Capítulo 13: Chapter 12 ∞ Guest
Six years passed and I turned twelve last spring.
Having been raised as a shut-in and being one in my past life, it was no surprise when I had practically no desire to leave the gates of the House. My mistresses kept a close eye on my needs, but I was so low maintenance—save for my picky taste in food—that they practically had to worry about nothing. For most of the days, I sat contented under the shade of my favorite tree while reading books. Occasionally, I left the House to meet with my best friend since six years old, Eren.
Honestly, I didn't even think this friendship would last that long.
Starting my sixth birthday, I had begun to be subjected to a lot of intense lessons. I simply assumed it was part of my education. Considering I was homeschooled, I had to rely on my mistresses to do most of the teaching. Mistress Marga and Mistress Lili took the bulk of the theoretical stuff—stuff I didn't really enjoy but had to learn still.
It was a cool day out. Summer was beginning to fade. Mistress Kora—what he insisted to be called—and I had just finished a day in the garden. Transitioning seasons meant quite some work on gardening from our part as the plants needed prepping so that they fared well into the year. Not to mention there was a pest control situation in the courtyard about a stray little beast with a squirrel-like behavior burrowing unwanted holes and other…things. Mistress Kora was practically screaming out his lungs in indignation as the bulbs he spent hours planting were uprooted. On the other hand, I was just as tired. He was dragging me around and eating much of my alone time.
I enjoyed working the gardens but there were other things I enjoyed doing more—like my scents, for example. I was a little stuck on a formula. It wasn't turning out the way I wanted it to.
"Evyionne, remember to come by later! I need those papers turned in!" I heard Mistress Lili yelling.
"Yes, mistress!"
Sighing, I looked up from the book I was reading and leaned against the tree. I lazily played with the open pages as I watched the dancing branches which bore reddening, fragile leaves.
It had been twelve years since I came to the House in Hellenia's arms. It seemed a rather long time for a conscious mind, not to mention the redundancy of my days made it all the more long-winded, but I enjoyed this carefree life. Really, virtually no stress.
"Twelve years," I muttered. "Such a long time if you think about it…"
I sighed again, much louder this time, and began humming a lullaby under my breath. This was the melody I had juiced up from the weeping willow tree. It was soft without effort that it came out as barely a hushed whisper. For a while, I comforted myself in my thoughts, thinking back to my memories on Earth and how I had lived before.
But the peaceful quietness was soon broken by a clang from a distance, which was quickly followed by a thump. I jumped a little in shock, slicing my finger down a sharp corner of a page. I grimaced and sat up at the sharp pain on my pinky. Blood welled up from the thin cut lining down the pad.
I looked around the courtyard as I instinctively pinched my finger, wondering what happened and where the sound came from. Even so, I saw no one in particular. It wasn't Mistress Marga in another one of her crazy explosions as I would see telltale signs of that particular incident.
This was different.
I heard some more clanking—the sound of metal being drawn across the pavement. My eye twitched in irritation, ears pinpointing the source until I came to realize it originated from outside the courtyard walls.
I turned away from it and stood. Honestly, whatever it was, it didn't matter. It wasn't like it was any of my business.
But something curled under my nose and prickled at my senses. It was a feeling I could not put my finger on, but it carried a hint of familiarity. Before I could realize it, my feet was carrying me towards the wall. I halted just before the back gates. It was far smaller than the main one, just barely big enough to fit one man through.
This was the gate we usually took whenever we went out. I had taken this route a couple of times over the past few years. I spent most of them to journey down the perfumery slash bookshop I discovered when I was six and meet with Erenol. Other than that, I stayed at home.
I found my hands on the locks the next moment, pulling on the grip and wrenching it open. I looked out into the alleyway. I tucked my hands under my arms, my flaring sleeves a blanket of comfort in front of me as I searched for the source of the strange feeling. My senses pulled my gaze to the dead end of the alley.
I stopped short, squinting.
A person was sprawled on the ground, trembling like a frightened chick.
Her green dress was tattered to the bone as though a rat had just eaten holes through it. At first glance, I knew it was quite the luxurious silk. There was an obvious quality to the trim of the ruffled, drop-shoulder sleeves. I stood to attention when I saw her try to sit up, fingers curling tight to pull a stringed amulet to her chest. Even so, she lacked strength and instead fell flat on her face with a pained groan.
I stared on dumbly for a while until I saw strange shadows gathering around her. I thought back to the time I was reborn. Those things carried that familiar iciness—touch that frosted at the flesh and bit straight into the bone.
"Leave her be," I heard myself saying. I hastily made my way to wounded fellow, elbowing aside the shadows and kicking the ones that tried to hover too near. I found that the areas of my skin that made contact with it became frost-bitten and I ended up a little too cold to the point of freezing. Thankfully, like startled rats, those strange shadows fled.
I knelt beside the girl after taking a deep breath, rubbing some warmth into my icy hands as I touched her shoulder. "Are you alright?" I whispered.
I rolled her over and stared dumbly at what I found.
She…was obviously a he. Yes, he was in a dress. Beaten up? Definitely. He had fairly long hair, frosty white in color that glinted a little purplish-blue under the strikes of light. I did think for a split a second that he was a girl. There was a certain sharpness on his face that spoke of masculinity, however; a dead giveaway of his gender. But why would a guy be in a dress? I didn't know the story, but he was bleeding a pool enough to drown himself in and I knew I would not be able to leave him out here to die.
"Get up, come on," I said, pulling his arm and slinging it around my shoulder. He was quite heavy. He was a little conscious, thank goodness, and cooperated for the most part so I didn't have to do all the work. As I dragged him into the House of Oblivion, my fingers brushed down on the callouses on his hands, all positioned in places that spoke a story of hilts and blades.
He trained in weapons, it seemed. Exactly what, I wasn't sure.
"Mistresses!" I exclaimed. "Mistresses, help please!"
"Evyionne?"
Kora rounded from the corner. He dropped the hand shovel and rushed towards us, seeing the unconscious person I was dragging forward.
"Dragons above," he said. "What happened? Where did you find him?"
He took the boy I was dragging with me. At the moment, I was already soaked in the blood of the person I picked up. He was not only bleeding from under the ribs, he was also bleeding from the mouth.
For some reason, the guys around here really like dressing up as girls? What's the deal?
"He was outside," I said. "I don't know what happened. I found him like this…"
"He found the entrance to Oblivion? How?" Kora lifted the boy into his arms and turned, just in time for the other mistresses to round the corner and see what was happening. "Hellen, I need our medical supply. I have herbs around back that can help clot the wound and stop the bleeding. Evyionne, you know which ones they are, right?"
He taught it to me. I still remember what they were—after so many years of tending to them by hand, I could name them and determine what they could do at a glance. Kora used to pluck their leaves and incorporate them into everything he did. He would sometimes rely on the plants to help me whenever I was sick as well. In Oblivion, Kora was the expert in gardening and herbology. His medicinal knowledge proved very useful in the House.
I bundled up the skirts of my dress and threw the leaves of the plants I thought would be useful. I added a bunch of what he didn't ask of me, knowing they would probably be useful later on. Afterwards, I rushed into the lobby where a mat had been rolled on the wooden floor. The mistresses rushed to gather the resources.
As I laid down the herbs before Kora, I saw him stop short after doing a brief evaluation.
"His tongue has been severed…" he said. "He's bleeding too much he might actually suffocate from his own blood…that's if he doesn't die by losing so much first." He swiftly rolled the young man to his stomach and opened his mouth. Blood poured out. I recoiled at the horrific scene.
"Severed?" I reiterated. I gaped in shock, watching as he got to work.
"Help me quickly! I will need to perform surgery. Fetch my tools in my room, Evy."
Kora and my mistresses were truly one-of-a-kind. As I thought, their capabilities extended far beyond what they showed. They hadn't been able to put their best foot forward in the House of Oblivion, but there were rare instances such as this that made me admire them even more.
I didn't leave the boy or Kora's side until he finished treating him. It was a tense six hours of nonstop monitoring with only the briefest bathroom breaks in between. By the time saving the boy's life had become momentarily successful, the sun had set and a whole day had passed. It was time for dinner.
"I'll stay here, mistress," I said after Kora, watching the man slap some life into his sleeping legs and rise to his feet. "I'll watch over him. Please take a break and rest."
"Alright, Evyionne. Have you eaten?"
"I'm alright. I will later," I told him. "Why do you think he ended this way?" I inquired softly.
"People have their stories, Evy. Maybe you should ask him."
I looked at the boy and imagined what tragedy he endured that brought him to Oblivion's doors. This place always had that strange calling—it was a gathering stage for many ill-fated lives.
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