The Meeting

I waited in a chair beside the roaring fireplace, mug firmly clasped between my frozen hands. The flames did little to heat my shivering body. Despite our frequent meetings, I’d never truly gotten used to Vernal’s visits. The ghastly paleness of her skin made her red eyes bulge in a way I’d never seen; the stench of her rot reminded me of a worm’s innards. She was not the sister I remembered her to be. Her skin did not glow with the same light. Her laugh did not warm my heart any longer, but rather sent it thundering in fear. I grew to understand this was normal now. She died three weeks ago, after all.

I didn’t hear her entrance, only felt the goose flesh of my arm rise with her presence. The room grew cold around us. The candles flickered out, one by one, leaving only the roaring fire as light for us to see within the small room. The darkness of Yukshire leaked in the windows, making her arrival more ominous. Wherever she came from was not of the happy tales our mother had so effortlessly spun us.

“Asra,” Vernal drawled, sitting with an eerie stillness in the chair opposite of me. “You’ve chopped your hair.”

I look at her, taking in the stillness that came with death. I refused to look any lower than her thinning face, too terrified at what may be below. I tried not to breathe in the stench. “I had a…mishap.”

“Another quarrel with Erasmus?” Her voice was thick with boredom. Her hair had grown white with the turmoil she endured; so different from the copper it once was. She refused to talk of where exactly she went after our meetings. Her eyes had grown weary and dull. I took a sip of the tea, now cold and stale in taste.

“We searched for Myra’s sword along the bay. It snagged in the nets set by port fishermen.” I shrugged. “Erasmus cut it before they could catch us in them.”

She shook her head. “Such a shame. It was beautiful.” She didn’t comment on Myra’s sword—they’d never been fond of each other when Vernal dwelled above ground.

I turned my gaze towards the fireplace, watching the flames lick the sides of brick jutting from the sides. I couldn’t look at her when I told her the news she’d been summoned to hear. “They found him, Ver. In a brothel on the east side of Yukshire. Chest cleaved open.”

She didn’t answer for a long time, drinking in the information. After a while a whisper escaped her lips. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I whispered, still watching the flames consume every inch of log.

“Good,” I heard her whisper with venom. “And good riddance.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I’d expected her to be much more happy at the news. “Do you think there were others?”

“Others?” She scoffed. “Of course, Asra. I was not the only innocent he murdered in cold blood.”

“Do you think he deserved it?” The butchering, I wanted to clarify. I regretted asking as soon as I blurted the words.

“You saw what me made of me,” Vernal seethed, anger rippling in her voice. “He cut me open. Left me to rot in the woods as if I were nothing. He deserved whatever the gods punished him with.” Gods, I thought. Vernal still believes in them long after her punishment had been sentenced.

“They buried him at sea. Sending him away in a blazing fire. He had no family. No one would have known, had you not told me. Erasmus tracked him. But it was already too late. Whoever found him first had their share of vengeance.” I dared look at her then, and saw the pain welling in her cold eyes. A tear slipped down her pale cheek. Her lip wobbled.

“I think it’s time Ver,” I whispered. “You can be at peace now.”

“Peace?” she sobbed. “You think where I go is peaceful?”

I didn’t dare answer her question. I knew she did not spend her eternity in the gold castles above. “Ver,” I sighed, my own voice cracking. I knew her pain, shared it with her well after she’s returned to the Otherworld. “How can I help you? I can’t stand to see you like this. Week after week I see you deteriorate more.”

“Then find it,” she urged me. “Find it for me.”

“Find what Ver?” I asked, exasperated. For weeks she’d been telling me to find it. “You’ve been telling me for weeks—I still don’t understand. Isn’t Barnaby’s death enough for you to move on?”

“No Asra,” she sighed. “I need the ring.”

“Erasmus and I have searched—”

“Asra,” She begged. “Please. She wants it—”

“Who is she?” I asked. She’d never said her name.

Vernal’s fear was obvious whenever she came up. “Just tell me and maybe Erasmus could help you—”

“He cannot help with this,” she whispered, her eyes still leaking pain as steadily as the tears that dripped. “Only you can find it.”

I huffed, frustrated. Of all the times I’d searched, I’d yet to find the right person, let alone the ring she needed to free herself. “I’ll try again this week,” I murmured. “But please Vernal—tell me how to help you while I’m searching.”

She stood then, rising from the chair swiftly, as if she had been summoned from something unknown, cutting our time short this week. Her eyes turned towards the door. “If you want to help me, then don’t summon me until you’ve found it. Truthfully Asra.”

She walked, or rather floated behind me. I’d long forgotten the tea I’d been clutching for dear life. I didn’t notice how terribly my hands shook.

“I’ll see you shortly Asra,” she said. Hopefully, I wanted to add.

I only nodded as I felt her leave. The darkness seemed to grow lighter in her absence. Tears freely fell down my own cheeks then. I felt a deafening pain with her absence. Find the ring, she urged me. Only you can find it.

I did not rise from the chair that night.