Fire Born, page 20
Lily was tugged along forcefully after Lady Doreen, who purchased what she wished from as many clothing stalls as she could. It was a beautiful place, Lily had discovered; the buildings were a pale white and towered below the vibrant coloured tents that the festivals and markets were held in. Lily imagined it would've been rather difficult to take down. But nonetheless, that made it no more magical than it already was.
There were many different stalls throughout the market, mostly consisting of food and fashion, each with their own little department. All of them were ridiculously expensive; now she understood why the rich were drawn to such an event as this. Nobody else could afford items as valuable as these.
Lily breathed in amazement as they walked past the most amazing waterfall that fell through a large hole in the tents. It had clearly been cut with an expert amount of precision. Looking up, she could see the rocks that hovered above the city of Shiaan. She remembered them when they approached in the carriage; that was the mountain. The place where the witches resided, dressing only in the colours of fire. Nothing could be seen on their bodies but that.
The water fell into another hole that went through the floor, deep down into a smooth tunnel below. Lily looked down at the deep abyss in curiosity and wondered what lived in such great depths.
She'd heard of the Auror Festival before, and the markets that came after it or before. It depended on the year and how the harvests were to be. If the Gods favoured the people, they would celebrate a month before the markets were to arrive. They had these events in a time of bitter coldness, but Shiaan was a strange place. It seemed to be warm in the winter and cold in the summer. There were no answers to why this was; it merely always had been. The Auror Festival celebrated life and the coming of summer or winter, and whether the weather would be good for the crops. That was a commoner’s celebration, but it was the rich and wealthy who enjoyed the markets.
The people who were in attendance today must've been used to the sight before them, the tents and the great height at which they reached. Nobody looked around in awe at the bright luminous colours that surrounded them, or deeply inhaled to savour the lovely spicy scent that wafted through the air.
There was a sense of beauty to it all; Lily couldn't deny that. In a way, Shiaan seemed far too beautiful to be true. But the markets were another place altogether. She was in awe of it all.
"Dearie," Glena said, "you would look lovely with one of these on. It would complement your skin, I think. It certainly would've looked nice on my Chen..."
Lily stared at her in disbelief as the woman placed another incredibly expensive necklace over her, admiring the bright golden and white beads that shimmered with luminosity against her blonde hair.
Lily could only smile in a bittersweet manner. "My Lady, I'm not Chen,” she reminded her, “and I certainly don't look like her in the slightest! I never knew her, but I've seen the portraits. I cannot compare to her... beauty." This seemed to appease the rage and sincere regret that had settled within Lady Doreen's heart.
The truth was hard to admit, and even she, a young servant, couldn't even begin to compare to the beauty a noble so clearly possessed. And did it hurt? Crush her beyond repair? Knowing that a peasant was a simple human who couldn't afford to inspire such admiration? Most certainly. Lily knew the daughter was gone, leaving behind a deceased father and a broken home that held the souls who had been tainted so readily by power and greed. No, Lily would never wish to possess such beauty, it only brought about a sense of cruelty on the woman who was sought by many oppressors.
"My Chen was beautiful!” Glena agreed. “Oh, my dear Lily, the number of admirers she had were utterly senseless. But I couldn't blame them. She was once perfect."
Lily highly believed this was so. "Yes, my Lady,” she said. “I've heard many stories that speak well of your daughter. She was a lovely, kind woman, or so I was told. My father adored her once, said she was a wonderful, polite young girl. My father hardly speaks well of anyone." This was also true; Lily knew her father was as stubborn as any man could be.
"That was a long time ago," sighed Glena restlessly.
Lily didn't say much. She couldn't bear it either. It was clear Lady Doreen wouldn't appreciate the rumours that she'd been told. It was true that her father had admired Chen Doreen, but that was before her fall from nobility and into the arms of sin.
"I think it looks beautiful," said Lily, trying to distract the desolate woman that stood before her.
"Yes, it'll look lovely on you,” Glena agreed, fastening the necklace at Lily’s neck It was a beautiful pearl-like design, one that was simply made to be admired.
"I-I can't thank you enough," she stuttered, caressing the beautiful stones that had been polished and carved.
As a servant, Lily expected little in life. She didn't have the wealth to hope for more than that. But she'd come to understand in her childhood that with wealth came a sense of rage and bottomless greed. Perhaps it mightn't be she who felt it, but others in a family of money possessed little love within their hearts. It all depended on the individual and what they desired, but greed was the current disease. It festered within the wealthy, tainting all that could be good and just. It was a tragedy, and Lily could only be grateful that money and the fortune of wealth hadn't destroyed her in such a manner as it did many others.
She sighed in exasperation as her Lady dragged her around the market. She loved it here, but there was a sense of deceit that lingered in the air. The elite stared upon the servant girl with twisted sneers on their pink lips. She didn't know whether to hate or admire the market she stood in. It had been a place of wealth for many years, and Lily certainly didn't feel at home.
The gossipers elegantly strode past her, their heads held high with a sense of self-importance. Lily was nothing to them. They wore the finest of clothes, silk and satin, the fabric of those that possessed exceptional wealth and a family name that indicated to the sugary sweetness of nobility. In truth, Lily knew that anyone could be a noble. All they perceived to possess was money. For when you had it all, the world was dropped into your hands. It was your own. A finely made place spun of golden coins and buildings made of stone. A mansion or castle that held the secret of a legacy.
Lily smiled softly at the stall workers. At least they understood her and the life she lived.
None were poverty-stricken, or they didn't appear to be. But much like her, they most certainly didn't live amongst the wealthy. Lily knew the look of the nobles; she'd seen the confident expression on many Lords and Ladies. A citizen who held humbleness within their heart had the eyes of a soul that glowed. That wasn’t to say that some of the noble's weren't like that.
"Not all of them," murmured Lily, thinking upon the boy she once knew to be kind. But over the past few years, he seemed to have lost his way. Aidan Doreen was no longer the boy she once knew.
His heart was unknown, and time had altered those kind eyes of his. They no longer held warmth; in fact, there was now something cold and desolate that lived within those crimson orbs. It truly broke her heart. Losing a friend was never a happy story to be told.
"All of what?" Asked Glena, peering at her servant curiously.
Lily swallowed nervously, and how her heart drummed away! As if she could dance to the natural rhythm of life. The song of a bird that sat upon their world, a black God with feathers that were brandished like a weapon itself. They looked upon her in absolution. A sin that couldn't be forgotten.
"No," she whispered. "I do not know. The market holds life that even I cannot understand."
Glena simply nodded. "Of course, I see. The meaning is clear, child."
And Lily did fear it. As a child, she'd always possessed this ability to feel things far more than she should. It was thick with a sense of false pride. For it was only her who could feel such a thing as this, and it only brought her fascination much closer to the witches of the mountain, robes in red. The colour of the crimson red blood that flowed ever so smoothly through thin and thick veins alike. But this place… well, Lily knew darkness well enough. It'd just taken her a while to notice it, as the wonder had never seemed to cease.
The more she thought, the more she considered the idea that perhaps the wonder had never been quite genuine. And with that, Lily itched for an escape.
She dizzily reached for one of the old tables as physical reassurance. But the energy, that never-ending mist of darkness had enshrouded her mind and spirit. I'm choking, she thought in shock. Lily vaguely noticed the worried presence of Lady Doreen. The world only continued to spin as the dark obsidian shadows crawled out from the ancient wood on which they stood. Child, they whispered upon the wind, come away with us. Lily could think of nothing more utterly horrific.
Suddenly, Lily was alone. Her breath certainly couldn't be counted as healthy. It was ragged and well spent. The creatures crooked their large claw-like hands. "Lily," they whispered.
"No!" she screamed. "Not again. I will not!"
The people of the market passed her as if her outburst was an everyday occurrence. But Glena had never seen anything quite like it. The girl seemed to be hysterical as she looked up upon the unseen sky that was well hidden from the cloaked tents of a thousand colours. The sun was hidden, and so was Lily's light.
Glena grasped at the girl’s pale, shaking hands, though they didn't frighten her as much as her lifeless grey eyes did. She knew Lily, and her eyes were blue. She watched as tears slid upon the girl’s pale cheeks, flesh that was once rosy pink.
Lily’s tongue was twisted and tied. The words refused to slip from her pursed lips as the fear raged on within. It was like that of a storm; it came upon the winter wind curling around the victims it would take. The howling breeze licked at her pale, pasty skin. This was a novelty – and perhaps that was a concern, for the sight was Godly, and she held no part in it. Little Lily continued to gaze up at the tents, crying out for mercy in the Gods they so wisely followed. Not once did another stop in concern, for who could possibly care about a servant in that of cotton? A filthy piece of material that held no worth in the land of the nobility.
"Lily!" screeched Lady Doreen, clutching her servant's shoulders with a sense of concern.
Lily heard nothing but the creaking whispers of those who muttered of possession and love. They would care for her as a treasure, for her soul was made of such finery. The people of her world were not like her in any way. And nothing could be more defined.
Glena hissed in frustration as she gazed upon the Crimson StridersCrimson Striders, or the witches of the mountain, as many called them.
They glided across the old wooden floor, their gender unseen to the eyes of man as red swept across the land. Cold but burning eyes stared upon the two women. Glena knew not when she made the decision within herself, but it was done. She grasped her servant's elbow firmly in her shaking pale hand, tugging the unaware child from the cretins that followed them like a plague of a thousand terrible things.
"Come on," muttered Glena.
Lily didn't respond. Her eyes remained open to the world and the manipulative energy that had seemed to consume her horrifically. All she could see were the shadows of her childhood. A nightmare that had danced across her memories like that of the Gods, untamed and a wild force of nature.
One that certainly shouldn't be trifled with.
"Lily! Wake up, girl. This isn't the time to be stumbling around..." Glena said, yet she knew within herself that nothing much would come from those gaping trembling lips of her servant. It was almost as if a curse had been placed upon the wee trembling lamb.
The Crimson StridersCrimson Striders seemed to follow them wherever they went, and Glena cringed at the idea. They remained hidden from those cruel fiery eyes, but that did little to help them in the slightest.
Lily sobbed, her hands clawing at her flesh, the only sense of skin that could comfort her.
She was alone, trapped in a world of illusion. She knew it couldn't be real, a figment of her mind. But that didn't mean to say it wasn't alive. Perhaps not on the mortal plane of existence, but it breathed life nonetheless. It was something she couldn't even comprehend, a world that she'd never stepped foot in before. If it could even be called a world; perhaps a prison would be a more appropriate word to the place she'd lost herself in.
Glena had wanted nothing more than to continue fleeing from the Crimson StridersCrimson Striders. They were harsh and unkind, and she knew they hadn’t conjured a reputation like the one they held out of thin air. Her own cousins had told her many stories of the victims who had been taken and used. It was unfortunate for the souls that were snared, but there wasn't much she could do about it. Still, for some reason or another, the Crimson StridersCrimson Striders had set their sights upon the young girl who had barely entered her twenties, and Glena wouldn't stand for it! She couldn't bear to see the sinful Gods being pressed upon the shoulders of this young woman. They would only destroy her.
Glena tightened her long fingers around the pale flesh of her servant as she forced both of them behind a cold, stone arch in one of the buildings. It was safe.
Or she hoped it was. But it seemed that wherever they went, the walkers continued to hunt. Like beasts of the night with their noses held high, sniffing for the treasure that had been hidden from them amongst the darkness and other things.
From the grey eyes to the caressing wind, Glena knew one thing: her servant had been touched by the Gods as a wee babe. She was precious, and the walkers would only bring about such a bittersweet descent into madness.
She was sure of it. Every soul they had taken into the cult of the mountain, the humans had transformed into something else. A being of the hunt, a creature that enjoyed only the spoils of war and heavily spilt blood.
"No," she muttered, "please!"
"Lily, hush child!” Glena whispered. “They're almost upon us." But nothing could silence the blinded girl as she curled up against the cold wall.
"Leave me," hissed Lily, as she stared right into the darkness. "I have done nothing to you. And I demand you release me. I am no fool, this world cannot be my own! For it is empty!"
The shadows shifted until all they wore was crimson. Lily blinked. The sight was utterly obscene; she'd never gazed upon shapeshifting shadows before. How curious, she thought. She rose, stepped forward, listening to the alluring tune that rang through her ears. For suddenly, they were playing and dancing to music; some shadows had twisted into a form that could only be that of a child.
Lily laughed softly. It was as if another had cast a spell upon her body. She felt at peace. The figures danced all the more, with a level of elegance that even a noble couldn't possess. They were beautiful. And nobody would deny this. One pale, shaking hand reached out; they were almost within her grasp.
A figure wearing only red stood before her. He was clearly a man. Lily didn’t know how this rather sudden knowledge came to her, but she simply knew. His long, red cloak blew in the silent wind. Lily only gaped at the majestic figure.
His blue eyes twinkled in the candlelight. It seemed to have become slightly dark.
The man spoke: “My name is Morgan, young one. We’ve been looking for you. Oracles are rare, and in the eyes of our Gods, your kind is a gift.”
Lily frowned. “I know nothing of what you speak of. I can assure you of this! I would know if I possessed God-given gifts. My grandmother carried such abilities, but I know I certainly don’t!” Lily was sure of it; she’d lived the most ordinary life one could possibly have. For sure, she had craved the pleasure of silk and satin and dancing upon a marble floor in the arms of a prince who loved her ardently. But such a fate couldn’t be graced upon a commoner such as herself.
“Perhaps it is inherited.”
“I do not carry the sight,” Lily said, frowning. “And I’d much appreciate it if you sent me back to the world where the living remain.”
Morgan frowned, his eyes crinkled. Lily couldn’t see whether it was from frowning or smiling, for his face was covered, and all that could be seen were those bright blue eyes.
Lily had never seen such beauty upon male features before. She couldn’t see much of him, but those sky blue eyes told a tale that spoke of beauty and passion. He must hold much of it in his dark skin, for that seemed to be the only colour she could see around his eyes.
“You are from Haast,” blurted Lily.
Her tongue seemed to have been loosened. Perhaps it was from the various spices her Lady had forced her to try. Favouring her opinion above all else. And that was an utter curse – for then she would be safe from these ridiculous illusions she’d found herself in. Lily was sure of it.
Morgan chuckled, and the dark skin under his eyes crinkled yet again, but this time, Lily knew he was smiling. For wasn’t that what one did when a laugh was placed ever so brightly upon their tongue?
“If I am,” he said, “that holds little importance to our true cause.”
