Chapter 516: Eye For Fashion
Sammy left for the drizzling, pouring rain outside.
And yet strangely enough, her absence only magnified her presence – still lingering even after her footsteps had long faded into the night.
I knew that having Sammy tag along with me wouldn’t be without its... complications, I guess you can say.
A family intervention smack dab right in the middle of a soul exorcism – just what could possibly go wrong, yeah?
But one way or another, sooner or later, for better or for worse, it needed to happen. For feelings to speak instead of assumptions.
Mom was a little disheartened to see Sammy go the way she did. But in that same sadness, she also looked almost relieved to see her gone, and for all I knew, she probably was.
“I almost wish I wasn’t who I was,” She thought out loud. ”
.....
“Oh well,” She managed a smile, holding her expression high. “I guess tomorrow it’ll be Lydia’s place she’ll be visiting in the afternoon. A lot of friends, a lot of places to escape.”
“She’ll come around,” I said, staggering to a nearby wooden beam, having recently lost my mobile crutch.
At that, her stark black eyes pierced me straight. “Have you?”
“Not really,” I said honestly. “But that doesn’t matter to me right now. Who you are, what you did... if I need to go to you of all people to save Harry’s life – then so be it. I won’t let knowing what you are get in the way of saving someone.”
“Simple. Logical. And by any means necessary. Hmm,” She threw me an intrigued look. “My, you know, you’re probably more like me than I thought.”
A low, disdainful scoff echoed from nearby, and suddenly Harry spoke loudly, drool spitting from his lips like venom.
“No wonder I didn’t like you the first time I ever laid my eyes on you,” there was a crack of bone as he sharply angled his sight, seemingly boring a hole into my very soul with his gaze alone. “I should have fucking killed you then when I had the chance... taken Eshwlyn back when I should have. I was too nice, too goddamn merciful, with compromising, convincing – a waste of time. Well... I won’t make that same mistake again.”
“Of course,” Mom said, calmly turning around towards him again. “You won’t be alive to make it, after all.”
This time she didn’t move an inch in either direction. No gestures, no words, but just like before – Harry’s limbs began to move, like a lifeless marionette so easily tugged by strings – his arms forced down, his knees pulled to the ground. In his expression glimmered a rage, a hopeless type, bitter and loathing enough to make anyone’s skin crawl, and Mom gave only a single blink.
“Sit, wait,” She casually told him, stifling a rousing cough as she did. “Adalia will be back here soon enough, and then we can finally begin the process of getting rid of this stink in my dear husband’s barn. Horses are being delivered tomorrow, you know?”
He just growled at her, unmoving, like a feral dog forcibly subdued... including his voice too it seems.
But with my eyesight improving by the minute, I could see more than I never did, and there, I only then took notice of it – that squirming, writhing – the inky black dress, its strands, like a hundred tiny worms racing all over, and I just had to know.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
Mom looked back at me with a raised brow, affirming me alone in my concern, and formed a smile.
“Wearing?” She repeated, all movement instantly stalling, and at the same time, Harry’s body untensed – no longer subdued. “The same thing I always have – I haven’t changed my clothes all day.”
“Right, then I guess I’m just gonna assume that that there you’re wearing – ” I raised a finger at her. “Isn’t clothes.”
She gave an encouraging nod, almost as if wanting me to figure it all out on my own without any hints – like it’s a game to her, or a lesson.
I’m thinking both.
When she takes a step forward, the blackness would sway as light as a gown. When she turns, it’d form folds, it creased, wrinkled. It acted and looked exactly like a gown.
Only it didn’t feel like one. If anything, it felt like her, it felt like me...
It felt like us.
“It’s a gown...” I slowly said. “that you made with your magic?”
Mom threw a small smile – a good try – but it seems I only just barely hit the mark.
“A gown, yes, but not made from my magic,” She explained as she rose a hand forward, her arm cladded black slowly stripping of her like bandages, slithering in the air like snakes, before like smoke, swirling towards me, and begin to tenderly stroke my cheek. “It is my magic.”
My confused staring, slow blinking, prompted her to further elaborate on her statement.
“In simple terms, what you see is a corporeal manifestation of one’s magic. Usually magic has no form, it can’t be seen, it can’t be touched – only felt. But if you are truly remarkable enough, which most usually aren’t, then this is a rule that can be bent for you. And the result, is what you see before you now.”
I blinked again, quicker this time, comprehending a little bit more. “It’s a gown.”
She made a funny noise. “Mmm, well, putting aside its physical appearance for now, it has a pretty convenient use actually. Once manifested, it takes upon your feelings, your thoughts, it becomes you – your magic given sentience. It acts for you, does for you, both your sword and your shield. Most of the time, you wouldn’t even have to lift a single finger to do as you want. After all, it already knows.”
So that’s what it was – how Harry could be so effortlessly rendered inert without her doing so much as batting an eye. And that also explains her consistent wardrobe every time I saw her in Ria’s memories. Why she always had nothing to fear, and every reason to surface no doubts...
That gown – basically magic on autopilot. An intelligent autopilot at that.
I admit that actually sounds... kinda useful.
Hmm, I wonder...
“I see that look in your eye there,” She muttered, smiling, that piece of her magic outstretched, reforming back into her sleeve. “And yes it is every bit as good as it sounds.”
I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming right up any moment now.
“And yet...”
Close enough.
“The most gifted users of magic could be blessed with a dozen lifetimes to try, and still will likely never see the day where even a sliver of their magic begins to manifest before their eyes.”
Right, I get what she was trying to say.
“It’s that hard to pull off?” I asked.
“No, it’s just that impossible,” She corrected. “What I just described to you goes against the very foundation of magic itself. A contradiction. A paradox. It is not a spell that you can just recite, a process you can practice and hone. It is beyond that.”
Alright, now I really do get what she was trying to say to me.
“Understood. It’s well beyond anything I can pull off,” I said, dashing the prospect from my thoughts. “I should probably just forget about it then, huh?”
“Oh, not necessarily, from what I’ve seen of you at least,” She mused, amused. “Just a few hours ago, I was telling you my barrier will never fall... and look at what happened now.”
“Yeah, but I doubt I can just raise my arms and scream my lungs out for a dress, can I?”
“That is true,” She chuckled, but that pondering look in her eyes still lingered. “But all I’m saying is – I’ve been wrong before. So really, who knows?”
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