After returning from the village, Arnold sat in Benjamin’s study.
The blue flower lay on the desk beside him, its soft petals catching the lantern light. Its five sky-colored wings framed a tiny white star at its center, making it look like a fragment plucked from the night sky.
He stroked his chin, lost in thought, replaying the events and information he had gathered earlier that day.
Returning to Izzy’s perspective, within her mindscape, she was seated on her velvet chair before the Memory Theatre.
‘My head hurts…’
She massaged her temples. Absorbing so much information in a single day made her feel mentally overloaded, as if every thought was stuffed into her skull all at once.
Izzy shifted Arnold’s body forward and had him pull out a piece of paper. Dipping a quill into ink, he began writing.
“Benjamin said about the Rite of the Moon Maiden: Legend has it that our Lord personally escorted and protected her Majesty when she was attacked by the vile beast. In return, she gifted our Lord her power, within which was her will to protect children and maidens alike.”
She paused and tapped the quill against the wood of the desk. With just this information alone, she didn’t really know what to deduce. The term “our Lord” was too broad. A legend was a legend, and she could not connect the dots with something so vague.
However, earlier that day, Mary had said something else that really hit her:
“At our village, we revere the Moon Maiden. Our Maiden personally escorted and protected Her Majesty when she was attacked by the vile beast. In return, she gifted Our Maiden her power, within which was her will to protect children and maidens alike.”
The crucial part excluded in Benjamin’s version was: the Moon Maiden.
She remembered the mural she had seen in the basement, the moon symbol on the girl’s forehead.
The moon symbol!
Izzy scribbled more lines onto the paper.
“Her Majesty is the one with the full moon symbol.”
Her Majesty was related to the person with the full moon symbol on her head. Izzy tapped the paper again.
“And the Moon Maiden has a half crescent.”
The Moon Maiden had a half-crescent moon on her forehead.
The village worshipped the child with the half-crescent moon. This child, who, like her ancestor, protected them from the vile beast.
And the vile beast. In the mural, it was depicted as a fluid of living darkness. A roiling mass of limbs, tendrils, and eyes.
According to Mary, this “vile beast” fled to the east.
Arnold’s body gazed toward the window. She remembered the traveler’s warning from earlier that morning.
It was the mansion’s direction.
‘What does that mean?’
Izzy wrapped her arms around herself in the mindscape.
Was there really something in this mansion she wasn’t aware of? Did Benjamin still have secrets hidden here, besides his sacrificial rituals involving children?
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Or…
If it wasn’t the mansion they were pointing at, then there must be something far more terrifying deeper in the eastern woods… and she was here, living right next to it all this time, without noticing anything.
The “vile beast” in the mural… What if…
A terrifying thought crossed her mind. What if the vile beast that was described in the mural… was herself?
What if it was “Isidora”?
The thought made her stomach drop, one she couldn’t quite believe.
‘Ugh...’
The Memory Theatre changed its scene, replaying the last image in the mural.
A lone figure standing between the Moon Maiden and the vile beast.
‘Who was that person?’
Was he a shield, or a sacrifice? Had he died fighting the beast? be devoured? Had he protected the girl with his life?
She had assumed he sacrificed himself to the beast to protect the girl, but she wasn’t sure.
‘Thinking about that later,’ Izzy shook her head and pushed this matter aside for now. There were more things she needed to consider.
There was the matter of the Baroness’s estate.
Something was unsettled about that maid. The moment the thug lunged at the maid was the very moment Izzy sensed that power, a very different kind from Benjamin’s.
Where Benjamin’s ability radiated warmth, this power was the opposite. It was cold, the chilling sensation washed through her mind and made her instincts recoil.
And then there was the illusory eye that opened in front of her mouse. Just an eye cracking open in the empty air.
It was terrifying, as though the eye peered straight through her vessel, straight into her being, made her feel naked down to her soul.
Izzy didn't know what it was. She wasn't about to do the infamous: "fuck around and find out."
‘Dammit.’ Izzy cursed inwardly.
They had just finished dealing with Benjamin; did they really need to worry about the Baroness now too? Hopefully, it wasn’t the case.
Her fingers tapped the desk irritably through Arnold’s hand.
The Rite of the Moon Maiden… It seemed far more important than Izzy originally imagined.
Izzy’s gaze focused outside the window. The forest rustled; leaves shimmered like a restless sea. A sliver of the moonlight peeked between branches.
‘I should just leave.’
The rite. The full moon. The Herald.
Benjamin had mentioned that the Herald would come on the day of the full moon. Mary’s stories connected the festival to the same time.
The day of the Rite was the day of danger. Isidora had no choice but to run away before then.
Yet deep within her mind, a wave of reluctance washed over her. This wasn’t from Isa, but from herself, from within the mature mind. For some reason, Izzy hesitated to leave this place, as if there was still something here that needed to be resolved.
‘The problem is, where would we go?’
The village? The people there were friendly enough; Arnold and her main body could likely find refuge there if she asked.
But it was a small, conspicuous fishbowl. A powerful figure like the Herald would undoubtedly find them there, and the villager would likely evaporate in the face of true power.
The east? The mere thought of heading in that direction filled her with a primal, inexplicable dread. It was a place her instincts screamed at her to avoid. So she tossed that option aside.
Maybe somewhere else, somewhere far from this forest. The city? Easton?
For now, since she had access to the church school, she might as well take advantage of it. Learning the local language would give her more freedom. Knowledge was power. Knowledge was survival.
She also needed a map of the region. Tomorrow, she would have Arnold inquire with the priest about it. Then, the day after tomorrow, they would leave.
Arnold tore the paper he had been writing on into small pieces and let them flutter to the floor.
“Umm, sir,” a timid voice called out, cutting through the heavy silence of the study.
Noticing the sound, Arnold lifted his head, his gaze shifting toward the source.
From outside the broken doors of the study, Erin’s apprehensive eyes peeked in. Her blonde hair was pulled into a neat, small bun at the back of her head, though a few loose strands clung to her cheeks and temple.
Her small fingers gripped the side of the splintered doorframe, and she leaned forward hesitantly, as though afraid to step inside without permission.
The light from the study’s lamp cast a warm, golden glow over her form, illuminating the tiny dust motes drifting in the air around her.
What do you think about the C39-40 update?
