Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 42: A Twist of Fate

Music is Ashitaka and San from the soundtrack of Princess Mononoke, composed by Joe Hisaishi. Play it!

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"What, in Pst. Ailith's name, is that?" I cautiously taking a few steps backward, away from Gilbert.

Ice has frosted over nearly the whole windowsill now; I already feel the chill from my distance. Yet Gilbert seems at ease with the cold, natural even. Do his...powers give him a resistance to it?

He smiles sadly, raising his right hand, entirely covered in frost. He puts in out in front of him, against a backdrop of a starless night and a never-ending forest. Slowly, deliberately, Gilbert blows on it. The frost slowly splinters away from his skin, drifting into the air where a non-existent breeze carries them on its path, swirling and dancing to some unheard minute waltz. Silhouetted by the moonlight, they twinkle and disappear into nothingness. Beautiful.

If only it weren't so terrifying.

"What are you?" I hiss angrily, continuing to back away from him.

Gilbert throws his hands up; I tense up. He realises my discomfort, and hastily curls his fists into balls, clamping them down by his sides.

"Do you truly want to know?" His smile grows melancholic; he looks like he's ready to burst into tears anytime soon. I soften ever so slightly.

No. It may be a trick.

A small, rational part of my mind that's still functioning urges me to flee, to get away from Gilbert as fast as possible. Away from the—the monster he harbours. However, the dominant part, the curious part, wants to know his story, hoping that I'll find a connection between our separate abilities.

I give in to the curious part before I know it: "Yes."

Too late to attempt an escape now. With heavy footsteps, I walk towards him, though I still keep a safe distance away. He stares at his hands. An expression loathing and resentment creeps into his eyes, silver-golden under the waxing moon.

"Where do I start? With a pyre, and my parents, I suppose," he begins. My eyes widen—a pyre?

"My parents are poor, but happy. They were content with each other, even before I came along. Still, they yearned for a child of their own. However, the local physician had decreed that my mother was unable to reproduce due to a deformity in her womb. My parents were crestfallen, and they didn't speak of the matter anymore after that visit.

"Until a winter afternoon, roughly seventeen years ago, when there was a burning in the Square of Redemption."

My blood chills. No, this isn't happening...

"During that whole year, my mother was bedridden—she had fallen dreadfully ill. My father was reduced to scrimping and begging to make ends meet, aside from his usual job as a butcher. When winter came, there was barely enough food to put on the table, much less any firewood to keep the warmth. Out of desperation, my father had decided to head to the pyre to salvage some leftover wood. The square was deserted at that time, as it was only used for public events. Besides, it was located way out of the heart of the city, so he was fairly sure that no one would notice him scouring in such a pitiful state. Or even if they did, they couldn't be bothered with him anyway."

I lean against the wall, hoping that the shadows disguise my terror. As insurance, I casually wipe my thumb across my nose, pulling a few shadows along with it.

"He did expect to find quite a good load of usable firewood. What he didn't expect was that he'd find a child buried underneath the wood, completely encased in ice."