Chapter 37. An echo in the silence
I returned to my chambers with my head buzzing with tension. The game with Quinn had gone too far. I challenged her in a way that could have backfired on me. If she really starts digging through the archives, asking questions... sooner or later she'll come across inconsistencies. That my story doesn't add up. And I couldn't let her get to the bottom of it. To the point that I didn't fully understand myself yet.
Yuki met me not by the fireplace, but by the window, clutching the cold bars with her fingers. She was looking up at the gray sky, and a single, diamond-clear tear was rolling down her cheek.
"What happened?" I asked, approaching her. My own problems instantly faded into the background.
She didn't answer right away. Then she slowly turned her pale face towards me. "I miss you," she whispered. Her voice was like the rustle of fallen leaves. — In the snow. Through the woods. By... silence. It's... loud in here.
She poked her finger into her chest, in the area of her heart. — It's loud in here. All the time. Whisper. The rustling. Thoughts. They are not their own. Strangers.
An icy streak ran down my spine. She wasn't talking about physical sounds. She described how I felt—the constant pressure of other people's eyes, other people's emotions, the hidden hostility of this place. But if I could block it out with a wall of detachment, then her young, just emerging psyche was defenseless. She was like a sensitive device that picked up the slightest vibrations of fear, hatred, and suspicion that hovered within the castle walls.
"Whose thoughts?" I asked softly, kneeling in front of her.
She waved her hand around, pointing at the walls. "An angry man... he wants to fight." The girl... she wants to know. She's afraid. The other man... the old one... he's counting. He's counting all the time. And..." she paused, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "And there's another one. Far away. He's... calling.
"Who's calling?" My heart started pounding faster.
"I don't know,— she shook her head. —Quiet. Far away. Like the wind. But... it's sad. It's very sad.
She looked at me again, and there was no childish longing in her gaze, but an ancient, wise longing beyond her years. "We shouldn't have come here, brother. It's... wrong here. It hurts here.
I hugged her, hugged her to me. Her small body was trembling. I felt like a scoundrel. I brought her here to protect her from hunger and cold, and subjecting her to a much more subtle and dangerous torture.
"It's going to be okay,— I muttered into her hair, hating myself for this empty, comforting lie. "I'll fix it."
"Promise?" She looked up at me with her bottomless eyes.
"I promise," I said, and this time it wasn't a lie. It was an oath.
I had to act. Faster. It was impossible to wait until Quinn found something, or until Yuki broke down under the pressure of other people's thoughts.
In the evening, when Yuki finally fell asleep, I went out into the hallway. I needed air. I needed time to think. I headed towards the library, not to look for anything, but because it was usually deserted at this time.
But I was wrong.
The dim light of the oil lamps illuminated the long rows of shelves. And in one of the aisles, with her back to me, stood Quinn. She was immersed in the study of a huge folio lying on the lectern. Her fingers ran over the yellowed pages, her lips moved soundlessly.
I stood in the shadows, watching. She was looking. I've already searched.
She turned the page, and her shoulders twitched. She froze, peering at something on the parchment. Then she slowly, almost fearfully, ran her finger over the text.
I took a silent step forward to see.
And I saw it. There was a schematic drawing on the page. A figure in crimson robes, with a sword, standing over a defeated monster. And the caption, in an old-fashioned font: "Patriarch Callander the Crimson pacifies the Spawn of the Abyss at the Rift near the river Cerd."
Nothing special. A typical heroic chronicle of the Clan.
But Quinn wasn't looking at the drawing. She stared at the edge of the page, at the wide margins. There, where someone's careful hand had drawn small, beaded markings. Scheme. Calculations. And... the familiar scarlet patterns. The patterns are almost identical to those on the blade of my sword.
She found something. Something that connected the history of her Clan.… with me.
She turned around. Abruptly, as if she felt my gaze. Her eyes met mine. There was no fear in them. There was shock in them. And the shock. And a million questions.
—You," she gasped, and her finger pointed at me, then at the book. "This... this is your sword." In the drawing. But that's not possible. This chronicle is three hundred years old.
I stood there, not moving. My brain was racing, sorting through the options. Deny it? Pretend it's a coincidence? Use her confusion?
I took a step out of the shadows. My face was an impassive mask. "The world is older than you think, Quinn," I said, and my voice sounded hollow in the silence of the library. — And some things... repeat themselves in cycles.
I went over to her, to the book. My eyes skimmed over the drawing, over the notes. My stomach tightened into a tight knot. It wasn't just a coincidence. It was the key. The key to something very important.
"Where did you find this?" I asked, my fingers resting on the parchment next to her hand, but not touching it.
—In the... in the closed archives section," her voice was trembling. "I said it was for Dad."… What does this mean, Azrael? Who are you?
I looked at her. At her terrified but determined face. And I realized that there was no point in hiding anymore. The truth, or part of it, has already begun to surface.
"It means," I said softly, leaning toward her so that our faces were inches apart, "that your search has just begun." And that some doors, once opened, can no longer be closed. Are you ready for this, heir of the Crimson? Are you ready to learn that your family... and I... are much more closely connected than you might have imagined?
She stared at me, unable to say a word. There was horror in her eyes. Delight. And an insatiable thirst to know more.
The cat-and-mouse game was over. Something new was beginning. Something unpredictable.
And I was no longer sure who in this episode was the hunter and who was the prey.