Elyza opened her eyes, though she didn’t remember closing them in the first place. The bath had run cold, but she neither shivered nor did goosebumps appear on her smooth, chalk-white skin. The cold stiffened her joints, though, which made climbing out of the tub a great deal more difficult than it was to get in.
She dried herself off and, squeezing the ends of her stringy hair into the towel, she skimmed the room for any clue of the time. No light penetrated the thick stone walls here, nor had she passed by a clock in her short journey through the halls. Sylvestra hadn’t returned for her yet, however, so she assumed she wasn’t late.
The robe she donned was much like Sylvestra’s, if not looser fitting, enough so that it made her feel like a clothed skeleton. Her sleeves hung well past her hands and refused to stay rolled at the cuff. Resigning to the blanket of heavy fabric swallowing her frame, she tossed her hood over her head – grateful to hide those stringy, ugly hairs.
On her way out of her quarters, she again passed by the young girl, whose glare as she poked her nose out from her book made Elyza shiver in a way the cold no longer could. She wondered if they would ever speak with each other, or if she’d at least get used to that penetrating stare. Either way, she had to live with her now, and she seemed harmless enough, however unnerving her presence was.
Sylvestra waited out in the corridor, leaning with her back to the wall. When the door opened, her eyes shot to Elyza, and she stood herself straight.
“Good, you’re ready.” She stepped in close and pinched the fabric at Elyza’s shoulders and waist. “Your robe is a bit big, but not too much so. That’s to be expected. Don’t worry, you’ll grow into it.”
The hunger came back, tamed in a way. There was no more nausea and hollowness, but a tight cramping as if her stomach had shriveled. Elyza thought better of complaining again, and instead hoped to herself for a short meeting.
Another short trip down the corridor led them to a door they’d passed earlier, unsuspecting and bearing no difference to the others. Sylvestra hesitated before knocking, her loose fist hovering in front of the door. It opened before her knuckles made contact, and in the gap stood a dark-haired and well-dressed man. An energy both enticing and sinister emanated from him, flooding the breadth of the corridor like a racing river.
“Lord Cedric.” Sylvestra bowed at the waist, gesturing to Elyza. “I give my ward to you.”
“You’ve outdone yourself, Sylvestra. Even the most devoted mother would envy your nurturing proclivities. You stand up to every test.” The clarity of his voice carried throughout the space, drifting unperturbed over the rushing current of his aura. Meeting Elyza’s gaze, he cracked a slight smile. “And you – how far you’ve come from where you started. Let’s have a talk, shall we?” Standing aside, he ushered her into the room while Sylvestra stayed behind.
The library’s interior stole Elyza’s breath without warning. Captivated, she traced the arc of the ceiling to its point, then followed the descent of the wispy floral chandelier. At level with it, the paintings of figures unknown beckoned her into their scenes, serene and sprightful even in moments of melancholy. Shelves lined with thousands of books – had he read all of them? Had he lived long enough to do so?
“Do take your time. There is much to absorb here for someone who’s just awakened.” Cedric remarked, twiddling his thumbs as he paced from end to end of his desk, “But please be aware that you’re already late for our meeting.”
Elyza gasped. As she shook herself back to reality, her eyes widened and snapped to his mischievous grin. Her mind went blank of excuses, though she thought it best anyway not to speak unless prompted.
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“A jest. Take comfort in burying your mind for time alongside your mortality – while you’re here, that is.” His smile softened as he addressed her apparent uncertainty. “You may speak as you wish. I am not so above you that you should feel uneasy.”
“Thank you, Lord Cedric.” The rasp in her voice returned. “There’s much to which I still need to grow accustomed. Only a few of my memories have returned as of yet.”
“That is normal at this stage. Have you recalled your name yet?”
“Yes.” She hesitated; this was her first time saying it aloud. “Elyza.”
“As lovely a name as when I first heard it. But if you find it no longer suits you, you can always choose another. Do you remember anything else?”
“A face.”
“Yours?”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “I don’t think so. A young woman, yes, but not me. And no name to it, either.”
“I’m sure Sylvestra has assured you twice over that you’d remember everything in time. What you’ve experienced is akin to a second infancy, a rebirth into an unliving body. The notion of self, rived from the carnal mind to be dismantled, reformed, and the two rejoined. Grant yourself the mercy of patience.”
A hint of sincerity tinged his inflection. On his next pass in front of the desk, he picked up a raven figurine and turned it in his palm. His other hand reached up to touch a small scar on his otherwise pristine cheek. It was odd to observe so much fidgeting from someone so composed in diction, someone with such power to hold dominion over a coven of his own. It was as if it overflowed into his limbs and extremities, searching for an outlet.
“Patience. Of course.” A cramp in her stomach arrived on cue. She winced but did not make a scene of it, and her eyes wandered to the two marble statues of robed figures watching from behind the desk. Their gazes, along with Cedric’s, prodded her with their unnerving expectancy. She followed with the only question she could think of. “Will I remember why I’m here?”
“Of course, but you may cease to share the sentiment with your old self. You are… different from the others.”
“Different? How so?”
“There was an incident during your transformation. Among the things you’ll remember, this is not one; it’s a gracious phenomenon of our kind not to recall the pain of death. I will spare you the gruesome details, but yours was a challenge, a thing to be studied. If I had my way, I would keep you here, where you’d serve your potential.”
At his second hint toward the impermanence of her stay, Elyza raised a brow.
“Am I going somewhere?”
“Yes, unfortunately, you are. Frankly, the plan we have set out for you is a waste of your capabilities, but there was nothing anyone could do to anticipate this turn of events.” He thinned his lips, suppressing a slight twitch that teased at a sneer. “I am bound to my word, even in dealings with mortals. Especially so, perhaps; mortal men are fickle, beset by their own fervor. They’ll set the world ablaze at a moment’s notice over anything and nothing. That would be more trouble than I care for, logistically speaking.”
“Maestus.” A strange name slipped past her lips. She touched the tips of her fingers to them, not quite certain that it came from her mouth. The image that appeared in her mind was that of an unremarkable, mustached man. “I’m here because of him.”
“In a sense, yes. Not for his sake, but for the benefit of someone you loved, whom his ambitions stood to help.”
“That girl… Jessa.”
“That’s right.” Cedric’s voice was softer, his pitch slightly higher. He paused his pacing to set down his figurine on the desk. “You’re recovering memories much more quickly than expected. I would advise that you rest. This process will exhaust your mind, and any mental or physical strain can be dangerous while your foundation is rebuilding itself. There’s time yet for you to enjoy the amenities of the castle, even if you’re set to leave. This is your home, and as such, you should seek comfort here.”
“If this is my home, will I ever return? After I’ve done what I’m setting out to do?”
“There are few promises I make, Elyza, being so bound to my word. Please, do not concern yourself with imagined scenarios or ideals of what you might do after you’ve served your purpose. Such is another folly of mortals.” He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, undoing the buttons and refastening them. “I arranged this meeting for no other purpose but to welcome you. Let’s conclude with light hearts and speak again when you have more of yourself. Rest. Eat. I can only imagine that you’re hungry.”
“I am.”
“Then go now, with an unburdened mind. It was a pleasure to speak with you, however brief.”
“Likewise, Lord Cedric.” Elyza recalled the bow Sylvestra had given him earlier and dared to replicate it. The gesture earned her a fang-baring grin of approval.