Khearia's Sun

LXXXVI

ㅤBile rose in James' throat, his eyes disbelieving.

ㅤIt was the same.

ㅤIt was all the same.

ㅤHe hadn't imagined it. This palace... it had been rebuilt exactly as it used to have looked. It was the same stone with the same tiles and the same layout. The servants' uniforms, they were the same, as were their fear. The scene James saw before him, the murder and destruction, was that night, unchanged.

ㅤLike a deer, the fatal compulsion to run and escape was so absolutely encompassing that it overwhelmed him. His knees were fixed and weak, unable to propel him to safety.

ㅤOne of the maids ran for it, not plagued by the same stillness, tripping on a body and barging into James, her horrified features struck by the realisation she'd failed to escape. They slowly lifted up to James' face, empty and soulless, before one of the Drykas knights grabbed her by the scruff and pulled her away.

ㅤHis body resubmitting to his command, James tried to string it all together. The most important question: despite having the power to do whatever he wanted, why had Fabian built it this way?

ㅤJames could see it; the stone in Arkingham was special, it retained memories. Parts of the walls were darker and redder than others. The rock reacted to the fire fifteen years ago and became permanently imprinted. Fabian had held on to as much of the old palace as he'd been able to, some parts even dented and crumbling, despite the perfectionist he'd been. The tile that James stood on was cracked down the middle, so desperately polished to remove this flaw.

ㅤHe didn't understand.

ㅤBelieving to know where he was, he walked off in a particular direction, tracing the steps of his boy-self, his walk slow and corse-like compared to his boy-self's excitable fox gallops. The servants' laughter at his antics trembled into cries and wailing as he passed them.

ㅤHe reached a section of the wall masked in intricate wooden panelling and froze. Such a small thing that surely would've burnt to dust before.

ㅤHis surroundings blurring and quieting, James gawked at the carvings of animals: lions, tigers, elephants. He placed a nervous trembling hand to it, delicately, like it would break, splaying his fingers into the grooves that he couldn't feel. His view of it now was different. He was tall, he'd grown up and the original had already been destroyed. His boy-self had seen a completely different image.

ㅤWith a held breath, James hesitated before inching his hand forward, pushing at the copy. The panel gave in, the secret door opening— a silly thing that their father had installed. Fabian had rebuilt even this.

ㅤTransfixed by its existence, James did not grab a lamp. He entered the lightless space, closing the secret door behind him, and surrendering himself to the black. He felt the walls, memory drifting him forward, even though the space felt tighter and more suffocating than it used to. His foot hit something.

ㅤThe first step.

ㅤThe steep spiral staircase took him upward; thirty-two steps his boy-self had counted once. Such memories, facts, and mundane details had been long forgotten before like it'd been unimportant scrap. Now, of all times, he'd recalled it.

ㅤEris hadn't spitefully pulled away like he'd thought. She was letting him know again, returning everything precious that she had once taken. James' chest was sore and swollen as parts of his soul came back to him, old, festering emotions without an outlet. Like her, it was a painful gift.

ㅤThirty-two. James reached the top after thirty-two. Fabian had remembered as well.

ㅤJames knew exactly where this dark path led, what waited for him at the end. He followed it, reaching the door at the other end. He felt for the handle and squeezed.