Acacia Chronicle

Two days later, at the Precipice of Eternity…

It was the antechamber leading into the realm of the divine, situated at the highest floor of the Ancient Cathedral. Befitting of Arcadia’s wealth, it had lavish displays of mortal luxuries and comforts within its four walls of warm and rich colours. The warm scent of flower-scented perfume remained light within the air, with a divine splendour far beyond the mortal world of Melodia.

And yet, all of these things did little to allay Anna de la Lune’s fraying nerves. Dressed in a nightgown made of pink silk, she sat quietly upon a velvet sofa meant for three, taking great care to ensure that the bladed edges of the eldritch chains protruding from her flesh were nowhere near the elven girl sitting next to her, who was dressed in red. Whose name, from their brief introduction and formalities exchanged, was Elena de L’Enfer.

In silence, and with a frown upon her lips, Anna bit down upon her tongue and closed her eyes. There were so many things she wanted to say to Elena, to this elven girl in red who carried with her the scent of roses and death. And yet, there was nothing she could say, for every time she opened her mouth to speak, her thoughts wandered fearfully into the bloody battlefield of the past, and the words and violence between them both.

Violence. So much violence, indeed. It made her think back to her time in school, so many years ago. She remembered getting into a fight with a classmate, whose name was now lost to memory just like the reason for their scuffle. And how, in the aftermath of it all, she sat side-by-side with her former enemy, waiting together in silence for the Principal’s judgement.

Perhaps, in a way, some things remained far too familiar. Even if it made no sense at all, given that this was no mere Principal that awaited her, but Elicia herself. The golden lady, of her dreams. And now, in light of this, she could only wonder, after what had happened to her and after what she had done, what was going to happen to her. Especially so, now that she had grown these monstrous chains of hers that could eviscerate anyone she desired with a mere thought and a bloody tear. And just like how her eyes had turned into a fiendish shade of green so alien to her, she knew, in her heart of black hearts, that there was no way, not in a million years, that things could ever go back to the way they once were.

And perhaps, she could not help but consider, it was better this way. If anything, at the very least, her elder sister was safe.

It was then, while Anna remained lost in her thoughts, that the jewelled doors ahead, well-oiled and gilded with gold and precious stones, had opened slowly and silently. The Ecclesiarch, Iris de Escaflora, walked into view with a stride worthy of a queen.

“Oh, my…”

With her eyes wide open, and with her hand over her mouth, Anna felt her black heart throb from beneath her nightgown as she watched Iris call the Lightsworn in waiting to attention with a mere gesture, without so much as a hint of pause in her stride. And her black heart swooned, as she watched the jewellery adorning her idol’s nearly naked body jingle softly with every step forward.

“She’s so… graceful.”

It was then, at that moment when those words escaped her lips in a quiet whisper, that Anna felt her admiration throttle itself. She had yet to apologise for those words said in frenzied violence, and she could only hope that her idol had forgiven her. And for those few but kind words they had exchanged as formalities prior to coming here alongside Elena, she could only hope that maybe, just maybe, her idol had found it within her heart to forgive her. Or, at the very least, that she had taken to being called a ‘silver-haired bitch’, amidst so many other things, in that ever so graceful stride of hers.

“Lady de la Lune,” Iris announced, stopping in her tracks just a few steps away from the sofa. “The time has come. My mistress would speak with you.”

With the bladed edges of her eldritch chains spilling off onto the carpeted floor around her like the drapes of an iron cloak, Anna stood up. After taking a few steps forward, she turned around and bowed as gracefully as she could, placing a hand upon her black heart. She opened her mouth to speak, only to find herself wordless before her idol and her former enemy.

“Good luck in there, Anna,” Elena stated quietly, without looking Anna in the eye. “Yeah, good luck to you.”

“Thank you, Miss Elena,” Anna said in reply, when she found her voice. “I’m sorry, about…”

Much to her dismay, Elena had resumed her silent indifference. In desperation, she looked towards the divine beauty of the Ecclesiarch who had taken her place upon the velvet sofa, and saw nothing more than forlorn silence from her idol’s golden eyes.

“Never… nevermind.”

With her sights set upon the jewelled doors, and with her eldritch chains lagging upon the carpet beneath her feet, Anna made her way forward. The Lightsworn standing guard around the jewelled doors remained silent and stoic at her approach, and as she got closer, two of them deigned to notice, parting the great doors for the approaching Hellbourne to pass without incident into the realm of the divine.