"Grey! Honey! We're going to be late if you don't come downstairs!"
Grey took out her earphones, closing the book that had held her attention for the past few hours. It was so good. Something about assassins and romance. Tossing it onto another part of her bed, she drifted to the closet and lazily chose an outfit. A soft knock rapped on her door.
Her father poked his head in. "Glad to see you're getting dressed."
She smiled halfheartedly, annoyance nipping at her chest. She didn't want to put her book down. She didn't want to get dressed. She surely didn't want to leave the house today. Still, she said, "I am."
He stepped over her threshold, an encouraging smile lifting his tan face. His hair was neatly combed, the scarf around his neck pulling tighter as he crossed his arms and caught a piece of the fabric.
"Come on, Grey. Let's see a real smile." When she didn't budge, he sighed. "You know, your mom and I missed you last night for family movie night."
"Look, I'm sorry. We watch the same seasonal movies every year--,"
He held up his hands in defense. "No need to apologize. You're thirteen tomorrow. You're growing up. Let us just do one last thing with you before you decide to be a cool teenager forever, okay?"
She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "I'm not a cool teenager," she complained.
"Yet. Hold your rebel phase off until tomorrow, will ya? We're trying to take our daughter to a harvest festival!" He squeezed her shoulder and left, a smile still on his face.
After she dressed and fixed her hair, she tossed a scarf around her neck and shoved her mittens into her jacket pocket. Not because she would be cold, but because her mother had matching ones and begged her to bring them along in case they wanted to pick pumpkins. She turned off her lights and skipped down the steps, smile faltering when they laid eyes on her.
Her mother's full lips quirked upwards. "Look at our very own pumpkin!"
"I bet you'll find good ones on the field this year! I want a prize winner that we can carve for Halloween," her father said. He was busy rearranging the dishes in the sink while her mother wiped the dining room table with a wet rag.
"The one we get today won't last until Halloween," Grey said.
Her father shrugged. "Then we get another when October rolls around. Who doesn't want to visit the Harvest Festival twice? It's your favorite holiday gathering, Grey."
"It used to be," she corrected. "When I was eight."
"Oh, Daniel," her mother called her father by his first name, "Remember when she used to do the hay maze and the petting zoo?"
Her father laughed aloud. "She cried because the goat tried to eat her sweater that one time."
Grey pointed a warning finger at them. "That is not funny!"
"It was pretty funny, Grey," her mother said. "Don't worry though. If any big, bad goats try to get you, Dad and I will put them in their place."
Grey rolled her eyes, sitting on the kitchen island. "Whatever. You guys drag me to this place 'cause you love it. Has nothing to do with me."
Daniel wiped his hands with a paper towel. "Says the girl who comes home with three bags of candy corn she doesn't eat. You talk about their hot chocolate and cider for months in the Spring. You take a picture with Polly the Pig every year. You even told me you'd try to enter their writing contest when it came around again."
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "She didn't tell me that."
"Because I didn't mean it," Grey said. "Are we going to the thing or not?"
The car keys jingled in her mother's hands. "We're on our way! Thanks for coming with us, Grey!"
Grey wasn't sure why that made her feel guilty. Instead of acknowledging it, she pushed past them to get outside. While her father locked the door, her mother inhaled a deep whiff of the bitter air which reeked of soil and rain. The car was parked outside the garage, a few steps from where Grey was as she stared at the other side of the street.
Leaves were everywhere. Red, gold, orange, dandelion, forest green. Endless leaves swirling in small tornadoes with the breeze, sticking to the driveways, coating lawns. A soiree of color, but an indication of time and change. Like trees shedding tears, and the earth welcoming their cover.
Grey's mother laid an arm over her daughter's shoulder, her voice low and gentle.
"Isn't autumn the most beautiful month of the year?"
Grey pursed her lips. "It's okay. I prefer winter."
Her mother nodded. "Like your father."
"Mom?" Grey asked.
Her mother's chestnut brown eyes found hers. Seeing her from this angle, Grey wondered if she resembled her at all. She wondered why her mother was so deliberate when talking to her. She liked it a lot; a very soft lilt to her tone reserved solely for Grey.
"Yes?"
"Why do you like fall so much?"
"Hmm," her mother sighed through her nostrils. "I love it because when I was your age, I was fascinated by the feel in the air. That anticipation that something is coming. The end of the year is especially my favorite, because I get to spend the most time with you and your father. There's a warmth to it that isn't seen or felt, but it touches your heart. It's exciting."
Grey supposed a few pumpkins, scarecrows, and leaves could make a person feel that way. Either way, it was wonderful to know that there really was someone else that enjoyed this festival just as much as Grey did.
"I do miss planting my gardenias, and I miss winter because you like it so much, but autumn will always be special to me."
Her dad wrapped his long arms around both of them, the sudden group hug startling Grey. He planted large kisses on both of their cheeks. "Peeping at our neighbors?"
Her mother laughed while Grey groaned and separated from their hold. Turning to face them, she put her hands in her back pockets and said, "One more question before we leave. Dad, you can hear this too I guess."
Daniel held her mother's hand, but it was her mother that said, "Sure, sweetheart."
"Why did you thank me for coming?"
"Well," her father began, "you're growing up. We understand what you're going through."
"What do you mean?"
Her mother played with one of the buttons on Grey's sweater. "Hanging out with us gets lame. We know that. You're going to become more interested in other things. You're going to spend time elsewhere. We just miss seeing you in the living room and at the table. You make our day."
"I can spend more time with you," Grey offered. "I don't want you to feel like I've forgotten you."
"We would love that," her dad said. "How about tonight, after the festival, we put up our decorations? And tomorrow, we give you the best birthday party you've ever asked for."
Grey nodded, the guilt still not completely dissolved.
"Come on," Daniel said, grabbing her hand and tugging her to the car. "We've got a fun night ahead of us!"
Their evening stopped at sunset.
They never reached the festival. By the sun's last rays, Grey was ushered to the hospital in the back of a paramedics vehicle. By nightfall, she stabilized out of critical condition. By the morning of her thirteenth birthday, she'd been informed that her parents did not survive the accident. Neither did the driver that hit them.
Now, on the eve of her 22nd birthday, she walked through the cemetery that she discovered when she was fifteen and adjusting to life in Seoul. She was tired, she was sore, and she was numb. An entirely different young woman than the girl that first created these makeshift graves.
So long ago, when she first decided to build her small altar, every space in this plot of ground was full--except, for the grand oak tree in the heart of the cemetery. At the bottom of it's trunk, she etched their initials with a sharp stick. Every year since, she delivered something to the tree.
This time, her gift had come from the 42nd floor. Two stunning marigolds stolen from the labyrinth of gold. She knelt by the letters and placed them against the tree's roots.
"Hi Mom, Dad. I should have come sooner," she said. "I miss you. I miss you so much."
A cool, autumn breeze rustled the leaves in response. Grey spoke to the ground in a low voice, wishing that her conversation with them would reach wherever they were.
"Dad, I still think that when my door opens, it'll be your face. You'll smile at me and make some joke you thought of thirty minutes before. And Mom, I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the way you smiled at me when you thought I wasn't looking. There was so much love there, and I'm so upset that I missed it--that I didn't look back. I tell you that every year."
"There's so much I've learned this year, you guys. For the first time, I forgave myself for holding in so much at one time. I internalized everything until it piled up. Now that it's gone, I see everything. I see that you always came to grab me because you never wanted me to be alone. Every lesson, every command to bundle up, or eat my vegetables, or whatever it was--you said it because you loved me. Love is not straightforward, and I think I'm learning that this year too."
Grey stopped talking for a second to bury her face into her collar. Her tears went straight through the fabric, wetting her fingertips. She sniffled, a whimper occasionally filling the air because she couldn't breathe. Eventually, she dug her fingers into the grass, needing something to hold onto. She had to finish. She was strong enough to finish.
"Mom," she said, "there is a man that I met. He's beautiful, and he has a room full of gardenias. They remind me of you. He would have loved you. All my friends would have. Dad, you would have had the time of your life playing the morning sudoku puzzles with my really smart friend. And while you did that, one of them would have made you the tea we like and told you stories. There's another one that makes me feel alive when he talks to me, and there's one that makes me unafraid of living. There's one that you and Mom would have called perfect boyfriend material, and I think he would have done his best to impress you, specifically, Dad. And the final one... he has a smile that brightens the entire skyscraper."
"There's also a cat," she laughed, shoveling her tears off her face, "and that one's complicated but he slash she is amazing, and probably the reason why I'm able to finish talking to you. He's like both of you in one. It's really hard to explain. As for Amelia, I think I did what was best. I miss her too, I always will, but she's safe now. I hope that you agree... especially since you're watching."
"Today is your day. And I'll stay with you until the sun sets, as I always do."
Her full heart continued to fill and overflow, stories of the past months flowing from her lips as though she would sink into the ground alongside them if she stopped.
:::
Something nudged the bottom of Grey's shoe. The girl stirred, squinting her eyes further shut to stay in her dreams. The nudge came again. At last, she opened them. A tall man in a brown coat tilted his head at her. He appeared to be middle-aged, paternal almost. He had wide, dark eyes pooling with concern, and tousled dark hair. His shadow was wide, shielding the sun from her face.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
She blinked herself awake, readjusting her position so that blood could flow to her legs. When she glanced at him a second time, she noticed how his shoulders were pulled back, how his chin was high. A regal, elegant stance. He seemed like a man from another time altogether.
"I'm fine," she said.
"Excuse my manners, but your eyes are beautiful," he said.
She smiled, sniffling. "Thank you."
He leaned down and extended a hand. Grey noticed that the afternoon sun in the sky had lowered tremendously, but not only that. Dangling around the man's neck was a pretty necklace shaped like a sun. Wavy edges of what had to be solar waves surrounded a clear orb. Perhaps a bit smaller than her palm, it looked just as expensive as it did vintage. He caught her line of sight and chuckled.
"A family heirloom," he said.
Satisfied, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "I would say that it's nice to meet you, but we're in the middle of a cemetery."
"That, we are," he said, looking around to prove a point. "However, cemeteries are intriguing places. The pieces of glass in the mausoleums, the angelic statues. So symbolic and packed with emotion. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss?"
"Grey," she said.
"Ah." He nodded. "Rowan."
"Are you here for a loved one too, Rowan?"
He brushed invisible dust off of his coat sleeve. "Yes, but I am on my way home. Which, I suggest you do the same before it gets dark."
"I will. Thank you for waking me up."
"My pleasure," he bowed politely. "Until we meet again. Amor vincit omnia."
Grey watched him leave, something stopping her from calling his name. He strolled out of the cemetery's gate at the bottom of the hill, eyes downcast on the pavement.
Amor vincit omnia. Nico's greeting.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Without thinking, she began walking the opposite way that he left. There was a back exit to the cemetery that she could take--would take if it meant steering clear of that man. His language wasn't the only thing that made her uncomfortable.
That necklace.
It was one of a kind. She might have believed it to be a family heirloom had he not made such a statement at the end. That pendant wasn't just something he picked up at a jewelry store or at a family gathering. Treasure like that needed to be found. Discovered.
She shuddered. The Amulet of Erilim had just dangled in her face. That had to be it.
And if it was in fact the blood sacrifice trinket Luca described in the library...
Before she knew it, she kicked her pace into a jog. Exiting didn't seem fast enough. She needed a place to hide, at least for a little bit. She scanned the flat tombstones, her heart ringing in her ears. Rowan could be anywhere around the perimeter. He could be waiting at the other exit for her to run straight into his arms.
She searched harder through the cemetery, panic setting in. Grass, trees, some statues. He could pick her off easy from one of those. Hell, he found her at the bottom of a tree. She needed something bigger, better--there. A mausoleum loomed in the distance, door open and darkness waiting inside.
She sprinted towards it, catching her breath as soon as she hurtled through a rose bush, over the threshold, and almost into the wall. It was smaller than she expected. The size of a gazebo at best. She huddled into a corner, the sting on her left hand becoming apparent as she tried to steady herself.
Her eyes had to adjust to the dark to see what happened. Blood smeared her palm, a thin, but deep cut slicing diagonally through the skin. She'd been pricked by thorns in the bushes. Blood dripped from the wound down to her wrist. It needed to be bandaged, or at least slowed. Her stockings couldn't be ripped, neither could her skirt. Her sweater was far too thick to tear into a tourniquet or a bandage. Leaves, twigs, and heavy coats of dust dotted the floor of the mausoleum. The walls were bare; stone tiles carved to resemble three-dimensional angels or somber quotations about the person that lied in the tomb at her side. That person probably didn't need a first-aid kit.
She hissed as a gust of wind brought dirt onto her hand. It would get dark soon. Any lingering mourners would be leaving graves. She'd be alone in unknown terrain with the amulet-wearer too familiar on her location. She had to leave.
So, she pushed her bloody hand against the floor to get up--yelping as the tile she chose caved in. Water splashed some meters beneath, the smell of sewage and swamp wafting through the miniature hole in the ground. She frowned, noting how the black waves sloshing against mud far, far below sparkled under rays of evening sun.
What body of water was this built over? This was supposed to be a hill.
Scooting away from the hole, Grey used the wall to stand instead. She pressed her fingers onto the decorative panels, ignoring the fact that her blood stained the rock. Finally on two feet, she inched towards the coffin dais. If she was using this corpse's resting place as a hideout, she might as well know their name... and try to figure why they chose a slab of stone rather than a comfy, plush, mahogany box.
Whatever she stared at, tomb was the right word. Debris and ivy covered the sides, locking it shut with entangled vines. However, the top was unimpressionable, if not almost bare save for the faded paragraph engraved in the center. Grey used the sleeve of her sweater to brush the grime to the side and read.
May my prayer fall upon beating wings, sanctioned by the Eternal and her witnesses;
That ye who wields the Savior of Realms is of courageous spirit; steadfast in valor, passion, and faith
For they shall reign over the stars and many moons.
For they shall tear the sky.
Where her strike lands, the rivers hath dried, the mountains hath wailed--
No longer ought they perish. Honor restores the land.
To the pure of heart I bear my gifts: Heaven and her flame
To my sons I bestow the Earth trodden beneath our feet
To vanquish the Dark, I encompass my enemies in stone
Amidst eternal flame, I rise to champion the Light.
A prayer, Grey realized. Written on the slab was a prayer. More than that, she'd heard the last two lines before. Bits of it rolled from Jungkook's tongue that day in the library when Luca confessed to remembering a piece of riddle.
I encompass my enemies in stone. Amidst eternal flame, I rise.
Those words marked Gatekeeper's back. Grey snatched her phone from her hip and wrote the inscription in her notes.
What was this place?
Screen-shotting her find, she sent it to every member of Anaphiel. Following the picture, she added a separate note. Stone bricks made up the walls. Stone tiles made up the floor. The ceiling was made of rounded, fogged glass rotted with leaves and ivy. Even so, the room was circular in nature. It enveloped her. If stone could ever encompass anyone, it could here. This mausoleum had to be part of the riddle. And if that were true, what was she to make of the eternal flame? Were they related at all? They had to know the truth.
"Grey?"
She pushed her phone back into her pocket, pressing her back against the nearest wall for cover. A flashlight shone through the open door, illuminating the slab and her blood on the far wall.
The feminine voice called again. "Grey?"
Grey furrowed her brows, stepping from her hiding spot. "Amelia?"
Amelia smiled warily, taking the light off Grey's face and putting it on her shirt instead. "I knew I'd find you here."
But how? Grey hadn't uncovered the mausoleum until now. Her normal location remained around the trunk of that tree. But maybe Amelia had been shouting her name for a while around the other areas and Grey was too busy to hear it. Maybe she just decided to keep looking until she found her.
"Why are you here?" Grey asked.
Amelia lifted a bouquet of lilies. "I wanted to pay my respects," she said.
"I'm sorry," Grey chuckled humorlessly, "what?"
Her best friend smacked her lips. "I go with you to the memorial sometimes. Don't act so surprised."
"I'm not. I just--," Grey paused, not fully knowing how to phrase it. "I was a total bitch to you. We aren't friends anymore. You don't have to care about my parents."
"They're the parents of my best friend. I'm going to care." She kicked a rock by her foot. "Why are you in there?"
Grey scrambled for an answer, pressing down the pleated folds of her skirt as she shuffled down half the mausoleum steps. "I was curious. There were some statues and stuff."
"Aren't you going to come down and talk to me?" Amelia asked. Her skin was sickly pale in the fresh moonlight, the flashlight in her hand pointed at her feet. Her pretty brown eyes were concentrated on Grey, sadder and wider than ever. Even in distress, Amelia was gorgeous.
Grey shook her head. "There's nothing left to say. Stay away from me."
"That's not what either of us want."
"It's what I want," Grey said.
Amelia pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "So if I walk away, you won't follow?"
"No."
She nodded a second time, cheeks rosy against the indigo sky. "I guess that's what I get for caring so much."
Grey said nothing as she clutched the bouquet to her chest.
Amelia said, "I hope Kim Seokjin at least treats you right."
Grey groaned, charging down the rest of the steps. "That's not what broke us. It's not Jin--,"
Amelia's hands were around her neck in a flash, squeezing the air from her lungs before she finished the sentence. Grey pried at her fingers unsuccessfully, gasping when the hold grew stronger, more adamant.
"Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung. I don't care who you're thinking about. Where you're going, they're all invited." Amelia laughed at Grey's squirming. The laugh stopped short as Grey's arms circled around hers and slammed down. Amelia fell forward as her hands fell away, a fist slamming into her cheek to rock her in the opposite direction.
Grey shook off the stinging in her knuckles. She'd done it. She'd used one of Joon's moves. About to run, her escape plan fell through when Amelia spat blood onto the dirt.
"Vanity told me you wouldn't kindly accept the invitation."
"Vanity?" Grey grabbed her friend's shoulders. "Amelia, don't listen to her. She's dangerous. Get her out of your head!"
"Shut up."
Her best friend shoved her back, whipping her arm forward so fast that Grey didn't have time to dodge the flashlight. Solid metal crashed into the side of her skull. Grey crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Amelia huffed her bangs from out of her eyes and stooped to lift her body. She was heavier than expected, but once she was thrown over Amelia's shoulder, the rest of the way became easy.
:::
(A/N) Wishful reader,
Grey just got snatched.
On another note, make sure you tell your loved ones that you love them because you are not guaranteed another year, another tomorrow, or even another hour from now to do so. Neither are they.
Also, I care for you. If you need a friend or just wanna chat, I'm one PM away. :)
Next release: 9/11 (September 11th)
With love,
M