Vol 2. Ch 5.

It was late as the evening merged into the night when the rain finally made its expected arrival, tearing the sky completely in half. On the sheltered balcony with grandiose carved pillars and a matching thick railing, Ren and Colin leaned each against their own, staring up towards the deepened sky and the occasional lightning escorted by a loud rumbling of thunder. By the estimated time between the two displays of nature's wrath, they should be in the eye of the storm any minute now. And in that moment, just like clockwork, the downpour became yet a little mightier.

’’Typical northern summer.’’ Colin lit up a cigarette with small matchsticks that he always carried with him in the pocket of his trousers, barely any wind through the raindrops to disturb the flame. Along the matchsticks, he always carried a thin, decorated silver case holding the cigarettes neatly inside, ’’Let me tell you. We’ve been turning the entire town upside down. By the evening, we extended the search to the borders. And nothing. Not a single clue anywhere in sight. I walked through the alleyway Miss Dilamor mentioned she saw the symbol on. Multiple times. I do not doubt her words, nor do I see a reason for her to lie about such a thing, but I gotta admit, I was left hanging.’’ He spoke with the cigarette still tangling between his lips, the smoke coming out along with the moody speech.

’’Could be a message? Something they, who or rather whatever they are, keep erasing. Something meant for their eyes only.’’ Ren barely whispered, leaning with his shoulder against the smooth marble, a deep gaze towards the town at a distance with a few remaining lights still switched on here and there, ’’I cannot shake away the riddled letters, either. A game, a threat? Or a message meant to send a warning. Though the latter seems unusual.’’

’’What the hell is it, then?’’ Colin began to sound more and more irritated as the time went on, beyond frustration at that point, ’’They’re tied to these events, but why? And why taunt us with these letters? Wouldn’t it be easier for them to simply do the deed and leave everyone guessing?’’

’’Maybe they want to be known? Desperate for attention, but make us do all the work.’’ Ren turned away from the view and half sat against the railing instead, ’’That red symbol. They ran the tests and it was definitely written with human blood. What I fear is that these disappearance cases are somehow related.’’

’’And with at least one of them rumored to be gifted.’’ Colin muttered after him.

’’Disappearances—gifted—attacks resembling riots—red symbol. Resembling riots..’’ Suddenly, Ren stopped his low mumbling, face going pale yet with a hint of excitement in the corners of his eyes, lifting the eyebrows in an almost scary manner. Before Colin could even begin to question what was going on, he could only follow the hurried man now rushing inside his office. Ren took a couple of books from the shelves and threw them away—clearly not what he was after—before the correct one seemed to latch onto his firm hold. Colin remained standing a few steps away, trying to be patient for the answers as Ren flipped the pages, continuing his search. There, page one-hundred-thirty-five, Ren held out the book at Colin’s eye level. The red symbol, no doubt about it, although not the one they’d been staring at for weeks on end.

’’Yes, that is indeed the symbol of the future in the ancient writing.’’ Colin shook his head, ’’What do you mean? Do spit it out already, my friend.’’ He huffed in frustration, enough with the riddles already.

’’This symbol means the future—’’ Ren flipped a few more pages, ’’Used by the Clan back in the day.’’

’’True?’’ Colin agreed, but then, as soon as he did, his face turned just as pale as Ren’s had only moments earlier, ’’No, but they vanished decades ago, wiped away entirely.’’ He rubbed his chin while beginning to pace on the spot impatiently, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

’’And this—’’ Ren flipped another page, ’’Is the symbol of the past.’’ He showed the identical replica of the drooping bloody one signed at the end of the letters received.

Colin’s eye twitched with the piled uncomfortable emotions from a long, exhausting day, and now having to deal with this, ’’Hate to admit it, but perhaps you’re right. For a group as large, it is entirely possible that the Clan hadn’t been all wiped out after all, unlike our history books like to insist. Not all of them. Their beliefs still taught to some. But it is strictly illegal. They should’ve been found out by now, if ever.’’

’’With the amount of secrets that the Kingdom itself withholds from its people, do you really think it’s that impossible to stay hidden for many tens of years?’’ Ren answered with a growling gloom.

’’No— you’re right. If this is the case, then it’s worse than I ever dared to imagine.’’ Colin covered his face with the entire palm of his hand, ’’Then, how do they stay hidden? The underground tunnels beneath the Kingdom Capital? Surely they wouldn’t still find their way in those corners?’’

’’Impossible, not with the amount of security those dark tunnels are invested with.’’ Ren answered, shaking his head in deep concentration, ’’The King would know if someone benefited from their shadows.’’

Long ago, there were those who believed all the Subjects of Yumne Dir should stay as they were for centuries to come, without laws to protect them and without aspirations for anything else other than offering their gift to those in need. Once the last Emperor of Frahan gave up his position, and began the new world of the five Kingdoms instead of one monarchy, the gifted were finally given an option to either retrieve to the Land of Mifarn and harvest all the possible knowledge about their abilities, or live a normal life ignoring the ability of healing altogether—maybe live a life of something in between. But of course, there were many who opposed the decision of the new world. Adamant that Agathen should stay as the central vessel of the five Lands. In their mind, those born with the gift of Yumne Dir were ultimately born to serve those in need, not only those important enough to receive their divine energy, but everyone equally, and nothing more. What a waste, they had said. How outrageously absurd, they rumbled. But further down soared more than only petty words. There were actions along with it. Recklessly, a group with their aligned beliefs found each other, as they always do, with mutual interests for the future. They were always present, people who looked down upon the gifted from the very beginning, and resented the nobles for keeping the gifted all to themselves.

Yet, the world had noticed less and less gifted being born altogether as time went on. As if the divine energy wore thin in the elapse of years.

Sooner or later, those with bitterness in their heart began to call themselves the Clan. Plain and simple. Owning the word for themselves, trying to sound closely united. Bit by bit and quite methodically, the gifted began to disappear. One by one. Leaving trails of bodies as they were ruled out as no longer missing by the investigators. Leaving only fear amongst those openly displaying their abilities out of good nature, and with a desire to make use of it for the benefit of the world they lived in, as they pleased and without anyone forcing them. Now in danger once more.

And as a result, when new children were born to carry the legacy as the Subjects of Yumne Dir, the parents began to desperately hide their children once more, mimicking the events of the past. The Clan was silently and resentfully given the name Rat Clan, for everyone knew they lived beneath the grounds. Hiding. Moving fast wherever they needed to go. Hunted by Agathen’s first King’s soldiers as they tried to map out the complex routes most had never entered. Those tunnels beneath Kingdom Capital were as old as the foundations of the Capital itself. Built by mankind before time and not made use of—until the Rat Clan claimed the shadows as their own. And once the word carried out, no teenager would dare their friends to spend an hour a mile deep or less, as it had been a game for them—a silly courage ritual of some sort—nor would a parent allow their youngsters near the known passageways.

Slowly, the Clan gathered their strength. A cult of those who believed the gifted should be kept in line and in service, and Agathen should stay as the leaders of the almighty monarchy above all Lands. Until a little over seventy years ago, escalating into what was now known in history books as the Grave Riot. The events were so horrendous that the name earned itself without the newspapers blasting it everywhere. Nearly all the gifted were perished from the face of the earth, hunted down, leading up to the finishing act by the Central Square of Agathen’s Kingdom Capital. The Clan settled for attacking the eye of Agathen, since their attempts to infiltrate the guarded Land of Mifarn had terribly failed. They opted to go down with an everlasting, robust crack in the events of history. Remembered for an eternity to come, like a monster hiding under the bed. Never caught, but feeling its presence.

Although the Clan lacked the number of men and women compared to the King’s own, the hatred had won, declaring no other option but to head straight towards the Capital. Knowing they’d lose.

And for over seventy years, speaking about the Clan wasn't considered proper, nor mentioning their tainted legacy, except for a small class on the basics of history for the last year's students. The King at the time had made it nearly impossible, a taboo to even mention their name. Practicing their beliefs towards the Subjects of Yumne Dir became one illegal addition for their protection, and the tunnels beneath the Kingdom Capital lost the echoes of the whispers and the stealthily creeping threats. And the events of the Grave Riot left marks throughout the Kingdom Capital; holes on the stonewalls of the labyrinth-like Quarter Streets, cracks on the beautiful sculptures of the Central Square, ever-reminding of the fact that the threat does not always come from outside the borders.

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It can loom amongst the everyday people.

Waiting for the right moment to come.

The next morning, Ren sat around the usual table surrounded by the windowed walls, through which the view of the candescent rise of a morning hue could be seen, with his back relaxed and arms crossed over chest as he watched the honey-sunrise appear and match the color of his eyes. He had the breakfast plate of bread and eggs untouched there in front of him, the dark unsweetened coffee resembling his hair color. The slightly wavy edges, finely and quite effortlessly put together, grazed his intense eyebrows, always set on a slight frown by default.

’’Good morning, Sir.’’

Ren heard coming from beside him, whisking his head to find the source of the warm, deep voice. Sophia had kept her end of the promise. Not that he’d have any reason to doubt her, but the expression on her face the day prior had been different in comparison to what Ren had been used to by now. Of course, he knew that they initially met in harsh conditions, to put it lightly, and he had no idea of what she was like before the horrid events of Brifena, but as the days went on after arriving in Delmaer, he noticed her sinking somewhere deeper. Reminding him of the fact that he never truly knew that much about her on a deeper level.

Sure, he knew her interests by now, and some interactions gave an impression that she was quite capable and tough, yet very gentle and kind, nervous even. He remembered the parallels of watching her kneeling beside those dear to her, in the cramped Town’s Hall, before leaving them behind there in the Town of Lufin. How tender yet serious the air around her had been, as she slipped the pouch of rewards to the woman and sleeping child. How horrifiedly scared, yet determined she had sounded just as he began to lose consciousness in the grim forest of Agrom, as the poison of the winter berries began to claim him, and how calmly relieved yet how slightly hesitant her assisting touch had graced him once he’d survived to see another day. All thanks to her, although it was evident that she had lacked the faith for the outcome.

Ren noticed right then and there that despite being quite confident in her knowledge, she’d get quite nervous too, and it was clear that she had possibly leaned towards the worst ending. And once things turned out well, and although he would never admit it in case it hurt her feelings, he found her shocked expression that gray morning in the forest of Agrom quite funny. In the best way possible. Enough to let the front of a Commander subside for at least a moment.

But in the back of his mind remained the ever-mounting feeling of indescribable disappointment over failing to prevent the tragic events of the Town of Brifena on time. Despite them figuring out the location with sheer trust in their instincts, it could’ve gone even worse if they had gotten it wrong on the first run. And they still weren’t right on time to save the town from the destruction that it faced. All the townspeople, homes, jobs, and resources lost. And for what?

For what reason, exactly?

Regardless, Ren VonGehall knew he had gotten used to witnessing terrible events by now, and when it came to Miss Dilamor, he’d gravely missed the small signs that showed how deeply the events of Brifena must’ve wounded Sophia’s mind and soul. It was easy to forget how one changes after going through hell and being one of those who survived, once you’ve done it a dozen times or more. Feeling the burden of it all on the shoulders for the years to come. Some handled it better than others, but everyone had to handle it somehow, nonetheless. If he could, he’d give her more encouraging words, a thought that popped in his mind like a message bottle brought on the shore by the Great Ocean of Guruld, and sucked back in just as abruptly. He wouldn’t even know where the fine line remained between them. Or whether his inability to be on time to save her town allowed him to be the one to comfort her in any way, shape, or form. If Miss Dilamor found out about the letters they received, and knew they had at least some vague clues in their hands before the events began, how would she react? He wondered. For some reason, even thinking about that made Ren’s heart painfully throb. What an unusual sensation. One that he’d greatly gift for the waves if it meant that they’d pull those uneasy emotions deep beneath and hold them there.

As Sophia sat down opposite Ren, a butler came with a plate prepared for her and poured her a cup of coffee the way she enjoyed it, the charming porcelain tableware this time adorned with hand-painted blueberries and golden leaves. It never stopped to amaze Sophia, each morning to be exact, how beautiful a simple coffee cup could possibly be.

Ren watched silently as Sophia raised the cup and took the first sip whilst appreciating the view outside of the fog hovering near the ground, being enlightened by the brightened golden radius. What a bittersweet sensation it left on the top of her tongue. Ren did not know what went on inside her head, about how the breakfast she enjoyed with sunrise did not feel the same here as it did in the old cabin. Or even in her previous dream. What used to bring her harmony and warm bliss now seemed to not compare with what could never be felt again.

The two enjoyed their breakfast in silence. Ren took notice of how Sophia would lower her shoulders more, and after a long time, it felt oddly satisfying for him to see her enjoy her meal. Since Sophia did not spark a conversation, nor did she seem particularly uncomfortable with the silence either, and neither did Ren, he decided to also enjoy his breakfast with no hurry.

Each meal was served with a dish of dessert, varying each day. This time, two butlers came and offered to pour another cup of coffee. Ren nodded, but Sophia raised her hand and politely declined. A third butler lowered a three-level dessert stand in the middle of the round breakfast lounge table, carefully straightened the tablecloth from any wrinkles, bowed in unison with the other two, and left. Very efficient. In fact, everyone in the mansion seemed to do their job like a well-oiled machine.

Ren watched as Sophia’s eyes glued on the small pieces of dessert diligently piled on each porcelain plate, stacked on top of one another.

’’What is it?’’ Ren asked as he picked up the second cup of coffee, ’’You don’t like marmalades?’’

Sophia flinched at hearing his voice for the first time since arriving. She turned her heavy gaze towards the precisely cut cubes of squishy marmalade of various pastel colors, thus different flavors, and watched the sun shine on the pinches of sugar on top of each.

’’No— I’m not overly fond of it.’’ She answered quietly.

’’Is that so? I had a feeling you’d like something rather sweet.’’ Ren answered, slightly disappointed for not knowing, ’’I’ll ask them to prepare something else.’’

’’No!’’ Sophia’s voice went up an shrieking octave, ’’No. It’s fine. I’m full anyway. I was just reminded by..’’ She seemed to get flustered over the outburst and tried to calm down while her mouth kept rambling.

’’That’s fine.’’ Ren answered calmly, ’’Reminded of what?’’ He took another sip of his coffee, closing his eyes, trying to seem more nonchalant, perhaps encouraging her to open up about whatever got that reaction out of her. Yes, Ren found himself curious. And of such a small, insignificant factor as to why she did not enjoy marmalade, and who was the person she was suddenly reminded of by the mere sight of the awfully sugary sweets.

’’I’m sure it’s a story that would only bore you, Sir.’’ Sophia smiled with sad eyes. Oh, how wrong she was.

’’I doubt that—’’ Ren relaxed into his chair and looked outside towards the brightened view of the green garden, ’’Try me.’’

Sophia blinked a few times, hesitant at first. She let out a faint sigh and leaned against the palm of her hand, ’’My friend from childhood, Marié. She loves those sweets. After baking, they were the first sweets she’d learn to make and would bring bags of them for me to try until we’d feel sick from the sugar.’’ She silently laughed with crescent eyes, remembering the times they both groaned on the corner of the couch with their round bellies, ’’And because we couldn’t possibly keep eating them for an entire month worth of stack, we’d end up gifting them all over Brifena. And although they were never my favorites, if she made them, I could make an exception.’’

’’The one you went to bid farewell to by the Town’s Hall of Lufin?’’ Ren asked from behind his porcelain cup.

’’Yes.’’ Sophia agreed, surprised by him picking up such a short interaction, although it most likely came with his profession, ’’We lived as neighbors, too. She was the first child I met, right after I arrived at my grandfather's.’’

’’Seems like you two are close, then.’’ Ren nodded.

’’We are..’’ Sophia looked down again, ’’I wish I could go back to them. Marié must have so much on her shoulders right now. Her parents are at the hospital in Lufin. Marié’s husband couldn’t possibly make it back to Brifena, not to mention Lufin, before the roads shut down. And looking after a two-year-old alone on top of losing their home. I’m worried about her.’’ She picked one of the bittersweet marmalades despite her earlier declaration, a yellow one, knowing it’d be lemon flavored, and took a little bite. Marié’s favorite.

While Sophia nibbled the marmalade, a plate of small wild strawberries appeared in front of her. In the mix, sprinkled here and there were the tiny white strawberry flowers as a delicate touch of decoration. She raised her head and met a man still calmly enjoying his coffee. As if he did not have his hands on the additional dessert delivered. Sophia smiled again, now in a more genuine manner, a way which would make anyone stall their avoidant gaze.

Marvy’s favorites. She’d always pick the small flowers after clearing the shrub from the edibles— She thought to herself.

With the sight of her softened eyes, Ren felt torn in two. The beauty of longing and sadness he’d never known. Whereas Ren had learned to suppress and eventually numb the emotions from a very young age, Miss Dilamor had so effortlessly reminded him of them.

’’How long do you think the roads will be shut?’’ Sophia asked while touching the small petals of the strawberry flowers.

’’I'd estimate no longer than a month more. They cannot exhaust the investigations any longer, or it'll severely disturb the supplies and overall trading.’’ Ren answered.

’’Makes sense.’’ Sophia sighed.

A satisfying silence fell over the comfortable breakfast lounge, yet neither felt quite ready to leave despite the emptied plates. Soon, Ren would continue with his duties as the Commander. And Sophia would begin to visit Delmaer's orphanage. Surely, not much more could happen in a span of weeks wrapped into a short month, and Sophia could then finally begin her journey back with nothing less than anticipation.

Or so they thought.

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