The Silence of Eternity
Rainy days…. Perfect for a light reading 🙂 Here is a small passage in a long book, still in the making… The Silence of Eternity (Inspired by the music of Yakuro — Road of Silence.)
The battles were over, hatred finally left. Storms gave way to a moment of earned peace, in the dust of time. The hearts finally rested, leaving only the minds to do their overtime. Lingering breaths slowly, reluctantly, started their ascents, leaving the past behind… or, bringing them to light.
Sunlight drifted through the tall windows of the Palantine manor again, but this time with no shadows in sight. The rays came warm and lazy, draping over polished floors like soft blankets, almost caressing the hearts of those, that almost forgotten how to feel alive.
The scent of lavender and baked bread gently replaced the sweetness of burnt lilies, and the birds returned. At the far end of the vast manor, a piano played. A melody not quite formal, not quite improvised, soft, and full of ache.
Ella sat in their chambers, listening to the sound. In the quiet comfort of the soft velvet chair, her gaze rested on the garden below, though her eyes were distances away.
A journal rested open on her lap. Hand lay over the ink, smudging her fingers, and the letter beneath. The letter, she just couldn’t bring herself to finish. On the page, half-blurred, half hidden, confessions of a soul, maybe… warring with itself:
“My Dearest Star,
I didn’t believe peace could last.
I could only hope…
But… maybe it’s not meant to last forever.
Maybe it’s meant to live inside us, even when the storms return.
And they will…..
But we’ll be ready.
Because we have each other.
…. ”
Marcel gently took the quill from her hand, and tucked it behind her ear. He didn’t say anything. Simply took a seat beside, and listened to her whisper.
” Strange,” Ella turned, and the ink smudged her ear.
“ How the world can hold such horror…
and such peace…
in the same hand.”
Marcel weighed his words with quiet care, then, in that low, measured tone that carried centuries, he spoke:
” It is balance, my love.”
“ Creation and ruin have always shared a pulse.”
He leaned close, brushing a lock of hair behind her pale ear, and the quill fell to the ground like a feather, leaving only a gentle smudge behind.
He whispered without a sound, but she heard every word.
” Perhaps peace is only precious,” he said softly,
“ because it remembers the cost.”
The rising sun wrapped him from behind, making him appear both beautifully human, and not entirely of this world. A faint smile touched her lips, and the war seemed to quiet its sound.
” Yes…” she whispered.
“ Perhaps.”
After a long, silent pause, Marcel reached into his coat. He drew a small, black notebook, trimmed in delicate silver, like glowing stars. He placed the ancient journal in her hands without a word.
She touched the soft leather, and the book sighed. Her hand brushed over the stars, and the leather rippled with her fingers, like a gentle breeze over still waters. The ancient book opened on its own.
Inside, the pages held nothing, but her name. Her true name. Written again and again, in different hands, in reverence, in fury, in awe. Every ally, every life touched, saved, or soothed, every soul who remembered who she truly was.
And yet, she could not make out the word. The pages moved at their own pace, not yet ready to speak her name out loud. Marcel’s steady hand reached out gently, closing the notebook with it, and the journal stilled with a sigh.
” I kept a record,” he said, when she finally looked up.
“ Not as a servant.
Only… as your witness.”
With misty eyes, she gently set the notebook on the table, and reached for his hands. For a long moment, she simply looked at him. While a tender smile on her lips, the fight within took on the fire, long held within… and so she whispered:
” I love you…” –
… And spoke his true name. Marcel stilled. His name, the one, once forbidden to speak out loud for all time, now, though light as a feather, touched the air, and the world took a pause.
Light blazed through gauzy curtains, painting the room in molten gold. A gentle hum followed close behind, like a choir, gentle and rhythmic, lingering in the weightless air. A warning. An invitation, No… a lullaby.
Ella’s breath caught. The sudden warm air held onto her like velvet. He pulled her against him without a word. Arms wrapping around her like second skin, protecting not from battle, but from Truth itself. The light lingered one final moment, haloing the figures embraced by the window’s glow, just a little longer. Above them, a soft swell of a song wheeled through the air, as if the choir brought their song by light, not by shadow, then faded into the air. And, like a sun reclaiming a single wandering ray before it could touch the earth, the light, softly and soundlessly vanished into the open sky… leaving only Marcel'’s quiet smile behind.
