Noir

ONE YEAR LATER

I found myself lost in thought, my mind replaying an old adage I had heard before. Time heals all wounds, they say. But who came up with that? I couldn't help but scoff at the notion. Time didn't heal wounds, it only made them worse. They festered and grew, becoming painful, festering sores on one's soul.

However, I had become quite skilled at putting on a façade since Noir had left my life. No one, not even Eton or Thorin, had any inkling of the pain that consumed me. I played my part convincingly, pretending that everything was as it should be, as if Noir's departure was meant to be. But the truth was, I had fallen apart. Like Humpty Dumpty in the nursery rhyme, I couldn't be put back together again.

Eton and Thorin would have tried their best to mend me if they had known. But they would have failed this time. Unlike before, when I held onto hope during Noir's absence, there was nothing left now. Just a vast emptiness, devoid of any hope. Noir wasn't coming back. He was gone, forever. I saw it in his eyes, his face, his every mannerism. When he said goodbye, he meant it.

And it was time for me to say goodbye as well. It was time to leave behind my ancestral grounds and embark on a journey towards the Book of Blood.

Three-hundred and sixty-five days had passed since Noir had left, a year of hiding, and for what? To prevent me from being taken by the man I loved? It was a melancholic situation that I had been forced to act as though I didn't care. However, it showcased just how skilled of an actress I'd become. Outwardly, my stoic facade concealed my true emotions. No one could perceive the storm raging within me, or at least most people couldn't, for I suspected Gran wasn't fooled in the least. That wise old soul perceived far beyond what met the eye with those cloudy brown orbs. He saw the intangible, the hidden depths of my thoughts, and though he never uttered a word or allowed his knowledge to surface, he somehow managed to infiltrate my mind.

His voice had echoed in my head, urging me, sometimes even shouting at me, to gather my strength, reminding me that time was slipping away. Whether real or imagined, Gran's impassioned words reverberated, "You're being selfish, the blood coursing through your veins is the reason you were brought here. You are an Eton. Now, gather yourself and portray it, dammit!" It was those words that compelled me to recognize, to truly understand that it was time. Time to cease hiding and embrace my destiny. Time to believe in myself and discover a way, a way to undo the damage inflicted by Noir.

When I told Gran this, and of my decision to leave, it was met with a snapped, "Are you daft? Your powers have not matured enough for you to protect yourself against them!" I could hear the frustration in her voice, the sharpness of her words piercing the air. I, of course, had argued that I'd lasted this long, surely I could figure out how to do it a little longer! Gran's reply to that had been sarcastic. "You really think so? You really believe you are ready to face the Cyprians?" Her tone dripped with disbelief.

Do you plan to have Eton and Thorin go with you? At the small shake of my head, Gran had hissed, "Do you really think they are just going to let you leave, that is, to just let you leave without them?" Whether I'd liked it or not, I'd known Gran was right. Both would feel obligated. Feel as if they were abandoning me if they didn't come with me.

I'd sat and considered Gran's words, even as I had known what I was going to do. Later that evening, as the sun began to set, casting the city into a golden glow, I found myself staring at Eton, flabbergasted, mouth agape and wondering at what point had I missed the transformation. Just *when* had Eton become Noir? Though the amber and crimson eyes were still his. The face, hair, and build, still his, the arrogance was Noir's. Not an endearing trait to adopt, I thought grumpily. Eton had flatly refused to even hear about me leaving. Therefore, I'd changed tactics, stating that if he wouldn't allow me to go without them, then we'd leave together. However, I again found myself coming against a brick wall, whereby I'd wound up snapping, "Jesus Eton, we can't stay here forever..." My words had caused him to growl, "I'll tell you when it's time to leave. Until then, we stay..." The words abruptly trailed off as if he'd become uncomfortable in his gruffness towards me.

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With a dismissive shrug, and a hard glare in his direction, I stomped off, the sound of my heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway. Grumbling under my breath, I could feel the tension building in my chest, my anger palpable with each stride of my legs. The musty smell of old books and dusty furniture filled the air as I walked, intensifying my frustration. How dare Eton think he had the right to dictate when I could leave? The thought simmered in my mind, fueling my snide thoughts. It was my choice, and I was determined to assert my independence, regardless of some Noir impersonator. It was time for me to take control.

As I returned to the little room Gran had given me, I could feel the coolness of the stone walls against my fingertips as I gathered my belongings. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. Moving swiftly, I grabbed my tent, the sound of the fabric rustling as I folded it neatly. I then made my way to the kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked bread and spices filling the space. Sending Gran a mental apology, I quickly collected non-perishable food items, their weight adding to the burden on my shoulders.

Now laden with a heavy backpack filled with clothing, I felt the strain on my muscles, a slight ache forming in my back. The weight was more than I had anticipated, but I knew these items were necessary for my journey. In my hand, I gripped the small dagger I had confiscated from Gran's cluttered room, the cool metal sending a shiver down my spine. It was a symbol of my determination to survive whatever challenges lay ahead.

Taking one last look around the room. With a sigh, I turned and exited the room.