor." she mumbled, recalling her only conversation with the mysterious man. Valyn's letter fell from her right hand as her attention turned to that held by the left one. That of the five sentences. That and the unpleasant suspicions of its peculiar author.
Out of the window, the winds howled and the residue of arcane spells danced like a cloud over the black sky. The dawn was far, letting everything drown into the shadow of the night. It was, after all, the hour of the emerging fears, the thoughts that poisoned the mind.
コメント