Chapter 15. The Mother of Light

The sun disappeared behind the horizon long before they reached the castle. When they dismounted their horses on the castle yard, Grumbler nibbled at Jules' thigh and headed toward the stables. The stablemen welcomed the moody steed with a big, red carrot.

"So, what should I tell Rosalie?" Jules asked as they were heading to their room. "She knows Melissa's ghost left the castle."

"I leave it to you," the hunter held the tower's door open for him. "Decide what's best for her."

Once they walked into the room, Jules wrinkled his nose as a delightful smell came to his nostrils. He brushed by his master, who stopped to lean his reila against the wall. In the middle of their chamber, the table was set for dinner.

"Gods, I'm dying of hunger," the boy unstrung his bow, left it by Ravin's reila and hung the quiver on the hanger by the door. Then he dashed to the table and dropped down on his chair. "We should take more supplies next time."

"We will," Ravin took a seat. The boy was already demolishing his chicken, and the hunter poured some tea into his mug. Jules downed it with two big sips and pushed the mug to Ravin to refill it. "Slow down or you'll get sick."

"I couldn't help it," Jules shrug his shoulders. He ate silently until half of his portion was gone. "So, what do we do about the pears? You said we'll mine them?"

"There's an old mine it the mountains," Ravin sipped his tea. "Nobody has used it for several dozen years. We'll try our luck."

"And if we don't find any?" Jules swallowed a piece of chicken. "What then? What exactly do we need them for?"

"They'll fuel the ritual circle. The destroy the wraith, we must end the dark spirit Melissa's ghost turned into," the hunter downed the last bite of the roast. "It'll be resistant, but the circle will tear it into pieces and burn it down. Our own magic is way too weak for it to be done."

"So, if we won't find any..."

"It's not an option."

The air in the room stirred; a chilly breeze winnowed Jules' brown curls and a misty shape formed just by the door.

"Rosalie!" He stood up. Her form whirled and sharpened.

"Meet me in the chapel," she whispered before she vanished.

"I should get going," Jules drank the rest of his tea hastily. "Do you remember how to get to the chapel?"

"I'll walk you there on my way to Kedmon."

The chapel was based underground, just by the catacombs, where generations of Arvers rested in sacred silence. Jules cast the bluish ball of light and walked between sarcophaguses decorated with carvings and sculptures. An old man of solid rock lay with his arms crossed on his chest. Across him, a young woman of white stone slept with her hair scattered around her head like an aureole. As Jules passed by, the bluish light played on her angelic face.

The next two sarcophaguses, the newest ones, stayed plain rectangles. The bigger belonged to Lord Harald - only now did Jules realise the man hadn't had a funeral - and in the smaller one, Rosalie's body rested while her soul wandered through the castle corridors.

There were four more sarcophaguses before the chapel's door - but as Jules approached them, he noticed they lacked lids and remained empty.

He felt somebody's eyes on him and halted. A gust of gentle, chilly wind blew over his face.

"Rosalie?"

She stood there, by her grave, a white clouds illuminating in the darkness.

"There are only four more," she motioned at the sarcophaguses. "One for my father, one for my mother, and one for each brother. I hope they won't join me soon."

Jules swallowed. He stared at the ghost girl, their eyes locked on each other, and he found himself speechless. Thoughts raced through his mind; were the four sarcophaguses a coincidence or a bad omen? Or both? He couldn't tell. The only thing he saw clearly now was the boundless sadness in Rosalie's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rosalie. We'll stop Melissa, and nothing bad will happen to your family," he forced a reassuring smile.

"Do I have your word?" An expression of hope smoothed her worried face. She locked her eyes with Jules', and the boy couldn't bring himself to avert his gaze. "Can you swear you'll do everything you can to save them?

"I swear," he nodded. "You have my word!"

She graced him with a charming smile.

"Follow me."

She moved toward the chapel's door, her feet never touching the ground, and melted through it.

"Wait!" Jules rushed to follow her. The door was heavy - he pressed against it with all the weight of his body to make it open. When it did, the crack caused goosebumps to cover to his forearms. "Rosalie?"

He entered the chamber. The magical light brushed the benches he walked by, slithered on the smooth floor of dark stone, but never reached the coping. His steps echoed in blackness; with each of his steps, the light advanced forward and receded behind him.

"Rosalie!"

"Here" she appeared a few meters away of him. The boy sighed with relief and trotted toward her.

"Don't you vanish like -"

Jules stopped short as the bluish light fell on a stony colossus right before him. He jumped back, his heart racing before he realised it was only a statue. Lifting his head, he saw its face blurred on the edge of light and murk.

"It's Ziva," Rosalie extended her misty hands toward the goddess. "The Mother of Light. Do you think I'll see her?"

Jules stared at the stony face. It was wild, yet beautiful.

"I have no idea," he admitted. Rosalie wasn't the first ghost asking him for this reassurance. He knew he could give her the much-needed comfort, but couldn't bring himself to lie to her. "But it's not what I think, but what you believe."

"I believe I'll see her," she faced him, her eyes inquiring. "Do you believe in gods, Jules?"

Jules didn't know anymore. He used to; he remembered praying with his mother and Maya for his father to return safely from the sea. When he had died, Jules hadn't wanted to pray anymore.

Yet, he had prayed. Just once, but with all the will of his childish heart. He'd prayed for his mother and sister to be saved. He'd prayed to see them again, to come back home and live with them until the rest of his days - a prayer that had not been heard by any god and goddess.

"I'm not sure," he said slowly, as Rosalie waited for his response. "I would like to believe in them, I guess. I think that faith brings hope."

"My mother's religious," Rosalie sat down at the feet of the monument. "She prayed for me every day of my life, ever since I was born. I wonder if she's stopped believing now... Or if she believes my death to be the goddess' will?

"Your mother doesn't really like me," Jules squatted in front of her.

"I thought hunters were religious,," she gave him an uncertain smile. "You see all those awful things... I would pray all the time if I was to fight like you."

.

"We believe our fate is in our hands," Jules took a hold of his badge and rubbed his fingers against the flying raven. "But you didn't want to see me only for a chat, did you?"

"You're the only one who sees me," Rosalie glowed in the darkness. "I tried to talk to my parents and brother, but they wouldn't notice."

"Most people can't see ghost until they're really powerful and want to be seen, Rosalie. And even mages can't see the ghosts that are too weak. Unless you're a freak like me," he pointed at his blue eye with a crooked smile.

"There's a favour I need to ask," Rosalie played with the hem of her dress. "Melissa left her bag in the castle. There's something dangerous inside. I sense darkness coming from it. It must be removed."

She didn't know about the wraith, then - Jules realised - or she misplaced her bad feelings. He watched her wondering if he should tell her the truth; but could he add more weight to her shoulders? His job was to help her cross the line between the world of the living and the dead. If she knew how much danger her family was in, it would only keep her stuck here.

"Just tell me where to find it, and consider it done".

She beamed at him, nodding. Strands of misty hair fell on her face like a veil.

"It's in the infirmary. I'll see you there."

She disappeared, leaving him alone in total darkness. Jules gathered magic in his hand and pushed it out - the bluish ball rose up to the goddess' face. Her eyes flickered. A cold shiver ran down the boy's spine. He turned on his heels and dashed out of the chapel.