Precious Things

  Stone walls. Gray, sturdy. Cozy, about half the height of the infirmary. Pews in front of her, two rooms on opposite ends in the back. Windows on the walls to the left and right of her, large and clear, let a blindingly blue sky pierce through the gray wash of the stone. In the very back center was a historically accurate, Ancient-sized statue of a cloaked Anasot who held a wooden scepter with a pointed end on the bottom and a large blue crystal on top in one hand and an urn in the other. A few steps in front of the monument was a lectern, and stairs leading up to the raised platform containing the Grace of the Dark were on both sides. Carpeting those and the rest of the floor, for as far as she could see, were flowers. Soft pink ones with layers and layers of ruffled petals enveloped in a gentle, golden aura.

  She walked down the aisle.

  Rows upon rows of pews marred with scratches, nicks, and chips filled the space between her and the front of the hall. Their color was a faded light brown, but as she approached the front, they turned into a deep, warm mahogany. The markings were haphazard and nonsensical, as if children who didn’t know better had made them. Nothing lay on the seats of the pews. Nary a soul in sight.

  She continued stepping through the flowers, taking extra care when raising her feet to ascend the stairs to Anasot, who looked far more grandiose up close. He was made of gray stone, save for his obsidian cloak and the crystal on his scepter and the urn, which appeared to be made of an opaque, deep blue gem. His face looked like any generic Ancient’s and held no distinct features.

  She turned around and walked up to the lectern. Compared to the pews, its dark wood was immaculate, and laid open on it was a black book about the size of a standard tome, if not slightly larger. There were words and ink on the pages, but they were undecipherable, like books always were during Spell Cleanses.

  Raising her head, she could see the entrance. It looked like any normal rounded wooden door, except it was covered in large gashes. From so far away, they didn’t seem too deep, and the door appeared sturdy despite the damage.

  The wall near the back was the same as the rest of the building—stone, gray, and uniform. There were no oddities. Nothing hung on the walls other than above the front door, which was adorned with the symbol of Anasot, the father of all lost children.

  Since nothing seemed out of place or hidden, she stepped down and walked back to the center. The light streaming in through the grandiose windows was still bright and blue—almost impossible to gaze at for a long period—but if she let her eyes adjust, she could make out a small brown building in the distance, and perhaps a few flowers.

  She turned to the front of the hall again. Anasot. Historically considered by the Ancients to be the father of the first Ancient who walked the land, and therefore the father of all children, lost or otherwise.

  What, then, would be behind the doors?

  With bated breath, she started walking to the first room on the left. The flowers tickled her feet, calming her as she approached its entrance. A step away.

  “Is that you, my boy?” said a voice before she could take the last step.

  She froze. That voice.

  “Come in, no need to be shy. I’m just reading a letter. You can watch me—I know you like to.”

  Cautiously, keeping in mind that whoever was on the other side of the door couldn’t actually see that she was herself, she stepped into the room.

  “Did you sleep in again?” chuckled an old man from behind a large desk. Dressed in a casual, lightweight robe, he looked different from all the other times that she had seen him; his long, white hair was down, tied loosely at the very end and bunched to the side. His eyes were bright—glittering—in the candlelight. There was no darkness she could see, no maliciousness behind his carefree words to the child she was supposed to be.

  When there was no reply, Em looked up from his work. A smile gripped the ends of his lips, and the glimmer in his eyes softened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tease. You should grab a bite to eat first, or else you’ll forget again.”

  Instead of listening to him, she could feel her feet move across the soft, flowerless floor until she arrived at the sorcerer’s desk. She was just barely tall enough to see the top of the desk, which was lit with a spell-candle bright enough to illuminate everything else—books she hadn’t seen before on auras, an old paper on transference and purity of weapons, and a half-penned letter to someone set to the side.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  A letter? she could hear a voice from close to her say, even though she was the only other person present.

  “This,” Em began, gathering two other pages from the desk, “is a letter from home.”

  Home? the voice asked as she felt her feet moving again, until she arrived beside Em.

  “Yes.” There was unmistakable melancholy in his voice as he pushed his chair back ever so slightly and showed him one of the items he had gathered. “Look, that’s your mother and father.”

  It was a beautifully intricate portrait about the size of a notebook page. The colors on it were not the most vibrant, but the details were there. They were Theo’s parents. She could see the rough, chocolate-brown hair that he had inherited from his father, and she could see his mother’s eyes in him. She could see him. About two or three years old, holding his parents’ hands as they sat on the top of wooden steps with a small patch of multicolored wildflowers and two small cabins in the background. She could see the faint dimples on his cheeks that she loved. The smile that was worth the world to her.

  Are you going to make me go home?

  Em met her eyes, a painful expression on his face as he forced a sad smile. He reached out and—much to her surprise—gently took her open hand. He put the portrait on it, and she instinctively closed her fingers onto a corner. She held it up to her face so she could see Theo better. Back when he was happy. Wholly, undeniably, happy.

  “Do you want to go home?”

  This is home.

  “I can take you there, back to your mother and father. They miss you. They told me they’re sorry, and that they were wrong to leave you. You don’t need to feel like you have to stay.”

  No, I want to stay. Here. With you.

  “It won’t be easy, you know. You’ll have to study lots, and—”

  I don’t care.

  “Why don’t you take some time to think about it? We can read their letter together, and then we can—”

  Her hand tightened over the family picture until the corner creased. Em turned around to collect the letter, about to show it to him when she watched herself swat it all away.

  You can just say you don’t want me around anymore.

  Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt the pain behind Theo’s voice. As she watched Em’s face twist, contort in anguish. Without even glancing at the mess, the old sorcerer got off his chair and knelt down to wrap his arms around her.

  “Of course I want you to stay. Of course I do,” he murmured softly, stroking her back like the child Theo was. He felt surprisingly warm. “As long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here for you.”

  Promise?

  “I promise. Always and forever, to the Earth Mother and back.”

  Promise? Theo’s voice cracked when he asked the question again. The tears fell. Promise you won’t leave me too?

  “Never.”

  He gave her a tight squeeze and a few pats on the back before he let go and walked over to collect the scattered documents. “Here, how about you get washed up and ask Nie for a snack if you don’t want to eat? I’ll be here when you get back, and then we can do whatever you’d like.”

  She nodded in Theo’s place and slowly made her way to the entrance before turning back once again.

  Em?

  “Hm?” he asked, looking back at her. Eyes brighter than the light from the main hall windows. A smile more forlorn than happy.

  I love you, Em.

  I love you too, Theodore.

  Upon hearing the reply, she stepped back into the orphanage, where she had to sit down among the petals for a few seconds to compose herself.

  No, Em was not the curse. There was no chance.

  Breathing in deeply, not sure if she was as prepared as she initially thought, she waded through the flowers until she arrived at the entrance to the last room.

  If it wasn’t here, then it would be her. She would have to find Callie for a Spell Cleanse. She couldn’t ask Theo to do it for her. She couldn’t do that to him.

  As she stepped into the last room, she instantly regretted it.

  It was his dorm room. Just the bedroom half of it. No books, no desk. Nothing on the shelves, unlike in his actual room. Just a bed against a wall. Two pillows scrunched up beside each other because the bed wasn’t made to be slept in by more than one person. Two blankets layered on top of each other because it was cold that winter.

  The sleeping figure of her. Under the blankets, her long hair was messy and sprawled across her pillow. Eyes closed, breathing deeply. Cheeks pink, face serene. The faintest traces of a smile, as if dreaming of a fond memory.

  There was a place for him beside her, where the blanket had been lifted. There was the imprint of his curved, sleeping figure that faced her when they slept. The perfect place to slip into after a long day. When it was cold. When it was lonely.

  It was a deep ache, what she felt looking at herself. A curse, yet not a curse. Sleeping in the deafening silence that winter. The winter they had been happy. This was what he had remembered all this time. A place where he had been happy. Where they had been happy. If only they could have stayed here, if only this had been the moment they’d return to every Circle. By his side, that winter. Forever and ever, until the world disappeared, and there was nothing left but each other, until the Earth Mother destroyed her children on her own. In that room, that winter. The winter they had been happy. The winter they had been happy, the winter they had been—

  The spell broke.

  Happy.

  “Hm? Did you find anything?”

  “You remembered. That winter. The winter we spent together.”

  “How could I forget it?”

  “But you’ll have to one day. When I’m gone.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  “We’re just kids. You’ll grow up. You’ll forget. What’s these two years together when you have the rest of your life ahead of you?”

  “Because you’re more than just these two years to me.”

  “You…you should forget. One day. You should forget about me. Move on. You can’t live the rest of your life…hanging onto this room. Watching over me, lying beside me. Winter has to end…one day.”

  “I won’t leave you. I won’t forget.”

  Silence.

  “…Promise?”

  “I promise. I’ll love you always and forever, to the Earth Mother and back.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Even if the seasons change, and winter never comes. I’ll still remember that we were happy.”

  “That’s—that’s s-silly.”

  “Oh, c’mere.”