Darkness Rising

CHAPTER [ 25 ] NIGHT FALL

She was dressed in all black, unlike the dress from the other day, this outfit was designed for movement and mobility. It was hard to call it a gown. The top half was an elegant, flowing blouse adorned with a corseted vest, buttons in the front, ribbons in the back, and a hidden breast pocket. The sleeves were ruffled near the wrists, flowing down and covering the tips of her fingers.

On the bottom, Lenore had a pair of tight fitting pants—she couldn't decipher what material they were made from, but it reminded her of velvet. Honestly, whoever created this outfit made their inspirations obvious. The half cape that hung off of one shoulder and the knee high, laced up boots. She looked like a modern day knight, the only thing she was missing was a sword and helmet.

Scratch that, there was a small cap atop her head, a black veil made of lace covering most of her face. It was annoying to have her vision obstructed, even the slightest amount, but it was to their advantage that all newly appointed Apostles were made to keep this level of anonymity and seclusion until the Saint inducted them under the power of Arkaydian.

They said it was for purification, but it was only for ceremonial purposes. As if any of those damned Apostles were pure. The thought was enough to almost cause her to break the silence in the parlor where everyone gathered.  

Her gaze strayed to her Uncle. He stood on the far side of the room, in a suit that appeared freshly pressed and tailor to fit him. The moment she entered the room, following behind Camila, he appeared before her like a creature from her nightmares.

Lenore expected an attack, but he handed over the token that the Seventh brought the day before. She had forgotten about it—he must have picked it up sometime after her attempt on his life. It was surprising that he even considered returning it. The weight of it in the back pocket of her pants only served as a constant irritation.

Why did he return it? Her eyes narrowed. It was more than suspicious, it was inconceivable—especially, after the value the Seventh placed on it. She wanted to draw the truth from him; peel back his skull and find a way to read his mind. If only Kaiser wasn't protecting the bastard.

She took a deep breath, turning away. It would be fine. Once they finished things tonight, he would be dead and she would know the truth of everything. 

Emilio fiddled with the jacket he was wearing, it looked a bit too tight around his chest. The white, blank expression on the mask resting askew on his head stared back at Lenore as he lowered his chin to chest; struggling more with the outfit. In that moment, she found understanding at the indiscriminate, numb face. It was how a god might look down upon its creation. It saw everything but felt nothing; did the foot care about the ant?

She approached him with steady steps, swallowing the darkness. Lenore reached out and touched the back of his hand. He jerked to attention, surprising that he didn't sense her. Perhaps his nerves were as frayed as her own. She lifted the veil with her other hand and gave him an apologetic smile.

"You look like you could use some help."

His expression softened at the sight of her. "You don't have too. It's just a bit small."

Lenore let out a small laugh, before reaching out to him again, pushing his hands away from the jacket. Thankfully, this wasn't her first rodeo with knight attire. In fact, as a child they were all forced to take some classes with the family—it's how they scouted those with talents. So, she knew a little bit about the design.

"There should be an adjustable strap," she said as she undid the zipper and slipped her hands inside. Her face pressed against his chest and Emilio lifted his arms above his head. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with the contact, though she wasn't sure why.