The Red Soul

Chapter Seven

She ran without looking back. Tears continuously streamed down her face, but she did not bother to brush them away. Only more would appear until her face would be raw from the useless rubbing. So Myris let them run freely.

Yet, because of her blurry vision, she did not exactly know where she ran to. She did not care anyway. She just wanted some fresh air that, despite the open windows, did not seem to be present.

Could she be open to it? After everything she was told, witnessed… and done herself? All her thoughts were turned upside down and seemed to be in an endless vortex. A void that seemed to swallow her. She no longer knew what to think anymore.

Running through an open door, she went straight across a bridge. But it was not the main bridge that was supposed to lead her to her freedom. It was a smaller bridge that went to the second mountain on which another part of the castle stood.

It was a gazebo, surrounded with plants and flowers. The columns were buried under the ivy and roses, so you could hardly see the light stone they were made out off. Like the handrails of the grand staircase, the blue and purple-tinted glass of the dome was decorated with wavy lines that made shapes, but they were silver instead of gold.

Myris ran towards to round structure and dropped herself on one of the many stone benches, her head in the pillows that lay on it. Her hair fell lifelessly around her when the silver clip fell out the blond locks and landed on the floor with a tinkling sound. She sobbed until no more tears came, but she continued to rest her head on her arms, excluding the world.

“Choices can cause great fatigue. Especially if you don't know what to believe and what not. But you shouldn't avoid them.”

Myris was startled and backed away from where the voice came from. Because of the tears, she had not seen anyone else in the gazebo, but there sat a tanned middle-aged man on a bench opposite of her, staring at the lake. His wavy shoulder-length dark brown hair was already starting to grey. A beautiful walking stick lay at his feet, with a small green stone at the top.

He turned to her, allowing her to see his amethyst-coloured eyes. “Please dry your tears, Myris. You don't have to run away anymore.”

Slowly she rubbed her tears away, but she kept her eyes on the man in front of her. Her voice was shaking. “Who are you?”

“My name is Amaeron. I am the owner of this castle.”

Myris eyes opened wide in shock. This had to be the fourth Fae that Viera had been talking about, and it was not just anyone... it was the owner of the building in which Myris now wished she could stay. He probably determined whether she could or not. And the first thing he saw of her was a crying person, with clothes full of red stains of the spilled wine. She must have looked insane. But it did not seem to bother him, while he quietly studied her.

“Are you afraid?”

Myris blinked a couple of times. “Afraid?”

“Yes, are you afraid?” Amaeron folded his hands together and tilted his head. There was a compassionate expression on his face while he asked it.

Myris’ mind was blank, being completely surprised by the question. “Afraid of what?” She tried to brush the loose strands of hair out of her face to calm herself down a bit, but without success. Her body was still shaking too much due to the tension

“That can be several things, I assume. The fact that you are in Olèrian is a good possibility to begin with. I was told that you are not too happy about that. Are there any reasons for that?” His voice was polite and gracious. It matched well with its appearance. He looked like someone who exuded a lot of authority and was very important, but also very reliable and wise. In Myris eyes, he looked like someone who should know a lot about the country in which he lives.

“Do you also not know the stories, sir?” She probably sounded just as despondent as the man looked in front of her.

His shoulders sank a little while he looked down at the floor, at the walking stick that lay there. “Of course I know the stories, although I am only one of the few here that does.”

Myris stared at the man sheepishly. He knew the stories. Then why the question? “If you know the stories... then you should understand that I have my reasons to be scared.”

“Yes and no.” The man scratched his short stubble beard, and then put his hand on his left leg. Myris realized that although his other leg was relaxed, the left one looked very static. “I understand that stories can scare you, especially these... but why believe stories when you can see the truth. I think you have only looked at Olèrian through the eyes of the stories, my child. Are you also going to look at our country through your own eyes?”

Letting the words sank in, Myris realised that he was right. Had she ever looked around the place without the stories in the back of her mind, telling her what she should be seeing? From everything she had seen, it had seemed beautiful and peaceful. She had thought it was a trap, an illusion of some sorts, but only because the stories said so. She had never thought of other options. What if it was not a trap- not fake- but real?

The man stretched out his arm toward the nature around them, but remained seated.

Myris understood the gesture and stood up. Still trembling, she walked over to an opening in the gazebo to review her surroundings. She took a deep breath and looked around her. It all suddenly seemed much lighter, much more colourful, as if the area proved that there was no harm. It looked mesmerizing indeed. It had something serene about it, like a safe haven for those who needed it. For herself.

She turned to the man. Amaeron's own gaze had also wandered to the castle and the lake that surrounded it, his expression loving and nurturing. “It is better to see it with your own eyes, isn’t it? Better than the stories, if I say so myself.” He looked at her with a smile, but then he turned serious. “Yet, I am afraid that there are indeed places and creatures in Olèrian that are not so... pleasant.”

When he saw her cheeks paling, he looked at her apologetically. “But they don't only live in Olèrian. Absolutely not. There are other places in the world that contain certain horrible creatures. Forgotten places. Olèrian just has the... honour... to be remembered… for the most part that is, although the reasons are somewhat unpleasant.”

Myris sat down again. She could think of one of those places. Had been looked up there herself. But when she thought about it, she was only afraid of that prison, not of the entire kingdom that surrounded it.

“Olèrian is not as bad as has been told, is it?”

Amaeron raised his eyes to the sky. “That is entirely up to you. I think it is exactly like any other country, only in a different way. We may have some other... factors here than in the other kingdoms, but that gives no reason to disapprove us. There are good and bad things in the world everywhere. That ensures a balance. Personally, I think Olèrian has a certain balance. But you have to find out for yourself,” he said, shifting thoughtfully on the bench. “Are you afraid to find that out?”

Myris stared at her right hand, the fabric of her pants sticking out between her fingers as she grabbed hold of the garment. In recent years it had only been her and darkness. She could even have sworn that after a while the shadows began to move and danced for her in the dark room where she had been locked up all this time. She had seen and heard, experienced and caused so many bad things that she thought there was nothing good in the world left.

She had wanted to get up so many times and dance with the shadows, jump along and play the song of darkness. She had wanted to sink into the black nothingness with every step until she had become one with the shadows that were the only ones who kept her company. [RB1] 

She would have succeeded if the shadows had not stopped her. They had stopped her and later she had escaped. She escaped and fled, finding herself in a place that was supposed to be much darker. But here it was light. Much lighter than she could have ever dreamed. She just had not seen it, had been blind to it. She had escaped, but was still covered with the darkness. What if Olèrian was indeed different from what the stories said? What if all the stories told to her were incorrect? Did she want to discover that?

She was not sure. It would go against a big part of herself, formed by the complete opposite beliefs. The possibility to find out that everything you believed for years was false… it did sound far from appealing.

“And if you are not afraid of that, perhaps you are afraid of us?” Amaeron suggested with a laugh.

Myris looked up at the man, but he just smiled. The others were upset by what she had said, probably because they had not heard it before. But whether they knew the stories or not... Myris was fully aware that they were cruel. They were horrible for those who only heard them… but for those whom the stories were about, she could not imagine how painful the stories were. And the Fae in front of her ... he knew it, he knew them- and yet he laughed about it. He laughed, knowing what the people thought of him- how the world thought of him.

A small smile also appeared involuntarily on her face. “Honestly... In the beginning, when I met Fyrian, I was terrified. But that was because he told me that I was in Olèrian. And then that jerk took me against my will. Of course I was scared. But Cearen and Viera...”

They had helped her while she had behaved so horribly. She had hurt Fyrian, almost even killed Cearen. And yet they were so nice. All the things she had just said... she had hurt them and then ran away. “Yes, I was afraid of you. Afraid of you and Olèrian as a whole. And I am still scared. There are still many things I do not trust and am unsure about… But the thing I am most scared of right now is that, after what I've done, they won't forgive me.”

“Forgive you? You want Fyrian, Viera and Cearen to forgive you?” Amaeron eyed her with curiosity.

Myris nodded ashamed. She had many insecurities right now. Saw almost only bad consequences with every choice she made. The only thing she was certain about was that Fyrian, Viera and Cearen were not evil. Perhaps she knew it due to her magic that had appeared around Fyrian. She may despise it, but she knew that it was unadulterated. It had shown her that he was not dangerous but trustworthy. Whether she liked it or not, she had to believe it. The red light had never been wrong before. And if the magic had not appeared, it had been the small remaining bits of her mind and heart that were not yet messed up, denoting the same thing, that would have eventually convinced her.

“Myris, do you really mean that?” Another, higher voice spoke up behind Myris and the blonde woman spun around to see Viera looking at her with red rimmed eyes, Fyrian and Cearen beside her.

Not knowing what to say, Myris averted her gaze. There were many people she had treated badly, who deserved her forgiveness. But they deserved it the most. She had forgotten how nice it felt when someone held her in her arms while she was crying, the appreciating for when someone comforted her when she had a nightmare, or how to simply relax. She had forgotten what it was like to say what was on her mind...

No one had asked her for her opinion in a long time. Whatever she had thought these years did not matter to those horrible people. Her no would have become a yes if they preferred. It was as if she had no real voice. As if she was only able to make small sounds that could easily be mistaken for the howling wind. People could hear her, but what was the point of being heard if they were not listening?

But this time, she was the one that did not listen. Now she had not listened when they tried to convince her. She had not listened and had not seen how they tried to comfort her. It was as if she had forgotten to see the good things in life. But they had reminded her - had given her a chance to remember that.

“I mean it,” she whispered as her voice was shaking terribly, but she forced herself to continue. “I'm sorry for what I did and said. It is just... I almost forgot what it is like to be with other people. I have been alone for so long that I have almost forgotten how the world works. I understand if you don't want to forgive me after all this-” She could not say more before Viera pulled her into a hug.

Myris had never clung so strong to anyone before. Her fingers hurt from the pressure she used to hold onto the fabric of the other woman’s clothing. A shaky breath left her mouth together with some tears that had built up behind her eyes due to all the tension.

When she had calmed down, Myris noticed how stiff the other woman was and let her go in order to make the Fae not any more uncomfortable. She softly apologized, having forgotten that it was Viera who initiated the hug.

The white-haired woman took a step back to give them both some space, but smiled. “I am not one to make a lot of friends... but since you wanted to fight Fyrian, it would be a waste not to have you as one… if you want to that is."

Then she laughed and, amazingly, Myris did too. Even if it was a slight giggle, it was her first genuine smile in years. She felt anew. Blissful warmth welled up in her chest, awakening something that was gone for a long time.

Happily, she agreed, before turning to Amaeron.

Picking up the cane from the ground, the older Fae stood up as well. Myris saw him lean heavily on the decorated stick and his hand was still holding his leg, but he seemed to enjoy the scene as he glanced at the others.

“Thank you.”

The man raised his eyebrow. “For what? We just had a conversation, during which I asked a rather disturbing question for a first encounter. "

Myris laughed again. She had missed that feeling, the feeling of growing happiness. She did not want to lose it anymore. “That's right. But that did help me with my choice.”

“And that is a good choice, I suppose?” He raised an eyebrow, but she kept smiling.

“We will see.”

He nodded approvingly and she turned back to the others.

Viera clapped her hands with a blinding smile while Fyrian showed Myris a wide grin while he winked at her. And Cearen... a single tear rolled down his cheek as he looked at her with the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. In his hand lay her little crystal, which she did not even know she had lost.

Gratefully, she took the stone and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze so that it lit up, but it did not have any effect since the light of day that surrounded them was bright enough for the stone to be useless.

 [RB1]If it was just her, she had not escaped, believing that it was right to let the guards suppress her magic. It was the darkness that whispered to her one day, urging her to flee