[William]
Once William noticed it, it only became clearer. Its presence heavy and underlying every interaction. Its implications dizzying, chipping away at his reason—causing him to lapse. Imagine.
It was one of those lapses that had him entering Nyla’s shop. He visited the shop a few times since that first meeting, but it was always with Miss Sera’s company and prompting.
This was the first he entered it alone, and it immediately got Nyla to cast him a curious look. She didn’t approach him, though, to which he was grateful.
He stood by the display showcasing courtship tokens of Southern Central Continent design. Delicate rings connected to gem-studded bracelets, the same as what he once heard from an innkeeper’s daughter.
“I can make you one if these don’t strike your fancy,” Nyla said from her workbench, amused and delighted as she continued, “Sera likes designs with Opal.”
“I’m only looking,” he told her, because this went on for long enough. He needed to go.
“I see.” Nyla’s smile dimmed. “Well, if you ever change your mind, don’t think of going to another shop.”
William indulged her for the moment. “Alright.”
As what became his usual, William returned from the Blue Gale late in the night.
He found Mrs. Bowen knitting under a lantern’s light. She didn’t look up from her work when she said, completely unimpressed, “She knows what you’re doing.”
He didn’t pretend not knowing what she meant. “It’s for the better.”
Mrs. Bowen snorted. “You can’t avoid her forever.”
Those words were an omen. The next night at the Blue Gale, a familiar cloaked figure took a seat across of him, starting with a tone so sharp it cut like the blades he wielded, “I’m searching for a man. You might know of him.”
“Miss Sera…”
“His name is William. Kind blue eyes, nice chestnut hair. He rarely smiles, but when he does it’s with utmost gentleness. I’m quite fond of him, so it’s distressing for me that I can’t seem to find him these days. I fear he’s avoiding me, though I can’t understand what I did to deserve it.”
He rushed to counter, “You did nothing wrong.”
“Then why?” The sharpness of her tone dulled, becoming underlined with hurt.
He tried, and it sounded like nonsense, “You shouldn’t be fond of me.”
“Pardon?” she asked, deliberate in a way that told William if he dared repeating what he just said, he’d pay severely for it.
But William did. “You shouldn’t be fond of me.”
Miss Sera didn’t speak for a long while. Her fingers clutched at the edge of the table, fingernails digging into its surface, then they relaxed, and she said, firm and resolute, “You cannot tell me what to feel. You don’t and you won’t control where my heart goes.”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
“What I know of you is enough for me, just like what you know of me is enough for you.”
Those words stunned him. “What?”
“Oh, William…” she chided, some fondness shining through the anger. “You honestly don't believe I didn’t notice?”
And here he thought he hid it well… “It doesn’t matter what I feel.”
“It does to me,” she instantly refuted. “It gives me hope.”
A cruel thing with what he did. What he wanted to continue on doing.
“But…” Miss Sera started, and went on, “if my presence causes you discomfort, I’ll make myself scarce.”
Discomfort? She couldn’t be more wrong. “Mrs. Bowen will miss you.”
“And I her, but I can’t continue on driving you away from home.”
And that was it. His goal. The right thing.
“Don’t,” he found himself saying. “Keep visiting. Forget this entire thing.”
“And return to how it was before?”
They wouldn’t, but he could pretend. “Yes.”
“I won’t push for anything, William,” she assured, all the anger and hurt gone. Too forgiving, this woman. “I’ll wait for you.”
William sighed. “You shouldn’t.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, and this time, it was with a smile.
William woke up to a thud.
Rushing out of his room, he saw Mrs. Bowen collapsed in front of hers. The rhythm of her breathing, of her heartbeat, slow and faint. She didn’t respond to his frantic calls.
He had to find a Healer.
William hurried out of the cottage, knocking on every door he knew to have a Healer behind it. It took many doors to finally find one that opened to his pleas, and William wasted no time in dragging the Healer back to the cottage.
Mrs. Bowen still breathed when he returned. At the sight of her, the Healer jumped to work on bringing her back. It supplied William with hope, even as Mrs. Bowen’s breathing dulled, fainter and fainter by the moment.
The Healer crushed it.
“I’m sorry…” he said, helpless, when Mrs. Bowen went still.
“She’s still alive.” She wasn’t like his father. She wasn’t like Goran. He could still do something about it!
“She’s not, son. Not anymore,” the Healer said, tone drenched with pity William didn’t need.
“How couldn’t she be alive when…” he began, only to trail off when he looked at Mrs. Bowen. Looked at her and saw his father’s image in her place.
She was… dead?
“I’m sorry,” the Healer repeated.
This time…
This time, it registered.
The townspeople treated William like a relative at the funeral.
Isolated as she was in her later life, Mrs. Bowen was a known figure in Maysa. It brought many to witness her burial, many to speak stories starring her, and many to offer William their heartfelt condolences. Some of those many William recognized, like the owner of the Blue Gale. Some he didn’t. And in many different ways, all told William that her memory would stay.
William didn’t want memories to accompany him. What solace did memories offer when those that formed them were gone?
It came as a relief when the crowds scattered, leaving him and Miss Sera in a cottage full of Mrs. Bowen’s trace, but empty of her.
“We should light the fire,” Miss Sera said, voice hoarse and cracked, as if sensing his intention to send her home.
She was the first to know, and her tears didn’t stop as she assisted him with the arrangements. They flowed at times and ebbed at others, lingering at her lashes. He wondered as he took the shovel and dug, if a few of Miss Sera’s tears fell in his stead, because he couldn’t seem to find any to shed—frozen in the memory of similar fates.
William appreciated the possibility. He appreciated her presence.
He let her stay, sit by his side in front of the fireplace. He let his tongue speak of his father, Goran, and what brought him to Maysa, to Mrs. Bowen. He told her of what he used to be, and why he couldn’t find it in himself to look past it. He revealed to her a secret, a wish, of a day he could simply introduce himself as William Bernard.
Through it all, Miss Sera didn’t speak, didn’t react. She listened, and she stayed.
She stayed until William stopped and beyond. It was past the time she usually left for home. She didn’t get up to leave, and William didn’t remind her. For once, he allowed himself to indulge in her presence, the warmth it gave him. He saw her eyelids flutter until they settled closed.
She fell asleep, her head on his shoulder.
An auburn strand fell between her brows, brushing against her nose. It made her squint and frown in her sleep. William reached to smooth it away, behind her ear, and her features stilled content.
It took time before he resumed working at the Blue Gale. On the third night since his return, a man approached his table, not with a request, but a warning.
The man’s name was Mondo, a shop owner at the town’s marketplace. William came to know him through Mrs. Bowen’s visits to his shop. And later on, Mondo came to him with a few requests.
Mondo’s business frequently took him out of town. Every time he returned, he carried the latest news along his wares, all to be told to Maysa’s anticipating townspeople.
William never concerned himself with the news the man brought, but tonight Mondo gave him no choice but to hear him. He started from the beginning, lamenting the difficulties he faced in his travels in exaggerated tones and sighs.
But then he arrived to the point of interest: the men searching for William.
“I would’ve thought the description those men gave out to be a coincidence, but then they mentioned your name.”
“My name?” There weren’t many that knew William by name, and those that did were…
Oblivious to William’s growing wariness, Mondo continued on, “I didn’t speak a word about you, of course, but I still recommend you stay on guard. Those men looked like bad news, and Maysa’s in close enough distance that I’d anticipate their arrival any day now.”
“Thank you, Mondo.” He didn’t have to trouble himself, but he did. For that, William was grateful.
“Don’t mention it, my boy.” Mondo waved off his gratitude. “I may not know why those men are searching for you, but I won’t stand for them to bring you trouble. You’re one of us now.”
As Mondo advised, William kept his guard.
He kept an eye on his surroundings, on the few new arrivals in town. He kept his guard as he fulfilled his requests. As he came and went from home.
He kept his guard, but then one afternoon, opening the door and seeing an injured Nyla behind it, a major oversight came to light.
The men were indeed searching for William’s whereabouts, but he wasn’t their immediate target.
“They took Sera,” Nyla said.
It didn’t take much to locate them.
A large campfire circled by men of different builds and weaponry. Another one. Another night where the moon shone bright.
But this time, William didn’t bother observing. He walked until he stood in their midst, staring at the carriage standing at the men’s back, its insignia that burned a place in his darkest memories. And by the carriage was a cage that could hold a large animal. The cage held no animal.
It held Sera.
William turned to the men and raised his blade.
Several took a step back.
He heard one of them hissing to another, “The William we’ve been searching for all this time is the damn Mourning Blade?"
“It’s too late to run now.”
“I can at least try!”
The man did try to run. William let him.
Seeing that, others chose to flee, leaving a few to stand against him.
It didn’t take much to cut through their lines, dismantle them, and have them fall like flies at his heels.
From the carriage stumbled a man William knew well. Julian looked disheveled, wild and erratic, far from the pristine image he used to present.
“Long time no see, Will!” He beamed. “You don’t know what I suffered because of you. The losses I accumulated were insurmountable!”
William didn’t speak, only raised his blood-soaked blade to end him.
“Kill me, and your sweetheart will be trapped for life. Her lovely cage is made of the finest metals. Nothing short of a miracle would be able to cut through it.” Julian’s smile slipped into something unhinged. “It is an amusing revelation, you having a sweetheart. You sure grew up from that young beast I first stumbled upon. Why, you’re almost a human now!”
William didn’t care for his nonsense. “The key.”
“I don’t have it, but I’m the only one who knows where it is.” It spoke of victory, the look Julian gave him. “Fix what you’ve ruined, and I’ll give it you.”
“We had a deal.”
“And it destroyed me. Just like your father, your fortune is a curse!”
The sharp edge of his blade pressed against Julian’s neck. “Don’t speak of him.”
“You’ll lose either way. Your sweetheart saw you. You might’ve spared them, but you still fought my men like the beast you are. Do you think she’d ever agree to return to your side, even freed?”
Was that why Julian trapped her in a cage? To let her have a full view into what William was capable of?
He turned to Sera, and saw her lying injured and halfway into unconsciousness—saw her watching. But instead of disgust, there was heartbreak.
Would he truly lose either way?
“Don’t…” Sera said, barely audible, and that heartbreak faded, replaced by something resolute. “Don’t… listen…”
Julian let out a laugh, amused. “She still has faith in you!”
With the last of her consciousness, Sera told him, “Nyla… get Nyla…”
Nyla?
“It’s a special ring, you know?”
“Where did you find such a kind soul?” Julian asked, still entertained, still assured of victory.
William pulled his blade away from Julian, and then brought it back with a final strike.
In a flash of a moment, William witnessed the realization of what would happen dawn on Julian, his eyes widening in horror, mouth parting to form something pleading.
“Quiet,” William said for the last time.
Nyla found them first.
It was while he worked to drag the cage back to Maysa that she appeared in the horizon, pushing against her injuries to follow his trail.
“I hate to agree with the bastard, but he’s right. This is no ordinary cage,” she concluded after an inspection. “It’s no Void Stone, though, so Sera’s also right that I can do something about it.”
Her ring sparked red then, and she reached to the top of one of the cage’s front bars and grabbed it. The metal yielded to the heat of Nyla’s hand, melting where she held. She went to do the same to the bottom of the bar, and then pulled out the freed ends. One by one, the process repeated, and one by one, the bars were ripped away, until the front side of the cage was wide open.
William took Sera out of the cage as Nyla said, “Let’s get her to my shop.”
Blessedly, Sera’s injuries weren’t severe, but for a young woman who never experienced such hardships, the shock of it all proved enough to render her unconscious.
William stuck to her side as she slumbered, his concern winning the battle against his guilt for the time.
“This matter won’t go down easily.” Nyla sighed. “You killed a Sateal. I fear Drakon will no longer be safe for you.”
“I’ll leave.” There was no other choice. He’d brought enough misfortune.
Nyla’s features drew grim. “Do you think this will only limit to you?”
What she meant was obvious. The thought itself angered him. “She has nothing to do with this. It’s my fault.”
“We’re commoners, William. Taking our lives won’t matter to them. All they’ll care about is that you killed that bastard to save her.” She looked at Sera then, like she already prepared her goodbyes. “They’ll go after her. An Alessio for a Sateal, then it’ll be fair.”
Nyla retired for the night to nurse her injuries, leaving William to watch over Sera.
She moved in her sleep, and the quilt covering her fell to the floor. William reached to drape it over her, only to feel her hand grabbing onto his own. Determined as he was to stay by her side, he only noticed now that his hands were stained with dried blood. He pulled his hand away, but Sera held onto it tighter.
“You’re not a beast,” she murmured, and then let go of his hand, but it was too late. The stains reached her hand.
Those words would’ve given him comfort once. Not tonight, not when all he could think of was the fate he condemned her to.
“Go back to sleep.”
“You’ll be leaving for Ashmore.”
Come next morning, Sera recovered enough to receive an unexpected guest: her uncle.
“Current tension between Drakon and Ashmore makes it a suitable destination. It’d be an unnecessary effort for Ashmore’s authorities to hand you.”
If the man was affected by the news of what befell his niece, he didn’t show it, instead he listed all the procedures he arranged.
Behind him, Nyla scoffed. “Why did I ever expect anything from you…?”
Ricardo Alessio ignored her. He gave William a glance then treated him like he didn’t exist in the next moment, addressing Sera, “My contacts will receive you at the borders. Do try not to embarrass our name.”
Sera averted her gaze. “I won’t, Uncle.”
Her response seemed to anger him, but there was something else—frustration, sorrow. “Just like your father…” He sneered, turning on his heel to leave the shop.
Next dawn, they were to depart.
As they waited for Sera to say her goodbyes to Nyla, Ricardo told William this: “Your presence is only tolerated due to your strength and care for the wellbeing of my niece. You will never allow her to leave your sights, do you understand?”
“My life is hers,” William returned, and he saw that hint of worry in Ricardo’s eyes ebbing into relief.
Before he rode the wagon, Nyla gave him a small jewelry box. William could guess what it contained. “Don’t leave her waiting for long.”
He should return it. He should never think about what it would bring, what it would promise. But hard as he tried to convince himself, he still slipped it into his belongings.
Then, they were off.
It haunted him to see Maysa, this town he considered a home, growing distant in the horizon.
“What do you think we’ll find in Ashmore?” Sera asked a long while later, when dawn brightened into noon.
“Safety, I hope.”
“I’m hoping for something different.”
“Like what?”
“A new beginning.”
