Lone Soul

“Ramona?”

The door creaked quietly as he squeezed through it, closing it with a soft push.

Valentine looked around the old chapel, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any changes before settling on the floor, where an unfamiliar piece of paper was resting on the floor.

Without thinking, he picked it up and brought it to his eyes, on it, a line of text that made him furrow his brows.

So I'm alone yet again, what a surprise.

He scowled.

At least not for long, it's… Thursday… I think?

Valentine folded the note in his hands, sliding it inside one of his breast pockets.

Two days… all by myself.

The note was written in a language that looked extremely similar to English. It was a short message, stating that she would be gone until Friday because of some private business.

“I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu here…” Valentine murmured as he looked around and found the stairs leading to the attic.

After climbing them, albeit with some trouble, he looked around the messy place, his gaze scanning the surroundings with a growing frown.

There was no doubt in his mind that the attic was where Ramona was living all this time, the fresh books, the wide hanging hammock filled with blankets and half-opened shelves that seemed to be filled with personal belongings.

So this is her… home? Or bedroom, I don’t see the difference.

Although Ramona seemed like a quiet, proper woman. Her home was the exact opposite.

Everything looked old and ancient, with dust littering the place and webs hanging off the ceiling in strange patterns. The place looked like no one had cleaned it up for years, it was quite a surprise that someone could sleep in such a place. Her belongings were scattered across the floor and so were her clothes, which kept getting in Valentine’s way as he tried making his way through the attic.

At last, he stopped before a wide hole in the floor that mirrored the one in the ceiling.

Sunlight poured down from above, illuminating the place without a need for a lamp or lantern alike.

Swallowing hard, Valentine looked down the wide opening that seemed to be twice as wide as he was tall.

Through it he could clearly see the entire interior of the chapel. The benches stacked on the sides, the dirty red carpet and the altar with the scepter wedged inside it, with the all familiar spark circling around it.

She… was sitting all the way up here?

Valentine thought back on how she slid down the edge without a change in her expression, how her body glided through the air as if following an unseen current before landing in front of his eyes, calmly, like it were the most usual thing.

Was this the use of Pyra as well?

He thought, and it made sense… in a way.

Pyra is life.

So where would it be if not everywhere?

This is a scraped chapter; the original story, and the person who wrote it, can be found at www..

People would usually say that the world itself is a living being, then would it mean everything is filled with Pyra for everyone to control?

I would have been blinded if that was the case, there must be something else I’m missing.

Taking one last look at the hole in the floor, Valentine swallowed his saliva and backed away into a corner, finding himself a place on an old wooden chair that stood wedged between a bookshelf and a drawer.

Although he felt slight discomfort, it was better than sitting on the cold steps of the altar, and even better than standing outside on the street without a roof above his head… or at least a partial roof.

The second he sat into the chair…

“Haaaa…”

It felt as if his soul left his body.

Looking up at the light above, he felt himself sink further into the rocking chair, his muscles practically letting go of his bone as the weight of his coat pulled him down with it.

For once, he wasn’t forced to do anything he didn’t want.

It was as if he was finally free from the responsibility to go on, at last having the will for making a decision of his own.

There was nothing in his way that stopped his trace of thought, no monster that stood tall above his soul, not a human that could spray a sea of his blood.

It was just him, with his thoughts, and the long coat that slowly slid from his shoulders onto the floor, falling with a muffled thud that didn’t quite reach his ears.

His fingers curled up slowly as he crossed his arms, hugging his chest tight to drown out the ache in his chest.

His knees buckled, letting go of the weight of his body.

Finally, he could… get rest…

…

…

…or… maybe not?

Valentine opened his eyes slightly, looking around the deathly quiet attic.

It was dark all around, the light from the ceiling just a faint cold hue that lit up the dust particles in the air.

Did I accidentally fall asleep?

It was as if time passed in a blink of an eye, the colors changing like going from one photo to another.

He was still tired, lazily rubbing his eyes before looking around.

Nothing had changed except for his posture, his legs were already standing up but his brain was still half-asleep.

Tonight, it didn’t feel particularly chilly or cold. It was more of a summer breeze, the kind that felt cold on the surface.

Maybe my mind is not the only thing that needs some rest.

He smiled, looking down and pulling the dark wool sweater over his head. The shirt got caught along with it, taken off to reveal his pale skin and chest.

“Woah there, when did this happen?” Valentine smiled in surprise, his hand slowly tracing lines across his body.

He hadn’t really had a good look at his physique, only guessing what it was by the tightness of his clothes. But really, Sunday really overdone himself.

Where he would have expected soft, lanky skin, was a layer of muscle too solid for someone of his caliber.

His chest felt as solid as rock, finger barely able to make a dent. His abs were clean, defined, but not for show.

Touching them, he winced slightly, the shadows making his eyes adjust to the darkness.

A large bruise was covering his torso, its shape… well, something like a boot.

That damn…

He didn’t have the power to curse at her, shivering slightly before pulling on his white shirt at the very least.

Perhaps it was the aftermath finally kicking in, Valentine felt as if he were about to throw up at any given moment. His body ached each time he shifted, but it didn’t hurt, only making him grumble longer, slowly torturing him.

Valentine stared at the dark ceiling for a long second in thought before, his gaze, fell down on his long coat.

There was a square outline inside it, two to be exact.

‘You can return to your lodging and try studying on your own’.

Lilith’s words rang in his ears, reminding him of yesterday. As much as he disliked her for humiliating him, she seemed to care about him, even if it were for Noah’s sake only.

Maybe it was his heart speaking and not his head, she was pretty, very much so.

It was also quite fortunate that Lillith was the exact type of girl Valentine liked, perhaps it was because of it that he listened and accepted her ‘gifts’.

Two books were in his hands, one thinner than the other.

He didn’t have much trouble reading them, it was as if English was a universal language here as well.

Valentine frowned at the news of having to finish two whole books. Of course, she might have not meant that he had to finish both of them in a single day, but it was still way more than he expected for homework.

He narrowed his eyes, looking through the darkness at their grand, colorful covers.

“‘The World as we see it’,” he read aloud, his head turned to the other book, the thin one. “And ‘The Language Of Fire’, both written by an anonymous author, how humble.”

Valentine’s eyes flickered between the two covers, debating for a moment on which would be the first for him to read.

But… as if the very flame inside him heard his thoughts, a small, gentle spark manifested before his eyes.

Flickering around one of the books as if in a wild frenzy.

“You want me to read this one?” He spoke to it as if it could answer, and opened the book it had chosen with a dry crack.