Wood Cravings

~Alexie Ivanov~

My initial stop at Paris International Airport led me to the familiar bookstall I had frequented upon my arrival in the country. Henri and his team executed a commendable job escorting me back, though I harbored doubts about anyone daring to attack me, given the leverage I held with my cards. Countless bets had already accumulated, with those whose videos I dared to expose engaging in a comical bidding war. It's become a farcical circus, watching them scramble. At this point, Henk and others must be in overdrive, scurrying like frenzied monkeys. However, I find myself questioning their true allegiance – are they safeguarding the interests of the nation or merely catering to the whims of the privileged 1% treating countries as their personal playground?

Entering the bookstore, I exchanged a brief nod with the owner before heading toward the classical section. Retrieving my discreetly hidden phone, I initiated a generous transfer to the bookstore owner's account, swiftly navigating my way back to the terminal. However, as I passed the enticing lineup of luxury shops, a realization struck me: I hadn't acquired a souvenir for Nari. Acknowledging my avoidance of her lately, I sighed, realizing the need to select something meaningful for her.

Observing a franchise of a renowned bakery specializing in French pastries, I purchased an assortment of Croissants, Éclairs, Macarons, Pain au Chocolat, Madeleines, and Tarte Tatin for Nari. Despite the delightful aroma wafting from the sizable paper bag in my hand, I couldn't shake a lingering sense of dissatisfaction. Realizing the need to apologize to Nari, I considered that pairing a heartfelt sorry with a thoughtful gift might increase my chances of reconciliation. Aware of her aversion to ostentatious and meaningless gestures, I sighed, glancing at my watch, noting that I still had some time before my gates would open.

Lost in contemplation, my eyes fell upon a certain store's logo, and it struck me as the perfect place to find a meaningful gift for Nari. Striding into the store, I surveyed the surroundings as a salesgirl approached me.

"Sire, welcome to Hermes. How may I assist you?" she greeted me with a polite yet diplomatic tone.

Smiling, I pointed to a smaller purse, suitable for a teenager like Nari. "I would like to purchase that for my..." I hesitated, pondering an appropriate term for Nari. Although she was my ward, I was hesitant to disclose that to a stranger. Refraining from calling her my sister, I settled on "...girl."

A gleam of excitement sparked in the salesgirl's eyes as she looked at me meaningfully. "Sire, certainly. However, I must inform you there is a waiting list for that particular item," she cautioned. "The next available slot is in seven years."

Undeterred, my smile remained steady as I pulled out my passport. "Oh, we can work something out."

After spending a considerable amount and acquiring a new paper bag, I proceeded toward my terminal. Retrieving my phone, I noticed it had yet to be turned on. As I powered it up, my brows furrowed at the flood of notifications. Two missed calls from Nari hours ago caught my attention, likely during the Council ball. Glancing around, I headed into the airport washroom, securing a stall for privacy.

Muttering to myself, I pondered, "It must have been late in the evening when she called." Retrieving home security footage from my phone, I focused on the clip around that time. Although the entire house was equipped with cameras for security, I refrained from placing any in Nari's rooms to respect her privacy. Now, I questioned that decision with a sense of worry.

Stopping the clip when Nari rushed out of her room with a paper in her hands, I assessed the situation. If it were an intruder, Mao should be capable of handling it. Slowly playing the video, I observed Nari taking the paper to Mao's room, sharing its contents. Detecting the camera, I gritted my teeth. While Mao was trained to find cameras, it concerned me that she might have discussed them with Nari.

It became apparent that Mao understood the boundaries and wisely took Nari into her room. The footage remained stagnant for about 45 minutes, but only Mao emerged, looking somewhat flustered. The creases on my forehead deepened as I wondered about the contents of that paper. What had transpired in Nari's room to unsettle someone as composed as Mao?

~Nariya Patel~

My entire body throbbed with pain, and my swollen face made every attempt to rise a groaning ordeal. The comfort of sleep that had briefly embraced me vanished, leaving me to grapple with the residual ache. Nyx's insistent meows shattered the remnants of rest, compelling me to rise and attend to the feline's needs. As I stirred, a note slid under my door, coming to rest on the floor. Retrieving it, I noted the significantly improved penmanship, realizing it was a note from Mao.

The message read: "I'm sorry, Nari, if I hurt you, but everything I said is true, believe me. I'll give you some space, but please don't venture out of the house alone. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you. Call me if you need anything; I'll be back by afternoon."

The words hung in the air, and a mix of emotions surged within me. Mao's concern was evident, yet the cryptic nature of her note left me with questions and a lingering sense of unease.

With a sigh, I placed Mao's note on my bedside table. Today held no allure for venturing out; neither the will nor the reason to do so prevailed. Paradoxically, the solitude of the empty house offered a soothing calmness to my restless soul. Preparing a bowl of food for Nyx, I set out to make a hot matcha to alleviate the persistent ache in my head. As I went about these tasks, the thoughts that had momentarily ceased during my sleep began to resurface.

Despite Mao's assertions, a pang of conflict lingered in my heart whenever I considered Alexie. He had treated me with nothing but kindness and warmth, even if it was influenced by his connection with his former mentor. He had given me no cause to doubt him in terms of causing me harm.

Yet, a small voice of doubt persisted in the recesses of my mind: 'What if he didn't harm me, but what if people he is associated with pose a threat?'

Biting my lip, I recognized the necessity of dispelling these doubts. My eyes traced the steps across the foyer toward the stairs that ascended, the clear warning still echoing in my ears: "DO NOT GO UP."

Shaking my head, I acknowledged that I had no right whatsoever to intrude on Alexie's privacy purely to satisfy my curiosity. As I pondered, my gaze fell downward, realizing that I had explored nearly every room in this expansive house, except for the upstairs, which I didn't feel comfortable intruding upon. Alexie, it seemed, only used his own rooms and the kitchen. Lost in my thoughts, my eyes inadvertently moved upward, landing on the shed in the garden.

A notion sprouted in my mind, prompting me to leave Nyx to her meal and venture outside. Examining the shed, I noted its old-style, wooden structure, the gate low on the ceiling. It appeared to be a storage space for gardening equipment. The handles looked rusted, and the door sat firmly shut, covered in slugs, weeds, and grass. Attempting to open it on my own proved futile; the door remained stubbornly closed.

Moreover, I hadn't seen Alex engage in any gardening activities. As if sensing my dismay, Nyx began scratching on the glass panel.

"Wait, Nyx," I called out, opening the door for her. The feline slipped through a small crack, proceeding in her own leisurely pace toward the shed. Hastening after her, I called once more, matching my steps to hers, "Wait, Nyx."

The feline stood before the garage, silently urging me to open the door. A small smile graced my lips as I acquiesced to her demands. Pressing and sliding the door open, Nyx strode in ahead of me, revealing an impressive array of expensive vehicles. I knew these were not the only ones he owned; if he could have one parked at the hospital, perhaps not randomly, my understanding of his affairs became more uncertain.

As my head spun with puzzling thoughts, Nyx ascended the stairs, disappearing on the other side. It dawned on me that there was still a part of the house Alexie utilized that I had yet to explore. Now, with my leg fully healed, I could navigate the steep stairs leading downward. Curiosity propelled me forward.

Determined, I sprinted after Nyx, entering a room shrouded in darkness, with the sole light filtering in from a tiny window. Seeking an alternative light source, I noticed an older lamp on the ceiling with a bulb and a dangling cord that I assumed was its switch. Pulling the cord lightly, the bulb illuminated the room, revealing its features. The first thing that struck me was how this room was slightly lower than the adjacent parking area. My eyes traversed the space, taking in the sight of various tools and blocks of wood scattered about, while a faint scent of cider lingered in the enclosed atmosphere.

Walking carefully around the tools, I marveled at the assortment used in wood carving. They varied not only in shape but also in size, a testament to the craftsmanship that took place here. I could almost envision Alexie spending hours in this room, meticulously working on a piece, his dedication to perfection and precision evident as he would scrutinize even the smallest details. The thought brought a smile to my lips as I continued exploring.

Yet, something felt peculiar. Despite the room appearing well-used, I scarcely saw any finished pieces or even prototypes. Instead, bare wood and chunks were scattered in a corner, leaving an air of mystery surrounding the purpose of this workshop.

"Odd," I murmured, sensing a peculiar atmosphere in the workshop.

A meow caught my attention as Nyx stood steadfast in front of a bricked wall. As I reached down to pick up the feline, I found nothing unusual in the room. However, the overbearing smell lingered, and when I lifted Nyx, she pounced toward the wall, her gaze fixed higher than a cat her size would typically reach. Worried and startled, I whimpered, "Nyx!"

Squatting down to assist her, I witnessed the wall slightly sliding. My eyes widened in shock as I grasped the feline close to me, uttering, "Holy Harry Potter."

The wall, or rather the door, stood tall, inviting me into its mysteries. Nyx's encouraging face prompted me to stand up and push the door further. Darkness enveloped my senses as I realized the door led to a dark tunnel. Pulling out my phone, I turned on the flashlight, but its reach was limited. After a while, the darkness consumed everything, and I gulped nervously as I cautiously urged my body forward, one step at a time.

Panicking, I glanced back, but Nyx was not accompanying me on this adventure. Instead, she sat on the steps, keenly observing my every move.

"Come on, Nyx," I pleaded, hoping the feline would join me. The stark darkness unnerved me, and I relied on Nyx to navigate as she had with the switch, a remarkable feat. However, to my dismay, she remained steadfast, refusing to move. In an attempt to lighten my mood, I chuckled and began talking to myself, a strategy to ease the tension.

"Haha... I hope the door doesn't close behind me," I said with a nervous laugh, attempting to alleviate the growing unease. With that, I cautiously stepped into the tunnel. Initially, I expected the interior to be like those historic tunnels dug in mud, but to my surprise, the walls felt smooth and properly plastered with cement.

"Maybe it's one of those escape routes that rich people have in their houses," I speculated, attempting to rationalize the mysterious passageway.

Engrossed in examining the walls, I overlooked a nook as my feet accidentally pressed on it. The surface change startled me, and horror gripped me as I watched the door close behind me. "No, no, no!"

"Shit," I muttered, panic surging through me as I clenched my phone tightly in my palms. I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself, but my lips quivered in the aftermath of the spasm. Reminding myself that a tunnel must have two openings, I sought to regain composure. With this thought in mind, I resumed my journey through the tunnel.

After walking for a while, I noticed the ground inclining and the walls curving instead of remaining straight. The eerie atmosphere only heightened my sense of uncertainty as I continued through the mysterious passageway.

"Please, please," I begged, the passage of time feeling like a river flowing around me. Despite only five minutes passing since I entered the tunnel, the encroaching claustrophobia began to weigh on me. To my delight, a faint breeze reached me, and I hurried toward the source, only to be met with another wall. "What is this?" I murmured, my hands feeling along the wall in search of a switch, similar to the one at the entrance. However, the switch wasn't in the same location; instead, it was on the upper right corner of the wall. As expected, the door slid open, revealing another dark room.

Flashing my torch around, I discovered a bulb resembling the one in the woodworking room. Pulling the cord, I illuminated the space and marveled at what lay before me. The door with a sliver of daylight creeping in resembled the wooden door encountered at the beginning of my adventure. I had found my way back to the shed! Licking my lips, I treaded carefully around the room, ensuring I didn't inadvertently trigger any secret switches to close the tunnel door.

Approaching the wooden door, I attempted to pull the handle from inside, but it remained firmly shut. I observed the wood, noting signs of rotting at the bottom.

"Shit," I muttered, feeling a sense of frustration and uncertainty. The thought of retracing my steps in the enclosed tunnel didn't sit well with me. Gritting my jaw, I paced around the room, contemplating my options. Perhaps calling Mao was the only viable solution, considering my predicament.

In the tense atmosphere, my eyes were drawn to a wall adorned with what seemed like finished wooden pieces, the missing items from the workshop. Walking toward the display, I gasped in surprise, my fingers tensing as I examined the peculiar wooden carvings. They were unconventional choices, ones I wouldn't have expected any woodcarver to make. Gingerly picking up a piece that caught my eye, I marveled at the obscure carving.

The piece resembled a perfect replica of an eye, with intricate details, even veins meticulously carved into the wood. The craftsmanship was so detailed that, had I not known better, I might have mistaken it for a real eye. Bringing it closer, I noticed a detail that escaped my notice from afar – a tiny dent on the sculpture. Running my fingers over the small indentation, I realized it seemed intentional, the hollow within containing a rugged surface.

"Weren't you taught not to touch what doesn't belong to you?" A loud voice rang out, startling me, causing the carving to slip from my grasp. My eyes darted toward the door, now ajar, with cool air flowing in.

"Alexie," I breathed, a shiver running down my spine as his cold grey eyes pierced my soul.