Chapter Three: You

Someone was knocking.

It was dark. And cruelly cold.

Ayra was standing in the middle of a forest.

The murkiness of her surroundings sent a cold shudder down her spine. Her eyes couldn't see past the thick, gloomy fog that embraced her. It was ashy and dark, shadows seemed to dance behind the pudgy haze.

Someone was knocking.

Ayra looked down to see a delicate, gossamer white gown clinging to her body. It was sleazy and thin, barely shielding her from the coldness that kissed the air.

Where am I?

A lump formed in her throat, her hands turned clammy and it was getting difficult to breathe.

A sense of quiescence ensued but Ayra felt and sensed everything hiding inside this deep, deep silence. She was certain that she was alone but then she wasn't sure of that either. A presence lingered around her, somewhere far yet somehow very, very close.

She felt an odd sense of being watched. But it wasn't the heavy and dangerous gaze of a predator. It was almost...observant and alert.

And scared.

As if Ayra was not the prey here, but the predator.

She used her power to softly caress the wind surrounding her—tried to blow out the mist caging her, tried to make the wind whisper to her power. To reassure her that she wasn't powerless. But nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing.

It was as if the wind around her was waiting. Waiting to see what would happen. To see what she would do without her powers.

Without her wind.

Someone was knocking.

It came in threes. Soft but demanding. Gentle but unyielding. Curious but menacing. It felt like something was calling out to her.

She curled her toes and felt the soft crunch of the leaves beneath her. The mist stirred in unrest. And she began walking.

She walked and walked and walked. She did not know where this path lead to but she kept walking. The knocks turned louder and louder. Impatient and bolder.

She began running. Her bare feet harshly pressed against the sodden earth, twigs and rocks cut through her bare skin, but she didn't stop.

Ayra ran like the wind. The icy wind kissed her skin and latched onto her like a leech. She fought the urge to stop and rub her arms and neck for some warmth but before she could ponder further, her feet slowly slid to a halt. 

A thick wall of fog stood ahead of her. She could not see past it but she did not care. Somehow, she knew what to do. Her feet carried her forward, so naturally, as if whatever she was searching for was lurking behind that barrier of mist.

Time seemed to slow down inside, she felt like she was floating but her feet were pressed to the ground.

A gust of wind blew against her and she shut her eyes. And when she opened them, she found herself standing in the middle of a clearing.

She looked ahead and froze. 

A door. In the middle of the clearing, amidst the thin layer of fog lurking around, stood a door.

It was painted white, she noted. A sharp contrast to the darkness surrounding her.

Someone was knocking at the door.

Ayra stared at it. A minute passed. And another. She absentmindedly reached for the side of her hip, her fingers steadily reaching for the solid hilt of her sword. But her fingers curled around emptiness.

Clenching her fists, she continued to stare at the door.

The door had no knob. The door had no keyhole. She forced her nerves to calm down.

Someone was knocking.

"Who's there?" She mumbled. How weird.

Her voice was soft. And almost childlike. She raised her hands to her eyes. So small and fragile. She raised her hands to her hair and found it curling a little below her ear. Her long, waist-length hair was now gone, replaced by the length she favoured in the past. 

Her fingers shook.

A dream. It was just a dream, she chanted again and again.

Someone was knocking.

"Who's there?" Her voice was sharp this time. A demand.

Silence answered.

Someone was banging at the door now.

And just like that, something snapped within her and memories suddenly flashed before her eyes.

A warm smile.

A flash of bright, hazel eyes.

Hands tightly folded against each other.

"Ayra, let's be together forever!"

The scene changed. Ayra's heart skipped a beat.

Cold yet warm silver eyes stared into her soul.

"Promise me."

The wind. The moon. And that person's smile.

That's all she saw.

"I'll always be by your side." 

Flashes and flashes of memories poured in, one after the other. Gruesome and terrifying memories from the deepest, darkest corners of her mind replaced the pleasant ones she just witnessed a minute ago. The pain grew impossibly stronger with every flash, with every piece of her past.

Cold and empty dead eyes stared back at her.

No.

Blood was everywhere.

Stop.

Two bodies lay in front of her.

No. Stop it.

One of them opened their mouth.

Ayra harshly sucked in a breath.

"You promised. You promised, Ayra." 

Ayra shut her eyes and covered her ears. She wrapped her arms around herself and dropped to her knees, rocking her shivering body back and forth.

It's just a dream. Just a dream. She kept reminding herself, desperately trying to trick her mind into believing it.

But it didn't work. She could remember it—eight years ago, the day it all ended. The day she lost everything.

The immense pain, the unbearable loss and the never-ending emptiness drew its claws out and stretched over her heart, holding it and hurting it at its mercy.

It is just a dream. Just a dream.

She wrapped her arms tighter against her shuddering body. A sea of thoughts thrashed behind the walls of her mind and she fought back, trying to reign them in. They were cruel, cruel memories. 

Silence kissed her ears but it didn't last long because just then, out of nowhere, a voice was heard. 

Ayra. It said.

Ayra didn't open her eyes. Didn't dare to. She kept rocking back and forth.

Ayra. It called.

A voice of a man and a woman called to her. It was soothing and alluring. As if it was softly coaxing her to open her eyes and look. She had no control, she realised. So, she reluctantly opened her eyes and looked.

Ayra's heart froze.

The door was wide open.

And behind the door, stood a little girl.

Hollow icy blue eyes, radiant moon-white hair that curved at the ears and smooth pale skin stared back at her.

Ayra's hands started shaking. Her heart thrashed against her chest and her eyes were wide.

Behind the door was Ayra from eight years ago.

It was similar to looking inside a mirror and finding someone who resembles your very body but not your soul.

The girl on the other side was smiling at her. A smile so warm and kind that Ayra almost failed to see the malice hidden deep within it. She did not know that her own face could make an expression like that.

It was horrifying. 

Ayra forced herself to calm down and stared right back at herself. It was weird, to glare into her own icy blue eyes.

"Who are you?"

The girl slowly tilted her head and stared right back. A shiver ran down her spine at the predatory action. 

"Where am I?" 

The smile disappeared and those icy blue—her icy blue eyes seemed to darken. Ayra's spine locked up, her body and mind instinctively reacting to danger.

After a long time of creeping silence, she breathed out,

"What do you want?"

The smile appeared again accompanied by another slight, eerie tilt of the head. The girl on the other side bore her eyes deep into Ayra's and slowly, very slowly, raised her hand.

And pointed a finger dead straight at her.

"You."

You.

Ayra jolted up straight, gasping for air. Her heart thrashed against ribcage, raw fear grippong her heart. She fisted the soft material of her dress near the chest and closed her eyes. A minute passed by and when she opened her eyes, she felt slightly better than she did a moment ago.

Straightening herself up from the freezing hard ground, Ayra slowly took in her surroundings. In the middle of the hallway, she sat, tired and confused.

Did she sleepwalk here?

A slight headache kicked in and she pinched the bridge of her nose. The blood-red coloured curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows at the side of the hallways parted shyly, letting the bright light of the full moon pour in. She gazed at the moon for a long time, her mind surrounding the dream—no, the nightmare that she awoke from.

She dragged her knees to her chest. A wound from the past was ripped open tonight. Ayra knew she would not be able to forget her past but to be vividly reminded of it again, even after she had been working so hard to hide it, felt like all the effort had been in vain.

Tears welled up inside her eyes but she furiously blinked them away and stood up.

Ayra made her way back to her chambers, all the while thinking about her dream. About 'them'.

And about the little girl in her nightmare.

When she reached her chambers, she was greeted by Nascha standing in front of the door, fist held up and high as if she was about to knock.

Ayra stepped closer and lifted her chin. 

"Nascha?"

Nascha met her eyes and slowly lowered her hand.

"Is there a reason why you are roaming the hallways at this deadly hour, Ayra?" She questioned, eyes squinting slightly in the darkness.

Ayra shrugged, the lie rolling off easily. "Not really. I was just having trouble sleeping."

Nascha's usually stoic expression softened slightly in the darkness.

"Are you having nightmares again?"

Ayra bristled and lowered her head. Worse, she wanted to tell but chose to remain quiet.

"Why are you here, Nascha?" She questioned instead, striding closer.

Nascha straightened up at the dismissal and didnt push. Instead she said, "Mother Danelle has summoned you three to her office right now. I am afraid it is an emergency. I am ordered to fetch you three immediately."

Ayra frowned. An emergency? It was not unusual for Mother Danelle to assign them missions out of the blue but it was strange enough that this particular one could not wait until dawn arrived. 

Ayra mentally started preparing herself and nodded her head. "We shall be present in five." 

וווו×

Valda yawned loudly.

"It's two in the morning, we just returned from a mission, and we are walking instead of sleeping. Everything is wrong with this situation. Mother Dan must be out of her mind." The witch complained for the nth time.

"Shut your mouth!" Neslyn hissed, sneaking a glance at Nascha who was quietly walking ahead of them.

"It's not like she can hear us, anyways."

"She can and she will ask her pet—" Neslyn abruptly stopped when Nascha looked towards the side. "—I mean, Envyr, to peck your eyes out." Nascha turned towards the front as if satisfied with the answer.

"And besides, " Neslyn sighed, eyes turning solemn, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Ayra agreed. She couldn't exactly point out what it was but she felt darkness latching around her heart and mind, an ominous feeling settling in.

A warning.

When the massive oak doors of Mother Danelle's chambers jolted open, the three of them straightened their backs and braced themselves.

The first thing Ayra observed was how dark the room was. Four floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooked the large room. The gloomy night sky cracked the pale glow of the moon serving as the only source to illuminate the vast space.

A grand walnut wooden table stood in front of the large windows. A bundle of scrolls, books and parchment lay scattered across it. At the heart of the mess, one torchlight burned. And behind the wide desk, sat Mother Danelle, her face obscured by a paper that she was reading.

"They have arrived, my lady," Nascha informed.

Mother Danelle didn't move but she said, "Very well. Leave us alone for a bit, Nascha."

With a bow, Nascha left the room.

The loud bang of the doors closing echoed through the entire room. Lightning cracked outside the window, illuminating the room briefly. A vicious roar of thunder followed.

And then silence.

"I see you have finally returned from your mission." Mother Danelle said, folding the paper and tucking it between the pages of a book.

The torchlight on the table illuminated her face, her jade eyes seemed to glow and her blonde hair, cascading down in big waves looked heavenly golden under the soft glow of the torchlight.

Mother Danelle was thirty-seven years old, incredibly young for someone to be the headmistress of an academy. But apart from her youthfulness and beauty, one would understand that her knowledge and wisdom were the reason why she sits behind that desk, as the head of the institute.

They bowed their heads in respect. When they looked back up, Mother Danelle's eyes regarded them coolly.

"Lord Barrowen had sent me a really lengthy letter, the first three lines brazenly telling me about the success of the mission and the rest of the letter complaining about how three wizards had dumped the rotten carcass of the Nightwalkers at his door." She tilted her head, "What was your reason for doing something like that?"

Neslyn visibly paled, Valda sheepishly grinned and Ayra smiled. 

"We're not entirely sure, " Valda shrugged nonchalantly, "maybe he's just a shit poor bastard of a Lord."

"Language, Valda." Mother Danelle sighed. "I also heard that you punched him in the face, Ayra, and threatened to tie him up in the sewer and let the Nightwalkers feast on him before you decide to kill them."

Ayra smiled, "Did I really?"

It was a small favour to have drawn the line after just dumping the carcass of those evil creatures in front of his mansion. Young they may be, according to him, but Ayra knows a rotten fruit when she sees one. And it was fairly impossible to respect one. Aside from the fact that Lord Barrowen had called them brats on numerous occasions in their three-day stay at Eideris but also considering how a person of power such as himself had abandoned homeless children on the streets when those dangerous creatures were on the loose showed how much of a bastard he was.

When an order was issued for the citizens to lock their doors and stay inside that night, Ayra still made sure to patrol with the others that afternoon, taking those vicious creatures' weakness to sunlight as an advantage to make sure no one was walking around.

It was hunting night and she could not risk anyone getting eaten. Lord Barrowen's carelessness had already sacrificed too many lives.

It was truly heartbreaking when she found cold and shivering children in the darkest alleys of the city—barely clothed and struggling to live. When Lord Barrowen directly objected to providing shelter and food and prioritised his wealth and pride over the lives of innocent children, Ayra had no choice but to threaten him.

And she did not regret it.

Mother Danelle frowned. "I heard why you did it and it is not in my place to order you to keep your emotions in check when you come across low lives such as himself. But I also do not wish for you to cause problems that would not only affect you but also the academy. Lord Barrowen had threatened to complain to the Council about the academy's, I quote, 'immoral ways of teaching the students' and it was rather difficult to get out of a situation like that."

Mother Danelle leaned forward and folded her fingers, sighing tiredly,

"Though I'm glad you three have returned unharmed."

Ayra looked at Mother Danelle for a long time before questioning,

"What is the matter, Mother Danelle?"

"Whatever you mean by that?" She questioned back, refusing to meet Ayra's eyes.

Ayra tilted her head. "I find it hard to believe that you summoned us at two in the morning to lecture us about a trivial matter such as this one. I know our actions were wrong and our behaviour towards a Lord can't be justified but I don't think this is the reason why you summoned us here."

A warm smile. "As perceptive as ever, Ayra."

Ayra shrugged, shooting a small smile in response.

"It was obvious."

When Mother Danelle bowed her head down and made no move to speak, Ayra truly began to wonder what was wrong.

Neslyn voiced her thoughts, "What's wrong, Mother? Is everything alright?"

"I wish I could say yes but not really. There has been an emergency and I don't know if there's an easier way to say it." 

"We would appreciate it if you are forward with us, Mother Danelle," she smiled slightly, hoping it was reassuring, "We are not children anymore. We can take it."

Mother Danelle smiled sadly. "You will always be my children, even if you are not."

She leaned forward and closed her eyes and opened them.

"Alright, I will tell you the reason for calling you here. There is no point in beating around the bush."

Ayra squared her shoulders, bracing herself for whatever is coming. But the words that spilt out of Mother Danellwere mouth next was like a cruel punch to the gut.

Mother Danelle lifted her head, looked straight at them and said, 

"The seal of the First Gate has been broken.