Caerus

Did you ever wonder what this sound was? The melancholily painful music your heart sings from time to time.  Then let me tell you a story, the story of a young maiden.

Her name was long forgotten when I met her, her white silhouette floating on the ruins of an ancient castle. The tears had stopped falling a long ago engraving red scars on her cheeks, she was crying blood. Her white dress reflected the moon. I sat down as an eerie being told me her story.

Once upon a time, in a faraway country was a woman living. She was curious about everything, the sky, the plants, all living beings. She was living in the deepest part of the forest, with an old man, teaching her the knowledge of the mortal and spirited kingdom. The old man had been with her for as long as she could remember, he was the most important existence in her small world.

One day, she had to go to the village to sell some potions. It was the first time in her whole life she had been given this essential mission. She was overflowing with excitement as she hummed walking on the road.

The village was really close by; it was a small place full of life. People weren’t rich or powerful but they were living their life fully.

Suddenly she heard a nerve-wracking sound.

She ran to the entrance of the village and there she saw it. A scenery from hell. The place was covered with blood. The villagers were stunned watching the scene from afar, a woman was shouting lying on the floor.  And in the middle of the place was a man, surrounded by knights in armour, he was laughing. Behind him, a carriage splattered in blood, and in front of him a young man. His head smashed, inert on a pool of blood.

Her mind went blank. She knew this hair color. She knew this silhouette. It was him. THEY killed him.

A painful scream resonated in the air. She realized it was her sorrowful cry.

She ran with all her might to him. She could still save him. She had the power to save him.

She could only see his body. She only focused on his body. When a shadow appeared before her. She crashed with the last chance to save him breaking on the floor. As the potions were absorbed by the earth, the candle died.

Her tears started to fall. He died. She could feel it on her skin, in her bones, her every being was screaming his death.

The knight who stopped her saw the potions on the floor and called his master. She saw the epitome of arrogance coming to her. His overwhelmingly rich clothes, this stinking smell, and his egocentric aura. Every bit of him repulsed her.

“A witch! I thought they all died! What a diamond in this smelly rathole. Put her in the carriage!” he ordered the knight, his eyes sparkling with envy.

The maiden was conscious that they were talking about her but she couldn’t feel anything anymore. She didn’t care about anything anymore. Her mind closed to handle the suffering and she became a puppet.

                                                                                              ****

The gentle caress of the moon woke her up. She couldn’t remember how much time has passed since they brought her to this disgusting dungeon. Her arms, bleeding because of the rough handcuff she was forced to wear day and night, were her only link to reality.

Since she was kidnapped, they tried every way to get her secrets. Her body is wearing the scar of her suffering.

Since that day her mind transformed into water still falling from her eyes. As she watched the moon, she vaguely remembered her past life. An avalanche of feeling submerged her, as she felt the eerie atmosphere in the air.

She could do it. She has the opportunity to kill HIM.

She used all the energy she had to summon her. Titania, queen of all eerie beings.

With a smile on her face, she felt her consciousness leaving her body.

“Finally. I will be free.”

She felt a strange feeling. How could she feel something? She was supposed to be dead? She slowly opened her eyes and saw the castle in ruins. As she was lying on the ground, she remembered her master’s word: “Everything magic spell requires a sacrifice”.  

Her tears disappeared leaving an eternal red scar. She won’t be free. She won’t see him again.

A sorrowful cry came out of her throat, if she can’t see him, she will reach him with her voice.

               This is the story of the cry of the Dame Blanche. A sorrowful shout that sometimes resonates in the heart of humans.