The Beginning of the End

Many hours had passed since everyone entered the garden: a passing time revealing how each person travelled here, there and everywhere across the flora dream. Strangely, Rayman had remained dormant in these hours, unnaturally so, seeming to have shut his very own soul away into the darkest chambers of his mind while he watered the plants. If only he knew how his behaviour caused Razoff and Vincent to give concerned looks to him whenever he turned away. Vincent had kindly assisted to help Rayman with his task halfway through its completion…but never told his companion how it had been Razoff who had gently nudged him over. The Hunter himself had carefully collected different plants and herbs he deemed useful, although no one else knew what exactly he needed them for. Furthermore, a certain cat that would normally follow his every move had oddly disappeared without a trace. Finally, there remained Rosyetta, who had been tracing the flowery beds with her graceful steps, seemingly caught in an entranced waltz. A bouquet of white lilies not unlike the ones in her chambers had been picked by her angelic hands, and now she would occasionally bend down to pick yet another lily to join their ranks of purity. Everything just felt peaceful…too peaceful.

The fair maiden's glances upon her innocent flowers were ones filled by torment. They remained ever tortured, even as a breeze gently caressed her blonde plait and the false sun shone its rays down in an attempt to comfort her. In the moonlight Rosyetta had looked stunning, but in the sunlight she looked divine. The crystal lily clip attached to the end of her plait sparkled in gorgeous brilliance where she stood. Overall, she depicted an image of pure beauty, kindness and innocence…tainted by the tinge of gloominess in her eyes.

"Rayman, come here," Rosyetta softly commanded, no harshness or danger present that the Guardian could distinguish. "I have something to give to you."

Rayman turned to her with distant eyes seeming not to belong to him, uncertain feet taking careful steps towards the woman he had grown strangely fond of. His eyes appeared almost lost and the Countess could only imagine what had caused her Knight to become so withdrawn without warning. However, that was not her main concern about him. What concerned her most remained how he approached her. The approach could have been described as timid if none in the room knew the boy any better.

Ever, ever so softly, Rosyetta's tender fingers grabbed Rayman's hand: slowly lifted it to place something unknown into his clutches. However, before he could question her, his cheeks flushed from a light blush when the woman lifted that same hand ever higher to lay the lightest of kisses upon its top. The smile she simultaneously gave him looked absolutely genuine.

A stone table in the middle of the garden held many utensils of china cups, pots and saucers used for tea ingredients, Razoff sat there while he watched both his cousin and Rayman from afar. Vincent kept utterly silent beside him whilst obediently preparing a tea mixture from the tealeaves collected earlier, his hands moving with practised ease. A china teapot carefully poured a brew into Razoff's teacup; the Hunter paid no mind to it despite how the auburn tea's sweet scent beckoned him to drink. Something plagued his mind…and his next cup of tea obviously was not it.

As Rayman pulled his hand back to see Rosyetta's gift, he could not help but raise an eyebrow. All he heard was the muffled sound of thunder rumbling outside as he blinked down at a pure, white flower.

Razoff's eyes narrowed down at the tea he now stared deeply into. He just could not put his heart into drinking it, how could he? The hefty sigh that left his pursed lips—lips tight from unbridled tension—caused Vincent to swallow uneasily beside him. All he could do, or more appropriately all that he could allow himself to do, was to merely stare at what transpired between a certain Rayman and Rosyetta.

"A lily? But I thought ya were making a bouquet, why give me one?" The Guardian's voice came out quiet, even though he had not intended it to.

"I…I just thought you needed to know," She replied mysteriously, sadly. "…My Knight."

Razoff finally decided to take a sip of his tea, but only to restrain the suffering cry that his soul let loose.

"She will not be blunt or brash; she will do small things with subtle meanings…"

The tea could only soothe the tension in his muscles and not heal the tension in his mind, but the Hunter knew it all too well. Nothing could soothe the expression that he deliberately turned impassive to hide his true emotions from all but himself. Beside him, Vincent merely appeared confused from the woman's odd words, not understanding.

"...You just have to look for them."

I fear that you are harbouring far more than you let on, Rose. For you to show such an obvious sign of distress…it pains me.

XXXX

When the time for sleep arrived, Rayman and Vincent descended the stone steps towards their makeshift home, towards their cellar, in a companionable silence that Rayman did not wish to break. Vincent's quiet company was enough to satisfy him, affectionately knowing how the other found speaking to be quite stressful.

Cold stone seemed ever the colder in the darkness, for without the chandelier there remained no light left to trickle down the dreaded staircase; no light to guide them down, down, down the cracked steps. A fire torch bolted to the wall beside the cellar door was all the light they were offered. Its embers flickered in a draft none could feel, none could hear, but could sense.

The time had come for the lights of the living to be dimmed by sleep...but Rayman sighed aloud. Why did he not want it?

Something unspoken seemed to keep him awake—as if something big was going to happen.

"R-Rayman?" Vincent stammered. Rayman cocked an eyebrow in answer and gave a soft smile when Vincent hastily switched his eyes to the door from where they once stared at him. The shy one's next words, however, drained the smile from his face. "I…I thought you locked the door."

Rayman blinked incredulously, before then darting his gaze to said door. Seriousness brought a frown to his normally confident face when he found himself staring at that door…at that door open a mere crack.

"I did, Vin," Rayman muttered in suspicion, to which Vincent whimpered nervously.

Rayman's eyes narrowed in confusion: when had he started calling his companion 'Vin?'

Vincent glanced up to the key hook that had become all too familiar. He immediately released a gasp, noticing how it forced Rayman to draw nearer to him with a growl—as if wishing to protect him from something. Then, and only then, did realization sink frozen fangs into his racing heart.

"Rayman, look! T-The key—it is gone!"

A dawning sensation of fear tingled upon Rayman's skin as he, too, saw how the iron hook remained devoid of the key that should be there. Coldness swept through his veins at the sight and he groaned when sickening uneasiness hooked its talons. His glare at that hook spoke of anger rather than relief: why did this sight unnerve him so? Surely the key to their imprisonment being missing was a good thing? He shut his eyes and swiftly ran a hand through his hair when the only answer bestowed to him was Vincent's frightened face.

Hushed words left Rayman's lips as echoing whispers, "Maybe it's an intruder. We better tread carefully."

The courage swelling within the Guardian turned his eyes to luminous steel in the shadows, steel that glinted for the attack yet also glinted to defend his friend if necessary. His hand upon the door-handle tightened its grip from the suspense as he ever, ever so gradually, began to twist it. A quiet squeak of rusted metal resounded, far too loud to both of their ears—clutching at their wary hearts.

Before he thrust the door open, Rayman hesitated. Would Vincent be alright? He quickly turned to give Vincent his best expression of reassurance, obviously hoping it would encourage the shy one closer. Although Vincent appeared nervous, Rayman knew that, deep down, the other trusted him with everything he had, and it seemed enough to make him smile as Vincent did come nearer to him.

Vincent's small nod of confirmation was all it took. The Guardian narrowed his eyes—threw the door open. He burst into the cellar.

"Who's there?!" He yelled: a harsh growl resounding off stone. The fighting pose he adopted on instinct stood firm. Nothing seemed different around him. "Show yourself!"

Bow, who had been soundly asleep on Vincent's pillow, raised her head in alarm. When she met Rayman's stern glare she obliviously grinned and a small laugh of joy escaped her, automatically flying passed him to reach Vincent instead. The timid male could not help but let out a sound of shock when a happily squeaking Ugly landed on top of his head.

"Came back! Came back!" Bow laughed. She played lightly with the coal-black hair of her owner, felt the tension in him relax a bit.

But it did not relax the Guardian.

Uncertainty caused Rayman to chew the inside of his cheek. Something did not feel right. What he felt right now remained no mere coincidence, since the dusty air that shrouded him seemed oddly disturbed. It was that feeling you get of being watched, but from somewhere unknown. That feeling brings prickles of nervousness to the very tips of your hair, an unreal ghost tracing unreal fingertips across every strand. You know those eyes are there: watching, waiting, and stripping your very spirit of sanity with its stares. You know this feeling…you have felt it before. In the very depths of the night as you walk alone and are consumed by darkness, and yet it protects nothing…for you feel more vulnerable than ever before. You are nothing more than a dream, a dream trapped within a sphere of glass ready to shatter at any moment. And Rayman, with all of his experience, shuddered. He understood this sensation all too well.

Rayman's eyes fuelled by a fighter's fire switched to his friend beside him. "…We are not alone."

XXXX

The Library remained gripped in dreadful silence, all except for the occasional crackle of the embers in the hearth or for the sound of a page being turned in a book as someone read further. One would expect such sounds to be comfortable…but they were not.

Razoff released an exhausted sigh where he sat, now back in his usual red coat, beside the fire, although it seemed he still remained unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. His too preoccupied mind, his too tense thoughts, were too alarmed to allow him pleasures such as rest, for they were what kept his eyes strongly open. His position in the red sofa by the fire allowed the flames to illuminate his face, to illuminate his tired eyes.

He very nearly closed the book with a thud and growled irritably. That image. That image of a certain slave and a certain cousin replayed itself over and over in his mind's eye, forcing his focus away from the narrative of the book in his tapered fingers. However, he refused to give in, proudly not allowing that single image to command him to its will. And so he read on in very little comfort while he gingerly took a sip of his tea.

You know you want to…the book you need is right there on the shelf. That book will tell you everything, His mind taunted mercilessly in unison with the shadows curled in distant corners.

I can't, for a part of me fears the answer I will find, The Hunter mentally argued within himself, eyes narrowed at the fire in both scorn and slipping restraint. The inner shields of his mind were swiftly crumbling—falling right before his eyes. I am certain that Rose will tell me what is wrong in good time…

But by then it may already be too late. Would you truly risk that?

A loud grown of annoyance escaped Razoff as he sank lower into his seat and slammed the book, face down, upon the chair-arm. A familiar hat hanging on the very same spot of the chair-arm swung ever so slightly—threatened to fall and drift to the rug.

Razoff grumbled to the ceiling, watching the dance the fire displayed across its surface, "Polokus, perhaps I should listen to myself more often."

As if resigned to an undeniable fate, the Hunter allowed his body to stand. In the faint light his elegant poise appeared undeterred. He turned his reluctant head towards the many shelves lined against his Library's walls. Those pupils strengthened by both wisdom and natural skill began to search the titles for the one he desired to find. Book after book, red, black, brown or blue, passed his skimming eyes under the glow of the amber flames…

Until, finally, they came to rest upon a certain title. It caused a serpent to squeeze his stomach when he spotted it and approached ever closer. Delicate letters of gold reflected the firelight amidst the book's crimson spine, depicting a name: 'Flora Fantasies: A Tale of Symbolism.'

XXXX

Not far from Razoff's presence, yet unfelt by him, the bedchambers of a maiden overflowed with turmoil far beyond control. Rosyetta could not breathe, could not think, could not calm her pounding heart that felt close to exploding within her chest from the pure fear in her veins. Her glances towards the windows were consumed by utter terror as they tried to search for something unseen beyond the stormy Bog. When she felt certain that the lightning illuminated nothing more than a flash of metal in the undergrowth, she paled.

"They…they followed me," She whispered. Her pupils suddenly shrunk, the emotions lacing her heart like amethyst chains within her eyes. She took a shaky step back from the window, her hands quivering, her every muscle stiff enough to break. Trapped. She felt trapped—a bird in a cage!

Her voice hoarsely croaked, panicked, "No, no…help…"

Help me!

Oddly, a yawn took that moment to escape her, the eyes of the maiden shiny from tiredness when they suddenly glimpsed the comforts of her pillows. Come, the bed beckoned, as if a demon in the shadows. Come and sleep, your dreams are waiting. Her bed seemed to call to her with reassuring whispers, whispers of fake safety, of promised dreams, of an end to her suffering…but she instead glared at not believing them.

"Why does it feel that sleep will take me somewhere I fear to go?" She sighed, both scared and fatigued. She closed her eyes lightly. "Surely the Robots will not come in here. They would not dare, correct? I did my part, now they should leave me be. But then why are they still out there waiting?!"

Both frustration and panic became too great. All of sudden, a frightening tear sound filled the air as she tore off the amber brooch pinned to her blouse. A mighty cry left her when she threw it across the bedroom. Clink! Resounded the harsh sound of precious stone against a wall, heard over her panting breaths as her brooch then bounced to the tiles. Once, then twice, the brooch clinked with every hit against the floor…before eerily rolling to rest in front of the window panes. A dreadful crack now tore through the jewel akin to the shape the lightning flash beyond the mansion made.

As Rosyetta Alexandra then began to pace, something peculiar began to happen. The pure lilies picked mere hours ago began to wilt far too early in their vase on the vanity unit…slowly dying. A single petal stripped of its innocence drifted to the crimson marble of the floor tiles—tainted pink as if blood on pale skin.

XXXX

All of sudden, a little sound among the cellar's deepest darkness caught Rayman's attention. Tap…tap…tap…echoed approaching footsteps, ones too small to be a normal creature. He hastily whipped his gaze up in both anxiety and anger, fists ready to fight if demanded of him. Even as he scowled into the blackness that his eyes could not penetrate, he stood firm, waiting, golden hair pricked and eyes ablaze in warning.

"Psst!"

Rayman's eyes widened. That sound—he recognised that sound. It was a sound that had called to him many times before during his stays in the cellar and he realised that a key would surely follow suit...

However, nothing happened—no key appeared.

Confusion caused Rayman's eyebrows to furrow. Nothing further occurred, except for the continuous sound of approaching footsteps. Tap, tap, tap: louder and louder, closer and closer. Until, unexpectedly, utter silence too powerful for words swallowed the very air he breathed. Gently, he took Vincent's hand when feeling the poor male cower from terror behind him, the shy other having drawn nearer in order to hide on impulse.

"Show yourself," Rayman repeated to the darkness, his tone a sharpened sword—pointing out his warning.

Clank! Rayman's eyes flashed and Vincent let out a cry of fright. The key they had been expecting prior suddenly skidded across the stone cobbles towards them, skidded to a suspenseful halt mere inches from their feet. Yet, instead of relief, only tension gripped the two, for the door that would have been their escape under different circumstances was already unlocked. It should not be here—the 'Mysterious Being' should not be here.

Two demonic eyes faded into existence among the concealing shadows, causing the two slaves to involuntarily shiver. A fanged smirk crossed a little face, a twinkle shining in golden eyes, as it stepped forth to allow itself to be revealed.

Its male voice spoke both politely and refined: "It is time to finally reveal my true identity, Old Chap. I hope you do not find my sudden appearance rude. I must say, your nervousness around me is priceless."

Rayman paled as his powerful stance shattered. This had to be a mistake—this could not be! His eyesight had failed him, was failing him even now. He stared in disbelief at the creature before him, unsure of what to say. Alarmed thoughts raced too wildly in his head for rationality to keep up with them as he took a step back closer to Vincent, who appeared equally shocked beyond counsel.

How could this even be possible? No, it could not be possible, because it should not be possible.

A choked gasp escaped the Guardian's lips. "You…You're…"

xXEnd of ChapterXx

Cliff-hanger! XD Sorry guys, I had to do it. And I decided to leave a little authors note here, so please read since it is relevant to the story: Are any of you readers a part of DeviantArt? Any readers here who really like this story? Well, a loyal reader on DeviantArt actually made a group for this story! I am honoured by this, so please do join if you can, it would really mean a lot. Just go to my DeviantArt account under this same username, you can find the group there if you struggle to find it. ^^

I would not normally ask this, but please do review! It means more than you know, even just saying you liked a chapter or enjoyed a particular thing.