The manors within the residential district of the Grand Hall would be impressive to anyone but true nobility. When most peasants squeezed entire families into homes with one room, two-stories and an expansive garden seemed opulent. Being set far from the road gave the illusion of privacy, mimicking the isolated estates of nobles, despite the manors lacking the individuality of a personal home.
The manor gifted to Kierra was especially appealing due to the garden. It was not so much the brilliant colors that drew Orphelia’s eyes but the strangeness of the plants. Some had stalks as thick as a thin tree trunk, with large, pouting petals that drooped to the sides. They shaded smaller plants that resembled weeds, with bright blue beads growing all along them, smaller than any berries she’d ever seen, along with flowers with faintly glowing petals in shades of blue through violet, interspersed between blades of long grass. As they rode toward the front door, she spotted a stone square platform surrounded by tall hedges. Thick, dark green vines hung from them and when the carriage passed, Orphelia swore she saw the things flick in their direction.
Before she could dwell on that possibility for too long, the carriage came to a stop. The door opened and Sir Quintana waved her out. She clutched her parcels close to her chest as she descended, staring toward the small manor hesitantly. Tension wormed its way through her gut as a shroud of dread fell on her shoulders, making them slump.
Logically, she knew no danger waited for her beyond the simple wooden door but emotions did not obey logic. She could almost feel a powerful grip closing around her throat and she swallowed reflexively, the movement reminding her that she wasn’t at an angry woman’s mercy.
“Oi.” A hand on her shoulder jolted her from her memories. She turned to see Sir Quintana watching her with narrowed eyes. “If there’s something you’re hiding, now is a good time to tell me.” His gaze dropped meaningfully to the box and letter she carried. A reminder that no matter how slippery her father could be, compromising a mission for the king himself would end with them stripped of their titles at the very least.
“No, good sir. I was simply overcome with excitement for a moment.” His eyes said he didn’t believe her but she ignored him, squaring her shoulders as she marched up to the front door. She grabbed the simple knocker and banged it three times.
A second later it was opened by the steward, a young boy dressed impeccably in a dark purple jacket with gold buttons and dark trousers. “Welcome back, Lady Yemen,” he said in a polite tone. He dipped his head in acknowledgment before turning to Sir Quintana. “Forgive me, I do not recognize you and neither the lady nor the mistress informed me they were expecting guests.”
“My name is Manuel Reis Quintana. Simple servant of the crown. We have come delivering a message for Kierra Atainna. It would be best if we are able to speak with her as soon as possible.”
[I didn’t expect to see you so soon, Orphie~] the creature whispered into her mind. [And who is this that you have brought with you? A royal knight. How exciting.]
Don’t try to enter his mind!
[Hoh? You’re giving me orders?]
It is not an order! It’s a warning. He has more experience with the mental affinity than me. There is a far greater chance of him recognizing the intrusion. If the succubus’ machinations were discovered, she highly doubted she would escape the scrutiny of the interrogators. They and, more importantly, her father, would come to learn of their conversations.
[After everything, you still underestimate me. Do you need another lesson, my pretty blade?]
Stolen story; please report.
Orphelia shuddered, though it was a sensation contained to her mind as the succubus had once again isolated her mind from the flow of time for their conversation. She tried not to think of the memories but with nothing to distract her, they came unbidden.
The feeling of disconnect as her body fell to the floor. Of being present in Lou’s living room but also separate. How her body, no, her soul had expanded, becoming as light as air. How every worry, scheme, and regret had fallen away as she rose above the manor, above the sky, to the empty darkness that waited beyond.
It waited for her there. She had no eyes to see but a new sense told her the thing was enormous. All she could grasp was the smallest piece of it but the twilight-colored limbs dotted with stars were large enough to encircle the world many times. They moved through the darkness, the creature moving alongside the planet, as the planet revolved around the burning sun.
Around her, she saw other people, other souls, all rising from the world as ever-shifting balls of color. As they rose, they left behind almost transparent trails, something she instinctively knew to be their connection to their bodies, their lives. The trails thinned the higher they rose, from the width of a rope to that of a thread and then to that of spider silk. Tendrils branched off from the planet-sized twilight limbs, each growing thinner as they moved closer to the souls. They wrapped around them, severing the threads of life, and pulled them toward the larger limb.
The souls around her were reaped by the hundreds every moment and she could also see tendrils reaching for her. In moments, her own thread would be cut, ending her life, but Orphelia felt nothing for her fate. Like action, emotion was beyond her.
Then, her thread thickened and contracted, dragging her soul down and out of the reach of the hungry appendages. Back down beneath the sky, through the roof of Lou’s home, and into her freshly healed body. There was a moment of dissonance as her soul adjusted to once more being inside a vessel.
Normally, her mortal mind would have no way to process what she witnessed, grasping only faint echoes of light and darkness that commonly comprised tales of the afterlife. However, the creature went to work, translating what she experienced into recognizable ideals. A giant monstrosity that devoured souls.
There was no Paradise that welcomed saints. No Abyss that destroyed you, making way for more righteous souls. Above their world, a being beyond comprehension waited for them to die so it could reap their very beings, harvesting them like a farmer scything wheat. Their greatest heroes, their worst villains, and everyone between, nothing but crop.
[I contend with gods, my blade. A mere man does not pose any obstacle. However, I will not riffle through his memories. While he himself cannot detect me, he carries with him an artifact meant to repel mana intrusion. I could shatter the flimsy thing but there is no need to expose myself. Not when he will tell me everything I want to know through his own will. Truly, you all think so loudly, I’d have to be simple not to overhear.]
Orphelia shuddered as time resumed, a belayed action. The knight looked to her curiously but his gaze returned to the boy as the steward spoke. “This is an inconvenient time for the mistress,” he said with more than a hint of reproach. If she were not visible, Orphelia would have laughed at the sight of a boy not even of age to inherit his house telling off an ex-royal knight but she kept her humor inside. She needed to throw away the ingrained respect that came with such titles anyway. After all, no matter what he accomplished in this life, he would die and be reaped all the same. He was just a man. A hairless ape dressed in shiny metal, as the creature would say.
The knight did not look happy being rebuffed. She thought it was because of who was doing the rebuffing. After all, no matter their business, it was impolite to arrive on a noble’s doorstep without arranging a meeting time or announcing themselves. This was the expected response but it couldn’t feel good being told off by a boy younger than his apprentice. Such was why stewards tended to be older servants who could command respect from the powerful people they served by virtue of their experience if not their station.
“My apologies for our sudden arrival but our business is urgent. We carry a message from the king and must deliver it post haste. We ask your mistress for her understanding.” In a move that must have chipped the man’s pride, he lowered his head to the boy in a show of sincerity.
From the steward’s expression, Orphelia thought he might turn them away, king be damned, but then he suddenly changed. His features lost the slightest hints of scorn they carried as he stepped back, opening the door wide. “Understood, Sir Quintana. Please follow me to the backyard.”