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Dreamer – Part 04

One winter afternoon, three magicians materialized like a foreboding mist in Saubreme.

In a run-down apartment building nestled in a poverty-stricken neighborhood, built on a low-lying, damp terrain reminiscent of a valley floor, three figures emerged. The floorboards of the cheap, basement rooms emitted subtle creaks as they made their presence known.

Most of the residents were unaware of the vast underground chamber beneath the building. A petite woman dressed in blue, accompanied by a pair of red-haired twins, proceeded stealthily into the streets of Saubreme, gliding over the ground.

A fighter plane zoomed overhead. One of the Brians squinted at the sky, while the other kept his gaze ahead. The men, who had shared the same actions for a considerable time, now appeared to be parting ways, all for Cordelia Gallo’s wish.

The three advanced into the labyrinthine and intricate interior of the Soleil Noir. They traversed a network of medieval underground passages, navigating pathways intended for staff to transport goods, dispose of waste, and handle corpses, all while progressing silently, leaving no trace of footsteps or presence.

Sensing humans, staff members turned their heads, only to discover an eerie aura of some animal. No one was present.

The staff squinted and stopped in their tracks, thinking they saw a fleeting blue smoke, or some golden tail, but they found nothing. Cautiously, they proceeded down the ancient underground passages beyond the walls, shrinking at some unseen presence, shuddering at the sound of a voice.

Golden-haired Cordelia Gallo and the two Brian Roscoes approached the stone chamber slowly and deliberately, as if performing an ancient magical ritual.

“Goodbye, my daughter,” Cordelia whispered into Victorique de Blois’ ear. “Step into the future. Live for me too.”

They were in a windowless stone chamber, with only a narrow entrance fitted with iron bars. Victorique sat on a shabby chair, her eyes, lifeless as the deceased, wide open.

The countenance of the nearly unconscious and utterly spent pup seemed to soften ever so slightly. Upon seeing this, a glimmer of relief flashed across Cordelia’s features.

Cordelia kneeled and removed her dress, then undressed Victorique of her white attire. The golden pendant glittered.

When she saw the foreign characters etched directly onto Victorique’s resplendent skin, like some magical runes, she paused in astonishment.

One of the Brians glanced down. “That’s the script of that eastern country.”

“I see. That boy,” Cordelia muttered in disbelief. “Then this is…”

She looked at her daughter with a faint smile. In an instant, Victorique changed into a blue dress, and Cordelia into a white outfit. One of the Brians casually lifted Victorique onto his shoulder, and turned to leave the stone chamber.

Cordelia stopped him. “Tell her: ‘to the future.’”

“The future?”

“When she regains consciousness, please tell her: My daughter, born into the Old World by a mysterious fate. You are not only a descendant of the old, but you also represent a potential for the future.”

“…”

“It’s my… last request.”

Brian snorted. Then, he slowly lowered his gaze. “Fine.”

“I’m very sorry, Brian.”

“Now it’s really goodbye, Cordelia. And then, the other me!” Brian shouted, then turned his back to the two.

With Victorique on his shoulder and holding something else under his arm, he took a few steps down the passage. Spinning like a whirlwind, he vanished from the spot, as if sucked into the darkness.

The mournful howl of a wolf echoed from afar.

In the stone chamber, a woman with flowing golden hair and a man standing beside her remained. Time seemed to resume its course as if by magic, and the soldiers, who had inexplicably vanished from their posts, reappeared. As soon as they saw the woman slouched in the chair, they left to give a report. The man standing beside her was only visible from the waist down in the darkness. The interior of the stone chamber fell into silence, seemingly unchanged from the scene the soldiers had been observing for the past ten months.

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An empty chair lay on the floor of the stone chamber, illuminated brightly by the lamp, as if reminding everyone of the absence of the girl who had occupied it just hours ago.

Cordelia was lying on the floor, her golden hair spread all around. Brian Roscoe sat protectively next to her.

“I see,” Marquis de Blois said, his voice trembling with rage and suspicion. “Three filthy wolves came and two left, is that right?” Standing with his legs apart, he melded into darkness from the waist up.

Brian responded with a low growl.

Marquis de Blois’s monocle glinted eerily in the darkness. His mouth opened, revealing large and yellowish front teeth.

“Sneaking into this huge prison or quietly leaving would be nearly impossible, I know that. Even if you managed to come this far, you couldn’t have entered the stone chamber without being noticed. Something is off with your statements. What are you hiding?”

“We are magicians. We can perform all kinds of illusions. Hmph. Not with the old power you so admire, but through tricks and years of training. Cordelia is the same. Since we reunited, she has been practicing magic.”

“Tricks and practice?” Marquis de Blois scoffed. “Not the power of the old, you say? What nonsense. You… You are a renowned magician popular all over Europe, in Saubreme, Paris, London. Even I knew your face and name. Brian Roscoe’s Phantasmagoria, Fascinating Double Act. What living person can use illusions to that extent? Your magic certainly has tricks, but the power to use them freely, to produce illusions, and to enchant people, is still the power of the Gray Wolf… the descendant of the raging gods of the Old World, the power of the old ones!”

“Hmph. Delusion is a terrifying thing.”

“But… But even with the power of the Gray Wolf and tricks, you couldn’t have entered the stone chamber unnoticed. Unless there was someone guiding you. Moreover, there are guards in the passages, and above all, inside the stone chamber… there is…”

Marquis de Blois abruptly paused. All of a sudden, he froze, as if a revelation struck him, and his gaze swept across the room.

Snatching up the lamp, he cast its light into every nook and cranny of the stone chamber. But there was no one there.

On the cold floor lay a water jug and an empty plate, surrounded by a pool of water that had likely spilled from the jug. Marquis de Blois knitted his brows in confusion, his eyes fixed on the dampness below. Then, he turned his attention to Cordelia and Brian. The dry silver strands of his hair rustled eerily in the still air.

Cordelia’s pale, delicate face and Brian’s features, twisted with anger and disgust, seemed oddly similar—as if their shared expression hid some significant secret. All four of their cold, green eyes stared back, unblinking.

“Wait…” Marquis de Blois rose to his feet. “Where is my son?!” he shouted.

Silence greeted him.

“Where’s my eldest, Grevil de Blois? Where did you hide him?! He’s been locked in this chamber for ten months, enduring the company of his creepy half-sister. He may have flaws, being young and all, but he’s an obedient son, set to inherit the Blois legacy. What have you done with Grevil?!”

Cordelia seemed to smirk faintly. Marquis de Blois’s eyes widened, and he strode towards her again to beat her. Brian swiftly placed himself between them.

“Did you… did you kill him? For the little cub…”

The two Gray Wolves fixed their gaze on Marquis de Blois in silence, not providing an answer to the question. Observing their pale faces, Marquis de Blois could sense an inherent cruelty, an unyielding survival instinct, a loyalty to protect their own—a wolf’s instincts. He reeled back and froze.

“Or maybe… you erased him. Like magic, from this world… vanished like smoke.”

“Vanished like smoke… huh?” Cordelia echoed softly, her face emotionless. She chuckled softly.

At the sound of her voice, Marquis de Blois yelped, dropped the lamp, and a brief blaze lit up the chamber. Then, darkness swallowed everything within the stone walls.