21 ~ January

A new year was setting itself quietly over the house.

The passing of time felt of lesser importance, following the year of too many changes.

Days and months could now be flying away in a safer sense of continuity for the little family.

However some details became to deteriorate in that peace they had hoped would last forever.

Blue had brought back from one of her nightly excursions into a different plane some intelligence that proved hard to verify, but eventually did...

Her meetings with the two-winged Esther held more weight into the lives of the household afterward.

As more than a dream of something whimsical being granted, it apparently truly was something out of the ordinary but tangible happening. Something different which would later include more than Blue’s occasional dreams of the odd well.

Rose’s enquiries by their distant family friends brought little help for a long while.

The more direct answer they had received had been a warning. Ironically, it had been a reply from the cardinal their parents had been indirectly in relation with, a long time ago.

The old man closer to the Vatican had replied to them, with carefully chosen words.

- What never was is perhaps not meant to be. One would be wise not to presume what the future might hold, whether hubris was to prevail, against everything known to be right and true. I would respectfully advise not to dignify the claims of such daiûa.

At least that man was definitely a friend to the family Rose thought, since he used that particular name that mostly their father was familiar with. A daiûa...

It was mainly a synonym for djinn, or demon by the older meaning of the word.

A daiûa in their father’s tales was an unnatural being that could be either good or bad, and that always brought the core mechanics to a story... But it was right to say they rarely were spirits you could safely trust.

There was many words to describe and name them across cultures and languages, Rose was aware of that. Since their childhood, from the tales and bedtime stories their parents used to read them, or write themselves, there was a spectrum of unnatural beings between imps, fairies, demons, gheists and more. But for what their family revolved around, daiûa was the most generic one they used and shared.

Their father had brought this term with him, from his own past history they could no longer reconnect with.

As time continued to make the seasons change, life continued on these peaceful terms. Rose continued to train herself at writing, trying unsuccessfully to publish her first attempts at tales and novels. Her own experience and familiarity wasn’t reaching successful standards.

Isha was reading more and more, her job having improved in organisation and efficiency over time. She was taking a strange liking to reading, about history still mostly. Nonetheless she was beginning to have a look in other genres with the aim of helping in the sisters researches from time to time. She also had looked around the nearby woods carefully for any whimsical ribbon forgotten around, without any luck. That scrap of cloth was most likely really gone.

Blue was looking a little tired recently, but she was working longer shifts in her small factory.

Sometimes, Isha had the feeling there was someone else beside them in the house, but every time this occurred, she always was finding herself alone. If Esther was getting a little closer with time, it still felt mostly ghostly.

~

One day, Rose left town for a week.

She was going on a journey to London.

She was first to meet with the old couple of friends whom had helped them on their homecoming in the past. They were now living with a brother in the north of the city. Rose was also being invited by another family of more distant friends living around the same wide city, for another subject.

Rose was taking the chance to express her gratitude again for the former, before meeting the later and staying with them for a few days.

She was planning to discuss with an editor they knew her own writings, and spend first and foremost some time looking for new clues in the millions of book the capital held.

She had a good few clues on places where to start, and people whom to meet for her research. She was going with a collection of advices she had made with all the replies from her letters she had received over the years.

It turned out to be quite a sum of things to check. Even if most were unreliable, far-fetched, plainly wrong or clearly coming from a misunderstanding, that she still would have quite a reasonable amount.

Rose had been the first one surprised, to see the amount of replies to her requests eventually growing.

The first ones had come distant to each other. And then gradually, their family friends were enquiring about her passion, her research of daiûas, and sharing many advices and opinions they might have.

It was also a research about dreams and legends, regarding daiûas and connections to them.

She didn’t get anything as close to a direct answer or solution as the cardinal had in his way, nor any direct first-hand testimony. However she received lots of clues, and encouragement, from people showing a kind interest in her research, feeling something close to comradery or simply friendly support from them.

When she said she wanted to help encountering a daiûa, more people than she ever thought possible actually answered, wanting to help her. That surprised Rose deeply.

Despite her careful excuse that it was only in order to write some stories about it, as she tried to pick up the pen her father had left behind; most answers had actually seen through or simply not cared what the reason was.

Some of them must have realised it was not the truth, but most of them simply sounded eager to rekindle an old passion.

The cardinal was one of the few who had clearly not believed her pretence, seeing through Rose’s lie and answering as such. He had been kind enough to answer what he had understood was a genuine worry however. He had taken the time to answer that somewhat desperate search for answers, understanding it was not a trivial matter for her.

That man had been shrewd, every time she read his letter she thought that.

Even though Rose was now heading for London in a train, in order to go against his advice and pursue her research.

With what she had slowly accumulated over a long time, she was now heading south with a long list of books, libraries and people to see, meet and check. She had an extensive list of documents and books to request from these peoples who were collectors, archivists or librarians.

It really was inspiring to see how much people were eager to share their knowledge over a passion, even about the oddest of matters. It was a nice sensation however.

Amidst the usual polite or kind chatter held through the letters, there were also some more peculiar insights and testimonies.

Some other British friend shared his belief that in this century were religion and state had been overpowered by science and industries, many people fell quite a miss for faith. And because the former powers were receding in that providence, people looked elsewhere in more superstitious endeavours that fill their appetites.

To him the industries, the progress of the economy, were indirectly giving new water to all kinds of new paganisms and, by weakening the older time main structures coordinating intuitive faith before.

Some people were now even claiming they embraced new religions coming from the ends of Asia and Africa, since they couldn’t feel fulfilled with European beliefs anymore. He was finding these changing puzzling and interesting, albeit slightly worrying altogether.

Rose could read between the lines how this person had done his best to avoid harsher speech against strangers, with possibly barbaric cultures and archaic pantheons. She found however interesting the analysis that the current rise of economic and technological powers was shifting the social or cultural balance in ways unforeseen. And that could be worrying for many, feeling suddenly the world tilting and risking to fall.

Perhaps humankind was changing fate nowadays, toward a new direction.

To this writer, it seemed the western world was changing for less Christianity, and more Islam or Buddhism.

Rose couldn’t criticize this sight but didn’t think much of it anyway.

Times were changing, that was surely true.

That odd friend she thought, had probably felt some nice relief, finally having some reason to write all this down. Feeling that he had someone eager to hear his thoughts and belief, he had written everything he had felt about the world, past and current.

His letter had been many pages long, veering off topic for most of it.

However, he was mentioning one document, advising Rose should look into the matter. He was giving her the name of an even older friend in London, whom might still possess it.

An archaeological artefact that was a matter of pride for the old collector, although it was just a foreign and old book apparently.

According to the extensive letter, if he was still alive, he could usually be found by Saint Mary’s church of this small peerage near to the city. He would usually be smoking with his pipe or reading, or both.

The document had been mentioned in a few other letters, but this one was the clearer lead to it. So Rose was planning to go by that church every day as long as she would stay in London. With some luck, she would have an interesting encounter.

Since Blue had to work on the day Rose was to leave, unfortunately she couldn’t see her to the station.

Blue felt anxious for many reasons, but said her goodbyes to Rose earlier in the house.

Rose had prepared herself to go alone on that short journey out of town. She would have liked to have Isha or preferably Blue accompanying her, keeping her company and supporting her in the researches. However Blue couldn’t that easily take a leave from work, and Rose preferred to have Isha supporting her at home instead.

Blue had been looking tired lately, so it was surely for the better.

Still a little anxious about Blue, Rose had left that day.

On a cold morning and for a long week, she would be nowhere to be seen anymore.

~

It was during one of these lonelier nights.

Blue was alone.

Something banged on the window, startling her. When she tried to lit the room, she realised that the electricity was off. It was a little amusing to realise how the most securing and familiar of places could so rapidly feel cold, foreign, insensitive and scary, in the matter of little time or changes.

No more lights, the wind howling outside and throwing branches from time to time against the house.

There and then, it felt a little intimidating even for Blue.

She knew there were lighters and matches to be found in the kitchen, so she slowly made her way down there in the dark. Given it was the middle of the night, Isha was probably still sleeping, sheltered from the wind by the bookshelves surrounding her room... If not surrounded by books entirely in her room, since she had slowly but surely taken a liking into reading.

Blue was calling her a book girl lately, to tease her. Isha didn’t like it very much.

Blue reached the kitchen but had a hard time finding where the matches and candles could be. Usually Isha was the one taking care of all flames and fireplaces for her. They had electricity to lit most things in the house now though, but they still used a lot of coal and wood to burn.

Blue could recall how Isha had been surprised by the ludicrous number of fireplaces and chimneys they had in this single house. But now that it was built, they were making do with it. Perhaps that had been one of Rose’s architectural oversight.

There actually had been a few others. Since the new water heater was oddly using electricity as well, but reducing the coal needs, one side of the house basement that had been kept for such storage had been condemned and sealed.

The stairs to the house basement in the kitchen was leading to the main one they had kept. But the one kept exclusively for coal in the past, between this change and the fact that the house fire had basically begun there in the past, Rose had had filled and condemned. All that was left noticeable of it were the side doors delivery on the side of the house, from which coal bags could be pushed downstairs, and the condemned accesses.

Rose had judged unnecessary to keep that storage space for flammable, furthermore given how wide was the kitchen basement as well. It was already quite wide and with stronger walls. The ruined basement from where the fire had begun was condemned, and the main storage basement that had survived mostly intact was kept.

She had not given much more thoughts about it at the time of work. Overall the house she had partially designed still held a few minor flaws. Her priority back then had mostly been in the solidity of the walls and ground floor. She had wanted the new walls and ceilings to endure the stress of time long after them.

Blue was thinking about it while lighting the candle she had found. The wind was getting calmer outside meanwhile, so the house was returning to its normal night silence.

But Blue thought she head a whisper somewhere.

Since she was not used to the kitchen noises like Isha, she thought to investigate. Her research rapidly brought her to the shut door leading to the basement downstairs.

When she opened it, her candle light flinched a little.

Blue carefully went downstairs in their normal darkness. Her candle still sent quite large and odd shapes to glow against the stone walls. It was the house’s dungeon... Except that it was mostly holding food storage, a few bags of coal and firewood piles stored by Isha.

Despite the time she had to stock various goods and large quantities of everything she wanted, Isha was still using only a minor portion of the wide room. On one side there were the stocks made for the kitchen by the maid, quite neatly arranged on sturdy shelves. On the other side were the stocks of firewood and coal tidily stored against the wall as well. There also was an axe hanging against the column close by and a chopping block beside.

Blue thought it was odd to chop wood in a dark basement, if not somewhat creepy, but Isha would have explained it was there only to chop the smaller chunks to get the fires started, and not waste any piece or dust falling. The heavy duty was still done outside somewhere else. Also Isha didn’t mind doing so there because there was no echo, the temperature remained fresh in summer, and she didn’t mind the dark either.

What she minded was to have the logs properly dried outside before coming in here below, where it would have a harder time drying otherwise.

That night, Blue however was following a faint whisper and left these fleeting thoughts beside.

It sounded like a low whistle even. Her candle, unlike the usually working electrical light, could flinch when she was passing by a faint stream of air.

Listening to the dancing little glow’s reactions, she had a trail to follow step by step, toward a fissure in a wall that would possibly lead to the other part of the basement. Or to something else.

She now was more excited and curious than afraid by her search in the middle of the night.

It was quite thrilling actually. Looking for treasures or mysteries in a place you’d least expect, furthermore as the turning of time and light made everything look like a very different place. This house was familiar and yet not like her own any longer.

It was a small adventure she enjoyed.

Her research had led her to a segment of stone wall that was not between the two basement sides, but elsewhere, away from the stairs. Before the last column on the right, by the wall there. A small breath of wind was entering the basement through a fissure there, whistling between unhinged stones and rocks behind the wall itself.

Blue thought again about the coal veins that had burned from the mines below during the fire, and crevices appearing in the surrounding area. A vein had reached their other cave, but they had not exactly found where it had begun, and there had been no ground collapse. Maybe the vein that had brought the fire to their isolated house was just there, beside and beneath...

Blue thought about it, now feeling a little sad. The whisper was now only reminding her of the bizarre unlucky tragedy that had struck her family then. The worst unlucky turn of events...

And that night, there was only that faint whistling sound left, to tell her how things she couldn’t control in geology were flowing out of her reach and stretching down and far away.

She sighed. She made a step aside and the light of the candle flinched.

The fissure was on that side, between the wall segment and its pillar. Blue let her finger slide along the imbedded column in that wall, gathering some dust and some cobweb.

At one time, the whisper changed its tone. It was there. She got closer and looked carefully in that thin hidden hole between the rocks.

She saw nothing particular, but the sound was getting a little more audible now that she was at its origin.

She got even closer, and finally noticed something of different nature and colour.

There was a thread or a fibre, stuck in the slight opening between the wall rocks and the sculpted column.

She tried to pick it up with her nails without success.

Pushing against the wall, she managed to move just a little bit that rock, getting the object to move along with the coming wind slightly.

Blue found it to be apparently a little piece of white cloth stuck there. It was still mostly trapped in there however, she couldn’t manage to pull it free.

Since the main stone beside it was a little loose, she tried to move it more, pushing against it to move sideways with more strength.

There were some noises of heavy stones tattling against each other, and some dust fell from the wall and onto her.

But from all this, the little piece of cloth came out.

It was getting longer as she pulled on it, and it felt as if it was flying or slithering out as she pulled on it. It gave her the sensation of freeing a thin but long snake.

The whistling noise was gone. The basement was now silent again, since this whistling herb was gone. Blue opened her hand now holding was definitely looked like an old ribbon.

~

Rose was still away for some days.

The next morning, albeit she hadn’t slept much, Blue talked with Isha about her small adventure from the previous night. It was furthermore a real one this time. She had her proof.

Blue provided it on the dinner table with some visible childish pride, her discovery.

Isha however made a face more surprised than what Blue would have expected.

Actually, Isha was making a face that was more an expression of a genuine shock, rather than an amused surprise. Blue was a little puzzled as to why Isha was reacting so oddly.

Isha looked at a loss for words for a time, and then stammered.

I - Actually... That ribbon is mine... Or rather it was mine, for a time... I never thought... I thought I would never see it again... It’s...

Blue didn’t understand, but could see the look of fright and stress over her friend’s face.

Isha was clearly embarrassed and confused, but related to this not so precious looking piece of old cloth.

Blue felt as if she had uncovered a dirty secret from her maid, and was confronting her about it. Which was nothing she had intended, making things even more uneasy.

If Isha was in odd shock and losing her coherence, at least Blue got from it all that this specific ribbon apparently was hers, and not Esther’s.

So much to her disappointment, she pushed it over the table back to her owner.

Isha looked conflicted again, having it back. She looked shameful more than anything and reluctant to pick it up.

B - It’s important for you it seems... That’s fine.

I - No it’s... a misunderstanding. It’s... a very bad memory for me. If you want it miss Blue, please...

B - No, it’s fine. If this ribbon was yours before, it should be yours again.

Isha seemed genuinely sorry, and haunted by something she could not confess.

She looked genuinely sorry as she apologised again, and took the ribbon with her, lowering her head.

Isha excused herself, looking disheartened.

Blue understood that Isha still had her own traumatic memories she was yet unwilling to expose and share.

As much as she wished to be that friendly to hear it from her, she felt the need to respect her wish to keep this distance.

For Isha, it was the reminder of a really painful memory, and felt to her like as shameful as if it were the proof to a crime she would have committed. Admitting the truth about herself wasn’t yet something she could be at peace doing, wasting her chances to keep this otherwise enjoyable life by the Herson ladies.

So she ran away, and buried her woe deeply.

~

At night, Isha thought again about the ribbon hidden in her drawer. She couldn’t sleep.

She picked it up again to look at it, feeling uneasy.

It was like a soft piece of parchment now. A weave of fibres feeling soft, very light and loose, with the changing colours of old paper.

She played with it between her fingers, a little lost in thoughts and remembrance of that dreadful time.

Isha pondered about throwing it into the fireplace of her room, like burning evidence...

But she couldn’t do that, as that would feel like betraying her ladies.

She couldn’t do that. For now she put it back in the drawer of her desk, shutting it tight.

She returned to her bed trying to find sleep, but thinking constantly about it.

It wasn’t the ribbon itself, but the memory associated with it that was still terrible to her. She feared a little that it might just be an unfortunate fate or bad luck, that would drive her out of this place eventually and back to the streets.

She didn’t want to believe that.

And was there even a chance that it actually was the real ribbon from Esther? She was unsure where to stand with this memento and her guilt from that painful day.

~

The weather had been quite windy over the past few days.

Rumours of a quite rare and strong storm were gathering by the countryside and town rapidly.

On the day before Rosemary’s scheduled homecoming, there might be a good storm and downpour.

Isha was taking care of the house quite as usual and saw in Blue’s behaviour as every other day, that Rose’s concerns had been unjustified.

Lady Blue was doing and going perfectly fine. Even though she was more than once a day saying that she missed Rose, in a sigh usually. But Blue wasn’t a dependent nor lost child anymore. She continued to go to work diligently.

Isha was looking at the rapidly changing sky with growing worry about the weather. There were all the signs of a good summer storm, coming from the south-west of the land. Maybe on the day prior to her lady Rose’s return, or the intended day precisely.

The wind carried clouds that were heavier and heavier all day long. They hadn’t seen a clear bright sun since the day before, and the daylight below this blanket was getting colder and grey.

Leaves were being ripped and carried by the winds around the house.

Isha was busy closing the shutters of the windows for the incoming stormy evening. Outside, with nothing but the strong wind to keep her company, she was a little playful. For now it was still funny.

Once she was done, she took another good look at the field outside and the scenery. She could see the waves of wind moving along the tall grass along the hills. Above it were always heavier looking clouds passing by quickly, but accumulating. They were a good grey, with darker parts going almost violet sometimes. From paper ashes to soot as they grew stormy.

The trees were slightly dancing along with the winds. The day light was diminishing. It was quite a show to her eyes and skin. Her sight from the rear garden was emotional.

Isha eventually went back inside the fortress, to get the dinner ready for her lady before her return. She walked through the long corridor leading to the main entrance in front of her.

Before the few steps leading to the main manor entrance in front of her, she reached the door leading to the kitchen on her left.

She felt that she noticed Blue in her peripheral vision as she was about to go inside.

Startled, she looked at her as she was standing there by the main door, her hair undone.

Isha bowed, greeting her a little hastily.

I - I didn’t notice you were back. Please follow me, I will get you something warm.

Isha walked promptly a few steps inside the kitchen, reaching the sink to wash her hands.

I - Was it the wind that untied your hair my lady?

Isha stopped suddenly. It was quiet. She realised that Blue wasn’t with her.

She walked back to the main entrance, realising she had not heard her voice, nor even the heavy door being opened or shut before.

She was alone, and Blue had not come home that early.

Isha stood there in the quiet corridor for a while, wondering and feeling a little spooked now.

Now she was seeing things inside too.

~

Rosemary returned a day late.

It had been a little uneasy for Blue but everything went well.

Blue and Isha had worried a little, but realised that the stormy weather drifting against her way back had likely slowed her down.

When the train stopped at the train station, when the passengers were hastily leaving, Isha was waiting by the side, standing properly. Rose eventually appeared, carrying little more than her bag. Isha walked closer to help her, and welcome her back into her hometown. Isha took her share and they proceeded on their way home.

When Isha enquired about how her journey went, Rose replied with a smile that it had been quite interesting in more ways than one.

R - I apologise for returning late... How is Blue doing?

I - I believe she is doing quite well! She is okay. Although she missed her dear Rose at times.

Rose smiled, relieved and amused. She had felt a little anxious as well over time.

They went peacefully back home, the storm now long behind and forgotten.

Since the day was still young, they had plenty of time and Blue was still at work.

Rose settled back home and then left the house soon after.

She thought she might go by their shop, before waiting for Blue to finish her shift and meet her in town.

Rose took an umbrella in addition to her purple mantle, seeing the sky still unsteady grey.

She walked back her way into town feeling a little light.

Rose was still thinking a lot about Esther as she walked.

She had learnt interesting things in London, about daiûas or Daiûa.

She had noticed how Isha looked a little tired but hadn’t pried further into it now that she thought about it. They ought to take care of their kind maid.

For now first was first, and her priority was to see Blue again.

As early as possible... She had missed her too.

In the end Rose never went to their shop.

She preferred to wait for hours by the corner of the small factory.

The street light was eventually lit before the wait come to its end.

It also began raining a few droplets as the night of day was already diminishing.

Finally the door opened and people began to leave. If Rose couldn’t right away spot her little sister among them, Blue left the group in a rush as she noticed her instead.

As soon as she had stepped outside, she went straight toward Rose with the happiest of smiles to welcome her.

Blue looked radiant and as if all her fatigue had vanished in an instant, coming to hug Rose strongly for a small minute.

It had felt like months of separation...

They slowly walked their way home afterward, their arms linked against the wind and rain starting to fall.

Blue expressed how happy and relieved she was to have her back at last.

B - It’s such a nice feeling, it makes me think maybe we should part ways for a few days more often. Just for the sweetness of the reunion.

Rose laughed kindly at the silly idea, as much as she admitted being happy being finally home by her side also.

They had missed each other more than they had expected each in their own way.

Blue kept tightening her grasp around her sister’s arm close to her. They rarely walked that close to each other, but tonight was special.

As they were leaving the town behind to be on their way home, it was getting almost dark. For the time being there, feeling closer to each other, they entirely forgot about Esther.

~

Their precious time lasted longer, and they postponed the talks about Rose’s researches to the next morning entirely. They had not enough of the evening to simply talk about the time apart and spend time with each other.

After dinner and Rose’s bath, it was already time to sleep. Just like that, Rose had spent a day at home without discussing anything she had discovered in the great city, and all the discussions were postponed.

She had a good journey out and nice stay out there.

It was unusual for her to see so much world and so many people, so it had been quite thrilling and overwhelming. She had followed every advice from the friends she had received answers from, and those she met during that journey.

Rose had been a dear guest by the house of these relatives, and her stay in London ended up being quite enjoyable in their care. She had seen so much, she wasn’t sure where to begin with in telling it all to Blue.

So in order to keep the details and other straying information for later smaller talks, Rose began with the end.

Not the end of her time in London exactly, but a conclusion to their researches apparently.

Rose had found it, and brought it home with her.

She unveiled a flat wooden box, without lacquer. She opened it, revealing a bound document that she put aside, and a piece of leather covering what might be a book. Once that cover was opened, the old and visibly handcrafted book was with uneven pages. It was bound by threads and not glue, quite old, neither thick nor thin. It looked artisanal and peculiar from every angle.

There were some unreadable scribblings on the cover, along with a painted flower or rosacea of some kind. It looked like a cheap medieval book to Blue. The painting on it looked odd to her though.

Opening this, the pages were not from parchment but leather, thin leather. As Isha and Blue were a little doubtful about what they we relooking at, Rose pointed out a word they could read even in that foreign language and typography. Below another painting of an odd symmetrical flower, was capitalised the word Daiûa.

Rose explained cautiously where this came from.

There always had been stories which brought beliefs or relief to humankind. The most notorious of these writings were religious ones. And there always had been different beliefs, born and evolving from every culture they lived along.

Different rituals, and different stories to tell, always changing even through writing.

What was holy magic for some was sorcery for others, eventually merging as the victors took over all the room.

Every culture had its root stories and they all floated and drifted while major religions took over with the changing dynasties.

Blue had experienced it for herself to some extent, the search for objective magic was hopeless at best. You just had to choose a faith and believe that its magic would work better than the thousand others...

The Christian church had been quite strict against paganism and heresy over European history, to say the least, so there wasn’t much left from all the others that were before, to find and believe in.

Nevertheless... The church’s conquest over Europe had taken time, and brought some other things over the centuries of spread and consolidation. Among other things, Rome’s church had studied everything encountered and wrote it down. Every other belief encountered in some parts of the marches to this heir of the empire had been recorded as much as possible, and brought down in different ways. Conquest was not achieved only through violence, and even then they realised it fully. Some parts of these meetings and discoveries had been accepted, absorbed and incorporated by the Church, to ease its supremacy and control over the local people. So the Church had kept little pieces of various beliefs here and there, as it was easier and more efficient to gradually absorb another smaller faith, than simply attempt destroying it entirely. It was counterproductive over the centuries to simply attempt killing everyone who believed in something else.

That being quite a rough historical summary, Rose kept going.

The Roman Church had accumulated testimonies and knowledge about every possible sorcery and minor culture or paganism throughout Europe during its expanse, while imposing its own.

And these records of every local rituals and hunts against forbidden arts were also preserved.

Overall the history through its thousands of varying declinations was quite the same. Same ups and downs, but gradually the growth and solidification of the spiritual empire was indomitable. It kept the records of the occasional expeditions that faced other things, and in a few, very rare occasions, some testimonies of odd utter defeats from footmen chasing druids and witches.

An even seldom amount of times, the people carrying the cross were found killed in circumstances they hardly explained back then. But fifteen hundred years of history through north-eastern Europe could only be surmised in flawed manners. The colder frontiers had been bubbly and changing endlessly between what would become the Pol and the Rus much later.

Somewhere in time and in space, both forgotten, one of these odd events happened. There had been a few of these odd occurrences of failed witch hunt here and there over the centuries, recorded later down in Paris or Rome.

They investigated, and most things had become dead ends lost in time and history.

Other events unearthed nothing more than what you would expect from local legends and little tragedies.

And then everything in these lands had been torn between wars, between the white sea and the black sea, every century the frontiers had been wavy endlessly, continuously flowing in changes and uncertainties.

Each war had been a long journey for soldiers coming and going, returning with some other folktales they heard out there. There always was something unclear happening through the courses of campaigns and tragedies.

And talks of units disappearing, or found all dead at dawn, were not that uncommon through the tides. Death was common for people bearing weapons.

And a few times like old heresies, some weird legend and folktale resurged, coming back anew. As if a few people kept their old beliefs hidden in their heart generation after generation, despite hundreds of years, religious dominions and changing war tides...

And discretely, over time span that would make anyone blind to the connections that could be, had there been no historical record, now there had been...

Studying the dotted events over centuries, some scholars studying these records that lasted for more than a millennium, patterns could be guessed. A few sources from various origins and times, pointed out to the eventuality, that maybe, just maybe, there could be something else glistening.

Something unnatural that the Church, the passing of time and tides had not seen nor erased.

Something that might be an actual magical power, appearing only a scarce and rare amount of times, but always in the way that made some local legends a little more than mere tales.

There was maybe one area were the repeated resurgence of oddities through the centuries might statistically signify something else.

And crossing the references and recorded tales from the area and previous times, they shared an aspect no one really noticed before through one lifetime. Something repeated beyond likely coincidences.

A sound, an event, a place, a time of the year, or simply a name.

The few fragments of testimonies scattered through time as if they had been shredded from a same source, too small pieces but somewhat repeated in a likely pattern that would never have been visible without very extensive records of history. Something that was ground for some people to believe that through this statistical analysis and hypothesis, they might have found something otherworldly to exist.

So at the end of the 19th century, a few passionate people had kept searching, like Blue had now in her time. Only they had looked in different libraries, and surmised different conclusions back then.

A generation prior to them, a group of friend had shared a passion of historians, investigating what could have been in the past, somewhere, somewhen...

And from this mountain of work they rummaged through together, epistolary, someone eventually found out how to call the unlikely link to connect most possibilities that their known recorded history had been able to put together.

Daiûa.

What the Church through her millennium of progress through Europe had glossed over, but recorded encountering a handful of times. The faintest link to knowledge of sorcery and Spiritism in the entire world that might have some real ground, was surmised in that northern name.

By the end of the 19th century, no one was caring about sorcery anymore, but mysticism was its reincarnation with the fantastic grounds of technological advancements and every charlatan.

That little name was only written perhaps ten times at best, through the entire records of the Vatican.

But an historian scholar found that Daiûa was an interesting door to other possibilities, because he could link that name with other old folktales he had heard of somewhere else.

The lucky historian who would find seemingly unrelated documents worlds apart, but with enough of a common ground between them to be able to thread their logical connection, and their consequences.

A handful of old folktales from north-eastern Europe, cross-referenced with documents of Church’s expansions over the centuries, made something peculiar stand out.

That name, that had been kept like a family surname no one bore, an idiom, or a local nickname for something or some place out there. Something with unclear origin but that had lingered nonetheless, although no one really cared about it.

Gathering the foreign resources around it, they had worked for years of historian studies, patching up together an unexpected tale, about a witch of the older times before Christianity. These old legends spoke of a kind of shaman, somewhere between what would be Poland, Finland and Russia in this early 20th century.

Some details spoke of this shaman’s shared knowledge from her visit to the other world.

At the times when these testimonies were shared around, because times were changing and the events occurring through history uncorrelated apparently, the Church and changing nations had far better things to care for than local hear-say and pagan books or tales. Nothing significant happened on the political spectrum back then.

Only now did they raise something out of it, as they were looking for something.

As they were looking for the most plausible likelihood there could be something else...

So in times, what books could have been considered heresy and brought a storm over their owners in the past, it eased. Centuries and the passing of wraths made some things survive erosion, whatever was built around and over them. Like an unearthed artefact from Neolithic times, a specific document had survived, and crystallised the researches done later about the name of Daiûa.

The document Rose had brought back, it had a generation earlier interested strongly the passionate researcher from the Church. They had translated the document in old Finnish. It had taken some years to connect every dots and retrace the story and the possibilities.

The book was of folktales, not exactly of spells and sorcery, but more of prayers and poetic testimonies.

Actually it seemed at first to be little more than a few local tales about life, death, and legends about the other side or random prophecies.

It was simply the summarised scriptures of a small forgotten culture or faith. Something from a few villages a long time ago, that simply dissolved over the centuries and countries.

A few people had investigated these old testimonies with the assumptions they held some witnessing account of events beyond normality, and they sought to find it beyond.

They ought to try it. Trying to believe in it, and follow the teachings they could make out of the document, in solace for not finding what they were truly after maybe.

From the idea that they had found the only real insight to a truth beyond, they had made a small cult like many budding others, trying out a faith that somehow suited them in their changing societal times, before their death would come. They died gradually, finding solace in this new faith or mysticism they felt they had found out of reason.

And then one day, perhaps the youngest of them, experienced something he hadn’t been able to explain.

Something scared him to death, and drove him rapidly insane.

He was then only left able to repeat that the document was truth as he neared his fate. The document of Daiûa was true he said.

His last words were a claim that he had met a Daiûa, and that he couldn’t bear facing that the whole world was living a dream instead.

Rose marked a pause, the documents in front of her. It was a strange story, even for Blue.

Rose picked up the pages that were the translation in English of the original document next to it.

She opened it between the last pages. The handwriting was different in this testimony.

R - The last part here is not the translation anymore, but the written diary of that person, about his experience with a daiûa.

Apparently the story Rose had just retold them had a been a matter of small talk between friends and family around the members of this small informal cult.

And as the generation passed, even though most members of this past group didn’t really believed in that impromptu faith or what really could be read in that document, the shared passion around these few tales and long research remained in wilting friendships. Some friendships had blossomed around this and slowly faded as the years went by.

Now they were telling tales of daiûas in faraway countries, and their meetings with the odd travellers...

One generation fully turned over, they were here, the daughters inheriting what their father had bequeathed to them. The bedtime stories he had told them, mixing his passions with his own imagination, were one of the last remnants of an old past. He had been keeping alive some aspects of a small and exotic cultural folklore, to bring a little more magic to the stories he picked up for his daughters.

The passionate past was gone, and the historical truth far longer gone. Their faith disappeared along with the dwindling researches and fading of interest around it, leaving nothing but memories and stories to remain.

No one had ever found any treasure.

It had taken time to retrieve and reconstruct that ancestral family tree, with their friendships and distant relations intertwined. Huge parts were still missing and only a few years later, many of the oldest witnesses would have passed, leaving more pages forever gone.

Rose had found the old man smoking his pipe by the western church.

Age had not been kind to his mind, and he had been wilting rapidly. Sanity had become tiresome in his honourable age. Rose had met him in time thankfully, hearing from him what would have been lost otherwise.

He shared with her what possibly was one of his last sane accounts of his past.

He had a vague recollection of the name Herson, being one of a friend during his youth.

And in the end, he had been glad to gift that heirloom to a friend whom showed interest in it, rather than have it burn with other rubbish after his death.

He went out of his way into his own pile of treasured archives, to give Rosemary a few other things alongside. Some studies and researches had been compiled alongside the translation of the original document, and in the end it had become his last testimony as well.

He was glad to be of some help and to pass along some of that past flame.

Rose left him behind as he was flowering the tombstone of someone whom he must have held dear. Doing so was one of the last things he sought to do with his remaining borrowed time.

Blue was growing restless and curious about these documents her sister had kept her hands over while talking at length about. Both the weirdly crafted original on leather, and the one on modern paper that she actually could read.

Rose flipped through the pages of the translated document, and searched for a specific part.

It took her a minute of painful wait for Blue, and a few more pages to be flipped.

Rose then lifted her chin to look at Blue into her eyes, and read aloud the part she had kept in mind.

R - Daiûa was in a hole, daiûa had fallen into a well. Daiûa wanted to live, so she began to climb her way. And there she fought, days and nights, in order to live again...

~