First Gemstone

The room is pitch black. The glowing moonlight struggles to shine through the heavy curtains and any torchlight gathered under the closed doors has faded away long ago. Red still glitters in the corner of Crow's vision. He can't turn his head to look as the blood spreads, shimmering like a spill of liquid rubies in the darkness. He doesn’t know why he can still see it. His body is frozen in place, too cold to even shiver. Crow wants to reach out, wants to apologize but his voice is a whisper worth nothing so he closes his mouth instead.

Blood falls from his fingertips. Blood collects in his throat. Blood drips from his nose, burning hot, but all he can think is sorry, sorry, sorry. The pain doesn’t even register. He lies there in silence and wishes death would come faster. He’s tired of this.

Wings cover his body.

He closes his eyes.

The world around him fades to nothing as he wakes to the morning sunlight falling into his eyes.

Crow holds his breath, watching the light go through the curtains. They’re shuttered tightly and don’t move at all which means its still early and the windows are still shut. The maids haven’t come in yet. He exhales a sigh of relief and sits up, pushing his hair back from his face. If he looks closely enough at his hands he thinks he can still see the blood on them. Crow curls his hands into fists. This nightmare has become more frequent lately and waking up from it always leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

A faint pang goes through his eyes and Crow reapplies the illusion covering them at once. It worsens the pain for a few tense moments. He shakes it off and leaves the bed, footsteps silenced by the plush rugs. Before he can do anything else the soft chime of the security shield rings in his ear, the one designed to go off if he moves too suddenly. He slows down but it’s too late. The knock at his door is respectful but it doesn’t need an answer.

The maids enter the room in tight formation. They keep their eyes low out of fear even though it’s been years since he was first brought to this estate. As a child, they avoided looking at him too. Of course it’s much easier for them to keep their eyes from meeting his nowadays, since he towers over them. He doesn’t look at them either, focusing only the pale sheen of their wings held tight against their backs in discomfort. Their feathers aren’t bright enough to hold his interest for long though.

Curtains are flung open to let the sun in and jewels are laid out on the dressing table for him to choose from. He points to an opal pair and the maids flinch back when he reaches for them. Crow puts the jewelry on himself while the maids hurry about, tidying the room. The clothes he chooses for the day are a dark blue set, the coat richly embroidered to offset the simplicity of the rest of the outfit. When he’s done getting ready, he moves to the door. One of the maids escorts him out and the security shield melts into his skin as he leaves the room.

Breakfast is silent. Crow rubs at the corner of his eyes, feeling the pain return again. He ignores it and eats quickly. Today, he’s been allowed to go out and if he stays in to rest he won’t have the chance to leave the estate for another month. The maids clear the dishes when he’s done and the butler arrives.

“Good morning, young master. I trust you’ve had a good rest?” he says.

Crow watches him from the corners of his eyes like usual, but nods anyway. The old butler smiles, used to his silence.

“I see you have chosen the opal set today. Your taste is exquisite as always. The jewelry merchants are arriving in town this afternoon. Would the young master like to stay to see their newest designs?”

Crow’s mouth tightens. He shakes his head. The butler can pick out the jewels himself. If he stays to wait here until the merchants come there will be no chance to leave afterwards. He’s not allowed out at night. A shadow flickers at the edge of the butler’s body and Crow can almost taste his displeasure. He knows the butler will still let him leave even if he doesn’t like it. He controls the shields that hold Crow tethered to the house after all so it doesn’t really matter if Crow is indoors or not, he can still drag him back.

Sure enough, the old butler sighs. His wings stretch out the slightest bit in irritation as he leads Crow to the door and helps him slip on a cloak. Crow pulls it up over his head and nods farewell.

“Then, please have a safe trip young master. We will be waiting for you to return home.”

With the chime of the security shield now ringing inside his head, Crow leaves.

He doesn’t look back.

The road to town is made of colorful cobbled stone but it doesn’t shine so it can't hold Crow’s focus. He walks slowly, appreciating the warmth of the sun and the clear blue skies. His dark dreams seem so far away now. The air is fresh and flowers wave in the breeze. It’s quiet and peaceful, just how Crow likes it. Then the town comes into view, lively and bustling.

Crow walks as fast as he can without tripping the shields, which stopped ringing a while ago. The townspeople fall silent as he passes them. Whispers start up as soon as he’s out of earshot.

“What is he doing out?”

“Ah, it’s that time already? I thought he already came to town this month.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s buying anything today. Lucky.”

“He’s going to see Anise again, isn’t he? That girl - I don’t know what she’s thinking. Honestly.”

The whispers continue until he’s completely out of sight. Crow is sure they don’t know he can still hear them but every word is clear no matter how far or how fast he walks. It’s always the same but Crow doesn’t mind. He knows it could be worse. This much is still bearable.

Crow’s shoulders relax as Anise’s cottage comes into sight. Before he can knock, the door is thrown open and a musical laugh greets him.

“Crow,” says Anise. “You’re here!”

Her smile is as bright as her eyes. She welcomes him into the cottage and Crow ducks his head so it won’t hit the doorframe. He gives her a tentative smile back and listens to her chatter excitedly about nothing and everything as she grabs the teakettle and a tray of cookies. Anise’s home is a familiar and soothing sight. The living area is strewn with knitted blankets and soft cushions on comfortable armchairs, the ceiling home to a series of hanging plants with richly colored leaves. Some of them are now in bloom, filling the cottage with the delicate scent of flowers.

He notices the new books immediately, stacked together precariously on top of one of Anise’s overly full bookshelves, the one next to the squashy armchair with patchwork sewn into it.

“I’m so glad you could make it today,” she says. “I got the books you wanted for your library and guess what? There’s a second volume of the hero’s tales out already!”

Her voice lowers in a whisper. “And I hear the storytellers in the big city are working on the third one right now!”

Her eyes glitter with joy and Crow beams back, excited. She brings the food over to the reading table then rushes off to grab some cushions to pad her seat and Crow watches the sunlight envelop her, making her glow. Anise reminds him of a small, woodland creature scampering about her den, with her spring-green eyes and her always fluffy light brown hair, skirts swirling. He carries the armload of new books from the shelf and brings them to the table. Anise lights up.

“Here try the tea,” she says, already reaching for one of the new books. “It’s apple-cinnamon. I got lucky when I was checking the merchants this week.”

Crow takes a sip of the tea and revels in the taste. It’s spicy-sweet and warms him to the core. The two of them sit peacefully, reading the new selections and sharing passages that catch their eye, the way they usually do. Crow is still tired from the lack of sleep and that’s his excuse when his eyes catch on his half-finished tea and can’t move at all. The tea shines, oddly red.

Everything disappears.

It’s like its all fallen out from beneath him, the reading table, the books, Anise and her calming presence. Its all gone. Crow’s heart begins to thunder. He blinks hard to clear his sight and it doesn’t work. His vision flickers madly. He’s in the sky looking down and the estate is surrounded with choking dark clouds. He's in an open field watching the evening sun bouncing off polished armor and shields. He's in the room and blood drips in the darkness.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

“-ow! -row! Crow!”

Crow flinches back and finds Anise right in front of his face, hands hovering over him, eyes wide with concern. How long had she been calling?

“Are you okay?” she asks him, voice trembling. “What happened? You space out all the time but ever like this! Crow? Can you hear me?”

Her voice sounds like it’s coming through water. Crow can’t answer, desperate to get enough air to fill his aching lungs. His eyes hurt worse than before, almost like they’re burning. He nods anyway. Anise frowns, not believing him completely but she steps back to give him space. The worry doesn’t leave her eyes but with nothing else to do she pushes what’s left of his tea towards him and Crow gulps it down even its cold.

“I’ll make you another cup,” she says before catching sight of the sunset.

“Oh no,” Anise says, her voice sinking.

Crow follows her line of sight and his stomach drops. He stands up so fast the chair crashes to the floor. He tries to put on his cloak as quickly as he can and Anise moves with just as much speed, gathering the books and dropping them into his arms. The security shield begins a long, shrill warning noise and he forces himself to slow down. If he goes any faster than this the magic will snap into place and force him still. He’ll be stuck in place until the butler comes to free him. Or worse.

The magic will drag him back to the estate.

He forcibly calms his breathing and makes his way out.

Anise bids him farewell in front of the door. His friend puts on a brave smile and says, “It’ll be fine. You’ll make it.”

Crow doesn’t tell her the security shield has already begun to activate, searing into his skin, splitting his mind. She only knows that he’s not allowed to be out late. She thinks its because they’ll worry if he’s gone. She's not completely wrong. He gives her a brave smile back, nods farewell then walks away. The books are a reassuring weight in his arms.

Today was worthwhile, he tells himself. Despite everything. The blood seeps through his clothes. He ignores it.

“Ah,” says the butler thoughtfully, as he makes it to the front door unbowed. “Welcome home, young master.”

He taps his shoulder with gloved hands to release the magic from the shields.

“It’s gotten late. Would the young master like to rest early this evening?”

Crow’s head is buzzing and pain still cracks over his skin. He turns around and walks to the library.

The butler does not say anything else and he does not follow.

Crow always keeps the key to his sanctuary close to him, hanging from the same necklace as a round red jewel. The library doors are massive, designed to look like a great tree, trunk and branches deep gold while the leaves and flowers are embedded gems. Candlelight flickers against them and throws rainbows of fractured light onto the ground. Tonight, he barely notices. Despite their weight the library doors close behind Crow as quietly as they open.

He breathes in harshly and waits for the pain to fade in relative safety.

He made it. He made it and it’s fine.

It's fine.

Because he knows, deep in his soul, it could always be worse.