LOODLE LOODLE LOOO
I love. This. Chapter.
Ar rawr rawr. It's especially amazing because it is a combination of awesomeness, hilarity, spaz-ness, and mystery. Oh. And suspense. Can't forget the suspense.
Song for this Chapter: There are two. Music Box -- Regina Spektor. This song actually helped me WRITE the chapter. And then Electable -- Jimmy Eat World. That song pretty much encompasses the mood. CARAZY BREAK OUT.
Now here we go! (dives into chapter)
In the last chapter…
Romeli went to the Hero Ball, expecting something bad to happen that her Guardians warned her about. Course, nothing happens, BUT James does talk to her. Meanwhile, she's on bottom point, completely lost in what she should do next, and convinced that she has failed.
Chapter 42: Interpretation of the Modern Dream
She was standing with one foot in front of the other, containing her balance as she looked over the peak. The drop was tremendous—with enough impact at the end to kill a God if it were possible.
And the next minute the wind was pasting her to the side of the mountain, making her unable to see her hand in front of her face.
The cold was crippling, and she would have fallen off if it weren't for the wind now keeping her up. Despite the will and the strength she had acquired, her body felt like a twig in a thunderstorm as it succumbed to the blizzard's strength.
It seemed that every night that blizzard hit, every time that wind crushed her back against the merciless stone, and the blistering cold tore at her skin, another part of her perseverance was swept away with it.
She was no longer willing to fight.
But the wind gave before she did and she fell to the snow on her hands and knees. A dry sob escaped her lips, because the search commenced, but she did not want to. Her temptation to win evaded her.
But her hands dug into the snow anyways.
Her mind had ripped in two. One side clung to her hands sportingly, while the other let out cries of unwilling anguish every time the cold stabbed through her. She didn't have to feel this. She could jump. She could leave.
Her fingers dug deeper.
The pain that was the feud between her heart's and her mind's ideals had started to grow and rival that of the cold's. Her hands began to twitch like they were possessed by two battling beings.
She didn't have to do this.
So close.
Just jump.
She was already here.
There would be no outcome.
And then she hit the weary wood. It was buried shallowly under the snow, but deep enough to make her grunt when she pulled it out. Her heart had won, her mind finally giving in to her determination.
Once again it was locked.
Though she expected that, now she knew she had to do something about it. She knew this was it. This time she did not throw the chest at the rocky wall out of anger or failure.
She did it because she had to.
The impact immediately made it splinter and obliterate into pieces of ancient wood. She fell to her knees with wide eyes as she picked up the nearest piece to her.
It stared back wearily. It had been broken many times now. But all along she had never realized its message.
OOO
For the first time, she did not wake with a scream.
This was rather odd, and so she blinked rapidly a few times in confusion to clear her head. Her thoughts began to toy with the tempo of her heart as she skipped over the ideas…of what could possibly come of this…
Well I haven't failed. It hasn't even happen yet. That alone with clear.
Which meant that she really was back at square-one.
Not exactly, she reminded herself sternly. You have the nightmare. That has to be significant.
Well of course…she thought as she pursed her lips in thought. To get the blood moving to her head, she sat up in her bed, weaning her mind to not think of last night, or the Scanran Revolution, or James…just her duty…
She bounded out of bed and began to pace around with her hand to her forehead. Sharpfang's eyes were on her curiously, but he did not say anything. She was thankful for the silence of the room, but it was too quiet—like the muffled pastures before a storm. It might have been calming, but at the moment it only sent shivers of unknowing dread throughout her.
Pacing and thinking, pacing and thinking, pacing and thinking…
Stop thinking about pacing and thinking!
Romeli stopped where she stood, glaring at the ground with a flustered expression.
Stop…stopping!
She let out an exasperated sigh. What was she supposed to do? Go and save the world? Well, that would hardly work considering she had nothing to work off of.
The mild frustration pulsated through her contagiously, but she tried her best to ignore it. Only thinking of the negatives would build up her stress…and she needed a clear train of thought to unravel the current predicament.
The dream was obviously her first step, but it seemed to be a hard one. At first she only saw it as a device to warn her when it was too late, but now she felt foolish for being so closed-minded. Now it had altered considerably. Her dream-being underwent a sensation of determined awe, not horror. The dream was a message, not a clue.
But what it meant still evaded her.
The possibilities were endless, and yet all of them seemed so abstract. Her guess was that it would be metaphorical, and not obvious—considering her Guardians were the ones most likely responsible.
And so she sat on the edge of her bed, only partially aware of her surroundings, as she gave in to the possibilities. It was a slight challenge to commence, for she was never one to be incredibly metaphorical, but she pushed away the blockades and dove into her poetic mentality.
Her ideas were many, though none seemed to match perfectly. Despite the absence of reason in any of them, she continued. Not because she figured the answer would surface eventually, but because she had nothing left.
When she came across the idea that the mountain represented a dollop of icing, she decided to stop.
This is ridiculous, she thought with a hysterical sigh. The icing idea had made her slightly giddy, and she let out a panicked laugh.
Her expression turned serious. And anyways…I can't think with those things in here.
Of course she was referring to her bookcase stuffed with Scanran goodies (which she was currently glowering at). They were merely books, but their memories tucked inside them were distracting. It was the constant reminder of her endless research, her daft stupidity, and everything pre-captivity that she didn't want to turn back to.
Well. She decided to match her foes conclusively.
It was either them or her that left, and she refused to surrender to research novels.
The bookshelf was much more daunting now that she was mere feet away from it. From every angle the words Scanra were thrown at her. The impact that it had on her now was not even within the peripherary of what she felt the last time she encountered it though. Now, the pang of memories was drowned in pity—pity for the state that the country was currently in.
And she didn't exactly know why she felt so sorry for a country bent on her captivation. But then she was reminded that it was not the country with those views, but only Maggur—and he was dead. So she did have a reason to express pity—she had killed Maggur—it was her fault.
"You're always taking the blame, Romeli,"
Whave's voice rang through her head crystal clear, but she pushed it all back for a more relevant time. There were more important matters to attend to.
And so she began to scrutinize the shelf, skillfully sliding the rejected titles out and placing them in a pile, one on top of the other. Feeling the leather slide through her skin sent up some pain, but she shook it away—she had expected the process to be painful. All of it was manageable.
One by one she placed the books on top of each other until she had to make a second pile, and eventually a third. She had begun to take pity on herself. Had she really been this dominated by the Prophecy?
At last she only had one book left—the book that had been abandoned on her chair, carelessly left open. She slickly picked it up and clicked it closed. Then it, too, was placed with its companions.
She brushed her hands on her breeches in completion and admired her work. The three stacks were tucked neatly between her bookshelf and desk—as if they were meant to be there in the first place.
And then she snorted.
Her eyes had fallen on her bookshelf, and she admired it with a laugh. It had an intimidating number of ten books left out of the fifty or so she had sorted through.
That's the most ridiculous case of books I've ever seen!
She walked up to it curiously, wondering just what books she had left to inhabit her slightly vacant pool of studies.
A good half of the remaining books were her father's—books that he had already read thoroughly and most likely had forgotten. She read each of the titles slowly, like somehow they were memorable to her.
Analyzing the Gift Incorporated with Dark Magic
Morphing Inanimate Objects
Acquiring Accents of Sight with Gift Substance
Scholarly Characteristics to Apply to Modern Dueling
Defeating the Darkest of Divinity
She nodded, quite impressed with her collection. It was so odd to think that her father had read these books (whereas she had only dappled with them curiously), and even more curious was that he knew how to use dark magic. It made her second-guess him, but it also made her want to dive into the books as well.
Despite the sudden inspiration to read, she continued to look at the remaining novels.
One was a book on the anatomy of the People that her mother gave her years ago. She had used it often during the beginning of her studies, but only referred to it now as a reference book.
She cracked a smile when her eyes fell on the next.
Secrets of the Scandalous Courtgirl
She laughed. Seriously?
How Jeffrey Caught the Goddess
Emily of Cornrose: A Love Story
Her head shook as she looked at the three of them. Until now she had completely forgotten her love for trashy romance novels.
Slightly dazed, she skipped to the last book on the shelf. It was at the bottom, making her crouch to get a good view. It was severely aged—probably one of Numair's.
Interpretation of the Modern Dream
She frowned. Perhaps it wasn't one of his books. He never seemed to be the type to analyze dreams…
And then everything crashed into her. The impact caused shivers as the air turned compact and collapsed into her mercilessly. Her eyes were wide as they zoomed to the cover, and thus the text-book calligraphy that named the leather binding.
Ha ha…what?
She slid the book out of the shelf and stood up straight as she cradled it in her hands. It was heavy, not too old, but old enough to extract wisdom from it.
Did someone put this here on purpose, or am I just a genius.
A feeling of victory swept over her before she knew what to do with it. There was no doubt in her mind that she had found an answer.
All patience obliterated, she didn't even bother sitting on her bed to start reading, but cracked the book open right where she stood, half expecting the answer to pop out of it in the form of confetti.
Though nothing happened, it did not dampen her spirits. This was her first step, and it was within the depths of the bottom half of her bookshelf all along.
Her finger traced down the table of contents swiftly, looking for one specific word that would turn her circumstances around completely.
Nightmares, page 352.
Romeli nearly tore the book in two as she flipped through the pages. At last she had arrived at the beginning of the fairly short chapter. Despite its curtness, she skimmed through it—only reading a few paragraphs and letting her finger slide down the page quickly.
The typical excuse for loss of sleep throughout the world is the "demon of the night"—the nightmare. Most cases have fairly moderate nightmares. Their symptoms are usually mild—for the occurrence of periodical nightmares are fairly rare, and thus this "demon" only appears sporadically and barely at all…
Romeli frowned. She had a feeling her nightmares were abnormal.
…Though at the time of witnessing the nightmare the horrors expressed seem real, there is always a good reason. Everyone in their life undergoes an average of 10 nightmares in a year. Of course, this number can fluctuate for many reasons…
On the topic of the typical nightmare, it is important to remember the meaning of it. Most, if not all nightmares are a way for your mind to express fear or dread. In most cases, people undergo nightmares such as falling, losing family, and letting people down.
Romeli nodded as she read. That seemed to explain her more horrific nightmares, to an extent. But in her past nightmare, she did not feel or have any reason to feel fear—it was awe, if anything.
...There are also other reasons for the production of a nightmare. The main other culprit is trauma, usually from horrific past events. Many people with this case have more constant nightmares (usually every night after a traumatic event for an average of a week) flashing back to that event. These nightmares have always been highly detailed, "real", and not meaningful, since the nightmare feasts itself on a memory, not the ideals and weaknesses of our mind…
The past paragraph made her slightly confused. At first, at reading the word 'traumatic', she thought she had found what she was looking for. But all the details did not match up with what she was looking for. Though they were immensely real, it would be pointless to look in this book if it wasn't meaningful. It also lacked to be of a distinct memory. It was only a foreign place with extracted items of her past.
…these two examples of nightmares are the main and thus most common scenarios. The following are anonymous cases collected from the Carthakan University, analyzed under Numair Salmalin and his dream specialists…
Romeli flipped through the next couple of pages, not bothering to read about them. She was used to seeing her father's name in his old texts and was no longer interested in his fame as she used to be.
Her shoulders fell as she reached the end of the chapter. The blank space below the final paragraph left her empty and uninformed of what to do next. Its vacant lower half seemed to tease her, mocking her about the lack of information that she knew. She sighed. About to turn back to the table of contents to try again, the concluding paragraph caught her eye.
…The depth of the human nightmare is widely unknown and for the most part unexplained. The two former scenarios are, as mentioned, the typical categories of the nightly demon. However, in rare cases (most of them legends or unproved rumors), nightmares take a step to the divine in carrying messages from the subconscious mind—or even the Gods—to reality. Our explanation and decipherings of these few cases can be read on page 324.
Romeli's eyes widened. Found it.
OOO
The room was abnormally hot today as he woke. The air was suffocating and thick in his room, making it a laborious task to breathe. Or perhaps it wasn't the air, but the strain in his lungs, the shock in his body, the memories that flashed through him.
It was the dream again.
And as that realization dawned on him, he noticed that it was not the room that was stifling hot, but his own body. He felt like he was burning within the confines of himself, and he immediately pulled off his blanket, now drenched in his sweat.
So he lied there, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes. For his mind was no longer occupying his bedroom at all, but mulling over what had happened.
It had been the third time that he had had a dream such as this, none of them in a certain time after the other. He would go to bed as usual and it would appear or not. Its sporadic behavior was slightly nerving. But it was not nearly as frustrating as his confusion, for he had no idea if he favored this dream or not.
The indecision was odd. Of course he knew why he was so unsure, so doubtful of his own opinion and thoughts.
And why was it always about her?
It was almost like his dreams were trying to tell him something. If he were to make a hypothesis, he had no doubt that it was his subconscious mind convincing him of his hidden feelings. It was horrifying, painful, and it placed him in utter bliss.
He fell to sleeping thinking about her.
He woke thinking about her.
When he saw her…
Why was it always about her?
Not that he minded…
But he did mind…
He brought his hands up to his head and held them there, as if that would clear his thoughts, voice his frustration, do something.
She was alive.
Of course he had known that for a while. He had known that since she had—
No. He paused his thoughts there.
But he had known.
So why was he still following through with this? Why couldn't he just…just…say something?
But he had.
"You look really great tonight."
His face turned a slight shade of red. He could have said something better, something…less abrupt. One moment he was standing there admiring her, and the next he was voicing his compliment. He had no idea where it even came from.
But it was a step.
Well of course it was. He had said something. But did it mean anything? Was it just an empty comment? A desire to fill up the awkward space between them?
…the dress fit her snuggly, perfectly. It was a shade darker than her hair, but it seemed to be that way on purpose. It made her sunny skin glow, her eyes sparkle, her hair divine. It was captivating, like her presence had created an inescapable snare. He could not lay his eyes upon her without aching…
Oh. Of course it meant something.
And it wasn't her looks. It wasn't her eyes, her dress, her stature of slight hesitance. It was her strength, her will, perseverance, or any other word under the category, that captivated him. It was her contagious laugh, sarcastic comments, ridiculous ideas, daring attitude, and undying modesty. The sun seemed to radiate from her.
Even on the rainiest days, she never ceased to make him stare. And it was annoying. He was irritated with himself. Her hesitant smile, the strength of her composure, the level headed gaze, and especially her power. Her power that was inescapable to her, made her the strongest mage in the realm…and yet he still felt the need to protect her.
This was where he would get confused. He had all of these feelings for her, but it made him angry. He was mad that she had so much talent, and used it so recklessly. He hated how everything these days was all about her. He hated that she never got a break, but kept fighting anyways, always strong, always losing. He loathed the amount of her power. She could do anything and save anyone…
Except herself.
He hated it.
But he loved it.
It gave him a reason to be concerned. It gave him meaning—a reason to protect. She was powerful—but she wasn't invincible. It was a purpose, and he clung to it tightly.
This was all established. It was all painfully clear to him. She existed in his life more than he had anticipated. More than he had hoped or dreamed.
More than he liked.
And it was only because it was all so unclear. He wasn't sure what feelings were true. He didn't know if he was still shrouded in anger, or painting a perfect picture. There was no decided conclusion on which path to take.
Once again he was brought back to his dream.
He shivered involuntarily, engulfed in the memory.
…she was bleeding. But the term seemed rather light compared to the fate that had been put on her. She had been hacked, broken, massacred. The blood spilled from the single fatal wound and would not cease.
Absolutely helpless.
Even as he loomed over her body, he knew there was nothing he could do. The blood suffocated him endlessly as he placed her in his lap and attempted to coo her to the living with his Gift.
It didn't work.
The fallen white roses were stained in her blood. In her name. In her being.
He crushed one in his hand mercilessly. He had never been so angry, and yet so lost.
But then everything faded away, and the picture morphed. The atmosphere turned lighter. It was incredibly bright, like a new awakening—like the dawn of inexpressible horror.
They were set up at camp, and he was standing across the tent. The tent that gave him shivers and pain every time he considered going into it. What kept him away was not the fact that she had died, but that whatever atmosphere that she created along with her existence had left.
And it took a piece of his heart with it.
It was no longer warm. It housed nothing but memories and a corpse to shell them—all atmosphere gone. He did not want to lay his eyes on memories—he wanted the future. The abnormal brightness cast unfriendly shadows on the tent and he shuddered.
Then she came out.
There was that delay. It was the delay of existence before death. The gasp of connected puzzle pieces before realization hit. It came to him like a snap—his instincts realized this before he did, and instantly put two and two together.
This was unnatural.
And eventually all of him came to this realization. He fumbled for an appropriate reaction, but hadn't the heart to do any. Staring was the only thing he could manage.
She stumbled closer. Her eyes were on his—searching.
He fought back a shiver. It made no sense that she was doing this. He could never recall any account of an animated corpse.
But the ragged breathing and the unavoidable look of pain on her face drew him back.
His Romeli should never be in pain. Someone in the Black Realms should never be in pain.
Someone in the Black Realms should never be doing this.
He was confused.
And then she was in his arms.
Never dead.
The scene changed again and he was in his bedroom. There was no telling what time of day it was or what was going on.
All he knew was that she was still in his arms.
He clung to her tightly, savoring every moment that his hot skin was touching hers. He loved the way she buried her head against his chest, and she held on to him tighter when he placed his cheek on the top of her head. He felt like they were one.
Eventually they drew apart, though it was with lingering remorse. She starred up at him heavily, her eyes capturing him into a green abyss. She looked down when she realized this, but he brought her chin back up with his hands.
He loved her eyes.
James smiled when he was caught in them again and bent his head lower to kiss her sweetly. She gasped at his touch which made his smile grow in the kiss. Their lips lingered apart for a couple seconds as they caught their breath, leaning their foreheads together as they looked into each other's eyes.
And then their lips were together again, more earnestly, more needful than the last. He could not consider a life without her anymore. And if her life were to end…well…he wouldn't be far behind her. For a life without her was not worth living at all.
He brought his hand to her neck to deepen the kiss. It was smooth, no longer scarred by what used to lie there.
She kissed him harder, and he was soon intoxicated and dizzy by her warm breath. Her hands, moving to his chest, made him shiver uncontrollably. It took a great amount of effort to remain calm and not push her.
Romeli noticed his slight hesitance and pushed him further as she began to unbutton the front of his shirt. He shrugged it off for her and got the wind knocked out of him when she kissed him greedily.
He didn't object.
At last they drew apart. Both of them were breathing heavily, and equal amount of pain in their eyes at being apart. He couldn't help but notice her eyes lower slightly to his chest, and he became incredibly conscious of it rising and falling heavily. Her eyes were hungry.
But his self control had been cut short, and he had her in his arms again, lips pressed urgently against hers.
He felt her body shiver against his as he played with the lower hem of her shirt. He decided he could not delay any further and slipped it off needfully…
James' eyes snapped open.
With a clunk he was on his bedroom floor, clinging to his head that had previously hit the table on the way down. He was breathing heavily, focusing on the way his lungs laboriously worked as the pictures faded from view and back into memory.
When his breath came evenly, he sat up and propped himself against the side of his bed. He ran his hand through his hair frustratedly.
This was unhealthy.
And he knew that once again he would have to draw conclusions and make a decision. He had a single choice to make, and yet it seemed to be the biggest blockade he had faced.
Forgive, or forget.
Fight, or flight.
And no matter which way he put it, from every angle, each choice drew to the same conclusion.
Fight.
In all honesty, it was the temptation that tormented him most. He was in physical pain whenever he looked into her waiting eyes that he could not talk to. His heart registered her presence every beat it made, until he began to think that it was only beating for her.
The dream would never let him forget that.
Yet every time he confessed to himself that that was true, his mind and logic held him back.
This was not natural.
No one just rose from the dead like that. It was impossible. It was abnormal. And it wasn't like either of the two ideas never classified Romeli before…but rising from the dead?
It had never happened.
And it couldn't.
His mind told him from the start that this was not real—this was not for her. And it seemed absurd and ridiculous, but it was the only comfort he could cling to in a time like that.
He had forgotten all about her.
It had been a way to move on, but even when…well whatever…happened, he could not turn back. Alanna had warned him of that. He could not go back. His mind had won the war with his heart before, and it was going to win again.
Stop right there.
He shook his head furiously. What was he thinking? She meant everything to him, and that alone was enough to persevere through his doubts…
He loved her.
His eyes widened as the three words shivered through him. But there was no countering feeling to deny it. All he felt was the hit of realization, and then the rush of the tide sunk him in smoothly.
He was in love with her.
He ran his hand through his hair again, leaving it ragged and crooked in its wake. His eyes burned painfully as he glared down at the floor. This was such a large step to take, but he had to take it. There was no other choice that he could make now, and turning back was out of the question.
It was time to fight.
OOO
Romeli flipped through the book hastily with shaking hands. Her eyes ran through the page numbers with determination as she searched for the number that would unlock her inquiries.
324.
Her fingers slipped as they flipped through the pages. The time it took for her to arrive at the right one seemed infinite, through she knew it had taken only a matter of seconds.
She had grown so anxious that when she had found the correct chapter, she began to skim over it quickly, like just glancing at it would give her what she needed. None of it made sense and so she forced herself to start at the beginning at a more reasonable pace.
On very rare occasions, one may encounter a dream or nightmare of a different influence. While most dreams come from memories or the subconscious mind, others, rarely, are influenced from the Gods, mostly in the form of a message.
She shivered as she continued.
Though messages from the Gods are seldom, a select few have been analyzed thoroughly to extract all possible meaning from them.
Most cases of these 'dreams from the Gods' are in the form of prophecies. Prophets, more popular in the Old Age, underwent many of the Gods dreams in a lifetime. The most recent prophet to undergo a prophecy was Taranatok of Tanraroloph.
Romeli skimmed down further, uninterested in the extent of prophetic dreams. She was positive that that was not what she was dealing with.
At last, she discovered what she was looking for. She read it eagerly.
Another rare form of communication with the Gods through dreams is intensely diverse and highly unexplainable. In the few cases reported, only one factor was similar throughout each instance—dream repetition. Each person who experienced this phenomenon underwent their specific dream for multiple corresponding nights. The time of which it stops has no way of identification, for each witness experienced theirs at differentiating lengths.
Most of these dreams are highly graphic in that they feel real. The way in which they are experienced also can not be classified. In some cases, one is surrounded by eternal bliss, while the next is experiencing tremendous emotional and physical pain.
As for the meaning of the God's message, there is no established tool to decipher it. In all the dreams studied, the meaning behind it is often not clouded in metaphor or symbolism. Most messages are much more straight forward than expected…
Romeli's eyes widened. Seriously.
The book slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground clumsily.
Seriously.
She collapsed on her bed and let the shock ripple through her.
How could it possibly be that easy?
This whole time…she had been haunted by fear and worry that time was coming to a close. She had been convinced that it was so near, and that nothing would save her now but a wild guess. She had refrained from sleeping for nights in a row so she wouldn't have to face it again, when really she should have been embracing it. She had been blaming her Guardians when she should have been thanking them.
Seriously.
And so the answer was obvious to her now. This was her first step into determining her next ordeal. This was the first step in determining what the scars on her neck meant.
The chest.
It was the chest. The whole time it was the chest—the ancient trunk sitting in Maggur's office eerily.
And at that moment the awe was gone and was instead replaced with a rush of adrenaline. Her room seemed insignificant around her as she sunk into her next step—her first step.
She needed that chest.
Go fly back to Scanra as quickly as possible? Just to say I can?
Ha ha, good one.
I don't think you'll be going back to Scanra anytime soon.
Maybe flying to Scanra and back wouldn't be so bad after all.
Romeli shook her head. She couldn't believe she was actually going to be doing this.
It was dangerous.
I murdered the king.
Scanra knows of your escape and the murder of the king.
Scanra is in a state of revolution.
Tortallan spies are being discovered.
You are wanted in Scanra, dead or alive.
But she had absolutely no choice. It was her duty. Despite the danger, she was going to do it.
Romeli sighed as she collapsed. "I'm going back to Scanra."
She needed that chest.
OOO
Romeli nearly got completely decked by a wall as she raced down the hallway recklessly. The walls were blurs on either side of her as she sprinted down another hallway and zoomed down a second flight of stairs.
She practically crashed into a priceless statue as she slid around a corner, leaving a dazed observer in her wake.
Was that just a green haired moose?
All observants behind, Romeli came face to face with another staircase. She slid to a stop at the top of the descending stairs and eyed the wooden railing.
Well, why not.
Her heart thudded in a flurry as she hopped onto it and slide down in a rush. She flew off the end of the railing and was off again.
A couple of corridors later, she ran straight into a door.
Fortunately it was the door that she had been looking for, for the force with which she ran into it with, created a cataclysmic echo that shook the hallway.
Romeli was on the ground cradling her head when the door opened.
"You know, you could just knock on the door like normal people," pointed out Ryoku as she stood within the frame of the door. Ethan peered out behind her with a laugh.
Romeli groaned as she got back to her feet. "It wasn't intentional."
"Yeah I'm sure," replied Ryoku sarcastically as she let her friend in. The door clicked close behind them. "Did you just decide to crash by?"
Ethan laughed.
Romeli glared. "Funny. And no. Need to talk."
Ryoku looked to the side at Ethan as she talked to Romeli. "Oh…okay. Should Ethan le—."
Romeli's hands began to shake. "No, no. Just…whatever, follow me."
Ryoku and Ethan exchanged looks as Romeli opened the door again and walked out. They quickly began to run to catch up with her, for Romeli was already half-way down the hallway.
"Where are we going?!"
Romeli slid to a stop and turned to them, arms flailing as she caught her balance. Ethan shrunk back. Her eyes were burning.
"Do either of you know where Whave's room is?"
Ryoku leaned back. "Well…the opposite way we're going…but I—."
"GAH!"
She was at a run again. This time in the opposite direction.
"Ethan," Ryoku gasped. "What are we doing?"
Ethan shrugged as he ran. The two of them were feet behind her. "Beats me."
Ryoku shook her head. "Well, you know how we suspected that she'd crack again soon?"
"Oh yeah."
"Well…she's cracked."
"I heard that!" she yelled behind her.
They all ran faster.
Mere seconds later, they arrived at Whave's door. Romeli moved to start her run towards it, but she was snatched up by Ethan. He put his arms around her tightly despite her struggles.
"Lemme go or I'll blast your head!"
Ryoku laughed. "Oh calm yourself. I'll knock this time."
Romeli sighed. "Fine. Just let me go."
Ethan let her out of his grasp.
Satisfied, Ryoku turned back around and rapped lightly on the door.
Romeli tapped her foot impatiently. This was ridiculous. She could not wait this long. She had to talk now.
Whave! Answer the door!
The door creaked open. Whave took in the picture in front of him with an expression of surprise. Ryoku was looking smug, Ethan was laughing, and Romeli was glowering at anything that moved.
And then she had his arms and was tugging him out of the doorway.
"Where. Is. Sereem," she demanded.
Whave, looking panicked, looked over at Ryoku and Ethan. "What the hell is going o—."
"Just answer the question, Whave," replied Ryoku, slightly amused.
"I'm right here," said Sereem as he walked out the door and closed it behind him. He looked even more confused than Whave.
"Now we need the twins," said Romeli satisfied.
They all nodded blankly.
"Me, Ryoku, and Ethan will grab Tim, and you two will get…the other one."
"You mean James," pointed out Sereem slowly.
"Sure. Ready…break!" Romeli ran off down the hallway.
The rest of them were left in the dust, exchanging looks of confusion. Whave stuffed him hands in his pockets awkwardly.
Ryoku glared over towards Romeli's retreating figure. Her eyes widened. "Wait! Romeli you're going the wrong way!"
"Dammit!"
In the impressive record time of five minutes, the whole team had met up again in front of Romeli's room door. Romeli was breathing heavily after her race around the palace. The others stood around her silently…awkwardly shifting their weight from one foot to the other.
"Soo…," started Ethan. "You needed us?"
"Yes. Yes I need to talk to you," breathed out Romeli quickly. "Really need to…need to talk."
"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" guessed Sereem.
"Yes! Yes, I need to. Remember the Ball? What I said? I'm fulfilling my promise."
"Ah." They all nodded with the first motion of comprehension of the morning.
"Well then let's go in your room then," suggested Tim, already opening the door.
"No! Um…I mean no. No room-talking. Parents are around, parents would overhear." She could not afford them finding out what she was about to do.
"Well then, are we just going to talk out in the hallway, then? Because I really don't think this is much better."
"Well…" she chewed on her thumb in thought. Where's a top secret room when you need one. "Whave!"
Whave's eyes widened. Completely vulnerable.
"You're hardcore, right?"
"Ummm…sure?"
"Well do you know any secret hideouts?"
He looked at her incredulously. "Oh yeah. I keep it in my shrubbery."
"Seriously?"
"No, not seriously, Romeli!" cried Whave exasperated. "Why would anyone have a secret hideout?"
"Follow me," said James loudly over everyone's replies.
Silence.
"Great Mithros have mercy. Did Jameson just speak?" voiced Whave taken aback.
Romeli blinked. The whole conversation was lost to the pain thumping through her heart and the stopping in her ears.
"Yeah, stuff it Whave," whispered James.
"Stuff it? Seems like you've been doing enough of that for all of us combined," he retorted.
"Whave!" butted in Ryoku. "Now is not the time to be bringing this up!"
"Now is the perfect time," growled Whave. "Why now do you seem okay? What's to it?"
James glared. "You don't understand."
"No. What I don't understand is why it affected you so much in the first place."
He began to clench his fists. "You weren't there."
"So what?"
"So what?!"
"Guys, just drop it," said Sereem.
"This isn't the time to—."
Their voices were heard but not comprehended in her mind as she stared ahead of her.
The second time she had heard him speak in the past two days.
And yet she had no idea what it meant.
Did that mean they were okay?
Or was this just him trying to get to real life without her?
Gods he was so hard to read.
…follow me…
And that brought her back to the bigger situation.
How could she be thinking about him at a time like this?!
She ran her hand through her hair flustered. Though she couldn't comprehend what everyone was saying, their voices were pressing on her mind, making it hard to concentrate.
This was not the time.
There was so much to be done in such little time…
I can't believe I'm leaving.
I'm going to Scanra.
I have to move, I can't stand here. They need to know before I leave, I told them I would. But I'm running out of time…I can't do this. Oh Gods I'm actually…I'm actually going. I'm leaving back to Scanra after just getting back…and…and…for a block of wood? I can't believe this!
"Well that's not your fault now is it!"
"Guys, this is getting ridiculous."
"Well why don't you step in my shoes for a day, Whave? Maybe you'll—."
"QUIET!"
Everyone's eyes widened and they turned to Romeli. It was suddenly so quiet, anyone who would have walked in would never imagine for there to be a previous fight.
Romeli blew her bangs out of her face impatiently. "Now I have no idea what just went on." She paused. "…literally. But we need to move. So just drop the drama and follow James." She blinked after she said his name. It felt odd on her lips.
No one retorted, and James flashed her a hesitant smile before turning on his heel and walking towards the nearest staircase.
"Prepare yourselves," he called over his shoulder. "We're going down a lot of staircases."
Romeli shook her head, completely dazzled, as she followed. Now was not the time to be thinking about James.
Ryoku gasped. "Oh my Gods! Are we going underground?!" her expression was nothing short of excitement.
James didn't answer.
"And now we're going to move quicker…" Romeli said shakily as the stress began to wear on her. She broke out at a run towards the staircase.
As she passed them all, they turned their heads towards each other and went to catch up with her.
Three flights down, the observer was taken aback as the same green moose, a cat, two foxes, two bears, and a Carthakan apple thief swept past him.
OOO
"We're…in a crypt."
"Well jeez Ryoku, you're so observant."
"Oh shush Tim."
"Hey! That hurt. At least it's underground."
"Guys…I can't see a thing."
"Does anyone have a light?"
There was a snap, and suddenly the whole room was full of emerald light. The essence of the brightness came from James' hand, which lit up his face spectacularly.
Romeli shook her head. What was she thinking? She snapped her fingers as well and all the candles in the room lit themselves in a rippling wave that sent casts of warmth upon them. James extinguished his Gift with thanks.
And then she began pacing around the room. She knew that her friends were all silent. Most likely because of the look of frustration on her face. But the temptation to care evaded her. This whole crypt thing wasn't exactly working for her either.
…your tomb would be right below—unreachable by anyone…
She froze.
Everyone turned their heads.
She bit her thumb. Don't even think about that.
And she paced again. It was freakishly cold in there, and that only made her panic more. She hated the cold. She had only just gotten back from icy hell and—.
She let out a cry of frustration. And now she was going back again. And this time it would be much colder. Fall had begun.
Romeli turned on them.
"I can't believe I'm doing this!"
Ryoku shook her head. "Listen, if you don't want to…"
"No! That's the thing!" she exclaimed as she put her hand to her head. "I must do this. I have no choice."
"Romeli, calm down," started Sereem as he held up his hands.
She began to breathe heavily. What was she doing? Right now she could be doing much more productive things. Instead of freaking out, she could be getting this over with and leaving for Scanra.
The stairs were about five feet away. She would be up them and on the other side of the palace in two minutes—way before they would be able to do anything about it. And after that, she would be leaving towards Scanra and back in about a day, decked with a lovely ancient wooden trunk.
No. She had to tell them everything. It wasn't a choice. She had already established that.
"Oh fine," she sighed exasperatedly as she looked up at the ceiling. She turned to them. "Now all of you listen, because I'm only going to say this once." Her voice was shaking.
They all leaned forward, but drew back once again with a jerk when she threw her hands up in the air anxiously.
"When I was in Scanra, I went through all this crap, and bla bla bla. But then they killed D'mitri, and I kind of went bezerk. So I snuck around and found this ancient box, and then I killed Maggur with a milkshake and died in a garden. But the whole time my Guardians said this was never supposed to happen in the first place, and now I'm alive with these weird scars that I have to figure out before the world blows up." She took a big breath. "Because I've been having these nightmares, so I sorted out my bookshelf and now I have to go back to Scanra."
There was a dilemma that lasted around three seconds.
"Who's D'mitri?"
"By a milkshake?"
"You died?!"
"What ancient box?"
"Everyone shut up!" yelled James. His voice echoed through the crypt, making immediate silence follow. "You're going back to Scanra." He was furious. She didn't even have to look into his eyes to know that.
She nodded miserably. She really didn't want her first conversation with him to be like this. "I don't have a choice."
"Yes, you do," he retorted in a low, harsh voice.
Ryoku butt in smoothly. "Romy, why exactly do you need to leave?"
She silently thanked her for the diabolical interruption. "My Guardians are warning me that danger is coming, and I need to prepare myself. I need to find the meaning to these scars on my neck, and they've also been sending me a message through my dreams. I just figured out today that I need to get that chest back in Scanra."
They all nodded, but mostly out of disbelief.
"What, or…well…who, are your Guardians?" asked Tim as he eyed her.
She sighed. "They're Gods. Well, actually they're animal patrons. Sclythe the cobra and Old White the wolf. I'm due for a third after this next ordeal-whatever."
Whave looked at her incredulously. "So this is just a big game."
Romeli was about to retort, but shrugged instead. "That would be putting it lightly."
"What's in this chest anyways?" asked Sereem curiously.
Romeli smiled weakly. "I've seen the inside of it once. It's all Prophecy stuff, I think. I don't really know how much it will help, but it's the only lead I have."
"Are you crazy?" blurted out James. He ran his hand through his hair, muddling it up even more. "You can't go back there!"
Romeli lowered her head. She couldn't look at him anymore. "I have to."
"No you don't. Find a different clue. Research something else!"
She looked up alarmed. "Do you realize that it isn't just me that's in trouble this time? If I fail, only the Gods know—." She paused. "Not even the Gods know what will happen!"
"You'll die." His voice broke.
Romeli sighed loudly. She couldn't believe what she was getting into. There was no time for this.
"Funny. Last time I checked, you didn't even know I existed."
The pain that reflected in his eyes made her want to take back everything she had just said. He turned away, unable to reply.
Romeli let her eyes linger on him regretfully for a moment before turning back to her friends. "But there's one more thing. I need your help."
"Anything," replied Ethan with a nod. "We're behind you all the way."
She looked at them thankfully. "I think you understand the dilemma I'm facing when it comes to my parents…"
"Oh…"
"Yeah," she said with a nod. "As you can imagine, they're going all post-death on me. If they knew I was in this crypt right now, they would dub me temporarily incompetent and tie me to the furthest chandelier."
Sereem snorted.
"So do any of you have any ideas?"
"We could kidnap them…"
"You're funny, Whave."
"What about a simulacrum."
Romeli considered it for a moment, but shook her head. "My father is a black robed mage. And I suck at simulacrums."
"You ran away?"
Romeli smiled. "Well it wouldn't be lying, but I'd hate to clean that mess up when I come back. It's only going to be for a couple of days."
"But doesn't it take a couple weeks to get over there?" asked Tim with a frown.
"It'll take me hours if I fly as a dragon," pointed out Romeli. "People will be confused about the giant green thing flying around, but they'll get over it."
"Ah. Well that's awesome then."
Ryoku's eyes widened. It soon became obvious that she had thought of an idea.
"I know!" exclaimed Ryoku excitedly. "Sleepover!"
Romeli's eyes lit up. "That's…perfect!"
"They would never suspect a thing!"
"It would be perfect planning!"
"I could makeover your simulacrum!"
"OMG!"
All the guys in the room turned their heads away uninterested. James scratched the back of his ear.
Romeli and Ryoku flashed smiles before turning back to the boys.
"Well now that that's settled…," whispered Whave dully. Ethan chuckled.
Romeli breathed out heavily in an attempt to calm her racing heart. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
"One thing's for sure," laughed Ethan. "You're fucking crazy."
"Take us with you," said James. The hint of pleading in his voice made her heart wretch. He hadn't said anything since she thrashed him.
She turned towards him and was immediately swept up by his glistening green eyes. There was no doubt that this was the hardest on him. The others could imagine what happened, but they weren't there.
They hadn't seen her fall.
There was a moment of connected electricity, but she looked down and it was lost. "I'm sorry," she muttered to the ground. "But I have to do this alone. It's too risky. I can take care of myself."
James shook his head and gave her a disbelieving look, but didn't reply.
"So. I guess this is it," she said reluctantly, looking back up at everyone. "I'm going back to Scanra." She shivered and laughed at the same time.
Whave shook his head. "You're such an idiot. Give me a hug."
Romeli laughed as she was bombarded with bodies and arms. Their support was inspiring. It had something for her to return to. It gave her a purpose.
All affections over with, she stepped away from her friends and turned to Ryoku. "I'll make the simulacrum here. As far away from Numair as possible."
"Good plan."
Romeli closed her eyes and brought out her Gift into the open. The blackness that used to inhabit her sight turned a miraculous green, and she knew the room had grown significantly brighter. There was a cry of pain and strings of curses from her friends as they complained, but she ignored them.
It wasn't that she was at all horrible at creating simulacrums, but that they were usually incredibly time-demanding projects. A factor that she was currently lacking. Her most impressive simulacrum, the one she made of James so that Maggur would still think him dead, had taken her a few hours to make, with the help of Maryann, and half of the Tortallan Spy force. And even that one would not beat the quality of her father's.
Not that she was at all worried about this one. It would get the job done. It would be convincing enough, and makeover-worthy for Ryoku. She was only going to be gone for a day anyways.
Romeli opened her eyes and observed her work. "All done."
James sneezed.
Romeli's eyes widened. "SHIT!"
"What…? Romeli, what is it?"
Romeli began pacing again, muttering a long string of curses as she stared down at the ground. Whave looked at her, quite impressed with her vocabulary.
She stopped in front of them. "Shit." And began pacing again.
Everyone was looking confused. James was looking down at the ground, deep in thought. In time, his eyes too widened, and he looked over at her in horror. "Oh Gods. Shit."
Romeli stopped pacing and sighed heavily. "My Gift, I know."
"Wow, wow, wow," exclaimed Ryoku with her hands up. Her brows were creased in confusion. "What are you guys talking about"
"My Gift," repeated Romeli, heart-fallen. "James can sense my Gift. Anyone with an inch of magic in them can sense my Gift."
"Uh oh."
"Yeah pretty much," replied Romeli, hand now against her forehead. "What am I going to do? If I use my magic, the Scanran mages will sense me and capture me. I'm wanted there, dead or alive for escape. If I don't use my Gift, I'll get caught because I have nothing as defense."
Sereem pondered her words for a minute. "What if the mages don't know if it's you or not?"
"They got a good whiff of her magic during the past two months," pointed out James quietly.
"Good point…"
"Dammit," she whispered as she bit her thumb angrily.
"This is exactly why you should take me with you," replied James as he stared at her.
"No, James!"
"Well, why not?"
She shook her head and took a deep breath to calm her panicked heart. Just the thought of it… "As soon as you sprout wings and an infinite amount of magic, let me know. Until then, I'm not risking it." She paused, considering the harshness of her words. "No offense."
"None taken," he said lightly. But he looked down.
"I have an idea," piped up Whave.
Everyone waited for his ingenious plan.
"Wing it."
"Seriously?"
He shrugged. "Well yeah. I mean, what else do you have? You go over there, and you fight and do your best. That's all you can do, isn't it? Be smart and strategic. If you use your Gift, then you use your Gift. And if something bad happens because of it, then get the hell out. You've done it before, haven't you? But this time, try not to die."
Romeli nodded. "You know, Whave. I think that that's just the plan I need. It seems to be my latest style of handling problems."
"That doesn't surprise me."
"Winging it," she laughed as she chewed over the words. "Just what I do best."
"I still can't believe you're going though with this," whispered Tim as he shook his head. "You only just got back."
"I know…" she replied. "I think I've gone crazy."
"You have."
"Thanks, James."
He didn't reply.
"By the way guys, I'm really sorry. My life usually isn't like this."
"Um. Well, actually it is," pointed out Ryoku, in all seriousness. Romeli shrugged.
"Guys, I guess this is it," she decided to say, after a delayed minute. She looked at them all, surprising herself by finding that the crypt they were all standing in was much more welcoming than what she would soon be facing. But she had already spent so much time, and it wasn't getting any earlier. "Everyone know the plan?"
"It's crystal clear," assured Ethan with a nod.
Romeli nodded as well. "Then let's get the hell out of here. Freaking creepiest secret hideout ever."
And so they all departed up the stairs, thankful to be above ground. The reluctance to part separate ways was obvious, but the apprehension and urgency to leave was more dominating. She gave them all quick hugs and assurances of her return before jogging down the hallways and up towards her room.
There were still a couple things she had to do.
OOO
One thing continually perplexed her all throughout her preparation.
Why she even had these odd scars in the first place.
And technically, she was about to find out their purpose soon, but it still did not satisfy her curiosity. She knew that she wasn't at all excellent at healing scars, but she had tried to heal these without any outcome.
It was unusual.
So here she was, at a fast pace once again, this time towards the Healing Wing. As she ran, the pace of the morning was beginning to take its toll. Her exhaustion was morphing into hysteria and shock. The disbelief that she was even doing this made everything unusually funny. It was something that tended to be her way of ventilation.
I should be a super-hero, the thought proudly as she skidded around a corner and nearly into a festive flower pot. A psycho one, but that still classifies me as pretty kickass. People would say, 'thanks for coming, becomes-hysterical-too-easily-girl!' and I would nod gallantly while stopping a car from crashing into a shopping area, and holding up a previously obliterated piano furnished by a mocha bear and his fresh pack of uno cards that have become so far…
She frowned. That far?
So far…that far…so far…that far…so far…
Hell. What's a car anyways?
And all previous fantasies aside, Romeli bounded into a door, nearly engulfed by a green tapestry on the way.
The boom that accompanied was enough to knock her to the ground.
Neal opened the door, a look of bewilderment on his face. He looked around, trying to find the culprit, and that was when his eyes fell on Romeli.
"You know, you could just knock like normal people," he pointed out with a sly grin as he held out his hand.
"You're not the first to tell me that today," she grumbled as she held her head with one hand and accepted his with another.
Neal led her inside gently and sat her down on one of the multiple cots that furnished the Healing Wing. She sat down gratefully as she tried to rub away her headache.
"So. Did you just have the temptation to run into my door, or are you here for a reason?" he inquired with a slight chuckle.
Two and a half seconds later, Romeli was reminded of why she was here in the first place.
Holy cow.
"Nealan!" Romeli cried as she flung herself out of the bed. "I can't believe I'm doing this! I can't believe…I mean sure I joked about it, ha ha ha and everything, but now that I'm actually going…everything seems to be going at warp speed, and I've been running around all morning because it was in my bookshelf all along! Can you believe it? But no I need to leave, but that's hard because I had to go to the crypt and talk, and I'm freaking. Out. Because I can't believe it! Plus I think I just had a psychotic break in your hallway."
She paused.
"Tell anyone this, and I'll cut off your genitals and stick them to my window."
Neal cringed. "Thanks for the visual," he whispered before turning back to the current problem. "You're leaving?"
She threw her hands in the air. "Have you been listening to anything I just told you? Yes! I'm going back to Scanra!"
It took a great effort for him to be the calm subject in the conversation. "May I ask why?" His voice had a strong tenor of disbelief.
"To get something that will help me out. It will only be for a couple days. But I had to talk to you! Could you do me a favor?"
Neal blinked. "Erm…sure. What?"
Romeli pointed at her neck. "Heal this."
Neal's eyes slid down to the topic of discussion. "I don't even know what 'this' is."
Romeli glared. "I thought you were supposed to be some crazy healer. Do your magic! I don't have all day!"
Neal held up his hand. "I understand that. But we have to look at this logically. When did these scars first appear?"
Romeli held her hands tightly to keep from fidgeting impatiently. "I dunno. Alanna pointed them out to me after I…woke up."
Neal nodded. "After your escape then. Do you know when exactly they appeared?"
She shook her head frustratedly. "I don't really remember, Neal. My slave collar was there anyways. Why does this even matter?"
Neal nodded, oddly interested, but he changed the subject. "How come you can't heal them?"
She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Her patience was beginning to disintegrate. "I…really don't know…I've always been bad with scars."
Neal nodded and walked towards her. He looked down at her neck, peering at it keenly. "It's odd that they're scars…so interestingly shaped. They look like they could have been burned to your skin, like a brand—perhaps from the slave collar. What's interesting is that they're still red and raw, when, by now, they should be fading. I suspect that it was inflicted magically, which takes much longer to heal than the average scar."
Romeli nodded, taking his words in desperately. "So do you think you can heal it?"
He shrugged. "I'll give it a shot."
He led her over to the cot once again, and sat her down. He took a stool and cupped a cool hand around her neck. She shivered as she felt his Gift enter her. The frost that seemed to drip down her was incredibly relaxing, making her mind unclouded and become clear from the anxiety that had previously dominated her. As the sensation of the Gift deepened, she began to suspect that Neal wasn't healing her scars at all, but instead was calming her. It was like the healing process wasn't even working at all.
And then it was gone.
Romeli opened her eyes and frowned. "Did it work?" She already knew the answer.
Neal shook his head apologetically. "Sorry."
She sighed. It was worth a shot.
"But I'm guessing you're going to Scanra to find out the reason why?" He leaned forward with raised brows.
She nodded. "More or less."
"Well," he started, leaning back in his chair. "You know you're an idiot, right?"
Romeli blinked. "I figured. But—."
"Romeli, you have a really good chance of dying. Again."
She nodded slowly. "Of course."
"And no one is going to be there to save you this time."
Romeli rolled her eyes. "Yes."
"You aren't taking this seriously."
"Neal!" She threw up her hands. "Of course I'm taking this seriously!"
"Well then why are you going back? You've lost it. You just returned from two months of tortured servitude and turn right back again to face the mess you left behind? Single-handedly? Who does that?"
"I do that," she replied hardly. "You don't understand, Neal. I have to do this. It's my…job."
He guffawed. "Your what? Gods Romeli, what are you, eight years-old? You don't need a job."
"I'm sixteen. And I do have a job. What do you think the hair, the powers, and the prophecy were for? I'm not normal, Neal, and I'm finally accepting the fact that that means I have to do something about it."
It was his time to sigh. She had won. "Fine. But I don't like the idea of it. I think of you like a daughter…and I feel like I'm sending you to your death."
She smiled weakly. "Well thanks for the concern, but I'll be fine. It will only be a couple of days. I do have one more question, though."
Neal seemed hesitant. "Ask away."
"You're a pretty powerful mage, right?"
He screwed up his face. "Not…really."
She shook her head. "That was a lame question. Of course you're a powerful mage. But here's the thing. I'm faced with a small dilemma."
His face began to pale. "Which would be…?"
The darkening features in his face began to make her nervous. "You…you can sense my Gift when I use it, right?"
In the curt amount of three seconds, Neal had put two and two together. "My God Romeli. You are not going back to Scanra."
She wasn't moved. On the other hand, she was mildly impressed with Neal's intelligence. "I highly doubt that would ever stop me."
Neal sighed, knowing that the point she made was true. It was obvious that any reasoning he made would not affect her true decision. Despite Romeli's stubborn outlook, he convinced himself to take a different tactic. "Romeli. Have you ever asked someone how they feel when you use your Gift?"
Romeli frowned, immediately snatched onto the question. "No…not really. I only know that whenever I use it, anyone around me can sense it."
"Exactly, but here's the thing." Neal stared into her eyes deeply. "Yes, when anyone uses their Gift around someone else, you can usually sense it—faintly, but it's there. It's also quite easy to determine if a substance contains magic, as you probably know. But you are on a whole new level. When you were first discovered by your parents in the street, people all around the world sensed—something. Some divine power. They had no idea what it was, of course, but it was there. Your existence, actually, alerted Scanra that the object in the Prophecy had arrived. And so, yes, people can sense when you use your Gift. It's not very obvious, more like a faint feeling of awe—kind of like one is seeing a piece of raw power expose itself. Either way, any mage by you in the Scanran palace will be able to sense your magic specifically."
Romeli nodded slowly. She had never heard of people's reactions to her magic before, and to be honest, it was quite nerving. Raw power? Hardly. Her Gift was infinite, but it wasn't invincible. "I've already considered the risks, though. I don't have a choice."
"As I figured," he agreed with a nod. The temptation to argue with her further on the subject of leaving evaded him. "But I do want to know how you think you're going to handle your problem."
She shrugged, and Neal's returning look of horror made her want to cry hopelessly. The idea of leaving seemed so stupid now, but she still had to do it. Against all odds, she had to go back there—and it made no sense to her. "I talked to my friends about that, and I figured that I would try my best without magic—I survived though most of my servitude without it after all. But if I need to, I'll use it, and wing it from there. It's the best plan I have."
Neal looked like he didn't have much better. "I really hope you don't die."
Romeli chuckled, but it felt awkward in her throat. "Well…me too. The Gods know I don't need that again." She stood up, and stretched out the kinks in her arms from sitting.
Neal stood up in return and gave her a hug. "You better come back to Tortall in one piece."
Romeli laughed and hugged him back. "Which reminds me. I need a favor."
"Anything."
"Do not tell the king. He'll pull the royalty-card on me and think of a stupid reason to keep me here. And if my parents find out…"
He nodded quickly. "Your secret is safe with me. Now go on. The sooner you leave, the more likely you'll arrive by nightfall."
Romeli nodded, and gave him one more lingering look before turning around and walking quickly out of the Healing Wing.
OOO
James slammed the door behind him and propped his head against it as he breathed heavily. His eyes were closed, unwilling to see the interior of his bedroom as he shook. The whole idea was stupid in the first place—how could he even consider the success of it.
That thought alone weighed down on him, and he slid to the ground, his back pressed against the door he previously entered through.
But it wasn't like he had initially failed.
The reminder helped somewhat, but the pain still collected on him. It wasn't the fact that he had not done what he sought out to do that weakened him now, but the stressful thought that she was actually leaving.
He couldn't make any sense of the situation.
Why would she even think of leaving? Was she insane?
It angered him considerably.
A dominant portion of the time he had known her, she was worried over The Prophecy. And once that was all solved, she was off throwing around self-sacrifices without any second thoughts. Of course then she goes off and dies, and the cycle starts over again.
Was this honestly the way she should be living her life? Jumping from ordeal to ordeal while slowly killing herself in between?
He slammed his hand down on the floor, ignoring the rebutting pain that drifted through his arm afterwards. How could she be so stupid? How could she want something so bad, she would go back to hell and risk her life just to acquire it?
How could she possibly do this to him?
She had already died on him once, and now here she was, eager to go and do it again. He could not see any other outcome than her demise. Last time she didn't even succeed with her Gift, how was she supposed to overcome the whole Scanran guard without it? Yes, she was strong. But her strength came with her magic, not her physical power. In doing this, she was killing herself—she was killing him—for he could see no future without her.
He had to accept that he couldn't see Romeli again.
For a brief moment only, he let the waves of torture wash over him, have their fun in toying with the tempo of his heart. But then he pushed them back, too, and went to face what now came ahead of him.
James stood up, shaking slightly and on the verge of breaking. It was almost like he was falling back into his previous vacant life again.
Almost.
Because accepting he could not see Romeli again was essential for preparing the worst, and absolutely impossible.
Because he could not retreat behind his bedroom door and hope the world stayed on the other side.
He whipped around and punched the wall in front of him, ignoring his knuckles that split under the impact.
OOO
"Romeli you are so absurd," stated Maryann as she sat across from her in her personal quarters. "And I love it."
Romeli sighed and sunk deeper into the surprisingly comfortable armchair that she lazed in. "You're the first person I've told today who actually supports what I'm doing.
"Oh, Gods. I don't support it," Maryann stated as she laughed. "You're bloody insane, that's established. But I think the idea is pretty kickass—even if you're probably going to die."
Romeli couldn't help but smile a little. "I love how you speak of my mortality rate so lightly."
"I love how you don't care about your mortality rate at all."
Damn. She had her there.
Romeli sighed. "Well I'm going to try and not die this time," she stated firmly. "Whatever happened previously was most likely a gift from the gods and probably won't ever happen again. So. No dying for me."
Maryann nodded in agreement. "Quite the goal. Let's accomplish it this time."
"I still can't believe…"
"…you're going to Scanra, yes." Maryann nodded, quite bored. "For the fifth time, I know."
Romeli smiled weakly. "You seem so concerned about my wellbeing, Maryann. I'm so flattered.
The ex-spy flashed a smile. "I've learned not to get concerned with you anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'll be devastated if you end up dying for an ancient piece of furniture, but I'm not going to wallow over the possibility either. Have you forgotten that I am an accomplished spy?"
"You were an accomplished spy."
Maryann glared. "Yes, well, that's irrelevant. The point is, that I'm well trained." But then Maryann's mood immediately changed, and she leaned forward intently. "Romeli, I have to admit that, yes, what you're doing is incredibly dangerous. But I'm not going to stop you from doing it. I don't know what goes on in that head of yours, but obviously if you're going all the way back to Scanra for this trunk, it's pretty important. I know that your friends probably weren't too enthusiastic about you leaving, but you have to remember that they aren't the priority today. Remember everything that we went through in Scanra. For the next three days, you are not Romeli—you are an efficient machine—you are a spy, and don't forget it for a minute. Go back to that state of being you slipped into in Scanra, because I'm not going to be there this time to give you a pep talk every step of the way. You're on your own—not even the Tortall spies will be able to help you. So yes, this time it's harder and much more risky, but you can fight through this. Screw the fact that using your Gift will cause a wreck. If you use it, you use it, but be clean, be efficient, and do your thing." She paused, and reached over to clasp Romeli's shoulder tightly. "Do you have this?"
Romeli breathed in and out heavily. "I have this."
Maryann's grin grew, flashing a gleam of pride in her eyes. "Just like old times, eh?"
Romeli nodded, absolutely horrified of what she was about to do. Yeah. Just like old times.
"Good." Maryann stood up with Romeli following as well. "Slip into survivor mode Romeli. You are a machine. You are a spy. And your mission. Starts. Now."
OOO
The rush was exhilarating as she walked quickly through the hallways and up a concluding flight of stairs. She did not need anything to pack, she would have no hands to carry it with as she traveled, but she did need to do one more thing.
The door to the suite clicked closed and she walked to her parent's bedroom in three determined strides. There was no moment of hesitance—she forced herself to rap lightly on the smooth oak.
"Yes?" Her mother's voice was muted through the wall between them.
"Hey, it's me," said Romeli, beating the shakiness in her voice to submission.
"Hey Romy, what is it?"
"I'm…I'm going to Ryoku's for a sleepover for the next couple of days." She took a big breath. "You'll know where to find me."
OMG SUSPENSE WTF
Mwa ha ha!!!!
And now, we return to the action/adventure part of this story's genre. A little overdue, I think. haha
Replies:
13. Shimmer. 13: lmao. Do you like the fanclub fic so far? I have to admit, it get's kind of crazy. You have to read it in portions so you don't lose your mind.
Silver-star-0: omg. Yay for having energy! Man, this school year has been so intense for me. I swear, every week is a fight until the weekend and then you start all over again. Blah. Ah. So that's how you spell conceited. That's so incredibly strange. (kicks spell check). Well I dunno how awesome this chapter was or not. You'll have to let me know. But I have a feeling that James is turning emo, lol. I tried to make it seem like he's not going all suicidal, but he's so emotional! I think it will get better—my fingers have a mind of their own, you know. Lol. Reading other people's replies is crazy-awesome. But really. He needs to get his head out of his butt.
May silverstream: lmfao. When I just read your reply I had no idea what your were talking about. I was like, 'salad? Beef? What?' then I remembered about the salad and the beef from last chapter. Whoosh. No! Don't die! (hires Romeli to bring you back to life)
Arianna: O.O holy cow. Long review. Lol. No! don't leave me! You better review. Eventually. Haha. Omg lol. You're so funny, but that's what I was looking for. I wanted the relationship between them to be so tense that when he actually says something everyone either dies of happiness or starts running around. Lol. Yeah well…talking to yourself is fun—not that I would know. Well actually, I constantly narrate my life. It's turned into a habit. Lol. Hmmm. I dunno why I hate Jonathan so much. I LOVED him in the Alanna series—you know, sexy prince always there to save the day and bla. But in the other books he just sort of turned into a narcissistic little…whatever. I don't exactly know where the initial hate began though. And I have to say, I've pretty much grown out of the books as well, but I still enjoy writing this since I love the characters so much. As for the Trickster series, I didn't read the second book either—so I can't help you there! Lol.
X17skmBdrchiczxx: lol. Beef and salad. Yes precisely. OMG totally. Finally James actually does something intelligent. He's getting more involved in the story as you can see now. The next few chapters will have him back to normal. Yeah…the action was definitely lacking, but it was more of an information chapter—I had to set the setting for what was happening next, and concluding what happened previously. The pace is quickening again though. Lol.
Itachihater13: ooo. Japan. I've always wanted to go there. The culture seems amazing! Omg I know…I'm so mean for getting the ball all suspenseful like that and letting it die. Mwa ha ha. Mmmm. Yeah I try and use the relationship between Romeli and Ryoku as a comical relief seeing as Romeli is usually going through so much crap. Ryoku is somewhat of Romeli's backbone in realizing that everything is going to be all right no matter what happens—witch a few clubs and chocolate parties on the way. Lol. Keep on moosin? I'm using that.
THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS EVERYONE!!!
Keep on Moosin',
Moose