Chapter 66 – As Flames Turn to Ashes (1)

Streaks of blood covered the floors and walls of the once pristine and beautifully decorated Orlein mansion. The flower filled vases and decorative sculptures had either been shattered completely or thrown aside – probably towards someone. Shards lay amidst drying pools of blood.

“I didn’t expect them to attack here…” he muttered as he followed the guards.

“Neither did Lord Orlein,” one of the guards replied. “Most of our number had left to try and help Lord Alistair fend off the attackers at the market district and the city gates. They must have taken advantage of our absence.” The guard clenched his fist for a moment as he stopped by the two winged door of Lord Orlein’s study. He knocked, then opened the door.

“Lord Orlein, we found one of Lord Alistair’s classmates,” he then stepped aside, giving way to Midhir.

Midhir stepped inside, and the doors closed behind him. His gaze turned to Lord Orlein, he took a step closer, only to feel wet carpet beneath his boots. He looked down, to see a large bloodstain on the fluffy carpet.

“They tried to steal the ring,” Lord Orlein spoke, seeing his momentary panic. “They weren’t particularly strong, it wasn’t difficult to protect it.”

He was sitting behind his ebony wood desk. A sword was put up against the wall behind his seat. His desk was empty save for a few papers, and a small box that could easily fit in Midhir’s palm. Lord Orlein himself didn’t seem wounded, or even slightly tired. His clothes were as clean and proper as always.

His eyes, however, burned with anger.

“Alistair protected the market square,” a hint of pride was audible in his voice. “And Captain Rianne held the city gates. Despite all of their efforts, Bareon has suffered grave losses.” He furrowed his brows, his gaze meeting Midhir’s. “L- Midhir,” he breathed in, “Where were you?”

Midhir walked closer to the ebony wood desk, pulled the flower from his pocket, and placed it next to the small box. “Bareon is built on a hollow hill,” he coldly replied. “I was by the church when explosions shook the city. The pavement gave way, and I fell. More people must have fallen too, but I couldn’t find them.”

He pointed at the blooming flower, still glowing brightly as it did since he found it upon that chalk altar. “I found this, on an altar beneath the city. I found an ancient temple, and a monster guarding it, I found an underwater lake, and a tunnel that led to the Old Growth,” he paused for a moment. “Lord Orlein, Bareon is in greater danger than you think. And…”

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Something stopped him. “You need to send word to the Emperor,” he said, instead. “Chalk, that resembles roots grows beneath the city. I fear Bareon is in much greater danger than any of us realise.”

Lord Orlein’s complexion grew paler with each word Midhir spoke. He pressed his lips together, listening with a tight jaw, and clenched fists. Once Midhir was finished talking, he breathed out, and pondered in silence for a short while. “I see,” he finally said.

Midhir waited for a few more seconds before speaking up again. “Is Arwen, Willow, and Lonan alright?”

Lord Orlein flinched. “Hm? Oh yes, both women were in the hospital, and it’s been far from any conflict. Lonan, the historian, has also been recovering there, and has guards posted by his room to protect him – just in case. You needn’t worry about them.”

A weight he hadn’t realised he was carrying lifted off his shoulders. With a breath of relief, he smiled weakly. “Good,” he muttered. “And Alistair?”

“He’s fine, he’s helping the city guard right now,” Lord Orlein’s voice faded as his eyes widened. “Your eye!” He gasped, starting on his feet.

Midhir flinched, instinctively reaching for his left eye. He felt something wet and warm on his fingertips. He pulled his hand away, only to see his fingers wet with blood.

“Oh,” he wiped his eye with his sleeve. It was odd, since there was no pain. The other times he noticed his eye bleed was always accompanied by some pain. “I’m alright, I think,” he muttered as he wiped his eye again. He waited for a few short moments, but the bleeding had stopped already.

“You’re certainly not,” Lord Orlein walked around the desk with a handkerchief hand. “Eyes don’t randomly bleed, and you’re wounded all over.” He gestured at his arms.

His body was aching, and he was covered in both mud and blood. He glanced at his arms and hands, then chuckled. “I suppose so,” he sighed before reaching for the blooming flower. As he touched its stem, he noticed Lord Orlein’s odd gaze. “Is something the matter?”

“Perhaps you should leave that here,” the Lord suggested.

Midhir quickly shook his head. “I’d rather not,” he replied with a tight jaw. “There is more we should speak of, Lord Orlein, but Bareon’s safety is a more pressing matter, and I don’t think I have enough strength left in me to stay awake for much longer.” He felt like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Then we will speak more when you have rested and recovered,”

Tightly holding onto the vibrant flower, Midhir left Lord Orlein’s study. His steps were uneven as he made his way through the mansion, to the room assigned to him. He stumbled into the room, swung the door shut, and collapsed on the bed.

In the deep, infinite darkness, something stirred. An unblinking eye gazed upon a being so small, it was almost insignificant. Almost, but not quite. Holding onto one of the seeds of the Vermillion Bird’s garden, the being remained unmoving, unconscious.

These mortal beings called it ‘sleeping’.

Something red flowed from the being’s closed eye. It was something like its life force. If it lost too much of it, it would ‘die’. Cease to exist. Never wake up again.

So, the unblinking eye turned away. Its gaze was enough to cause such damage to this almost insignificant being. As much as it was interesting to watch, it couldn’t risk doing too much harm. It needed the being to survive, after all.

It needed to ‘live’.