It was late at night when Andrew woke up from his sleep. He rose from his rest and found everyone else sound asleep. The room was bathed in dim glow of the lights, the darkness a bit comforting to the eyes. His gaze travelled to the closed window beside him, it was dark out.
As he lay back on the bed, he pulled the blanket upto his chest, his eyes observing the ceiling. Restless and not feeling sleepy, he slipped out of the bed, his movements careful and deliberate to avoid waking the others as he tiptoed towards the door of the room.
With cautious, careful movements, he opened the door. The sound of the hinges loud in the stillness of the night. With a quick glance back to ensure no one stirred, he squeezed through the narrow gap and into the corridor.
As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, his ears picked a conversation behind a door which was slightly open.
"He is too young for this," a woman's voice lamented.
Andrew halted, his steps to heavy to move. He felt a lump form in his throat. He knew they were talking about him.
"He is too innocent for this," the speaker's words echoed with defeat.
"I cannot even want to imagine something like that happening to my daughter!" The elderly woman's voice was filled with a mixture of horror and empathy.
"I have heard that Lady Isabelle is taking that boy in," another voice chimed in, softer but tinged with a sense of concern.
"Oh my... That boy's life is so depressing," one voice sighed.
"Our lady is kind to her people; that is why even if she takes that boy as her prostitute, no one will go against her, many will still stay loyal to her," said another voice.
Unable to bear any more, Andrew tore himself away from the door and hurried down the corridor, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
He pushed open the door leading to the terrace, and the cool night air greeted him, a welcome relief from the atmosphere inside.
The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, and the stars above shone like tiny diamonds. For a moment, Andrew felt a sense of calm wash over him as he gazed up at the night sky, but that moment was short lived.
"Andrew," Vanvi's called out, his voice firm which carried a note of authority that made Andrew stop in his tracks.
"Why are you awake at this time?" Vanvi asked, his gaze still fixed on the stars above.
"Why are you awake too, sir?" he asked in return, a small act of rebellion that Andrew himself didn't quite understand, why? Was it due to his troubled mind, or because his emotions were beginning to overwhelm him?
Vanvi turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in mild surprise. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Fair enough," he conceded, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But truly, you should be resting."
Andrew's gaze drifted back to the stars, his expression distant. "Unfortunately, I'm not sleepy, sir," he admitted quietly.
"I am still wondering why you did that," Vanvi asked, his tone calm and thoughtful. "However, would you like to sit?"
Andrew shook his head. "No, thank you, my lord," he said, the words carrying a note of finality.
"Your mind must be troubled," Vanvi observed. "If you have any questions, you can ask."
After a brief silence. "You have two choices: sit or ask, if you also want to stay here."
"Questions.... like what? Sir?" Andrew asked, genuinely curious.
"Anything," Vanvi replied, his voice steady and calm. "Like what will happen to you and your uncle, especially your uncle... Or when you'll be able to return to your Gear village, or how long this journey will continue, when we'll reach the manor, what kind of person, Isabelle Demore is, or about her manor. The actual aim of escorting you to the manor. Any question. But you can only ask one, and the answer depends on if I want to answer or not."
Andrew pondered for a moment before speaking. "How can I escape the manor without getting caught by the lady if things go south?"
Vanvi turned to face him, his expression showing a flicker of surprise. "There are ways... There is a secret passageway in the Moon Manor, with an entrance located inside the grand library or near it. That passageway leads to Ruvana, the City of the Dead. It was once a dazzling and powerful city, but now it's only ruins. I recommend you avoid it at all costs. That place is very dangerous, filled with every type of dark energy. You must look for other secret passages because using the one in the library is a risk you don't want to take."
Andrew listened intently, absorbing every word.
"Then do you trust me that I will not use that passageway only because you told me not to? And why should I trust you?" Andrew asked sincerely, his eyes searching him for any sign of trust.
Vanvi's laughter faded, replaced by a serious expression. "No, I do not trust you. And trusting me is your choice."
Andrew felt a pang of disappointment but quickly masked it. "I understand," he said quietly. He continued, "Anyway, Thank you, my lord."
Vanvi, sensing the boy's uneasiness, he softened his tone slightly. "There is another way—an easier way to escape the lady," he said after a brief pause, his voice holding a hint of something that Andrew couldn't quite place.
Andrew's interest piqued, and he asked, "And that is?"
"Win the heart of the Lady," Vanvi replied, his voice low but firm. "If it's you, I think you might manage it. But don't overdo it, and remember to stay within your limits."
Andrew's resolve hardened, his earlier uncertainty giving way to determination. "I'll try," he said, the words carrying a quiet strength.
Vanvi studied him for a moment, then asked, "Why didn't you ask me about what will happen to your uncle? I know how much you must be itching to know how he is."
Andrew hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty and his face grew solemn. "Because I already have a good idea of what's coming for him," he finally admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "After everything I've seen and heard, the answer to my question is pretty clear. The answer is so obvious that I didn't want to waste my chance on that question."
A heavy silence fell between them, Vanvi's gaze softening as he regarded Andrew. "I understand, go try to sleep now."
The following day, the room was filled with a soft morning light that streamed in through the open window, casting a gentle glow over everything it touched. Andrew sat by the window, his gaze lost in the distant horizon.
The silence of the room was broken by a low, polite voice. "Child?" The voice was gentle, yet it carried a depth of concern that made Andrew's heart clench.
He turned slowly, his eyes landing on an elderly priest standing at the doorway. The man's presence was calm, his eyes soft with empathy, and his lips curved into a warm, inviting smile.
"Child, may I check on you?" the priest asked, his voice gentle and calm. Though the smile was welcoming, Andrew hesitated, and he did not replied.
After what felt like an eternity, Andrew finally responded, his voice carrying a trace of suspicion. "Check me?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the priest.
The priest remained patient, his smile unwavering. "Yes," he replied slowly.
"Why do you want to check me?" he asked, suspicion and skepticism laced in his every words.
"It is just something.." the priest replied.
Andrew met the priest's gaze with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He raised one eyebrow, a subtle challenge in his expression. "Yes, go ahead, check me," Andrew said, his voice steady but guarded.
The priest nodded in agreement, "Not here, I do not want the attention of others in this matter. In my room," priest suggested.
A silence fell in the room, and sensing Andrew's fear. "You can go, Andrew.." said Hakira as if he had understood what Andrew was feeling.
After navigating through the narrow corridors, they finally arrived at the priest's room, a small sanctum hidden away from the bustling halls. The room was a sanctuary of its own, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight that danced across the wooden furniture and the various religious artifacts that adorned the space. The air was thick with the scent of incense, creating an atmosphere of quiet reverence.
As they entered, the priest's demeanor shifted, his usual warmth giving way to a more solemn, almost sacred presence. He stepped closer to Andrew, his movements deliberate and measured, as if the act of simply approaching the young man held a deeper meaning. "Relax your body and lie down," the priest instructed, his voice gentle but firm, offering no room for hesitation.
Andrew obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest as he lay down on the simple wooden bed. As he lay there, the priest, with a practiced gentleness that came from years of practice, lifted Andrew's shirt, exposing his soft, vulnerable belly to the cool air.
The priest's fingers pressed lightly on Andrew's abdomen, the touch firm yet filled with a strange kind of care.
Andrew felt a shiver run through him, not from the cold, but from the sense of being laid bare, both physically and emotionally, before someone who was still a stranger to him.
There was a pause, a moment of stillness in which the priest seemed to gather himself. With a sense of ritual, he reached for the cross that hung around his neck and pressed in on his belly. As the cross rested, the priest's eyes bore into his with intensity.
Removing the cross. The priest, still cradling it in his hands. "Have you ever experienced something very abnormal? Like something supernatural that is coming from within you, but at the same time, you do not?" he asked.
The priest showed no emotions, but his question perplexed Andrew.
Andrew rose from the bed, his expression speaking thousands of words but he didn't reply. The priest, still holding the cross, watched in silence, his gaze a blend of understanding and respect. Sensing Andrew's hesitation, the priest finally spoke, "You can go back."
As Andrew reached the door, he paused and turned back. "Did the lady personally send you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Without a moment's hesitation, the priest replied, "Yes. I am with the warriors. Aslo have been sent by Isabelle Demore."
After a while, the priest opened the door and found Andrew standing near his door, "You are still here?" the priest asked, his voice like a light pull, that pulled Andrew out of his thoughts.