It was a long dreamless sleep with, for only companions, sensations of anxiety and uncertainty.
I was aware of time passing, but my body and mind refused to respond. I couldn’t think, yet I could feel my soul endlessly tormented. I couldn’t see anything but darkness, and I couldn’t hear anything except every painfully slow beat of my heart.
The tree was gone. There was only a strange haze.
After what felt like an eternity, a soft rhythmic buzzing rang through my mind, slowly bringing me back to life.
When my consciousness finally came to me, my eyelids felt too heavy to even open and my whole body felt sore. The only thing that proved to me that I was back was the weight of the blanket on my chest and the soft movement of the bed, as if someone was sitting at my side.
I tried to grunt, but the sound remained stuck in my throat.
I felt a moist and warm pressure on my forehead. The familiar and reassuring presence of a palm. I forced my eyes open, but things were blurry as light flooded the room from the windows. I could tell the shapes of the canopy again, but not the insignia.
I blinked in an effort to wipe away the fog and as I did, the warmth left my forehead and moved to my cheek. A shape drew itself into my vision and then long rose nearly silver strands of hair.
[Mom…]
Again the words did not come out, but my vision finally focused again. I could see my mother’s face again. Tears clouded her beautiful blue eyes as she visibly forced herself to smile at me.
[Mom!]
I sat up quickly and hugged her.
Almost immediately, a horrible nausea overcame me, nearly making me lose consciousness once more on the spot. Before I could, I felt my mother’s embrace. I held on tightly as the dizziness came and went in waves. I held her for a long time and when the nausea calmed itself, we finally separated. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and a wet spot stained the spot where I had buried my face in my mother’s dress.
[I missed you so…]
My heart sank.
As I looked up, I realised that my mother’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear any sound from them. I gripped her clothes tightly and tried to get closer.
Perhaps she’s whispering?
[Mom? Mother? Please speak louder. I can’t hear you.]
As the words quietly left my lips, I could tell that she had heard them, but I could tell something was wrong.
Her face was twisted in a horrified look. She turned her head to the left and only then I noticed the man standing next to her. He was an Archkinsmann of the Meiriem Orthodox church.
He was a tall man dressed in the soft white and blue garbs of the Orthodox order. His blue-haired head was adorned with a lifted pink veil which usually covered Meiriem Kinsmann’s faces when they walked from places to places. His counterpart, a pink-haired woman, was standing by the door, discussing something with a maid.
The Meiriem Church worshiped the twin gods of love.
Its Orthodox order’s Archbishop had settled the duchy of Salland over two centuries ago and their followers had since grown to become one of the dominant faiths in the region.
Oblon, the county my father ruled over, was vassal to Salland and as our family was of Meiriem descent, it was only natural that we were highly regarded even by the church.
Like all gods, Meiriem had bestowed unto its kin, its blooded-children, blessings. The blessings were powers of bond and peace which, amongst other things, had the effect of making twins quite common in families. Such was the case of these Archkinsmanns, and my own brother and sister.
Each god also gave unto their kins, different traits.
My mother’s and my own rose colored hair and this man’s blue hair were inherited from Meiriem. While my silver eyes came from the goddess of Order, Seeir. A trait inherited from my mother’s blood who, although she did not sport any such traits, inherited the blood from my grandparent.
Most people were of mixed descent, only a few pure blooded individuals still existed, often in isolated communities in far away regions.
The Archkinsmann kneeled on the ground by the bedside so his face could be eye level with my own. He held out his hand and pinched my chin, forcing me to stare into his pink eyes. His mouth moved a few times, but I couldn’t tell whether he was talking to me or my mother as he was also moving my head around at the same time, probably checking for bruises.
[I...I don’t understand what you’re saying…]
I said tentatively.
His brows furrowed further. My chest tightened. My mother’s face was still crisped into a horrified expression. It was starting to scare me. I felt my eyes swelling up.
[Am I dying…?]
I asked, but they only looked more worried and didn’t try replying.
They seemed to hear what I was saying, but couldn’t understand what it meant.
That’s silly! If they can hear, they should know!
He looked at my mother and said a few words, before turning back to me again asking me something.
[What’s wrong with you! I’m telling you I can’t understand!]
I hit my bed in frustration.
Doing so sent a wave of nausea through my body. Tears started pouring from my eyes once more as I gagged on my empty stomach. I looked at my mother whose own eyes were already filled with tears. She held me tightly as I cried on her shoulder. My tears did not dry up until I finally fell asleep.
Over the following days, the strange haze that had kept me between life and dream slowly released me.
I woke up a few hours every day and my mother and the maids came to attend to me. Bringing food, change of clothes and the occasional medicine. It tasted bitter and made my throat dry, but I could see the worried look on my mother’s face when I refused to take it, so I forced myself to swallow. She often tried to talk to me, but I still couldn’t understand.
At first I would try to reply, but each time she seemed increasingly worried. Then the worry turned to annoyance... and eventually disgust.
I don’t know what she heard, but she was not the only one.
At first, my siblings and father visited often as well.
The first time, Dalton nearly knocked me out when he jumped on the bed to hug me. His excitement quickly subsided when he realised I couldn’t come out of bed and play with him.
After the incident, my body had become very fragile and weak. The simplest movement could send me tumbling down and I had essentially become bedridden.
He tried to play checkers with me, but it was difficult to play on the bed and with my habit of losing balance, I ruined more than one game.
My head still hurt quite a bit when I tried to focus, so he would always beat me easily. I expected him to look happy to finally be able to best me after all this time, but instead the look in his eyes was of worry.
Father and Knox every so often came to greet me at meal time. I could tell they were trying to say a couple of pleasantries, which I obviously couldn’t understand but I smiled nonetheless. Sometimes, they would feed me a few bites of my meal before giving up and letting the maids do it. It made me sad that they acted distant, but I understood. After all, it must have been boring to spend time with me when I was like this.
Ela came the most during those early days. She always brought a tray with tea and sweets, and a book under her arm.
She would sit down beside me and read the book to me and show me the images every so often, the same way she had before she left for her trip. Sometimes, she would look at me while she read to check if I was following along, which of course I couldn’t, but I nodded along regardless and sipped on my tea.
At first she would stop and trace over words or show me images to explain what was going on, but she soon grew tired of it. Slowly, she stopped looking at me while she read, and then stopped speaking as she did.
As time went by, like the rest of my family, she stopped visiting altogether.
By Hpeh
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