#sr03writes

Cold. Dull. A sensation that seeps into the bones and leaves nothing but a chill so deep and potent that my body is numb. A monotony of feelings and repeated actions. If I squint hard enough, I can imagine the crack on the wall is a rabbit. Closing my eyes, I see the rabbit flying, chasing after imaginary butterflies. Wind blowing, sun blazing, on the hill of the Church of Vane. It is the only thing I can do, to numb, to dull the sting of captivity, to keep my mind from running off and plunging into the sea called insanity.

Freedom.

Nothing but freedom.

Who am I, you ask? I do not have the answer to that question myself. All the things that were integral to me- all that made me me. I only know that my name is Nova. I only know that I am of the people of Vanum. I only know that I was kidnapped and brought here, to this Creator-forsaken place, in a time beyond remembrance. 

I have forgotten what I was like, to be free. I turn the word over and over in my head, in my mouth. The sweetness and fragrance of honey mingles with the bitterness and cold that hails from derision, of the jeers of our captors. 

A bang halts my musings. “Get up, get up, you lazy, good-for-nothings! The first shift is starting!” Straw falls onto the cave floor, poking out through the holes in the thin bag. The bags shifts and sags as I get up. More straw falls out, and the stench of damp mould arises from the floor. 

Pat-pat-pat, pat-pat-pat. The sound of our footsteps resound in the caves. A sea of white hair, of eyes like jewels, in every colour of the rainbow. Eyes full of despair, of regret, of longing. Sorrow has taken her permanent abode here, dwelling in all of our hearts, twisting and choking us. Dragging us down into a inky blackness filled with lost time, with memories of happier days flitting past our minds like butterflies, like the spark of a fire, only for it to be extinguished as quickly as it came to life. We dare not even to hold the slightest sliver of hope, of a life beyond the reach of Iritium. 

The chains rattle and the chill seeps into my bones once again. A older woman presses against me; it is easier to keep warm this way. One by one, like lambs to the slaughter, harsh hands and biting words drag us forward. To drain our magic, to steal our vitality. I see our eyes reflected in the ever-growing pile of crystals. One, two, three, four…How many, how many have been made? Surely, hundreds upon thousands of glittering crystals. A pretty sight, truly. How much blood, how much time have they cost?

How many lives. 

That is the true question.

I shudder, and my mind seems to revolt at the mere thought, reeling and pulling at it, like a most obstinate weed, or a parasite. It comes out, covered with blood, and a sense of deep despair.

“Let me- Let the child go!” 

It is a cry that pierces the heart, a cry of righteous fury,  tinged and infused with the bitter herb that is named despair.

The child, a young boy. Surely no older than ten springs. How is it that a child is here? For children do not live long, down here beneath the earth, along with the rocks and the dirt. He clings to her, hides his face in the folds of her black skirt, one hand clinging to the fur coat that has fallen on the cave floor. Is he her brother? Undoubtedly not her son, unless the lady has concealed her age behind the facade of her youth. 

“Chris…Stay back.” 

He peeps out from behind her, and I see a flash of white, glittering eyes. Like polished silver, unearthly and otherworldly. More exquisite eyes from one of the House of Vanum I have never seen.Does he have such power, that even the Iritium would desire it, and take the risk of bringing such a child from the world above? A very beautiful child, indeed. Features so clear, he could have been made from clay, or even glass. He looks to me to be a sweet, sensitive soul, from the way his gaze falls on her, a gaze of worry, of love.

“Hmph.” The guard’s eyes are devoid of any emotion whatsoever. “There is no escape from here. Not even for you, descendant of-”

Her glare is so fast, so sharp and cutting, that he falls into silence immediately. There is a flash of something, something old, something almost feral, in her eyes. Power. Strength. Magic. 

“... Give me that choker.” 

“...Fine.” 

A stone, as red as the blood moon, pinned to the middle of a loop choker, is placed onto the rough, outstretched hand of the guard. He glances at it. There is a sudden flash of red against the backdrop of the cave, then a thousand red shards appear just as suddenly. They spill down the cave wall, like a shattered storm.

“Make a crystal.” His growl is low, menacing. I shiver, though not just from the chill of the air.

I cannot see her face, but the cold, almost mocking laugh is enough for me to picture her expression.  

“You little b-”  He shoves her roughly, raises his hand, magic crackling-

Faster than I can blink, the guard is lying on the ground, clenching his leg, writhing in agony. Blood seeps between his fingers, pooling beneath him, dark and glistening.

I can see her face now. Her slender frame seems taller, more commanding, towering over the guard. A high, sweet voice, flooded with rage. There is a spot of blood blooming on her lips, trembling with the sting of indignation. Waves of soft umber frame a heart-shaped face, wild and unkempt, yet beautiful at once in defiance, before they are flung back past her shoulder by a haughty toss of her head. Loveliness incarnate. 

“Oh? What-” she bends over him, her movements deliberate, calculated- “were you going to say?” Her lips almost raise into a snarl, eyes burning with anger. Her words are venom, dripping with fury and disdain. Cutting through the damp, heavy air of the cavern, so sharp and commanding that even the whispers of despair seem to recoil. The guard writhes on the ground, clutching his leg where blood seeps through his uniform. The stone floor drinks it hungrily, crimson spreading like veins through the cracks.

Oh. Oh. Those eyes.

“Don’t you dare touch me. Dare again?” It is a challenge, hidden in the clever guise of a question. She smiles. Her gaze is fire, molten and unrelenting. The man shudders, and the air seems to rear up, chilling and biting to the touch, to the flesh.

“The council will hear about this! You shall be-” His face is infused with rage, twisted and snarling, like a feral dog.

“You must be a fool if you think they will dare lay a hand on me. Hah!” she scoffs, her tone ringing with the undertones of disdain. “You should know who I am. Too precious, too important, to their-” she spits the last word out, almost like a curse, “work.”

The guard freezes, her words landing like blows. His bravado falters, his twisted snarl giving way to a flicker of something darker. Fear. The guard gives her one last, lingering look, filled with seething hatred, mingled with the scent of uncertainty. His retreating footsteps echo in the caverns.

The boy slips out behind her, squeezes her hand. She passes her hand over his hair, over and over again, with silken tenderness. She leans down, whispering something in his ear. Something in a voice so low, we cannot hear. The other prisoners strain, then stiffen. 

We see her.

It is like a wave, sweeping over us, crashing straight into the gates of our hearts, unlocking something long forgotten and as fragile as cobwebs, born of love, and soft murmurs of dreams in the dark. Hope.

Eyes,  darker than the deepest onyx, blacker than the endless void of the night sky, deeper than the abyss, gaze right back at me. At us all. The whispers come back to me, the stories of old. 

Gilbert Qelsum was regarded as a genius. From the moment he ascended to the throne and made his first proclamation, there was no doubt that he was indeed, a paragon of genius. All his decisions were carefully thought and planned out, and carried out with pin-point accuracy. It may be said that his life’s purpose was to raise Qelsum to be the pinnacle of all kingdoms ever. His daughters had all married for this very purpose, and his son was to follow suit.

All was going well.

Until it wasn't.

For not even King Gilbert could have anticipated that the lady of Avari, whom Toa brought back, had unmatched and unchallenged power as the Creator's reincarnation.

“Sire!” A servant burst in, only to be met by a soul-piercing stare from eyes as icy as the coldest winter.

“Speak.”

“Y…Yes, Sire! We managed to track down Prince Toa and that woman, but they flew up into the sky! And…and Prince Toa had an aura around-

Another cold glare, and the door banged shut, the report fluttering to the ground.

It is a horrible morning.

 I am in not my regular bed, there is an absolutely stupid and irritating gem on my MAGNIFICENT chest- which is greatly hindering me in my movement. The long, floor-length glass falls over. I survey myself in the shattered glass and wait, WHAT?

Damn. That’s a nice pair of shoes. Great legs, too. Nothing on Milady's, though. …Why does he have purple hair? 

Shut up, Victor! Victor Nottingam the Third! Focus! A couple of feathers fall to the floor as the bed creaks slightly. There is someone- a INTRUDER! Do your duty and- 

...He is climbing towards her. I REPEAT! This is not a drill! Ah, shit! I swear, my good sir, if you dare lay a feather on Milady-!!

A while later….

“Toa..”

“FENN.”

“I didn’t expect that, er… you, know, her familiar would…”

“You will cease your meaningless blabbering this instant.”

Every day, the gentle thrumming of the waves wake me up. To the sight of a small black cat curled up at the foot of bed, and feeling the gentle vibrations through the small island. The bed creaks and I feel a jolt of shock as the chill from the marble floor shoots through me. I can see the whole island from here. Acres upon acres of flowers, bubbling streams, mountains topped with snow rising in the distance. 

A streak of ruby red and cerulean blue twists and turns in the waning sun, before twisting, and then coiling. For a moment, the sky looks as if an eclipse has happened. 

Then, all of a sudden, a shadow looms on the ground and a strong wind blows into my face. Purring gently, the cat arches its back and springs up onto the windowsill. A scaly muzzle pushes itself under my palm.

I don’t want to go into town again. I can’t bear to see those rows of hesitant, frightened jewel-like eyes gazing at me, watching my every step. 

“...I should look at Saligia.” 

A shower of gold sparkles fell onto the flower fields below. 

…It’s so high up. I can see… all the kingdoms from here. So bright and beautiful, with lights on at every window and laughter ringing out from every door.Well, it would be, I suppose. It is the anniversary of The Cage of Peace, and the fall of Iritium.

I received an invite, of course. But it only the latest to fall onto a stack of letters, wax seals all still unopened. All slowly gathering dust. Except for one letter with a broken seal. That was the invite to the first anniversary.

When I pushed open those doors, the folds of my dress rustling, the room went silent. Not even the kings dared to look me in the eye. Oh, they were polite, of course. But I could tell that there was a undercurrent of fear behind every word that passed their mouths, surging through carefully placed compliments.

“She’s a witch, you know.” muttered a nobleman, clad in green. “She’s beautiful, you know-” whispered a young debutante, her voice barely more than  a breath , “-but I doubt that she has a living heart, with that way she dealt with-” Her her voice trailed off under her mother's disapproving gaze.

“Lord Vingard, what are your views on-”

“The Lady Vane?” Said the renowned diplomat

“Yes, milord.”

“Well-” a wineglass was raised, and wine as red as rubies splashed into it “ A great adeptus in magic, certainly. But, you know-” 

I caught his eye.

A great red cloak swirled and vanished out of the balcony door.

“I wonder-” a wine splashed into a glass, “- does the Lady intend for someone to perish on this fine night?” 

A fan, held by a slender hand, snapped open. “My, what would cause such a thought, Lord Royce?” 

“She’s all dressed in black, the finest satins and silks, certainly, but that surely cannot disguise her ill intent, now can it?” His tone, dripping with suspicion, cut me deeper than the sharpest dagger. 

Surely, they must realise that I mean them no ill harm?

…Right?

“Hmm.” Eyes laced with contempt pierced through me. “Nor can it conceal that most ignoble, low-blood running through her veins.” …What a low blow, indeed. A challenge that was practically begging for it to turn into a fight.

At that moment, I felt it. The weight of their prejudices, weighing me down, pressing against my heart like thorns. I couldn’t even  open my mouth to defend myself.

How I wish I could have been right. 

I left early. Not a human, they say. They all seem to agree that I’m fundamentally… different… from them.

…Did you know, I dreamed of a girl last night. Very like me, she was. Sitting by a window beneath the red moon- with a look of shock and confusion on her face. Her eyes were filled with fear, and yet! Why do I feel like she is returning to her homeland for the first time?

 I wonder who she is?

Smiling, I turn and spin in starlight, the wind curling around me and caressing my hair with a gentle hand. It feels like… my body is being filled up with the light of stars that are far away from here. I feel like Saligia will be re-awakened soon.

Diary Entry:

Sometime shortly after Jessica was born

Dear Diary, 

I’m so happy! My baby girl has finally come safely into this world… 

She’s the sweetest thing ever, always giggling when she sees me. She loves to wave her hands and her tiny little fingers around in such funny, complicated ways too. After each demonstration to me, she’ll look intently at me, at her hands and fingers, squinting up against the light, as if trying to remember something.

It makes me think that she is trying to cast a spell, of some sort. Maybe a light-spell?