The Banshee’s Scream

“Rowan, I want you to know that, whatever happens, you are my precious, precious son.”

    Knelt before me, father had his hands gripping my shoulders gently. Despite the reassuring warmth brought by their touch, I could sense his fingers slightly trembling.

    His smile was kind, as it always had been, but he had dark circles under his crimson eyes. Strands of hair of the same colour, unkempt, brushed his face.

“Mhm!” I nodded. “I know.”

    I hesitated, then reached out my hand to cover one of his.

“I don’t understand why they treat you like this. After all you’ve done for them! Why?! I don’t understand!” I exclaimed with a frown. “I’ll tell them it’s lies. I’ll tell them again and again! So! Don’t be worried. You’re not alone, father.”

    I was only ten. I couldn’t do much and it infuriated me, but, at least I could be there for him.

    The words made him widen his eyes ever so slightly before he leant forward to take me in his gentle embrace.

    We stayed silent for a while, hoping we could forget the world outside of our mansion. Or at least so did I, hoping he could forget it even for a fleeting moment.

“Ahh, how I miss your mother… I wish we had the time to be a family.” Father snuggled his head against mine. “I miss her.”

    Standing still, I tightened my hold on his arms slightly. Mother died long ago now. I didn’t get to know her since it happened right after she gave birth to me. All I knew was that father loved her tenderly, and it was enough.

“Please, father,” I thought, “don’t give up. Hold on, hold on a little longer. I promise to become strong enough to restore your honour.”

    But my pleas were in vain.

    A few days later, father hanged himself. I was too young. Too young to protect him from his kindness.

༻❦︎༺

    Standing in front of his grave in the same place I did back then, twelve years ago, I kneel to lay a bunch of flowers over the stone. Taking off one of my gloves, I brush off a few flecks of earth.

“I couldn’t restore your honour, but I made them pay the price.”

    For a while, I simply remain like that, observing the inscriptions on the grey stone.

    Lachlan Luphor.

“Evilness was what you lacked.” I straighten up, raising a resolute fist. “Watch me well. I’ll make sure that it leads me to happiness! For love’s sake!!”

    And on these thoughts, I turn my back to the grave, heading back to my mansion along with Keillweist.

༻❦︎༺

    The light of a candle dancing over the parchment paper, I flick through the pages of an old book. It took me some time to find where I stored it, but at least its content seems untouched.

    Page after page, flowers of all kinds are fixed to the paper, a few notes to their side mentioning their names, the places they were found at.

“This book… I haven’t seen it in a long time.” Keillweist stands in the entry of my room, holding a tray with a cup of steaming infusion.

“And you weren’t supposed to see it again, since its tragic fate should have been to remain coated in dust.”

    My butler takes a few steps inside, putting the cup on the bedside table.

“Then what compelled you to look for it?”

“Ambrillia.”

    The gestures of Keillweist still briefly, the cup hovering over the table before he finally lowers it.

“Is that so?”

“She wished to see it, and since she plans to pay me a visit tomorrow, I decided to search for my old herbarium.”

    As I flick through the pages, I finally reach a blank one. Reaching for a closed book on the few shelves inside my room, I retrieve a glowing flower I set aside. Proceeding to add it to my herbarium.

    Though I already have a flower of that kind among the past pages, this one is special. A memory of my stroll with Ambrillia through the forest.

“I believe that everything will be ready for her arrival?”

“Of course, my lord.” A pause. “Do you plan to set a manhunt to capture the Baron Gallghaid?”

“Gallghaid?” I utter, distracted. “Ohh, sure. The Viscountess Seighpragh accidentally lost her sanity after her last human shield duty, and her mercenaries have scattered since then. A manhunt…” I muse. “Ahh, that makes me nostalgic. Very well, I’ll organise that.”

    With a smirk, I set the herbarium aside and prepare to sleep.

    Once alone, my cup empty, I drift to sleep, head filled with evil shenanigans and images of Ambrillia’s smile.

    Would she like it if I told her some of my most vile memories? Maybe I can tell her about the way I made a fool of Gallghaid during the last Night of the Evil Moon? I’ll just need to omit a few embarrassing, unnecessary details…

    Mind numb.

    Thoughts silenced.

    A floor covered with flowers. As far as the eye can see.

    More fall from the sky, red roses I collect one by one into a gorgeous bouquet. Soon, I get more than I can hold and turn around to find Ambrillia standing in the middle of this place, her back to me.

    Approaching her, I rejoice at the thought of the smile she’ll show me for this modest gift. One celebrating her evil beauty.

“Armillia!”

    Despite my call, though, she doesn’t move.

“Armillia?”

    But instead of her voice, others whisper at a hastened pace.

“Don’t be good. Don’t be kind.” The voices echo one another. “Only death awaits the naive ones.”

    Horrified, I catch sight of the figure of my father on one side, Keillweist on the other.

    But I don’t even have time to reply before I feel the roses flow out of my hands. They turned into blood, now trickling down my arms.

    A piercing scream. Taking up all the space. Filling every tiny gap.

    Ambrillia turns around, her jaw wide open.

    Panting, I wake up with a jolt, sitting up in a mess of fabric folds.

    A drop of sweat rolls down my temple as I realise with dread that the scream didn’t cease.

    Guttural.

    A scream out from the depths of her bowels.

    My heart sinks in my chest, weighing more than iron, more than stone. Of course, I recognise it at once. This same deafening bawl, I heard it twelve years ago. A familiarity I wish I were oblivious to.

    Iagan.

    Gripping my blanket firmly, I jolt it aside. The moment my feet touch the floor, the door swings open.

“My lord!!”

    There stands Keillweist’s figure, panting, dressed in his striped nightshirt and night cap. Its pompom thrown over his face because of his hurry. He’s livid.

    As I meet his gaze, we remain still for a fleeting moment. Dread. What isn’t already dead is decaying. Dread.

    But I have to see her for myself.

    A beat.

    I rush forward; I run, crossing the mansion’s corridors. In no time, Keillweist is on my tracks.

    The scream doesn’t cease, doesn’t weaken. Old like time. Its notes those of a woman, yet at the same time bestial like a dragon. Painful. The closer I get, the more gut-wrenching it feels.

    It’s only when we finally reach the mansion’s double doors that a sigh breaks it into hideous wailing.

    I throw the doors open, and her figure is there. Standing beyond the entrance, savage sobs scratching the air like it could rip it. Bleed it.

    Eyes wide open, we can’t do anything else but stare at the Luphor’s banshee.

    That is when she catches sight of me. Somehow, her sighs begin swallowing her tears, yet the noises she makes become more pitiful.

    Slowly, she extends her gnarled arm to point at me.

“Last child of the Luphor,” Iagan utters in a wheeze, “last soul to which I’m bound, …death will soon come to claim your soul.”

    And with that, she doesn’t wait before turning her back to us.

“Wait!” Keillweist steps forward. “When. When is it supposed to arrive?”

    Iagan pauses, her sighs subsiding.

“Tell us at least that.” He adds.

    Glancing back at us, her emerald eyes linger on me before drifting to my butler.

“Before next night touches its end,” she laments, “your master will lie in his own blood.”

༻❦︎༺

    For how long have we been sitting in the living room? I have no idea. Nothing breaks the silence that has fallen since Iagan’s departure. Deaf. It could be hours, it could be minutes. Death.

    Now that the initial outburst has subsided, I can’t help but feel… nothing.

    Me? Bound to die in a day or so? The demons are growing bold…

“This can’t be true.” I mumble to myself.

    Yet I already didn’t believe it twelve years ago. For another reason, though. I simply needed to believe it. But tonight? It simply doesn’t make sense.

“My lord. You need to sleep.” My butler brings sound back to the room. “You need to be in full possession of your abilities for tomorrow. I’ll make you another infusion.”

    Peculiar. It almost sounds like he expects me to lead some grand battle against the reaper itself.

“Ohh, well.”

    A chuckle escapes me.

“You’re right, Keillweist. I’ll need that.”

    With a nod, my butler stands up from his armchair and leaves the room.

“If death wants me, it’s going to fight to have me. For a true villain complies with no rules, even fate’s.”

༻❦︎༺

    Over the steaming cup, a drop falls. Purple. A ripple spreads over the surface. All blend.

    More drops follow, trickle down a glass vial. All blend.

    No one will be able to tell that it is more than an infusion.

    No one.

    Not even the Duke Luphor, soon taking the cup from the hands of his butler. Sipping its contents.

“There is no other choice.”

    In the kitchen, left empty, only two words are scribbled over the vial’s label.

    Evil Potion.