The Hymn Of Dormancy (Book Two)

Chapter One

Amidst the rivers of cars and trickling streams of people, a brunette moved towards the end of the canal belt. She surveyed her surroundings, the icy wind blowing her fringe out of place.

The woman rounded the corner to where December had materialised in rows upon rows of stringed, spherical lighting. Christmas was nigh. Its colourful globes were attached to buildings that had seen the years pass, standing in silent witness as they resisted the test of time.

Walking past a mound of trash bags, the woman quickened her pace. The urban smells had become alien to her olfaction. Setting her on edge with such ferocity that a sensory overload was imminent whenever she left the house. She missed the fragrance of spring growth and the earthy loam that transcended the air of the forest.

In the asphalt jungle, nature was scarce, and Amsterdam was loud. From the nocturnal shenanigans of screaming drunkards to the ringing of bicycle bells, the brassiness of construction work and the chit chattering of people.

Relief fluttered within her chest as the front door of her house entered her vision. Suddenly, the squealing of brakes ripped through the evening air and the woman watched in horror as an oncoming cyclist swerved to avoid hitting her.

"Kijk toch uit je doppen, idioot!"

She jumped out of the way and instinctively reached for her protruding belly. The horrible thumping of her heart crashed into her ears, loud enough to cancel out the cyclist's profanities. Her legs propelled her towards the door where she fiddled with the key and bolted inside. There, in the darkened hallway, scarcely wide enough to house a staircase, she pressed her back against the door, dragging in deep, ragged breaths.

A sliver of light illuminated the woman's face as the door at the top of the narrow stairs creaked open and a silhouette appeared.

"What happened?"

The woman sighed and began to climb the steps, "Nothing, Phae."

"I beg to differ, your heart is going haywire." Phaesyle replied, hands perched on her hips.

In contrast to the limited scope of the stairway, the first floor was open plan, substantial and bright from all the different light sources. The curtains had been drawn and the fire in the hearth lit, welcoming the woman home.

"It's honestly nothing. An angry cyclist, you know the drill. I'm just a little twitchy," she said, draping her coat over the back of a barstool.

She turned back to face her custodian, whose stare lingered in a way that made her nervous.

"How was your appointment?" Phaesyle asked.

"Can we not? I'm going to my room for a bit, my ankles hurt."

"Sit. I will make you a cup of tea."

The woman mentally grimaced but did as she was told, knowing full well that arguing was futile. She ventured towards the seating area, sank into the sofa and watched how the fire snapped and licked at the logs. Seconds later, a mug containing a suspicious concoction was thrusted into her hand.

"What is this?" she asked.

"It will ease your nerves," Phaesyle said, sitting down on the pouf opposite her and scowling when the young woman placed the mug on the side table without having taken a single sip. "Drink it."

"I'm just taking my contacts out." she countered defensively and went to do just that, only for Phaesyle to interfere again.

"No, leave them in. We agreed that you'd only take them out to sleep."

She dropped her hand like a dead weight. "Come on, just this once. My eyes are dry and irritated, Phae. And it's not like I'm going anywh–" the blood suddenly drained from her face. "Did Hermès come by? What did he say? Is Fillin-"

Phaesyle shook her head. "Nothing of that sort, but you have grown too comfortable with anonymity. You needn't forget yourself, all it takes is a moment of carelessness. Remember that."

A burning animosity developed in the brown orbs of the brunette as she eyed the root cause. "How can you say that? Some days, my greatest accomplishment is getting out of bed! I hardly leave the house and when I do, I wear the wig and these damned contacts and I'm constantly on guard. I have grown anything but comfortable!"

"There were two evils at play and you chose the lesser. And while its malevolent forces are purely figurative, the fact remains that it is desperately trying to find you. Try not to get hit by a bike next time."

"Is that what this is about? I told you nothing happened."

"And yet, something almost did." Phaesyle said, pushing the mug of foul-smelling liquid into her hand once more. "Your physical pain epitomises a signal hinting at your location. You are a breathing domino tile. One wrong move and you'll start a chain reaction."

"It wasn't my fault." she grumbled, the mirror image of a scolded child.

"Stop behaving like the architect of your own doom. You are supposed to be invisible, to blend in with the crowd." Phaesyle prodded a finger into her upper arm for emphasis.

"Easy for you to say, you've had millennia of practice while I've been at it for barely half a year." she grumbled, glaring down at the leaves floating in the mug before reluctantly taking a sip. The effect of the brew was instantaneous. It settled in her stomach and persuaded the tension in her body to retreat into nothingness.

"Yes, yes, everything is terrible. Now tell me about your appointment."

The young woman changed positions and elevated her feet to reduce the swelling in her ankles. She rubbed the sore spot on her bump where one of the babies was kicking her. "It was fine, the usual."

"Maebh.."

With a groan of ensuing surrender, Maebh recalled the appointment with her therapist.

Upon her arrival in Amsterdam and introduction to Phaesyle, Maebh had found herself in a state of emotional, physical and mental exhaustion. Therapy had been a given. And although her therapist had received an extremely altered rendition of her time spent in Canada, the moral of the story remained the same. Namely, that the prolonged and excessive stress intrinsically entwined with arranged marriage (as she had paraphrased it), had truly tested the bounds of her person.

Additionally, she had also become a little too dependent on alcohol. Said coping mechanism was out of the question now that she had two buns baking in the oven, but it offered an insight into her own psychology.

That night, Maebh was tossing and turning in bed. In her nightmare, she was back at the castle: an abandoned version of it. The once bustling hallways were bare of life. A fire had wreaked havoc on the massive structure, leaving it charred and deteriorating, at risk of falling apart. A carpet of moss covered the entire courtyard, a cobweb portiere to the soil beneath. In the middle, an old oak had emerged. Its roots stretched far and wide, writhing like snakes before making their home in the earthen ground, anchoring the tree in position. Maebh trailed one root, following its path to an odd-sized lump beneath the mossy blanket. Something protruded from underneath, resembling a flesh-coloured sapling of sorts. She bent down to strip away the moss and recoiled as a nose, and more specifically, her lifeless face was revealed. In a flurry of hysteria, she removed the rest of the green carpet and bile clawed at her throat. Maebh stared at her pale body, at the root disappearing inside her torso, and screamed herself awake.

She found her hands shaking and clutching at the sheets before they instinctively reached for the spot beside her. The empty spot. Footsteps hurried towards her and a surge of renewed panic shot through her. Maebh struggled into an upright position and braced herself for the remnants of a nightmare that had surely come to haunt her. Like the product of a hypnopompic hallucination.

For a second, her unconsciousness prayed for a mop of obsidian hair to enter the room. Then, Phaesyle appeared in the doorway, the light coming from the hallway casting shadows of concern across her face.

"I thought you were Fillin," Maebh said. And when the lines in Phaesyle's skin deepened at the comment, she burst into tears.

The custodian sat on the side of the bed and enveloped her in an embrace. She rubbed her back and continued to hold her until she had quieted down.

"Did you dream about him?" Phaesyle asked.

"No, but when I woke up, he wasn't- he-" She sniffed. "it was one of those foreshadowing ones again." 

"Why did you leave?"

Maebh frowned and lifted her head from Phaesyle's shoulder. "What do— you know why I left."

"Remind yourself why you're better off here."

Thoughts swirled her mind, jogging her memory of the events that had led her here, away from him. Her heritage from her mother's side. The Lycanthrope gene running through her veins, the question of its dormant status. The aftermath of a dance of topaz and lavender: the little boy and girl growing inside her womb.

"I left to save them." She said and wrapped her arms around her bump before dropping them back to her side.

"To save them from what?"

Maebh wiped the wet streaks from her cheeks. "I don't know! That's just it, isn't it? Who knows what would have happened. I based the whole plan on a fear of what may have happened."

"Men vreest het meest, de vrees die men heeft," Phaesyle said absentmindedly. "You made the right decision."

Maebh's bottom lip trembled. "Then why won't these nightmares go away?"

"Because you are still questioning yourself."

"How can't I? I robbed Fillin of—" Maebh put her wrist to her mouth to stop herself from crying again.

Phaesyle placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "You made your bed and now you must lie in it. Try to get some more sleep."

It was too close to dawn to bother trying to get back to sleep, but Maebh didn't voice that thought aloud. As soon as Phaesyle closed the door behind her, she crept out of bed. With her knees tucked to her chest, she sat in the window seat –something that had become increasingly more difficult now that her bulging belly was in the way. The cherubs themselves appeared to be sleeping inside her bump, floating in worriless dreams.

Her hand played with the talisman, rubbing the amber stone between her thumb and forefinger. A second pendant had taken refuge around her neck, depicting the solid silver head of a gorgon. It was a gift from Hermès. He had called it a Gorgoneion and claimed it would protect her. Whatever that may mean.

Through a crack in the curtain, Maebh peered outside. The darkened skies reflected the emotion that inhabited her heart. She tried to banish the murk that threatened to swallow her –aware of how it could have a negative impact of her pregnancy. But in moments like these, she fell victim to its pull.

Now and then, the moon would peek from behind a cloud before being obscured again. The clock read 06:12. A thousand miles away from here, it was nearly bedtime in Arcadia.

Was the prince missing her as much as she missed him?

The entire month after her desertion, she had felt his pain. Whether mental or physical, it was excruciating and stubborn. Over time, the feeling had ebbed to a dull hum that periodically reminded her of its presence. But it had lost its nagging quality. Had he given up on her?

She made her bed, and now she must lie in it.

Maebh looked up at the full moon and wondered if Fillin was beholding the same sight with a vision as blurry as her own.

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Phaesyle is pronounced like fey-seal

HIYA AND WELCOME BACK. What did y'all think of the first chapter? Any expectations? Questions? Accusations? I know things are a bit depressing right now but cheer up, buttercup. Things will get better. Eventually. Thank you for reading! Please vote and comment. Love you to bits and pieces. pien oUT.