Uproarium's Brightest

Chapter Twenty-Four: Your Favourite Cheshire Grin

I woke up suffocating with this inexplicable anger, forcibly pushing whatever had been thrown over me away. My eyes fluttered open, the messy hallways coming into view, lit up only by a small, measly candle. The flame trembled, timidly letting its light radiate in the corridor. The concrete felt icy under my fingers, allowing the cold to spread through me.

I felt something rest against my upper chest, crickling when I did as much as move an inch. I blinked, surprised to find the pearls clipped around my neck.

Had I done that? I couldn't remember, the memories of the night before surprisingly hazy, obscured by a veil that prevened me from knowing. Pushing myself up, I felt my back aching from the hours spent sleeping on bare floor. I grunted slightly, yearning either for daylight to arrive or for my body to grow limp, finally giving into sleep.

"Awake?" An elderly voice croaked, barely scratching my ears. I inhaled, pulling myself up from the floor. Isadora Silverguard only stood there, draped in an ebony-black nightgown. It hanged over her frame, the silk-threaded sleeves slipping even past her boney hands. She was shrouded in this darkness, this secrecy, as if she was about to reveal something.

Getting to my feet felt like a challenge, as I looked bemused before the sight of her. I felt guilty gawking at Lady Silverguard for as long as I had. Really, I had no sense of how the minutes had passed. In a moment of what one could describe as nothing short of bashfulness, I quickly averted my gaze elsewhere.

"I, well, yes" I stared down at my feet, deeming it obvious "Sorry, is there something you need, your Honour?" I sharpened my tone, an attempt at regaining my composure and in turn, control of the conversation. The old woman blinked, amused.

"Walk with me, detective. I have confession to make,"

Muttering a quick response through my teeth, I followed her outside the main corridor and we took a left turn. There was the faintest smell of mildewed, musty carpet staining the air. Lady Silverguard stopped abruptly, holding up the stubby candle close to our faces. An incandescent glow illuminated on her cheek, indicating her eyes- almost in a trance.

"I have been thinking, lately," she admitted, visibly avoiding staring back at me. My heartbeat picked up in anticipation and I sucked in a short breath, my mind reeling at what she could possibly spew out next. The old woman cleared her throat after the long pause, her voice thin. "I have done, many things I'm not proud of, in my life...." Lady Silverguard swallowed forcefully. Even then, she still managed to uphold her authoriative presence, weaving it with a negligible effort. Even if she looked frail, one would make many mistakes in life by judging a book by its cover.

Soon enough, we stopped in front of the House Bells, the bronze chimes hanging off of the beige wall. The metal glimmered under the weak blaze of the scented candle. My gaze flickered back to the deleted name. The sign that had once belonged to a nameless outcast. Once, but definitely not now.

Had they been so hated so as not to deserve even the smallest reference? So despised it wasn't worth attaining a memory of them?

Personally, I'd have kept it there. Something to remind me of the rivalry. It'd only be fair, in my eyes. But no. No, they didn't just want to forget the Outcast.

This was complete erasure.

Or rather, incomplete; for I could still make out the letters under the talon-like scratches.

Cl-op-r- S-lv-rgua-d

Isadora Silverguard dragged a thin finger across its surface, regret painting her face. Her eyebrows were stitched together in a deep line, eyes focused far ahead, or perhaps... Far behind. It wasn't the future she was thinking of, though. I could tell.