Evangeline walked around the buzzing marketplace, making her way in between countless people. Some seemed certain of what they were doing, some, like Evangleine, not so much. At most times, during midday, Anastasia would be studying and Evangeline would be sparring. However, Fletcher had told Evangeline to take the day off. He did not necessarily stated the exact reason why, but Evangeline had a feeling that the answer lurked from conversation in the evening before.

Now, she wandered the market place with a small sack of coins and boredom swarming her mind. She had no particular plan as to what to buy as she didn’t truly need anything to satisfy her. She had everything she needed at the castle, so she really didn’t need anything. 

However, her mindless walking did not last long as she stumbled upon a crowd. In front of them was a small fountain and there seemed to be a person that sat along the edge of the fountain holding something. Evangeline squinted her eyes, attempting to focus on the object, and she could soon make out a harp. It became apparent that this was no ordinary person; it was a bard. 

“How peculiar,” she mumbled to herself, trying to keep her voice low. Bards were not commonly seen in Collosicus, and if they were spotted, the crowds they gathered were nothing close to the size of this one. 

As she walked closer, diving deeper into the crowd, something settled within her core, the man had the top part of his face covered by a mask. It looked like a mask worn at a masquerade ball; it appeared to be plain black, but a closer look revealed that it was blue with a minuscule, blue diamond in the middle.

That was not the only thing off about the man; he appeared to have incredibly pointed and long ears, like that of an — elf. Evangeline tilted her head slightly as she approached closer to the front of the crowd, however, she stopped a few lines behind the first groups of people. She could clearly see, now, that the clothes he wore were, more or less, lackluster. She couldn’t decipher where he could have possibly come from; he only appeared to wear a black shirt along with a brown robe that fell close to his knees. His pants were normal brown slacks, and it seemed that he wore boots of some sort. The finishing touch, besides the mask, were a red and brown striped scarf that wrapped around his neck. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice loud yet gentle at the same time. There seemed to be a hint of serenity within it, yet it demanded authority. Evangeline felt herself drawn to his words, despite it only being three. She, however, was not the only one, the crowd hushed almost in an instant.

“I thank you for coming to listen to my song today. Some of you may have heard of me, some may have not. I have no name, but, fear not, my title carries far and wide. I am the masked bard; I travel all over the continent of Aagara searching to perform my show. I hope you all take a moment to listen to my song today.”

Evangeline felt enticed; she had nothing to do today, perhaps this would cure her boredom. Not to mention, she had not seen many elves since she awoke in Collosicus; it was almost refreshing, in a sense. 

“This is called: The Thief of Bones.”

Lightning seemed to strike down Evangeline’s spine at the title, those four words brought an immense response from her own body, and she hadn’t the faintest idea why. The thief of bones, she pondered what on the gods earth that was and why she nearly felt her legs turn to dust. 

“This story starts small, but fret not, for it is a tale to be shared to all.” He stroked the bard, the strings vibrating in a fashion that little notes, despite being small, fluttered through the air. Even though they were gentle, quiet, they seemed to radiate about in the air, reaching far and wide. “It begins with a child, lost in the trade. Some say she was one to put on quite a tirade.”

Trade? Tirade? Could he have been suggesting that this child was apart of the slave trade that occurred in the north of the continent. Then again, she would need to be an elf, so it was a long shot. 

“A smile she wore that beaconed, yet it soon became apparent that she was weakened. Days turned to nights, and she endured endless, brutal fights.” Evangeline was entranced within the song. His voice was soothing and powerful; it spread over the kingdom without a mere second push. And, as if things could not possibly have gotten more outlandish, the two of them met eyes. Or rather, Evangeline’s eyes met the mask of the man. 

“Alas one single day she arose, breaking free of the way she was opposed. The girl ran as fast as she could flee, until she found shelter where she could be free.” He allowed the note to hang in the air for a second before shifting his eye contact towards another area of the crowd. Evangeline could not shake the troubled feeling in her stomach.

“The girl soon turned into a young lady, and as she grew she found herself slipping into insanity. She thirst for power, and her real nature soon devoured.”

Evangeline could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and goose bumps rise along her skin. Why did this tune seem familiar?

“Endless lives were taken, and the girl’s morals soon became forsaken. Sacrifices were made, and lives started to fade. The girl became known as the thief of bones, for she had disposed of countless souls. Her legacy would forever remain cemented, as war soon came unprecedented.”

This story, Evangeline had to take a step back, attempting to not fall into another person. She gulped, pushing the bile that rose in her throat down. She was going to be ill, and she hadn’t the faintest clue why. This story, it ached with familiarity. 

“Despite the power the girl held, she was no match as she became troubled.” The man stopped, allowing the harp to hold one little, last tune. “And she disappeared with nothing but a story to remain, and her legacy is only what pertains.”

A roar of applause came from the crowd as people cheered, clapped, whistled, and gave praise. Evangeline, herself, clapped at the performance, and the bard bowed slightly, giving his thanks to the crowds. 

The crowd started to dissipate, yet some of the people stayed behind to talk to the bard. Evangeline lingered around the fountain a bit longer; she walked past the bard and to the fountain where she grabbed at the pouch hidden tucked in one of her pockets of her jacket. She opened it and took out a single, silver coin. She looked to the middle of the fountain, a single goddess stood with her hands held out, the water pouring from her hands. She was beautiful, despite being depicted by stone. 

Her name was Isis, the goddess of luck. While Evangeline was always skeptical of the idea of gods, she knew when to pay her dues and respect those that held power about her. 

“I want nothing more than,” she paused for a moment, thinking over her words carefully. She closed her eyes and imagined the scenario, a future. Events flashed in her mind: the ball, Anastasia getting married, Evangeline staying by her side, yet, when the next vision came, she flinched away, her eyes opened suddenly. She couldn’t recall what it was, but she was certain it was violent. It was only a second long, and part of her wanted to recount the fourth event, yet part of her was yearning not to. 

“I want nothing more than Princess Anastasia to live a long, happy life.” Evangeline flipped the coin into the pond and it landed with a little splash. The water did not go very high as the coin landed, and it would have not been noticed by many due to the sound of the fountain. While it was not particularly loud, it was noisy enough to where people couldn’t hear the tossing of coins.

Suddenly, a presence seemed to arrive by Evangeline’s side, and she felt herself look over and up. It was the masked bard, and, much to her surprise, he was much taller than she initially thought. She, herself, was not a small person, coming in at about five foot ten, but this man had to be close to six foot four. 

“May I join in your little prayer moment?”

“It is no trouble to me,” Evangeline replied, putting her pouch back in her pocket. She nervously shifted herself and met the masked man in the eyes. Yet, the color they were was nothing short of eccentric, they were a warm, spirited molten gold. Like that of a sword, crafted by the gods themselves. She had never met eyes that were metallic and heavenly.

“It was quite the song you played, Bard. Everyone loved it.”

“Well,” he said, putting his bard in his right hand, leaving the one closer to Evangeline, on the left, open. “Almost everyone.”

“What do you mean?” Evangeline questioned, this time intrigued by the statement. She was certain everyone was absolutely intertwined with the story despite it being short. 

“You didn’t seem to rather enjoy the story, more or less you tried to understand it. I could see the way your eyes looked: horror, fear, panic, did it remind you of anything?”

“Listen,” Evangeline said, nervously taking a step away from the bard. Her breath started to get shorter, and she could find panic starting to build in her stomach, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I must go.”

Evangeline turned to walk away, yet she felt a hand resting along her shoulder before she could move further. She turned around hesitantly, knowing it was the bard.

“You know, I haven’t seen an elf in Collosicus in a long time. How’d your ear get clipped by the way, that is only seen in —” 

“Please do not touch me, Sir!” Evangeline shouted as she threw the bard’s hand off of her and dashed into a full out sprint, getting as far away from the bard as possible. His music was touching, but the feeling she got when he was close to her, when he looked her directly in her eyes and through her soul, it was daunting. She felt exposed. Evangeline knew that if she saw that bard again, nothing good was going to come out of it. 

She sprinted deep into the crowds, shifting in between stands to attempt to break her pattern. She was sure the bard was not following her, but she had to take precautions. 

Alas, Evangeline arrived at the side entrance of the castle. A guard was by a small door, and he appeared to stare blankly, only getting interested when Evangeline approached the door.

“Can I help you?” The guard asked, and Evangeline shook her head, pulling out a little trinket from her pocket, a golden necklace with a dove on it. 

The guard looked at it and nodded his head, grabbing the knob and twisting it open to reveal an entrance to the castle. 

The dove was a code, a key, some say, that is used to signify that that specific person has unlimited access to royal grounds. Every royal has it as well as the high ranking officials that remain in the castle.

Evangeline stepped inside and waited for the door to close slowly behind her. She stood within a lone hall, it would take a few yards to get to the actual castle grounds. She felt her back line up against one of the walls, and she slid down it slowly. Her breath came out unevenly, and she had to remind herself to breathe or else she wouldn’t be able to recover mentally. 

“Who the hell was that man?” Evangeline mumbled, putting a hand to her head as she slid onto the floor ground, sweating from the way she took off in the marketplace. 

Yet, there was a bigger question that developed inside her mind and was voiced into the cold air, “where have I heard that story before?

---

Extra: To those curious of the original poem, here it is. Albeit, some words are changed.

This story starts small

But fret not, for it is to be shared to all,

It begins with a child, lost in the trade,

Some say she put on quite a tirade,

A smile she wore that beaconed,

Yet it soon became apparently she was weakened,

Days turned to nights,

And she endured endless fights,

Alas one single day she arose,

Breaking free of the way she was opposed,

The girl ran as fast as she could flee,

Until she found shelter that would accept her for free,

The girl soon turned into a young lady,

And as she grew, she found herself yearning for insanity,

She thirst for power,

And her true nature soon devoured.

Countless lives were taken,

And the girl’s morals soon became forsaken,

Sacrifices were made,

And lives started to fade,

The girl became known as the Thief Of Bones,

For she had disposed of countless Souls,

Her legacy would forever remain cemented,

As war soon came unprecedented,

Despite the power the girl held,

She was no match as she was troubled,

She disappeared with nothing but a story to remain,

And her legacy is only what pertains.