“Gray Mil.” Ravina's whisper slipped from her small lips, a whisper so soft it barely stirred the air. Like fragile tendrils of smoke, the words wove through the silence, repeating their elusive melody. “Gray Mil, Gray Mil, Gray Mil.”
In response to her soft spoken words, the room seemed to suspend its breath, the air growing thick with an unnamed anticipation. A lonely lit candle stood by her side, the light flickered deeply within Ravina's purple eyes--eyes that betrayed a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
Their town excursion was abruptly terminated when another knight was dispatched to retrieve them. Varis's displeasure was palpable; the sight of his soldiers exploiting their duty to enjoy a casual escapade irked him.
Ravina, however, attempted to alleviate their potential punishment by asserting that she had requested them to guide her around the town. Regrettably, the fact that their tour culminated in a high-end restaurant tainted the credibility of her claim.
For now, her escorts had been marched off, leaving her with Seit. Ravina found herself back within the small confines of her room. Cozy would be a more appropriate word. A lone candle, the room's sole source of illumination, cast a hazy radiance that danced playfully with the stubborn shadows that clung to the room's edges. As the sun slowly sank behind the grand city walls, the residual daylight trickled in through the window, turning it into a striking painting—its fiery orange light melting into deep blue shadow.
Siet had helped change Ravina out of the dress and into her nightwear—a simple, cute nightgown worthy of a nobleman's daughter. The gentle, plush fabric of her nightwear felt alien against her skin, a skin so accustomed to the coarse, haphazardly stitched garb of a peasant.
Yet she had no time to wonder about the mental discomfort of the dress. Right now Ravina was alone waiting for the young maid to return. Having sent her out to get something to collect her thoughts.
"Gray Mil," she whispered again, as though she was afraid to lose the name. The phrase was a familiar friend and at the same time a sinister foe. It was a crucial fragment to the enigma of her circumstances. A portal standing on the threshold of revelation. She was at the door, she felt the wood, but the handle refused to turn.
A soft knock echoed into the room, signaling Siet’s return. Ravina bounded off the bed, as the maid entered the room. In her hand was a few sheets of paper and a bottle of ink.
"I... procured as many as I could," Siet began, her words holding a hint of trepidation as she handed them to Ravina. "The ink posed some difficulty, but I failed to secure a pen. The butler's was busy and the others…couldn’t help." A nervous anticipation simmered within her regarding Ravina's impending response. “Oh, but I did manage to find this!” she announced, revealing a hastily sharpend twig, "it's not quite a pen, but it could help.”
“That will do,” Ravina reassured, accepting the makeshift quill. She examined it, a sudden realization dawning that she'd never wielded such a rudimentary writing instrument.
"Very well," she declared, "that should be sufficient.” Dismissing the maid with a polite nod, she waited till the hesitant young girl exited before reclaiming her spot on the bed. Poised on the edge, she commandeered the window's sill as a rest for the now uncorked vial of ink. After some experimental maneuvers with the twig and ink, she managed to begin writing:
Gray Mil - dungeon in the empire’s heart (what empire?)
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Nevarus Kingdom - location of possible hero? (Tournament open to public)
Ravin imagery overload
Monster flood – way too familiar, not just a standard fantasy term…
It wasn't much. The provided paper was roughly 3/5s the size of a standard sheet. Despite that, it wasn't even halfway filled. Her penmanship was shaky, with blotches of ink staining the parchment, her dress, hands, and even the bed linen. Yet, it was a physical manifestation of her knowledge thus far.
“This is nothing.” she admitted as she traced the words, Gray Mil, with her pen over and over again. The answer is somewhere there–deep within her mind.
Dungeon, adventurer, monster?, party, tournament, knight? Peasant background? Villains?
Words swirled in a tumultuous whirlpool within her thoughts. The very tropes she was familiar with, those she adored immersing herself in during her readings. An escape from the boring reality of her life. The same archetypes that most likely governed the narrative of this story as well. But what?
Her thoughts raced, her gaze wandering aimlessly around the room. She observed the setting sun's progress through the creeping advance of a shadow on her floor... Shadow... "Shadow!"
She was catapulted into action by her sudden revelation, leaping from the bed, sending the scattered papers into an airborne flutter.
Shadow of Gray Mil.
That was it. A novel set in a fantasy world some time after it was almost destroyed by a massive monster flood. A brutal tale of humanity's struggle, intermixed by some fluffy slice of life story about a monster born in the dungeon.
Gray Mil, the dungeon that the empire utilized to subdue the world, forcing every kingdom under its reign before proclaiming itself supreme. The calamitous event unfolded only when the ceremony commenced.
But…Gray Mil remained active, at least according to the knights. Also, the empire hadn't consumed the other kingdoms, Nevarus was absolute proof of that. So, when exactly was she placed within the storyline? The disarray was confounding.
Had she known this would happen she would have read through the book as if it were a study guide. Was it even a good read?
The signs were there, however, the story would start eventually. The knights had already hinted at its coming. A flood, the empire—it created a real chance that this world was in danger. She didn’t know how soon, but if what she remembered was correct. The empire would be expanding rapidly, very soon and very fast. Because of the dungeon in its capital city, they would win as well.
The kingdom was in danger, and she wasn't just a peasant anymore, she was a count's daughter, a renown count's daughter. Perhaps it wasn't too late to return home, she was healed now after all. Ravina pulled the collar of her night gown, looking down she eyed her stomach, not too long ago a malicious blade had buried itself inside her soft flesh. However, there was no sign that such an event had occurred.
“Magic is truly terrifying.” she muttered, she mused.” 16 was the cut off…” she was 12--13 soon, that left her. That left her three years to learn, if she wanted to. Elysia was alright it seemed however her hairs always seemed to stand on end when she encountered another wizard. She felt that she knew the reason. However she refused to accept it. Her hand traced the scar that was not there.
She sighed and shook her head. “Either way I need to learn how to defend myself.'' Even if she returned home, the empire invaded and left the peasantry alone to help grow their empire, they would still suffer the flood. Countless monsters attacking for land and territory.
“Perhaps it's better to stay here.” defended by knights she could slowly learn skills that would help her. Perhaps she could get a guardian to accompany her after the kingdom fell. As she stood now there was little he could do in the face of monsters. Nothing in the face of an empire. If she wanted to survive, she would need a proper plan.
As the specter of nightfall draped its shroud across the world, the solitary candle waged a silent rebellion. Its flame flickered defiantly. Across the parchment, ink twirled in an eerie ballet under the candle's waning vigil.