Tales of Lerathian: The Puppet (Prologue) (Revised 2016)

Quite a while ago now, I posted the prologue, first chapter, and several excerpts from later chapters of the novel I've steadily been working on over the years. It came time to start working on the more cohesive second draft this November for NaNoWriMo, and the revised prologue is now completed. There are always more things in it that can use improvement, but I feel it is a step up from the original. If nothing else, it more accurately represents the character and plot lines now that I've had the time to develop both while writing the first draft. Take a read of the new version, check out the old, and let me know what you think.

For everyone else, the mid-autumn atmosphere enveloped the heart. The rain of the past few days retreated, leaving open skies of wondrous blue and a crisp wind to shake braches overflowing with colors of gold, red, and deep defiant green. Few were inside. Those who were desired not to be. Each and every field of crops burst with the richness of a plentiful harvest. The people of the world of Lerathian seized the chance to be merry, and their voices rang out as brightly as the birds flittering about chirped their songs.

Her heart, however, knew nothing of that peace. No, her heart ached with fear. It ached with pain, it ached with worry, and it ached with exhaustion. Heaving lungs begged for air, and the bitter taste of blood stung her dry mouth. Shaking legs threatened to collapse beneath her. Instinct for survival only just won out over instinct for rest. Letting herself stop was unthinkable, for if she stopped she never got up again.

She wished for rest all the same. She thought of home and its comforts. The house was small and lacked most luxuries she’d known growing up, but love was there, as sentimental as that was. Had it only been a week since she left? It felt like she’d been running much longer. What she wouldn’t give to be back by the fireplace with her babe in her arms, her older daughter playing at her feet, her son joining his sister, and her husband doing his best to quiet his curses as he struggled to sew together the new jacket for himself he demanded to make on his own.

An arrow whizzed past her head landing deep in trunk of a tree she then darted past with temporarily renewed vigor. Blood pumped so obtrusively through her ears. She hadn’t heard them catching up. However, now their shouts were audible, and not only that― they approached more rapidly. Every second she slowed down as her body failed her. Food hadn’t passed her lips in almost two days. Water in one. She wondered how much things would be different if she’d listened to her husband. Traveling north together to find safety for them all now made much more sense than her running to lure their hunters away like she had done for the past five years. Having just given birth the week before, her body hadn’t been prepared for the chase.

The shouts grew even louder. One belted out above them all. It proved itself familiar, but that was expected. Her feet had traveled the world enough to know he’d been tasked to carry out her punishment. The rumors had been kept secret, but she was as good finding secrets as she was hiding them. Another arrow shrieked past her― this time narrowly missing her ear. It buried itself tight into the ground, and, despite failing to hit its target, it managed to accomplish its job regardless. Her desperate gaze so attracted to the weapon did not notice the danger underneath her feet. In the unending stretch of forest she’d hoped to lose her hunters in, a knotted root protruding from the ground hidden under a thick scattering of leaves caught her foot with a wrenching twist.

The smack into the ground was not as painful as the searing rip of flesh from her arm skating across a rock’s surface as she collided with the earth. A hazy mist of black and twisting yellow blotches erupted at the edges of her vision while her stomach churned and lurched with vigor. Heavy, roaring heaves scalded her parched throat, but her lone satisfaction at the moment was that her body could not expel anything since there was nothing to expel in the first place. It certainly tried, however, when she dared to attempt returning to her feet. Her throbbing though not broken ankle refused to let her as so much kneel, and the darkness of unconsciousness nearly overtook her sight entirely.

With one quiet sob, she accepted reality. Years of effort and trying failed her. The pride she’d held that her strength alone would be enough to protect them would doom them all. The shouts drew ever closer, and they grew energetic at the sight of her resigning herself to sit still with shoulders straight and her hands folded calmly in her lap. This was her end, and at the very least she would met it with dignity. Pathetically motionless on the ground covered in blood, dirt, and tears was not ideal, yet she was the granddaughter of Cynion, lord of the Elvanar. Even the blood, dirt, and tears could not steal away the noble lines of refinement her face bore. Her deep golden hair, tangled and dirty as it was, still curled far down her back with a grace unbroken. The ends of pointed ears that smoothly sloped along the sides of her head twitched at the sound of that one certain voice calling out orders, and her gleaming amber eyes finally locked with his.

Five of them there were, including her brother. All had shades of fair hair, extenuated ears, and amber eyes as was the way of their people, but only Remorlent stood out in any meaningful way. Their faces were plain and the uniforms they donned were no different from that of any of soldier. Her brother, however, nobility rested on him as naturally as it did her, and the precise cut of his clothes and intricate decorations marked him a general. Unblinking was his stare and stone cold was his expression. An ornate sword swung slightly at his waist as he walked. One stern movement of his hand halted his followers ten feet from her while he continued alone. Her neck winced as she struggled to look properly up when he stood close. Their father had always said Remorlent was too tall for his own good.

“Brother.” she acknowledged him softly and without hate.

The same wasn’t returned in kind. The sound of her word still lingered on her lips when a solid crack of skin on skin shattered the gentle buzz of the content forest. The shadows seemed to grow darker, the wind whipped more bitterly around them, and the creatures of the trees fell silent. Mareiel blinked back tears as she recovered from the slap. She wished to say the physical pain wasn’t anything compared to the emotional pain of the hit, but that would make her a liar.

“Do not call me that,” Remorlent ordered, his voice stiff and piercing, “You threw away your right to acknowledge me as family when you lowered yourself to bed that damned Talmor bastard.”

“Alar is just as worthy as any Elvanar. His race does not make him a lesser man.”

The response to that proved to be another slap. Mareiel barely contained a cry even knowing it was coming. Her tongue reveled at the touch of something wet, yet it soon recoiled as the taste revealed it to be blood. A small trickle pooled both inside and out at the corner of her mouth. Mareiel wiped it away only for it to defiantly swell thicker than before.

“May I talk to you for a moment, Remorlent?” she requested shakily with a voice not keen on working.

“You may not,” her brother snapped, “I am hardly here to exchange frivolities with you. If you had come to me with this issue before you opened your legs I would have been able to help you see through your delusion of false love with this Talmor man, but you have dug your hole too deep. You deserve death, and I will give it to you as grandfather ordered. Then our line will be pure once more.”

Without hesitation, the sword sung when unsheathed. Remorlent clenched the grip tightly and pressed the edge just enough against her chin to alter the terrified pounding of her heart with a new pulse of fear.

“They don’t deserve to die.” Mareiel whispered, able to look at her brother only by way of his reflection on the sword.

“The bastard does, but your child does not, I will grant you that. As vile as her mixed blood is, she did not ask to be born with that curse. I do not blame her, and I do not hate her. I do, in fact, pity her, and taking my niece’s life will pain me far more than taking yours will, dear traitorous sister.” Remorlent responded slowly, the first hint of emotion beside anger breaking through his harshness.

“Traitor to what?” Mareiel wondered in irritation.

She had to change the subject, lest she accidentally correct that he actually had more than one niece.

 “A ridiculous law created by our people that only our people follow?” she continued, “Even the Dowarks and Vilders don’t think anything of their kind loving someone else of another race, and look how far they have fallen into violence since the breaking of the peace. What is so pure about our people anyway? Our own god has never even bestowed such a trait upon us. Our ‘purity’ is nothing more than the Elvanar’s wish fulfilling illusions.”

“Sir, do not let her speak this blasphemy.” one of the soldiers piped up in annoyance.

“You think the Talmor race below us?” she pressed on before she lost her chance, “Do you not remember what happened the last time the Elvanar became too prideful and tried to rule over the others? Delmar took some Talmor and made a whole new race out of them. He made the Mahon, gave them magical powers identical to ours, and bestowed upon them powerful gifts unique to them to show us that we are no better than any other person. I fear that lesson is being forgotten, and I dread to think what Delmar will do if we once again spiral―”

Remorlent took his soldier’s words to heart at that moment. He didn’t silence her with another slap. No, a furious kick to her soft stomach, still recovering from childbirth, knocked all wind out of her, but not before finally driving an agonized cry of pain from her lips.

“You will not say one more word. Your mind is addled, and after these long years of searching I will not put my men through a meaningless conversation full of treacherous nonsense.”

Quivering uncontrollably from the overpowering, stinging throb of her midsection and welling emotions scrambling to take control, Mareiel inhaled as much as her rebelling lungs would allow. Remorlent towered over her watching with an irate, impatient scowl. Tears poured from her cheeks without shame. She pressed her hand against the ground for support yet also to seek out the comfort of the great wave of energy endlessly rolling beneath her. The world’s power flowed forward in its constant circle to support the natural life of Lerathian and give those with the ability to channel magic a source from which to conjure. She could try to fight them off. Magic had kept her and her family alive this long.

However, when enough breath returned to her, Mareiel sighed. Engaging her brother and his soldiers in a battle would do no good. Perhaps it would be possible to knock the four out, but she’d never been able to overtake Remorlent once. Believing she could accomplish such a feat in her weakened state was what was truly deluded thinking. In her mind, Mareiel had one option. One option that might give her and her family a chance at life.

“I am sorry,” she apologized, bowing her head in submission, “I am truly sorry, Remorlent. I was wrong. My actions have been traitorous. Ignoring everything else I have done, I have at the very least betrayed you. You who were always there for me after our parents fell, you who supported me after I lost Desython, you who were the father to Jân that he lost. So much of yourself you sacrificed for my sake, and I abandoned you without hesitation.”

Glancing up to make eye contact, Remorlent still stood stiff with his sword ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Her words were making a change on his expression, yet what kind of change it was difficult to say.

“It is only now when I must face the consequences I brought upon myself that I see how foolish I was. It is impossible to make things right though I wish I could. If…If you grant me, perhaps, one thing then, I will return the favor to make scarce amends.”

“What do you want?” Remorlent scoffed in exasperation.

“Let your men withdraw a bit. Let me say the true apology that I want to give you in private. Let the shame of my death been seen in full simply by you. In return, I will tell you exactly where to find them. There is a small cottage we built for a home deep in a different wood. Even once my barrier hiding its presence falls with the last beat of my heart, it will be difficult to discover. However, I will give you everything you will need to make a straight march there. I will explain to you all the ways Alar has thought to defend himself and the children, though I doubt he will be a challenge at all. His is nothing more than a mere Talmor without magic after all.”

The soldiers raised a brow at her, and Remorlent eyed her suspiciously as well. Even so, Mareiel noticed he did not hold his weapon quite as tightly.

“I will not try anything,” she promised, “You know that I know that even with my magic I cannot defeat you, and I’m positive you are watching for the first warning that I might try to use it. I am injured, I am spent, and I merely want an attempt to atone however much I can for my mistakes. Please. Please, Remorlent.”

He inhaled deeply. Mareiel was pleased to see the other four appeared considerably more relaxed and confident, and when Remorlent motioned for them to back away a moment later no resistance was met. They wandered off, almost out of sight but not quite, towards horses she now spotted, and in no time conversation took hold of them. It almost amused her how much perceived certainty lowered defenses that had been so strong.

The slamming of the point of Remorlent’s sword into the ground beat back any complacency she, too, felt. The almost translucent sheen of the blade signified an enchantment, and if Mareiel failed now that metal would be splitting her heart in two before the next minute passed. Her still weak breathing instinctively constricted itself as Remorlent knelt― his hand never releasing its hold from the sword’s grip. Blinking back as many tears as her crumpled emotions would allow, she prepared to meet that cold, unfamiliar stare of his as her game began. It would go on to shock her then that a game of manipulation wasn’t necessary in the slightest.

“That was smart.” Remorlent praised softly as he lowered himself to her level.

There was no harshness to contend with. The mask of fury and revenge discarded without confliction, the brother she’d hoped to lure out looked back at her without prompting. It took all her strength not to launch herself at him for an embrace. He might have been hunting her for five years, but over eight years it had been since they’d seen each other. Realizing there was a good chance she’d return to the rest of her family alive, more tears pooled her already swarming eyes.

“I thought I brought along competent soldiers, but it appears the lone thing they’re competent in is their hatred and bigotry,” Remorlent continued in hardly more than a whisper, his voice wholly unlike how it had been before, “All it took was some tears and a pretty lie to drop their guard.”

“My words weren’t a lie though. Not a full one,” Mareiel pressed, daring to brush the tips of her fingers against her older brother’s free hand for the briefest of seconds, “I owe you an immense apology. The person you just were, that is not you, Remorlent. That is not you at all, and because of how I have dealt with everything I have forced you to become that. It breaks my heart. I can’t imagine how much it hurts you.”

“Dowarks and Vilders I can kill. I don’t like it, but I can do it because they attack us. They attack those who can’t defend themselves. However…you? You? How in the world am I supposed to take your life?” Remorlent questioned quietly and despondently, “It has been you, grandfather, and I since we lost our parents so long ago, and now by his orders I am supposed to kill you. What…What has happened to this family?”

“I know. I know, Rem.” she spoke, inhaling sharply as she struggled to maintain composure once more.

“It’s not simply you. It’s the man you love and your daughter. Your daughter who is only…”

“Elle’s seven and a half, as she’s been keen on reminding me. She’s been growing slower due to the heritage I’ve given her, however, so she is developed a few years younger than that.”

“And that is the child I’ve been ordered to slaughter. Then Jân…we’ve been instructed to take him back to Marmaírein, of course, but I don’t think there is a way for me to kill you, his step-father, and his younger sister without him incurring a deep loathing for me that will burn for eternity. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to ever look in his direction again?”

“There’s another one…” Mareiel whispered, ignoring his questions.

“What?” Remorlent frowned, “There’s another one what?”

“Another child grandfather and the council would have you take out. Alar and I had another daughter.”

Horror took over her brother’s expression. For the first time, at least in her known memory, it appeared he, too, might start to cry.

“What?! When?!” he demanded in hushed desperation.

Mareiel took a cautious glance over his shoulder. The soldiers gave a lazy glance their way every now and then, but enough time hadn’t passed for them to grow suspicious.

“I-I gave birth a week ago. We named her Nika. I left the morning after she was born.” she then revealed.

“A week ago? And you left right afterwards? No wonder we were able to catch you, Mareiel. I know we were narrowing in on your location, but you should have given yourself more time to recover.”

“I know,” she repeated, “I’ve made many horribly stupid decisions.”

“I’ll say. There’s a plethora of issues that have me furious with you. First off, why didn’t you take me with you?”

Mareiel timidly blinked up at his indignant question with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“When you realized you were pregnant and ran off with Jân to go live with this Alar, why didn’t you tell me? Did you not trust me? I wouldn’t have cared who your child’s father was. I would have gone with you. I would have helped you.”

“I…I don’t…” she trailed off hopelessly, “I can’t give you a satisfactory answer, I don’t think. In a way, I hated myself for daring to love another man besides Desython, and especially a man whose race would get us killed if we were discovered. And being pregnant too, I certainly wasn’t thinking straight. I was terrified, and I simply needed to get myself away from Marmaírein and the Elvanar lands.”

“So you holed yourself away in a poorly defensible cabin isolated in some woods somewhere? Was that your idea, or was it Alar’s?”

“It was mine,” Mareiel admitted guiltily, “Alar has actually been mad at me often about it. He’s always demanded we go to Hafen.”

“You should have. It is good to see the man has sense. Hafen is the one place in this world where people like us who are ordered to kill you cannot reach you, and the Mahon would have accepted you with open arms. Jân, Elle, and Nika could be living relatively normal lives right now, but you thought it better to trap them in a place sure to make them miserable in time? How are they meant to be happy where they are?” Remorlent pressed.

“I didn’t want to cause more tension between the Elvanar and Mahon when there’s already been so much lately. I didn’t want to hurt grandfather more than he has been. Then…” she paused, “I became unintentionally pregnant a second time, and having Nika finally got it into my thick skull that remaining where we were would indeed bring death and ruin. The plan was for me to lure you far enough away, return to them, and make the journey to the Mahon capital.”

“A decision coming a little too late. It is a good thing then that, like so often in the past, I am here to bail you out of your mistakes.” Remorlent teased lightly, a smile breaking onto his face for the first time.

“You’ll help me?” Mareiel asked in amazement.

“I’m certainly not going to kill you. If I was, I wouldn’t have let you say a single word. Realizing we were going to catch you, the idea I would assist you all to safety became my focus, and you played along perfectly. I thank you for that. I am sorry I had to hurt you, especially now knowing you have recently given birth.”

“While I do look pathetic at the moment, do not worry,” Mareiel returned the small smile, “I can handle it. Actually giving birth is much worse.”

Remorlent nearly chuckled, but she watched as his face tightened up.

“We are letting ourselves get too comfortable,” he explained, “It won’t be much longer before the others scrutinize us more heavily. We need to take them out before they begin to suspect I am stalling.”

“We’re not going to kill them, are we?” she asked uncertainly.

“No, even if they might cause us headaches afterwards. I’ll bring them back over saying you deserve to die with others watching, and when I go to strike you I’ll strike them instead. Despite the easy hit, I’ll need some of your help to knock them unconscious before the opportunity is given to them to retaliate.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve fought together. I’m looking forward to this.” Mareiel spoke eagerly, although her expression stayed stoic.

“Let’s keep this fight short though, huh? You know I’m not the best at healing magic, and you’re going to need a lot of it to get up and running. I’m also quite excited to meet these nieces of mine and see Jân again. The sooner we get to them, the better.” Remorlent teased once more.

“It’s a promise.”

Mareiel’s heart soared. Her head, however, spun. How had a mere few moments whirled the entire direction of her life the way she desired after appearing for so long that heartbreak and death loomed over those she cared most for like a lurking shadow? Her dear brother was truly back on her side after years of him supposedly hunting her for her life? How genuinely foolish Mareiel felt for doubting him. Many different paths than the ones she took should have been chosen, but not taking him along or attempting to parlay with him earlier were some of her biggest follies. All worries vanished with the one more tiny smile he sneaked for her as he stood.

“Rem?”

However, Mareiel then whispered his name. Not standing quiet yet, his chest jerked forward as if it had been hit from behind. She feared the soldiers had somehow grown immediately wise to their superior’s intentions and had struck him with an arrow, but the four continued to persist in their smug naivety. Remorlent caught her gaze as his expression also signaled confusion at the sudden stumble that nearly sent him kneeling again, but she barely had time to ponder the curiosity before all emotion drained from his face. The expectation for his harsh mask to temporarily return never realized. Mareiel watched as in the space of a single breath his eyes grew blank, his right hand tightened like iron on his sword’s grip, his left hand held her right shoulder even tighter, and the weapon slammed through her heart and out her back like her physical form meant nothing.

The pain set in faster than the understanding did, and Mareiel understood little. There was no time to think. Her heavy gasp as the sword plunged all the way to the hilt stuttered until the seizing of her body like a statue choked it silent. Darkness swarmed the corners of her vision more intently than ever even as her mind buzzed in a panic desperate to find a way to fix what was now broken. Shocked and unable to listen to the request, Mareiel simply stared. Her eyes remained transfixed on her brother’s as she needed an important question answered now. Why? Had she been duped so marvelously?

No answer came. With each now non-existent heartbeat, Mareiel’s fading consciousness knew less. Remorlent’s blank face was not one of cold determination. No emotion truly held him in that moment. His muscles were lax, a dull glaze was washed over his eyes, and, though they looked right at hers, they saw nothing. Her brother appeared as aware as a corpse as his hold was the lone thing from her dropping to the ground. She tried to speak his name. She tried to shake her head to cast off the nightmare. Remorlent would not kill her. He had just said so. He was going to protect them. Alar, Jân, Elle, Nika, herself, and him…all of their family except one would be together.

Mild excitement and lazy acknowledgment of the completed mission from the soldiers echoed to her ears now dimming out all. Her senses faded rapidly. She was all but deaf. She was all but blind. Lingering tears morphed her hazy sight further when Remorlent’s jaw twitched. Frozen after putting his weight into the plunge, Mareiel began to fall as his grip lessened. His grip lessened, and his eyes grew wide. He blinked several times. His head tilted in confusion as if asking what in the world she was doing. Then, slowly before all at once, intense and horrified panic enveloped his person. Remorlent’s hand flew off the grip while he inhaled sharply and failed to steady his shaking arms. The loss of support instantly thumped her to the ground, the guard of the sword pressing more firmly against her chest, and Mareiel had not the strength to look up as he began whispering in alarm.

“Mareiel? Mari?” he called to her in a frantic hush, trying and failing to get her to sit, “I-I, I didn’t mea―, I swear I…I don’t know why…”

His voice was dim. It took all her strength to focus on making out the words, and the complete theft of her vision soon did the same to her hearing.

“Let me…” Remorlent lightly grasped the sword briefly before retreating his hand, “No, that will just…I, um, I-I can fix this. Make fun of my healing all you want, but I’m goin― I…I’m going to bring you back to your children. I understand if you want me to leave after that, but…”

Mareiel heard no more of his words. The sound of Remorlent’s attempt to delusion himself that she could be saved turned into a memory. Rationality shifted into base instincts, and base instincts flickered into existence one bittersweet comfort. Energy departed from her body as fast as her life did. Her protective barrier around her family would fade within seconds. The soldiers at the very least would find them. Jân, well, perhaps she would never see her son again, but her husband…her daughters…they would be safe together in the Beyond soon.

Like the crack of a whip, the cutting of a thread froze her in fear and alarm. Her tiny hands, the fingertips cold from the constant autumn breeze, dropped the quite impressive pile of small sticks and random assortment of twigs her arms held without a second thought. Deep sun colored hair like that of gold freshly poured from a smith’s furnace unraveled further from her already heavily disheveled braid as she turned around quickly, looking this way and that. The climbing canopy of the thick forest trees obscured her vision. That normally didn’t bother her, yet now being unable to see the sky terrified her immensely.

Green eyes matching the vibrancy of the leaves still clinging to summer’s lingering nourishment set themselves curiously on the closest window of the extremely modest wooden cabin to her right. The crying of an infant reached out to meet her ears an instant later. While Elle was at her wit’s end dealing with her sister’s unending wails, this time around it proved to be a blessing. Her father, according to what she last knew, kept on struggling to repair the old crib. Jân would most likely be the one to try and comfort Nika then, and that information came together to mean that it was the perfect moment, as far as Elle’s young mind was concerned, to break the rules.

Off to the right of the house was a path. Part of it was meant to be there. Part of it wasn’t. It didn’t take long for her to pass the small clearing where they grew their food and kept their pen and hut for their two goats. It was naturally possible for Elle to see the open sky from there, but that patch of sky wasn’t nearly good enough for her current mission. The daily traveled trodden grass wide enough for two people narrowed down to a moderately touched line wide enough to belong to only one set of small feet. Getting caught happened almost on a scarily accurate fifty percent ratio, so since she’d gotten discovered last time then, surely, it was more clear than before that no problems would be experienced now.

Two minutes. The amount of time it took to walk from the front of her house to the abrupt breaking of the trees wasn’t long. Elle could travel along the whole perimeter of the barrier in about fifteen minutes. She’d tried to time it properly once, but it had been difficult to count by herself. That had been another situation that had gotten her in trouble as well. Elle couldn’t understand why her father and brother always got so angry when she reached the edge of her mother’s barrier. She certainly knew better than to step outside it. Why then would it make a difference if she was five feet within or a hundred feet within?

Her mother’s barrier was the very thing Elle was set on seeing. The fear reaching out and curling against every inch of her skin drove deeper and deeper the intense pain constricting her chest. A connection had been broken― one that she had not been aware of until it was gone. Elle worried without knowing why. She wanted to cry and didn’t understand it. Even if her father and brother did get mad at her, the mild anger was more than worth it. The lone thing that mattered was her seeing that shimmer. If the sky shimmered, then her mother was alright. If her mother was alright, then she would come back home one day. If she kept coming back home, then everything would be alright.

The breaking of the trees revealed the circular slope of the hill that reached high up into the sky, as far as Elle was concerned anyway. Her legs pounded into its grassy side as she bolted for the peak where her gaze flew upward. What the sky told her relieved the majority of her fears. There, just like it had always been, was the barrier. Not once in her life had Elle seen the sky directly. Above her had been the glassy sheen that occasionally twinkled a rainbow of colors, and it sparkled as the noon sun shone through it then. Elle even wondered if it had grown stronger. The sheen appeared thicker than before, and the doming edge of it had increased past the opposite side of the hill where it disappeared into the trees.

Well, that was that. Elle, however, stared harder up above. The pain, worry, and sense of loss remained. If nothing had happened to her mother, what then had happened? Perhaps it was merely time for her nap. Her father did always say her emotions went all over the place when she was tired, and Nika’s crying had been keeping her up through the majority of nights the past week. Content to leave the matter at that, Elle enjoyed the sight of the leafy horizon before making her way down the hill towards the path. The rapid pace she took abruptly slowed and practically halted when a sight manifested that had her considering running back in the opposite direction. Jân hadn’t been the one to comfort Nika. Her brother apparently had somehow known exactly where she had gone, and his disapproving form awaited her in the trees.

“Elle.” he called to her sternly when her feet stopped moving entirely.

With a hung head, she reluctantly complied. Jân waited with folded arms and a practice-made-perfect frown. He ignored the wind blowing his fair hair brushed with a touch of red into his eyes. Usually tied back with simple braids and left to hang no longer than the base of his neck, his lazily bound locks now falling out of their band by the light gust was a testament to the exhaustion they all faced. As tired as Jân surely was, his amber Elvanar eyes looking at her intently remained steadfast. In fact, his lack of sleep probably lent to the harsher than normal expression.

“This will be the last time I find you here,” he commanded, his voice clear and eloquent, “I am done explaining how the barrier weakens the further out it goes, and the hill is too far at its edge. You risk everyone’s safety with each little excursion you make to this place.”

“But the barrier is stronger than before! It goes into the woods now!” she proclaimed immediately with vigor.

Jân at the very least looked past her to confirm her words, but it did little other than make his brows rise in curiosity for a brief second.

“Your argument doesn’t matter. Even if mother moved the barrier a hundred miles further, it doesn’t change the fact that you once again broke the rules. They’re there for a good reason, and ignoring them, especially for the millionth time, requires consequences to follow.”

Elle pouted, and deep was her pout indeed. Her brother talked in that weird way she didn’t like. Normally his words were casual and lax, and the emphasis and air of superiority around them now signaled something. Unfortunately, that something was a something Elle couldn’t fathom. Sure, Jân was upset in an angry way, but not in a sad way. It was when he was sad that he pulled into the noble persona living as the lord Cynion’s great-grandson in the Elvanar capital of Marmaírein gave him. Jân denied it, of course, but it was something their mother pointed out from time to time. When the moments came where he had cheered up, she would explain that holding on to a bit of their heritage was not a bad thing. Mareiel would usually then tease that Jân had to be grateful for the good face the various lines of his noble ancestry had given him. With straight lines where they were most needed and smooth corners to round out the sharpness, even at the awkward transition period where his body debated between being a child and being a man starting to form he emanated a striking presence whether he wanted to or not.

“Let us start by returning home. You can finish your chore of collecting kindling, and we’ll see what appears fitting after that.” Jân continued.

He held out his hand for her to take, but Elle wholly ignored it. With a huff, she folded her arms as he had his and marched forward down the path without pause.

“Elle.” Jân reprimanded.

Like that would do anything. What did he want? Given that the barrier now seemed as thick on the edges as it did in the middle, Elle considered her jaunt to the hill perfectly acceptable. There was no reason for him to be angry anymore, and he definitely didn’t have cause to punish her. That was Alar’s job, and her brother took such a role upon himself far too often for her liking. Elle refused to accept his commands until her father’s opinion on the matter was received. Knowing how his exhaustion had him wanting the two of them to simply get along and not bicker, it was a good bet that he would tell Jân to just let the rule breaking go.

Still, the more she did to appease whatever irritation Alar might have the better off she was. Elle’s gaze searched the ground furiously. Having such a small area to search often meant finding wood for the fire was one of the more difficult tasks they faced. In truth, they did not live in total isolation. The town of Whitemill sat approximately twenty miles west at the edge of the massive forest in which their cabin hid. Alar went there in disguise for supplies and food when they could not gather or grow enough themselves. The trips worried Elle immensely as the fear naturally resided within her that there was always the chance he might not come back. However, Elle also awaited the times Alar insisted he go, for he brought back treats such as candy, small toys, and coloring pencils.

In any case, no journey to Whitemill would be made soon. A heavy storm two days prior dropped a plethora of usable woods to the ground where eager little hands desperate for any task to dissipate her boredom rushed around to collect the spoils. Elle filled her arms with more now so that Jân and possibly Alar were unable to complain about her shirking her chore. Jân followed behind quietly letting her work. Minutes passed, and by the time they returned to the front door his shoulders didn’t sit so stiffly. The tightness of his expression faded, and his gaze, originally set intently on his sister, wandered here and there with a distant stare. Elle dropping stick after twig when attempting to carry everything picked up on the walk with her original burden led to him abandoning his lingering annoyance and assisting her in bringing everything inside.

No word described their home better other than cozy. The cabin with wooden walls, wooden floors, and all wooden furniture was simple in design. Speed required it to be as such. Still, great care had been taken over the years to add color and intrigue to the otherwise brown palette. Paintings both purchased and created by the residents within hung the walls. Intricate designs were steadily being carved into the trim. Two small couches sat in front of a currently popping fireplace to the right where a large blue carpet cushioned the floor further back, a small dining table drew the eye back to the kitchen where a series of large windows let in the light, and two doors on the left wall led to rooms for Jân and Elle while a door on the back, currently opened, marked the entryway to her parents’ resting chamber. Cries came from within, and Elle sighed with relief when Jân did nothing more than place his armful down for her to put in the kindling box before making his way towards the source of the noise.

Loving the crackling and sizzling of the fire, Elle snuck tossing several of the smaller twigs onto the pile. More rules had her not allowed to tend to the fireplace in any way, even sweeping out the ashes, but most days she found ways to tip toe around those. The rest of the kindling found itself properly in the box off to her right. Then…Elle sat. She curled her legs under her and let the calm licks of fire smoothly dancing transport her away. Elle didn’t think of whether or not Jân might be telling her father about her journey to hill at this very moment. She didn’t think of her sister’s crying or her previous excitement about getting to eat the last piece of her stash of candy for dessert tonight. Elle cared nothing for her weariness, the mild hunger in her stomach beginning to grow, or the slight sources of dirt on her shoes she should have cleaned more properly before coming inside.

She sat, and she recalled her memories of the past months. Being pregnant with Nika had kept her mother home for the longest amount of time Elle had known, and Elle had never been happier. Before then, two weeks…maybe three. That’s how long Mareiel would stay before she would disappear for at least a month or more. It wasn’t alarming to have her be away for two or even three. Once she waited four months before returning. Her mother had had to butter Elle up with a plethora of sweets and moments of just the two of them before Elle forgave her for being away for so long. Elle thought now that she wouldn’t require such a thing again. Her father and mother had promised they would be moving when Mareiel returned next. They would go to big city where she could run about all she wanted. She could go to school, she could make friends, and she would even be able to swim in the ocean. Elle had never swum before. The brook where they got their water wasn’t big enough for that.

It didn’t matter if her mother spent more time gone than normal. Elle would welcome her with open arms if it finally meant there was a chance that she could stop having to journey about Lerathian to distract the bad Elvanar. All the times her mother sat with her in front of the fire brushing and braiding her hair before bed, that could happen every night. The long walks they took around the small circle inside the barrier could become long walks down brightly colored streets where Mahon flew in the sky and brought to life wondrous magic on every street corner. Picnics had by the farm could be grand parties full of people, dancing, and music. Elle was scarcely able to imagine half of what any of that was like, yet she tried. She tried, she hoped for it to happen soon, and she failed to beat back the sense of loss that struck even more powerfully than before.

When did she start crying? Elle didn’t realize until a torrent of tears tickled her nose and cheeks that her emotions broke free. The more she dreamed of happy times the harder she sobbed. The more adamantly she beat back against the control of the heartbreak surging within her chest the more painfully it dug at her mind. It didn’t matter if the barrier remained in the sky. It made no difference if it grew a hundred times stronger. Mareiel was gone. Never again would she come home, and somehow Elle knew that without a doubt. The darkness of the broken connection taunted her with the aching truth as if it sung a haunting lullaby. It cared not for her grief or desperation. It echoed to her its song, and it remained.

“Elle?”

A different voice called. Her father emerged from the door Jân entered. Tall and sturdily built thanks to his craft, carpentry and woodworking, he appeared more intimidating than he was by nature, which was that of a gentle one. His face strong in shape grew soft with every slight smile and his usual calm laugh. A head of thick but appropriately contained hair Elle liked to call caramel colored matched well with the green eyes she had inherited from him. His rounded ears poked through the layers to remind her of her own that barely had a point on them at all. His skin had been tanned by his constant work on their farm, a touch of scruffy beard had begun to grow ever since Nika’s birth, and he stood shoeless with only his simplest pair of pants and shirt worn at the moment. The instant he spotted her tears he was next to her by the fire. With a tender smile he sat, shifted her into his lap, and cuddled his arms around her. Elle found herself unable to glance up. Her eyes remained transfixed on the fire, as she was too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“Worried about getting in trouble? Jân told me you went off to the hill.” he spoke a proposal for her upset state.

She shook her head at that, and her tears slowed as he brushed them away from her cheeks. His familiar hold never failed to calm her, even if it didn’t prove quite as effective in this instance.

“What’s wrong then, dear?” he wondered, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I miss mama,” Elle offered a deceptive though true statement before sniffling and adding, “And I’m tired.”

“Ah, well, one of those things will be easier to fix. It doesn’t seem as if I’ll be able to fix the crib considering I don’t have half the proper tools or materials I need, but giving up on that allowed me to make a makeshift bed that has appeased her in the meantime. With Jân’s help, I believe we finally got her settled down for a good rest.”

It was true. Elle hadn’t noticed, but the shrieking crying had ceased.

“Now seems a good time for a big glass of heated chocolate milk and a deep rest for us all,” Alar hugged her tighter before bending to see her face better, “And about your mother, I know I cannot stop you from missing her. I know I cannot stop you from worrying. Both things I have failed to do myself. However, it’s all going to be more than alright soon. You mother will be back in little more than a week. Then we’ll reach Hafen, and you’ll be free to climb as many hills as you want. I heard a rumor the last time I went to Whitemill that one of their Supports has discovered an easy way to allow one to breathe temporarily underwater. Imagine swimming in that crystal sea then while being able to do such a thing. I would love to try it, and I’m sure I can convince Mareiel to let you join me. Doesn’t it sound like the most marvelous time we’ll have?”

Elle nodded, which was another half lie. It did sound marvelous, but Elle couldn’t be truly excited. The cruel mist swarming her chest that screamed her mother wouldn’t return didn’t dissipate even in her father’s presence. However, unlike how things usually went, her mouth didn’t open to tell him her fears. She couldn’t rely on him for the first time in her life, and the certainty that Alar wasn’t able to fix this broke her natural, childlike naivety that her father could do anything with a resounding, fierce snap. No matter how tight he held her, Elle felt alone. She shivered and snuggled deeper against his chest regardless.

“You’ve done a wonderful job gathering the kindling, I see, but it has made your fingers cold,” he changed the subject, easily containing her tiny, chilled hands in his large, warm ones, “I must finish those new gloves for you soon, but I remain quite, well, bad at knitting, sewing, and the like. Perhaps it would make more sense for me to simply purchase some in Whitemill.”

“No,” Elle immediately shot down, now turning her head to look right at him, “Mama said the bad Elvanar were close. They might find you if you go out now.”

“It has been enough time for her to lure them farther away. Besides,” he sighed, “I’m afraid I won’t have a choice either way. Neither Mareiel nor I expected her to leave so soon. We have milk to fed Nika for another two days perhaps, but after that we will have nothing. It’s either I make a quick trip or I let her starve. I think it’s safe to say we’d all prefer the first option.”

Once more, she said nothing and only pressed harder into her father’s embrace. The additional worry she could lose him as well certainly did not do anything to help. Alar met her frustrated pout with one last squeeze and another soft kiss.

“Come, we best get in as much of that nap as possible. Let’s get you tucked under your covers, I’ll bring you your milk, we can enjoy our cups together, and we’ll pull out that board game Jân likes so much after we are refilled on energy. I’ll make us a great late lunch too.” he planned cheerfully.

He smoothly scooped her up with him as he stood. Elle buried her face into his shoulder as he carried her to her room, several persistent tears still burning the corners of her eyes.

Wispy clouds coated patches of the star filled sky, but nothing would keep back the milky light of the bursting full moon. Elle stared at it from her open window as she listened to sounds both within and without. Jân had gone to bed some time ago. At the very least, he was in his room. Elle often found him reading late at night or sneaking pieces of broccoli, which she didn’t understand. He was the only one who liked the vegetable. The lone reason Alar grew it was for its nutritional value. Jân could take the whole bundle to his room to eat, and no one would complain.

Her father definitely was asleep. If he didn’t have her or Jân to tend to, he conked out without problem the second Nika was content. A bout of crying had broken the night silence about half an hour ago, but the noise thankfully hadn’t lasted long. Elle rest her head against her arms folded on the windowsill. The flowery scent from the washing cube lingered on her hands. The tiny cube Mareiel had bought that added a floral scent to water and supposedly completely refreshed the skin if the merchant who sold it to her was honest was the last from the bag she’d taken home to gift to her. Elle had meant to save it until her mother returned, for Elle liked to use them when they could both wash their faces and hands before bed together. However, more than anything else Elle needed whatever made her feel like Mareiel was still there.

Unfortunately, the nap had done little. It gave her energy enough to prevent more tears the rest of the day, but Elle’s mood had not brightened. Poor Alar had done everything to make it do so though― even giving her some candy from his own private stash. It bothered her immensely that he appeared rather dejected by his failure to make her smile by the time he left the room after tucking her in bed proper for the night. However, Elle couldn’t help it. She would love to cheer up, but the horrible feeling that struck her midday had not departed one bit. It tossed and tumbled within her, and sometimes it burned and stung. It backed away enough to make her think it was simply her being silly only to strike back with a vengeance.

It did such a thing now. Almost asleep, Elle awoke when a terrifying vision flashed behind her closed eyes. Mareiel’s hopeful expression contorted in agony before her eyes went dark in a way Elle had never seen. That had almost gotten her running to her father in fright, but something prevented her from making it past the door. Perhaps she didn’t want to see his sad face again. Maybe she wanted to avoid that feeling of knowing how wrong he was when he told her it was alright. Annoyed, Elle huffed out one of the long sighs Jân had been giving Alar as of late. Her finger tapped the wood of the sill lazily as she contemplated both everything and nothing all at once.

What could she do? What was the truth? Elle merely wanted someone to tell her that. She was only seven and a half as her mother never failed to remind her when Elle brought up her age. A young child, she knew nothing aside from others telling her everything. To handle this on her own, the mere idea barely entered the distant edge of her thoughts. Somehow, it would be taken care of on its own, right? Alar or Jân would say something to make her feel better, the heartbreak would go away, or, the most desired option, Mareiel would walk through the front door a week or so later to prove the whole ordeal a random delusion of her mind.

Perking up for the first time, Elle decided she would be able to sleep if she broke the rules even more than before. Mareiel always promised that Elle could trust her. The solution that came to her worked off that. Elle would trust her mother. Mareiel had said if there barrier was up, she was fine. If the barrier was up, she would come home. If Elle saw the barrier again now, that would be the end of her troubles. Her mother would be returning, and the bad thoughts couldn’t make her believe otherwise. Unwavering determination allowed her to lift herself up on the sill after a small jump, and Elle smoothly shifted around to jump out the other side of the window. The cold ground tingled her bare soles with its icy touch. Elle rushed forward far too fast to notice.

Night did nothing to hinder her movement. The moon shone the path before her like a beacon urging her faster. She passed the farm. She passed the goat pen. The trees looming seemingly taller than ever formed a fence that prevented any chance of wandering, and they broke away as if they were a curtain to a grand reveal. Her heavy breathing brought on by the sudden sprint huffed out like little puffs of clouds. However, they halted when a surprising something caught her attention before she could catch a glimpse of the barrier in the sky. Elle wasn’t alone. There, under the pillars of moonlight, on top of the hill sat a figure.

Crouching down, Elle steadily and stealthily crept up the damp, grassy slope on all fours. Her first thought had her thinking the figure was her mother, but by the space of her next breath Elle realized the form didn’t come close to matching Mareiel’s. It was much smaller and not female, and when Elle crawled close enough to the top she mentally smacked herself for being curious and a tad suspicious. The figure was simply Jân. Her brother sat perfectly motionless with no apparent signal giving away he’d noticed her. His head tilted almost painfully as his eyes, the bright amber still visible even in the darkness, never blinked as he took in the sight of the twinkling sky.

“Jân?” Elle spoke his name in confusion.

With a jolt, he lurched forward in surprise. To his credit, he recovered quickly as well.

“Don’t you say a thing about me being here. You’ve also snuck out to the hill too.” he commanded, the darkening of his cheeks the thing not visible in the night.

“I don’t care if you come here,” Elle shrugged, “But why are you here?”

“The same reason I’m sure you are.”

His answer was hardly more than a whispered mumble. His head whipped away, but not before Elle caught sight of something rare. Tears no longer currently fell from Jân’s eyes, but his cheeks were wet with them. Not once had Elle ever seen her brother cry for real. There had been the times where she accidentally hurt him a bit more than intended when play fighting or when he laughed so hard his eyes welled up, yet that had been it. Jân simply grew quiet when he was sad and withdrew into himself. Seeing him emotional now alerted her that something was deeply wrong.

“Why are you crying?” she wondered, walking around quickly to stand before him.

Jân gave up on hiding the truth, and he wiped his face dry as best as possible.

“I have to answer again with it’s the same reason you were crying yourself. It’s the same reason you’ve been so moody today.”

Elle frowned and awaited more explanation. Jân stared seriously up at her before patting the ground in front of him. She took the offered seat on the grass.

“You know that for those who use magic, the Elvanar and the Mahon, that we don’t use a source inside us, but instead channel the energy of Lerathian through us, right?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Elle answered brightly, “And that we can’t use magic here because it makes us visible through the barrier.”

“That is true. That part doesn’t have much to do with what’s happened though,” Jân noted, “What I need to tell you focuses on the innate connections that form between magic users.”

“What’s ‘innate’ mean?”

“Oh, uh, it means that it happens on its own or it’s something someone is born with.”

“Oh, okay.” Elle nodded.

“Anyway, the world’s energy supports, well, the world. The grass, the trees, every bush, every flower…everything that’s not a person like us or an animal, the great circle of power below us feeds. However, for the Elvanar and Mahon, because we can connect to that power and use it, a small touch of that power constantly flows through us too. We don’t need it to live, but it’s still there. Does that make sense so far?”

Elle nodded.

“Alright, so, as we have that touch of power, when two magic users are around each other long enough their powers begin to mix. Think of it like swirling two of your paints together. Once white and red become pink, you can’t separate them into white and red again. Instead of color, it’s basically as if an invisible thread is created between the two. It might get pulled really far, but it never breaks no matter how distant the people are.”

“Is that how the bad Elvanar are trying to find us?” Elle questioned.

“I’m not aware of it being possible to track someone through the connection since it’s such a faint thing, but perhaps the council in Marmaírein has found a way. I don’t know. I mean, we still don’t even know how they found out about you in the first place.” Jân sighed.

He opened his mouth to continue, but rapidly closed it. He grew unable to meet her eye, and instead of fiddling with the grass as he had been he took her hands in his and tenderly fiddled with her fingers instead. The wet sheen in his stare hadn’t disappeared for a moment.

“I said the connection can’t break even if the people are far apart, but the thread can break.” he pressed forward softly and with difficulty.

“How?”

“Mother and I are connected, of course,” his voice grew even softer, “You have shown that you’ve inherited the ability to wield magic, so you two are connected as well. That’s why…heartbreak has entered your chest. That’s why you’ve felt so upset. The connection breaks when there’s no longer a matching source to keep it tethered. The connection breaks when one of the people die. When the thread is cut, everyone attached to that person can feel it. They know the moment it happens.”

Jân’s words tumbled out of his mouth weakly. His shoulders sunk as reality was spoken aloud for the first time, and both his and Elle’s hands ceased their movement.

“Mama’s dead?” Elle repeated quietly into the crisp night wind whipping around them.

Jân nodded a dismal nod. His head dropped down as if an immense weight clawed into his back. No movement came from his chest as he held his breath tightly to dam his emotions back against the harshness of the world.

“But…but, no!” Elle cried in equal parts desperation and anger, “Mama can’t be dead! The barrier is still up!”

As if answering her will, the barrier, glowing instead of sparkling in the night’s light, shone a brighter sheen. The glassy dome seemed to pulse with renewed radiance.

“That’s why I’ve been sitting here,” Jân spoke, his tone dry and cracked, “I’ve been waiting for it to fall. Mother was powerful. Perhaps she found a way to make it last for a time after her passing, but there’s no way it will remain forever. I hope it gives way soon. It makes me hope a cruel hope that I am wrong― that mother is alive. However, I know she’s not. I know I will have to tell father in the morning, and I know that it will devastate him. He’s so exhausted. The only reason he’s been cheerful at all is because he’s relieved that we’ll finally be making our way to Hafen. Yet…without mother, we’ll never make it past the Elvanar patrolling the Mahon borders waiting for us. I doubt we can even make it to Bluefell at this point.”

“We’ll be fine!” Elle retorted, standing up and stomping her foot, “The barrier’s up! The barrier’s up because mama is not dead! She’ll be back home just like she said, and we’re all going to live in Hafen together!”

Tears, immediate and thick, poured down her cheeks once more. Jân didn’t bat an eye at her sudden rage. He merely stared at her sadly.

“Elle, come here.” he offered, holding out his arms for her to sit on his lap.

She didn’t. A searing glare set on her face shot at her brother. Elle backed away from his arms while shaking her head furiously. Mareiel wasn’t dead. Elle refused to believe it. No one would tell her otherwise. The standing barrier had given Elle her answer, and she would go back to bed and sleep soundly. If needed, she would tell Jân he was wrong again if he tried to tell their father his crazy belief, and Elle would assist in preparing to pack for their journey north.

Jân stretched his pleading hand further out. More tears pooled down her face, and Elle left her brother behind as she darted past him, down the hill, and into moon lit path towards their tiny cabin.