Chapter 33: Yelena (1)

The 'Death's Bane' Title only cemented what Henry had already decided which was that he did not want those eyes staring at him ever again.

The idea that those eyes were watching him now caused him to shiver but he quickly thrust the thought aside by swiping away the description screen and calling up his Status screen instead.

[Name: Henry Morgan]

[Level: 4 (699/800 Exp)]

[Race: Human]

[Class: Gunslinger]

[Title: Death's Bane, Gangbanger, Vyker-Killer]

[Hit Points: 50/50]

[Mana Points: 60/60]

[Strength: 14]

[Agility: 11]

[Stamina: 6]

[Perception: 8]

[Skills:

{Marksmanship Lv. 2 <Active Sub Skill: Quick Thinking>} {Taming Lv. 1 <Active Sub Skill: Bonding>} {Insight Lv.1}]

[You have 12 Unallocated Stat Points]

——————

Henry was just about to consider how best to allocate his Stat points when Yelena spoke,

"So you got what you wanted?"

Henry nodded with a small smile,

"Essentially, yes."

"Good for you," Yelena said and she deactivated <Circle of Healing>.

She stood up and Henry stood with her.

"You still owe me a question," he said.

Yelena rolled her eyes,

"You'll still ask when I just did you the HUGE favor of killing you over and over again?" She asked as she looked away and walked over to one of the other many desks in the medical bay littered with all manner of notes.

Henry let the idea of him asking a question simmer for a while. He wanted to make it seem more natural and less like an interrogation because that was likely the best way for him to get an answer.

So he walked to one of the many desks in the medical bay and looked over the writings. To be honest, he had been there quite a few times this week already but he always had Yelena's attention and could not wander about, or else she would think he was snooping.

All the notes were in the same handwriting. There were some books opened. They were old, some of them breaking apart and all peppered with notes. All the same handwriting and quite a few looking like they had been written decades ago instead of months ago.

Henry looked around the inside of the medical bay and saw a door towards the very end of the room. He glanced over at Yelena but she had her back to him and wasn't paying attention so he walked to the door, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled it open. The door wasn't locked.

As Henry took a step into the room on the other side of the door, he failed to notice Yelena turn around and look at him. Her lips pressed together and an unreadable look in her eyes but she said nothing.

The room had many shelves all with books stacked on them. There were empty spaces and Henry assumed those spaces belonged to the books on the desks that Yelena had scribbled many notes on.

Henry raised his hand, gently took one book off the shelf, and opened it. It was written in a language he couldn't understand but there were notes around the edges of every single page. He could understand those notes.

Henry assumed that whoever had written those notes, was giving a short explanation of whatever was on the page. He assumed this because of the way the notes were written. It was like the writer was talking to someone.

For example;

"… Now this page here talks about the little girl running from home after listening to the beautiful Snow White bunny. But the bunny turned out to be an Old Witch who ate the little girl…"

Henry looked through other books and not all of them were story books. Some were about history, fighting, philosophy, and even about the world and the politics of the world but they all dated back so long ago. Centuries ago.

"Find anything interesting?"

Henry started as Yelena's voice sounded behind him but he recovered quickly enough.

"Yes, actually. You wrote these notes, didn't you?" He asked.

Yelena smiled,

"Will that be your question?"

"No," Henry told her with a smile as he put the book back on the shelf. He already knew the answer anyway.

Even then, it was still welcome when Yelena confirmed what he thought by saying,

"I wrote it."

"Beautiful handwriting," Henry said. And it truly was beautiful. Elegant, almost noble script that he could stare at for hours.

"Thank you," Yelena said. Her eyes were on the back of Henry's head as he walked deeper into the room.

Henry was now standing in front of a wall with a small collection of paintings. His eyes were most especially on the painting at the center of the wall.

He recognized Yelena in the painting. She looked exactly as she did now but was dressed much differently in the painting than she was dressed currently. Her gown looked expensive and extravagant. Like what a noble would wear.

She had a bejeweled necklace around her neck, heavy, gaudy earrings drooped from her ears, and her hair was done almost too perfectly.

Others in the painting were; An older man who looked to be in his late fifties, a woman who looked like she was in her early forties, and a younger man who looked only slightly older than Yelena.

"Recent painting?" Henry asked because Yelena in the painting looked so much like the one right behind him that the time of the painting should not have been more than a year ago. Maybe two.

Yelena took a moment to answer and when she did answer, she spoke gently,

"Not exactly. It was painted the day I turned twenty-five." Sёarᴄh the Novelƒire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"And when was that?" Henry pressed.

"Three hundred and sixty-seven Years ago," Yelena answered in a whisper.

Yelena's answer just hung in the air for a minute or so and then Henry broke the silence,

"I wouldn't have been able to tell. You look good for someone about to turn Four hundred."

The mood in the room had gone down multiple notches and Henry felt he had to keep things light.

It worked. At least enough to cause Yelena to giggle a little as she stepped forward and reached out to the painting.

"Remember I told you talking about my past was too complicated? This was why.

Unless I answer with a lie, Your question would have surely been to force me to reveal this. I know you'd have asked about my parents. How many siblings I had? Where I was born? How I learned Magic?"

"I was going to ask what your favorite color was," Henry said with a brazen face.

Yelena rolled her eyes,

"Liar." She said with a small sad smile and then let out a sigh,

"I was born cursed. Branded with a mark that said with certainty that I was going to die. So my parents (she touched the older man and woman in the painting) did whatever they could to change that.

They searched high and low until they learned of a ritual that could borrow infernal powers beyond human understanding to bind my life to an inanimate object to extend my lifespan. The more stable and durable the object, the longer I'd get to live."

Henry's brows furrowed lightly. He said nothing but he was getting an idea of where this was going. He was getting an idea of what inanimate object Yelena's Parents used.

Yelena continued,

"We moved out of the City where we used to live and settled here in New Freudein where they built this Mansion for the sole purpose of extending my life. They employed a sorcerer skilled and greedy enough to perform the ritual.

Only a Money-loving daredevil would dare tamper with a curse like mine and only a very insane one would attempt to borrow infernal powers to do so."

"Why would they have to be insane to try?" Henry asked.

Yelena closed her eyes,

"Because a Curse like mine doesn't just go away. All he did was extend my life for as long as this Mansion stands while trapping me here to wait it out.

The Sorcerer succeeded in binding me to this gods-damned place and went on his merry way with his pocket full of gold but me? I've been stuck here within the walls of this Mansion for Three centuries. With no end in sight.

Death would have been welcome."