Oh, how cold these days were. How soft the ground was beneath her feet and the darkening days above did not cry out except to rain upon her head.
Once she was a child. Once she had fears that made sense even to only a small part of her brain. Once she knew what reality was beneath this stretched fabric of the air around her. She had a place of protection, a place of safety when her eyes were open. Not any more.
Kaelir hugged the cloak tighter around her. This was the Dark Elven forest. People didnt' like her here - the things they thought, the things they wanted to say but kept in their mouths and their brains.
Krissy the unicorn stayed by her side. Kaelir kept a hand on the smooth white back of the unicorn and they walked slowly through the dark elven forest. It was going to rain - the sky was gray.
And Kaelir had forgotten everything. She clutched the papers tightly in her hands, not really believing to let them go out of her white fingers unless they would disentigrate and disappear. Things spoke to her, things attacked her in the enclosed parts and the open spaces. Better to be safe.
She didn't stop until she came to the house in the woods - enclosed in the dark shades of trees over the glass of the black earth. A mansion made of shadow and clouds and wood, substance and shades.
She walked up to the front door. Her hand hovered above the door, and she knocked.
The door opened. It was almost as if he had been waiting for her. Kaelir walked into the dark rooms without windows, and sat down in a chair.
"Have you brought payment, child?" He was behind her now - the man in black. His fingers curled around her bare shoulder. He breathed slowly. She could feel her breath on the back of his neck.
She closed her eyes, and took his hand from her shoulder, guiding it down to her belly. "Yes," she said. His fingers curled around her expanding middle, grabbing her cloak, the dress underneath - his fingernails scraping into her skin.
"How very..." his voice a whisper. "How very special." the room was hushed and damp. Kaelir's other hand moved to rest on the arm of the chair.
"I did not expect something so interesting. I can feel it underneath my fingernails, in the roots of my hair."
"Will you help me?" she asked. Her breath came out shaky, shuddering.
"Yes, child," he said. He kissed the top of her head. "Let's figure out who you really are."
He offered her tea. Kaelir took it, but she barely tasted it. He paced the floor, too anxious to sit.
They called him Phantom Man. Few knew his real name, Dareith Dul'Vac. In the corners of her eyes she could see flickering shapes drawing and swelling and disappearing into grainy blackness. The entire room had the feel of unease.
"You know what the child is, then."
"Yes," kaelir said. She set down the tea.
"Who was the father?" He asked. He stopped his pacing.
Kaelir looked up at him. "A man posessed," she said.
"Did you love him?"
She swallowed. "I... don't see what that has to do with anything."
Suddenly he was behind her, petting her hair, smelling her. She gripped the chair, her knuckles bone-white.
"You are so beautiful," he said. "Your mind is so confused and crazy. I would love to analyze it... to peel back the layers. Now. Answer the question."
She found it difficult to breathe when his cold fingers touched her face. "Yes, I did. Very much."
He stepped back. "How interesting." The shadows flickered. "How very... interesting."
"Are you going to help me?" She asked. She stood up.
"nuh uh," he said. he glared at her. "sit down." She crossed her arms and sat down, looking angry and scared.
"I'll call my people. The child will be well taken care of." He looked at her and smiled. "Come into my office."
The Phantom Man's office was full of books. The room smelled like books and binding - and the scent of darkness that only comes in a room shadowed for long periods of time.
The Phantom Man lit a candle, and shoved all his books off his desk. He motioned for Kaelir to sit down in one of the chairs. He sat down behind his desk, got out some parchment and ink, and looked up at her.
"So, I have some questions."
"And I might have answers."
The Phantom Man dipped his pen into ink, poised to write upon the parchment.
"Where were you born?"
"I don't remember," Kaelir said. She adjusted in the chair.
He looked up at her. "You don't... remember?" He began to write, not even looking at the parchment.
"Uhm... no." she said.
"What is your name?"
"Kaelir," she said. "You know that."
"uh.. huh," he continued to write. He dipped the quill into ink again. It ran across the page.
"I can hear your thoughts, you know. You do that too, don't you? Read thoughts."
"Yes."
"Does it make you uncomfortable, knowing that someone else can hear what you are thinking?"
"Yes."
"Can you hear what I'm thinking?"
Kaelir concentrated. Her eyes flickered pale, luminous, for a brief second. "No," she finally said. "Why is that?"
The phantom man didn't say anything for several minutes. Kaelir could feel his eyes on her.
"No one would ever imagine the thoughts you have," he said. "Young elven girl, long blonde hair - pretty face. So innocent." He smiled. Kaelir was frowning.
"Pretty as you are - no one would ever see what dark thoughts you have."
Kaelir considerably paled.
"What... dark secrets you harbor. You can't help it. It's... just the way you are. You tried to kill your clan-mate, didn't you? And you're scared that you enjoyed it."
Kaelir could feel her heart beating, like her chest was suddenly so thin she could touch it and feel the palpitations pushing through.
"I... don't see what this has to do with anything," Kaelir said. Her voice was shaking.
The Phantom Man smiled, but it was a smile full of glass. "Oh, nothing. I just enjoy shattering illusion." He held the parchment out to Kaelir. "You like?" she took it.
"It's... me," she said. Dark lines sketched the shadows in her face, and emptiness the stark white of her pupils.
"Yeah... I always liked to draw." He sighed, and then looked at her. "You know you probably won't survive."
Kaelir looked at him. "And what if I do?" her fingers curled around the paper, crushing it at the edges.
"Then dear me, we are in trouble." He took out a box of cigars. "Smoke?"