Chapter 54
. . .
To the Council's Senior Archivist,
Archivist 4.03.15 has been confined to the left wing ever since he awoke again after succumbing to his condition. We sent several people to assess his state. They found no traces of corruption lingering on him, nor any evidence of an affliction that might pass from him to others. Even so... he is not the man he was before he stood before our eyes.
At times, I worry this is something the Abundant Creator has set before us... or something that arose from what you have said, or perhaps what you have chosen not to say.
Your loyalty is known to us, but I must remind you, because duty compels me, that the oath granting your entry binds you foremost to our order. According to the accounts of those who came before, we have remained a latent fellowship since our founding. Yet this is the first time you have sought us out in this manner.
Are you truly of the same bloodline as our prior Senior? I will not voice doubt openly; your gift reflects the same uncommon quality once seen in Madam Lamb, and that alone should speak in your favor. Still, I would ask you to send a reply. There are things I wish to inquire about before others begin to draw their own conclusions.
Our blessings upon you, Senior Archivist.
Archivist 07.16.07
". . ."
With no other options presenting themselves, Hoku decided to investigate the room immediately.
After all, there were so many books and files here that he might find something useful.
Though inwardly, he couldn't help but repine at not having spent more time looking through the manor's files before tossing them into the hearth.
Still, he couldn't berate himself over it. How could he have known what to expect?
This room was much larger than the study in the manor.
Although it likely held a similar number of documents, it was far better organized and well-kept.
Water still lapped around the legs of the furniture from the flood.
A few paintings in odd frames hung on the walls, depicting indistinct landscapes.
Other portraits showed scholarly men; some clutching quills, others standing before shelves of books or seated at desks, brandishing them like props.
Remembering how he had rifled through most of the files in that study's drawer, Hoku now instinctively made his way toward the desk in this room.
There, he found many hand-printed papers strewn across its surface.
His eyes fell first upon the document he'd only just set aside.
Unlike the others that were nothing more than black ink on off-white paper, this one was marred by blotches of dark red across the center and one corner.
They resembled old bloodstains, though the color was so dark that Hoku couldn't be entirely sure.
'Technically, many things can resemble blood…' He sighed and tried to reassure himself while returning the papers he had disturbed to order before leaning in over the desk.
The muscles across his back drew taut as he pressed a hand against his mouth to keep himself composed.
'What was I thinking, sifting on a whim?'
His fingers pressed harder against his lips before he raised them to his temples.
'…This migraine hasn't made looking at it any…'
Hoku was suddenly seized by a perplexing notion that stopped him short.
'...Is this really so different from the life you were already living? The only real change is that now you're a known name in an unknown place.'
Though the question had left him momentarily bewildered, its reasoning felt so innate that he almost believed he had debated it with himself before.
"Haa—" Hoku let out another long sigh and slumped even further over the desk, running a hand back through his hair.
"But, what is any person, if not a stranger to themselves, and a storyteller to an audience?" he mumbled to himself.
"So it's hardly shocking that even as I follow one conclusion, I am drawn back to the heart of my own doubt."
As his gaze wandered upward, a faint glimmer swept across his periphery and vanished instantly.
Hoku subconsciously cleared his throat and pushed himself up from the desk, though he stopped short of fully straightening.
His heart lurched when he realized that someone was looking back at him from across the room.
At the far end, shrouded in silence, stood a tall free-standing mirror.
It had a tall, ornate frame carved from oak, and loomed darkly against the candlelit walls.
The glass was misted over, offering only the vague outline of his figure as he took a cautious step forward.
The instant he stepped within a foot of it, a curious tremor swept through him, as though something on the other side had stirred.
Was he simply too cold to notice the moisture gathering?
He noted, however, that there wasn't a single window or opening here to let in outside air, and despite the abundance, candles alone couldn't cause this much condensation.
Glancing around once more in confusion, Hoku pressed a fingertip against the mirror's smooth surface.
He was about to murmur something when a thin crack suddenly bloomed from under his finger, spreading across the glass like lightning splitting the sky.
Hoku yanked his hand back and stumbled a step away.
For an instant, he found it almost ironic that a mere tap had fractured the mirror, as if some terrible curse of bad luck had fallen upon him.
Then, a heartbeat later, the mirror exploded outward with a sound like pages being torn from a book!
On the inner faces of the flying fragments, Hoku glimpsed grass bending toward a distant light.
The details were too neatly aligned to be a hallucination; it was like a door opening back into the very landscape he'dcome from.
At that exact moment, a thick cloud of white fog erupted out of the splintered frame and billowed into the room.
Hoku ducked instinctively, but the relentless mist rushed over him and filled the room within seconds.
He dropped to his knees immediately, raising both arms to shield his face.
The smoke surged around him in a dense wave. It seeped across his skin and stung his eyes, carrying splinters of glass and dust that scraped across his cheeks.
His vision turned into a blinding sheet of white; he couldn't even see a foot ahead.
The stale tang of plaster and ash coated each inhale, burrowing itself cruelly in his chest.
Coughing uncontrollably, Hoku grabbed at his soaked shirt and pulled it up over his mouth and nose. The damp cloth merely filtered part of the debris, barely letting him breathe; thus, each inhalation remained bitter and foul.
Hoku knew the fog couldn't last forever, but he didn't dare wait for it to clear.
He dropped onto all fours and began crawling forward, groping through the haze as he navigated the flooded floor.
Despite everything churning around him, the only ripples across the water appeared to come from his own hands.
Amid the oppressive white gloom, he maintained his composure, intent on finding a direction that would not lead him into an inadvertent trap.
Behind him, the mirror's frame stood like an empty doorway, gradually encompassing the shelf-lined walls, paintings, and furniture into a white void.
Once he was sure Hoku could keep his bearings and slowly rose to his feet, his right foot dipped slightly the moment he set it down.
The damp soil that hid beneath the tangle of grass let its cool strands brush lightly against his trousers.
He furrowed his brow and lifted several roots from the ground.
He knew better than to strain his eyes; his vision was only barely serviceable at the best of times, and in this condition, any effort would be wasted.
Casting aside the question of why he had been brought here again,
Hoku leaned forward and set off, doing his best to remain on high alert.
He had no desire to wander in circles, but without a single landmark, losing his way out here would take little effort.
Fortunately, a solution came to him quickly; within his first weeks living in his uncle's house, Hoku had plucked apart lobelia stems from the front yard garden and placed them at the threshold of each room he entered, trying to map out the surprisingly intricate layout.
Many doors there led back into rooms he'd already visited, and he often found himself returned to a place he thought he'dleft behind after taking just one wrong turn.
Of course, this time, however, he needed something more immediate at hand.
Hoku lowered his gaze to his left hand and squeezed his lips into a thin line.
The steady throb in his fingers gave him something firm to seize upon; without further hesitation, he let the shirt fall from his mouth, held his breath, and bit down hard on his thumb.
When the pressure finally drew blood along his thumb, he dropped to one knee and pressed it into a clump of soaked grass.
The blood trickled down into the grass, leaving a bright red smear against the golden stalks.
With the trace left behind, he rose and bracketed the wound with his index and middle fingers, keeping the blood from sealing too quickly.
Minutes slipped by as Hoku advanced cautiously.
Every so often, he stopped to smear another streak of blood across the grass, marking the path behind him.
Before long, though, he spotted a shallow pool glimmering a few paces ahead and quickened his stride toward it.
Keeping the cloth of his shirt pressed firmly over his nose, he stared down at the pool with a perplexed frown.
It looked exactly like the first one: still and round, reflecting the hazy surroundings.
But now there were patches of red spreading across its surface, slowly darkening the water even further.
The sight made Hoku's heart jump.
He instantly recalled what had happened with the first pool, how it had wrenched him straight into the study.
He pressed his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth, recollecting himself from a daze.
He swallowed and inwardly lamented, 'It's getting a lot harder to stay here—I have no other choice but to risk this outcome again.'
With each passing second, the cloth over his face failed a little more, letting the stifling haze seep through.
Clenching his teeth, Hoku leaned forward and reached out.
The instant his fingertips skimmed the surface—
RRRASHH!
—The pool convulsed, but it did not disperse this time.
Instead, the dark surface began bubbling violently, as though something beneath it had been set ablaze.
In the blink of an eye, it surged upward, rising higher and higher until it converged into a towering wave that swept toward him.
Hoku scrambled away as swiftly as he could.
Many more crimson tides burst out of the basin, surging forward and flooding rapidly across the ground.
Evidently, the strange liquid was incomparably fast.
The moment it reached the tips of his boots and seeped through the worn leather, the rushing flood immediately ceased being his most significant concern.
Long strands of the liquid peeled upward, tearing free and breaking apart into droplets that hung eerily in midair.
A second later, it began raining upward large, crimson drops surging off the ground and darting into a dark cloud that was rapidly converging above Hoku's head.
Hoku bared his teeth in a grimace and leaped away from another rising wave.
The lukewarm droplets splashed onto his skin as he moved, and he cursed inwardly.
Pak! Pak!
Just then, two resounding snaps cracked beside his ears.
In an instant, Hoku's vision was severed.
A sudden disarray took hold of him, leaving him reeling as if he had suddenly become drunk, though he had never tasted a drop in his life.
In one eye, he clearly saw the study: the broken mirror frame, the water spread across the floor.
In the other, the field remained; a red-stained expanse beneath a cloud slowly drawing a curtain over the enormous moon, as the upward rain ascended at uneven rhythms.
The two scenes intruded upon one another, as though two worlds had slid across each other without warning.
Half of his sight lingered on the study, while the other half emitted a faint, diaphanous echo of the open field.
Hoku doubled over almost promptly, coughing as nausea once again welled up from his stomach before he rubbed at his eyes, trying to steady the chaos in his vision.
Simultaneously, as he lowered his hands, everything retreated into one place.
'...'
'Kind of had hoped for variety this time around.'
The rain had ceased, thankfully without following him into the study.
The water on the floor was briskly withdrawing into four directions; even the smallest puddles dwindled into vapor and vanished.
The mist that had suffused the room was gone as well, leaving everything before him seemingly restored to its original conditions.
Except for the broken mirror that lay at his soles.
The wooden frame had cracked at an angle, and shattered glass lay strewn across the floor like glittering debris.
Hoku shuddered as the right corner of his mouth twitched.
His gaze followed the trail of shards back to where the mirror had stood against the far wall.
Only one large fragment remained, tilted upright without the frame, its surface catching a narrow band of reflection.
Just as Hoku was about to turn his gaze, a figure seemed to waver across the narrow mirror, as if seated directly behind him.
Hoku spun about at once, almost stumbling.
His eyes swept the candlelit room, and a pallor crept over his features.
There, perched casually on the corner of the broad, aged desk, sat a young man.
To be continued…