A gaunt piece of almost porcelain skin glides against the smooth surface of a shining table.

Oh wait, that's my arm.

I pull back my arm, just as my eyes wander to the chandelier in the middle of the dining hall. I've always wondered why there are numerous chandeliers, candelabras and dark coloured furniture. I later realised that Edenfield might as well be a museum with all of its pristine settings.

A light snore comes from my right.

The dining hall is almost empty, except for Ms Bragge and me. One can call Ms Bragge as almost half a person at this time of the clouded night.

My seat hisses as the back of my lower legs push it behind me. I know Ms Bragge won’t wake up wholly because of the noise, but it can certainly lower the intensity of her slumber. I brush my hands against her shoulders and shake them.

She opens her eyes after a few shakes.

She arcs forward, resulting in freeing her shoulders from my grasp. Her eyes look for me at my previous, before she rotates around to find me at her side.

“You almost scared me out of my wits, Lindsey,” she falls back into her seat; her fist supports her cheek as she blows a breath.

“Sorry.”

“Have you eaten?” she asks with her hazel irises focusing on me.

“Yep.”

The topaz-like lights sway back and forth above me, making my head move along with their current.

Yellow. Kathleen.

Ms Bragge begins to stand, but my voice prevents her from doing so.

“Ms Bragge, would you believe me if I told you something?”

She tilts her head to the side; a few loose strands escape from her bun.
“Of course, love.”

My knees bend down, so that she doesn’t have to look up everytime she talks to me. I intertwine my hands in front of me with my elbows on my thighs. My gaze stays at the woodwork of the seat as I say:
“Even if I say I saw Kathleen?”

I can only see her wrinkled hand move downwards before realising that it is actually for cushioning my chin up.

“You know, your father once asked me a question like that too when his parents passed away,” she crinkles warmth through her expression, almost like the warmth of her hands.
“Do you know what I told him?”

Dad...

Her chest takes a single strive before she says,
“I told him this:
Death has a lot of aftereffects. Often, they occur when we least expect them…
But what is important is to know that the city of silence is just a city, nothing else. In a lot of instances, you’ll feel as though you’ve visited that city once and still come back to the world.”

My eyebrows furrow,
“How can anyone come back once they’ve left?”

“That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?” she pats my head before drawing her hand back to stifle a cough.

My body springs up and proceeds the glass of water on the white-laced table, but she waves me down.

“It’s all right, sit down,” she stops coughing and takes a tissue from the table to wipe her hand.
Her breathing relaxes before she laughs,
“Now, that was a typical old lady reaction.”

She claps at looking at the table and sparks up, “Hm, I should get these dishes back to the kitchen.”

Ms Bragge stands from her chair before her smile fades lightly at the cold seat in the far end of the dining table.

Dylan’s seat.

The dishes clank in between her hands as she sets them upon a silver tray. I keep staring at the seat.

“I think he’s in the library. He might be of some help.”

I turn my head around but Ms Bragge is already nearing the door of the dining room. The door closes with a light click while I am left with questions skipping in my mind.

Instead of doing what I thought I’d do, I stroll across the the curved space in the wall. The door on the left leads to the rooms and kitchen, while this curved space connects to the corridor where the library and attic staircase is.

I can go from the other side as well, but it’s just a longer route.

Rain patters on the wall length windows, as I push open the library door.

It's been quite rainy these days...

Rows and columns of book shelves reach the top of the ceiling, with several spotless tables with red-coloured sofas. I crane my neck and whirl around the place, but I can’t see Dylan anywhere.

Maybe, Ms Bragge was mistaken.

I am about to leave the library but my eyes fall on the grail staircase at the far end of the library.

The grail staircase connects to the upper portion of the library where much older books are located. The newer ones are all on the ground floor.

It's worth a shot.

My feet prob on the grey-coloured stairs with tiny black dots almost everywhere. It’s been awhile since I have been here.

I didn’t stop visiting this place after the accident; I stopped visiting it because the mad journal has been occupying my attention these days.

I pop out my head from the stairs to see the library almost like the section down stairs, if not a total replica.

There are a few pages scattering the floor like autumn leaves. They all trail to where the seating arrangement is.

What the...

I pick up a piece of paper, only to find out that it’s as clear as a marble slate. With bended knees, both of of hands travel through mountains of pages.

“Oi!” I pull away my hands to bring my left one before my eyes.

My middle finger is bleeding with a vertical cut on it.

Oh, what luck...

I press my right fingers against the cut to quicken the clotting, and grind my teeth at those papers.

A papercut on my left middle finger and a bruise on my wrist. What a fantastic combo.

I almost choke on my breath as my gaze lands down to find a few sentences written on them.

“It’s me, Henry.
“Remember the poems.”

The paper drops from my hand as I recoil from it. I expect to see a few red droplets scatter too, but my finger is healed, as if nothing ever happened to it.

Wind blows from the windows, tossing a few more parchments towards me. One of them also has Henry’s writing:

“There are always two sides to a story, Lindsey.”

The writing disappears from the paper, and I rotate my head around to see the previous page. It’s also blank.

My hands rake the pages as I crawl against the floor to find something else.

One catches my eye, followed by another.

“One side may have a more literal meaning, while the other may dwindle in figurativeness.”
“You shall find both when you find the city of silence.”

The words disappear again, and I groan as I throw the papers to side. My hands find homage at my hair roots, as they pull my hair to the side.

Another page falls at my lap, and I hold in tribulation settling down in myself.

“Find out about your maternal grandparents, Lindsey.
Find out about that one person who may seem like the least likely I would suggest.
These three, your grandparents and that one person, can help you.
Though, this person I am talking about is the one to first lay thorns in your path.
Exercise caution, or else that cut and wound may not be your only source of pain.

Sincerely,
Henry Fitzwilliam Knightley”

I blink and when I open my eyes, the words are gone like an optical illusion.

My grandparents...
That one person who lays thorns in my path...

“A rose cannot be enjoyed wholly till all of its thorns are wrenched out.”

Meredith...

The wind whistles again, this time sending shivers even through my jacket.

Where is the blasted wind coming from?

I leave the pages behind, and look for where the wind is coming. If only there is some sort of sign of it…

Finally, a silk curtain flutters a few feet ahead of me. Though, the curtain is in front of wide-length purple chair.

I see the back of a pair of shoes straying at.

Dylan...?

My feet slide forward, careful to not make a wincing sound on the floor.

He's just sitting there, doing nothing.

I lower myself with my arms enclasped at my sides.

He’s still in a formal suit with his head drooped and elbows hanging in between the armrest to his lap.

He's actually sleeping here...

The tip of a letter peaks from the V-neck of his coat.

I shake his hand slightly and cringe at finding his hands to be ice-cold.

“Dylan… wake up…”

This time I shake his shoulders and he bolts upright. He looks left and right, before sighing as he notices me and rubs his nose bridge.

“Why’s the window open?” I ask while moving towards the open glass and closing it.

“I like the breeze.”
He looks down and folds the revealed tip of a letter back into his coat.

“Your hands say something else.”

He folds the letter, before I can read any more. I inwardly sigh, but then my eyes pop out.

There are no pages left on the floor.

Dylan turns to look at where I’m gaping and asks,
“What’re you looking for?”

I just shake my head, as he adjusts his coat.

What should I ask him... I need something that won't revoke suspicion.

“What’s your favourite Assassin’s Creed game, Dylan?” I blurt out.

Really, you're asking that?

He turns around faster than I expect him to, and narrows his eyes at me. First, his mouth closes but then shuts, before he folds his arms across his chest.

“‘Assassin’s Creed: Rogue’ and ‘Assassin’s Creed III’.”

My eyebrows perk up,
“Isn’t that the game in which the assassin turns over and becomes a templar? The actual enemy of the assassins?”

“Yeah… I liked the storyline the most.
Shay was a really complex character and after the way they showed how people of both sides think they’re right… It was just very realistic.”

“And isn’t Assassin’s Creed III the one in which the guy revisits all of his ancestors’ memories?”

He grins and says,
“Maybe, I am an old soul.”

His arms drop down as he studies my expression, trying to find something out.

He taps two of his fingers on his mouth before turning on his heels and leaving me with clenched fists in the deserted library.

I am going to make you talk even if that's the last thing I do, Dylan Nathaniel Knightley.

Hello everybody! I hope everybody's doing great! :)

With nano and exam preparation, my procrastination has been... well, just look below.

Also, please ignore if the inverted commas seem different. I'm pasting the nano chapters from google docs and the docs seem to be the culprit of these transitions(wp deleted 500 words of mine a while back and I am not willing to risk my nano stuff because of a glitch).

Recently, I changed the story's 'urban fantasy' tag to 'contemporary fantasy'. Wattpad seems to like that more since it's now one of the top tags. XD

Anyways, Henry really likes to take unexpected turns, doesn't he? ;)

Okay, so now to this week's question:

What do you think Lindsey is going to do next to find out about Dylan?

Or

What's this 'City of Silence' talk?

I swear I didn't name the chapter because of the Mortal Instruments. XD

Music: The Absent Heart- Peter Gundry

Have a fantastic week!

Love,
MS Zame