22. TWENTY TWO
TWENTY TWO
ORDER OF ELORA
Q uelling the rage surging within me, I watched figures appear from the swirling cone of light.
Seraphina appeared first, followed by the brothers, and then someone else emerged from the light.
Peering into the shifting light, I noticed that Cillian carried what appeared to be a young girl, lying limply in his arms.
Alarmed, I rushed toward them as the vortex winked out, ushering once again the balmy afternoon sunlight and the serenade of birds.
The young girl Cillian carried seemed to be unconscious, judging by the way her head bobbed.
She seemed very delicate, almost frail in build, and the scarlet mane of hair flowing to the ground was a burnished colour I had never seen before.
Curious, I approached them, but I could only get as far as the barrier.
Though Cillian glanced at me, he said nothing and hurried to keep up with Seraphina, Fionn, and Torin, literally jogging toward the manor.
Still clad in breeches, white shirts and boots that they had left in, they looked somewhat dishevelled, as though they’d travelled on a long journey.
Their faces were serious, almost grim. The anger I felt at seeing them after being abandoned for so many days transformed into anxiety when I glimpsed the young girl’s angelic yet oddly proportioned face.
It occurred to me that she didn’t look quite human.
Her body was petite and elfin, almost like a creature I'd have imagined residing in the forest. Her skin was creamy but mottled with pink blotches.
Clad in a fine silken empire-wasted teal gown, it harkened from a modern Renaissance-era and was adorned with ornate jewellery of pearls and emeralds.
She could have been a storybook princess until I noticed that her slender hands had six unusually long fingers. Her feet were bare and marked by tattooed symbols trailing up to her ankles. She was beautiful and bizarre at the same time.
“Cillian! What’s happening? Who’s that girl?”
He glanced at me with welcoming warmth, but Fionn abruptly stopped and glared at me.
I followed, trying to keep up.
“Cillian, what have you done? Is she still alive?”
“It's none of your concern who she is,” Fionn said, without even looking at me.
“Go back to your room.”
Sweat trickled down my neck. He was ordering me to my room, but all I could think about was that I had just been in his and left it in a mess. I pushed the thought out of my mind.
“Go to my room? Who are you to order me around like I’m a child? You leave me alone for days without any indication if or when you would return. I could have died here, and no one would have known. Now you tell me to go to my room.
“We can discuss this later,” Fionn said dismissively.
I glared at him, but the unease that had settled in my bones deepened.
There was a pattern with Fionn. He always treated me like a problem to be managed, but now his dismissive tone held something darker.
Of all the brothers, I hated how Fionn ordered everyone around like they were his servants.
A part of me wondered if he saw me as a threat or, worse, had he already decided my fate.
Ignoring him, I followed the others back to the manor.
“She’s not a girl,” Torin said. Clearly amused by my exchange with Fionn. He waved his hand towards the girl. “She’s Elorium, from the Fourth Order in Elora. Don’t be fooled by her beauty. Beneath that gentle exterior is a creature of great power.”
He had only been back minutes, but his attitude was already infuriating me.
“That’s enough, both of you!” Seraphina commanded. “Bring her inside at once!”
Cillian nodded subtly at me before hurrying toward the manor. Though Seraphina noticed, she said nothing, her concerns clearly elsewhere. Keeping my distance, my curiosity was piqued by this mysterious girl.
“Cillian,” I said, approaching. “Please tell me what’s going on. You abandon me for days without giving me any indication of when or even if you’ll be back and now...”
“Tilly, wait for me in your room. We will talk later, we don’t have much time before the Elorium wakes.” He glanced warily at the girl. “I don’t want you anywhere near her when that happens.”
The way he said it made my stomach twist. Whatever she was, even Cillian feared her. I trailed behind, unable to take my eyes off the girl. Why was she here? Was she some innocent like me that had been caught up in their deceitful game?
I stared at the girl, again, entranced by her six-fingered hands. Long and tapered, they culminated into blue lacquered nails patterned with gold constellation symbols. Even unconscious and hanging like a rag doll, she emanated an energy that was disturbing yet irresistible .
Entering the manor first, Seraphina motioned Cillian and the brothers inside and closed the double doors behind her, even though she saw me approach.
I hurried toward them and was shocked to find the doors locked.
I scampered past the windows and tested to see if any were open and managed to slip in through one in the dining room.
Following the sound of voices, I crept into the hallway to see Cillian and the others head toward the kitchen.
Mystified, I shadowed them and hovered by the door, half expecting one of the brothers to leap out at me, but I was met with only silence.
Now I was even more suspicious, knowing that Seraphina or one of the brothers would have sensed me by now.
I edged the door open to find the kitchen empty.
The immaculate surfaces, the smell of polished wood and fresh herbs, it was a forced calm.
It was a lie that tried to smooth over the secrets that lingered just beneath.
My skin prickled with the sense I was being watched, even here, in this picture-perfect room.
My gaze fell to a small clump of grass lying in front of a door that I tried to open before but couldn’t, as it was locked.
Assuming it was the entrance to a pantry, I opened the door and was surprised to find stone stairs leading down to the cellar.
My foot slipped on the first step and I lurched forward, catching myself on the cold stone wall.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered under my breath, steadying myself before continuing down.
***
Coolness rose up, infused with the earthy aroma of wine and root vegetables that wafted from below. Though it was well lit, something about the shadows that leeched the glow from the lights brought to mind images of dungeons.
The distant echo of voices prompted me down the stairs.
Seraphina’s waxing and waning voice allowed me to hear only snippets of conversation, but at least it gave me a direction to follow.
As I entered the cellar, a path led past rows of aged wine barrels reaching the ceiling, while another led into a well-stocked larder, and the third led down a corridor lined with sturdy wooden doors.
I shivered from more than just the pervasive chill. The cellar reeked of age, mould and something I couldn’t identify. I was seized by the urge to flee this dank place, but my curiosity proved stronger. What if the fate awaiting the strange young girl was also to be mine?
The worn stone path wound past the doors and must have paralleled the entire length of the manor. I felt a sickening sense of déjà vu. The corridors seemed to stretch and twist, reminding me of the shadowed hallways from the paintings.
Was I slipping between worlds? My breath came quicker, fear whispering that maybe the visions were more than dreams, what lay behind the doors tempted me enough to almost peek, but whatever secrets they kept were best left alone.
Footsteps echoed from ahead, and I pressed myself against the wall as I rounded a bend in the narrow path.
I began to feel as though I had slipped back to medieval times.
Ancient iron torches flanked weathered walls, their flickering light barely chasing the shadows from the passage.
Venturing a glimpse past a bend ahead, I saw Fionn open a large, bolted door at the end of the path and ushered Seraphina and the others inside.
“Hurry!” he said with a tone of urgency. “She needs to be restrained before she awakens.”
Though he closed the door, I heard no indication of a lock, so I crept toward it, my heart hammering in my chest. Again, I wondered why no one had noticed my presence. It was as if they were so focused on dealing with the young girl, they didn’t notice anything else.
I approached the door of the cell that each of them went into and slowly turned the metal latch.
Thankfully, it made no noise as it released.
Carefully inching the door open, I peeked into a dimly lit dungeon.
Cuffed chains flanked its mouldering walls, the reek of age and dampness almost overwhelming.
It was a far cry from the elegant, airy rooms above.
Clutching the edge of the door, I watched Fionn hold the girl against the wall while Torin manacled her ankles and wrists. Seraphina and Cillian stood nearby anxiously looking on.
Once again, I found myself unable to tear my eyes from the girl. What was she? Where did they find her, and what did the brothers want with her?
The girl’s head drooped on her chest, her features veiled by her hair. Glowing like polished copper in the light, the coarse texture reminded me of a horse’s tail.
Where the manacles exposed her ankles, intricately tattooed symbols resonated in vibrant colours.
“Cast the holding spell, Seraphina,” Fionn said with unusual seriousness. “I don’t know if the manacles will hold her.”
It was the first time I’d noticed him subdued, almost worried, and now I felt even more uncomfortable about whom the young girl might be.