Book II Teaser - Chapter Five Excerpt

All throughout the Talisman household, the tainted stench of dejected sorrows lingered in the air, weaving its way down the halls before seeping into every awkwardly perfect corner. Most days, Guile would wake up only to find Marcella sitting all alone at the edge of her bed, quietly weeping as she stared aimlessly out the window. For hours on end, she’d sit there like a ghost in her own body, rocking back and forth as crowds of people flocked to and fro down the alleyway, each of them completely unaware of the tiny tragedy peering into their seemingly perfect lives. And though Guile never asked her exactly what she was looking for, deep down, he knew what it was. She was looking for something more than a familiar face. Something more than a mother she missed or a father she loved. Something that no child should ever have to search for, and something no little girl should ever have stolen from them.

She was looking for hope; for a promise she could believe in. Or at the very least, someone willing to keep it. For three days, she stared out that window, and for three days, she never found what she was looking for. So, after the third day, she quit looking altogether.

Of course, Marcella wasn’t alone in her grief. Like most of life’s burdens, it permeated here and there without discretion, affecting everyone it touched in their own unique way; Hallah more so than most. Watching as her friend slowly withdrew from the world, Iulius’s granddaughter found herself frantically doing whatever she could to cheer her up. When speaking to her directly didn’t work, she resorted to writing little notes of encouragement, sliding them under her door or handing them off to Guile or Hamish so they could deliver them for her. A kindhearted gesture from an even kinder hearted young girl, sadly, most of the notes went completely unread.

Of course, Hamish’s luck wasn’t any better. For almost a week, he and Guile tried to coax Marcella out of her room only to be ignored completely or screamed at in fits of tearful rage. On one occasion, he even sat next to her on the corner of the bed from sunup to sundown, though it didn’t go quite as well as he’d expected. By the time it was all said and done, she hadn’t said more than a few words to him, and by the time he got up to leave, he felt more alone than the day they first met.

Truth be told, even Guile started to wonder if she’d ever be the same again. Obviously, he knew that she wouldn’t be the exact same person that she was before, but the question still remained, how long could she really go on like this? Surely, she’d have to open up at some point or another. After all, there’s no way anyone could stay bitter forever. But then again, couldn’t he have said the same thing about himself? How many years did he cling to pain? How many years did he spend bitter and alone? Surely, if he’d have counted them all up, it would have greatly outweighed the years he’d spent at peace, and that’s not even including his childhood.

It was a thought that haunted him to even consider; an idea that he couldn’t hope to shake, let alone work out the answer too. Luckily for him though, he didn’t have to. Unlike the other countless dilemmas he had no solutions for, this one wasn’t something he’d have to dwell on for the rest of his life. That’s because, much like time, pain is ultimately relative; there’s only so much one person can take before they crumble. And on the evening of the sixth day, when the spring rains were heavy over Oren, Marcella finally reached her limit.

Sitting alone in the den, Guile was reading a romance novel he’d found tucked away somewhere in Iulius’s book collection. Much like the ones he’d read before, it was another tragic tale; one about a foolish man searching the world over for love only to realize that the woman of his dreams was the same girl he left behind. Finishing another, gloomy chapter, he found himself struggling to focus as he fumbled the book around in his hands. Listening to the rain tap against the windowpane, he couldn’t help but feel like even the city of Oren was crying over his sorrows. Like this whole damned place was cursed from a time long passed, and now it was his turn to endure the prods; a stinging pain in his soul, like a swarm of wasps sent to remind him that even old wounds can be carved back open. Confused and alone, it wasn’t long before a cold chill ran up and down the base of his spine, the words of the Burning Mother echoing in his mind.

He remembered the promises she made to him.

Promises of unity and forgiveness.

Promises of pain and anguish.

She promised him that he would suffer, but she never said for how long.

The thought alone was enough to make him want to curl up in a ball and die. However, before he had a chance to do so, he heard something calling his name– a small voice speaking to him like the whispers of a dying flame.

“Master Guile…”

Jarred back to his senses, he looked up to find Marcella standing in the threshold of the door, swaying back and forth like she was being torn between everything she ever needed and everything she’d ever known. Her curly amber hair was a matted mess. Her face was still damp with tears. Her eyes, those beautiful, hazel eyes; they had been turned bloodshot from all the crying. Standing there with her head hung low, she quietly fumbled something around in her hands. And though it took a moment for Guile to figure out what it was, his heart swelled up when he finally recognized it.

It was the piece of spire he’d given to her the year prior.

Closing his book, he cautiously leaned forward in his chair.

“Marcella,” he said softly, “Are you all right?”

She didn’t say anything. Only shivered.

“If there’s anything I can do, all you have to do is ask.”

Almost immediately, the girl’s body began to shudder. Looking up at him, her eyes went hazy.

“Master Guile…” she whimpered, “Will you hold me?”

Before he realized it, Guile was already halfway across the room, dropping the book and scooping the girl up into his arms like a newborn baby. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered that everything was going to be okay. Then, once she was fully wrapped in his loving embrace, Marcella let go of her bitterness and started to cry.

Her tears soaked into his shirt. Snot was smeared across his beard and chest. At one point, she was clinging to his sleeve so tightly that Guile thought that she might rip it off at the seams. For all intents and purposes, she was a great, big, bumbling mess. But in that moment of complete weakness, Guile was more than happy to be the shoulder that she chose to cry on.

“Master Guile,” she sniveled, digging her face deeper into his shoulder.

“Yes, Marcella?”

“Do you think I’ll ever see my Mama again?”

No…

That’s what he wanted to say, and truth be told, that’s what he firmly believed. Though, not even he had the heart to tell her something that cruel. Regardless of what he believed, he knew her world was spiraling out of control, and it was up to him to help keep it all together. So, putting aside his own preconceptions, he did the only thing he could think to do; the only thing he knew to do.

He lied.

“Yes, Marcella… I think you’ll see her again.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

“Do you… do you think she’s in heaven?”

“Yes… I’m sure she is.”

There was a long pause.

“Master Guile?”

“Yes, Marcella?”

“Do you think I’ll go to heaven?”

“Yes… Yes, you will.”

“Really?”

“I promise…”

And so, for the rest of the day, that’s where they found themselves; somewhere between heaven, hell, and a beautiful lie. As Marcella poured out her pain, Guile was there to catch every tear, and as her spirit shattered into a thousand pieces, he was there holding her close, patiently waiting to help put her back together again. Sometimes she sobbed. Sometimes she smiled. Sometimes she felt nothing at all. But in all the time Marcella spent there in that dreadful place of the soul, she was never alone. And that was enough.