The night speaks in many languages. When the sky is flushed with the golden residue of daylight, bathed in twilight as the sun sinks below the horizon, when faint lines of steam arise. And perhaps the gentle crackling of fireplaces, curtains closing, chatter filling the dinner table, the constant chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, and the hoots of owls; the voice of night slowly creeps into the humble village of Briarvale, marking the end of another day of hard work. Amidst the gentle, captivating murmur of the night, two naive laughs ring out like a gentle breeze on wind chimes, echoing throughout the town. Two silhouettes perched on a branch, two hearts joined by the threads of fate, beating in unison.
"Sylph...I got you some flowers, here!" Alessandre reach into his handbag, made of a combination of refined animal hide and luxurious fabric, pulling out two entwined roses, their stems interlaced in a motionless dance, waving blatantly under the night winds, their petals a velvety red, swaying up and down gently, as if trying to put all other flowers to shame with its beauty. Sylphiette gasps, silently admiring the two roses. This isn't the first time Alessandre has brought her flowers, yet this one seemed so special, enchanting, even. She reaches out with her hands, a light blush colouring her pale cheeks. She brought the pair of roses to her nose, sniffing the subtle fragrance as the last bit of sunlight escaped below the darkening horizon. "Thanks." Sylphiette leans onto Alessandre's shoulders, falling asleep right on the branch. Alessandre tensed; he didn't expect such a gesture from the normally reserved Sylphiette. Slowly, he relaxes, and before he knew it, his head was resting on Sylphiette's. The two surrendered to the gentle embrace of their dreams, their breaths weaving together in a sweet lullaby under the starlit sky.
Another night paces past, silently. As sunlight peaks past the distant horizon, the land wakes to the subtle melody of chirps and tweets, and the soft light of dawn filters through simple, wooden homes. The distant church bells echo through the valley, and the crowing of roosters in each house's yard adds another layer of monophony to the chorus of dawn. The rhythm of the day permeates every window of every home. "Clang! Clang! Clang! Thwack! Thwack! Snap!" The rhythmic, steady hammering of the blacksmith and the rugged sound of wood chopping stir the village awake from a night of peaceful slumber.
Alessandre roused from his dreams as sleep loosened its grip. The morning fog burns off the fields, readying for another day of hard work. He looks to his left, gently shaking the figure leaning on his shoulder awake. Sylphiette stirs, her eyelids fluttering reluctantly, as she meets the soft light spilled across the grassy plains just outside the town, painting the grass still wet from dawn dew a bright golden hue. The morning winds blew gently across the grassy plain, swaying the wild flowers as it strolled across the village. The market starts to stir for another busy day, the scent of the damp earth and the smell of fresh bread being baked envelop the village in a gentle embrace, a warm promise of home at the start of the day.
"Morning sleepy head~" Aless gently rocks Sylph awake from her half-asleep state, "Wanna go to the market again? I have a lot of pocket money from home, we could buy the whole street!" Aless exclaimed dramatically, wiggling his two legs dangling from the branch, excitement radiating from him uncontrollably, infecting even someone as calm and reserved as Sylph. Sylphiette rubs her eyes, still trying to get used to the bright, warm sunlight, and she stretches. "I do suppose it is a great day to hang out." Her voice danced across the air, and the two took flight.
The market was always a bustling place, you could find almost everything here. Ranging from common goods like meat and vegetables to exotic items like refined clocks, wind-up toys, odourless droppings of unknown monsters, and even materials for alchemy (the cheap ones, of course). Even throughout all these shops, the one that caught Aless's eyes the most is...well, the bookstore. Being born into a competent noble family directly under the King, Aless inherited his parents' innate thirst for knowledge. Not that he has ever seen them, the only information Aless has ever acquired was through stories his loyal maid, Elysande, the person who took care of him and remained by his side ever since the disappearance of both his parents. "Severin Fawn Vera, your dad, is the Great Duke of Southern Aetherune, who supposedly got sent off by the third king, his majesty - Morcis Paul of Aetherune, who was new on the throne at the time, on an excursion at sea, before Aless was born. Investigating and expanding the kingdom's territory over to the newly discovered island cluster, rumoured to contain massive amounts of rare metals and even Aetherium crystals, which were primarily used for the production and powering of alchemic machinery, or made into valuable aether-genic solutions. He never returned, no news whatsoever. It is rumoured that he was swallowed whole by the sea at an attempt to gain knowledge, a whispered legend he is..." Elysande would say with her soothing yet wise voice, with a gentle smile, the wrinkles on her face that read a lifetime of lessons.
"Sylph! Check out this book over here!" The pair strolls around the bookstore. The various clock-ware and tiny, wind-up powered robotic figures seems to smile welcomingly at the two regular guests, as they excitedly walk through the jungle of books, each light step raising a tiny cloud of wisdom's breath, the warm glow of noon captures every tiny grain of dust, painting them golden as they wander lazily around the store afloat. "You kids be careful there, my poor-ol store can't handle that trampling!" Mr. Blake, the storekeeper, complained under the cover of some old newspaper, half-napping. "Yep! We know!" Aless replied. Aless never lacked quantity in books; the library in his family estate has been filling up ever since he learnt how to read, but Aless only took a little less than 2 months to finish reading it all, and he always needed more books. Because of that, Aless was an old customer of Mr. Blake's store. Every few days, he would notice a cheery figure hopping excitedly into the bookstore. Buying everything in sight: Geography, History, Magic Theory, Physics, Mathematics, Aetherology, Cognetics, Steamodynamics, Magic History, Law, Herbal Theory, Monstruology, Alchemy...the list goes on.
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Thump! Thump! Thump! Soon enough, a small mountain of books starts to take form on the counter. "How much is all this?" Aless reached into his pouch, and the almost musical ringing of coins clattering against each other soon filled the room. Mr. Blake lifts the newspaper off his face, his eyes as lifeless as ever, completely unfazed by the tempting pile of coins slowly rising right next to the stack of books. "Free." He mumbled under his breath. Aless knew better than to argue with the stubborn old man. It wasn't the first time he's received books like this, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last. "Hard to find people like you these days, you drown yourself in books and not...women...unlike the other nobles...and I appreciate that." This was the exact words Mr. Blake said to Aless, it burned into his memory, because...well...it's the longest sentence this strange, yet oddly approachable old man has ever said to him.
As usual, the two stormed out of the bookstore with wide, excited smiles on their face, ready to indulge in their night-long battle against their newly acquired books. The sun stood proudly on its zenith, and the hourglass empties its final grain at noon, and the resonant, deep ring of the church bell echoes through the valley again. Sunlight sprinkled over the House of Vera, which stood like a fortress on top of the hill, scattered with wild flowers and plants, its five distinct, towering spires reaching up into the sky, like a hand trying to take even the sun into its grasp. From far away, the estate looked like a living tapestry of motion, tiny figures in crisp uniforms weaved through the gardens. Orders were being yelled out, and the occasional clatter of silverware added to the rhythm of the elegant dance of servants in a day of labour. And there she was, Elysande, standing there, age never seemed to take a toll on her posture. "Young master!" Elysande exclaimed angrily, rushing over and snatching the pile of books from Aless' arms, "You require a bath, young master! Prepare the bath! Prepare it with haste!" She boomed, even at such an old age, her projection of voice is utterly impressive. "And you, Sylphiette?" Her tone softened, clearly taken a liking to this polite, shy, mysterious girl without a coherent memory of her past, whom one of the butlers found unconscious by the manor gate. "Yes, please, that would be nice..."
Aless sank into the steaming tub of water, letting the water soak his tired muscles, listening to the faint drops of water into the sink, rhythmic and hypnotic. The light of the noon passed through the window, deliberate yet elegant. He exhales, relaxing completely under the embrace of the warm water. It is as if the water was absorbed into his skin, reviving every cell, making his body tingle with unspent energy. The water gently pulled his tired body below the surface. He closed his eyes, letting the water caress his face, washing away all the dirt and filth, his exhaustion swirled away along with it. As he emerged, the air felt crisp, the sun seemed brighter and the world seemed more colourful. Aless rubbed his eyes, wiping a few droplets of water off his long eye lashes. More seemed to appear, threatening to fall into his eyes. Aless wiped again...and again...and again, yet more gathered, the droplets felt cold, almost freezing, a stark, unnatural contrast to the warm steaming tub he was sitting in.
Something was absurdly wrong.
Aless carefully gathered a droplet from his eyelashes. It felt odd, it felt almost...electrical. Tiny glowing particles roamed inside the droplet. "Aetherium dust...but how?" Memories flashed across his eyes, for a moment, every book he has ever read, every conversation he has ever had, every bit of information he has ever obtained appeared right there in front of his eyes. Knowledge was his to search. "This...doesn't make sense...Aetherium can only exist stably in solid or gas, they are either sealed inside crystals or steam...but water...? The only, and last time someone tried this..." Aless shivered. The droplet did too. As if it understood the emotions, as if it understood Aless. Without warning, the droplet blitzed right into the right eye of Aless, followed by a volleys more from the eyelashes. All of a sudden, the world fell silent, the world fell still, and the world fell colourless. A wave of melancholy hits Aless. Emptiness, null, and thirst.
Click.
A soft lullaby rung, it danced across the void. Alessandre felt two cold hands cup his cheeks, whispering into his ears.
"Hush now, drift beneath the glass,Shadows swim where daylight cannot pass.Cold hands ripple, reaching slow,Secrets wait in undertow."
Aless shivered at the voice, not at the eeriness of it, but at the familiarity - It was his father's voice. A voice he has never heard before, but somehow knew well. A voice he wished he could cherish, a voice he thought he could love...turned out to be the voice that haunted him the most. From the depths of his dreams, to the edge of his memories - the voice that he knew without knowing.
Close your eyes, but do not sleep—What lies below you may not seek. Mirror water, silent face,Blink once more—then leave this place.See beyond the surface sheen,Whispers crawl where you have been.Something stirs beneath the tide—What you seek is what will hide."
Young master....Young master...Young master!
YOUNG MASTER! YOUNG MASTER! YOUNG MASTER!
YOUNG MASTER!!!
