She had a vague memory, wich was a little weak, but it was precious like diamonds or jades.
The memory the young woman had was of being in a garden, full of yellow flowers like the sun itself. It was beautiful.There was also a cat, black as night, playing through the flowers as if it were a bee. That was the cutest scene she'd ever seen in her entire life. The smile that was born on her lips was so sincere that the young woman wondered when it had been the last time.A voice, beautiful but not remembering what it was like, spoke to her. The words were lost over time, but the young woman didn't care, the voice that spoke to her reminded her of the girl from a summer day, by a river, watching life run differently from hers.It wasn't an annoying, bright summer, it was a beautiful season she was happy to live in.In memory, there was a man standing next to her, looking at the young woman with a look as warm as the season. It was a demon, sheThe autumn breeze slammed against her body, making the skirt of the dress move a little and the icy air touch the young woman's skin, making her return to "reality again." When Artemisia realized what that reality was, she realized that she was holding the book so tightly that her fingerprints were marked on the cover. There was also a bit of sweat on her palms, but it wasn't at all strange compared to what she had seen. Artemisia could swear that she had run through the corridors and down an unknown street; she still felt her legs were just a few steps away from failing. However, nothing seemed to have been real. The young woman was also seriously wondering what was real in that place, in that whole situation. Artemisia didn't have time to recover before she heard a muffled shout coming from the floors below. She left the book on top of the desk and quickly descended to the second floor. There, the maids were huddled around the largest window on the floor. It was almost impossib
When Artemisia opened her eyes, the darkness of the room struck when a horrible headache arose. Her neck burned as if I had been pouring hot tea at her, the night breeze probably coming in through the open window and seemed to cool her neck. She was ready to go back to sleep, but a hand made her get up quickly and a little startled. Artemisia couldn't get up enough before a warm hand gently pushed her head down. "Sleep a little longer." Geon's voice was thicker than usual, as if he had just woken up. "You almost popped your head into the wall, you're going to get a fucking headache." "I had a nightmare." Artemisia said as she snuggled up on the pillow, her every move and thought ached. "I know you had, I saved you." The demon's hand passed gently through her hair. It was such a gentle touch that sleep seemed to be returning to the young woman's body with just that. "I know..." Artemisia looked at Geon, the light of the moon coming in through the window and illuminating a little
"Are you sure you want to go to town?" Helga said as she squeezed Artemisia's corset. One night without using it and her body was already starting to get unaccustomed to that tightness. "Why wouldn't I? You keep asking, but you don't tell me why I shouldn't go." Artemisia raised her hand when it had reached the size she wanted. Helga ran the noose down the young woman's waist before helping her put on her shirt and skirt. She looked through the mirror at the bandage Geon had made on her hours earlier. Accompanying the memory of waking up in pain also came the memory of their kiss, that was enough for the girl's cheeks to turn red, as if she had gone through rouge. Artemisia was supposed to stay home, but something called for her to go to Leonore's house. Sometimes she thought the woman had done some spell to make the young woman have that need to go to the Nyx estate, but Artemisia knew Leonore well enough to know that the woman was uncomfortable using magic against her. In fact
Leonore helped Artemisia enter the mansion. Her head was spinning like the wheel of a car, she could still smell the pungent and metallic smell, the taste was still inside the young woman's mouth. There was a memory of something happening, but at the same time the only thing the young woman remembered was Sebastian asking her to get out of the car. After that there was nothing else. She sat on the couch, the same one where she agonized over the effects of belladonna, crying at the toxin from that damn drink and writhing her body like it was on fire. Artemisia remembered it so clearly, it was as if it had happened the day before, at most a few days before. She was already starting to lose track of time; things were starting to get weirder. Again. The young woman was trying to understand why she had gone to Leonore's house. It could be because of the deaths that had been going on since the day before, but that story Artemisia only heard it when it was getting ready, that very morn
"You remember when I told that story about what magic was like in Gaul, right?" "It was a bit of an incomplete story, but I can remember." Leonore got up and headed towards a shelf. Artemisia re-observed some parts of that place. It was small, dimly lit, full of shelves and bizarre things that witches probably used in rituals or even studies, but there was something in that room that caused a certain déjà vu. Maybe it was the color, the walls seemed to be a very ordinary orange hue in the fall, there were several things in that place that might remind the young woman of something, but it had something too specific to ignore. She saw the aged details of the shelves, some jars with flowers and herbs, Artemisia also searched within her own mind for what could be rescued from her memory with those elements. But, as expected, nothing came. It did not surprise the young woman, that feeling of having lived it before or of having been in that place came from nowhere and was adrift of
To the young woman's surprise, that point of darkness at the botanical fair was not a stall, in fact it was the façade of a flower shop. It didn't look like a flower shop, the dark colors and faded designs gave the impression that this shop was abandoned or that it was an old tallow, which was shattering over time. Artemisia stood for a good few minutes admiring that black blur in the midst of so much light and color. The storefront somehow reminded the young woman of herself, perhaps for the colors and the more old-fashioned style. "Maybe because you don't belong there." Again, those voices spoke deep in the young woman's mind, teasing her to make something happen. Something she had no idea what it might be, but given the illusions, or events, that had intensified morbidly over the past two days. Either way, she decided to ignore that voice, just as she had been doing since the second time she heard it — or at least trying to ignore it. "Don't be offended by witches," a femal
Artemisia leaned her body against the chair entirely, the truth hurting more than she could have imagined. She could tell that the stages of grief hit her too fast, so the young woman was already in anger. An outsized hatred of herself. Artemisia knew it was deadly, she saw her father die, the nannies die, the plants, the animals. It was clear as the day that it was her curse, but knowing it was so painful that it made the young woman want to vomit up all the sweets she had eaten. Suddenly something hit her too, a memory that involved stories. It was almost like a blur, but if Artemisia tried hard, she could understand that it had been a dream, a strange and a little disjointed dream. In it were three books, each of which bore a strange memory of the young woman. The first was a debt, of this she remembered better than the others, the second was pure pain, the same pain she had felt when Leonore opened that book of leather red as blood. The young woman raised her face looking t
After walking through the flower shop, Artemisia noticed her body was placed in a stall full of jewelry. The fair didn't seem to have changed much; it was still strange since it seemed that the time, she spent in the flower shop was more than enough for the botanical fair to lose some of its movement. The young woman was holding a pair of lily earrings, so delicate that even wearing the gloves Artemisia felt that she could break the jewels with her own hand. "Beautiful and delicate like you." The woman said as she gave Artemisia a polite smile. "Yes, they're beautiful, is it glass?" The young woman asked without being able to take her eyes off the small pieces that were in her palm. The lilies were white in a milky way, reminiscent of the Artemisia of the gifts that usually pregnant women receive when they discover pregnancy. It was too delicate to match Artemisia, but somehow, she couldn't look away from those jewels. "It's made of white crystal, Miss." The woman's voice seeme