The Secrets of Lore Seymour

19. A Pitiful Soul

Exercising after lunch is an absolute necessity seeing as my mind can't stop replaying what happened the last two days concerning the forbidden word starting with S and a mint. My heart races recalling how close Lore got.

"Damn it all!" I run faster around the manor, praying my burning thighs will hurt so bad I don't have time to think.

I exercise so long that it's almost dark. It doesn't help either that, while exercising, I feel someone's eyes on me. Through the dark, I peer at the manor where I spot a light within a window. Lore stands within said window, looking out at me. One devilish smirk, then he's gone. He doesn't take the heat of his stare with him.

I do a few extra laps around the manor in a desperate attempt to calm myself. Every time I pass the cathedral, I wish to see what lies within more and more until, finally, I give in.

The door swings open with a gentle push. I shouldn't be surprised not to recognize the interior, but my feet still plant themselves firmly in shock. Within the cathedral rests multitudes of differing equipment with spinning gears, long pipes, and blinking buttons. This is what I imagine a mad scientist's lair to be. Said mad scientist sits cross legged on a table located where the altar should be. The machinery clicking loudly around him covers my quiet steps until I hit one of the stairs that creaks.

"There is no way it's late enough for you to come dra--" Cyan goes deathly silent when he finds me rather than Draven, who he likely expected. He does seem to be the one to drag Cyan away from his crazed experiments.

"You," Cyan snarls.

Before I can speak, he raises his hand in a very telling manner. I hear the verse that threatens heat and dive out of the way when a ball of gold tinted fire crashes where I once stood. And here I thought Draven would be the first to attack me!

"Get out of here!" Cyan bellows, hurling heaps of gold flames that threaten to blow this cathedral up a second time in only a few days.

"I just want to talk!" I shout, hopping out of the way of another fireball only to nearly have my eyebrows singed off by a second. Rather than run, I face Cyan, raising my arms to form a shield that the fire beats against in long blasts.

"I have nothing to say to you lickspittle!"

...what's a lickspittle?

"Get out of here before I burn you to a crisp!" Cyan bellows.

"You're going to burn yourself too!"

"I've done so on many occasions and turned out fine."

"That's highly debatable."

"What did you say?!" Cyan's fire stops only for his fist to meet my shield. A horrible mistake.

Cyan curses when my shield slithers around his arms like snakes. He struggles to rip free, but the golden light circles his entire form until only his head remains. Those emerald eyes of his take on a fiery tint aimed at me while he growls, "You can't hold this forever. Once I'm out, I'm going to remove limb after limb, starting with your likely favorite, no matter how microscopic it may be. I've got the equipment to find it."

My legs close on instinct. Cyan smirks like a vampire. I'm too frightened by the notion of his threat to even consider what he implied.

"Listen, I'm not here to force you back to the church," I explain, though his exaggerated expression of disgust states he doesn't believe me. "I merely want to talk, to ask what His Grace did to make you leave."

Cyan throws his head back to produce a pretty impressive maniacal laugh. Then he faces me, nose curled and lips twisted into a grimace.

"Is that what they tell everyone? The wicked Lord Seymour convinced a poor, unfortunate seraphic to leave the church?" Cyan mocks, then rolls his eyes so heavily that his head rolls with them. "What a bunch of pompous, putrid, insignificant pieces of dung."