Hall of Shadows [The Celestial Chronicles #2]

Chapter Thirteen: The Crystal Tomb

"As a memory stealing out of the mind's slumber,

As memory floating up from a dark water,

Can be more beautiful than the thing remembered."

- Lawrence Binyon, "Winter Sunrise"

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Soundtrack of the chapter: Eternal Sorrow by Two Steps From Hell

Media: Statue of Nala

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Chapter Thirteen: The Crystal Tomb

Eli tried not to cry out from the fiery pain that swallowed his toe whole. He gripped the bed stand as another wave of pain surged through him. His foot felt like a creature had clamped its teeth upon it. The pain spells would attack when he wasn't aware most of the times, but they weren't too frequent. But now, they seemed to trigger every day.

He whipped his robes aside, exposing the bulbous and darkened flesh. The black bulging striations had curved up just below his knee. He dropped his robes and leaned against his staff, breathing hard.

The curse had been spreading, far too quickly.

With herculean effort, Eli hoisted himself off his bed and hobbled toward the mirror hanging from his dresser. A pair of puffy red eyes greeted him. His eyes had almost drowned in dark pools, the aftermath of insomnia and nightmares.

Fire. Death. The screams of both Oracles and Walkers who perished in the Great War still haunted him to this day. The horrified shrieks of the dying clung to him like a shadow, refusing to dissipate. Eli suddenly found himself hard of breathing.

I must not panic, I must not panic.

As a Healer, he knew what to do. He gasped for air, compressing his Celestial Energy into a flaming ball in his chest before he extended it through his veins. The warm efflux of energy loosened the knots in his heart, allowing oxygen to pass. He coaxed the energy to spread to his toes and back. With a final sweep of his hands, the energy returned back to its core and dissipated with a sigh.

He ran a comb through his tangled curls and gave his reflection a smile.

Well, I can do this. Lessons must run as normal.

He unlocked his chamber doors and went outside. A messenger Feorh was waiting for him with a scroll tucked under its feathery arm.

It bowed and raised the scroll. "A message, from His Honor."

Eli nodded. "Thank you."

The Feorh bowed again before gliding down the hallway and vanished.

He loosed the cord and unrolled it. A sigh blew from his lips.

So much work. This was the list of esteemed guests from the other Halls and the Chaldean Order, soon to visit the Hall of Spirits to celebrate the seventieth birthday of his grandfather. He was charged with the responsibility of preparing for the important occasion since Raphine trusted no one else. He must oversee the banquet preparations, the gifts, the transportation-he must conduct everything.

He tucked the scroll into the folds of his robes and set off toward the Hall Catacombs. The Hall Catacombs were a holy place, where it held the bones of the previous High Priest and Priestesses, all of them from his family starting from mid-Esvanira, as well as thousands of other Oracles. Eli loved the Catacombs. They were serene and silent, where the beauty of decay kissed the air. When he was alone down the tombs, he found peace. There, he could forget the terrors of his dreams.