Page 18 of The Hunchback

No one would question me visiting Old Nan’s Trading Post. In fact, it featured in the list of preset popular shopping destinations on the Tear’s interface. I barely paid any attention to the beautiful landscape sprawling before me under the bright, early-afternoon sun. In the distance, the weak luminous beams of two spires marked the center of smaller cities surrounding Paris. In two days, after the Festival of Light, Frollo would visit each one to give them a recharged Orb—assuming I performed as expected.

And he’d hope for you to tag along with him.

That wouldn’t happen. Even if nothing came of that thing between Kwazeem and me, I could never belong to Frollo. I barely knew the gardener, and yet something unique was binding us. I’d spent my life dreaming of the day I’d stand before an Elohim, hoping to find grace in his eyes. The day after tomorrow, I would meet the greatest of them all, High Seraph Phoebus, but I couldn’t care less. A single male occupied my every thought.

As the autopilot landed my Tear in the small clearing surrounding Old Nan’s Trading Post, I was relieved to see only three other vessels. With the Festival only a few hours away, most people were too busy scrambling with last minute preparations to be out shopping. But what struck me the most were the eerie similarities between the lines and shapes of this Trading Post and those of Kwazeem’s house. Although not identical, Kwazeem had clearly been inspired by the home of his childhood.

The door of the Tear silently slid open, and I hopped out, my stomach fluttering with an odd mix of anticipation and worry. What if Nan didn’t wish to speak to me or pretended she didn’t know anything about Kwazeem? It suddenly dawned on me how impulsive I’d yet again behaved. What in the world was wrong with me? I’d always been the deliberate, organized, and rational one among my Vestal sisters. And now, I kept reacting based on whatever emotion stirred me the most. Considering how all over the place they’d been since setting foot on Eden, I should try harder to rein myself in.

But I’m here now, and I need answers.

Taking in a deep breath, I marched with determined steps towards the one story house. Built in length, with tall, reflective windows and flowery vines climbing some of its walls, the wooden structure had been cleverly designed to almost blend with the surrounding forest. As I walked up to the large set of doors, they swished open almost silently onto a modern shop that still managed to scream rustic and natural.

The sweet aroma of potpourri and scented candles greeted me. To my surprise, the front store wasn’t crumbling under stacks of products or shopping baskets. Customers picked up a small data key at the entrance of the store and simply scanned the demonstrator of the products they wanted, with a small interface allowing them to indicate quantity. I picked up a key while casting furtive glances at the two women behind the counter.

A younger female in her late thirties was taking the keys from the customers and fetching their orders at the back. The older female, which I immediately knew to be Old Nan, took payments from the customer or haggled the trades that didn’t involve credits. Trying not to draw more attention than necessary, I casually browsed the goods on offering, scanning quite a few of the jars of fruit jams for Kwazeem. Two of the five customers inside left, and I crossed my fingers that no new ones would come in before the remaining three departed.

I was looking at a series of stunning colorful fabrics the likes I’d never seen before when a painting on a nearby wall caught my eye. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the image of a gorgeous little boy with pale bluish-skin. Sitting cross-legged by a creek, he stared in awe at the large egg in his hands from whence the head of a newborn imp, in the process of hatching, peeked out. I immediately knew it to be a lifelike representation of Kwazeem and Victus.

I don’t know how long I stood there, transfixed by the realism and perfection of the image.

“Stunning boy, isn’t he?” a soft voice said over my shoulder, startling me out of my dazed stupor.

I turned to find Old Nan standing near me, a gentle expression on her wizened face. I couldn’t quite tell her origins judging by her thick, curly silver hair, tanned skin from frequent exposure to the sun, and her big, greenish-brown eyes that hinted at possible alien blood thrown into her human heritage.

“Breathtaking… Just like the man Kwazeem has grown into,” I replied, my gaze holding hers unwaveringly.

She didn’t flinch, recoil, or otherwise appear shocked. A knowing smile stretched her lips, and she gestured with her head for me to follow. Heart pounding, I followed in her wake under the curious stares of the remaining customer and the younger woman working behind the counter.

“Cover for me, Karolyn,” Nan said. “I’ll be at the house for a little while.”

“Yes, Nan,” Karolyn responded, her brown eyes burning with curiosity.

We exited the Trading Post through the back door, then walked in silence along a packed dirt path through the woods to a smaller house two hundred meters away. My jaw dropped at recognizing it as an exact replica of Kwazeem’s house, while the Trading Post only shared many similarities.

“You recognized this house,” Nan said, breaking the silence as she unlocked the door to her house.

“Yes,” I admitted. “Kwazeem is currently building his new home identically to this one.”

Nan smiled like a proud mother before waving me into the house. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating the cushioned wooden chairs surrounding a massive, intricately carved redwood table. “I cannot grant you much time, but I would hear about my Kwazeem before answering a few of whatever questions you may have. Tea?”

I nodded absentmindedly, suddenly feeling as if she’d been waiting for me—or at least for some Vestal—to come see her about Kwazeem.

“Yes, I knew one of you would eventually come,” Nan said. She chuckled when I gaped at her for reading my mind, but continued to put some water to boiling. “Don’t be so surprised, child. Your face is very expressive. Many of your sisters have come through here over the years. Each time, I hoped they were coming to inquire about my boy. But every time, they were merely here to browse my products. You, however… The minute you walked in, I knew that the day had come at last.”

Nan brought two cups and some berry breads to the table, while the water was quickly heating. I opened my mouth to offer to help, but she didn’t give me a chance.

“Do you love him?” she asked.

My heart leaped in my chest, and I squirmed in my chair, unsure how to answer.

“I… I barely know him,” I said cautiously.

“But?” she insisted before pouring the boiling water into a teapot.

“But I am very drawn to him, and he to me,” I conceded. “However, I am a very public figure, and—”

“And the mob will descend upon him for defiling an Anointed,” Nan interrupted, her voice hardening slightly. “Tell me child, does he drain you?”

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