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For time eternal scars the tender heart,
and they shall mourn their loved ones
evermore.
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The sleepless night turned to day as I lay slouched over in bed. The first rays of sunlight crept across the floorboards near the velvet curtains, seeping further into the bedroom, yet they were still far from reaching the bedframe.
For a brief moment, I managed to barely shake my head, dismissing the notice of a new day.
My body was still unrested, worn out; my eyes had remained tired from the nocturnal endeavours that had transpired earlier.
I shifted around, pulling the sheets away and forcing myself on my feet.
Stumbling momentarily, I clumsily gained my sense of balance, proceeding to the long curtains. Once close by, I reached out for the red fabric, pulling it to the sides and granting the light of day full access to the room.
I narrowed my eyes, squinting as a cascade of sunrays surged inside, illuminating every nook and dusty cranny.
Letting out a shallow sigh, I rested my arms atop the windowsill, peering outside.
Snow-capped mountains adorned the easternmost section of the Isle, surrounded by great rivers that bled out in the sea. The sight ahead had always seemed otherworldly beautiful, mesmerising even.
Something caught my attention amid the morning daze, however.
A series of steps echoed throughout the tower stairwell, quickly followed by two uncertain thumps on the door.
I averted my gaze upon its frame, "You may enter," I called out.
The door's strained hinges offered some mild resistance in the form of a shrieking noise as the door opened.
Petyr entered my bedroom chambers: one hand shakily balancing a tray of loaves of bread, fruits and two cups.
"Hi there, Cynthia, good morning," he greeted with a bright yet reserved smile plastered across his face, though I knew well enough it was all pretend - for today marked a day of sorrow.
I raised a hand, waving softly, ushering a simple "Morning" as I got up from my chair, approaching to assist.
Noticing my attempt, he spoke up, "You need not. It's nothing I can't handle, Cynthia."
Glancing elsewhere, I reluctantly sat back down, chirping, "Will you be joining me?"
Petyr had placed the wooden tray on the table beside me, grabbing onto one of the other chairs and moving it closer. He nodded and took his seat, laid his hands bare on the table; a few shallow cuts and thin scars marked the many, many slipups Petyr had endured over the last few years as a cook.
He followed my line of sight. The bright touch in his features faded out like a withering sun. In its wake was no more than a sombre, held-back chuckle of a boy forced into adulthood prematurely.
The silence thickened but briefly, becoming unbearable for Petyr.
"So, your father and I," Petyr halted momentarily, "We've prepared the horses for our-" His voice abruptly plunged into the depths of thought and silence once more.
Petyr ducked his head, though a tad bit too late. I had spotted the hurt residing in his eyes; it had risen to the forefront quite evidently. Still, most folks did not recognise it, for the boy had been an excellent, ambitious actor during our shared childhood. However, the recent years and the pain they carried along were too much for him to stow away all the time - especially whenever that accursed day would inevitably come around.
YOU ARE READING
Arcanae
Fantasy" 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 " In an oceanic realm littered with traces of Magick, Crescent Isle had always been the odd one out. For aeons on end, it had been sheltered from the remainder of the world, seemingly as though an enormous in...
