novelxo Chapter 38 - the Closure
I washed the blood off the knife and my arm, and sat back down on my mattress. There was a throbbing inside my head, as if my brain was slamming itself against the walls of my skull. Flashes of memories bubbled to mind, quotes came to the surface, and I picked through every single one of them, looking for missed clues. Free yourself. What could that mean?
Phaedra had been the subject of the prophecy — turning base metals into precious ones — that part seemed pretty clear. Although, she had been no royal. Blood like the sky. I slowly got up, and quietly walked to the door. It was dark outside, igniting the strange yearning in my chest. I had thought it would disappear after getting back home, but it only seemed to be getting worse. And that awful throbbing inside my head…
I looked up at the night sky, and the single moon, that seemed lonely somehow. The sky was pitch black, and adorned with glittering stars. Blood like the sky — what if it didn’t mean blue blood?! What if meant the night sky — the way the Ardanian sky looked almost all of the time?! What if it meant black blood?!
My mouth went dry, and my hands grew cold. Who could have black blood? I thought of Phaedra. She’d been bleeding, on the battlefield. I had clearly seen her blood — it had been red. Just like every one else’s I had seen so far. Perhaps it had more of a symbolic meaning, just like blue blood did.
I felt overwhelmed, but hopeful, as if I was right on the brink of solving the mystery. I thought of the gateway, and how it had suddenly appeared amongst the puddles of blood — a puddle of silver. Just like it had looked in the woods. A puddle of liquid silver, in the deep, undisturbed, quiet woods.
‘She who summons riches from the void’s silence will materialize the quiet and grant the people’s wishes.’ Riches summoned in the silence. Materialized quiet. Had that puddle been there before I had gotten there, in the forest, the first time I went through? Or had it appeared when I got there?
What if it hadn’t been Phaedra at all, opening the gateway? I remembered Thoridor staring at me as he told Myrtha how to conjure her magic. He hadn’t looked at her once. What if he hadn’t been talking to her?! “You will feel your magic in your bones as soon as you begin to conjure it,” he had said, “it is woven into your very essence.” Could it have been woven into mine?! He had told Myrtha to be specific — to picture it in her head, the destination. I had been doing so the whole time. I had pictured everything so clearly in my head, my home, the garden — the creek.
I had been picturing the creek. I hadn’t told Myrtha about it — and I hadn’t told Phaedra. How could they have led the gateway there if they had no knowledge of it?! The throbbing in my head worsened, nearly making it impossible to think now.
But I could still hear that voice inside my head, encouraging me to continue — You’re so close. I paced around the room — avoiding the floorboards I knew would creak. I had done so countless times, as to not wake Tophyn.
Could I have been the one to open gateways?! The last phrase of the prophecy echoed through my mind. ‘She who has known loss, agony and sacrifice like no other shall be the bearer of peace.’
I had known loss, and agony — I had lost Tophyn, and my parents. I had lost Nysander too — and my village. I had nowhere left to turn. I had known pain — both physical and mental agony. But my blood was red — not blue, or black. And my touch, although gentle, was not featherlight by any means.
I needed air — I couldn’t be in this house any longer. This house, that had once been mine, had been wiped clear of me — my family had forgotten me. I didn’t belong here anymore.
Nysander had a family of his own, he didn’t want me here. And why would he? I was a stranger to him. I stepped over a particularly creaky floorboard — one I used to hide treasures under as a child. My treasures!
I bent down and pried my fingers into the gap between the floorboards, lifting the loose corner slightly. I stuck my arm into the darkness below. I tapped around — at first, I felt nothing but damp, cold sand. But then, the first treasure. My necklace. A gift from my mother.
The necklace was made up of a silver chain and a pendant. It was an amulet, an oval-shaped, red gemstone, cradled in an intricate silver suspension, revealing its alluring facets from both sides. I dusted it off, and put it around my neck. I stuck my arm back in, looking for the second treasure.
It was an arrow — one Nysander had been particularly fond of. It was the first one I had ever killed an animal with. I had pulled it out of its carcass to keep it — something I had only done once. I had put it beneath the flooring to keep it hidden from Nysander, as he had a tendency to play with things that could hurt him.
The final treasure I dug up was a tiny glass jar. It had once contained an ointment I had made to aid Tophyn’s breathing, but once it had been used up, I had cleaned out the jar to give to Tophyn. He always loved to play with the jars and bottles of medicine I brought him, but I usually wouldn’t let him. I had given him this one, but had taken in away again once I noticed he had used it to sneakily store honey, to eat at night. The memory made me giggle, and then filled me with an intense dread.
I rose to my feet, and walked to my bed. I folded the blanket and rolled up the mattress, putting them out of the way. Then, I put the arrow on the table —far enough from the edges to keep it out of reach of curious little hands— right in the middle, where Nys would find it.
I ripped a button off my tunic, and put it beside it — as a little keepsake for Nys’s new family. Something to remember me by— a new memory.
Then I filled the tiny jar with honey, and took it outside with me. I set up the lock for it to lock the door behind me, just like I used to do when I went hunting, and pulled it shut.
The second I did, I felt the heaviness of my actions weigh down on me. I wasn’t just closing the door to my old house, I was closing the door on my past.
I fought back tears as I knelt down by Tophyn’s grave again. I placed the little jar of honey on his headstone, and leaned in to kiss the ground where he lay.
Tears fell from my eyes, sinking into the sand below me. I felt as though I was being ripped apart from the inside as I whispered to him, “slumber deep, my precious dear, raindrops hum, no need to fear. I love you, Tophie.” Then I rose to my feet and walked into the night.