Chapter 15 : Fragments of Memory
Chapter 15 : Fragments of Memory
October 19th, 11:43 PM
Far away, in a quiet penthouse bathed in blue light… someone watched the world fall silent.
The soft tick of an antique clock echoed in the dimly lit room.
Aeries sat alone motionlessly in a velvet chair. Dressed in deep blue silk pajamas that clashed with the velour lounge.
His arms were resting in the armrest. Like a King who had witnessed the fall of his empire. Footsteps broke the silence as an old man walked upto to Aeries holding a file, He reported softly. "Young master, it seems there were a few casualties to the officers. I'm afraid this may have been too much."
Aeries flinched. He didn't immediately move, he stared ahead, not at the view but at the faint reflection in the glass. The city blinked in an uncaring manner. He rose slowly and walked up to the mirror. His expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes fractured. His eyes looked as if they remembered how to be.
"I... I didn't mean to hurt them," His voice was hollow, like an apology said too late. He heaved a heavy sigh.
He whispered to himself "I won," but the words tasted bitter.
Then quieter
"...So..... why does it feel like I lost?"
....
October 20th - 12:12 AM
St. Ethelred's Royal Hospital, East London
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sound was distant at first. Like it was someone else's entirely. Edmund floated in a space of pure darkness. He was neither dead nor alive.
He wasn't anywhere.
Memories returned in Fragments.
A chair shattering.
A mechanical voice.
"You guarded the wrong treasure."
The crowd's laughter.
Luke's pale face.
Pain assaulting his entire body. Blood on his sleeves.
Edmund slowly opened his eyes. "Where am I?" His voice echoed through the darkness. No reply came, it was just him and him alone.
He tried to move - nothing, no limbs, no weight. He was just a thought.
And then —
Drip.
The sound of water? No, a memory.
A park bench. London. A few years ago.
Rain pelting down. Edmund sat beside Luke, both of them drenched neither speaking. Suddenly Luke said "She... She's gone...." Luke said
"Li-" Luka began, but the name died before it reached his lips.
The memory fractured. Rain became ink. The scene dissolved.
And in the next blink—
Drip.... Drip
This time it was not rain, but the sound of boots striking a puddle.
A younger Edmund appeared. Eleven? Maybe twelve.
Shorter. Sharper Eyes. Dressed in a crisp white shirt with a rounded collar, a navy-blue knitted vest, and gray slacks pressed sharp enough to cut. His shoes—black leather Oxfords. Wearing an immaculate beige trench coat over.
"Eddy!"
A high pitched voice came bright, like a birdcall which broke through fog.
The younger Edmund who was sitting on a wooden bench reading "The Brothers Lionheart" slowly lifted his eyes to look at the figure.
Elaine Hale, was like a rare bird in flight. Her little raincoat flaring as she splashed recklessly in the nearest puddle. She giggled, stomping harder, her dandelion-like eyes gleamed with bright light. Her stomping sent arcs of muddy water into the air. Her Auburn hair hovered in the air.
Edmund heaved a sigh and said in a teasing tone "Kids these days..."
Elaine pouted as she heard this. Edmund quickly jumped into a nearby puddle almost soiling Elaine's clothes. "How's that?" Edmund said laughing.
"Not fair." Elaine quickly responded by jumping into a puddle close to Edmund.
"Big brother, I have something for you just wait here." Saying so, Elaine went and picked up a crown made of daisies.
"You are the king now." Elaine declared proudly.
Edmund's lips twitched and formed a smile. He replied "Elaine Kings don't wear crowns made of flowers."
"Yes he does! My king does."
Her defiance made Edmund sigh. He knelt so that the crown could be placed on his head.
"Fine, but only for this time."
The crown settled on his perfectly combed hair. Elaine beamed — To her the world was complete.
To Edmund? The world felt heavy. Even as a child, his shoulders bore an invisible weight — one he didn't yet have words for.
The older Edmund watched this with a faint smile. His eyes drowsed with melancholy.
And then—
The entire scene dissolved.
The memory shifted again.
The air smelled faintly of wet earth and flowers.
Now it wasn't a park.
It was a sprawling garden — this was inside the Hale household.
Pruned hedges stood in perfect symmetry. A marble fountain bubbled gently at the centre.
A boy sat alone on a wooden bench under the shade of a wide green Oak tree. Edmund, younger still — seven years this time.
His hair was nicely combed. His shoes polished like a mirror. And in his hands lay a book "A Wizard of Earthsea".
His deep blue eyes stared at the brittle page, Chapter 8.
"There was a great wish in him to stay here on Gont, and forgoing all wizardry and venture, forgetting all power and horror, to live in peace like any man on the known, dear ground of his home land. That was his wish; but his will was other." (A Wizard Of Earthsea, Le Guin, Chapter 8)
His lips curved slightly, not a smile. "Fitting," he murmured. "But I was never granted that choice."
A gloom hung on Edmund's face.
Then—
A voice called out, "C'mon Eddy, catch me if you can!"
A girl's voice - light and comforting, a soothing voice that seems to gently hold you in its arms and wash away all anxiety and worry.
Edmund felt like his world had gained colour again as he looked up. He saw Michelle Everhart, a young girl one year smaller than him and Luke. She lived nearby.
Michelle was like a constellation in the night sky. With her bright face, midnight Black hair and blue gray eyes. Whenever Edmund looked at her eyes he felt like they were a symphony of waves.
Michelle darted between the hedges, her laughter trailed behind her like a ribbon. Her little white dress fluttered with the occasional breeze.
"You'll trip if you keep running like that!" Edmund called after her. His voice lacked conviction and was more habit than concern.
This is childish, he told himself. I should go back to studying.
And yet.....
He closed the book and stood up.
"Oi Eddy!" Another voice barked.
A small rock flew past his shoulder landing harmlessly in the grass. Luke grinned widely from atop the fountain's edge. "Quit bein' an old man! It's a tag not a funeral."
Edmund sighed.
But his lips faintly curled to reveal a smile.
"You're no fun Eddy," Michelle said with false gravity. "You're always reading, thinking, sighing. Don't you want to do something grand and fun?"
Edmund glanced at Michelle, his voice composed and calm. "Define Grand and Fun."
"Being a knight ofcourse?" Michelle beamed, holding up a thin tree branch like a sword.
She quickly came to a halt in front of him, breathing heavily.
"Sir Edmund Hale," she said, raising the stick like sceptre. "I hereby knight you as my protector! You are my knight now."
Edmund blinked.
"That's quite a responsibility for a seven year old."
"It's fine, you're clever and strong."
Luke snorted. "Pfftt. A knight? He's more like a grumpy old butler. He'd bore the dragons to death with lame talk."
Michelle turned, glaring.
"Quiet, Luke! Eddy's my knight now."
Luke jumped down dramatically, crouching like a monster. "Your knight? He doesn't even know how to swing a sword."
Edmund shot Luke a flat look.
"At least I don't throw rocks and call it strategy."
"Better than sulking in a corner reading books, Sir Grumpy."
Michelle stamped her foot. "Enough! My knight can beat any dragon.... And any fountain goblin."
Luke mock gasped. "Fountain Globin? Fine then, Sir Edmund. Save your Lady from this goblin."
Edmund sighed again and knelt down to pick up a small stick. He pointed it at Luke like a sword.
"Step away creature. Or face the consequences."
Luke bared fake claws, crackling. "Finally! A Spark of Life in you."
Michelle clapped her hands like it was the most exciting duel in the world.
A wind passed, as Edmund readied to charge. Edmund dashed at Luke.
"Take this!" Edmund lunged forward like a miniature knight.
You could say it just wasn't his day.
His foot caught on a rock.
There was a brief moment of silence, as gravity claimed him.
Thud.
Edmund hit the dirt face-first, the stick landing a heroic three feet ahead.
The silence was deafening.
Luke blinked and broke the silence as he burst into laughter so hard he nearly fell.
Michelle gasped in mock horror. "Sir Edmund! You have been defeated."
Edmund just groaned into the grass. "..... This kingdom deserves a better knight."
Then the memory zoomed out. The adult Edmund saw all of this. Tears broke down from his eyes as he laughed slightly. "I should have played with them a bit more..." His tone was that of regret.
The memory then crumbled like a paper fist.
A new Memory appeared
"I still don't know what all of this is. Guess I'll enjoy these wholesome moments for now."
Hale Residence, Evening. Warm golden lights glow over an oak dining table.
Edmund pushed open the door for Elaine, holding it like a proper young gentleman.
"Shoes off, Elaine," Edmund reminded softly.
"I know, I know!" She giggled, wobbling slightly as she tried to tug off her boots.
Their mother Catherine Hale, stepped out from the kitchen, apron still tied around her waist. Her Auburn hair was tied up, strands loose around her face.
"There you two are!" She said
"Ah the Storm clouds are back." Edward Hale said as he read Financial Times.
"How was today both of you?" Catherine asked.
"It was very fun! Eddy lost to Luke in tag." Elaine said
"I didn't lose, I just let him win." Edmund said in a sarcastic manner.
"You always say that." Elaine frowned
"Now, now, I prepared some food for both of you." Saying so she presented the food, and a faint scent of roasted lamb drifted out.
"But before that, Edmund, you have a letter from Michelle." Catherine said, giving Edmund a letter.
Edmund broke the wax seal carefully. The parchment smelled of Lavender.
"Dear Eddy,
Papa's work is taking us to the Continent. I don't know when I'll return. Luke says you'll be fine without me, but don't believe him. He's an idiot sometimes. Did you read the book I suggested? The Brothers Lionheart, and still neatly comb your hair. Messy hair suits you better. Anyways stay brilliant. I know you will. Don't miss me too much.
P.S. You're still my knight okay?
— Michelle"
The adult Edmund watched, knowing how much it hurt and how painful it was for his younger self. He tried to reach out for a hug and say "It will be fine.... it always will be." But his hands passed through like smoke.
That's when he realised. This was a cruel experience. Where he had to revisit his fears from the past and not help his younger self and watch coldly.
"This is the cruelty of fate. I couldn't ever see Michelle again..."
The younger Edmund stared at the letter for a long time, his thumbs brushing over her Elegant script.
"You'll see her again," his mother said gently on seeing his expression.
Edmund folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his pocket as the family moved to the dining room.
The warmth in the house was undeniable and yet.
As Edmund sat at the table, his posture perfect napkin folded neatly on his lap,
It wasn't sadness at least, not the crying kind. It was something quieter. Like he had failed to notice the world changing around him, and now it was too late to fix it.
"She left.... If I'd paid more attention, maybe I could've stopped it. Or maybe this is just how things work people leave, and you only realize how much they matter when they're already gone."
He hated that idea.
Then a thought came to his mind.
"Does perfection mean being alone?"
He didn't notice he was holding his fork with too much tension until Elaine gently nudged his arm. "Big Brother, why so serious? The lamb isn't going anywhere."
Edmund Blinked. A chuckle slipped out... Thin and brittle, like glass about to shatter.
"That's right. Just.... Smile. That's what I should do. Like always..."
Across the table, Edward adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles. His voice was calm.
"Your grades this term were excellent, like always."
Edmund nodded like a robot following instructions.
Beside him, Elaine swung her little legs under the table, humming softly as she arranged her peas into a smiley face. She was too young to feel the weight of the room.
Catherine smiled faintly. "Your piano instructor mentioned how quickly you've memorized Liszt's Études."
"Indeed," said Mr. Hale, slicing his roast. "But memorization isn't mastery. Also I am planning to send you to a violin centre as well. You are perfect at almost everything. Be it sports, academics, chess, martial arts, piano and many more. But only if you want Edmund."
Edmund's deep blue eyes flicked down for half a second before returning to meet his father's stern gaze. The choice was up to Edmund, but he couldn't disappoint them. "Sure why not father. I just hope I get time for all this." Edmund replied as he ate his part of the food.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's not too much for you." Edward replied calmly, almost too calmly.
"Eddy's perfect!" Elaine piped up suddenly, her voice was like a spark in the heavy air.
"Yes dear, your brother will change the world in the future." Catherine gently said.
'They meant well.... But each word is carved into the heart like blades wrapped in silk.' Adult Edmund thought
Younger Edmund bled in the way only saints and sinners understood.
Yet He didn't forget to smile and thank appropriately.
This is the poetry of pain, where kind words are like arrows. The softer they strike.... The deeper they bleed.
"Ah Edmund, how is your reading going?" Edward asked to clean his mouth with a tissue.
Edmund replied "I have completed The Brother's Lionheart, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Siddhartha and Tale Of Two cities in the past few days."
"Good as expected you read things above that of a normal child." Edward smiled.
But to Edmund it seemed like that smile was not just appreciation. It was pressing him more. Like he was trying to get up but couldn't due to the pressure.
Edmund sweated a bit, but not enough to be seen by others.
Catherine asked "Edmund, haven't you been working on a poem?"
Edmund who was slowly taking a bite of his food froze mid-step. The utensils in his hand rattled slightly.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
"A poem?" Adult Edmund muttered, as he watched the scene from the void.
"Ah yes, the poem. Have you finished it? We have been dying to hear it." Edward warmly said, adjusting his glasses.
The memory flickered.
Young Edmund's eyes lowered. His hands gripped at the cutlery, so tightly his knuckles went white.
"Yes.... It's finished," He said softly. He added "I'll show it to you tomorrow."
After a bit, the dinner plates were cleared. Laughter still hung faintly in the air. Edmund's parents sat in the living room sipping tea. Elaine had fallen asleep in her mother's lap.
Edmund quietly went to his room.
His room was well organised. The book shelf contained literature from Dickens, Doyle, Elliot — all arranged alphabetically. There was another sub arrangement. For books he liked the most. It included works such Crime and Punishment from Fyodor Dostoyesky, Good Morning, Midnight from Jean Rhys, Maiden Voyage from Denton Welch, Ice from Anna Kavan and his Favourite Malcom Lowry's Under The Volcano.
The oak desk was arranged with military precision. The bed sheets were cleanly arranged.
The room smelt of parchment and old wood.
A violin was placed at a corner, along with a small piano. An entire shelf was there to store the hundreds of awards and prizes Edmund had accumulated.
Adult Edmund stood in the center of the room, his eyes scanning the familiar walls. It had been a long time since this memory, yet everything remained unnervingly intact. This gave him a feeling of nostalgia.
His fingers brushed the edge of his writing desk.
Younger Edmund crouched to open the bottom drawer of his desk. A faint click echoed as he pressed on the hidden release. Inside:
A folded parchment lay there neatly—an altered version of his poem.
This version was no different from the orginal. But a few things were cut out.
"Anyone who found this would think they'd uncovered my greatest secret. A perfect misdirection."
Adult Edmund smiled grimly. "At twelve, I already understood deception better than most adults."
He crossed the room to the wall.
A faint seam in the paneling caught the light. Only if you knew where to look could you see it.
He pressed his thumb to the exact knot in the woodgrain and slid his nail along a hairline groove.
Click.
A wooden panel swung open to reveal a narrow cavity.
Inside lay a slim leather notebook, wrapped in waxed paper.
And next to it—a glass vial filled with thick black ink.
"If anyone pulled the panel wrong, the string would snap… and my words would drown in ink. My heart, erased forever."
"Even at twelve, I knew vulnerability was dangerous. I didn't hide this because I was clever. I hid it because I was terrified."
He turned the leather-bound cover in his hands.
The adult Edmund smirked, though his eyes betrayed a storm. He hadn't known about this poem. He had buried it too deep. "I forgot this.... I choose to forget this. But it never went away."
"This might be a huge clue to waking up from this unconscious state."
The title, faintly written in a child's handwriting:
"The Sorrowful Excellence...." The Younger Edmund muttered under his breath.
The memory blurred.
"So begins my descent."
Black.