Heart of Ashes

The Sculptor

Evelyn opened her eyes in a dimly lit room with stark, off-white walls. She sat up and rubbed her head. It no longer felt like a thousand tiny nukes where going off in her head but she did feel like she'd hit her head on something hard.

She looked around at the room she was in. The walls had been plastered but not painted and the floor was solid concrete. There was a draught coming from somewhere but she couldn't pinpoint where, the air was musty and there was a strange stillness to the room that wasn't quite natural. The dim, warm glow of a light came from the weak, shade-less bulb that was hanging from a wire that poked out of a hole in the ceiling above. She moved to stand and it was at this point she realised that she was holding an object in each hand. In her right, was a small hammer and in her left, there was an iron chisel. She frowned at the objects and wondered who'd put them there.

She stood up and turned around to see the rest of the room. There was a big, jagged thing with a white sheet, that obscured the thing from sight, thrown over it. Curious, she went to inspect it. She walked around it, trying to guess what it was from each angle but it was the same from each view. She tugged on the sheet and it fluttered to the ground to reveal a big, grey stone that wasn't much taller than she was. She raised her hands, looking from one tool to the other.

Then, of their own volition, her hands began positioning the tools. Evelyn frowned in bewilderment, someone else was controlling her hands. She rested the chisel against the stone and positioned the hammer behind it. She drew it back and hit the back of the chisel, chipping a piece of stone away. Her eyes widened, she had no idea what she was doing, she'd never even had the thought of trying sculpting. Not once, not ever. In fact, she considered herself to possess a strong lack of artistic skill yet, there she was, chipping away at a giant hunk of stone with a hammer and chisel, and she was doing it fast.

After, what seemed like, no time at all, she'd carved a face out of the stone. It was a woman's face, a pretty face with, what she considered, elf-like features. A sharp, slender nose, soft eyes and fuller, shaped lips with a gentle upward curve. Soon after, Evelyn had managed to sculpt a part of her hair. Gentle waves surrounded the sculpted face and quickly flowed down to mid-back. Evelyn began sculpting the woman's body, she had small shoulders and delicate collar bones. Evelyn sculpted a full bust in the bodice of, what became, a flowing dress and a slender waist. She sculpted one thin arm at the woman's side and the other was stretched out. Her hands were small and they looked soft even though they were carved from stone. She managed to finish the sculpture. Everything about the figure looked soft and gentle. Something about her reminded Evelyn of a mother, like she was the perfect depiction of a mother's love, or like some young Juliet, beckoning to her Romeo. A lover. She looked into her stone eyes and she saw something of Mercedes in their shape. In fact, she was about the same height and shape as Mercedes. Her features were a tad sharper but it was still there.

The air around the sculpture began to shimmer, the same way she'd seen it do when Mercedes came out of her old crone disguise. The sculpture's stoney skin slowly became real. Pale and smooth, it started at her hands then moved up, over her neck, to cover her face. Her dress became white silk. Her hair, lustrous and dark, formed around her face and went on to cascade down her shoulders and back. Her eyes were last and they glittered green, surrounded by thick, dark lashes. Her skin took on a surreal glow and her lips began to move.

She spoke with a soft Irish accent, "Samuel."

That name again, Evelyn was about to ask her what she meant but she began to shimmer again and eventually her whole body was glittering and glowing. Her eyes widened to saucers and she gasped as a light, so bright Evelyn had to shield her eyes, exploded from somewhere in her and she was gone.

Evelyn moved her arm away from her eyes. She was alone again, just her and four bare walls. She sat down and massaged her temples. Samuel, why was that name significant? Why did it keep coming up? Who was the woman she'd just sculpted? Why did she sculpt her? Why did she... explode? She closed her eyes, her mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour and she couldn't even begin to understand what was going on.

"What does it mean to be the granddaughter of Caine?" she wondered out loud, half expecting an answer to come out of nowhere, "What does it mean to be his living death?"

She felt a light, cool pressure on her forehead and she became aware of the familiar smell of insense. She heard voices that were distant and far away. Male voices, three of them.

Her eyes fluttered open - for real this time - and three faces blurred into focus. Ragnar, Dmitri and Anthony were standing around her. Dmitri had a wet cloth pressed to her head and Ragnar looked visibly releaved when she woke up.

"What happened?" Dmitri asked, "Are you alright?"

She blinked to clear her vision, "Caine, where is he?"