A loud screech sounded in the dining room as Mr. Canaan pushed his chair backwards to face her.
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" She raised a brow.
"I can't find words to explain myself," he mumbled bitterly.
"You don't have to, it's not like I'm jealous of you or something. What if you now have a big house now? You're still my footstool. My family's rank is greater than yours by far."
It was now Canaan's turn to be perplexed.
"What do you mean?"
"I can remember many things, I can remember till 2 years before, but some things between are left out. I know you for sure, you were just as haughty then," she snorted.
Canaan gave a little sigh of relief; he must have taken the form of someone she knew from the past.
She yawned like a little kitty before staring at him. Canaan suddenly became self-conscious as his eyes darted around.
"I want to sleep!" She told him in a half yell.
Canaan motioned to the maids, and they took Nurna to the room they prepared for her. She was helped with her bath and had a change of clothes.
The old butler stood with his smile that hasn't faltered since their arrival.
"Here's a map of the house, my lady. You're allowed to go anywhere except for Master's bedroom and his study. There's a bell by your bed; you can summon the maids, they'll always be on standby."
She waved him off as if shooing a fly before sitting on the bed with her legs folded inwards. She suddenly held her hair like she was going to uproot them.
"Why can't I remember?!" She grunted to herself.
She had slowly regained her memory over the hours, but there seem to be evident gaps in her memory.
According to her memory, she was the second daughter of a peculiar family, whose power and influence are only second to that of the royal family, for no other reason than the fact that they had magic.
Her father was a very powerful man, with the power to control every element on earth. He had healing properties, he had super strength; the only thing that differentiated him from a demigod was the fact that he had a timespan similar to that of humans.
These powers were passed down, generations unto generations, from one male child to another.
Her father, Seth, was worried after bearing only one female child; they waited for years before his wife conceived once more. When he was told that it was a girl, he ordered her to be killed, but as the guards tried to take her from her mother, her hair suddenly grew and glowed till it almost blinded the eyes of the guards. That only meant one thing: she is the bearer of the light magic for the next generation.
To make up for her "inherent weakness" because of her gender, her father had her train rigorously for years, despite the fact that she actually didn't have all those powers.
Many a time was she tempted to kill her father so she could inherit his powers and end her misery. Unfortunately, her father was a tough weed; besides, her mother taught her better.
She remembers looking forward to something at a waterfall; she couldn't remember, but her heart ached anytime she tried to remember.
She also remembers working as a guard for someone.
After a while of deep thoughts, she took the map and went out of her room.
She was surprised to see a female guard and two maids outside her room, standing straight and alert. The guards followed behind her, but with one glare from Nurna, she retreated.
Pointing at the area marked with red ink, she walked quietly along the long corridor.
"Does he have a family?" She mused as she walked across the stretch of rooms.
She leaned on the wall that ended with a turn; she was heading straight to where she was instructed not to venture, the library.
Peering at the library, she saw that it was unguarded just like all other rooms in the mansion. A mischievous smile hung across her face as she walked towards the oak double door. Looking around, she pushed the heavy double door open with all her might and went in swiftly.
Stepping through the door, the scent of aged leather, old books, and polished wood washed over her. Her now woven hair bounced behind her as she clenched onto her white silk nightgown.
The library wasn't as dark as she expected it to be; the stars and the amber bulbs from outside illuminated a good part of the hall from the wall of glass that was facing the outside.
Towering mahogany shelves, that made her stretch till her chin was in line with her body, overflowed with leather-bound volumes.
She heard the distant crackling sound of fire. Looking around to find its source, she found a row of frames of paintings on the wall.
Just as she walked closer to the row of paintings, one of the paintings moved.
A light gasp escaped her lips as she quickly hid behind one of the shelves.
She caught the silhouette of the two people, a man and a woman walking out from behind the painting. She deduced that it would be Mr. Canaan. She watched the duo walk towards the door; the lady walked out the door, but Mr. Canaan turned.
Her eyes widened, and she leaned inwards hoping she doesn't get caught.
Her heart thumped louder and louder in her chest as he walked towards her direction.
He stopped abruptly when he almost reached where she was. It was his phone that rang.
Nurna stood there, rigid as a statue, almost not breathing. She was reminded of her first impression on him, with his almost imposing stature and cold lifeless gaze.
The call ended, and Nurna clenched her fist, readying herself to face his head-on.
Just as she sprang from behind the shelf, her head hit something soft yet sturdy, Mr. Canaan's chest.
Just as she tried to step back, her heel hit the shelf. She let out a soft scream, oblivious to the wobbling of the tall shelf behind her. Mr. Canaan was quick to catch her into his embrace as he moved them farther away from the shelf.
Nurna's head was now buried into his chest. Mr. Canaan held onto her lean frame as the faint scent of the rosewater from her bath earlier invaded his olfactory receptors. He had picked up the scent beforehand, and that was how he knew she was in the library.
Nurna also got lost in the familiarity of this embrace; her senses telling her it could be that thing she was yearning for whenever she thought of the waterfall.
Pushing him away gently, they both stood in between the little passage amongst the shelf, even though they couldn't see each other clearly, they felt one another's gaze.
"You read all these?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Then you must know me from the past; you said you knew everything."
"What do you want to know?"
"Was I married?" She asked defiantly.
"No."
Her question this time came out as a whisper, "Was I in love with someone?"
"Yes," he cleared his throat.
"Who was he?"
There was a long silence in the library. Canaan's throat worked as he tried to come up with an answer.
"Who was I in love with?"
"I don't know. He'll be dead now."
He noticed her silhouette shrinking as her shoulders slumped.
Clearing his throat, he turned back.
"This should be the last time you come here; it's very dangerous for you to loiter around."
Nurna's eyes narrowed into a slit as she watched his figure retreat.
He had always been cautious about anything that concerns her. Was it just devotion or was there something else?
She walked back to her room. Laying on her bed, she drifted off to sleep.
•••
Nurna jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to her skin. The dream lingered, vivid and horrifying. The silence of her room morphed into the hushed whispers and muffled cries that had filled the dark hallway of her nightmare. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she remembered.
Torches of flame, flickering and inconstant, cast long wobbling shadows on the stone walls. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood.
Each flicker of the torches revealed more of the endless, inky black hallway stretching before her.
Then, a shape. A single, chilling silhouette framed in the flickering torchlight at the far end of the corridor. As she walked closer, her breath catching in her throat, the figure came into sharper focus. It was a robed figure, tall and gaunt, its face obscured by the hood.
The crown atop its head. Jagged golden prongs held aloft various precious stones, each glistening in the torchlight. But the most terrifying detail was the wet sheen on the crown – not rainwater, but blood, dripping down the figure's black robes.
A cruel smile, devoid of warmth or humor, stretched across the figure's unseen face. A voice, raspy and dripping with malice, echoed down the hallway, pronouncing her name, "Nurna..." It stretched the syllables out, each one a barb that pierced her very soul.
That was when she woke up. Her chest went up at down at a high tempo, she went out of the bed and rushed to open up the curtains. It was morning already. She called for water after going back to her bed.
After freshening up, she went out of the room to the dining room. Filo was seated, beaming with a smile that reached her eyes. Nurna's cheeks were drawn downward in a scowl, not expecting much from the breakfast.
Filo made an outline of a smile with her fingers, trying to tell Nurna to behave.
"Where's he?" She turned to the butler, with her hands on her hips and her head high.
"Mr. Canaan went on a trip, he won't be back till next month. Till then, you'll be here learning to adapt to our current world and practices," Mr. D, the butler, relayed to her in Lestkan.
That didn't sit well with little Miss fireball, but before she could launch her verbal attack or an outburst, a strong aroma hit her nose, drawing her back to the present.
She only had porridge and nuts the previous day; her bowels were as good as empty.
She nodded her head as if mentally noting to attack Butler D later before going to take a seat at the table.
She plunged into the deep calming waters of nostalgia as she scanned the dishes before her. For the first time in a very long time, she ate with relish.
"The world we are in is a very dangerous place, but within these walls, you're safe, under my master's benevolence," Butler D said meaningfully with his signature unfaltering smile.
She scoffed at his words, knowing fully well what he meant.
Weeks passed, and there was no glimpse of Mr. Canaan. Nurna, who was a swift and voracious learner, could now communicate basic Kiran Language.
You would find her either sprawled on a couch reading a book or reciting things as she walked across the garden. She had done a complete tour of the whole villa. Aside from the language barrier, she couldn't communicate with her; she was always sashaying past the workers like a haughty, unfriendly royalty, and the workers stayed clear from her path, not to attract her wrath.
Filo usually left the villa to tend to her plants and do other things. So, Nurna was all alone and was soon bored of learning. She yearned to play around in the garden but people were watching her, everytime.
One cool evening, she walked towards the stable. With the help of some of the workers, she got on the horse. At first, she galloped the horse around slowly, then her sores increased, till it turned ferocious.
Anyone who tried to stop her got thrown over. She ran across the open fields, laughing and screaming at the top of her voice; she was having a blast.
She saw a familiar figure standing far across the field, standing with his hands folded behind him. It was Canaan.
She fumbled on the ropes, causing the speeding horse to come to a screech, throwing her off its back.
She landed unceremoniously on the plush grass, whimpering as she tried to sit up.
She had broken her right arm and sprained her ankle.
Soon, Canaan was hovering over her. Swiftly, he carried her on the horse, and they rode back to the front of the villa.
Soon, Canaan was hovering over her. With a gentle scoop, his touch sending a shiver down her spine, he carried her onto the horse. As he settled her in front of him, his gaze lingered a beat too long, and a blush of embarrassment crept up her neck. The ride back to the villa was quick and silent, with Nurna biting hard on her lips.
Just like the allergy incident, things got chaotic.
In less than an hour, half of Nurna's body was now encased in POP. She was left with the maids who were shaking in fear of what will befall them.
Nurna gripped the arm of the chair with her left arm, her knuckles turning white. Her posture was rigid, back ramrod straight, neck taut. Every muscle seemed to vibrate with restrained fury. Her eyes narrowed, fixed on some unseen point in the distance. Her legs shook in their restraint.
"Spare your lips," Canaan said from behind her. His words weren't far-fetched as Nurna's bottom lip was now held tightly between her teeth, a tiny droplet of blood now seeping out of the cut she made.
Canaan took a cutting bud and ointment. He wiped her lower lips and she hissed like a snake whose tail was stepped on.
"I have to find someone," she growled, her throat working in restrained anger.
"Who is that?"
"I have to find my father; he's alive."
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