Somewhere Someplace

The wind hummed a somber tune; the sky was blue yet seemed dimmed and grey in hue. Maids were lined up at the front of this manor-estate, forming two rows just outside the courtyard; their eyes and heads down, in both remorse and respect. Beyond and arriving within their view… That bone carriage adorned with that forever distinct figurehead of the skeletal pegasus, following along which were the strange and enigmatic hooded priests and priestesses—temple holders and followers.

Four maids, eyes facing down, carried the wrapped and sealed…young corpse…down the way and through the line made, ferrying her through the grassy sea and towards the Keeper's embrace.

Death was not assigned to any conventional god or goddess. For whilst there was a Goddess of Life, life itself was an existence forced by will, conjured by creation. Death, however, was the most primordial being of all; the force before creation itself: the nothingness.

She was the ultimate state, in the eyes of whom all things—mortal to god, serf to king—were rendered equals. Death spared none, whenever she decided to strike. Death cared for none; for in finality, she was an inevitability: a return to the most primeval of states, nothing. For whilst ghosts or shades might linger and spectate, even they too would inevitably cease to exist: returning to the nothingness.

The Temple of Death, thus, worshipped not a god nor divine will. They were the followers of no other mandate beyond that of finality; they were simply thus: the Keepers of the Dead, at whom none but the dead were ever allowed to directly stare or look.

Indeed, all other eyes were averting any gaze.

It was unnecessary to do an official handover ceremony with the Temple of Death, especially over some commoner maid, yet Sir Berrybottom had insisted. It was a reinforcement of these lands' traditions, to contrast with modern apathy. Likewise, once in their possession, Death's Temple would handle everything, having been provided the necessary information. They would see to it that the body was given the appropriate treatment, cleansing, and that the dead girl was returned to whence she had come—her family and village…

It was said that the rituals of the Temple ensured that no haunting embers remained behind; that soul followed coffin.

Miranda plainly watched from the window, observing the handover from the manor's eyes. She was not the only one who could not help but watch despite having not been selected for the ritual transfer. She was feeling things from this sight; seeing how they treated death… Seeing how much they feared death, terrified by the cycle.

Death, for her, was nothing to fear.

Yet… It was not as if she was devoid of remorse; it was not as though she did not understand loss…

She—her kin, or rather…people—just did not cry about it. They did not evade their eyes from death's gaze.

In her memories were flames; flames that had once felt warm and not cold, from a time when flames were…soothing, neither bestowing shrieks nor cuts into her mind. And in those memories was celebration and rejoice… Of death and of life, both always intertwined. Such was necessary to ensure the dead could rest pacified and humbled.

For those uncursed by the nebulous blight, it was easy to kill—to murder and be cruel. Victims' death, it was said, freed perpetrator from consequence; for the dead could not enact retribution; for the dead were dead, never a concern again. Yet even for the uncursed mans and other races, this was always untrue.

The dead did not cease to nothingness; even for them, the dead could persist—echoes of shadows never noticed.

The only difference between her kind and theirs was that, for those cursed with the violet hunger, the hunger did not necessarily stop in death; for her kind and related kins, the dead could and often did make themselves relevant and known. There were different means—proceedings, rites, and rituals—to pacify these spirits originating from different types of death… From victims of murder, cruelty, or neglect; to those who simply succumbed to nature.

All of them involved fire.

Thus, the only things she could think about now were those flames.

And she hated flames; she hated fire.

"Stupid…ritual" she just muttered, before stepping away.

As she departed, she saw many juniors at the windows, watching. She could hear the silent tears. Black and Burgundy, of course she saw, though one was noticeably absent.

She knew where to find her, however.

-||-

So many books laid piled out and scattered about the table; some closed, some opened. With such breaths both frantic yet calm, Moon fluttered around with baggy eyes, tired and sleep-deprived. Although she had been at this for the four days since, this day of Apple's handover had thrown her into a frenzy amidst her focused motions. Book after book, she had flipped through, desperate for answers; desperate for a solution; desperate for something…

Yet it was clear that she had found nothing.

"I knew I'd find you here…" A softly mellow voice suddenly arrived, steps stepping forth.

"Huh?" Moon's lunar eyes so flung their sight, seeing who it was. "Oh… It is you." Indeed, it was her. "When did you…enter here?"

Miranda halted, gently pressing her chin. "Just now? Did you…not hear the door open?"

"…no." Moon had been far too engrossed. She plopped a rather thick book onto the table, taking a seat; she opened it and eyed the glossary… "Hmm… Could this… Could this be it?" She swiftly flipped page after page, before…pausing. "…what was the number again?" She had to flip back to the glossary to re-eye the page number.

"…just going to ignore me?" Miranda approached closer.

"Mm…" Moon gave a kind of glancing eye… "What are you doing here?" There was a strange antagonism in her voice.

It was subtle, but Miranda was attuned enough to notice. "I didn't see you…anywhere for the handover." she remarked; "I thought…you'd want to…be there."

"You thought wrongly…" Moon so replied, frank; "I could not bear to see it… It changes naught for us. Apple is dead, and the…curse…will come for us too. Black is already convinced she is next. I will remain here until I am taken or until…I find what I seek, whatever…that may even be." She took a moment's pause… "Either way, I…would…prefer to be alone."

"You…don't want my assistance?" Miranda was a little surprised. "Come on, I couldn't have been that useless." She tried to remain cordial.

Moon hesitated… "No." She ultimately remained firm. "I do not desire your…'assistance'…"

Miranda could tell something was…up. "You…begged me, Moon. You…cried to me, you wanted my help… And I promised you that I would, so…" Her eyes shifted aside… "After what happened to Apple, I was…expecting you'd come to me, but…you never did. It's been…four days, but you've been…coming here without me? We…accomplished a lot together, you know… I can read what you can't."

"We accomplished nothing, and you know it…" Moon so stated… "Precisely to your intentions, doubtless…"

"…what's that supposed to mean?" Miranda raised an eyebrow…

The nightly blue-haired maid went silent for a moment, just sitting there…as if contemplating and considering. She smacked her lips a little with a breath that had…a semblance of tension and hesitancy, yet swiftly replacing it was one of decidedness.

"I…always…had…questions about you, Miranda…" she began to say with a cautious glance; "Questions I…always had but never…realized…"

"Uh…" Miranda was immediately confused… "What?"

Moon's voice continued. "How you have effortlessly befriended so many people… How you are beloved by not only propers, but seniors too… Why is that?" Her glance became a stare. "Why is it that…your breaths are always so fresh? I never realized how unnatural that is… Why is it that to confide to you, to be around you, is…such a warmth and comfort?"

"I am…so confused…" Miranda widely stared, a slight shake emerging in her breaths… "Where… Whence is all of this coming? Haha…" She tried to brush off it, however it was hard to appear natural… "I'm just me, you know? Haha…"

Moon just stared… "Yes. You are…you."

Withdrawing her lunar eyes, with a facade of calm, she nervously searched for a book—a chronicle. Finding it, she simply opened it and scouted the pages, until finding…a passage.

She began to read.

" '…Songful voices that encharms. Blackest magics whose touch blights hearts and leaves behind a deathly curse that erodes. Purplish or indigo eyes with a perpetual glimmer. Hair always a darkly blue, indigo, purple, or turquoise, some changing if mature or unshed; rarely black and never brown. Skin often pale, sensitive to the sun. Always with two fangs for pointers, many with four, some retractable. Sharpish ears, but never to be confused with either halflite or elf; for these ears carry a bat's point and a monkey's twitch. Always a man's best friend or secret lover. Drainers of blood and souls'…"

Miranda just stared, tremble in her arms; an unsettled tension emerged within though she kept it obscure…

"All this time…" Moon began to say, eyes withdrawing from that page; "I believed you were an elvish halflite… It never once occurred to me, until I realized it, that you have fangs; even though I noticed plenty of times, even though I heard the stories…growing up… The stalkers of night."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Heh…" Miranda had an awkward smile… "I'm sorry, I am just kinda… When did… How did… Where is this…" Her mind was beginning to circle around itself attempting to ascertain where the fuck was any of this even coming from.

At no point prior had Moon shown any sign of…suspicion. This was completely random, from Miranda's point of view.

"This chronicle." Moon's finger jabbed at the open book before her sight. "This…was the book that gave him answers, but…I deliberated; I could not bear to…know… Frankly, I thought he was being…absurd, but when I mustered myself to…finally read it…" There was a sudden weight in her breaths… "Everything…made sense; this and the other books… They made me realize…"

"…you said 'he'?" Miranda had immediately latched.

"Yes, the young sir." Moon was completely forthright. "Swordstaff."

"…Swordstaff?" Miranda tilted her head, a momentary clatter in two teeth from the shake in her breath.

Moon, again, seemed to hesitate; however, having gone this far, she decided to keep going.

"I happened upon him…three, four? Rightly… Apple died four…days ago." Her memory was still troublesome. "After I…was expelled from…the dormitory, I ran hither in order to…triple my efforts. I…was then summoned to be interrogated by the doctor, so had to leave… But when I finally returned, I found Swordstaff…reading one of the books I had left. I never thought him a reader, so I was curious… But I was hesitant to even talk…"

Miranda was quiet, letting Moon…not monologue as much as filter through her own memories.

"My presence was unwanted, but…I stayed… Being a maid, he requested books, and I fetched them, but it…remained quiet." Moon's breaths were slightly timid… "Eventually, I mustered the courage to tell him I was the one who had left the books and inquired why he was…so invested. And from there, we talked." Her eyes drifted down… "I told him…the partial truth; that I was…investigating something… And then he told me…his reasons—his encounter with you."

"…oh, you've gotta be jesting… That?" Miranda, muttering, sighed… "Alrightly, I'll admit I creeped him out once—but I was completely justified…"

"I told him…we were friends." Moon, however, continued on; "And when I did, he suddenly became interested in me… He interrogated me like the doctor, asking me so many questions… It was like I was providing him whatever missing pieces." She rested her breaths, recollecting herself. "He erupted into such a ramble… The things he said; the things he accused; the things he was convinced of—about you… I was taken aback in disbelief, weirded out; I thought he was completely losing himself… So, I excused myself. I didn't believe his words, yet… Yet…"

"…you kept thinking about them?" Miranda could already tell…

Moon nodded. "…and the more I did, the more…I realized…" Her lunar eyes so looked at her, as if on the verge of tears yet not. "There was something…in his words that made sense… As if unveiling a feeling I always had but could never articulate." Her eyes drifted back to that still open book… "When I returned the next day, such a slob he had left all his books at the table, but…I could not muster myself to look at them; I was…scared…to discover. It required a full day before I opened this chronicle… And when I did, everything just…stitched together."

"…from one…dumb book, huh?" How anti-climactic, although Miranda was still…trying to process.

"I skimmed each of them; the books he had, the books…I myself found." Moon spoke on, voice more direct; "And the more I read, the more things made sense, questions I never knew I always had…being answered… I could not deny it any longer… What you are…"

"Hmm?" Miranda simply stared, purple-magenta outlined eyes piercing. "And what do you think I am, girly?" Her voice lost its charm.

Moon…again…hesitated; however, with a sweat and swallow, she remained undeterred. She looked Miranda straight in her outlined eyes, yet… "No…" she shifted her sight away, "I want…a confession."

"What?" Miranda tilted her head, trying to hide the shake in her breath and limbs.

"From your mouth…" Moon returned eye contact. "Miranda, have you been deceiving us? This entire time…"

Miranda looked down and away, tensing… "I never…said I was an elf; everyone just assumed it…" she thus replied, lowly and mellow… "I was…never…lying to anyone…"

"Omitting the truth is still deception…" Moon slowly nodded her head; although Miranda had given a non-answer, such alone was practical confirmation… "So, his words are…true then…" Her breaths began to sink, a twitch in her lips with a tremble in her teeth. "You are a Tree-Fiend… A vampire!"

"…m." Miranda halfly shrugged, eyes averting.

Moon scowled. "A vampire can enthrall, and a Tree-Fiend can bestow curses—terrible curses that eat from within… You… Everything has been you, hasn't it?" she accused with enflamed voice; "You enthralled us to…to…attack Pink, your own friend, for reasons I cannot even begin to fathom and then pretended to be so upset… And then…you cursed us? The curse of the Tree-Fiends… The curse that erodes and deteriorates hearts and souls, murdering slowly… Yes, it is so obvious… Everything has been you!"

Miranda…was stiff and static. "I didn't actually…do anything…" she mumbled atop her breaths. Such was the irony; she had done nothing at all… Her kind could not even 'curse' people.

However, she knew nothing was going to convince Moon out of this.

"Everything truly does make sense now…" Moon, affect surging, continued on; "How you are such a charm, as if your very purpose is to make everyone surrounding you comforted, warm, and sweetly cosseted… Even though there is something within us telling us, telling me…to run." There was such a breath. "The day we met—the day we first spoke… I only realized this now, but my first feeling… It was terror. Something in me…was terrified… But then we talked, and it…went away."

Miranda did not reply; her averting eyes remained down, one hand gripping her arm behind…

Moon sniffled, wiping only a single tear. "Vampires," she spoke with a decisive glare, "they drain people of their 'lifeblood', leaving behind empty shells without apparent cause of death, beyond a bite to the neck…"

"So, what?" Miranda's purplish outlined eyes finally glared. "You think I killed lil' Apple, now? That it?"

Yet Moon's decisive eyes withdrew, becoming uncertain… "No…" she shook her head; "I…saw…the body; there was no bite. Despite everything, I don't…believe you are a murderer—you deferred that…duty to your…terrible…horrible curse. Perhaps you are wicked enough to wish us a slower…horrific death…"

Miranda's eyes fell astray, posture motionless beyond the tightening of her hand's grip on her trembling arm behind. For some reason, it felt as though there were a needle in her chest. "…would you…" she lowly uttered, "would you believe me…if I said that I feel bad; that I was…worried; that…I did want to help, even if I knew…it was…useless?"

"Maybe I would…" Moon's voice was mellow and solemn; "But not when I cannot trust any word you speak… Not when I don't have even the faintest clue…what your true intentions are, why you are here, or what you even want from us…" Her own eyes fell away… "Perhaps your intentions were not to curse us; perhaps I am wrong… But you refuse to defend yourself or tell the truth… Either way, it matters not: we are doomed, and you have some responsibility."

"Hm.." Miranda mumbled… "If you believe I'm the villainess behind every woe, wouldn't it be smarter to pretend ignorance? To try to use me… I could know the situation… Or are you gonna blackmail me?"

"You are a deceptive nightstalker, a master of manipulation…" Moon so stated; "Why in the Gods' titles should I risk you coiling your fangs into me further? It is obvious that your prior 'help' was…your attempt to mislead me." she was blunt; "And blackmail would be useless. You have this whole house enthralled… Nobody would believe me—or Swordstaff, either… He is certainly convinced so; he has been investigating this unbeknownst to anyone."

"To think he'd play inquisitor…" Miranda so muttered. "So, what? You and Swordy gonna become groupie and shove garlic down my throat? Maybe a silver stake to the chest?"

"…what?" Moon did not even bother to try to understand that. "No… Beyond that one meeting, I've kept my distance from him and especially you…"

"…especially me." Miranda's eyes again…drifted astray. "How much does he know, then? Swordstaff…"

"I do not know, to be honest." Moon remained awfully forthright. "From his rambling, he was convinced…that you are the one spreading some corruption; that you are plotting the demise of him and his house; that you fed on Apple… So on…" She sighed. "But my accusations are mine alone, from my own conclusions…"

"…what about Pink?" Miranda then asked… "…she's his attendant, so…"

Moon hesitated, recalling her last encounter with that girl… "I doubt she knows anything…"

"Hm… Black and Burgundy," Miranda followed up, "have you told them anything?"

"No." Moon plainly answered; "And I do not plan on doing so; although, doubtless for you there is always the danger that I might."

"Yeah…" Miranda needed to ask… "Why are you…being so open? Telling me all of this… Aren't you afraid?"

"What is there to fear when you are already condemned to death no matter what you do or say…" Moon was blunt. "Apple is dead. And, eventually, all three of us will be too. We are already dead. Nothing matters anymore." She looked dead into her. "I will be honest. I do not care: not for whatever Swordstaff is convinced or whatever you are truly plotting… Bluntly, I do not want to know what could possibly be compelling you…" Her voice was…so honest. "All I care about is using the last of my days to find a solution even if its imaginary; even if I am falling into delusions and hysteria… Either I find it, or we deteriorate…from a curse that devours who we once were before…killing us."

Having said her words, Moon paused…breathing in and out, as if released.

"Those are my words. If you wish to silence me now, be with liberty to indulge. It would honestly be a mercy." She was being completely serious. "Otherwise, I ask that you leave me alone and never speak to me again… I will ignore you, and you will ignore me. Your curse will eventually take me anyway."

"…you really detest me now, huh…" Miranda could have never predicted that she would possibly feel so…

Hurt… In this moment.

"Huh… Wow… It's just… Ahaha, wow…" There was a sudden rise in emotion in her breaths, a shiver in jaw and shake to the cheek. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes as if…there was something in them, irritating and wet. "No buildup whatsoever… No subtlety, no foreshadowing… Just like that, the bat's out of the bag… And now you hate me… So forced and random!"

"…what are you tearfully rambling about?" Moon merely wondered, indifferent… "Truly, what were you honestly expecting was going to happen? If anyone discovered that you were deceiving us, manipulating our very hearts and souls, twisting and bending and robbing us of… Of…" Now she was the one who was about to cry. "Please, whatever you must do, do it… But be merciful and spare me at least the dignity of not having to witness your own…miserable self-pity."

Miranda wiped her eyes, sniffling… She focused on Moon, so fearless of death… Every word that girl had spoken was with full expectation of how this would end.

Indeed… Miranda could not simply let Moon walk away without a slit throat, or…

"…" Truly, there were so few options in this situation.

Miranda closed her eyes, breathing in and out, steeling herself… Opening them, she thus approached Moon, step by step.

Moon immediately tensed, gripping her skirt tightly. She closed her eyes, facing down…as if anticipating—preparing. She could feel Miranda's pause behind, her shoulder being pressed by a hand, such predacious breaths looming down her neck, leaning closer. She clenched, expecting knife or bite…

It would be a lie to say that Moon was not scared.

Yet…

"…you wanna help me?"

Such words wisped her ear.

"Huhh?" Moon jerked, eyes springing up. "Pardon, what…?"

"I meant what I said, if you remember; that I changed my mind about you." Miranda so softly spoke; "You're smart and more interesting than I thought—tastier, and that's a compliment." She exhaled such a warm breath onto her neck. "See, the more attracted we are, the more…interesting you are, the more we yearn; the more we hunger."

"I… I am sorry, may we slow down for a moment…?" Moon was becoming flustered, feeling extremely strange; this was…not what she had been anticipating. "W-where are you…going with this?"

"You want answers, righty-right?" Miranda thus spoke; "What happened to you and why… Who am I, Why I'm here…" She bent closer with a smile. "Ask, and I'll answer… But if I do, you'll become bound and inducted… Because it would no longer be me who must decide what to do with you… But the Watcher."

Moon's breaths winced… "I am so…terribly…" Confused. Frozen, she was so utterly confused, never mind unsettled.

"And, Moon…" Miranda leaned even closer into her ear, causing a sharp tingle; "If you be a good girl and play along, I am sure the Watcher will reward you… She was the one who twisted you; she was the one who cursed you… She can certainly undo it." She leaned out, smiling friendly. "I have warmed up to you, Moon; I really have… I don't want to kill you; I want to help you… But first you'll have to help us, because I am only her pawn, and now…so are you."

Ah… Thus, such was the option Miranda had picked.

Recruitment and integration.

Clever.
Although, there still remains one more…
Loose end.