Chapitre 37: Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Seamstress & Her Pupil (Part II)
Ayra flipped another soot-kissed page---and blinked.
Her phantom fingers brushed against every letter etched onto the wearied page, her icy eyes brimming with glee as she devoured the hard-spined book she held between her fingers.
It was a haunting love story, she'd realized. A story of two star-crossed lovers whose hearts first pulsed in two different realms. It was a story of a cold, cold prince and his dark-winged darling--who twined their hands and souls together upon the crude will of fate herself.
She stroked the edge of an olden page and reclined back against the rocking armchair, her mind lost in a realm that breathed between the stars. It was truly a wondrous thing. How words weave and embrace and dance together to give birth to a newborn star. A star that would later turn into a world. A world that would later turn into a story.
The tottering windows of the aged inn capriciously rattled against the drizzle outside, the sharp cackle wrenching her out of her deep stupor every now and then. However, even that measly rampage couldn't coax the wizard to strip her eyes from between the pages and shut those windows tight.
A couple of feet away, against the walls and upon two creaking beds, Neslyn and Valda rested. She slanted her gaze at their sleeping faces and took it all in---the plunge of their sharp brows, the grimace touching the corner of their lips and the whisper of distress painted all over. Ayra's throat bobbed in response before quietly she looked away.
The Masquerade Ball was tomorrow. And Ayra didn't know whether she was prepared to face whatever fate had planned for them.
She feared it. Feared what the not so distant future held for her, her loved ones and the world.
Ayra closed her eyes and shut her book, mind now elsewhere. When she was about to be swallowed by her own thoughts, a soft knock was heard. She slowly opened her eyes and frowned.
Their dresses wouldn't arrive until morning. Or that's what the young girl and her grumpy aunt had said.
The gentle bitter patter of the rain-filled the quiet room. Ayra placed the book atop the table by her bed and walked over to the door. When she opened it, she stilled, eyes squinting to accurately retrace what, or rather, who stood before her.
Their dresses had arrived, yes, but they'd arrived heavy and soaked by the onslaught of the downpour. However, they weren't the only ones who suffered.
The young girl cradled the heavy package of their dresses against her chest, dainty hands pressing against it in a vain act of protecting both the package and her shuddering body.
Ayra wordlessly took the soaked dresses from her grasp and quietly placed them on the table.
She faced the young girl.
"Do you want to come in?" She questioned softly.
The young girl simply shook her head, eyes downcast.
Ayra nodded and grabbed Valda's heavy, azure-kissed cloak from the hook and wrapped it around the silent, trembling female.
Ayra gently smiled. "Do you care for a walk then?"
The girl slowly raised her head and looked at her. Ayra assumed the girl would refuse the offer, but when she shook her head, Ayra wasn't surprised. Not at all. A vulnerable soul would lean against any shoulder, even a stranger's sometimes.
She grabbed her own cloak and stepped outside the chamber. With a final glance at her sleeping companions, she pulled the door shut.
ווו×
Ayra stood at the heart of the town square, hands locked behind her spine and eyes fixed on the large marble statue in front of her. She regarded the sheer size of it, the regality and the utter splendour the nine-foot mass of stone carried, however, nothing could deny the fact that the Sentinel that gazed back was simply a child.
A child.
She smiled, albeit sadly. She didn't understand if it's a blessing or a curse, for a young child to sacrifice his life because the world had simply demanded him to. Not only this child, but at what cost did the Sentinels yield their lives to shield this world from ruination, Ayra didn't know.
"Fate is indeed merciless." Even to young, innocent children like Gavin Florenz, she didn't add.
"Why do you say that?"
Ayra blinked---and slowly turned around. The young girl sat on the stone bench a few feet away. Her body visibly trembled against the gentle breeze, even though she tried to hide that small, vulnerable action by tightly pinching the lapels of the dark blue overcoat together. Ayra's eyes zeroed onto the painfully red imprint on the girl's right cheek.
She wondered what went down between the girl and her razor-tongued aunt for the former run out in the rain at this dead hour. She was almost certain it wasn't to deliver their freshly sewn dresses.
The young girl slightly shifted her head to the side. Her inquisitive gaze bounced between Ayra and the statue of the Sentinel, eyes honed with a silent questioned.
The wizard glanced back at the statue before cocking her head at the girl.
Ayra smiled.
"Have I offended you?"
The girl blinked and immediately shook her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "No, absolutely not! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean--" she stopped, abruptly, when soft laughter filled the air.
"I was kidding," Ayra said, her icy eyes shimmering.
The girl sighed softly, followed by a breath of laughter.
Ayra slowly sauntered towards the bench and took a seat beside the girl. Her eyes roamed the entirety of the large town square, momentarily finding their way back to the statue at the epicentre. Tyria was oddly quiet and asleep tonight----as if its citizens were gathering all the energy required for tomorrow's Masquerade Ball.
She faced the night above, gazing at the parting clouds of the retreating rain. Tonight, the sky was an empty canvas. But tomorrow, the full moon would make itself known, carrying with it the promise that was painted on the walls.
Tomorrow. It was tomorrow. The Masquerade Ball, the full moon night, it was tomorrow.
Her hands curled into fists. She would not yield to her heart. She would not yield to her emotions. When dawn arrived, she would rise as a wizard. She would rise as a soldier. And she would rise as Ayra Sylvahnna, daughter of Danelle and a trusted pupil of Foxerall Academy.
She chanted it again and again and again, reminding herself of who she was and what she had to do. It was a shield. A shield against him. A barrier between him and her.
Between Ayra and Ruhnn.
Her heart constricted yet again at the thought of him, at the cruel memory of his hoarfrost eyes and the raw ruthlessness of it. The boy---no, the man she met at the Ruins was a stranger. A stranger who had once smiled at her. Who had once held her hands and lifted her. Who had laughed and cried with her. Ruhnn was all of that and now the past they shared seemed like a distant dream. Haunting. Tormenting. And a reminder of what she had lost.
Ayra wondered if he had forgotten about her altogether. About the time they spent together. About the memories they shared. About Caelan and--
She inhaled sharply and dove her nails into her palm. No, she reprimanded, don't go there, Ayra. Not there. Not--
"Are you okay?"
Ayra softly exhaled through her nose and veiled her expression before facing the girl. She constrained her lips to curl into an amusing smile.
"It's strange how you ask the question I am supposed to."
The girl dipped her chin. "I would rather not have you ask that question."
Ayra laughed at that.
"It's an awfully rhetorical question that is always answered with a lie. Why would I bother when," she looked at the painfully red handprint on the girl's cheeks, "you're obviously not okay."
The girl lifted a trembling hand up to her cheeks before gazing downwards. Ayra took her silence as a chance to gaze ahead, opting to allow her to sort out her thoughts. Ayra didn't know what happened, but the way her lips wobbled and her eyes glazed with unshed tears, she knew it wasn't anything good.
When the young girl sniffed and composed herself, she faced Ayra and with a quiet voice, said, "Can I ask you a question?"
Ayra lifted her chin, urging her to voice it out.
"Are you and your friends on a mission?"
Ayra spine locked and her shoulders squared immediately in response. With a guarded expression, she faced the girl.
"What?"
The girl drew back, hesitating. "You..and your friends, you're wizards of Foxerall Academy, right?"
Ayra regarded her carefully for a few heartbeats.
"And how do you know that?"
Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "One of you, the red-haired wizard, was adorning a cloak with the academy's insignia on it. I noticed when I was taking your measurements."
"Quite observant, aren't you?"
The girl smiled meekly.
A soft wind blew and Ayra reclined, folding her arms.
"No," she finally said.
"Huh?"
"We are not on a mission."
The girl lifted her chin, looking thoughtful.
"Ah, then you must be here to attend the grand ball. Did you come all the way here for that?"
Ayra's practised smile and the lie came equally easily. "We had to complete a mission nearby and found out that the festival was nearing. Couldn't miss that now right?"
The girl nodded. 'I'm glad you didn't."
A piece of yellow confetti hovered in the sky and gradually settled atop the statue's head. Ayra curled a finger, commanding the wind to bend to her will. When the confetti fluttered gently, she flicked a finger, watching it jerk up and up and up and finally flitter to a puddle beneath the statue.
Her eyes locked on the confetti gently floating above the surface of the puddle. She snapped to attention when the wind carried a soft voice towards her.
"It must be nice to be a student of Foxerall."
It was words full of melancholic longing and deep-seated sadness.
Ayra turned her head towards the girl seated beside her, petite hands anxiously twirling a lock of brown hair and eyes cast downwards. She assumed those words were spoken after her little display of power, but as she observed keenly, she realised that the girl was drowning in her own deep sea of thoughts.
The girl raised her head, feeling Ayra's attention on her. Her eyes widened.
"I--I didn't intend to say that out loud."
Ayra smiled. "But you did it anyway."
She flushed in embarrassment.
Ayra pushed her hair over her shoulder and settled back.
"Did you wish to be a wizard of Foxerall?"
The girl breathed out a laugh, shaking her head.
"I don't think a mundane like me deserves to even dream about it. I have no powers, you see. Nothing that would turn magical academies' eyes on me. I don't really mind, however." She gazed up, eyes shimmering for the first time tonight.
"For me, it's the chance to see the world."
Ayra inclined her head. "The world?"
She nodded, a soft smile touching her lips. "The world beyond this city. The world beyond mountains and the world beyond seas. I want to sail around and see everything. I want to see everything before I take my last breath."
The young girl's face illuminated at those words and Ayra couldn't help but feel slightly transfixed. She couldn't ignore the fire that burned behind those honey-hewed eyes. It was passion. Passion of a dream so whole and so complete, that it struck Ayra right in the chest.
Dreams.
What was her dream? Was it to become an astral guard? She mentally shook her head. That...that was a dream shared by three souls. When it was later harboured by one, it faded away to nothingness. A distant cackle, almost mocking at her twisted destiny. For Ayra Sylvahnna, becoming an astral guard is a duty now. An obligation.
So, what is it that you dream of? She questioned again.
Ayra concluded that she didn't know. And she was afraid that she would never know.
Instead, she asked the girl,
"What's stopping you?"
The girl pursed her lips. "Everything is stopping me. But nothing is telling me to go either."
Ayra cocked her head, her eyes zeroing on the painfully crimson hand mark on her cheek.
"Is your aunt an 'everything' or a 'nothing'?"
The girl straightened her spine almost immediately at that. But as soon as it happened, she relaxed and answered.
"Both."
Ayra wondered if that's where the line would be drawn, however, when the girl continued, the Stormbreaker was slightly surprised. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was a wizard and a student of Foxerall Academy, or maybe it was the young girl's vulnerability talking, but the walls came down easily.
"My parents were merchants," she began, voice soft that spoke about a faraway memory. "They'd sail together all the time. I never recalled either of them venturing alone. Grandma would jokingly call them lovestruck fools," she chuckled, "always together, never without one another."
''I was too young back then to accompany them on their journeys. I was too young, they said. But I never complained. Not at all. Instead, I was happy. Papa would make sure to bring me all kinds of souvenirs from the places they'd visit and mama, mama would tell me tales. Interesting, beautiful and lovely tales of every place they'd visit. It made me dream of distant terrains, snow-capped mountains and deep blue seas. It made me long for all of it. But I'd hold that yearning down. Just a few more years, I'd tell myself."
The young girl cradled her head in her arms and sniffed. Ayra stayed quiet, allowing her to take her time.
Her voice floated through the air after a few heartbeats. This time, it was hollow and wretched, carrying with it a whisper of tragedy.
"One day, papa and mama decided to travel south to sell invaluable spices and silk. They claimed it'd be their longest trip ever, ten days they'd said. As usual, I kissed them on each of their cheeks, bidding them goodbye. And as usual, they smiled at me and promised they'd return soon. Mama and papa always returned and never broke their promise. Never."
"Seven days later, I heard what the fishermen by the shore said. They whispered about a storm. They whispered about a shipwreck. And they whispered about death. I didn't believe it, of course."
"But they never returned and I never saw them again."
A tear trickled down her cheeks. It was followed by another. And another. And another.
A deep ache settled in Ayra's chest. She knew how it felt to have your loved ones mercilessly ripped away from you forever. She understood the young girl's pain. The loss. She understood it all.
The girl wiped her cheeks. "My grandma passed away a year later and I was thrust into the hands of my distant aunt who I didn't even know existed."
Ayra frowned at her.
"Aunt Zelda cut all ties with mama when she decided to marry papa. Papa worked at a tavern before he became a merchant, you see. I still don't know how he managed to sweep mama off her feet and married her. I guess love always finds its way, despite all odds."
She chuckled, but there was no humour in it.
"My aunt hates me, you know. I've never seen her look at me with warmth. I've never seen her accept me as her family. Sometimes, I wonder if she sees papa in me and blames me too. That thought alone is physically agonizing."
Ayra was silent for a moment. "Is your aunt aware of your dream?"
The girl unconsciously touched her cheek.
"She knows now. She found the money I'd hidden and asked me what I was saving it for. Being the cowardly fool I am, I blurted it out."
"I see that's where you got that." Ayra gestured to the slap.
The girl nodded her head.
A stretch of silence followed, coating the sadness lingering in the air with a comfortable calmness.
"She fears," Ayra said.
The girl looked at her. "Huh?"
"Your aunt. I don't think she hates you. From what I've seen, she's stern, yes, but I don't think she hates you. She fears for your life. She fears that you'll end up like your parents. She fears that your dream will kill you."
Ayra was reminded of Mother Danelle and her chest tightened with guilt. Before it could seep in deeper, she averted her mind.
The young girl faced the ground, eyes wide as if she never contemplated that thought before That idea. That 'perhaps'.
Ayra deemed that was enough. She slowly stood to her feet and lowered her gaze at the young girl.
"Go home. Sit with her. And talk to her like you did with me. If a stranger like me can understand the weight of your dreams, then I'm sure your aunt will too."
She smiled. "I'll be off now. I don't want my friends to wake up and realise I'm gone."
With that, Ayra turned to leave.
"W-Wait," she called out softly.
Ayra looked back and raised an eyebrow.
"Thank you..." The girl trailed off.
Ayra smiled. "It's Ayra."
The girl smiled bashfully. "Thank you, Ayra. I'm Maria."
"Well, Maria, it was nice meeting you."
Maria blushed. "Likewise." She blinked and gestured to the cloak. "Oh, your cloak--"
Ayra lifted a hand. "You can keep it." She was sure Valda wouldn't mind.
"Thank you," Maria said again, eyes twinkling.
Ayra dipped her chin and walked out of the town square. When she reached the street stretching towards her inn, she paused. A familiar figure paced in front of her. Aunt Zelda's eyes met hers and widened. With a loud exhale, she frantically rushed towards her.
Her rich brown hair was dishevelled and her face was stricken with panic and anxiety. Her feet were bare and her thin gown didn't help the slight tremors the cold inflicted on the aged woman's body. Gone was the ramrod straight woman and her steely gaze, all that stood before her was a worried soul.
She hates me, Maria had said.
Ayra wanted to smile.
Aunt Zelda grabbed ahold of her shoulders and dove her nails into her skin.
"You--have you seen--"
Ayra cut her off. "She went home."
Aunt Zelda's brows pulled together and she breathed out a soft, "What?"
Ayra smiled solemnly. "She'll be waiting for you."
She slowly withdrew her fingers and staggered back. Without replying, she rushed down the street and towards her awaiting niece.
Ayra stood there, watching the woman till she disappeared down the street. A gust of wind swept towards her and she gently guided it to the dark abyss above. The Stormbreaker hoped that the wind carried Maria's wishes to the stars and beyond.
As she walked back to the inn, Ayra also prayed that Maria and her aunt's outstretched hand would reach each other and meet together this time.
ווו×
The next night, the three wizards stood at the center of their chamber, eyes glimmering deviously.
They wore their smiles like honed blades, their gowns like armour and their masks like a warrior's wallet.
Gripping an arsenal of wicked power inside their fists, the three maidens set out for the Masquerade Ball.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
miwaknight
miwaknight Hello, readers. Long time no see.
First of all, I'd like to apologise for my constant disappearing acts. I'm trying to fix my writing schedule but reality has been awfully disturbing eek.
Second of all, I'd like to thank @DaoistX5AYho & @Xierryne for giving their power stones to this book every. single. day. I wake up with a smile & it's because of you both. Thank you, truly.
Lastly, I'm here to remind y'all that I'm not giving up on this book. No matter what.
- Miwa the vanishing author.
Cadeaux
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reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
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