Everything was confusing.
She was not sure what to believe in, was not sure how to feel. It was as if she was a marionette to a cruel master, being dragged through every twisted little thing, every confusing thought, based on mere whims.
Only one thing seemed clear.
Kazmun was not keeping her there merely because of the Lord Chancellor's death. Her mind raced with doubts and questions, and each uncertain answer suggested something else.
'What do you really want?'
Alyssane walked out of the room, her eyes briefly wandered to the stationed knights, and she felt that sick emotion churn in her stomach again.
'Why do they seem so tense when you're around?'
She absent-mindedly went to the study.
As the oil lamps burned, the festive air in the city grew brighter. The shimmering fireworks were accompanied by the distant mystical music, giving the air an enchanting aura.
There was no moon that night.
Fifteen days had passed since Alyssane had that haunting dream she could hardly remember, and she was framed for the murder of Lord Chancellor.
'And still, I am unable to understand what is happening…'
The texts on the desk remained untouched, as Alyssane watched the night unravel with distant eyes, her thoughts wandering to a thousand places.
And nothing weighed on her mind and heart as heavily as thoughts of Kazmun. One by one, her mind lingered over every moment they shared, over the flickers of his warmth and his fury.
'What is it you feel about me?'
She stared quietly at the empty parchment lying on her desk. Slowly, hesitantly, Alyssane closed her eyes, trying to grasp onto the deeper shadows of her consciousness.
She thought of Kazmun and allowed her mind to wander into the darkest of corners. She had to know something, anything about him that was more than what she knew―anything that could ease the restlessness of her heart.
Alyssane's breaths slowed down, and her fingers grew numb as the colors underneath her closed eyes vanished into an empty black void.
Nothing happened.
She waited and waited, holding onto her mind and her faith. But it was all in vain. She changed her way, instead of only thinking about him, she recalled every moment she had spent with Kazmun.
The first time they met, she recalled the wilderness, the fear… the vision… she could not remember the vision. It was there, she knew. But the memory of it was missing.
Alyssane frowned, eyes still closed, as her thoughts turned to another possibility, 'Was something different when I thought about Vernon?'
When she thought of him, something shifted in the darkness of her vision—a ripple running across a black lake—as a burst of overwhelming headache devoured her. Alyssane was plunged into a misty memory.
There was an onyx ring over his finger. A long time ago it was emerald, but Vernon had it changed while he was mourning for his deceased wife.
'Then he married again,' Alyssane thought, as the mist dimmed and his hand hovered upon some familiar letters.
'And again.'
They were the letters he had asked her to write. Her heart felt uneasy seeing them. Months have passed since she wrote them, why won't Vernon send those letters?
'Or is this a memory of the past… and not present?'She had barely wondered when an eerily familiar coldness brushed against her neck.
Then, without a warning, Alyssane was pulled out of the vision, as if pushed away by an intensely powerful force—something she knew was not her.
Her lashes fluttered open, there was a layer of cold sweat covering her skin.
'What was that?'
Her mind reeled with confusion and fear, why was the vision cut too short? She hardly understood anything. Alyssane clenched her fists, trying to return back into that memory.
It was as if something was physically holding her back.
'That's… new.'
'But why wasn't I able to see into Kazmun?'
Alyssane tensed when she saw him sitting right on the other side of her desk.
He remained silent as he read a book. There was that forever darkness clinging to him, something unreadable that made her think of the bewitching villains from stories.
'Deceptive.'
She carefully watched Kazmun as he closed the book.
"Show me what you have been doing," the voice was deep and curt.
Alyssane nodded, feeling slightly relieved he was not talking about the gift or the note.
She took out the stack of notes she had painstakingly made, focusing on keeping them organized and as good as they could be. Kazmun quietly took the papers from her, and his brows furrowed.
He said nothing for a long moment.
With a voice devoid of any emotion but sincere confusion, Kazmun murmured after a while, "I thought you were literate."
The letters on the pages were beyond the comprehension of normal humans. Kazmun could not be sure if he was looking at random scribblings or an actual but foreign language.
Alyssane shrugged, "I rarely ever needed to write."
Kazmun placed the papers down with a sigh.
And so, she read the notes for him.
Alyssane had constantly immersed herself in countless texts, there was a lot to say. But Kazmun remained silent, his depthless dark eyes on her as he listened.
And just like that, Alyssane struggled to keep her voice stable.
His gaze was unfathomable and overwhelming as if he could have seen right through her heart and her soul. But oddly, it was also comforting.
In the end, Alyssane's voice trembled a little. She told him about the ancient scroll that had something very similar to the Nightmare Curse.
"I only understood the illustrations," Alyssane said, handing over the scroll to him, "The language seems ancient."
He looked through the scroll and gradually his eyes deepened.
But still, he was quiet.
The silence was heavy, softly crushing the facade of peace she had created in her mind. And she wondered why this time she felt more vulnerable in his presence, would Kazmun be upset about her denial to visit the festival?
Would he care?
'But his note had been vague. He offered me a choice, there was no command…'
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Kazmun looking at the journal lying on her desk. It was mostly covered by other papers, so he must have not noticed it before.
Before she could react, he picked it up.
Her heart sank a little.
Kazmun stared at the journal. He did not open it but his fingers lightly grazed the worn-out leather, as if he already knew everything that was inside.
Alyssane blinked her eyes in confusion, 'Does it belong to someone he knows?'
"It's useless," he said all of sudden and threw the journal in the fireplace.
She flinched, "Wait, no―"
Instincts took over as Alyssane hastily reached towards the fire. But the flames were too hot, and the inflamed journal slipped out of her hands as soon as she grabbed it.
Kazmun's eyes slightly widened.
She watched the flames eat up the old pages, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss. Alyssane realized the foolishness of her actions. There was no need to save a journal.
She had no right to pry deeper into someone's tragic memories.
But something in those lines had mirrored the grief of her heart, and she could not simply stand by as the journal burned away.
Alyssane glanced at Kazmun, her fists curled tight, but no words came out.
He offered a cold mocking smile, somehow crueler than his silence, "What's next? You're going to sacrifice your life for a good read?"
She finally glanced at her hands, and replied, "It's not like that."
Kazmun glanced at a knight stationed outside the door, "Bring ice water."
There was no big injury on her hand, but the skin was swollen and red, flaring with an intense burning sensation that kept growing worse. Alyssane bit her lips, trying to hold back the pain.
The ice water arrived soon enough.
With a racing heart, Alyssane pushed her hand through the icy water. But she flinched back from the sharp sting. The sudden sharpness of the water was jarring.
Kazmun took her hand and without a word, submerged it into the water. His touch was surprisingly gentle. She remained tense, but the burning ache was melting away in the cold.
And she could not help but let her eyes wander on him, silently observing him as he looked at the redness of her hand.
The bursting of the fireworks grew louder outside, casting shimmering shadows of enchanting colors and Alyssane quietly watched them ripple over the ice water.
"There is something you should see," Kazmun said, he took out a folded paper stained in a dark shade of crimson.
She opened it and as her eyes caught sight of a few words at the near end, the paper fell from her trembling fingers.
Let this letter be my confession to causing the lord's death. I can no longer bear the weight of my crimes, my emotions got the best of me but now the remorse is killing me. This place once my home has now become a tomb―what followed the words was washed away by the blood, but Alyssane remembered the words and they echoed like a haunting reminder of their past.
"Where will you go after escaping? Your home?" Johanna had asked her one morning, and Alyssane thought for forever before murmuring there was no house, no home anymore, only a tomb awaiting her when she was dead.
Alyssane was not sure what to believe in, she could not be sure how to feel. 'Why would you use my own words?'
Remorse?
A wolf might feel remorse for killing a lamb, but for Johanna to be driven to death because of guilt was impossible. She could have easily escaped, and she was never one to be honest.
"Her body was found in the river," Kazmun said, "She took the same poison used on you and Lord Chancellor."
Alyssane numbly stared at the letter. There was no sadness, no joy, just a dull ache that echoed like a restless snake.
"Am I free to go now?"
Kazmun leaned against the chair and offered a cold smile.