All Flowers End up Flying Away

Strands of hair of a dark purple complimented his features, going as far as to tickle the angle of his jaw. It made his eyes stand out even more. The High Priest gave off something riveting, to say the least. His gaze was of those you don’t turn away from, his voice of those you listen.

“Failing to uncover new faces, let me hear the sound of your voices.” Oswynn encouraged.

“A warm greeting, indeed. My name is Henox. I am a sorcerer. Though I merely accompany a young fairy.”

“And my name is Gretel! I love sweets.”

     His voice had something disenchanted, something bored. Its notes of bitterness fainted by years. A low voice, bordering on mockery.

     Her voice was perky, trying to suppress the compassion that tried to sneak in. A voice so easily broken, so easily drowned out by another.

“What a peculiar pair you form. It has to be destiny which brought you together. But, Gretel, I assure you there is no reason to worry about my eyes. The images which have stayed engraved upon my heart are far enough.”

“Huhh?? How have you guessed?!”

     A smile was the only answer she got while he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Lucrecia has told me one of you is wounded.”

“Yes, it turns out that my arm is in an… unfortunate state.”

“It’s broken.” Gretel whispered.

“It’s broken.” Lucrecia added.

     Henox mid-closed his eyes. As if by annoyance. No, it couldn’t be it. A millennial sorcerer wouldn’t stoop to being so childish. Then he would be the one being ridiculous.

“I see.” The High Priest simply smiled. “Come with me.”

     And turning away from the statue, he cleverly passed between the people present there without even jostling anyone. Thus reaching the altar one of his hands began to brush until he pulled a handle towards him. At the bottom of a drawer he knew by heart, the High Priest slid his fingers until feeling the cold and slick contact of the glass sipping through his bandages, grasping a small phial.

     He then turned to face anew Henox, making a gesture to urge him to come closer.

     The sound of a footstep, then of another one.

     Uncorking the phial, the High Priest reached out his hand to the arm Henox exposed. While in-between his thumb and index finger he held the glass bottle, from the tip of his other fingers he outlined the sorcerer’s arm, sliding along the fabric until finding the hollow of his elbow. As he inclined the glass bottle, a few drops escaped it.

“It should be enough to reverse your wound.”

     And it was necessary having the decency to admit it. From the moment the drops soaked the fabric to filter down his skin, the numbness subsided.

     First moving his fingers, Henox soon removed his brace, attempting a few movements.

“That’s right. I can move it again.”

     While the High Priest was corking back the phial, Henox observed the content. A translucent, crystalline liquid.

“Do you think you could as well apply it on Gretel’s wing? It is torn, and she can’t fly any more.”

“Mmm… If it was completely cut, I’m afraid it would not be sufficient. But we can try.”

     When the little fairy felt all gazes directed towards her, she felt something weighing her as she retrieved the part of her wing stored in her fabric backpack.

     Though once the High Priest had poured a few drops upon the wing Henox held in place, they could only note a few sparkles. As if the wing tried to stitch the fairy tissue up… Until dissipating.

     Their silence confirming the failure, the High Priest waited for a few moments before adding.

“You must still be feeling a bit of discomfort in your joint.” He said to Henox. “Unfortunately, the best remedies are used out.”

“The best remedies?”

“Yes. The source has been dried up. In this state, they can no longer accomplish miracles.”

     While Gretel was lost in thoughts, more worried by not being worried about this failure than anything else, Lucrecia stepped closer to her.

“I will go gathering flowers. Why don’t you come with me, Gretel?”

     Following her words, she extended her hands towards her, showing the little fairy the hollow of her hands.

“Flowers? Pretty flowers?” Gretel neared the edge of Henox’s hand when she stood still to cast a glance at the back, raising her eyes towards the sorcerer.

“What is it?”

“It’s that… Mmm… Can I go there?” She pressed her fingers one against another, concerned with having his approval.

“It’s not a…” He trailed off.

     His instinct told him to keep an eye on her, to not let her walk away. Not now. Not in this village.

     Why?

     Ahh how dreadful it was… To worry, to take precautions, it is proper to humans. It is proper to the weak.

     Twaddle.

“Go. Go along with Lucrecia.”

“Really?” Gretel tilted her head to the side. “Really, really?”

“Absolutely.”

     Giving him an innocent smile, she joined in a spring Lucrecia’s palms.

“Then! Don’t be bad while I’m not there! Become good friends with Sir Oswynn.”

“Ughh…”

     Lucrecia and her were already moving away, leaving the church.

“That’s a considerate friend you’ve got here.” The High Priest noted.

“Intrusive would be more accurate.” Henox turned anew towards him. “Tell me, according to what I understood, all the inhabitants were present at the mass.”

“Indeed.”

“Though seeing the church’s size… I find the number of villagers rather low.”

“Alas. They are gone.”

     The sorcerer silenced. As if hoping an explanation would come adding to these stingy words.

     But the latter didn’t come.

     Instead of it, another voice raised.

“High Priest, we need you for the preparations.”

     A man had approached, smiling. Serene. Was it truly the face of a man that knew as close the end of the world?

     To his request, the High Priest nodded.

“I beg your forgiveness Henox, far from me the idea to flee our budding friendship, but duty calls me. We’ll see each other later.”

     He made but a few steps, turning his back to the sorcerer when the latter stopped him.

“Wait.”

     Oswynn tilted his head back.

“There’s something that gets past me. Why don’t you use that remedy you showed us on yourself? It should even allow you to partly regain sight.”

     The sorcerer’s question made the High Priest half turn towards him, raising his hands the bandages covered like gloves. From the tips of his fingers he folded towards his palms, he brushed the air.

“Ahh, your concern touches me. But it is inconceivable. To get rid of them? Why would I do such a thing while they are the proof of my love for Kishar? It would be quite ungrateful of me if I didn’t give her something in turn.”

“…”

     And so, he turned away from the sorcerer. Addressing him last words as he was leaving the church.

“Tonight there’s a ceremony I hope you’ll attend. Let’s meet again on that occasion.”

     Soon left alone in this place, Henox gave a glance to the statue of Kishar.

***

“Slide the stems in gently, bending them without breaking them… here, like this. The stem is tied into a knot, and the flower adds to the wreath.

     Gretel had to grab the flower stem to wedge it into the tracery of her own crown.

     Sitting among grass studded with pastel-hued flowers, this place at the back of the village seemed not having its place here, if not for the belt of brambles all around. Some of them were as large as a tree trunk.

     Though the two young girls’ focus was directed to the flowers with indented petals at their feet. Skilfully, with one hand taking care to maintain the tracery, Lucrecia caressed the stems which came one after the other to flower her crown.

“Ahh! That’s beautiful. I wish I was as gifted as you!”

“No, no, I’m not that gifted.” She chuckled. “I am just used to doing that.”

     Her gaze then became thoughtful, her smile more nostalgic.

“Mmm… I need a more beautiful one.” Gretel glanced around her. “Oh! Look at these!”

     The villager’s starry eyes turned to a magnificent wreath of flowers, slightly undulating with the wind.

“Can you help me to gather them, Lucrecia?”

“Of course.”

     Coming to crouch down in front of the flowers, Lucrecia reached out a hand towards the corolla when suddenly the petals began to shake, to quiver. Until they left the stem. There were dozens of butterflies which, spreading their perfumed wings, flew away all around.

     Both young girls widened their eyes, amazed.

     While last butterflies having bloomed scattered, Lucrecia lowered her eyes towards the little fairy.

“Gretel, do you want to save this world with me?”