Alexandrite

With the final piece, the extravagant crown was finally done.

 

Laura had crafted its golden arches, set in every last glittering stone, but it had been entirely incomplete until Shanoa had brought her a sizable chunk of the rare alexandrite. Laura had no clue how or where the younger woman had found it- the jewel was exceedingly uncommon, almost unheard of. Still, it was easy to forget all that when she watched it shift colors and shimmer in the light from where it sat at the top of the crown.

 

This is my magnum opus! Laura smiled to herself, however her enthusiasm felt... odd, dissonant even, in the face of the day’s revelations. Despite going about their day like clockwork, fear had icily gripped every heart in the village and refused to let go. Daniela had been the first to notice the castle in the distance, to see its ebony-black spires and the overcast darkness that spread from its highest peak. It was then that everyone knew: it was Castlevania.

 

Dracula had returned.

 

Shanoa had been gone all day, and that had worrying implications. The witch could hold her own in a fight, of course, much better than anyone Laura knew, but she was no Belmont.

 

Of course, I’m a Belmont... and I doubt I could face Dracula either.

 

In the swirling squall of worry, Laura reached to toy with her hair, forgetting that she had tied it up to keep it out of her face while she worked. It had been easier to take her mind off things when she was working, earlier that day, and it was a nice distraction to just do things with her hands. Of course, now that her current project was finished... She didn’t have to worry long, though, as the familiar sound of the door’s creak and the heavy thump of armored heels announced the presence of her favorite visitor.

 

Laura had never seen Shanoa look so weary.

 

She looked especially battered, standing there in the doorway, even in comparison all the times she had returned to Wygol from the great battles she waged. Her nose was bleeding, and some awful bruises stained her skin. Her hands and dress were soaked utterly with dried crimson blood. The look in her eyes, while still vacant as ever, held a certain resignation.

 

“I apologize for showing up in this state. I understand you value cleanliness.” She spoke as though she was tracking mud into the house or something similarly mundane. "May I come in?"

 

"Go ahead," Laura said, her voice hushed. “Are you okay...?”

 

“I’m alive, so I’d assume so.” Shanoa shrugged.

 

"You'd better let Abram patch you up," Laura fretted.

 

"I'll visit him next," she promised. Her eyes wandered to the glittering crown sitting on Laura’s desk. “Oh. So that’s what you used the alexandrite for?"

 

“Yeah. I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t expect your visit.” Laura looked away bashfully. “Do you like it?”

 

“It’s impressive work.” Shanoa muttered, reaching forward, then stopped. “...I shouldn’t touch it. My hands.” She wiped her hand on her tattered skirt, and the jeweler wanted to object to the action that would further ruin the dress, but knew it was probably a fruitless effort. It was probably beyond repair at this point anyway.

 

Still... She did not smile.

 

Laura's hopes dashed away. She had spent weeks designing the damn thing; she tried to make it as perfect as possible; she used one of the rarest jewels in the entire world. And yet even that wasn’t enough!

 

“...You still can’t smile.”

 

His words echoed in her mind: "You've got a lot to learn, and yet you refuse to. You've failed me again."  She desperately pushed those old memories away. I have improved, thank you very much. She said it was impressive! That must count for something.

 

“I lost my emotions. An empty heart cannot stir." The look Shanoa gave her was uncharacteristically defeated. She paused, then added, "I promise this isn’t any fault of yours.”

 

“It still feels that way.” Laura sighed. "I must be missing something."

 

“You’ve been getting a lot better than when we first met, though. I don’t need feelings to know an expert’s craftsmanship when I see it.” The witch said, thoughtfully. “Like I said, it’s impressive work. It's me who's missing something."

 

“It’s funny... I only improved so much because of you.”

 

“Really?”

 

“I mean... Trying so hard to touch your heart motivated me to keep getting better. It’s like you were my muse.” Laura placed a hand on hers, an affectionate gesture. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Shanoa said. She was always polite, almost overly so, to the point of seeming stiff. Laura found it sort of charming, like so many other things about her.

 

“It’s just hard to recognize that, after what happened with my apprenticeship.” Laura continued absentmindedly. “It’s easy to become your own worst critic even in the absence of that, I guess.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

She hadn't meant to allude to her past, but it felt right to say in the moment.

 

“...It’s a long story. I guess all this talk about your feelings got me thinking about my own.”

 

“I’ll listen.” Shanoa replied.

 

“You’ve got more things to worry about than my life, I promise. Don’t you have to chase after that man...?”

 

“Ah. Albus.” Her tone was unreadable. “I... No. I caught up to him.”

 

Laura got the sudden horrible feeling that things weren’t right.

 

“Really? What happened?”

 

“Tell me your story first. I want to listen... To take my mind off things.”

 

The jeweler swallowed. She had never told anyone about this bygone chapter of her life.

 

“I’m not good at talking about myself.” It was something Laura had said during one of their previous meetings, and though the context was different, it was more true than she had previously realized. To dredge up that old pain would take effort.

 

Luckily, Laura was someone who always put in the effort when she could.

 

“I’m not from Wygol. Not originally, at least,” she began. “I was an apprentice jeweler in a larger town on the other side of the Tymeo mountains.”

 

Shanoa looked attentive. She was always a good listener, despite her apparent apathy. She was always paying visits around the village, checking in on everyone, even though logic dictated that it held no emotional value to her. There was something admirable about that. Her kindness was genuine, in a strange way; selfless by nature.

 

“I don’t think I was a very good student. I tried my best, but there was always something that my master said was wrong. That I was amateurish and that I’d never be good enough. That there was something... wrong with me.” The pain in those words still felt as biting as they did those few short years ago. “I don’t think he intended to be cruel, but it was harsh. It hurt to have something I put my soul into be devalued like that.”

 

Shanoa’s hands clenched into fists as Laura described her mentor’s treatment, her knuckles turning white with the intensity of it. It was an odd reaction.

 

“Your... master.” She spoke, her words hollow but full of unknowable depth.

 

“Yeah. I don’t know, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t getting any better. I just had to get out of there.” Laura’s vision was starting to blur with tears, and she blinked them away. She didn’t want to cry in front of her. It felt shameful, even though the emotionless girl probably wouldn’t mind it. “...So I ran away. My faults... I thought they wouldn’t follow me. But I just kept being reminded of what he chastised me for!” Laura shuddered. “I know it’s probably stupid. I just couldn’t take criticism. That’s a terrible reason for a self-imposed exile. But, fate pulled me here... and I’m all the happier for it.”

 

“It’s not stupid to feel hurt. Please, don't ever say that you're stupid. I can’t understand emotional pain, but it must be awful.” She was surprisingly sympathetic. "I get the impression I’ve unintentionally upset you."

 

"Don't worry about that, Shanoa. That's not your fault, either." Laura shook her head. "I just get stuck in my own head."

 

"I just can’t smile for you. But... if I had a choice, I would. I hope that at least means something to you. And your efforts have helped in other ways. I still appreciate when you helped make that collar for Tom. That... had a tangible benefit even someone like me could understand.” It was odd to discuss art, such a subjective thing, in objective terms, but it was the only way Shanoa seemed to process it. "I'm trying, Laura."

 

“It means a lot. Thank you for listening.” Laura sighed. “But as I said, you’ve helped inspire a lot of healing. Not just for me, but everyone in the village.”

 

“At least I’ve done some good, then.”

 

“What about your mission...? You said you would tell me about what happened. Finally apprehending Albus was good, too, right? Maybe you can explain why the castle appeared on the horizon, too. I have a feeling you’d know. Since Ecclesia is all about-”

 

“Enough about Ecclesia,” Shanoa said sharply, then her expression softened. “I apologize. I did promise... I’d rather not be someone who goes back on her word.”

 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to.”

 

“No. I’ll tell you. Albus absorbed a piece of the stolen Glyph, and it... changed him. I had to kill him. Barlowe told me to. I had to. I couldn’t disobey him.”

 

Laura felt a chill as she realized the origin of the blood that stained her.

 

The woman she loved was a murderer.

 

“I had no choice. He had to die.” Shanoa insisted, and she sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. “I had to listen to the words of a liar.”

 

“Oh, God. Your master-”

 

“...Was manipulating me towards my own demise. I was to be his sacrificial lamb, and when I proved defiant he made himself one instead. This whole time I was fighting to retrieve the very spell that was intended to kill me, and fighting in the name of the man who stole away my soul.”

 

Laura felt a flood of empathy for the witch, and embraced her, not caring whether the blood stained her clothes or not. “Shanoa... I’m so sorry.”

 

“In a sense, I feel somewhat responsible for Dracula’s return. The king cannot win a chess game alone. It needs bishops, and it needs pawns- and I was a willing pawn to the very last.” Shanoa spat with a hint of something that almost seemed like contempt. "That is why Castlevania stands before me now. Because of him. Because of what I did for him."

 

Laura’s voice shook slightly with horror. "But I thought Ecclesia was intended to save humanity..."

 

“Ecclesia was built on that lie, yes.” Shanoa looked down. “My brother was just trying to spare me that fate. He died for it. I... killed him for it.”

 

“This makes my story seem even more foolish in comparison.” Laura muttered.

 

“No. It isn't foolish to me, though I have no frame of reference... All pain seems incomprehensibly vast to me. I've never experienced it. But you've suffered, haven't you?"

 

"Be glad you haven't, then. It's terrible."

 

"But I can't be happy, either, nor even complacent in my numbness... It must be nice to have catharsis after the hurt passes. I sort of envy that." Shanoa mused. "Anyway... I didn't tell you all this to ask for pity or any sort of forgiveness. I mean to say that whatever faults you think have followed you here, they are nothing compared to mine. Nothing can absolve me of this, apart from one thing: my new purpose.”

 

“You’re going to the castle.” It wasn’t a question, but a horrible, undeniable truth.

 

“If not me, then who? I promised Albus I wouldn't use Dominus, but if it comes to that, it can destroy Dracula. It’s not as though I have anything to lose. There’s nothing left for me.”

 

Shanoa's words stung a bit, but once that bitter feeling subsided, Laura recognized with a newfound clarity that Shanoa couldn't comprehend how much she was loved.

 

...How much Laura loved her, especially. No matter how much the jeweler tried to avoid letting her attraction obstruct their sort-of-friendship, it was still present, always in the back of her mind. She loved her, undeniably so. It made her vow more upsetting. Storming the castle was near suicidal. There was a reason only Laura's bloodline had managed to succeed in such a herculean task.

 

She would most likely die. They both knew this, but neither dared speak it. Even when freed from Barlowe's control, she saw the role of a sacrifice to be a fitting one.

 

"You'll always have the village. I promise." Laura muttered, hugging her more tightly. "We'll welcome you no matter what."

 

"Maybe so." Shanoa paused for a moment, then added: "Thank you for telling me about your master. It... resonated with me, a bit."

 

"No! Thank you for listening. And being there. And helping me overcome my faults... And everything, really." Laura began to realize that their lives, seemingly so different, were echoing each other. It felt like art, that fate had chained them together, however briefly. When Laura felt as though she had nothing, driven to despair by her former master, her destiny had directed her to Wygol. And here was Shanoa, betrayed by her master, saying she too had nothing left. They were so different, and yet deeply, achingly, the same.

 

Soulmates.

 

God, Laura, you're a hopeless romantic, she chided herself.

 

They shared the silence for a few precious moments, then Shanoa pulled away from her touch.

 

"I'll leave tomorrow. This tragic tale must end," she spoke determinedly. "At any cost. It’s my duty, as the blade to banish all evil."

 

"Come back to me- to us, soon," Laura whispered.

 

"I can't promise that." Shanoa avoided eye contact.

 

"I see... Well, can I ask you for one thing before you leave?"

 

"Alright."

 

"I want to see you wear the crown."

 

Shanoa obeyed and dipped her head, allowing Laura to crown her in vibrant blue and gold, which she did with careful hands. She looked beautiful; royal blue was such a lovely color on her. Laura etched this vision of beauty into her mind and inwardly vowed to never forget it.

 

Oh, queen of my heart!

 

There was still much she wished to say to her, in this newfound state of understanding, but alas.

 

"I must say, I definitely brought out your eyes." Laura assessed, gesturing towards the silver mirror on the wall. “It enhances your beauty.”

 

Shanoa blinked and stared at her reflection for a few moments, trying to understand what she meant, willing herself to see it, then spoke, "I can't see what you see in me, but I believe you. You're an honest woman."

 

“After all those lies, I’d imagine honesty holds even more value to you.”

 

“I suppose so... Truth is one of the few objective things in life."

 

It was a curious thought.

 

"...I should be going. I'll visit Abram," Shanoa added after a thoughtful silence. "It feels strange to admit, but I'm... vaguely fond of you. The same way I felt a brief pity for Albus. It's hard to cling to, but it's there. Maybe that means something to you."

 

"So you're not as emotionless as you thought?" Laura asked.

 

"I don't know. It's all so distant: a trace of something that is too far away to grasp." Shanoa shook her head. "I'm sorry that you couldn't stir my heart much more than that. Honestly, I am. It's no fault of yours."

 

"I don't feel as bad about it now. I shouldn't have expected so much of myself," Laura smiled. "If anything, you were the one to help me."

 

"When I rescued you from the Torpor spell? Or when I brought you the jewels...? I have tried to be helpful."

 

"Well, I mean... Talking with you has helped me understand my own heart better. It's more metaphorical." Laura said. "But I appreciate all that, too."

 

“I... made you happier?” Shanoa asked, and her voice was surprisingly soft.

 

“Yes. You did.”

 

"That's good," Shanoa nodded. "Cherish that joy."

 

That was the last thing she said before she left, her tattered skirt billowing behind her in the darkness.

 

She looked back at the jeweler one last time, her vacant gaze brimming with a tragic finality.