In the middle of a dark hall, a figure of a young man appeared with an unconscious body in his arms. His parents were waiting for him there, worried about his long absence. Ignoring both their questions and their exhortations, he crossed the room with a quick, sturdy pace and headed for the library. There he shut himself off from everyone; he put the dead girl on the couch, some small black object and a large white feather on the table, and ran to the bookcases in search of the right section. When he found it, he pushed one of the lower shelves away from him, exerting very little effort - the section turned over and revealed completely different book spines. Now he was pulling out one book after another, scanning their contents diagonally, flipping through them and ruthlessly throwing them on the floor. One by one. One by one. Each was the wrong one. The nerves began to give out, and it became more difficult to control the body and emotions. When there was a knock on the door, the gaze turned towards it was full of primal fear, as if someone had come to take his life.
"Darling," his mother's voice rang out from behind the door, "open it, please... the headmistress and the girl's guardians are here."
In fact, people from the Ministry also were here, but they decided to keep quiet about them so as not to scare the lad. He rushed to the door and leaned on it as if he expected it to help in case of a break-in.
"No! No, I won't give her back! I won't!"
"But honey..."
"No! Go away! Leave us alone!" he looked towards the couch. Time, precious time was running out, and he still couldn't remember which book he had seen this spell in. His legs gave out and he slid to the floor. "Don't take her away from me, please, don't take her away. I want..." hope almost completely left him, "I need..." tears gathered on his chin and, gaining the necessary mass, fell on the pages of another book picked up. He looked down and found what he was looking for. "to say goodbye to her." Women's voices began to murmur in the hallway.
"Please, the girl is important to him. Let him stay with her, let him realise everything, accept it."
"But she is also important to us. We raised her, she was a daughter for us."
"And as a mother, I understand this. But we are adults, we have seen and undergone a lot. And he's still basically a child, it's much harder for him to comprehend all this."
"The boy loved her, it's true, only a blind man wouldn't notice. And she seemed to reciprocate his feelings."
There was silence on the other side of the door for a few seconds.
"You know, she did a lot for us. If you don't mind, we'd like to help with the funeral. We have a family cemetery here..."
"But how are we going to..."
"Oh, don't worry: it's on the outskirts, one can't see it from the house, it's a secluded place; we'll create a permanent portal for you, so you can visit her at any time without any coordination with us..."
On this side of the door, the young man didn't waste another minute. As soon as he understood that no one would act by force, he began to perform a ritual: he cut his palm with the letter opener, squeezed the stone in it, and, reading the words of the spell from the sheet, touched his beloved's forehead (memory), mouth (feelings) and solar plexus (life) with the bloody object. He stopped, undecided. After running his eyes over the same passage of text several times and hesitating a little more, he wiped the red liquid dry with his finger from the blue lips and lightly touched them with his own, "forgive me". Then he took the white feather from the table, reduced it in size, wove it into the shape of a heart placing the stone in it and, having cast a couple more spells over the pendant, put it in the cold hand and sat down to wait.
He was asleep when she started breathing. The belly rose and fell steadily under his head; the arms were warm under his hands; the muscles had regained their tone. The fingers clutching the pendant twitched convulsively, and the young man woke up. Holding his breath in fear of both scaring off luck and meeting the wrong result, he watched the rays of the dawn sun creep across the rosy cheeks to the closed eyelids, crowned with long black eyelashes. The eyelids fluttered, the lungs smoothly absorbed more air to awaken the body and brain, and the eyes opened. For a while, they dispassionately studied the pale face frozen in front of them, then the surroundings. Then her brows drew together wrinkling the forehead, and her breathing faltered. She looked at the guy with anxiety and licked her dry lips.
"What is going on? I died. I left, I remember. You let me go."
"She's her... Eve, forgive me! I thought I could do it. But when I heard them talking about the stone..."
"The stone?" (There was something glistening on the ground where the girl had been lying, something very small, black and smooth. The entity bowed down to take a closer look and instantly receded back. Something told her that if she had a body, in such circumstances, everything inside it would have turned upside down, the heart would have pounded in the temples, and the breathing would have become loud and heavy. Among the many books in the place of her last imprisonment, there were several that aroused her curiosity. One of them was children's fairy tales. It meant that each of these tales have been continued.) "Did you use the stone?!" The girl raised her open palm, in which lay the pendant that looked like it was woven from the finest threads of white metal. "Is it inside?" She was terrified.
The young man lowered his guilt-filled eyes. Then he carefully took the outstretched hand in his own and closed it back. "Evelyn, I beg you, accept it. Put it on and never take off. I've got everything covered; you'll be yourself, just wear it, always. Please, Eve. I need you. I don't want to live without you, not while there's even the slightest chance."
She liked what he said, what words he used; she liked that he didn't use the word 'love'. He only told her that once, when he followed her leaving the library in a depressed state after breaking up with her boyfriend.
(Her eyes were glistening with moisture, but she wasn't going to cry, just not in front of them. She just wanted to get away from these people, so the girl got up and walked silently towards the exit. "Ah, my stuff," she waved her hand... "Oops, No one spotted this, init?" Things gathered and flew after her. Something crashed. After a couple of steps, realising that these were her books, the girl sighed and went back for them. She didn't have the strength or desire to conjure any more. Someone helped her pick up things, someone well-known, but she didn't want to communicate with anyone. She only said 'thank you' somewhere into space and moved on.
She was plodding forward hearing the echo of her footsteps. "No, they are not mine." Someone was approaching and the girl quickened her pace. To her regret, the hint was not picked up - the steps behind her back also accelerated. When the unknown caught up with her, she cast a discontented glance on him - he had been hanging around too much.
"What do you need?" the girl kept walking, counting on this would not allow the conversation to be protracted.
"You."
"What for?" He stopped, but she ignored the hint, as he did earlier. The pause dragged on.
"I love you."
"What?!! What a..." She had to stop to turn around, look at his face and verify that this... did not look like a joke... Not even close. He was standing with his body slightly leaning forward and nervously clenching his fists. He was paler than usual, only his cheeks were flushed. His gaze was riveted to her face and there was a weird combination of panic and hope on it. To say that the girl was shocked was to say nothing. "According to his value system, he should despise me! The guys must have beaten him up so badly that he had a clouding of his mind. Why?!" The signs of hope left his face. Now it was a pity to watch him. "Oh, this is just what I need today. When?"
"Apparently, when I entered this notorious compartment for the third time." The panic had also passed. Probably, he had heard the most terrible thing for himself. Now he set up straight, he was no longer looking at the girl, but somewhere in the past. "But understood everything only the previous year at the ball. You were beautiful in that dress... beautiful and cold like... like you were to me all that year. You ran into the hall so casually, as if for a lesson. You didn't attach any importance to this moment, but for me it became an event."
She recalled that day. Recalled, how he clung on to her when she was tracking down the false professor, the legend that she came up with in case she had to explain why they were together and "oh!" how he told it to their housemates himself. That evening he managed to turn it to his advantage, which amused and pleased her even though he framed her by it, but now she was hurt for him. And then, she also recalled their third meeting in that 'notorious compartment'. The girl couldn't help but laugh at the beginning of his already standard claim: "So, the permanent hosts of our regular segment 'Carriage of the chosen' welcome you! What aspect of being chosen are we going to discuss today?" And how, trailing the black figure of a prison guard rising into the air and floating indifferently above her intending to move on, her blurry vision bumped into him... "Run!!!"
But despite all this, she didn't believe him at the time. The circumstances did not speak in his favour. Her completely unjustified lack of restraint in the defense lesson at the beginning of the year and the infamous accident with the student later when she had negligence to demonstrate her non-standard skills could have led them to find out that she was the daughter of their reborn lord... or rather that there was such a possibility. Yes, she remembered that moment when owls flew into the hall. There were four of them: three owls landed together, while the fourth flew a little further. She remembered the expression on their faces when they read the letters. One of them snatched the letters from his neighbours' hands after finishing with his own and sort of read them up to a certain point, where he paused for a while. He and the last one looked at each other in perplexity and stole a glance in the girl's direction. Maybe this show was just to lure her to their side? So she said that she could hardly sort out her feelings right now, that she was sorry, but she would think about what he had said. "A bit later... Okay?")
And he himself never returned to this topic, either while waiting for an answer, or after he received a refusal. And of course she couldn't help but appreciate his deed. On the one hand, everything had already been done; on the other hand, it was undeniable that she had also made the decision to leave out of her own weakness. In the end, the girl freed her hand holding the talisman and hung it around her neck: "It's beautiful." The happy young man rushed to hug her.
"I did it. You're back. You're with me. You're alive. Oh, forgive me."
"Most likely, you will regret it."
"I don't care. That will be later."
"Well... maybe a lot faster than you think."
"Why?!" he pulled away from her, and his face paled again.
"Because if I don't eat something now, I'm going to die again."
"But of course! It's already morning! I'm such a dunce! Let's go to the kitchen, for certain, breakfast is already being prepared." The guy started to pull her along, but stopped. "Wait. You must be tired. Let me take you to your room, not the old one of course, to another, and have breakfast served there. You'll rest and come down when you're ready. There are still your things in the house; I'll move them..."
The girl stopped the verbal flow by touching his shoulder. "I've been resting all night. A shower and clean clothes would be very welcome. And I can wait for everyone to go to breakfast... if no one is against it. Your parents need to know everything."
"They will." He picked her up, "Don't look around," and began to turn towards the exit from the library, however, they found themselves opposite the exit from a small but bright and cozy room.
The owners of the house once again approached the library door - silence, although they were sure they had heard their son's voice. They knocked, but no one answered, made no sound, made no move.
"Dear. You shouldn't be alone for so long when you're in so much pain. At least let us join you." The mother waited in vain for a reaction.
"Son, I'm sorry, but we have to get in."
The lock clicked, the door opened, and an empty room appeared in front of them. An entire section of one bookcase was gutted; its contents were scattered on the floor. One of the books was lying open by the couch with several pillows propped up against the headboard. The book was lying with its cover up, and a bloody knife was sticking out from under it. A couple of wizards looked at all this and could easily imagine what was happening there last night. And this image inspired fear - the boy did not bring the body home to say goodbye.
"Mom. Dad." The parents turned around. There was an expression of hesitation caused by fear on their son's face. However, it couldn't completely hide his gladness.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better than ever, Mom."
"Where's the girl?" the man asked sternly.
"She'll be down for breakfast," victorious lights danced in the young man's eyes.
"What?!" horror froze in his parents' eyes. "What have you done?"
"I got her back. She's alive."
"Oh, no!!"
"It's not her you brought back, don't you understand that?"
"No, father... her. You'll see for yourself soon enough."
They were alone again. The man walked over to the couch and picked up the book lying next to it. For a while, he carefully studied the pages on which it was open. What he read on them didn't bode well. The woman came over and also looked in the book.
"You do understand everything."
"Yes."
"And what do you think we should do about it?"
"What can we do? Just setting the table for four."
A short figure appeared at the end of the corridor leading to the dining room, paused there for a moment, and then walked briskly towards the doors wide open. In the aisle, it stopped again. The girl did not dare to enter. She looked at the faces of the two adult wizards and saw a familiar look on them - regret that she existed. It was the way her teacher looked at her the first time they met, shortly before the start of the school year. Only now, regret was mixed with fear. Not only in relation to her. The girl greeted the hosts, but remained standing in the doorway. "I'm glad you're alright and at home.... Please forgive me for intruding." The woman was the first to break the couple's silence, saying that it wasn't her fault at all, and inviting her to the table. Just waiting for this, the young man ran up to the girl and, guiding with his hand on her back, sat her down next to him. They ate in silence; and after the table was cleared, it held the air for a few more minutes.
"I have a confession to make. Although I don't know if anyone cares about that right now, and yet... I've already tried to tell you about this," the girl turned to the one who was sitting next to her, "but did you listen? I can't do magic anymore. One part of my powers died with my father, and I had to give up my mother's magic. I've never had one of my own. So... I've never really been a sorceress." A lump rose in her throat and she looked away.
"Evelyn! I don't care about that. How could you think that?"
"I did not." She smiled at the guy and patted his hand. Meanwhile, her eyes remained sad. "I care about that. And maybe your parents... would be..."
"Well, I would say that it's even for the best. We have enough wizards in our family to do stupid things."
"Father! Mom, Eve, listen to me. I haven't created a dark entity - I didn't let her taste blood. She's clean. They won't find anything in her."
"You haven't completed the rite?"
"It doesn't matter. You performed a blood ritual. These are the dark arts. That's enough to earn a one-way ticket. That will be enough for them." The girl was looking at a disgruntled and equally frightened man. She recalled the guy's bandaged palm, the dried bloodstains on her forehead and chest that she had seen in the mirror. "...one-way ticket... where, to prison?!"
"It does matter, for her." The young man stated gloomily but firmly.
"This leads to another problem." The mother took the floor. "Your guardians are waiting for us to announce the date of the funeral."
"But she's alive." The young man persisted, although he himself had already begun to understand where he had miscalculated.
"But if we tell them about it..." The girl understood everything too.
"But I'm talking about 'life'."
"And what do you think it will be like knowing that you are in prison because of this?" Sighing heavily, she appealed to the elders. "Is there any way we can simulate this?"
"Shapeshifting?"
"No. They will come with specialists. They will want to make sure she's her. That the corpse wasn't replaced and used for... well, for anything - she's her father's daughter. And they will be right, because that's exactly what we did. Thus, no potion, no illusion. All this can be safely crossed out."
"So it's me who should be lying in the coffin."
"Eve!!"
"What? I'm not superstitious."
"How are you going to pretend to be dead?"
"Obviously not by holding my breath." There was a pause.
"What if..." the guy managed to pull himself together during this time, "poison? Potions might be uncovered by wizards, but to detect even an unusual poison, they will need a healer. It is unlikely that they will be ready for this - death has already been declared. It's like with the bookcase, father. They would never think of looking for such a thing. Naturally, we will need an antidote."
"It might work. If such a poison exists. And, of course, if the girl agrees."
"For never was a story of more woe..." the girl grinned, "She agrees." The man nodded his thanks briefly.
("My mother was from the 'ancients'. You must have heard of them."
Half an hour before the appointed time, the girl came to the room indicated in the note which the guy had put in her textbook when, allegedly in order to find the information he needed, he snatched it out of her hands without getting permission. It was one of the many empty classrooms in the castle. They were never locked and they were not forbidden to use, however, there was no demand for them. She halted at the shut door, tuned in and harkened. Not feeling a single thought on the other side, she opened it and entered the room, closing the one behind her again. She managed to get there first. It was important for her to see how he would come in. For observation, the girl chose the corner adjacent to the wall with the entrance door, where it would screen her from the eyes of the incoming when opened. Just five minutes later, the air began to thicken rapidly - someone was approaching. The footsteps were quiet, the pause between their cessation and the door opening lasted about a quarter of a minute. The door opened slowly and did not stop until it made a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. They monitored each other's movements for a while. With a click, the door closed. "What did you want to talk to me about?" - "About what you said at the station that day. Namely, that you will come with me when the time comes. Were you honest with me?" The blonde lad spoke very calmly, without challenge or pretensions. "Yes."
"I have heard about them, yes ... One of the most ancient, even by our standards, pure-blooded clans of magicians; lived apart, did not participate in the life of the community, maintained their status, let few people into their circle, and jealously guarded their secrets of magic, which is why they recently experienced problems with procreation." He articulated it like a lesson learned. "No one had heard anything about them for the last hundred years until Lord punished them for their betrayal: they promised to provide assistance in the war, but when they were called up, they refused... But you can't be, it's a legend... and if it's not, it happened before we were born!"
"Well, yes, before." The girl smiled bitterly at how easy it actually is to play with words. How easy it is to say nothing with them and herewith to hint at a lot. People do this when they want to hide something important, but at the same time not burden their conscience with falsehood. She did the same herself. "Before you were born, more accurately, and probably a little more than half of our fellow students. I'm almost three months older than you. Less than three months... So it's even curious..."
"No, it can't be true, they said that not only did they have no children, there were no young ones left. And there were no survivors after the conquest. I recall when my father told me about it, he said that he destroyed all of them, 'every last... baby...' " A silence hung heavy in the room for some time. He patently was shocked by this modest piece of old information that in one flick turned to news for him. But he did not reject it as an insignificant addition, and tried to integrate it into the previously established structure.
(The drawers of a small filing cabinet were marked with Roman numerals from the tenth to the twentieth. It really was a file cabinet: countless thin paper folders were separated by thick pieces of parchment with the years' designation. There were exactly twelve folders behind each such piece. A first year student got the third one. As soon as it left the drawer, it swelled up like baked puff pastry with a noisy sigh, and she had a weighty armful of all the news periodicals for the month in her hands. "Twenty first. ... 'the thirty-first minister takes office' ... 'has been captured and imprisoned one of the followers', someone is missing, something has been found... It's not that... Here too... Twenty-second. ... 'a new prophecy has appeared in the hall of' tra-ta-ta... It's remarkable, but not that again... 'Residents of a nearby village encountered a settlement in the forest, which even the old-timers did not know about before. According to eyewitnesses, all its inhabitants were dead, "every last baby". Local police were unable to determine the manner of death - "no signs of a struggle were detected on the corpses, nor any wounds that could lead to death". Meanwhile, our experts suppose that there is a solid reason to consider this work'..." Inhale - exhale "... 'We believe that the settlement belonged to the so-called 'ancients', which have not been heard of for more than a century, and yet, the ground for conflict is obscure. The memory of the eyewitnesses has been erased.' " Reviewing the folder to the end, the girl put it aside. No more mentions. In the files for April and May either. There was no investigation or it reached a dead end.)
In fairytales, as strange as it may sound, there are very few figures of speech. "His father told him this 'legend of long ago'. And if he holds something back, then he is concealing something; if he is concealing, then he possesses some information that others should not. He was the only one who made an attempt to win me over. The only one who acknowledged me. No, he didn't just repeat to his son the phrase from the newspaper... Did his father accompany mine that night?")
"I know one healer. I'll visit him. I'll go out through the secret passage. For now, we will all use it if we need to leave the house. And we will use the usual routes only to distract the eyes. No doubt we'll be watched for a while."
With these words, the master of the house departed. The mistress got up and the others also left the table. The woman approached the girl and, gently lifting her head, looked into her eyes. She didn't say anything, but her own eyes reflected both great love and intense pain. Finally, she spoke.
"Surveillance is surveillance, but you need some fresh air. Go for a walk in the woods, it's far enough from home. Just be careful."
"Yes, mom, we'll go out the farthest exit."
"Honey," the sorceress stopped her son on the threshold, while the girl was already walking down the corridor, "I don't know how you did it, but you really brought her back. That will only make it more painful to lose her again. And it will happen. I'm sorry, but I want you to understand that."
"What is all this: revolving bookshelves, secret passages? Poisons? I thought true wizards don't do that kind of thing." They were walking down a dimly lit stone tunnel, the entrance to which was also located in the library, the most secluded place in the house, and the servants rarely looked in there.
"Sometimes the simplest solution turns out to be the most effective. We inherited them from our ancestors. Apparently, sorcerers in their time not only acted, but also thought exclusively with their wands."
"Hmm, that's interesting..." They came to a fork in the road, another tunnel running perpendicular to the first, framed by rectangular polished blocks. "It's like this one is more ancient: its walls' stones are much larger, and the vaults are cylindrical. Where does it lead?"
"To different places: to a mill, to a church, to a forester's house. However, most of the time it leads to dead ends."
It smelled fresh. They reached a high well, along the walls of which a staircase spiraled upward. The steps of the first pair of its coils were carved into the boulders themselves. For the most part, they were at a low pace - extremely uncomfortable for a long-distance for a person of at least average height. It wasn't until the last six or seven feet that everything became relatively habitual. Sliding the hatch, they found themselves in a small hut with an earthen floor and a low ceiling. The only furniture was a table, a chair, and shelves made of rough-hewn, thick wood. Pots and bottles of various shapes and sizes were scattered here and there, sometimes broken, dusty, but not stained with remnants of possible contents. Some tools were piled up in the corners, most of them rusty. There were no cobwebs, as there was nothing for the insects to prey on. In other words, there never was a forester. They did not linger there and went out into the forest.
It was a beautiful deciduous forest, however, it was not the picturesque old trees that attracted the eye, but the titanic-sized stone lumps - unevenly flattened spheres - that were inexplicably held on top of each other. These were really mountain trolls petrified in the sun, not three, but seven. Moss bloomed on some, tree shoots stretched to the sky from others, and an impenetrable curtain of curly loach enveloped others like a cloak, leaving only their 'heads' uncovered. Between the two 'giants', through the rubble of smaller boulders, a stream cascaded modestly and spread out in front of them like a transparent diamond lake. On its two opposite sides, ruins too high for their massiveness descended in ragged ledges directly from the rocks and almost to the ground. Partially collapsed into the lake, closer to the edge they spanned it and joined in a kind of aqueduct.
"What was here?"
"Once there was a castle on the site of our house. Very likely that these were its watchtowers. There are remnants of at least three: two near the lake and the third farther away, where the rocks end, it's hard to see from here."
The girl walked slowly to the water, climbed up the time-worn blocks and walked along the arcade to the middle to sit opposite the mountain stream that fed the lake. The young man followed her. They sat in silence for a long time, looking at the giants who had fallen asleep, listening to the forest - the sounds of quiet life flying past them.
"Are you really willing to drink poison for me?"
"If there is one... we'll only know for sure when it's time to drink it." She was even more afraid of not doing it. "Well, what am I actually risking? And... to die is not as hard as to live. But to hang somewhere in the middle..." She did not elaborate on this thought. "Otherwise, what's the point of what you've done?"
"To do something stupid," the lad recalled his father's words.
"That's for sure, but you wouldn't have to do it if I hadn't done something stupid before." Her eyes suddenly sparkled like streams of water in the sun. "Mine cost another person his life."
"Who?" He was surprised, but the girl did not answer.
(The professor was bleeding to death. And there was no opportunity to do anything about it - regardless, they wouldn't have left him to die alone. She had to save her mentor, and the only feasible way to do that was to make them think that he was dead. "Excuse me, professor..." The trio left, and the girl dashed to the fainted body. Shifting her hands from one wound to another, she conjured them, as he once taught her. The trickles of blood that had been spreading on the floor turned back and was slowly flooding the teacher's body with life.
"What's going on?" The man woke up, but remained very weak. "What are you doing?"
"Saving you. Did I not tell you I wouldn't let you die?"
("Why do you need this post again? Are you willing to die? Again? Why?!" - "You are forgetting yourself, Miss." - "The headmaster promised me that you will support me! Always!" - "He didn't make promises." - "But he said..." - "The headmaster says a lot of things! And keeps silent about even more..." - "I won't let you do that. Do you hear me? I won't let you." - "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" The man asked after a pause, and his voice was no longer harsh or threatening. "No," the girl lowered hers in turn, "about another.")
"But the snake... The poison..."
"I didn't let the poison out, just bit."
"You didn't... what?"
"Don't try to comprehend it now, don't waste your strength. Tell me, does the boy already know?"
"No. But soon... My blood... my mem..."
"I got it. Now be silent."
The professor was getting better physically, meanwhile, his student could hear the mental anguish growing along with his vital forces, even more severe than it had been before. She felt his heavy hand on her and understood everything, but denied accepting it.
"How could I have earned your sympathy?"
"What is he saying? This question should've come from me!... Other than by intelligence, composure and fortitude?" His lips twitched mildly in an approving smile. "You never needed anyone to feel sorry for you."
"Otherwise, it would be too arduous to keep all of the above." The sadness at the bottom of his eyes dissolved in tenderness. For the girl? For that woman? The tragedy of the relationship of this man and that boy has been presented that day in its entirety. And it was his another ward's father who killed her. Meanwhile he blamed himself for her death. "But I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to live with another loss."
"When did you find out?"
"When I delivered you to your father with my own hands." It was akin to a punch to the gut.
"So he never told you... As well as I..."
"I should have guessed myself... in accordance with what you were hiding, while urging on meeting with your father... and that the headmaster allowed it... I didn't know why you needed it, but that night, I saw that it was a step not to salvation, that your admirer was counting on... I've done everything I had to do. Let me go." The girl was struck by a large tremor, tears continuously obscured him from the sight. He squeezed her hand, expressing a request and support at the same time. "We'll meet again, there..."
"I don't believe it. Sorry... I just don't. We won't recognise each other there. We were parts of a whole here, here we were someone. There we will become a whole again, will become nobody, will become eternity... But you will meet her." Her hands no longer radiated light, and blood began to flow on the floor again. No matter how much one craves, he is not able to give life back to someone who doesn't crave to live, he shouldn't. "Let me do this for you one more time."
("Now you know what it is like when memories are extracted by force. There are other, less noticeable ways to get into someone else's reason to look at them or put non-existent ones. We'll work on that later. And now, try to get my memories. Start with one you're familiar with, it will be easier that way." The girl understood what the professor was talking about, and she wasn't ready to revisit this reminiscence.
The dark depths... this pain, it had a form. The form of two people: a dead woman and a man embracing her... "Who was this woman?" He couldn't hide his shock. "Who killed her?" He turned away abruptly and clenched his fists. "Did you use this reminiscence to arouse your loathing for that person, and then route it to me so that I would think that you wanted to kill me? Was that the way to check that I could really fend off an attack that hadn't been committed on me yet? ("I have little interest in the reasons why you attacked these blockheads, I'm sure they deserved it, I am more interested in how you managed to come out a winner.") What if I couldn't control it, if it came back to you on its own, then would you die?" Was it her imagination, or was he now regretting that it hadn't ended particularly that way?! "You are free to go, Miss Greenwood."
Emptiness was preceded by heartache, but what preceded heartache? For such grief, another equally strong emotion of the opposite nature was necessary. She wanted to get to it, she wanted him to recall something good. Therefore, when their eyes met again, there was no demand in her gaze, only a request of permission to help. It took the man some time to figure out what was going on, and when he did, it was already late. The minutes were passing, and he still did not take his eyes off hers. He did not seek to leave this illusion. Most likely, he himself had not returned there for a very long time. With incredible effort, he terminated the connection. The professor stood with his back to the student leaning on the table. "I'm asking you never to do that again." His voice sounded calm, he wasn't mad at her.)
"Thank you..."
Her green eyes, full of softness and kindness, smiling cheerfully at him. That's what she wanted him to see last in this world. She wanted to give him back the moment she stole.)
The girl nodded in the direction of the cascade, at a narrow winding path leading into a gorge along with the stream. "What's on the other side?"
"Another meadow, another forest, all the same." She got up and walked back to the shore. "What about your foster parents?"
"Yes," she said with a sigh, "they will grieve." As she found out before her first year at magic school, they were the kind of magical creatures that didn't possess magic. And as she saw later, despite their inferiority, from the point of view of the magical community, they always behaved with dignity, even being near its powerful and influential representatives. During the war, they opposed her father, assisted the headmaster and the Ministry as much as they could, organising temporary shelters for fighters in different parts of the country, which saved many lives and earned respect. All of this made the girl proud of them. However, she found it rather strange to receive her as a reward. But they were no longer young, and they had no children of their own... Then it turned out that they were the headmaster's people. They raised her as if she were their own child, although the fact that she was an adopted daughter was never hidden. For this, the girl was sincerely grateful to them. "They are already grieving, and it pains me for them, however, I've already managed to distance myself. How did it happen? Don't even know. I admit, I don't think I'll miss them much." ("Do you miss them?" - "I wish I did." The girl said after a brief pause and lowered her eyes, ashamed to admit that there was no seemingly obvious emotion. "It happened shortly after my birth. I was brought up outside the magical world, by carers, very nice people." Hers and the boy's gazes crossed. "I'm sorry... And I don't know my biological family... But I know who killed them, who tended to kill me. I'll never forget it, and I'll never forgive it.")
She began to climb down from the lake's side. The guy hurried to jump off the rocks to help her. She didn't need help, but she didn't turn it down. His hands were on her waist, hers on his shoulders; he once again looked at her with a guilty look.
"Cheer up! If everything works out, in a few days I'll be living just for you." It wasn't a funny joke; she knew it herself. He jerked as if he was trying to dodge those words, but they got to him, lashing him like a whip. "My father was right, I have always been cruel to him. Even tending to make his life easier I've become one who added fuel to both fires." He wanted to move on and she stopped him by grabbing his elbow. "Hey," she said softly, "look at me, listen. You gave me back my life. At the same time, you kept my identity. You've done the almost impossible. Don't beat yourself up for doing this for yourself. It doesn't mean that you don't love me."
(There was the sound of dry branches snapping under someone's weight. A lone figure came out of the forest. "Who would be interested in this place right now? Oh, no... Is that him? I can recognise him from any distance. His silhouette, his posture, his gait... no, no, no, no, no! Stop! Don't come any closer! Don't look at... no..." She looked at the face, pale as if belonging to a dead, at the motionless eyes rejecting what they saw, at the body trembling as the mind embracing what had happened, and could not bear it. He only saw her body, but not her very self. She pressed her forehead against his chest and heard a sharp gasp of surprise. There was a short pause, and his heart began to race along with his breathing.
"Evelyn?..."
"How have you found me?"
"The unicorn brought me. Are you alive?!"
"No. Sorry... Can you hear me?!"
"I'll take you home. We'll call a healer, he will bring you back..."
"It's impossible. Take me to the school."
"Everything will be fine, I will save you..."
"It's impossible, please, understand." The entity mentally put its palms on his cheeks wet with tears, and he stopped glancing around and looked straight into her eyes as if he really saw them. "I'm sorry. Please, take me to the school."
For a while he tried to cope with himself, to take control of his body to lift hers.)
"Everything I've done, I've also done for myself. And that doesn't mean I don't care about you, not at all. Then, I decided that it would be better for everyone."
("It's only required... to enter the body and then... then I will live again!" The young man cried, then he settled himself down to breathe evenly. "I can get back and make him happy..." He stood with her body in his arms and once again looked for her where he had just heard - felt? - her voice. He wanted to call her, but did not, turned around and walked towards the castle. She peered at his back. "Can I?... When I return, I will no longer belong to his world, even if I will be physically present in it. I'm not a sorceress. Everything I had was nested into me after my birth, and I've renounced these gifts. You can get your life back, but not magic. I am out of his world, and he won't go with me to the other one - I won't let him. Too much donation on his part is too great a burden for me. But is that other world truly mine? It was left seven years ago. Suppose, he says he doesn't care, that he will accept me for who I am. As he did before. Will I accept myself? I liked being strong, being able to do things that others couldn't comprehend. It's not about me anymore. Who am I now? What am I going to do? Replace the caretaker? Will I be able to be happy hiding behind walls, playing the role of a house elf or a mother hen? This is not my path, even if I am not alone on it. Don't tell me that you can succeed in anything by any methods. I prefer mine. What do I have now? Just an irrelevant experience of the past? It wouldn't be enough for me. You can get your life back, but not your soul. You can't be happy without having a soul. You can't make someone happy without being happy yourself... I have nothing to give him. The decision has already been made and executed. Don't look back. But what should I do to leave?" The entity headed to the castle.
He set her apart from the rest of the dead. The battle was over: a brief lull was followed by loud sounds of jubilation. Someone entered and quickly exited the hall. A few minutes later, the hall was filled with the living, who lined up in a semicircle in front of them.
"Evelyn!" One of them wanted to run up to the body, but another one held him back. "Is she dead? Did you do this?!" He snatched out his wand, but was stopped again.
"No." The victor stepped forward. "I have something to tell you all." He collected his thoughts. "The thing is, she wasn't just his daughter. In her, as in me, there was a particle of his soul, which made him immortal. To defeat him completely, it was necessary to destroy all these parts. And there was only one way to do it - to die. She did it of her own free will... like all of you, venturing to stay and protect the school."
"These loud words: 'free will', 'venturing to stay and protect'. Their beautiful meaning. Now they help us endure the shock and avoid succumbing to grief, but over time, they may lead to misconceptions for those who were not present and are unfamiliar with what it actually looks like. So that next time, others will also be willing to give their lives for others. And how else... However, they will not go there in search of romance and it will not be what they will find. And most of them will simply become 'one of the many who died' and will be mentioned only in an administrative list, but not in the legend, just because they were not named in any prophecy and they did not happen to become a close friend or sworn enemy of the one who was. A mysterious prophecy with deep meaning... And there is nothing sublime about death, it is sickeningly empty. Only the words of the romantics describing it are sublime. But someone who has witnessed it once will never wish to see it again. Heroism is a side effect of facing evil. There is no need to strive for it, it should not be allowed. But these words have nothing to do with me. The boy went to his death to become a victim. I became a victim to die."
A roar of loud sighs swept through the crowd and dozens of eyes stared at the girl. Not at the body residing on the floor, but exactly at the spot where she was standing. She looked at herself, at her hands. It would be more accurate to say that she looked through them. "Have I become a ghost?"
"Then why did you stay alive?" Said a hoarse voice behind her.
"When my father was reborn," the girl overcame her fear and turned to face him, "he took his blood for the ritual and thus connected their lives and deaths."
"But you also have his blood in you."
"But this is the result of natural events, not magical ones."
"But you also sacrificed yourself, doesn't that count?"
"That counts, but not the way you wish it was. We all sacrificed." She pointed to the bodies of the dead. "Do you think it hasn't helped to defeat him? There's nothing you can do about it. You can't bring back the dead. You shouldn't... And you knew this would happen..."
"But now he's dead, so you should both be dead, not you alone!"
"Will he ever forgive me?")
"You didn't agree with my decision. So we need to try it your way. And I'm glad that you resurrected me, glad to be here with you. Not everyone gets a second chance. Let's see where it takes us; maybe I was wrong. No one knows how long my current condition will last, because you haven't completed the rite. Let's not waste time on regrets." The young man's forehead smoothed out a little. "Why don't you smile at me and I'll kiss you for it?" The guy smiled kindly, but still sadly and without faith. The girl jumped up on a rock and kissed him on the cheek. "What did you expect: you get what you put in." She laughed and pulled him along the path towards the huge mossy boulders.
The same ones were hanging in the gorge high above, stuck between the shoulders of two giants brought together. The gorge was not long, and the rocks did not form solid walls, so the sun's thick rays penetrated into it through numerous holes and filled it with light that seemed to be possible to touch. Very soon they came out into a small copse, and then onto a meadow covered with dense, bright greenery. In its center stood a huge tree - in height, and in the span of the branches, as well as in the girth of the trunk. Its roots, as if to balance the hemisphere of the crown, spread over the entire area of its projection on the ground. One could only guess what was under them, but waters of the stream, interspersed with rocks, flowed out of the hole formed precisely by their interweaving. On the other side, a stone slab sunk into the ground could be seen through their intricate network.
"It's not hard to believe that it connects worlds, right?" the girl asked. She continued, rather thinking out loud. "Subterranean-celestial-terrestrial, past-future-present... thousands of reasons, thousands of actions committed in the past merge into a single present and give rise to thousands of consequences... the past is too confusing, the future is too unpredictable, only the current moment is determined... this one..." she slowly walked around the tree, tracing the bark with her fingertips, "now this one... time sets the speed, or vice versa, two illusions and one reality, two deaths and one life... and time... the vertical of time and the horizontal of space... or still the fountain of time, driving through itself the same water over and over again, but pouring into the pond with thousands of variations of jets... water remembers everything, accumulates... prompts, whispers... Oh, look! A cobweb!" The entrance to the burrow was blocked by thick platinum threads similar to gray hair. They touched the water and were set in motion by its frolicking streams. ('... starting the war, you will ruin a proud kingdom ... you will find your horse ... you will accept death from your horse ... your son will become your murderer ... your people will be destroyed due to marriages with the impure ...' She opened the pages at random. "Why do I need all this?" At the end of the book, there was a table with the numbers of the prophecies, to whom, where and when they were issued, as well as the dates and sites of their fulfilment, in case of fulfilment. It was noteworthy that a large amount of dates went beyond the time frame of the Ancient World. "They must concern nations and civilisations. ... Date: March 21, 1980. Site: ... Hmm, it's somewhere in our area, I've come across it on maps. And this date... It is the day my family perished!" Her heart missed a beat. In search of the number, the girl frantically flipped through the pages. "Here it is!" 'Your kin will prosper as long as you remain faithful to your blood. Jealously guard its purity, and the great power will not leave you, but your people will be destroyed due to marriages with the impure.') "So that's what it is, the canvas of fate. Then, there must be three old spiders hiding somewhere here" she grinned, "and one young," and looked at the guy conspiratorially. He laughed softly. "Well, that's more like the truth." She smiled back.
"So you owe me something."
"Then take it."
The young man stepped over the stream, pulled the girl towards him by the chin and without hesitation took what was due - no more and no less. It reminded her how she loves it when he shows his will.
"There's an old road in the woods." He spoke without releasing her. "It leads to our house, but it makes a decent detour to avoid the rocks. The path just passes by the third tower. We can walk to it and turn off there to the hut."
"That's a great plan."