It was a long, hard, mostly silent ride back to the estate following Arella's release from the Arcaean prison. She had, thus far, refused to speak of what had occurred within the walls, but Mikil and Gibral both carried a worried expression on their faces. The young woman's jaw was set, her eyes blazed with fire, and when she thought no one was looking, she allowed the occasional tear to fall.
Arella, her lieutenant, man-at-arms, and two regular soldiers rode hard the last few hours and eventually, the Morningstar estate was upon them. The four men took their leave of the lady after escorting her into the main house with her thanks. She marched directly into the library, intent on doing as much research as she was able before she passed out from exhaustion.
But as she entered the room, something caught her eye on the floor. Moving to pick it up, she finds a parchment with a male's scrawling handwriting on it.
From Azrael Morningstar, Count of Winwich
To Tenebrae Raiva
My aunt was... many things. Delusional, perhaps. Or cursed by enlightenment. I myself do not know where Arella ends and where the myth of the Arcangela begins. There was so much mystery surrounding her once she made it to the Far East that I often wonder how much was smoke and mirrors and how much was truth.
She did always have a penchant for tricks. Not practical jokes, mind you, but sayings that baffled the mind and actions that left people assuming much more than what was really there. I believe it was her way of never letting people know precisely who she was.
Not that she didn't want anyone to know. But she wanted them to be certain before she was certain she could let them in. And I don't think any were willing to delve that deep.
One thing that was never hidden was her love for her people. She did everything she could for them, and in the end, died of a broken heart. If only for that legacy, I am interested in learning what these manuscripts have to say. And also to meet you, Tenebrae. This must have been something of great importance for you to be so excited about it. I look forward to digging into these texts together.
Her mouth agape, Arella watched, frozen as the parchment falls from her hands onto the floor once more. Azrael- her nephew? But he was so old! Unless she was...
She moved away from the window side of the large table and crossed to the nearest bookshelf. What was it Jenred had said about her? Arcangela or Apostate? And what was the book he had mentioned?
Nearly in a panic by now, she reached for a nearby book and flipped quickly through it before dropping it and reaching for another. Her brain swam with information and questions and answers to questions she had yet to ask.
Orphen. Wings. Rhamiel's Children. Arcangela. Helios. Toril. Taith Aenil.
The room was spinning by this point but she continued her frantic searching.
Hand of Ambriel. Orphaea. Dark. Xarnelf. Light. Book of Promises. Truth. Lies.
The room had suddenly stopped spinning and the world went black. The last thing running through the young womans mind were the words recorded in the book still clutched in her hands. It was written in her own handwriting.
There must be balance. Light cannot exist without darkness. But the two will always be in constant struggle. For the darkness does not understand that, were it to win, all that we now know would cease to be.
