Marilyn traveled through the quieted city, shrouded in a strange and biting chill. She passed through the Western Gate, quickening her pace until she reached the Bishop household. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she found Mrs. Bishop and Jezibel seated by the hearth, partaking of their evening meal.
"Back at last, Mary? Thou art late this evening; work must have kept thee busy," Mrs. Bishop greeted her.
"Hmph! More like out looking to pluck herself a man, if ye ask me~" Jezibel sneered arrogantly.
Mary pulled out the romance novel her grandmother had ordered, handing it over to the young woman. The strange journal, however, she kept carefully hidden away within her garments.
"Thou needest not cook this evening, child. Rest thy weary bones," the old woman bade her, letting Marilyn retire to her bedchamber.
As Mary turned, Jezibel offered a sinister, menacing smile, mouthing words with silent malice to terrify her spirit: 'Think not that thy life here shall be easy.' She then let out a soundless, mocking laugh.
Seeking an escape, the maiden stepped out through the back door to gather the dried laundry, folding the garments neatly into a woven basket.
"Read..."
Mary placed her satchel containing the book upon a washbasin outside while she drove wooden stakes to set up a new drying line.
"Read me..."
A whisper drifted past with the biting wind, yet she paid it little heed at first. Suddenly, the sound of hoofsteps echoed across the grass behind the house. A solitary stag bounded up the grassy knoll toward a lone, sprawling apple tree, where it settled upon the earth and turned to lock its eyes intent upon her.
"Read me..."
This time, the voice rang so clear that she was forced to turn and face it.
"W-Who goes there?! ...Play no tricks on me!" Mary demanded, her voice laced with sudden caution.
Yet when she turned her gaze back, she froze—the stag stood directly before her. It stretched its neck over the low wooden fence, gazing down as if captivated by the satchel holding her books.
"The satchel... Is there something within that thou desirest?" Seeing the beast's intent, Mary reached in to pull out the ash-black journal. But when she glanced up a second later, the stag had vanished without a trace.
"To... have me read this?"
Marilyn stared at the ash-black cover before stepping over the low fence to sit beneath the lone apple tree resting upon the knoll. By now, the brilliant moonlight had swallowed the last embers of the sun. The air was deathly still, free from any noise to disturb her mind.
"Very well... Let us see."
The maiden opened the cover, yet the ink she had previously read had vanished, leaving only blank, empty parchment. "Hmm? Did I not read this page before...?"
Just then, she noticed a piece of charcoal resting beside her—yet from within, it radiated a luminous, gem-like violet glow. When Mary picked up the ember and turned it in her hand, it projected a soft light down onto the blank page, revealing the hidden script once more.
"How miraculous! Who could have written such a thing?!"
'The apple tree behind the Drant house makes for a marvelous place to rest, doesn't it?' She read the opening line aloud.
"It must mean this very tree..." the maiden murmured, leaning her back against the sturdy trunk as a warm breeze brushed past her eyes.
'A warm wind blows, and the moon shines bright... giving the sense of that man who discovered the laws of gravity.'
THUD!
Glancing to her side, she saw a ripe apple roll down the grassy slope.
'All it lacks is an apple falling beside one's lap to make it complete, wouldn't you say?'
"This book... Is it... speaking to me?!" Goosebumps broke out across Mary's skin as confusion seized her.
'Some might think this book can read minds, but it is merely a journal of ancient lore. Turn to the next page.'
Marilyn turned the leaf, encountering the written account of the mysterious stranger:
'I have journeyed from a land far, far away. Should you wonder whether I came by ship or carriage, it was neither. Truth be told, on my first day, I knew not even what manner of creature men called a "horse." Every corner of the world my feet have trodden was no mere dream of fancy—to me, it was a reality that none other could ever possess. An old man taught me to understand the absolute truth of time, beholding both past and future, seeing a youth like me as the one to mend what was broken. Never did I imagine that I—a ordinary child... would be chosen to carry on the will of destiny. It felt as though the Almighty had granted me a sacred chance and blessing: an endless adventure. My sole purpose is to put a stop to that scheming herald.'
'Something within this path made my body feel light as air. From a child who had nothing, I became a being elevated above mortal men. Yet it came at a bitter cost: becoming a nobody as time swept past me. To feel so utterly alone, stripped of loved ones and family, was a grief hard to bear. Yet having received this divine grace, a price had to be paid in equal measure. If I can never return to my former life... I must simply yield to mine own fate. I can no longer return to my ma or pa. We cannot alter what has come to pass; we can only sit and cherish old memories. For a young lad like me, perhaps this was for the best. —Log Date: ------'
The remaining scrap of the parchment was torn and ruined. Mary made to flip to the next page, but a sudden shout called her back:
"Mary! What art thou doing sitting over there lost in thought?! Come quickly and eat thy supper!" Mrs. Bishop stood with her hands on her hips in the distance.
"Coming, Grandmother! Grant me but a moment!"
Marilyn scrambled to her feet and rushed down the grassy knoll, only to trip and fall. The sharp edge of the glowing charcoal scraped across her left wrist, scratching the skin right beside her old scar. "Ouch!!"
"Heh! So clumsy, child. Hurry up and come pray before the food turns cold!"
"I-I am coming, Grandmother!"
Mary gathered the journal and the glowing coal into her satchel, stashing them securely beneath her bed before setting the romance book on the mattress. She then stepped out to join the family for dinner.
"Offer thy prayers to the Almighty before partaking, Jezibella," Mrs. Bishop instructed.
Marilyn sat at the dining table, holding hands with her grandmother and Jezibel to offer prayers to the Lord. Yet just as they drew near the end, Jezibel feigned innocence and reached out to snatch a crust of bread early.
SLAP! Mrs. Bishop struck her hand. "Keep that greedy fingers to thyself!"
Mary uttered the final words of the prayer and opened her eyes. For a fleeting second, she caught sight of Jezibel and Mrs. Bishop smiling and chatting pleasantly together, sharing a warm meal. The maiden was briefly enchanted by the sight, only to snap back to a harsh reality: Mrs. Bishop was pointing a finger, scolding her granddaughter with biting venom.
"Grown as large as an ox, yet thy hands are as greedy as a vermin!"
"Hmph! Of course~ Ye love this whore far more than thy true blood!"
"The two of ye are both my children! Be not so arrogant, Jezibe, I have warned thee time and again!"
"Oh~, am I? Thy actions speak clearly enough!"
"Why, thou~! Then begone! Thou shalt not sleep under my roof tonight!"
Mary tried to mediate between the two, but neither would listen. "Grandmother, please..."
"Silence, Mary! Thou hast done no wrong; I shall handle this myself."
Mrs. Bishop cast Jezibella out of the house. Marilyn met Jezibel's venomous, resentful gaze as the girl stepped out into the night.
THUD!—the door slammed shut. A heavy silence descended upon the dining room. The maiden and her grandmother ate the meal in quiet solitude. "Eat thy fill, Mary. I shall retire for a nap," Mrs. Bishop said, rising to retreat to her bedchamber.
"Hold no grudge against me, Jezibel," the maiden whispered softly to the empty air. Deciding to wait up for her sister all alone, she retrieved the mysterious journal once more to pass the night.