- Whispers and Wonders: Forgotten Memories

There stood two. Two figures, two bodies, two deep voices watching the scene outside the window unfold, unspoken and unheard words being said between them.

As their eyes passed over the group of three in the distance, one of them spoke, distilling the silence that surrounded them like a cold chilling blanket.

"Do you think they know?"

The second figure shook his head, he was the closest to the window and by all means looked much more relaxed than the first.

"I doubt so. The girl was asking many questions, but that is natural. Come tomorrow they will go to the caves as all the others have."

"And then?"

The second figure looked out over the group once more, his eyes, only illuminated by the moon shining through the window, narrowed.

"They won't find him. The mission will end, and another failure will be chalked up on the board."

The first figure wasn't contempt with this, though he didn't raise his voice, he did speak harshly about his fears.

"But what if they find something? You can speak for all the ones before, but they were different. He wasn't anywhere near here then, yet he suddenly showed up just a few nights ago. They'll be hot on his trail by dawn."

"At least there will be a trial to follow. This mission may last longer than the others did, but it will ultimately end the same."

With that, the second figure walked off, his hands behind his back, followed quickly by the first figure, who called out after him in a violent hushed tone.

"Wait! What about the girl? The other two were asking lots of questions but she was warry."

The second figure turned sharply, nearly causing the first to run straight into him.

"And the other two weren't?"

"N-No…no they were…Or at least they were good at hiding it."

The second figure nodded as if this came as no surprise to him.

"The girl is smart. She knows more than what is shown to her. She looks below the carpet for the dust and dirt underneath it, rather than just seeing the clean cover on top. She may be a hassle…."

The man's figure, known for his deep but sophisticated voice, held his hand to his chin, openly thinking aloud.

"Perhaps it would be best to tell her?"

The first man, whose voice was like a booming drum, immediately objected.

"Absolutely not! We can't go and tell her, not with the trail still being fresh!"

"You don't understand…"

The second man's voice dropped, more silent than any whisper the first man had heard.

"...the masters were caught yesterday meeting with the Scholar's Chapel. They were discussing something when a maid saw them and offered tea. A brilliant excuse but…"

The first man grew quiet, hearing the weight of his friends' words.

"But what?"

"..."

Sighing deeply, the second man looked once again out the window at the pale moon.

"They found her body hanging from a tree not too far away. The masters covered it up, so now, only you, I, the masters, and 'him' know about it."

"Gods…"

The first man cursed, silently shaking his head.

"...so it has come to this."

"Yes."

"What shall be done?"

"If we can lead that group - Endless in the right direction, we might be able to kill two birds with one stone."

The first figure met the second's eyes, and for a moment, they both shared the same image passing between their minds.

"You want them to do our dirty work?"

"Think of it more as them doing the job we could have never dreamed of doing."

With that, the second man walked off, but his voice still carried on down the empty and quiet halls, like a whisper coming from the very walls themselves, all the way into the first man's ear.

"Gods know we've turned a blind eye for too long."

With that, they both faded into the growing shadows of the moon light, a similar and eerie silence passing between them.

It was this silence and darkness that made the red in the third man's eyes stand out amongst a canvas of black and gray, even when both men were long out of sight.

'Interesting…'

***

The night was cold and the wind howled like a wolf, blowing the windows and shutters into a volent ratter. The storm outside had come quickly just as the sun had begun to set and the moon began to rise, over the very same hills the sun fell behind.

Though no rain nor lightning pierced the sky and fell upon the ground, the ever looming presence of a storm still lingered in the air, waiting for it to come like some unspoken flair.

Lia, who had been led down a hall by Winslow, found the silence surrounding the house to be strange and somewhat misplaced. Normal houses would go silent in the coming of a storm, but this was different. It felt as though someone was watching, waiting, ready to pound and trample her on the carpeted floor.

"This is your room ma'am. Your friends have been sent to another room by one of my maids."

Lia nodded, thanking him. Winslow had decided to speak with the masters of the house, whom Lia had not seen since she first met them, and arranged for them all to have a room and boarded stay at the manor.

A most reasonable shred of hospitality.

As Winslow was about to leave, Lia turned abruptly to face him, watching his figure retreating down the halls for a moment, before she spoke.

"Winslow?"

Winslow stopped, slowly turned to meet her eyes, and calmly watched with a cool gaze.

"Yes madam?"

"...call me Lia. I don't much prefer the 'sophisticated' version. It…"

Lia buried her arms, looking for something to do with her hands as she turned to face the floor. Winslow, who was watching this, read her mind like an open story book. Though he didn't know why she was so contempt as to not be referred to in the proper manner, he didn't question it. Clearly it was a sensitive topic she was not willing to share.

"Very well, Miss Lia."

"Just…just Lia will do."

He nodded, watching her carefully, wondering what else she had to say, knowing that this could not possibly be the end of their conversation.

Finally, after some moments of silence between them, she spoke, meeting his gaze with a weak but defensible barrier against her fear.

"Why was Saul so afraid to speak about Voln this morning?"

"...I beg your pardon?"

Winslow didn't know what to say, being caught between a rock and a hard place. The question was so odd that Winslow had to dig back into his memories when he was discussing mere conversation between Lia and himself, showing her around the manor, in hopes to see if he had said something along those lines.

When he found nothing, he bleakly stared at her before speaking, catching his tongue.

"...I…I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. That seems to be a question for Saul, the security captain. Have you yet to meet him?"

"No…well, my companions met him but…I didn't make much fool of myself in coming up to him and asking the same sets of questions."

Winslow now understood that Lia was afraid. She had a question on her mind, but was so worried she would be annoying someone that she didn't say anything about it until now.

'She must have felt comfortable around me. Enough to tell me at least.'

Winslow's thoughts silently entered and left his head like the blowing wind hammering against the windows and outer walls. When he looked at Lia, he couldn't help but see that scared little girl who was so afraid of her own courage that she held her tongue.

At that moment, an image was instilled into his mind, an image of Lia he didn't not intend to forget. Or rather, an image he couldn't stop seeing.

'Such a meek little girl…I feel sorry for her, being a Hunter and all that in this desolate world.'

Winslow sighed, approached Lia in five rapid steps, making certain to keep his distance so as to not frighten the woman before him. The meek and frail woman who appeared to him as a girl, who put on a strong front but nonetheless was like water inside, whereas her outer shell was like stone.

"You have nothing to be afraid of. Saul is a good man who would kindly answer your questions. The only man you have to fear in this manor is…"

Lia's interest peaked, and all at once her image of the meek little girl Winslow had seen, and the one she had instilled in his weak mind.

Catching himself, Winslow looked down the hall, then back down the one he had just come from, before turning to face Lia once again.

"...do be careful of a man named Marcus. He's one of the guards on the security team. Until now he's been on the night shift so you haven't yet to meet him. But…well, that's set to change soon."

"What's so dangerous about him?"

Winslow hesitated, Lia's curiosity reminding him of a child's, someone who would ask why fire burned or lightning struck in such violent and loud bursts, searing the ground like the fire that scorched all that lived in its path.

He didn't need to answer to a much more mindful woman. This was a conversation he knew her parents would have told her once, but seemed to have failed to. She was too innocent.

He needed to crush that innocence for her protection.

"Just…don't get close to him. He has a thing…for women."

Lia seemed to understand and quickly nodded, leaving Winslow relaxed and thankful he didn't have to go through the necessary steps to explain to her what Marcus might do if he caught her.

Sadly enough, even if she ran into him, he doubted there was much he could do against him, but that thought was quickly destroyed and sent from his mind.

"I wish you a good night."

All at once, he quickly bowed and turned abruptly, heading down the halls, his figure disappearing in the looming shadows. The light of his candle was all Lia could see, as it turned a corner and disappeared from her vision.

After the candle light had vanished, Lia's friendly and meek appearance vanished with it, a cool and ever present look of disdain on her face, as she blankly stared at the darkness, occupied with much deeper thoughts than the shadows.

She had kept up this facade against Winslow knowing that he was possibly hiding something, something that the appearance of a meek girl would make him drop all the barriers around it. Even then, if he was hiding nothing, gaining his trust this way was the best way she could get what she was really after.

Something she had to rely on someone else for.

'Did you get it?'

It was a few moments before she heard a voice and for a second then she had thought the man in her head was gone, chased away by her harsh words from before.

But nonetheless, like all times, he appeared.

'I've got it.'

***

The secrets of Winslow's mind, or rather, "Mirror Images" as Cain called it, was just a small scramble of reminders, lost thoughts and the like.

Of course, Lia was more than happy to see that her little facade had worked on Winslow, to which Cain had complimented her on, saying that even he was somewhat questioning her true mental state at the moment. But Lia knew that was a lie.

Being thrown through Winslow's memories made her remember why she was so upset at Cain the day before, and why she had thrown him from her mind for a few hours, refusing to speak with him under any circumstances other than potential death.

To say it had made the investigation harder was an understatement. But nonetheless, Lia was not willing to forgive him, even as he presented the memories to Lia in a flood of voices and thoughts.

'Bacon, egg and cheese. Two pints of cream and…'

'The fire needs more stocking. I suppose I could send Abigail for more wood…'

'Two lemons and a glass of butter, thyme and olives into the pan…'

'The yard needs trimming. Perhaps I can send it to the grounds keeper….ah…'

'Hm…A storm seems to be coming. I do hope it doesn't get in the Hunter's way…'

'A glass of water, a pitcher of ale and a bottle of wine…haaa…why must the master order our entire stock of drink when in bed…'

'Those Hunters are confused…perhaps I can help them….'

'Another pitcher of ale and wine…I wonder how much one of the masters can drink in one night….'

'I…I'm sorry….'

Though some memories were disturbing to hear about the master in bed, and some were simple recipes Lia did not have time to comb through so she promptly ignored them.

Finally, she came across one memory that seems strange. Other than the few bits of information she found, things that told her Winslow knew something, she found a fragmented memory lost in the columns of the others.

"Cain…?"

"Yes?"

He asked from his place by the window, sitting in a comfortable armchair, his eyes ever present on the storm outside.

One could say he was wary of the dangers and the difficulty this would prove for Lia and her group, but Lia simply thought he was avoiding her. He was clearly giving her the silent treatment at any chance he got.

"If it's a fragmented memory, what should I do with it?"

"...a what?"

He turned to face her, his browns growing in confusion that made Lia think she had said the wrong thing.

"A fragmented memory. It's a thought I can see, but I can hardly make form of it."

Cain closed his eyes and focused, combing through the memories he now shared with Lia until he found the one she was talking about, and let out a sound of sudden understanding.

"Oh…no, that's not a fragmented memory."

"But - wait, then how can I not see it?"

He shrugged, turning back to the window.

"Because he's crying."

"Crying?"

She thought the idea was absurd, but as she looked back through the memory, she realized he was telling the truth. The real reason Lia could not see the memory was because Winslow, for whatever reason, was crying, causing the image to become fuzzy and blurry through wet tears.

"I…ugh! I can't see anything."

Cain sighed, listening to her rants as if she was a child, a comparison he found himself making often.

"It's a spilled cup."

"....what?!"

Lia was so shocked that the thing she was so frustrated and so dead set on seeing was just a cup in the end. A spilled cup.

"Why the hell would he be crying over a spilled cup?"

"He's not. He's crying over something else. Listen to his voice."

She focused again, and for once, she wished she had not listened to Cain's advice. HEr heart clenched up and a lump formed in her throat.

'I'm sorry….I'm sorry - I….I'm so sorry…'

Through his words he let out stifling sobs filled with pain and grief, pain filled like a burning ember branded on his skin. It hurt just listening to it and suddenly Lia wondered how much pain he was in during the moment.

It sounded nothing like the Winslow she knew. Hardly anything like the proper and well kept Winslow who walked the halls with a feeling of an ever looming…shadow….following him….always….

'I'm a fool.'

The thought came quickly, and Lia suddenly understood it all. Cain, who was now watching her, asked calmly from his spot next to the window.

"Do you finally get it?"

"...yeah…"

'He isn't hiding any information….'

"He's hiding his grief."