Niviene Larethian

Searching for Clues

Classes weren’t over yet, the children wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, still Niviene looked over her shoulder, half expecting to hear their footsteps on the stairs at any minute. She shook her head, not for the first time, admonishing herself for the guilt she felt. What she was doing wasn’t really wrong. She was the girl’s mother after all.

Still the priestess hesitated before finally dropping to her knees and pulling the quilt back to peer beneath the bed. Nothing. She sat back on her heels for a moment, scanning the room. She knew what it was like to hide things as a child. She’d been forced to hide her own dolls from her grandmother lest they be destroyed. Toys were a waste of time, grandmother had said, a child’s time should spent in prayer and repentance.

Memories came flooding back of the fear she’d felt of her grandmother and father. Their strictness had been nigh on monumental, bordering on abuse. No. They had been abusive. Niviene shuddered as the memories crawled across her like snakes in the dark. 

She surged to her feet, vehemently shaking her head, she was not like them! She would never treat her children as she had been treated. It was only by the grace of the Light and the love of friends and chosen family that she had become the strong, respectable person she was. 

Niviene took a deep breath to clear her head, and it was then that she got the scent of sulfur and ozone. Once more her eyes scanned the room, trying to trace the smell. She moved slowly across the floor, sniffing the air. She stood with her back to the wardrobe when she heard it, that strange scrambling sound, like claws trying to gain purchase on a wooden surface.

She spun around quickly, striding to the wardrobe, and throwing the doors open. There was a rush of shadow that left her so dizzy she thought she would faint but she shook it off and pushed Korissa’s dresses aside. The smell was strong here but there was nothing save an untidy pile of shoes and hair ribbons.

She searched the interior of the wardrobe, leaning in to peer closely at the back wall when she heard the front door open and Braghaman call from below, “Angel? Are you alright? They said you left work early.”

Quickly she straightened the dresses and closed the closet door, turning to make her way from the room. In her haste to be done with this hated task, the priestess completely missed the claw marks on the wardrobe floor.