Where Spirits Dwell

Jiordano watched the doors open and was struck once again with an innocent yet commanding air. It wasn’t just from the noble angel before him, but from the very room itself. It was the same as the mansion with white walls, gold trim and intricate designs. Yet what set the room apart was that there was nothing else in it. No paintings, chandeliers, or decorations of any sort. The only exception was the marble flooring that lead to the back of the room where a small dais was raised, two steps up, looking as if it was an extension of the floors marble body. It was a simple, unexaggerated setting, yet in the simplicity lay hidden a deep tone of authority. Standing amongst it all was the room’s main attraction, Lady Evangeline.

It was almost disconcerting as to how much this room suited her presence, how she seemed to be a part of it yet stood out in a distinct fashion. Even her fair skin should have blended into the background, white on white, yet it still stood out. That’s when he noticed it, the trick of the room. Everything led to Evangeline; the white walls, white, yet offset so it didn’t compete with her skin or wings; gold trim, to match her holy aura; even the floor seemed to sweep in to her. He looked at her and one word screamed throughout his mind, respect. He must show respect, because this being was beyond human.

It spoke, its tone at contrast, in constant battle with itself. It was a soft voice, set with a hushed tone, yet it carried, filling the room with a strong proclamation.

“Their chains, remove them.”

He heard rushed steps from behind them; the guard’s heavy breathing filled the air around him until the iron chains fell onto the ground, mildly relieving his aching limbs. He looked at the guard beside him as he gathered the chains and stood awkwardly beside his prisoner, unsure of himself, yet awaiting command. A small swirl of colour escaped from him for a fraction of a second. He had almost missed it as the moment was so fleeting, and the display so bland. It was there again; an aura, and it told him something, whispering knowledge into the recesses of his mind. This man was nervous, and the object of his anxiety was unmistakeable; the heavenly woman seemed to make even her followers antsy.

There it was again, that voice, yet this time there was no mistaking the command and confidence in it, no room to disobey.

“Leave us.”

With those two simple words, they left, the weighted wooden doors slamming shut behind them as they made a hasty retreat.

Yet even with the distracting noise behind him, Jiordano couldn’t take his eyes away from the back of the room. The Lady descended from the steps of the dais, her great wings grazing the ground beneath her as she moved. She continued her graceful journey, and time seemed to have stopped, the world’s attention fixed on her. Before he had time to fully grasp the meaning of her movements, she was before them, mere feet away.

She spoke, her words lyrical, a music hampered by air, “You know of us, Eden’s Children, and I, the one known as Evangeline. Yet I know nothing of you, Bearers of Sia, Death Speaker and Witch.”

His eyes widened as the angels eyes raked over him, gauging his reaction. She knew! Yet to be addressed with such a malevolent title, he worried as to what this gift could do. Then he looked over at Estella, his thoughts going from beyond his self-contained bubble. Witch? He began to question who this girl was, what she was and why both he and an angel had noticed her.

Then he noticed her reaction, her face a mask of barely contained rage. It seemed her title had stirred something in her, something dark and angry. She looked away from him, as if ashamed of her feelings.

A flash spat out from her, red hot, filled with a powerful anger. It slapped him and he gasped in shock and surprise. He panted, trying to regain control. He was surprised a rage of that magnitude had manifested inside her. She had seemed kind to him, it was strange that such a large emotion could be attached to that word, witch.

He looked back up at the angel, a knowing tilt of the lips the only change of expression or acknowledgment of the rise of tension in the room. He was determined to speak first, to buy Estella some time because he still had that one ultimatum running around throughout his brain, respect. If she lost it, he didn’t doubt that retribution would come, justice in a form that was alien to their kind.

He took a deep breath and spoke, “I’m Jiordano, from the city of Bedivere,” he paused for a moment and subtly directed his next few words towards Estella, “Death Speaker or not.”

Not entirely respectful, he contemplated, hiding a smile. But it was the best he could do, all he could do. And perhaps she’ll get the message, he thought turning to stare at the girl a mischievous glint in his eye.

She then made her own introductions, her rage now at a mild cinder, “I’m Estella from Green Shore,” she said in a sickly sweet tone, and then added in her normal voice, “And yes, I am Gifted.”

Lady Evangeline took their reactions in stride her compelling air unfazed by both their words and actions.

“Perhaps you should both think of who you’re addressing,” she said coldly.

After a moment of staring beyond them she let out a soft laugh, “And perhaps, so should I.”

And then an unexpected voice came from behind them, “Perhaps you should,” it said, a voice that always seemed close and far away, Skylar’s.