Binarius (4 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Bliss

Firinne
awoke to the warm smell of biscuits and an empty bed. The latter of
which she was growing accustomed to, although it was specifically
on this day that she urged herself to forget immediately what had
happened a couple of nights ago. It had to have just been her
imagination; a result of her heartache, and it was this that she
desperately tried to convince herself of. After a groggy,
round-about discussion in her head, she knew she was still
unconvinced, and, therefore, made a very difficult decision: today
she would discuss it with Triphosa.

Her armoire was filled with gowns
of silk, velvet, and cotton. They were all elaborately designed in
her favorite shades — crimson, plum, black, gray, and deep gold.
The cotton dresses often resembled the raw nature which surrounded
her Queendom and rather than gems, there were raw, unpolished
stones fixed to the fabric. Today she felt melancholic and so she
reached for the slate gray dress which was whispered with black
embroidery. It had lace around the sleeves and the collar. The
fabric moved with fluidity — up and down, riding the air around her
legs as she ran down the stairs towards the dining hall and more
importantly to it’s beckoning smells.

The dining hall was enormous. The
upwardly arched ceiling was encased with mahogany, wood beams that
started from one point on the floor, arching its way to the center
where they all met, and formed a star. The walls were draped with
burgundy curtains made of velvet. The combination of the velvet and
the subtle sparkles in the Quartz walls made the room appear to
glisten — causing the dining hall to glow in the light of the
sunset. The room, grand as it was, was inviting. Firinne felt it on
this morning as her eyes met the long table where the seats were
filled with her family, and friends. They were all groggy and
delighted.

And Cyneric was not among
them.

Firinne sat down in the chair next
to Triphosa. Sleepy faces greeted hers with kindness. All of the
glasses were filled to the brim with peach juice —squeezed from
last year’s yield. The kitchen doors finally opened and one by one,
the trays floated out to the table with all of the anticipated
morning delicacies — buttermilk biscuits, fresh fruit, spiced
oatmeal, eggs, and rosemary potatoes. There was a silly feeling
that the air was leaving the room due to everyone sniffing in the
rich scents enthusiastically as the trays moved about
them.

Triphosa squeezed Firinne’s arm.
“Did you sleep blissfully, my love?”

“
It might’ve been if I hadn’t
awoken cold and alone. Cyneric disappeared early again. Who knows
where he’s gone.”

Triphosa messed her face up a bit.
“Listen,” Firinne said. “I have to speak with you after we eat.
There’s something…something I need to tell you, and it must be in
private.”

“
Of course. Meet me in the gardens
in and hour or so, and we will talk about it. Don’t fret…I’m here.
I always will be.”

Triphosa
had
always been there for Firinne.
They became acquainted with one another when they were only twelve
years old. They had been the best of friends ever since. She had
come to Citrine Castle when Triphosa was young. Her family lived
there for a few years, when one night, they vanished. Firinne could
still recall that evening when they had ridden back to Triphosa’s
small home, which was just on the edge of the village.

They had both been having a
delightful evening — lying in the tall grasses, and watching stars;
The Chalice of Life, The Serpent of Circles, The Guard of Citrine.
They were talking about what the future might have in store for
them, and imagining all of the magnificent things they would do.
Firinne would always wait just outside Triphosa’s door to make sure
that her friend would find safety inside her home. On this night,
though, and just as Firinne turned to ride away, she heard a shriek
echo into the night. When Firinne walked through the doorway, the
walls were covered in blood and everything in the house was
destroyed. Firinne could still remember, that in the room upstairs,
all of the silk duvets had huge cuts in them, as if some careless
thief couldn’t stand the thought of anything in the home remaining
undamaged. It took a long time for Triphosa to recover from that
and all that she had left of her family was a black stone pendant
which had belonged to her mother. To this day, no one knew what had
happened to her parents, but Firinne’s mother had chosen to adopt
Triphosa, practically making them sisters.

The breeze whipped around Firinne
like a ghost. Her senses were overcome by the smell of sweet grass,
Lemon Verbena, and the smell of rich soil, moist from the early
dawn’s dew. She was following the stone path down to the enclosed
garden. On her way, she was making a mental note of the trees on
every side of her. They were just starting to open up what would
soon be peach blossoms. Firinne smiled fondly, knowing that the
ancient trees would not feel their silent sadness until autumn,
when their little babies would fall, one by one, down to Fia where
they would begin their new journey of providing nutrients to the
roots of their parent-tree.

Firinne was almost to the garden.
She stopped in her tracks, turning around to view her home. She
admired Citrine Castle, not just for its breathtaking architecture
but also because of its history, her family’s history. Citrine
Castle was built hundreds of years ago by her ancestors and it was
one of the most admired structures in all of Fia. Firinne always
loved watching the faces of travelers as they stared in sheer
confusion, trying to decipher how such a feat could be built, as
well as where all the crystals could have come from.

The Castle was built from carved
Labradorite blocks. All of the towers of the Castle were lined with
raw Citrine crystals that encased each terrace. The windows had
Smokey Quartz pebbles encrusted into their outlines. All of the
doors of the castle were made of Cherry wood, each of them having
pyrography designs burned into them. Some were extensive scenes
illustrating their people’s legends while others were trees,
animals, flowers, land, and sea. If that wasn’t grand enough for
the ancestors of Citrine, the middle and largest tower had Citrine
crystals that angled inwards towards each other, creating an
illusion of a golden pyramid at the top. Firinne’s family came from
a line of crystal-fabricators. Since the Blacken had come, though,
the line had become tainted, and Firinne was the last living,
crystal-fabricator of her family.

Firinne had entered the garden,
also encased in Citrine crystals that were taller than she was. The
crystals provided the garden with shelter without obstructing the
Sun’s light. Triphosa was at the edge of the garden admiring all of
the new growth which was now peeking out of the warm soil beneath
the ivy.

Triphosa was beautiful. Firinne
secretly envied her for it. She was slender and delicate, with long
black hair, and a face of unblemished perfection. Her face was like
that of a doll — swollen pink lips, freckles in all of the right
places, and skin as soft as silk. She had the eye of every man in
the Queendom. Growing up, Firinne often felt mediocre — just an
invisible entity standing in Triphosa’s great shadow of enthralling
beauty. Firinne admired her in the golden light of the Citrine for
what was such a long time, that it was nearly shameful.

Triphosa took her by the hand,
leading her to a wooden bench near the ivy. “Tell me what’s
troubling you. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“
I am sure you’ve probably already
guessed it.” Firinne took a deep breath. “It’s Cyneric. Something
is wrong with him and I don’t know what to do, or what to think.
You know how much I love him. He’s my life.”

“
What is it?” Triphosa
said.

“
I didn’t know what else to do but
to talk to you. Mum is already too tired from her own battles to
deal with this. I don’t know what else I can do.” Tears were
beginning to escape from the corners of her eyes.

“
Firinne, take a deep breath and
tell me what is going on.”

Firinne explained all of the things
that had been going on. She told Triphosa about the secret travels
that Cyneric would disappear on, and the ice cold silence from him
that greeted her upon his return. She explained how long it had
been since they were intimate with one another, and about the harsh
words that he would often spout-out at her in the times that he
would actually speak to her. Firinne then went on to tell her that
sometimes he would come home intoxicated, and that one time she had
followed him to Nightsend Tavern just outside of the
village.

At the end of all of this, Firinne
met hesitation. She was so afraid to tell Triphosa what she had
seen the other night. Firinne was never good at putting on a face,
and Triphosa recognized it instantly.

“
There’s something else…isn’t
there? C’mon, you don’t need to be afraid…you can trust me. Don’t
you know that by now?” Triphosa said.

“
You have to swear you won’t utter
a word of this to anyone!”

“
I swear I won’t! You know me
Fir…”

Firinne took a long pause to
contemplate the decision to abandon her silence. In that moment,
she sat still as if she was waiting for some unknown force to
intervene. There was only stillness, and the eyes of her best
friend, which were stuck on Firinne’s mouth — waiting for something
to slip out.

“
One night, and after a long day
of bitter silence between us, and I…I climbed into bed for the
night. He was asleep next to me, so I laid there…just staring at
him…lost in my own thoughts. I saw something strange and now… the
more that I think about it…“

“
What Fir? What did you
see?”

“
Just as I was about to close my
eyes, I saw a wisp of black mist peek out from the back of
Cyneric’s neck. I tried to convince myself that it was just my
imagination, but Triphosa, I know what I saw. I know it was real, I
just don’t know what it means…or what I should do.”

“
I can’t believe what you’re
saying. The implications of this…and what it could mean for Citrine
are ruinous. It can’t be. I know Cyneric hasn’t been himself, but
there is no way that he let the Blacken get to him. He’s far too
strong for that. And his love for you…” Triphosa said.

“
We met each other when we were
young and fell deeply in-love. I feel like I know him more than I
know myself. The memories I have with him are like my memories with
you…the only reason I can think of for a darkness to have attached
itself to him is his parents and their past.”

It was well known that Cyneric,
like Triphosa, had lost his parents at a young age. The difference
for Cyneric, was that he knew exactly where his parents were. The
Crivinnes were never ideal parents. They were always fighting with
one another, coming home intoxicated, and leaving Cyneric to watch
his siblings. Sometimes they abused Cyneric which had left a
permanent scar in its wake. After The Ascension and The Numbing,
the Crivinnes went with the Blacken gladly, with no thought of
leaving their eldest son to survive on his own at the age of
eleven. If that abandonment wasn’t enough, they took his siblings
with them in order to indoctrinate them, at a very young age, into
the endless power of Blacken that would be theirs if they so chose.
From what Cyneric had told Firinne, the last year that followed
after his family had abandoned him, he became a seething and
reckless adolescent. He was either constantly in trouble with the
Citrine guards, or he was at the tavern drinking Fia’s blood.
Firinne knew that she had saved Cyneric from himself and a path
that would have been an endless abyss of ruin for him. In the
confines of their entanglement, he would empty his soul out upon
Firinne. She was his keeper. The bond between them was
indisputable. They were insatiable.

“
Maybe he’s fallen back into the
pain of his past. It would make sense that he would shut me out of
it. If he’s become so lost in the darkness that the Blacken is
attaching itself to him, then I have to do something. I can’t bear
to lose him. But what can I do? He will barely look at me much less
ta—

Triphosa interjected. “I will talk
with him. Maybe someone who is in a more neutral position will have
a better affect on him. He won’t feel so threatened. We can’t waste
any time on this, so I will find him tonight and see if I can get
him to open up to me a little. A little might be just
enough.”

“
Would you? I don’t know what I
would do without you Triphosa.”

Triphosa didn’t have to say
anything. She stood up, gently kissed Firinne’s forehead, leaving
her there to sit by the ivy and sort through her feelings; perhaps
take a few deep breaths.

Later that evening, Firinne hastily
ate her dinner in an attempt to avoid her mother until she knew
more about the situation with Cyneric. She said good-night to
everyone and hurried up to her chambers. She hadn’t seen Triphosa
or Cyneric, and she was more than anxious to hear how their
conversation had gone. She was impatient. Every moment that
involved waiting, anxiety gnawed at her skin — this was one of
those times, only worse because it involved Cyneric.