Stepping through the streets of the city that lied within the Misted Veil, Aelem felt her hollow-heart race. It was not the fire that forever-burned, nor was it the chill of the winter’s snowfall that settled on the stone paths around her. The feeling in the vermilion woman’s heart was more strangling- yet it didn’t feel harsh in the slightest. She couldn’t breathe, but her chest felt light and airy in the face of the lush blooming of the verdant city.
Slowly, she followed the footsteps of the waltzing Knights that led her across a bridge of wood and steel. Looking down over its railing, she saw close the glimmering of the bioluminscent lake below. Its lucent beauty reflecting on its shores of rounded grey rocks and sand of diamond vestment.
Its beauty had silenced her, so she walked quietly behind the three as they led her along. Omen turned to her as they stepped along the bridge with a smile, and parted his lips as if to speak.
“That cloak that you wore when I chased you down, do you still have it with you?” He asked of her.
Aelem shook her head simply in response.
“I lost it when I was running…” She spoke softly in return.
So, in one single motion, Omen slipped his cloak off of his shoulders, and placed it around Aelem’s short stature. Whether because of their difference in height, or their size, his cloak fit around her like a sheet blanket, and so she was able to drape it over her head.
“Keep your head down as we’re walking.” Omen spoke with a smile as he placed his hand atop her head. “As the Paragons of the city, we’re bound to attract attention, so it might be best that you stay as unseen as possible.”
“Why do I no longer feel pain…?” Aelem asked quietly, having noticed the sudden disappearance of the dull ache of her body.
“While you were sleeping yesterday, I placed a seal on you, right where the scales touch upon your neck.” Omen spoke softly. “It’s temporary… rather, extremely temporary. I think it’s better than killing you, though, at least from my perspective.”
“Is that why he no longer speaks…?” Aelem asked of the Knight.
“The Dragon speaks to you?” Omen pondered with widened eyes. “Well, that’s quite unusual… but I suppose that could be the case. You’re just a wonder of specialty, aren’t you, Ms. La’arte?”
Her eyes widened upon hearing the revelation escape his lips.
“Dragon…?” Aelem spoke in curious fashion.
‘Do you not know of what you are? Even despite your lack of memories, is your name all you can recall…?”
Aelem nodded in simple response. So, to soothe her curiosity, Omen told her tales that had been carved of whole truths to settle her anxious disposition.
“Your heart… its been engraved with runes. Their sole purpose is to keep the will of an ancient being within you- a Dragon. The voices you speak of… it’s likely imposing the entirety of its being upon you.” Omen spoke in a callous, grave tone of voice. “It wants to take over the entirety of you, so that it may have the opportunity to raze the world we take pride in.”
“Will I become such a monster? Is it inevitable?”
“Not inevitable, but highly unlikely.” Omen shook his head in response. “You have to learn its name, whether by trickery, discovery, or brute force. There was a tale of a scribe who was cursed the same, and used the weaving of words to entrap the will of the Dragon, thereby discovering its name, and vanquishing it.”
“Do you think I’ll be able to do the same?” Aelem asked of him, her expression unmoving in its expressionless demeanor.
“You look neither fit for wordplay, nor war.” Omen smiled. “So that only leave one option for you, who cannot manage any other.”
Omen did not tend to the conversation any longer, for as they had crossed the bridge, they appeared before a castle that had settled within the sky. Surrounded by misted clouds, the sun tried desperately to pierce through, if only to reflect its gentle golden nature. Made of pearl-white brick and metal embellishment, it was the place of residence for those who had committed themselves to the security of the city of Velan.
For the Knights, the Paragons of the Misted Veil, it was their place of peace and quiet- their monastery.
Stepping inside, Aelem’s nose was assaulted by various scents. In the corner, the sulphuric kindling of harshly-burnt charcoal rang out. Although, to counteract the spite of the hearth’s eeking flame, the scent of fried meat had been left to waft through the air of the quiet hall.
The massive corridors of the Paragon’s monastery were reverent, silent, and kind-hearted in their shimmering golden apparel. The ceiling hung high in the sky above, held firm with large wooden rafters that looked as if neither a giant nor a god could lift them up. Although, Aelem knew not a giant, nor a god, so her assumptions were based in her boundless imagination.
"To have a Leviathan in our home..." Howl muttered as he stepped into the hall, slipping his coat off of his shoulders. "What the hell are we doing...?"
Omen turned to the woman of powder-blue regard, ignoring Howl’s murmurs that seemed to slip away into the distance as he continued walking.
“Lace, can you please show Ms. La’arte to her room? We have to go meet with… him.” Omen spoke with furrowed eyes.
“What will you tell him?” Lace asked of him.
“Nothing regarding this event.” Omen continued with a grave tone of voice. “Nothing at all.”
His sharpened gaze seemed to turn towards Howl, who stood away from him with tense muscles. Under his watchful eye, a wild wolf had turned into nothing more than an obedient dog, so Howl said naught in response.
As the two walked further down the red-carpeted golden hall of the monastery, Aelem had been left in the care of a woman she hardly knew.
“Omen has told me a bit about you, so I hope you don’t mind too much.” Lace smiled softly. “To have no memory of your life, yet live it still, despite everyone berating your very existence… you’re stronger a woman than I, Ms. La’arte.”
“I don’t think so.” Aelem shook her head. “Thank you for your kind words, however.”
Lace’s expression took on one of shock for a moment, but she quickly cleared it away as she spoke once more.
“For your sake, I hope we don’t have to kill you.”
“For my sake…?” Aelem whispered under her breath.
They quickly came to a room at the end of one of the spiraling corridors of the Monastery. Its door was made of fine polished wood, kept tight together by thick iron studs. Its handle was ornate in its design, a dragon’s head decorating the sturdiness of its exterior. To Aelem, it was simple irony.
“This will be your room.” Lace spoke with a softened smile.
Not for a moment could Aelem even begin to determine what kind of person Lace was behind her mask. She was different from the doll who expressed emotion, or the man that wore the callousness of his heart on his face. Lace seemed to be a marionette of who she truly was- one who was content to sport a mask of falsities that resembled the kindness of a smile.
Rather, that was something her gaze chose to gleam past. To Aelem, people were people, before they were individuals. It was something that had long-twisted her heart, so she chose indifference, and continued her silence.
Aelem simply nodded, her expression blank in regard.
This seemed to intrigue Lace, but she too kept her silence, and with goodbyes, slipped away into the reverent halls of the monastery. Left to her peace, Aelem stepped further into the room that had been offered to her. Its walls were of stone, unlike the halls that she had emerged from. There was a simple wooden table in the corner, a bed of fresh linens lain over a palliase- a softened mattress of straw. The light of the lamplight upon the wall’s sconce had all but burnt away, leaving the faint sunlight of the ornate diamond window to illuminate the room in beguiling visual.
She had though that four walls, a ceiling, and a floor set soundly by an architect would have made her feel comfort. Yet, despite her feeling so, within the room, there was a sparse lack of warmth once more. Security within a home should have made her feel safe and sound. It should have been special to Aelem, to have been offered such a thing out of kindness. Yet, to her, who had never had one to call her own, it still felt lacking.
To Aelem, the ‘home’ she had stumbled upon felt as if something was missing.
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