The morning sun cascaded its soothing rays on me. They were gentle, really. After the night of terrors, the comforting warmth was a luxury well-received. Even to the point, I had nearly banished the memory of last night.

But truly, how could I ever? Amid the darkness of the ghastly hours, my perception had changed thoroughly.

I had been complaining about Adelaide ever since, yet she was not the only one at fault. Mother, Father, Vhersio, and who knows who else were involved. Each formed a part of the guilty. But it left me wondering, for what unholy reason were they withholding me from learning about such an... immersive aspect of life.

Before I knew, I had almost let the reins slip out of my hands. I was submerging in my own thoughts. Cynthia, this really is not the moment. I needed to settle my priorities properly. Going over them inside my head, I instructed Rosemary to hasten her pace ever so slightly.

Her hooves consistently kissed the brick surface.

People were wandering about the streets; injuries more conspicuous than roaming litter. The wounded were awaiting appointments in the few infirmaries that were left untouched. And still, longer queues had emerged before the entrances of the general store and the pawnshop.

People's faces looked drained of all life and happiness. And, truthfully, it did not come as a surprise. For they had seen, witnessed, and, most likely, experienced the dreaded sensation of loss. Some wore bags of such opacity, it brought shame upon the ashen clouds near the Peninsula. Though, the thing that affected me most was their expressions. Smiles, albeit grey-washed of all emotions. They were sorrowful in a league far beyond what most would consider possible.

While I knew there had always been poverty on the island - even when it was so challenging to believe - after tonight, its roots ran deeper than ever.

It sounded selfish, admittedly, but I was extremely grateful for being born into a position of privileges.

Perhaps, Adelaide had been right all along. We, as the rich, did not properly comprehend what it is like to live off the scraps of the elite. Most of Isle Councillors's children, from what my poor memory could recall, oft dreamt of life betwixt the rats. I never understood why. Once heard it would supposedly be adventurous, but was it really? One'd argue they were bound to numerous responsibilities to afford even the smallest rations of food and water. All in all, I daresay both worlds failed to align, and undoubtedly, never met on a level of mutual understanding.

I let it go.

I had to find Grandmother Astrid, and soon. But even on horseback, the lighthouse located at the cliffside on the south-west of Crescent Isle was still half a day worth of travelling. The island was treacherously broad, but beyond the Farmlands beside the Wharf, various rivers sundered the soil apart. Thankfully, Mother and the Council had commissioned a variety of stone bridges to stitch the shattered landmasses back together.

Frankly said I was not travelling to the Elder to- in the end, thank Theos for saving Adelaide's life. No, no. I had to witness her trial. I was more than willing to argue her case with whoever was to be the judge. Most likely that she-character Theos mentioned a couple of times last night.

Firmly getting a hold of the reins, I shifted on top of the saddle. My left foot had swung out of the irons. It had been a while since I properly rode a horse. Especially one as fast and durable as Mother's mare. But truth be told, it did not come much of a surprise. Mainland's horse breeds were phenomenal; iron-willed all and a sense of loyalty no man could ever wish to match in a million years.

We took off through the streets, towards the docks, just to check whether they had opened up already.

Passing by the crowds of people, bunched up in each other's personal space, I was glad I was riding Rosemary. I had never been one to enjoy small spaces; instead, my preference lied within the vast, high rooms of castles and open fields within a hidden meadow. Such a pity the clearing within the Mirrorlake had long been used to build a monument-- A sign of respect to the days of old. And the men and women who moulded the island into its relatively prestigious shape, for which it was still renowned for til this day.

Most of men, women and children stepped aside. Others only moved as soon as it appeared as though Rosemary'd crush them under her hooves.

My eyes darted around the place, primarily focusing on the bakery at the corridor. The glass windows had been smashed beyond repair. What used to be the wooden board, a baguette etched into it with the word bakery below it, hung above the door; partially scorched black.

A fraction of my soul wished to dismount, to check on the indoors. From outside, the aisles looked plundered clean, chests had been brutally demolished for their contents. While the urge was ever-increasing, I turned it down. Adelaide's trial had to remain at the top of my priority list at all times, I owed her at least that much.

While temptation nearly began its supreme rule, I resisted.

With a decently gentle tug of the reins, the mare trotted towards the eastern city gate. Goodness, I was relieved I knew the layout of the city, speaking generally of the larger streets, for the majority, that is. Father, long ago, taught me to read maps. Admittedly, I was not all that great; never did I ever understand the scale. I recall, albeit faintly, a young me wondering- when introduced to the term, how anyone could draw an entire island on a paper sheet.

Silly me.

Before I knew, Rosemary and I made it to the Farmlands beyond the gate. For some reason, I had once again sunken too deeply into my thoughts to pay attention to the surroundings. All the buildings we had passed seemed to have blurred into a mess of woodwork and stone. We crossed by the iron gate, over the sizeable andesite plates.

We came to a brief halt as a handful of guards switched positions.

I glanced ahead at the twist and curls in the road. According to Mother, Rosemary had always had this joyful spirit and desire to race through the Farmlands. Couldn't blame her really, the grassland with crawling hills and several apple trees specked about was a great place. Not entirely sure how she'd perceive the place, but Peter and I - and his siblings, regularly sat beneath the trees during the summer.

Proceeding down the road, I couldn't help but toss a gaze aside to the southern waterline. The childish part of me had hoped my raft had survived the night. But hope, just like Adelaide often told her fiancé, was a dangerous thing, for it lulled one into a false sense of security right afore calamity swooped in from above like a crow. And misfortune surely had done so, a rummaged hay bale- bashed and beaten by the waves, had washed ashore along with broken pieces of driftwood.

I only sighed; fully aware that while a part of my childhood became no more than a distant memory; it was precisely that; a memory worth cherishing. One predominantly marked by joy and the many moments I and Peter spent gathering the resources to construct that- what used to appear- colossal platform.

Biting down on my lip, I stored the thought in the back of my head; making doubly sure I would inform Peter later. With a peaceful mantra attained, I rode off to the Mirrorlake.

The sun had been pestering my skin in such abundance, it began to sting after some time. I wasn't sure how much time had passed. Nor how far I had gotten ever since Rosy galloped beyond Vhersio's mansion at the edge of the Farmlands. All I knew was to continue. Every hour of daylight was valuable, as Mother had said. Especially on the paths within the Maple Grove.

Ah, it was a shame, really. Every year, countless aspiring hunters fell prey to the nocturnal beasts within. Though, the murky hours were not the only times deemed hazardous. Storm Season. I quivered at the very thought, thanking every deity of the new and forgotten myths for the time of the year. It came as a great relief, honestly.

The island's rotating seasons were independent of its global counterpart- at least if Vhersio spoke the truth. And whenever the Days of Water neared, Father had his men evacuate all of those who lived beyond the rivulets connecting the Mirrorlake to the sea.

After a little longer, what I could only assume were a handful of minutes, perhaps a quarter of an hour. We had arrived at the foothills of the Lake. A great many long yet low bridges strung the water-torn pieces of land together, as though they were neatly knitted together. I heard several voices ahead; of which I could not identify a single one. It wasn't all that shocking though, the basin in the lake's central island had always been heavily visited. Both by native islanders and Mainland tourists. Not all too surprising when the sweeping winds oft brought about the fragrances of the remote meadows and clearings.

The mare appeared as if she was distracted by the noises. Caressingly, I brushed her black manes with the palm of my hand, my fingers running through them. She felt incredibly soft. Mother always enjoyed the moments she could spend on horseback, or simply in the stable, braiding the stallions' hairs after she was done with Rosemary's.

Passing a broken, arched gateway at the speed of a leisurely stroll, I could not help but stare at the reflective waters every time we crossed the bridges. The surface glistened, only at the parts the tree leaves permitted access to the beams of sunlight. Ever so gently, I felt the passing gales breeze from the clearing, through the forests and grazing my skin. I watched as droplets of dew's remnants met at the edges of grass blades before dripping down into the streams. It was a magical sight, and still, perfectly orthodox, like any other morning.

I tossed a final glance into the creek, to peer back into my own eyes.

Without a second of hesitation, the journey to the Elder's cottage advanced. Even lacking disturbances. Aside from the drawbridge hanging over the ravine splitting the eastern section of the island from the west. Every time I crossed it, anxiety surged within me. While I didn't mind the height of my bedroom in the castle's tower for its majestic view, I despised any other form of grand altitude.

I tried passing via the bridge, but really, I froze solid. I had dismounted from the saddle, the tip of my black boots kissing the edge of the first wooden plank. The very memory - a tad too vivid for my liking - got me shaking again. And while I was fully aware that the planks were enduring enough to withstand even the weight of three galloping horses, I dared not proceed.

We took a detour across the northern sandy shores of the Cold Beach, far away from that bloody drawbridge as possible. And even further away from Drowner's Sorrow near the cliffs perched beyond the ravine. Truth be told, I was regretful for not having the guts to make a break for it earlier. Precious daylight hours had gone to waste in an instant. It didn't seem so long ago that the sun still soared at its heavenly crescendo, but noon had long passed.

For what felt like an eternity, we had been roaming around the Maple Grove. My stomach had begun to complain. Shame I didn't bring any food; it didn't even waltz around in my mind while at the Farmlands. Goodness, I could have so easily snatched an apple or two from the orchards near Vhersio's miniature-castle-like house.

Now was not the time to think of food, though. Admittedly, I hoped Grandmother Astrid had a dish to spare, but chances were slim. Even when Mother claimed the Elder was a kind and giving soul. I had never met her before. Consciously, at least. She was said to have been present at my Breathing Day. And supposedly, granted my parents a boon of faith; the Tidal Queen's blessing.

The ode of hooves trampling the ground continued, softer than before. The rocky path had altered itself into a road of broken twigs, fallen leaves and moisty dirt. At the beginning of the day, I decided to count whatever many steps Rosemary took; only to soon regret it. After an hour or two of travelling at breakneck speed, I feared no numbers could ever calculate the total. Ah, it was a silly idea, to begin with.

I glanced at the colours of the surrounding rural scenery; hues of olive green swirling into a blended mixture with orange and red. The Grove had always been a source of inspiration for authoring novices in town; for its seemingly everlasting autumnal state. No matter the temperature, nor the time of year, the withering leaves kept gliding down, one after the other, and on and on.

I remained entranced by the stunning visuals of the area.

When suddenly--

"Leave."

A whisper of the wind had forcefully penetrated my mantra. Its voice painfully lingered within my head. I clutched onto my head, squeezing tightly. Only for the incorporeal being's words of agony to resurface.

"Stay away!"

A rush of pain zephyred down my spine. By the Phoenix's feathers, I nearly fell off Rosemary's back. I could only grunt; losing control over my limps. For goodness sake, a fiery cold spread across my every vessel like a wildfire of sorts.

"...The unknown is dangerous..."

My eyes shot wide open. My breathing hitched as a sharp object pierced into my side. I did not want to see. I could feel my veins throb; almost meeting their limits, paces away from exploding within my very body. Heart in my throat, I glanced to my supposed wound, only to see nothing. No entry point. Nothing truly, not even the crimson lotuses of bloodstains.

Rosemary suddenly reared up straight and threw me off her back. I scraped my arm during the fall, tumbling down onto the branches with my rump. I hit my head on the ground, thankfully onto a bush of decaying leaves. Yet the impact still temporarily obscured my vision.

The electrifying sensation of pain tormented me for a tad longer. Subsiding only seconds later. My breathing remained unhinged. I ordered the mare to halt. I wished to examine the source properly. I had felt pain, a sort of pain my words could only wish to properly describe. But it was leagues atop leagues beyond the capabilities of defining words.

I bent upwards; the bones my back protesting wildly. I glimpsed at my arm, a few surface wounds were painting my fair skin red. Sighing, I struggled to rise to my feet, making a brief pitstop whilst in a kneeling position; then fully returning to a less obedient stance.

Pushing aside my leather jacket, and carefully lifting the side of my buttoned shirt, I stood astonished. Baffled really. I was unsure of how it was possible; the sudden pain was unexplainable, frankly. It was almost as though a spectral blade has viciously mutilated my body from the inside. While I wasn't entirely sold on the idea, considering I was very much still breathing- the thought, in conjunction with my recent introduction to the frightening realisation of Magick, was unnerving if not freakish.

Inhaling a deep breath, I came to my senses.

Godrays broke through the denseness of the woods. While time was not on my side, especially considering I had no idea how long Adelaide's trial would go on for, I regained focus.

I gazed around, catching a glint of unhindered light beams waltzing down the soil. The treeline met its inevitable end up ahead, beyond the hills, which I could only assume lead up to the lighthouse.

Desperation spiked up. Getting back on the saddle was never as stressful as it was just now. Valuable seconds passed by before I got comfy atop Rosemary's back. Instinctively, we raced down the last few hundred paces

Rosemary kept striding as the faded pain emerged again, "I told you to return." The voice had resurfaced. My mind felt like it was at the brink of exploding. It was a far cry from when I heard Theos calling out to me. Goodness, his aura was comforting. This, however, felt as though its owner meant me an ill fate.

"Magick shall- like it were before- be the island's ultimate undoing-"

The voice died out as soon as we passed the last specks of trees.

Unknowingly, my breathing patterns had skyrocketed so much, the intensity opened a door for pestering headache.

I swept a quick glance through the area. Only to lock onto a cottage on the rocky shores. While it indeed looked relatively new-esque, yet primarily odd. Trails of moss had grown around the wooden trim, prickly blueberry bushes had risen afore the only window pane I laid eyes on, and finally; roots and trees had grown into each other to form a natural form of roofing. While strange, it, too, looked like a place directly derived from within a fairy tale.

I launched myself off the saddle, effectively dismounting and landing on both feet.

Within a split-second, I approached the Elder's home.

I was curious what sort of a person she was, I had only heard of her vast intellect, kindness and a strong desire to aid, indirectly. I knocked onto the door, having passed the final stretches of the nearby beach.

It flung open violently.

Eyes like a starless night pierced into mine.

"You should not have come, Lady Cynthia."

So much for the welcome committee.