I wanted to return home, but Ophelia had promised to walk me back after she had finished cleaning and picked up the matching sleepwear.
That gave me some time to study about Nyla, and prepare my blessing for tomorrow. I knew the town expected me to deliver one with the opening, but even then, I felt a bit odd. Of all the roles given to me, [Chirurgeon] was the only one I hadn’t actually earned.
[Harvester] at least made sense to me. I ‘earned’ it for being a killer. [Cryotheurge] was just a [Wizard] that learned ice magic; it should have been called Cryomancer like a [Pyromancer], but the Winter Court called their magic 'Divine'. But I still chose ice magic!
It wasn’t ‘screamed in my skull’.
The remaining roles I had were things I naturally did. Farming, Foraging, Building, and Studying.
But the town only seemed to like me for being a [Chirurgeon], and not for my farming. I bit my lip, thoughts being dragged away from the reading at hand. Every time I read a few words about her domain or how a prayer or blessing was meant to be performed, idle thoughts broke into my conscious.
The town was basically using me and celebrating something I didn’t really see myself as.
But they were buying my carrots. I guess it worked out?
I could sell vegetables and fruits as my primary source, and then after training a few of them as nurses and doctors, just focus on my farm work.
Levan, hopefully, wouldn’t mind that decision.
I shook my head and slapped my cheeks, forcing myself back to the letters and words in front of me. The words floated off the page, dancing with medical diagrams and expectations and demands I didn’t ask for.
Mary wasn’t in sight, and Mr. Marlow was talking to some of the other villagers. was the only place I felt comfortable and safe, and while Aywin had invited me to the Adventurer’s Guild, I already expressed my disinterest in going there.
Another thing to add to my never-ending list of tasks.
I let out a deep sigh and dropped the textbook atop the table, before leaning over and caressing my scalp.
“You seem stressed, Ashley,” a very… posh voice said. My ears twitched at the sound, since it was incredibly… weird.
Oakheart had a normal accent; people dropping hard consonants into what the Academy referred to as a country drawl. Madeleine, a Maritivian, rolled her words and had this ridiculous accent.
Adrian and I, when we talked academics, just said our words properly.
This accent was something else.
It seemed to enunciate everything, and it reminded me of one Academy professor who said things like ‘wa-tuh’ instead of ‘wa-ter’, and “spid-uh” instead of “spi-der”. It sounded weird to me at first, but the more I heard him speak, the more… ‘Capital” it sounded.
It was a proper Capital Accent.
“No. Not from the Capital,” the voice said. “That’s what you’re thinking, right?”
I shot my head up and narrowed my eyes. The man – the boy? – had dirty, messy blonde hair and intense blue eyes. And they looked so old, and so tired – compared to the rest of his youthful appearance. His face was angular and smooth, and his thin lips curved into a playful smile.
He looked familiar, and I couldn’t stop staring at his eyes. I was lost in an ocean of blue, and my heart thumped slowly. My fingers clenched, and when I felt the heat in my cheeks, I quickly turned away.
I had thought Aywin was pretty, but that was Ethereal and unnatural. Maximilian looked like an angel, and Noel looked like a savage-man any noble lady would love to woo.
He looked like Adrian to me, if Adrian was taller, blonde, had blue eyes, and I wanted to slap his face as well, then lean in and touch him.
“Do I know you?” I finally asked, returning to look at his face.
“Not this time,” he instantly said, right after the sounds left my mouth. I squirmed in the booth, something about this felt
No. It felt I had met him before. I furrowed my brows, trying to think it through.
“Stop it, Ashley,” he said, and raised his hand to beckon over a waiter. Mary cautiously approached, looking at my boothmate. Her steps were slow, and her eyes were downcast.
“I apologize, Your Grace, a humble taver–” Mary began, but the boy across from me shook his head.
“Not to worry, Mary…” he said, and then looked over at her. “ Ms. Marlow, sorry. I still don’t like the formality thing. I’m in a rush and have exactly…” he pulled out a pocketwatch. “12 minutes and 47 seconds. I’d like your strongest whiskey. Ashley, do you want something, or want me to order for you? My treat.”
“You’re a duke?!” I hissed. He looked nothing like Lord Birchigold, and was far too young. But Noel was also a Lord Birchigold… How many brothers did that man have?
The boy scrunched up his face in mock outrage, and exaggerated a shake of his head. “She’d love your peach schnapps, and with how late it is, Marzipan with Black Pudding.” Mary again bowed, and turned around trembling.
He turned back to me. “Charming woman. Has she married Mark yet?” he smiled. That familiarity with how he spoke both irked me, yet was comforting.
I didn’t have friends from the Academy, but that’s what it felt like. I had to give it a try. “Are you from Kuronos?”
“Never been there this time, but you’ve probably met uh…” he casually said, letting the pause linger. “Charlotte?”
“Who?” I asked, pushing myself back. I closed my eyes to think. Of all the girls that attended, I knew very few.
Wait. Memories came in of a girl – a woman – in my class that the others didn’t approach. She was from Arkova - The Motherland.
“Princess Volkova?!”
He smiled, showing his smooth and perfect teeth! Wait, did he already know about brushing? I sniffed the air, and he smelled like mint and rosewater, not sweat. He bathed!
It all clicked together. I opened my mouth, but he again spoke before the words left.
“I am not ‘Your Highness’ and Charlotte would kill you if you called her that too. I mean, if she didn't try to kill you for pretending to be a [Cryotheurge], Ashley.”
Arkova. The home of the Winter Court. I paled, my heart beat racing, and I immediately looked to the door. If I froze him right now, I could get to and have Oph–
His soft hand touched my hand and squeezed it. I… didn’t pull away. This felt familiar to me. “Ashley. Listen to my voice. Five things you see. Four things you feel. Three things you hear. Two things you smell. And when the Marzipan gets here, which will be in 18 seconds, taste it. Just close your eyes.”
His voice was soothing, but I swear I had heard this advice before. Yet, my heart was pounding in my chest.
His blue eyes. The black peacoat made of wool so dark that it swallowed the tavern’s light. A butterfly lapel attached to the collar, flaring out. The wood grains. His hands caressing mine. Footsteps. The smell of peaches.
“Here you two g–” Mary began, before pausing. “Lady Hart! I didn’t realize you were enga–”
I didn’t have a chance to freak out again before he talked. “She’s suffering from a Panic Attack, Ms. Marlow. Dr. Anise, our mentor, taught us some grounding techniques."
I againweird how much he knew, but… it kind of felt like he always knew. Like I told him.
Just not yet.
He smiled at my recognition. His grip atop my palm gently tightened, more to guide me over. He let my hand open up, and placed his finger atop it. “I apologize, Ms. Marlow, but I must insist you leave for the next 13 minutes and 45 seconds. When you return, please bring a rag. We are not engaged, or courting.” He raised his hand, revealing a platinum band. “I am fond of Ashley, though.”
Mary didn’t need to be told twice. She turned heel and began to vanish to the kitchen. Before the motion was finished, he was already animated. His finger made a circle against my palm.
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“Rheavis’akinla-ozfa-kmka’ratkl’zil.”
What has happened, will happen. What can happen, has already happened.
His pronunciation was pitch perfect. “That’s not gravespeech, you know. True Names never are, Ashley. It’s why it makes peoples’ ears bleed. Try not to talk in Enochian if you can help it,” the tone he adopted was dry and academic, and he quickly finished.
“What do you want?” I finally asked, but I couldn’t bring in fury or fear.
It genuinely felt like I was talking to Ophelia. Or Jasmine.
Or a version of Adrian I got along with.
He shook his head. “You’re going to get your cover blown in the Academy, but it doesn’t end well for either of the women I care about – and you are one of them, Ash. 11 minutes left, let’s see if I can do this in five before I have to go.”
“So you know..?”
“That you’re a [Necromancer] working for a death cult, about the Lyric Bay massacre, about your odd relationship with Ophelia, how you haven’t asked Adrian out yet or murdered Melissa – good job on the restraint this time around – and that Dr. Anise is a [Lich] now? Anything else?”
Casual indifference. He was telling me about myself like if he had seen it before. And it was slowly clicking in.
“Are you a [Chrono – ”
He immediately cut me off. “No. I don’t have a ‘class’ like you and Charlotte do. I’m happy being an [NPC].”
I scowled. I used [Inspect].
“10 minutes. Focus,” he said urgently. “Madeleine did protect you in the immediate term by making you part of Volkova’s court, but you are going to be tested. You will succeed, and Volkova will induct you into the court. It will fail when you try to bring Levan back. Yes, that’s his end goal, and you will oblige since we both know you owe him a lot. You will kill Volkova, and then Adrian will investigate and execute you. Are you following?”
I… slowly nodded. I gripped his hand, and he returned the squeeze. He motioned for me to take a bite of the marzipan, which I did.
It was so sweet! It melted into my mouth, and the sugar mixed so well with the almond meal. I chewed so slowly, losing myself in the sensation. I had only finished swallowing when he just began to talk again!
“I’m only going to intervene this once. There are no perfect outcomes, just better ones. I trust you, Ashley, so I’m not even going to lock this. I want you to give this to Charlotte when you meet her. Just call her Charlotte.”
He handed me a black journal with a strap atop it. I… felt like I trusted him. I knew what was in the book, even if I didn’t. It wasn’t mine to read.
With that, he got up, and I didn’t release his hand. My arm knocked over his whiskey, and he quickly guided my arm upwards.
“Five minutes before I have to go, 3 before Mary runs over here. This isn't a perfect art, but close enough. Do you have any questions?”
“Who are y-”
“No.”
That should have been obvious. “Why are you doing this?”
“I owe Adrian a lot. And I want to see my wife live longer than… 6 months? And you as well.”
There was one question that was lingering in my head. A face that I was sure I haven't met before, with clothing and fashion that was a 'walking disaster'. “How is Erika?”
Another damned smile. “I haven’t seen her yet. Hopefully you two meet up soon.”
He placed several platinum coins on the table, as if it meant nothing. “Pleasure seeing you again, Ashley. As your Mother says – 'There are no goodbyes, just I’ll see you soon.'”
He stepped out as soon as Mary ran over. I shook the sensation off and looked at the black book, and hid it in my inventory.
I was still utterly confused by the time Ophelia had arrived – 3 minutes after he had left. She had changed to her black gown and heels, and sported my emerald necklace as her only form of jewelry. I immediately got up, taking my notes for the blessing tomorrow, and approached.
“I have returned, Lady Hart. I also acquired the clothing I requested.”
Her face was calm, and surprisingly clean. She smelled of and her dress was set properly. My eyes were drawn to the emerald on her neck, but my head was filled with thoughts.
“Hey, Ophelia?”
Her eyes shifted to catch mine, but she remained silent.
I took that as permission to continue. “Is [Chronomancer] a class?”
“...Lady Hart, do you have any ability or desire to control time…?” Her voice was terse and sharp, and oddly hostile.
“...No? What’s wrong?” I softly responded, looking down. Ophelia was deadpan and serious, but I had never heard her words ever inch towards malice, at least to me. I shivered softly, I wouldn’t be able to replace Ophelia if this was the wrong thing to say. I was great at ruining friendships.
Her warm hand rested atop my shoulder, and caressed it. Her hand slid underneath my chin to lift it up, and forced me to look at her face. I tried to glance away, but she kept the grip, and I could see the guilt in her eyes. “I apologize, La… Ashley. I did not mean to come off as that hostile. [Chronomancer] and Chronomancy in general are…”
I raised my hand to grip her wrist, and she offered no resistance when I tugged her hand away. I didn’t release the grip, and just slid my hand atop hers.
She squeezed back, before pulling away. We were still in public.
“...Chronomancy is… forbidden. Let me escort you back to the farm, and I will explain it there. Over tea and a meal, perhaps?”
“I actually was just given food. Marzipan and Black Pudding.”
“...Odd. I genuinely enjoy Black Pudding. Did yo–”
I twitched, and grabbed her wrist before she finished. I quickly dragged her away to the farm.
“I think I might have met a [Chronomancer], Ophelia.”
“You did not,” she said, opening the door to my home for me and letting me step inside first. She closed the door behind us, and guided me to the kitchen to make tea and a small dinner.
“Yes? He bought me marzipan and black pudding. Even seemed to know yo–”
“You did not, Lady Hart. A [Chronomancer] is killed on sight,” she interrupted. “My [Blood Anathema] would have alerted me to such profanity. A guard would have seen the [Bounty]. Your… Lord Skye… would have been compelled to destroy it.”
“How is a Class killed on sight?” I asked. “He seemed like he was walking around fine. Besides, the black pudding? And he seemed to know Adrian.”
The kettle boiled and Ophelia approached me. She placed a porcelain cup in front, and some chamomile leaves into the cup before pouring.
“Time Magic is taboo among all the deities, kingdoms, and societies – mortal, monster, night-thing. Time is permitted to flow one way only. Anyone, and I mean anyone, who breaks this receives a [Bane]. That [Bane] would trigger even for you. The last person who had received anything similar was my Ancestor, who had received the [Mark of Amaril] for committing the first murder.”
That I knew about. He had killed his brother, and was cursed by the God of Order. However, Rhyvesta took him in.
“No God would take in a [Chronomancer]?”
“None. Chronomancy breaks causality. Your taboo is linear and fairly mundane, but still heretical. Theirs can make an entire civilization cease to exist. In your mortal societies, Amaril would immediately hand down another [Mark of Amaril]. One that even Rhyvesta would not grant safe harbor.”
I opened my hand, and the soft flesh of my palm felt the sensation of the circle he had made. “...
Ophelia observed me as she took a sip of tea. An inkling of an idea was forming in my brain.
Why were there two names? Why was there Rhyvesta AND Rhea’vast?
My brain burned at that thought. Nails carved in, and pressure kept building. Something was going to break.
“I see,” I finally muttered. “It was eerie though. He…”
I stopped talking. I didn’t feel like I was breaking a taboo or invoking a [Bane]. Torment, it didn't even feel like I was breaking an oath.
It felt simpler, but no less profound. It was like I was breaking a promise to a close friend. Delving into a story that wasn’t actually mine. I loved a good mystery, but something deep inside of me wished to stop pursuing it.
So I did.
I had more pressing issues to worry about than whatever this mess was. “...At least paid for the black pudding. Can I see the night gowns?”
She smiled, and her posture relaxed. The confusion and fury in the air dissipated, and she stood up, pulling out two packages from her inventory.
Ophelia placed the packages on the table. They weren't wrapped in silk or dark paper. They were just… fluff.
"I was informed by the merchant that these are the pinnacle of 'Loungewear'," Ophelia stated. "They are designed to maximize thermal retention and… morale."
She handed me the cream-colored one. I shook it out. It was essentially a giant, fuzzy sack with sleeves.
"Ophelia," I said, staring at the hood. "These ears go down to my waist."
"The 'Floppy Bun' aesthetic is apparently highly sought after in the Capital," she replied, unfurling her own garment.
Hers was dark grey. She pulled it over her head, her hair disappearing into the neckline. When she popped her head through, she adjusted the hood.
It didn't make her look like a predator. It made her look like a grumpy ball of lint. Two round, mouse-like ears stuck up from her head, and little triangular wings dangled uselessly under her arms.
"You look…" I bit my lip to stop the giggle. "You look incredibly dangerous, Ophelia."
"Comfort is a weapon, Lady Hart," she deadpanned. She tugged the hood down. The top of the hood had big, cartoonish eyes embroidered on it.
I pulled mine on. It was like being hugged by a cloud. I spun around, and the giant pom-pom tail on my butt wiggled.
"Acceptable," Ophelia nodded, observing my tail. "The merchant suggested the 'Angry Bear' for me, but I felt the 'Sky Puppy' was more thematic. Do you find the ears cumbersome?"
"I feel ridiculous," I admitted, flicking one of the long rabbit ears out of my face. "But I'm never taking this off."
"Agreed. Now, tea. And do not drag your ears in the butter."
We slowly sipped our tea before heading upstairs. Mirchie saw me in the outfit and immediately screeched. I leaned down to lift her up, and place her against my own chest, her fluffy body being absorbed by the wool.
She easily calmed down.
Ophelia waited for me to enter the bed first, before tucking me (and Mirchie!) in. She came from the opposite end. This was the first time I had someone share my bed with me, since sleeping over at Adrian’s didn’t count.
I turned towards her, my face a breath away from hers. Her black eyes softly watched mine.
“Ophelia, do you actually sleep?” I blurted out. “I mean, you’re a vampire, right?”
She raised her fingers atop mine and hushed me instead. She moved a bit closer and her soft lips pushed against mine.
Again, it was that weird sensation. I craved the connection, the emotion, and the . But my body still squirmed, trying to back away.
Like everything else I ever did. Fear, discomfort, and confusion.
I pushed back into her. I could tell I was doing it wrong, but her posture softly guided mine. A kiss turned into another, before I couldn’t stop the squirming, weird sensation in my body. I turned my cheek, which made her kiss that instead.
That was acceptable to me, and I leaned into her warm shoulders.
I closed my eyes, warm, safe, and content.
It was a shame I wasn’t staying.
RatingFavorite300,000 words