The Redo of a Novel's Villain: Moira

25 - With a Bang

Huey pulled his face up from the smothering confines of the pillow. Hair ruffled and tangled as he swept his bangs back. The winter morning was still swept in darkness and muddlement and he quickly sat up from the covers, dishevelled from one of the best sleep he's ever had. After the whole ordeal a couple days earlier, Huey spent a great deal of time catching up with the servants. He recounted the majority of any note-worthy incidents at the academy while Elaine shared her gossip, he learned that Mr. Joseph had gone back home for the time being during his stay at the academy and how things at the estate were ever so stagnant.

The days had been relatively joyful not including the situation that transpired priorly, Huey had found himself retiring earlier than usual thus resulting in him awake before either Owen or Elaine had the opportunity to wake him up—a rare occurrence, really.

He stretched his arms above his head, eliciting a pop as he gingerly moved off the bed. The morning chill seeped into the marble flooring awash him in clarity as he walked towards the restroom. Today was the long awaited day between he and Nicholas' deal, Melissa Roseri's birthday ball commences at fifteen sharp. Huey washed up by himself and settled into his day clothes by the window seat, book in hand. There was still a while before he had to start the grueling process of getting ready for the ball, but now in the quiet hours of the morning he allowed himself to emerge in the calm. Tranquility gracing his cheeks as his fingers found its way to the book pages; the words illuminated by a dim gas lamp. Huey read sentence after sentence, occasionally taking a break and casting an appreciative view of the outside when the tell-tale signs of dawn appeared.

Grayish clouds melded into purple, pink, and orange. Like the arrays of blended water colors, they stood starkly against the still dark forest below. Huey, against better judgment, pushed open the window. The freezing air hit his body and small goosebumps immediately rose along his arms and legs. He shivered, but persisted. Setting the book down he laid his arms on the window sill and perched himself on top. He let the cold caress his cheeks, the breeze fondling his hair and sweeping through his shirt.

He gazed upwards, witnessing even more of the natural vista of the welkins. Cementing it into his memories as he eyed the faint shadow of the moon still lingering in the sky, sick and pale. But soon, once the sun comes up the moon will retreat, staying hidden until dusk makes its way through the cycle once more.

He sighed, watching cloud breaths evaporate into the air. If only he could cement this moment into history, into eternity. Create halcyon days rather than the subsequent discourse that will plague. And he knew, oh he knew, how there'd hardly be a modicum of serenity soon save for the small joys the people bring to each other. Small, nearly inconceivable compared to the masses. Each and every one of the lives on Evendale yearning for those days submerged in listless everyday happenings. For the eras of peace, oblivious to the Sword of Damocles hanging above and over their heads in grim execution.

Huey squeezed his hands, disconcert settling over him. He was afraid, restless, and much more. He knew he could barely do anything to shift the tides of fate, there was no Moses to spread the fateful tempests and no matter how much one tries to change it, it'll remain the same. But still, Huey held out delirious hope.

Fate may not be static, it could be a fluctuating current, constantly changing. One's decision can rewrite their entire life and their path will diverge like a railroad switch of life. Constantly carving out a new line of destiny like an infinite array of roots. Branching out, scattered, linked, supplicant to one's woes. But ultimately, no matter how extravagant one's puzzle ordained in the stars can be it will all eventually be snuffed out. Because albeit fate is powerful, it is not omnipotent.

Above it lays oblivion, all swallowing, omnipresence, ubiquitous, rife, and boundless. All will return to the gluttonous maws of oblivion, mortal or divine. There is always a means to an end, nothing can escape. It is chaos and order personified, mortality and divinity meshed together, the all-seeing and all-knowing, it is patience yet impatient, it is avarice yet it is humble, it takes and gives true rest, it brings despair and gives solace, it is a curse and a boon, it is everything yet nothing at once.