As Galanthus drew the horrible tale to a close, a pang of silence fell over us. To think that was the truth behind Acis’ likeness to Galanthus, I could ill-believe, and would have chosen not to had it not been told by the white wyverness herself, whom I knew as a stranger to falsehood and skylarks alike.
But I was far from the one who took it the hardest.
“You corrupted her soul?” Litzia paled, “How is it possible that such a thing is done in the name of love?”
“How not?” unflappable, Galanthus answered, “She entreated me to the pact. How was I to pain her furthermore, selfishly turning away her last hope?”
“Selfish, but selfishness!” cried Litzia, “Selfish and foolish, both of you! To rend your soul is the utmost immoral act to be done to yourself and allowed in another! As well say you should murder the girl to rid her of earthly sufferings! Even then! Even then, that would be a better outcome than relinquishing one’s soul! Both yours, no less!”
“Who are you to claim what is better for me and mine, ala-sister?” Galanthus glared. “She wanted the pact, so the pact I thus gave her.”
“No!” It was Wisteria who cried out now. Her face was not pale like Litzia’s so much as in utter disbelief. “Hyacinth would never commit so vile an act! That is suicide, self-elmination! She is no fool!”
“Say you!” A rancor came over Galanthus, so that her whole being trembled in anger. “You, who drove her down that path! You, the cause of all! What right have you to criticize her wants? She but chose what suited her heart most at the dead end. An end that I should gladly render ye a taste!”
It was then that I got a glimpse at what the Anemone alares had seen and feared in the “beloved wyverness” before her fate became intertwined with Acis. Fae lines and ghastly eyes lent her an otherworldly impression, so that for the moment she escaped all earthly definitions, attaining strange aspects unlike aught I had seen. As though spirits from other realms endowed her, that I could but recoil from the stirred wyvern. So short a stature drew to a great height then, emitting an aura of bleakness. Unknown sorcery, the same kind from which the soul-rending pact had spawned the great atrocity evident to our eyes.
It is not a thing to be understood, and mayhap I would never learn its true nature. For then, as suddenly as the first had occurred, another drastic change took over Galanthus entire. The terrible aspects from before vanished without a trace, only the trembling intensified. As she shuddered the wyverness gasped out loud, and I felt the whole world quaked. An uneasy, nauseous feeling swept over me, driving my throat parched, tingling my spine, and straightening my hair on end. And then the hall’s light of unknown source blinked, once. In an instant, all things were back to their normal state, save for an unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth and a looming dread in the air. For what had only now momentarily transpired could only portend the darkest possibilities in my frightened wit.
My ala-sisters as I looked had paled. And I saw in their faces that they were no less shaken than I, if not more, for perhaps their keener senses had picked up what I had not.
“Ah!” a faraway, unfamiliar voice broke our trance. And yet when my mind was made clear, I realized it had come from nearer than I had thought. The previously lifeless body of Acis stirred. Her eyelids parted to reveal irises not of her sister’s sky blue shade, but a hazel as of old, even as I had seen in a certain painting.
“All that you have said,” languidly this Acis sat up as though from a year-long slumber, “I wonder if they indeed happened.”
“Acis?” Galanthus uttered.
No doubt what we had seen in the ancient cistern had come to Litzia’s and my mind then. Back then the transformed Acis had been hysterical and in no way sane. We waited but for another raving outburst, but it never came. The knight was calm and composed as she looked at her pledge-sister with distant eyes. Eyes that seemed to recognize and yet regarded her as a stranger.
“But you’re right,” she said, leaning weakly on the rubble, her voice soft and weightless, “My name was Hyacinth, once. And Hyacinth I am still.” Presently, she looked past Galanthus who was next to her, and rested her eyes on Wisteria. The little wyverness held her breath. “You haven’t changed. So many years, so many things...”
But as Wisteria attempted to get closer, perhaps to see for certainty that it was her pair, her one and only destined partner, Galanthus checked her advance with a warding arm stretched out.
“Back off!” the white wyverness said hatefully. Turning to her partner, she asserted, “Your memory is faulty, Acis. Your body and soul unwell. We shall help you, but trust not your present state of mind, you are confused!”
“Then what am I to trust?” the girl said, “My memory is not faulty, Galanthus. I recall well who you are, and what we were. In fact, my mind is now clear. You see, I regained my soul!”
“What be this?” Valerian injected. For a long time she had been quiet since Galanthus had begun her story, for she had already known it, but this took her completely off guard. “You speak madness! Your soul was cast off, exiled! The captain confirmed this!”
“Right,” said Hyacinth, “and yet it is not lost. It reacted, did it not?” Then she indicated her digit to a thing - something that had been glowing dimly enough to escape our notice all this time.
At the appointed end, Wisteria brought a hand to her chest, where resided a runed locket. The Wisteria we knew, of course, had always worn it. And it gleamed now as we looked on, stronger than ever before. “It’s hot...” she muttered.
“No!” Galanthus cried.
“Wisteria’s mother,” Hyacinth unrolled her fingers, testing her stiff limbs, “did not render me that boon out of kindness, no, not for that alone. She was a shrewd woman until the end. Her mother stashed it away - the soul of her loved one. And gave to her keeping where it’s closest to her heart.”
“And a last promise,” Wisteria’s eyes glazed over, tearing. I could not imagine what went through her mind then. I didn’t think aught could. Such a thing was beyond even her comprehension. I could not look away from it. Nor were there only joyous recognition in it. She gawked at the locket, and then Hyacinth, and then to each of us. And each time her eyes shifted from one, the expression likewise altered. “So that one day all of us may decide for ourselves, if the foolish decisions we have made were truly our hearts’ desires. She did not speak of the world beyond! But a chance after long years had passed, and our thoughtless days had clarified the meaning of our actions. Yes. Yes. I regret it all! It is right. I do! I should never have left my pair for a stupid reason so. I should never have given up love and pained us all. I regret it all! Do you, Hyacinth? Do you remember the days we shared? The younger summers and the hopes and dreams we fancied for us both? Have you regrets at all?”
“So you do remember after all! Your transformation a thing of lies and trickery, even as I have suspected!” said Galanthus.
“Only just now,” Wisteria shook her head, “regardless, I speak the truth. I remember everything now, the promise, the secrets, the hopes that I thought vain!”
“Vain it may be still! Acis decided, understand?” the white wyverness countered. “She left it all behind to stay on the Daybright, and for so long a time, had been happy. That I knew of a surety.”
Which one? I do not doubt the merits in both of them. Each had known the girl, had been by her side for a long while. And yet it was true that Wisteria’s memories were those of the bygones, of an abandoned past.
“You’re right, Galanthus, my pledge-sister,” so agreed the knight.
And yet I could mark no relief in the white wyverness’ mien; she knew what was coming. She knew Acis better than aught, perhaps even Wisteria.
“I have never for a day regretted my decision,” said Hyacinth, “I have been happy, that I don’t doubt for a moment awake. I looked back to my past with certain fondness and sorrow, how could I not? But none more. I have been happy with you, sister, and did not care at all for my old self. But, mayhap, I don’t know. You could see it yourself, I know you have. Do you not remember at all those troubled nights where we seldom lay in uncertainty, as all do in a lifetime? You remember how I cannot read the stories right? You asked me once if given the choice I would turn back time and amend all the wrongs done to us. ‘No,’ ever I answered. And I gave you my reason. For I could not imagine my life without you. I have not lived any other. But whose answer was that? The soul that indeed knew you only, I think.”
“And now that your soul’s restored, you regret the pact?” Galanthus asked through gritted teeth.
“Do I?” the knight muttered, covering her face in hands colored with dirt. “I know not if I could call it regrets, Galanthus. I do not know what I am most of the time. How am I to say with surety what I feel? But right this instant my heart wavered. I recalled you with somewhat dear, keen, affection. But also the uncertainty I had rested within. Had been years, or eons, or lifetimes? All this world, don’t you see? It is not mine. I could not quite place myself. Neither here nor there could I be found. Am I the one of no origin who knows only you and the alaris life? Am I the Tithonese naive girl despaired at a forlorn first love, who had a family and a home and a past? I do not know. The years that have passed seem an instant. And all that happened between an unreal dream. I trod that dream for no real purpose of my own. For happiness enjoyed by someone not wholly me. And now suddenly I’m thrust back, and found once more with footing on the ground. Still aimless, I’m blind to all of you, darkness abounds me. And yet, I float no more! It is as though until now I was a stranger!”
“So you do regret then?” Wisteria wept. “You do regret all this madness. For that is what you are saying.”
“I would that it is so simple.” With a startling movement, Hyacinth got to her feet, “But there is one thing I’m sure of. Now that I am back, none should take what’s mine from me again.”
“And so?” Galanthus rose to face her pledge-sister, who stood almost a head taller now. “You would forfeit your place by my side? And all that you are besides, for the has-been?”
“So it seems, Galanthus, so it seems.”
“And it pains you not a little to utter those words? No. Answer me not. I already know. You have no more feelings for me. What we had are but memories now. Am I wrong?”
All this she said with a return to her wonted emotionlessness. A detachment so stark it seemed she spoke of the matter of strangers. And that was more than I could bear. I had not known them for long. But I had seen and had heard.
I could not bear it. And how could I? It was Galanthus who first taught me the worth of a loved one’s happiness. It was in them that I first glimpsed a pure, devoted, unalloyed love. Of which, I had observed and had thought long.
I had envied what they were.
“You are mistaken!” I cried, feeling a despair more grave than there might be in those involved, “It could not be that Acis, or Hyacinth, as she may call herself, has not a sentiment for you no more! That is beyond comprehension, more so than all the mysteries this day had befallen us! I will not believe it! I will not believe that you believe it so. She is but confused. Her soul messed with! Give her time and...”
“No, she’s right,” Hyacinth said quietly. “I do not feel it, no more. Or rather. It was all like a dream indeed! The past years paled in comparison to the memories vivid now in my mind of the days before they made me an alaris. What is the worth of it? Do I care for flight if I must forgo myself for it? Then it is no more that I do those things, that I dine and frolic, but something else that’s but a ghost of a person. So aye, it is my wish to forsake it all and reclaim what is wholly mine. Do you deny my will, Aster? You yourself must know what it’s like to be something instead of naught!”
“Me? Don’t bring me up! Nay. You are not me. As a person, a knight, with Galanthus, you are not nothing. You were more than aught I ever could be. So cease your maddened speech!”
Then I turned my plea to Galanthus, but her gaze rested still on the knight. Unflappable and merciless like the presence of tumultuous winter.
“You are mistaken, Aster,” said the white wyverness unblinking, “and yet there are truths in what you said, as expected of an azure. But I tell you, she does not lie. She could not. For even as her confession of devotion for myself before, the conviction right now is but one-sidedly inspired! Am I wrong? Loredan, you witch!” she turned to Wisteria with a snarl, “You know all along. Why is it that your locket glows still though the contained soul has been returned to its original vessel?”
Wisteria instinctively clutched the locket. It was glowing still indeed, even as it had been. “I cast no spell...” she said.
“Mayhap not you. Natheless I cannot find the Acis I know in this woman. She is someone I know not. That one who is called Hyacinth perhaps, the one who existed even before we met, but not one I know. It must be that you replaced the stored soul in your device with my fragment. Give it back. Now.”
As Galanthus advanced towards her nemesis, the extreme confusion froze us still. A frantic Hyacinth snatched the staff on the floor and rushed like a madwoman and inserted herself between the two wyverns. “No!” she cried, “You cannot do that!”
“I can, and shall!”
Step by step, Hyacinth backed away from her once pledge-sister. Standing guard before Wisteria, and holding the runestaff before her, she cried, “And what if it be naught but your delusion? I am what I should be! I made my decision! That fragment of yours is not mine!”
“Even so! Even so... I will have my answer!”
“Hyacinth!” Wisteria gasped and frantically seized the knight's hand. “Pledge with me!”
They stormed off the hole, and that was a response to prove a true bond. Swift and complete. The Wisteria before us was the one before all the tragedies we had been told, and so was Hyacinth. So as soon as their hands weaved, the ordained pledge blessed them, as natural as the order of things, as destiny manifested. Whoever could doubt they were made for each other? How effortlessly they ascended in one swift gale, sweeping the white wyverness away.
And they fled. Wisteria and Hyacinth. Loredan and Venier, as it should have been.
As Galanthus drew the horrible tale to a close, a pang of silence fell over us. To think that was the truth behind Acis’ likeness to Galanthus, I could ill-believe, and would have chosen not to had it not been told by the white wyverness herself, whom I knew as a stranger to falsehood and skylarks alike.
But I was far from the one who took it the hardest.
“You corrupted her soul?” Litzia paled, “How is it possible that such a thing is done in the name of love?”
“How not?” unflappable, Galanthus answered, “She entreated me to the pact. How was I to pain her furthermore, selfishly turning away her last hope?”
“Selfish, but selfishness!” cried Litzia, “Selfish and foolish, both of you! To rend your soul is the utmost immoral act to be done to yourself and allowed in another! As well say you should murder the girl to rid her of earthly sufferings! Even then! Even then, that would be a better outcome than relinquishing one’s soul! Both yours, no less!”
“Who are you to claim what is better for me and mine, ala-sister?” Galanthus glared. “She wanted the pact, so the pact I thus gave her.”
“No!” It was Wisteria who cried out now. Her face was not pale like Litzia’s so much as in utter disbelief. “Hyacinth would never commit so vile an act! That is suicide, self-elmination! She is no fool!”
“Say you!” A rancor came over Galanthus, so that her whole being trembled in anger. “You, who drove her down that path! You, the cause of all! What right have you to criticize her wants? She but chose what suited her heart most at the dead end. An end that I should gladly render ye a taste!”
It was then that I got a glimpse at what the Anemone alares had seen and feared in the “beloved wyverness” before her fate became intertwined with Acis. Fae lines and ghastly eyes lent her an otherworldly impression, so that for the moment she escaped all earthly definitions, attaining strange aspects unlike aught I had seen. As though spirits from other realms endowed her, that I could but recoil from the stirred wyvern. So short a stature drew to a great height then, emitting an aura of bleakness. Unknown sorcery, the same kind from which the soul-rending pact had spawned the great atrocity evident to our eyes.
It is not a thing to be understood, and mayhap I would never learn its true nature. For then, as suddenly as the first had occurred, another drastic change took over Galanthus entire. The terrible aspects from before vanished without a trace, only the trembling intensified. As she shuddered the wyverness gasped out loud, and I felt the whole world quaked. An uneasy, nauseous feeling swept over me, driving my throat parched, tingling my spine, and straightening my hair on end. And then the hall’s light of unknown source blinked, once. In an instant, all things were back to their normal state, save for an unpleasant aftertaste in my mouth and a looming dread in the air. For what had only now momentarily transpired could only portend the darkest possibilities in my frightened wit.
My ala-sisters as I looked had paled. And I saw in their faces that they were no less shaken than I, if not more, for perhaps their keener senses had picked up what I had not.
“Ah!” a faraway, unfamiliar voice broke our trance. And yet when my mind was made clear, I realized it had come from nearer than I had thought. The previously lifeless body of Acis stirred. Her eyelids parted to reveal irises not of her sister’s sky blue shade, but a hazel as of old, even as I had seen in a certain painting.
“All that you have said,” languidly this Acis sat up as though from a year-long slumber, “I wonder if they indeed happened.”
“Acis?” Galanthus uttered.
No doubt what we had seen in the ancient cistern had come to Litzia’s and my mind then. Back then the transformed Acis had been hysterical and in no way sane. We waited but for another raving outburst, but it never came. The knight was calm and composed as she looked at her pledge-sister with distant eyes. Eyes that seemed to recognize and yet regarded her as a stranger.
“But you’re right,” she said, leaning weakly on the rubble, her voice soft and weightless, “My name was Hyacinth, once. And Hyacinth I am still.” Presently, she looked past Galanthus who was next to her, and rested her eyes on Wisteria. The little wyverness held her breath. “You haven’t changed. So many years, so many things...”
But as Wisteria attempted to get closer, perhaps to see for certainty that it was her pair, her one and only destined partner, Galanthus checked her advance with a warding arm stretched out.
“Back off!” the white wyverness said hatefully. Turning to her partner, she asserted, “Your memory is faulty, Acis. Your body and soul unwell. We shall help you, but trust not your present state of mind, you are confused!”
“Then what am I to trust?” the girl said, “My memory is not faulty, Galanthus. I recall well who you are, and what we were. In fact, my mind is now clear. You see, I regained my soul!”
“What be this?” Valerian injected. For a long time she had been quiet since Galanthus had begun her story, for she had already known it, but this took her completely off guard. “You speak madness! Your soul was cast off, exiled! The captain confirmed this!”
“Right,” said Hyacinth, “and yet it is not lost. It reacted, did it not?” Then she indicated her digit to a thing - something that had been glowing dimly enough to escape our notice all this time.
At the appointed end, Wisteria brought a hand to her chest, where resided a runed locket. The Wisteria we knew, of course, had always worn it. And it gleamed now as we looked on, stronger than ever before. “It’s hot...” she muttered.
“No!” Galanthus cried.
“Wisteria’s mother,” Hyacinth unrolled her fingers, testing her stiff limbs, “did not render me that boon out of kindness, no, not for that alone. She was a shrewd woman until the end. Her mother stashed it away - the soul of her loved one. And gave to her keeping where it’s closest to her heart.”
“And a last promise,” Wisteria’s eyes glazed over, tearing. I could not imagine what went through her mind then. I didn’t think aught could. Such a thing was beyond even her comprehension. I could not look away from it. Nor were there only joyous recognition in it. She gawked at the locket, and then Hyacinth, and then to each of us. And each time her eyes shifted from one, the expression likewise altered. “So that one day all of us may decide for ourselves, if the foolish decisions we have made were truly our hearts’ desires. She did not speak of the world beyond! But a chance after long years had passed, and our thoughtless days had clarified the meaning of our actions. Yes. Yes. I regret it all! It is right. I do! I should never have left my pair for a stupid reason so. I should never have given up love and pained us all. I regret it all! Do you, Hyacinth? Do you remember the days we shared? The younger summers and the hopes and dreams we fancied for us both? Have you regrets at all?”
“So you do remember after all! Your transformation a thing of lies and trickery, even as I have suspected!” said Galanthus.
“Only just now,” Wisteria shook her head, “regardless, I speak the truth. I remember everything now, the promise, the secrets, the hopes that I thought vain!”
“Vain it may be still! Acis decided, understand?” the white wyverness countered. “She left it all behind to stay on the Daybright, and for so long a time, had been happy. That I knew of a surety.”
Which one? I do not doubt the merits in both of them. Each had known the girl, had been by her side for a long while. And yet it was true that Wisteria’s memories were those of the bygones, of an abandoned past.
“You’re right, Galanthus, my pledge-sister,” so agreed the knight.
And yet I could mark no relief in the white wyverness’ mien; she knew what was coming. She knew Acis better than aught, perhaps even Wisteria.
“I have never for a day regretted my decision,” said Hyacinth, “I have been happy, that I don’t doubt for a moment awake. I looked back to my past with certain fondness and sorrow, how could I not? But none more. I have been happy with you, sister, and did not care at all for my old self. But, mayhap, I don’t know. You could see it yourself, I know you have. Do you not remember at all those troubled nights where we seldom lay in uncertainty, as all do in a lifetime? You remember how I cannot read the stories right? You asked me once if given the choice I would turn back time and amend all the wrongs done to us. ‘No,’ ever I answered. And I gave you my reason. For I could not imagine my life without you. I have not lived any other. But whose answer was that? The soul that indeed knew you only, I think.”
“And now that your soul’s restored, you regret the pact?” Galanthus asked through gritted teeth.
“Do I?” the knight muttered, covering her face in hands colored with dirt. “I know not if I could call it regrets, Galanthus. I do not know what I am most of the time. How am I to say with surety what I feel? But right this instant my heart wavered. I recalled you with somewhat dear, keen, affection. But also the uncertainty I had rested within. Had been years, or eons, or lifetimes? All this world, don’t you see? It is not mine. I could not quite place myself. Neither here nor there could I be found. Am I the one of no origin who knows only you and the alaris life? Am I the Tithonese naive girl despaired at a forlorn first love, who had a family and a home and a past? I do not know. The years that have passed seem an instant. And all that happened between an unreal dream. I trod that dream for no real purpose of my own. For happiness enjoyed by someone not wholly me. And now suddenly I’m thrust back, and found once more with footing on the ground. Still aimless, I’m blind to all of you, darkness abounds me. And yet, I float no more! It is as though until now I was a stranger!”
“So you do regret then?” Wisteria wept. “You do regret all this madness. For that is what you are saying.”
“I would that it is so simple.” With a startling movement, Hyacinth got to her feet, “But there is one thing I’m sure of. Now that I am back, none should take what’s mine from me again.”
“And so?” Galanthus rose to face her pledge-sister, who stood almost a head taller now. “You would forfeit your place by my side? And all that you are besides, for the has-been?”
“So it seems, Galanthus, so it seems.”
“And it pains you not a little to utter those words? No. Answer me not. I already know. You have no more feelings for me. What we had are but memories now. Am I wrong?”
All this she said with a return to her wonted emotionlessness. A detachment so stark it seemed she spoke of the matter of strangers. And that was more than I could bear. I had not known them for long. But I had seen and had heard.
I could not bear it. And how could I? It was Galanthus who first taught me the worth of a loved one’s happiness. It was in them that I first glimpsed a pure, devoted, unalloyed love. Of which, I had observed and had thought long.
I had envied what they were.
“You are mistaken!” I cried, feeling a despair more grave than there might be in those involved, “It could not be that Acis, or Hyacinth, as she may call herself, has not a sentiment for you no more! That is beyond comprehension, more so than all the mysteries this day had befallen us! I will not believe it! I will not believe that you believe it so. She is but confused. Her soul messed with! Give her time and...”
“No, she’s right,” Hyacinth said quietly. “I do not feel it, no more. Or rather. It was all like a dream indeed! The past years paled in comparison to the memories vivid now in my mind of the days before they made me an alaris. What is the worth of it? Do I care for flight if I must forgo myself for it? Then it is no more that I do those things, that I dine and frolic, but something else that’s but a ghost of a person. So aye, it is my wish to forsake it all and reclaim what is wholly mine. Do you deny my will, Aster? You yourself must know what it’s like to be something instead of naught!”
“Me? Don’t bring me up! Nay. You are not me. As a person, a knight, with Galanthus, you are not nothing. You were more than aught I ever could be. So cease your maddened speech!”
Then I turned my plea to Galanthus, but her gaze rested still on the knight. Unflappable and merciless like the presence of tumultuous winter.
“You are mistaken, Aster,” said the white wyverness unblinking, “and yet there are truths in what you said, as expected of an azure. But I tell you, she does not lie. She could not. For even as her confession of devotion for myself before, the conviction right now is but one-sidedly inspired! Am I wrong? Loredan, you witch!” she turned to Wisteria with a snarl, “You know all along. Why is it that your locket glows still though the contained soul has been returned to its original vessel?”
Wisteria instinctively clutched the locket. It was glowing still indeed, even as it had been. “I cast no spell...” she said.
“Mayhap not you. Natheless I cannot find the Acis I know in this woman. She is someone I know not. That one who is called Hyacinth perhaps, the one who existed even before we met, but not one I know. It must be that you replaced the stored soul in your device with my fragment. Give it back. Now.”
As Galanthus advanced towards her nemesis, the extreme confusion froze us still. A frantic Hyacinth snatched the staff on the floor and rushed like a madwoman and inserted herself between the two wyverns. “No!” she cried, “You cannot do that!”
“I can, and shall!”
Step by step, Hyacinth backed away from her once pledge-sister. Standing guard before Wisteria, and holding the runestaff before her, she cried, “And what if it be naught but your delusion? I am what I should be! I made my decision! That fragment of yours is not mine!”
“Even so! Even so... I will have my answer!”
“Hyacinth!” Wisteria gasped and frantically seized the knight's hand. “Pledge with me!”
They stormed off the hole, and that was a response to prove a true bond. Swift and complete. The Wisteria before us was the one before all the tragedies we had been told, and so was Hyacinth. So as soon as their hands weaved, the ordained pledge blessed them, as natural as the order of things, as destiny manifested. Whoever could doubt they were made for each other? How effortlessly they ascended in one swift gale, sweeping the white wyverness away.
And they fled. Wisteria and Hyacinth. Loredan and Venier, as it should have been.
