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Chapter 47
🕑 Added 2018-10-23 02:30:53 +0000 UTC Soft chimes rang off in the distance as a gust of wind blew through the area, ruffling the curtains hanging on the nearby window and sending a sudden burst of late-morning sun directly into Yamanaka Mizuko’s eyes. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, barely able to open. Eventually they parted, revealing the familiar wood of her bedroom ceiling.A callused hand gently wrapped itself around her emaciated, wrinkled fingers. “How do you feel, mother?” said the voice of her daughter, Keiko.
“Tired,” she rasped, barely able to speak. Tired was putting it lightly. Never in her one hundred and nine years of life had she ever felt so exhausted. Funny, she’d thought the same thought the day before, and the day before that. There wasn’t much time left. Another day or two at most.
She could hear other voices in the room besides that of her daughter. Grandchildren chatted with each other while great-grandchildren ran about outside, laughing as they played. The sounds of her family warmed her heart. It meant so much to her that they had all traveled to Kyoto to see her one last time before she went. All except one, perhaps. No matter how she tried, her old, worn ears couldn’t pick up a trace of her son’s voice anywhere.
“Eisuke?” she wheezed out. Keiko didn’t say anything, but the way her grip on Mizuko’s hand tightened told the dying woman all she needed to know. A tired sigh escaped her withered lips. Even now, all these year later, he had not forgiven her.
“I will try to call him again,” her daughter said, bitterness and anger in her voice. Keiko let go of Mizuko’s hand and reached for her phone.
“No,” the ancient woman said. “Leave him be. I-urk!”
The exertion of speaking a full had been too much for Mizuko. Pain swept through her body as she felt something pull at her spirit, trying to rip it out of her. A series of coughs combined with groans wracked her wretched form. Her final thought before she passed was that she’d never imagined that death would be so very painful.
* * *
Looking around the chamber, the low light of the glowing crystals combining with the bizarre sculptures lining the sides of the room lent the place a gloomy atmosphere. Mizuko wondered if this was Yomi. She found it strange that nobody else was around, but who was she to say what Yomi should be like?
The stone slab upon which she laid felt cool and refreshing, and so she decided to continue to lay atop it for a while. As somebody who had just died, she felt that it was important that she spend some time contemplating her life before anything else, and this was as good a spot for that as any. At least it was quiet here.
So Mizuko thought back on her life, reminiscing about everything from her childhood back in the 1910’s, to her first love and marriage to her first husband, his death in World War II, her second husband and the birth of her first child Eisuke, her second husband’s tragic death, the birth of Keiko... on and on her life paraded before her eyes. It was a life filled with pain, but one also filled with joy. There were, of course, numerous regrets both large and small, but in the end, she felt simple acceptance more than anything. Perhaps with death came freedom.
A loud gurgle rose from Mizuko’s stomach, and she realized she felt hungry. A spirit could get hungry? How strange.
Satisfied with her ruminations on her past life, she figured it was probably time for her to get up. The question was if she even could; for the last fifteen years Mizuko had been confined to a wheelchair, her legs no longer strong enough to support her weight. She felt better now than she’d felt in a long, long time, but she didn’t know if that meant much. Looking at her arm, she found that her wrinkled, withered hand looked just as weak as it had upon her death.
Giving herself an experimental push, Mizuko found to her delight that she had the strength to sit up. Carefully, she lowered her feet to the ground one at a time and tested her legs. They felt good. Holding her breath, she slid herself off the slab. It had been so long since she’d used her legs that she almost fell over just from lack of practice, but after a stumble she was able to right herself and stand on her own for the first time in over a decade. She couldn’t help but smile at even this simple action. It felt wonderful to not need another person just to move about again.
Now that she was fully upright, she took a few tentative steps, finding herself fully mobile. As she continued to move, her attention turned to the nearby sculptures. Their strange abstract shapes confused her. Who would put a sculpture garden in a dank room without any windows. Especially one so devoid of traffic; it felt like she’d been there for many hours, but not a single soul had come by the entire time.
At the other end of the chamber stood a short hallway with several other strange rooms filled with more objects she didn’t recognize but not a single person. At the end of the hallway, Mizuko found the nemesis of the elderly everywhere: stairs. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to throw caution to the wind and see just how much her spirit body could take.
A surprising amount, it seemed. It took several minutes of climbing before she became winded and needed to stop for a rest, elated. Sure, she might not look it, but she felt as good as she had at a sprightly seventy years old! Oh, the joys of feeling young again!
At the summit of the stairwell, Mizuko found a large metal door with an oversized blinking blue button pulsing off to the side. Lacking anything else to do, she pressed it and watched as the door slowly and haltingly opened, the sound of machinery grinding against itself making her cringe. Blinding light suddenly poured in, forcing her to shield her eyes against the sudden brightness. Along with the light came a pleasant breeze, and the smell of grass, bringing forth nostalgic memories of running through fields as a child. She stepped into the light.
Once her eyes adjusted, any thoughts that she was in Yomi vanished for good. The idyllic scene before her couldn’t be the Yomi that the legends of her childhood spoke of. Yomi was supposed to be gloomy and dark like the room below, not some picturesque countryside filled with wildflowers swaying in the gentle midday wind. Perhaps this was the Christian Heaven, instead? Though she’d always thought that Christian Heaven was up in the sky, with clouds and whatnot.
As she looked out at the gorgeous vistas, Mizuko brought her left hand over to her right and pinched herself as hard as she could, eliciting a loud hiss of pain from her own lips. No, this didn’t add up. Mizuko had little doubt that she had died. The agonizing pain, and how it seemed to latch onto a part of her beyond the physical, surely couldn’t have been anything else. And yet, she could get hungry, get tired, feel pain... all signs pointed to the conclusion that she was currently alive. And more than just alive, she seemed to be renewed somewhat, strengthened physically enough that she didn’t need to rely on others for her own basic survival anymore. If this were the afterlife, it wasn’t like that of any legend she’d ever heard.
After a moment of consideration, Mizuko decided that it didn’t matter if this were the afterlife or just another world or dimension or whatever. She was here now, alive and kicking, and knowing the answers to these questions or not didn’t change that. She could fill in those blanks later. What did matter was that she had a new lease on life, and she intended to make the most of it.
The plains called out to her, inviting her to explore its natural beauty. It had been decades since she’d last been able to walk on her own volition. Now that she could walk again the urge to amble felt hard to ignore and the pleasant fields surrounding her seemed like the perfect area for a stroll. But first, she had to do something about the fact that she was barefoot. She stood on a shallow hill, looking down on a prairie covered in growing grass in a variety of colors. Carefully she made her way down to the field below and began to pluck out some of the longer grass stalks. Not many were long enough for her needs—judging by the length of the still-growing grasses, it seemed that this place’s season was somewhere around the first third of spring. Once she had enough, she sat down and began weaving the stalks together, one by one like her mother had taught her many years ago. After a little while, Mizuko had herself a pair of woven grass sandals to fit on her small feet. The sandals would fall apart sooner rather than later, but they were enough for the moment. It was a shame that she couldn’t do something about her bedwear while she was at it.
Humming a merry tune, Mizuko picked a random direction and started walking. As she went, she couldn’t help but smile. The sunlight on her skin filled her with warmth while the chirps of birds and insects filled her with joy. She even found herself a nice walking stick from one of the isolated trees that pockmarked the otherwise-grassy landscape.
For a good while it was just her and the wilderness, but several hours later the land began to change. At first she thought it was just her imagination, but it seemed like the lay of the land itself was becoming less natural, taking on a sort of orderly appearance. Then she noticed signs of fields off in the distance. Finally, somebody to talk to! Maybe she’d be able to meet somebody else who could clear up her confusion.
As she closed in on the fields in the distance, she came upon a brook. The water tasted clear and refreshing and she exhaled in satisfaction. She’d needed a drink more than she’d realized.
Just as she was about to continue onward, Mizuko thought she heard something nearby—something just barely audible over the brook’s babbling. Curious, she changed direction and followed her ears. As she came around an embankment, she found an impossibly beautiful young woman who looked to be about eighteen years old weeping by the creekside with a basket of laundry to her side.
Mizuko didn’t know what this person was, but she did know that the girl wasn’t human. Given how much of her life had become sitting since passing ninety, Mizuko had become quite a movie watcher in the last few decades, and her first thought when looking at this girl was of those gorgeous people from those long fantasy movies. What were the people in them called again? Oh yes, elves. This girl resembled some sort of elf. With long, glistening hair that glimmered in the sunlight, an enchanting face free of pock marks or imperfections, and long, pointed ears that gave her an aura of wispy, inhuman elegance, the woman looked so flawless that not even the tears flowing down her cheeks could mar her beauty. Mizuko wondered what could make someone so blessed become so sad.
The elf hadn’t noticed Mizuko, as it seemed she was too busy holding her stomach and rocking back and forth in grief. Mizuko took a step forward, but her grass sandal caught on a small rock she hadn’t noticed and she stumbled just a little before catching herself with her walking stick. The elf’s head flashed up and she froze for a split second at the sight of Mizuko, an expression of shock and horror on her face. Then, before Mizuko could say a word, the other woman jumped to her feet and took off, sprinting quickly out of view.
Well that sure was unexpected. The girl had scampered away in such a hurry that she’d forgotten her laundry. Was Mizuko really so ugly? She walked over to the creek’s edge and studied her reflection in a calm spot. Staring back at her was the same Mizuko from the day of her death—an ancient face covered with wrinkles and spots, white hair tied up behind her head in a top knot for simplicity’s sake. She still stood less than one and a half meters tall, with her bent back making her appear even smaller. It seemed that while she felt better than she had in decades, she still appeared old as dirt. Perhaps her appearance could be considered ugly after all, especially when compared to the crying girl.
What now? Mizuko didn’t know. The young woman’s terrified reaction caused her to doubt her original plan of action. What should she do if other elves reacted to her the same way? Walking up a nearby knoll, Mizuko sat down against a pillar of rock jutting out of the knoll’s summit to contemplate her next move. Off towards the horizon beyond the fields she could see something that looked like a settlement of some sort, perhaps a village or a small town. Should she still head towards it? What if she was not welcome there? But if not that way, where? More fields filled her view as she looked around. It seemed that if she wanted to avoid these elves, then the only way to do so would be to head back the way she came, and she didn’t really want to do that. Not yet, at least. She needed some food, shelter, and preferably answers before the night fell.
Her eyes picked up movement in the distance. Perhaps her decision had been made for her. Several minutes later, a small group of figures crested a nearby hill and stopped, staring at her from a distance. It seemed to be a group of elves, each of them carrying an historical weapon of some sort. She saw a few swords, a spear, and what looked like several bows. The group stood well out of earshot, but she could tell that a few of them were arguing with each other. Finally one of them split off and sprinted back towards the town in the distance, while the others stayed and watched her.
Mizuko watched them back. One look at these people, even from such a long distance, made it clear that she needed to adjust her beauty scale. She had thought the crying woman impossibly beautiful, and she still was, but the group on the hill suggested that said woman might simply qualify for normal here. Each of the figures were as gorgeous as the woman before, with long, shining hair, perfect faces, and a general glamor that would have made her younger self jealous. Was this a society of supermodels? Even the men in the group had an attractive feminine quality to them and were no less beautiful.
The group remaining seemed content to simply study her from a distance and did not approach. Mizuko didn’t think it wise to approach them either, instead deciding to treat this like how one treats a new cat—just stay back and let them approach her when they felt comfortable. She was the stranger here, she reminded herself. Plus, those weapons looked quite sharp. If she truly weren’t dead, then throwing her life away on the first day of her new life would be a terrible waste. Plus, she knew now what death felt like, and had no desire to experience such overwhelming agony again anytime soon.
Soon, a two-wheeled carriage drawn by a large shaggy four-legged beast trundled up to the elves, and out stepped several people, including a person covered in a cloak with a veil concealing their face who rocked back and forth repeatedly. The veil was pulled aside and the cloaked stiffened, looking in her direction for several minutes before the veil was put back in its place. Then the newcomers left the way they came, as if nothing had happened. Mizuko had no idea what to make of such a scene.
Perhaps an hour later, a commotion brought her from her thoughts. A large group pulled up by the others, and these people meant business. Perhaps two dozen soldiers clad in bright clothes ran up, followed by an incredibly ornate litter as large as a car, carried by eight elves. The litter was covered in gold engravings and studded with gleaming gemstones. One would have to be blind not to know that somebody very important had just arrived. The door opened and a man wearing shining armor, a large sword by his side, and a serious look on his face. He surveyed the scene intently before stepping to the side. Then out stepped a woman, and Mizuko gasped.
Though of average height for the group, the new woman seemed to tower above the others with her gravitas alone—strong without being overbearing, proud without being haughty, and fully in control. Mizuko knew that this person stood atop the local food chain even before the rest of the elves all bowed to her in unison. The woman spoke to several members of the group, a no-nonsense expression on her face, looking back towards Mizuko every so often. Then she said something and the rest of the group seemed to panic. The serious man seemed to be arguing with her, but she crossed her arms and silenced him with just a look. Mizuko couldn’t help but be impressed.
The next thing she knew the woman was headed her way, lifting her dress slightly to keep it from brushing up against every stalk, while several other elves walked in front and to her sides, their weapons at the ready. Mizuko groaned as she pushed herself to her feet using the rock and her walking stick as supports. As they approached, Mizuko studied the woman in charge, taking note of the elf’s dark purple hair, her smooth, slightly tanned skin, the golden necklace covered in gemstones that she wore, and the elegant dark green dress that seemed to accentuate her figure without really showing much of it.
The elves stopped about ten paces from her, with the serious man approaching several steps closer, a scowl on his face. Mizuko gave as best a bow as she could, using the stick to help her back up. The man snorted.
“Pantomiming our customs will get you no favor here, human. What are you doing in the middle of Drayhadal?” the man demanded, his scowl deepening. “You should know full well that your kind is unwelcome here. Answer quickly!”
“I’m sorry for intruding. It’s just that I died and woke up here, you see. I’m not very sure what happened.”
Several of the elves coughed. The man’s eye twitched. “You died? Do not mock me, human, or I will run you through! How did you slip past the border? How did you arrive here without being seen?”
All this questioning seemed to be accomplishing was making Mizuko confused and nervous. “I don’t know how to help you,” she replied. “I was lying in my bed and then I died. Then when I opened my eyes I was here in another world, and I went for a walk. That’s how I came to be here. I don’t know anything else.”
“Another world?” he cried, incredulous. He put his hand on his sword. “Preposterous! Enough of these bald-faced lies.”
“Votar, stop.” It took Mizuko a moment to realize that the elegant purple-haired woman had spoken.
“Milady, this human is clearly mocking all of us and has no intention of answering our questions.”
The princess stepped forward, ignoring Votar and turned to Mizuko, a thoughtful look on her face as she studied Mizuko in minute detail. “I am Princess Pyria Esmae, leader of the Esmae clan and ruler of these lands. What is your name, human?”
A princess?! Mizuko had never thought she would ever meet a princess in her life. What was she supposed to do? Perhaps a bow would be best? “My name is Yamanaka Mizuko,” she replied, giving the princess a deep bow. Ooof, new, stronger body or not, bending over still made her back sore.
“Yamanaka... Mizuko? A strange name. I have not heard one like it before. May I call you by your given name for the moment, Yamanaka?”
“Yamanaka is my family name, but you may call me whatever you wish, princess.”
“Your given name is the second one? How interesting. Is that normal where you are from?”
“Yes, that is how names work in Japan, though that is not true elsewhere.”
“Japan... You speak of many unusual things.” The elf princess paused in thought for a moment. “Do all humans in Japan live to be as old as you?” she asked with an amused smile?
“Not many live to be one hundred and nine years old,” Mizuko replied with a small amount of pride, “though others have lived longer.”
Gasps came from the assembled elves. The princess laughed, amused. “Ohohoho! One hundred and nine? Incredible! I never thought I would have to refer to a human as my elder.”
“Milady, what she claims is impossible!” Votar huffed. “No human has ever lived even close to that long! She must be lying to us.”
“Look at her, Votar. Can you not see the years in her?”
“But there is no way that a human so old could walk, let alone somehow sneak past our borders and make their way so deep into our lands! And where is her supplies? Her water, her food? Not ever her clothes seem made for travel. She’s wearing weeds for shoes!”
“Yes, quite a mystery, indeed," Princess Pyria replied. She turned back to Mizuko, her expression now sober. “Listen well, Yamanaka Mizuko," the noble stated, her serious tone of her voice filled with the commanding presence of one used to being obeyed. "Normally, a human in my lands would find herself in a cell as soon as she were found. In fact, only your extreme age and the fact that you are very, very far from where you should be kept you from such a fate, as my subjects were too perplexed and wary to approach you without contacting me first. But you intrigue me, so I shall give you a choice: you can come with me to the palace as my guest and allow me to study you until I am satisfied, or you can find out how very cold a dungeon’s floor can be. What shall it be?”
“I thank you for your hospitality,” Mizuko replied. What kind of choice was that? “I am in your care.”
“Good, then let us be off. This is hardly a place for a proper discussion. I’m sure you would like some food as well.” The princess turned and strode back towards the carriage, the others following once she had passed. Mizuko hurried to keep up. This was all moving far too fast for her comfort, and she didn’t much like the princess’s use of the word “study”, but she had to admit that whatever was happening sure beat lying in a bed and waiting to die.
* * *
The litter shook as the three of them traveled across the fields towards the city the princess called “Esmaeyae”, though much less than Mizuko had expected, especially given the inhuman speed at which the men holding the poles on each side ran. Not much had been said during the trip so far. Princess Pyria had asked her a few questions about mundane topics like her family, while Votar simply maintained a distrustful glare on her at all times, waiting for her to pull something.
“Votar, stop making my guest uncomfortable,” Pyria admonished after a while.
“Would you mind if I asked you some questions myself, Princess Pyria?” Mizuko inquired, hoping to break the ice slightly.
“I guess so,” the princess replied. “It only seems fair.”
"If I am as suspicious as you and Votar say, why are you helping me?"
The elf tilted her head to the side in thought for a moment. "Simple boredom, more than anything. You claim to be from a different reality, and your circumstances, combined with many details like your name and your facial features, lends just enough credence to such a ludicrous idea. You should serve as adequate entertainment for a day or two. Anything else?"
“You said that you never thought you would have to call a human ‘elder’. How old are you?”
“I am ninety two years old.”
“Oh my! But you look so young!”
“I am young, for an elf. One could say I’m about twenty-seven in human years.”
“My, to think that you are ruling a whole clan at such a young age.” She chuckled. “My great-granddaughter once told me she wanted to be an elf princess. I told her that she should try to be a doctor or a lawyer instead, but she insisted, saying she wanted to marry a prince and live happily ever after! I had thought that she was too young at the time to understand the opportunities that lied in her future. She did not have an appreciation of just how free she was. Back in my day, you were a wife and that was that. We had no real choice in the matter. But now, looking at you, I think that perhaps she may have had the right idea after all!”
“Oh really?” the princess asked, leaning in, her thin, elegant eyebrows raised high. “Your society changed so much in such a short time?”
“It wasn’t until I was... let’s see... thirty eight years old before women in Japan could own property, vote, marry or divorce as they wished... When I think about it now, it’s amazing just how much the world changed over my lifetime.”
“...I see. How splendid.”
For a little while, the princess left Mizuko alone and seemed to just live in her own head. As they passed those moments in silence, the litter entered what the old woman assumed must be Esmaeyae and the world outside the litter became quite loud with the shouts of people as they went by. It almost seemed like...
“Are they...” Mizuko began.
“Cheering? Yes, they do that sometimes,” Pyria responded, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“The princess is greatly admired,” her bodyguard stated defensively. “The whole territory has greatly prospered under her benevolent rule.”
“Please, Votar! Such progress is the product of all our efforts, not just mine own.”
Several minutes later the litter stopped and the door opened, revealing an opulent stone palace. Mizuko gaped for a moment, before the princess grabbed her hand and led her into a nearby hall. What followed felt like a bizarre dream. She was treated to the finest meal she’d ever eaten while the princess asked her question after question about her life and her culture, seemingly growing more interested with each answer. They talked about many things, from architecture to religion, from food to music and entertainment. But Mizuko noticed that for some reason, the flow of Pyria’s questions always led back to how different Japan had become during her life, and the way her life had changed along with the country.
Once their meal was complete, Mizuko was given a soothing bath at the hands of several servants while her pajamas were washed and dried. After that, the princess had treated her to a cup of exquisite tea, the elf noble’s curiosity still not sated. Princess Pyria seemed to have an endless list of questions, but she made sure to take Mizuko’s feelings and energy into account, backing off or changing the subject whenever the older women seemed too uncomfortable. Mizuko found that the more she got to know the princess, the more she enjoyed the elf’s company. The woman maintained a detached and distant atmosphere about her when the two were in public, but when they were alone she let that fall to the side somewhat, revealing an inquisitive, witty, and caring person beneath. Mizuko continued to be grateful that Princess Pyria was such a kind and gentle person. She shuddered to imagine what would have happened if she’d met somebody more cruel.
The rest of the evening went by in a blur as Pyria became a whirlwind of hospitality, until suddenly Mizuko found herself lying in a soft bed, dressed in her pajamas again, and staring at the stone ceiling wondering what had happened. Just a day or so ago, she’d been waiting for her life to come to a close. Now it seemed that instead whole new chapters were about to be written.
* * *
Mizuko stumbled towards the nearby doorway, tripping over herself as the ground trembled and shook. Their small house groaned and squealed, threatening to fall to pieces at any moment. The sounds just increased her panic, causing her to almost run right by her youngest brother without thinking. Luckily she came to her senses just in time to grab the five-year-old as she passed, pulling him along with her as hard as her fourteen-year-old muscles could manage, the pounding footsteps of her mother, father, and middle brother coming behind her.
Screams filled the street outside as people flooded out of their homes, stumbling and falling as the ground continued to writhe beneath their feet. With a groan, the first of the nearby houses collapsed, followed by another, and then a third. The chilling sound of snapping wood sounded from right behind her, and Mizuko turned about just in time to bear witness to her home falling in like the others while her family frantically emerged. First came her father, then her brother. Her mother came last, her steps faltering on the trembling floor. She tripped forward just as she approached the doorway, her head smacking against the door frame. She fell forward, unconscious, and most of her body made it out. But only most.
“Mother!” Mizuko cried out as a large piece of wood fell directly on her mother’s ankles. Mizuko rushed forward as best she could, her father by her side, and they desperately pulled her mother from the debris. Mizuko let out a gasp at the sight of her mother’s ankles and feet; the bones had been crushed greatly by the falling house. There was no way her mother could walk on her own in such a condition.
“We need to run, now!” her father shouted over the din as he picked his wife up and slung her over his shoulder as best he could. “This way!”
Together they made their way up the street as best they could, the quaking earth and the crowds limiting their speed to a slow walk. To Mizuko, it was as if Tokyo was coming apart at the seams. Few buildings remained intact. The smoke of fires could be seen in all directions, and the volume of smoke was only getting larger by the second. The quake had struck right when most families had been preparing their midday meal, and that meant lots of wooden houses falling in onto unquenched fires. Already she thought she could feel the heat of flames somewhere nearby, off to her right.
Still the ground shuddered. It felt to Mizuko like the ground had been shaking for hours at this point, though it had surely been only a scant few minutes. When would it end?
The older of her two brothers call out in warning, and she looked back to see cracks forming in the road, large ones as wide as her arm was wide, running up the street towards them and forking out like lightning. Quickly she stepped to the side, avoiding the rupturing earth as it approached them. But then there came a sudden metallic screech from below the surface, and suddenly water began to gush up from underground, overflowing onto the street and making her slip.
Earth, water, fire... it was as if the elements themselves were rebelling against humanity. The world itself wanted their lives. As if to confirm her fear, Mizuko heard a sound behind her, and she turned to find a storefront falling. It was coming right at her.
* * *
Mizuko awoke with a scream, her ancient heart beating desperately in her chest. Then, like always, she realized it had all been just a dream. Such dreams had plagued her every night since she could remember. They were strong, vivid dreams, each so powerful that every morning she would wake up still caught up in it, except they weren’t dreams at all—they were memories. Moments from her life that her mind would force her to relive—some good, but most bad. Why her subconscious put her through this, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was just a way of coping with the burdens of her life.
This memory had been of one of the worst experiences she’d ever been through: the Great Kanto Earthquake, the most deadly earthquake in Japan’s history. The quake had killed many by collapsing buildings on top of them, but the real damage had come from the fires that spread quickly afterward. All in all, nearly one hundred and forty three thousand people had died that day, trapped while their city burned around them. Mizuko was grateful that her family had made it out alive, but the experience of running for her life while the world around her tried to kill her had scarred deeply. The terror of the raging flames, the panicked crowds, the rumbling earth, and more had filled her teenaged self to the breaking point. Back then she’d been sure that it would be the worst experience of her life. She’d been wrong, but that was a story for a different time.
Finally her surroundings caught her attention and she remembered where she was and all the strange events of her first day post-death. It still didn’t feel real, somehow. A folded set of clothes sat on a small table beside her bed, and so she changed into them before heading out to see about breakfast and a bath. The fabric seemed to be some sort of wool, rougher than cotton but still comfortable enough. While her pajamas were much smoother, it felt good to wear something clean again. Now all she had to do was get herself as clean as her clothes and everything would be wonderful.
After a few steps, Mizuko began to wonder about the lack of noise. The hallway stood still, and try as she might, she heard no sign of activity nearby. She needed to find somebody to give her directions to a bath, but strangely this wing of the palace seemed to be a ghost town.
Two hallways later, Mizuko came upon a man lying face down in a doorway, an upturned basket of sheets and towels littering the hallway floor. Chest tight with worry, she rushed over as best she could and with a groan and some effort rolled the man over. Even with her new-found energy, bodies were heavy.
The thumping in her chest settled somewhat when Mizuko discovered that the man still breathed and was merely unconscious. Very, very unconscious. No matter how much she slapped his face, opened his eyes, or yelled in his ear, he wouldn’t wake up.
"Help!" she cried as loud as she could. "Somebody is hurt over here!"
Nothing but silence answered her call. Not sure what else to do, she decided to keep moving and try to find somebody else. That was how she found a second person, lying half-draped over a table and just as unconscious as the first. Then a third and fourth, lying in uncomfortable positions at the bottom of some stairs.
The stillness pervading the palace left Mizuko highly disturbed. There was not a normal occurrence. The positions the elves she’d found were those of people caught by surprise. Something big had happened while she slept. Something potentially dangerous. Shaking her head, she pushed that thought into the back of her mind for now. She needed to concentrate and find somebody conscious to figure out what was going on.
A few minutes later she stood in another wing of the palace, somewhat lost, when a soft groan came from a nearby room. Mizuko hustled over as quickly as her aged body would allow to find a female servant on her hands and knees. The woman’s body trembled slightly, and she kept lifting up her one hand and flexing it in front of her face, staring at the moving fingers as if she wasn’t sure they were hers.
“Are you hurt, dear?” Mizuko asked, worried by the elf’s behavior. The woman flailed at the sound of her voice, her head whipping around at the sound as if Mizuko had set off a firecracker. The servant let out a high pitched shriek of terror and crawled desperately away from Mizuko, pushing herself into a corner and crying. Mizuko just stood there, her urge to comfort warring with the idea that this woman was not just scared but scared of her specifically.
The sound of many footsteps approaching cut off the arguments raging inside her mind. She turned around as over a dozen guards stormed in, weapons drawn, and surrounded her.
“You!” came a Pyria’s voice, strong and angry, from behind the soldiers. She stood in the doorway through which they had all entered, leaning against the frame for support. Mizuko couldn’t help but notice the large blotches of ink that marked the right side of her face. She also didn’t miss the terror in the princess’s eyes. It was the same terror found in the eyes of the soldiers that stood all around her, blades drawn and ready. “What have you done?!”
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Altoroc
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