Benighted: (3) The Case of Sisters in the Snow

The frost did not affect him as it would most people. Zelmyr was accustomed to cold surroundings, having had spent countless days and nights in catacombs and mausoleums. Such had been the requirement for him and his kind.

The necromancers.

His footsteps formed a small trail behind him in the snow. Wearing a scarf, light jacket, vest, shirt, slacks, and boots was enough to suit him for this afternoon in the forest. Usually, he would travel after the sun’s descent, but he was not taking a mere leisurely stroll. He arrived here for a different purpose.

A tickle by his neck beneath his scarf roused Zelmyr from his thoughts toward this seemingly quiet location. He turned his head slightly before giving a little amused huff. “Yes, we’re almost there, Skibbers.” He faced forward, hands in the pockets of his jacket, as he strode closer to the clearing beyond the trees.

The tiny skull of a rat popped out through an opening within the scarf. The reanimated skeleton moved its head about, sniffing the brisk air.

“You can finally see what started it all for me,” Zelmyr said, his breath forming before him. “I know you and some of the others don’t understand why I’ve involved myself in so many human affairs.” He pressed his lips together in thought as though attempting to discover his own answers for what he just said.

Skibbers made a few hoarse squeaking sounds, which was always bizarre for something comprised solely of bones.

After listening to the communicative noises from his companion, Zelmyr paused right before the space in-between two trees—a space that would lead to the clearing. “Sometimes mulling over the reasons of why one is different can be a waste of time. For me, I still haven’t discovered why I am.” He rose his hands to push some thin branches aside as he stepped into an area covered in undisturbed pristine snow that glittered in the afternoon light. More trees stood in the distance, partially surrounding this spot in a wide semicircle. In the center of this circle lay a pond completely relinquished to the thick ice that winter bestowed upon it.

With his eyes fixed on the pond, Zelmyr stepped forward. He moved along the outer parts of what had been a body of water just days ago. Silent flashbacks entered his mind: two sisters huddled in the cold. A seemingly grandfatherly man.

Then a double drowning.

A soft exhale slipped past Zelmyr’s lips as he now stood still, staring at the pond’s surface. He lifted a hand to clasp it about the amulet that he wore around his neck. “I didn’t know them, but they interacted with me. For some reason, they found it in themselves to place a coat over me as I lay sleeping against a tree in the wood.” His eyes slid shut as he recollected the picking up of their scents when he had reawakened. He remembered being unable to imagine who would want a being like him to be warm. Who would wish a supposedly dark man such comfort…except for two innocent girls?

“The functions of life and death are uncanny,” Zelmyr mused as he opened his eyes again. “What was once so vibrant and full of zest becomes encased in bitter ice—proof of the life’s existence shielded away. A temporary deathful sleep only to reawaken in the spring.” The shifting of Skibbers caused him to tug at the scarf to make the critter more comfortable. “But when the spring came, I knew I’d been too late.”

The man took one single step back so that he could have a seat within the snow—only a meter or so away from the pond. He did not care for the potential wetness of his garments as a result. He had been through more discomforting conditions.

“You see, Skibbers—I knew something had happened to those girls. I saw the traces of their murder within their residual presence. I had just been unable to find them. Even for one of my kind, death hides itself well when all is frozen. I came to this very pond, and could see them nowhere. The water had frozen overnight, so I could not pick up their threads. I had learned that day that my abilities are not very efficient in climates like this one. It was also on that day when I learned what it was like to feel helpless.”

Skibbers crawled out of the scarf, sniffing his little nose curiously toward his handler’s neck.

Zelmyr offered a barely visible smile to the rat’s inquisitive nature. “Humans are a resilient species, Skibbers. I believe that it’s within their emotions, beliefs, and faith in others that allows them to carry on.”

The skeletal creature made a chittering noise that expressed shock.

“I know…I know. I surprised myself with this observation plenty of times. I still do.” Zelmyr lifted his knee slightly so that he could rest his forearm atop it. “It might seem insignificant, but I still wonder what drove those girls to give their concern toward the well-being of a stranger in the forest. What causes people like them to hold on, even in times of dire need? Hope somehow slips in for them, and usually in the darkest of times. You see, I could have been that hope had I gotten to them in time. I could have shown them that perhaps their sacrifice was well worth it.”

Another exhale fled the necromancer’s lips.

“Instead, they drowned while still clinging to each other. I discovered it once the spring came. Two missing girls in the woods. Word had spread rather quickly, and I stayed out of it…until I couldn’t any longer. I met with the search party, acting as though I had heard of the case for the first time. It resulted with me leading them here after informing them that I had seen a suspicious man in this direction. The slayer had been found…and so had the girls.”

A breeze wafted over the serene setting, brushing along Zelmyr’s hair and scarf. He turned his head to watch Skibbers crawl down his arm in reaction to the cold air.

“You can’t even feel that,” the man said through a quiet chuckle. “Why does that rattle you?”

The rodent gave a little shake before pausing on its summoner’s forearm to sniff around.

“Do you find it silly of me to revisit this place and think of such things?” Zelmyr’s gaze fell from Skibbers and toward the snow. “I had met with the girls’ parents. I witnessed them releasing their emotions—many of which I am still unfamiliar. And that is one of the very reasons why I believe they were able to grow from their wounds. Like many humans, they found their own methods of healing through their grief—and here I am still mulling over it all.”

Zelmyr’s eyes rose to his knee where Skibbers had chosen to settle—a spot right beside his outstretched forearm. “The only thing we are taught to believe in is in the balance of all things. I think I told you that back when you had flesh and fur.” A distant yet wistful smile found him. “Balance is true within everything…”

His focus moved to the snow-dusted trees—trees that had probably witnessed multiple changes within the seasons of life here.

“…everything except for time. Time is the one element that moves at different paces, depending on action and reaction. A bizarre thought to have, I’m sure, but…that very pond before us has stopped, waiting to flourish again. And like that pond, I have been frozen in a memory that transpired some time ago.”

Zelmyr looked on as his companion relaxed in a bony ball atop his knee. “You have memories, Skibbers. But you aren’t trapped in any of them. Because of me, you can form new ones…and if you were human, you’d probably strive for something more.”

With a single long breath, the alabaster-skinned man navigated his attention back to the area within the pond where his senses had picked up the sisters some seasons ago.

“Time has even assisted you,” he said with empty amusement. “And though the clock has kept me frozen, unlike this pond…I will have yet to find my spring. For how can a necromancer ever thaw his icy heart?”