Chương 91: Chapter 24: The Murmur of Solitude

That weekend, Selena felt an imperative need to escape, if only for a few hours, from the weight of ancient books, the echo of death, and the long shadow of the Whispering Void. She dressed in one of her finest dresses, an elegant amethyst silk gown that accentuated the deep green of her eyes and paled her complexion.

The occasion warranted it: it was the 32nd of Pyr, the festival of the "Farewell to the Sun and the Arrival of the Silent Sap," a celebration marking the end of summer and the slow retreat of nature—it was the first festival that would herald the autumn. Alongside Maya, Ren, and Zorn, a stocky lad with a ready smile and a friend of Ren's, they set out for the city of Kaelburg, leaving the university grounds behind. The city, usually serene and gray, had been transformed.

It was adorned with hundreds of colorful banners fluttering in the evening breeze, and a bustling festive market had taken over the grand plaza. In the very center of the square, a band was playing vibrant, strange music, a unique symphony that pierced her deeply. Selena, with her usual curiosity, stopped to watch, fascinated.

One of the instruments was a long, translucent pipe made from the polished bark of a silicariel, with an embedded tear of resin that vibrated with every note, emitting a deep, rhythmic chiming that seemed to pulse within one's chest. Another was a frame drum whose skin, made of colorful scales, shifted from a greenish blue to a deep red with every strike, producing a sound that was both melodic and pulsing.

From a large, polished spiral conch with a carved mouthpiece, undoubtedly originating from a Mollucapra, came a deep, resonant wind sound. Flutes of organic, curvilinear shapes joined the melody, along with two light-wood lutes whose soundboards were covered with the metallic gray scales of some carapace, producing a bright, crystalline strumming. Selena, feeling the lightness of the moment, treated everyone to candied fruits, bright, sticky sweets that melted in the mouth.

They strolled through the stalls, laughing at the games of skill. Ren proved to be an exceptional archer, winning three consecutive prizes in the target shoot with such astonishing precision that the stall owner, between laughs and complaints, finally forbade him from participating further, claiming half-joking and half-seriously that he was cheating by carrying the cold blood of a soldier.

Maya, for her part, let herself be carried away by the music, dancing with a natural and energetic grace in the center of the plaza that drew more than a few admiring glances. It was then that Zorn, with the shyness of a strong lad, approached Selena and, with a blush he could barely conceal, finally spoke. —My lady, would you grant me this dance? Selena, surprised, declined with a polite but firm smile.

—At another time, perhaps —she said, feeling the abyssal distance that her true nature and her burden imposed even in a moment of leisure. Shortly after, Selena and Maya, seeking respite from the crowd, found themselves in front of a more discreet tent, adorned with embroidered symbols of moons and stars. It was the tent of a fortune teller. A worn wooden sign proclaimed: "The secrets of tomorrow, revealed." Upon entering, the atmosphere changed completely.

The interior was plunged into a bluish twilight, illuminated only by the faint light of several glass jars hanging from the ceiling. Inside them, small, luminescent blue beetles fluttered their elytra with a low, constant hum. Selena caught her breath. They were the same blue insects that had illuminated the cave where she had met Corren, the Path of the Voice, but the moment they drew closer and closer, the creatures became terrified. An older woman lit some candles in their stead.

Bringing her face, furrowed with deep wrinkles, and her eyes, bright as obsidian beads, into view, she pointed at them with a bony hand. Her voice was dry, like rustling leaves. —Girls, magic exists —she announced, with a solemnity intended to be mysterious— and I make use of it to read your future. Sit down and give me your hand. Selena and Maya looked at each other. For an instant, the irony of the situation was so palpable that a small, fleeting, knowing smile played on both their lips. Magic?

Selena thought, with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. If you only knew... They sat on the low stools opposite the woman. The fortune teller first took Maya's hand, small and soft, yet held with the firmness of someone intending to be more solemn in her veiled lie. —I see... —the woman murmured. Closing her eyes and tracing the lines of the palm with her rough finger. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

—A destiny intertwined with beasts, with animals. With studies... and a small design of the future. She made a dramatic pause. —You must avoid eating ornitura eggs for a time. Your anurhy... could fall ill if you do not give it enough water. Maya's expression was a masterpiece of stupefaction. Her serious healer's poker face shattered completely, laying bare absolute incredulity. How could this woman know about her love for anurhys? And about her desire to study?

It was a prediction so specific and so alien to the usual vague forecasts that it left her speechless. The fortune teller continued, sliding her finger along another line. —The lines of your hand... they say that fire will be an enemy in your life. The old woman released Maya's hand with a gesture of professional satisfaction and then turned her piercing gaze toward Selena. —Your turn, girl —she said, extending her own bony hand. Selena offered her hand, small but no longer delicate or bearing immaculate skin.

The incipient calluses from her training with the short scimitar marked her fingers and palms, a map of effort and determination that had not been present on the Duchess of yesteryear. The woman took it and examined it with her rough fingers, tracing the lines with expert pressure. —You are a person who fights for what she wants —she murmured. But this time, her voice sounded less staged, almost genuine. —Your efforts are noticeable in your fingers. She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. — Your lifeline...

Her fingernail stopped at a specific spot. —It appears cut abruptly. Here. At twenty-one, perhaps twenty-two years of age. She looked up, and an almost reassuring smile formed on her wrinkled lips. —It is a stroke of luck that you are about eighteen, young lady. Make the most of your time. Selena suppressed a scathing retort. If you only knew that this body is already twenty-two, she thought, with an internal bitterness. Luck was a cruel joke. The fortune teller continued, sliding her finger toward other lines.

—Your destiny is deeply bound to the lifeline and the line of studies. Both designs indicate that your life is dedicated solely to that. Finally, she released her hand as if letting go of a hot coal. —A warning: you must be careful with heat. She looked at them with decisiveness on her face and a smile. —That will be three bronze crowns for the two of you —she announced, abruptly returning to her mercenary tone.

Selena paid without a word, the weight of the coins is insignificant compared to the weight of the words, however false they might be. Upon exiting the tent, the music and laughter welcomed them back like a splash of reality. They headed to one of the market food stalls, where Maya bought some skewers of ornitura and mollucapra meat, their spiced aromas blending in the festive air.

They found a bench away from the crowd, from where they could watch the play being performed in the plaza, an exaggerated farce about gods and heroes that they found curiously comforting. —That old woman was only speaking in generalities —Selena remarked. Taking bites of her skewer, trying to downplay the knot that had formed in her stomach regarding the lifeline. —That's true —Maya agreed. Then let out a laugh that sounded a bit forced. —My anurhy is lacking water?

She laughed again, but this time with less conviction. —As if I could even keep one. Selena looked at her; Maya was biting into her skewer listlessly. —Be careful with the sun, because it can dehydrate you —Selena said, imitating the grave tone of the fortune teller with a sarcasm that failed to fully hide her unease. She smiled broadly upon seeing that Maya's demeanor improved with the small joke. —Be careful with ornitura eggs, because they can help with your growth —Maya be completed.

Both laughed, a liberating sound that was lost amidst the uproar of the festival. The camaraderie was interrupted by the arrival of Ren and Zorn, who brought with them a faint smell of alcohol and, of course, a large pitcher to share. The atmosphere grew rowdier. The four of them drank, laughing and joking as the night closed in over Kaelburg. Selena, feeling lightheadedness lurking after just a few sips, paced herself, secretly drinking water whenever she could.

But Maya and Ren, perhaps seeking to drown their recent fear and grief, drank with a determination that bordered on desperation. A few hours later, the euphoria had vanished. Ren, his face flushed and his eyes glassy, was weeping openly, leaning on the shoulder of an equally affected Zorn. Between heart-wrenching sobs, he let slip: —I never thought he would die like that! The phrase, drunken and raw, struck Selena with the force of a spell. She hadn't expected Fern to die in such a horrible way either, so...

terrible and abominable. Bleeding from every pore, turned into a waste of life. Not on a battlefield, but in a pristine, white room. The realization was a bucket of cold water. It wasn't just the tragedy; it was the lack of glory, the negation of any meaning. That was why Maya and Ren had drunk so much. It wasn't a party; it was an anticipated wake for their own souls. Turning around, she saw Maya nodding off heavily on the bench, fighting against sleep and alcohol, her body relaxed but her face still tense.

Selena made a discreet gesture toward Fjora and Samira, who were watching from the shadows like two eternal sentinels. Within seconds, the warrior approached and, with a strength that seemed to require no effort, lifted the healer into her arms. The return to the Forest Cloister was silent, traversing already empty streets beneath a starry sky. While Fjora carried Maya, the young woman's head fell against her shoulder, and in a whisper so soft it was nearly carried away by the wind, she murmured: —Mommy... Daddy...

I miss you... The words, simple and laden with universal nostalgia, dealt Selena a new blow. Not only were they condemned to die young and in a horrible manner; they were condemned to do so far from home, far from the comfort of those they loved. They left Maya in her room, tucking her in carefully. Selena stepped out, closing the door softly. In the silence of her own quarters, the alcohol and fatigue finally overcame her. She collapsed onto the bed.