Chapter 2 ❆ Redemption

I did not know how long I had slept for, but it definitely was enough for me to enter a dream. I thought this would be another episode—when I got to relive the memories of my past life and then be filled with regret afterwards. Today, I paid attention to particular details of the past such as the books I had read and the movies I had watched. The little things. When I would cut my finger from the page of a new book or the calls of my cat that I'd ignored when he'd come seeking attention. Of everything, what stood out to me the most was when my mother's scents would come filtering into the living room and I would rub away the pain I would feel in my nose from the assault of the many smells that would come.

I remembered standing up, a little irked, and making my way over to the window to let the air in. I had turned the fan on high because we could not afford to turn on the air-conditioning unit even in this weather. The fan was obviously voicing its complain of overwork, gurgling and sputtering as it moved as though threatening to launch the rotating blades at my face.

My hands swept the blinds to the side and the glass panels framed with metal creaked open. The hot summer air came rushing in and I wiped off the sweat from my forehead. It was then that I remembered…ice cream. I would like some ice cream.

And, as though heaven heard my wishes, I heard a distant bell ringing.

There would be street vendors on wheels roaming about the town streets peddling a colorful cart. While they pushed, they would shake a bell to call the children to the streets. The cart would be a treasure trove of ice cream flavors that can be stuffed into sugar cones or sweet buns. The colors were pale pastels, usually purple and yellow reminiscent of their flavors. I didn't like getting my ice cream in the bread. They got too soggy after a while.

I listened to the bells and went to retrieve my purse of coins, but just as I made my way out of the door, the sound was suddenly accompanied by singing.

I stopped short, weirded out. Ice cream peddlers didn't sing when they shook their bells. This one…was also not in the language I knew of. It was not of this world.

My mind, realizing something was strange, slowly came to.

Ah, right. This was a dream.

I stirred to consciousness and opened my eyes.

The ringing bell, however, continued to resound in my ear. The singing voice only got louder.

My brain was at first confused but it later spat out a translation of the words. Nonetheless, it seemed to remain a little groggy (or glitchy) because the translation sputtered along like a rusty machine.

It was night, I was sure of it. Though, rubbing my eyes and gazing around further to investigate, I realized it was still not quite the evening just yet. It was sundown, to be more specific. The nap I intended to be a shuteye ended up turning into full-blown sleep of two hours—enough to leave my head with a small ache.

I rose and peeked out from my tent, letting my head stick out from between the closed flaps. I was once more greeted by this world. This world that wasn't Earth. I had left that one behind already and was already well into my new life. This was Csidellon and while there were no ice cream peddlers here, there was a band of people merrymaking by a burning bonfire so large that it eclipsed my little tent by over five or ten times.

My mouth dropped. "What is happening?" I asked.

Now I knew where the ringing bell was coming from. They were celebrating something. I remember now. What was that again? Aneralus?

I looked around. My mistresses Kora and Veronika were nowhere to be seen as well. Eren and Maun were not there either. Where could they have gone at this hour?

As I was wondering, a shadow loomed above me, blocking my view of the sunset bonfire burning outside. I tried looking past the scarred knees but found my eyes gravitating to a shirtless youth with who bore with him a bowl of…soup?

Freaked out, I turtled inside the tent once more.

"Uh…" he began. "You…want join us?" he inquired in his language. "E-eat," he stuttered in Lovardi.

I hesitantly peeked out of the tent and gazed at him. I recognized this youth as Elion, if I got his name right—that guy from earlier. I poked out my head again when I smelled the soup on the bowl in his hands, and looked at him curiously.

"This…soup. We share." He motioned at the bowl in his hands and jutted it towards me. "Gib…P-food," he tried to translate. It swished about in the wooden bowl, almost threatening to spill over. The smoke curled up under my nose and woke my stomach. It grumbled to attention. "I…no bad person."

He was probably speaking like that because he didn't think I understood him—and I could not blame him for that. I brushed aside my auburn curls and slowly crawled out of the tent to emerge under the sunset and pyre light, accepting the soup with gratefulness. I nodded at him and shortly found the bowl warming my cold hands.

"Thank you," I replied in Lovardi, careful to respond to him in the language I knew. I could not use Veneryali as I had always had even though it was the language I was predominantly raised in—I was raised in Venerya, after all. And my mistresses were careful to tell us not to talk in Veneryali. We could not be discovered as citizens of that place as that would lead to immediate discovery and…probably deportation. We were blending in to this crowd of refugees from Vertvalden to mask our presence. I could not also reply to his language because that would be suspicious.

"Yor weelkam," he carefully responded in Lovardi as well, though I realized he had taken way too long to respond with that and he stumbled over one or two sounds in there too. He stared at me for a few moments as I lifted the spoon and stirred the soup.

It was then that I noticed the curiosity marked on his face. "Ku…ku ar'l Betvalden ila na?" he asked. I tilted my head to the side in question, wondering why my mind was working so slowly.

Probably because I just woke up?

"You…aren't you from Vertvalden?" he seemed to have said.

I looked down at myself and realized I had discarded the comforts of my hood and emerged into the world without being hidden. No wonder I felt a little cold. Looking past his shoulders, I felt a bit of discomfort from the thick crowd formed around the fire. I almost wanted to retreat then and there were it not for the sudden arrival of my mistresses and my two other companions.

"Evy! You're finally awake! I see that young man found you," said Mistress Kora. He came over with a steaming bowl of soup for himself, smiling wildly. "Come try their soup. It's amazingly delicious. Though a little…strange, yes."

"Wait a minute…" I trailed off, crawling back into the tent, snatching my discarded hood, and making my way back out.

Kora sighed upon seeing me come out all bundled up. Eren and Maun, nonetheless, came over to my side and chatted me up like usual.

"Evy! Evy! Ka pala muloa de o wioleur!" Eren said in Veneryali. My mind, once more, lagged a little behind as I yawned. You looked like you had a good dream! was what she said. Probably. I didn't catch all of it.

"Speak Lovardi, Eren," Mistress Kora reminded her.

"Imeul! B-but my Lovardi isn't…" she trailed off with a grimace, stuttering along in Veneryali still. "F-fine…" she muttered, finally switching to the language. "I'm sorry."

She wasn't the only one having a hard time adjusting. It seemed Maun was not very well-versed in Lovardi either. He was, however, communicating to me by sign language so I was able to fill him in with what I knew.

"So…Evy…did you have a good…wioleur?" she asked. "You were saying…strange…things," she stammered.

"It's amal in Lovardi, Eren. Dream is amal." I looked at her pointedly and sipped on my bowl of soup. "And it's none of your business."

She put up a crying face playfully. "I was just saying! Why do you have to be so mean?" she exclaimed in Veneryali again.

"Don't show me that face. Honestly. And remember. Lovardi. Lovardi." I did a playful eye roll with my classic mean face and felt a harsh shove being sent to my shoulders. I stumbled back and the bowl of soup swished about dangerously in my hands. "Heyyyyy!" I exclaimed chidingly, sending glares Eren's way.

"You started it," Eren replied, sticking out her tongue at me.

"Say that in Lovardi."

"Dammit!"

"That's not how it translates," I teased further.

It was starting to get confusing with so many language mixing in one conversation, but it was a fun to a certain extent as well.

The bonfire was burning bright and the cinders from the wood were far and high reaching. Mistress Kora had let go of all care in the world and was having fun with the others, singing and merrily dancing. Seeing him happy and cheerful put a smile on my face as well. The tension from my shoulders was slowly drained away though I was still uncomfortable having to mingle with such a thick crowd. I hesitantly bundled up before the fire, watching everyone go on with merrymaking.

I would have not noticed the monk that came in were it not for the countless invitations from the crowd for him to join. I could tell he wanted to go about quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone. He politely shook his bald head to decline and went on over to Mistress Veronika, handing a letter to her politely. She whispered to him a few words—a question which I almost did not get to hear over the sound of music and cheers.

"From who?" she asked, taking the sealed envelope into her hands as she regarded the monk seriously.

"There's no name in the letter. It was handed over a moment ago by a person who said it had to reach you," the monk replied. "They only said that this concerns your matters for the coming spring."

"Of course not," Mistress Veronika said. She looked over to me with a smile. "Let me excuse myself for a bit," she whispered.

I stood up, leaving behind Maun and Eren sipping on their bowls of soup. "Mistress, can I come with?" I inquired softly.

Mistress Veronika looked at me. It was that long, hard stare. Her face was blank but her eyes were searching. I could feel the hesitance and hear the internal debate that went off inside her head.

After a while, she finally nodded. "Then come. Kora, quit enjoying yourself too much and watch over the children."

"Oh, they'll be fine. They're no longer children anymore, don't you see?"

I had a feeling that this letter had something to do with Oblivion. I wanted to be in on the game. I didn't want to be left clueless like I did before. My mistake was that I let myself enjoy my childhood too much. I had the capability and the opportunity but I didn't take it seriously.

We went to a quieter place, retreating to the sanctuary of the inner gardens until the distant music and loud chatter was muted. I pulled my hood back, revealing my bright auburn curls under the rising moonlight and taking in the fresh air with a deep breath. I could feel the thick pool of nature's blood along these parts and it did me wonders calming me down.

Still, I could not help my stomach from spinning like a washing machine. Mistress Veronika began tearing through the envelope and pulled out the letter. When she spread it open, there was only salutations and some nonsensical stuff concerning things I haven't heard of before.

What was this? Some sort of code?

My brows furrowed as I looked at my mistress.

"You worry too much. If it was that easy, then it would be intercepted without trouble," she told me. She then began folding the paper. Her hands made clean sweeps of the corners and were swift with molding it into a shape that resembled a flower with four, sharp corners. She then popped it up an angle and had it take the form of…something like a pyramid.

Everything made sense then. The words lined up perfectly.

"The courtyard has been taken down and the possessions in the House seized. I retrieved only the most important things and found that the child has left behind the harp that she was given. You need to make sure she learns how to control her power. I'll find a way to have it discreetly sent your way," it read.

And it was done.

That was it.

"Does it say nothing about Venerya?" I asked. "What of the civil war? Mistress, can you tell me what really happened?"

Mistress Veronika sighed.

"I need to know, please," I said. "I'm no longer a child. I'm old enough to understand."

"I'm uncertain of the matters now, but before that night we had to leave, Prince Thoran had taken the advantage by turning the view of the people against Alron—who we wanted for the throne. The evidence that Alron had gathered with our help that was supposed to be used against Thoran and the empress to weaken their claim on the throne had been turned against him somehow. A false coup was ignited in the middle of the city in collaboration with a local guerilla force and the blame was pinned on Alron who was publicized to be wanting to take the throne by force. Aside from that, we were also labeled conspirators of the act of terrorism, so we're wanted in the country for treason. Apparently, we also killed the emperor. He was already long dead, actually. They just made it seem as though he died from the attack."

My mouth dropped. "It was that serious? What happened to Prince Alron?"

"He's had to take refuge in the forests by the river Salene because he was gravely injured in the encounter," she told me. "There is still no news of the empress as well, but we are certain she is still alive."

"What about mother?" I inquired. "She was at least buried, right?"

She fell silent. There was an unsettling pause. "Yes."

"But that's not all there is, isn't it?" I said. "Tell me really, mistress."

"Before we could come and settle things, the guards swept in. They took your mother's body and dumped it in an unmarked grave. We…aren't sure where."

I felt my heart breaking all over again. I'd tried sewing it together haphazardly from the past few weeks just so I could get a semblance of…grounding once more. However, just a few words from Mistress Veronika was enough to undo all those threads. This time, I felt as though my heart was being filleted with not really a knife—just plain fingers, digging into the tender flesh and tearing it apart.

From the pain, anger rose inside me like a forest caught on fire.

"Evy," she began and knelt before me. She took my shoulders into her firm grip and shook me. "I cannot tell you to quell your anger because even I am simmering with it. Take care of that fire and use it to forge yourself further. Do not give it a chance to burn you. Never aim for revenge. Aim for redemption," she said.

"What does that mean?" I asked, tears falling from the corners of my eyes.

"You clear debts," Mistress Veronika told me. "In Ovanol, we say 'seikluchankursg ehalumn oler kupstch.'" As expected, there was strength in the words. Ovanol was such a uniquely strong language with harsh drops and stiff pulls. "Take what you are owed and nothing more," she translated.

"How is that different from revenge?" I softly inquired, wiping away my tears.

"It is more righteous. Revenge is reckless enough to destroy everything, causing unnecessary fatalities. This breeds hate into an endless chain. Redemption only seeks to resolve the turmoil within oneself and this is what you should do. This sets you on a path and prevents you from going astray."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Look here, Evy, we've severely underestimated the enemy and their means so now we're in this situation. There's a powerful organization backing the empress and they'd most likely taken control of the matters in the kingdom. This isn't something we can just go against without planning carefully. What we must do now is make sure that, in the re-election of the position of First Among Equals, Venerya doesn't win."

"How?"

"That is for us to figure out for now. You, on the other hand, must know how to take your power under control. You are of no help to us like this. You must earn the right to redemption before you can attempt to claim it," she told me. "You saw how formidable you were. But a stove that cannot control the fire is useless. The Temple of the Gods have some of the oldest and most effective methods of control. I also trust them so. They may not be able to help you specifically, but they will be able to impart to you things that even I cannot teach you."

I nodded.

"You must be able to enter their teachings. If you have to try every year, do so."

I nodded again.

"Promise me."

"I promise."