Hallowed Damnation [#Wattys2016]

11

Salina slowly stepped forward on the dirt path. She had not seen the structure immediately because it had been covered by overgrown forestry. The path toward it was not too long, but from where she was she could only see part of it. She walked until she reached the clearing.

There in the middle of the trees was an impressively grand chateau with a large double staircase that led to its front doors. She marvelled at the beautiful white stone that had a slight pinkish tint it was made entirely in and the height of it. It was not as palatial as Zyrin's, but it was still large by normal standards.

The whole house mostly stood because the foundation was sturdy and the stone was strong, but some parts had large holes in the stone as if it had been blasted through. The tall windows were mostly shattered and the once bright blue roof was in shambles.

Even in its tattered state, Salina thought it was beautiful. She did not wait for permission to enter; it was as if she were in a trance. She walked up the stairs while touching the dirty marble banister and pushed open the heavy front doors made of red wood.

The interior of the house was in worse shape than the outside. The only light was from the holes on the walls, the ceiling, and the broken windows. Furniture was strewn carelessly and in pieces, the curtains were mostly damaged by fire, and dirt was everywhere.

She went from room to room and saw much of the same destruction. She felt a surprising sense of loss as she pictured what it would have been like in its glory. She ended up in a large empty ballroom with a ceiling masterfully painted with scenes of Archanians in a dance portraying their skills.

She heard someone enter the room, their footsteps echoed loudly in the hollow room. With a heavy sigh, she spoke without turning to face him. She kept her head tilted upwards in awe of the art above her.

"You told me there were only eight bloodlines," she said in a dead tone.

"Currently there are only eight."

Salina swivelled sharply on her heels at the sound of the voice that was definitely not Aldus'. She was taken aback to see Zyrin casually standing right behind her with his hands clasped behind his back.

He silently moved to stand beside her and observed the masterpiece with his usual cold and emotionless expression. She stared curiously at the Commander whom remained such an enigma to her. He still made her blood boil and her hands ached to wrap around his neck to suffocate the life out of him. The fire in her from their previous confrontation burned once more.

"How long have you been following Aldus and me?" she asked.

"Since you left the house," he said simply.

She turned back to gaze thoughtfully at the half destroyed ceiling. She did not feel Zyrin's presence following them the whole day. Perhaps it was the throngs of people in the market or the endless new sights that overwhelmed her senses, but then again she knew that she was not that amateurish.

"I'm impressed," she admitted. His lips curved into a smug smirk.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. Very few can trace my presence when I'm tracking. Not even Aldus is capable of it."

"Where is Aldus anyway?"

"He's waiting outside. He could not bear to come in and tell you personally about all this. It seems that my First General has become rather fond of you," he said.