'A diary?'
The thought came slow as Riven stared at the book a while longer.
Saphira's thumb brushed the worn texture, the brittle edges, the slight frost sprinkled on its cover.
This book held a memory.
Tap. Tap.
The air seemed to thin around them, as her thumb pressed deeper against the leather, causing sprinkles of dust and flakes to fall to the ground.
It wasn't just a diary.
It was a voice.
Eternal.
A peek into potentially....whatever happened here.
Riven walked closer, his body standing right over her shoulder, as the pair gazed down.
A few faint characters trailed the front:
The last letter was worn, lost in time.
But it was clear:
'Diary...'
'Must be why she knew straight away.'
Wooooh!
A faint gust of wind ran through the cracks of wood, sending a chill through the rooms.
Saphira's thumb lingered more on the leathery cover.
'Not yet...'
As if once opened, the words inside would never leave them.
The gusts rattled the walls again.
The thought of that small blanket in the other house...
The rooms left in a hurry.
Those dark gashes across the walls.
The...feel--
...of everything.
It wouldn't leave her mind.
That's why she hesitated.
Why she halted, before opening this book of voices.
'...What if its something....'
Something she didn't want to hear?
Wooooh!
A few more seconds passed.
"...Open it."
The words ran behind her.
It was Riven.
creak.
It wasn't an order.
It wasn't steady either.
The same tremor that lived in her chest?
That lived in her mind?
It lived in his voice too.
His hand brushed the hilt at his side; not for courage, but because he didn't know what else to hold.
Wooooh!
A few golden hair strands swayed as her eyes moved to meet his.
Grey.
Steady.
A direct contrast to what had echoed through the room.
'...You.'
Her crimson gaze lingered on him.
Lingered just long enough to catch the faint tremor he tried to bury.
"Huff--"
She turned away.
Then with a breath, she lowered her gaze---
and opened the diary.
Shff!
--------------------
There was no date transcribed at the top.
Only entries....
And there was multiple.
Multiple pages worth.
Their eyes squinted; necks craning as they leaned forward.
--
'Entry One'
"The snow hasn't stopped in three days. Joran says it's nothing unusual this time of year, but the drifts are nearly past the window ledges. The children are restless, cooped inside with no place to run. I spent the morning mending blankets and cooking stew with the last of the dried roots. Tomorrow, I'll see if anyone's cart made it back from the Basin. If not...we'll have to stretch what little we have left."
--
Saphira tilted her head, lips parting as if expecting more.
But the voice had stopped there.
"...That's it?" she murmured.
Riven's gaze slid over the ink, as he gave out a cough:
Cough!
It was ordinary.
Ordinary words.
Shff!
--
'Entry Two'
"Joran hasn't returned yet. The others whisper, but stop when I pass. The snow's heavier than I've ever known. I try not to let the kids see me worry. They're always so hungry. Bless them....
Please."
--
Saphira's eyes lingered on that last word, lips pressed tight.
'Please...'
For once, she didn't speak right away.
She felt it....
Woooh!
The desperation.
The voice that echoed in her mind.
The cold silence of the room seemed heavier.
The wind outside pressed at the cracks, as if wanting to listen in...
'...Joran.' Riven's mind lingered to the name at the very start. He was mentioned again.
First in the opening entry...
Again here.
His eyes stared at the page momentarily, before catching the way Saphira's fingers tightened at the diary's edge.
Wooooh!
It took a second before the page turned once more...
Shff!
--
'Entry Three'
"...If the carts don't come soon, then--"
--
It ended there.
A voice cut short.
The two stared at the last words...expecting more...
But the rest of the words were drowned.
Drowned in a wash of discolouration.
"...if the carts don't come soon, then--"
Saphira's lips parted, the words slipping out before she realised.
"What happened to them?"
What indeed.
Wait.
It may have been mentioned in a previous entry...
But something clicked...
Riven's eyes widened.
'The cart...'
That broken, half-submerged cart they'd seen on the way here.
His breath stilled, as his eyes narrowed.
"...Carts," he muttered, the thought scraping his mind like steel.
Her crimson eyes snapped him, a look of realisation spread heavy across his worn expression.
For a second she just stared, then her eyes widened.
"The cart we saw..." her voice thinned, the thought forming into shape.
"...It may have been one of theirs."
Woooh!
A cold wash spread, as if the cold had too realised what had happened.
It spread through their bodies, and cooled their minds.
But their eyes returned to the page.
The continuation was washed in blotches.
Unreadable.
The ink spread out, thick across the parchment.
Was it water?
Or something thicker?
One thing was clear, this eternal voice was lost.
It's entry was swallowed whole.
"Haaa...." "Hkk--"
They both took a collective breath.
A breath to re stabilise.
Woooh!
A signal to continue...
Shff!
--
Wait...
It was blank.
They stared at the page.
Nothing...
Nothing captured.
Not even droplets of ink.
Only the slight discolouration of earlier carried over.
A remnant.
Shff!
--
Another.
Empty.
The two looked at each-other.
Shff!
--
Another blank page....
The silence of the house pressed in...
Even the wind seemed to wait, as if holding its breath.
--
Shff!
Shff!
Shff!
A continuous sound.
Riven's grip on his blade tightened.
As did Saphira's grip on the book.
Shff!
Shff!
The speed increased, as unease spread.
Shff!
'Don't go...'
Shff!
Shf--
Finally--
Words.
Uneven, darker than before.
Almost as if pressed down with a trembling hand...
What did it hold?
--
'Entry 19'
"The walls are thinner.
The cold seeps through everything...
The snow is inside--
or maybe we are outside.
I hear them under the floorboards--
(tap tap tap)
I buried the blankets. I shouldn't have.
They keep scratching.
They keep scratching.....
...
He whispers. No lips. Only breath...
It tells me to follow.
To the trees. To the trees. To the trees.
I must--
"
The words trailed as the lines blurred.
Ink blotches burying the rest.
--
Wooh!
Silence filled the room after the wind cried.
This wasn't just ink.
It was true.
A true voice, faint and broken.
As if the writer left a piece of their despair, as a final memento.
Saphira's hand ran to cover her mouth.
creak.
The threat of tears waned.
Woooh!
She trembled faintly, before shutting the diary.
SNAP!
Loud.
Sharper than intended.
It echoed through the house...
Final.
Riven's hand shook slightly as his pulse climbed.
He truly felt it.
The trees.
The scratching.
Buried blankets?
They pressed at the back of his skull, thumping into place.
"Hkk--"
The words wouldn't leave Saphira...
'Buried blankets....?'
It clung to her chest like frost.
Heavy.
"...What happened here...?"
A croaked voice ran from her lips.
He didn't have an answer.
He wished he did...
Woooh!
So did the wind.
Riven's mouth parted slightly, the words struggled to come out....
"...No more houses."
An Eternal Memory.