Time: 8:43 PM
The room they were in spanned two floors. The first floor contained the kitchen, dining area, a spacious sitting room, and a few other rooms.
The second floor's design was entirely different. An expensive-looking chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its dreamy glow cascading serenely across the hall-like chamber.
This upper floor was divided into two horizontal sections. The lower section resembled a normal hall in terms of size. Immediately after stepping through the door, a large fridge stood to the right, while to the left a small cupboard stocked with snacks greeted newcomers. Seven maroon couches were arranged with deliberate spacing, their placement radiating comfort and giving the space a welcoming atmosphere that seemed to beckon anyone inside.
The top half was practically a replica of the great library of Delmefre Fermere Gapdelm. Shelves of books spiraled upward, wrapping the room in an endless ascent of knowledge. Combined with the chandelier's soft glow, the entire chamber felt like a fantasy world.
Talen slouched on one of the seven couches, a cushion propping his right arm as his chin rested against his fist. His gaze was fixed on the silvery-haired girl, seven or eight years of age by her stature, who clung tightly to Andrew's arm, attached to him like a parasite. His eyes brimmed with skepticism and scrutiny.
Isabella sat on another couch near Andrew, her feet propped on a matching ottoman, arms crossed though her expression was relaxed. Her gaze, too, lingered on the child's terrified face, which flickered between fear and uncertainty.
"Are we not asking why she only lets Andrew close to her? Or am I asking the wrong question here?" Talen said, shifting his eyes from the girl, to Isabella, then to Andrew.
Andrew only shrugged. He wasn't sure himself why the girl clung so tightly to him.
"There are many questions to ask and answers to be found. You've merely begun the process," Isabella replied, turning her attention to the child. "Child, what's your name?"
The girl refused to answer, trying instead to hide her dirty, malnourished face behind Andrew, clinging to him even tighter.
"She won't answer," Talen sighed, letting his hand drop flat against the cushion.
"I can see that," Isabella retorted coldly. She seemed to have something against Talen, which was understandable considering his last name.
"Andrew, can you get the child to talk?" Isabella urged.
"I don't know about that, but I think we should at least feed her first–maybe give her a bath too. She looks so malnourished, so miserable. We can leave the questions until afterward." Andrew looked down at the frail child gripping his arm. The girl returned his gaze with wide, horrified eyes.
You poor thing. What could you have endured to leave you like this…
The urge rose in him to embrace her, to wipe away whatever nightmare she had suffered. What horrors could she possibly have witnessed?
A better question would be… is she a thrall? How are you so certain she isn't? What if she's only a beacon, sent to expose your location? How can you be so trusting? Do her looks deceive you? Oh, Andrew… you should know better than to fall for such mundane tricks. The voice whispered doubts, pulling him swiftly into a storm of pessimism.
*****
Half an hour later — first floor
The child, now clean though still dressed in her old clothes–since they had nothing else to offer–sat eating a bowl of cereal with milk. Not the meal Andrew would have chosen, but her body was so frail, so starved, that it hardly mattered. Clearly, she hadn't eaten in at least five days.
Isabella had given her a bath. Though the girl resisted at first, she finally allowed Isabella to lead her into the bathroom after Andrew's reassurances.
Now, while she ate, Andrew drew both Isabella and Talen aside, pulling them just far enough that the girl wouldn't overhear. They stepped out into the garden of exotic plants.
"Have you used your Nullification on the child, Talen?" Andrew asked at once, ignoring their frowns.
"Of course not. I can't, even if I wanted to." Talen quickly denied, before realization struck. "You think—"
"Not sure. Just a hypothesis. For confirmation, we'd need to test it on a real thrall first." Andrew explained.
"You doubt her too?" Isabella said, her voice steady. "Good. Then we're all on the same page. I understand your reasoning, Andrew. Talen, let's go."
She was already preparing to leave, her urgency sharp and unrelenting; an urgency Andrew couldn't understand.
"Huh? We can leave that till tomorrow. It's already late." Andrew tried to dissuade her.
"What? Where are we going? Why with you? What are we even going to do? Someone explain, please." Talen looked between Isabella and Andrew, bewildered, but neither seemed to pay him any attention.
"Andrew, I need to finish the matter of Alex Warren by morning. I can't possibly spend all my time on a single mysterious Chosen. There are more people who need me. I've failed the people of Fragr, and my last act of respect is to bring them justice." Isabella's words burst out suddenly, her voice heavy with emotion.
"I've always failed, Andrew. Always. I've failed everyone, every single time–Grede, Fragr, Mellint, Te Hellusa, Cevre… I always arrived too late, meeting only the 'effect' of a hellish 'cause.' I've seen what Chosens can do. I've seen the horrors we unleash on reality, Andrew. I've seen the carnage we drown the world in." Her voice grew heavier with each word, weighted with anguish.
"So no–I have to end this quickly. Because there are still people out there, clinging to the faint hope that someone, anyone, will come to save them from the devil's spawn running rampant across this world." Isabella's tone sharpened suddenly. "I told you what I wanted, didn't I, Andrew?"
Yes. To live a life different from the constant, mundane one. To feel those strangely blissful moments you first tasted in Laston. To touch something dreamy, something almost unreal. You want the beauty of this world to carry you to another, because this one is blemished… too limited.
"Yes, I know," Andrew answered quietly.
"Then you understand the haste?" Isabella stepped closer until only a few centimeters separated them.
"I do," Andrew sighed.
She nodded, then turned to Talen, who stood there like a forgotten spectator in this strange, tense exchange.
"We're going to do a quick test," Isabella said, leaving Andrew's side and approaching Talen.
"Keep your eyes on the girl at all times." Those were her parting words before she vanished with Talen.
*****
Day Seven
Time: 3:44 AM
The night was still thick with darkness. At some point, the lights that gave the hotel its glow had flickered out–a power outage, Andrew guessed. The city now lay in true gloom, the full moon itself smothered by clouds.
But the dark was no obstacle to them. Isabella, having revealed her second ability to Talen, had enhanced their vision. Andrew, already familiar with the effect, knew it was temporary, but effective.
They were all on the second floor: Andrew, Isabella, Talen, and the silver-haired child, Mira, whose name Andrew had finally coaxed out of her.
Talen sprawled across a couch, stretched out in the careless ease of sleep. Whatever he and Isabella had gone out to do had taken a terrible toll on his body and mind. Fatigue was tearing at him when he returned.
Andrew sat in quiet conversation with Isabella, Mira's head resting gently in his lap as she slept. Her small frame looked peaceful, pitiful even, in slumber.
"Knowing now that she isn't a thrall puts even more weight on our shoulders. What should we do about her?" Andrew asked softly, concern evident in his voice.
*****
"A pivot to a greater height. He'll see the greater vision for he embodies the greater path. He will pave the road that shall bring us to the summit, weave into us a greater meaning, and sculpture in true grandness, a magnificent purpose. He is a necessity; the nexus that tether everything and if he so deems, can unravel it all. Permanence is great burden that forces certainty upon our flow but for him who has the vision, it is but a mere inconvenience."
"Bring him to me, Fate." Something uttered, disturbing the endlessly entwining tapestry of Fate. The flow had altered its course.