Possession | | ONC 2024

Chapter 3

The smile that had covered Rayla's face as she walked through the halls to leave disappeared as she halted to a stop. Ahead, a knight stood at attention. Her feet jumped back, pulling her body along behind a wall. She closed her eyes, hoping the figure she had seen hadn't seen her.

It was Sir Rowland of Deep Rock, King Civon's personal guard and right hand. His intentions had been made clear since they last talked.

"I would like to apologize on the King's behalf. Emperor Azrykis believes putting the past to bed would benefit all related parties. The Emperor also requests the Whiteflower's assistance immediately following."

An apologetic facade followed by a pleading request, which Rayla had immediately denied.

"If the Emperor requests our assistance, the sisters demand an apology."

"That is why I am here." Sir Rowland held up a wax-stamped scroll.

"An apology from their own lips- I mean."

"Absurd." He scoffed blatantly. "This is a time of need."

"Then explain why the Emperor sent you instead of his own guard?" Rayla thought clearly. "Perhaps it is because the situation includes King Civon himself? And if the Emperor worries that past grievances will diminish a future of us working together, he might be correct."

"But the Emperor requests that you move past-"

"No. I decline. That will be all."

She had left at that. No further words spoken could or would sway her mind. Though she had no qualms with Sir Rowland himself, it was who he represented. There was a past. It was not one easily forgotten nor forgiven. Copied words could not excuse unjust behavior. There was no moving on when no effort had been made to do so. Apologize on behalf of those at fault? Preposterous.

"What are we hiding from?" Margrave stood beside her. "Or perhaps I should ask- who are we hiding from?"

"Margrave." Her heart jumped upon seeing him. She was grateful it was him rather than the other. "I thought you left."

"Forgot my hat." He pointed to the folded piece of cloth that looked more like a bucket than anything else. "Perhaps you should forget something too."

"What? Oh no, it's fine."

"Then why are we hiding behind this wall?" He looked. "A knight? From Deep Rock, at that. My my, are we in some sort of trouble?"

"No. I just have no interest in speaking with him. Now or ever."

Margrave's eyes jumped between hers. Again, there was obviously a story to be told.

"Should I tell him to leave?" He stepped into the open, foot extended in the knights' direction.

"No, no, no, no." Rayla jumped in front, stopping his progression. "Go back." She pushed him back.

"But-"

"Rayla Whiteflower?"

She froze. Sir Rowland turned round, meeting Rayla's spooked stare, who quickly dodged back around the corner.

She cursed.

"He's coming, isn't he?"

Margrave peaked.

"That is correct."

She cursed again.

"Here, let me borrow your shawl." He held out his hand.

"Why?"

He raised his eyebrows, disappointed that she had to ask.

"Fine." She shrugged it off, watching closely as he threw it around his head and shoulders and hunched over.

"How do I look?"

"Hopefully, nothing like me."

He smirked.

"Well, let's hope this guy disagrees." He winked and then began to rush towards the figure he knew little of. Rayla, though grateful, had no intention to discover the plan's success rate. It mattered not. Time was all she needed.

"Anoixa." The spell's word left her lips. A swirling bright oval slowly appeared. Her head did not turn, and her feet stayed straight as Rayla stepped in with one long stride. She would have to thank Margrave later.

~

Mageia Mage sat a bit ahead. Silhouettes moved within the stone walls. Rayla could hear the echoes of Verona's laugh from within. It was always boisterous and defined.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

In the window sat a tall wooden clock. Its face was decorated with a forest of maples and birch, surrounding an active brook that weaved through tall grass and wildflowers. The second hand lay near the top left, slightly above the wings of gale geese. In a matter of minutes, the hour would change, shifting the scene into whatever it pleased. A creation from their parents. As a child, Rayla would plan her day so that when the hour struck, her eyes would be the first to behold the newly molded scene. Magic took hold of many this way.

If a child had gone amiss, they were often found at the steps of their store, asking questions with wild stares and excited giggles. Even adults wandered in. Interested or skeptical, the sisters never turned away a curious mind.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Only a minute more. Rayla waited anxiously.

"Excuse me."

Rayla's eyes darted over the cloaked figure she had failed to notice approaching her. A dark-oaked cloak covered their attire and draped past their eyes, casting a shadow across their face. It, however, did little to hide their wrinkleless leathered boots. It took her but a second to notice the crystal broach that kept the disguise together. A failure on their part. No average person would wear a crystal broach, let alone one with a shade of teal. Vaskas, a precious stone earthed up in the Deep Rock kingdom.

Had Sir Rowland sent others to collect her? Was he dense? Had she not made it clear of their disinterest? His presence was unwelcome. She had no intention of listening or assisting with whomever or whatever, and her sisters would speak the same.

Clung. Clung. Clung. The clock's chime interrupted the space between the two. The next hour had come. The forested face began to change. The stiffness started to soften and invert. It swirled and twisted together like a hole of sand.

Rayla did not wait for the face to finish. She spun on her heels and ran, leaving the clock's new scenery to her imagination.

~

Current Chapter Word Count: 990

Total Word Count: 6,564