Once More to See You - Chapter 15

Years had passed since Sybil last glimpsed Illis’ tower, but she still knew the way. It wasn’t far, either. In some manner of speaking, Sybil had never been able to leave. She could have chosen anywhere, but when she’d struck out on her own, Sybil had built her cozy little cabin in the same forest as Illis’ tower. At the time, her excuse was that, without her mentor’s presence, the neighboring towns would need someone new to provide those services which only the magically inclined could perform. As such, Sybil would have no trouble living comfortably with such a steady stream of customers. The assumption there wasn’t wrong, but Sybil had done little to take advantage of her magical monopoly in the area. Truthfully, her excuse was just that, an excuse. The real reason Sybil chose to make her home so close by was that, at the time, she hadn’t given up hope that, one day, Illis might return. Perhaps, even now, she still hadn’t fully let go.

At age eight, Sybil’s birth parents had given her away to Illis; they had feared her for the magical potential she showed. Friends, relatives, loved ones of all sorts were suddenly excising her like some sort of tumor. Feeling unwanted like that at such a young age had, obviously, cut deep. For the first weeks, Sybil had viewed Illis more as a captor than anything. To the young witch, everything wrong in her life, from her loneliness, to her family’s rejection, to the very manifestation of her magic must have been the fault of the woman she’d been shipped off to. Obviously, then, she was terrified of Illis; during those early days, what little words her mentor could coax from Sybil mostly took the form of meek begging for her life to be returned to normal. Never once, though, did Illis lose her patience, scold her,or yell at her; Sybil was treated with only kindness and empathy back then.

And, eventually, once Sybil had realized Illis had more love to give her than either of her birth parents ever had, she began to open up. For eight more years, Sybil lived with Illis, studied under her, sought her guidance, her comfort. Through Illis, she learned not to fear her magic, nor to feel shame for it; she learned to cook, to heal, to identify plants, to tend a garden and brew potions. Illis had even been instrumental in helping Sybil form her bond with Lady Hissruuk. There were times when it felt like Illis expected too much of her, but that was only because she’d seen just how far Sybil could go when pushed. Then, a few months after Sybil turned sixteen, Illis began to grow distant. She spent more and more time locked away in her study, skipped meals, even left what Sybil cooked and placed outside her door untouched at times. After the first few weeks, Sybil couldn’t help but wonder if her mentor’s distance was somehow her own fault. And then she didn’t have to wonder at all.

Two long, lonely years, that time was all spent lingering within the safety of Illis’ tower, living off her garden, her chickens, and the occasional wild game caught in the traps Sybil would set each night. The only company she kept in those days was ‘Ruuk, which, admittedly, wasn’t entirely unlike the years following either. Through it all, Sybil did her best to ensure that, when Illis came back, the tower would be just how she left it. On the day of her disappearance, Sybil had ventured into Illis’ study, then searched her inner sanctum for any sign of her; she had found nothing. Twice more in those early days, Sybil entered in the hopes she’d missed something. Once she’d given up, Sybil never once set foot inside again; that way, when Illis returned, it would be just the way she’d left it.

Illis had never returned, though. Like everyone else, she’d abandoned Sybil.  And so, when Sybil finally gave up, and set out on her own, she had promised herself not to rely on anyone else. That was all before the dreams really took root, though. Now, more than anything, Sybil wanted someone to rely on. A part of her hoped that could be Madelyn, a part of her which nursed the smoldering embers of a forbidden thought in the back of her mind. And yet, despite everything she and Madelyn had been through, some other part of Sybil still cast doubt on her companion, told Sybil that she, like everyone else, would leave her; that was why Madelyn never appeared in her dreams. Of course, one dream stood as a bold faced exception to that, but it was one Sybil tried not to think too hard about. That dream was an outlier, one which fed kindling to the irrational little idea that still burned, despite the choking doubt all around it.

They were getting close now. Soon Sybil might even catch a glimpse of that old, worn stone, peeking above the trees as she and Madelyn crested some hill or other. Hopefully the wards Sybil had placed on the tower before she left still held. They ought to have; the focusing crystal which powered Illis’ tower had little else to feed the ambient magic it collected. Which meant that, hopefully, the place would be untouched, preserved the same way it had been, all those years ago. How long had it even been? Six, seven, eight years? Sybil hadn’t really kept track. But if there was anywhere she could find a wight’s finger, it would be there, somewhere in Illis’ study. A hand lightly brushed her arm, Sybil’s turned.

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been really quiet ever since, well, y’know.” Madelyn wasn’t wrong, but Sybil hadn’t been the only one. Neither had said much of anything to the other since they had set off. Something hung heavy in the air around the two. Each step they took toward that place seemed to carry the weight of such finality with it. One way, or another, this would be it. Maybe some way down the line something else might come up, Sybil might find some other way to conjure her, but something told Sybil that Madelyn wouldn’t be content to just sit around and wait like some obedient puppy while she sought a new solution. Especially after what had just happened between the two of them. The memory of how Madelyn had felt, had tasted, still sent tingles of phantom sensation all through Sybil. Denying it was impossible; Sybil craved more.

“Hello? Sybil.” A hand was waving in front of her face, Madelyn’s hand. She’d spaced out again.

“Uh, sorry. We’re close now, only another half-hour or so.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Concern painted each of her words all manner of cautious, pensive shades. “Seriously, do you need to wait outside for this? If you let me inside, I’m sure I can find the finger, assuming it’s there.”

The words ‘wait outside’ had barely been uttered, when Sybil began to vigorously shake her head. “No, I need to do this. I need to go in, I need to see that she’s really gone.”

“Okay, just, let me know if you ever need a moment or anything.” That seemed to settle the conversation; Sybil nodded gratefully, and they continued onward. Not long after, they reached the top of the hill they’d been climbing, and from there, they had gained just the right amount of altitude to see the top of Illis’ tower. What felt like so much time had passed, but there it stood, perched atop the flatlands of the glade below. It stretched high above the trees, overgrown with ivy and moss, but otherwise remained sturdy.

“Jesus, your old mentor built that by herself?” Behind Sybil, Madelyn had stopped dead in her tracks, mouth agape in awe.

“I’m not sure who this Jesus person is, but yes, she did. Illis was old, older than she let on and a lot older than she looked. Never really did find out how old, but, when you get to be her age—which you can really only do by becoming obscenely powerful—there aren’t really a lot of rules that reality can impose on you.” As much as that tower was, more than anything, a giant monument to complicated feelings and traumatic memories, Sybil couldn’t deny that it was quite a sight to behold.

“And you really think we can find what we’re looking for in there?” Madelyn asked.

“Remember when I said it had to be you who went after the wight? Because if I did it the thing would just sense my magic and run away instead of risking facing me?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, if I were at Illis’ level, the wight wouldn’t have even had the chance to run. I could have just barged in there and killed it on the spot. So if there was ever a reason for her to want a wight’s finger, she’d have no trouble getting it. Which makes her the best lead we’ve got.” Talking up her mentor like this after so long was strange. In many ways, Sybil felt almost as though she were gushing over Illis. And, to be fair, her old menor was very impressive. Why Illis had ever chosen to settle down amidst a forest in the middle of nowhere had always been a mystery to Sybil. But she was acting like some star-struck child, not a grown woman whose whole life had been thrown into turmoil due to that same woman’s heartlessness.

“You’ve got that look again, like you’d rather be anywhere else.” Pensively, Madelyn’s hand came to rest on Sybil’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “It’s alright, you can do this.” For some reason, that helped. And realistically, Sybil did know the reason, but she needed to set it aside. Murmuring a quick thanks, Sybil gestured Madelyn to follow, and the pair continued on.

With each passing moment, the tower loomed ever larger, dwarfing Sybil in such a way that made her feel far too much like the scared, lonely child she’d been when she had first laid eyes on this place. At the bottom of the hill, the narrow, untended trail which Sybil had been leading Madelyn through became a proper path, albeit an overgrown one. She felt itchy, restless; no part of Sybil wanted to confront this place, no part save the tiny, hopeful voice which she had worked hard to suppress. The one that wondered if somehow, Illis had returned without Sybil knowing. Hope like that was dangerous, because Sybil knew it would only be crushed. Soon, the entrance to the tower was in sight; soon after she was standing before it, Madelyn just behind her, examining the wards she’d placed all those years ago.

“So will this ward of yours even let me through?” Madelyn watched with quiet, nervous interest as Sybil ran her hands along the barrier lightly.

“Not right now it won’t, but I’m working on it. They’ve held up pretty well, but should be pretty easy for me to reverse engineer to allow you in. Currently it’s only set to allow me, ‘Ruuk, and, well, Illis and her familiar through.” Admitting that felt stupid and overly sentimental; Illis was gone, and even if she ever did come back, why should she just get to walk right in unchallenged? And obviously, if Sybil had actually bothered to set the wards to keep Illis out, she could have easily dismantled them, but why go through the extra effort of making her feel welcome in the home she abandoned? Giving a frustrated sigh, Sybil pushed the thoughts from her head and set herself upon the task at hand. “Alright, yeah, this should work.  You should be able to go through now and—wait.” Eyes, wide, mouth slightly agape, Sybil stared in disbelief, not that she was really looking at anything.

“What is it? Are you okay?” Worry wormed its way into each and every syllable Madelyn spoke; it was honestly really sweet, just how much she cared. Unfortunately, that wasn’t something Sybil had the capacity to dwell on, at the moment. All of her focus was currently narrowed in on one particular detail, which made her hands shake uncontrollably and knees buckle, which caused her stomach to knot while nerves, anger and hope all waged war within her.

“Someone’s been here, Madelyn. Someone who didn’t need to take down the barrier.” Even as the words tumbled from Sybil’s lips, the full meaning and implication of them was still setting in.

“So does that mean?”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, but yeah.” The next several moments passed in silence as Sybil continued to stare blankly ahead. Could Illis really have come home? She’d wanted that for so long, spent so many nights thinking of what she would say to her mentor if they ever met again. Now though, Sybil mostly felt bitter, betrayed. The thought of looking Illis in the eyes again, having to ask her why, having to subdue the part of her that just wanted to forgive and forget, the anxiety of it all was crushing. And worst of all, that naive child in her felt sudden untamable hope. Shutting her eyes tight, Sybil took a few deep breaths, murmured one last incantation, and flicked her hands. The invisible barrier pulsed with energy, then stabilized. “We can go in now.”

Just as Sybil stepped forward to cross the threshold, Madelyn caught her wrist. “Wait, do you actually think she’s in there? I mean, I know I suggested the exact opposite, but given the circumstances, well, I can wait out here if you want.”

“No.” Not a moment passed for Sybil to think on the matter, she spoke suddenly, almost desperately. “Please, I—I want you here. Don’t want to do this alone.” Madelyn nodded. They crossed the threshold together. The entrance hall had been left undisturbed, as far as Sybil could tell. Though it was just a hall, there was little there to disturb. Leading the way, Sybil strode forward, trying to maintain an aura of purpose as nerves ate at her. After a moment’s hesitation, she set off toward the stairs; Illis’ study was at the very top of the tower, and Sybil would not allow herself to dawdle and check each and every room.

Even if Illis had returned at some point, it seemed unlikely she’d stayed. And yes, it was true that the barrier had only been crossed once, but that only suggested all the more that Illis was long gone. If she really were living in the tower again, she’d likely have crossed it many times running errands or tending the garden. Most likely, Illis had dipped in, then teleported away or flown off the top floor balcony as soon as she’d gotten whatever it was she needed. Sybil made a mental note to check if the wards on the balcony had been traversed as well.

Still, as they crossed the long hallway toward the spiral stone stairs, Sybil couldn’t keep her eyes from briefly flitting and darting to look into each open door, in the hopes of catching some sign, but she saw nothing. Reaching the stairway, Sybil and Madelyn began their ascent, climbing floor after floor in relative silence. Climbing the stairs was taking longer than Sybil would have liked. Time seemed to have dulled her memories of just how many floors there were. The tower was much larger than any one witch should ever need, but many of the middle floors were built exclusively to properly house the massive focusing crystal that breathed life into all the lingering magics which both Illis and Sybil had cast upon the place. The excessive climbing wasn’t all bad, though; something about the familiarity and repetitiveness of walking them put Sybil’s mind somewhat at ease. And, for a time, Sybil was able to mostly clear her head and focus on the finger. That all changed when, about three quarters of the way up, she saw a little blue feather balanced upon the lip of one of the stairs ahead of her. She came to a sudden halt, causing Madelyn to nearly trip as she struggled not to plow right into Sybil.

“What is it?” The worry had crept back into Madelyn’s voice with a vengeance.

“That feather. Her familiar, Jasper, is a bluejay. It’s his. He was here, which means—” Words began to fail Sybil as emotion clogged her throat.

“Which means you were right. She was here.” Madelyn took a moment to find the right words, it seemed she didn’t. She continued anyway, “I don’t know what to say. Just -- are you okay?”

Sybil ascended a few more steps, then stopped low, plucked the feather, and placed it gently into a little vial which she kept in her pack. “I don’t know. When I suggested we come here, I never dreamed any of this would happen. But I guess it was nice to find this. Kind of forgot how much I missed him.” A small smile played an uneasy game of chicken with her lips; she brushed the feeling aside. “Let’s keep moving, we’re not far from the top.” Over her shoulder, Madelyn made a small noise of acknowledgement, and their climb resumed.

The rest of their ascent occurred without incident, save Madelyn lightly stumbling on one of the stairs; upon reaching the top, they stood in one last stone hallway. Ahead was the entrance to Illis’ study; Sybil approached, and quickly found the prospect of reaching out and opening the door to be a monumental task. What would she find on the other side? The weight of that question pinned Sybil’s hand to her side. Was it really possible that Illis was here? Probably not, but twin flowers of hope and gut-wrenching anxiety had already bloomed within Sybil, then grown round and round one another ‘til they were hopelessly intertwined. Taking a deep breath, Sybil turned to her companion—though really, Madelyn had become so much more than that in so little time.

“I think I need to do this part alone. Do you, um, do you maybe want to see my old room? There’s not much really there to see, but you could at least sit for a bit.” She gestured vaguely down the hall in the direction of her old quarters.

“Yeah, I can do that. Let me know if you want any help looking around.” Offering one last encouraging, sympathetic smile, Madelyn turned heel and headed off. All that left for Sybil to do was actually enter.

More times than she would care to admit or track, Sybil had counted herself off, then backed down, leaving the polished brass door handle untouched. If, later on, one were to ask Sybil just what was different about the attempt in which she finally managed to gather the courage needed to reach out and open the door, she wouldn’t have been able to say. But eventually, she managed to grasp the handle, and twist it open. The door swung open on its own, hinges lightly squealing, to reveal an empty room, identical to the way it had been all those years ago when Sybil last set foot inside it. Wading through sweeping currents of both relief and crushing disappointment, she set foot inside. Each step felt heavy, but she managed to walk briskly and purposefully to Illis’ untouched work-station, where a whole different set of internal turmoil awaited her.

Something had been eating at Sybil ever since Madelyn left to confront the wight. Ignoring it had been easy when faced with the prospect of losing Madelyn to its clutches, along with her fraught homecoming. But standing in front of Illis’ stock of reagents, the issues surrounding the spell, and surrounding Madelyn, came into sharp relief. Something just didn’t add up about the wight’s finger and its relationship to the summoning spell. At its heart was the burning question of why she even needed the wight’s finger, why syrkroot hadn’t been good enough. And, more or more, Sybil was starting to realize that the foundation the question rested upon was Madelyn.

Truthfully, she was starting to wonder if the problem wasn’t that the spell had failed twice now, but that, actually, it had worked once, and not been necessary the second time. A spell which probed the veil between worlds to seek out and transport a specific person from some other world to her own wouldn’t work if said specific person was already in Sybil’s world. Regarding the wight’s finger, Sybil already knew it was something which, realistically, she would only need if the spell she were casting bound together three different types of magic. Even then, for a wight’s finger to be necessary, at least two of the three spell components would need to be fairly complex.

Interpreting the intent, the will of her dreams had always been the biggest challenge of all. So what if, all along, Sybil had been missing a crucial detail? What if the original spell hadn’t just been meant to summon her lover—to summon Madelyn—but also to give her a body which matched her internal self? Now that Sybil thought about it, maybe Madelyn would still like some such spell cast upon her. Sybil had never asked if her newer body was adequate; it was simply very evident that her current form was superior. That was a question for another time, though. The matter of the original spell was more pressing at the moment, as well as Madelyn’s role in it. When she tried, Sybil could come up with a myriad of reasons as to why it clearly wasn’t the case that Madelyn was the woman Sybil was meant to be with. But did she want to do that? Could she really pretend the feelings she held for Madelyn weren’t there?

The whole conclusion about Madelyn was one which Sybil had quite possibly been forcing herself not to consider. But, at the same time, how could she know for sure that was the answer? If Sybil were wrong, and Madelyn left her like everyone else had, that would only be a recipe for so, so much more hurt. Sybil wasn’t sure she could take that kind of hurt again. When she looked inward, her heart told her to trust Madelyn; time and time again, Madelyn had been given opportunities to leave Sybil, to prove untrustworthy. Instead, she’d risked her life for Sybil, over and over again, going so far as to nearly die to keep Sybil safe. Believing in that was all well and good, but when she listened to her head and not her heart, it reminded her that Illis had once seemed trustworthy, had once shown love and care for her when nobody else had; Sybil needed only look around to see the fruits of the trust she’d placed in Illis.

The unfortunate reality was, neither argument had her fully convinced, and as she scanned row upon row of filled vials, dried herbs, rare minerals and all other manner of magical components, the uncertainty paralyzed any real choice. Still, Illis’ stock was expansive, and Sybil had plenty of time to think things over. At least, she would have, had the sound of footsteps behind her not roused Sybil from her search. She whirled around, finding Madelyn lingering in the doorway, eyes cast slightly doward and feet shuffling uncomfortably, looking very much like she knew she shouldn’t be there, but couldn’t keep away.

“Madelyn, I know you want to help, but I—”

“I know you asked me to be here. And I’m sorry, but there’s something you need to see.” Madelyn’s eyes traveled down to her hands, which Sybil now realized were clutching at something; a piece of paper, perhaps?

“Did you find something?” What ‘something’ could be, along with what she might hope for it to be, were both lost to Sybil.

“Yeah, I found it on your desk, along with another feather. It’s an envelope, with your name written on it. I wanted to wait until you were done, but I was getting really anxious and—”

“What do you mean, an envelope addressed to me?” That felt like a foolish question, Sybil knew well what both of those things meant; there was hardly anything else it could mean. And yet, why? How? Who? Perhaps that last one was obvious. Madelyn gave no response, instead gingerly crossing the room, and offering the envelope. The wax seal was nondescript, but even after years upon years, Sybil recognized that handwriting. With shaking hands, she grasped it, and broke the seal with a fingernail and a weak bit of magic, then held it up under the light.

Dearest Snake-in-the-grass,

The weather grows warm here. I’ve been thinking of swimming. But you know how much I hate having to wash the sand from between my toes.

And how fares the farm? I do hope that cousin keeps you in good company. I know his stories can be quite a bore, at times.

I regret how brief I must keep this, but I’m running low on ink. So I must bid you farewell.

Fondly,

Cockatrice

For a moment, Sybil stood baffled, and, honestly, crushed. This was nothing, it was nonsense. Then, after her intial visceral emotional reaction faded, the more logical partos of her brain began to piece things together.. Inscribed at the top was an intricate, interlocking rune. Immediately, Sybil recognized it as an indication that what she had just read was encoded. Relief washed over her, and suddenly muscles Sybil had never realized were tense relaxed. She knew how this worked; each word had been laced with encrypted, intertwining magical keys which only Illis and her pupil knew how to decypher. That was the idea, anyway; many years had passed, and Illis had never made these easy. Regardless, confidence seemed to be flowing freely; she could do this. Part of Sybil wanted to laugh; here she was having this big emotional moment, only to put it on hold for a bit of arcane codebreaking. Most of her, though, was being held under the turbulent waves of pure feelings which rocked her. Whatever this message was, it was from Illis, and it had to be important. So many questions plagued Sybil, but there was only one way to find answers.

Gradually, painstakingly, Sybil assembled the scattered pieces of Illis’ message. As she did, her already trembling hands began to shake, her already watering eyes began to flood. This final message, it was all too much. Far, far away, someone’s throat was cleared; Madelyn’s, probably. Her eyes rose from the page—it wasn’t as though she could read it anymore—and fell upon Madelyn's blurry form.

“Can I ask what it says?”

In a shaky voice, Sybil began to speak. “It says a lot of things. I, well, I always knew she had enemies. You don’t get to be as powerful as Illis without someone deciding you would make a good pawn in their game. Even when I was little, I could tell she had a nasty past. And according to this, the reason she had needed that massive focusing crystal was to keep this place hidden from them. That’s why she was living out here in the woods away from civilization, too. But regardless, I guess at some point they found her, and came after her. That’s why she left. To keep me safe from them; she didn’t say goodbye, because she knew if she did I’d never stop following her. Couldn’t write because any letters she wrote might be traced right to me. But she won, she got them.” Her throat tightened, Sybil could barely breathe so much as continue to speak.

“Is that it, then?” Madelyn asked softly. Sybil shook her head.

“It’s not. She won, but they still got her in the end. It says that the last thing she did was will this letter into existence, give it to Jasper, and have him fly it home. Also, it says she’s sorry. And that she loves me.” Her arms fell loosely to her side, Sybil didn’t have the strength to hold them up anymore.

“Sybil, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I think; I think I kind of knew all along. I just didn’t want to. So instead, I fought really, really hard not to believe it. And yeah, the thought crossed my mind before. Over and over again, actually. The thought that she was dead. But I never let myself dwell on it, I chose to ignore it. Instead, I drilled it into myself again and again that she’d left me. I did it so much that I almost forgot the alternative was an option.” At this point, she was admitting it all as much to herself as she was to Madelyn. “And I don’t know why, I guess it was just easier, less heartbreaking, to think that she’d moved on. To tell myself she was better off without me. That was a million times more palpable than her just being dead.” Her breaths came in slow, shuddering gasps as Sybil tried and failed to get ahold of herself.

After a long pause, punctuated only by deep sighs and heavy light sobs, Madelyn replied. “It doesn’t have to be fine, you know.”

“I know. I just—can you give me a minute? I think I need to be alone.”

“Of course, I’ll wait downstairs.” Madelyn turned to leave.

“Hey, Madelyn? Uh, thanks.” After a moment, Madelyn again turned to leave, before Sybil quickly interjected. “There might be some food in the kitchen? I’m not sure how great my preservation magic was back then, but I tried to make sure there would be something to eat if she ever returned. And, well, she won’t be needing it. So, I don’t know, you can help yourself.”

“You’re stalling, Sybil.” Madelyn crossed the room in a few long strides, and pulled Sybil into a deep, comforting embrace. Sybil cried, she cried harder than she had in years. They stayed like that for a long time, Madelyn quietly soothing her. Before, eventually, Sybil broke the hug.

“Thanks, I think I’d like that alone time now.” They parted without another word. Standing alone, Sybil trudged to the chair placed in front of Illis’ desk, and sat heavily. For the first time in a long time, Sybil realized just how tired she was. And not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. She’d been wrong. Illis had loved her. And instead of believing that, instead of accepting that she was gone, Sybil had chosen to isolate herself. She couldn’t really do that anymore, though, could she? That question which had been lingering in her heart for so long seemed impossible to ignore. And Sybil was pretty sure she knew the answer. But first, she allowed herself a few minutes of rest, of tears, of grief. Then, when the sobs died, down, Sybil stood, and strode across the room to Illis’ reagent cupboard. With casual familiarity, she opened the door, and took what she was looking for.