Under the vampire Lord's protection-Chapter 201: The weight of the years

"Land ho!" the shriek came from the highest point of the main mast.

Arabella scrambled to capture the view of the land, but it proved to be a difficult task from her position.

Silas, on the other hand, stared ahead in a specific direction, either acutely aware of the exact location of the island, or his elevated sense of sight allowed him the luxury her own eyes denied her.

"Do you see it?" when the question gnawed at her beyond the ability to withstand it, Arabella’s tongue betrayed her.

"I do," he said calmly, eyes souldered forward.

"If I may, when was the last time you’ve set foot on the island?"

"Right after the war," tension crept through his jaws, putting strain on his words.

The young woman had more enquiries on the matter, but the noticeable clenching of his fists and the sudden rigidity that overtook his body advised her to keep them for that time being.

"Come," he ordered as he walked away, "The ship will dock sooner than you might think,"

Without the slightest objection, she followed in his steps and before long, dry land entered her field of vision, but what had stunned her in place, down to the last fiber in her body, wasn’t the size of the island or its colors and the atmosphere they birthed. Instead, it was the strange familiarity that knocked at her doors, demanding to be considered.

Little by little, and after so much rummaging through the tidy corners of her own brain, memories began to surface. More recent ones... Of the day Silas had guided her down the lower levels of the manor, to the trophy room.

The same painting of that tiny piece of land that barely held its neck above water serving as a portal stood there, before her eyes. Only that time around, it was real, not weaved on an oiled canvas.

Holding on to dear life that island was, surrounded from every side by water that crawled up, threatening to swallow it whole, very slowly and cruelly.

At its utmost pinnacle lived a sorry construction. Hardly even a house, identical to the one on the painting too.

Clean yellow walls, and grayish roof tiles, whatever held that place together was not love or joy. It was something just as mechanical as the fluttering of the curtains that came and ebbed with the wind whistling through the dwelling.

"Is this...?" from the little mouth that remained agape those words were uttered.

"Yes, it is the island from the portrait," he confirmed, pensive looking and eyes on the island.

Once again, her better judgement advised Arabella against asking more questions on the matter.

There was this voice that whispered continuously into her ear, soothing and reassuring thoughts. Something along the lines of; Silas will speak on it when he’d be ready.

Hand in hand, they left the ship after the vampire made sure to tell the captain that they were to return and pick them up by sunset.

She clung to his arm, eyes on the house one second before darting to the skirt of her gown the next, afraid her feet would trip or get tangled on something.

For a good moment since they’d stopped walking, Arabella turned around to watch as the ship sailed, gradually shrinking until it faded altogether.

All the while, Silas said nothing to capture her attention, his own ensnared somewhere far out of her reach.

It was as though a veil kept on trekking by his clear diamonds, a thin film of images and scenes that once occurred in his lifetime paraded before his eyes alone.

"Master," it was her voice that cut the scrolling through remembrance short.

"Let us go inside," very calmly, he said.

Once inside, Arabella’s contemplations about the place revealed to be true. There was that lingering ghost of something haunting every haul or room under that roof.

The air, although imbued with salt and moisture carried a secondary hint, one that was beyond the capabilities of her olfaction to discern.

It was most certainly not dust tickling her nostrils, for very similarly to the trophy room as well as the legacy room, it seemed a spell kept the house free of any and all sorts of contamination or infestation.

Instead, it was crowded with something else. So heavy on the heart even the sun that flooded in through the windows remained shy, dimming in intensity.

Whether it was real or simply contagion due to proximity, the young woman could not ignore the state of Silas.

He stood like he did in every other place they’d been, head held high, chest out and shoulders straight, but his eyes told a different story. Much like sunlight, the brilliance of his diamonds had simmered.

She would’ve loved to express how cozy that small house was. Only it’d have been a lie for its walls brought no comfort, no warmth.

"How special was this place to you?" in a brittle voice she’d spoken, scared the words would rattle him.

"It still is, and will forever be," he retorted.

The vampire marched forward, allowing his fingers free reign to fondle some of the worn furniture in his path, "The spell guarding the property only keeps it clean, but it does not affect its condition,"

Indeed, the house was spotless from ceiling to floor... Only the weight of the years was visible on everything surrounding them.

"May I ask what makes this place special?" she whispered.

Aside from it being family legacy passed down through generations, Arabella sensed there was more than meets the eyes with its story.

"I can’t call it my childhood home for it has none of the reverberation one should have. This is however, where I spent most of my childhood,"

Perhaps it was his demeanor that suggested it, but the young woman was given the impression the part of childhood Silas referred to wasn’t the merriest.

Falling short of words, she merely followed him around as he picked the small wooden sculptures that served as decoration, their style quite familiar, most likely carved by his own hands.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺