Lotus in the Snow
“There’s something out there,” The old man grunted. He hid half of his face behind a white mug. One wrinkled hand gripped the handle of the mug so tight they went white. His other hand thrummed against the desk.
“Of course. It’s why we’re here. We received two of your students into our care, claiming that a one of the many creatures in this forest had attacked them,” Rook replied, his-tone flat and concise. The vice principal was a man that let his thoughts wonder. A man that declined to give an exact answer. Rook looked to him as he would a cautious mouse. Twitchy, finicky, unreliable. But worst of all, irritable. So the Knight met this man with a trait only a man of endurance could bear.
“My –um – my students yes,” Vice principal Grant mumbled, fumbling over his own words.
“Kyra and Saul. A third student, Ava, was killed in the attack,” Rook softly reminded him. Grant nodded, jowls quivering, and gave the mug a small squeeze. He refused to meet Rook in the eye, allowing only short glances. “Yes, yes. I’ve notified the families of their disappearance, but I’ll have to do the solemn duty of notifying Ava’s family of her…passing.” Rook nodded. “So…this, excursion? It was for the students to witness the Rium ceremony, performed by the guardian scholars?” He said, glancing out the frosted window of the stuffy office. The heater was turned up too much, making the small human office of the Vice principal almost unbearable to sit comfortably in. Outside, the forest of ice, snow and howling winds had grown quiet, even calm. Just behind the glass, black trees reached up and up, bare and thin as an old man. It was somewhat more appealing than this office.
“Yes, the rest of the students have returned to the apartments in Valyrdonn. I can only aid you when it comes to the students themselves but, the Ellia Matriarch is outside, preparing for the ritual. She might provide a guide in your investigation,” Grant sighed, glancing to the right window that peered out into the ritual courtyard. Leaving the Vice principal to his papers, Rook stalked back down the grey-carpeted, white-walled hallway of doors leading to what once housed the students. It didn’t take an awful lot of imagination to what invited the adolescents into breaking out, considering the square windows set between the two bunk beds. Outside, a soft breeze sighed. Elaine sat on a log, hands placed gently in her lap as she conversed with the giant owl spirit.
“Ellia?” Rook called out, drawing the fur-lined hood of his midnight blue coat back up. The spirit looked to him. She was snow, ice and the Northern lights given form, the black sky behind the lights ripped from the heavens poured into the eyes of the owl spirit. An impenetrable void that promised that she knew more than Rook could learn if he lived a hundred lifetimes.
“Another Knight in my Courtyard of Stars and Nightmares?” The Matriarch sung in her voice that echoed in such a fashion that if given flesh, Rook wondered if it wold be some form of quartz. Her spirit shimmered in the grey sunlight. Rook gave a small bow of his head and a smile.
“The Rium ceremony is one of the most beautiful, a cleansing ritual, correct?” He said, looking to the courtyard. A stone circle sat as the centrepiece, a spiral formed from deep groves dug. At the centre, there was a lotus, seemingly untouched by the frost.
“Truly, it is. But we cannot commence with this ritual of cleansing until the murderous spirit that attacked those poor children is found and quelled. My kind have searched the woodland, but found no trace of the creature. But there are many, many sprits that dwell within the winter-bound mountain and its forests, so our vision may be…impaired. As the Winter Solstice grows closer, the sprits of the mountain grow more restless, some waking from long, long slumbers. It may be a matter of young eyes, those as keen and accurate as those of a Widow Witch’s child,” Ellia rationalised with a slow blink as she said the Winter Solstice. Rook couldn’t help but flinch at her last words. His first reply was a slow blink of his yellow eyes.
“We’ll gladly offer our services. I only ask if it’s possible that you provide us with a guide? The mountain is a dangerous place at the best of times. But if we’re going to pin-point the position of this creature, we’ll need the aid of a spirit that knows this forest,” Rook gave his second reply.
Ellia blinked again. “Of course.”
Their guide was a young Guardian Scholar, seemingly crafted out of blue starlight. Quiet and watching, Torrus let the two Knights climb upon his back and grip his blue feathers. Rook, uneasy as he was about flying, felt it doubly so as Torrus seemed to grow more and more transparent as they took off. Rook held the feathers of the spirit and attempted to swallow his fear. And yet, the owl did not elevate. They skimmed over the road leading out of the courtyard and grey cabins, headed straight for the tree-line at the roads bend. Faster and faster they went, but the owl did not ascend.
“Rook, why isn’t he going up?” Elaine asked clinging to the back of his coat. Rook leant forward. “Hey, Torrus! What’re you doing!” He called over the whip of the wind whistling past. Preparing to jump from the apparently suicidal owl, Rook noticed his own hand. It was transparent. The same, shimmering transparent blue as Torrus had taken over his skin and when Rook glanced back to Elaine, he found she was the same. In this ghostly form aboard the owl spirit, they passed right through the trees as if they were air itself. Through hills of snow, the long black trees and rocks they sailed. They flew through the forest and through the silver light of day until Rook dared to stand on two shaky legs. Elaine held the feathers of the Scholar with a death-grip, daring only to glance up with eyes wide to watch Rook surf atop the owl. They soared, right up until they reached the lagoon. Stepping off the owl, the two returned to their physical form, yet Rook still somewhat felt that feeling of weightlessness.
“This is the place?” Elaine muttered to herself, hugging her cloak closer. “Seems like it,” Rook replied, looking to the crack in the ice. The slice that had been shattered, a new layer of thin ice frozen back over.
“Did anyone of importance, or say, a group of people die in this or around the lagoon?” He asked the Scholar. The owl had a thoughtful, slow blink. “I don’t believe so. No one in our recorded history, at least,” The owl replied. Elaine stumbled down the slope to the black bank. “It may well has have been Kyra’s soul that attacked,” She suggested, crouching at the very edge of the shore. With a gloved hand she picked up a black stone and examined it.
“The thought crossed my mind,” Rook shrugged, following her down. “But what could corrupt the soul of a seventeen year old girl like that?”
“A violent, unwarranted death?” Elaine put forward, casual like. She followed it by biting the rock.
“And what possible reason would two teenagers have to murder another?” And in such a manner that her spirit would be in such a tortured state?” Rook ran his tongue across his gum. He glanced at the lake. It was awfully still. “That’s for us to figure then, isn’t it?” Elaine clapped his back, black rock still in hand.
“Snake-eye stone, does this rock occur naturally in this part of the mountain?” She asked the owl watching them from the cleft. He shook his head. “Where else has it occurred?” Elaine pocketed the rock into her satchel.
“An abandoned village from the March of the Red Dawn, north-west of here and a grove, restricted from the Scholars and anyone who wishes to keep all their limbs intact,” Torrus explained.
“We have to get in contact with Griff. She’ll be keeping a close eye on them anyway and we need the full story of what happened here and why her spirit might have been corrupted in such a manner. Or maybe, it was something entirely different. It could’ve been a spirit sleeping beneath the ice and they disturbed it,” Rook suggested, helping Elaine to her feet.
Whether it was Kyra herself or another spirit entirely, they decided upon advancing their search to the abandoned village. Contacting Griff would require time, patience and a fire. So, as the light faded from the forest they flew to the village in search of the unnatural rock. It was deathly quiet. Even as they’d flown closer and closer to the village, the cries of the birds, occasional scuttle of elk and creatures in the bush and decaying leaves had grown quieter and quieter until falling completely silent. No creatures dare enter this place. Out of instinct, Rook formed his shield, Ocarys. White, intricate and powerful, yet light. With his shield at his arm, Elaine summoned her bow – Chondrocus. Despite their decrepit state, the cabins stood raised on stilts on the slope of the hill. Most of the roofs had collapsed in on themselves, planks of wood, stones and carts strewn about the road. Considering the frozen, over-grown state of most things, it seemed like this had been abandoned and had remained untouched for a long, long time.
“Where’s the source of the rock?” Rook asked the Scholar. He spoke lowly, wary of the unnerving silence of this place. Despite the three layers on him, the cold was biting deeper and deeper, as if he wore nothing at all. But it didn’t just bite into his skin. It went deeper than that. It was the cold that wrapped its tendrils around Rook’s chest as if to crush his heart. But he walked on. He took in a deep breath, thinking to the warmth of the Church, of his home, summoning every scrap of warmth he could. Torrus motioned to the very top of the slope, to the town hall that sat looking over the rest of the village. Even from where he stood, Rook could make out the seams of Snake stone riddled around the base of the hall. In the village itself, chunks of the stone had risen from the snow and ice, some forming mounds, others having grown as tall as Elaine. With her bow at the ready, Elaine stalked from cabin to cabin, searching for any sign of life – or spirits. Rook walked straight through the village, his sights set on the seam above. As expected, the hall was empty. A hearth sat at one side, left blackened and filled with leaves and snow. The long-tables and chairs were scattered, most toppled over. He was alone. At least, for a moment. He let Ocarys fold back into his tattoo and turned to the boy by the fire. He held his tiny hands to the flames that weren’t there and dared to glance at Rook.
“Spirit. What is your name?” he asked, not moving a muscle. Could he be the source? The boy looked to Rook again. “I don’t remember,” He whispered, his voice echoing as a the howl of a wind through a fjord. He must be old. Perhaps from the last spirit from when this village was abandoned.
“What do you remember?” Rook asked, kneeling beside him. The boy did not blink. He simply stared at the long-dead coals. “I remember…the cold. Do you want to see, what took home, what took me?” he whispered. Rook got to his feet, summoning Ocarys again.
The boys whispers were ominous, surely. But it was the sudden return of the cold seeping into his heart that alarmed Rook. The boy melted into mist, still staring at him. The same mist seemed to leak up from the floorboards. From the most thin of the cracks in the walls to the shattered windows, tendrils of the mist snaked through. With Ocarys raised, Rook slowly backed up as the mist gathered into one great mass. He simply watched, finding himself unable to call out for Elaine as the cold was wrapped around his throat. Eventually, it took shape. A young man, appearing as if he had frostbite. His skin was blue, hair white and eyes…simply gone. Black teardrops, almost like Rook’s, poured down his cheeks. Rook’s breathing became hoarse, the air in his lungs being drawn out. He could only stare at the creature, eyes wide, feeling his own consciousness fade out as the blue man raised his hand and with a single gesture, Rook fell to his knees. Ocarys faded away as Rook felt the last of the air in his lungs was drawn out.
“I am what could’ve been.” The blue thing whispered.
ns 172.70.127.73da2
and then Add to home screen.