> NOTE
>
> Dear Elio, A09-1101-Illuminated Solstice
>
> I can still hear you crying in my head I can't stand it. I can't erase it from my memories. Your tears turning to smoke. Your torched skin glowing orange cracks across your shivering body. The flames erupting from your eyes. The sound of mom in her hysterics while I watched, hidden, amongst the crowd. I've never hated the light even more than I did at that very moment. I couldn't understand how they could do it. How could they do it? To a child? To you.
>
> Mom was never the same after that night. The house was a mess. Ever since dad was ignited, mom tried to hold it together. I guess you're the last straw, you were always gonna be the last straw. It wasn't me, it wasn't dad, it wasn't the goddamn washed up familiar I found dead at our basement. It was you. Every night, mom would break all sorts of flask, flip open every tome she could find, peel the skin off of every frog she could get her hands on. I was watching her with terror, wondering every night if she'll finally decide to make me the last ingredient in her wicked concoction. But no, Everytime she'd look me in the eye, I can still see the same woman who gave birth to me. I can still see the eyes of the woman who loved dad so dearly, who loved you so dearly. I couldn't leave a woman like that behind. I couldn't leave knowing that she's still there. I loved mom very much. I loved our family very much. I loved you very much. However, these past few days I've been feeling different. It's like something has awakened in me, a sensation I've never felt before boiling deep inside my guts like acid. Mom was doing something, and she must've succeeded but this feeling, it's telling me that whatever she was doing, she was not supposed to complete it.
>
> Your loving sister,
> Aurelia
> NOTE
>
> Dear Elio, A09-1228-Illuminated Solstice
>
> She's not coming back. Last night, I saw her enter a door by the grove where dad is buried. That door shouldn't have been there. Our willow tree, a door shouldn't be resting at the bottom of that large tree. Wherever that passage took her, she's not coming back, she won't be coming back. These past few nights I've been having nightmares Elio. I can hear you crying ever so vividly but there was no pain in those cries of yours, no sign of fear, no sign of grief, just plain wailing. I was so confused on how to feel about it at first. However, I won't be mistaken. Your cry, that very shrill sound that's supposed to be full of anguish, I've only heard it once during your lifetime. It was the cry you let out the day you were born. I couldn't put my mind into it but your cry, it struck a chord inside me. I felt fear, I felt uncertainty, like as if you're being taken away from me, from my heart, from my memories, from this world itself. I couldn't lose you again, not like this.
>
> I've decided that it's about time your big sister made a move. I should've years ago and maybe then, just then, we both would've been charred empty spaces cruising with the wind in the middle of the so-called town of purity. Mom would've unleashed hell by then. That would've been a sight to see. Tomorrow night, I'll recreate the steps mom did to make that door appear but I'm not doing it under our old wilting willow tree. I'm gonna do it here, beside you, beside the place where you were taken from me, from us. If you think it's a bad idea, you can pull away, please pull me away before I unknowingly make a mistake. But if you think this is right, I'll let you push me into the void, wherever it might take me. I just wish that in some way maybe you could come with me, even if just for a while.
>
> Maybe I'm asking for too much.
>
> Your brave sister,
> Aurelia
> NOTE
>
> Dear Elio, A09-1229-Illuminated Solstice
>
> I've done it. I am officially a "bane of the world's order" for breaking the laws of the Arcanum and casting what's forbidden. I'm writing this as I'm looking at a silver coated gate. The color reminds me of how your eyes always twinkled and wrinkled when we casted the glitterfly summoning incantation. I wish we could go back to those seasons. I wish mom and dad didn't have to leave. I wish I didn't have to do this. It'll be a while before I can write another letter to you again but please, don't hate your big sis Elio.
>
>
> This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
>
> And if you do exist somewhere out there, I promise, I'll make sure that the scissors of Atropos never ever lay their blades on your thread. I'm keeping it together, for you, for mom, and for all those years of suffering and grief for a manifestation that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. I'll keep it together for as long as I can. Should any harm come to you out there, it won't be mom to put a damn bullet into the realm's core. It'll be me.
>
> Your determined sister,
> Aurelia
A translucent glow of silver permeates the darkened indigo landscape of the memorial lands, a dull silver gate standing at the center of its labyrinthine grounds. Before it, stands a cloaked figure, an aura of fury and sadness whipping up the loose dirt from where their feet meet the ground. A stark white swirling vortex of energy saturates the night sky in a blinding blaze as the gate starts to creak, it's hinges trembling in sheer excitement.
From the distance, a cacophony of shrieks and scandalous shouts echo all over the valley, the visible parade of golden torches accompanying the concert.
"For Elio" the cloaked figure whispers as they takes a slow and steady walk towards the gate that has begun to creak open releasing an ominous sound. The figure's noticeable eye starts to cloud in a beautiful mesh of silver and blue as the swirling vortex above the gate expands and begins to encompass the whole vicinity.
"Kindle her!" a man screams as the memorial gates burst open and let in a flood of wary and frenzied people, their clothes tattered and their faces bruised and wounded. "For the village!" one of them wheezes.
However, before they could even set foot in the same corner as the silver gate itself, they hear a shrill voice of a young boy booming in the air.
"Don't touch her!!"
A wave of bluish-white energy floods down from the vortex and seeps into the ground where the people walk briskly.
"He's here...he's back!" One of the villagers anxiously screams. Despite the danger, the villagers power on across the memorial lands as if caught by bloodlust and rage. Their frenzy could not be contained, that is, until one of the women holding the torches suddenly screams in pain as her body sinks halfway into the ground. She wriggles in panic and continuously squeals in pain as she struggles to pull herself off the ground. In a matter of seconds, blood begins erupting from her mouth as her torso finally sinks down slowly, much to the horror of the other villagers witnessing the occurrence.
In a matter of seconds, a roaring chorus of screams follows as tattered arms erupt from the soil and begin violently dragging the villagers to their painful demise. Hands begin erupting from the cemented caskets all around them. As soon as the hands encloses on a villager, it promptly pulls them apart, splattering brutality over the white-stained memorial grounds. As chaos erupts all around them, one man trudges across the strewn gore and horror while holding tight to the golden fire steadily blazing on his torch. He dips in and out of the other people screaming for help, using them as defense against the steadily increasing number of corpses erupting from their once peaceful tombs.
Then finally, the man reaches his destination. Not too far from where he stands, the silver gate pulses with magic as the vortex above it has now completely filled the sky with evanescent currents of silvery mist. As soon as his eyes land on the figure ascending the steps of the gate, his face scrunches in anger.
"Kindle her!" the man roars as he lobs his torch towards the silver gate, only for the material to hit an invisible barrier and bounce off harmlessly into the air. "No! No- urk!" the villager's protests are cut short when several rotting arms erupt around him seizing him by his hand, his leg, his tongue and his hair.
"No! Don't go..." a sudden soft voice shrieks, a shiver of anger vibrating in the wind. All individuals in the vicinity take note of the sound as if hearing it from all around them.
The cloaked figure snaps from their stupor and looks back to witness the chaos just as the hands pull the man before the gate apart like a ragdoll. The figure's eyes widen in terror at the sight before the silver door completely closes with her inside, its shimmering light disappearing in a flash, leaving the memorial lands filled with the noise of pained cries, screams and unending terror.