Chronicles of the Ephemeral

In the sprawling city of Veilstead, memories held immense value, like a coveted form of currency, and were guarded as closely as whispered secrets. The aristocracy found solace in a hidden trade — they bought memories to give their ailing children a taste of life. Behind the grand doors of noble estates, these young souls were trapped in their rooms, cut off from the vibrant experiences that the world had to offer. Elara, a young woman in her early twenties, with green eyes and long bushy brown hair, strolled purposefully through the bustling city streets. Her rosy skin can barely be seen with the dirt covering her face. She was wearing a honey brown cape with a short, long-sleeved black dress underneath. She did not put the hood up, fearing that it would cause people to be suspicious of her. Her gaze scanned the crowd, mirroring the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts inside her mind. The market bustled with activity, children played on the street, and nearby, a lady engaged in a heated argument with her drunk husband. "Gotcha!" she whispered to herself as she spotted a perfect target to pay for her room and meal for the night. She slowly approached a man who was sitting outside of Jolly Bard, the city's famous tavern. The man was wearing a nice black coat and a hat. His beard was nicely trimmed. You can tell that he was from a wealthy family. In front of him was a pint of beer. He was busy reading the newspaper, so he did not pay attention to Elara. She pulled out a newspaper and leaned against a street lamp pole next to where the man was sitting. She carefully positioned herself where she could step on the man's shadow. She bowed down and her eyes started to shine but her bangs were just long enough to cover her eyes from being seen by the public. With a deep breath, she initiated her power. Suddenly, Elara found herself standing in the middle of a meadow. There was a beautiful mirror shimmering with captivating light in front of her. When she touched the mirror, the light became brighter as if it was consuming the place. The next thing, she was standing in the middle of a beautiful garden. She was no longer holding the newspaper. There, she saw the man sitting with a woman, probably his wife. "Quite a nice life you've got, mister," she said. She strolled around the garden and saw two kids playing around a big beautiful tree. Elara approached the kids. "Hi!" she greeted them warmly. The two kids instantly stop playing. They stared at her for a while and smiled. "Are you one of papa's friends?" one of them asked. "Yes," she nodded, "yes I am. Tell me, has your papa ever brought any woman friends home when your mama was out?" The two kids looked at each other. They looked at Elara and nodded. "Miss Collin comes every Tuesday," said one of the kids. "We don't like her," she added, shaking her head, "she always makes us stay in our room." "Yes. She won't even let us eat or use the bathroom," said the other kid. Such an asshole she thought, empathizing with the children's frustration. She reached into the back of the tree. The kids stopped paying attention to her and continued playing. She pulled out a small bamboo tube from her back pocket. She touched the tree, causing it to illuminate with a mesmerizing glow, reminiscent of fireflies dancing in the night. It was beautiful. She took one of the lights and carefully put it into the tube. She closed her eyes, and she was back to reality. The man is still reading his newspaper and his mug is still full. After all, time flows differently in the memory realm and the reality realm. Now, let's exchange you for some Starlites she thought. Starlite was the currency unit used in Veilsteid. Every 100 Starlites make 1 Glimmermark. Elara put her newspaper back in her brown shabby sling bag. Elara took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of her shabby sling bag on her shoulder as she made her way towards the elegant Hawthorne residence. The sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets, and a sense of anticipation filled the air. She had fulfilled her part of the deal, and now it was time to deliver the memories to Mrs. Evelyn Hawthorne. As Elara approached the grand entrance of the Hawthorne estate, she marvelled at the intricate carvings that adorned the door. She reached out and knocked, the sound echoing through the quiet corridor. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a woman who bore a striking resemblance to the woman Elara had seen in the memory realm. Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes widened as she recognized Elara. "You've returned," she said, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. "Do you have the memories I requested?" Elara nodded, a flicker of determination in her eyes, and retrieved the small bamboo tube from her bag. She held it tightly in her hand, pausing before offering it to Mrs. Hawthorne. "Before I hand over the memories, I require my payment," she stated firmly. Mrs. Hawthorne's gaze shifted from the tube to Elara's eyes, her expression a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Of course," she replied. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pouch filled with Starlites. “50 Starlites, as promised.” With a pained expression, she placed it in Elara's outstretched hand. Elara accepted the pouch, weighing it in her palm, ensuring that it was the agreed-upon amount. Satisfied, she motioned for Mrs. Hawthorne to sit. "Please, madam, take a seat. It's time to transfer the memories to you." Mrs. Hawthorne complied, her hands trembling slightly as she settled into a plush chair. Elara approached her, holding the bamboo tube with care. She removed the stopper and carefully placed the small light on Mrs. Hawthorne's forehead, allowing the memories to flow into her consciousness. As the transfer took place, Mrs. Hawthorne's expression shifted from anticipation to disappointment. "That's it?" Her voice quivered with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I must admit, I expected more from your services. Why did you not retrieve additional memories? Did I not offer you a fair payment?" Her grip tightened around the bamboo tube, her knuckles turning white. Elara met Mrs. Hawthorne's gaze. She knew the weight of disappointment that rested upon Mrs. Hawthorne's shoulders. "The memories I extracted come at a price. To delve deeper and retrieve more incriminating evidence, a greater payment should be involved.” Mrs. Hawthorne's face contorted with a mix of frustration and resignation. "I see," she murmured, her voice laced with disappointment. "I had hoped for a more complete picture, a clearer understanding of my husband's betrayal." Elara looked at Mrs. Hawthorne. "I understand your desire for closure, Mrs. Hawthorne. While the memories I've provided may not be everything you had hoped for, they can still offer insight and help you make informed decisions." Mrs. Hawthorne sighed, her gaze fixed on the floor. "You're right. I must make the most of what I have been given. Thank you for your efforts." As Elara prepared to leave, she cast a parting glance at Mrs. Hawthorne. You should be grateful with what you have Elara thought. She put up her hood and left.