CONFESSIONS OF A WITCH GIRL:THE TIME WEAVER CHRONICLES.4.
CHAPTER 4: A STORY FROM ANOTHER WORLD
The morning came quickly, Mora had spent most of the night awake. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, she had only slept, maybe, three hours. She had never been a great sleeper but lately it had been even worse. She found herself dreaming of places she had never seen, and people she had never met. Her dreams had grown so vivid over the previous year. She often woke up in drenched sheets with a spinning mind. As a Weaver, they were taught never to take their dreams lightly. Often prophecies were born from the sleeping minds of a Weaver. Mora knew this, but she also knew she did not want to express her intense dreams to the Tower Master. The last thing she wanted was to be moved to the Prophecy Tower. Weavers with intricate dreams were often moved to this area of the complex. Once there, they were placed in to a sleep induction. Their minds were then watched by the Tower Masters, dreams recorded on to a screen for review. In this way even the weaver’s dreams weren’t truly their own. Mora shook her head at the thought. Being induced in to a permanent and monitored dream state sounded even worse than her current reality.
Mora stood and stretched her arms over head, releasing a audible yawn. She reached her hands to her face and pushed them against her eyes, making a circular motion and enjoying the pleasure of it. She turned to face her cot, which stood about 4 inches off the floor. It was metal with thick stretched canvas pulled tightly across the frame, creating a platform for a down filled mattress. The mattress was thick and overly stuffed, Mora found it to be lumpy and uncomfortable, but it was better than the floor. The down was slowly re-taking its shape, removing the evidence of her sleepless night from its form. She watched as the air re filled the parts that her body had been laid across. She pulled the white duvet up from the foot of the bed, patted her pillow, and gave her head a nod. Perfect, bed made she thought. She strode across her room to the single and small bathroom attached to it. She looked in to the mirror and then splashed her face with cool water. Her face was dripping as she lifted her head and gazed back in to the mirror, she blinked and opened her eyes as wide as she could, she would have to feel more awake soon, she hoped. There was a knock at her door, it opened before she had a chance to acknowledge it. It was one of the floor maidens to hurry her along to her breakfast. The floor maidens worked along the Tower Masters. Mora always thought of them as if nuns at a catholic school. They were essentially the eyes and ears of the Tower and made sure the Weavers were always on time for their clients and meal times. This particular floor maiden was new to Mora. She didn’t recognize this one, she thought to herself, she must be from a different floor.
The woman stood in the doorway, her lips curved slightly to a smile that quickly flashed across her pretty face. She was young, Mora thought. Couldn’t be much older than herself. Her hair was blonde and long, cascading in to ringlets that fell to her waist. She wore the traditional floor maiden attire, navy blue cotton dress that cinched at the middle and lightly grazed the floor. White flat shoes poked out from beneath the navy, matching the white trim of the dress’s collar. Mora met her gaze from the mirror she still stood in front of and gave the maiden a nod. She was here to collect Mora for her morning routine. Breakfast in the common hall, cleansing, and Tower check ins were a mandatory part of her daily life. Though she lived as a prisoner lived, the Tower fed the Weavers well. It was important for them to stay nourished and hydrated to maintain optimal performance in their weaves. If they were to fall sick, or become under or even over-fed, their work would suffer.
The maiden didn’t seem to acknowledge Mora’s nodding head, which she had meant as an indication that she was almost ready. Instead, the girl remained in the doorway, unmoving. She just continued to stand there, staring in Mora’s direction with a some what blank gaze. Mora stood up more straight now, turning away from the mirror and exiting her bathroom towards the girl.
‘ I won’t be much longer,’ Mora said sweetly.
‘ Just woke up a little bit later than I should have, I missed the morning bells.’
The maiden continued with her gaze, making Mora feel uneasy. She started to have a strange feeling about this new Maiden in her quarters.
The room seemed to tighten as Mora moved around it, changing in to her breakfast attire, and quickly braiding her silver mane in to a loose mass of shining locks. Still the girl stood there as if frozen in the doorway.
‘Just about rea-’
‘It’s you.’ The girl had finally spoken, though her words seemed so out of place.
‘Sorry?’ Mora replied.
‘It’s you. I knew it the moment I opened the door. I found you. He will be pleased.’
Mora shifted uneasily where she stood, staring back at the girl, her palms grew moist with sweat. What was going on with this maiden, she wondered to herself.
The maiden stepped forward, a shock to Mora, after all she had been a statue for the past 15 minutes.
Mora went to step backwards away from the advancement but stumbled slightly against the cot.
‘You don’t know it yet, but you’re the key. For everything. We have all been searching for you, and now here you are. You are the answer to end all of this. To change everything back, to destroy the AOS.’
She was now close to Mora, the scent of lavender and vanilla floated towards her as the girl approached.
Who was this woman? Mora felt her heart begin to race as the girl’s face drew close to hers,
‘Now that you’re found, they will come for you. Do not resist,’
With her words still hanging in the air, the maiden turned on her heels and swiftly left the room.
Mora’s head was spinning. What had just happened. Who was that woman? What did she mean they would come for her?
As thoughts flooded her mind, another figure appeared in the open entryway.
‘Why are you still in your room girl?’ It was another maiden, one she recognized. A angry tone rang in her voice as she impatiently waived for Mora to hurry out of the room. Mora obliged, hurrying in to the hallway to join the other weavers in the common hall.
She caught stride with the group of women heading towards the dining hall, all dressed in their matching gowns of silver and blue. A sea of magic, heading to their day of obedience.
‘647!’ Mora called to a brunette braid bobbing through the crowd ahead of her,
‘647!-Here!’ She spoke in a baited whisper, trying not to draw attention to herself by one of the maidens walking on either side of the crowded halls.
Their names, stripped from them upon arrival, were replaced by numbers. Though she knew ‘647’s name was Sara, she didn’t dare use it within earshot of the Masters or the Maidens.
Sara whipped her head around, eyes shining as she took in the frantic state of Mora’s appearance. Sara slowed pace, darting her eyes from the Maiden on her left to the Master several paces behind her on her right. Eventually she slowed enough to fall in stride with Mora.
‘Is everything okay?’ She asked in a low whisper.
‘You look like something is up,’ she held her eyes low to the floor but tilted her chin towards Mora’s face, meeting her gaze breifly.
‘Something just happened that I can’t explain,’ Mora pressed her lips together. In whispered words, Mora tried to explain to Sara the interaction she had just had with the unrecognized Maiden in her room.
‘Woe-’ The only word Sara could manage after Mora completed her retelling. Nothing of note ever happened in The Towers. They both knew it. Each day ran in to the next, a lifeless, boring string of weaving and obeying. To have something like this take place right under the noses of the Masters and Maidens was truly unheard of.
‘Who do you think she was?!’ She exclaimed, a little too loudly.
Mora flicked her gaze towards the other Weavers surrounding her as they walked, but none of them seemed to care about her and Sara’s current exchange.
‘I truly don’t know, I’ve never seen her before- anywhere in The Towers.’
The crowd of Weavers had slowed now as they filed in to the dining hall, making their way to the tables corresponding to the wings of the Towers each resided in. Mora and Sara were in the East Tower, so their table sat in the east of the great dining hall. They shuffled to the left, walking along the large stone wall that supported the ornate ceiling. The whole room was made of grey stone, matching the Tower’s gloomy and grey energy. Mora glanced upwards at the ceiling archways, noting that though the over all energy of the hall was bleak, the ceiling was quite beautiful. Large grey marble squares weaved through huge support beams, glittering with shiny polished wood that sparkled against the sunlight. Dozens of small windows decorated the stone walls, allowing beams of light to stream through from the approaching morning Sun. She sighed at the sight of it, it appeared to be a beautiful day outside of the Towers she was forced to stay within.
They continued along the wall, finally reaching the table she had spent the last 11 years eating her meals at. Sara had been in the towers since the age of 7, she was much more adapted to life on the inside of them. Mora had been 17 when she was collected and forced inside of their walls. Sara took her seat, lifting the waist line of her blue dress upwards as to not have it catch on her knees as she sat. She scooted the chair towards the metal table, clinking the legs against the stone floor. She looked at Mora and ushered her to take a seat as well. Mora took one more look at the beams of light streaming down from the windows and collected herself. She took her seat.
‘So what do you think she meant?’ Sara asked as she scooped scrambled eggs from a bowl in the center of the table.
‘I don’t know- but she said someone was coming for me,’ She took a sip of steaming coffee from a navy mug next to her plate. The warm liquid soothed her mind for a moment. Maybe the Maiden had just gone a bit batty from working within the Tower walls, she thought. Wouldn’t be the first time.
‘Coming for you- like anyone could get in here.’ Sara was reaching for some cubed roasted potatoes now, stretching her slender arm past Mora’s plate to the bowl in front of her. She spooned two helpings on to her plate, then another on to Mora’s.
‘Thanks,’ Mora murmured, still lost in thought about her obscure morning.
‘Honestly, it is interesting, and I really do thank you for the excitement, but I would forget it if I were you, any thoughts of leaving here are useless. This place is a fortress. The sooner you accept it, the happier you will be- honestly.’
Sara was Mora’s closest friend in the Towers. She had listened to Mora’s complaints about their life there since Mora had arrived. Sara was kind, placid, easy to please. She always seemed to be able to find the good in everything, even life in the Towers. Mora shook her head, she would never be able to accept her life here, not fully.
Sara was a Finance Glint. She had been born with the marks of a finance glint that had faded at the age of 3. Her parents had willingly given her up to the Towers at age 7. Like so many in the ASOS, they had been struggling to support their daughter and themselves. Due to their willingness to hand over their only daughter, they were awarded visitation rights once a year to visit Sara in her new home. Mora leaned back in her chair, swallowing a bite of eggs. She thought of her own parents who had moved outside of the capital to try and protect her. She couldn’t imagine being offered up like a object to the ASOS. She turned her head towards Sara and felt a pang of sadness and compassion for her friend.
Sara sat happily, in the moment, already seemingly to have forgotten the strange events of the morning reported by Mora. Her dark hair braided in a single long braid behind her back. Her dark eyes sparkling as she enjoyed her breakfast. Her round face eagerly eating the chunks of potato off of her plate. Though her body was slender, her face sported a cherub like appeal. Round cheeks with perfect little doll lips between them. She was beautiful, Mora thought, how sad it was that she was sentenced to a life in here. She shook her head, it always came back to that for her. Mora could not help but see everything good within the Towers’ walls as a waste of talent, life, and beauty.
‘Go on then- eat up! The bells will go in any moment, you don’t want to be hungry for your first weave,’ Sara nodded at Mora’s plate and Mora obliged, stuffing another potato chunk in to her mouth.
‘853,’ a voice from behind Mora echoed across the stone walls,
‘853, I need you to come with me.’ The voice came from none other than Mora’s Tower Master, Tim.
Sara’s eyes widened and a small piece of potato fell from her now gaping mouth.
‘Just a second-’ Mora called back, as casually as she could muster. It was rare for the Master’s to break routine and call a weaver out of a meal, especially before a full day of Weaving.
Mora glanced at the still gaping Sara and shook her head ever so slightly so only Sara could notice. Sara closed her mouth and widened her eyes at her with a fearful gaze.
Mora pushed her plate away from her and stood. She wished she had eaten a little bit faster like Sara had been suggesting. She had not been expecting to need to leave her breakfast early. She gulped down two more sips of coffee, washing away the remnents of her breakfast.
‘Coming,’ Mora turned to the Tower Master and smiled, he did not smile back.
He turned on his heels as she approached, moving between the 4 massive tables where the other Weavers were wrapping up their breakfast meals.
She followed him out of the hall and down the hallway. The hallway branched in to three directions, he led her to the left, a hallway she rarely took herself. She wracked her brain as she tried to remember where the left hallway led. The weaving rooms were all to the right of the dining hall. Straight would have led them to the sleeping quarter wings. But left? His pace was fast and she quickened her step to match his stride, though careful to stay a pace behind him.
Mora cleared her throat, hoping this would remind him of her presence and perhaps open conversation about where they were headed. It concerned her that after 11 years living in the Towers, she was heading in to a area she had never yet been. Especially on the same day that strange Maiden had entered her room and said what she said.
‘This way,’ he gestured to her to hurry along, another hallway appeared to their left once more. He turned down it and she followed suit. Mora tripped on a slightly raised floor tile, interrupting her anxious thoughts, and then it hit her. They were heading to the Tower Warden’s office. She was certain. That is why she couldn’t recall where these hallways led. She hadn’t been there since the day of her arrival, 11 years prior.
A lump caught in her throat as she steadied herself from her misstep. Why on earth would they be going to the Warden’s office? Only new Weavers went there, or Weavers that were in a very large amount of trouble. She felt sweat dripping down her back as her heart quickened to the thought of the possible reasons why she was being taken there. Could this have something to do with the woman in her room this morning?
Just when she thought surely her heart would explode from its pace, the Master halted in his tracks. He turned to face her and for the first time in their interactions this morning, his face softened.
‘853,’ he started.
‘I don’t know if you know where we are going, but I have been instructed to take you to see the Tower Warden,’ he looked at her as a person would a injured animal. Pitying, but nothing they could do to help.
‘His office is just through that door there,’ his hand pointed to a large elaborately carved door at the end of the stone hallway.
‘I won’t be taking you further than this, but I will watch you until you enter his quarters.’ Tim let the smallest smile flicker across his lips, his eyes shifting from hard to kind, nodding her to go ahead.
Even he knows I am walking to my end, Mora thought to herself. She gathered her thoughts, picked her head up as high as she could muster, and stepped away from the Master towards the large door.
She approached it quickly, her long legs carrying her across the stone floor faster than she wished they had. Her navy dress hanging lazily from her frame, and she stopped herself infront of the looming doorway. She shifted her gaze upward, marveling at the ornante carvings within the door’s wooden skin. It was the AOS, a giant map of the converged landscape, showing the now Capital at its center. The carvings were so elaborate the small structures representing the cityscapes even had windows and tiny doors. Her eyes drifted across the surface, landing on the towers. A representation of where she now lived, where she would spend her life. Somehow this carving made them out to look beautiful, elaborate, and powerful. For a moment she wondered if that is how the rest of the AOS saw the Towers. Beautiful structures, with beautiful magical creatures within it (them). Not a moment after this thought crossed through her mind, the door creaked and began to open. The door was so large, at least 25 feet in height, Mora wondered how anyone would manage to open such a thing.
‘Ahhhh, 853,’ a voice cooed to her from inside the dimmly lit chamber.
Mora wanted to step forward as she was expected, but found herself frozen in place. She glanced behind her to see if Tim still stood where she had left him. To her surprise, he was, staring after her. She couldn’t be sure as he was now just a silouette, but she thought she caught him nodding in encouragement.
‘Come in...Mora,’ the sound of her name sent a shock through her whole body. Like being slapped in the face, she felt a shiver run from the tip of her head to the base of her spine. She had not been called by her name in years, not by anyone other than Sara, and even then it was a rare occasion. To hear her name spoken out like that, brought tears to her eyes.
Her surprise stirred her in to movement, and she stepped forward in to the doorway. It closed behind her, seemingly on its own.
She entered in to the dimly lit room slowly, she hadn’t been there for so long, she barely recognized it at all. The walls were draped with elaborate tapestries, which Mora recognized instantly to be Weavers’ tapestries. They were used, old weaves. She could tell as some some were missing portions of fabric, the spaces where the weaver had removed parts of the past, leaving them empty, to be replaced by another more affluent one she was sure. Were these his she wondered? Is this how he ended up being the most affluent man in the AOS (next to the owner of Time Corp of course,) she mused to herself. How interesting to have them displayed in this way. Most who sought weaves did not display their usage. It was a bit like plastic surgery- everyone wanted it, some got it, but they did not brag of its use. Almost as if they desired all around them to think they were born that way. The same idea went for weaves, people desired others to believe they had achieved their fame, beauty, wealth, on their own. People were known to steal and kill for the opportunity to have a weaver rewrite their lives. The thought behind this was if they could manage getting in front of a weaver by any means possible, she could erase what they did to get there. It rarely worked, however; as law enforcement had never been stricter in the AOS. The technology had grown at such a rapid rate in the previous decade, surveillance of the populace had never been easier. Very few things slipped by the gaze of the AOS.
Mora scanned the room. Besides the large hanging tapestries covering each of the four walls, she noted its enormity. The room had to be at least 800 square feet if not larger. The walls were a deep red, the color of blood. They red tiles shined in the light of the flickering candles set on the many mantles adorning the places no tapestry was touching. It had a dramatic effect, she had to admit. Besides the red tiling on the floor, elaborate rugs were scattered across the room. Each depicting a mural of the rise of the ASOS and the fall of the world. Grotesque images of flaming buildings, crumbling cities, death, decay, and destruction woven in to intricate pictures. The craftmanship was beautiful. The images were not.
Mora started, her eyes met the man sitting behind a large wooden desk. As goddy as the rest of the room’s decor, it stood out with its powerful wooden legs, carved in to the hooves of a bull. Horns stretched from its sides, giving an overall image of terror and rage. As there eyes met, Mora grew aware of a sickly sweet scent wafting through the room. It smelled of roses, oranges, and a spice she couldn’t place. The scent was almost intoxicating, and the contrast between the room’s terrifying demeanor and its sickeningly sweet aroma, left her wondering what the intention behind the contrast was.
‘Good morning Mora,’ the man now stood. His stature was small in comparison to his girth. The man before her was stout, short yet burly. He did not appear to be overweight but instead she would describe him as broad. On a much taller man this stature could be viewed as attractive she thought. On this man however; it came across as pompous, and left an overall air of entitlement and gorging. This man’s entire demeanor dripped with over indulgence. A reminder that he was powerful, wealthy, and could have and do anything he desired too.
‘M-morning,’ Mora stammered. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to dig deeply for courage. She felt herself cowering and demanded herself to stand taller. She raised her head and pressed her shoulders back slightly, she did not want to come across as intimidated, though she was.
‘Mora, please child, come have a seat.’ He motioned for her to step towards the chair facing opposite him.
She stepped forward, nodding her head in agreement of sitting. Her legs felt oddly numb, a seat was a welcomed idea.
‘Now I would imagine you are quite intrigued as to why I have brought you to my office.’ His voice rang with a tone as sweet as the scent drifting around his office.
She nodded more ferverently, showing her agreement to her confusion.
‘Well you see,’ he continued, ‘you are going to be part of something really rather special.’
‘But before I get in to the intricacies of that- let me tell you a little story,’
Mora was seated now, hands clasped in to a sweaty ball on her lap. She looked around the room once more as he continued,
‘Do you know much about how the AOS came in to being?’
‘No, sir, not really, I was outside of the capital for most of my youth, we were not taught much of the workings of the AOS in the countryside where I am... from.’ She wanted to say from where she was taken, but she bit her tongue in her mouth to prevent the lament.
‘My-oh-my!’ he clapped his hands together, a broad grin stretched across his sweaty red face,
‘How unique,’ he said in a condescending tone,
‘I wasn’t aware such things were not being taught outside of the capital, perhaps I should pay a visit to the Minister to make her aware of such unsightly information,’ his grin stretched wider and Mora wondered if she had just caused a huge problem for whatever poor teachers were handling the material for the students in the country.
‘Or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention- you know, wasn’t much of a bookworm,’ she let out a fake laugh, trying to brush past what she had told him.
‘Please sir- I would love to know about it,’ Of course Mora did know, though she in truth, had not been taught about it in her lessons. She was however, taught about it by her parents when she was quite young. Everyone knew the story of the fall of the World, the creation of the AOS, the disintegration of the United States. Mora’s intention had been to express her lack of knowledge in the hopes to keep the Warden talking, so she could figure out why on earth she was presently in his office.
‘Well Mora, you don’t mind I call you by your name do you, the reason you are here, ties to the story, and so allow me to begin.’
