Chapter 19:The Grand Orchestral
Auriel stepped into the bakery, her form casting a fleeting shadow across the familiar wooden floors. Her eyes wandered first to the glass display case, where loaves of bread lay arrayed like forgotten treasures. But the shelves were probably empty now—too bad. She had lingered outside earlier, spectating with a craving for at least one final bite, her last anchor to home before her ascension.
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled, her hands fidgeting as she slipped the pouch of golden vals from her belt. The coins jingled softly. Her gaze scanned the shop—it was empty. Perhaps her mother was in the back, busy kneading extra loaves for the rest of the day or tomorrow.
This was her chance.
She ducked behind the counter, tossing the pouch into one of the cabinets. Her eyes fixed on the meager silver and bronze change lying within, and she carefully mingled the golden vals among them, as soundlessly as she could.
Her mind was so focused that she remained completely oblivious to the figure approaching from behind—the silhouette of a huge pan now tipping toward her head.
Just as the pan was about to crash down, she raised her head, her eyes locking onto it mere inches from her face.
"By Saint Peryl!" her mother exclaimed, relief flooding her features as she pulled the pan back and set it on the counter. "Auriel, you scared me. I thought some thug had broken in." She sighed, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Auriel used the moment to slide the cabinet shut.
"Why didn't you announce yourself when you got back?" her mother inquired, hands on her hips, her gaze scanning Auriel's face. Then her blue eyes widened in dumbfounded alarm.
Gods... she'd forgotten to wipe away the blood from the cut on her cheek thoroughly.
Auriel groaned inwardly as a series of soft palms framed her face, tilting it to the side for a full view. Her mother's eyes brimmed with tears.
"Mom... it's just a scratch. I'm okay," Auriel said, forcing the best smile she could muster.
But her mother saw through it all, her face contorting with a mix of anger and apprehension.
"Auriel, how did you get this?" she demanded, her hands dropping from Auriel's face, though her eyes never left. "Answer me!"
Auriel's eyes blinked frantically, losing focus as she scrambled for a believable excuse.
"I... I fell and got this scratch," she said with a shaky shrug. "Nothing really, Mom." Her right hand twitched uncontrollably.
Through the filter of sun rays streaming through the bakery's only window, Auriel saw the pained expression on her mother's face, faint tears rimming her eyes.
"You know, Auriel, you've never been good at lying."
Her mother's voice trailed off as she turned her back.
"I... I really did..." Auriel started, but her mother interrupted by facing her again.
"Your right hand, Auriel," her voice shaky and raspy, tearing through the air. "It always twitches when you say something untrue. A flaw I've noticed since your birth." Through a sidelong glance, Auriel saw the watery expanse in her mother's eyes, threatening to spill.
"Mom... I... I didn't..."
"I don't care about your reasons, Auriel." Her teary figure scanned her daughter, a bitter smile on her lips. "Just... just sit yourself on that bench and wait while I get the antiseptic and some cotton."
Auriel didn't have time for this. She had to complete the ascension rite before day's end, and it was already late noon.
"Mom... I... I..." But her mother's authoritative tone pierced her ears, making her shudder slightly.
"No more words, Auriel. Just sit down and wait."
With quick footsteps, her mother disappeared into the darkness behind the door.
Auriel raked her hands through her hair, biting deep into her lip, her eyes tracing the floor as she exhaled.
She really was such an idiot. Her fist slammed into the bench, and she winced in pain.
Her eyes wandered to the door, a thought forming in her mind as she gazed at it. She could leave now. Mom could probably sustain herself for a longer time with those golden vals she'd hidden in the cabinet.
Though she would be heartbroken, sad... pained, just as she had been when Dad left and never came back.
Auriel sighed again.
Her figure slumped onto the bench, her hands clasped and nervously rubbing against each other.
Perhaps... she could just see this through to the end.
The sound of her mother's footsteps hastening back drew her to reality. She saw her holding a bottle of antiseptic and a ball of cotton. Her gaze held steady as her mother sat beside her, Auriel's body flinching back instinctively.
Her mother noticed, her eyes becoming a little downcast.
"Mom... I... I didn't mean to..." Auriel shrugged emphatically, but silence was her reply as her mother soaked the cotton in antiseptic and tilted her face to the side.
"I'm sorry, Auriel," her mother said, swiping the cotton over the injury. Auriel's mouth emitted little moans of pain, her body flinching. "For lashing out earlier. I... I shouldn't have. I was just overwhelmed by everything, and seeing you injured flipped a switch in me." She could have rambled more, but Auriel's hands clasped hers, her eyes meeting her mother's.
"It's okay, Mom. I... I was the one at fault. I lied. I'm sorry." Her body flinched again as her mother resumed wiping.
"Auriel, you're a girl. These deep injuries leave scars, which I pray against." Her hands clutched Auriel's tighter, smooth despite the daily toil of baking. "Your father, if he were still here... he wouldn't want this, Auriel."
Her voice trailed off.
"Dad never cared, Mom. You know it." Auriel bit her lip. "He... he left." Her hands clenched into fists.
A warm feeling coursed over her face as her mother framed it, then parted the strands of hair from her forehead.
"He always did care, Auriel. When you grow older, you'll understand more why he did what he did. But for now, just stay out of trouble, okay?" Her hands ruffled Auriel's hair. "Promise me, Auriel. Promise you'll stay out of trouble." Her mother's hand softened Auriel's fist.
Auriel wanted to say it louder, with more conviction, but when the words came, they were no more than a whisper.
"I... I promise, Mom."
Her words birthed a smile on her mother's face as her hands retreated from the cleaned injury and hair.
But Auriel caught them—her trembling ones holding her mother's warm ones.
She could sense the concern on her mother's face as she stared at her shaking form.
"Auriel... are you okay?" Her voice pierced the air as her form drew near, her other hand buckling Auriel's shoulder in a side embrace. "Tell me about it, Auriel. I promise I'll help if I can."
Auriel gritted her teeth, grinding them together as her eyes burned.
She inhaled deeply. This was it—no running, no lies. She was going to tackle it head-on.
"Auriel??"
Her eyes trailed her mother's worried form, locking onto hers.
"I can't fully promise you that, Mom. I... I..." Her voice broke.
"What's happening, Auriel? Speak to me about it. Why??" Her mother's voice cooed, her other hand rocking her shoulders.
She heaved again, briefly shutting her eyes, then gulping.
"Mom." Her eyes locked on hers. "I wish to undergo the Hynoapotheosis."
---
He watched the performers remove their masks, their gazes fixed on him—or more accurately, on the shiny, multidimensional orbs embedded in their hearts. Then their eyes returned to the man in near-tattered clothes before them.
A man whose features possessed no superficial imperfections. Too ethereal to be mere human.
But still, their eyes lingered on him, perhaps questioning in their minds how a pauper could afford such priceless relics... and why he would so casually return them.
He watched their gazes metamorphose from awe to apprehension. How transient.
"It seems you doubt the grandeur of the gift before you... or perhaps the one bestowing such a gift."
From his bare hands, he whisked a hat from thin air—a trick that caught the attention of passersby and pedestrians, their eyes now held spellbound. With a swirl, the hat vanished from his palms, reappearing autonomously atop his head.
"Worry not, mortals. I shall grant you front-row seats to my grand performance. Bear witness, for before your very eyes, I shall unravel the greatest trickery—one that will not only astound your minds but shake this grand city of yours to its foundations." A smile played across his features as murmurs sparked from the gathering crowd. He could hear a few whispering about summoning the Inquisitors.
How diminutive. How beautiful.
Perhaps descending into the mortal realm wasn't as unbearable as he had thought. There still existed some beauty amid the company of ignorant fools.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." He clicked his tongue, his features alight with a smile. He could have bowed, but the Dream bowed to no one—reverence or theatrics be damned. "Witness, feast your eyes on my glorious orchestral." His silver eyes glinted in the shadows cast by the crowd, while the Tetragram seal hummed violently within the confines of the hat.
The pawn was yearning to break free onto the chessboard.
And who was he to deny it its right?
Amid the merging whispers and anonymous murmurs—from gentlemen and slum-dwellers alike, amid the golden rays cast by the sun on jewelries and belongings of gold, and the vastness of contrasting shadows—his words pierced the air like a song ushering the beginning of a duet.
"I deem the great seal binding you... O monstrous pawn of mine." Then, with a dreary, timeless pause...
"A futility."