It was actually a tarot deck. Gifted to her from a dear fellow vagabond while she had been on the road searching for Zer Zura.
"A guide, from beyond the stars. May they hearken to your call and light your path when the Heavens themselves discount your pleas."
Their time together had been brief, but such was their way of Life. The way of wanderers.
She hummed a soft tune, blowing the dust off the faded box and setting it aside.
The brunette smiled fondly. That Time had come again, once every few centuries when she would make her lone pilgrimage and sweep out the dust bunnies and cobwebs that had begun to accumulate. In reverence to those now but the dust themselves.
This trip, however, had been put off for quite a while and it had shown in the layer of accumulated dust even with her wards.
A stray spider descended on a long silky strand to greet her. Her dark brown eyes stared at the squishy black bug as it did.
With a giggle, she poked it with the end of her broom, laughing as it startled and dropped, scuttling off to hide behind an aging bookshelf.
"Nice to see you too Mr. Loomington." she gave a small smile as it scuttled back out to click its jaws at her.
Contrary to popular belief, Loomington was not a name gifted to them as tribute to his kind's prowess as hunters, to stalk their victims and become the shadows themselves though that in itself was praise worthy, but rather his ability with the loom. Weaving a myriad of stitches and patterns known only to his kind and whose delicate patterns were so intricate that only the clawed multitude of appendages could carry their loops.
Though a spider in appearance it was one of many creatures that lived within the domain of her ward, and in return guarded it from any would be intruders.
The spider seemed to melt into the shadows, the distorted shape of a specter creeped up the wall.
In a sandy rustle the form settled and straightened out, a gravelly voice rasped, as if straining to speak, "How many years has it been since you last came?"
"Eight centuries, Not since the rise of the Blue Harvest Moon." she answered easily.
"Ah yes, you came to me then as an admiral, tall and proud, but what is this strange garb you come in now? Your voice, it is of higher frequency." A shadowy hand reached for her, and the brunette stepped closer, allowing the tendrils to encircle her and palpate her form. They brushed along the contours of her body, tracing her neck, following the collar, riding the ridge of her spine, and tickling at her ears.
"And your form, so utterly... diminished. What has atrophied you so? I do not remember you in such a feeble state."
Shyloris smiled, "This is poor jest, Loomington. We have gone through this many times before haven't we? Though you were not present to see to my last awakening, you should know not even I know what face my next morph will take. Soon, as comes the passing of the lily, so too will my life seep into earth and replenish anew."
"Forgive me, dear Lily." There was a low rustling and she smiled as the shadow quivered, chuckling.
The brunette raised a hand to rest above her heart, fingertips against but not pressured, on her clothes. In recent years the beating of her heart had again begun to fluctuate. Right now it beat steady, pulsing beneath her fingertips.
The lily was nearing anthesis, it had already begun to bud. Neiro too had noted her dulling eyes as her life force slowed.
Around her neck there was a small churring, and she peered down at her makeshift scarf.
The Calluna lapped at her neck and she laughed, petting the anxious creature's head. Despite it's lacking understanding of the human tongue, it nonetheless sensed that something was amiss.
A thought struck her then. Would her dear familiar still recognize her? Though her aetherical signature would remain the same, a different life, a different experience, a different person.
"You will return to us anew then? Have you come to slumber?"
"Indeed I have, though this would be the prelude to the end." Shyloris stared at her material possessions, some antiques, priceless artifacts, stones of power and immeasurable value, still more were but sentimental items, like the playing card deck that she had spent countless hours with over a table and in the company of a close and now departed friend, worn so thoroughly that their painted surface had all but faded, the paint rubbed off in countless games full of boisterous laughter and merry.
Doe brown eyes slipped shut, a genteel smile slowly spreading on her face. So many memories.
"Today I'm just here to clean, maybe gather the vines above to repair the cradle."
Loomington nodded slowly. The cradle as she called it was a woven hollow and nest, a bed of plant fiber. Like a cocoon she would be enclosed by the giant waxy leaves that would act as a tarp, blanketing over the nest entrance.
The cocoon wasn't necessary, but it was a comforting vessel for when she would once again be visited by death in the endless cycle of trapped rebirth. Never aging, never growing, but as was the nature of Life, always changing.
Over time she had found materials far softer and comforting in the metamorphic process, and she held them up for Loomington to inspect.
The arachnid nodded and again came the hissing of sand as the shade flowed over and gingerly took the cloth to stash way in her nest.
He left her to finish dusting, retreating to an undisturbed web high up in the hollow to begin weaving.
Yet another reincarnation was coming. Death was inevitable, and her state of being altered, determined by that which only the Lily knows.
Though it was possible to shed her mortal form of flesh and bone, her soul was forever locked in eternity with the True Heart. How often had she felt her heart flutter as it struggled to keep pumping, then relenting and falling silent altogether? The blood as it stopped in her vessels and her body grew still, her mind darkening with her vision.
Shyloris shuddered and shook her head to clear the thought. The albino had once told her what she looked like to him in the aether, for he could see what her humanity deprived her senses of.
The jealous vines of the Lily that seemed to coil and pierced her body. What kept her chained, locked to that moment when the nectar touched her lips. The flower that could only be seen by one who had brought paradox into existence.
There was something strange about the encounter, and the thought had come to her before, and left her questioning the nature of it all. It was too perfect, too coincidental.
A stage that had been set.
The foreboding shadows that dogged her ever step, happenstances that were just too coincidental, too convenient, too perfect, it put her on edge. Calm though she appeared, the paranoia was rising.
Was she a mere puppet? Made to dance to the pull of strings by a shadow unknown.
The divide when the Veil was drawn, and how she became stranded in the mire, that happenstance, and then her presence in the seldom instance of the Lily's anthesis.
The brunette shook her head again, shuddering. Such thoughts sent light chills that danced and prickled across her skin, the wavering but unrelenting thought pushed into some dark corner of her mind. That perhaps it hadn't just been coincidence. The whole situation surrounding it had been odd, though her, at the Time, young mind could little comprehend and details were all but hazy in the searing pain that followed as she was bound.
Even more so considering how she wound up meeting Neiro in his moment of weakness, and the lifetimes following.
It was as Neiro said, there were too many Aces, too many strings being pulled.
But by whom?
And though Shyloris didn't want to consider it, there was Neiro himself, though she remained skeptical that the Numen would devise such.
Despite his presence, it was nigh inconceivable for his kind to intervene so directly. Yet wasn't that what Neiro was doing? That he was here now meant more than what was said.
What that something was, remained obscured in shadows, and Neiro had never himself brought it up.
Speaking of the albino, though it was doubtful that the stage was set by the man in question, and was more likely a case where there were others vying for a gain, the skepticism remained. She didn't want to, but it was a possibility she had to consider.
It was a rogue act for a Keeper to interfere with a timeline, but then why would he, as a guardian, suddenly gift himself with tangible form? Even more absurd was his presence outside of the Veil, where his boundless aether, no matter how masked, would affect those around him.
That and having interacted with various inhabitants of Schemiel thus far was overstepping the bounds of his kind.
She had lived too long to put her full faith in the amiable man, though it pained her to think of him as anything but Neiro, it would be foolish not to.
But what?
Neiro, the embodiment of unconditional tender love and care, a smile never far if ever, and an infectious laughter that made the sun shine brighter and the clouds lighter.
Her anchor.
A pang startled her and she reached a hand up to rest above her breast, fingers touching where her heart should've been.
Though the cheerful guardian had been nothing but warmth and comfort from their first meeting and stood watch as a mere observer, she couldn't help but wonder. Her long life after all, had led her to this point now, the apex where all the Sovereigns had gathered.
Certainly, though it didn't concern her, she would be there to record it, the culmination.
Ah, but you already a part of it aren't you? Whether you want to or not.
The brunette started as she found herself there, in that one place she left for last. Not out of reverence, but fear, for Death itself clung to the shadows.
With just a tremble, she flicked her wrist and flooded the room with a gentle light. To be honest it was rather bare, the most unassuming within the hollow unlike the rest of her treasured pieces. Tucked behind drapery, clothes, and other miscellaneous items, hidden away in the protection of her enchantments.
There she lay behind the flat-toned curtains of the bed, and Shyloris tentatively parted them, casting the harsh glow upon a pale and serene face, identical to her own current visage, save, for a softer face lacking in the prominence of cheekbones and maturation, eyes closed as if asleep.
If only it was but slumber.
The True Heart lay dormant and bound, though this was the one place that bridged the gap. The sole entrance by which the Heart could be reached.
As she gazed upon her body, still in everlasting life and death, did a lone thought rise above the rest.
I want to believe in him.
She truly did. Among all those whom known, Neiro was the only on whom she needn't fear would be lost to Time.
Which is why she was here now, she had to be certain. Something was wrong with the Timeline, there were things going on around her that she didn't yet comprehend. There could be no other reason that Neiro would suddenly choose to engage others, and in Schemiel no less.
She would uncover that which still lay dark to her, and to do that she needed to sift through the timelines. A clue, something that would give her a glimpse of the strings on the stage.
Resolved, she leaned in, and lay her hand over that of the sleeping girl, and in that moment the world was enveloped in darkness.
There are several unchangeable imprints ingrained in Life, the first of which, was Death. All Life will eventually come to be equal as they make their crossing over the threshold by which Life passes to Death. Next, was Hunger, the desire to devour, to sustain.
But first, Shyloris stared at her own face, or perhaps more accurately, the face of Heart, still adrift and encased by chains.
"I have come, and that is all."
But the child remained fast asleep, and she was left in the presence of Death, and a waning Heart, but she held strong. For the True Heart ever draped in Death's embrace, was here in Limbo.
Stepping into this void space was to revisit and experience simultaneously, every memory of her long existence.
It was difficult to remain grounded, and several times she nigh forgot her purpose of entering Limbo, but then there was a blinding smile, a gentle gaze, and a warm embrace, and she remembered.
Neiro.
Though Death was perhaps the most prominent, it was not the only memory, and she held onto the faint joy.
The happiness as she shared a cup over a game of cards with an old friend, the cake that another comrade had made as a surprise party for her that for all its poor culinary execution, was the only cake she longed for despite having tasted many an artisan's confections. Among all of which, was the sad inevitable parting. Her despair at her incapability to prolong their will and flame, and the sad times where she returned to find the familiar faces gone, and long departed. Yet in that eternal despair was a faint joy, a memory of their smiles, and the reassurance of the one whose smile would always be there.
Though all the thoughts, all the emotions and turmoil was there at once, she pushed past them.
With that she allowed her consciousness to drift. Timelines streamed by and as she let them weave together in their natural course.
Unlike the parallel threads that they should've been, was a knot. Time was nullifying, centered around one point.
This wasn't right.
A slow sense of trepidation washed over her.
This wasn't right. It was like seeing a forest catch alight from a carelessly tossed cigarette.
The brunette prodded further, the strain of feeling all her fear, sorrows, merriment, anger, hope, and despair at once piling up.
There in the center was the void, and the one who was void was--
Shyloris drew a sharp breath.
Obsidian lens obscured his eyes, but she would recognize that face, and presence, anywhere.
The human that Neiro was conveniently accompanying, and the sole, undisputed, and reigning Master of the Academy.
"Silas Curse--?!"
Silas turned and to her shock, looked not in her direction, nor past her, but at her, and they locked eyes. A dark jade iris peered over the top of his shades and fixed on her own. She saw the Invalid give pause, a look of almost bewilderment strewn across his face. But her aetherial eye was not unseen. Beside him Neiro returned her shocked glance, his eyes frantic as he gave a subtle shake of his head.
"Disperse!"
And she did.
It was jarring, and as she was wrenched out of Limbo she stumbled back, panting harshly. Drawing in a shuddering breath, it took a long moment to remember where she was.
A poke on his shoulder brought the tall man back to his short statured company, "Sy? What's wrong?"
"Fatigue. For a moment I believed that reticent friend of your's among us. I must've mistook another for her."
Neiro cocked his head, "Reticent...?"
"Shyloris Blasé." came the usual monotone.
"Maybe it really was her." the albino glanced around at the crowded canteen, "She told me she'd be dropping by this afternoon to pick up some supplies since it's cold in the Apiary and the bees didn't do so well this year."
"Indeed." but the puzzled scowl spoke otherwise, and the man dwelled on it a moment longer before peering down at his company, "I suppose I may retire early this evening if I'm envisioning things."
With a grin, Neiro nodded, tugging lightly on the brunette's arm and hurrying them back home. For all his protests, his tall flatmate would always concede and let the other tuck the both of them underneath the thick fluffy blankets. Though Silas would never openly admit to it, the man was rather fond of the albino's platonic affections.
Such was the influence of unconditional love, he supposed. An old cliché of a piece, but repetitive for good reason.
It truly was a powerful and changing emotion that swept up those who were touched by it.
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