Chapitre 40: Chapter 37
"Stay close, never know what'll be ahead." Regis spoke, sword drawn as she moved forward.
The sudden shift in reality had been disorienting, temporarily making her question the path she was on, however she knew there couldn't be any other way to reach this place.
This wasn't like the Wolfsbane Manor, it was one way to and from.
"Where are we going?" Demea tiredly asked, exhaustion clear in her voice and mannerisms as she tried to keep up. "It feels like we've been walking all day…"
"Please tell me it's up ahead, I'm a scholar, not an explorer." Laurence adds in, his voice also filled to the brim with exhaustion.
"It's alright guys, the place is just right up this path." Regis said with a slightly cheerier tone, she couldn't hide her excitement at this moment.
How could she? Finally she was going to see a familiar face, the first one in so many years.
Sure, time had felt like a blur while in the tomb and under that parasite's influence, but even in that state it had felt like so very long.
Memories played on repeat, the feeling of fear and failure eating away at her, oh so many deaths weighing down her already heavy heart.
All of that had finally been worth it-
Demea halted, noticing that their guide had frozen in her tracks.
"Regis, are you alright?" she cautiously asked, moving up closer to her.
What came into view was a decent sized house on a cliffside, made of beautiful reddish brown wood.
However, the house was dark… weeds and plants ran rampant, growing onto the house as well as any objects nearby.
The windows were darkened, the glass panes intact but covered in dust from years of neglect.
Yet the most interesting thing was an abundance of flowers growing around the house, almost looking like a private flower field.
Laurence was the last to catch up, pausing upon seeing the sight, his voice lowering a bit.
"This place looks untouched by the blizzard, how is that possible?"
"It was a domain, belonging to a very powerful witch…" Regis weakly spoke, her sword now resting loosely at her side.
Without another word she started walking towards the house, seeming to forget about Demea and Laurence entirely.
Silently letting her sword drop to the ground as she did so, now seriously alarming the both of them.
However before Demea could try to snap Regis out of this trance she was stopped, Laurence placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Just give her a moment." he calmly says, his voice holding a surprising amount of empathy in it.
"What, and just let her go into what could be a death trap?!" Demea begins, clearly outraged at the thought until she looks back at him.
Laurence was standing there, a pleading look in his eyes, as if he'd noticed something she didn't.
"Demea, do you know what these flowers are?" he calmly asks, now letting go of her as he looks at the blooming wildflowers once more.
Calmly she looks around, slowly taking a look at these wildflowers, a somber realization washing over her as she crouches down to look at them closer.
The flowers were a dreary white color with the petals turning into a black color towards the tips, a light but noticeable aroma was coming from them.
"Is this… Eizdarem?" she asks aloud, now slowly piecing together why Regis had been acting the way she was.
Slowly Laurence nods in confirmation, feeling the weight of the answer on his shoulders.
"Yeah…"
Demea hesitated a bit, biting her lip and trying to think of anything to say to Regis, something to comfort her, but no words came.
All she could do was watch helplessly as Regis slowly marched forward, casting a long shadow as she tried to ignore the Eizdarem surrounding her.
It was an outcome she didn't want to accept, yet knew it would've been the truth if she was actually locked up for as long as she had been.
Witches can extend their lifespan longer than any mortal… but none can live as long as a pureblood vampire.
The scent of those flowers kept invading her every sense, making her mind run blank, the inevitable truth of the matter forcing her forward.
She had to see the truth for herself.
She had to know what had happened.
Why that flower of death was blooming here.
For the first time in many years Regis felt an emotion she'd thought had been buried away, one she got rid of with her royal right.
Fear.
It chilled her to the core, the feeling of uncertainty and hesitation running rampant through her mind.
Yet she had to open that door, there was no other way… no other way to know for certain until she did.
So, with a heavy heart and shaking hands, Regis grabbed the door knob and twisted it.
The old wooden door slowly creaked open, the darkness within the house contrasting the lively atmosphere she'd known it for.
Where once there were lights, potions brewing, laughter, stories being slung around for the fun of it, snacks shared between friends, now there was nothing.
Not a single ounce of life lived in this dusty, abandoned, rotting house.
The smell of mold and dust filled the air, only worsening Regis' fear as she looked around.
There was only one more smell… the scent of those damned flowers lingering in the air, and for good reason.
They had completely eaten away the flooring, replacing it with lush green and filling the house with the unmistakable mark of death.
"Erika…" Regis softly muttered to herself before building up the courage to step inside, trampling over the flowers in search of her dear friend.
Silently she moved through the old house, trying to bury any lingering memories and feelings, she couldn't let it control her.
She had to stay strong, no matter what.
For herself.
For her lord.
For Erika.
Upon making her way to the bedroom door Regis pauses once more, noticing her hand shaking as she reaches for the doorknob.
Taking a deep breath she forced her hand to grab it, fearing the worst as she began pushing the door open.
Yet she could never have been fully prepared for the scene before her, it made a torrent of emotions well up inside of her as the pit in her stomach only grew in size.
Lying there on the bed was none other than the witch that Regis held so dear, her body perfectly preserved yet devoid of all life.
Erika had looked as beautiful as the day they parted ways, her fair skin and long auburn hair looking like something out of a painting.
Her left arm draped off the bed, a root forming from a vein in her wrist and leading down to the floor, this was how those flowers formed.
Regis couldn't hold back her tears anymore as she collapsed next to the bed, everything finally spilling out now as she looked over her dear friend, every last memory bursting forth in that moment.
Every little fight.
Every cherished night.
Even their farewell.
She cherished every moment.
Now it was certain, Regis was truly alone in this place, no friends, no lord, not even Erika survived the passage of time.
All she wanted now was to stay by Erika's side, just for a while longer, until she could process everything fully.
This was the first time in years she'd felt like this, so weak and helpless, burdened by feelings she thought she'd cast away.
Yet now here she was, letting all these emotions she'd bottled up for years just flow forth.
This was how it was for a while, neither Laurence nor Demea wished to interrupt Regis… nor did they really know what to say.
What words could be used to comfort someone in this situation?
Eventually Regis did emerge from the house, in one hand she held what looked like a package of some kind, in the other she held a burning lantern.
Her eyes were dark, cold, yet held an unmistakable brilliance to them.
Without much warning she turned away from Laurence and Demea, readied herself, and threw the lantern into the house through the open door.
In that instant the house began to burn, the flowers easily catching ablaze and vanishing within the flames.
Laurence was startled, looking to Regis for answers, yet none could be found.
Regis just stood there, watching the house of memories burn away to ashes, leaving a trace of nothing behind.
She gripped the package in her hands tightly, finally going to retrieve her sword before turning and walking off, leaving the blaze burning brightly behind her.
"Come now." She commanded, the authority in her voice clearly wavering as she refused to look at Laurence and Demea. "We have a Lord to regroup with…"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone