CONTENT WARNING: Death and bereavement, violence, murder, blood (classic Divided!)
Clementia
When I was younger, I thought that the funeral of Julian Jourdain would be a grand and gilded event, drawing crowds of people who once revered him. Today, it only draws myself and a few fellow Peterans to an old and modest monastery. I'd put my ire aside and asked Juniper if I could hold his funeral there, and she refused, as Julian was no longer a Jacoban. He'd devoted his entire life to the Jacoban cause, and almost every Jacoban had discarded him like he was nothing.
Banished from the one place he'd given his life to, only to die ultimately forgotten by everyone except for me and my brother...It was no way for a former Eye of Jacob to die. It makes me sick just thinking about it. Reynold told me he would be here on the day on his funeral, only Father said he's gone to Glimmerbrook in the hopes that Áine could cure his 'condition'. Thankfully, Julius, Elias and Susana are here with me.
I wish I could have given him more for everything he has done for me. This is nothing compared to everything he did, taking me in when I was at my worst and realising my worth where others of his manner and rank would have tossed me aside. He was almost like a father to me. Looking after him has been exhausting, I have to admit, but he went out of his way for me. It was only right that I made the last of his years as comfortable as I could.
He was full of regret for his mistakes, but he wasn't afraid of dying. If anything, no longer feeling any connection to Jacobism, the uncertainty of the afterlife was less frightening than the potential judgment of the Watcher. At least, at a Peteran funeral, he will join the Watcher. I will know that, whatever happens, Julian is keeping an eye on me. At least he lived a long life; it isn't often that people nearly reach the age of eighty.
These past few days, there's a newfound-yet-misplaced warmth in my chest. If my brother finds a solution to his 'curse', as he calls it, and with Julian at rest after months of being confined to a bed, now I must truly do what I've been saying I'll do for years and focus on my future and figure out what it is that I want. I hate to say it, but it's been so many years of worrying about everyone else that I wonder what a woman does with such rare freedom.
Admittedly, I do have an idea in mind, but I'll have to see what Reynold's plans are first. In our letters, he speaks more of Lunvin than he ever does of the Watcher these days. It makes me wonder just how much of a tie he has to this place now.
I try to address my friends without tears. There's an aching behind my eyes - from grief or from gratitude, I'm not entirely sure.
"Thank you, dearly, to all of you for letting me do this. Until I reverted to Peterism, I never really had anyone I would call friends, and now I have you all- and it means the world to me. I can't believe it's taken me this long, but for once, I don't feel alone."
"You mean a lot to us, Clem," Elias says, lifting his head and giving me a slight smile. "We knew he meant a lot to you.We wanted you to have the best send-off we could give you, even if it's not quite as lavish as a Jacoban service."
"It doesn't matter. It touches my heart that you're all so kind. I wish I had met you earlier, you know?"
"If you'd met us earlier, you'd have never met Julian."
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, but I was so deep in Jacobism that I thought the Peterans and their Watcher were wrong to believe there was any goodness in the world, but there is- I realise that now."
"You're so sweet, Clem," Susana says. "But you've been through a lot, and so have a lot of people around here. Someone has to have a little faith that the world will become a better place, or else everything will fall to pieces. You know, when I arrived here, I was completely lost and didn't know what to do with myself. Then I met Elias here, and he taught me how to read. It changed everything for me."
"Even those of us with a fair few differences in personality have come to be like a little family of our own," Elias adds. "It's nice to have someone else on board. I have been wondering, Clementia - you were a High Shepherdess, were you not?"
"I was, and I realise with my brother's absence and his unwellness, you've been struggling to run the place, haven't you? You and Susana have done an amazing job, but I know you don't really want to be in charge of it all."
"We don't, no," Susana says. "I hate to say it, but there's a reason nobody said anything when Mother Joyce asked who wanted to be her successor - we left it all to your brother!"
"I don't know what Reynold's plans are from here. To tell you all the truth, he's not spoken much about the Watcher. He's trying to 'win Lunvin's favour back', in his words, and he's in no way to lead. Hasn't been for a long time. Depending on his recovery and his wishes, if he has other plans for the future, I could become your new abbess in time. How does that sound?"
Susana gasps, and Julius and Elias give subtle grins. "Oh, sweet Watcher! Yes! You can happily become our abbess whenever you want! I don't want to write out any more paperwork and I can't think of anything else to say during sermons!- But what if your brother does come back? Will you stick with us even then?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't want my brother to be in charge of me- but, whatever happens, I will gladly keep in touch with you all regardless, and I won't forget what you and the Watcher have taught me."
The thought of potentially becoming an abbess is something that settles the uncertainty within me. I'm sure Julian would be proud of me to become the leader of this place. I owe myself to the monastery and its regulars now, for the same reason I felt I owe the Jacobans- they took me in and they made me feel loved and whole. I can only hope I'm able to do the same.
* * *
Iris
The hollowness inside of me fills with uncertainty, fear, anger. It did not occur to me that Reynold would ever venture out to Glimmerbrook in his illness- and, on top of that, he is the first person within goodness-knows how many years to see me for who I truly am. Before Áine can attempt her spell on him, I request that I talk with him. She was irate about it, but Reynold agreed. After all, never in my many years of unlife have I ever met anyone in a similar circumstance to me. Reynold will desire answers, after all.
"I'm sorry I reacted-"
"'Sorry'? Anyone would react that way to a void-eyed walking corpse decorated with knives, Reynold. No apology needed. I reacted the way I did because I didn't expect that you'd see my true form. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. We ended up in our circumstances in different ways, yet our circumstances remain the same- we were supposed to die, and we did not. So, tell me, Reynold- do you know why it was you did not die?"
He looks up and down at the knives, and won't look me in the eyes.
"I don't entirely know. A cunningwoman told me I've been cursed - trapped between life and death. At first, I thought I survived because the werewolf goddess, Lunvin, willed it. Now, I realise that likely isn't the case. At this point, I need my magic back for the sake of my family, myself, and the Goddess."
I at least still have my magic, as well as the Wise Dragon's blessing. To be cut off from my magic- I don't know how I would cope without it. I suppose it's my turn, isn't it? I've never told anyone the full story of what happened to me- I only remember it because I wrote it down time and time again so I would never forget it.
"Can I ask you how...this happened?"
It feels peculiar. I do not remember the last time I fully explained this to anyone- but perhaps Reynold would understand. I fear many would not believe the tale. Even to witches here, the supernatural creatures of the East seem far-fetched.
"I am a yūrei, Reynold- more specifically, an onryō - the scrolls always those like me as a 'vengeful spirit of a woman' who died in a horrific manner, and whose reikon could not pass on. The gory devastation of my dying moments, on top of my desire to slaughter those who slaughtered me, meant that I could not fully transition to the world of the dead- and so I remain here, and have done so for over five hundred years."
"Five hundred?" He's covering his head for a moment, seemingly trying to shoo something away.
"The only way to calm a soul like mine is to be read the correct funerary rites- only shortly after my death, I fled to Henford and the surrounding country in search of bloody retribution and never returned. Whatever rites could have pacified me are likely lost to history." Even if I'd have put self-preservation beyond revenge, nobody would have believed me if I told them I'd been murdered, and anybody who believed me would have been terrified of me.
"I'm a priest. If you'd like, I could see if our rites might work. You never know."
"I'd already tried at a Peteran monastery not far from here, " I say to him. "Unfortunately, it did nothing. As for the Jacobans, they had little patience for magic- I avoided them. Anyhow, I ought to tell you all I can remember. Maybe a little extra, as a distraction from the ghosts."
* * *
As you might have imagined, Iris is not my true name - I chose it to fit in better here. The name given to me by my parents is Ine. Sadly, I remember almost nothing of them, save for a loving letter they gave me when I became a woman. I had a husband, Katsuro, who did not have magic. He was a peaceful man. He upset many men in Yukimatsu when he defected from a conflict ongoing at the time- that conflict turned out to be a newborn fight against invading Western witchfinders. Although he was doing the right thing fighting them off, he claimed the violence had corrupted him, and instead became a painter and sculpter, though he made some good money with his works. He'd paint wondrously-illustrated scrolls and pamphlets warning the village of the threats of these men. He left suddenly, claiming he'd gone out to paint, and that was the last I ever saw of him. I don't remember just how long I searched for him.
Years after, a mysterious monument dedicated to me was erected in the forests of Yukimatsu. Until then, I believed the witchfinders had taken him, but the statue of the deer made me wonder...then again, Yukimatsu was full of artists. It could have been anyone.
For many years, I was a sworn protector of the place; nobody suspected a meek, fragile deer could be capable of taking them down with magic. As such, I was greatly respected- almost treated like a god, and dare I say it, I miss that unwavering reverence.
I was always grateful for people's offerings - food and artistic gifts left at the base of the statue, and letters of gratitude. I still am grateful for all of it. I was blessed to be surrounded with such kind-hearted people. If only Henford and the surrounding country had the heart and manners of those in Yukimatsu...
The children of the village adored me. They'd hide behind the statue, all waiting to be the one to sneak up on the 'magical deer' that looked after the place to ask for whatever it was they wanted. I didn't have the heart to tell them I couldn't grant wishes. Before Katsuro was taken, or left - I wanted children of my own.
It has taken me this long to admit it, Reynold, but the unbound love of the village, as lucky as I was to have received it- went to my head. I ascended from witch-hood to godhood, I could kill any man whether he held a sword or a shield. Yukimatsu was safe because of me - I was untouchable, that was how I felt. One night at the deer monument changed everything.
I hadn't considered them a real threat to Yukimatsu, not at all. In that moment, I still didn't.
These days, it mortifies me to know I was overpowered by such men. There must have about fifteen of them, all wielding daggers, wearing tough faces. They could hardly speak my language, but I just about made out what they were saying. They'd heard about me, and they believed the villagefolk to be brainwashed, either by my magic or by fear of criticising a witch.
I fought them off for as long as I could with my magic, but there was too many of them.
The witchfinders plunged their daggers into me, one by one- I cannot truly recall the agony of it, for the best, I imagine. I remember the blood. I remember collapsing to the ground onto my chest- and one of the knives into my chest pierced right through my heart.
The afterlife...it is an empty and reflective place- complete and utter nothingness. I ran through the void. I screamed, and no words came out of my mouth. I felt rage and vengeance burn through my limbs. I let it consume the entirety of my thoughts- I would not die. I willed myself to survive, no matter what.
When I awoke, I was terrified. I didn't realise my desperation would become reality. I wasn't breathing, and yet I was awake. I tried to pull the blades out of my body, and despite the agony, they wouldn't budge. I had no clue what had become of me, or why this had happened. Back home, there are many stories of wronged women returning from the dead to wreak havoc upon the living.
Thankfully, I was still able to turn into my deer form, and so I bounded across the snow all the way to Mt. Komorebi. I deftly jumped up and across the stones to get to the summit. I remember how I cried for him when I reached the summit. My voice echoed through the tunnel and the torii.
He is the most beautiful creature you could ever dream to lay your eyes upon, Kori-Ryūjin, the wise dragon god whose pearleascent body is wrapped around the mountain - at least, in legends. He appeared out of the gate with dazzling majesty! He looked daunting at first, but he is a benevolent and warm soul.
I explained the situation to him, and he confirmed that I had become a spirit trapped in between realms due to the nature of both my death and my reaction. I could have passed on if I had killed those that killed me, but the likelihood was that the villagers of Yukimatsu already did, that's what he said. I feared I may be cursed to live like this forever, but I refused to believe they were dead- and that's how I ended up here in Henford. I never found those men.
Before ascending to the Heavens, Kori-Ryūjin said to me that the stories of old were not always entirely truth, and that I ought to think twice before enacting my revenge...
* * *
"...And that is when I re-invented myself a little. I became Tsuna. The witchfinders' bodies lay at the deer statue, along with many messages of condolence...but I didn't want the village, especially the children, to see me like this - so I fled. That's when I realised the witches of Henford saw me as a normal woman. I wonder if that was the Dragon's doing, but I'm not entirely sure. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to be peaceful, and no amount of peace brought me closer to true death. I now believe that the only way to pass on is to ensure every single witchfinder dies. Until then, I will not rest- figuratively or literally."
"Immortality seems a gift to many in this country, but for me, there is little beauty in permanence. Temporary is beautiful. It is fleeting, but it gives the gift of appreciation. Back home, we learn to love temporary. When the sakura blossoms bloom, it is only for a short period of time, and many flock to admire their beauty before they fall to the ground and wither.
Permanence is stagnation. I want to die, Reynold- not because I do not like living, but I've lived for far too long in this state. I know I will only truly appreciate this life once it's over. I know of your partner's extended life span, Reynold, and for this reason... I fear for her."
Reynold nods to himself sympathetically. "You might not believe it, Iris - Tsuna - but I once knew a man who lived for one hundred and sixty years, and I know a woman who's lived for nearly two hundred and fifty. It's not as long as five hundred years, of course, but they eventually found some semblance of true meaning and enjoyment in their lives. I'm sure you can as well. These witches think the world of you, I know that from Áine's letters."
Reynold is a kind heart. I can see why Áine chose him, and I can now see why she has been working so hard for him. Just as I'm about to thank him for his time, he starts yelling to himself, telling someone to be quiet. He grabs his forehead and sinks to his knees as I try to calm him.
"Get out of my head!" he yells, with a pained desperation. "I don't care! My family matters more - I'm getting rid of all of you!"
He repeats it, over and over, his voice becoming more and more slurred until he lays down slowly on the floor, as if settling down to sleep. I try and shake him awake, but he won't. His heartbeat is steady, but his breathing is shallow.
If Áine doesn't do something now, I don't know what will happen. I call for her, as quickly as I'm able.
I should fetch my kanzashi; it seems we may well be dealing with demons.