Arin stood dumbly before a set of tightly shut wooden doors on the fourth level of the tower.
Those doors led into the quarters of 'little Alma', whom the tower master had mentioned.
'Well, she and Rin would be about the same age, so ensure that you are appropriately polite,' the man had advised, waving a carefree hand.
That wasn't the issue.
The white-haired man had also said, 'That child has been away on an assignment of her own, so you might have to wait a while to speak with her.'
'Speak to her through... a contact glass?' Arin had guessed. 'Can't I just borrow the one you have here?'
'Alma does not have a contact glass. You'll understand how to gain an audience with her once you've entered her quarters.'
Having said that, the tower master had paused to smoothen a wayward strand of his silky white hair.
Arin hadn't moved from his seat.
After a while, the man had looked up at him again. 'Are you not leaving, Arin?'
Arin had blinked. 'So, what; am I just supposed to walk, uninvited, into the room of a - a lady, who isn't even here to approve it?' he'd asked, confused.
'She'll know the moment you've stepped foot within,' the man had said offhandedly.
'That's not the problem!'
'She will not take offense to it, if that's what is worrying you,' the white-haired man had smiled. 'A fellow disciple is a sibling, Arin. Do you have a sister, in your own world? Yes? Then, treat this as you would paying her a visit.'
And at last, Arin had accepted it.
After all, he and his older sister were close enough that he could easily barge into her room uninvited.
Not that he'd done that very often, even when they'd all been younger, and living at home together.
A jarring amount of his interactions with her seemed to end with him having to sit through some passionate lecture about the environment, or the economy, or the pros and cons of the prevalent structures of society...
Now, Arin still hesitated a little, before ultimately deciding he might as well get it over with.
Lifting a hand, he reached out to knock on the doors once - for absolutely no real reason; he already knew that the lady wasn't in there - before finally, pushing them to open.
The doors stuttered and creaked as they moved, as though from a lengthy period of unuse.
There was a slight breath of dust as the air from within puffed out. Fortunately, that was the extent of it; there was no mustiness, nor any unpleasant hints of damp or rot.
And finally, Arin got to see what an actual room, without the veil of illusions, looked like in the House of Grace.
...
It wasn't much.
The slightly dilapidated theme of the rest of the tower's interiors seemed to continue into Alma's quarters, with its bare stone walls, and its ornate, yet uncared-for furnishings.
The only difference he could notice was in the windows. While the ones he'd seen around the rest of the tower had mostly been carelessly shuttered, the ones within the lady's room were fastened shut, and covered with layers of thick, heavy drapes.
The only light that entered was through the doors he'd just opened.
Arin cleared his throat uncomfortably.
Keeping his expression neutral, he then said, 'I've come for help...'
'Sister Alma...' he added after half a beat, the image of a Christian nun taking form in his mind unbidden.
Was this world religious? He hadn't seen any evidence of it, thankfully. Dealing with all the magical elements was enough, without having to worry about theology as well.
In any case, the tower master had already explained this bit, hadn't he? This 'sister' was supposed to be like his real sister, and not a lady of faith. Still, he was so unused to referring to people this way! Or hearing himself being addressed that way, as with Siel -
A sudden, eerie sound dragged him out of his thoughts.
It sounded like... a soft rustling, coming from somewhere deep within the darkest depths of the room.
Like something was slowly shifting, moving -
But he couldn't see anything in the dark!
- quicker now - coming his way -
It was only by employing a hundred percent of his self-control and awareness that Arin could stop himself from jumping backwards and yelping in shock.
'Brother Rin. Shut the door,' said a soft, whispery voice.
Face taut, Arin stepped deeper into the room.
This was someone who was supposed to be like his sister.
...
Sisters weren't supposed to be creepy, disembodied voices, dammit!
'Shut the door,' repeated the voice.
Wordlessly, Arin hastened to oblige.
And with another drawn-out creak, the room he was now inside, disappeared into complete darkness.