The Vestibule of Vestiges (Pt. II)

A warm blanket wrapped around me. The fireplace in front of me. The night sky finally descended upon the outside world. I'm numb. I'm cold. I'm wet. I'm confused. I remember stepping forward. . . and sitting here. Something happened. Dark blue and streams of light from the sleepy sun refracted across the water's skin illuminated the realm where third dimensional maneuvering was completely possible. And I began to drown. I remember now. I had somehow fallen into the canal. And I couldn't move. Everything was becoming dark. But there was a splash. Someone called my name, and there was a splash.

I look to my left, and there sits the elf. He is sitting on the chair next to mine, glancing between me and the flames that illuminate the inn's parlor. I turn around and stare at a wall, watching the shadows and streaks of firelight writhe and slither and dance across the surfaces. What is happening?

I shift slightly, and the blanket slips off my left shoulder, exposing my arm and nearly revealing my chest. I realize that I'm naked, but I know why. I pull the blanket up, tightly hugging my otherwise uncovered body. My clothes are hanging up somewhere, drying, and I'm here trying to get warm as fast as possible. Why Wrael is here still remains a mystery to me. What was happening?

I look over to him, and he stares right back into my eyes. I say nothing, but we both know what I am asking. "I'm just making sure you stay safe for now," he answered. The simplicity of the answer agitated me. Why should he really care if I'm safe. We've only met a few times, and for brief moments. The idea of being someones burden, especially a stranger's problem, isn't something that appeals to me. While I could use this to some small advantages, I prefer the option of self-sustaining dignity!

Furthermore. . . "How did I get naked?" I inquire tersely. He turns his gaze to me, his eyes locking onto mine. "You got naked when your clothes were removed," his expression saying nothing to me.
"Smart ass. Who removed it, then?"
"Would it upset you if I said 'I did'?"
"Not really, no."
"Then why should it matter?"
Creep. . . but then I guess it was necessary. And I don't imagine he really cares all that much. I suppose that it would be in both of our interests that I be stripped out of my wet and freezing vesture, than to fall ill to the cold.

I sit back in my chair, once again staring into the fire. I begin to nod off. I don't want to fall asleep here though. I nod off several times. Each time, I look at the clock above the fireplace. I look at my companion beside me, and then at the clock. Two-fifty five exact. My head bobs, and my eyes shut, but I lift my head, and my eyes shoot open. The fire is gone. The sky is red and purple and dark, it's eeriness intensified since last I was here. The clouds in the sky almost seem to make faces that stare at me, wide eyed and jaws drooping open. The vestibule stands before me.

I look around me. Wrael is asleep. He lies on the ground next to me, perfectly still. His chest doesn't move. I arise, the blanket falling around my feet. I lay my head on his chest, and hear a heart beat. I push him to wake up, but he remains still. I wander through the hall once again. I reach the end, to the same door. Once more, as I turn around, I am boxed in. But when I turn to the door, a brass key hangs on a peg in the wooden surface. It doesn't fit this lock. I open the door to the beginning, with my new key clutched tightly in my hand.

Once more, I venture through the halls. There are no locks until the end again. I don't have my pick to awaken myself. I start over. I search through my blanket on the floor, hoping to find something. There is nothing here for me. I go to Wrael, and shake him. First it's gently, but I gradually rock him harder and harder, until I am pounding on his chest with a loud thud thud thud. I kneel beside him, hanging my head. I look at his hand. It is clenched into a fist. I open it, but it is empty. His other fist is clenched too. I open it.

A crumpled piece of paper is in his hand. I unfold it carefully to find a picture of a lock, and a circle drawn around it. I look at the key in my hand and the paper in the other. The wind in the sky shifts, and blows down on me, swiftly picking up strength. I run into the hall, as the blanket and Wrael are blown away with the wind. I follow the path through the hall again. The torches dim and the doors creak as I pass each one, carefully observing me as I observe each handle.

 I find multiple door handles that are round, and put the parchment up to each one to see if the circle fits it. The archaic words through the hall seem to be written mockeries for me. My eyes are sore and tired. The disturbed air tickles my naked flesh. I am reaching the end.

A door on the left side of the hall stands patiently awaiting his turn to see if he is the match to the penned lock and brass key I possess. It matches, and I pull away the paper to see if it magically inscribed itself on the handle. There is nothing. "I can't just stick a key through paper, and expect it to work. . . or can I?" I place the paper against the handle and move away. It stays on its own. I move the key to it, and it goes through. I pull out, and move my head to see if the hole is there now.

The picture remains a picture; there are no holes in it, and it appears the same as before. I stick the key into the drawing, and it sinks into the fabric of the paper. The wind is stronger outside, and it screams and wails for me to fail and walk out to be swept away myself. I twist the key. The lock sounds, and the door opens slightly, dust floating out into the air. The wind ceases. I push the door open.

The still, rotted, cold air chills me to the bone. I see my breath like fog in the air. I walk through the gray room. A beat can be heard. Thump, thump, thump, thump. . . At the end of the square room is a chest. As I approach, the thumping gets louder, and I hear a heart beating in it. I open the chest, and a light glows out of it. I reach in and pull out. . . light? No. A strange sensation engulfs me like a flame burning in my chest. Red garments wrap around my body. What is this?

It is soft, but firm and solid. The thing holds no shape, and I can't even make out anything from the intense light it radiates. It makes me feel something. A sign above the chest reads: Vestige of the Heart. The thumping gets louder. I feel a presence standing behind me as the light intensifies, along with the beating. No one is here. The paranoia doesn't go away, but I feel safe enough.

I try to make sense of this, but I can't place my finger on it. The light is blazing brighter. The beat is so very loud. I think, and read the sign again. Vestige. . . and it makes sense. Something gone from me. Tears roll down my face, and the light is blinding, but I don't close my eyes. I am deafened by the rhythm of my own heart. I don't care. The tears stream as I silently cry, with a smile spread across my face, joyous and lament...

I am in the chair next to Wrael. He is asleep. I see the clock above the fire. Three o' clock exact. I stand with the blanket around me, the red garments gone. The key is gone, the paper gone, the beating gone, and the only light is the fire. I walk to Wrael, and kiss him on the forehead. "Thank you. Thank you for saving me," and I return to my room alone.

Alone.