What was most apparent was a strong fragrance: lilacs. It
drifted around the room, lulling any intruder into a sense of peace and
security. Following this one would notice the flowers freely growing on the
walls and in pots strewn about the room. On the floor lay pedals from the flora
around, listing gently from side to side with small gusts of wind from the
nearby seashore.
Bookshelves, messily filled with old tomes, scrolls, and
loose parchment, lined all the walls, but were painted white and gold, giving
the room a distinctly cheery disposition. Coupled with wide windows set between
each bookcase, the room was bright and sun filled. In the centre of the room,
an equally opulent desk was set out and also covered in various works. A
single, slender vase sat in the corner, and in it a golden rose was set,
sitting off to the side.
Sat at this desk, donning a summery, violet dress, with her
crimson tresses done up in a bun behind her head, was a young woman, her narrow
face relaxed, but her azure eyes alight with the fires of arcane, brilliance
and intrigue. A gentle knock at the door of the round room disturbed her peace,
her brows knits gently as she looked up and called out: “Yes?”
“Erythis,” the voice sounded, gruff and strong, “Come out
here.” The young woman pushed herself to a stand, sliding the chair out behind
her, finding the determination in the familiar voice off-putting. Her feet laid
bare, and tapped quietly against the cool floor below her, and so light were
her footsteps that she did not disturbs the flowers which laid there.
She opened the door to find an older man, his face
deceitfully young, but his eyes haggard and tired. He was tall and rail thin –
the source of Erythis’ figure, but much to her relief found herself taking
after the portraits of her late mother. “Father,” she greeted the man donning
ceremonial crimson robes politely with a dip of her head. “Is everything
alright?” She questioned him after he glanced to the left.
“Come,” he instructed her. Never one for conversation, the
tall man hurried down the hall, his robes billowing lightly behind him as he
moved. Anxiety quivered under Erythis’ skin – how she longed for the peace of
her study once more – her father had never come to her with good news before.
His crimson hair, streaked with silver, flowed smoothly, like a waterfall,
behind him and she could tell from his stiff countenance something was
definitely amiss. “I warn you, daughter, keep your stomach calm.”
As they wound the corner, Erythis’ found her view of the
corridor obstructed by servants and other house workers. Her skin abruptly
tingled with a powerful – yet strangely familiar – magic as she moved through
the crowd silently. Her father remained behind, evidently deciding she was to
see this alone.
Laid there on the white stone in a pool of blood was a
strange object she could not immediately identify. Erythis fell to one knee,
lifting her dress to allow the movement. Pushing a stray lock of fiery hair out
of her face, she observed the object, and with a raise brow, determined it was
half of an hourglass. Some of the sand itself was sprinkled into the blood. She
looked up at her father who had arrived at her side, “Why am I looking at
this?” She questioned him gently.
He motioned at the broken timepiece, “Touch it, Erythis,” he
urged her. She turned from him once more, and studied the curious thing before
her, her hand hovering over it. A single ring was set on her middle finger:
slender band joined to a smooth, narrow garnet glittered – it had been a gift
from a prince, though one she had not met. She had been touched by the gift,
but also made uneasy by the affections of royalty whom she had never even met
nor been informed who they actually were. Hesitating no further, she broke her
attention from the meaningful gift and placed her pointer and middle finger on
the broken hourglass.
A shriek of magic exploded into her mind and she lurched
back, blinded by a white light apparently only she could see. She felt hands on
her shoulders, but it was though her body was fading away from her incorporeal
being – her soul – as she was taken from the physical world.
She could hear words. Voices. Urgent and demanding, they
shouted back at one another. But they were not arguing. ‘What is this?’ She questioned, ‘Who…
Where am I?’ The blinding whiteness that had left her helpless gave way to
muddled, equally urgent visions of a powerful woman, dressed in ornate crimson
robes and with a golden staff in her hands, and without understanding how,
Erythis recognised the woman to be herself. At a distance was a heavily
armoured knight with a stance also implying his nobility. She knew not the man,
but somehow felt an attachment to him, too.
“We must go!” The man’s voice shouted, “All is lost if we do
not!” Erythis felt herself abruptly disagree, and to her shock found this
other, much older, woman disagree alongside her. The room was alive with magic,
and yet the young woman knew that the other her and the knight were not the
only ones there. Another presence – also familiar but with so much evil it took
the breath from her lungs – caught her unawares. Had she met them before? She
could not say.
The vision failed abruptly and Erythis found herself looking
at the two grand individuals, the knight crumpled over the mage’s lower legs,
the two of them grasping the hourglass together, muttering words she could not
hear. In a flash of light, the vision ended.
Erythis lurched upward, only to find herself in her bed. Her
body was covered in sweat, her latent magicks erupting invisibly from her body
as her chest heaved. Heart racing, she looked around wildly, only to find her
father, his hands clasped before him in meditative thought, apparently ignorant
to her start. “Father,” she began breathlessly before pausing to collect
herself. “What happened?”
“You touched the artifact and passed out. It stirred for me
and I knew immediately it was meant for you,” he grasped her hands in his own,
the weathered skin calming her. “Forgive me, daughter. I did not mean to bring
you harm or misfortune. Something… demanded I bring you to it. A magic or
intuition I know not.” Pausing for a long moment, merely holding her hands in
his own as she calmed, “What did you see?”
Erythis released herself from his grasp with a gentle tug,
placing her own in her lap as she collected herself. She did not like to look
weak before her father – the cool tempered man was realm renowned for his magic
and she did not wish to seem needlessly emotional before him. “I saw… me. But
it was not me… An elder woman – she was a beauty, but so very powerful… She and
a man whose likeness I could not identify but felt I was connected to… They
were fighting this… being. It was so powerful.”
She shook her head, dispelling the unpleasant image before
returning to it out of necessity, “It killed my other self and this knight.
They grasped an hourglass, and disappeared. Now half of it is with me.” She
looked down at her hands, wringing them, “Who was that man?” She flinched as
she felt a sharp sting in the palm of her left hand, and found blood trickling
down.
“Your ring, daughter…” Her father began, motioning to the
jewel upon it. It was shattered, and a jagged splinter remained. A moment of
understanding – a pure, grand moment she treasured – happened upon her. The
mystery prince and the knight in her vision: she knew they were somehow
related, like she and the grand lady her other self were. “Should I call for a
priestess?” Her father asked.
The young woman shook her head, “No, it’s just… I need some
sleep. My head is swimming,” she lied convincingly, though did so not with a
desire to concern her distant father. “Please, father, do not let me keep you.
I’ll come find you when I’m better: we can figure out what to do here.” Her
father gave Erythis a questioning look, doubting how ready she was to include
him in this, but the imploring look that passed over his face for a moment
struck her with guilt for her plans of duplicity.
“Of course, Erythis. Sleep well,” he pushed himself to a stand,
“You are a lady now, you do not need your father’s approval to do what you see
is best.” His words were cryptic and filled with a knowledge she did not know
he could have possessed over her mind. “Should you wish to speak to me,” he
tapped his temple. Soundlessly he exited her room.
Erythis laid back down on her bed, her mind very much awake
and her body fully restored. “I have to find that prince…” Somehow, she
imagined, this tale she had just been thrown into would not end as well as the
fantasies of her childhood. She took one last longing look through a nearby
window to the peaceful beach in the distance and sighed. Something told her it
would be a long time before she saw it again. Closing her eyes, she fell into a
fitful sleep, filled with images of the other people she had seen, but marred
with the silver eyes of the entity that had slaughtered her other self.
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