“You can carry on with your work,” said Damien to the butler, dismissing him from there whilst he stood looking at the butler leave the corridor before his eyes fell on the window pane. If one were to just walk by, no one would notice the handprint which was on the window. It was a faint mark which could be mistaken to be part of the rainy fog and raindrops but it wasn’t.
“Sprits,” murmured Damien under his breath and walked back to his room.
When the door to the room opened, Penny caught Damien searching something in the room, “Did you have a visitor?” he asked to her surprise.
“How do you know?” she asked baffled.
“Who was it?”
“It was an elemental water bearer. She said she came to help me due to my acknowledgment but it turned out to be false. She said I am not a water element,” Penny replied back.
“Are you sure she was who she claimed to be?” it was the first time Damien was hearing about it. Elemental bearer? Apart from the witches not many were aware of the concept of elements and to hear there was something stranger, he asked, “What else did she say?”
“She said it was because I acknowledged having elements, that is why she came seeking me but I am not a water element.”
“That can’t be true,” Damien’s eyes narrowed, Bathsheba was a decent black witch who knew what she was doing, “If you aren’t a water element the bearer as she calls herself, she wouldn’t come looking for you. There must be something wrong. How did she look like?” he asked curiously that had her thinking about the lady.
“Like water,” Damien gave her a nod.
“I have scheduled a meeting for the day after tomorrow with the church priest so that you and I both can discuss and you can have some guidance.”
Seeing that Damien wasn’t aware of the entity, Penny asked, “How did you know that someone visited me here?”
Hearing this, one side of his lips quirked up, “Someone reported to have seen a ghost.”
When the day arrived to finally meet the local priest in one of the churches of the Bonelake, Penny who had only stepped down from the carriage raised her hand to look at the tall church that stood at the center of the town. Looking at the gray walls one could notice that no effort was made to paint the church. The cross was placed at the tip and front of the Church building. The bells of the church ringing at the back that was enough for a person who was kilometers away could still hear it.
The bell rang once, twice and many more times until it finally quietened down. The walls of the church outside looked darker because of the rain that had fallen down on it. She followed Damien inside the church to find it darker in here. It was spacious with the benches that were placed on either side of them as they continued to walk down. The wood of the benches appeared to be in white and red, the walls having little fired torches that were lit around but not enough to drive away from the darkness that was in there.
And though the bottom part of the church was dark, the upper half of the wall was painted with a yellow and green hue that came through the lean windows that were built in parallel next to each other. There wasn’t sunlight but the little amount of brightness that was present came to pass through these windows, allowing certain parts of the church with light.
Walking down further, she caught sight of a man who stood in front of the statue. With his back facing them as he offered offerings and prayers to the fellow diety in front of him, Penny wondered if this person was a white witch. His ash-colored hair complimented the clean white clothes that he wore. The cassock appeared to have another coat which fell until the length of his feet.
Hearing their footsteps, the priest turned around to face them, his light blue eyes peering through his glasses.
The man wasn’t tall but he wasn’t short either. He fell two or three inches shorter than Damien. The ends of his sleeves looked as if they were made of metallic gold cloth that covered his forearms. The white cassock lined with the same golden material that went up and around his collar.
“Mr. Quinn,” the priest greeted Damien, his words quiet and gentle like most of the priests who took home in the church.
“Father Antonio,” Damien greeted the man and introduced him to Penny, “This is Penelope,” father Antonio appeared to look at Penny keenly, his eyes on her which was set carefully without looking anywhere else but just her eyes. He held a book in his hand, one of his hand which was wrapped around the beaded chain which held the cross in it.
“No last name?” asked the priest for Penny to shake her head, “You’re the daughter of the abandoned. That’s alright. Most of us here are the children of abandoned which is why it makes life that much interesting. Would you take something to drink?” he asked them.
“We’re fine,” answered Damien for the man to nod his head. By first glance, it was hard to gauge the age of father Antonio but on a closer look, one could tell that he was older than the first guess. There were fine lines that marked the corner of his eyes. The color of his eyes blue which wasn’t bright but dull.
A girl wearing a blue cassock with short brown hair walked in from the side door, seeking the priest like there was something pressing that needed to be informed to him without a second of delay. As if knowing who Damien was, she bowed her head to offer him some respect.
“Father Antonio,” the girl came to his side, stepping closer and whispering something in his ear…
