Chapter 5

Age of Solstice, 16:71

Tulasquss, Drazul's Plane

It has been three months since Whisper had started her studies. To Drazul's surprise, Whisper was a fast learner. She picked up things quickly and in the short time they had, she can now write really well and read intermediate literature. Ever since Whisper started learning how to read and write, she found herself enjoying it. She could finally read books scattered around the cottage that she was curious about and understand them. Her time has now become consumed by literature. While she did paint here and there, reading has become her new favorite interest.

Because of this, she excelled pretty quickly without much guidance from Drazul. When she had a good understanding of it all, Drazul then began to teach her MVL. It was hard, at first, to learn this new language, but Whisper got the hang of it all in two months that she even began making up her own slang to get her words across. Due to her dutiful efforts, Whisper was now able to hold a conversation and convey whatever she wanted.

Drazul felt pride swell in her chest. She was proud that Whisper was a quick study, watching her excel in art, writing, reading and language was rewarding in its own way. She noticed Whisper becoming more expressive, more open and lively. It was as if she didn't feel constricted any longer, as if she were given wings. She had a bounce to her step and carried herself more confidently. She was laughing more and had definitely changed.

What she noticed hit true, as Whisper felt all of those things. Whisper had no idea how absolutely freeing it'd feel to have some semblance of her voice back. She felt wonderful and she found herself smiling much more often. Drazul found herself smiling often as well, not realizing just how contagious another's happiness was. Everything Whisper did, smile or laugh, was so infectious. Especially with Whisper's weird way of speaking, Drazul couldn't help but find herself chuckling often.

Since being able to speak, they conversed about all sorts of things until eventually, Whisper felt like she needed her real questions to be answered. She found Drazul in the sitting room, watching the fire. She always found Drazul here for some odd reason. She would spend a long time watching the fire, as if hypnotized. Whisper couldn't understand why, but it seemed to her that this was a form of comfort for Drazul. Even though she knows that this is Drazul's time of peace, she couldn't hold back her curiosity for much longer.

She glanced at the time and noticed it was about time for their afternoon tea. Whisper bounced into the kitchen, grabbing some biscuits and preparing tea herself. She served Drazul first, striding carefully to gift her her tea and nibble. Drazul accepted her plates, surprised at Whisper's sudden initiative. When Whisper came back with her own serving, she sat across from Drazul on the sofa. After they both took a few sips, Whisper gently knocked on the low table to get Drazul's attention. Drazul taught her to wave in her line of sight or knock to get her attention. Drazul turned to her, waiting.

Whisper suddenly felt a pit in her throat. Even though she knows Drazul would most likely humor her, she was still nervous to ask her questions, especially ones of a serious matter.

Whisper took a deep breath and began to sign,

"Can I ask ya somethin', Drazul? I don't want to put the screws on, but I need to know."

Drazul put down her tea, waiting for Whisper to continue.

Whisper sighed,

"What kind of Jane are you? Why did ya steal my eye and snatch me? What's ya grift?"

Drazul closed her eyes before replying,

"I was wondering when you'd approach me. Though, I can never get used to the way you speak. You used to speak so eloquently but now you choose to speak like this."

Whisper chuckled,

"S'only 'cause I'm comfortable! Really, though, don't stop chinnin' now."

Drazul leaned into her chair, lost in thought a moment, before replying,

"To be truthful, I do not know what I am. All I know is that I was once a normal witch. Although now, I am a different kind of witch. I refer to myself as a Dream Maiden, but we can speak on that at another time in detail."

Whisper nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"As for your eye, it was the price to help you keep your life. In return for your strength, the cost was to be something beloved. Usually it is an item or other, but for you, it was much more. I didn't imagine that scenario at all. I was just as surprised as you were."

Whisper's expression hardened a bit, before softening in understanding. Drazul continued,

"As for your suspicions, there is no 'grift,' my dear. In fact, you are the one who summoned me."

Whisper's expression turned puzzled, unsure of what Drazul meant,

"Me? What did I do?" She signed, not believing what she heard. Drazul nodded,

"You were the one who called for me. Just like me, you have power of your own. Your power appeared in my dreams in the form of song and thread. It led me straight to you. That is how I came to discover you."

Whisper leaned into the sofa, her expression incredulous. Drazul waved the air as if to shrug,

"Just as I am a mystery to the both of us, so are you. I cannot explain how you found me or how you were powerful enough to reach me, but it seems we are bound--though I do not know the reason for it."

Whisper rubbed her temple. She couldn't understand what she was saying. It's impossible for Whisper to have power, she would've absolutely noticed if she could perform magic before meeting Drazul. Least that is what Whisper thought.

"Then...am I a witch, too?" Whisper asked, doubtful.

Drazul leaned back,

"Perhaps. Either you are a witch or you are like me. Though, if you were a witch, your mother would've been one, too. She would have shown you our ways. I really cannot say."

Whisper crossed her arms, growing more curious with each answer Drazul has given. It didn't occur to Whisper that she would possibly have magic of her own ever since her arrival but hearing that her mother could have been a witch, too, leaves her wondering.

Then it hit Whisper,

"Drazul, what happened to my mother...her body?"

Drazul closed her eyes,

"I gave her a proper burial within my personal graveyard that lies behind the cottage."

Whisper stared at Drazul, feeling relieved. She should've asked sooner. She's been so busy over her circumstance, she didn't realize she didn't ask Drazul about her mother all this time despite spending many of her days somber. Drazul watched Whisper's expression go from relief to guilt. Drazul pulled herself up to stand,

"Would you like to visit her?"

Whisper's eyes shot up at her, nodding without hesitation. Drazul waved her hand at the front door, motioning her to follow. Together, they followed a stone path, barely hidden under the snow, around to the back of the cottage. The sun was barely setting as they entered the icy glade. The small cemetery was well-maintained but still appeared gloomy amidst the snow. As the last of the sun's rays fell on the glade, the snow and small icicles hanging from the surrounding trees twinkled, casting stray shards of light across the graves before them in waves of yellow, orange and white.

There were a total of five graves, four with headstones while one at the far edge was without. Drazul stepped towards it and stopped, turning to look back at Whisper,

"This is where I laid your mother to rest."

Whisper caught up to her, standing beside her as they looked down at her mother's grave. Upon the grave was a makeshift dreamcatcher. Whisper pointed at it, looking at Drazul, curious. Drazul gestured to the dreamcatcher,

"This is my way of showing respect to the dead. I couldn't create a headstone, so instead, I buried her with a well-crafted dreamcatcher and left this one atop her grave. This is my way of telling your mother that I hope she slumbers in peace."

Whisper looked at the dreamcatcher, feeling touched by Drazul's kind gesture of taking care of her mother. She didn't anticipate Drazul to include her mother in her personal cemetery. People like them don't get burials back home, so she expected the same thing to happen to them both. She's grateful that wasn't the case. Her mother doesn't deserve to rot on the surface so cruelly. Whisper grabbed Drazul's hand, grieving silently as she looked over her mother's grave. Drazul let her as she was also grieving those she lost that also laid near.

As night fell, Drazul lit a lantern nearby, having it hover near them for light. She turned to Whisper, letting go of her hand to sign,

"When you feel ready to tell me about your mother, we can make her a headstone together, later."

Whisper closed her eyes, tears hot as the cold wind wisped about them alongside the snow. Without warning, Whisper hugged Drazul, her shoulders shaking from her overwhelming sadness. Drazul was surprised as she wasn't used to such contact. She awkwardly held Whisper, resting her chin on her head. She wondered if she was doing it right, this hugging.

After some time had passed to allow Whisper to calm down, they walked back to the cottage. Drazul ordered Whisper to wash up and rest in her room. She obeyed, bidding Drazul goodnight as she went upstairs.

Drazul put out the fire in the sitting room and made her way upstairs towards her bedroom. Her room was the last door down the hallway, beautiful paintings lining the walls as she made her way down. As she entered, the lights within lit up, revealing a large, canopy bed smothered in several blankets and many pillows. Her room was similar to Whisper's except the furniture in her room were masterfully crafted, just for her. The bed frame was a large stone hand that was amazingly large enough to hold her mattress. The other stone hand hung over her bed, both hands shaped as if to cage around her mattress. The wrist of the frame functioned as a ramp to her bed. The hands were so beautifully crafted she could see the veins and muscles protrude, even feel the tension between them as if they are begging to close shut. The curtains draped from the canopy hand's fingers were layered and sheer, draping over the bedframe below.

There was a large rose window opposite the doorway where she entered, similar to the one in her study. It was partially stained glass, depicting her ascension into the night sky nine centuries ago. There were several rugs overlapping one another strewn about in her room. Opposite her bed on the wall was a large vintage wardrobe that, once open, lead into a walk-in closet. It contained many rooms of clothing and accessories she has kept over the centuries, serving as a hidden living history of fashion in Lutasquss. Beside her bed was her personal washroom, which was also large and beautiful.

She washed up and made herself comfortable in the hands of her bed. There was a lot on Drazul's mind. Where does she go from here? What's next for her and her ward? There were only more and more questions lingering in her mind, making her uneasy. While shes been living with Whisper for over six months, she's still clueless on how to proceed. She believed Whisper to be a clue, her first clue, in understanding her true purpose. Though, in all her time beside Whisper, she has proven to be nothing more than a mere adolescent who was oblivious of her talents.

They are in this together now. As far as she is concerned, Whisper is just like her, only now they aren't alone. Drazul feels as though her work has only doubled. Whisper's arrival has revived Drazul's thirst for the truth behind her ascension, though her motivation is not what it used to be. Five centuries of searching for answers only for a clue to summon her.

How ironic.

Drazul pondered for a long while plotting her next move but nothing seemed to come to mind.