My sleep that evening was swift and deep. After dinner and a stiff goodnight to Grigore, I went to my room where I curled up under the covers while the thunder outside roared. I had become so used to the sound of the storm that I know barely noticed it anymore. Only when there were great flashes of light bursting through the curtains did I notice it. Once I drifted off, I would've slept until dawn if it wasn't for the swirl of magic in my chest.
It woke me quietly and even in the depths of sleep, I knew it wasn't trying to alarm me, it had just felt something and reacted. By the time my eyes were open, my magic had settled down again. But now that I was awake, sleep seemed to avoid me. I tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position again, but it was as if the bed was suddenly made of wood. So instead I just lay there, staring up at the wall, wondering what Grigore's mood would be like once he was awake. I hoped it was better. His mood seemed to have deteriorated again after the brief change of heart when we first came here. I could feel us gearing up for a fight and it made me feel a little depressed. It was never meant to be like this between us.
I stiffened when I heard something in my room. I didn't quite know what it was at first, it sounded like a faint tiny bell constantly tingling away until it grew closer. It had a distinct laughter to it, high pitched and musical that whispered at my ears. I rolled over and stared at the door. Underneath the door I could see a faint light and the laughter continued.
I pulled the covers back and slipped off the bed. Walking on my toes and trying my best to be quiet, I went to the door and pressed my ear against the wood. The laughter continued, the source giggling away just beyond the door. I bowed down and tried to see if there was anyone standing behind it but there was nothing, only gloom now. The faint blue light had vanished. Intrigued, I stood and opened the door a little. Instantly the giggling flittered away. Now it came from further down the corridor. I puffed out my cheeks a little but stepped beyond the door and into the corridor, where I stood for a moment, pondering on what to do.
I knew it was probably the fairy, the little elf that lived here alongside Arthur. What exactly it was doing I wasn't sure and, as I couldn't sleep and Grigore himself had said the elf would have no interest in eating my magic, I decided to find out, curious if I'd finally be able to see the little creature.
With long strides, I followed the giggling to the end of the strange slanted corridor. As expected, when I drew close the giggling faded away and started again somewhere else. I followed it with light steps, calling to it sometimes, asking it to come to me but it just continued to elude me instead. I hopped down staircases and pottered down wonky halls as it guided me, laughing joyously in the distance. It took me deeper in the house than I had ever gone, beyond the long hall I currently trained in, the library and even the kitchens, until I came to a single thick iron door hidden at the end of a bland corridor.
I blinked at it in surprise. All the other doors in the house were made of wood and oddly shaped; some oval, some rectangular and some square. None were the normal shape of a normal door and none were made out of thick iron and locked with a thick ugly padlock. I poked it once and jumped back when the lock suddenly clicked open and fell to the floor with a loud clang. With my hands clutched to my chest in defence, I watched warily as the door very slowly swung open with an ominous creak. For a moment everything was silent and then the giggling started up again. It was louder this time. Much louder. The laughter echoed in my ears then drifted away, going beyond the door.
I hesitated, not certain if going beyond the door was a sensible idea. Grigore was in the house however, and I knew he'd come to me if I found a dragon hidden beneath the house, and my magic was still calm, despite it recognising the fairy as a monster. If the elf meant any harm my magic would've stirred by now. Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to continue to follow the sound of laughter.
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The Weaver's Source
FantasyLyra has been waiting for her Weaver to find her for years, unable to leave the safety of her home and only connected to him through passionate dreams - remembering nothing about him apart from his wild, sensual song. When the lone Weaver Grigore f...