"Sure… I'm willing to speak," Julia said. A hint of shock was visible on Gwyndolin's face. She then sighed resignedly, leaving with a dismissive gesture and telling them to take their time but not take too long. He had no time to prepare his mind before he was alone with Evelynn.
The two watched each other in silence, exchanging looks but not saying a word. Julia simply didn't know what to say; but for Evelynn, who knew what was going on in her mind? He was just as clueless when it came to what she wished to speak about.
A moment later, Evelynn stepped towards Julia and gradually approached him without saying anything. She was calm despite himself and it was evident she did not feel pressured to fill the silence with arbitrary words. He desperately wanted to, but couldn't, for every attempt merely resulted in the slight quivering of his mouth.
For every two steps she took, Julia unwittingly took a step back, and that continued until his back hit the wall, sending a chill down his spine as he ran out of space to escape into. When her face was a pace from his own, he watched her hand slowly lift towards his face and then past it. Evelynn reached for his blindfold and gently held it.
As her face, lacking features above the nose, without eyes to meet his own, met his face, it felt as if she was meeting his scar-ridden visage and his dull, faded eyes with her own non-existent eyes. Finally, she asked, "Are you frightened by my appearance?"
Julia couldn't look away. He was forced not to, despite not being held or constrained in any way. Nothing prevented him, but there was something that forbade him from averting his eyes.
Strangely, he was thankful in this moment, as he truly wished to confront this 'fear' of his. Julia wanted to avoid falling back into the shameful habits of hiding; these false facades of insecurity disguising itself as wisdom and necessary avoidance; it was an instinctual fear, and he loathed it.
Then, with the slightest movement of her hand, the cloth wrapping around his head—the cloth which protected, concealed, and bound his greatest traumas—was peeled away and exposed, his tattered flesh locking eyes with the one called 'Evelynn'. Her question repeated in his head, 'Are you frightened by my appearance?'
"I suppose I…" he trailed his words, straining his eyes as he stared at the fractured image, looking further into the depths of her soul.
This gift granted so much insight into the intricacies of living things, be it human or aberrant; but had he really paid close enough attention? Had he really based his judgements purely on this backwards perception of reality, which discriminates so heavily in its vagueness? "I… Y—Yes," Julia said.
Evelynn backed off, her usually still mouth curving up at the corners. A smile seemed to arise on the surface, but beneath that, in the depths of her soul, a sinking narrative of suffocation lodged itself into the ocean floor.
"Most humans are. We are the enemy—and the slightest differences open a world of alienation regardless of what we wish. You do not have to make friends with us if you do not wish to, but we both think and feel, and we both just want to live. We share a common purpose and in that… are we not united?"
Julia… didn't know how to respond.
Living in constant danger steeled his heart, preventing him from seeing a wider perspective. Aberrants were always deranged savages in his eyes. Terrible, despicable creatures, easily capable of committing travesties on whim. They were an existence deserving of dread.
This was common sense. But how clouded had his judgement been? Speaking with Evelynn was irrefutable proof that perhaps they aren't so different. He had never spoken with an aberrant before—never tried too.
Evelynn smiled, "I don't mean to pry—but would you tell me a bit about yourself? I'll do the same in kind. I'll even go first, if you'd prefer that."
In the next moment, Evelynn and Julia sat beside each other, with a relaxed familiarity he would've never foreseen even ten minutes ago. They talked of things that varied in relevance and importance. Among that was the past decade and how he lived it, and in return she told him a little about her own life.
They looked like old friends, catching up after a long time without seeing each other. But this was their first meeting, and there was a strange security in that, which Julia found himself revelling in because there was no need to hold himself back. It was a sense of connection that he had been estranged to.
"You may have already guessed but—I was not blind from birth." Julia touched the rough skin around his eyes before closing them shut, running his fingers along his eyelids. "This scar… my eyes… It happened ten years ago."
Julia opened up about that day—when his village was invaded, and his mother's death. How at the young age of seven he was forced to flee, only just escorted to safety before the youthful Oskar went back towards the raging flames and pools of viscera; and even though he had no obligation to see me as far as he already had, he showed deep regret and sorrow in neither being able to stick with me nor reach the village sooner to prevent more from dying or suffering injury.
The truth was that he and his comrades were heavily outnumbered against the aberrants, who were already stronger individually. But despite fighting a losing battle, he showed no further hesitation to run back in and hold off the oncoming onslaught. Julia learnt later that the enemy offensive sieged no further that day; and he was convinced that Oskar's stand with his unit was what stopped them.
"Mm. That soldier is commendable—a man others should aspire to be like. And I'm truly sorry for what happened. I know that no amount of apologies will change the past or bring your mother back, but what they did is certainly despicable. They had no need to attack your village. That is not how we do war, and I'm ashamed to call such brutes allies."
"Thank you…" Julia replied solemnly.
A moment of silence passed. They didn't exchange words, but the air was not awkward. It was a momentary break in the conversation out of respect before Evelynn carried it on.
"I suppose I should tell you a little about my past. Although it isn't terribly interesting," Evelynn suggested and Julia nodded. Even if the contents were not exactly riveting, he wanted to hear a little from her perspective. "From the very beginning I never knew my parents. I was long isolated from birth and grew up in the wild—I never did figure out what happened to them, though I assume I was abandoned. A fairly common occurrence among aberrants. In general, we aberrants are much more animalistic than humans and tend to mimic a lot of the traits seen in nature. It's part of the reason we're viewed as savages, but actually the most extreme habits are incredibly rare.
"I wasn't always alone though. There was this child—a human one funnily enough. He would often visit me and come play. If not for him, I would have grown up completely feral. Wouldn't even have my name."
"That kid gave you your name?" Julia asked curiously.
"He did. I don't know if you've ever heard an aberrant's name, but they're very different and highly varied. There won't be anything similar to a Christeyeran name. Gwyndolin and Gwynevere also have quite the unique names for Lyre's standards.
"Zachary was his name. Looked a lot like you, really. Only his hair was brown and a lot shorter. He was a little more boyish, too. He would sneak his way over the border without telling anyone... To go so far into such a dangerous place, especially for a human and a child no less, he was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid—or both. Again, like you in a way. Finding yourself between soldiers from Christeyeres, soldiers from Lyre, and a gathering of dangerous undead creatures—all for the sake of chasing someone. He must be special to you, right?"
"Yes, very…" Julia smiled nervously. Then, his expression froze. "Wait, did you just call me stupid?" I mean, if not brave then the circumstance I've gotten myself into certainly would be stupid. But still… she didn't have to say it…
"I would never." Evelynn smiled, but her words didn't sound trustworthy, and she was very quick to continue. "I was born blind. I never saw a world beyond the dark and I still don't. It was definitely scary, especially with how I was completely alone for the most part. But he made it slightly better. As we walked, talked, and explored, he would hold my hand and guide me through the uncertainties. Because I never connected with sight, my other senses like touch, hearing, and such became very valuable to me. For my child self, deprived of any family or paternal figures, the intimacy attainable through touch helped ease my fears and anxieties.
"One day, that human child convinced me to follow him. He wanted me to go with him into human territory, past the borders of Lyre into Christeyeres, where we would enter a small fishing village settled slightly off the coast. He was keen on introducing me to his family and friends, as well as the other village folk.
"His intentions were built on good notions. And despite my initial apprehension, he was insistent that the way I lived was no way for a 'young girl' to live—that I would be much happier if I were to join him and his family. He told me I was already like a little sister to him and I would have no trouble fitting in. Despite my budding anxieties and uncertainties, I trusted my dear friend, so it didn't take much convincing for me to cave in and agree to go with him.
"It really did go well at first. You see how I can fold my wings to take on the appearance of a cloak? It's something I learned how to do way back then. Even under the light, it looked pretty convincing—or so Zach said. In hindsight now though, such a disguise would only work for a limited time. In the long run it would obviously be found out; not like that ever came to fruition anyway. So, like that I followed Zach, travelling a surprisingly long distance until we reached the fishing village. With my wings folded so that it mimicked a cloak and a hat placed on my head to help hide my ears, I made my debut there.
"I was well received in the beginning and essentially taken in. Thinking about it now, they must've assumed I was an orphan of the Fraylands—you said it's a common practice to allow refuge for such individuals? So, I was given food and a place to sleep. My nerves and jumpiness when meeting so many new and strange creatures helped. They treated me like a disturbed child and were in no rush to interrogate me or my circumstances.
"After becoming a little more comfortable with my surroundings, I did what I usually did and went to play with Zach. For the first time I felt and experienced what a 'beach' is. The ground was mostly covered in gravel, which plastered my feet with cuts afterwards, but the crashing of the waves and the feeling of the tide hitting my shins and wings distracted me completely. We separated for just a moment after that. My wings had been soaked and I couldn't head back like that, so I ducked into an old shack isolated from any other buildings, full of rusty tools. I was confident no one would be there to see me. I must've gotten unlucky.
"A man spotted me, with my wings spread wide open as I flapped them back and forth trying to get the salty water off. This single mistake is where everything started to go wrong. Without an ounce of hesitation, he immediately grabbed me and held me down. His voice was full of disgust and scorn. I had never met this man before and he had no reason to hate me, but the way he spoke sounded as if I was responsible for killing his entire family. It was as if he hated me down to my very being.
"He said he would bring me in front of everyone, show the entire village how I had deceived them—how I deceived Zach—and would have me taken away by Christeyeres to be locked up or even killed. It was the price I had to pay for being born, he told me. When I cried and begged in sheer terror, asking for forgiveness, anything so that he wouldn't do the things he said, he pondered for a moment before releasing a chuckle that made my spine shiver. Whatever awful grinning face he must've made, I'm glad I didn't have to see it.
"You look human enough, were his next words. He said as long as I was quiet and did what he told me to, then and only then would he consider not exposing me. I agreed almost instantly. But I had no idea just what insinuations his words held. Intimacy was something I had learned to value. However, when I heard the odd shuffling of clothing and felt his grubby hands touch my skin, something snapped in me. I was inadvertently guided by the atrocious touching of that disgusting man and I swiped at where I reckoned his throat to be. The large claws that lined the edge of my toes were more than sharp enough to do the job, and I soon felt the lifeless but heavy sack of meat fall limp onto me along with a warm liquid pouring down from him.
"I left the village quickly and returned home after that. Stopped playing with Zach too… The persistent little brat kept coming for a while though. It wasn't until I met with Gwyndolin that I would be open to any kind of physical intimacy again. My hairs still stand on their ends to this day, but I value the times I can share such moments with those I cherish."
"That… uh, I-I don't know what to say." Julia was truly lost for words. "Why would you share such a personal story with me?"
"I meant what I said. In exchange for telling me about yourself, I'd do the same in kind."
"But yours in comparison…"
"You don't think your past is a big deal. I'm the same, I hardly view my own as something to be awed at. But your personal history tells a lot and it is important to listen. What you've gone through has been no less severe than what I have. We may be separated by our races, but we are kindred in life experience. I have no doubts, if the world was in any other circumstance, you would be a dear friend of mine…
"But I suppose a large part of it is because I see my old self in you."
"What do you mean?" Julia asked.
"A fear of intimacy. A fear of connection. A fear of abandonment. A heavily scarred individual, one yet to fully recover."
Julia was confused. He wanted more answers, on what she meant, and what her point was; but Evelynn dismissed his attempts, telling him that it was something only he could figure out. She then stood herself up, saying, "Come on. We've kept Gwyndolin waiting long enough."
His eyes widened. Julia realised how he had literally forgotten the situation involving Gwyndolin and the aberrants, being far too engrossed in their talk. There was a decision he still had to make—whether or not to assist the aberrant soldiers—and though he could recall being indecisive, all of a sudden, that felt behind him.
Although he would never forgive the travesties committed in the past, and nor would he forget that they are the enemy of his people, he still thought about it for a moment. If this would get me to Cherepakha in the end, what was wrong with picking the peaceful route? The route in which nobody dies, human or aberrant.
When they met outside, Gwyndolin only seemed more impatient than before, and as Julia hastily apologised, she raised her hand to put a stop to his flurry of ernest and regretful pleas; almost as if she couldn't bear to hear it, and instead ushered them to just hurry along and follow her already.
Each of the buildings they passed on the way were a stake in Julia's heart, since it was difficult to see anything in these faint glimpses. There was no circumstance Gwyndolin would agree to stopping now. Unless maybe he got down on his knees and begged.
However, they soon entered a large courtyard. It was surrounded by ancient pillars which lined the surprisingly intact walls, and held two floors where onlookers may have once stood and marvelled at the shows below.
The courtyard was empty now save for what may have been tables and benches once, though now only capable of being called shattered, rotting wood-debris. There was an unprecedented solemnity and hint of grandeur.
But soon catching his notice were the walls, or what was on the walls, hidden behind the pillars and cascaded in darkness. Julia glanced around, and to his amazement, found carvings on each of them. They were murals that had braved the tests of time. Perhaps they held the true history of these ruins and this sacrilegious holy land, upon which hellspawns walked the earth…?
Julia's mouth was left agape in awe and his body trembled with excitement—there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the murals would have something to do with this being their destination.
"Woah… You look like you're about to start salivating," Gwyndolin exclaimed.
"...!" Caught in the act, it was seemingly apparent how infatuated he had been.
"Should we leave you and the infrastructure alone? Do you need a room…? A room for your room…? Gonna need a bloody big room for that." The more she went on, the more Julia wanted to shove something down her throat. "And I thought you only had eyes for that Oskar lad… are you the type to fall in and out of love really quick-like?"
Julia breathed in, asking slowly, "Gwyndolin… Didn't we have something to discuss?"
"Ahh, now you wanna talk about it…!" she exclaimed. Her antagonising hadn't been unwarranted, it would seem, and Gwyndolin had an especially annoying way of getting back at you. Julia was ready to move on, but then he noticed something which was hard to ignore.
"Did you just say Oskar? I never mentioned his name to you, so how do you—?"
"Hm, but you did mention it?"
"No, I'm certain I didn't."
"No, no, no, I'm pretty sure you did. You probably said it without thinking. Evelynn, you heard him say it, right?"
Evelynn briefly glanced between them. She admonished Gwyndolin with a look of disbelief and disappointment, and then she sighed. Even with her astute loyalty, she was ashamed by her commander's ridiculous behaviour.
"As much as I'd like to play along, we'd be here all day if I joined in. So, no. Not once did Julia say that man's name—to Gwyndolin or myself."
"Then—then how did you know…?" Julia asked Gwyndolin.
"I already knew it before I asked you," she sighed.
"What?"
"I already knew," she repeated herself.
"Then why did you ask in the first place?"
"I wanted to see if you'd tell me."
"..."
"...though I knew you wouldn't."
"..."
"...also, that was a slip-up before; I wasn't sure when to reveal that I knew, but I've really been looking for a good moment to tell you!"
"And what is a 'good' moment to you?"
"When it'd be funny to do so!"
Gwyndolin, you are deathly annoying! Julia lost his composure. His patience was wearing thin, and if his hair wasn't a silver hue already, you would be able to see his hair turning grey. If my list of reasons to leave this forest involves finding Oskar as the number one reason, and avoiding capture and the label of heretical witchcraft along with it as the second reason, then never having to speak with her again is my third reason…!
How she and Gwynevere were possibly related in any kind of way, let alone sisters, should be added among the world's greatest wonders—and among that, there's the question of how Evelynn put up with her and kept reasonably sane as another wonder.
"For the sake of Julia's blood pressure, what do you say we get to discussing the matters at hand? Christeyeres won't sit back and allow us to keep chatting after all," Evelynn, Julia's saviour, suggested this. He wanted to hug her.
"Right, sounds good. Let's get to it then." Thankfully, Gwndolin agreed. "So currently, we're at odds with Christeyeres, but you already knew that. They don't know about this location yet, but they will find out eventually. The one good thing is that they're gonna take a while to get here. They're being very careful with how they approach this, because with the dreads messing everything up as a third party, they're all paranoid about an unknown witch on our side. They can't be hasty thanks to that—it's never a good idea to rush into a dangerous witch without knowing the first thing about them. That gives us some time, but not much time. So we need to figure out a way we can retreat without them just changing targets and coming our way."
Evelynn carried on, "The dreads are uncoordinated, and they care not for anything beyond this land. The second we try to leave it, we'll no longer have them acting as a barrier—and like that we can be pursued with nothing stopping them."
Julia nodded, "Yeah, I see the problem. So what have you come up with? How can I help?"
"We'll get to your part soon," Gwyndolin answered. "Basically, we need a way to push the dreads onto them, and then keep them there—long enough at least for us to get out of here. The problem is… those feisty little bastards don't listen nor want to lend a helping hand. Ha. Selfish, aren't they? We've tried to control them, but the best we've managed is scaring them away or killing their host bodies so they'll linger around before dissipating. Neither are very useful, and the latter does fuck all—oh, sorry, excuse the language… What we need right now is a way to direct them."
"The dreads—I'm guessing they have something to do with whatever you found on the murals, no?" Julia had an idea in which direction this conversation was going. It had always felt strange, because usually something substantial was required for such a breach to happen; the dreads were far too unique an existence. The land itself was strange and the ruins, or what took place within them, thousands of years ago, must have been grand in nature.
Gwyndolin nodded, "That's right. It would probably be faster to show you—the explanation would come easier too. I'll show you them now then."
Julia had been itching to get a look, so he was happy when it was finally time to begin. He was not alone this time, so it was many times easier than it usually was when studying such a thing. Evelynn did most of the explaining, while Gwyndolin simply described what the two couldn't make out—doing her job as the only one who was able-sighted.
From the first impressions, Julia's presumption that the land was a holy place seemed to be correct, although only partially; that was its purpose in the past and it was no longer as such. There were human figures depicted—which Evelynn and himself reckoned to be the old monks that resided in the temples ruins—alongside strange, wisp-like and animated forms; which although exaggerated and often weirdly-illustrated, they concluded to be different iterations of spirits and other apparitions.
Julia was convinced that it was common folklore, which usually talked about fantastic creatures such as dragons, and were likely made up or exaggerated. But he was soon shocked by an illustration that was unnervingly similar to the dreads he had seen. Even if it wasn't perfect, he discerned that these could only have been carved out by someone who hadn't only encountered them but also witnessed them.
Julia could no longer claim that this was exaggerating or warping the truth. No man would be able to portray them so accurately if they had never seen them, so perhaps these people really had coexisted with spirits.
Gwyndolin and Evelynn were confused by his shaking, and it was reasonable. They wouldn't come to the same conclusions he had—no one would unless they could see spirits—and Julia couldn't find a moment to explain why he was so perturbed.
To think there was a time the common man lived as he did, and perhaps they were even more involved than him. What sort of world did the people of the past live in? What caused such a grand change between then and now—just what caused this immense separation between what is physical and what is spiritual?
"Uh… uhm," Julia stumbled, struggling to catch his mouth up with his mind. "This—what do you two make of it?" He was curious, how did they perceive these murals? They had brought him here for a reason, and he was sure of that, yet there was so much only he would understand. He was given so many answers, but with every answer he came to, only more questions seemed to arise. They must have concluded that he would interpret more, but how so? They should know nothing. Did they know more than he expected them to? How would that be so?
Gwyndolin relinquished, "Evelynn, you're up. You'll explain it better than I ever could."
Evelynn nodded, and then explained, "From what we've seen through most of the murals, it looks like a tale of decline. This used to be a temple where monks and spirits lived among each other. Recalling how our meetings with the dreads have gone so far… the idea of a cohabitation such as that seems, at best, disastrous. Surprisingly, their coexistence looked harmonious. At least… that was until a calamitous event occurred."
There was a single mural which took an entire wall for itself. Inside it, an apocalyptic scenario was illustrated—one which was hard to believe had already occurred a long time ago.
"After a sudden surge of some mysterious force, there was a drastic change in the world."
If anything was responsible for the large disparity in the laws by which reality abided between then and now, it would have been this. What exactly caused it or what it even was wasn't told. But the effect of the event was evident, and there was a great shift in the tone of the murals afterwards.
"For some reason, every monk residing in this location passed away. It isn't depicted what killed them. What happened afterwards seemed to be the main focus.
"There was an onset of new evil spirits after the calamity and the mass death of all the humans. This hoard of spirits consumed the other spirits and the like around the location, growing in strength as well as accumulating sin from what was essentially cannibalism. It's no secret that this is the origin of the dreads… That's what we've inferred; although, I can't say that I don't think it's partially misleading."
Julia couldn't help but shudder after hearing the end of it, even if he had mostly come to the same conclusion. The revelation that those frightening, monstrous ghasts were once a tribe of peaceful monks was one thing, but there was another matter that this deeply reminded him about. A chill ran down his spine as he felt that this tale was unnervingly catered towards him.
The case of these monks, in their twisted, depraved transformation beyond death, was incredibly similar to the villagers, who had lingered in his eyes and body for all this time. To think the case of his old neighbours becoming an awful, vile mockery of their former selves was not a one-off, freak occurrence, but actually something that could occur to any group of people under the right circumstances… Even if it was rare and unseen, it was a terrible thing to realise.
However, what he was sure had never happened before and was likely to be its own unique, unprecedented incident was the way in which his villagers had developed and matured, manifesting a schism between their originally warped, malformed selves and those newly emerged, strange but awe-inspiring forms of a more benevolent spirit.
It was then that… an idea formed in Julia's mind. Perhaps there was a way he could help? Although he knew not the extent of his capabilities or what he could do exactly, there was likely some kind of way he could influence the form they took—that of the 'dread'.
Julia then understood his part in Gwyndolin's plan and how exactly he would assist. But there was one glaring discrepancy. How—just how would they know any of this? With what he was told, the extent of their information and understanding was far from complete. Was he mistaken? Had he found a way he could help that went further than her plan originally bordered? That was the only possibility he could harbour it to.