Brew 7

Toriyami sat hunched over the grimoire, the pages blurred by the unshed tears stinging eyes. The pain Aria felt – being seen as her true self and feared for it - resonated too deeply. A broken chuckle escaped his lips, the irony of it all settling heavily on his shoulders. Her story mirrored his own far more than he anticipated.

“To-Toriyami?” Emery’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood in the doorway, hair tousled in a mess, pointing in all directions as she had just woken up. Her gaze softening as she caught sight of him, her expression shifting into something more hesitant. She stepped forward, reaching out a sleeve-covered hand and brushing his cheek “You got to that part too?”

Sighing, Toriyami closed the grimoire with a reluctant thud, “I, I didn’t realize fae lived in the forest here,” he admitted, his voice hoarse from emotion.

Emery exhaled heavily before dropping onto the desk. “I wasn’t aware of the fae either,” she confessed. “Even as a child, when grandfather would bring me to visit, the forest was always off limits.”

“Maybe,” Toriyami murmured, rubbing his temples, “maybe more happens but we’ll only know I we continue reading.”

“I don’t know,” Emery responded nervously. “I haven’t read that part myself as of yet.”

She chewed her bottom lip, hesitation flickering in her gaze. There was something about the story that felt personal, too personal. Outside of the story being one from her grandfather; the realisation that Aria might have been right to be wary of humans, felt like a stab deep in her heart.

While Aethera prided itself as a country that welcomed diverse races, Emery and Toriyami knew the truth. It was an illusion, a carefully constructed lie to maintain the peace following on the from the era of the witch hunt. For people like Toriyami and Emery, those who strayed too far from the perfect mold, the world was much smaller and less forgiving.

Toriyami’s fingers tapped absentmindedly against the cover of the grimoire. “I like to think,” he began, meeting Emery’s gaze, “that Aria and the villagers were able to one day see eye to eye.” He reached out and gave Emery’s hand a gentle squeeze before leaning back into his seat. “But again, we’ll only know if we keep reading.”

Emery let out a shaky breath, nodding. “I know,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “It’s just for once… I’m afraid of what the truth might be.” #

Toriyami rose from his seat, stretching before offering a small, tired smile. “Let me go make us some tea,” he said, ruffling her hair as he passed.

Emery stared at the grimoire as though engaging in a silent battle. It was taunting her, its secrets pulling her in, daring her to turn the pages. Her foot tapped restlessly against the wooden floor before she pushed herself up and began to pace. The gears her mind turned as she looked between the book and t door Toriyami disappeared through.

“Grandfather wouldn’t have left this story if he didn’t want me to read it,” she muttered. “And wizards don’t just write anything in their grimoire.”

She clenched her fists, torn between emotions and facts. If her grandfather didn’t want the truth to be told, he would never have recorded it. That much she was certain of.

With a sigh, she knelt beside the desk, her gaze landing firming on the grimoire. “What’s the lesson you’re trying to teach me grandfather?” she whispered grasping onto the edge on the desk as she continued to stare intensely.

The scent of herbal tea drifted into the room as Toriyami returned, setting the tray down beside her. He couldn’t help but find amusement at Emery’s battle stance, letting out a low chuckle. “Facing the truth is never easy,” he said lifting a cup, “But I do believe whatever the truth holds, you are ready to face it.

Emery stood up, her stare softening into a gentle gaze as she smiled up at Toriyami. His eyes held a sense of hope as he casually pushed the grimoire towards Emery. “Every great witch craves knowledge,” he winked placing the cup beside the grimoire.

Emery reached for the grimoire, her fingers trembling as she ran a finger along the cover. With one final breath, she turned the pages, ready to uncover the truth.