Day 155, Week 19, Month Verdantis, Year 12123, Era Elyndris (Present)
19:00
The moonlit garden had lost its former tranquility, now cloaked in an unsettling shroud of uncertainty. With Fitran's sudden disappearance, reality felt as if it were stretched taut—each petal of the impossible flowers shimmering and wavering before transforming into glass, only to splinter into a thousand shards. Elizabeth lingered amidst the fading haze, her breath still unsteady from the toll of the spell, her gaze locked on the place where the golden-haired girl had so hauntingly uttered Fitran's name.
From the depths of a gnarled yew, footsteps danced forth—mismatched and almost whimsical, yet unnaturally light for one clad in boots adorned with bronze and bone buckles. Evan, the Mad Hatter, stepped into view—his coat swirling dramatically, a hat perched askew, one violet eye gleaming with mischief while the other lay cloaked in shadow.
"My dearest Lady Elizabeth," Evan proclaimed with an exaggerated bow, a hint of playful mockery lacing his tone. "Did you beckon the moon to shed tears, or is this somber magic of your own conjuring?"
"You are tardy, Evan," Elizabeth shot back, her posture straightening, radiating an unwavering regal authority. "Or perhaps you have arrived too soon, as is your wont, eager for the sorts of troubles that cling to you like a persistent shadow."
He chuckled softly, though a flicker of tension crackled between them. "Ah, it seems the night grows ever more burdensome," he pondered aloud, stepping closer, his mismatched gaze searching the depths of her expression. "Was that truly Fitran I beheld, or merely the specter of a memory too haunting to confront?"
Elizabeth cast a sidelong glance at the wilted moonflowers, their fragile forms swaying gently in the evening breeze. "No more riddles, Evan," she declared, her tone betraying a hint of impatience. "You've been watching, haven't you? It's good you did. The girl spoke the name of Fitran, and, in that moment, reality seemed to bend beneath her words. What are your thoughts on this?"
Evan's smile dimmed, and he pulled off his hat, revealing a collection of tiny glass hourglasses that ticked rhythmically against the backdrop of the fading twilight. "What I see is a warning, Elizabeth. The doors of Gamma stand gaping wide, while the Stones lie scattered as if forgotten by time. There are far too many keys and too few locks, and now, a child has emerged in the very places where shadows fear to tread."
Elizabeth's jaw tensed, her voice sharp and frigid as steel. "She is no mere child—not in essence. Did you sense the mana? It pulsed with the echoes of ancient epochs—older than Atlantis. Whatever she may be, she bears within her a piece of the First Era. The way she uttered his name… even the pact's magic shrank back at the sound."
Evan knelt beside the withered moonflowers, his fingers delicately tracing a fallen petal, its fragile beauty a poignant contrast to the gravitas of their exchange. "Do you lament having forged the bargain, then?" His tone was measured, each word laced with a sincerity that was rarely present in his usual banter.
Elizabeth expelled a slow, deliberate breath, her eyes glimmering with a blend of pride and an aching sorrow that lay deep within her. "Regret? Always. Yet, I am resolved to stand apart from Fitran. I do not indulge in fanciful dreams of hope; I make my bargains and endure the trials that come. The world calls for martyrs and heroes, but I find myself lacking the patience for either."
He lifted his gaze to meet hers, the gravity of their choices weighing heavy, like a thick fog settling between them. "And yet, here you remain, offering him the means to unravel Gamma. To awaken that which the council has sought so fiercely to entomb."
She offered a smile, though it held no mirth, a wisp of bitterness threading through her expression. "Do not mistake necessity for loyalty, Evan. Fitran's hope is naught but a tool—valuable, indeed, as long as it binds him to the right strings. Yet, be wary, for threads can be severed with ease."
Evan adjusted his hat, a gleam igniting in his eyes, a silent challenge lingering unspoken in the air. "And if he were to slip from our grasp, what then? Shall I call upon the Queen of Gaia? Or perhaps summon the shadow of the Arkanum? They may serve as potent allies—or perilous adversaries."
Her gaze sharpened, cutting through the charged atmosphere that enveloped them. "We shall not invoke Gaia's name in this matter. Not yet. Our enemies are ever poised, waiting for the slightest sign of disunity among us. As for the Arkanum Veritas—yes, keep them close, yet hidden from prying eyes. We may yet require their strength to contain what emerges from the Stones, should Fitran falter."
Evan's smile returned, albeit tempered by an undercurrent of unease. "It is a perilous game we engage in. You are acutely aware of that, are you not?"
Elizabeth's voice grew sharp, a steely undertone threading through her words. "We shall not invoke Gaia in this, Evan. Not at this juncture. Our foes are ever vigilant, keenly observing for any hint of discord within our ranks. But the Arkanum Veritas? Indeed. Keep them close, yet cloaked from the light. They may serve as our singular hope to restrain what emerges from the Stones, should Fitran fall short."
Evan's smile returned, yet it bore a sly shimmer, suggesting darker contemplations swirling beneath his facade. "Restrain, or obliterate? What truly lies in your heart, Elizabeth?"
She dismissed his inquiry with a wave of her hand, the flash of impatience flickering in her gaze betraying her composure. "Have you unearthed any truths regarding the girl? Who freed her from the shackles of her confinement?"
Evan shook his head slowly, the weight of their predicament pressing heavily upon him, dispelling his previous cheer and replacing it with solemnity. "At present, clarity eludes us. She does not appear on any rosters—no noble blood to trace, no arcane sigil tattooed within the city's records. Yet her presence… it is as though she has been interwoven with the whispers of every spirit consumed by Gamma. It is deeply unsettling."
Elizabeth's hands clenched tightly on the piano, her knuckles gleaming like polished marble against the deep, dark wood. "I require her to be located, Evan. Ensure it is done discreetly," she commanded, her voice a low, firm melody, each word resonating with authority. "If she possesses the power I suspect, we shall need to reassess our entire approach to the Stones. Relay this to the others: at the faintest sign of interference or any stirring of the ancient powers within Mythranis, we make our move first. Is that understood?"
He rose from his seat, his hat tilting slightly in a gesture of respect, yet the flicker of uncertainty danced across his features. "As you wish, my lady. But what of Fitran? Should I deliver a warning—one last time?"
Her expression softened, revealing a tumultuous tapestry of love, ire, and betrayal that clashed within her. "Nay," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, infused with a haunting finality. "Let him chase after his own destiny. Sometimes, Evan, only a fool willingly walks into the jaws of prophecy."
"And no soul within this realm could hope to manage him..."
He nodded slowly, retreating further into the shadows of the garden, where the very air shimmered with a magical tension. "Then I shall observe and bide my time. Should this world bleed, I shall be prepared to weave it back together," he declared, his tone grim yet resolute, as if accepting a daunting challenge laid at his feet.
Alone in the dimming light, Elizabeth felt the weight of her choices pressing down upon her, each decision a stone in her heart. The echo of the girl's voice lingered in the air, weaving through the overgrown vines and glass petals that fell like whispered secrets, silent yet brimming with forgotten memories. Her bond with Fitran had pried open a door long sealed shut—and beyond it lay the past, hungry and unruly, poised to surge forth at any moment, eager to reclaim its place.
Far away, within the city's labyrinthine streets, the Mad Hatter's laughter rang out—a sharp, discordant sound that shattered the encroaching dusk. Fate was intricately weaving its tapestry as the Stones began to murmur once more, their ancient secrets twisting and curling in the air like smoke from a long-extinguished fire. With every breath Elizabeth took, she could sense the thickening tension surrounding her, an unyielding reminder that destiny had not yet finished with her.