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The Bell Tolls for Me 80: Window to the Soul
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 07:00:34 +0000 UTCIsabella and Valerio walked arm-in-arm to the colosseum. This was a building that she didn’t want to enter, much less flanked by a very large crowd that refused to allow her out of their sight.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Valerio asked her.
Isabella looked over to him. “I get the sense that you don’t wish for me to do this.”
Valerio couldn’t hold her gaze, and inhaled deeply to sigh. “The idea that anyone could distrust you…” His jaw clenched, and he looked back. “You don’t deserve to be on trial for anything.”
“And that’s why I have no fear of a trial,” she answered back.
“They’ll see all,” Valerio said, gripping her tighter. “Your memories, your fears… they’ll know you completely. Hrávëa translates to ablution, roughly. They peruse the whole of you to judge your fitness. Mostly, they’ll look for all relating to this event. But whatever they wish to know—their curiosities—they can indulge.”
Isabella smiled. “I can think of few things in my life that I would do differently, presented the same choice. These few things are errors of judgment rather than any lapse of morals. I ask for the right to inherit these people’s power and reform their society—why, then, should I not show them my measure?”
Valerio glanced ahead and slowed as the walking crowd slowed to filter into the narrow archway leading into the colosseum. As they waited, he looked back, then put a hand to her face. She was embarrassed this was so public, but his hand felt warm on her face. With her vigor returned, with Valerio at her side… she felt more alive right now than she ever had.
“Your eyes have gone black, like mine,” Valerio informed her, settling his thumb near her temple. “Following this ritual, they’ll change. The shroud will be removed to show their true color—not that of your birth, but that of your essence. So Roderick tells me, at least.”
Isabella felt enlightened. “That must be why, in my memories, your eyes…”
Valerio nodded. “I’ve always loved your eyes.” The way cleared, and Isabella looked ahead with a faint blush to her face. “I’d like to do the ritual with you.”
Isabella looked at him curiously. “Why?”
“Don’t want you alone to endure this,” Valerio said, running a hand through her hair. “This ritual is reserved for those that deny betraying the clan, and wish to prove their innocence. If they’re going to force you through it, I’m going to be right there with you to remind them of who stands at your side. Remind them of what I can do to those that betray me and mine.”
“…thank you,” Isabella managed quietly.
Isabella didn’t realize it, but hearing that she wouldn’t be alone did bring a huge weight of dread off her shoulder. There was plenty that she would rather leave obscured. This reminded her of being exhibited for Albert’s paintings, if she was frank, and those memories would be again dragged to the surface. She did wonder how all of these elves—who had lived difficult lives, in her view—would view the life that she lived. Were her sufferings quaint? Perhaps ‘suffering’ was an arrogant presumption to people who had outlived some of their own children and who had starved in long winters.
“Let’s go,” Isabella said, tugging his arm to lead him onward.
***
Isabella watched with wonder as people traced the dirt of the colosseum with their feet, leaving very precise grooves. These grooves were soon filled with blood that fortunately shifted into that same clear hue she had seen in the Crystal Lake. She and Valerio sat in the center of a rapidly developing sigil.
“Is this blood magic?” Isabella asked Valerio. “What the elves practice, I mean.”
Valerio looked out. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “Whatever it is, it’s been around longer than any alive can remember. They can imbue their very body with thought and consciousness. It can’t be an ability of bloodline alone. I developed the selfsame abilities that they possessed, spending time with them.” He looked back to her. “I think that one day, you will as well.”
As Isabella contemplated that, the elder Taryon called out to them, “It’s prepared.”
Isabella shared a glance with Valerio, then reached for the knife that had been provided for her. She unsuccessfully pricked at her finger a few times, hesitant to draw blood. On her fourth try, a small red bead appeared on her fingertip, and she looked to Valerio for confirmation that was all that was needed. He nodded, and then reached his bleeding finger out set it upon one of the filled grooves that had been carved in the dirt. She imitated his action, blanching as she dipped her bloodied finger in the crystalline liquid.
Isabella was almost compelled to pull her finger away immediately when it felt as though something was swimming into the cut that had been created. Valerio reached out with his hand, and she took it gracefully, squeezing it tightly to dispel her own tension. He was as solid as a rock. Moments later, Isabella felt as though her body was swaying.
The changes were so subtle they were imperceptible, but before Isabella knew it, she was sitting cross-legged with Valerio atop the Crystal Lake of the Ithilian. Her body was once again nothing but water—but unlike before, she had no fishes dancing within herself. Across from her…
“Valerio?” she asked in disbelief, wondering if her voice would work.
“It seems to be working.” Valerio still held her hand while inhabiting the same water-like form, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “They’re swimming through our past down below.”
Isabella looked down to see what was happening. What she saw was a vision of life that was so complete it warped and distorted her mind. What had once been mere fish adrift in her body had become portraits into her life that were comprehensible. More than comprehensible, it felt as though she was reliving them at a glance. And it wasn’t her memories alone she was seeing.
“Is that you?” Isabella asked in disbelief, gazing upon a young black-haired boy with blue eyes.
Valerio snorted. “My brother.”
The image distorted until she saw a letter announcing the death of his brother Morgan. She felt a deep ambivalence welling up within herself.
“He died, like all my brothers,” Valerio said. “I didn’t quite know what to think at the time. I felt…”
“I know,” Isabella said. She clarified, “I can feel it, I mean.”
Valerio didn’t respond immediately, looking around the confines of the vast Crystal Lake beneath them. “Shall I show you brighter days?” he asked. “Let me tell you of the voyage where I met Rahul.”
Moments later, it was as though Isabella was standing on the front of a ship as it sailed out into land’s unknown. She could smell the salty sea air, and see an endless expanse of blue ocean that spurred a feeling of wonderment and adventure within. For seven days Valerio sailed, under threat of mutiny by his own disbelieving sailors. When they finally reached the shore, he felt a secret triumph as his men hailed him like a prophet—but triumph quickly turned to fear as they interacted with the locals, who brandished weapons of bronze before inviting them to their grand city.
Isabella thought Dovhain was grand, but this towering city of brass and gray stone was in no way inferior. Valerio tried to trade quaint wool clothes to the locals, only for them to sneer and show him silk, velvets, and cashmere. The only thing that aroused their interest was steel. Valerio’s men traded their weapons for fine silks and spices, and then abandoned him and stole his ship.
Valerio, unperturbed, built a better boat of the stronger wood in this country of Magahatha. He learned their language, made friends with the locals, and eventually became a mercenary in the employ of a claimant prince. This prince won, and though Valerio earned no glory and little gold, he met the disgraced royal chef Rahul who was exiled after the claimant came to the palace. Together with a crew of Magahathans, Valerio brought his newly-crafted ship to the Republic of Ambrose. On the way… he passed by his old ship, stranded in shallow waters after being pierced by rocks hiding beneath the surface. He boarded to find it empty, and all of its cargo still aboard.
The memories were so Intense that Isabella thought she might vomit when it was over. She clutched Valerio’s hand tightly.
“By the gods…” Isabella said, catching her breath. “How did you survive that?”
“Mostly luck, partly wit,” he responded.
“What other voyages have you gone on?” Isabella asked excitedly, already addicted to that feeling.
“Not so fast. Give and take,” Valerio demanded. “I’d like to see your life.”
“…my life was dull,” Isabella said. “And then it became the wrong kind of exciting.”
“Your childhood, then,” Valerio prompted.
“My childhood?” she repeated, memories being conjured unbidden.
It all blurred together in her head. Long days of rigorously structured lessons. Day in, day out, the same room. The only breaks in the monotony were when she was brought out to view her father’s victorious processions from afar. Half of the time, she didn’t even know what she was celebrating. But she threw out the flowers alongside her brothers and sisters just the same.
The only light in those gray days came from Bernadetta. For the first time in a long while, she relived those days. Bernadetta standing up for her at events. Bernadetta exposing her teacher as a terrible man, and getting him replaced. Bernadetta, who would do all that she could for Isabella. Bernadetta, her ever-present, ever-constant ally. A friendship so deep Isabella thought it love—that was what her memories conjured. The moment that it settled upon that, it naturally progressed to their final conversation.
“But it’s good to finally know that you’re lesser than me. I’d always thought as much, but the confirmation… it tastes sweet.”
“Hey. Hey,” Valerio called out insistently, squeezing her hand. “Forget about that. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Isabella looked at him. Even in this strange form, she could perceive his concern. Though it might’ve been rude, she dared ask, “You’ve seen mine, now. Can I see those that betrayed you?”
Valerio’s grip faltered. “I…” she heard him sigh. “Very well. One, you know, but…”
Isabella looked down once more as the scene shifted. She saw the triumph and the exaltation that Valerio received upon returning to the Republic of Ambrose. The patrician Giovanni that had funded his journey had been given up on expecting a return, but was ecstatic to see that his investment paid off. He offered grand praise, and when Valerio dared ask for more… promised the hand of his daughter.
Isabella saw her, then. Lucrezia: tall and fair, red of lip and blonde of hair. Valerio trusted her. He thought he could. He confided in her, promised her all, swore he would do right by her… yet the moment he told her all she needed to know of the route he’d taken, her honeyed words became those of distance, and the engagement fell apart in days as Lucrezia’s father monopolized the burgeoning trade with Magahatha. Worse yet, he claimed Valerio’s ship for his own despite the fact Valerio had built it himself in Magahatha. All trials, all legal recourse… it failed. Valerio received a plaque; Giovanni received a statue. And Isabella stood there right alongside him as he stared up at that marble bust… and she felt something snap within herself.
In rage, in self-loathing, in total despair, Valerio voyaged out into the ocean alone in little more than a glorified canoe. He would find something once more, he felt. He would go where none had dared go before. And if not, he would take his final expedition to that unexplored territory of death, which none had ever even seen. He thought death the most likely destination, in fact.
Instead… a storm. A shipwreck. And upon waking up, an old elf standing over him, poking his ribs with a spear fearfully. She recognized him at once—Roderick.
Isabella reeled as the memory ended. Then, she struck Valerio’s hand lightly.
“Why would you do something so stupid because of that vicious woman?!” Isabella demanded, still feeling the hurt and fear from that foolish voyage.
“…at the time, I thought I was in love,” Valerio said. “But I wasn’t. I hadn’t met you, yet.”
Looking down once more, Isabella saw herself through Valerio’s eyes. That day, the ambassadorial reception… it played through her head once more, this time from his perspective.
“All you would need to do is enter into a temporary engagement with me,” she heard herself say as she leaned against the railing. There was curiosity, endearment, sympathy, all at once. Underneath that…
“Randolph was right about you,” Isabella said with a flush. “Concupiscent ambitions indeed!”
Valerio laughed heartily. Isabella was caught up in the feeling. Even then, he’d thought she was beautiful. Why did that simple thing please her so much?
“And what of me?” Valerio asked. “Am I alone in this? Am I a mere dog howling at the moon out of reach?”
Isabella looked at him, conjuring the myriad memories that rushed through her head. Valerio took them in one after another. She could feel the warmth in his hand, even in the midst of this strange ritual. She could feel his heartbeat growing ever faster as he took it all in. Soon enough, Isabella looked down as well. His feelings erupted in tandem—his passionate fire, restrained by calm waters. What few doubts Isabella had left were burnt away by that heat.
Love. This is what it was. She had given hers away, but it had come back in greater abundance. The more she gave, the more she received in turn. Thus, the two spiraled upward in tandem. What a joyous thing it was, this love. So fragile, so weak… yet so utterly powerful, all-consuming. Why would anyone wish to hoard their love alone when this wondrous outcome was waiting?
Just as Isabella came to revel in the warmth, it vanished. Isabella and Valerio once again sat in the colosseum. Evidently many hours had passed, because night had fallen. Isabella looked around. All of the Ithilian partaking in the ritual strained with exhaustion, falling back to the ground or leaning against it tiredly. And soon enough, all of them turned to Isabella.
Isabella rose to her feet, uncertain what was going to happen. She looked around for Randolph to get his sense of what was going to happen, but she couldn’t find him before one of the elven women walked up to her. The elf walked close, and Isabella panicked a little… but soon, Isabella was being embraced. The woman cried, and repeated something again and again. She looked at Valerio, confused.
“She’s…” He smiled faintly. “She’s apologizing,” Valerio said quietly.
One of the elves with greater propriety yanked the crying woman away, but soon enough, Isabella was joined by many others. They took her hand, some speaking the Dovhain tongue, but most expressing words with such sincerity Isabella didn’t need to understand them to get their message. Soon enough, Roderick’s sister Effie was there.
“That building…” Effie began, then shook her head. “Your own brothers truly did all of that to you?”
Isabella nodded. “Yes.” Effie hung her head and shook it in disbelief. Isabella pressed, “Then… do people see why I stressed what I did?”
Effie sighed, looking around. “People understand you didn’t act maliciously. Some relate, as you saw.” She looked to a group that was distant, watching without much emotion. “Some feel affirmed of biases against you. Still, I can confidently say there’s not a chance your soul will be shattered. Remaining a Thalvassë might still be difficult. After all, you’ve not solved your problems at home. Why would they believe you could do so here? Why would they risk polluting the Crystal Lake further?”
Isabella nodded, thinking that was sensible. As she did, someone called out—Taryon.
“The clan should meet and discuss what we saw separately,” Taryon declared. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll settle this matter.”
Isabella walked over to Valerio. He turned to greet her. Now, it was as she remembered from distant memories. Silver-white eyes looked at her. She had grown used to his black eyes, but she couldn’t deny that this piercing look suited him well.
“Hmm,” Valerio marveled. “It appears I got my wish.”
“What?” Isabella said, concerned. “What do you mean?”
“Your eyes,” Valerio explained, then reached out. “They didn’t change. Or… perhaps they did. They seem even more brilliant.”
Isabella said nothing, but she was secretly quite pleased. “It seems they’re going to decide tomorrow.”
Valerio shook his head. “They’ve decided now.”
Isabella tilted her head in confusion.
“If they’ve got any sense—and they do, because I know them… they’ve decided now. And they’ve decided to support you full-heartedly.”
Isabella could tell he was only saying that for her sake, but the words still brought her great comfort. Words from a loved one tended to have that effect, perhaps.
“When this is all over… we should go to Ambrose,” Isabella said. Valerio raised a brow questioningly, but as he understood, smiled.
“Hmm. You think?” he asked.
“I do,” Isabella said firmly.
“You think I didn’t raid Giovanni’s family blind when I was raising the black flag?” Valerio asked her.
“Well, they’ve not been made deaf yet,” Isabella said firmly. “We can take care of that while we’re there.”
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Comments
WarStrider72
Thanks for the chapter!
