“She was dead? But now she’s not dead?” Alton placed a set of fingers against his temple. “Barcus murdered her? Barcus? And there’s a necromancer running loose in Carapace? A necromancer you know nothing about?”
His eyes narrowed judgmentally for a moment. Veximarl wasn’t the one who resurrected her. He would be a fit of giggles while trying to explain everything. Alton let out a sigh. It didn’t make any sense to him. Barcus was dead? What sort of man had he become since the entrance exams?
Veximarl looked over to Sybil. She had fallen asleep in his bed after he told her the news he had gotten from Chickadee that morning. “I have seen a few cases of this in the swamps. Necromancy is capable of much, but it demands balance. A successful resurrection is a difficult task. I would guess that Sybil had been deceased for about an hour, which may explain her ill condition. It would seem as though they had chosen Mister Vothar as her sacrifice, which was a less than ideal choice in terms of a physical match.
Heart arrhythmia is the most common symptom, followed by hallucinations, and amnesia. If the body is put under physical or emotional duress during recovery, they may enter a state of shock and the resurrection spell will fail.
Sybil was young and was physically fit before her death. Whoever did the spell casting was incredibly skilled, despite the mistakes that were made. She will only need a few days to recover. I will see if I can rearrange some of my shifts at work so that I may keep a close eye on her condition.”
Alton only understood half of what Veximarl was saying. “So is she a zombie now? Does she not age? Is this how she’s always going to be?”
“She’s alive. She will age. However, she may have a shortened lifespan. Sybil will likely only make it to her early sixties, but no one will suspect that it was magic’s fault.”
“He means to say that Sybil isn’t doing well right now, dear.” Lydia gave Alton a reassuring smile, to which he replied with a glare.
Veximarl continued. “I have her on sedatives now. I think it’s for the best that I keep her in my room for the time being. We’ll figure out how much truth there was to her statements when she wakes up.”
“Duxton won’t tell us anything… They might not have known how serious her condition was, otherwise they wouldn’t have ditched her here. If we start snooping around, anyone looking into Barcus’ death or disappearance might start suspecting us.”
Alton felt frustrated at having his hands tied. The matter was already done and settled. Any interference by them could only make the matter worse. If only they had found Vincent and Zaniyah sooner, he could’ve looked into the matter of Sybil not coming back due to a broken arm.
Veximarl felt the same way. “It is better to talk to her rather than run about aimlessly. All we can do now is wait.”
He had hidden the falchion away for now. Currently, it was in the bag with his hospital uniform. Veximarl was going to wait until Sybil’s mind had cleared before telling anyone about it. Especially heavy on his mind were doubts about Alton.
The marriage wasn’t something a sane man would do. Sybil would tell them if she were in trouble. Time and time again, Zaniyah and Chickadee trusted Sybil to tell them if she needed help. Yet she had been murdered, and there were signs of older injuries. A twisted knee, broken ribs, a fracture to her wrist. They had all been healed away with magic, but they seemed like injuries she shouldn’t have had in the first place.
If she was supposed to be only a face that shows up to social events, why was she showing signs that she had been in several fights? Did Alton not know? Or was he in on it and spinning lies through that ever happy mask he had been wearing?
Alton let out an annoyed sigh and stood up. “Take a walk.”
“What was that?” Veximarl’s thoughts snapped to the present.
“You look like you’re about to punch a hole in a wall... When people are mad, they make mistakes. I don’t need you making stupid decisions when it comes to Sybil, so go take a walk.” Alton folded his arms and glared down at the seated man.
Veximarl stood up, using his height to show Alton that he was the one that looked down at people, not the other way around. He then turned away and moved to get his spear. “If she wakes up, make certain she eats a small snack and has a glass of water. I doubt she will have much of an appetite, but do not allow her to eat more if she asks for some. It will make her condition worse.”
Tossing a glance over at Sybil, Alton grimaced as she let out a loud snort and rolled onto her side. Her arm flopped off the side of the bed and dangled like a dead weight. “I doubt she’s waking up anytime soon.” His eyes flitted to Veximarl’s hand. “Why are you taking your weapon with you?”
“Until we have a better understanding as to why she was attacked, I plan on keeping myself protected.” Veximarl attached his spear to his belt and tucked his letter into his robes. “I was scheduled to help transport some items for the hospital. Do not be alarmed if it takes me two hours or longer to get back. I get distracted whenever I am there, but I will return as soon as I am able.”
“Whatever,” said Alton quietly. “She’ll still be here when you get back.”
Though Veximarl didn’t trust Alton to be alone with Sybil, he didn’t feel like she would be in any danger. He took his leave and headed not to the hospital, but to the park. It was just as desolate as it was the last time he had been here, but he considered that to be a good thing. He lowered his bag to the ground and sat down on a bench. Then he pulled the sword free from it so he could get a closer look.
The weapon had gone through some changes since last he saw it. For one, and most disappointing, the small doll charms that they had given to her last summer had been removed. Any dye that had stained the leather of the scabbard had also been scrubbed clean, leaving it a white color. Most disturbing was the blood iron coin that had been set in it.
Its design had changed.
Veximarl was certain of it. There were still the small buttercup blossoms, but they grew along the sides of an hourglass. It looked to be a combination of the old Fogbloom family’s crest and Braytons’. Who could have been skilled enough to make such a change? He knew that some necromancers specialized in blood iron, but why would the necromancer that saved Sybil do this to her weapon? How did they even get it in the first place?
He set the falchion down beside him and started to put together his spear. When Chickadee returned, he would ask him to look over the falchion first. Only then would he let Sybil touch it. Misty figures, the ability to see through time, talking with the gods… It was too dangerous of a weapon for them to have without proper research first.
The sound of crunching snow caught his attention. He looked up and saw that Gwyn was approaching. Veximarl scrambled to put the sword back into his bag before she saw it. He then gave her a nod as she sat down next to him. It wasn’t the first time they had been to this place together, but he was surprised to find her wandering in by herself.
Gwyn stared at him in silence for a moment. She then pulled back her hood with a heavy sigh. “I stopped by the hospital to see you earlier.”
“I have the day off. If you had contacted me by letter, I would have-”
He was silenced by a glare. It made him realize that he had been so busy with Sybil that he hadn’t bothered to check it. A thin and nervous laugh escaped him as he turned his head away in embarrassment.
“A pigeon came in some time ago. Vincent is with Cully and Krogastein in Outcore. He said that they’d be back sometime tomorrow or later, depending on how much their help is needed there.” Her tone was flatter than it usually was. It reminded Veximarl of how she spoke when they first met.
“I see…” Looking over bashfully, he noticed that she was staring at his spear. “Ah, yes. I wanted to practice my spear forms, and I am always being disturbed by one thing or another when at the Toval residence.”
That seemed to satisfy her curiosity. “A shame it isn’t popular during this season. This truly is a beautiful place. Those of Carapace are too focused on color. They don’t take the time to search out the details or appreciate what a muted place like this can do for their perspective.”
There was a mix of emotions that Veximarl felt at that moment. Mostly guilt. He remembered that during the Eatha day festival, when he had made a big deal with Tish about his asexuality and yet he slept with her a month later. Veximarl saw nothing wrong with Tish, but he couldn’t muster any sort of romantic feelings for her. That was simply a fact about himself that he had accepted, and he didn’t think he would ever feel differently about anyone.
Yet here was a girl that said or did things at times that made his mind go numb with wonderment. Veximarl didn’t know how to describe it. From his understanding, romance was the overwhelming urge to be with someone to the point where the act of mating became a major focus... But he didn’t feel that way about Gwyn.
Veximarl simply wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to be considered as someone special in her life, but he also didn’t know how to phrase that in words. Something that was emotionally intimate, yet not physical. Not that he was physically repulsed by her, he could probably… If he was coaxed into it, maybe with alcohol, he could probably…
Veximarl gave a shake of his head. It was better not to think about that.
“Are you alright?” Gwyn had become concerned when he buried his face into his gloves.
Veximarl was about to ask her what she thought of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Gwyn was special. She was brilliant and shining and… Full of life. He was none of that. He was a necromancer. There was no way he could taint her with his world. Sybil’s accident was merely a reminder of how dark that world was.
“No. I am not alright. I am quite far from alright,” he whispered. Veximarl felt paralyzed. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. Not with his education, nor with Sybil’s issues, or with his own personal emotions. All this pressure was locking him up.
“Apologies.” Gwyn fumbled her hands together. “I shouldn’t have said that. Winter is a… I neglected to remember that you weren’t fond of this season.”
“That is hardly the issue at all, I assure you. Yes, I have… Several personal issues that I must address, and they have been mounting as of late, but I do not wish for you to feel the need to restrain yourself around me.” Her fingers brushed against his cheek as she pushed his hair behind his ear. The sensation made him sit up with a start, with a heavy blush tinting his face.
“Would you mind if I watched you practice your forms?” She asked as she tilted her head.
It wasn’t the real reason why he had come here. He had come here to bury the sword until he and Chickadee could retrieve it later. The thought of her wanting to watch him was utterly embarrassing. “Surely that would be boring for you.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Not really. My original assignment was to go to a meeting with Remi and Vincent today, but Remi asked me to stay behind for when news of Vincent came in.”
“I wouldn’t wish to impose but,” he remembered that he shouldn’t be keeping Alton waiting long. On the other hand, he was certain Sybil would be fine without him until this evening. “I need to drop my uniform off at the hospital. If you are free, would you care to spend your time with me in a different fashion? Something you would prefer to do?”
“You mean a date? You want to go out on a date with me?” Gwyn stared at him blankly. Veximarl could only respond by stammering out a series of broken words while his face turned all the redder. “... I stopped by Starsons the other day with Ivy and Vincent. He wanted to give them all a pep talk about maturity and upholding the pride of the school.” She rolled her eyes. “Like that matters. The idiot ran away at the first sight of trouble.”
Veximarl frowned. “Their situation is not so easily summarized. He is not a reckless person. Vincent merely took this route because he saw it as his last option.”
“It’s the same stupid story you hear over and over again in Fogbloom. Some lowborn wants to be with a highblood and they run away thinking they’re going to live happily ever after. They always seem to end up either dead or miserable.” She clicked her tongue and appeared annoyed. “I don’t want to go into details...
My point is that while we were at Starsons, the students mentioned that there was this place in Carapace that the students like to go to. It’s a restaurant that has a stage where people perform skits or recite poetry. I might go, but I’d rather have an escort with me.”
“You wish to see a performance?” Like a date? This would be a date then?
“Being able to relate to the culture of this city will allow me to work more fluidly with the people. I was hoping to get some inspiration for flower arrangements while I was there, but I didn’t want someone to approach me needlessly. Having you next to me might frighten others away. You often have that effect on others.”
Veximarl started to untwist his spear. “... Ah. A venture for the sake of research.” She may have insulted him but his heart felt like it was soaring. “It would be an honor to escort you on this mission.”
“Or, if you are alright with it…” Gwyn kept her eyes averted. “... We could stay here a little longer. You could summon your foxes and let them breathe a little before you must leave to go to the hospital.” She tensed up. “I suppose either option would suit me.”
He paused and studied her for a moment. “Are you alright, Gwyn?”
“There’s a lot on my mind right now, so no. I’m not.”
Tapping a finger against his spear, a finch made of light appeared and jumped on his thumb. He held out his hand towards her, and she held up her own. The finch jumped onto her palm and started to hop around.
“... Apologies. The ones I summon are unable to sing. I’m certain it would sound lovely, but…”
Gwyn shook her head. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Veximarl flicked out his hand and summoned a small flock made of a dozen different birds. They flew about as a group for a moment and then settled on the trees and bushes. Gwyn stood up to admire them, and they took off again. This time to spiral and dance about her. A faint smile broke out on her lips as she spun about.
Having a small part of his magic bring her joy made Veximarl smirk. He knew she would scream in terror if she saw the full extent of it, but right now he was happy. When she seemed to have her fill of it, he unsummoned the birds and she sat down next to him again. They made small talk for a time, and Veximarl couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so much.
“Thank you.” Gwyn smiled up at him. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but I do sort of enjoy spending time with you.”
“I will attempt to check my letter more frequently in the future so that you won’t have to go out and look for me in the future.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
She rested her hand on top of his. Her fingers tightened as the smile fell from her face. They stared at each other for a moment, then she slowly leaned in. Gwyn’s eyes flitted between his lips and his eyes, and Veximarl became concerned with how nervous she appeared.
“... My goodness. It’s gotten so late.” She said that Remi had told her to wait around, but it was likely that there were tasks she wanted to accomplish. He had wasted so much of her time as it was. She must have fallen silent due to her annoyance.
Gwyn blinked a few times. “What?”
“I lost track of time due to our discussion.” Veximarl stood up quickly from the bench. “I should escort you back.” Gwyn stared at him blankly for a moment before she broke down into laughter. “... Are you alright?”
“Yes.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “It’s only that… Never mind. I’ll walk with you to the hospital and then I can make it back on my own.”
“Apologies.” Sybil’s injuries were suddenly fresh in his mind. If something like that happened to Gwyn, he had no idea how he would react. “I will take you back the whole way. I actually have a favor to ask you, if you do not mind, but I will save it for while we are walking.”
“Not at all.” Gwyn stood up and dusted the snow off of her skirt. “Lead on.”
They left together, and Veximarl felt like a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. The situation was just as bad as it was before, but Gwyn had a way of distracting him from his worries. Her overall apathetic attitude towards life did wonders to make him care less about his own predicaments.
A part of him wanted to find Duxton and torture him until he found out exactly what had happened to Sybil, but he also knew that he wouldn’t get any information that way. Although, he could murder him and demand answers from his corpse... That was a tempting thought. For now, all he could do was wait until Sybil was better. Gwyn was a welcome if not brief break. His worries would have to wait.
Around the same time, one of his problems was just waking up. Sybil opened her eyes to the sound of a cello playing. She looked over and watched Alton play for a moment. As she sat up, he gave her a nod.
“Water is on the nightstand.” He gestured to a cup on the nightstand with his nose.
She didn’t realize how dry her mouth was until he had pointed it out. Her tongue felt sticky against her teeth and the roof of her mouth. Sybil guzzled down the cold liquid gratefully and laid back down. A sigh came out, and she realized that her breath was terrible and reeked of medicine.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The last thing she remembered was Veximarl carrying her up here. “Where’s Vex?” Sybil looked around. They appeared to be in his room, but the necromancer was nowhere to be seen.
Alton gave one final stroke of his bow before he propped the instrument up against the wall. “Vex went out, so I’m in charge. Are you feeling hungry at all? I can get you some bread.” She shook her head, which made him concerned. Sybil wasn’t one to turn down bread. “Do you feel well enough to talk about what happened?”
Putting her hand to the side of her head, she nodded. “It’s a bit blurry, but… I think I saw Barcus, and…” Sybil’s eyes went wide. “I think he’s dead. No, I’m certain he’s dead.” She winced and let out a pained sound. “And there was a woman and someone else? Maybe a man…”
“Do you know who they were?” Alton frowned when she shook her head. “Barcus was the one that pushed you off the balcony?” Sybil gave a hesitant nod. “Veximarl believes you died. Are you certain that it was Barcus they sacrificed in order to save you?”
Sybil opened and closed her mouth a few times as a mix of expressions began to overwhelm her. “Is… Is that what happened?” Alton’s concerned stare was enough to let her know that he was being serious.
This wasn’t like killing someone in self-defense... Sybil was already dead. She was just now coming to the realization that she truly had been dead. Someone out there had made the conscious decision to murder someone for her sake, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. Barcus was wrong, yes, but he was sick. Maybe if something was different and he had gotten the help he needed, none of this would have happened.
Words failed her. She resigned to outstretching her arms while tears streamed down her face. Alton walked over and hugged her tightly. “I know that you didn’t make that choice. You would never want anyone to die for your sake...”
“I don’t understand why any of this is happening to me,” Sybil mumbled into his clothes, twisting her fingers into the back of his shirt while she did so.
“I don’t know either, but I promise that we’ll figure everything out,” whispered Alton.
“... I want Zani and Chickadee here. I want to tell them everything. All of these secrets we’ve been keeping from them... It isn’t fair. I-I really need them right now…” Her head shook back and forth as she clung to him all the tighter.
“You still have Vex and me. When those two come back from wherever they went, we’ll tell them what happened. Right now, though… I’m here for you, Sybil. I always will be.”
The party, her death, the ritual or whatever that was... She told him everything leading up to the point where Shaw found her. Not a lot of it made sense to Alton. Talk of being a god among men and Sybil being at the center of that for some reason or another? No wonder Veximarl said she was suffering from hallucinations.
But then he would take the occasional glance at Lydia. There were no jokes, no advice, no questions she wanted him to ask so she could get clarification. She fully believed Sybil’s story. The serious scrunch of her eyebrows was enough for him to know that this tale of woe had some truth to it.
Alton told her he believed her. When Veximarl returned, Alton was forced to leave. He wanted to call off his duties, but they were necessary for raising money. Money which his family desperately needed in order to continue their businesses.
Veximarl prepared more medicine and sat by the edge of the bed. He waited for Sybil to drink his latest concoction and checked her vitals. She was recovering surprisingly quickly. That was a good sign, though he worried that her health might just as easily falter as it did bounce back.
“Apologies. I needed some time to reflect on everything that has happened,” he muttered.
Sybil shook her head. “You went to hide the heart, didn’t you?”
Veximarl looked down at his fumbling hands. It never was much use to hide anything from anyone. “It’s with Gwyn at the moment. If your memory is correct, and it was used for some ritual, I would rather it be kept away from you for now. At least until Chi has a chance to look it over and rule it safe, and I know that your health is stabilized.”
“I’m already feeling better,” she whispered.”
Veximarl studied her for a moment. “... Why have they been hurting you?”
Sybil looked up and blinked at him. “Hmm? Who?”
“Those who you’ve been with. You might have survived that fall, but your body has been broken and mended with magic so many times…” He tensed up. “Why haven’t you mentioned it?”
“It’s only sparing practice.”
“The amount of pain you suffered is no simple training lesson,” he spat back.
“We do training like that all the time at Braytons,” she retorted.
“Under safe conditions,” he said in a stern voice. “Where there is no risk of permanent injury or death.”
Sybil frowned. “... Paladins hit quite hard,” she stated in a matter of fact tone. She was beginning to feel annoyed. There was a lot she had been through and she didn’t want to have her attentions divided by having too many questions asked.
“Which is all the more reason to take precautions.” Veximarl let out a stressed sigh, if only to gather his thoughts. “I have tried to be patient. I have tried to wait and see if you ask for help, but I cannot be idle while you destroy yourself, Sybil. Not when I see you returning home in this condition. Why are you letting them do this?”
“Because it feels like I’m doing something!” Sybil cried back. She clenched her teeth together for a moment before she continued. “Everyday I’m out there in the city, and people tell me that I’m doing good. Every day, it feels like I’m doing nothing. I do nothing, and Barcus sweeps in and murders me because he thinks I have to much power. Because he took a glance at me and decided that I was a threat to our home.
But what have I done to earn it? There’s this gnawing thought at the back of my mind, day and night, that I should be out there fighting. That there is something challenging me to get stronger and rise up, and I can’t act on that. I can’t be the knight that my mother was.
I have to be a doll.
I have to be Alton’s wife because it gives my father a chance to live. I have to be at Duxton’s side because he needs a representative of the core in order to make Duke Rubire miserable. I may feel useless, but who else can do this but me? Who else can suffer like me? I certainly wouldn’t wish this upon anyone, so this has become my burden and mine alone to have.”
“... You shouldn’t have to do any of that,” replied Veximarl. “This isn’t the right way to go about this.”
“I’ve already died for Carapace once,” she spat back. “This is what Lady Larkin would have done. She would have done anything she could have in order to unify the core and the outerland. No matter what would have happened to her, she would have fought in her own way to make sure everyone was happy in the end. She isn’t around anymore, so it’s my duty to…” Sybil clutched onto the side of her head and let out a thin whine.
Veximarl’s hand darted to the side of her neck as he sought to check her vitals. “... We will talk more of this later. Right now, you must concentrate on not being stressed. Your life depends on it, understand?” Sybil gave the faintest of nods as a reply.
Lydia watched as Sybil settled into the bed. Veximarl stood up and began to prepare more medicine, but Lydia’s eyes were locked onto her daughter. There weren’t many times where she hated the fact that she was no longer around, and this moment weighed more heavily upon her than any of the others.
“My burden has never been your burden,” she whispered. “I pray that the day will come when you learn to give yourself the value you deserve.”