"My answer remains the same," I snap at Sullivan. He stiffens at my tone, his movements awkward as he navigates past the maids who rush around with heaps of paper. "I will not hand over my parents to a bunch of cosplayers."
He follows me, skipping over papers littered on the floor. When I step on one of the papers, he grimaces. "At this rate, we are never going to be able to get the ring back." His eyes remain fixed on the paper, which I effortlessly crash under my weight. I lead him further into the hallway, and I hear him breathe. When I step into the study, he closes the door behind us and scowls. The paper is tucked under his arm, waiting patiently.
"I laid it out clearly." Sullivan takes a step toward the table. "But it is as if you're a child throwing a tantrum." My eyebrows knit together in irritation, my patience wears thin.
"You lack the experience to run this household, Andrea_"
I scoff. "I knew nothing about this household until at least two weeks back." I take a step closer to Sullivan, lowering my voice. "And..besides, I have been a little occupied with this whole ring situation_" A few days back, I returned home after the text telling me that the Creeds were here. Apart from reminding me about the Guardians picking my parents' remains, remains which I had hidden for personal reasons; they were here to prepare for my ascension as the last living heir to the Quieros fortune. They were here for the heirloom. The ring. Proof that I was entrusted their fortune. Proof that I had given away to a cloaked someone who had disappeared from the surface of the earth_
A knock at the door interrupts us again. "It better not be the Guardian cosplayers.." The person knocks again. I roll my eyes and fall onto the seat behind the table- it swallows me up. Barely letting me look over the table. Sullivan takes a moment to gather himself before he opens the door. A shadow creeps into the room, all the way beneath the table. Who is it? A hushed exchange flitters between Sullivan and the person, just as my curiosity peaks. Then the person leaves and the door shuts abruptly.
"Who was that?" I shoot up from my hiding place only to see that I am alone in the study. I slip away from the table, puzzled. What exactly is going on? I peek out of the room and the littered hallways are no more. No maids flurry about. Donna, the swan clock, gleams beside the familiar flower vase, a constant through the seasons. After weeks of drowning in papers, I now read the time with clarity. I stroll down the hallway. Has the wallpaper always been so depressing? Sullivan should be scolding a bunch of maids right now; I should be cowering behind my chamber doors. Waiting for my share of words.
At the end of the corridor, something jumps at me. I almost sink into the walls, but it catches me. It is a maid. My armpits sting from the shock. "I hate when that happens." I cuss under my breath.
"Forgive me, my lady." The maid fumbles with her dress, barely looking me in the eye. You can't even apologize decently!
"Do you take me for granted, insolent mortal?' I challenge, my voice low and fierce. She shakes her head haphazardly. "For someone so fragile, you sure flirt with danger_"
A breeze washes over us, and three figures join us: two I was not expecting tonight and Sullivan. I step away from the cornered maid and Sullivan gestures for her to leave. She scrambles away from us and disappears down the hall. Saved by the devil.
"My my my... quite your mother's temper." Mr Creed tips his hat, giving it a twirl like a seasoned performer taking centre stage. If I were truly oblivious, I'd miss the hidden hazards he keeps tucked away in the hem of his hut. Beside him, his wife hovers, a delicate balance of uncertainty, lips pressed like a tightly shut book. "You were not planning to stain this gorgeous wallpaper, were you?"
"Uncle!" I muster a strained smile, the corners twitching in protest.
"Fangs! Claws!" He teeters just out of my grasp. "I am being embraced by my goddaughter, am I not?"
My claws retreat into my fingers. I creep closer.
"Fangs!" He reiterates with caution.
"I'm trying!" I snap. Sullivan scowls at me, and a wave of heat rushes up my face. "Forgive me, uncle. It seems I have been having issues controlling my temper of late. So. Many. Surprises."
He throws his arm across my shoulder and guides me back towards the study; the maid from earlier darts past us. Slender, long fingers tightly wrap around my chin and tilt my face from her view. I stiffen at the action. "Sullivan was filling me in that there's still no trace of the heirloom_"
"Yes but_"
"And you still defy the Guardians of Rousseaux." The door to the study opens, and we step in quietly. The air thickens; any word I say first will either steer this discussion to my advantage or_
"Mr. and Mrs. Quieros were never secretive about their skepticism; we have scoured all possible places for the ring and yet_"
"Yes, the ring is a master at hide and seek; you needn't repeat it, Sullivan. It's practically your mantra." "What creative excuse do you have for denying your parents their legacy and the company of their kin, Andrea?"
I scoff. "You attempt to make a mockery out of me, Uncle." He rolls his eyes and pulls me into his arms. I stay perfectly still.
"I am not your enemy. I only want what is best for you." His wife strolls around, eyes flitting over the portraits. She has come here more times than I have; what more is left to give her such an amount of awe? It leaks through her eyes, keeping whoever watches her entranced. Like hypnosis.
I snap back to Mr. Creed. "If you truly want what is best for me, you'll respect my decision." He rolls his eyes. "No matter how childish it may look."
He throws his hands in the air and sighs. "That's not even why we are here." His wife interrupts, giving him a sharp look. I squint my eyes at him. Sullivan avoids my sight, already in on it.
"Andrea, we are here to pass an important request your parents bestowed on us." I nod, a layer of dampness coats my palms. "Please remember. Your late brother was to start at the academy of sorcery and political warfare before he...uhh, you know..."
His wife pinches her nose. "...died!"
We all blink at her. She murmurs apologies to me and Sullivan but scowls at Mr. Creed. "Your parents entrusted us to ensure you enrol in the 37th trials for the academy." She walks toward me, her demeanour softer. "We understand the urgency of this request and hope that you will attach great value to it."
"I am not interested_"
"Quite many properties run by your parents are at stake, Andrea." Sullivan walks towards me, his blue eyes stare straight into mine. "You are not qualified to run any of them at your current level of training. Even Juan had to go_"
"..and where did that end him?!" I remind.
"That was an accident-what befell Juan." Mrs Creed cooes. "We won't let that happen to you. But you have no choice, chica."
Mr. Creed sighs, fixating his hat back onto his head. "Unfortunately there isn't much time left for you to think things over" He holds his arm out for his wife. After she takes hold of it, he looks at me. "The letter arrives tomorrow, we leave just after dusk."
Sullivan nods sternly and leads them out of the room. I take a moment to realize the way my life will play out onwards. The moonlight glistens out the window, beaconing me towards it. The breeze that makes its way inside soothes my inner turmoil. Why can't my life be about fighting pollution?
"Andrea?" Sullivan's voice breaks the moment of solitude. "I am going to call for the maids to get your things ready_"
I scowl at him. "Sullivan, do you not remember the kind of shit storm we are currently in?" I hop onto the table and inhale, trying to catch my thoughts. "I gave away the heirloom to that abjurer. The very abjurer you swore you knew and now he is gone. With the rusty old ring-the heirloom that suddenly everyone gives a shit about."
His sigh is heavy. Now I feel guilty, it's not entirely his fault. "It's not like the both of us will be joining the academy. Stay focused on training, and leave the ring to me. I will find it. If anyone can, it's me." He helps me down the table. "Now, go get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day."
I walk further down the hall, the lights slowly dim until there's no more light. I make seven steps before feeling for my doorknob; one twist and the gold light from within washes over me. I squint against the brightness, blinking into my sanctuary. Contrary to the darkness outside, my room feels bright. But with time, the gold soaks up into the brown carpet-like wallpaper. The snap of my curtain draws my attention to the window; a gust of wind rushes in with uninvited enthusiasm, barely letting the curtain rest from the tags and tassles. The grey sky shifts behind the oscillating movement of the curtain, bleak of stars.
No. It's not about to rain. I approach the window and freeze. A hooded figure stands beneath a tree at the edge my compound, shrouded in darkness. They stare in my direction behind the mask of darkness cast on their face by the hood and tree. I watch them, trying to catch a whiff of their scent. Nothing. I try again. Nothing. With a mocking flair, the figure retreats into the sylvan. My curtain smacks me in the face, and the flicker of curiositytht dared to rise fades. A strange light glimmers from my flowerpot _a piece of white is wedged between the indigo of the flowers. It's a letter, sealed and waiting. I trace the direction the stranger took and I pick up the letter. I run my finger over the ridges of the seal, watching the patterns twirl and break. But the seals remains whole_
The edges of the letter are pristine and sharp, like whispers of danger. Every ounce of my being begs me not to, but I fling it across the room and it slices through the air, wedging itself into my mirror. No cracks form, just the one the letter rests in. It's a clean cut, damage minimized. I take long strides to the makeup table and snatch out the letter. It grazes my fingers and a streak of red soaks the edge. I wince, unamused about my surprise. Of course it would cut me eventually. The seal breaks and the glamour on the letter disappears; the edges soften, their sharpness gone like the night during day.
I unfold the contents, and my handwriting graces my eyes. The letters sputter across the paper, echoing words I already envisioned. But the ending continues, a prim calligraphy strung like poetry. An invite to the trees, I let the letter silt to the floor and lunge out the window. The flowerpot tips off the sill. The grass absorbs my fall, transforming my escape into a roll of delight, but the flowerpot cracks dramatically. Ah, crap. Without a second longer, I skid into the sylvan.
The trees envelope me, darker and more sinister under the moonless sky. A deep breath fills my lungs, followed by a cough. "Sullivan really should have this place cleaned." The stench evolves to that of a rotting cucuss. "Correction, exorcised." Nothing of particular interest catches my attention, at least that I can smell. Suddenly, a twig snaps and the rattled leaves hush in fear; a shadow flits behind me, diving deeper into the shadows. The trees sway, leaves cascading down like confetti. Argh. I love getting smacked by filthy leaves, lucky me!
Just as I roll my eyes, a shadow catches my attention. It remains rigid even as the wind grows. Much like mine. It slips away further into the darkness. I scoff. "If you wanted to play a game of hide and seek, I am afraid you are a decade late." I take a step into the darkness, taking yet another deep breath. I cough and everything clicks. That's it. I live here. If anyone knows these woods better, its me.
With inspired revelation, I skid through the shadows towards the edge of the sylvan. My movement brings discord to the pattern the trees and leaves fall into under the eerie breeze. Somehow it startles the visitor. "You should know that hiding in a home that isn't yours is indeed foolish." I smile inside the darkness, I manage to snatch a leaf that snaps off a tree branch. It looks staged but I couldn't have been luckier. I pin the stiff shadow and play out it's escape routes in my mind. It's as simple as comparing it to a game of chess. When I leap for the capture, the hooded guy fades into thin air and entraps me between the tree and he.
I make no rush movements; is he armed? I doubt. With reflexes or whatever that was, he need not a weapon to enact his reasons for being here_ The cool of a blade touches the side of my neck. Maybe not. "This may not be my home but I have had quite memories in this place to know that this place holds light of you."
"Really?" I whisper into his ear. He staggers, loosening hold of me. I switch our positions, forcing his armed hand towards his neck. Beads of sweat dance across his neck, leaving marks of heat on the glow of the blade.
"Wait." He drawls. I force his hand closer to his neck and he winces. I push firther focusing to draw blood but he counters, the mark on his hand draws my attention. It glares with familiarity, forcing me back into my memories. I recall. Just as the abjurer withdraws his hand with my blessing. The mark is the same, it was a glimpse but my memory has never failed me. With my strength called to my mind, the visitor regains his stuture, winning back control of the situation. He stabs the knife into the back of the tree, entrapping my jaw in his hand. It's not aggressive, the action. "If you weren't pretty, I'd still be wielding the knife."
I scoff, trying to peer into his hood. He tosses it off, creating distance between us. His blue eyes dance in the shadows and the moonlight decides to show up, glistening over his pale skin. Yellow and purple bruising creep over his cheek, disappearing under his partially swollen lip. He stares back at me with the same scrutiny and I feel a rush of heat on my face. "Oh no, don't stop on my account.. stare at me, it makes my job only easier."
I clear my throat . "Did you come to return the ring?" I hold out my hand expectingly. His eyes dance over my face and then he breaks into laughter. I return my hand to my side and wipe it on the hem of my dress.
He stops laughing abruptly and pulls the knife out of the tree. "A friend of my father's is an enemy of mine." The knife finds its way back to my neck before I can react. "It seems you may have had a run in with my father. Any information you have will be of great help." The blade sinks into my skin and the chemical neutrality of the air shifts. Blood. My blood. It flips a switch within me and the sudden surge of adrenaline screams at me to rid this mortal of his ability.
"What do you want?" I growl behind gritted teeth, shades of crimson stream down my cheek bones. My eyes burn from the iron. He clicks his tongue, brows furrowed.
"Did I not_" He pauses, scanning my face. He swipes a bit of my crimson tears and pops his finger into his mouth. I smirk when his blood flow slows down. I flick his shoulder, and he tumbles into the layers of leaf carpet.
"Neurotoxin. It's only enough that you were in contact with me..but to consume a part of me?" I chuckle. "Well. There's a first time for everything_"
"Andrea!" Sullivan calls, a familiar firmness in his voice. "That is enough!" I watch as he takes a step, but I am already close to the visitor when he calls again. There's a strained warning when he mentions my name.
"You promised not to do it again." I stroke my curls, feeling my claws get trapped in the tangles. They cut through them with barely any effort. He nods vaguely, clearly unsure whether to keep his promise. "You're gonna do it again, aren't you?" I skip over the visitor. "I won't go crazy like before. I was young, didn't know control.." I retract my claws, I can control it now. Right? "I won't kill him_"
A stabbing pain erupts in my leg, the visitor pulls out his blade. I reach out for him, but the dark gaseous skulls envelope me again, restraining me back into the lake of light. It's ironic, the name. For a place so dark, its name sounds warm. Far warmer than it could ever dream to be. The absence of the light drowns me, it suddenly goes dark.