8 the note and book

It was way past midnight when the light in Careth's room finally extinguished and the lethargic boy crawled into his bed, with his right hand sore from writing and his brain fried from thinking. When Miss Circum said two chapters of history, she left out a small but crucial detail, which was one chapter being ten pages of his workbook. And if that was not gruelling enough, she had extended his essay writing word limit to 800, or to a minimum of four pages.

His hand flinched occasionally, possibly malfunctioning from the overload of work forced upon it. Careth turned over and shut his eyes, trying not to think about anything, and just have a good night's rest. He didn't show it, but he was truly tired—tired from all the classes, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, and the constant thoughts of death drilling into his mind if he didn't manage to escape. He struggled to stomach the truth that the manor was a mere prison, his subordinates his wardens, and his father being the probable mastermind behind all this.

In truth, Careth couldn't help but wonder; did his father still have him as a son, when he knew he has to kill him eventually?

"I cannot sleep," he mumbled softly. Careth got up and trudged to the cupboard, where he untied the book sack and simply picked out a novel. The cover showed three children holding hands, and it was a story about how they ran away from their home, except that their home was actually a farm that mass produced children as livestock. Careth chuckled dryly.

He gave the book a read, his eyes sliding through paragraphs and dialogues until he felt the sleepiness kicking in. Careth was about to shut the book when he noticed something wedged in between the last few pages. Curious, he flipped to the end and a note dropped out, within it written, 'Willdyer, this story is your reality. Escape before you turn fifteen.'

—

The fresh rays of the morning sun shone into the underground shelter, its brilliance undivided even with the closed curtains of the vision window. Dust danced in the air before being swirled and whirled around by the movements of Rian, who was buttoning his shirt while walking towards the kitchen.

He turned on the stove and cracked some eggs, flipping it with his left hand while his right soaked the lemongrass teabag in a cup. Once he was done, he brought his breakfast to the table and ate, not forgetting to conjure the sound of birds twittering and the wind breezing as background noise.

As he ate, his mind wandered to Careth; what could the boy be doing now? Would he be up already and attending his classes? Of course, all Rian had to do was to peek at the window and he would get his answer, but he still has his decency. Instead, Rian switched the scenery of the vision window from the manor to the meadow, but he still didn't feel any better even though it matched well with the chittering birds and swaying wind.

A knock on his door interrupted his breakfast and Rian approached it briskly. When he answered, there was a maid clutching onto a basket with a cloth covering its contents. "Your weekly replenish, sir."

Rian took the basket and uncovered the cloth, filling up his cabinet with the foods before returning it to her, never speaking a word. The maid simply bowed and left the place, but Rian could hear her from a few feet away muttering, "So rude. No wonder the master keeps him down here."

Suddenly, a low moan came from behind her, and the voice crept up on her, encircling her. She turned around to confront it, but saw nothing except for the red door. The maid swallowed and quickened her steps, whispering to the higher powers for safety as she hurriedly closed the trapdoor and scurried out of the library, the haunting groan still ringing in her ears.

Rian smirked as he ceased his prank and walked towards his study desk. Atop the table were tea-stained music sheets and a violin, its metal strings and rosewood body glinting under the sunlight. Rian picked up the instrument, turning the pegs with caution. He then strummed the tight strings gently with his thumb and tuned it a little finer, all the while reminiscing the past.

'You tuned that just yesterday. Do you have to do it again?'

'Unfortunately, yes. A change in temperature can alter the sounds, so while it may sound all right in the day, it may sound flatter at night.'

'That's annoying. You have to look after it everyday, as if it's your pet.'

'Well, it isn't annoying if it's something you enjoy doing. Ready to hear my new composition?'

'I'm all ears.'

A sad smile formed on his lips as Rian placed his chin on the chinrest, holding his bow in position. He started the piece, not paying heed to the sheets as he had memorized it by heart.

It was slow and graceful in the beginning, to once immerse the audience in a state of dreaminess. As it progresses, the piece picked up speed and became more emotive, the tune inducing a sense of nostalgia to captivate the vulnerable hearts of those present. If colours were to represent the melody, it would be blue and grey intertwining. The piece then approaches ritartando, slowing down once again to a soft finish. The last musical tones echoed off the four walls, it's melancholy melody entrapped within the room, heard to none but one.

Another knock interrupted his play, and Rian raised an eyebrow. The maid had already came over today, and Careth was still having his daily classes. Who could it be?

He hoped it wasn't the Merry girl, else he would feel distasteful for lunch. Crossing his fingers, Rian unlocked the door, and was met with a much, much worse expectation.

"What do you want?"

Master Willdyer looked at him, and Rian couldn't discern whether it was humiliation or disappointment in those black eyes. But either way, he couldn't care less.

"I'm here to remind you that you may have to go back up soon," he said solemnly.

Rian leaned on the doorframe, folding his arms. "I know. So?"

"So you will need to prepare yourself. Read up on basic etiquettes, polish up on your combat skills, so you'll be a proper heir when you get back—"

"You really don't care, do you?" Rian interjected.

The master sighed impatiently. "Even if I care, there is no use. The Tradition must be followed. And do not interrupt me when I am speaking, Da—"

"Shut it. I got your point. Now leave," Rian spat, slamming the door in Master Willdyer's face. The master stayed for a few moments, before eventually leaving the lonesome space. Rian made sure he heard the trapdoor close before hitting the wall, releasing his anger on the poor wood. When he realized what he had done, he hurriedly searched for a fabric that could cover up the hole.

He opened cabinets, drawers and cupboards, but other than his casual clothes, there was no rag or cloth to hide his hole of fury. Sighing, Rian was about to shut his cupboard, when he noticed an odd shape in the corner.

He reached in and grabbed the object, which turned out to be a leather-bound book. Its cover matched perfectly well with the interior of the cupboard, and if it wasn't for Rian's sharp eye today, it would've stayed camouflaged until the next unfortunate person that happens to be locked down here finds it.

The book was blanketed with dust, making him sneeze in response when he brought it under the light. Rian flipped through the pages briefly, and was not prepared for what was written inside.

—

Hours later, he heard another knock on the door, but this time he greeted it with a practiced smile.

"Hello, hello! So what have you come up with?"

Careth and Merry walked in, ignoring his cheery vibe. They all took a seat at the table, with Rian sitting on it.

"I'm planning to escape into Witherblaire Forest," Careth started. "When I get there, I'll search for a path that takes me to Accruxia, and I'll sneak into their town."

Rian's smile dropped a little. "Witherblaire? Are you sure?"

"It sounds insane, yes, but so far it's the quickest and safest way," Merry said, bringing out the notebook. "This is a journal I found in the town library. It has all the information on different kinds of monsters, along with skills to survive in the forest."

Careth took the journal, scanned through the pages, then frowned. "I thought you couldn't read. How did you know this book was about Witherblaire?"

Rian stared at her as Merry chuckled nervously, "I picked them up from your storytelling. I've listened to you for years, how could I not learn a thing or two?"

The heir looked at her, then broke into a soft smile. "I see. I'm glad you actually learned something." But his brows knitted again, saying, "However, the writing is horrid. I cannot tell if a person or chicken wrote this."

Rian had to pinch himself to suppress his laughter, and Merry shot him a death glare. Careth continued to read, nodding to himself. "But I can still understand it. This will be really useful."

"So you got the wonder book. Where do I come in?" The host asked.

Careth closed the journal, looking up to meet his dark eyes. "I want you to ensure my safety when I'm in the forest."

Rian blinked, processing this information, then laughed. "How? You want me to create a shield? Make you invisible? I'm Blessed, but I have limits too. I cannot ensure your safety."

"Then at least make it so I don't attract any monsters," Careth explained. "You manipulate sound, right? You can mute my steps, or cause a distraction so no monsters will be where I am."

The teenager got off the table and paced around. "Well, I suppose I can do that. But that means I'll need to leave this place, and I don't want to."

Careth was exasperated. "Come on. We already have a solid plan. You just need to do your part and we both get what we want—"

"No, you don't have a solid plan," Rian interrupted, for the third time this day. "How are you going to escape the manor? And when you get to the borders, how do you explain yourself? Are you going to live in Accruxia until the day you die naturally? What you have is not a plan, it's imagination." He turned to look at the children, who were shocked at his change of tone. "If you're going to plan such a big escape, be more meticulous. Because all it takes is one slip up and it will cost you and me everything. And I certainly do not want to keep living down here."

Careth bit his lip. For once, Rian actually spoke reasonably, but he was still irritated. Nevertheless, he swallowed his retort and said, "All right. Let's think of how I'm going to escape the manor. I have classes from five in the morning to six in the afternoon, then after dinner I continue my classes from seven thirty to ten. The one hour free time is too short, so I think it would be better if I escape after ten."

Rian nodded. "Sounds good. Now, how are you going to get to Witherblaire?"

"You can climb down from your room. I can sneak out at night to help you," Merry suggested.

"That sounds great. Then we'll meet at the forest front, where you'll come in to silence my existence," Careth said, gesturing to Rian.

He nodded once again, adding, "And how are you going to blend into Accruxia?"

At this, Careth went quiet. He didn't want to admit it, but he had no idea. How to come up with a fake identity and live in a foreign town was never in any of the books he had read before.

Rian noticed his expression and sighed. "Fine, we'll get to that later. For now, just continue your duties until you think of something. I'll—oh, right!"

He disappeared into another room, then emerging again with the leather-covered book. "I found this just hours ago. You wouldn't believe what is inside."

This reminded Careth of his discovery as well. "I found something too! It's a note."

Merry was puzzled at the sudden excavations these Willdyers had. Curious, she bent over to have a look at the book Rian was explaining. "This contains all the records of those who were down here, like me. Apparently, one of them didn't want to be heir, and managed to get away."

Careth snatched the book from his hands and skimmed through the pages. Written in it were daily logs, entries of their lives underground. However, he recognized the handwriting of one, and fished out the note he had stashed in his pocket. He compared it, and the children's eyes lit up.

"It's the same. The person who wrote the note had also been a spare," Careth said. "Her name...is Dotilda."