by Carys Jones
“Oh my God, Orion, I’m back! How is this possible?” she asked excitedly as thoughts of home and the freshly cooked turkey dinner she had just enjoyed quickly faded away.
“I’m afraid it’s only temporary,” he told her sadly. “But you had to come back, you had to see for yourself.”
“See what?”
“Azriel is disappearing,” Orion whispered gravely. “Soon it will be gone leaving only nothing.”
“What?” Marie stepped out of her bed and noticed that she was wearing an exquisite full length golden negligee.
“Come, I’ll show you,” Orion extended his hand to her and Marie accepted it. His warm touch instantly sent delicious flames dancing across her skin. She had forgotten how good he felt. She took a tentative step towards him, expecting her legs to protest the movement as she’d already used them excessively that day but she approached him with graceful ease.
“I’m not hurt here,” she remembered.
Orion led Marie across the vast open space of her bedroom and towards the balcony window which overlooked Azriel. He pushed open the doors and Marie braced herself for the stunning view which always met her. A view of golden rooftops and a glorious, never ending sky and magical green trees which punched their way up towards the heavens. But instead when she looked out of the window she saw only dense, impenetrable darkness.
The homes upon the hill, the fountains, the cobbled streets, the inhabitants in all their colourful finery, it was all gone. Only emptiness remained.
“Where is everything?” Marie gasped in horror, holding her hand to her mouth. She strained to try and see something, anything, out in the vast darkness.
“It’s all gone,” Orion explained woefully. “When you left, you took the last of Azriel’s magic with you and slowly our world has been fading away. All that remains now is the castle.”
Marie glanced back at her bedroom, at her beautiful bed. It couldn’t all just disappear, could it?
“But it can come back,” she insisted desperately.
“Only if you do,” Orion told her, drawing her to him. Looking up in to his golden eyes she remembered the kiss that they had shared, how galvanising it had been.
“But I don’t know how to come back.”
“Yes, you do.” Orion reassured her as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingertips brushing against her face made Marie’s legs tremble beneath her and for a moment she worried that she’d come tumbling to the ground.
“No, I don’t,” she whispered. “People keep telling me to come back but I don’t know how.”
“My beautiful princess, you do know, you just haven’t realised it yet.”
Marie blinked at him in confusion.
“Just tell me,” she implored him. “Tell me and I’ll return right away.”
“I can’t do that, if I did that, we would lose the magic.”
“What magic?”
“The magic in you,” he looked tenderly at Marie and all she wanted to do was dissolve in to him, to let the emptiness consume them as at least that way they would be eternally together.
“You are the key to Azriel’s salvation. You must return to us.”
“I want to.” Orion drew her closer to him, tilting his head and focusing on her lips.
“Oh, Orion,” Marie muttered blissfully as her body trembled with the anticipation of the kiss. His lips were almost upon hers when he suddenly straightened, a shadow crossing over his face as he looked sharply at the doors to her chamber.
“He’s here,” he declared tensely. “We’ve run out of time.”
“Who is here?” Marie asked fearfully, glancing back at the doors which remained closed.
“You must come back to me, Princess, before it’s too late.”
Something sharp dug in to Marie’s side and she instinctively sat up. Bewildered she found herself back in the pink bedroom of her parent’s home. The four poster bed, the silk sheets, Orion, all of it was abruptly gone.
Blinking Marie looked around as nausea swept over her with the distortion she was feeling.
“What’s happening?” she asked vaguely. Turning she saw Sebastian sitting on the edge of her bed, just as Orion had previously done.
“You were proper out of it,” Sebastian commented. “You were twitching and everything in your sleep.”
Marie absently looked down at her side where she’d felt the abrupt digging sensation.
“Sorry, I poked you awake,” Sebastian admitted, blushing slightly. “I was worried you were having a nightmare and you didn’t respond when I called out your name.”
“My name,” Marie held a hand to her forehead. Her pulse throbbed behind her left eye, a precursor of the blinding headache which would soon consume her entire temple.
“I’ll let you wake up a bit,” Sebastian kissed her on the cheek. His touch felt cold and clammy.
“Your Mom says you should come down when you’re ready so we can all play charades although your Dad is still fast asleep on the sofa.”
“You thought I was having a nightmare?” Marie was still struggling to understand how one second she could be in Azriel and the next she was back in her pink bedroom.
“Yeah, you were moving about loads.”
Marie glanced towards her bedroom window. The open curtains revealed that the day had now turned dark and the world beyond her room was dense and empty, just like the rest of Azriel had been.
She had to get back there. She had one more day. After that, it would all be gone and she’d never see Orion again.
“Were you having a nightmare?” Sebastian asked with concern, noticing the distant look in his fiancée’s eyes.
“Yes,” Marie nodded though she sounded uncertain. “At least sort of.”
“Well shake it off and come downstairs, I’ve got a game of charades to win,” Sebastian declared cheekily.
Marie pulled herself out of bed, her legs now weak and unsteady beneath her as she carefully made her way downstairs.
*
Sebastian Fenwick missed London. He missed the slightly polluted taste of the air, the coffee shop on the corner by Marie’s apartment that did the best espresso he’d ever had. He even missed riding the tube. He always found something thrilling about moving around beneath the ground like some sort of urban mole.
The only thing he didn’t miss was his family. Christmas in the Fenwick household was always tense. His mother was usually intoxicated before midday and would shout at the chef she’d hired to cook the dinner, insisting that everything was wrong. Most years, the chef would walk out long before the turkey had even been carved leaving the over privileged family to fend for themselves.
Everything was more relaxed in the Schneider household. Bill was now tipsy and trying to act out a charade but his movements were muddled and he kept slurring spoken clues even though the game is supposed to be rely on mime alone.
Each time he spoke Carol erupted in to fits of giggles, clutching her sides as she was overwhelmed by laughter. Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as he watched them.
Beside him on the sofa Marie seemed to have been drained of any mirth she had previously held. She was sat leant against the cushions, absently rubbing her thighs with a vacant expression upon her face.
“Do your legs hurt?” he leaned towards her as he asked the question.
“Huh?” Marie looked dazed.
“You’re rubbing your legs, I figured they must be hurting or something.”
“They ache,” Marie sighed, running her palms up and down her sore skin. She was wearing a festive night dress which meant that her bare legs were now exposed, revealing all her unsightly scars.
Angry red lines were splashed across each leg, seemingly without any form or purpose. There was now bruising now which made the stitching stand out even more against her usually flawless alabaster skin. In a macabre way Marie looked like a broken doll who had been stitched back together again.
“At least you’re walking without your crutche
s now,” Sebastian said brightly.
“Mmm,” Marie mumbled, looking away.
As Carol and Bill Schneider continued to play charades as a duo, Sebastian flicked through the news on his iPad.
Sometimes he found himself marvelling at the advances in technology. Even though he wasn’t in his beloved London he could still follow any news events thanks to the internet. Earlier he’d even shared a Skype call with his family where, predictably, dinner had been a disaster and so they’d ordered in Chinese food.
He used his finger to scan effortlessly through various stories, looking for any that caught his attention. Beside him, Marie let her gaze drift to the iPad’s monitor, also interested in what was happening in the world beyond the warm comfort of the Schneider’s lounge.
“Wait, what’s that?” Marie pointed at an image on the iPad.
“This?” Sebastian tapped on the image and the story opened up to cover the whole page. Quickly he scanned the text.
Carol was roaring with laughter as Bill Schneider kept dramatically entering and re-entering the living room, all the time wearing a goofy grin.
“I don’t know,” she giggled helplessly.
“Leaving? Door?”
Bill, also laughing, kept shaking his head. Then he raised four fingers.
“Fourth word,” Carol squealed with excitement.
Bill began to manically fan his hands in the air around him. It was a comical sight to behold and Sebastian couldn’t help but crack a grin as he looked up from the iPad. Marie’s expression however, remained stoic.
“Dancing?” Carol wondered.
Bill shook his head.
“Erm…drying?”
“No,” Bill gasped in annoyance.
“Sssh, Bill, you’re not schposed to talk,” Carol slurred as she took a long sip from her glass of Baileys over ice.
Bill continued to flap the air around him, growing increasingly animated.
“Wind?” Sebastian suggested. Elated Bill pointed directly at him, nodding.
“Wind?” Carol echoed, bemused. She thought on the word for a moment and then began bouncing up and down in her chair.
“Oooh, I know, I know,” she caught barely contain herself. “Gone with the Wind!” she shrieked.
“Yes,” Bill punched the air with satisfaction before falling about laughing.
“What’s that story?” Marie prompted, pulling Sebastian away from the revelry.
“It’s nothing,” he announced flippantly. “It’s just about some guy who threw himself in front of a train yesterday evening.”
“Did he die?” Marie asked, horrified.
“Course he did,” Sebastian announced heartlessly.
“Can I read it?” she reached out for the iPad which Sebastian passed across to her. Marie held the piece of equipment in her lap and felt any remaining colour drain away from her face.
There was an image of the man accompanying the story. As Sebastian had concisely stated he had indeed thrown himself in front of a train the previous evening, causing disruption along the line and preventing numerous people from making it home for Christmas.
Marie stared at the small accompanying image in disbelief. It wasn’t just any man who had leapt to his death at Euston Station, it was the man in the navy coat. The man who had spoken to her at the Christmas Market.
Suddenly Marie felt impossibly cold as though someone were pouring ice down her spine.
“Marie?” Sebastian reached over to retrieve his beloved iPad.
Numbly she handed it back to him.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“Why were you so interested in that story? Stuff like that is pretty grim, don’t you think?”
“He just…looked familiar.”
Sebastian shrugged and continued to browse through news stories from the last twenty four hours.
Marie pulled herself up from the sofa.
“Marie, are you going to bed already?” Carol ceased laughing to glance over at her daughter.
“Yeah,” Marie confirmed. “I’m really tired.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart? We’ve not even opened the bottle of sherry yet.”
“I’m fine,” Marie had her hand on the door handle, her shoulders slumped.
“Goodnight then, honey.”
“Night.”
*
With Marie upstairs Sebastian could look up what he really wanted to look at. He put a search in to Google for mental hospitals in his area back in London. A list immediately popped up.
His heart pinched with regret as he opened various links and assessed the relevant facilities. It was all familiar to him. The closed wards, the limited visiting hours. His mother had been in and out of mental institutions during his childhood. Now she preferred to try and drink her demons away.
The part Sebastian struggled with the most was that his mother never got any better. She’d have good and bad days, and on the good days you’d almost believe that she was well. But then she’d quickly slip back in to her darker self and all hope would be lost.
Marie had seemed better during dinner. She’d smiled and laughed and engaged with her family but since waking from her nap that dark veil had fallen over her once more. What if she could never truly rid herself of her illusions of a world where she was a princess? What if she never felt like she belonged where she was?
Sebastian refused to accept such absolute outcomes. Marie would get better, she had to. He’d see her smile again and giggle at his terrible jokes. They’d have their perfect wedding and finally become man and wife. He would see to it that all that came to pass. No matter what the cost, Marie had to get better. Money was no object for Sebastian, he could afford to give her the very best care available.
“Hey, Sebastian,” Bill was pointing at him, the other hand unsteadily clutching a tin of beer.
“Want to have a go at charades?”
Sebastian shook his head. He was in no mood for parlour games. He doubted that Bill Schneider would be if he understood the severity of what awaited them the following day.
“I’m good, thanks Bill.”
“You’re missing out on all the fun,” Bill warned.
“I’m okay.”
“He’s just lovesick as Marie has gone up to bed,” Carol teased. “But she’s getting better, isn’t she Bill? Did you see her at dinner? She was my little girl again.”
“Yeah, she was good at dinner,” Bill agreed, his eyes drifting to the door which led to the hallway which Marie had previously left through.
“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she Bill?”
“Course she will, love,” Bill smiled confidently. “It just takes time, doesn’t it Seb?”
“Yeah, it takes time.”
“Isn’t that head doctor seeing her tomorrow?” Bill asked.
An email illuminated the iPad in Sebastian’s hands. Eerily it was from Dr Colton, confirming their appointment time of six in the evening. As a side note he asked at the base of the message if security would need to be present.
Sebastian felt sick. He had no idea how Marie would react to having her freedom revoked but he doubted she’d take the news well. She’d hate him for having a hand in it but what choice did he have? She needed help.
“Yes, the appointment is at six.”
Bill nodded as he drained the last remnants of beer from his tin.
“We’ll get her right, love,” he winked affectionately at his wife. “Just you see.”
*
Marie tried to sleep but each time she closed her eyes she saw the image of the man in the navy coat gazing up at her from the iPad. So he was real. He must have been else how could there have been a news story about him? And Sebastian had read the story too, even commented on it, it hadn’t existed only in her imagination.
It all meant that she wasn’t going mad, that the man in the navy coat really had been there at the Christmas market and had spoken to her. Moreover, it meant that Azriel was real. It had to be.
Tightening the duvet around her Marie rolled on to her side, her mind racing. She tried to focus her thoughts as the unpleasant piercing of a migraine tried to shatter through them. She pushed through the pain, desperate to find answers.
The man in the navy coat had killed himself. He’d jumped in front of a moving train and been swiftly eliminated. The thought terrified Marie. Not long ago he’d been very much alive, speaking with her. And now he was gone. But where had he gone?