Ravaged Bonds Chapter 3: A Confession

Power is a double-edged sword, and can dig an early grave for any who misuses it.

–Arnaud, the Wandering Prophet of Lemuria

Isha stared at the tall, oaken double-doors in front of her with a hand poised near one of the lion-head doorknockers, wondering if she should knock or not. Her hand trailed along an invisible line, moving forward towards the leonine shape and recoiling worriedly as if it were part of an odd dance.

When it came to deciding, Isha felt that she was never truly good at it, and the euphonic tones of a piano within made the choice of disturbing the household even more difficult. Her fellow Adepts were stouthearted, fiery, brazen, and ready for anything that comes their way, but she was none of these things. At first she enjoyed the thought of her being different, but more often than not she desired to change to the norm. Now was one of those times.

With a dry swallow, she rapped against the door with one of the lion heads three times, each crash of the metal piercing the music like decisive blows. It was louder than she expected, but there was no answer.

She licked her lips and chose to do it again, this time with both knockers. The flowing piano notes still flowed, assuring her that no one had heard her. She sighed and turned about, seating herself on the edge of the porch and feeling very much ashamed of herself. Maybe it was foolish for her to come here, she thought. Surely everyone was tied down and doing something on their weekend, right?

The squeaking of a slowly opening door hinge startled her to her feet, and through the crack she found the fair face of the household maid. She appeared to be a level-headed and morose individual, her dark brown hair pulled back into a well-groomed ponytail and wrapped with a kerchief, her eyes distant, and her maid's dress neatly pressed. She must have been in her late twenties or early thirties, but one could hardly know which by just seeing her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking over the young lady with a blank expression.

"U-um, I was hoping to find Wolfe around. Is he . . . here . . . ?" Isha queried, her voice cracking slightly as she walked up to the door.

"Oh, you're one of his friends, huh?" the maid sniffed, her gaze now betraying much more than a tinge of anger. "Sorry, but I can't help you. You'd best be on your way; I have more important business to do than talk about the likes of him."

"H-hey, wait!" Isha uttered, grabbing the edge of the door as the maid withdrew her head. The door grudgingly stayed in place before the maid opened it again.

"Would you kindly," the maid huffed, "remove your presence from here? Didn't you hear me earlier? I can't help you."

"But he lives here, right? Can't I ask anyone else if they know where he is?" she persisted, her arms dropping to her sides.

"No, you cannot. The lady and mistress of the house do not wish to be disturbed from their piano practice, and they will not as long as I am around. You might as well wait for—"

"Emery, who is it that you are talking to? I never said I didn't wish to be disturbed . . ." Avdotya's voice spoke from behind the door. "Go on, I can handle things from here."

"B-but—" the housemaid sputtered as she turned her back towards the source.

"But, nothing! Go on, I'm certain that there is something in the house for you to clean up."

"Humph!" said Emery with a stamp of her foot, and she left without another word, her head disappearing out of sight and angry trotting echoing through the manor.

"I'm terribly sorry about that. She's always in a grouch and no matter what—" Avvie spoke through the door before she opened it fully. Her eyes widened to the size of trikin balls when she realised who it was at the door. "Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed happily upon the sight of her visitor. "What brings you here, Isha? There's nothing wrong, I hope?"

Oh, no . . . nothing, um, happened," Isha replied nervously, looking down at her feet. "I was just wondering if, er, Wolfe was here. . . ."

Av smiled and shook her head.

"He left a while ago to get some time to think. It's difficult for him to concentrate when I'm playing the piano," she chuckled, leaning her arm against the door. "I think he would enjoy your company, however. You're more of the shier, quieter type of person, after all."

Isha naturally rouged and turned slightly away, abashed by the comment. Avdotya took notice of this.

"Oh . . . I'm sorry. I only meant that you were . . ."

"It is fine . . ." Isha responded, looking back up with a somewhat forced smile before dropping it. "Do you know where can I find him . . . ?"

Avvie frowned and bit down on her cheek.

"I never thought about where at first, but now that you mentioned it he seemed rather gloomy this morning . . . so he probably went there."

"W-what? Where . . . ?" whispered Isha unconsciously.

"Caanara Farmstead."

Both fell silent, the only sound stemming from the faint whimpers of the ever-present breeze.

The fields along the northwest road where Isha travelled were tall and untouched by cattle for many years, yielding a vast amount of the ruddy faces of corn roses that jutted their lazy faces out of the verdant curtain of grass. The air was thick with poppies' pollen, so much so that she started to feel a headache forming from inhaling the vapours without a handkerchief over her nose and mouth, but still she pressed on.

In the hazed distance as she neared the end of the pasturelands she could see the ruined shape of what previously was a farmhouse, and felt her innards squirm at the sight of the damages it withstood. The thatched straw roof previously there was shredded and gone, and thick beams were hurled far from the house as if they were participating logs in a caber toss. Only mortared stone and several lucky columns remained standing, with timbers that were still attached by a strong nail swinging in the air and rotting in the dew.

Isha swallowed hard, wondering what kind of storm could be so monstrous as to obliterate a house in its entirety. No one else on the island mentioned a storm of such calibre to her, but she hypothecated that it must have been taboo to talk about it, especially to the tourists that come every so often to see the beauty of the isle.

A snaking trail of recently disheveled grass caught her eye as she continued down the road, headed towards the house in a more-or-less straight line. She knew beyond all doubt that it had to be Wolfe's, and decided to follow its path before rooting in place. She spotted him.

He was standing in the middle of the meadow, his eyes focused downwards into the depths of the tall grass as if deep in thought and his countenance as solemn as a judge's. Isha had no idea what make of this and stepped closer worriedly.

"Wolfie . . . ?" she uttered softly, pushing her way through the grass and not minding the poppy thorns that grazed her skin.

He whirled around, hearing the sound of her skirt rustling through the grass, and blinked.

"Isha? What are you doing here?" he questioned with a tilt of his head.

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and looked down, searching for words in the back of her mind.

"I . . . I just felt like I needed to stop by . . . you know, to check in on you," she managed to utter, dodging his gaze and feeling exceptionally silly. She thought silently on why she did come here and couldn't find an answer, or at least one that she could tell him.

He smiled only mildly before rotating.

"Thank you, Isha . . . I'll be with you in a second, okay?" he uttered as a small gust swept through, tossing the plants and the twosome's hair before dying off.

Isha nodded hesitantly, but something did not seem right to her. Why was he being so distant with her, and what was he focusing on? Daring a curious look, she peered around him and cupped her hands over her mouth, issuing a gasp.

In front of him was a marble rock, crudely carved into a square at the base and arched at the top into an ill-formed cross. Blackened blotches where moss and lichen had been brushed away were still gleaming with morning mist, and engraved sigils decorated the side they both were on. It was assuredly a headstone.

Wolfe stepped toward the grave without paying attention to the noise behind him, felt the cold surface underneath his fingertips caringly, blessed the stone with every one of the seven signs of Sol and Mani, bowed his head to kiss its rough, rain-eaten surface, placed a lone dove-tail lily atop, and turned round. She could spot a torn expression on his countenance, and feel one on her own as well.

"Wolfie . . . was that . . . ?" she managed to utter before cutting herself off. She knew exactly who lay underneath the field.

He didn't reply, instead lapsing into silence.

"So how did you find me?" Wolfe inquired, looking over to his companion after what seemed like their longest silence together. Neither had spoken to each other since they left the grave, and both walked along the road back to town.

"Your stepsister told me that you were probably here . . . so I thought I should check it out," Isha spoke quietly, staring down at the ground underneath her.

"So Avvie told you . . . I should have guessed," he commented, staring out at the poppy-strewn fields. "Only she knows that I come here anymore, well, excepting you, of course."

Isha nodded and felt the wind pick up, tossing the pollen and fragrance of billions of individual plants into the air. She coughed as she accidentally breathed some of the steel grey powder in while Wolfe put a handkerchief up to his nose. After several seconds without the wind ablating itself, he stepped closer after they both paused, their eyes shut to keep themselves from being temporarily blinded.

"Ish, take this," he said, blindly attempting to place the kerchief in her free hand after many tries. "If you breathe too much in, you'll get sick. Trust me, I've learned that the hard way."

Finally, their hands met, and she covered her mouth as the wind died down at last. Wolfe watched worriedly as she expelled the pollen in her lungs, but she soon recovered and gave the cloth back to him, her eyes still wet.

"T-thanks, Wolfie . . . you're a lifesaver," she rasped, feeling the nauseating ache in her head disappear as time progressed.

He frowned from behind his wind-shielding shirt collar and tossed it back onto his neck.

"No, don't thank me," he replied with a sigh.

"Why not?" she asked, drying her eyes off on her inner arm. "You gave me your hankie, right? So why shouldn't I thank you?"

Wolfe chuckled at her response before losing his previous joviality. She was sweet . . . but she just did not get the big picture. He sighed again.

"Because it is my fault that these fields are untended for . . . this is Caanara, my family's land, after all, and since there is no one else to take care of it I should be the one that does, right?"

Isha looked at him worriedly before turning away.

"Well . . ."

"Actually, that was a silly question, wasn't it?" he continued with a shrug. "Of course I should be. People gag on pollen, cows can't graze without getting sick, and grass is over everything . . . even my family's graves. That is something I need to change."

"W-Wolfe, but you're just a kid!" Isha exclaimed towards him. "A kid like . . . well, me! Don't you find this too much responsibility to put on your shoulders alone . . . ?"

Wolfe pursed his lips, surprised by her sudden reaction, before shaking his head.

"Ish, my grandfather built the entire farm up all by his lonesome. He was younger than I was, too, so why can't I?"

"But . . . but you don't have to do it alone. I could help too. . . ."

"Your family wouldn't stand it, I'm certain. . . . You're a lady of nobility, even I can see that, and a noble would never let his daughter help the son of a farmer."

"My father would if . . . if. . . ."

She halted mid-sentence and froze in fear, unable to force her eyes to make contact with Wolfe's, while he blinked in confusion.

"If what?" he queried, trying to be as calm as possible.

She continued to dodge his gaze, even trying to slip away, but he caught her wrist before she was able to. She resisted at first and struggled to break free, but he kept a soft yet unyielding grip.

"Ish . . . c'mon, this is getting ridiculous. This is the third time you looked like you wanted to say something to me, and this is the third time you didn't say it. You didn't do this when we were kids, so why now?"

After a pause she turned around to face him, Wolfe letting go of her arm as she did so. She seemed positively terrified, but for what reason he could not figure out.

"It's . . . tough to get out . . ." she whispered, her eyes tearing up.

"Hey, I promise that I won't laugh, no matter how silly or serious it is. Now come on, out with it, all right?"

"It's not that I'm worried about . . . but . . . I'm sure you would know what I'm talking about, right?" she queried with a blush, wiping her face with her sleeve before looking him fully in the face.

Wolfe stared back, a befuddled look on his face. This was not like the Isha he knew at all, and instead was akin to what she had been in the forest two days ago. Not soon after he turned his head and coughed into a balled fist.

"Well . . . there is only one way to find out," he responded, locking his eyes again.

She smiled, turned redder, and pulled her hands behind her back.

"Er, it, uhm . . . it goes like this, er . . . what I mean to say is . . . I . . . like you. . . ."

Wolfe eyed her curiously and subdued a quiet laugh behind his fist again.

"Is that all you wanted to say? I mean . . . I like you too. Friends are supposed to—"

"I don't mean it like that. I meant . . . you know, that I like like you," she continued, her eyes drifting away. "That I love you, Wolfie. . . ."

Time stood still as understanding struck him, and his fist dropped to his side lifelessly like his other hand. He searched her face, wondering if she was joking, but this was no joke. She was entirely genuine.

"We could rebuild this farm together . . . and share the workload evenly. One person would have a tough time, but with two people, we could bring this place back to its former glory. So . . . what is your reply? Please do it soon; I don't know how long I can last without an answer. . . ."

She kept her eyes locked on him and held her hands together in a begging manner. She thought beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loved her back, and that scared him.

"Isha . . . I need to know. Are you gravely serious about all this?" he asked as a cold feeling like glacial ice ran down his spine.

"W-what? Of course I am!" she exploded, stepping back a pace in surprise. "When a woman says something like this, she means it down to the depths of her soul!"

He gulped down hard.

"But I . . . thought that you thought of me as a friend . . . nothing more."

"What does that matter now, Wolfie? I just said my feelings . . . my truest feelings. Is it that tough to say your own . . . ?"

"I-Isha, you don't understand, I. . . ."

Her face dropped, as did her shuddering, and she stared at him in fright. She did not have to hear anything else to know his full response.

"Wait, Ish! Give me more time!" he shouted hastily as she made a swift motion to leave, reaching out his hand to catch hers, but it was too late. She was faster than he was, and he grabbed only air.

"Just stay away, Wolfe!" she shouted through choked sobs, tossing her head side-to-side as she ran north. "Just stay away from me!"

He bit down on his lip so that he tasted copper, and stopped his attempt to chase after her, weighted down as if by lead and rooted to the spot. Guilt swam up into his throat, and all he could do was wordlessly watch her flee towards the forest, feeling like the biggest idiot that ever walked the flatness of the world.

The fields of his family grounds were long out of sight after he slipped through the overreaching shadow of the deciduous forest. Even though the sun started to approach its zenith, it had a difficult time attempting to tear through the canopy with its scorching sunbeams. That was soon not going to be a problem, though, when Wolfe passed through a clearing and looked at his left. The wind had changed drastically, even through the mass of trees surrounding him, and dark clouds that came into view on the western horizon assured that a wayward storm was coming from the mainland. They hardly garnered any interest to him; he had a much more important task to worry about than grumbling cotton balls.

Isha's final words clung to him like pine sap, and though he tried to ignore them he found it incredibly difficult to do so. She trusted him to feel the same way as she did, and he, without a doubt, that trust, did he not? He rubbed his eyelids and frowned, but continued to plod on.

He saw her in the distance at the first place where he looked, just beside the Granddaddy Apple with her head hung low. Dead and dying dove-tails lay scattered around the surrounding meadow in dirt-brown and dusk-red tufts, and the previous wonderful scents and smells that previously existed were now of dried vegetation. The flowers, even though they favoured sunshine, had a very short lifespan before reverting into seed pods, and only the few within the protection of the limbs of their woody brethren still survived without withering.

With a terse swallow, he tried his best to step silently among the flowers that littered the area, failing miserably as he stepped on a dropped seed pod with a loud crunch. He cursed his luck when Isha raised her head sharply and stopped.

Each stared at the other wordlessly, yet each had a different species of worry. Isha was the first to break the silence, looking back down into her lap.

"I knew you'd come here against my w-wishes . . ." she uttered lowly, tears forming in her eyes. "Somehow, I kn-knew you were that . . . th-that. . . ."

She sobbed into her hand, unable to continue, and Wolfe felt a new wave of guilt wash over him.

"Ish . . ." he uttered as he approached her side, sitting on a nearby root, "everything I said earlier . . . I'm sorry. I never expected anything like this, and I . . . well, I overstepped—"

"No, it's my f-fault, and my fault-t alone . . ." Isha sputtered, cutting him off and sniffling into her forearm. "I-I should n-never have come back here . . . never ha-ave thought of you any more than a-a. . . ." She shook her head helplessly and tossed her hands into her lap in a fit of anger. "I don't know what I'm saying anymore!" she bellowed as she gripped her forehead, an exploding sensation panging within her skull.

Wolfe's own forehead throbbed similarly, and worriedly he pulled her into a shallow hug. Looking down for an instant, he noticed the dying blossom of one of the flowers of the area cupped in one of her hands, brittle and fragmented.

"Isha, please don't say things like that, okay . . . ?" he whispered. "If you never came back, I would never have seen you again, and seeing you again is one thing I would never want to give up, even if this happened. . . ."

"D-don't you dare make this just about you," she retorted, nudging his hand off of her and turning her head way. "You're n-not the one that got pushed away!"

"I never pushed you away. . . ."

"B-but you said that you didn't love me! Or were going to, anyways . . ." she sniffled, shaking her head in despondence. Wolfe looked down.

"You're right . . . I admit that I never even thought about it that way before," Wolfe uttered. "However, you're still one of my two closest friends. I'd do practically anything for you, and that's why"—he swallowed and glanced over to her—"that's why I'll try to love you back. . . ."

Isha took in her breath sharply and stared at him in complete disbelief, unable to form the words that she desperately wanted to say. The flower she held fluttered away in a passing breeze.

"It's true . . ." he affirmed, sensing her doubt. "Ish, I don't want to see you sad, so I'll give this a chance as long as you promise me one thing. . . ."

"A-anything . . . what is that . . . ?" she inquired, lifting the skirt of her dress slightly to dry her face and setting it back down to look at him again.

"That if this doesn't work out . . . that if I cannot love you as you do . . . that we will still be friends."

She turned away again and dejectedly frowned at the ground. The wind spun around them again, this time stronger and tossing her blood-red strands of hair as she meditated. Finally, she brought her attention back to him.

"I'll promise that, Wolfie . . . though I would never wish for that to happen," she responded with a sad smile.

"Nor do I . . ." he concurred with a whisper, smiling back at her.

Blushing, Isha turned her head away, afterwards reaching over to where his hand was and slipping her fingers into his own. He gripped them back lightly, each holding the other by the hand for a fair length of time. Wolfe let out a chuckle and shook his head with a smirk on his face.

"What's so funny?" the redhead questioned, peering over with a forming grin as she saw him.

"I just thought that Avvie would enjoy herself when she sees us, um, well, together," he explained with an additional laugh. "She has been pestering me to go on a date with someone for a while."

"Well isn't that sweet of her . . ." Isha teased, giving him a friendly nudge. "Do you think she'd like to see us now?"

"Now? Oh, no, it's too early," he responded as he nudged her back. "If she found out now, she'd never let me live this down."

"Aw, so you're going to keep this a secret from her?"

"For the time being, I suppose, but not forever. She's too clever to hide things from for long," he chuckled before staring off into the distance. "Ish, I should go . . . you know, to think things through. So many things have happened these past few days, and I really need some time to ponder."

"I understand . . ." she spoke in a whisper and smiled over to him. Wolfe felt her fingers unraveling from his and instead rest on his wrist. "We all have things to ponder over . . . so I will leave you to that. I . . . I hope for the best, Wolfie, and thank you for coming. I don't know what I would have done if you left me here. . . ."

Wolfe frowned slightly at her last statement before smiling again.

"You are certainly welcome," he responded, giving her a warm hug before rising. "Whenever you feel like it, please go ahead and stop by the manor"—he paused and changed his tone to something gravely serious—"but stay away from the maid of the house."

Isha blinked a few times before she burst out laughing.

"What, you don't believe me? I mean it," Wolfe continued, frowning agley as he thought back to Emery.

"No, I believe you," she chuckled as she calmed herself enough to speak. "When I knocked at the door, she came first, and when I asked for you . . . well, the conversation ended. What did you do to the girl to make her so angry at you?"

"I don't know . . . but whatever the case, she hates my guts so much that she said she'd gouge them out of me."

"Sol and Mani, what a horrid thing to say!" Isha gasped, launching to her feet.

"I agree there, but it is a good thing she's harmless, eh?" he queried with a grin. "She can talk a Dirty Ape into praying for mercy, but from what I see she hates violence. Who knew? Whatever the case, if you see her, just divert her attention to cleaning something and she'll leave you alone," he added with a wink.

"And you wonder why she hates you!" she laughed.

"You know, I never thought it that way," he stated, still wearing the grin, "but whatever works, works. I'll see you around, all right, Isha?"

"Y-you know it!" she bubbled happily, a blush formed on her cheeks. "I'll be there at three o'clock, Wolfie!"

With a nod, he walked through the path of trodden flowers, feeling the weight that previously held him down tumble off of his shoulders. The wind flickered amidst the trees and made the needles dance as if in celebration, and a smile crossed his face as he passed underneath them.