Claire was the second to awaken out of what seemed like a thousand year slumber in eternity. Her consciousness clawed its way back from the void of the abyssal dreams as light began to warp back to her senses.
Her vision swam in a haze as shapes of undiscernible images warped through her eyes. After realigning her clouded vision from a haze of these distorted dimensions, Claire found herself laying in a soft and warm double layered bed in the midst of a shaded cozy bedroom. The sheets were almost suffocating her, as her sweat-soaked back clung to the mattress while she slumped forward. Adorned in a tight white tank top, she felt her chest heaving to contain her shallow breaths. She examined her surroundings with pure panic as the sensation of free-falling from the abyss left her heart pounding.
A ceiling fan spun rapidly, giving brief amounts cold air; yet it was barely enough to cool Claire's sweat glistening forehead and back. The room resembled a typical teenage girl's fantasy; wall shelves lined up with knitted plushies and delicate trinkets, a giant vanity for overly crowded with make-up brushes and powders, and faux plants streamed across maple wooden furnishings. An industrial smoky scent mixed with the aroma of metallic linseed oil lingered in Claire's nose, which slightly calmed Claire's heightened nerves.
Her eyes caught on a pencil sketch propped in the corner. Two young girls stood beneath a colossal tree with their faces unrecognizable. The drawing seemed as if it belonged to someone else's memory, as there was no hint of what or who it came from to Claire.
She instinctively pressed her left palm against her flank to reach for her sheath, but noticed that her saber was completely missing. Before looking beyond the room, she double tracked her eyes back to her palms and forearms, noticing her pale skin contrasted with her original appearance. Her body was not her own.
"No… no, no, no… what the… what the fuck?" She whispered.
Without another thought, she rushed out of bed and sprinted for the wooden door on the right side of the master bedroom.
But she didn't expect what had immediately happened a split second after sunk her bare toes on the carpet. After her initial first stride, Claire's knees buckled and wobbled violently beyond disbelief as she crumpled to the ground with a gasp of shock. A searing pain shot up her spine as she tried to move them. She twisted herself awkwardly, trying to force herself upright, but her strength drained away even faster than usual.
"Oh..." She whispered aloud, although her voice was nothing but a whimper. She glared at her useless legs with terror and agony. Her lips parted open as the sharp pain radiated down her knees and toes. "Oh, shit..."
She spread her shoulders back and forced herself flat on the carpet, reaching for something to anchor herself. The bed's wooden legs were only a short distance away, but the gap between them felt much longer. With a quick snap upright with her hands, her fingertips brushed the smooth surface.
"Come on, Claire," She hissed at herself with a voice filled with desperation and determination. She sucked in deep and sophisticated breaths to muster everything she had to move the muscles below her waist. Her face was hot and red like a freshly plucked beet. "You're... you're stronger than this. You gotta... get up."
With a sharp cry, she slammed both of her hands against the bed's wooden peg, dragging herself upward inch by inch. But Claire suddenly froze after doing so. The cursed hand that had once pulsed with the same malignant aether to ruin her life from the beginning was wiped from existence. It was nothing but a miraculous wish that came alight.
Knowing this, her heart stuttered. She held her left hand up to her face and examined it in disbelief. Relief surged through her chest that eventually branched toward a number of rapid uncontrollable chuckles or pure joy. For a moment, she forgot about the pain of her broken legs in the new realm she was in.
"Holy... holy shit," Claire whispered to herself, setting her palms down to the carpet below. "This isn't… this isn't real. You..." She paused. She swallowed the joy whole, knowing that it was nothing more than an illusion. She quickly came to her senses and examined her surroundings once more, grounding herself to the new reality. "You gotta stay calm. You gotta focus."
Dragging herself across the carpet, Claire reached the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes widened in relief as she found a wheelchair tucked neatly into the opposite wall of the bed. She realized she was a fool to not have seen it before.
With her wobbling and trembling arms, she pulled herself up into the seat. She collapsed against the backrest with sweat dripping down her forehead. Her stamina was siphoning much faster than before in this alternate reality, and none of it made any sense to her. She sat there staring at her left hand once more wondering if this was real.
A sudden knock on the opposite side of the bedroom door sounded panic in her heart.
"Claire?" A woman's muffled voice garbled the name she was calling, though she sounded concerned. "Are you in there? Are you okay?"
The voice caused her to jolt back, knocking down several make-up items with the back of her wheelchair. She tried to scramble to pick them up, but she couldn't. Claire decided to play along, believing the person behind the door had good intentions. "Y-yeah," She replied at a much higher volume. "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Are you on your wheelchair? We're... I mean... I'm gonna come in, okay?"
Rotating the wheels on the chair, Claire made her way toward the door with quick anticipation. Knowing the reality of the situation would send her in a daze, she prepared herself for what was to come.
The door swung open and a blast of multicolored confetti rained down Claire's face after a loud pop.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
The shout erupted like a chorus in unison, with three voices overlapping in merriment. Claire flinched backward as three strangers whose faces she had never seen before rushed toward her with unrestrained enthusiasm. Their arms wrapped around her with quick hugs, with fists playfully tapping against her shoulders and arms. Her eyes spun through overstimulation of everything, leaving her disoriented from start to finish.
"Thirty-two!" One of the men exclaimed. He had short black hair slicked neatly with a wide grin on his face as if he was anticipating the age to celebrate.
"Let's go, Claire!" The second man cheered with his tousled brown hair over his forehead. He brushed his fingers behind Claire's neck with a mischievous attitude. She jerked instinctively as her sweaty skin prickled at the unwanted touch of his fingers. The laughter in his tone clashed with the confusion pounding in her head.
Then, it happened.
"Hey."
The simple greeting carried a sense of warmth and familiarity. Claire turned her eyes to see a woman entering with a bright grin on her face. Long brown hair plunged down her back, reaching all the way to her hips. She wore a vest of white and cashmere all buckled and buttoned. A black bracelet circled her right wrist. Her eyes sparkled with grace as she appeared to celebrate the surprise of Claire's sudden birthday.
"Szene...?" Claire uttered out. "Is that... you?"
"Of course, it's me, silly," The older Szene teased, leaning forward toward Claire's face. Without a single utterance of a word, she kissed Claire on the lips and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, bringing her cheek close to hers with an affectionate press. She couldn't see Claire's astounded and incomprehensible reaction engraved on her face as she looked at the other two men, laughing at the sight of them together again. "Another year to boot!"
"Oi, not even a kiss for me?" Mossen joked, leaning his shoulder on the older Pirelle. He mimicked a kissy face toward Szene.
"Hey, fuck off." Szene replied with a grin on her face. "She's ours to share today."
"W...What..." Claire's whisper was dramatically quiet that not even an ant could have heard her. A torrent of uncertainty at the oddities and insanity that occurred stunned her beyond comprehension. Their existence, along with the kiss had sunk Claire's mind into nothingness. "What the fuck..."
"Hey, you okay?" Pirelle asked, kneeling down at Claire's appalled face. "Hey, she doesn't look too good. Should we take her to see Rinnie?"
"Well, it's obviously both of your faults," Szene blamed, rubbing Claire's shoulders. "Coming in here, poking and punching her like brutes. Learn to show some respect for once on her birthday."
As the moment continued to wine down, Claire placed weight on her forearms, clutching the handlebars on the wheelchair to pick herself up. Although her arms wobbled, there was a brief sense of feeling in her legs that didn't make it impossible to glide off of. She stumbled at first, but she used Szene and Pirelle as balance when they noticed her brave move.
"Whoa, hey," Pirelle said. "Not feeling the chair? You wanna try your cane instead?"
"The cane's a bad idea, moron," Szene insulted. "Don't you remember what happened last time at Pixie's?"
"No," Claire interrupted, sweat dripping down her face. "No. I'll try the cane. I don't want to sit down anymore."
"Hey, are you sure?" Szene asked, leaning forward until she saw Claire's white eyes.
"What? Did you forget?" Claire tried to smile through the pain, playing along with the others of the alternate reality with the hope it would come to fruition. "It's my birthday, isn't it? Give me the cane."
"Point proven," Pirelle said, gesturing with his head toward a maple wooden cane tucked away beside her master bedside. "Well, once you get situated, the old man's made you a top notch breakfast downstairs. Got your favorite foods and everything. A feast fit for a queen."
The term "old man" needed a double take from Claire herself, remembering how she adopted the name for Ardine after taking it from Szene originally. However, in this realm, she had forgotten that Thatcher was alive and assumed that he was well.
"Juice...?" Claire asked, shifting her weight on the cane.
"Yeah." Szene said.
"And... parsnips?"
"There will be parsnips."
"Then, what are we waiting for?" Claire's face shifted into pure happiness. "Let's get downstairs, already!"
"Whoa, there's that energy again," Pirelle commented, chuckling at Claire's upbeat change. He slid beside Claire's left shoulder and propped her upright. "Here, let me help you."
The four descended the wooden stairs slowly with each step pressing into the creaking floorboards with the weight of them together. The winding staircase its surface draped in a royal red carpet worn thin, as if it showed its age for a long time.
Claire followed as her grip tightened in on her family's arms as they steadied her descent. Her gaze wandered to the unusually large and towering walls that stretched upward into shadow. Along the walls of hung sketches and portraits, the identities of the men and women from said portraits were completely unknown; none of them were stirred any recognition in Claire's memory from when she lived in the outskirts village of Qliphos. It still felt strange for her to walk through a world that claimed to be hers, yet offered nothing at the resemblance of home at all.
As soon as the four made their final descent into the main lobby of the establishment, Claire found herself in a place that seemed ever lesser than a home. The marble floor gleamed under the bright lights of chandeliers hung on the ceiling. Violet drapes hung over the tall windows beside a patio, blockading the light from the city's outskirts. The air contrasted with the prismatic environment, as freshly baked cookies, bacon, pancakes, and waffles were freshly made in the kitchen. Orange juice and parsnip puree were the icing on the cake.
But the most unsettling thing was the elephant in the room that seemed to differ from all the lavishness in the vicinity. Serene piano notes played from a barred door, splintered beyond repair with chipped white paint showcasing its sullied age. Claire was sure that the music came from there, but its unusual placement within the rest of the lobby made it stand out as an unusual mystery. The thought of someone trapped inside being forced to play made her skin crawl.
She wasn't even in the mood for breakfast after noticing it. She was reminded of how everything was too good to be true, as foolish as she was to insist. Despite wanting to escape from it all, she was selfishly addicted to the idea of having her family back, even if it was just nothing but an illusion.
She also swore that she stop at nothing to find out what remained behind the barricaded door.
"Looks like the old man's busy outside picking plants," Pirelle said, carefully placing Claire on the bar stool close to the feast of galore. "You should eat. We've got somewhere we've planned to go, remember?"
"Yeah, eat, Claire. He made all of that just for you, birthday girl." Mossen said.
Claire seated herself on the bar stool, inhaling the sweet maple scents of breakfast across the table. She swept her spoon on the parsnip puree and ran it over her mouth. The fresh taste, the scents, the vigor hit like a wave of nostalgia. If the realm truly wasn't real, the breakfast itself made it excruciatingly convincing. Yet her eyes were still pinpointed on the barricaded door. She switched her gaze back and forth between her family to not avoid suspicion.
"So, once we make our stop to town, let's pick up some pleasantries," Mossen said, eyeing out the window. "I'm fancying a cake tall enough to reach Qliphos Tower. Black forest... and strawberry, with a little bit of parsnips, of course for the queen."
"Yeah, slow down there, big boy," Pirelle chuckled. "If anything, we should let Claire decide?"
"Claire, what kind of dessert did you want? The old man's pretty terrible at making them, you know."
It was difficult to pay attention to their conversation, for it felt like a millennium since she had something this savory to feast on. But once they had their eyes on her, she was compelled to respond.
"Cake sounds nice," Claire suggested, mouth half stuffed full of pancakes. "Whatever Mossen said."
"Ha!" Mossen exclaimed. "And you thought you'd disagree with me."
The patio near the corner of Claire's eyes opened, revealing Thatcher who entered with dirt caked across his face and buff arms. Despite being close to his fifties, he looked much younger, healthier, and more muscular than before Claire knew him, for the hostility of Qliphos's army could have been read on his face alone. His complexion was notably less disheveled and strenuous, and he approached the dining table to greet Claire with the stench of sweat lingering across his body.
"Good to see you rocking the cane, Claire," Thatcher said, nudging her twice on the shoulder with his enormous hands. Some of the dirt got on her shoulder, so he swept it off with a cloth rag wrapped around his shoulder. "And a happy birthday to you as well."
"Thanks for the food." Claire thanked.
"Ah, no need to thank me for that," Thatcher said, reaching for a cup of water in the kitchen. "I'm not a connoisseur or anything."
"If only you'd make breakfast like that all the time," Szene said, placing her hands on her hips. "How's learning gardening?"
"Gardening?" Claire asked, eyes narrowing. Suddenly, she remembered once more that she had to play along. "Oh, yeah."
"It's a lot of work to grow our own fruits and vegetables, but you know, the payout's completely worth it. Those two servants I fired the other day didn't really cut it. Now I'd just like to learn myself, but obviously..."
"You made them handle more than just gardening," Szene giggled, implying something further going on in the background. "Like you know how to cut costs."
"Oh, your old man knows, don't worry," Thatcher finished, pouring the last drop of water in his mouth. He slammed the cup down on the countertop, releasing an exhausted breath. "Anyway, I was overhearing you four talking about the type of dessert Claire'd prefer tonight for her birthday, and I've decided with tasking the boys of picking it up. Why don't you two-" He eyed at Szene and Claire. "-get some decorations from Pixie's? On me."
"Actually," Claire intervened, hearing a sour note play from the piano in the chained up room. Her eyes were still fixated on it. "I was wondering if Szene and I could have some time alone for a bit. I wanted to... catch up."
Szene's eyes widened in response to Claire's request.
"Oh, not a problem," Thatcher accepted. "Just some more work for the boys, eh? Alright, chop, chop, you two. Daylight's not getting any brighter here."
Mossen and Pirelle both rolled their eyes and disembarked on their shopping journey after waving a goodbye to Claire.
"I know a good place nearby for you us where you don't have to walk that far, Claire," Szene said. "There's a nice park with a big tree overlooking the hills. We could go there and relax for a bit while the boys are out."
"Place looks like an art piece." Thatcher commented.
"You'll love it. Szene continued.
"I..." Claire stammered. "I think it's better if we catch up in my room, you know? I'd not like to stay anywhere too far. Besides, I'm feeling kinda full from all this food."
"Oh, understandable," Szene said, approaching Claire with a gentle rest on her shoulder. She leaned in forward and gave her cheek a warm and tender kiss. "I'll be upstairs if you need me, then," She said, leaving the kitchen. "Do you need help going up?" She called.
"No, I'll be fine."
"Claire, if you-"
"I'll be fine, Szene." Claire repeated in a much higher volume.
"Have fun up there, you two," Thatcher said, winking at Claire; although Claire didn't know the truth of what their relationship was in the realm. "I'll be heading to the store very soon myself, too. I don't trust the boys in finding the right tools I need next..."
"Tools?" Claire asked. "Why don't you use the tools you already have?"
"From the back?" Thatcher asked, nudging his head toward a faraway door down the hallway of dim lights. "I definitely don't have the stuff I need!"
"Oh," Claire replied. Her eyes lingered toward the hallway that he gestured toward. "I see."
"Well, just wait until tonight Claire, and we're going to have the freshest vegetables you'll ever taste. Parsnips included. Anyways, I'll be on my way. Don't stay up there for too long, you hear?"
"Right," Claire said, nodding in understanding. "Thank you again."
As he departed, the piano's final note from the chained room lingered for a moment before dissolving into silence. After placing her utensils down, her face shifted from habitual happiness towards a serious awareness. She rotated her body and grabbed the cane resting by her side. Her feet hovered above the floor for a moment, summoning the confidence to step down without crumbling to the ground.
Once she touched down, she tightened her grip on the cane and stood upright. Her eyes fixated on the tool door that Thatcher marked, and her gaze shifted from side to side, hoping that none of her family members would catch her in the act. She stumbled toward the door and placed her palm on it, believing that what was inside could lead to her discovering the truth about the chained room.
She closed the door behind her.