Chapter Seven: Arriving at Marvena

|| Present ||

Ayra was dreaming--No. She was having a nightmare.

Again.

She wasn't stranded and lost in the large expanse of a mysterious forest this time. It was worse, Ayra thought, to be standing here of all places.

Her eyes were closed and her body lay on the ground; it was soft and loamy. A rich earthen scent wafted to her nose but it was overpowered by another one. Another familiar scent that was sweet-smelling and intoxicating. She knew where she was even before she opened her eyes.

Ayra braced herself into a sitting position; her hands digging into the soft soil that blanketed the earth beneath her. She slowly opened her eyes and sucked in a breath at the sight in front of her.

The mind is like the library; memories mould themselves into pages of books and shelves anchor the time they were written in.

Ayra had carefully set this up in her head. She had placed the pleasant recollections at the bottom and the bitterly painful and tragic ones at the topmost section--high and hidden; a place where even she couldn't reach if she tried.

It was a place to store those memories that she wanted to forget.

But dreams work in a peculiar way. Pocketed between reality and imagination, they have a mind of their own. They forcefully pick out a piece of your memory, mould it with their own hands and place them before your eyes.

See, they say. Watch, they command.

And Ayra always does. Silently watches everything as her deepest, darkest memories die and come to life in a whole new form. 

And she was now here. Again. Dreadfully waiting for another wound to be painfully reopened in front of her eyes until she wakes up from this horror.

It was a nightmare all over again. But this one--this one threatened to swallow her as a whole.

A field of Glazeas stretched all around her, caging her in ways that one couldn't imagine. The deadly flower bed stretched all over to the horizon and beyond. It was Glazeas and Glazeas and more Glazeas everywhere.

Ayra choked on a silent cry. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to run away and hide.

But she couldn't.

As long as her heart is alive and beating, she would never be able to run away. 

Ayra can only endure. But was enduring the same as living? She didn't know.

She brought her knees up to her chest and wound her arms tightly around her legs and just stared. The pale whiteness of these huge, hollow-petaled flowers was a deep contrast to the darkness above and around her.

Ayra let her eyes wander and she suddenly stopped when her eyes caught something. 

Right in the middle of the field, sat three children.

Her heart stopped.

She saw the younger version of herself for the second time again. But this time, a cruelly haunted expression didn't mask the child's face. Her younger self didn't sneer at her, didn't gaze back at her with a promise of death.

Instead, she was smiling. Happily.

And Ayra always knew, even after all these years, she knew the reason behind her carefree smile.

They sat on either side of her younger self and Ayra's heart clenched with lost warmth.

Ruhnn, Caelan and young Ayra were huddled close together in a tight, warm circle---poking and prodding at one of the Glazeas in front of them.

Each one of them had beautiful, radiant smiles on their faces. As if nothing in the world mattered to them. As if their little bubble of a world was the whole universe in itself. And as if that's all they needed.

Ayra stared at her younger self's expression and wondered if she had always looked that.....radiant. It was as if someone painted the entire starry sky on her little, round face.

Unbeknownst to herself, Ayra wore a small smile on her own face, forgetting that fact that whatever was in front of her wasn't real.

It was a blissful dream now. Just a dream.

Ayra stared at the children in front of her, desperately trying to etch this scene deep into her mind and heart.

The strong smell of the Glazeas made her head woozy and light. Her eyes felt heavy and her body was warm, it was as if someone was softly singing her to sleep. She slowly and involuntarily started to close her eyes.

A moment passed by and when Ayra slowly released herself into oblivion, a strong gust of wind suddenly blew against her. She awoke with a startled gasp and reflexively raised her arm to cover her face against the powerful force of the wind.

It appeared out of nowhere; as if a beast resting at the edge of the horizon had stirred awake and had blown a gentle breath across the world. She couldn't call for her wind here because like every other time, she was powerless and unarmed.

When the wind calmed down, Ayra slowly lowered her arms and opened her eyes.

Her chest tightened.

Ruhnn and Caelan had disappeared.

Ayra swallowed hard.

In front of her, stood young Ayra. Her little hand was holding onto the thick stem of a Glazea. Her eyes --oh, they looked empty and devoid of any emotions and Ayra was taken aback to the nightmare she had a few days.

But something felt off. Her younger self's eyes looked emptier and duller than before.

Almost as if she was...dead.

Dead.

"You--", Ayra started. She didn't know what she wanted to tell but she began to fear. Fear if that child's expression matched her own. Feared why she saw the same expression that her mirror showed her everyday.

A wall of darkness stood right behind the child and time stilled when two hands appeared from that very darkness and slowly gripped those little shoulders.

Ayra froze.

A tall figure emerged out of the shadows, heavily cloaked. The cloak was so dark that it almost blended in with the darkness behind it. Its heavy hood was pulled up, covering the face of whatever creature breathed beneath. But Ayra knew it was not just any creature.

It was human. But it was not human at the same time. Because peeking out from beneath those heavily cloaked sleeves, was fingers. Fingers that extended to really sharp and inhumanely long obsidian-coloured nails.

Obsidian-coloured nails that were currently digging into her younger self's shoulders. One of the fingers slowly slid down and rested across her younger self's throat.

The tip of the creature's nail dug into the soft flesh there and the child winced in pain.

"Stop!" Ayra screamed, immediately straightening to her feet.

She moved forward, ready to fight whatever that was with her own bare hands but all of a sudden, two vines rose from the soil. The insides of these two, strong vines were lined with thorns--vicious, deadly thorns. They struck at her like a serpent; tightly coiling around her ankles and up to her calf.

Ayra gasped out in pain when the thorns pierced her flesh. Raw and hot pain brought her knees to the ground.

The pain was real but there was no blood. It was almost as if her body was enfolded between reality and imagination.

A shrill cry pierced her ears and she raised her eyes.

Everything stilled.

The creature's nail dug deeper into the child's flesh and the creature tilted its head and stared right back into Ayra's eyes as it slowly --so slowly, sliced the skin of the child's small neck apart.

Ayra screamed. She screamed and clawed the soil beneath her, desperately trying to crawl forward but she couldn't. She couldn't do anything.

Her younger self slowly closed her eyes. Blood trickled down her neck, her chest and her bare arms. A thin line of blood flowed down one of the arms and onto the Glazea that she was gripping in her hand.

The Devil's flower. That's what the Glazea was called. She always knew this fact ever since she was young; had played along these very fields of Glazeas-- touching and plucking and marvelling at the beauty of these flowers.

But Ayra knew that the Devil's flower is not just a pretty thing to look at.

Ayra found it hard to breathe, her chest constricted and her fists tightened. She kicked at her legs, struggling to free herself but the vines were mercilessly strong.

Her eyes were fixed on the Glazea. She stared as the blood slowly stained the pure-white flower into a bright, red colour.

Her vision blurred. And her head pounded painfully.

Ayra.

She stared as the flower gently drew the blood in. Stared as the flower sucked in every inch and drop of the blood on its surface.

Ayra.

Ayra stared and stared and stared. Stared as the white flower slowly transformed into a crimson-red one.

A soft wind blew, slightly rustling the creature's hood away. The creature lifted its hand and a nail flicked back the hood.

No.

No.

No. No. No. No.

Ayra stared into deep, icy blue eyes. She was staring at herself again. But it wasn't her younger self now.

The tall frame, the moon-white hair that flowed down to the waist, the mature and older features that painted the face. It was her body, her hair and her face.

Ayra was looking at herself right now.

The Ayra in front of her pushed the child to the ground. And slowly, the blood of that child seeped into the ground.

A Devil's flower, that's what a Glazea was. And now, in front of her, there was a whole field of these flowers, crimson red and bathed in blood.

Ayra.

She awoke with a gasp. Her heart was running and her ears were ringing.

Neslyn's face came into view.

"Ayra? Ayra what's wrong?" Neslyn gasped, leaning in to grab Ayra's shoulders.

She shook her head, softly freeing Neslyn's arms from her shoulders.

"Nothing. I-I'm fine." Ayra breathed out, struggling to stay calm.

Neslyn's eyes dimmed. She knew Ayra would never say the truth.

At least not to Neslyn. Never to Neslyn.

"You don't seem fine, Ayra," Neslyn observed softly, eyes brimming with worry. 

Ayra straightened up and gripped the seat.

"Drop it, Neslyn," Ayra said, her voice strained but stern.

Neslyn stopped. She wanted to ask a lot of questions to her best friend. She always did. But not like this. Not when Ayra's walls were up and strong and relentless.

"We have arrived at Marvena, Ayra. I'll go ahead first. You can take your time."

With that, Neslyn stepped out of the coach, leaving her best friend behind to catch herself.

The early morning sun shone brightly above, gracing the city of Marvena with its blinding presence.

The carriage had slid to a halt inside the garden grounds that overlooked the grand palace.

A large fountain stood in the middle. A slender statue of an alluring maiden waited amidst the water. A hand gently wrapped around the upper surface of an urn and the other one braced the lower surface of the vessel. They gracefully held it above her shoulder and her chin was gently bowing towards the water flowing out of the neck of the urn. 

It was a beautiful statue, Neslyn noted. 

The Marvena Stone Palace was an overwhelming sight to behold. The magically ornate structure looked vast and resplendent under the sun. Stone spires mightily rose and pierced the bright morning sky. It stood there, high and majestic, looking exactly like a royalty's humble residence.

"Wow." She breathed, gaping openly at the sight in front of her.

"You might want to close your mouth before a fly decides to zoom its way past in. No one wants to see a wizard of Foxerall choke on a pest and die."

"How about I choke you first?" Neslyn huffed.

"You are free to try," Valda commented back haughtily.

Neslyn rolled her eyes before sliding it towards a smirking Valda. She was leaning against the side of the carriage, arms folded and head bent. Her fiery red hair shined radiantly against the burning kiss of the sun. Her wooden staff, Gariona, rested across her back, looking as mighty and stealthy as ever.

Neslyn palmed her twin daggers resting proudly inside the belt strapped around her hip. The weight of her weapons brought a reassuring warmth to her chest.

"Is she alright?" Valda questioned lowly, her head hung low.

Neslyn looked back at the statue.

Silence ensued.

"I wish she would just talk to us," Neslyn muttered softly. She looked at Valda.

"We are her best friends, right?"

She didn't know why she asked that but a slight tone of nervousness laced her voice. She hated it. Hated the seed of doubt that she planted in herself.

She hated this feeling of insecurity that embraced her. But more than anything, she hated herself for being this way.

The question made Valda look at her. Her emerald green eyes blazed under the sun but held no emotion whatsoever.

And Neslyn, for a second, wondered if Valda felt the same unease and distress that she felt.

Valda looked ahead and slowly nodded her head in confirmation.

"Then why?" Neslyn raised her voice, her emotions finally taking control over her. "Why won't she just talk to us?" She hung her head, defeated.

"Does she not trust us?" A low, dangerous question.

A question that would strongly tug at the bond between them. A question that would inevitably determine how deep their bond is.

Valda scoffed, surprising Neslyn.

"Do you think plastering silly titles such as 'best friends' would make her pour her heart to us?" She laughed tightly. "It won't, Neslyn. Not in a million years."

Valda looked ahead.

"Our bond runs deeper than that, Neslyn. I'm sure you know that. And you know damn well that she trusts us with her entire life. And both of us trust her with our lives too." 

Neslyn slowly nodded her head. She gripped her hands into a tight fists as she listened.

Valda continued, still looking ahead but this time, her voice turned soft and her lips pulled back into a soft smile.

"Ayra is....different. She prefers to fight her demons alone. It is not because she doesn't trust us. But because she is afraid." She paused for a beat, "Afraid of what you ask?" Valda scoffed under her breath. "Hell if I know."

She finally turned towards a silent Neslyn.

"What Ayra needs is time, Neslyn. So, we wait for our friend. Like we always do." Valda smiled.

Neslyn looked back at Valda. She was ashamed. Ashamed to even doubt Ayra and her trust towards them. Of course, Ayra trusted them. Neslyn remembered all the times they had spent together. All the smiles and laughs and cries that they had shared together. Remembered all the obstacles they had faced and had overcome together. Remembered all those times they had fooled death together.

She wanted to bend her head down and hide away in a corner.

What Ayra needs is time, Neslyn. So, we wait for our friend. Like we always did.

These words struck a deep chord within her. And Neslyn, as she looked at Valda and at the closed doors of the carriage, she truly realised how less she knew about her best friends.

A deep ache settled in her chest at that thought.

Inside the carriage, Ayra sat there in silence as the wind carried her best friends' conversation to her. She sat there, staring at nothing and feeling nothing.

A phantom ache embraced her ankles and up to her calf. Ayra swore that she could still vividly remember the feeling of those vines holding her captive, imprisoning her in more unspeakable ways than one. 

The wind grew quiet.

Ayra unconsciously rubbed at the skin of her ankles, trying to ebb the dull ache away.