Prelude Ahh, how sad and terrible does this word sound: "Farewells." I don't know why, I just love this word. It is sooo beautiful. I'm definitely gonna put it in my list of favourite words, along with the magnificent "Apocalypse," "Sapphire," "Enchantment" etc…Well, never mind. YOU review, or e-mail me. Please do it! And after all, it is an S.O.S. You probably know that any person ignoring an S.O.S. could go to jail for Non Assistance To Person In Danger. Aha, you see how evilly clever I am? Now, read and Review. DO IT!

Chapter the Fifth

Farewells

When she woke up, it was to find the chamber plunged in utter darkness, and a ray of moon stripped with the iron bars falling light and angelical, at the centre of the bed. Ember, sitting up, dragged herself to the enlightened point, and looked up, so as to bathe her face in the blue-white moonlight. Her hands suddenly met something fresh and soft, and she looked down, moving so as not to screen the light: which when freed, fell glorious to light the slender shape of a scarlet rose. Ember, numb with a crowd of feelings she could not understand, blindly raise her face to the light again, hoping she would see a bird, something natural, being the cause of this rose that tore her heart.

'Birds are so stupid. You should have learned that.'

Ember, disoriented, lowered her head again, and looked to her right, where on a pillow, sitting straight and elegant, black with the two dots of his gleaming goldengreen eyes, the cat was sitting.

'Who then?' she asked in a low, cracked voice.

'It doesn't really matter. I am tired. Searching for you all through the Manor has not bee an easy task. Sing me a lullaby.'

'No,' Ember replied, settling back against her pillows.

'Kiss me,' said the cat.

Ember bent down, and pressed her small red lips to the cat's pink, wet nose. At once, his paw shot up, four white claws flashing in the blue darkness, sharp as knives, and slashed across Ember's tender white cheek, opening four neat shiny red lines.

'Sing,' he reiterated.

Ember sang.

No beautiful poem or gentle song, but only a low, sorrowful tune, that rose melodious, young and fresh and sad as a night deserted by fair moon. The song coiled and twisted agonizingly in the small room, until the cat broke it with its cutting, ironical voice.

'Too sad. Change the tune, love.'

Ember's voice faded, the melody dying upon her lips.

'You're so sly,' said another voice, very clear and nasal at her right.

'I'm not,' said the cat, annoyed, 'You are.'

'Tell her about this room.'

'She already knows,' replied the cat.

'Only part of it.'

'She knows.'

'Not enough.'

'I'm still here you know,' said Ember mildly.

'Shut up,' said the crow and the cat, both at the same time, both to her and to each other.

'Go away if you don't want to talk to me,' Ember said.

'Don't be like that my love.'

The cat, sugary, hopped on Ember's lap, and sweetly viciously sinking his paws into her tender bosom, he started purring.

'You should get away,' said the crow presently.

'She can't,' said the cat, at the same as Ember said: 'I can't.'

'Shut up love,' said the cat

Ember pushed him away, but succeeded to it only after he had printed many remarkable traces of his sharp claws upon her hands.

'You're so mean,' said the crow.

'Be quiet. Love, won't you go on singing,' asked the cat, settling down cutely next to her thighs.

'No. What was that you should have told me about this room that I partly know but not enough?'

'None of your business,' said both the cat and the crow simultaneously.

Ember sighed, lied down, and closed her eyes.

'Go away, both of you.'

'Just take the rose,' said the crow, and when she sat up again, both were gone.

'Come back!' she called sorrowfully, 'Oh please! I didn't mean it! Come back!'

They didn't. Picking up the rose, she tried to ignore her feeling of misery. It was I that wanted this. I locked myself here. I refused what all wanted to give me. I am responsible. I mustn't suffer.

Ember, sorrowfully, pressed the rose against her breast, the thorns incrusting their sharp points against her white palm. Lying down again, drawing the soft black blankets over her shivering body and closing her eyes, Ember tried to forget. She wished she could be away, but knew she would never succeed. She wished she had a knife.

She fell asleep.

She woke up feeling a cold breath upon her face. Opening her eyes wide in alarm, she beheld a sight that froze her right through to the very core of her soul.

A tall, thin silhouette was floating, kneeling next to her, and observing her so closely she too could see each detail of its face, which was transparent white. It was a man, with a face so painful, so sad and beautiful, she started up. He raised a hand to touch her cheek, and when it did, she felt life a cold kiss of breezy iron printing itself on her skin, she backed up, her eyes wide with horror and shock, her mouth forming a scream but her voice already faded. A tear of blue crystal suddenly swelled from the ghost's eye, and fell upon her hand. She looked down: the skin was absorbing the blue tear, and it left a little star of glowing blue in the night. She looked up, and he was gone. The only thing left of him was the blue star on the back of her white hand.

Lying down again, Ember wept, her tears falling silently on the pillow, and sobs faint but heartbreaking. Oh, who was he, for such sadness? Who was he, to be so tormented even through death? Why was everything so sorrowful? Why did everything finished sadly? The blue star tear glowing still as shiningly, she fell asleep again, cradled by her tears and sorrow.

She woke up at the sound of birds singing in an annoyingly sweet way, and by the light, free breeze of after-storm caressing her face and brushing a small tress of raven hair to her cheek, tickling and waking her up. Surprised by the way in which the breeze blew, she opened her eyes and sat up, to find, at her utter amazement and disbelief, herself lying on her bed, the soft velvet patchwork quilt caressing her legs. Ember sat up straight, and was about to swing her legs off the bed when she felt, as she removed her hands from her chest to pull them on the bed, something slid down her bosom to the crook of her thighs and hips. Looking down, and picking it up, she discovered it was a small envelope. She opened it, feeling anxious, and from it fell two things: a piece of dazzling white paper on which one word was written in a long, spidery, quick writing: 'Farewell,' and a long, old silver chain, fine and glittering pure, with hung to it a heavy silver pendant: a moon crescent, smooth and pale, around which was curled a dragon, of darker silver, but with two tiny rubies incrusted in its finely chiselled, majestic face.

Ember, distraught without being able to tell why, hung the chain to her neck, and slipped it between the silky chemise and her skin. Then she stood up and went to the fire, which was slowly dying in the chimney. She kissed the letter, put it back in the envelope, and burnt it. She would regret it, she thought as she lost her eyes in the fire.

'Lady Ember! Up and fresh! Down to the dining room as quick as you shall!'

Gold had opened the door, flung in the words and then disappeared. Ember, without hesitation, ripped off her riding gown from the day before, pulled on a long, loose blue velvet dress, a large black ribbon around her waist, new, small brodekins, and changing the blue scarf in her hair with a simple silver and sapphire hairbrooch, went quickly downstairs, her feet quietly clicketing on the marble floor. She soon reached the dining room, which's door was open, and went in.

On the table, besides the hoards of empty plates and cups waiting for the guests, the usual fresh white breads, bowls of fruits, five or so flagons of juices and wines, the two plates of pale golden butter, the pot of steaming white milk, the ten jars of jams, the crystal plate full of chocolate, and the three recipients of sugar, coffee and cream. The pot of hot water was standing next to Ember's plate and empty cup, but before she could come sit down and fill it, Opal, whom Ember had first not notice, jumped away from her chair, and strode to her.

Ember, slightly surprised, looked up, and met Opal's beautiful eyes. And there, she saw something she had never seen: tears, glittering like the frailest pearls of dew. There were more wrinkles around her emerald eyes, and her hair, this morning loose around her face, seemed whiter, but of old age. In her beautiful hand, she clutched a piece of paper.

'Oh my child! Oh my child! Oh! how I won't bear to have you torn away! Oh Ember! Oh my beloved!'

And she hugged her to her heart, and sobbed on her shoulder. Ember, deeply shocked beyond reason, anguished, hugged her back, and took the letter, which Opal let go without resistance. Still caressing her tutor's snowy hair as she wept into her shoulder, Ember read:

'With respect and great gratitude,

Darling Lady Angel,

For now two years you have taken care of our daughter Lady Ember, and we are infinitely grateful for your services. We must however announce that we would bid Lady Ember to come back to Earthenstar, where her family is languishing for her. May we add that her mother looks intensely forward to the meeting, and we would wish for Lady Ember to come in the shortest delays.

In hope that our message will reach you diligently and in good times,

Wishes of good health and fortune,

Sincerely and eternally

Yours,

Lord Ewan Firestar de Earthenstar.'

'I shall not go!' cried savagely Ember.

'Oh yes you will,' said Opal, slowly pulling away.

She deposed both her hands on the young girl's shoulders, and gazed at her for a few moments in silence. Then she sighed.

'When you came, I saw into you a kind of gem, which had been tossed around and thrown away, and so much damaged that all the brilliance and charm had tarnished. So, with all the tools I could gather, I burnished and polished, until again, all the light and brightness and glitter of the gem came back. In fact, the jewel was more brilliant than any other jewel: more precious, nearly perfect.'

She paused:

'You came to me pale, sad, grudging, colourless. I applied a flush to your lips and cheeks, and I warmed your heart as much as I could. Of you, I made a treasure. And now, I shall loose you.'

Opal sighed, and said:

'Ember, I probably shall not see you a very long time after you will be gone, but I promise this: I shall write to you. And I would wish that…' she stopped, hesitating, 'that you would put all your efforts in appearing as the jewel I cherish, even if I know you would prefer to extinct your own light to be sent back here.'

'I don't want to!' Ember wildly cried.

She stepped away, and reproachfully:

'I hate them! I hate them all! I hate all that is not Tal-Narra or you! How can you ask me to be to them what I am to you?'

She ripped the letter, and tossed it on the smooth shiny floor.

'Never!'

She walked to Opal, and took her hand earnestly in both of hers:

'You understand me! I know you do! Keep me to your side!'

Opal, quietly:

'I cannot.'

'Then you do not love me.'

Coldly, Ember released Lady Opal's hand, and strode away from the dining room;

'I am packing. I intend to use one of your coaches, if you are quite willing.'

She walked out, leaving behind her a mortified, collapsed Opal, and then straight into the tall, imposing Erelnirion.

'Lady Ember! What the—'

'Ah, be silent!' Ember flung at him.

She tore past him, and up in her room. There, she stood a few moments, immobile, at a loss of what to do. She had forgotten all she was wearing was not hers.

'All that is here is yours,' said Gold matter-of-factly.

Out of the shadows, from nowhere as usual, she energetically walked.

'Opal told me that this room and all it contains belong to you. She told me you would be devastated at the news. Do not blame her.'

She went to the great wardrobe, and took form the bottom large effect-case, in which she started folding carefully clothes, corsets, underwear, jewellery and other dressing items. When she was finished the wardrobe was still full, and so were all the chests.

'Now you come here, my darling, and I'll dress you so as to stuff it to this acursed family of yours.'

She went over to one of the chests, and took out, unfolding it little by little, the splendid red and black dress for the ball. Ember let herself being lead to the bathroom, in the bath, and only wearing her chemise, Gold washed with huge splashes of pure water the black hair. She perfumed it, combed it, and twisted it high on her head, while she started scrubbing Ember's back, arms, neck. Then she rinsed it all, and went out, throwing at Ember to finish washing, and come out in a towel, which Ember did, in silence, with a heart growing heavier each minute. She tried not to care, not to feel; she knew she would suffer, but couldn't accept it: What! all this time of protection, all this privation, only to have her heart torn by those she hated most, those who had murdered half of her life? Oh! how bitter! How wicked, how sad, how ugly…

Ember, drying herself slowly and vaporously, as if in a dream that was to come to an end when she knew it and was dazed by it, went out of the bathroom, to be immediately seized by Gold, who energetically ordered to change shift, chemise, corset and stockings, which Ember did sadly: the chemise was black, and diaphanous, with long, tight sleeves and reaching down the half-thigh. The corset was very light, and tight, and plain black, with small ribbons in the front. The stockings were so gossamer, so fine, it felt like a second, perfect skin; stripped incongruously black and white, with a delicate strip of lace on top of each, and tied around the thigh with long, dangling lace ribbons.

When she was finished, Gold dressed her with the red and black ball dress: so quickly, so nimbly she had finished in a very few minutes: Ember dead-like between her vigorous hands as she turned her around, tying ribbons, adjusting skirts and laces, smoothing silk and velvet, arranging hems, cuffs and neck. When she was finished, she went to rummage in one of the other chests, and brought back a whole armful of accessories: black lace mittens, a hairbrush, a few combs, a trail of mingled ribbons of all colours and one of the beautiful jewellery box. She threw down all of it, and started combing the long black hair, until it streamed smoother than silk, softer than satin; perfect and gleaming, in the glorious fall of silky raven. She then artfully raised the hair up at the back of Ember's head, tress by tress, holding them as firmly as she could, until she could stuff in a round, heavy silver comb incrusted with garnets and sapphires. When she was finished, she added the jewellery: a river of garnets and rubies at the milky throat, silver charm bracelets of the finest artwork, and earrings that cascaded in a rain of crimson gems that glittered in the craggy chiselling of their savage beauty down to her shoulders.

When she was finished, Gold, immensely satisfied, stepped back, and then dragged Ember to a full-length mirror.

The effect, Ember had to admit to herself, was remarkable: the corset was perfect, and fitting to the perfection, the skirts, falling in layers ended by splendidly ragged edges was royal and wildly majestic, the black under-dress that showed at the top of the corset, veiling the bosom from top to bottom and baring only the beginning of a pure throat, was adorned with many graceful folds, and the hairstyle was simply magnificent: three quarters of the hair had been raised tress by tress, to form an entanglement of tendrils unequally falling back, so that the hair seemed ragged and superbly so. The comb ruled over the cascade, glittering old silver with the bloody blossoms of garnet and the blue buds of sapphire. Ember felt beautiful, for the first, she really felt beautiful, she felt worthy of admiration: and yet, her heart broke down at the vision of herself, when she thought about how she had been when she had arrived: pale, dark, plain, colourless, lustreless.

And now that she was to go back, she was nearly dying with the sadness of abandoning all she had ever love, and frightened of loosing all she had won.

Ember, suddenly, let go of: 'Pack a bag of books for me if you please and with Opal's authorisation, and bring this and the effect-case down stairs.'

She then ran out of the room, and crossed the whole of the East-Wing, dashing past door after door, and going on down the West-Wing where she finally stopped in mid-corridor. Opening a door, she looked in:

A tidy room normal, in tones of dark and white colours, clean, empty. No effect-case, no personal objects whatsoever scattered around: Ember whipped around, and ran downstairs, where she met Lady Astralee:

'Lady Ember! I have heard you are going! How soon—'

'Where is Drake?' Ember cried at her.

'Lord Drake?' repeated Astralee.

'Whatever!' Ember exclaimed.

'He is gone. He went yesterday evening.'

Ember, stared at Astralee, silent, unbelieving.

'He is—gone?'

'Yes. He went yesterday, not far in the night. He went alone.'

'Why?'

'He didn't say. He just came in, snapped Farewell I must withdraw, and stormed away.'

'Was he angry?'

'More likely angrily sad, I daresay.'

'Oh.'

Ember walked to the Dinning room, silent, broken. She went in, and sat next to Opal, who was speaking to her guests. The room as already half full, and all the people looked joyous and ready for yet another delightful day in Tal's magic.

'Could I borrow one of your coaches?'

'Yes you can. But wait for me before you go. I shall meet you in half an hour down the thirteen steps.'

'Very well,' Ember said tonelessly, and standing up, she departed.

Slowly, deadlike, she went back up, and in her room, calling: 'Crow? Cat?'

None answered.

How bitter. I am going, and shall not see all those I love.

'Gold!'

'Don't cry,' came the soothing murmur.

Ember, bursting in sobs and tears, collapsed against Gold's shoulder, weeping uncontrollably her eyes out, weeping her whole sorrow, the whole grief of her heart. She cried and cried, and Gold rocked her to and fro and her arms, caressing in long sweeping stroke her silky tendrils, hugging her like a mother.

'Cry, then, my love, cry.'

When she finally stopped, Ember raised her tear stained face towards Gold, who said:

'Child. Realise and understand that all you love, and all that loves you, be it at the other side of the world, beyond death itself, will always be next to you. For the heart in a kind of box, and once you find the key, you can open it as much as you will, and fill it with your love. My love you will always possess.'

She stopped, and stepped back rummaging in a pocket in the folds of her skirt, from which she took out a mirror of silver, carved with the picture of a rose at the back, and shining its glimmery surface in the other. She gave it to Ember.

'A magic mirror. Someone I loved once gave it to me so that we could see each other from far. Then he died, and I retrieved the second one. Ember, if you want to talk to me, at any time, if you feel sad or unhappy, and if you want to catch a glimpse of Tal, look in it say whatever you wish to see, or say. If you want to speak to me, tell my Soul name, and we will be able to communicate.'

'I don't know your soul name,' said Ember, her voice hoarse from crying.

'Yes you do,' Gold replied.

Ember slipped the small mirror between the corset and her under-dress, and then hugged Gold against.

'Farewell, young Ember.'

And then, Gold added:

'Will you give me a present I long for?'

'What sort of present, dearest Gold?' said Ember sadly.

'I will only beg one thing: that you may shine with all the talents that I always admired in you, and dazzle this unworthy, rotten, cursed family of yours.'

'So asked Opal,' Ember murmured, 'I don't want to do it! But I will, for I love you, Gold, and all that you ask me, you shall have.'

The two of them hugged one last time.

'I'll miss you.'

'So will I. But we have the mirrors.'

'Ember.'

'Gold.'

'Don't forget me.'

'I shan't.'

'Farewell.

'Never.'

They parted, Ember dizzy with bitter sadness and unbearable grief. She went back down, but at the last minute, turned around, and went back up, running through corridors and staircases until she reached the piano room. There, she went to the tapestry, and kissed each figure, and then turned to the piano itself. It was standing peaceful, quiet and glossy in the semi-darkness, and on is shiny lid, two things lay: a red rose, spiky with sharp thorns, and a white envelope.

Ember went to pick the rose, and slipped it against her heart, closing her eyes as she felt the thorns sink in her skin. Then she took the letter, and opened it, reading from an old, torn piece of parchment the words in unequal, spiky writing:

'You came, and brought me serenity.

For the love of all those I lost,

And through death

I love you,

Farewell.'

Ember caught a shuddering breath, and took out the last thing from the envelope. It was very small dagger, fine, and of such a pale silver it seemed white. Around the blade, carved nearly too thin to be seen, a coiling rose, its petals opening to separate he pommel from the blade, both thin and fine beyond imagination.

Ember, sighing, smiling through the tears that had started falling against, slipped the dagger at the top of her right stocking, so that the blade, cold like a finger of death, could catch the warmth of her white flesh. Then she folded the letter, and slipped it next to the mirror in her corset.

And then she went back downstairs, after having played a small tune of farewell to the room and the two reaching lovers. She went downstairs, and walked slowly down the beautiful corridor, wishing she could have left it when in its savage look, like when she had first arrived. Each pace she took towards the door, and the carriage, seemed heavier, and more difficult. When she reached the door, her face was pale, ghastly so, and her eyes, huge, dark grey in her thin face, were wells of sorrow in which she seemed to be drowning herself.

Breathing slowly, shuddering, with the feeling of slowly tearing herself apart, she walked past the beloved threshold. Like a condemned queen, she walked down the thirteen steps, and her face grew paler. Opal was waiting for her.

Silently, she stretched out her arms, herself pale, with her long white hair falling freely down her sad face, and Ember went to snuggled up to her slim body, starting to cry, her heart breaking slowly, and the sobs racking her body in silence, even though se felt like screaming to the death, screaming her voice out, screaming her grief to the world until she was hoarse with it, or dead. And her soul, inside her body, screamed, and her mind screamed, and her heart, tired of screaming, was already silent, broken.

'Ember, my child. My love. Ember,' whispered Opal, rocking the sobbing body tenderly, as Gold had done, 'Ah how sad. How wicked how bitter.'

Ember cried even harder.

'Ember, I love you. You are the daughter I never shall have, and never had. You lit up my life, without knowing it. You made of me someone real. I discovered an orphan, I took it to my breast, and now they tear it away.'

Ember stopped crying, slowly, and suddenly, taking Opal's face between her hands, she kissed both the smooth cheeks.

'Opal. They are not my parents. Opal, they are not my family. Opal, you are my mother. Opal, I love you, and I belong to you, and only to you. Opal, I shall go back, as they wish, and I shall wipe their cruelty off their face with my own disdain and hate. Opal, one day, I shall seek you out and find you.'

She stopped.

'Opal,' she said finally, 'I shall never forget you. You, and Tal, Gold, the Cat and the Crow, you shall all be my only reason to go on.'

Ember finally stepped away. Opal, wiping a crystal tear out of her emerald eye, reached down in a fold of her skirts, as Gold had done earlier, and took out a chain long and made of elaborate silver runes, hung with a small, perfect opal, the shape of an egg cut in two in the side of length. On the smooth side, a face was carved, so fine, so chiselled, it looked nearly alive.

'You,' said Ember in a whisper.

'Yes. Me. Carved by—someone I loved. As much as you.'

'Opal, I have nothing to give you. I am ashamed.'

'You gave me your heart, and all I could ever wish to have from a daughter. Ember. One thing. Please—I need to know that you will…will remain the princess you are, so that they may see…that you may…prove them wrong in there disdain towards you.'

Ember, savage:

'I shall!'

And she hugged Opal one last time, sweet-savage, and delicately kissed her cheek.

'Opal. Farewell. I love you.'

'So do I. And forever. Farewell.'

Requiem Sans commentaire. Sorry for writing in French, though, anyway. I just ask you to review. I have nothing else much to say, except that you have the obligation to review. Because if you don't…I'll I'll, like…Send an army of bloodthirsty harpies and horrible monsters etc etc, well you see what I mean: review!