(Note: The following chapters happen a few days before Ignar's release.)
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You can never really know where you end up in life, nor how, nor when. Instead, you drift from one thing to another, always thinking to yourself that through this route, you will find yourself where you belong. Believing in a delusion of your own making: these things that I've done, these places where I've found myself, and even the people around me; they are here because I chose this to be what I want.
Most people don't have a choice; no selection of options that they might choose from. Instead, life is planned for them since their birth. If you are born to a family of farmers, you will likely become one yourself. If you are born to a poor family in the slums of Lo'Gran, you will live your life as poor as your parents, and you will die as poor as they did. This is the most likely thing to happen.
Roslyn had been allowed to make a choice. Her most likely outcome in life would've been to become the wife of a local farmer, if not for a chance meeting with a priest when she was still naive and filled with romance for the world, believing in magic and its mystique.
It was her choice to make Kanrel her "master." It was her choice to go with it all, to accept his teachings and then travel to the city of Atarkan, where awaited the Academy of the Heavenly.
That was the final true choice she had made. Everything after that, she had no say in, not really.
Surely, her years as a novice were fruitful, her studies plentiful. So many books she had read, and so many friends she had managed to make; even when she was poor, compared to the rest of them. But she had what most didn't. A letter of recommendation from someone at least somewhat respected. Not to mention the interest of Yviev, especially after Kanrel's disappearance.
She had been thirteen when she entered the academy, and nineteen when she left it behind. Following the orders of others, of appointments, and going wherever they might take her. Back then, she had hoped that returning home would be possible. But she wasn't allowed. Someone else had been sent in her stead. And it was no wonder, the village of Jersten wasn't a village anymore. It was a town with almost tenfold the number of people it had before. Surely, by now, it might as well be a city.
So, they sent someone with a little bit more authority and knowledge, someone who could help Jersten grow even more. But now, that priest would be sent to another place, and Roslyn would take his place. She would return home, at last.
The things she had learned in Er'Eren and Lo'Gran would surely help her with all of this. Though it was all uncertain. Er'Eren and Lo'Gran were massive cities, and Jersten, in comparison, must've been a mere dot next to them. There were farms and mines, lumber mills and such; many things she hadn't interacted with before. Most such things weren't there when she had lived in Jersten. They were all new.
And Roslyn wasn't sure if she liked that.
Change... must it happen? She often wondered. Not only the change that happens to this world, but also the change that happens to us. The things that can change Men and their nature.
From the top of her head, she could list many things that she had noticed. One that had affected her in ways she couldn't have imagined. She just didn't know any better. Looking back, she should not have been so blind; she should've taken Kanrel's word at face value; she should've listened to him. And now, she could only damn him and his name.
Magic changed her; it changed all of the priests. It made them all like her, like Kanrel. So empty... In return for great power, she had been stripped of things that she would much rather have than magic.
With magic, she had embraced regret; another thing that can change a Man.
She had been stripped of love and its ability to enact change. Desires—she had none. Bare, she had become so naked.
Yet all of that was veiled beneath a mask of authority. An emotionless expression she carried, a mirror of all the other priests she had interacted with. It was easier than trying so hard to create a lie of normalcy. She couldn't help but wonder why Kanrel would ever try such a meaningless thing. Besides, his smile was truly terrible; no practice could ever make it seem true.
All around her, Roslyn could see change. The road her carriage was on was wider; she could see the tracks in the mud. Some trees were surely taller than before, and some had been chopped away, to make space for the now wider road, or to build the cabin twenty or so meters deeper in the woods. Did someone live there? She wondered, as they drove past it.
With her in this small carriage were two other people: an older man who kept scratching his thick beard, whilst holding a distant gaze. He must've had many thoughts to wrestle with, or daydreams to dream. Then there was the woman who sat beside him, a younger woman, surely beautiful, although Roslyn couldn't quite say. Even if she dealt with people all the time, their attractiveness or lack thereof seemed so meaningless to her. She couldn't appreciate it, so she didn't really notice such things.
The woman stared at her, always glancing away when Roslyn tried to meet her gaze. She had done so the whole drive from Aucklyn, the village where the carriage driver had picked up the pair.
Even if Roslyn couldn't really say if she was beautiful or not, she could quite easily say that the man and the woman were related. The woman was possibly the man's daughter or a much younger sister. She could also tell that they were both rather wealthy, and not just based on their attire, but also by the visible amount of jewelry the woman wore, not to mention the amount of stuff they hauled on top of the carriage as their luggage. Based on the amount, it seemed like the pair was planning on moving to Jersten.
Again, Roslyn could feel her gaze on her. A sigh escaped her lips, and she again met that gaze of hers, but this time, she wouldn't let her look away without a conversation...
"How might I help you?" Roslyn said, meeting her gaze with a pair of brown eyes.
Her cheeks flushed. "Well—I, uh..." she began. She looked away, glanced at the man at her side, who now looked at her, his brow arched, as if to ask what the hell she was doing?
"Come on now, you've been staring at me ever since you got on the carriage," Roslyn said, taking her turn to observe both of them again, this time, more closely. She saw how the man suppressed a sigh and nodded.
The woman's expression brightened slightly, and she turned her gaze back to Roslyn. "Well, I was just so curious about you, ma'am."
It was Roslyn's turn to suppress herself. It was going to be one of those conversations.
"I see, and what might you be curious about?"
"Well, you are a priest, are you not?"
Roslyn nodded.
"And you must not be that much older than me, correct?"
"I suppose."
"And you must've been at the Academy not too many years ago?"
"Yes."
"You see, I sort of recognize you."
"Yes... Wait, you do?"
"Yes, ma'am. I think we were at the Academy at the same time, and I was just wondering if you might be who I think you are."
Roslyn held a puzzled expression. It wasn't at all the kind of conversation she had been expecting. Usually, at this point, the other person would ask her to 'do a trick' or something akin to that, as if priests were magicians meant for the entertainment of the masses.
Roslyn spent a couple of moments looking at her even closer; she even leaned in to see if she recognized her as well. But no one came to mind. "What is your name?" she asked.
The woman's smile faded a little, "You wouldn't have known me. I was only studying poetry there."
"I insist."
Her smile seemed to have become nothing more than a lie by now. "Orfia Lewnrer," she managed to say.
Roslyn blinked a couple of times. Lewnrer, a name she had heard before. However, she wasn't sure where she had heard such a name.
"Nice to meet you, Orfia. I can't say that I remember you, but your family name does sound somewhat familiar. Perhaps we've met in passing before."
A smile returned to Orfia's lips. "Indeed, we have, if your name is Roslyn Hergen."
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
"That would be correct," Roslyn said at last. This was one of those moments, she found, that it would be better if she dared to smile, but such a lie never made it to her lips. "Are you two, perhaps, moving to Jersten?" she asked instead.
"For the time being, yes. But only for an extended visit," Orfia replied quickly. She still smiled.
"And what is the purpose of your visit?"
Orfia glanced at her father, who had his gaze set out of the window of the carriage.
The woman swallowed, "As I said, only an extended visit."
"I see," Roslyn said. She didn't believe a word the woman had just uttered.
"Lewnrer," she then muttered, tasting the name. Rich. The Academy...
"Yes?"
"If you need any assistance, you may find me at the local temple. From this day onward, I will be the priest of Jersten. So, please, do pay me a visit whenever you can," Roslyn said, all the while observing not just Orfia's expression, but her father's as well.
"We surely will," Orfia promised.
Tense, they were. She sighed and looked out the window, just in time to see yet another thing that had changed... The Jenkse farm was no longer just a farm; it was a damn estate, with multiple fields and buildings, certainly farmed by families that now found themselves working under Isbit Jenkse, unless he had decided to sell away his family fortune and return to work as a mason. Roslyn wondered if that would be yet another change that she would soon learn to be true.
Dar and his wife might live in one of those buildings. Surely, he would love to see Roslyn. They could talk about Kanrel. Maybe he had an idea what had happened to him.
You could call it the final stretch of a journey that had taken over fifteen years to complete, for what lay ahead was the hill upon which she had once stood, and looked down on the village she had called home for all of her life, and bid farewell to what she had known.
Back then, Roslyn had only a letter in hand and a few belongings with her; things that had reminded her of home, a journal she had kept ever since. A thing that held a special place in her heart. It had been the beginning for her; the moment she first baptized her pen with ink and placed it on the pages of that damned journal.
It was a memento of a child she had lost during the Ritual, and she had been the one to kill her. It was she who had jumped off the never-ending stairs.
This hill, back then, she had not said many words, not to her parents or friends, not to neighbors, or even her master. She had hidden away tears to seem braver than she truly was, yet when she turned around to look at the road ahead, she couldn't help but let tears breach through and wet her cheeks. She had sat on the carriage and shivered through the first few miles of her journey. She had felt cold, even when it was the warmest day of summer.
Even with those tears in her eyes, she had many expectations of the life ahead of her. She dreamed of seeing the big city, of entering the Academy; she had envisioned having friends, and later having the ability to use magic for good; to see its beauty anew, as were those memories of the first time Kanrel showed her and the other kids its wonders.
Many expectations. Almost all, now just a long list of regrets.
The city was stinky and filled with people she couldn't really understand. The Academy was way more posh than what Kanrel had warned her of. She didn't make friends for a long time and was instead left out of many social events. And magic? A waste of time. The death of the human soul, for what meaning is there to beauty if you lack the ability to enjoy it? What do things matter if you cannot love them?
What would Kanrel say now? Would he fake another smile, another awkward laugh, not finding the correct words to offer in the moment? Would he try to console, even when they both knew that there was nothing that could remedy or even divert one's mind from such a mistake?
Angels... How she hoped to see him again; to at least know what was on his mind before he disappeared... Did he suffer the way she now did?
The carriage rolled over the hill, and ahead of them there now lay what once had been a village. Now, it was so much more. Just how many more buildings were there? Just how much richer were the people there now? Were winters still difficult? It looked so different, but at the same time... so familiar. The buildings were akin to those that must still stand at the center of the town.
A specific touch of masonry... Had Isbit returned to his craft? A passing thought, soon eclipsed by something grand. A great shadow fell upon the town below it, like a sundial; it followed the movements of the sun. The tallest building in town, still, was the temple at the very center of it.
But it, too, had changed. In fact, it had expanded. Even more, to be specific. It was, after all, during Kanrel's time when the Priesthood truly regained itself in the hearts of the people of Jersten. And since it had not been left empty after Kanrel's disappearance, there was reason for people to visit; there was someone to teach them of the faith, to announce and read the words of the Angels.
The temple looked better than ever. And around it were now gardens, where one could sit and enjoy the day. All of it wasn't too far away from the market, which had moved even closer than before to the temple.
And in the market, there weren't just a few small stands like before, but now, there were many, with customers who frequented them, buying all kinds of produce, and not just things from Jersten, but things from all around the Kingdom.
On their way toward the market, the carriage went past a far too familiar sight: Vien's Tavern.
Seemingly, still a frequented location in Jersten. Roslyn could imagine the smell of tobacco and stale ale. She couldn't help but shudder at the idea. How old must Vien be now? Was she married? Did she have children of her own? How much... change had things gone through?
Another passing thought went through her... And she ended up hoping to be met with the same smell as before. If only there were something—at least one thing—that had remained the same.
They reached the market, and the carriage came to a stop. "Get your things, and be welcomed to the Town of Jersten!" the burly man who drove the thing all the way here from Aucklyn announced.
A sigh escaped Roslyn; she knew where the man would be headed... Vien's calls for any traveler after a long time on the road. Would there be a better place to get wasted?
Roslyn pushed the carriage door open and stepped outside. She was instantly met with the wider sight of things. It was as if she had stepped into the painting that she had been observing for the past quarter of an hour.
From the top of the carriage, the burly man handed Roslyn's luggage. A large backpack that she accepted with a nod; then, she simply walked away, hoping to make it into the temple before any curious mind would want to quiz her about the clothes she wore, or before any witty merchant tried to sell her things she didn't really have any need for. But mostly, she hoped to see the temple again, more closely. She hoped that the place where she had spent so much time learning still remained the same; that the painting that hung above the altar would yet instill some awe in her, instead of just dread that she had become so accustomed to.
The back door that led into the temple's living quarters had been replaced. It had been years since it was barred with planks and nails. The door must've been changed a few years back, since it had met weather cold and warm, wet and dry. It was still better than before; almost the same, yet different. Who had done such a thing? It made her wonder. Maybe she would ask someone; maybe there would be someone who would let her know of all the things that had come to pass and changed.
Roslyn stepped forth after such a long moment of hesitation and pulled the door open. It wasn't even locked. It never was, for why would it ever be? It wasn't like anyone would steal from a temple, especially when there wasn't much to steal in the first place.
She was met with an unfamiliar smell. It wasn't at all how she had remembered it, yet the sight was the same. The first room still had the same brick oven, and a similar-looking table stood in the middle of it all, with surely the same chairs as before. Were they the same, or had they been changed as well? Were they just copies, replacements of something prior? She hoped not.
If she still were that girl from so long ago, the one who could feel love and desire, who could enjoy such things as a cup of tea and the company of another... then would this be enough? Would nostalgia and memories fill her in such a manner that they would cause not pain, but happiness for a thing that had once been? Or would she only be filled with the desire to return to that prior state of being, that moment from so long ago that might give meaning and a reason to go on.
She walked through this room of old and possibly new, opened a familiar door to a less familiar room; the hinges barely made a sound, like they had been oiled just yesterday. Inside was the room Kanrel had used solely as his own, although he kept some books inside as well. Roslyn had been allowed entrance only a couple of times, and what she could remember was the same sight that there was now.
There were the things that she remembered from years ago: the furnace against the southern wall and the bed that was close to it; the worktable beneath the sole window of the room, and then there were the shelves, all now filled with books. Some of them must have been there for decades, and others must have been left behind by the previous priest. There seemed to be a great deal of reading to be done. By all means, she could skip the very old texts, but their existence was what had brought her here in the first place... Among them, there might be something, anything, left behind by Kanrel. A word or two, an explanation, something that the other priests must have missed...
Her fingers tingled. She wanted to grab a book and browse through it to see if it contained the handwriting she knew so well. But she hesitated. It could all be useless. They could've taken everything of his away from here and left nothing else behind, except the memories of those who had known him.
She placed her bag on the table. Roslyn had to read them. She had to know. What else was there to do in this moment? Her mind was already within the pages of one of them, making up things that she could find; summoning forth memories of Kanrel and how he was; how he spoke, how he wrote so gracefully whilst he taught her the importance of a good, clear handwriting. With her eyes, she scanned the spines, and soon found the ones that looked older; her hands reached toward one. Maybe she had seen Kanrel hold it long ago, maybe not...
A sudden knock at the door. Her hand froze. She blinked. So close, she had been. Surely, within this book, she would find the things that she needed to... A sigh escaped her lips. What else was she to do? Indeed. There would always be someone out there who wanted her attention; someone who was curious about her and her doings.
She dropped her hand, walked to the back door, opened it, and found herself facing someone she had only just come to know. The woman from the carriage... Orfia Lewnrer.
Such a sweet smile covered her anxious expression. What the hell did she want from her? Roslyn wanted to curse out, but bit her tongue. "How might I help you?" she found herself asking again.
Orfia's smile remained unwavering as she stepped forth, inviting herself in, all the while explaining: "Not even an hour has passed since you extended an invitation to me."
Ah, Roslyn sighed, what a fool she had been. Where was her sudden lack of foresight? It was always a real possibility that this seemingly nosy woman would pay her a visit much sooner than Roslyn had wanted. Roslyn closed the door. She could only accept this mild annoyance. She must always remain priestly, for she was no longer just an individual. She had long ago given away what she once was. Now, her duty was to represent authority, but most importantly, serve it.
Orfia pulled herself a chair and sat down, placing herself so that she could see all three doors in the room. Roslyn sat across from her and soon met Orfia's gaze that had scanned the room. There was much curiosity in her eyes. Her expression remained strange.
They sat in silence, both just staring at each other, measuring what might be hidden beneath the other's mask.
"You don't really recognize my name, do you?" Orfia broke the silence.
Roslyn shrugged. "I suppose you're some rich girl from a rich family. Unless your family's wealth, their businesses, and dealings aren't in Er'Eren, then I doubt that I've heard of the Lewnrers."
"Again, maybe in the Academy, maybe in passing... I don't remember," she added.
Orfia frowned, placed her hands on the table, and posed a question: "What about the Sondrars?"
Roslyn almost frowned; she could feel her brows quiver. It was a name she knew better than most. She felt the urge to lean forward, but did not; she remained as she was. "Of course I do. Yviev Sondrar was a teacher of mine; her views in medicine have shaped my own," she replied as swiftly as she could, whilst keeping her expression the same.
Orfia smiled, "Then do you know how my family and her family are connected?"
"Not really... Maybe through business?"
"That, too... but there is something more; something that happened over twenty years ago. Years before you found yourself in the Academy…" Orfia said, her voice cracking.
Roslyn's mask broke. She did know. She heard rumors. Lots of rumors from the other students, and at times from the faculty members, but never directly from Yviev. She wouldn't have dared to ask such things of someone so… frightening.
"Was it your sibling who died back then?"
Orfia's smile was long dead. "My brother was betrothed to Yviev. He was killed by a nameless, by a friend of Yviev."
Roslyn knew only one 'nameless' who was Yviev's friend... and that was Kanrel Iduldia.
"Then why are you here?"
"To find out what truly happened. There are so many details just... missing," Orfia leaned closer. "Three friends, who spend almost all their time together; three bodies, found in the rooms of each one; Tarin Burani without her tongue; Henan Ushien, without her eyes, and…" she swallowed, "Jeso, my brother, without his ears."
"Sure, but I doubt you'll find anything related to that here," Roslyn said. She wanted to be rid of this woman; there were more pressing things to attend to.
"Jeso's body was found in Yviev's room; his limbs pierced with stakes, not a drop of blood found anywhere. Henan's corpse was found in Yirn's room; her body was brutally tortured, then twisted into a strange position…"
"Then, there was Tarin's corpse, lying on a bed, naked, with no apparent signs of violence, other than her removed tongue. She was found in Kanrel's room…"
By now, Orfia's brows were furrowed, "Yirn?"
"The nameless behind the murders. One of three friends," Orfia was whispering by now, as if she were telling a secret: "You know... There are records, I've seen them myself, that show four people exiting the Academy just before nightfall."
"Four left the Academy and found themselves on a hill not too far from Atarkan... something happens, of the three friends, only two return alive: Kanrel, hospitalized in a private room; Yviev is fine and without even a scratch... but the third friend is nowhere to be seen. He is dead, yet his body is nowhere to be found," Orfia's voice wavered.
"Then there was the fourth person who went with them, Professor Oidus, back then an obscure woman with few academic accomplishments, who soon after found her studies and tests well funded…"
"Isn't it interesting? That half of the people connected to the murders are missing and presumed dead?"
"Isn't it curious that the professor suddenly received funding and wide recognition?" She stopped for a while and peered at Roslyn.
"And isn't it even stranger, the things our investigations have found... That night, out of town, how a weary traveler saw bright lights upon the hill; how they wandered closer to see what was going on, only to witness a great monstrosity, then an Angel who descended from the heavens?" Orfia leaned back on her chair; a smile had returned to her rose-colored lips.
Roslyn had stayed quiet for a while. She studied the woman who sat across from her. She must've lost her mind. Had grief broken her? But... she was also correct. There were many strange things about the murders. Mostly the fact that the murderer had seemingly disappeared... Was Kanrel's disappearance related to it, somehow?
But even then, she found herself asking the same question as before, "Why are you here?"
Orfia snorted, "Isn't it obvious?" She gestured around the room.
"You're here to see if Kanrel left anything behind," Roslyn muttered.
"Exactly, but I wouldn't do such a thing out of nowhere or without your consent. After all, you were his pupil, were you not? You probably have as many questions about his disappearance as do I... So why not tackle this mystery together? There must be at least a dozen books written by him here, unless they've all been taken back to his mother."
It was interesting to behold. Surely, Orfia was asking for permission. But she really wasn't. She was demanding it. And why shouldn't she? Wasn't it her right to find out the details of her brother's untimely death, as well as what happened to the suspects of his murder?
Roslyn sighed. "I see no reason to deny you access to his writings, but I don't really see a reason to 'tackle this mystery' with you. There is no proof that the two things are connected whatsoever."
Orfia's brow arched, "And you wouldn't want to do your due diligence and find out, to make sure that this isn't the case? Does it not make you afraid, the possibility that the fact he is not here now, explaining these things to me, could be somehow because of what he might've done or covered on that day?"
It did. Roslyn got up from her chair. She looked down at Orfia for a moment longer, then sighed. She made her way to what was once Kanrel's room and was now hers. She didn't look back, nor did she wait for Orfia to get up or leave. She grabbed a book she presumed to be something that Kanrel wrote; she began stacking them onto the desk. She found fifteen in total. She picked them all up and walked out of the room.
Orfia was still sitting at the table, her gaze following Roslyn as she walked toward the door that would lead into the temple itself. Roslyn stopped at the door; she turned around and peeked at the woman sitting past the books, "Come, open this damn door for me. We've got lots of reading to do."
A wide smile curled across Orfia's lips. She promptly got up and rushed toward the door, opening it for Roslyn. Together, they entered the temple.