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You read Juno’s note over and over again, as if those eleven words might reveal some deeply hidden secret if only they are read enough times. Compared with the neatly printed letters of your name on the envelope itself, the writing of the letter itself droops wildly. It’s easy to imagine Juno scrawling down the note while half-asleep, getting the words down on paper before the last remnants of her dream, her vision, dissipated entirely.
Deep in your heart, you know that there’s no need to search the words for a deeper meaning. You know exactly what they mean. The heart of the forest – the forest here, at the estate. The forest that was always forbidden to you, a sealed world that only your father could enter. Something lies at it’s dark heart, something terribly important – like a second entrance to the Demesne.
There’s more than one of everything. Elle said that too, when you brought her to the entrance of the Demesne. Did she know, even then, that this moment would eventually come?
Setting aside the theological implications of a second entrance to the Demesne, one in your estate grounds no less, you set the note aside and start to make your preparations. Drawing your revolver, you idly spin the cylinder before carefully setting the gun aside. It’s staying here – you’ll go armed with your sword and dagger alone, as your ancient ancestors might have done. Casting off the loose sheet that had been covering it, you pick up the silver breastplate and start to strap it on. It still bears the lingering trace of your father’s madness and corruption, but there’s a strange kind of comfort in that.
Finally, you produce the shard of frozen moonlight and hold it aloft, letting it dangle on its chain as you turn the lantern light down. Your shadow, cast by the cool white light, remains almost perfectly still, shifting only with the beat of your heart.
There’s no harm in making sure.
-
From the moment he sees you, Alex realises that something is wrong. He looks at the sword at your hip, the polished breastplate on your chest, perhaps even some unnamable look in your eye. Pausing in place, he says nothing for what seems like an eternity. “Going out somewhere?” he asks eventually, with a feeble attempt at sounding casual.
In response, you slide Juno’s letter across to him. He picks it up and reads, taking his time to study the handful of words. “That girl really ought to be more specific,” he remarks, forcing a laugh, “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time in forests lately, Isambard. I was just thinking, perhaps it would be a nice change if we went into the city together. We could take a train to the capital and…”
His words trail off here, as if he can’t quite bring himself to finish that thought.
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