And well, here is my other promised upload :) Since it's back-to-back, there's no specific thanks except to all those out there who're reading this right now :D Thanks a bunch and hope you like it :3


Chapter Fifteen

Who I Am


It was insane. I could hear my own heartbeat from the staggering silence that had come over us after my talk with Barma. In my hands, I held the small, red journal that he had given me still unopened.

"You gave me an answer. Why the book?"

"It goes in depth of who the children were. The memoirs of that man remained in that journal and tell of Astrovylia and of the White Sage. It will give you more insight and get you off my nerves for some time in the least."

Despite his sneering comment, I took it and went to seat away from the rest of them and was about half way from the stage. It had already been five minutes since he had given me this. The reason why I still hadn't opened it was because...I was sort of scared. No matter where I look or what I see, the name Claire always keeps popping up. And the more I continue to search for my past and the more I find, the more I feel this fear coursing through me.

I'm afraid of what I will find.

I'm afraid of what I won't.

But most of all, I'm afraid that this fear will keep me from searching further.

"Are you all right?"

Jerking a little in my sit, I gaze over my shoulder to see Gil who had separated briefly from Reim to come check on Oz and us. Going back to the book, I simply nod as the answer. "Actually—" I speak out of the blue what was on my mind before he could leave me. I don't why but I felt like if I said something I'd at least feel better. "I am worried...about Break. He hasn't woken up and it's worrying me a great deal."

He squeezed my shoulder assuring me before giving me a smile. "He's a tough one to kill." His wording made me snicker involuntarily. "Don't worry too much about him. He'll wake up once he's rested." Nodding once more and giving him enough assurance that I was really fine, he left to were Oz and the rest were to check on them.

Well, I didn't quite tell him the truth. I was worried about Break but what was getting more on my nerves was the book I held in my hands.

"Open it up and read it, Claire. Despite how scary it seems, once you start it'll pass by quickly."

"You're very nonchalant about this. You still need to explain how you knew all that about Astrovylia," I quietly whispered to him not really feeling like thinking anymore.

"Happenstance, really. I'm the Chain that controls time. Lacrimosa and I have this sort of connection with it because of the powers we control."

"If your time and she's space, does that mean that Astrovylia commands you both? Would someone contracted to her be able to control you even if you're contracted to me?"

"Yes and no, to both of those. She commands us but it is harder when we actually have a contractor. Much like the Cheshire Cat, our will wasn't to obtain a contractor and get out of the Abyss. It had actually been Astrovylia who had commanded us to do so. The day you and I contracted, I had been ordered to reach you at any costs."

At hearing this my nose cringe up in bafflement. "Why me? What was so special about me?"

"Don't know. Lacrimosa and I are much like the Baskervilles. When we're given an order, we don't question it."

"I've never pinned you as one who would keep his trap shut."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should."

That last phrase took me a little by surprise for it stopped me from asking any further. He was right, I guess. Had he questioned Astrovylia, a Chain that was deified, who knows what would have happened to him. As for why they chose me, I didn't care so long as that power remained to help me in this quest.

Taking Chronos' advice, I opened the book and found the first legible passage I could find.

Today, something peculiar happened. Or more like something peculiar happened upon us. He had called me over because of a couple of children. Two siblings, in fact. A boy and a girl.

Twins.


"Never expected for you ever to call so suddenly, Glen." Jack Vessalius walked along the halls of the Baskerville mansion. He was following after the wake of his friend and head of the household, Glen Baskerville. "And you needing my help—" Jack chuckled a bit nervously. "Though it's quite suspicious, I'm flattered really." They continued walking and turned a corner only for him to notice a familiar pink haired woman that was quickly walking towards one of the rooms while fidgeting with the contents in her arms.

"Ah! Lottie-san!" Jack exclaimed as they arrived to the same door she was having great troubles to open.

"G-Glen-sama!"

"Charlotte," Glen pronounced with his baritone voice. "Is she ready?"

"N-Not quite. Her injuries were just bandaged and I've been having troubles getting clothes." Finally gripping the door knob, she stuttered when she felt Glen's hand already turning it. "Ahhh! I'm so sorry!"

Not answering to her unnecessary apology, he opened the door for her and let her enter first while the two followed behind her. What they found was a small bundle under the covers of the bed. All that poked out from the depths of those blankets were dark, round, and shinning blue eyes.

"Oh dear!" Charlotte groaned under her breath. She placed what clothes and other things she was holding aside and went over to fish out the thing that was hiding under the covers. Jack's eyes widened at seeing a little girl in her petticoats that seemed no more than four of age covered in bandages across her forehead and other scratches. Charlotte picked her up and sat her back down on the bench at the foot of the bed. "Please, stay still." The girl only watched curious as Charlotte went over to hand-pick one of the small gowns she had found. It was simple and of hues of blue that matched well with her eyes. The toddler seeming too fidgety and nervous to stay still, crawled out of the bench and snuck up on Charlotte lifting her skirts to go beneath them. "H-Hey!"

Jack had to stifle the laugh that wanted to come out at the girl's actions. Soon enough, after much rummaging through her skirts and to her embarrassment, Charlotte found the little girl and sat her back on the bench this time with the gown in hand. Not talking much to her, she clothed her in the gown. Taking her in her arms, Charlotte sat down and sat the girl on her lap and began to brush the mess that was the girl's ebony locks. Meanwhile, the little kid was playing around with her dress, at times lifting her skirts to look under them only to be chided by Charlotte.

"Why...do you have a child here?" Jack asked watching intently while the girl watched everything with a curious eye but never making eye contact with any of them.

"She and her brother arrived by themselves not long ago. Charlotte found them."

Arrived by themselves...

"Emissaries?"

"But it still shocked me," Charlotte added with a sorrowful grimace on her face. "Both of them, the little boy in particular, the injuries that marred them weren't any accident. They were purposefully inflicted. What I can't fathom is who would dare lay a hand on them?"

"Can't they tell you?"

"Don't you think we've tried that already?" Charlotte asked already seeming stressed about the siblings. Hearing her raising her voice caught the little girl's attention making her look up and open her mouth.

"Rieta votyl!" she shouted in glee with a lilt to her voice thinking it was a game. Jack stared dumbfounded at the words that had escaped from the girl.

"As you can see, whatever language they speak none of us have heard before. We can't communicate with either of them well enough. It's the reason I called you in such a rush."

"What use would I be?"

"Teach them. You're quite exemplary with children...teaching them how to speak shouldn't be a task."

"You might be right but..." Jack's thoughts trailed as his eyes went back to the little girl that now cuddled against Charlotte's bosom while sucking at her thumb. Yawning, she gazed up at her and pulled at her dress.

"Matisera, dortine?"

"Matisera?" Jack knew that word. From a trip long ago to visit a certain family. He looked up to Charlotte and asked, "She's calling for her mother."

"Oh, no. Dear—" Charlotte whispered with a shake of her head. "I'm not your mother. I don't know where she is."

"Matisera...non?" the little girl pronounced again while shaking her head like Charlotte had done. When Charlotte repeated the gesture this made the little girl glance down and out of the blue begin to tear up.

"Oh dear, please don't cry." Charlotte pleaded while cradling her up to her bosom and soothingly rubbing her back. This seemed to calm her down somewhat driving her only to sobs instead of full on crying.

Jack came forth without a say and knelt before the two. Noticing the sudden movement, the little girl jerked away and tried hiding against Charlotte. At seeing this, he only smiled kindly and slowly reached out with an open hand.

"I won't hurt you." The girl's eyes poked out from her safe haven and simply stared at his open hand for what seemed to be the longest time. After what had been minutes, she reached out with her minute fingers and grasped one of Jack's. At seeing nothing happening, she reached out with both hands and began to inspect his whole hand that was easily bigger than hers. Once she was comfortably playing around with his fingers, he joined her and this time she didn't scoot away. Raising to his feet, he stretched out his arms towards the girl. This time it took mere seconds for her to reach out her own towards him.

Taking her up in his arms, the little girl giggled while he bumped her up and down. Jack turned towards Glen with a smile while the little girl played with his hair, "I'll teach them both. Not just that but I'll show them how fun life can be."


Ever since that day, I have kept my promise. These past few days I have visited the mansion more often than I used to in the past. Soon the days turned to months and now almost half a year has gone by. It took quite a while and was truly some hard work. In the end, it took me half of those six months to teach them fully of our language. And although they can now speak it fluently that accent from their native tongue hasn't disappear. It sort of gives their speech a lilting characteristic. Regardless of that, after they learned how to speak they told us their names.

Claire and Cloude.

The days went by and the more I taught them, the more I noted the little quirks of each one. And, despite being twins, each had something that marked them, something like their unique endowments.

Cloude is very smart yet was quite somber at first. Because of the scar that marred wholly across his face, he tended to avoid mirrors. But with Claire's and my help, he became less mindful of it. As I said beforehand, Cloude is very bright for his young age specially when they started their personal training. According to what he would tell me, Cloude had much flair with fighting. At such young age, he confided that it was getting to the point that it would be hard to find new things to teach the boy. He was very perceptive about his surroundings and about people as well as being able to anticipate someone's next move. Yet for him to do this, he must have full contact with the person in question.

Claire, on the other hand, was more gifted at her studies. It was mostly because of her memory. I believe a friend of mine called it eidetic. What that meant is that whatever image, scene, or situation she sees, she can recall with fair ease and without any help. This greatly helped her to learn our language way before Cloude had. Although, she does not have that great of a fighting ability, she does not fall behind from her brother. Yet she can be very naïve at times and that makes her curious of every little thing. She loves questioning everything that is done and continues to ask until she gets an answer. Because she can remember so well, she can pretty much tell when someone is lying to her by their mannerism.

It was shortly after their birthday that I began to notice some odd behaviors. Cloude had begun to skip on my classes and spending much time away with his training. When I asked, I was only told that he was taking mind of his priorities and that he wouldn't be attending my lessons anymore. I didn't question him afterward...after all Cloude's a part of that household. Having a say in things that happen there is a luxury I do not have. Yet having Cloude even ignore Claire when the two used to be so close was causing much anguish to the girl.

A smile hadn't appeared on her face until the arrival of those two. The two boys that I picked off of the streets, half dead. I supposed, because they were also very attached to each other, that she sought refuge in their mutual devotion. Those brothers—

"Huh?" I heaved a bit disappointed that the journal so abruptly ended there. The names...they were unreadable. The ink seemed to have blotched or something. Whatever the cause, I couldn't read the continuation of that entry. I skipped plenty of pages that were just as unreadable as that last one and ended up at the end of the journal were a small portion had survived the carnage.

After much asking, I finally found out why he was keeping them so secluded from strangers. Those two were born from a tribe to the west, one that had just become engulf in a massacre. That meant...that just like all the others, these two have brought misfortune around with them for belonging to this house.

This tribe was one that worshipped a goddess, a deity of the heavenly night; it went by the name of Astrovylia. This goddess chose a woman every so often to carry its powers and protect their people. What I was told about the chosen women was that they usually had an affinity to the darkest depths. Needless to say that I knew instantly what he had meant. These chosen women were most likely contractors of Astrovylia who was probably the Chain who would allegedly bring them prosperity and protection. This was all that he knew of the tribe from whence the twins came from.

Yet, I wasn't satisfied. I wanted to know more so in the end I asked my friend who actually had lived outside of our country. Arthur didn't know much more than this: according to what he knew, the woman that was chosen was christened as the White Sage. These sages needed to be not only qualified but also have a pure and innocent essence to protect them. What Arthur told me, however, was that the recent massacre was caused because of the young lady that had been chosen as the late White Sage. She had broken the rules of the tribe and had stained her purity. Pretentious and stubborn, as Arthur had described her, she had become the bearer of children, twins. He told me that those children hadn't been found but I knew otherwise. Claire and Cloude were those children. There was no other explanation for her being so gifted and pure-hearted. And there was no other explanation for her and Cloude to have such affinity with the attributes of Astrovylia, time and space.

What convinced me the most was that although he told me that the White Sage was chosen by the Chain, that the abilities to wield it and contract it were also possible through inheritance. And the small passage that he had told me about the task of a sage.

Ye who has been chosen shall grant us guard through divine light
It shalt be through aria that ye shalt take both light and dark to twine
Holy aria was your dawn, so shalt holy aria be your downfall
Hence for our paradise to prevail your being will remain eternally in thrall

There wasn't anymore doubt in me after deciphering this. It was clear to me that Claire was the descendant and, hence, the inheritor of such fate. Claire would be the next successor, the only daughter of the White Sage—

"Edea Florence." Had I read that aloud? Yeah, I was so emerged into it that I read her name out loud to myself in a faint whisper. It took me a while to actually accept what was happening to me. Every time I found something, the more I tried to deny it. But each time my name was mentioned so was Cloude's and Edea's. It took all I had to finally acknowledge to myself that what I saw as my memories and what I read and was told wasn't about someone else.

Claire, that is my name. And, even though I have no recollection of it, who I was.

I have a brother...Cloude.

And my mother, Edea Florence, had been a sage like no other. She had gone against her people by having my brother and I. But even though I knew and accepted that now, I still had no clue what had occurred as a result. The massacre in the tribe that this person mentioned was still unclear and vague at most. Had there been any survivors? If so, would they have...known my mother? My family?

The sudden ruckus of the fight took my attention away. Standing up, I went up a few rows to hear more clearly. Break's past and what he encountered, Alice's connection to the Baskervilles and more importantly to the Will of the Abyss. Twins, just like us, condemned by the fate they were born to. When Duke Barma suddenly captured Alice's wrist and was coming to take Break away, Oz stood up to interfere.

"Compared to Break," Oz explained with what started as a nice tone that quickly turned south. "You piss me off fifty times more!" That boy, he spoke his mind so much more now. Not only that but his position of protecting someone even if he had to use Jack's name as a hero reminded me too much of something.

Ever since we came back from Latowidge, Oz hasn't been the same. And truly, it's been for the best. He's now less willing to give up his life and has an even more fervent desire to protect those which he cares about.

"So if it's to 'protect someone', I'll do whatever it takes!"

Out of nowhere, the duke raised his arm with the fan and was close to hitting him. We all reacted, even I dropped the book in my hurry to get him out of harm's way. But before any of us could touch him, a fan went in between them and curiously enough stuck to the wall from the force it took to launch it.

Glancing aside, we were all surprised to see Duchess Rainsworth, the real one this time, coming up to us. Barma had tensed up the second he saw her and when I saw that I knew this was going to be good. When Break mentioned that he had made an illusion of her, the duchess took Barma out back stage like it was nothing. When I suddenly heard the hard whacking that came from that direction, I actually jumped in fear.

I wasn't too fond of Sharon when she was like that, and now I saw where she got it from. After giving Break some corny but suitable encouragement, we were ready to leave. Before following the enthusiastic four I went back to pick up the red journal that Barma had given me for my collection. Now I just didn't have my broche.

"Claire?"

At hearing Oz's perplexed call, I turned towards him. "I'm coming." We left and on the way home, Break opened up to us a little more by telling us about more of his past and what it was he wanted to change from the past so desperately that he had killed so many. But it was impossible, even I knew that changing the past—

"No." Break's sudden interruption took us all by surprise. "I changed the past. She—the Will of the Abyss listened to my wish..."

But even when he managed to change the past, that future was bleaker than anyone could have expected. I've had the mentality that when Illegal Contractors say they'll change the past, that it is futile despite what they due. Ever since I knew about them, I've believed that no matter what is changed, what is meant to happen will happen. The only thing different is how we arrive to that happening. It's like walking before a train and getting stuck on the tracks. You can sit there and await for it to end you or you can fight with all your might to get out off its way. Even if you do manage to get free and walk out another may be coming through the opposite tracks that you failed to notice. Regardless of what you choose to do, the train will hit you. Fate has a way of coming around. It may be set but our free will is those choices. Whether we fight or not. And those choices are what make us who we are.

Much like Break, he chose to change the past of the household. Yet where there is death, there will always be death, and it was proven so. However, it was that choice to attempt and change their fate that makes Break the way he is now. A little sad, cynical, weak yet strong person. The one we know and care about. And truthfully, despite how bad it may sound, I wouldn't want it any other way.

We arrived to the Rainsworth some minutes after and after Oz talked to Break, I went up ahead while still listening. Damn, that kid and I think too much alike.

Once inside, I went to my room to get out of the stupid ass dress. But when I was about to get into my nightgown and turn in for the night, a couple of knocks came in. Putting the gown on, I called out to whomever was behind the door, "Come in."

Heeding my words, I saw Sharon entering the room with her own nightgown on. She must have already gone to see Break and the others before they went to bed. It was something she would do to make sure we were well for the night.

"I have much to ask but I suppose this isn't the right time," she said sheepishly with a gentle smile.

Grinning, I adjusted my nightgown and came over to her. "A little tired, yeah. I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

"Well, before I forget, this came in for you while you were gone." Sharon passed me a sealed envelope that had no symbol on the wax seal.

"Thanks."

"I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight, Claire."

"Have a goodnight, Sharon," I reciprocated out of habit and watched as she left my room and closed the door behind her. After hearing the audible click, I went to my desk and got out my letter opener. Taking out the single sheet of paper, I read the neat handwriting that it was written in.

Find your way to Christ. Let Hades lead you during the thirteenth hour.

Christ.

No doubt about it. This must be the Baskerville brat. The 13th hour? I glanced over to were the clock was and noticed that it was barely eleven. So he wanted to meet me tomorrow at one, huh? Placing the letter and envelope inside one of my drawers and leaving it there, I went ahead and snuck into my bed sheets. Tossing and turning, I ended up facing up at the ceiling of my canopied bed and let my thoughts wander.

Everything I had learned today had shown me something about myself. That little girl that existed back then was me but it had already past. I am Claire, and that is who I am now. No matter what I learn from now onwards, I'll always keep that in mind.

Despite what I may learn of who I was and the things I did, I will never stop being myself. And tomorrow, I was going to prove it, first by kicking that Baskerville's butt.


Well how was it? :3 this was pretty much the same length as the other one so that's why I decided to upload them together.

Ref.:

-Rieta votyl: Rough Trans: Miss, angry. So she's saying that 'Miss is angry' but taking it way too lightly -w- oh kids.

-Matisera, dortine? : RT: Mother, where? Self explanatory :3

-Matisera...non? : RT: Mother, no? Again...self explanatory.

Bear in mind that the language I'm using as theirs is made up with mixes and that the phrases themselves aren't spoken as if written correctly, if I make myself clear. They're just simple subjects thrown together.

So yeah, hoped you liked it and look forward to the next chapter ;D