A Ghost and an Old Man

My worst fears have come true.

It seems like I was back to the time when I was 18, desperate for escape. However, even though the exit from this hellish place was only a few steps away, I couldn't pass through. I couldn't escape.

I've tried escaping twice in my past life. Now, I am at my third try. Will it fail as well? The old records always hinted that third try's the charm, but why isn't anything going according to plan?

The moment I had miscalculated the time it would take to open the portrait/secret door in my bedroom, I grew conscious of the fact that our plan wasn't exactly well made. A few disturbances can easily destroy it.

Now, with Miss Hestia still not arriving with her orange cloak, I wondered if I should try leaving the city on my own.

But, deep down, I knew it could easily become just like my past. I could be suspected as a child slave who has tried to break from her chains. I could even be already searched for by the palace guards, despite my prediction that they would only know of my absence by the dawn.

I cursed silently, gripping the cup of ale I had ordered which I hadn't and wouldn't dare take a sip of. Who knows what alcohol could do to a young body?

The number of people around the restaurant started dwindling one by one. When only three tables were still occupied, I knew I had to leave now or I would definitely call the attention of the inn owners if I hadn't already.

Blinking back the frustrated tears on my eyes, I got up silently to make my way out of the inn. At the door, I had bumped on the shoulders of a tiny woman, almost as short as me. Her height simply took me aback, making me freeze on my path.

Not long after, I had finally realized why my gut has been screaming at me to run away.

In front of me wasn't a tiny woman. She was a young girl. Thin and wispy, probably not even ten.

"Impossible," I heard myself muttering as I backed away from the door, staring at the girl like she was a ghost.

Because, she probably was. After all, I should only meet her like this by the time I was 13. Thirteen and dressed like merchant boy. A merchant boy that would hit her across the face.

I backed even further away, almost upturning an empty table in my panic.

'Was she finally here to take revenge?'

The ghost held up a sleeved hand, maybe to calm me down, or maybe so she could choke my neck.

Then, seeing my frozen body, she slowly brought a finger to her lips, almost as though to silence me. I couldn't do anything. I was silent as the dead, anyway.

I wondered how a decently magic-filled six year old could possibly defeat ghosts, but I managed to straighten myself up. I forced myself to gather notes into my body, ready to spring into action if need be.

"Elle?" the ghost whispered. "You are Eleftheria, right?"

I knew she said it softly enough that only I could hear her, but having my name uttered in the open made me even more anxious than I already was. The ghost knew my name, and she could easily use it to her advantage.

Knowing I had no choice, I nodded at her question. She curtly nodded back in reply, and then gestured for me to follow her out of the inn.

Driven mostly by curiosity and fear, I kept my hood low over my face as I traced the path created by the ghost. Like I was in a state of hypnosis, I followed the ghost, and I never would have stopped even if we had ventured straight into the fields of asfodel. I swallowed down the guilt that trickled slimily down my throat. If I could see through this ghost's orange hood, could I perhaps see a bruising welt on her sunken cheek?

... Orange?

Yes, under the few magically structured white light lamps on the streets, I could vaguely see the color of the ghost's robe.

'Didn't Miss Hestia tell me to look for an orange robe? But didn't she mention that she would be the one who would wear it?' I thought, my mind too jumbled to even clearly remember my nanny's instructions. 'So, is this ghost not really a ghost, but only a messenger from Miss Hestia?'

Walking until my feet ached and my shoulders complained from the weight of my huge bag, I surely hoped that this was all a part of my nanny's plan.

When the night seemed to turn even darker, the ghost finally stopped. I looked around to find that we were on the outskirts of the capital, right under the city walls. Further on, I could barely make out a small shed, hardly large enough to hold a standing adult inside.

"Come in," the ghost uttered, holding open the shack's wooden door.

I wondered if she would lock me inside once I had gone in the enclosed space as punishment, but I realized she was looking down, and down where I thought would be normal ground was a square opening with stone stairs leading down.

I gulped down my fear, and stared at the ghost's eyes. "Is Miss Hestia down there?"

"... I know of your nanny, yes."

It wasn't a real answer, but I knew she wouldn't talk to me anymore. Ghosts probably could only talk a few sentences a night...

I sighed before entering through the door, ready for the impact of the door closing behind me, but it didn't. Instead, the ghost impatiently harried me down the stairs. Bending down a bit so I wouldn't touch any of the low lying cobwebs, I travelled down the steps with only my naked eyes to guide me.

"Stop." The ghost's icy breath chilled down the back of my neck. "I go first now."

She quietly overtook me, and on we went again through inky dark corridors, smelling of musty things and a hint of sewage. At a far away distance, I could see traces of light.

"We are near," said the ghost, almost as though reading through my thoughts. "We should hurry."

Quickening our pace, and after almost falling down numerous times from rocks and cracks, we had finally come into a subterranean room. The candle sticks that lit the room almost felt like the sun after going through darkness for too long. The room was smaller than the ones of the palace, but definitely wide enough for three common people to bed in. Aside from the candles, there were two small hammocks built straight from the gray rock walls, and on the center was a small, wooden table, simple and crude enough that I would never see its kind anywhere in the palace. Sitting by the table was a wrinkled, old man.

"You must be Lady Eleftheria of the Great House Saule, first princess to the Kingdom of Saule." The old man bowed towards my direction, although I doubted he could even see us with his white-webbed, glazy eyes. "This Old Man Farseer is honored to be in your presence."

I felt the ghost inch away from me until she had disappeared, maybe into another dark corridor, or maybe back into the underworld with her own kind.

"I see you have met Janmira." I could hear the old man's bones creaking as he got up from his seat, gesturing politely to the seat in front of him. "Come, sit. You might be shocked by Janmira's face, but I assure you she is harmless to her allies."

"And, am I an ally of your group, Farseer?" I ventured to ask bravely, but I only sounded like a croaking froglette.

The age spots on the thin old man's wobbly cheeks stretched and contracted as he laughed twitchedly. "Oh, that is all up to you, Princess. But this one would prefer we stay on the same side."

A cold shiver danced up my back, making me grit my teeth until I felt the one loose tooth start to ache. "Farseer, if I am to be your friend, am I wrong to believe you would tell nothing but the truth to me?"

"Oh, the Old Man Farseer never lies." The voice from the ghost seemed to come from no where and everywhere that I had whirled around to look for her in a freight, but to no avail. I flinched as a gnarly, dry hand touched my shoulders. Creepy as all of this was, the wizened hand had managed to calm down my nerves significantly. The warmth was a reminder that he was at least still alive.

"Janmira speaks the truth," he spoke, returning back his hand to his side. "I will not lie to you, child of Saule."

I nodded. Even though I knew he could still easily choose to lie and can even decide to kill me then and there, I had at least taken the flow of the conversation.

"Then, tell me, Farseer. Did Lady Hestia of House Aron send you to get me?" I asked, my hands clenched hard into a fist.

The old man didn't move a lot, and when he was silent, I thought he had finally gone into the afterlife. However, in a few more breath's time, he had finally spoken. "The fair lady has indeed sought for our help. The princess' life is in danger, and she must leave the royal capital, masked as a young boy."

I almost sighed in relief. "Then... Then may I ask where my nan- where the lady is?"

I didn't think I would see the old man look even older than he was, but he seemed to have aged a few more years as he frowned. "Child, I am afraid the lady of House Aron has long been captured by a malicious group."

I let out a gasp as I gripped the wooden table, momentarily taken away that I had no gloves on. I took away my hand to reveal a small cut from a spare nail sticking out from the table's edge. I watched the blood come out from the wound.

If I tilt my hand even just a little bit, the blood would lose its round shape and drip down.

I felt like that. I felt like if I was even slightly pushed from any direction, I would topple down and break into pieces.

"... House Genta has taken Lady Hestia?" I muttered.

The old man slowly nodded his gray head. "I am afraid so, child of Saule. I believe she was taken the first day she was released from the palace dungeons. She only barely managed to send us her letter. A plea for help, really."

I looked down to find he had brandished an elegantly folded paper. The edges were yellowing out like most of the parchment in the Kingdom.

I breathed deeply. "May I read it, Farseer?"

He answered by holding out the letter to me.