So, I forced myself to sit down and write today, as I had promised to quickly write this chapter when I posted the last.
I wouldn't be too hopeful that the next chapter will come as fast, as I find I have a harder time writing to satisfaction on the Sevrath chapters- ironically - despite him being the true main character while Katrine is more of a quasi-main character.
Anyway, enjoy and tell me if you spot any mistakes.
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I often find it ironic that were it not for the machinations and avarice of man I would have never walked upon the path I did. I would have never become what I have become, done what I have done. In some ways, it would have been a blessing. A sense of blissful ignorance, untainted by the cruelty of the world, a cruelty I have found far too often in myself. My potential would have stayed just that: potential.
It is funny, is it not?
They say that men will do monstrous things in the name of love. I have found this to be true. At an early age, it was a budding love that caused me to be shackled to my new fate, my new path in life. Ironically enough, it too was love which spurred on some of my most cruel acts in life, both to myself and to others.
They say that love brings out the best in men. I have found this, too, to be true. While it was cruelty that set me on the road I walked in life, and a similar cruelty that found me in my darkest moments, it did not define me. This was because, just as love can cause men to be cruel, it can also cause them to be better. Better at recognizing their own faults. Better at living up to the image reflected in the eyes of the one they love. Better at being human.
Thrice in my life I found love.
Once I found it as a child, growing up alongside a girl, eventually causing love to sprout. However, it had seemed to be a wishful love, fated to live only in the heart.
Later in life, I found it in despair. Tossed into an unfamiliar land, afraid to move forward, but just as fearful to look back, it was love that allowed me to live again. And, upon losing that love, I lost a part of myself.
It was only when I found love the third time that I found myself once more. It was this third love that led me back to myself, that allowed me to once again see myself as I had once been, not as what I had become. Because I found her, older but even more beautiful than she was in my memories, I was able to put back together the pieces of me that had been fractured all those years ago, then shattered with the loss of my second love.
Because of love, I was able to become what I was always destined to be.
Love is a powerful thing. For me, the world itself is the proof of its power.
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Darkness was all she could see. She could hear whispers all around her. Inaudible voices seemed to surround her, speaking secrets which she was desperate to hear. She strained her ears, terrified of what they were saying, yet just as terrified of the unknown.
Finally, the voices began to be understandable, though it was strange that they would suddenly allow her to hear. The feeling that she was being mocked and goaded by the voices was quickly confirmed.
Sevrath was killed. A whispered voice brushed past her ear, followed by a tinkling laughter. It is your fault. Another voice followed behind after a moment of pause, allowing the previous words to sink in with the skill of a practiced orator. He was slain on the orders of the one you were to marry. A third voice cackled gleefully as its sinuous voice seemed to glide through the air. He would still be alive were it not for you. A final voice icily stated, contempt snaking across its ethereal tongue.
The voices all echoed this statement, each stabbing into her heart like sharp daggers, leaving her bleeding in the dark, knowing that she would never be as she once was. Joyful. Trusting. Naive. One of the voices mocked her.
Though she had always prided herself in her strength, in her fortitude in the face of all that life threw at her, in the darkness of her own mind she found that she could not stop the tears from streaming ceaselessly down her face.
All because of one thought which echoed in her mind, accompanied by the cackling of the ghostly voices.
If only you were never born.
If only you were never born.
If only you were never born.
He might still live.
-\o/-
Katrine continued to grieve in the depths of her mind. However, as it is said, time heals all wounds, no matter how great or small. Though it might not recover to its former state, and the wounds may scar, it would heal all the same.
It was in this fashion that Katrine began to recover. Slowly, ever so slowly, her grief was pushed back, knowing that Sevrath would not have wanted her to lose herself alongside him. He might no longer live, but she did. And so she should act like it.
Though she had a kind heart, it could hardly be claimed that she was a weak-willed woman. The countless suitors she had managed to chase off previously could personally attest to this fact. So, despite her hurt and her grief, she would not allow herself to become like a corpse, living day to day in a colorless daze, watching the world pass her by with indifferent eyes.
It was with this thought that light finally began to coalesce within the darkness that surrounded her. It started as a small spark, tiny and insubstantial, but readily visible in this place of darkness, before it quickly spread throughout the space, illuminating her surroundings.
It was at this moment that she woke to the world.
-\o/-
Katrine’s eyes fluttered as she began to awaken. Surrounding her, she could hear the sound of voices. This time, however, they lacked the inhuman quality they had previously. As her entire body felt dreadful due to the overdrafting of Lumin, she could not help but let out a soft whimper.
Hearing her waking, the voices came to a sudden stop and the sound of footsteps approached where Katrine lay.
Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the sight of a young maid, one of the many who worked for her father. The girl’s face momentarily took on a joyful expression upon seeing her wake, before a sudden thought seemed to turn it solemn once more.
Gazing at her with saddened, pitying eyes, the maidservant was quick to express her condolences to Katrine. “I am sorry for your loss”, the girl stated sorrowfully, “Everyone knows how much you cared for him.”
Though she had determined that she would not lose herself in grief over Sevrath’s death, she could not prevent a few, rebellious tears from escaping her at these words.
Katrine’s reaction only seemed to confirm the maid’s words as she continued to console her. “He was a brave man, he was. Far from common. He was the type of person you knew would do anything for those he cared about.” The maid’s face practically glowed with adoration as she spoke.
Confused at the maid’s admiration for him, considering how most of the townsfolk had viewed him, Katrine found herself nodding along gratefully with the girl’s words. Indeed, Sevrath was-
“Indeed, Daryn Elunel was a great personage.”
What?
-\o/-
Luckily for Katrine, her shock at the maidservant’s words were not seen as unusual. Whereas, truthfully, Katrine was in shock due to the completely incongruous image painted of her deceased fiance - the one whose death she herself caused - the maid thought she was merely shocked that even one with her status would know of Daryn so well.
It was in this manner that Katrine learned of the events which had happened during the time she spent unconscious.
According to the rumors that had been began to circulate throughout the entire town of Carthal and beyond, Daryn and his retinue heroically went out under the cloak of darkness to defeat the bandit brigade which was threatening the safety of the town, not wishing to endanger anybody else with such a task.
Bravely, they faced off against a great number of bandits, which outnumbered them ten to one. They fought to the death, fearing naught for their own well being, each fighting with the strength of many men due to the courage in their hearts and their determination to save the people of Carthal. However, the numbers were great, and, despite their great skill and courage, they were eventually whittled down to one.
One man, Daryn Elunel, stood his ground against the veritable horde which surrounded him. With his sword in his hand and his dear love in his heart, he fought tooth and nail against the despicable bandits, slaying them one after the other with his superior skill. However, despite how gallant and heroic he may have been, he could not help but be wounded as he fought. Each shallow cut sapped at his strength, weakening him as time flowed onwards.
Eventually only Daryn and the bandit chief remained. Standing ramrod straight despite the many wounds that scarred his visage, he dueled the chief to a standstill, despite the continuous loss of blood that drained his vitality. Knowing that the death of the chief, the last man among the bandits, would bring an end to the threat plaguing Carthal, Daryn ignored his wounds and finally ended the life of the chief by his own sword.
However, by then he was far too weak to do anything but lay there, dying. It was due to this that a bandit which had escaped his notice by laying among the dying, managed to take his sword, which had still been pierced through the chief, and stab Daryn. However, even then, pierced by his own blade and dying, Daryn did not give up. Before allowing himself to die, he ended the life of that final bandit, content that he had ended the threat on Carthal and on his fiancee.
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Just as he died, as if sensing the connection between the two severing, Katrine Carthal, fiancee of Daryn Elunel, woke from her sleep in a fright. Drawn to the location of her departed love like a lodestone, she eventually arrived at the clearing, only to find that her love had died, protecting her and her town. Unable to stand the thought of being separated from her love, grief overwhelmed her as she collapsed on the spot.
Katrine herself had to admit that they had weaved a great story. The combination of love, bravery, sacrifice, and tragedy was sure to bring tears and applause to those who heard it. She even almost found herself doing the same. Almost.
Sadly, no matter how noble the story, she knew the truth of the matter. However, this was a truth she knew she could not allow herself to speak of.
It seemed House Elunel had perpetuated this rumor through a supposed wounded member of his retinue, which had been mistaken for dead among the other dead and dying, though his story would have been far different were this the truth.
He claimed to have seen all these events with his own eyes, and tearfully sang the praises of his deceased master, while mourning for the widowed Katrine, who was forced to see the aftermath of the events. While this wounded member was not truly present, and likely had wounds which were actually self-inflicted for the benefit of his House and the acquisition of money, Katrine could hardly deny the rumors, as she had been unconscious for more than a day due to overdrafting her abilities, and would fall under suspicion for her presence at the site were she to deny the rumors.
No matter how she wished to denounce Daryn for the man he truly was, it would do no good. At best, people would think that she had gone insane due to grief. At worst, it would bring into question the true events of that night, events which would only lead to her own death were they to be disclosed.
The death of a member of House Elunel was not something to be taken lightly, and likely the only reason she was not in chains was that nobody would think her abilities were powerful to such a degree, especially since she was merely a Weaver.
To them, she was only a weak girl, to be used in their attempts to gain prestige out of the events, and that is what she needed to remain as.
If she needed to play the Grieving Widow for them, she did not mind.
It would hardly be a lie.
-\o/-
In the following weeks, the story of the gallant Daryn Elunel, Hero of Carthal, and the pitiful Katrine Carthal, the Grieving Widow, spread out past the reaches of Carthal and had reached the ears of many. While some of the reason for this was due to the desire of the commonfolk for tales such as these, for those more observant it was apparent that it was being encouraged to spread.
As the tale began to reach even the capital of the Arcelian Empire, the popularity and prestige of House Elunel had already greatly increased. Who did not love a hero who would risk life and limb for love and honor? How could a noble sacrificing his life to save the lives of an entire town not bring appreciation from the citizens?
Though it was still considered an upstart House in the eyes of many of the Great Houses, their current popularity among the citizens of the Empire could not be ignored. Avenues to wealth and prestige which had previously been closed to the Noble House had been abruptly opened, and those at the capital were forced to scramble to realign themselves.
Previously, the House Elunel had proposed a marriage to Katrine because they wished to introduce Luminescent Bloodlines into their House. Due to this sudden shift in the politics of the Empire, the House now found itself able to create ties with other, more influential nobles with the bloodlines of Luminescents.
Obviously, to them, this was far more desirable. Though they spoke well of Katrine due to her position of The Grieving Widow, they truly had only ever seen her as a vessel to bear children.
And so, in these passing weeks, House Elunel had withdrawn from Carthal, piously stating that though they wished for a continued connection with Lord Carthal and his line, they did not wish a grieving widow to be forced to marry one who is not her love, nor for her to face a constant reminder of her loss. In a similar fashion, due to her cemented position in the hearts of the common people, no other Houses could establish relations with Carthal despite their wish to introduce another Luminescent to their line, else they draw the ire of the people.
Katrine could not have been happier about this fact.
Her father, Lord Carthal, thought differently.
-\o/-
“What use are you t’ me if you canno’ even marry into a wealthy family?” Lord Carthal roared angrily, face red with his overindulgence.
In most circumstances, Katrine was quite willful, and would never passively take such abuse from someone. But this was her father. Yes, he had all but ignored her for most of her life, and in the few moments he did pay attention to her, it was either for personal gain, or to vent his misguided hatred. However, in the depths of her heart, despite her own small amount of hate for the man, she wished for his affection and found herself actually slightly glad in these small moments.
At least in those confrontations he acknowledged her existence. Perhaps if she had not met Sevrath, her hate for the man would have grown much stronger. Yet, she herself knew what kind of effect losing someone could bring, how hatred could well up from the depths of that loss and consume everything.
So while she hated him for how he viewed her, she mostly pitied him. She had heard from others how he used to be, back when her mother had still lived. He had been a good Lord, a good man. Now, however-
“Do you even care what you ‘ave done! You are a curse on this family! Because of you, my wife died! ‘Cause of you, my line will never continue! ‘Verything’s your fault!” He spat vehemently before swaying on his feet and losing his bottle in his attempt to catch himself on the mahogany desk nearby.
Now he had become this.
Katrine just stood there, watching the red wine slide across the wooden floor, like so much blood. She only lost her absent mindedness when her father began to speak again, this time with less of a slur.
“It should be obvious by now, should it not?” Lord Carthal laughed bitterly. “You are a curse. A plague on all who are near you. That boy Daryn can attest to that fact, though his family somehow created a miracle out of the situation. Then there was that other one. That Sevrath probably also died because he knew you.” Lord Carthal said darkly, unaware that in his drunken rage, he managed to hit a wound in Katrine’s own heart.
Katrine staggered back, as if she had been slapped. Since the night she discovered that Daryn was the cause of Sevrath’s death, she herself had occasionally found herself thinking such. Yet, it seemed so much more real when she heard it from someone else.
Fighting back the tears which were threatening to overflow, she gritted her teeth and stood her ground against her father, losing her former passivity.
Seeing his daughter glare at him so hatefully, Lord Carthal did what he, despite his hatred, had never done in his life.
He slapped her.
Due to the shock of his actions, Katrine did not even try to dodge. She just stood there as he swung his open palm towards her. She was sent backwards by the force of the blow, stumbling to the ground. The sharp sting snapped her out of her morose thoughts and left her looking hurtfully at her father.
Katrine did not seem to be the only one stunned by his actions, as Lord Sevrath stood there stock-still for a few moments, gazing at his own hand. When the surprise of his own actions wore off, it was his turn to stumble to the ground.
Laid down on the floor of the room was a mirror image of his deceased wife, a beautiful girl with chestnut brown hair. But rather than smiling at him lovingly, she was looking at him with a hurt expression and forlorn eyes. Her pale skin was marred by a rough red hand-mark across her face. Her clothes were stained in red wine which flowed around her, looking like rivers of blood.
His hand reached towards her pleadingly. “Alessandra my love...I’m so…” He halted, coming back to his senses. His face, previously full of emotion, once more turned impassive.
He turned around, unable to look at Katrine.
“You are no longer of use to the family. I hereby disown you. From now on, you and I have no relation and you are no longer of the Noble lineage of Carthal. My daughter Katrine took ill and died due to her overbearing grief. No matter how well known you are, there are very few who know how you actually look and should you claim to be my daughter, you will simply be taken as a madwoman.”
Katrine continued sitting there, surprised but not shocked. She had known long ago that her father was at his worst while in her presence and would have gotten rid of her long ago if he had not seen her as a piece to sell off to the highest bidder. Now that such a thing could not be done, he was wiping his hands of her.
Katrine then glared at him frostily.
“You and I have no relation, and I am no Noble.” She echoed his words to his back. “I no longer have a father, only a mother. From this day forward, I will take up my mother’s namesake. Should you someday claim to be my father, know that you will simply be taken as a madman.”
With that, Alessa, daughter of Alessandra Carthal, left Carthal. It had not been home in a long time anyway.
Of course, this was not before claiming some of the Lord’s coins for herself.
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I hate when you look back at your writing and find words to be strange. It just bothers me. Like in this chapter, at one point I used gritted.
Grit. Gritted. Grit.
As I say it more, they ALL start to sound strange. >.<