The courtyard of Saint Lyra’s Convent School, the Upper City of the Holy See of Arcadia…
Laughter, shouts, and squeals, filled the cold and fragrant air that smelled lightly of glacial flowers in full bloom. It was just before afternoon tea, and the children were out and about in the snowy gardens, their lessons in the morning and after lunch all but a faded memory as they played amongst themselves amidst the icy flora of the courtyard, watched by devatas who lounged at tables prepared with refreshments and snacks, engaged in idle chatter with each other beneath the welcoming warmth of the afternoon sun.
Indeed, the afternoon was beautiful. It was really was for Isha Ayan, who sat upon a bench under the shade of a crystalline tree, her mind lost in thoughts, all alone. There was something strange about being here, strange like the tight-fitting cotton of the Convent School’s uniform and the knee-high socks and leather shoes that were part of this outfit. And the red tie, especially so, for it felt like a noose upon her little neck. She missed the flowing gowns and the sandals that her mother had prepared for her, beautiful weaves despite those little mismatched patches. They were all sewn by hand, and she even had a hand in making some of them from what bolts of cloth the caravan had pooled together, her mother being their resident seamstress. As she would have been in time, like her mother and her grandmother before her.
But that life, whatever it was meant to be, was over. Left behind in the past, in darkness and dreams where her memories up till recent times had been nothing but pain and frenzied laughter, thoughts of herself shoved around by shadows who mocked her and praised their god Elicia as they descended upon her to do as they pleased, all in the span of the same hate-filled breath. And then after that waking nightmare, a cold blurriness. An empty void, where she could feel herself wandering to somewhere and yet nowhere, aimlessly and endlessly. It had been so, until one final lucid moment with her eyes half-opened, where she had seen a vision of a crimson shade who faded with every passing moment that felt like eternity’s end, who sang to her a song so sweet and familiar in her mother’s voice. In that moment, she no longer felt cold, but instead a warmth that filled every pore of her being. That lingered within her blood, even now.
Indeed, it lingered. Changed her, too. She remembered standing alone before the mirror in her bathroom of her new home, and beholding her true form when she stood completely bare before its unerring reflection. When all that was her had melted away into blood, into a simulacrum of an elven girl comprised entirely of writhing crimson ichor, swirling and ebbing like a crimson tide. Like the crimson shade of her dreams, who sang so sweetly a song so lovingly remembered. And that last memory, that final song whispered so softly and so gently to her in the darkness, had helped her remember. That always and forever, she was Isha Ayan, daughter of Akasha and Lavi Ayan.
It was with this, that she had shaped herself once more into this mortal façade, where her true form lay just beneath a veneer of mortal flesh shaped by holy blood. But even then, she had seen for herself the strength of her blood when just a few days back, she had so instinctively surged forth as a tide of blood to break the fall of a classmate who had fallen from a tree. Where with a haste that she had never known herself to be capable of, she had so quickly assumed her true form for that brief moment, bearing his pain so effortlessly with her crimson embrace as she landed upon the snow with him within her arms made of blood. And she remembered how that pain she was to bear had broken upon her so naturally, that she felt nothing but surprise at that very moment as she became Isha Ayan, once more.
Since then, the snow around that tree where she had left behind drops of her holy blood had begun to sprout lilies with fronds both crystalline and pure. She recalled how the devatas had explained to her classmates that she, Isha Ayan, had a very special gift. Blessed by Elicia herself, or so they claimed. And she hated it, because she hated Elicia, for even in the murkiness of her own memories, she knew one truth. That it was because of Elicia, that she no longer had the chance to smile at the sight of Dhruv teasing Kian while the three of them tended to the goats together in the sunset, nor could she ever hear another story from old Irtysh whenever she helped him roast sausages and boil the stew meant for supper. That because of those who chanted Elicia’s name, she would never have the chance to learn to play the flute as beautifully as aunt Elisha did, or make another arrow for her father’s quiver whenever he would go out to hunt for game in the forests their caravan would pass from time to time. That because of Elicia and those who so proudly declared her name with bloody murder, all this and more that she had ever known, were lost forever.
And yet, she could not help but feel a part of beloved Sophia within the devatas of Elicia. That somehow, they were perhaps similar and possibly one and the same. There was just something about it all that resonated with herself, with her blood. That there was more to Elicia than all that she knew and wanted so very much to be so, if only to make some sense of the world that had done all these things to her life without so much as a second thought. Even if it made no sense, even if it defied everything she had ever known and believed in.
But even without this feeling, everyone here had been so kind to her. This, she knew, here in this Convent school where they prayed to Elicia, where the devatas told stories of compassion and love from the Codex Elicia. The same book whose words the evil humans from the shrine in the world of darkness that she had left behind had so eagerly used to condemn her friends and family as nothing more than vermin to be slaughtered. She wondered why, and it hurt her little head trying to make sense of it all.
As she mulled over this, she suddenly felt an alien presence nearby. She found herself looking away from the snow around her shoes, and instead towards the sight of a little lady with pink hair and purple shards sticking out of her head and shoulders, who was dressed in a black and purple gown with a long and flowing cloak of fur black like ravens’ feathers that trailed behind her footsteps and upon the snow of the courtyard. And she watched in silence as this little lady spoke briefly to the devatas, right before making her way over to where she sat.
Lady Nhaka Mezalune, that was her name. Or just simply ‘Nhaka’, as had been insisted by the little lady herself when they first met in the dead of night when she, Isha Ayan, had first arrived in this city of Elicia’s with the crimson-eyed elven sorceress who had taken her away from the dark shrine where her memories and fears were made manifest. Where this little lady, being neither human nor elf, had greeted her in her office within the Ancient Cathedral in the dead of night, where she had first seen her petite body draped in a transparent nightgown that was pink like her hair. There, she had promised to her just like her mother did in a memory so painful yet cherished, that everything was going to be okay.
It was with those words in mind, that Isha knew not whether to smile or frown as her blue eyes looked on in wonderment at Nhaka, who had stopped right before her with an eager smile and a friendly bow. She had missed it in the dim light of that night long past, but she now noticed how her benefactor’s purple shards each had a huge eye encrusted upon the middle, strained with streaks of red upon their bulging whites. And now that they were so close, she counted a total of eight of these eye-encrusted shards, with one each coming out from her benefactor’s little shoulders, and three shards each fanned out like a fan of knives from both sides of her pink-haired head. Much to her added wonderment, the left side’s shards were tilted slightly downwards, while the ones on the right side of her head remained straight with edges keener and longer. It was all an alien geometry that left her in wondrous silence, for they were pretty. Very pretty. So much so, that she found herself reaching out towards the shards on the left side of Nhaka’s head, if only to touch them and feel them upon her fingers.
“Hey! That…” Nhaka squealed, as she closed shut all of her purple eyes and buckled down upon her knees. “Nya…”
As Isha continued to caress the crystalline shard she had reached out to caress in her hand, Nhaka squealed again, giggling excitedly as she bent her head towards her little elven ward.
“Nya…”
For a moment, Isha found herself smiling. The eye encrusted upon the shard she had chosen to touch had closed shut while the others remained open and gazed upon her, its crystalline surface cool and smooth like carved ice. Helped too, that Nhaka’s excited laughter and cheer reminded her of a kitten she met in one of the villages the caravan had stopped by to trade, who reacted and purred in a very similar fashion whenever she tickled the back of its ears. But it was with this thought that she quickly withdrew her hand with a gasp at she was doing, and to who she was doing it to.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
“No, you really should have!” Nhaka exclaimed in reply as she took a moment to sit herself down upon the bench, right beside Isha. “That was very enjoyable, and I really wish people would do that more often!”
Isha said nothing and simply smiled. Of which, soon turned to a frown as she looked down towards her shoes, once more. Even as this little lady, her benefactor in this strange city, sidled up a little closer.
“So, um… how’s school so far?” Nhaka asked with a smile, as Isha’s gaze remained affixed upon the snow. “It’s a really nice day out here, hmm? With the sun up there, and…”
It was then that Isha’s body began to quake and shiver, as tears formed and wet themselves within her blue eyes. She closed them shut, and they rolled down her cheeks as she began to sob softly, choking between those sobs.
“I miss… them. Mom, and everyone, I…”
Wordlessly, Nhaka embraced her. They remained like this as Isha cried, as those tears fell onto the black fur of her cloak. And Isha cried some more as she thought of her mother, of her father and her friends and neighbours, and the hatred and love that ached within her. Such the afternoon, despite the sun in the sky, suddenly felt a whole lot colder. Where in the face of it all, she was only one girl.
“I know they’re gone. But I still feel them within me, and I know they want me to be… what I want… I want to be… happy, like everyone here. But I… I just…”
“Then don’t,” Nhaka said after a while, pausing for a moment as she smiled warmly at Isha. “Don’t try to make sense of it! Just… feel what you feel, and let it all out however you can. In time, everything will make sense. Slowly, but surely!”
She then took a moment to gesture towards the courtyard and its immaculately beautiful gardens, and the children playing amongst themselves with the devatas lounging around and about. And then she looked at Isha, who returned the gaze of all her purple eyes and eyestalks with the blueness of her tear-stained eyes.
“You see all that, my dear? It’ll be there, waiting for you to be ready. Always! So don’t force it, never force it! Just… hear, think, and feel what you do, let it happen as it happens, and everything will be okay.”
“Really?” Isha asked, her voice a soft whimper. “Are you… sure?”
“My Vizier spoke for me, and I made a promise to your mother, didn’t I? I’ll be there with you,” Nhaka replied with a smile. “I’ll be your goddess of happiness, however long it takes!”
When Isha heard this, she burst into tears once more. She embraced Nhaka as tightly as she could, her tears flowing freely upon her benefactor’s cloak as she did. And it went on like this in the warmth of the afternoon sun, as time itself seemed to slow to a halt as she cried until her eyes hurt, where eventually she was finally out of tears that could ever be shed in that moment for all that had been lost, and what trials lay ahead of her.
“Well…” Nhaka said, grinning cheekily as she felt the wetness stained upon the dark furs of her favourite cloak. “But as your goddess, I hereby declare that we can cheat a little for this whole waiting process! So how about some ice-cream? It’s such a great day for a sundae, hmm?”
Isha nodded, the faint traces of a smile forming upon her lips. She did like ice-cream, after all. Perhaps it would not be the same as the kind her neighbours used to make with goat’s milk and little bits of chocolate and toffee, but perhaps it was better that way, if only for the sake of trying something new. This life was, after all, something new and made possible by those who loved her, who wanted her to live and keep on living. And yet, she found her smile turning to utter terror as she watched Nhaka stand up. Where in that moment, she quickly reached for her benefactor’s little arm.
“Don’t you worry, Isha!” Nhaka squealed as she knelt and placed her other hand upon Isha’s, looking deep into her blue eyes with the three purple eyes upon her face. “I have an idea for a big ice-cream surprise, and I’m going to tell my servant to go do it! You remember her, don’t you?”
Isha nodded. She did, after all, remember the elven sorceress with yellow hair slipping from her red hood. A fellow elf, and yet, she remembered feeling a great taint emanating from her, a foul corruption that was against all that she was as a child of blessed Sophia. And yet, the elven sorceress had been nothing short of friendly for what little time they had known each other, despite the silence between them both on the journey here.
“Yup!” Nhaka said, nodding upon realising how the grip upon her arm had lessened greatly. “I’ll be back really soon! Promise!”
A few minutes later, just outside the gates of Saint Lyra’s Convent School…
The elven Lich, Elena de L’Enfer, stood with her back against the walls of the entrance leading into the courtyard of the Convent School, her red-sleeved arms crossed against each other and her crimson-eyed gaze affixed upon the pavement around her as she awaited her mistress’s return. The warmth of the afternoon sun bore down upon her, an irritating sensation upon her cold and undeathly body despite her hooded longcoat covering most of her skin.
It was with this that she frowned, for a part of her wished she had brought a book, a paperback of some kind to pass the time. Performing bodyguard duty to her Archon mistress left a lot to be desired. But alas, such was the fate of a Vizier in service to an Archon of Elicia, an existence beholden to their whims and their requests. Especially so, the whims. But such was life for her, if being a Lich was anything like that.
“So how was it, my Lady?” Elena asked as she watched Nhaka emerge through the gates with a skip in her step. “She’s doing okay?”
“Not really…” Nhaka answered, her eyestalks gazing at her Vizier while she turned her head to address her. “But in time, I’m sure she’ll be!”
She then walked up to Elena. With a big smile, she tiptoed and raised her hand, patting her Vizier upon her head, and smiling even more as she felt the fabric of her red hood and the softness of her yellow hair upon her eldritch fingers. All while said Vizier growled softly in annoyance at what was happening to her, the tips of her elvish ears twitching with the gentleness of each successive pat.
“You’ve done well, my dear!” Nhaka said. “I’m so proud of you, killing all those annoying cultists and bringing me this sweet little girl!”
“You’re welcome… I guess?” Elena remarked in reply when her mistress finally stopped patting her head after what felt like an eternity of gentle patting. “But anyway, we’re done here for today? Y’know how it is with myself and these… holy places.”
Nhaka shook her head, and Elena frowned as her mistress grinned mischievously at her. It was a silly lie she was certain her mistress could easily discern, for the Convent School was little different from the Ancient Cathedral, and the sanctity of its holy ground was mostly easily bearable for a Lich, save for certain areas. It was something else that had kept her out here, an awkward feeling that soon went away as soon as she remembered what Nhaka’s grin usually meant, and what was to be expected of her as a Vizier in service to an Archon of Elicia.
“Well then, I’m all ears for you, my Lady,” Elena said, a smile upon her lips as she shrugged her shoulders with a mock sigh. “What’s up?”
“I’m glad you asked, my dear!” Nhaka squealed excitedly. “There’s an ice-cream parlour down a few blocks, and I want you to get them to come here with a cart of their finest selection! Pay them or threaten them, just get it done for me, won’t you?”
“Sure,” Elena said, a grin upon her lips as she turned to leave. “And you’re going back in there?”
Nhaka nodded. She looked at her Vizier with all of her eyes and eyestalks, and smiled.
“Yup! I expect to be there every other day to see her, and I fully expect you to be in there with me, barring any freak coincidences and your other duties for me!”
“Wait, what? Me… in there? You can’t be serious!”
“Did I stutter?” Nhaka asked, her smile turning to a fiendish grin as the eyes on her face and her crystalline eyestalks glowed a deep purple. “I’m quite sure I didn’t! So, as I was saying, come back soon with the ice-cream, or not at all!
“Right… I’ll see what I can do.”
With that, Elena began her walk towards the ice-cream parlour, a grin upon her lips and her stride true. For some reason, after what she had heard from her mistress, the thought of more bodyguard duties, even if it meant going into the Convent School, was strangely enough a good feeling. Even if it meant errands like these every other day for her mistress, serving every last one of her playful and loving whims.
After all, it was all for a good cause.
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