Chapter 38 - Deeper Cave, a Journal of Memories

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As they went deeper into the cave, it didn't take long for her to notice another entrance, another hole; and as Cain remembered it was another hole which led to another room, where they kept the treasures, charmed items, pendants and the heirlooms of his family.

As he remembered it to be.

He hadn't visited the place in a while, and it had been in his schedule to check on it yearly. And that he hadn't for a good 3 years. It was his job to keep everything in place. To check whether something had gone missing, or whether they had been under attack, if they'd stolen some of their treasured heirlooms.

And to decide, that he wanted to take some of them with him. For the sake of protection, and for the other for the sake of keeping it safe. Some are far too precious and valuable to be left alone inside a cave. Even though the entrance to it is invisibly charmed.

"It's in there. Let's go." He spoke, breaking the silence, to which Averithe lightly nodded, following him suit.

And he shocked Averithe as he trudged forward, a mere step in front of her, and with his hand that he held forward, with a palm open that he held it there for a couple of seconds, before he brought it back down. The cave didn't seem to change much, except the small gust of wind that she felt, to be cold and welcoming. That she knew this. Knew this from somewhere. It was oddly familiar, but her head was blank as a paper, as Cain turned to look at her.

"Come. It's right there." He spoke.

To which she almost gaped in awe, but it only came out as a small gap between her lips. As he walked forward ahead of her, she snapped out of her head before she followed suit behind him.

The room. The space inside, she expected to be dark and damp. But it wasn't. It was finely built and structured with cases that aligned with such symmetry it almost made her blood rise in an over-exceeding expectation.
She didn't expect the wood to be so old either.

As it held and witheld the weight of the treasured items, ornaments, and what seemed to be fine objects that were meant to be stored; preserved.

She wouldn't dare touch them. They all seemed to glow with the color and the
sizes that they were. With its sparkle and glimmer which seemed to be anonymously forged from the purest form of a harvest from the ground itself.

Gems, ornaments. Vases that looked so tiny. As she looked around and saw Cain before her. Grabbing a few items, observing them and putting it back down.

"Some of the items here are charmed. But taken by someone more powerful than them, it is possible." He spoke, a grim look on his face, afterwards. He spoke so lowly, in his voice of tone that she caught, which she couldn't help but think if something was wrong.

"I'll be taking some of these stuff with me. To keep us protected. And for, safe-keeping. In case something happens." He spoke as he glanced over to her.

She nodded, "Of course."

"Let's go." He spoke, to Averithe's confusion, and to which he pressed a button at the far corner, an edge that was hidden by some of the racks.
Camouflaged by the same, dark coloring walls that it had. And she didn't even notice it one bit.

"There's more to it." He spoke as he ducked down and entered into a smaller cabin. And she followed suit as well, ducking down to make sure that she wouldn't bump her head into the ceiling and made an embarrassment out of herself and an outcome of doing something silly.

She thought she'd been there, done, and over that.

As they entered, they were presented by a luminous glow. A moonlight appeared from the side ther seemed to shine and keep company of whatever items that were stored there.

"It's made of magic." He spoke. "It is a special-made moonlight that were made to preserve these items here. They were kind of special, and needed a special glow to keep them intact. And of its purpose, of course." He spoke, quite clearly so, as all she could was give a small nod.

She felt out of place.

"I don't remember this being here.." He muttered lowly, as he had his back to her, and the sound of a ragged, flipping of the pages was heard, echoing throughout the room.

Not too loud, and not too silent, that she stood. At the moment, she felt really serene. And she could camp a night in here or two, the ridiculous thought crossed her mind. And that she felt comfortable enough at the moment.

"The journal. I thought I kept it in my study room above the fireplace.." He thought, seemingly muttered to himself before he flipped another page.

The sound, to Averithe, seemed to be louder as it resounded across the room. As it bounced, echoes against the walls of the caves. An echo that she heard through her ears and seemed to vibrate across her chest bone and her inner bones.

He thought he did, left it where it was, but as the skin seemed rougher, of a leather which seemed to be made from a serpent's skin. And not the authentic texture he did used to feel across his fingers. As he flipped over a few pages, the inside seemed to be all in all the same, and he didn't have any suspicions over it. Almost.

No notes were lost nor torn or incoherent towards his eyes. Until something caught his eyes.

She didn't think that long, until Cain spun halfway and spoke, "Averithe, come here."

She trudged over, seemingly curious of what he had found or what to show her.
To which Averithe had no idea on what he wanted to show her as she came closer from behind. Her, getting prissy with her shoes as she chose to wear sneakers for the day. Blatantly taking his advice as he said they were going to take long walks and would travel long distances. She wouldn't take another thought, nor think it twice the next time she had to go out in the open snow.

She didn't know if this was made- for specifically, an enchanted area, as she walked closer as her eyes took, glazed over the walls of the cave, to an extent of what that she just witnessed; or if the house was entirely made from discovering the cave itself. But that was impossible. Maybe they connected it to the cave itself to make it as a secret safe for the treasures of their house.

"I seemingly to find you in my picture book.. Here." He glazed, and her heart skipped a beat. As if a skillet had been punctured in uninvitingly. And she saw from afar that his finger pointed at a single picture of a girl. A single child, standing next to the others, who wore a common clothing, a girl who wore black, a young girl in a black dress of what seemed to be a royal household, that he had remembered much. And his memory trailed back, and remembered he did, for not a long time, settled in a house of a visit - a family that came to stay for a while, before they left without so much of an announcement, and that after that he and and his family were massacred brutally, before he had to leave soon and move elsewhere.

The cause was, because of vampires.

Of that he did, had to stay in one of her father's relative's house and a friend of his to either complicate things, or to keep his own life, and other's safe. To stay for a short time, and quite a complicated situation, a moment of renegade, he used to say, whenever he recalled back. And after he was attacked, he was left to fend on his own for his life. Along with the others, that was left after the massacre. His servants and the aid of his butler, who was luckily still alive.

And until one day he met the mages, one, by one they emerged out of nowhere, so sudden. And later in life he found them out to be the protectors, or the aid, and he discovered them to be the helpers; for the survival of the existential crisis that the vampires were having, as well as his own.

Rue the day, of a thought when he grew up. That they would take an important role in the futuristic pillars of vampires. Much of a maturity of his own thought. And that they would be the core of the civilization of an anarchy. He shivered once at the thought.

And miraculously, he found them to be the kindest, most daring vampires of the cult; of their species. And of the day that he encountered them, he couldn't owe them any more than he did, as he stumbled upon them, a lucky charm, so as a thought crossed his mind back in the day, and they practically adopted him, taking him into their arms and so as much raised him, one and the same. Who he later discovered them as wielders, the very vampires of pillars who solely protect the vampire clan and its mere existence, of its species, and who- most importantly saved his life, in other words.

And after a few exchanges, they would protect, in an agreement, to raise the royal highness until he was raised to the throne and which he would later take the royal crown. They supported him. He remembered them saying. In an exchange that he would not kill another, a member of his secret cult. Or the ones that proceeded to show any signs of magic. Mage. And yellow-colored traits of the eyes. Or even start a war with the opposing enemy. Or the neighbourly existing species. Or what they used to call the Elementalists of vampires. Or cause a riot in any of the houses. Because that is what vampires do. It stuck to his head. Then, he could do whatever he wanted.

As he looked over, and glanced towards Averithe. And it was not that hard to take a wife.

As he looked at her. He was just doing his job.

He knew, he would later in a fact, needed a wife, indeed for when he became king. It is not an easy job to do. And he couldn't do it alone. He longingly looked at her.

He was not that kind of person.

As she came closer to see what he was talking about. She came closer, forward, of that he did, smell her scent of her perfume and he almost froze on his knees. The perfume. Of what she wore. Was the one, the only one he wished she didn't wear. Of Vanilla and Pomegranate. It smelled insanely divine, on her, it penetrated deeply even if he just took a small whiff of a breath, and he wished she would just go far away and wash herself before coming back.

But he didn't react. As he stood frozen on the murky floor and waited until she stood exactly by his side. As she breathed out a fling of her breath and it wafted across his neck and his collar bones. To which he tried to ignore it, and as Averithe's eyes landed on the picture, she felt a pair of eyes on her, and he looked over to Cain, to which he looked away.

She wanted to ask a question.

But she was all too distracted by it.

And she almost gave in a sigh of annoyance, until her eyes trailed back to the picture at hand, and she in fact, did see herself. She gasped, almost embarrassed of how it echoed against the walls, and she saw her own face to be plastered on the picture, an image of her own, a small body wearing black dress, with white frills at the sides and covering her chest are. She was plastered, inside the black and white picture, of the creamy, vintaged, and old-fashioned paper of the right-hand page.

And she did gasp, and later on that her mouth hanged open, of a fact that she couldn't react, or how that little girl looked so much like her. It crossed her thought.

She in fact, did not remember taking that picture, or maybe it was a long time ago, she didn't remember. But she specifically remember staying over at someone's laarge house. And maybe that was it. She did not remember anything at all or anything related to it. She felt relieved, relaxed, as the tension left her bones and ribcage. She almost felt she couldn't breathe if she remembered it.

Maybe a slight few of a blurry image, or a daze, but it was nothing.
She remembered nothing.

Which it got her name on it. Averithe. As it said. And the name, Silver. As it sat next to her name, and in a different, bolded and in an almost different language, the lettering as if foreign, and from a whole other country. She had no idea. And something tells her it had a specific symbol on it.

He followed her eyes, and his eyes stayed frozen on her name. He thought that the house had been extinct, gone for decades. Silver. The name rung clear to his head. He had golden memories. And the only thing that he remembered, was that he was stayed, a vacation of a sort to stay over at one of the houses. He didn't remember what, but then, somehow, in that house, he met another girl. Of his age. And he remembered that they introduced her, of her family house. And it was not silver.

He remembered the hushed whispers. But he did not. Remember them to be ecstatic when they said it. The last of her name, Silver. It did not rung clearly in his head.

And of which it did, it didn't occur to him before, but his eyes stayed frozen on the writing, and he found nothing. Seeing the name on the tiny imprinting on the bottom right made it obvious that the name.. might have been wrong, or proven that it had been her.

Or if anything of it was true.

Then again, one look. His eyes took off the lingering picture off of her, and back to her face. Her jawline. Her everything. And he knew, it was her.

The same person who he met maybe a thousand years ago, which was years counted in years, who came back to him, and now was standing by his side, just like that. And he swore, he could devour her right then and now.

Averithe, as human as she was, didn't notice a thing as she saw him holding the tiny book around his fingers, supporting the back, as she noticed, and she had no idea how long he'd kept the journal. Any more of it and he would be creepy, more of her pictures that were hidden and now she's some sort of a figure in history?

Yeah, right. She still wondered, at the little girl standing so eloquently before a man. Who held both of her shoulders. While the other people, the strangers seemed to be gathered around to take the picture.

And of a fact that they were around her, she didn't remember a thing about them, or who they were. The man, particularly, was hovering above her and was a man who wore a moustache under his nose, thick, and curled up into the sky, upward. And was holding both of her shoulders with both of his hands. Creepy.

She started to speak, "I didn't even remember a single thing, of when I took that picture - or what I really was doing there, or even looked like that, even.." She started to ramble, but stopped herself. She saw herself to be young, small, tiny, someone who looked like her, which she was not convinced at all. And that the black and white coloring of the picture didn't affirm nor help her suspicions or her confusing, tangled up maze of a solution.

The unattended color urged that it could not be her. She didn't look like that. She liked to wear sundresses, when she was young, and bright colors, mostly yellow Personally, she would choose pastille, or light-colored ones at the time if she didn't have any other option, or often times when they were washed.

Young. She observed. But she was not convinced. She was sure it was just another person with her name on it, and a duplicate of a face of another person that just looked like her. Yes. It does.

Cain didn't know how to respond, or more like he didn't know what to say, an explanation to get her to understand, and stop her brows from furrowing even further. "Maybe it was you, maybe it wasn't. But there was once, one time when a young girl came to visit. You, came to visit." And he remembered the distinct tone of voice she used to have, chirpy, but kind of downtoned, in a way,
the shape of her eyes, and how she always appeared to appear grumpy whenever she dislikes or is displeased with something.

Something that would never disappear.

"Just for a short while, maybe a few days, before you left. I'm sure.. I remembered, that they said that you were part of a long-distanced family, a relative who lost their parents. And.." He trailed off as he looked down at her. "Your house was almost annihilated."

She didn't know what hit her. But a stream, and a knockout of emotions hit her chest, and she was threatening to brimming with tears. Sadness, grieve she didn't know where it came from threatened to surface. And she tried every bit of her soulful self to bite it down, or bite the inside of her cheeks. But she couldn't.

Her eyes warm, her tears brimming, and they now stung. With warm tears spilling, one by one, it treaded down her cheeks like spilling water from a well or a sink.

Even though she didn't know why.

She knew she had a bad past. She knew. Her mother seemed to disappear. She didn't have a family for as long as she could remember. One day, she woke up in an orphanage, and she loved it. But nonetheless, she was taken away. Promised for a better life.
She indeed, had a better life. But her mom seemed so distant, so cold, of the previous settling and the people she used to know, she wasn't the same.

She owed her. A debt. She knew, never to be repaid for raising her, and keeping her alive all these years. The expenses of a living cost is far too great, and she knew she was grateful for her.
It was not like they had any fights. They were chatter, like a bird to the clouds.
But then all she knew, as she grew into her teen-trending years, she knew it wasn't real. She knew she was adopted. And how her mother treated her was of how a queen would treat a child off the road. Kind, but she didn't feel any love, or any blood-related feelings towards her. She froze. She wondered if this was allowed, how her mind flowed freely and if it was a sin to think of her mother this way.

She hoped it wasn't. And she knew she she loved her all the same. She was a kind woman.

Cain glanced down, the change in the air, the atmosphere seemed so great he was appalled to the core. To see her displaying such emotion, such sadness in her eyes that he noticed the dried teardrop that went, and the glaze in her eyes that appeared unsaid, and it made his heart break. The sight of it, and it was just from his rear-view.

And from then on, he knew. He had to protect her. She was one to stay by his side at all times. And whoever caused this, or mourned not a speckle more, would have hell to pay, and they would have to be killed by his own two hands.
He would have to make it work.
He knew, until forever.


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