Under the cover of the once foggy and uncertain, but now starlit and jubilant night, Cadenza scurried out of the Choras encampment, feet beating upon the sodden ground in time with the snores of sleeping soldiers. A steady rain was falling, dousing the gypsy and making her hair run down her shoulders like a roll of cascading black silk. Haphazardly tying it back into a bun, she came to a skidding stop when she had reached the sheer trunk of the great oak tree, where the door to the Dome stood.
It appeared far more modest and inconspicuous as she approached, like an oblong shape that had been cut naturally from the wood, but upon the touch of her hand on the knob, the door suddenly blossomed with verdant color; the golden swirls worked their majestic way through the surface, arching and whirling in whimsical patterns; the archaic letters spelled out words extolling honor and strength and virtue. When, in shock, Cadenza drew her stunned cold hand away, the final piece that had made it differ from the door of the Dome, the spade-like crest, emblazoned itself upon the oak.
The woman stumbled back, taking in the sight quietly and with wide, wild eyes for a long and wholly surreal moment. She gave a start at the sound of footsteps creeping through the nearby grass, and spun around with her heart beating quickly. The sounds came closer, until finally, a face could be seen in the twinkling lights of the sky.
"T-that door, milady, what is it?"
There was no mistaking the voice, even without a glance at the face. Cadenza breathed out a short sigh of relief; the feeling was dampened only by the realization that the prince now had seen the door to the Dome.
"It's my way back home," the woman said, feeling uncannily like a thief caught.
Hunter's face seemed to droop dejectedly upon his chest. "It is as I thought, then; you were never going to Greyshire. You...you were too unlike the women here, I felt that in my bones."
"Then, I assume they must all be polite and charming, hm?" the woman said with a smirk, "Because sorry, dear, but I'm truly not as nice as you may have thought. And I don't have time to sit and talk here with you."
At that, the gypsy took firm hold of the doorknob once again, and gave it a turn, but before opening it, thought to call back: "You'd best look away, prince. I don't think you can handle seeing what's on the other side."
Hunter did as she said and shielded his eyes with an iron-clad arm, remaining speechless as sound and light poured in from the fantastic open doorway and bathed one of the fields of Medina in its awe-inspiring mystery. His breath rushed out of his lungs to greet the bracing gust, and was then abruptly ushered back into his stalwart body as the great door shut once again.
When he opened his eyes once more, they quested about in vain for the woman, only to fix upon a rectangle of lavender paper pinned to the door. The commander strode up tentatively, and ripped the note from its trappings. It read:
It was magic, my friend. Magic undid the Augustans tonight. Beyond the door through which I leave, it's a common enough thing. Your world should learn to embrace it.
Tell Hildegard and Peter that they have my thanks. You can consider yourself thanked to some degree as well, if that cheers you up.
- Cadenza Madrigal--the gypsy
--------------------------------------------------------
...And that's the end! I didn't love this last post, but meh. Hopefully someone read this whole piece and liked it, but all that aside, it needed to be told for certain things to make sense, and now it has been finished.
