Where Smoke Rises
If nothing else, Seraph’s poor night of sleep causes her to wake late, setting her closer to the time Juno intends to leave the tree. Dione is already gone on another of her mysterious errands, and according to Juno, she believes she may return well after Juno comes back and settles in for the night. Though Seraph is uncertain of the exact amount of time her window will remain open, she intends to act overly cautious, and lean into the idea of “better safe than sorry”. If Juno returned early and found Seraph anywhere near the basement, he could become suspicious, and worse still if he catches her actually snooping around.
The hours crawl by, and to avoid giving away any kind of anxiety or apprehension, Seraph spends most of the day climbing the tree or sitting on branches to bird watch, far from Juno’s keen eyes. They eat lunch together, and much to Seraph’s relief, Juno appears unusually distracted this day, giving her hope he will remain unaware of her intentions. She considers herself a skilled actor, possessing much self awareness, able to adapt and deceive when necessary, but she also knows Juno is exceptionally observant, and particularly practiced at reading even difficult personalities like Dione. Avoiding him is as important as acting in his presence.
Finally, the hour arrives, and Juno packs his things in preparation to leave. Before he goes, however, he gets Seraph’s attention to give some parting words. “Just remember - and I know we’ve probably said this a million times, but, it doesn’t hurt to say it again - no wandering around in any of the other rooms!” He grins, and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Dione would throw a fit if you went into her room and peeked at her diary.”
“She has a diary?” Seraph sputters, but immediately realizes she has been duped. “You are kidding, aren’t you?”
Juno shrugs, but his eyes twinkle. “Who can say? I’ve never been in her room, either, but it’s an entertaining thought, don’t you agree?” He laughs, and gathers his things. “I guess I’ll probably see you tomorrow morning?”
“Well, I overslept today; don’t be too surprised if you find me in the inglenook.” Thinking fast, Seraph comes up with an explanation for why Juno might find her up and about at a late hour, just in case he comes home and catches her out of her room. “I won’t touch your books! Promise. I just think it’s a comfy spot.”
The casual delivery works, and Juno nods his understanding. “Well I do hope you’re able to sleep either way. Until then!” At long last, he walks down the stairs, past the basement door, and steps out into the cool air, leaving Seraph all alone for the first time in a little over a week.
Despite her burning impatience, Seraph waits to even approach the door for another half hour - just in case Juno accidentally left something and came back to retrieve it, thereby revealing her intentions. When the tree settles into a deep quiet, Seraph finally decides to commit.
“It’s now or never girl,” she whispers to herself, rolling her shoulders and mustering her courage. “Let’s do this!”
Aware of her limited window of opportunity, Seraph now moves swiftly and deliberately, hurrying down to the ground level and stopping in front of the door well. She runs a hand across the wood grain, feeling its cool, ridged surface against her palm. Next, she presses her ear to the door, and gently rattles the doorknob, listening for even the quietest jingle of the bell or bells on the other side. After a few minutes, she locates its exact position, and moves to immobilize it. She pulls a bit of vine from the weaving around her halo, cups it in front of her face, and blows across it. The stem glows slightly, and its length increases, growing out and winding around her fingers. She presses it against the door, close to the door frame, and closes her eyes, picturing where exactly the bell would be affixed on the other side, and after a few moments of intense concentration, she hears the brass rattle once before stopping abruptly, muffled by the plant springing from her hand.
“Yesss.” Seraph twists the knob again, and finds the door swings open silently. She knows the bell is probably just an auditory warning, but she already decided to take every precaution she could think of, and disabling even this single early warning system is part of that approach.
The basement turns out to be much bigger than Seraph pictured; in her mind it was a cramped cellar space, but in fact there is plenty of room to spread out, and even Dione could comfortably walk around. Pungent scents hit her immediately, but she can not identify their identities or origins. More magical lights keep the space bathed in a warm glow, without the risk of fire burning the place down or filling the room with smoke.
Seraph closes the door behind her, and inches forward. A sudden burst of movement and noise grabs her attention, and she nearly darts for the door again. Across the room, held inside a curious glass container, a creature from her nightmares writhes against its prison walls: a gamite. Immediately, her memories take her back to the ceremony, how the choir broke into panicked cacophony, and scrambling beasts swarmed the gathering, biting and clawing at every living person-
She withdraws from the memory, taking a sharp breath and forcing herself back into the present. “You can stay right there,” she points a defiant finger, one hand on her hip, “and don’t you dare snitch.”
Something in the corner of her eyes blinks. Or, anyway, that is the distinct impression it imparts. Seraph spins around, leaving the gamite to rage ineffectually at her presence, and the next thing she sees shocks her more than the sight of the tiny monster. Sitting on the other edge of the room, stock still but unmistakably shaped, sits a life-sized daiten statue. Nearly a dozen eyes look out at her, arrayed across its chest and even the tops of its feet.
Captivated, Seraph takes a step to her left. The eyes follow the motion. She takes two more steps to her right - the eyes track this too. Now, Seraph creeps across the room towards it, the gamite in the corner all but forgotten, and all the while, the eyes watch her progress. The closer she gets, the more life-like it appears. “What are you?” She whispers, a rhetorical question aimed at no one. The last thing she expects is to hear an answer.
It moves. The head turns up, and the mouth parts. “I’m Hollow,” it announces, echoing in such a fashion one might imagine it speaks literally.
In that moment, Seraph’s heart drops from her chest. Her eyes widen in horror, and sweat breaks out on her brow and the palms of her hands. The daiten-like statue is no idol at all - it is real. Sitting just feet away is a living, breathing, person. Lightheadedness forces her to kneel in front of it, and for its sake she tries to play it off cool. “H-Hollow? Is that… is that your name?”
The one called Hollow stares blankly back for a long time before responding. “Is it not a name?” It responds with another question, one that somehow manages to punch Seraph in the gut.
“Um… is that what… Juno calls you?” Somehow, this daiten does not even know what a name is. She suspects, against all evidence, that Juno has something to do with this. Who else could? Only he ever comes down here, to her knowledge.
Again, Hollow takes a painfully long time to reply. “I suppose so. Juno said I was Hollow.” It pauses again, but follows up more quickly than before. “He does not speak to me. Much.”
“He said that…” Seraph imagines the ground beneath her crumbling apart, just the same way as Heaven did when it fell, everything she thought she knew destroyed in an instant by a dangerous revelation. “Have you been here a long time? Or, maybe I should ask how long you’ve been here, if you know?”
The gleaming holographic skull shifts down, and Hollow remains silent even longer than the first time. “I’m not sure. What is a long time? I have always been here.”
Seraph feels her body begin to shake, and she must clamp her jaws tight to prevent her teeth from chattering. Like the chills of a fever, her skin swarms with hot and cold tingles. Everything that could be wrong about this, is in fact true. “You were created here? She manages to push on; there are so many questions, so many worries, and so little time.
Hollow simply nods, apparently seeing no need to give this question too much thought. The eyes blink, once, just as they did before when Seraph took notice of the movement. “You are shivering.” It comments, as if she might not have noticed for herself.
“O-oh,” Seraph stammers, adjusting her position to sit with her knees held tight to her chest. “I guess I am.” What am I supposed to do? She glances back at the gamite briefly, struck by how normal and predictable it felt compared to the existence of Hollow. They were just, just, hiding a CHILD down here, the whole time, and I never would have known.
“Are you called something, too?” For the first time, Hollow leads with a question. Its ears swivel towards her, signaling its interest.
Fed up with her overwhelming emotions, Seraph takes three deep breaths. Hollow waits with its infinite patience. When she speaks, the stammer is gone. “My name is Seraph, so, you can call me Seraph.” She smiles at Hollow, warm and kind, channeling all the love and care she tried to replace with apathy years ago after being burned one too many times, and finds that it returns easily when she looks at this young one before her. “Ask me anything about anything, and I’ll do my best to answer - I have some time.”
It takes time for Hollow to find its flow, but after the better part of an hour, Seraph discovers Hollow’s curiosity. Its confinement here has given it little to wonder about, but after hearing enough confirmation of the wider world, Hollow asks many, many questions. Some are redundant or pedantic, but Seraph forgives it; it has no context for nuance, after all. With time slipping away and her uncertain window closing, however, Seraph knows she must cut things short all too soon.
“Alright, little one, Hollow; I confess I need to leave now,” she seizes a small pause in their conversation; pulls it off quick, like a bandage. “I have a small favor to ask of you - do you think you could do this one thing for me? It would mean we could see each other again, I mean, if you wanted.” Seraph holds her breath.
Hollow’s bony face shows no visible emotion, but its body stills in apprehension, all eyes locking on her, hanging off her next words. When it realizes she wants to hear it respond first, it blinks once, all in unison, and nods. “To see you again. Yes. I still have many questions.”
Seraph’s smile is fleeting, and her ears are pushed back in the direction of the door. “You can’t tell Juno, or Dione, that I was down here. Do you understand? They can’t know.” She scooches closer to look deeper into Hollow’s dark sockets, and wonders if the eyes within can see her, if there are eyes there at all. “I have to go now, but I will come back - promise.” She offers a hand to seal the deal, but realizes the gesture would mean nothing to Hollow.
Just as she begins to lower her hand, Hollow takes it, slow and deliberate, yet clearly uncertain what to do next. Still, it holds her hand as it speaks, deriving some unknown meaning from the moment. “Promise. Juno asks no questions. I never speak. Neither will know a thing.”
Seraph squeezes the hand once before releasing the hold and rising to her feet. “Until then, little one.” She races for the door, heart beating louder than her footfalls, pausing only once to remove the twist of vines from the bell, before escaping into her own room.
Two hours pass before Juno returns. Seraph desperately wishes she could have spent more time with Hollow, but throwing caution to the wind never served her well in the past. Better she be settled in her room then Juno find her stepping from the basement or, worse still, speaking with Hollow. Hollow. Not a name, Seraph knows, but an adjective, a description of Juno’s perception, what he sees when he looks at that young daiten in the basement. Seraph’s claws tighten on the wooden bedpost, scouring the surface. She feels all at once angry and betrayed, sickened and disturbed, and the part of her that has kept her alive since her corruption screams run inside her skull. You don’t bed down with monsters. You don’t break bread with beasts.
She has the window open when the thought of Hollow’s many gazing eyes rears up in her mind. Cold late autumn air rushes over her face, causing her feathered wings to fluff up against the chill. “It would be so easy…” Seraph plants one foot on the windowsill, knowing she could slip away just like this. “But I won’t leave you.” Just as abruptly as she approached her exit, she closes the window again and pulls the curtains shut for good measure. I’m not like them. I can still do something - I’m the only person who can. She returns to the bed, willing herself to steal as much sleep as she can. I’m going to need it.
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