The next morning, Kain awoke to an empty bed, though the spot was still warm beside him. He looked up to see Marion dressing, fixing her dress back into place. She smiled at him, then started pulling her hair to the side, fingers combing through to neaten the strands.
"I have to go," Marion said with regret. "But stay awhile longer, I have the room for a few more hours. Besides," she said with quick grin, "You should rest."
Kain immediately blushed, looking aside. He cleared his throat with a cough, then asked, "Will I see you again?"
Marion paused; her fingers tangled in her hair. "Do you want to?" she asked, with some surprise. "I thought that..." she hesitated, then finished twisting her hair into a bun off the back of her neck. "Well, it doesn't matter what I thought."
"No," Kain said, sitting up. He pulled the sheet with him to cover himself, suddenly self-conscious. "What did you think?"
Marion crossed her arms over her chest, clearly uncomfortable. "You're obviously in love with Rosa," she said quietly, looking aside from Kain. "Everyone knows it."
"I am not," Kain protested weakly, knowing the lie as he said it.
Marion shrugged, to appear like she did not care. "It doesn't matter if you are or aren't. I'm not asking anything of you. But if you'd like to see me again, then I'd like that too." She paused, thoughtfully considering him, then added, "I don't have any expectations."
It seemed so odd to Kain. His whole life had been defined by others' expectations of him and how he should act or would act. Everyone wanted something from him, and he felt incapable of offering anything to anyone. Marion was asking only for the present; Kain wondered if he could be content with that.
"I'm leaving today to visit my family's estate for a few days. Come with me?" Kain asked, full of impulsive enthusiasm.
Marion looked surprised again, but sadly shook her head. "I wish I could go, but I can't leave the shop this week." She frowned. "Can I see you when I get back?"
"Yes," Kain agreed easily. Around Marion, he found it easy to set aside thoughts of Rosa and Cecil, both apart and together. Perhaps on this trip, he could use the time and space to get some perspective on the situation, and then enduring their budding romance would not be so torturous.
Making hasty arrangements, Kain was ready to depart Baron that mid-morning, taking with him only a small bag, astride a chocobo. He thought his speed would ensure that no one would have time to realize and follow.
Kain was both dismayed and relieved to see Rosa and Cecil waiting for him at the town's front gate, holding the reigns of their own saddled chocobos.
"Ready?" Cecil asked brightly. At Kain's confused look, he added, "Albert told us you'd be leaving and asked us to keep an eye on you."
"You are coming with me?" Kain asked, incredulous at both Albert's thoughtfulness, and Rosa and Cecil's eagerness. Kain looked uncertainly at Rosa and asked her directly, "Both of you?"
"Of course," Rosa said, the words only a little tight from her stiff jaw. "Why wouldn't we?" Her eyes narrowed, just slightly, daring him to contradict her in front of Cecil. Kain said nothing but found himself smiling regardless.
"Let's go," Cecil said, pulling himself up onto his chocobo. "I checked the maps. If we leave now, we can arrive by late afternoon."
"I brought food for the road, but hopefully there's accommodations for us at Highwind Manor," Rosa said next, also climbing up into the saddle.
And just like that, they had fallen back into their childhood roles, with Cecil taking charge and Rosa being resourceful. Together, they would help Kain do what he needed to do.
Kain followed, mounting his own chocobo, and fell in line behind them both as they left Baron.
The Highwind estate was northeast of Baron. It was situated in a large valley between two towering hills in Baron's highlands. Below, an immense orchard with orderly rows of trees filled the valley. The swirling wind overhead carried with it the perfume of whatever fruit was currently in season and blooming, sending out waves of fruity scent throughout the surrounding lands. Currently between summer and fall, the current crop was apples, giving the air a taste both sweet and tart, depending on direction of the breeze.
It was this unique characteristic that gave the area its name, Highwind, and then on to the family who first established themselves here generations prior. The estate generated a tidy profit every year from their fruit and related products sales. Kain had never had any interest in running the orchard, having been like his father and too interested in his own career. The estate would be waiting on Kain when he was older, and perhaps then he would have a child or spouse interested in running it. For now, it was in the hands of more competent people than him.
The manor on the property was not grand as actual nobility, but still larger than Kain had expected. Richard had been a Sir via his military title and was not a Lord of any rank as Cecil was, but still, the property was impressive and well-cared for. Highwind Manor was surrounded by blooming bushes of fragrant flowers in a riot of soft pastel colors that made it look like a painting. A large staircase preceded the front door, its railing threaded with flowered garlands.
Rosa, Cecil, and Kain came to a stop in front of the manor. Rosa dismounted first, taking a few steps toward the building, considering it with a thoughtful tilt of her head.
"Kain," she said breathlessly, glancing back at him. "It's beautiful. Why haven't you visited?"
"I never thought to," Kain answered honestly, sliding down off the chocobo's back, overwhelmed by the magnitude. In the distance, he could see countless rows of trees, dotted with reds and pinks of every color. Beside the manor was an attached stable house, from which a young man hurried toward them.
At the same time, a smartly dressed, older man descended the stairs. He paused, looking surprised at the three young people. But he mastered his mask quicky, offering a practiced smile, and continued down to meet them at the bottom of the stairs.
"Are you here for a tour? Or to stay? I'm not sure if we have any open rooms, but I can check—" He stopped suddenly, his gaze falling on Kain. The rehearsed smile faded with a vague recognition in his eyes. "Are you…" he started to ask, stepping closer to Kain, looking him over. Then, the man smiled again, though this was one genuine and reached his eyes, softening them with affection. "Kain," the man said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You look so much like your mother."
"I do?" Kain asked, perplexed. He'd only seen vague images of his mother through his odd dreams. He seemed so unlike her from what impression he had, with her dark hair and eyes. Kain had always imagined himself looking like his father and was surprised to hear otherwise. "Really?"
The man gestured vaguely at his own face. "The shape of your eyes and nose. Your whole face reminds me of her, really, though your coloring is..." he hesitated, then shook his head. ".. from your father's side, no doubt."
Kain stood up a little taller, the knowledge somehow bolstering him. He had never known his mother and had never felt driven to, but now he was learning Elena had been a whole person of her own, and that fact somehow surprised him. "Did you know her well?" Kain asked, full of a new hunger to know more.
"I did." The man's smile turned bittersweet, then he offered a quick bow. "Forgive me, Master Highwind, I've forgotten my manners. My name is Jon Westcott, and I've been managing your estate for the last twenty years. I was not expecting you but stay a few days and I'll arrange for you to see the grounds and be informed of the estate's current happenings."
Jon looked over Kain and his friends once more, shaking his head with a small laugh. "But you're not here for that, are you? You have same serious look your mother had when she was on a mission." He turned, gesturing for them to follow. "Leave the chocobos and the bags. I'll have them taken care of. Follow me and you can tell me why you're here."
In a line, they followed Jon into the grand house, which opened into a large foyer, a winding staircase leading upward. "I'll give you a formal tour later," Jon said he led them up the staircase. "But I see many questions in your eyes and your eagerness to ask them. Get cleaned up from the road, I'll arrange for a meal, and we can discuss everything then."
At the top, Jon unlocked the door with a key from his pocket, then led them inside. It opened into a large receiving room, with chairs gathered around a low table beside the room's hearth, creating a cozy atmosphere to welcome guests. Kain was surprised to find himself immediately at ease. From this room, several doors led off into other parts of the sprawling upstairs.
"This is the owner's suite," Jon explained, as he moved around, unlocking each door. "This is the lady's quarters," he said, leaving one door open. "With clothing for the young miss in the wardrobe, if you require it." He moved on to the next. "You'll find Richard's wardrobe in there." He circled back to the entrance. "I'll have food brought up shortly and we can discuss why you're here and how I can assist. Is that agreeable to you, Master Highwind?"
Jon was a babble of energy, despite his age. Kain felt overwhelmed by both the environment and the information dumped on him. He could only mutely nod in reply. Jon, perhaps used to similar stoicism from Elena, seemed to accept this as answer enough and quickly ducked out.
"Is all of this yours?" Rosa asked in awe. Like most Baron soldiers, Rosa and her family had come from the working class and had no family fortune to fall back on should their military careers not work out. This kind of wealth had always been abstract to Kain; as a ward of the crown, he had never been denied a resource he needed for his growth or education.
"I guess so," Kain said as he circled the room, peering through each open door, trying to guess how large the upstairs was. A private dining room was off one room; a study packed wall to wall with books through another; three separate bedrooms; then a private balcony, overlooking the sprawling orchard in the valley. The gravity of his situation slowly settled on him, making him then wonder –
"The Harvey estate," Kain said suddenly, turning to face Cecil, who was peering curiously into the study. "Is it bigger?" Kain asked, already knowing the answer to his jealous question.
Cecil knew it too, in the way that he suddenly went still, afraid to even inhale too deeply as he navigated this thorny issue in their friendship. "It is," he said, sounding resigned, as if he had been waiting for the issue of his nobility to become an issue eventually; it had been something Cecil had always worried about as a child, and now Kain knew the worry had never left him.
"Part of the lands include fertile fishing grounds off of the coast," Cecil added by way of explanation; the fishing industry was huge in Baron and most coastal lands were owned by the very wealthy. It told Kain everything he needed to know about the differences in their social classes and how Cecil would always be better than him.
"Immensely wealthy or not," Rosa remarked with a soft sighing exhale and a dreamy, faraway look. "This place is lovely. You're lucky to have it."
Cecil nodded in agreement to Rosa, but still watched Kain carefully for a reaction.
It wasn't the property, status, or even the wealth that mattered, Kain realized with dismay; he had never cared about those things before and didn't truly care now. But it was yet another way in which Cecil was better than Kain, and had been all along, even without Kain realizing it. Kain's impossible affection for Cecil hadn't tempered their rivalry, perhaps only fueled it, and Kain found he resented Cecil with the same passion that he…
Kain blinked hard, dispelling the thought. No, he told himself. It was time to move from that, from Rosa, from Cecil even. He would find the answers in his mother's things and learn who he really was.
Kain looked around again. There was a specific coziness and comfort to this place that put his entire being at ease. He wondered if that was why his mother liked it so much, and why Richard refused to return, unable to be at peace here anymore without Elena.
"I am," Kain finally agreed. The tension in Cecil relaxed, sensing their potential conflict had passed without incident.
Kain, Cecil, and Rosa cleaned themselves up from their long trip and found old but clean clothing in Kain's parents' things. It seemed odd at first, to be going through Richard's clothing, but Kain reminded himself that it was his now and up to him to make best use of it.
Feeling refreshed and dressed in practical but well-made trousers and a shirt, Kain emerged from the master bedroom. He could hear Jon in the adjacent dining room, already bustling around to set up their meal. Rosa sat on a couch beside the unlit hearth, wearing fitted breeches and a loose tunic. It was strange, Kain realized, because her borrowed men's clothing was usually ill-fitting on her, but this seemed made specifically for a woman's shape rather than a man's, fitting Rosa well.
My mother's clothing, he reminded himself; Elena must have made it custom made for herself. Kain was slowly assembling a new picture of his mother, where a blank had always been.
Cecil was dressed similarly to Kain, also in Richard's clothing. It seemed funny to Kain, as they gathered around the dining room table, unsure of the expected formality, all three hesitant; they wore his parents' clothing like children playacting as adults.
"Relax," Jon said, sensing their trepidation. "I know you are soldiers. Do not stand on ceremony for my sake," he gestured to the chairs, and the three sat down, slightly less tense. Jon began passing food around, and all three relaxed as they filled their plates. It was quiet for a long while as they ate, hungrier than any of them had realized.
When they finally slowed down, no longer eating with a soldier's efficiency but more leisurely, Jon spoke, "So what task brings you here finally? I did hope your return meant you were ready to take part in running the estate, but I sense a different purpose."
"I'm looking for something of my mother's," Kain said, feeling suddenly foolish about the whole thing. It would be here that would prove his dreams false finally, when he found that no box of clues ever existed. When Jon waited for Kain to elaborate, Kain swallowed hard and added, "Something in her personal effects, I think."
Jon seemed to understand the intentional vagueness. "There are three places you might look, depending on the item in question. In the study is Mistress Highwind's library, curated personally over the years by her. She had an intense interest in history and old lore. I find you can tell a lot about someone from their books, so you might find something there.
"Next, is the attic," Jon continued. "You'll find spare furniture there and some sentimental items, along with boxes of older estate records. You might have luck there if you're looking for a document of some kind.
"Finally, the basement, which contains a root cellar for vegetables, storage for wine casks, and an armory that your parents had built to store their collection. If you're looking for a family heirloom of sorts, it might be there."
With that, Jon stood from the table. "If you need anything else, find anyone you can see and ask for me. They'll help you out." He started for the exit, then hesitated by the door. "Oh, and Master Highwind?" he said, looking back over his shoulder at them with a somber gaze. "Your mother's grave is around the back of the property. Under the weeping willow."
"Thank you," Kain said, feeling overwhelmed with all the information and unsure how to feel about it. Jon left, clicking the door behind him,and leaving the three alone. Kain wondered where to start, what was most prudent in his short time here.
"I'll take the study," Rosa said, pushing her plate aside, jumping eagerly up from her seat.
"I have the basement," Cecil offered next, wiping his mouth on a napkin as he stood.
Kain stood, dumbfounded. He knew they would help him, but he did not realize how much he'd need them to help him sort through the pieces of his family's history. It seemed an intensely personal thing to ask of someone, but he knew no one else he trusted with it.
"I'll take the attic," Kain said quietly, then stood to follow them out of the room, desperately grateful for both Rosa and Cecil.
With a small lantern in hand, Kain climbed the narrow stairs to the highest floor of the Highwind Manor. It seemed the most appropriate place for a dragoon to start, Kain mused, as he looked around the open space. He saw spare kitchenware and chairs, for when the manor hosted big events in one corner.
As he turned to face another corner, full of furniture, the lantern swung uncertainly, casting deceptive dancing shadows across the dark walls and floors. For a moment, he thought he saw people occupying the extra beds and couches, but he blinked hard, and they were suddenly gone.
Cautiously, Kain approached the abandoned furniture, knowing that was where he wanted to start. He went, row by row, carefully looking over each piece, trying to find the one from his memory. There seemed to be an organization to the furniture, as Kain went from bedroom furniture to nursery, and knew this is where he wanted to look.
He found the child's bed with its familiar wooden posts toward the back, as if it had been shoved back there to hide it. Getting down on the dusty floor, he reached up under it, groping blindly through the slates for something he was not sure would be there.
When Kain's fingers closed around the bottom corner of a wooden box, he nearly wept with relief, knowing he was not crazy. Wiggling it free from the bottom, he pulled the box out from underneath the bed and into the light.
It was exactly how Kain had dreamed it, small enough to fit between both hands, its wooden surface covered in reaching vines and blooming flowers. It reminded him of this place, full of beauty and grace. His mother had been Troian, Kain remembered, knowing only that their culture had a high level of respect for things that grew in the earth. Her love of the Highwind estate made sense if it reminded her of home.
He sat on the floor, his back against the small bed, the box in his lap and the lantern beside his knee, lending its much-needed light as Kain lifted the lid. He peered in cautiously, as if he were afraid its contents might jump out at him. When he reached in, he felt the handle of something, well-worn by years of use. He pulled it out to inspect it in the light.
It was a small knife. As Kain pulled it free from its sheath, the familiar metal blade winked in the lamplight at him, like a cruel inside joke from the past. "Odin's knife…" Kain said it like a curse, trying to resist the urge to throw it. How many young people had Odin manipulated, Kain wondered again, and knew then his mother was another victim of Odin's ambition. But to what extent?
Kain set the knife aside and reached again into the small box, wondering if it held anything else. He felt parchment under his fingers and heard it rustle as he lifted a stack of rumpled papers from the box. Kain turned one over, running his fingers over the ink.
My dearest heart,
Every minute we are apart is torture. When can I see you again? I ache endlessly for you. Please put me out of my misery and respond, even if only to tell me no.
Yours always, forever, unending
Kain read it over several times, trying to puzzle it out. Was this a love letter from his father? He picked up another.
My love,
I know our time while not together is as painful for you as it is for me. Is it cruel for me to take comfort in that? To know you must endure the same terrible agony I must, and we will only be relieved when we are reunited once more?
Yours in exquisite torture
There were at least a dozen similar letters, always addressed to a vague affectionate platitude, and always signed with the single letter, R. Kain read through a few carefully, his legs growing stiff and numb as he sat there. All the letters were a variation on the first two: the letter writer professes their love and desire to see their paramour again, signing off sometimes with a plan to meet.
How many letters had his parents exchanged like this? Kain wondered. How intense was their love for one another, that despite being married, they still exchanged such passionate correspondence? Did their time apart while his mother was here really tear at Richard so? Is this why he had started his affair with Joanna? Was this why Richard took his wife's death so hard, her suicide in direct conflict to their intense love affair?
This only brought up more questions than it answered, Kain thought, full of frustration. If Elena and Richard had been so in love, then why had she taken her own life? And what did Joanna have to do with it? She was involved somehow, Kain knew, by the guilt and pain he saw in Joanna's eyes whenever she looked his way.
Gathering the papers up and folding them back into the box, then placing the knife on top, Kain then closed the lid. Taking the box under his arm, he left the attic, wondering if Rosa and Cecil would have better insight into this confusing clue about his mother.
Kain found Rosa in the study, pouring over a large open tome. She looked up at hearing him enter, immediately beckoning him over with a gesture.
"Come look," she said, in the easy familiarity of their past childhood before things between them got hopelessly complicated. "Your mother has a lot of books on old magic and ancient lore." She flipped through the pages quickly, trying to find something specific. She landed on a page of a detailed illustration of an ominously familiar mountain peak. Rosa tapped it for emphasis. "See?" she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Even mythos about Mount Ordeals."
"Anything about the dead speaking through dreams?" Kain asked, his eyes scanning the page.
Rosa cracked a knowing grin, then turned back to the book. She turned a few pages forward, quickly skimming through the text. She stopped, pointing to a passage. "Here," she said, then began to read out loud. "'Some travelers experience strange dreams of the past, in which the dead try to communicate their unfinished business in an effort to have it resolved, so they can finally rest.'" Rosa peered back up at Kain, her expression softening with sympathy. "Is your mother trying to find peace by reaching out to you? To finally tell you the truth?"
"I don't know," Kain said, gripping the edge of the desk for stability, feeling suddenly unsure on his feet.
"Kain," Rosa said gently, drawing his attention back to her. "It says that such dreams may be achieved outside of Mount Ordeals. By sleeping on a person's final resting place."
Kain gawked at her. "Are you saying I need to take a nap on my mother's grave?" Kain asked, sounding shocked, not believing Rosa would suggest such a thing.
Rosa shrugged aside his outrage in her practical way. "At worst, you get a poor night of sleep outside under the stars. At best, you have another dream of your mother and gain more insight. I'd say that's worth the sacrilege, don't you think?"
Knowing she was right, Kain sighed in defeat.
Rosa suddenly smiled. "I'll get some blankets."
Cecil met them as they were heading outside, on the stairs.
"Find anything?" Cecil asked. His face was smudged with dust and dirt, his hair streaked with sweat and plastered to his red face. Whatever Cecil had been up to that afternoon, he'd been busy.
Rosa nodded emphatically. "Kain found some old love letters between his parents, and I found some lore on death magic that suggests if Kain sleeps by his mother's grave, he may have another dream." She paused for air. "You?"
Cecil shook his head, less excited than Rosa. "Nothing yet, but I have a hunch. I just need a little break before I keep going."
Together, on the first floor, they found a door leading to the yard behind the manor. The yard opened to a view of the orchard beyond them in the valley below, framed by a line of weeping willow trees, gracefully dragging their blooming branches in a lace curtain around the property. The sun was beginning to set over the valley, spilling golden light through the brightly colored treetops, highlighting the patches of color throughout the orchard.
Kain approached the trees, looking back and forth until he saw the largest tree at the center of the line, towering over the others as a focal point.
In front of the willow tree was a headstone reading,
Elena Leonhart Highwind
and the outline of a blooming flower below it.
"Your mother's maiden name is Leonhart?" Cecil asked, sounding oddly too eager.
"I... I think so," Kain stammered, not sure. "Why?" he asked, looking aside at Cecil.
But Cecil was looking at Rosa instead. "You said you found books on death magic, correct?"
"…Yes," Rosa answered reluctantly, full of uncertainty.
"Why?" Kain asked again, his patience thinning.
Cecil shook his head instead. "I have a theory, but I'm not sure yet." He held up his hands in apology as he backed away. "You two try the dream thing, I need to keep looking."
"But Cecil," Rosa called out after him. "It's almost night and it'll be pitch black in the basement. You won't find anything in the dark."
"I'm used to being in the dark," Cecil said with a laugh, surprisingly lighthearted. "Trust me on this one! Good luck!" He gave a big wave of his arm, then took off in a run back toward the manor.
"He secretly loves this," Rosa declared as Cecil left, looking back to Kain.
"You both do," Kain corrected her, then added, "So do I. Like our adventures of old again, solving mysteries and getting into mischief."
"Do you expect mischief?" Rosa asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Do we ever expect it, but often find it anyway?" Kain countered, which made Rosa laugh. The sound was a balm to Kain's bruised heart, still battered from their time on Mount Ordeals and all that had followed it.
"I've missed you," Rosa said suddenly.
"Me too," Kain replied, meeting her serious eyes.
They stood together in mutual silence for a long moment, the winds high overhead whistling their path across the sky. The breeze picked up the dangling branches of the willows, tossing them around in a playful dance, as if they were performing for an audience.
It was all that could be safely said about whatever was between Rosa and Kain because any other words might bring on more feelings, more memories, more remembered passion. And that was a dangerous path for them to tread.
"This place is wonderful," Rosa said instead, looking out to the valley with a smile. "I see why your mother loved it so much. It must have reminded her of home."
Kain watched Rosa, standing beside his mother's grave and in his mother's clothes, looking at home already. He wondered how Rosa might like being the lady of such a place, if she would take to it as easily as his mother had, and if she would love it as much.
Yes, Kain thought, yes, she would.
But that was dangerous territory as well, so Kain set it aside, pushing down the thought. Instead, he lowered himself to the ground, finding the grass surprisingly lush and comfortable. "It's good thing I'm already exhausted. It won't be hard to sleep."
Rosa sat beside him, grabbing two blankets from the pile she had brought. She handed one to Kain, then pulled the other over her shoulders. "Then let's sleep," she said, and her eyes looked suddenly heavy too. She leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder, echoing their childhood arrangement again.
Kain relaxed beside her, tilting his head to rest against hers, their temples touching.
In minutes, they were both asleep.
Kain woke, his whole world shaking back and forth.
"Hush, my love," crooned a soft voice. "You must sleep now."
Kain felt the memory-version of himself close his eyes, drifting off quickly to safe unawareness, secure in the protection of mother, the source of all comfort in his small world. But Kain-the-observer watched on, as a tired looking Elena continued rocking the small cradle with her foot.
They were in Kain's house in Baron, where he grew up, in the sitting room. Kain was swaddled and rocking within a cradle. Elena sat in a chair beside him, her foot on the cradle, rocking it gently, but her attention on the papers in her lap. Kain immediately recognized them as the love letters.
But instead of inspiring joy, Elena was crying over them, her hands now buried in her hands as she cried on. It was a desperate, hollowing cry of grief, something Kain had only heard once before, when Joanna and Rosa had mourned the death of Roland.
On the small side table beside her, she set aside the papers and picked something else up. It was only when she unsheathed it that Kain recognized it as Odin's dagger. She laid out her arm across her lap, then pressed the knife tip to her wrist.
Is this….? Kain wondered, numb with growing horror at what he watched. Is this my mother's suicide?
"Just to see if it still works," Elena whispered with a guilty glance at Kain's cradle, who slept on in ignorance. She looked back at her exposed wrist, then pushed the knife's edge in, a new red seam appearing. "Just a little…" Elena said in a strained voice, her face going red with effort.
The air in the room thickened with purpose and the scattered shadows seemed to grow darker.
Elena applied more pressure, blood welling up at the knife's tip. She went wide-eyed at the sight of it, then, seeming satisfied, relaxed her grip on the knife, until –
Until Kain's cry abruptly pierced the silence of the room.
Startled, Elena jumped, and the knife slid deeper into her wrist. With a strangled yelp, she dropped the knife, the bloody weapon clattering to the floor. The wound at her wrist blossomed red, then began pouring blood out unchecked.
As baby-Kain's cries continued, Elena tried to stand from the chair, but immediately crashed down to her knees, holding her wrist against her chest in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Her shirt began to darken as the fabric soaked up her blood. Wide-eyed, she looked around for something, anything, to help her, but was losing blood too quickly to think clearly.
As she slumped over, her glassy gaze fixed on the cradle where Kain still cried, his panic escalating each moment he was ignored. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Kain-the-observer, however, saw the shape of the words on her mouth as she tried to say, I'm sorry.
The dream took on a strange, purple tint to it, dimming Kain's vision. The shadows around Elena deepened, forming a dark, ethereal mist that seemed to ebb and flow with each unsteady breath. It rippled out from her, reaching with insidious fingers toward baby-Kain's cradle.
Baby-Kain's cries changed, now shrieking with pain; Kain could taste blood in his mouth, and the smell of it overwhelmed him.
Eventually, as the puddle of blood around Elena on the floor continued to grow outward, her chest stopped moving up and down with each breath and she went utterly still.
Kain expected this to be the end of this horrible memory dream, to wake up at any moment, but the scene lingered on. An eternity ticked by in the endless seconds that followed, as baby-Kain wailed on, his sobs strangled and gasping.
Then, like a light in the dark, Kain heard a familiar voice call out. "Elena?" Joanna shouted through the door, knocking furiously. "Elena?" she called again, sounding more concerned. Tentatively, she cracked the door open to peer inside.
"By all the Crystals," Joanna whispered, full of horror, muttering a quick prayer as she rushed inside. She was beside Elena in the next moment, rolling her over to her back. "You promised you wouldn't…" Joanna said with a choked sob. She clasped her bloody hands together, and Kain sensed new magic in the air, as Joanna crafted her healing magic.
But the dead are beyond healing, Kain knew, and Joanna knew it too. She shrieked, a terrible wail of utter agony and despair. She held Elena's body to her, rocking back and forth on her haunches, smearing swaths of blood all over her white mage robes.
Eventually, however, Joanna's sobbing subsided, and she finally heard another: Kain's mewling cries. She laid Elena back on the floor, then moved to the cradle. She picked up Kain's infant-self, cradling him closely against her shoulder. She rubbed his back, trying to soothe his panicked crying, unaware of bloody fingerprints she smudged on his shirt, not yet seeing the blood that dripped from his mouth and nose. "Shh, baby boy, shh," she murmured as she rocked him. "You're all right. You're going to be all right." Whether she spoke more to the baby or to herself, Kain wasn't sure.
With Kain nestled to her, Joanna carefully stepped around Elena's body, casting one last sad look as she passed. "Oh, what will we do?" she asked no one specifically, before leaving both the house and the dream behind.
Kain awoke to someone shaking roughly shaking his shoulder. "W-what?!" he barked out as he sat, to see Cecil standing over him, wearing a somber expression.
"I found something," Cecil said, grabbing Kain's hand and yanking him to a stand. "I can't explain it – you just have to see it."
"Cecil, wait—" Kain started to protest, but Cecil had already left, heading back toward the house. It was still full dark outside, and judging by the position of the moons, Kain guessed it was almost dawn. With a sleepy Rosa beside him, Kain hurried along after Cecil.
Cecil did not lead them inside, but around to the side of the manor, where the cellar door was open to the outside. "Come on," Cecil said as he descended the narrow steps to the basement below.
As Kain and Rosa entered, him first and her following, Cecil held up a lantern that offered a meager light to the dark interior. "Follow me," Cecil said, as he guided them through the stacks of wine casks, then through a back door that opened into a wider room, which had racks of armor and weapons lining the walls.
In the center of the room was a wooden storage crate, recently cracked open, judging by the nearby crowbar Kain saw on the ground beside it. Had Cecil done this?
"You see," Cecil said as he approached the line of armor busts that displayed the treasured relics of Kain's ancestors. "Ever since you told me about your mother's suicide, I've had my suspicions," Cecil stopped at one, but he turned to face Rosa and Kain. The swinging lantern cast dark shadows behind Cecil, obscuring what stood there. "But then I saw your mother's maiden name, and I knew I was right." Cecil grinned suddenly, like a cat catching a canary.
"What do you mean? Why is her name important?" Kain asked. He had just witnessed her suicide, and it couldn't have been anything other than that, Kain knew with a sick certainty.
"Leonhart," Cecil said, as if it were obvious. When neither Rosa nor Kain responded, Cecil shook his head, exasperated. "The dark knight who traveled through Fabul and left artifacts?" Cecil waited but was only met with their blank expressions. Cecil sighed, then added, "He traveled on to other countries after that. Including Troia."
"You think Kain's mother is a descendant of Leonhart?" Rosa asked, sounding skeptical.
"I know she is," Cecil said as he stepped aside and lifted the lantern high, shedding its light all around them.
On the display bust was a suit of armor, wickedly black and vicious looking, with devious spikes protruding from its joints, protecting the weak part of the armor. The helm bore similar spikes but in the shape of horns. It was mirror of Cecil's dark knight armor, almost an exact copy, except…
"Can this be true?" Rosa asked, her skepticism turning to shock. "Could she really have been…"
The armor was slimmer than Cecil's, made for a leaner figure. For a woman, Kain realized, understanding suddenly slamming into him.
"My mother was a dark knight," Kain whispered, barely able to put voice to it.