The Unseen Road

Chapter Fifteen

The ash had settled over the ruins of Glenia. Time had certainly taken its toll on the abandoned settlement three and a half months after its destruction; for even where the fire hadn't reached, building foundations were now giving way to rot.

Of course, this didn't disappoint Beatrice in the least. The place that had once appeared so lively had gotten what it deserved. It didn't have much time left standing- and certainly couldn't be salvaged.

She landed by an all-too familiar location at the settlement's entrance; it had been the first sight of civilization that she, along with the other three girls, had seen in Alysia. As she stood upon the small hill, she closed her eyes and imagined what it had once looked like from a distance, the dim but warm lights peeking out of the darkness.

Digging her fingernails into the skin of her palms, Beatrice realized that it had all been a lie. Though the small woodland village had brought fortune to the other two girls, it had only granted Beatrice lost opportunity.

General Bion's rejection echoed in her mind, and she felt a sharp ache in her heart. Could Glenia have been the first place to force her to endure the possibility that she'd never have a place to belong?

She inhaled sharply through her nostrils, telling herself that wasn't why she had come; the only reason she cared for was to convince herself that she had done nothing wrong.

A gust blew by, stirring a loosened board hanging from the scorched wooden gates. Taking that as an invitation, she walked on, not bothering to pick up her skirt, which trailed through the ash as she kept her eyes locked ahead.

What had she felt the last time she had walked this path? As she looked through the fog that blanketed the ruins, she could just barely identify the remnants of vaguely familiar shapes of treehouses and tents, matching them with memories, not long past, of a time when they were pristine.

She remembered feeling hope then, a sense of adventure; but now, she scolded herself internally for having been so naïve. The only things that she had gotten in return then were hate and disgust- and it hadn't even been her fault.

The rotting wood creaked with another gust of wind; but still it was ominously silent in the hazy dusk. She looked to the left, where the sound had come from, and saw the dilapidated frame of a tent. It looked just like all the others, but somehow it had caught her eye, calling out to her in a voice more desparate than the rest. She found herself taking a step closer; the foliage crunched quietly beneath her feet as she approached. Slowly, what used to be the interior of the tent came into view, blanketed in dust and dead leaves. Beneath the layer of dust was the faded pattern of a worn-out red carpet. Bending down, she carefully extracted an old, thick leather-bound book that had also been covered in detritus and blew across its surface. The cover text appeared to be written in Latin, though the letters were so faded that she could only make out the word, "Devotionis."

Unable to derive anything from the single word, she opened the book. It felt heavy in her hands, as if it was meant to be left, untouched, where it should have lied for the rest of eternity.

Each delicate page seemed to contain a set of instructions written by hand, headed by a title in bold; then it became apparent to Beatrice that it was a spell book. The longer instructions were accompanied by diagrams, such as a picture of the user and the effect of the spell.

She pretended not to take interest in what the life of the book's author was like, telling herself it didn't matter as she flipped through each spell. There were so many, it must have taken at least a hundred years to compile them.