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"...so this is where you're going to live from now on? Frozen in stone for the rest of your life?"
"I have found me a new dwelling, and my former home I have forsaken. By day, I shall abide as an immovable statue; by night—or when no eye beholdeth me—I shall take my human form."
"What did she say?"
"Gargoyle by day; human at night, but only when no one's looking."
"Ahh... Er... wouldn't you be bored by not moving for hours?"
"The sight before me sufficeth mine amusement: the daily life of the brethren within the monastery."
"What did she say?"
"She said the people of the monastery entertain her enough."
"Ahh... That's great!"
"But you know you're always welcome in the castle, right? Why spend the rest of your life as a decorative gargoyle?"
"Begone, vampires. Pray, grant me leave to mine gentle slumber, undisturbed."
"What did she say?"
"She said let's leave her alone."
"Ahh... sure! Good night!"
The night had gone deep, and it was time for her friends to leave her be. The small stature of her young vampire friend turned into an even smaller bat; the other vampire, refusing to shift in the same form, had instead become a shadow—one with the night as they slipped past the pointed roof of the monastery and back to their very own castle. What remained was the gargoyle, perfectly perched on the once-empty pedestal on the monastery's balcony.
It's either that there was something in the monastery that mustn't be here, or Marsha has been out of her damned mind!
Her fellow knights—and even the Grandmaster!—came to take a look at the cause of her confusion, but they all had the same answer: "You always occupy this balcony. You should've known what's in here."
And that's the issue: Marsha was certain that there wasn't supposed to be a gargoyle statue on this balcony. This was the only balcony in the monastery without a gargoyle statue!
"It could be that you didn't notice the statue there at all, Marsha..."
No! That's impossible! With its size, even people from below could see it perched on this balcony!
And Marsha chose this balcony as her favorite because it was the only one without a gargoyle statue!
But then... it did look like the other statues in the monastery, and it was perched here like a natural.
"No, I am certain there wasn't a statue here before! Please, believe me!"
What was supposed to be a productive Sunday helping out the town like the dutiful squire that she was, Marsha had spent the day on her favorite balcony, her burning gaze straight at the gargoyle statue that appeared out of nowhere, digging through her brain the times she had visited this balcony ever since she arrived at this monastery.
"You're not supposed to be here. I am sure of it." Marsha uttered to the suspicious statue that she had tried to push just now, but to no avail, as if it was there all along. "...but maybe I was wrong. Hmm... No, I am sure with what I remember."
The rest of the night was spent with even more pondering, until a fellow knight forced her off the balcony before she started losing her mind.
She shared her current room inside the monastery with five other people, so privacy from her fellow squires was nonexistent. The balcony wasn't the most private of places either—someone could hear her from the corridors, or they could even sneak up behind her—but what she needed was a place to tell her sorrows and woes, and the gentle breeze and the solitude of this balcony were enough privacy for this young squire. The other knights and squires had learned not to bother her whenever she was there.
Marsha adored this balcony, especially in the late hours of the night, when the night breeze and the sea of stars brought a sense of comfort. But now, she no longer owns this small space for herself; today—and perhaps for the rest of her life—she'll share this space with a gargoyle statue that appeared out of nowhere; a statue she was sure wasn't supposed to be there.
The punches and pushes Marsha gave the statue—her attempts to take it down from the pedestal—didn't even make it budge!
"Are you sure you want to be here, Mr. Gargoyle?" Marsha chuckled at herself. While she still believed that the statue wasn't supposed to be here, she had to accept its existence on her favorite balcony from now on. "You'll spend the rest of your life listening to my life problems!"
She would be absolutely surprised if this thing leaves the next day after she tells it her life stories!
"...or perhaps you came here for that specific reason—to listen to my stories? Heh, of course, I'll indulge you!"
Both she and the statue faced the horizon in the distance where the town sits. At this time of night, the town had already ceased its lights for a good night's rest, and it had turned into a sea of darkness from this balcony at the monastery.
"Would you like to know how I first came into the monastery, Mr. Gargoyle? It all started during a..."
"...they treat me like a child! A child! I had seen 17 winters, Mr. Gargoyle. 17! They treat me as if I were 12!"
Her gargoyle companion did not react, nor budge in the slightest, and just listened in stillness. Marsha didn't expect it to; it would be more scary than amusing if this statue reacted at all.
"Only a year left before I will be officially knighted, but they treat me as if I don't deserve it at all."
Marsha knew how the knights held back at her during training. She saw how Adelheid controlled her sword, careful not to hit the young squire at full force; she knew about how the knights took it easy on her during practice raids around the town; she knew what the Grandmaster thought of her and her eventual knighthood.
Her future didn't look too bright, and Marsha didn't like it. It feels unfair.
It was unfair.
"Even Adelheid thinks the same... She thinks that I don't deserve to be knighted yet."
Was she waiting for the gargoyle statue to speak? Oh, Marsha wished it would, at that moment. She needed an opinion; a validation; comfort, in these gloomy times of her life.
Perhaps pressure has been building on her shoulders too much. Only one winter was left before she knelt before the Grandmaster for her official knighthood; it was only right for her to prove that she deserved it.
"...do I not deserve it, Mr. Gargoyle? Am I undeserving of being a knight?" Marsha sighed. "I don't want to remain a squire forever!"
Just as it always was, the gargoyle never spoke, nor batted an eye at her troubles. It's better this way—the winds carrying away her woes, and a statue listening without complaints.
From her fists clenching in anxiousness, her palm found the rough stone of the statue's arm. "I'm glad that you're here with me, Mr. Gargoyle!" She lets out a sad chuckle, "You may be as ugly as the other gargoyles, but you never left me and listened to my troubles! Well, not that you have somewhere to run, anyway!"
And without complaints, the gargoyle statue stood still on the pedestal—the receiving end of Marsha's relentless petting until she decided to acknowledge her drowsiness and leave for the night.
There was none of that red-haired squire tonight and her endless problems, nor distant sounds around the monastery that would expose the way the gargoyle statue lost its stony exterior, revealing the human within.
"Semmelweis didn't accompany you tonight." The gargoyle remained perched by the pedestal, gazing up at the young vampire on the roof.
"She's at the Alchemist's house!" Rubuska replied. "Lady Valentina told her to investigate the Alchemist a few days ago, but Big Sis Semmy seemed to enjoy the Alchemist's presence rather than actually doing what she was asked to do."
"What did she find out so far?"
"That the Alchemist is probably a witch! Big Sis Semmy said she shows witchy traits and behaviors, but she's still looking into it. What about you, Big Sis Marie? How's the life of a statue?"
From her young vampire friend, Marianne turned to the town in the distance. She knew the town already like the back of her hand, despite being perched in this pedestal alone; she had engraved its shape in her mind, as well as the time of its peak, when it begins the day, or when it ends for the night. All by merely observing from this pedestal. Did she even have a choice on the matter? It was the only view she could see in her daylight form, and a slight head tilt to the side might earn even more suspicion from the red-haired squire that regularly visited the balcony.
"I never thought she was perceptive."
"Who?"
"The squire."
"What squire?"
"A resident of this monastery! Verily, she perceived that I belonged not here, albeit her fellow knights spake otherwise; long did she fix her gaze upon me, and at last she poured forth her sorrows, as if I were a living being."
She could hear the frown in Rubuska's tone. "You know I don't understand you whenever you speak like that, yes? Big Sis Semmy isn't here to simplify your words for me."
"She said..."
Both never noticed the shadow creeping beside young Rubuska, emerging as that vampire Marianne thought was absent for tonight's visit.
"...that red-haired squire had sought counsel from a statue!"
"Oh, Big Sis Semmy!"
"Where have you been, you oaf?"
"Lady Valentina told me to investigate the Alchemist in the town." Semmelweis flashed a grin—a scary one, as Marianne had never seen such an expression on her face. "And I have found out that the Alchemist in town is a witch! And a beautiful one, at that!"
"A true witch, and not just someone accused by the townsfolk?"
Rubuska had dropped to the balcony, leaning where that red-haired squire always stands whenever she visits, "since you're late, Big Sis Semmy, let's hear your story last!"
"What?!"
"Big Sis Marie, what did the red-haired squire seek your counsel for?"
Would it be appropriate to tell them about Marsha's troubles? She entrusted gargoyle Marianne with her stories, knowing that the statue obviously wouldn't even tell any soul about it. After all, its stillness was the reason Marsha even began talking to it!
But said gargoyle found the expectant gazes of her vampire friends awaiting her story. Ah, they've been friends for a few centuries; they could surely still keep a secret or two.
"That young knight brings me her woes, as if she hath newly thought a statue might serve as confidant, and so she speaketh freely. She calleth me Mr. Gargoyle. Mr! And she hath the boldness to say I am ugly besides!"
Their laughs echoed through the night, yet Marianne was unimpressed by the teasing smirks on their faces.
"Hah!" Rubuska even pointed at her, further escalating her teasing. "Mr. Gargoyle! Mr. Gargoyle!"
"Can you blame her? She doesn't know anything about you!" Semmelweis chuckled. "But being called ugly, though... You had a choice not to copy the ugly statues around this place, yet you still did!"
"And she complaineth that the other knights treat her as a child, yet I stand with them, for she doth indeed behave as one!"
Marianne never meant to raise her voice, but her thoughts had been with her since she first heard Marsha's woes, and all she wanted to do was to unfreeze herself and smack sense into the squire's empty head!
"From this very pedestal, I behold that knight in battle; she fought most horrendously—no form, no skill, no thought, no strength, but only a mad desire to rush headlong into the fray and die a martyr." She continued, the laughter of her friends at her every word intensifying as she went. "Yet such recklessness would win her no noble remembrance; rather, she would be called a fool, a show-off, a poor excuse for a knight!"
"Haha! Big Sis Marie is angry!"
"I am! That fool doesn't see anything wrong with herself!"
"Why don't you train her, then?"
"That's—!"
"Th—there's someone on the balcony! Quick!"
It wasn't a voice that Marsha recognized from any of the knights; there wasn't a voice that was youthful among the residents of the monastery.
So who was on her favorite balcony?
Swinging the windows open, she was met with emptiness and the cold evening breeze that always welcomes her whenever she comes here. The statue was still there, though, now with the company of another.
"Look! A bat is perched on the gargoyle's head!" Her fellow squire stepped onto the balcony, gazing up at the adorable sight of the wild bat. "Hello, little bat! Where are your friends?"
The little bat stared back, instead of flying away from the presence of humans in its vicinity. There's no way in hell this bat made that childish laughter that sounded so human.
"That someone you heard is this bat, Marsha!" Her companion giggled, as if she had completely lost her mind. "How could a bat laugh like a human?"
"But I heard it clearly!" Marsha fought back. "I heard human laughter from this balcony!"
"Sleep it out! I'll ask for your substitute for tonight's inspections."
With her companion's departure, Marsha was left yet again in the balcony she knew by heart—or the balcony she thought she knew by heart—with the gargoyle statue and that peculiar bat whose red eyes pierced intensely through her soul. It should've already left, should it? Wasn't it scared of human presence?
"Does my mind play games with me, little bat? Mr. Gargoyle?" Marsha's deep sigh became one with the evening breeze. "Have I gone mad? I was sure I heard voices here. Have you seen who it came from? It surely doesn't come from you."
Further advancing towards the gargoyle's side, Marsha's gaze found the dim lights of the town in the distance, silent and resting for a new day tomorrow.
Indeed, she may have gone mad. And it all started with this gargoyle statue beside—
"Hm? Mr. Gargoyle? Were you holding your knee the whole time? Weren't both of your hands holding the pedestal?"
"Do you see me as a fool, Hildegard?"
"N—no, Marsha, not at all!" Her fellow knights deflected the accusation, waving her hands in defeat and shaking her head in panic. "I—I was just s—saying that... the gargoyle statue on your balcony looked like it was supposed to be there! It even looked the same as the other gargoyle statues!"
"I'll repeat what I said: there wasn't any gargoyle statue in that balcony before, and just the other night, it shifted its hand position!"
"It could've been like that before but you didn't notice," Hilde frowned at her, "and who could've placed a big statue at that height without any of the knights knowing? You said the statue couldn't be budged, so that means it had been there for quite a long time already!"
Their argument grew louder each time that the passersby turned their heads towards them as they strolled past the busy market. Seeing as the noisy people arguing were squires in leather armor, they swallowed their complaints and ignored them instead.
"Believe me, Hilde! I haven't turned mad like what the rest of the knights think!"
"I want to believe you, Marsha, but your claims don't make any sense at all!"
Marsha was alone to delve into her own madness, and the other knights had been planning for a trip to the Alchemist to take Marsha's madness away with various concoctions.
But she was sure—she was so sure—that the gargoyle statue had moved! The angle of its arm changed!
"Strange beings belong only in fairy tales and children's imaginations." Hildegard sighed, her heavy hand landing on her friend's shoulder. "Vampires, werewolves, fairies, and... gargoyles. They do not exist in this world; only in books that explore the endless possibilities of fantasy. Perhaps you're just tired, Marsha."
"I've slept enough, Hildegard! I'll make sure I get to the bottom of this!"
"Ugh..." A scratch on her neck, and Hildegard just resigned to Marsha's determination. "Al—alright... Make sure you won't succumb to your madness after the Alchemist dies! The low court had found evidence of witchcraft related to that Alchemist, and the high court had ordered her death by burning on a stake."
"What?!"
"If you get crazy after she dies, Grandmaster will lock you up in the basement instead. That's a worse fate than a hole through your head."
It still felt peculiar.
The weight of her limp body on her arms; the feeling of her skin against hers; the sight of her face up close; the small scowl in her otherwise peaceful face...
...the way Marianne tucked her in her bed, as silently as she could to not wake the surrounding squires and get caught red-handed.
That squire, Marsha. Marianne never had a proper look at the companion she didn't ask for. Darkness did not hinder her silent observations; Marianne's sharp eyes worked well even in the dark, and her gaze shot down at the peaceful look of the exhausted squire on her bed. She, who seemed to want to die early in battle with how she charges without thinking; she, who told her her woes, not expecting an answer in return but needing a listening ear instead, even just from an unmoving statue.
The little bat that found her shoulder took her shirt for a bite—a sign of retreat. If any knight were to find her here, it would be the end of her.
"These patrols must tighten their security. A full-blown adult human is walking in their corridors with a limp body, yet they didn't even notice!"
Rubuska's human form had taken shape, finding her way on the roof. "Big Sis Marie picked her up like a coin!"
"She was lighter than expected."
"Aren't knights supposed to be heavy and bulky?" Semmelweis, back from her shadow form, found her place beside Marianne's pedestal. "And hey, it took her that long to pass out from all that waiting! Hasn't she realized that if a statue were actually alive—and being watched—it obviously wouldn’t move?"
It had been two hours past midnight, and that red-haired squire had finally passed out from waiting like an idiot on the balcony for the gargoyle statue to move. An impressive feat, in all honesty, that the squire had fought her drowsiness for that long, until she gave in to sleep!
She looked exhausted—it was etched in her face even as she slept. The sight of her in slumber in her bedroom would forever cloud Marianne's mind, as it was the first time she had seen her face—youthful and innocent. "She's... a fool."
"Oh, I almost forgot. The patrols around the corridors earlier mentioned that the knights would attend the Alchemist's execution tomorrow for extra security." Semmelweis added. "That's the perfect night for a visit to town, Marie."
"Big Sis Marie will leave her post? What if someone finds this balcony while she's away?"
"I shall never make known my existence unto her; from afar shall I watch that child grow into a fine knight—if such she becometh—remaining but a quiet observer and listener; a silent refuge for what ails her."
"Big Sis Marie? Your cheeks are the same color as our eyes."
"It is nothing, Rubuska. Ignore me."
"I can't. You remind me of Lady Iglika whenever she talks to that spider-obsessed human writer."
"I said, ignore me."
"It's the same red in your cheeks like a while ago when you tucked the squire in bed—"
"So they mean to execute the Alchemist?" Marianne had found Semmelweis beside her, failing to see the pout in little Rubuska's lips. "Hath the court indeed confirmed her as a true witch? God knoweth how many innocent women those fools of the court have slain with their baseless claims."
"Tsk tsk. Let them execute her, if they can!" Semmelweis held a grin—wider and weirder than before. "Tomorrow night, she'd be dead in the eyes of the public—one with the earth as the dust where man came to be. Tomorrow night, she'd find a new world—one where she'd live for all of eternity."
"Where will she go?" Rubuska asked. "The heaven in the Lord's embrace, or the endless burning pits of hell?"
"She's going to our castle, Rubuska."
"...what?"
"I bit her. She's immortal now."
"Burn the witch!! Burn the witch!!" The unified chants of the crowd were drowned out by a single scream.
"Curse you, bastards! All of you! Misfortune will befall upon these lands for all those innocent lives you burned to ashes!"
Despite her authority as a guard hired by the low court for this awaited event, Marsha failed to weave through the crowd of anticipating townfolk. Only when the fire had been lit did she find a spot on a high roof—a perfect place to spectate.
Yes, she was supposed to be on guard on the ground, but the knights were already on it.
The witch—as the low court and the townsfolk believed—struggled on her stake, even as the priest stepped away after his prayer for the governor to burn the hay below the accused.
This wasn't the first witch execution Marsha had seen, but this was the weirdest of them all. The witch never screamed in pain—even as the fire burned the hem of her worn-out blue dress; her screams were instead a curse for someone else.
"And you! Damn you, vampire!" Her voice pierced through the night, well-lit by the fire that engulfed her. "Even if you suck my blood dry, I will never be yours!"
Vampire?
It was indeed the weirdest witch execution Marsha had seen. There wasn't the ear-piercing scream of pain from the accused—only silence from her and the bewildered townsfolk as the fire completely engulfed the stake and the witch's body. Can she not feel pain? But that's impossible! Even a tiny scald from hot water already stung enough!
They do not exist in this world; only in books that explore the endless possibilities of fantasy.
Did there live a person who doesn't feel pain?
The only scream that Marsha heard was those from the townfolk—horrified shrieks that coated the darkness of the night. Her eyes shot to the sky, where the moon that once glowed so beautifully in the sky had turned a haunting blood red.
"What?!"
From down below, once the curious townsfolk wishing the witch's death had turned to chaos, rushing as fast as they could to escape the impending disaster. Some stayed and watched, and the disaster's first sign came in the form of an empty, burned stake, with nothing but the remnants of a blue dress hanging on the wooden post.
They do not exist in this world; only in books that explore the endless possibilities of fantasy.
They do not exist in this world; only in books that explore the endless possibilities of fantasy.
"I read this story from a century-old book by the adventurer Adèle Tavernier about a family of gargoyles in Montpaix: Agnes, Marianne, and Ladislas—cousins bound by blood, but their destined paths and conflicting opinions about family and religion cracked that tight bond between them."
Marsha's gaze found the moon—bright and white up in the dark sky and sea of stars—then to the gargoyle beside her, who sat frozen on its pedestal as it had always been.
"Their story sounded so... so real. The author must've been too talented for her craft. Or maybe..." Mere inches distanced her face from the statue's hard stone. "...or maybe she had engaged with them personally, and recorded what she saw with her own eyes."
They do not exist in this world; only in books that explore the endless possibilities of fantasy. And the family of gargoyles, as well as the events at the execution, was nothing but a mere fantasy.
But how could the moon shed blood like that, right in front of everyone's eyes? And on a witch's execution, of all times! Was it the vampire's doing—he whom the witch cursed as the flame engulfed her?
And the witch! The witch had disappeared on the stake, just as the blood moon rose in the dark skies that night.
They do not exist in this world; only in books that explore the endless possibilities of fantasy.
"The supernatural is real, isn't it? They live among the living."
Only the supernatural would explain how the witch vanished from sight, or the blood moon above the night sky!
She knew her flesh was nothing against hard stone, yet Marsha squeezed, as hard as she could on the gargoyle's wing, until the small bumps of the stone etched themselves on her palm.
"And you, Mr. Gargoyle, are one of them." There was no exact reason for Marsha's insanity aside from the fact that the supernatural was indeed real. And this statue? It has to be one of them.
Its sudden appearance? The subtle change in its position? The conversation she had heard a few nights back during her patrol? It all points to an actual, living entity inside of this statue; and the events at the execution further strengthened her claim.
It's not mass hysteria, that's for sure! Everyone saw the blood moon; everyone saw how the witch disappeared from the flame that was supposed to engulf her.
"Who are you? Agnes? Marianne? Ladislas? Or another gargoyle? Why are you here? What is your purpose in this monastery?"
Still, the gargoyle never replied, just as it had always been. But Marsha knew that whoever was inside this impenetrable shell of stone was listening to her.
"Your presence here bothers me."
"We have known each other these many centuries—how cometh it that thou art only now troubled by my presence?"
"But that's when you still hadn't decided to perch on a monastery's empty pedestal and pretend like you're one of their ugly gargoyle statue decorations."
"What if the squire finds the pedestal empty?" Rubuska frowned at them, especially at Marianne, alive and human, on the port with them.
"She and the other knights are outside the monastery walls; I am certain none shall find the empty pedestal."
Leaving her pedestal, of course, was a heavy risk, and the knights might come back earlier than planned and find the pedestal empty (and finally yield and apologize to the squire for calling her a fool and insane).
And the squire. She'd finally prove her suspicions of supernatural beings at the sight of the empty pedestal.
But Marianne still took the risk. Seeing a friend once again was worth all this risk.
"As thou, so would I gladly receive Nautika; for it is long since last we met, and I would hear her northern journeys from her own mouth than from letters borne across the miles."
Of course, Nautika was worth this risk. After all, it's been a few decades since they last saw each other, with their connections merely from letters sent from faded papers and messy handwriting. Right now, as Marianne stood before the busy port, with the ocean breeze sweeping past her face, she had her eyes fixed on the horizon, waiting for her dear friend's smile and warm embrace.
Neither Semmelweis nor Rubuska knew how Marianne appreciated her friends' hugs, contrary to popular belief. They don't have to know!
"What did she say?"
"She said she missed Nautika."
"No, I don't think that's what she actually said."
"That's the simplified version, Rubuska!"
"Enough of thy bickering. I see a ship upon the horizon—that must be her vessel."
At this time of night, the port was still bustling with people—those awaiting the cargo from the north; and those awaiting their loved ones to arrive from the very same cargo ships. The three of them were the latter, finding their spot far from the group of people watching as the ship slowly made its way to port—
"Ah—watch it!" Rubuska hissed, groaning in pain. "Oww, you stubbed my toe."
"Oh, I'm so sorry!"
From the ship revealing itself from the horizon to the new presence among their group, Marianne stared in surprise, just as red hair came into view in front of little Rubuska. Even Semmelweis stood bewildered, careful not to act too impulsively in front of the squire.
"I'm sorry, little one." Marsha's apologetic smile and gentle hands failed to wash away the storm in Rubuska's mind, and the young vampire resisted the urge to glance at her companions in panic.
"My name is Marsha. It's nice to meet you!" Marsha, however, had beaten her to it, standing straight to face the two stiff supernatural beings in front of her. Not that she knows what they truly are. "I apologize for not looking at my path. My mind has been in disarray lately."
This was the very first time Marianne stood in front of her in her full human glory, and not as the gargoyle statue this squire pours out her woes into. It was revealed, much to Marianne's disappointment, that the squire was taller than her. By a few inches, of course; Marianne wasn't that short.
But there was something in her that had the squire stare at her, intently, scrutinizing her features merely by her gaze alone.
"We all have problems bugging our minds." Semmelweis hummed. "But your absentmindedness might get you rammed by an incoming chariot on the street, or perhaps bring you down the planks and into the sea. That's not the quality of a knight."
"How did you know I am a knight?" The scrutinizing gaze shifted to her, straight in her eyes as red as the blood moon that she created during the witch's execution. "I am currently wearing my commoner garbs, not the leather armor provided by the monastery."
There was obvious panic in her red eyes, which she tried to hide with a glance behind her towards the approaching ship, already revealed in its full glory. In a few minutes, it will dock at the port, and they'll reunite with their dear Nautika again.
But not until they save themselves from the squire's burning question.
It was probably the first time Marianne heard Semmelweis stammer. Usually, she knows herself well, as well as her words and speech. "I, uh... I saw you at the witch's execution! I remembered your red hair."
"You're that knight on the rooftops," Marianne added, saving her friend from further interrogation. "And I deem the rooftops no proper place for a knight."
Marsha never uttered a word. Which made this all scarier—all three of them could not read her; it wasn't part of their supernatural skills. But one thing was sure: Marsha was suspicious. And she has the right to be! After all, how would anyone not be suspicious of people with rare red eyes who know something about oneself?
"Th—the ship has docked!" Breaking the stiff silence between them was Rubuska, pointing towards the massive ship docked at the port. People began surrounding the ship, wanting to be the first to see their families and the goods from the north. It was their cue to leave. "We'll see you around, Ms. Marsha!"
And leave, the three did, walking away from the squire that stood still, watching them leave without a goodbye of her own.
A whisper in Marianne's ear sent chills down her spine. "Go back to the monastery."
"Pardon me, Semmelweis?"
"Go back to the monastery." She repeated, her face filled with panic. "I think she's—"
Behind her, the young squire had disappeared, dashing away from the port in a hurry.
"She's going back to the monastery, Marianne! Get back there!"
"But what about Nautika?"
"Ah, Nautika be damned! Go!"
It was the dead of night, save for the brightness of the bustling port. As Marianne found the shadows of the quiet forests, her wings unfurled on her back, and the darkness of the skies hid the gargoyle taking flight above the sleeping town.
Facing the town, hand on its knee, hunched on the pedestal, just as Marsha had left it a few hours ago.
When Marsha thought she had already found the mystery of this gargoyle...
But her ears did not deceive her. That child's voice was similar to the childish laughter she had heard on this balcony a few nights past!
And... and her eyes! It was the same color as the bat's...
"I am insane..." Her knees found the hard surface of the balcony, slumped down in defeat at her own craziness, along with hot tears trickling down her cheeks. "I have gone insane. Insane..."
Perhaps the knights were telling the truth all along. Perhaps she'd been hallucinating all this time, about this gargoyle; this bat; and hell, perhaps even about the witch and the blood moon!
Perhaps she was already living in her madness, that everyone around her started to believe the impossible that happened at the witch's execution.
No. The supernatural doesn't exist; only in books and imagination.
And hallucinations.
This has to stop, and leaving this balcony for good was the first step in breaking free from this madness, or she'd further lose her mind on this balcony she once loved spending her idle hours in. It was time she stopped this obsession, or she'd further fall into the pits of her delusion and her need to prove that this statue was alive.
Perhaps it wasn't alive at all, and Marsha had gone insane, her mind feeding her absurd things she couldn't even prove.
Yes. It was for the better. Tomorrow, she'd ask Adelheid to lock the doors to this balcony, so Marsha would never slump further into her insanity.
The gasp she let out was loud enough to wake the other squires, yet no one stirred awake from their slumber.
Drowsiness had completely left Marsha's system, just as she stared at the burning red gaze of the bat perched on the bottom of her bed.
Bat? Was this the same bat as before? It seemed like wanting to deliver a message to her. What else would this bat even stare at her like this, to all the other beds in the monastery's sleeping chambers?
Marsha watched it fly toward the door, only to return when she didn't budge from her bed.
"You want me to follow you?" Marsha whispered, as gently as she could. "Where are we going?"
She received no reply, only another flight towards the door, this time with the company of the human it woke up. Like a resident of this monastery, the bat knew where to go; what corridors to turn; and even stopped whenever patrols got closer to them. Marsha followed its tracks, heart racing in her chest. What if this bat brings her to danger? What if there's a dead body at the end of this chase? Or what if, she'd be the dead body after this chase?
Her guesses were all wrong, as the bat finally flew outside the window as they reached a familiar door—the balcony that caused Marsha's insanity. She still hasn't asked Adelheid to lock it, because they still haven't purchased a lock from the locksmith in town.
As gently as she could, Marsha swung one door open, and what revealed before her wasn't a dead body, but a whole human being, standing still and regal above the pedestal that replaced the damned gargoyle statue.
This wasn't her insanity anymore, Marsha was certain. This wasn't a dream, either, as the night breeze prickled her bare arms that stung her skin.
The statue was gone, and a human had replaced it.
They do not exist in this world; only in books that explore the endless possibilities of fantasy.
"I brought her, Big Sis Marie!" And the bat had transformed into a human—that very same child whose toe she accidentally stubbed on the port. It was her laugh that Marsha heard a few nights back. "I'm going back to the castle!"
And the human that replaced the gargoyle also carried the same, familiar voice, her tone so foreign that Marsha knew she was not from this town, or this nation at all! "Yes. Thank you, Rubuska. Go back and entertain Nautika."
"The Witch screaming at Big Sis Semmy was already entertainment enough for Nautika! And Big Sis Semmy didn't even want to stop her! Even Lady Valentina and Lord Pyrrhos didn't want to mediate between them."
Marsha's heart dropped to her stomach as the child leaped down the balcony, only to emerge as the same red-eyed bat that brought her back into this place.
Only two people remained on the balcony: Marsha, and the gargoyle statue that was a human after all. She was right, all along.
It was a relief knowing she wasn't insane at all, yet everything about this felt bizarre knowing that humans indeed live with the supernatural.
Supernatural only existed in fantasy, yet Marsha stared at one of them with her very own eyes; watched as the person dropped from her pedestal to the balcony, meeting her bewildered gaze with her own tired ones.
She was the woman from the port, just like the bat child. To think that this person knows Marsha's woes before she even knew her name.
To think she called her Mr. Gargoyle.
Before Marsha could even speak, a silver rod rolled towards her feet, which she picked up. It was heavy, much more than the swords in the training ground. Even the person before her held the same weapon, and her stance shifted into that of fighting, her own weapon pointing towards Marsha—an invitation for combat.
And Marsha took her invitation, copying her stance like she had done countless times in training. She still wore her thin, nightly garbs—nowhere fitting for a spar—yet she accepted her invitation.
"Now then, thou squire," She taunted, tightening her grip on the heavy club in her hand, "show me how pitiful thou art in battle."
Marsha's questions, while she had a lot of them, would have to wait. She first had to defend her honor as a future knight against this supernatural force of unknown strength.