At the edge of the cliff that hung over the sea, sunflowers and blades of grass swayed to the altitude's blustering winds. The gusts wavered in a somewhat gentle flow–harsh, yet not overpowering.
On the surface of the sea, the early sun's rays reflected magnificently. The reflection on the waves was a soft yellow which lulled across the waves of the tranquil, almost teal waters.
The once-inhabitants of this remote island gathered here today as visitors. Deliamois[1] was an island that beckoned for you when the time came, or at least that was how the older relative put it. It was a low sound that rang incessantly deep in your ear drums.
On this very edge stood a young child with black hair that grew down to his shoulders and black eyes that gleamed and glistened in the sunshine. He was barely clutching onto the pleats of an old woman's cream-white dress. Close together, so she could hear the child's gentle soft-spokenness through the filter of the fluttering.
"Grandma, why did we come to Virosiad? It's so pretty here!" The child exclaimed.
Unlike Virosiad, the cool salty sea breeze here was a breath of fresh air. It even felt like the air filled up your lungs more. Deliamois had beautiful scenery of cliffs, rich vegetation, and various flower fields sprawled across the island.
Other than the fact that this island was so remote that living here would be akin to being one of the Amish, the old woman turned her head to face the vast glittering sea.
Heaving a deep sigh whilst the wind ruffled her short white hair, she calmly responded. "No matter how many sins we have committed as a family, I will always come back here for the memory."
She reached out her worn hands—aged throughout the years–to the yellow petals and leaves drifting throughout the air.
The boy perked up with a questioning gaze after hearing such a confusing jumble of words for his age.
"What is that supposed to mean?" He waited for a reply before he could prance off to play in the sunflowers.
The old woman's expression softened into a fond reminisce of the past. "This island holds many secrets, you know?"
For a moment, both of their expressions froze to process what she had said and what he had heard.
"I don't understand adult talk–" The boy began.
"–You'll understand it when you're older." The old woman replied matter-of-factly.
***
And that was the end of their conversation. It engraved itself in Catheris'[2] head, and stayed with him even as he grew up. He wished the time would have come by now where he could look back and understand her words, but alas that was the end of his memories of Deliamois.
Childhood memories were fragile artifacts that were certain to be affected by the transcendence of time. That peaceful, beautiful island's atmosphere differed much from Virosiad: a business hub where foreign dignitaries and corporations gathered. The locals did stand their ground, opting to produce luxury goods and providing services to assert themselves in the economy dominated by foreign conglomerates.
Perhaps his relatives would know what she was talking about, but he didn't care to speak with them. They wore porcelain masks during family gatherings to appear amiable. Nobody was ever convinced by such theatrical displays; but in the same theatrical manner, people acted as if said display was true. It was the only event free from all the dramatic antics, so he merely peeled oranges for his cousins whilst awaiting the next big thing.
Their views were... conservative, to put it bluntly. He didn't know his grandma's, but it was safe to assume his aunts and uncles inherited theirs from his grandfather–their father. He was quite the bigshot, with restrictive conditions to get in his will.
Catheris was doing alright for himself with no greater ambitions; he was content with making suits. So no need to compete for any inheritance.
Still, his life was as mundane as ever.
Due to his age being "stuck in–between" he stood unwillingly between the young and the old. The younger ones confided in him whereas he barely met the expectation to please his older relatives.
The thought of being away from that mess of a family soothed him–hell, he even moved away further from them recently. Again, his life was quite ordinary. The experiences he had been having lately, on the other hand...
With nobody to confide such information to—he thinks he's going a bit insane.
During one of his erratic episodes: for moments at a time, time seems to freeze and he can't move. A figure of pitch black hugs the edges of his vision, morphing to fill the cracks of any structures around him–slithering around his surroundings. Only after it would slip out of his field of view could he move again.
It was eerie. But if he were to ask his mother about his recent situation, it would have driven him insane from what he knew she would do. She was an anomaly in the standoffish atmosphere. Telling her would mean that everyone in the family would know.
The fleeting pitch-black entity reminded him of some Deliamoisian folktales his grandmother told him. However Catheris hadn't found the appropriate time to ask about them... even if he'd get past that step he assumed he'd be too hard to schedule in for them.
Come to think of it, the Cathedral on Deliamois felt the same as those frozen moments. The feeling was awfully distinct – he still remembered the cold sensation that filled him even though it'd been years he'd last visited.
In fact, the whole island of Deliamois felt off. During the few times he'd taken a boat over to it, it felt like a dream; as if it wasn't actually the real world but a sectioned off area that was an illusion. Sometimes, it felt so peaceful that it was only natural for Catheris to be a bit wary. But the Cathedral–the Cathedral felt so wrong. It looked out of place with its grandiose detail and large size, sitting on the loneliest and highest cliff of the island. It felt like there was something crawling in his skin whenever he looked at it, invoking his wariness to its maximum setting. That was all it took for him to think Deliamois was terrifying.
The air felt heavy in the Cathedral, leaving a feeling of having to be cautious of one's very breath. The sheer amount of space within the building and how high the ceiling reached, as well as how intricate and detailed the carved stone walls of the Cathedral were—engraved with several deities—always struck him as majestic and yet foreboding, on a whole different level: that was the only way to describe the atmosphere of the Cathedral.
When he did enter the place with his grandmother, it was like the pain in his head could snap at any minute and send his mind into a sharp, painful, and agonizing recoil—almost like being struck over the head with a baseball bat; pain, accompanied by a dizzying nausea. His clouded mind felt like it was about to burst, which weakened his ability to think clearly. His grandmother would hold his hand too tightly even as she was unfazed by the atmosphere; he didn't know why she did so—it hurt, but he never questioned it.
Adults knew better, he had always supposed.
Whenever the Cathedral's bell randomly rang his whole body would freeze, while every other visitor remained unfazed. The older visitors who knew more never even spared a flinch; he had been the only child partaking in the visits back then. If he were to recall trivial details, he remembered that the bell just rang—nobody went to ring it, it just activated itself with a mechanism.
Catheris had told his younger cousins what happened at Deliamois. At first, they didn't believe him. But when it was their time to go and experience the eeriness of the Cathedral they came back scared shitless. They promptly told their younger siblings and nobody really visited it again; the adults also ended up not visiting because their children didn't want to. That's why none of his younger cousins came to visit the island, because of the experiences their siblings who had gone to Deliamois had told them of.
So, the island remained untouched for a few years. The island was then treated as if it were private property, where only the native people and their descendants could go on it. Catheris didn't really know why; there were reasons and secrets that he wasn't privy to.
What else could he recall? Well, there wasn't much left to remember, anyways.
[1] [Deliamois]
Dee-li-ah-mois(t)
[2] [Catheris]
Ka-thare-riss