A breath away from life (ONC2024)

III. Sire's wise words

Upon glancing further, I’m unsurprised to see my old leather travelling bag, soft and worn from years of use, I reach for it. Its suppleness, still as comforting now as it was when I was young. The habit of collecting herbs from childhood, still having followed me into adulthood.

Standing, I drift over to the concealed door in the wooden panelling. Feeling the ridges running along the edge, I confidently push and slide the left side out, to the sound of a click. The narrow door rests ajar. Sliding through, I smile at the sight of the shelves filled with dried ingredients and herbs. The pouches and jars unlabelled, but all very familiar.

It does not escape my notice that the space is clean, not a cobweb to be seen. My smile lingers, but there is no amusement in it. For it only shows that Kovan never had any intention of allowing me to truly live my life in solitude.

Narrowing my eyes, I step forward, carefully collecting powders and raw roots, along with my mortar and pestle. Clutching as many as I can carry at one time, I turn to the familiar preparation table, spreading the ingredients out neatly, my fingertips fondly gliding over the bottles and jars.

Setting to work, I open a nearby draw, grasping a couple of pieces of ribbon, rolling up my sleeves and tying them back. Turning, I reach for an old pot, while placing several knives along with the mortar and pestle inside, before moving towards the shuddering pipes, the water splashing out in spurts. Looking back through the door, I realise that I hadn’t even noticed that Kovan had lit the fireplace, even though the warmth of the room should have reached me far sooner.

Flicking my loose curls to the side, I hang the pot over the fire, leaving the fireplace and returning to my small apothecary. The pages flutter as I read through my notes of older and newer remedies, feeling overcome with nostalgia, remembering how I had no choice but to leave them behind, after I was unceremoniously cast away and banished.

Frozen for a moment, it’s the rattle of the pot that awakens me from my sentimental ridiculousness. The water having boiled, I carry it back, drying off the knives and mortar and pestle, before beginning to slice the root ginger, later grinding it into a soft paste, with a blend of honey.

Lost in the remedies and thoughts of the village clans, time passes quickly, until the ointments, teas and powders are packed into my travelling bag. Closing the door behind me, I catch sight of my bedraggled figure in the ornate, floor-length mirror. My dress, torn, filthy and stained with blood is a stark contrast to the flawless skin it reveals, along with the bright spark burning within my light grey eyes. Though as soon as I claim awareness, the brightness almost immediately begins to dim, as if nothing but an illusion.

Heading behind the screen, I find a midnight blue dress, the velvet heavy but warm, (though it no longer concerns me) along with a pale blue cloak, both from happier times. A past happiness that was shattered, after revealing itself to be a well-spun deceitful façade.

Unfastening the ribbons to loosen the corset, the hook and eye fastenings, once undone, allow the dress to slide down to the plush rugs beneath my feet. Throwing the gown aside, I feel liberated at the thought of no longer having to wear it, almost as though I chose to wear the dress as a form of punishment. Constantly reminding myself of what I had lost, along with the betrayal of my family.

Delicately lifting the dark garment, I slowly step into it, sliding the velvet up over my hips and chest. Tightening the fastenings, my hands run down over the bodice and dropped waist, while reaching out to slip into the cloak; and then I feel him, his careless allure changing the very air surrounding me.

“Only mere moments after punishment, and here you are, passion flaring and courting death. What a rare creature you are. Sire, truly broke the mould when he created you.” For a reason unknown, I find a smile briefly touching my lips at the sound of Lorne’s voice.