Wisteria [ Original Work ]

A lone girl sits at her desk, furiously writing away in her diary. Her pen darts across the page, leaving barely legible trails of ink anywhere and everywhere. A quick dip in the inkwell and she is at it again, her inken marks upon the page like sludge on sand. Snow falls from a hole in the roof above her, the white body of each flake contrasting with the onyx walls of her prison. The sight of snow causes a smile to cross her face. Winter was the most beautiful time of year to her, and she could surely write of the white wonderland for hours on end. The speed of her pen increased the more she thought of what the outside could look like, her thoughts finally overrunning the parchment. Satisfied, she closed the cover of her diary and set it aside, put the pen in its respective place, and went to the area that lay under the hole in the roof.

Snow. Actual snow. How long had it been since she had last felt its cold embrace, its soft touch? It must have been about a year. Yes, it had been year since the time when she could roam freely outside of this cramped cell. It had been a year without food or water. A year without friends, a year without family. It was a year of complete solitude, her own being locked away from the world in an underground cell, damned to die because of something she didn’t understand herself. But that was life. She never held any of that against those who put her here. She was mad in the beginning, but what good would being angry do? Her anger turned to tears, her tears to ink. Her life, her essence, her very soul was contained in that little diary and vial of ink. That book was her friend, her companion. If anyone had been there for her during that year of solitude, it had been that diary and its pages, beckoning her hand to tell it its stories.

Her body drifted out of the icy patch, her hair littered with already melting snowflakes. Without a hint of grace she flopped down onto her familiar bed. She watched cloud after cloud pass through her line of sight through that hole to the outside world. She considered the possibility of escape; how wonderful would it be to see her family again? Did they miss her, or did they enjoy life to the fullest as they did when she wrote about them in her own diary? She hoped they missed her, but something inside of her begged that they would be happy with or without her. After all, wasn’t she the cause of their suffering before her imprisonment in the first place?

Suffering… Suffering. They surely weren’t suffering now. They were probably going about with their own happy lives, ‘living things as they come’. Her brother’s words brightened her smile a bit, but they made her heart heavy with longing. How she wished to go and play in the snow with him.

For the first time in months she cried, and the virgin snow fell evermore.

---

Her eyes fluttered open at the slightest change of temperature in the room. It was noticeably colder than before and darker as well. She looked up towards the skylight, as she did many times before. It was night, but she could still make out each snowflake as they fluttered down by the light of the moon. The sight was beautiful. She laid back onto the bed. Her life, though dull, wasn’t so bad. She had her diary to keep her company, her covers to keep her warm, and the skylight to keep her heart. All was well.

Her thoughts wandered, though. What if she was able to change all of this? Could she escape from this stony prison and run away? It was at this time that it dawned on her; she actually was able to make an escape. She might even be able to run away. Those who imprisoned her had probably forgotten about her, so the thought thrilled her. She would finally be able to roll in the snow. She would finally be able to go about making new friends. She nearly giggled at the thought of someone’s warm embrace, another person’s soft touch. She wondered if another human could touch her as gently as a snowflake could.

Her thoughts were cut short as the room suddenly went pitch black. Something had completely blocked the skylight. Curious as to what caused this she stood up and went towards the center of the room. Soon whatever was blocking the skylight moved and all was the same as it was before. But what was that? What had blocked the skylight? Something like that had never happened before; occasionally she would hear another voice passing by the light but never had one passed over it. Realizing that if she could attract some attention to herself she might be able to be rescued, she quickly took hold of one end of her bed, lifted it, and dropped it on the ground.

A heavy crash reverberated throughout the chamber, and the footsteps from above slowed to a halt. Her heart skipped a beat. It worked; she might be able to get out! She took hold of the bed again and let it drop, another crash drawing dust up from the floor. The footsteps from above resumed, though as they drew closer she could tell that they weren’t those of a human, but those of an animal.

Fear crawled its way into her, followed by a wave of disappointment. How foolish of me to think that someone might save me, she thought. How foolish of me-

The animal stopped, and a more familiar sound entered her hearing. This time she could be sure that the footsteps were those of a human, crunching over the snow-covered ground. Had her hero come at last?
Bewildered by this, she raised the bed again and slammed it on the ground, this time with more force than ever. The footsteps stopped, then resumed, becoming louder with each passing second. Eventually the sound found its way to the hole in the ceiling, and a curious shadow blocked out all light from her prison.

She couldn’t tell, but the figure seemed to be uttering a few words to himself; he was obviously alone tonight.

A light. The stranger carried with him a torch. Attracted to it like a moth, she went directly under the hole. The pale light of the torch bathed her in its white light. For one who had been imprisoned in such a space for such a long time she had remained beautiful, her hair fair and her skin as white as the snow she dreamed of.

A gasp from above and the light moved away from the hole. The figure’s footsteps raced away. Was that mysterious stranger going to leave her?

A while passed, and the footsteps returned. A man’s voice, weary but young, spoke. “I’m going to throw the torch down,” he began, “So move out of the center of the hole.”

The girl shuffled off to the side, sitting on her bed. The torch, as if a beacon from heaven, was thrown down from the hole. It threw its lights across the room as if the room itself had been waiting for its arrival. The man spoke up again.

“How in the hell did you manage to get yourself down here?” The man chuckled. “I’m going to throw you down a rope. Do you understand?” He stuck his face through the hole. It was the face of an assassin, gaunt and sharp. A loose hood was thrown off to one side of his neck. The girl could only nod.

“I’m glad we’re at an understanding, then.” He popped his head up out of the hole and a rope dropped down. She was still stunned at how fast this was happening. Had her prayers to her diary for a savior been answered at last? There was only one way to find out.


Gripping the rope so hard that her knuckles bore white, she made her way up.
Act II, Chapter 1

Two weeks earlier~

Silas’s eyes opened to a clear view of the sky. The air was steadily getting colder; winter was approaching. Not wanting to waste any time on this particular day he rose up, gathered his things, and saddled up onto his horse. He couldn’t wait to face the Circle today and receive his license. Having his Hunter’s license was his lifelong dream, a dream he held on to ever since his childhood. Even before the accident he had wanted to become a Hunter; he had fond memories of tales spun to his younger friends about his witch-hunts with his great-uncle. Those tales were nothing but yarn, though. He had never gone and killed a witch. In fact, the only thing he had even come remotely close to killing had been a squirrel at that age.

But, with those promises at heart waiting to be fulfilled, he had worked his way up the ladder. He spent countless hours studying for this test, countless hours wasting away under the light of a single torch. He was dead sure that he would receive his license. His mind never thought of what he would do if he didn’t get it. It was all optimism from here on out, no doubts, no complaints.

He looked up into the sky, wondering if it would snow this year. He really hoped it wouldn’t; he simply hated the feeling of snowflakes. The sheer coldness just put him in a bad mood. Lucky for him, though, the weather today was fair enough, and for that he thanked the gods.

He approached the city gates and waved to one of the guards to let him in. The guard quickly obliged to his request, and without anything keeping him he made his way to the House of the Circle, the place where the Circle met, as well as inducted new Hunters into their ranks. Silas remembered his uncle taking him there once before, but his memories were faded. He couldn’t ever recall a statue of the high king directly in front of the front door, for one. It seemed that the king’s influence had even spread to that of the Circle. Silas frowned, but pressed on. Reaching the large oak doors, he dismounted his horse and gave it to one of the stablehands, who led it away. Now all he had to do was wait.
Hours passed, but Silas stood patiently.

Eventually a crack appeared in the middle of the doors, then a sliver, then a large gap. It was time. Silas, not wanting to wait any further, quickly made his way inside. He was greeted by a blinding light, its source a grand chandelier in the center of the large, domelike room. Large, nondescript stone benches and their inhabitants were scattered anywhere and everywhere in a seemingly random pattern. The ivory walls were simply huge, much larger than one would think they would be from the outside. Golden pillars supported the structure from the inside, glittering from the light of the chandelier. Silas felt like an ant in comparison to everything.

Silas finally noticed that the eyes of every Circle Hunter had been trained on him as he took in the immensity of the room. He shuffled off to the side nervously and they resumed whatever they had been working on before. After some thought, he made himself over to the nearest bench and sat down. Several eyes glanced his way, but soon disregarded. He tapped a neighboring Circle Hunter on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, but where would I go to apply for my freelance Hunter’s license?” His voice came out a bit more childish than he thought it would, but he couldn’t help it. This place was just so immense…

The Hunter looked him in the eye, which was a bit odd given that this particular man had a lazy one. “You don’t look like the type of kid who’d make a great Hunter, but if you want to take the test…” The man jabbed his thumb to a door on the westernmost side of the building, his motions violent and spastic. “…then you’d want to go that way.” The man stumbled over his words as if he were a drunk.

Nodding, Silas made his way to the testing room. That man really did creep him out; did they let anyone in the Circle? Wasn’t there some sort of rule regarding the state of their occupant’s mental health, as well as physical?

Well, at least his next encounter was a tad better than the last. An attractive woman greeted him as he walked through the door. She wore the typical Circle robe, though the neckline of the garment was significantly lower than usual for her. Silas couldn’t help look for a moment, then quickly look away. The woman merely uttered a shrill laugh- not everyone could be perfect, he thought to himself- and gestured for him to sit down with her.

“I’m going to have to ask for your name, myu.” Her nasal voice along with that odd addition to the end of her
sentence really screamed ‘oddity’.

“My name?” He stumbled through the words , then muttered “My name is Silas Greenmoss.”

“Age, myu?” Again with that odd addition.

“Twenty-three.”

“Sign of birth, myu?”

“Aries.” Why would they ask for his sign? Nobody had before. Why the hell did people have signs, anyways?

“Myuu~. Oh, that’s too bad.” She scratched her head for a moment and frowned. “We’re full of Aries Hunters at the moment, so-“

“I’m going to become a freelance Hunter.” So that’s how they were arranged.
Her frown turned into a smile. “Myuu~! That’s perfect, then. I’m going to have to ask you to fill out this test, and after that you’ll be able to go out on your way.”

Oh god. The loathed Hunter test. He was led to the nearest bench and was given a quill to write with and a piece of parchment to sign on. A stone tablet was brought to him by the strange woman, the questions carefully etched into it. Time seemed to pass quickly as he considered each question and answer, carefully contemplating his decisions. Now was the time that he thought of failing. He couldn’t fail, though, not this test. He simply couldn’t, that was a fact.

Time passed, and before long he turned his parchment and quill into the woman. After a few seconds of glancing over the paper, she dropped it on the floor and clapped. It was as loud as any thunder would have been. Silas would have jumped from where he was standing if he wasn’t so afraid of what the results were to be.

“You passed with flying colors, myuu~!” Said the woman, quite excited with the news. She produced a little stone, imprinted with the Hunter’s insignia and Silas’s name. Baffled at the news, he could only stare.

“I… I passed?” He couldn’t believe it himself. With flying colors, she said?

“Yesiree, yes you did yes you did.” She mustered another nasal laugh. Her speech was so unprofessional, given her position as test-giver. Silas couldn’t help but laugh with her. After a few moments of that, she took his hand into hers and pressed the stone into his.

“Silas Greenmoss, by the power vested in the Circle, in me, and the gods, your name is now forever erased. You shall be known as Silas the hunter from here on out.” A devious smile crossed her face. “Ma’as lis umbr. May the shadow protect you, myu~.”