Isekai'd Into The Wrong World-Chapter 110: Ch - Black

Ryan sat cross-legged on the floor beside the bed.

He had been putting off the meditation since arriving at the castle—there had always been something, the carriage, the tour, the lunch, Edward. But now he had some time to himself.

He closed his eyes and focused, letting his mana sense roam free.

He took a breath in, and then out.

—————

Ryan opened his eyes.

He sat still for a moment, blinking. Then he stretched his arms overhead, his back cracking once.

It was dark.

He looked out the window. Moonlight came through the open curtains in a pale stripe across the floorboards.

He frowned.

Did I miss dinner?

He stood, rolling his shoulders, and looked at the window again.

If I did... it wasn’t worth it. Still a high tier one mage.

He crossed to the bathroom and reached for the water basin.

Maybe I should go down. Check if it’s not too late.

CRACK.

Something hit the window hard enough to make the glass shudder. Ryan spun, heart lurching into his throat, water dripping from his hands onto the floor.

A black bird lay on the outside ledge. It had hit the glass at speed and now sat stunned, or dead. Its black wings spread awkwardly against the stone, its head was turned at an angle that didn’t look comfortable.

Ryan stood there for a moment, dripping.

Just a bird.

He looked at it for another second but it didn’t move.

His bracelet lit up for a small moment, then faded back to black.

He dried his hands on a towel, and went to the door.

Behind him, the black bird rose. It sat still for a moment, looking into the room—at Ryan. Then it opened its wings and vanished into the night.

Ryan walked out into the corridor, closing the door behind himself.

The third floor was dark.

The only light came from the narrow window at the far end, and at this hour all the window offered was a pale grey suggestion of light rather than anything useful.

The doors on either side were invisible except as slightly darker shapes in the dark. The floorboards were something he could feel but not see.

Ryan stood in his doorway for a moment.

I definitely missed dinner. He thought.

He then began to tiptoe down the corridor.

He went slowly, not out of caution so much as not being able to go any other way. The darkness made speed feel irresponsible.

His footsteps were quiet but not quiet enough, each one registered in the silence with a small creak that travelled, even echoed around the keep. Ryan tried stepping closer to the wall. It helped but only marginally.

He was approaching the staircase at the end of the corridor, the light of the window at the far back end turned even less noticeable as he got further away from it.

Then, he drew level with the black door.

BANG.

Ryan’s whole body shook.

In his panic, his foot caught against the floorboard wrong and he stumbled sideways, one hand hitting the wall, a short sharp sound escaped him that was nearly a yelp.

He barely caught himself.

He stood pressed against the wall opposite the black door, breathing.

What the hell was that sound!

The corridor went silent again. The black door remained closed. Nothing moved.

He stared at it. The dark wood gave nothing in return—not a sound, no follow up. Whatever had happened behind it had happened once and apparently concluded.

Ryan stood there for a moment longer.

Then he turned and walked to the staircase. He proceeded to check over his shoulder every step until he reached the top step, in order to ensure that whatever had caused that noise, didn’t come out.

He had finally reached the stairs.

Ryan reached the second floor landing quickly, but quite relieved to have left the third floor.

The corridor here was much calmer than the third. It felt less oppressive somehow, the ceilings slightly higher, the dark less strong.

Eleanor’s door was closed, no light beneath it. He passed it without a sound.

The library doors were ajar.

He slowed and looked through the gap.

The chandelier was burning. Every candle lit, throwing warm amber light up the shelves, the reading gallery above half-visible in the glow. He didn’t notice anybody inside—just the shelves, an open book on the table, and the light that was doing its best against the dark but not entirely winning. The shadows at the upper level remained untouched, the highest shelves lost in them.

Ryan moved on.

The next staircase brought him down to the entrance hall.

It was only now that Ryan realised that the keep was completely silent. Not a squeak of a mouse. He couldn’t even hear snoring, or she shifting of a servant. Maybe servants were not allowed in the Keep at night.

Ryan’s footsteps on the stairs were the only sound, and they felt way too loud.

He crossed the entrance hall to the dining room and pushed the door open.

It was pitch black inside.

He stood in the doorway and let his eyes try to adapt, but nothing came. The darkness in the dining room was total—the windows must have had their curtains drawn, or faced the wrong direction for moonlight.

He could be standing two feet from someone and not know it.

No food tonight then.

He pulled the door shut and stood in the entrance hall for a second, looking at the front door.

He crossed to the strong front door and pulled it open.

The night air was cool and sharp after the stuffiness of the keep. Ryan stepped out onto the top of the entrance steps and stopped.

The inner ward was beautiful at night.

He hadn’t expected that. The torches along the walls had burned down to low, guttering things, but the moon was high and bright enough to make up the difference, the light fell across the cobblestones in long silver stretches. The garden along the far wall was a mass of shadow and pale colour—the crimson flowers were illuminated by the moonlight, turning them into an ethereal experience meant only for a God.

Ryan’s eyes caught sight of a couple figures moving atop the castles inner walls, he presumed that they were Blackwood soldiers.

Ryan came down the large stone steps and walked out into the ward, his footsteps loud on the cobblestones now that there was nothing to muffle them. He moved to the grass at the edge of the path, which helped.

He was going to the garden.

Up close it was larger than it had looked from his window. The roses ran the full length of the wall, deep and well-tended, the smell of them strong in the cool air. A stone bench sat at the midpoint, facing back toward the keep. Ryan sat down on it and looked up.

The sky above the castle was extraordinary —no city light to compete with, no haze, just the full dark expanse of it with more stars than he’d seen since the early weeks in this world, before they reached Lithara and its torches and its noise.

He sat with it for a moment.

Then he heard something move.

Not in the garden but to his left, near the inner gatehouse. A soft sound.

Ryan went still.

There was a figure, a four legged one that came around the corner of the gatehouse wall at a walk.

It was the catlike creature.

It was larger than he’d registered from the carriage, definitely bigger than any house cat on Earth, longer in the body, the fur thick and pale in the moonlight with a quality that made it look almost silver. The fangs were visible even from here, curving down from its upper jaw, long and slightly translucent at the tips. It moved with the complete indifference of an animal that knew it was the King, or Queen of this estate.

It slowed to a stop when it saw Ryan.

The creature looked at him with yellow eyes that caught the moonlight and held it, considering him with neither friendliness nor aggression, just a simple assessment, thorough and unhurried.

Ryan breathed slowly.

After a moment the creature sat down, tucked its front paws under its chest, and continued looking at him.

"Hello," Ryan said quietly.

The cat creature blinked once.

A sound came from somewhere behind the cat—it was soft, hurried footsteps on stone—and soon after, a young boy came through the inner gatehouse. He was dressed in fine clothing, holding a small piece of what looked like dried meat.

He stopped when he saw Ryan.

"Oh," William said. "You’re awake."

"So are you," Ryan said.

William looked at the cat, then back at Ryan. "She won’t hurt you. She just likes to know who’s in the ward at night." He crossed to the bench and sat down beside Ryan without being invited, and held out the dried meat toward the cat. "Her name is Gale."