Clutching my head in an ineffectual effort to stifle a sudden and intense headache…
I’ve been thinking about a short time ago. Trying to grasp at a thread that I think I missed.
The Magister told me that Violet’s father disappeared. And yet, He told me that he was going to talk to him, didn't he? He then later told me that he died, I think.
My thoughts are being interrupted by the persistent thunking on the door.
Opening my eyes to survey the room, he- The Magister is standing up at the side of the bed with a look of deep concern, kneeling over me and looking slightly alarmed.
I try to give him a reassuring smile, but the headache turns it into a grimace of pain.
Something doesn’t add up. There are gaps and inconsistencies.
“I’m OK. Who’s at the door?” I manage to force out.
Unbidden, I feel hot tears running down my face. I reflexively turn away. The headache is too much.
Caught in the moment of pain, I feel lightheaded. I don’t think I’ve been entirely lucid.
I can see darkness creeping into the edges of my vision. I’m going to pass out if this doesn’t let up.
I hear voices at the edge of my hearing, but it seems far away. It is as if spoken from a great distance, muffled and indistinct.
It is a whispering and primal terror that grips me in a way I have only ever experienced once before. Almost as abruptly as it started, it ends. Just like that. I shudder.
Like a splash of cold water, clarity returns.
Looking down at me, I watch as the Magister has settled down into a kneeling position. He opens his mouth to say something once, twice, then touches my forehead for a moment.
He shakes his head. “No fever...” And pauses, clearly debating whether the door is worth answering.
He then turns to the door and walks over to it. Edging the door open, he peeks around the edge of the door then steps outside… Leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.
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It’s feels like it’s been over an hour since the Magister left.
If I had to guess based on the candles though, only a few minutes have passed. I’m tired of waiting.
Reaching under the bed I pull out the diary again. While I can’t read it, it is at least something to look at.
Flipping through a few pages at random, it mostly looks like day to day entries. Puzzling at it for a bit, the format looks like the date, followed by something else, maybe a title. There are a few pictures though, hand drawn. Mostly with pencil, sometimes with ink. They get noticeably better the further it goes.
There are several attempts at drawing birds, cats and a few other animals I do not recognize. There’s one that looks like a giant whale with a huge maw full of jagged teeth, which if real is mildly terrifying. Beside one of the teeth is a drawing of a castle, presumably for scale. Makes me wonder what on earth would such a creature eat? Hopefully just whimsical fiction.
There is also one serious attempt at drawing a massive ship that nearly fills an entire page. It sports at least 40 cannons and two full sized masts. Looks like a lot like an English Caravel. The kind of ship seen in the mid 1600’s.
This girl had quite an impressive amount of skill with drawing.
Flipping forward several pages I am stunned by the degree of detail shown in an impossible scene.
It depicts a broken tower similar to the one I saw in that… Whatever that place was. You know what… Let’s called it Limbo. It even includes the tortured looking trees.
This… How could she have seen this? Maybe it is a real place in this world? Seems unlikely...
I hear a throat clearing.
Startled, I snap the diary shut. Peaking over the cover I find his steady gaze focused directly on me. “We’re set to leave in three days… Hopefully it will be enough.” He briefly glances at the diary, acknowledging it without saying anything.
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Still looking at me carefully, his eyes betray some of his concern. “Get some rest and let me know if… Whatever *that* was happens again please.”
… Evidently referring to that episode just minutes ago.
I nod. My heart sinks as I realize I was kind of hoping he might have some insight on that.
“Well, I’m bored as hell. Sleeping and talking only does so much for me.”
“Practice walking around your room to build up your strength a bit then. I’ll also bring some books for you tomorrow morning. I’d like you to not wander the castle… Too many eyes.”
“About that. I don’t seem to be able to read.”
He arches an eyebrow. Glancing at the diary. “Seem? The way you say it implies you could previously. I can help with that… You need to promise me you don’t leave your room though.”
Demon.
I choke out a “Fine”.
Pure evil to hold that over my head. I really want to know what’s in that diary.
I also really would have liked to explore a bit…
The night passes about as one can expect. It is long, boring and frankly I didn’t get much sleep. I keep having this nagging feeling that I’m forgetting something extremely important… And every time I try to focus on it, I get a headache that only goes away when I make a conscious effort to think about something else.
Maybe it’s cabin fever? I don’t think that shows up over the course of just a few days though.
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When morning arrived, I awaken to a flurry of motion going on inside the bedroom. Like always, people just seem to let themselves in.
The first offender, Marry came in that morning carrying a towel tucked under her arm with a determined look on her face.
I think I know what she has in mind, and it seems likely to inflict some trauma upon me.
Thus, I do what the only thing I can think of. I feign being asleep.
It worked for all of about … Ten seconds at most.
She casually walks over to the curtained windows and steadily but purposefully slowly opens them wide, allowing a radiant blast of light in with no sign of clouds or rain in sight.
She then walks back over to the bed and starts pulling the blankets off.
It’s really hard to pretend to sleep when the room you’re in goes from dark to bright suddenly, and then have your blankets taken away.
I tried. It got uncomfortable rather quickly... “ok. OK. OKAY! Just stop taking the blankets please! I’ll get up… Just… Give me a sec.”
Her expression didn’t change at all, except I have a feeling that she is greatly enjoying inflicting such suffering.
She crosses her arms across her chest and looks vaguely smug. “Good.” she says simply.
Then stays there waiting expectantly, unmoving.
Clambering out of the bed remains the usual chore, only made more difficult by getting tired from taking multiple steps in a short time. Feet not reaching the ground over the side notwithstanding.
Bowing my head in defeat, Marry lends me an arm and leads me down a short hall and into a truly massive bathroom.
It’s not far down the hall (but felt like it) and seems to be part of the room complex off the main bedroom.
Its floors are constructed out of artfully cut marble in alternating gray, black and white patterns. The stone floor proves to be surprisingly warm to touch as well, with my currently bare feet.
The walls are made from more of the same and has a large curtained and shuttered window on the far side of the room to let light in.
The bath itself is more like a small pool. It’s almost 8 meters from opposite corners, though it appears to be not that deep.
It’s already filled with steaming hot water.
Glancing at Marry, I realize she has no intention of leaving… In hindsight, I told her I have amnesia. Also, in hindsight that has resulted in a truly mixed blessing it seems.
… The experience went about as one can imagine. Extensive discomfort and a certain degree of luxuriant bliss from the act of bathing itself.
Marry didn’t ask why I had my eyes closed the entire time thankfully. I weakly tried to insist that I could wash myself, but she was having absolutely none of that.
It took longer to wash and brush hair than all other tasks combined. The ridiculous knot of hair involved Marry forcefully pulling a brush through it for nearly thirty minutes, while I quietly sat in agony trying to drill a hole into a wall tile with my eyes.
By that I mean, it was painful enough that I was trying my utmost not to tear up.
After all that I was about ready to collapse from hunger, especially given my lack of breakfast.
It is with a certain degree of happy surprise that it is in fact real food. Solid, tasty, and definitely not soup.
Placed on the same portable table as last time, is a mug of what appears to be tea from a distance, and a stack of fruit piled high on top of fresh waffles.
The waffles have a large dollop of whipped cream left on the side forming a rich splash of white, intermingled with the colorful fruit.
It smells absolutely amazing and tastes just as good. The tea tastes like a mix of coconut and sharp mint. It’s quite a sharp flavor and takes the edge off my tiredness.
I can scarcely believe how fast I polished it off, and a surprised and somewhat bemused looking Magister has been quietly sitting unannounced or noticed across from me.
He raises his hands defensively. “Remind me not to get between you and food hmm?”
“That said, I don’t expect any interruptions. I have informed the guards to leave us be unless its pertinent... We can start immediately, or do you have any questions first?”
“Well, I actually have a few questions… Ok, maybe a lot of questions about magic before we uhh… Jump into it.”