Escaflowne is property of its owners.

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A/N:
I can't believe this story had been parked for a whole year! Big thanks and a hug to CovertEyes, who edited it and reminded me that it was almost complete!

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Eighth Moon

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Uncharted Forest

(Sequel to "Mystica Terra")

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The world refers to a group of readers as a circle, a roundness of perfect equality and unanimity among all its members. Comprised of benefactors and idealizers holding hands, with long skirts and tucked-in shirts, thick glasses on their eyes and a rich voice for storytelling. But upon entering that inhospitable rotundity, after passing through the towering gates of haughtiness, it can be discovered that the acclaimed circle of readers is actually a crescent moon with a mangy smile.

At the sharp tip of the upper end, there are those who only read recipes and buy hardcover books with ridiculous titles ("The Truth at the Bottom and the Hand on the Bottle," by Dryden Fassa, Oreides Editorial, deluxe edition with annotations by Frayed Sands —a pseudonym of Dryden himself—, 1942), to decorate the malnourished and meager piece of furniture they boast of as a bookshelf.

At the equally dreadful opposite end there are those who transform into writers solely to uphold their own delusions from others who are also immersed in their own fantasies. A fierce battle of obscure meanings that not even the author could illuminate:

"In the novel, Lord Dilandau urinated on 25 trees,
was he using the fluids of his body to create a magical barrier?"
asked a young man with trembling legs and a microphone tinkling
against his crooked teeth, while the youthful author's dark brows shifted,
one rising and the other furrowing, impressed that someone
had actually kept track of it.
(Book Presentation: Memory of the Dragon.
 Author: Van Fanel.
Basram Book Fair, Capital, Basram, White, 1945.)

And in the hollow concavity between the tips of the horn of the reading sect, silenced by the neighs of those fighting for some dialogue or a character, there are the devotees of the corners, the reluctant ones to ask for an extra ketchup packet from the waiter, those who cry in the subway without apparent cause: the silent readers.

The sole sanctuary where this obscure, secret, and silent camaraderie of the non-circle of readers can expand within the premises like the gigantic pages of an open codex is in a place like the Central Library of Fanelia: an ancient and colossal building with solid stone walls and thick ashlar partitions that had been originally constructed as a military barracks, safeguarded by a colorful parterre that was added later when it was transformed into a hospital after the Great Fire. Overcoming the tragedy, the barracks proved not to be a cozy convalescent home, and after a brief period of abandonment, the readers laid claim to the space.

The newest volunteer, Yukari Uchida, walked swiftly along the central path of the garden and crossed the imposing solid wooden gate. Before her stretched four open levels filled with books on Fanelian wooden shelves: ancient, sturdy, darkened by the malevolence of history.

Hastily, she headed towards the main reception, flanked by two pairs of detection bars. Behind the counter, a disheveled blonde girl startled as Yukari appeared out of nowhere.

"Yukari, you startled me!"

The girl closed the book she was reading, a magazine clearly visible from its pages, and placed a hand over her chest, her rosy cheeks hidden behind a face mask.

"Oh? Did I scare you, Mizuru? And what are you reading, huh?" Yukari's red hair swayed as she leaned her hands on the desk, clearly invading her companion's personal space.

"It's none of your business." Mizuru let her tanned hand drop onto the book and dragged it away from the newcomer.

"It must be yet another magazine with a quiz about which celebrity you are, right?" Yukari asked, her eyes narrowed.

Mizuru pouted.

"No, this one has an article about The Crusaders." She pulled a worn handkerchief from her pants pocket to wipe her chapped nose. "But you, Yukari, don't appreciate good music."

"I do appreciate good music, that's why Cruzaders isn't among my favorites."

"It's The Crusaders," Mizuru sighed wearily, tossing the handkerchief into the bin with perfect aim and leaning back in her chair with a creak. "Guess what. Dr. Refina asked me to tell you to find her in the Archive. The boxes from the Fassa collection arrived two hours ago—" her blue eyes gleamed mischievously. "You're gonna be busy for a while."

A while can mean a blink of an eye or the rest of a lifetime, and that became very clear to Yukari when she laid eyes on the ten old, dusty cardboard boxes overflowing with documents. As soon as she went into the archive room, Dr. Refina grabbed Yukari by the shoulders and bent down to be at her eye level, her hair in a high ponytail cascaded down like a waterfall of gold.

"You have no idea of the treasure we hold in our hands!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining brightly.

But all treasures lose their wonders over time.

By the end of the second month, Yukari finished her workday using the portrait of Erasmus Fassa, taped to the wall above the trash can, as target practice. The countless documents required love and gentle hands to rescue them from their oblivion, to uncover them from their dreadful archival boxes, clean them and handle them with care. Dr. Refina, working next to Yukari in a cluttered desk, ended each day with a crimson ear from insisting over the phone for support from other places—volunteers or workers from other libraries—but all university students preferred to do their service elsewhere. In the intervals between cursing and tossing the receiver, which hung like a suicide from its cord, she would inform Yukari about how everything had actually happened.

Erasmus Fassa had decided to bring order to the mountain of accumulated chaos in the study of the oldest villa he owned in Fanelia —which had been built by his grandfather, Meiden Fassa— to turn it into a golf course. He saw no value in those hundreds of yellowed, brittle, and dusty papers that occupied such precious space.

"So, in order to save on taxes and restoration," Refina explained, leaning against the doorframe, "he called in a curator who declared them a cultural asset and 'donated' them to the Fanelian government. And what do we get in return? Well, a lot of work and no help, while the director of culture gets a free golf course to play."

Releasing a yawn trapped behind her flower-patterned mask, Yukari stood up from her stool in front of the light table, and stretched her back covered by a white robe. She blinked a couple of times behind her goggles and circled the steel work table behind her. With latex-gloved fingers, she picked up a new document from one of the boxes. It was damaged by fire and folded like a triptych, encased in a murky, yellowed plastic bag with a post-it note stuck to the paper. She clicked her tongue and returned to the light table.

The powdered fragments swirled within the bag, scattering onto the table as she delicately pulled out the document from its yellowed plastic sleeve. The edges of the paper were charred and destroyed, with dark stains where the support hadn't burned but had heated up. With caution, she removed the post-it, scrawled with something that appeared to be "HH". Unfolding the document, she discovered that the handwriting was beautiful and neat. Her gaze then shifted to a smudge, likely from a shoe, and finally settled on the date.

"Green II, 17th Moon, 1948."

She felt a twinge in her chest knowing that she had before her a witness and survivor of the Great Fire that had occurred nearly 80 years ago. It wasn't exactly when it happened—the 27th Moon of '48—but it had lived through the event. Fanelia was left scarred by that occurrence. The entire history of a kingdom died, and was reborn as a democratic country. Goau de Fanel was the last king of Fanelia, having abdicated long before the disaster, but the shadow of the monarchy did not disappear until it disintegrated in the tongues of fire. A tragedy where thousands perished. The great cultural heritage of that era, lost. Hundreds of people, missing. Ancient structures unable to be rebuilt. The Central Library itself displayed on its facade the blackened stones that had burned in the intense fire. The surviving Fanelians were forever changed, and those born afterwards carried a scorched piece upon their hearts.

With a brush, Yukari delicately swept the paper from the center outwards, removing the edges that couldn't be salvaged. Once finished, she accepted that she couldn't perform her work without finding out the content.

She ran her fingers along the edges to ensure that all the fragile parts had been removed. With hesitant excitement, she began to read.

Zaibach, Palace City
Green II, 14th Moon, 1948

My dearest dragon:

There is an anguish that has made my insides its dwelling. It has been unsettling me even before the move. My chest tightens, a storm unleashes in my stomach, my hands tremble and become damp, and terrible thoughts pierce my mind like ships in the fog. The migraine is accompanied by visions (that appear) with my eyes wide open, of red and green; of fire and light. I can't help but (recall) —the next words are charred— (happened) when my grandmother was about to pass away, but there is so much (happening) all at once, I don't know if it's my nerves or because everything is changing so quickly and I understand so little, and I want to know if you're alright, if you enjoy receiving so many letters, if you think of me as much as I think of you.

I will confess that it excites me to see your books —indistinguible— it's hard for me to grasp that it's you hidden within every word, and that it's you who loves me. I know that your works will endure over time and your name will (become) a reference, and I, I am —indistinguible— (because) I'm always so far, and I don't know if it's really what you need. Aren't you wasting your time with me? I wish to be with you all the time, from this awakening to the —indistinguible line— because "we are too young," and I know it's my whim, but I feel as if we are racing against the clock, that something will happen, that it will break, and I can't stop crying when I remember your face struggling to remain serious, betrayed by the blush in your ears and the sparkle in your eyes, with your knee on the ground, the (little) —charred part— (embarrassment) when we discovered that it didn't fit any finger.

It would be much easier if the government of your country—oh, I mean "kingdom", sorry—already installed the wave devices. Then I could see and hear you, but I wouldn't want to be left without the paper with your writing, imbued with your scent, without the evidence that you dedicated a moment to me. And that moment I would treasure against my chest and —and? the blackened line kept the secret—

I can't wait for the trip to Egzardia, it's incredible that my father agreed to it. Will someone else be joining us...? I know we'll be surrounded by people all day, and I long to be alone with you... and… (wander) through the libraries and bookstores! —this part is covered by the footprint— that Dryden shared with me when he was in the city. Merle has also written to me, with a rage that I still don't (understand) if it's tender or worrying. The latest and previous issues of previous issues of FORTUNE arrived by mail, that's why I didn't receive them earlier. The reviews of "Uncharted Forest" are in very bad taste, the book is beautiful... I hope they're not getting on your nerves, which are so small. Accept it, (Wan? Aan?) —charred— (temper).

As for the rest... I could write a book about everything that has happened, but I rarely have a moment to breathe. If it's not training at the Palace, it's my mother nagging me. I'll save it for when (I can see you). But this can't wait: I got the complete Lord Dornkirk collection on sale! All six books of "In (Search) of Lost Destiny" and his translation of "The Divine Farce," hardcover, two-tone printing, published by Oreides and illustrated by Zongi Baado. It's from the '34, and I know I already have the one from '46 which was good but not exactly the one I wanted. It's in very good condition, and it was very cheap. Maybe later I'll sell the '46 edition, so the next move won't be so heavy…

I always end up —indistinguible— don't you get tired?

I hope you are well.
Will you write to me soon?
You are my happiness.

—Hitomi Hoshino

Yukari stiffened on the high stool and observed the letter from her own time and height.

Those words were too pretty to be forgotten. Did the author ever get a response? A response before the famished fire, before the blinding light, their imminent deaths? The tragedy in Fanelia was a nightmare, the one in Zaibach was monstrous. Engulfed by a pillar of powerful energy, their entire capital, Palace City and small surrounding towns disappeared from Gaea forever. Yukari had seen the photos in her textbooks, there was nothing left, the gods bit off even the earth, and still to that day the empty pit land was barren, a carved warning for future energist researches.

No, it didn't leave emptiness. Something persisted.

She continued her work with a rueful smile behind her protective gear and savored the memory of the words she so carefully helped preserve and encapsulate.

After proudly admiring the document resting in the box along with other stabilized supports—already grafted with tracing paper and without the primitive mark—the girl rushed through the library as if it were on fire again. She had to be at a nearby café in 15 minutes or she would be late for her date with her boyfriend, and she knew this because it was the time it took her to reach the place.

Upon reaching the reception, Mizuru was busy with a visitor—probably showing off her Cruzaders—and Yukari silently thanked Escaflowne for that kind distraction; otherwise, she would have to add another 15 minutes to her delay. She continued on her way with a brief "see you tomorrow" that she didn't want a response to. After retrieving her belongings from the invisible room, while trying to put on her backpack that refused to cooperate with her agility, she collided with another hurried, distracted, and oblivious body. Two small screams were heard, followed by the sound of spines and pages hitting the ground.

"Sorry!" the woman exclaimed.

"I'm so sorry!" Yukari responded, her voice high-pitched and tense.

They both hurriedly bent down to begin the rescue operation. Yukari's horror grew as she realized that there was an open book trapped under her shoe, and she quickly freed it. It had a hardcover with a green cloth dust jacket. All the books had the same style, and their ochre pages carried the scent of better times. The woman, an apparent foreigner with blonde hair brushing her shoulders, appeared equally embarrassed by the incident, but Yukari suspected that her delicacy and urgency were directed towards the books rather than herself.

"I should have brought them in a box, but I wanted to carry them like this," explained the woman.

Common sense wasn't so common.

"It's my fault, I paid no attention, I'm sorry. Are you going to donate them?" Yukari asked.

As they both got up from the floor, a glimmer from a chain with a ring slipped out from the woman's blouse but got covered by the pile of books.

"Yes," the stranger replied, with sudden shyness. "It's time for them to return home."

Among the books she gathered, Yukari stacked the one that had been terribly marked on top of the others. She used a tissue to delicately separate the damaged page, under the watchful gaze of the donator's green eyes.

"I'll accompany you to the reception," said Yukari softly.

The woman didn't seem very convinced to prolong the encounter, so Yukari introduced herself and mentioned that she worked in the restoration department. She even promised to give them the proper maintenance. Only then the woman's reddened hands loosened their grip and her gaze lit up with kindness.

The restorer hadn't been mistaken in her quick judgment: the woman was from Zaibach and was on vacation in Fanelia. Her name was Hitomi —just like the letter, what a coincidence, Yukari thought— and she was a collector of antique books.

"I've been a reader since I was a kid. Some years ago I started to collect Fanelian books from before the fire."

Hitomi's voice carried a passionate undertone that touched Yukari's heart. A pang of curiosity made her pay attention to the titles of the books peeking out from their spines, but they didn't sound familiar to her. She turned to look at the book she had defiled with her footprint and quickly inspected its cover.

Uncharted Forest
By Van Fanel

She recognized that.

"Oh yes, Van Fanel, of course!"

Hitomi turned briskly to her and smiled. "So you know him?" she asked, "I mean, have you heard of him? Sorry, of course you have, this is Fanelia after all!"

"We had to read some of his stories in school. I liked the one about a prince and a dragon."

"The Heavenly Ritual That was his first published story," she said, proudly.

"Yukari!"

The call snapped her out of her stupor.

"Giving yourself more work, huh?"

They were already standing in front of the reception desk, with the books scattered on the desk and others piled up like a multicolored mountain. The man stopped filling out a form —the donation form that Mizuru always forgot to submit— and extended his left arm, the bronze skin depicting a scarred map of lighter tones, to touch Hitomi's waist and ask her something she couldn't hear.

"I thought you were already gone! The Kanzaki's have just donated a whole collection of the first printings of Van Fanel books, you know?"

A crack was heard and the man asked for a new pencil.

"I hope it won't be too much work for you," Hitomi said without looking at her, as she ran her hands over one of the books. Then she stole a glance at the man—her husband, maybe?—and turned back to her, apologetic. "Pardon my manners! This is my husband, Slanzar. Dear, this is Yukari. She works in the museum's restoration department."

The man turned towards them, and Yukari noticed a familiar sparkle in his red eyes. She was sure she had already seen him somewhere else, but where…

"Thank you for your hard work," he said with a slight and short smile while he extended his hand to her.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Slanzar!" replied Yukari, shaking hands. "And don't worry, I'll do my best for these books, so they look brand new!"

She was about to say something else when her momentarily forgotten date suddenly flashed in her mind.

"Oh, no, I'm late! Bye, Mizuru! It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay in Fanelia," she said hurriedly and bid them farewell.

Yukari left with a tinkling uneasiness of having missed something important. The coincidences —Uncharted Forest, Van Fanel, Hitomi Hoshino, and this other Hitomi— were too much. She couldn't help but wonder if it meant anything.

As she walked through the gardens, distancing herself from the library, the words from the letter echoed in her mind. But it was now resting among other documents, preserving its love until being discovered again. Yukari had done her part, she wasn't meant to unravel the mystery. Someone else would come, someday, for that small piece of memory, and solve the enigma.

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A/N:

A year! I'm a slow writer, but also I'm a professional procrastinator.

If there were some doubts about what happened in Mystica Terra, I hope they were cleared out with this second shot!

And you know, Mystica Terra has several paths, you can take the one you like the most:

• The shot being the actual "Mystica Terra" written by Van? Of course!
• The whole shot written by Van as a character, making 'fun' of his fiance and to the literary world as well? Possible!
• Dryden being the author since he's such a goofy moron? Possible as well!
• Hitomi a descendant, somehow? Yes it can be!
• Hitomi a mere poor fan of a forgotten writer? Yes, that too!
• Or... the pendant doing its magic trick to make Hitomi survive and send her to the future, so she never got to read the last letter due to the tragedies, until she came across that old forgotten letter book?

That's the path I took, one with a happy ending, where the visit Hitomi's mother is entertaining when she gets into the house in Mystica Terra is Van, who got Hitomi's pendant just on time to survive, and finally finds her. But she loves books (his books in particular) and doesn't notice him there, you know? And Van wonders, what if I lived in a book...