Erivale: The Lost Princess

Chapter 2: Part 1

A month had passed since my most recent trip to Erivale. The scrapes and bruises had almost completely healed, erasing all the evidence of that night except for my memories. The semester was nearing an end as well, and I had a few projects due at the beginning of December. One of which was a master art course with an exhibition piece as the final. Primarily, the entire class was dedicated to creating our last project.

Art was my escape into the world of Erivale, but the images were often dark and gruesome, painting the history of Erivale with blood. I had never seen them during my time there, and I don't know how they are in my head, but I had been seeing them even before my first trip, all those years ago. One of the most potent images I had in my head had become my design for my art final. I pulled the fabric off of the vast canvas that was almost as tall as I was and longer than my wingspan. It was nearly completed, the Great War of Erivale. It was one of those images that never seemed to stray far from my mind, and thus it came out on canvas with acrylic paint.

Setting down my backpack, I dug out my headphones and plugged them into my phone, turning the music up almost all the way to drown out everything else, as I let the images of the war run through me once again. They were so real. I could smell the smoke and blood; I could feel the ash in my lungs and eyes. I stood amongst the carnage as cities around me burned, and all of the races of Erivale fought on the open plains.

The great rivers were stained red with the blood of the water races. Syreni and Nereides lined the beaches amongst their Ichthyocentaur cousins. Fauns and Satyr's alike fought against the chimeras created by the evil sorcerer of Trinity. Garudas with blood-stained wings, Minotaurs, Lilitu, and Ursa all fought as one, as it took every living thing to beat the sorcerer and their army of beasts. When I opened my eyes, I picked up my favorite paintbrush and began to finish the war.

Not only was art my way of expressing what I experienced in Erivale, but it also comforted me in a way I wasn't sure I knew how to describe. Erivale, foreign as it may be, felt comfortable. Immersing myself into painting scenes of Erivale made me feel like I was there, like I was back in that world. The call grew stronger. It was a constant urge, like a tiny itch in the back of my mind. Come back, it seemed to say. Come back.

It wasn't uncommon for art students to stay late working on their pieces, especially during finals, but I was often the last one out. Today, or rather tonight, I found myself so lost in my work that I hardly noticed when the lights were turned out. With a start of surprise at the sudden darkness that nearly sent a stroke of pink in the wrong direction, I decided it was best to clean up and head home. It was almost 9 PM, and I had a nice bus ride home to catch before they started going every half hour instead of every 15 minutes.

I quickly rinsed my brushes and then packed up my backpack before pulling my beanie over my head and plugging in my headphones. The bus stop I needed was a few blocks off of the main campus, and it was as familiar to me as breathing. Since I live at home, the bus is how I go to and from college every day, no matter the time or weather. It was the campus I had always known; it was safe until it wasn't.

With my music playing in my ears, I almost didn't notice the footsteps coming up behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see a group of large men following me. One held a liquor bottle in hand, and another held a knife – subtle. I wanted to roll my eyes in annoyance at them, but the anxious sliver of fear was already curling its fingers around my stomach and heart. It reminded me of when I saw the hunter's eyes. The feeling that you are undeniably being followed and if they catch you, well, if they catch you, it won't end well.

I tried to subtly pick up my pace and noticed that they did so as well. The men were unusually good at keeping about a 20 ft distance from me even in their intoxicated states. I saw my bus stop up ahead where a bus was leaving. Fucking great, that means the next one won't be here for another half an hour. And now that I was on the fringes of campus, it was much darker and much lonelier – perfect for getting mugged and assaulted by three drunk men following you with a knife. The only thought I had at this point was to run. So I did. I heard a shout and looked back to see them chasing after me.