《A Woeful Melody》


 Maiden Singing to the Stars

    Silver hair shining,


    Maiden singing to the stars.


    Awestruck, I stood still


    Listening.


    Heart breaking.


    A song of woeful melody,


    Rhyme belittled and embittered,


    Powerful despite its sorrow.


    Breathless


    I couldn¡¯t look away


    My eyes caught in a melancholic embrace.


    She opens her eyes and I realize how far from the trees I¡¯ve wandered. She doesn''t seem embarrassed in the slightest, as she stares at me.


    I meet her eyes. They¡¯re a dark green, a striking color unlike anything I¡¯ve seen before. They¡¯re slightly downcast at the edges, giving her an almost permanent expression of melancholy. My heart beats quicker in my chest. Her hair is caught in a light breeze and floats about her head like a halo. I stand silently, afraid to move and too heartbroken by her song to speak. What can I say after such a forlorn demonstration?


    "I am Gwynn," she states, her soft voice carrying across the clearing, steady and strong. Without another word she turns and walks away. I watch her disappear into the forest, my eyes tracing her luminous hair until it¡¯s fully engulfed by the shadows. A few minutes after her departure, I¡®m still standing in the glade, until the sound of animals rustling through the undergrowth rouses me. Quickly, I make my way back through the forest, not knowing how far I ventured from the safety of the barrier. All the while, my thoughts keep repeating her name, Gwynn. Gwynn. Gwynn.


    It isn¡¯t a name I¡¯ve heard before, but still, it seems familiar somehow. After realizing that attempting to remember anything is futile, I simply push the name aside. The better question is: Where did she come from, and why?


    She definitely didn¡¯t live in the village, but then how was she alive? The barrier is the only protection from the monsters that roam the countryside, and only church leaders can travel between villages. My thoughts are occupied completely, and I realize with a start that I¡¯m already at the edge of the forest. I keep to the outskirts of the village, circling to the east.


    Eventually I see the church, made of stone and rising four stories into the sky. The entrance is an enormous double door of wood, ten feet tall and eight feet across, reinforced with iron bands. It dwarfs all the other wooden structures that serve as homes to the majority of people. I walk along the outside of the church, until I see a squat wooden house, made of roughly hewn logs. The fact that it¡¯s still standing is a miracle in itself.


    Entering through the doorway, my master is sitting upright on his bed of hay. He is a balding man of later years, his hair thin and white. He wears his plain brown robe like usual, tied with a piece of twine around his waist. He looks up sharply, and seeing it¡¯s me, rises to greet me with a stern expression.


    ¡°Where in Loriana¡¯s blessed name did you go? I thought you were just collecting berries? You almost missed curfew.¡± His tone is intended to be sharp, but it ends up sounding worried more than anything.


    ¡°Sorry, Tef. I ended up lost.¡± Close enough to the truth. He sighs deeply, then smiles.


    ¡°At least you made it back alright.¡± I give him a small smile in return. Tef is the best type of person. Gentle, thoughtful, and above all else, kind and generous. Though it is forbidden, he always finds a way to sneak out some of his food from the church dining hall to give to hungry families. It worries me that he¡¯s getting thinner all the time, but I never say anything because when he gets back from delivering the food, he always has a large grin plastered on his face. He had told me once that it was his greatest joy in his life to give to others.


    ¡°We have to do a lot of copying for the church records tomorrow, so make sure to get to sleep soon,¡± Tef says as he lies back down on his bed. The room is barely big enough for both of us to sleep in, but there¡¯s a roof over our heads and something soft to sleep on, which is more than can be said for everyone.


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± I say as I lay down onto the hay. It¡¯s fully night by now, and in the darkness I lay awake, my mind still occupied by Gwynn. I look over to where Tef is, but can¡¯t make out much in the darkness.


    ¡°Hey, Tef? You awake still?¡± I ask quietly.


    ¡°Yes. What is it?¡± He replies after a breath.


    ¡°Is there truly nothing beyond the barrier?¡± There is a period of silence, long enough that I begin to wonder if he¡¯s fallen asleep or is politely ignoring me.


    ¡°Yes...all there is outside the barrier is danger. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I was just wondering why I¡¯ve never seen a demon before.¡± I lie. And why there was a woman whom I¡¯ve never met before.


    ¡°That¡¯s because the wards are doing their job, thanks to the blessing of the Church and our patron saint Loriana. That¡¯s all you need to know, so just be happy that you¡¯re alive and safe.¡± That was the response that I expected. I¡¯ve asked the question before, and always gotten the same answer. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°You¡¯re right Tef. Thanks for reminding me.¡±


    ¡°Good, now get to sleep and talk no more about this.¡± I turn onto my side and close my eyes. In my head, I keep running over the image of the woman. Her song filled my head and made my heart ache in remembrance of it. Why was she so sad? Is it because she lives outside the village and isn¡¯t protected like we are? That¡¯s all I can think it could be. It doesn¡¯t make sense though. My thoughts eventually quiet down enough so sleep can take me. As I¡¯m drifting away, I hear the woman¡¯s voice again, but this time in a brighter, more cheerful tone.


    ¡°Diqan. Diqan. Wake up.¡± The sound of Tef¡¯s voice calling me, wakes me up. I open my eyes and see him stretching out the kinks from sleep. Dawn light streams into the room from the one window, it¡¯s shutters opened wide to allow it passage. Was that a dream, or a memory? The thought excites me, as I haven¡¯t been able to remember anything before I woke up in the church infirmary.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you smiling so early in the morning?¡± Tef asks. I realize that I am indeed smiling. I suppress it for now.


    ¡°No reason. Just happy to be alive and safe another day.¡± Tef smiles.


    ¡°True enough. Now let¡¯s say our prayers.¡± We hold each other¡¯s hands and close our eyes.


    ¡°Loriana, great protector and holy saint , continue to watch over us and keep us safe from all the evils in this world. We thank you for the blessing that you have granted us, and we will work each and every day to further your cause and proclaim your name on high for all the world to see.¡±


    ¡°Uten.¡± We say it together, as we do every day. Once finished, we walk to the church. It¡¯s doors are wide open now and we enter, bowing our heads at the shrine just inside the entryway. The main room is the congregation room, where all the services are held. Wooden benches line the room front to back, with one aisle in the center and one on each side next to the walls. At the far end, the floor rises into stairs, with a lectern sitting on the top, far above the benches. There is an enormous window taking up most of the wall, made of colored glass. It depicts Loriana as a beautiful, black-haired woman wearing a white robe, watching over the village, covered in a dome stretching from the holy wards.


    Just seeing it brings to mind all the lectures that the Head Priest gives from the lectern about the evils of the world beyond the wards. He reinforces again and again that only death awaits us beyond the protection of Loriana. If that¡¯s true, then how is that woman still alive?


    The thought hits me unexpectedly, and it strikes me that it is sacrilegious to question the preaching of the church. I turn to say something to Tef, when I realize that he isn¡¯t beside me anymore. I look around, but don¡¯t see him anywhere.


    ¡°Hello, Diqan.¡± I turn to the voice and see Ferron. He has just turned eighteen, the same age as me, but he still looks fourteen. He¡¯s short, with a boyishly round face, long black hair, and almost feminine facial features. He¡¯s wearing the dark blue robes that identify him as an aide to the Grand Amon.


    ¡°Hello, Ferron.¡± I say politely. ¡°Have you seen Tef?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t. And I haven¡¯t come to simply say hello. You¡¯re to accompany me to the Grand Amon¡¯s chambers.¡±


    ¡°Really? Me? Do you know why?¡± I ask, concerned. I can¡¯t bring to mind a single time the Grand Amon has requested to see anyone, especially someone at such a low standing as me.


    ¡°Sorry, I was only told to fetch you.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I say meekly, already praying to Loriana that this won¡¯t be as bad as it seems. Ferron leads the way up a set of stairs. Up three sets of stairs, everything is normal, but there is a pair of guards blocking our way up the fourth. They wear suits of chainmail, have metal helmets, and carry short swords on their waists. As we approach they give Ferron a nod and move aside for us to pass through. I can¡¯t help but stare. Isn¡¯t this a bit overboard? Who would attack the Grand Amon? As we walk past, I notice the guards giving me sympathetic looks, which only aides to further my concerns.


    There¡¯s a marked difference upon reaching the fourth floor. In the lower floors, where the walls were modestly decorated with the crest of Loriana, now hang masterful paintings depicting Loriana and her followers, slaying beasts as large as buildings. In addition, thick rugs cover the stone floor, and evenly spaced through the hallway are windows with yellow glass. Sunlight filtering through tints everything in a soft yellow light, similar to the horizon at dawn. There is only one doorway at the end of the hall, which we walk towards. I brace myself for what awaits me beyond it. Loriana, patron saint of protection, thank you for your blessing, and please watch over me in these troubling times.


    Ferron opens the door and motions me inside. I take a deep breath before walking in with my head bowed. I keep my eyes on the carpet and wait patiently to be acknowledged.


    ¡°Raise your head.¡± It¡¯s a woman¡¯s voice, firm but gentle. The Grand Amon is a woman? I look up at the command. The Grand Amon has long hair as black as coal, and piercing yellow eyes. She is sitting in an ornate wooden seat behind an enormous desk. She looks younger than I ever could have imagined, with only a few wrinkles around her eyes. Her robe is the traditional dark blue, though hers is adorned with white beads along the seams. She smiles kindly at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming this came as a surprise? Few ever see me and none ever expect to find a woman.¡± I remain silent, not sure if I have permission to speak. ¡°Don¡¯t be so timid. Feel free to speak your mind.¡± She folds her hands on her desk, and waits.


    ¡°I thank you for blessing me with your presence,¡± I say quickly and bow my head again. What does she want me for? She sighs.


    ¡°Oh well, I suppose we should discuss why you were summoned here.¡± Her smile falters and her eyes harden. ¡°I was woken last night by a signal from the north ward. It seems someone had left the protection of the barrier.¡± My breath catches and my hands begin to tremble. I clasp them together to try and hide their shaking. ¡°Usually, this would be seen as a crime punishable by stoning; however,¡± she smiles again, though it seems brittle compared to the previous one, ¡°I know how hard you work at the library, and I understand that you must have made a mistake, so I¡¯ll let this transgression go for now.¡± I feel a weight lift from my shoulders, and my breath comes easier.


    ¡°Thank you so much, your holiness.¡± I say, truly grateful for her kindness.


    ¡°I only have two more questions before you go, Diqan.¡± She stands up and walks around the desk to where I¡¯m standing. She is tall, taller than me by half a foot. She puts a hand on my chin and tilts my head up to look her in the eyes. ¡°What did you see out there?¡± She asks, not letting go of my face. Her yellow eyes, lupine in nature pins me in place, so that I can¡¯t move nor speak.


    ¡°So you did see something,¡± she muses aloud. She lets go of my face and takes a step back, eying me critically. ¡°How¡¯s your head?¡± Her voice is filled with concern. As she mentions it, I feel my head get heavy, and nausea overcomes me. The room begins to spin, then my vision fades to darkness, and I hear a voice. I can¡¯t understand what is says, but the tone is sharp like an icicle snapping.

 Seams Unraveling

    I open my eyes and I¡¯m sitting on a cot. Three more identical cots are spaced out evenly in the room, all of them empty. I¡¯m dressed in a brown robe and I feel slightly groggy. I try to remember how I got here, or even where I am, but nothing is forthcoming. My name is Diqan. I am a bookkeeper for the church library. I¡¯ve lived alone in a small wooden hut next to the church ever since my house burned down and my family died.


    The memories flood back to me all at once. Nothing to explain how I got stuck in the infirmary though. I stand up, slightly unsteady on my feet. After regaining my balance, I walk to the one door and open it. A long corridor stretches in front of me, and no one is around. There are no doors in the hallway, nor any windows. I¡¯ve only been to the church infirmary once before, so I¡¯m unsure where to go. I walk down the hallway, my tiredness beginning to fade. As I round a corner, I almost bump into an old man. He has thinning white hair, and wears the same brown robe as me, although his hangs shapelessly off his thin frame, his face is gaunt. He wears a hollowed expression, and when he sees me, his skin pales. I don¡¯t say anything as we stare at each other. Following him, is a guard who, seeing the man¡¯s immobilization, places a hand on his shoulder. The man flinches, and looks away from me. They continue down the hallway, towards the infirmary. Why was he accompanied by a guard? I wonder to myself as I start walking again. He didn¡¯t seem like a threatening person. There was a kindness in his dull gray eyes. I shake it off. I¡¯m sure there was a reason for it. Eventually, the hallway leads into the congregation room. I sigh, relieved to know where I am now. People are walking in and out the door, always pausing to bow at the altar. I scan the throng of people looking¡­.for who? Why do I feel like I should be searching for someone? I¡¯m frozen in place, prodding at the hole in my memory.


    ¡°Diqan! It¡¯s great to see you up and about again!¡± I turn to the joyful voice. It¡¯s Tern, a jovial man that works in the kitchen. He smiles widely at me, and I return in kind, though half-heartedly as I¡¯m still disoriented.


    ¡°Good to see you too, Tern. How do you do?¡± I ask politely.


    ¡°Pleasant as always. Thanks to our Patron Saint Lorianna!¡± He declares loudly.


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡± I say, this time whole-heartedly.


    ¡°But, how about you. I heard that you fell gravely ill.¡± He lowers his voice, his smile fading slightly.


    ¡°I¡¯m...okay.¡± I finally manage, thinking of how hazy my memories are.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Tef will be glad to hear.¡± Tef? My head starts to ache, and I raise one hand to massage my temple.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Tern puts a hand on my shoulder, looking concerned. After half a minute, the pain fades.


    ¡°I¡¯m alright now.¡± I say as I stand up straight and blink the stars from my eyes. ¡°But Tern...who is Tef?¡± Instantly, Tern¡¯s eyes widen, and his eyes dart around the room. Why is he so paranoid all of a sudden?


    ¡°He..uh... works in the infirmary and was worried that you might not wake up.¡± Tern¡¯s smile returns, but it doesn¡¯t reach his eyes. I consider asking him to tell me the truth, but decide against it. For some reason, he¡¯s scared to mention anything in the main room. I¡¯ll just have to ask him in private sometime.


    ¡°Oh okay. Well, he¡¯d be glad to know that I feel almost fully recovered now.¡± I grin, hoping to set him at ease again. His smile softens to a more genuine one.


    ¡°Well, I should get going now,¡± he says and extends his hand for me to shake. ¡°It¡¯s just about time to start making lunch.¡± I grasp his hand, immediately noticing how clammy it is.


    ¡°Okay, maybe I¡¯ll stop by the kitchen sometime.¡± I say jokingly.


    ¡°Just be careful, I might have to put you to work.¡± We laugh, and part ways. I¡¯m left with a sour feeling in my stomach. Who is Tef? Why did Tern look terrified when I asked him?


    The thoughts swirl around my mind, but again, no answers are forthcoming. It feels like my life has become one giant puzzle, but with the most important pieces lost.


    I know that the only source of information I might have is Tern, and I won¡¯t be able to see him until at least dinnertime, so for now I head to the church archives, content to distract myself with my books until then.


    I stand in line, my head bowed as the Head Priest leads the prayer. For some reason, today it strikes me how absurd we must look: all of us wearing identical brown robes, hoods up, hands tented in the traditional prayer stance. Why does this seem so different now? I can only think that it must have because of the reaction that Tern had. He was scared of the church¡­..but, why?


    Once the prayer is finished, the line begins to move slowly forward. When I get to the front of the line, I pick up my tray of soup and bread. Behind the counter, I see Tern dishing out the same portion of soup into every bowl for the trays. I catch his eye, and mouth ¡°Talk to you later.¡± His usual grin is plastered on his face, and he nods in affirmation.


    The dining hall is a fairly large room, as it has to seat all the church attendants, except the highest ranking of officials and the Grand Amon. There are wooden tables with matching wooden benches, set out in evenly spaced rows. Although the hall is almost full, it¡¯s completely silent, except for the sound of spoons sliding on wooden trays. Mealtimes are supposed to be times of reverence, where you reflect on how blessed you are to have food and a safe place to eat it. I never enjoy mealtime. The abrupt quietness always seems forced and unnatural.


    I eat my meal quickly and place the tray into a bucket, for whoever got cleaning duty today. I walk around the edge of the hall, towards the kitchen. Just as I get to the door, Tern comes out and almost knocks into me. His face is a mask of joy, but something about his eyes disturbs me. He gestures to the hall door, and we exit. I wait a minute or two before I speak, to make sure my voice won¡¯t carry back to the dining hall.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to ask you a couple questions, Tern.¡± I say. His eyes dart around the hallway, and seeing that no one is around, his plastered grin fades into a perfunctory curling of the lips.


    ¡°Diqan, what would your master say to your questions?¡±


    ¡°That I should simply be glad to be safe, thanks to our Patron Saint Loriana.¡± The words come instantly, though I can¡¯t recall who I got them from. ¡°Wait, what master? I¡¯ve never had a master.¡± Tern smiles sadly.


    ¡°I really wish I could help you Diqan, but that might cost me my life.¡± What the hell is he talking about? Why would his life be in danger?


    ¡°Tern, you aren¡¯t making any sense. What do you mean? Who would threaten your life?¡± I realize that as we¡¯ve been talking, he¡¯s led us to his room. He walks inside without saying a word, and I follow, determined to get some kind of answer to one of my questions. His room is plain and simple in design. There is a cot, a wooden chair, and a wood desk. ¡°Tern, come on, we¡¯ve been friends ever since I came here. I deserve at least a response.¡± He opens the drawer in the desk and pulls out a small container, and some kind of metal tube.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, you are my friend, which is why I¡¯m not answering you. The less you know, the more innocent you are. And trust me, that¡¯s more than you can say about a lot of us.¡± He opens the container and measures a small amount of something granule on the desk. He looks me in the eyes. ¡°Diqan, you¡¯re a great kid, but you need to stop asking so many questions. You¡¯ll never be happy that way.¡± I don¡¯t say anything, perturbed by his words. He leans down with the metal tube and sucks in the substance through his nose. He coughs violently for a second or two, and when he looks at me again his eyes are cloudy. His grin is too wide for his face. I turn and walk to the door.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°See you later, Tern.¡± I say, opening the door.


    ¡°Bye, Diqan! Have a blessed day!¡± Tern answers cheerily.


    Leaving Tern¡¯s room, I stumble my way back down to the library, baffled by what I just witnessed. I remember when I would go to the back alleys and forest clearings that the homeless occupy. I would bring whatever food I could get to them, though I can¡¯t for the life of me remember where most of it came from. Every time I went, there were always a couple of people with the same clouded eyes that Tern just had. I was told on one of the trips that is was from inhaling a potent derivative of rivenwood moss. Every person that had an addiction to the stuff would end up dead sooner rather than later, and while they were alive, they were simply shells of their former selves. All the moving pieces were in place, but the emotions that create each individual were superseded by ecstasy, at least until the high wore off. Then, the only thing the person would feel is despair over losing that unnatural feeling. It was awful to watch. People would tear their hair out, or slit their wrists during their withdrawals. Nobody could come near because the person might lash out at them instead. No matter if it was brother, sister, mother, father, or lover.


    I walk down the stone steps for a long time before reaching the archives at the bottom. It¡¯s a large room with a low ceiling. Wooden bookcases that reach up to the ceiling line the edges of the room. I walk along the edge of the back wall to my desk, scattered with various books and parchments. I sit down and unceremoniously begin working. Time passes quickly, as my mind becomes a mess of copied words, half understood. Soon, the day is almost over, and I finish copying the last passage of the final book for the day and close the cover with a thud. I lean back in my seat, stretching out the kinks in my back, and release an explosive sigh. I close my eyes, reveling in the break for a few minutes.


    I just have to put this book away, then I can go for a walk. Despite everything going on today, a faint smile touches my lips at the thought and I get up. Picking up a lantern and the book, I head to a less well lit section of the library. Here, the shadows are long and the shelves are covered in dust from years of disuse. I follow the shelves down three rows, and over four columns to find the spot I pulled the book from. After replacing it, I stand up and am about to turn away when something catches my eye. In the darkest corner of the room, I can barely make out a narrow door frame set into the wall. It sits in the gap between two shelves.


    Where does this lead? I wonder. I¡¯ve never noticed it before. I walk over to it and hesitate in front. Is it off limits? Is that why I was never told about it? My curiosity gets the better of me and I try the knob. It sticks, so I turn it harder, when finally it clicks open. Pulling on the door, it doesn¡¯t make a sound. It¡¯s well oiled. Through the door is a long stone hallway, lit poorly by widely spaced lanterns. Halfway down, set into a small alcove is a set of armor, reflecting light from the lanterns. I close the door behind me and start down the hallway. There are two doors, one set across from the armor display, and another at the far end of the hall. There are no other adornments, not even the crest of Loriana. I make it to the first door, and stare at the wood. Should I go in? Aren¡¯t I trespassing right now? If I get caught in an unauthorized area, the least I¡¯ll get is no rations for a week... I might even get a belting. The thought makes my throat tighten. It¡¯s rare that someone is belted, but I¡¯ve seen it happen-once, a kid my age had somehow ended up on the Grand Amon¡¯s floor. He had bruises for weeks after, and wasn¡¯t able to look anyone in the eyes for a long time.


    Now that I think about it, what was his name? I haven¡¯t seen him in a while. I shake my head. No, focus. If I open this door, then I¡¯m truly trespassing. Maybe if I just leave now and forget that I ever found this place I¡¯ll be fine? I turn to head back, when I hear the sound of someone attempting to turn the door¡¯s lock. My breathing turns shallow and I look around wildly, thinking quickly about what to do. I try the door in front of me and it opens easily. I duck inside and quietly shut it behind me. The room is completely black, and I sit in silence, as I hear the door at the end of the hallway come open. Following it are two men¡¯s voices. One is clearly a superior.


    ¡°You dunce. You must have left the door unlocked from last time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir.¡± The first voice is harsh, while the second voice is quiet and submissive. I hear a sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll let you off this time. Just remember that if someone else were to find out about that screw up, it could cost you more than a beating.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir. Thank you sir.¡± They walk in silence, then. Their footsteps muffled through the door. I don¡¯t hear anything for a while, when suddenly one of them pounds on the door.


    ¡°How do you like the stay, friend? You gonna tell us anything soon?¡± It¡¯s the leader of the two speaking again. At first I worry he knows I¡¯m here, then I discover the truth. Someone else is in the room. I listen closely and hear a quiet wheezing breath coming from the back of the room. When the person doesn¡¯t respond, the man angrily curses under his breath, and continues down the hallway. I wait a few minutes, until I hear the sound of the other door open and close, before letting out a deep breath. I feel along the wall blindly until I find a lantern hanging. Turning the knob, the crystal inside begins to shine at the lowest setting. My eyes slowly adjust to the dim light, and the first thing I see is puddles of dried blood on the floor. I bite the inside of my cheek, and my heart beats wildly as I trace the marks back to the source. A man, gaunt and unnaturally thin is bound to a standing block of wood by his wrists and ankles. He is only clothed in a loincloth of wool. The rest of his emaciated body is crisscrossed with lacerations. There is dried blood caked to his body, and the smell of the room assaults me. How I didn¡¯t notice the overpowering stench before is nothing short of a miracle. The man¡¯s head hangs low, and his stark white hair forms a halo. He doesn¡¯t react to the light. I lean closer to look at his face.


    The whites of his eyes strike a sharp contrast to the blackness of his overly enlarged pupils. I stumble back and stifle a cry of alarm.


    ¡°Why do you keep coming? Again and again and again.¡± He laughs. A sound high pitched and inhuman. A nightmarish sound that makes me uneasy. ¡°I won¡¯t change my mind.¡± His voice is rising. ¡°It¡¯s pointless, Pointless, POINTLESS, POINT¡­¡± His voice cracks into a coughing fit. When he speaks again, it¡¯s a whisper.


    ¡°pointless...i¡¯m sorry i¡¯m so sorry i tried to protect you i swear i tried but i was taken away from you...i loved you like my own son...please forgive me diqan¡­...please forgive me¡­.¡± I watch the scene play out with horror, which only grows at the mention of my name. I stumble back a few more steps from the man.


    Surely he can¡¯t mean me, right? I don¡¯t know this man. I¡¯m sure of it. Even still, something about the timbre in his voice, though it¡¯s frail, seems to remind me of something. My head begins to pound and I rub my temples. No. Why am I attaching so much value to an old man¡¯s ramblings? Actually, an even better question is why is he here, and who would do such horrible things to him? And who is he talking about then? I don¡¯t know anyone else who shares my name. I stare at him a couple moments longer, but nothing more is forthcoming from him except incomprehensible muttering.


    I replace the lantern, shut it off, then feel along the wall until I reach the door. Placing my ear to the wood, I strain to hear anything. After a few moments, the only sound is my breathing and the old man¡¯s steady stream of delusional whispering.


    Should I risk it? The man I saw earlier insinuated something worse than a week without rations and a beating. If they learn that I¡¯ve been here, I can only imagine what they¡¯ll do to me. My hands are trembling against the door. I place my forehead on the wood and take a deep breath to try and calm myself. It¡¯s met with limited success as my hands don¡¯t quit shaking and I gag from the stench in the room.


    There isn¡¯t another choice though. Delaying doesn¡¯t do anything, except increase the likelihood that those men come back through and lock the door on their way out. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, I open the door a crack, slip out, then shut it behind me. My eyes are glued to the far end of the hallway. My ears straining to hear the smallest sounds, although my heart beats so loudly I can hear it in my head. Swallowing my fear I stride down the hall towards the archives. I reach the door and turn the knob when I hear a sound that makes me pause. The door on the far end is being opened. Time slows and for a few moments, I feel the fear in my stomach like a boulder, anchoring me in place. Then, at the sound of a voice, the boulder is washed away by a rush of adrenaline that carries me into action. I open the door, slam it shut behind me and sprint through the archives, and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Luckily, it¡¯s after work shifts, and before dinner, so the halls are clear. I burst outside and keep running until I get to my house. It¡¯s only once I¡¯m inside, door shut and windows shuttered, that I stop to breath. I fall onto my back in bed, gasping for air. I feel the adrenaline wearing off, and my mind is a mess of panic and disgust.


    Why would anyone torture that old man? Is that why Tern was paranoid about talking before? I stare at the ceiling and my breathing eventually calms. What is happening in the church? Can I even trust anyone to tell them? It¡¯s a somber thought because even though my memories of the church are short, it¡¯s the only home I have.


    The bell tolls three times, signaling dinner. I hesitate. If I don¡¯t go it might seem suspicious, but if I do go, will I be able to mask my feelings? The bell rings again and I get up slowly. My legs are weak beneath me, but I force them to be steady.

 Puzzle Pieces of the Mind

    I head to the church, amidst the other members who don¡¯t live in the church dorms. Everything seems normal as I enter the dining hall and take my place in line. It¡¯s almost completely silent like usual, with only sporadic whispering breaking the quiet.


    As the Head Priest takes his position in front of the room¡¯s podium, I feel my stomach churn violently. He raises a hand and the whispering stops. Everyone waits patiently for him to speak.


    ¡°Before we begin tonight¡¯s prayer, I must sadly bring something to your attention. One of your brothers or sisters has trespassed into a part of the church only sanctioned for the few chosen by Loriana herself.¡± His eyes sweep slowly across everyone gathered, no doubt gauging every person¡¯s reaction. I plaster concern onto my face, and my heart stops as his gaze passes over my section of the crowd. He passes me by, and I feel my heartbeat pick back up.


    ¡°We must do everything we can to bring this heathen to light, for the sake of Loriana, blessed be her name.¡± At the blessing of Loriana everyone gathered clasp their hands together and bow their heads. It¡¯s a practice usually forgotten about, except in the presence of a church official. After the announcement, the Head Priest continues into the usual prayer, then leaves us to eat in silence. My stomach still aches, and only gets worse the longer I¡¯m in the room. By the time I reach the front of the line, I feel ill. As I grab my tray, Tern smiles widely and waves at me. I manage a small, sickly smile and wave back, before turning away to find a table.


    I notice one in the back corner of the room that¡¯s mostly empty. I take a seat and say my private prayer.


    Thank you Saint Loriana for your protection. I keep the prayer short, and glance about me after I¡¯m done. Nobody pays me any mind, so even though I¡¯m not hungry, I force myself to eat my food ration of beans and barley bread.


    I take my tray to the wash bucket, and see Tern gesturing to me from the kitchen. I meet him as he exits the kitchen.


    ¡°Hello, friend.¡± He whispers merrily once I¡¯m close enough. ¡°How¡¯s your day going?¡± His grin seems too wide for his face, and his eyes stare at me deadpan.


    Is that because of the drugs? I wonder as I smile back at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m doing okay, Tern. How about yourself?¡± He takes a step closer, leaving only a foot between us.


    ¡°I¡¯m great as usual. It¡¯s another blessed day, thanks to Saint Loriana.¡± His smile fades then, and he puts his hand on my left shoulder, squeezing slightly. ¡°I just can¡¯t believe that there¡¯s a heathen among us.¡± He frowns in consternation and fixes me with a blank stare. ¡°I don¡¯t know how someone from the church could do something so blasphemous.¡± I feel my hands get sweaty, and my heart beats faster. I let the false smile fall from my face and attempt to keep my composure.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, either. It¡¯s unfathomable.¡± I try to create a tone of outrage, but to me, my voice is weak. Tern stares at me for a few seconds longer, then lets his hand fall and sighs.


    ¡°Well, I need to get back to work now.¡± His smile returns. I relax somewhat.


    ¡°Yeah, they might make you clean the bathrooms if you keep slacking off.¡± I say, and despite everything, smile at the familiarity of the exchange. We laugh quietly and clasp hands. When I try to let go though, Tern holds on firmly.


    ¡°By the way, you still work evenings in the archives, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, why?¡± I answer without thinking, then immediately understand the implications. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    They¡¯re suspicious of me...and I just admitted to being in the area around the time someone was trespassing. My throat tightens and breathing becomes more difficult. Tern loses all semblance of laughter and instead of the dead look, his eyes simply spell sorrow. I jerk my hand free of his and take a step back, now on high alert.


    No, no, no¡­.I can¡¯t believe Tern would do this? I turn away without saying anything else and leave the dining hall, trying to disguise my hurried pace, but by the time I reach the door I am at almost a jog. I make it all the way to the entrance hall before I notice a man, clad in the white robes of upper level clergy, trailing behind. Upon seeing him behind me, I freeze and we watch each other silently. His face is rough with stubble, his head bare, and his eyes a cold blue. He¡¯s imposingly tall, and his robes hang off his thin frame, catching a light breeze from the doorway. He watches me dispassionately and I begin to tremble.


    Am I going to end up like that old man? I stumble back a step and turn around to run, when I run into another man that blocks the entrance. He¡¯s almost as tall as the first man, but has softer features, and isn¡¯t as terrifying as the first. I dodge to my left and slip out the church doors. I run through the streets, tripping over my robes and falling twice. I don¡¯t dare look behind me to see if the men chase after me, and eventually, I end up in an alleyway in a part of town I don¡¯t know as well.


    I search the street from the direction I came but don¡¯t see anybody. Then, I lean on the brick wall and slide down until seated. Drawing my knees up, I rest my forehead against them and shut my eyes tightly.


    What am I supposed to do now? I can¡¯t go back to work, and they know where I live. Everythings happened so quickly, and it¡¯s only now that I register how much my life has fallen apart. The bruises from when I fell throb painfully to the beat of my heart, serving as the physical manifestation of my anguish. The tears begin before I know it and I let them spill down my cheeks unchecked.


    After several minutes, I force myself to regain composure. I have to get out of town. I glance down at my robes. I¡¯m too noticeable in these. I strip them off and am left in my plain brown shirt, trousers, and  leather sandals. I leave the robes in the alley and head out of town into the forest. As I walk, I notice how light my body is without them, but I can¡¯t revel in the feeling with how heavy my mind is. Where can I go? How can I survive out here all alone?


    By now, the sun has already dipped below the horizon and the last rays of light cling to the darkening sky. As I¡¯m walking through the shadows of the towering trees and thick undergrowth, I¡¯m surprised to notice that I''m feeling relaxed. There¡¯s a silence, but a silence unlike the one that clings to the halls of the church. The quiet is natural here, not forced, and embraces everything inside it like an old friend. The church can be stifling from stagnant air and suffocating with its rules. Out here, I feel the worries and pain from before vanish. Swept away by fresh air and dusklight, I can smile for the first time today.


    It''s now that I hear something. It¡¯s faint, but it carries a soft sound, with a gentle rhythm. It¡¯s a song of mourning, and I feel it pull on the strings of my heart. Like a puppet, I move towards it, walking first, then building speed. The notes of the song work their way into the cracks in my heart, filling me with sorrow...and swirl the puzzle pieces of my mind.


    I run.


    Stumble.


    Pain: Heart, hands, knees, Mind.


    The pieces fall into place,


    One after another,


    A piece thought lost


    Connected in disharmony.


    I burst into the clearing and upon seeing her hair, kissed by starlight, and her bright eyes staring back at me, my memories deafen me. Misery overwhelms me, and I stumble two steps forward.


    Tef, my friend...loved me like a son and I didn¡¯t even recognize him. I remember my friend and mentor, I remember him raising me...I remember his lacerated body, and his hysterical laugh. My heart shatters and I stumble another step towards her.


    ¡°Gwynn,¡± is all I can manage. The edges of her lips barely lift in a melancholic smile, and she reaches to take my hand, gripping it firmly. I sob uncontrollably, not for being reunited with Gwynn, but for Tef. Images of his smile, his laugh, his kindness, flash across my mind''s eye and rack me with new pain.


    It¡¯s a long time before my tears dry.

 Reunion and Greetings

    Once my eyes are finally dry, I look up at Gwynn, this time taking note of her appearance. She wears brown trousers and a white cotton shirt. Her silver hair is tied in a braid going down her back, and her eyes are bright green, the same as when she was younger. While she isn¡¯t bulky, her shoulders are wide, and her bare arms are corded with muscle.


    ¡°What happened to you? Where did you go, and why?¡± She looks at the sky thoughtfully for several seconds before responding.


    ¡°I left. I discovered the truth, and ran away as soon as I could.¡± Her eyes drift to the ground, and her voice gets quieter. ¡°Those people are monsters. They talk of blessings and gratitude, but plan torture and travesty.¡± There¡¯s a beat of silence, and when she looks up, instead of grief, there¡¯s hatred etching her face. In the darkness her face is twisted by emotion. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill them and bring an end to that awful religion.¡± I try to wrap my mind around the idea, but find it impossible.


    I don¡¯t want to kill anyone. I just want to free Tef before he dies. Would it even be possible to beat the church? They have over two thousand devout followers. By God, they took my memories from me. What other powers could they have?


    ¡°Impossible. There¡¯s just no way that you could do that.¡±


    Gwynn clenches her jaw, barely containing her anger at my words. ¡°It¡¯s not impossible,¡± she says, her voice solid and unmovable. ¡°Don¡¯t assume I can or can¡¯t do anything. You¡¯ve been sheltered in the church your whole life. You don¡¯t know anything.¡± I¡¯m taken aback. Her words sting slightly, from the starkness of their honesty.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯re right. I¡¯m just concerned.¡± I answer weakly, not wanting to anger her further. She stares at me stiffly for a few moments longer, then her expression softens.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, just don¡¯t underestimate me again. I¡¯ve gained power beyond your knowledge.¡± Gwynn raises her hand and a light, the color of starlight, illuminates her hand and arm from the inside. It traces the webbing of her veins, ending at her elbow. I stare in open-mouthed wonder at the sight.


    ¡°How?¡± I ask breathlessly. Gwynn smiles, this time her mouth raises fully and her eyes brighten. A joyful smile, that lasts for only a moment, before assuming a more practiced form.


    ¡°Magic,¡± she states and cuts it off, ¡°I can teach you more about it later. Right now, we should get moving. They might be able to track us down from that display.¡± Gwynn starts moving away, and when I don¡¯t move to follow, she stops.


    ¡°Come on. The quicker we get past the barrier, the better.¡± I still hesitate.


    I don¡¯t have anywhere else to go...but I¡¯ve never thought about leaving the town before. Isn¡¯t it dangerous outside the barrier? Gwynn walks back to me, and places a hand on my arm.


    ¡°Listen, I get the feeling you went through something disturbing recently. You have that look about you.¡± Her eyes are sympathetic, and I nod my head slowly, afraid to speak, or else I might break down in tears again. ¡°I understand your fear and confusion, but it¡¯s too late to turn back now. You have to keep moving forward now, even if you¡¯re scared.¡± She squeezes my arm, lets go, and walks into the forest.


    I swallow the lump in my throat, clench my jaw, and follow her into the woods.


    _______________


    I should be happy that his memories came back, and I am, but I also feel guilty. I could have let him continue living his life as a bookkeeper. He was happy and safe...


    ...but to what end? We would come to face the church in a few years. By then, they could have made him a priest, and then there would be no saving him. We¡¯d have to kill him. This is better, even though it causes him pain. I stop and turn to look at Diqan. His jaw is sharp, a birthmark devoid of all coloring covering his left cheek, from jawline to the side of his eye. His hair is black and short and he has broad shoulders, though not quite filled out. His eyes are level with mine, dark green and close set. Were he a different person, they would seem penetrating; however, spend any time with him and you immediately realize, he exudes caution and innocence.


    ¡°It¡¯s not much farther ahead. Don¡¯t be surprised if you¡¯re met with hostility, there aren¡¯t many of us, and everyone here has reason to be cautious of strangers, especially those who¡¯ve been a part of the church for so long.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll let you do most of the talking, then.¡± I nod and move on.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll explain the circumstances.¡± As we keep walking forward, I feel the barrier surrounding the camp. I raise my hands to the barrier, feeling the rhythm the energy forms. It takes me a few seconds, but I find the counterpoint to it and allow my vitality to leak into the barrier. ¡°Follow right behind me.¡± I say, as a doorway opens for us to pass. Diqan follows behind me, looking closely at the barrier. Once we¡¯re both through I allow the doorway to close behind us.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Diqan asks, raising a hand to the almost invisible barrier. I slap his hand away.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch it.¡± I say sternly, then I add in a softer voice, ¡°I don¡¯t want to set off the alarms.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. What are the things moving in it?¡± I raise my eyebrows at him.


    ¡°Well, you do have an aptitude for this. That¡¯s the vitality I mentioned before. The fact that you can see it is good.¡± He looks pensive. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°There¡¯s a pattern to it.¡± He noticed that?


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty damn perceptive,¡± I observe aloud. He smiles shyly at the compliment, his eyes not quite meeting mine. ¡°Anyways, let¡¯s go meet everyone.¡± I lead him deeper into the forest until the trees thin out and it opens into a clearing. The grass has been stomped down to make it flat for sleeping on. Three campfires are spread about the clearing, the light dimming in the late hours. Small lean tos are grouped together in fives, a safe distance from each fire. There¡¯s ten feet around the outside of the camp left open and immediately upon entering the clearing, I raise my hand and illuminate our symbol on my hand, a downturned dagger. The man on watch closest to us, walks up to me.


    ¡°Welcome back, sister.¡± Byron puts out his hand, and I grasp it.


    ¡°And I¡¯m glad to be back, brother.¡± He glances at Diqan behind me, and purses his lips. I feel his hand tense up. I let his hand go, then gesture to Diqan. ¡°This is my friend, Diqan. Recently, he¡¯s been freed from the church¡¯s grip.¡± I say it loudly, so that everyone by the fire can hear. They stand and make their way towards us. Forming a half-circle, I sense hostility in their postures, as their silence stretches out.


    From between two tents, a middle aged woman with long black hair braided back and narrowed eyes, enters the half-circle. She wears the same plain brown trousers and white shirt as the rest of us, and her stance is proud. ¡°Who is this stranger you''ve brought to our camp?¡± Cerc demands. Her eyes are piercing.


    Of course Cerc would be the one to challenge us.


    ¡°As I just stated, he is a friend, who has discovered the atrocities of the church firsthand and decided to leave that world behind.¡± Cerc stares at Diqan sharply, and he can¡¯t meet her eyes. At least he doesn¡¯t look threatening, though I wish he wouldn¡¯t act like that. It¡¯s as if he¡¯s afraid to be noticed. Cerc looks back at me.


    ¡°Is he willing to put his life on the line, willing to sacrifice it to take down the church?¡± I¡¯m at a loss. I want to say yes, but I can¡¯t know for sure. I look towards Diqan and see him clench his fists. Taking a step forward, he stands up straighter and while he still doesn¡¯t meet Cerc¡¯s eyes, his presence improves dramatically. Everyone¡¯s eyes are on him as he gathers his thoughts.


    ¡°I watched a man who I loved like a father lose his mind to torture. My only friend in the church betrayed me out of fear for what they might do to him.¡± His voice is unsteady, but he continues. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll do whatever I can to prevent these things from happening again, to anyone else.¡± He seems to deflate after saying his piece.


    Glancing around the circle, I see most people nodding their heads or staring at Diqan with empathy. Cerc looks around, and after gauging their reactions, speaks.


    ¡°It seems your convictions are in line with ours. I¡¯m sorry you had to go through that.¡± Her eyes are still hard, despite the softness of her words. She takes a step forward and raises her hand for Diqan to shake. ¡°Welcome to the family, brother.¡± She smiles and Diqan hesitantly takes her hand.


    Playing to the crowd like always. She¡¯s weak. Only caring about her position as leader. Once Cerc formally accepts Diqan into the group, the rest of the people scatter back to their fires. Before heading to join my friends at the fire, I lead Diqan toward my tent. It sits back in the group of five farthest from where we entered. I head inside and rummage in my rucksack for a few moments before pulling out brown trousers and a white cotton shirt.


    ¡°Here.¡± I say, handing them to Diqan. He takes them meekly.


    ¡°Are they going to fit me?¡± I eye him again and shrug.


    ¡°They were too large for me, so they should fit you.¡± I leave the tent to let him change, and a minute or two later, he comes out. The clothes fit him perfectly, which I can only attribute to his lack of athleticism. From years spent in the church, he¡¯s skinny, but has the solid frame of a future fighter.


    ¡°Good. Now let¡¯s go greet some of your new family.¡± We head to the fire closest to my tent, where four people are gathered.


    ¡°Welcome to the family.¡± Maven says when we get closer. She¡¯s an older woman, with streaks of gray in her once dark brown hair. She¡¯s a pleasant woman, who has the rare ability to set anyone at ease with a smile. She reaches out a hand and Diqan shakes it.


    ¡°And welcome back, Gwynn.¡± She turns her smile to me now, and I reciprocate.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to be back.¡± I say, taking a seat and gesturing for Diqan to sit as well. He does so, more relaxed now.


    ¡°I was wondering where you had been going at night. Now, ¡± Nan glances meaningfully at Diqan, ¡°I understand completely.¡± She winks at me. Everyone laughs, except Diqan.


    ¡°Yeah, you caught me.¡± I say with a smirk, my hands raised in front of me.


    ¡°What?¡± Diqan says, slightly confused, which makes everyone laugh louder. He looks at me. I just shake my head. The rest of the people sitting around the fire introduce themselves: Byron and Bolon, identical tall, lanky, twins, and Nan, Maven¡¯s daughter who doesn¡¯t share the gift of amiability. Where Maven is all smile lines, Nan is frown lines, and a pinched face. The only trait that she seems to have gotten from her mother is her straight brown hair, and her eye color. We talk quietly, trying not to disturb the people sleeping.


    ¡°Cerc wants us to move camp tomorrow morning. She thinks we¡¯re being tracked.¡± I sigh,


    ¡°This is starting to be a weekly process. We should just make our move soon, and be over with it.¡±


    ¡°You know we don¡¯t have the ability to do that yet.¡± Maven gives me a reassuring smile. ¡°Just be patient. The more time we take in preparing, the better our chances. I give a halfhearted smile at the typically response.


    ¡°Yeah, I know you¡¯re right.¡± A weariness settles over me at the reminder, dampening my mood for any further conversation. It isn¡¯t long after, that everyone goes to bed.


    ¡°You can sleep in my tent tonight. I have an extra bedroll.¡± I lead Diqan back to the tent, place two bedrolls on the floor, then take off my boots and get into one of them. He gets into the other, and we don¡¯t say anything for a while, though I can tell by his breathing that he hasn¡¯t fallen asleep.


    ¡°Tomorrow, you¡¯ll start training. You haven¡¯t fought a day in your life, and you haven¡¯t tapped into your vitality before, so it¡¯s going to be difficult.¡± I pause. ¡°But if you¡¯re as determined as you sounded back there, then you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Are you really okay with this?¡± I roll to face him. I can¡¯t see him in the dark, but I want to hear him better. He doesn¡¯t respond for a few minutes, and I wonder if he¡¯s asleep. I¡¯m about to go to sleep myself, when he finally responds.


    ¡°I meant what I said. I¡¯ll do whatever I can to make sure others don¡¯t suffer...I just don¡¯t know if I have it in me to hurt others towards that end.¡±


    That¡¯s something at least, though¡­


    ¡°You can¡¯t solve everything peacefully. That¡¯s a truth of the world you haven¡¯t learned while being locked up in that church. Some people will die to achieve our goals and any one of us may have to kill. This is war, not a protest.¡± Diqan doesn¡¯t respond and I turn away from him. The words sounded rough to even my ears.


    Why does the truth have to be so callous? I wonder as I drift into a fitful slumber

 Training

    I wake up to the sound of birds chirping. The air holds a pleasant chill, one that foreshadows a hot day. I glance to the left and see that Gwynn is gone, along with her bag and bedroll. I stand up and stretch, feeling my back and neck popping. I¡¯m unaccustomed  to sleeping on the ground with such thin bedding. Leaving the tent, I look around and everything is gone. The fires, the tents, the people, every sign of life from the night before has simply vanished. The sun is low in the sky, indicating that it¡¯s early morning still.


    Everyone left while I slept? Why? Where did they go? I glance around the clearing, but there truly is no sign as to where they might have gone. What can I do now? If I¡¯m left alone out here, I¡¯ll probably die. I don¡¯t have the knowledge to survive in the wilderness.


    Just then, I hear the muted sound of someone walking over leaves. I turn to face the noise as a man emerges from the trees. He wears the white shirt and brown pants of the group, his figure lean and muscular. He has a strong jaw, short brown hair, and light blue eyes that border on grey. He stands half a foot taller than me and I can see the hilt of a sword over his shoulder. He has the look of a pure military man.


    ¡°Cerc has put you in my care for training.¡± His voice is a smooth baritone, softer than I¡¯d expect, but despite that, it carries an unmistakable tone of command.


    ¡°There are two ways we can do this:


    One, I command and you obey, no questions, no hesitation.


    Or two, you don¡¯t listen, you hesitate, and are punished accordingly. I take no pleasure in dealing out discipline, but I¡¯ll do what¡¯s required to ensure you¡¯re trained properly. Do you understand me?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡± I say meekly. I¡¯m not entirely sure what to make of him. His voice is gentle, but monotone, his eyes apathetic.


    ¡°Good. Now, take down the tent quickly. We¡¯re running behind schedule.¡± I move as fast as I can, though I¡¯m unsure how to disassemble the tent. Luckily, as soon as I begin I realize that it¡¯s fairly self-explanatory. Still, I feel like I¡¯m moving too slowly for the man. He watches silently until I have it wrapped up to the best of my ability. He walks over and points at the bundle.


    ¡°Unfold and refold it correctly.¡± I unfold the tent at his word, and try to puzzle out what he means. Almost immediately, I note handles built into the fabric, which I assume are straps to carry it on my back. I refold it with straps facing outward now and place it on my back. The man moves away a few steps, then turns to face me.


    ¡°Copy what I do.¡± He says and begins to pump his arms and legs in place. I follow, feeling awkward at first, but getting the motion quickly. Then he goes into stretches for the front and back of the leg, and upper body as well. He transitions quickly from one to the next and I frantically work to keep up. He doesn¡¯t say anything, and I bite my tongue to stop from asking him one of the many questions I have.


    ¡°Now, we run. Keep up with me.¡± I note the command and the unspoken ¡®or else¡¯. He starts out at a light jog with me following at his heels, my heart picking up quickly. We maintain the pace for maybe five minutes before he begins to accelerate. My muscles are loose and responsive from the stretching, but I can feel their lack of strength from years of working in the archives. I widen my stride to keep up, my legs pumping twice for every one of his. I stare at his back and feel my thoughts go blank. The fatigue and pain that was building in my legs and lungs is pushed to the back of my mind and ignored. All that¡¯s left is moving forward.


    I smile.


    My foot snags a root and I tumble to the ground, too surprised to properly cushion my landing. I feel a sharp pain in my right shoulder where it makes contact with the ground. Looking up, I see the man continuing through the forest. Whether he saw me or not, I don¡¯t know; however, I don¡¯t want to be left behind, so I get up. Pushing off the ground with my uninjured left arm, I stand up and run to catch up with him. I have to cradle my right arm to my body, and even then it still stings painfully from being jostled around. The man doesn¡¯t turn to look at me, nor does he slow his pace at all. I can¡¯t ignore the pain as we run, and, instead of distracting from it, it makes the muscle pains in my legs that much more pronounced. Everything is colored red in a burning haze. Eventually, the man slows to a walk, which I¡¯m thankful for. I catch my breath as best I can, and have a brief respite from the stinging in my shoulder. The sun is high in the sky by now, and the heat that I anticipated before is in full force. Sweat pours from me in rivers, and I shake my head to get rid of some. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Take a five minute break.¡± He tosses me a canteen, which I catch clumsily in my left hand. ¡°Drink lightly, or else you¡¯ll vomit.¡± Even though I¡¯m thirsty, I only take sips. We sit on some rocks to rest.


    Should I mention my shoulder? What if he¡¯s already noticed, but doesn¡¯t care? I don¡¯t want to seem weak. While I don¡¯t care for fighting, I understand the importance of what he could teach me.


    ¡°Come here.¡± He gestures me closer. I obey and move over to where he sits. Without another word, he grabs my right arm, gently but firmly and pushes it in, popping my shoulder into place.


    ¡°Ow!¡± I exclaim loudly as a sharp pain digs into my shoulder for a moment, then it¡¯s gone. I rotate my shoulder and it feels normal again.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say and he nods.


    ¡°We should move now. We need to catch up to the group.¡± Well, at least that somewhat answers where we¡¯re going. The rest of the day passes in a blur. I¡¯m able to run thoughtlessly again, and keep up surprisingly well. When the sun is at the horizon, we stop for the night. The air has gone from unbearable warm to frigid, but it¡¯s nice against my hot skin. I don¡¯t unpack the tent, instead using it as a pillow to rest my head.


    ¡°Gather some kindling wood.¡± He says, as he rips up some grass. I go out and come back with what I think is a sufficient amount of wood. He takes them and arranges them into a pile with grass interspersed. Then, rather than using iron and flint, he simply puts a hand over the pile and it bursts into flames.


    ¡°Is that also vitality?¡± I ask in wonder.


    ¡°Yes. Which brings me to the other part of your training.¡± The fire catches fast and he feeds it more wood, before speaking again. ¡°Do you have any idea how vitality works, or how to use it?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ve only ever seen it used twice. One of them being right now.¡±


    ¡°Okay, then we¡¯ll start with the basics. Look here,¡± he says and lifts his arm. His veins pulsate with a light from his fingertips to his elbow. ¡°Vitality is the life energy that exists in everyone. It¡¯s something that can be harnessed to do a variety of things. What you just saw me do was use vitality to create heat. It can also be used to create light, sound, electrical shocks, and to amplify your senses and physical capabilities. As a trade off, you¡¯re using up the very thing that gives you life. It can replenish after a while, but you have to be extremely careful. If you use too much too quickly, you¡¯ll exhaust yourself, and were you to use all of it, you¡¯d die.¡±


    ¡°How do I use it?¡± I ask, excited despite the warnings. Who wouldn¡¯t be excited at the thought of magic?


    ¡°The first thing is I need to see how much vitality you have.¡± He says sternly, and places a hand on my forehead. I feel an uncomfortable sensation, like invisible fingers digging into my brain. ¡°Hmm...you have a good amount of it naturally.¡±


    ¡°What determines how much vitality I have?¡±


    ¡°Luck, mainly, and physical fitness. You seem to be lucky, and naturally athletic.¡± The compliment coming from him surprises me.


    ¡°How does physical fitness change your vitality?¡± I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.


    ¡°Like I said, vitality is your life energy, so if you¡¯re in better health, you have more life energy flowing through your veins. However, don¡¯t think that just because you have a lot of vitality, you¡¯re any better off. If you can¡¯t use it properly, you¡¯re just as likely to kill yourself. Now, I want you to try and channel it. The life energy originates in your head, and is channeled through your veins to where you need it to go.¡± He grabs my hand and turns it face up. ¡°Try to light up your palm.¡± Letting go, he settles back to watch. I hesitate, unsure how to go about it. Closing my eyes, I focus my mind. After a while, I can sense it. The vitality swirls around like thoughts just out of reach. I attempt to gather them, but they slip from my grasp. I try again and again, but with no luck. Finally, I open my eyes.


    ¡°I can sense the vitality, but I can¡¯t control it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good start. Try to clear your mind and focus on only the task at hand. Extraneous thoughts can hinder your ability to direct the energy.¡±  I struggle to do so, my thoughts preoccupied with Tern, Tef, the church, Gwynn, and my doubts as to whether I can actually help anyone. How is Tef doing now? Is he even alive anymore? I take deep breaths to steady myself, but to no avail.


    ¡°It¡¯s no use.¡± I blurt out, frustrated with my failure.


    ¡°Work on it. That¡¯s good progress for your first time.¡± The man says. He rummages around in his bag for a bit and pulls out dried meat and bread. We eat in silence and settle down for the night. Before I give in to my exhaustion, I work up the courage to ask one of the questions in the forefront of my thoughts.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking, what¡¯s your name sir?¡± There¡¯s a beat of silence before he answers.


    ¡°Kyne,¡± he says, then I can tell by his breathing that he¡¯s asleep, or at least, he pretends to be. Fatigue takes me soon after, and I accept it pleasantly, falling asleep.

 Bloody Beasts and Bile

    Someone shakes me awake, and I open my eyes sharply, scanning my surroundings. It takes me a minute to remember where I am. Kyne is crouched over me.


    ¡°Come on. We need to move.¡± Painfully, I stand up and follow along as Kyne goes through the same series of stretches from yesterday. I put the tent on my back again, and follow Kyne as he leaves at a light jog. We accelerate until we¡¯re running. My muscles were tight in the beginning, but they loosen as we go, and now there¡¯s just a burning. The longer we run, the more everything seems to fade into the background, until only the wind and the beating of my heart are important. We maintain a run, occasionally slowing to a walk for a few minutes at a time. We take a break in the middle of the day to eat, but are moving again soon. I don¡¯t notice time moving, until the sun is starting to meet the horizon, coloring the sky purple and gold. With the trees blocking most of the sky, it shrouds us in an artificial darkness. As we run, I¡¯m woken from my stupor by a howl, similar to a wolf¡¯s, but deeper and more substantial. It echoes through the forest, and I don¡¯t know what direction it comes from. Kyne looks around sharply.


    ¡°Follow me!¡± He yells, his voice booming. I follow without a thought, my heart beating faster in my chest out of fear. We veer off to the right, sprinting now. The gap between us widens considerably, before Kyne glances back and slows down for the first time since we left.


    We exit the trees onto a wide riverbank.


    ¡°Can you swim?¡± Kyne yells over the roar of the water. I watch the thin stream of water, moving so swiftly that white foam sprays wherever it collides with rocks sticking up from the riverbed. I shake my head vigorously.


    ¡°Damn!¡± Kyne curses and scans our surroundings. I wait, straining my eyes and ears for any threats. Another howl, this time magnified at least three times over, comes from just beyond the brush, behind us. I turn to face it, breathing quickly. Kyne grabs my arm and throws me down the bank. He falls down after me, and hands me his pack. Picking up clumps of mud, he smears it on my face and arms.


    ¡°They have poor eyesight, but great hearing, and an exceptional sense of smell. Stay quiet no matter what, and stay under here.¡± He grips my shoulder and stares me in the eye. ¡°If anything happens to me, you need to keep heading north. You¡¯ll either stumble onto the camp, or a small town living in a group of caves. Don¡¯t make any fires and travel quickly. Do you understand?¡± He talks rapidly, and I don¡¯t respond at first. He shakes me. ¡°I said, do you understand?¡± I nod my head, still too scared to speak. Kyne gives me a reassuring smile and squeezes my shoulder, before easily jumping onto the bank I¡¯m hidden under. I hear nothing for a while, except the river rushing by steady and strong. I focus on the sound of it, and it soothes me.


    Another howl resounds, overpowering the river and pulling me from my brief respite.


    A moment later, I hear a wet, ripping sound, along with both human and animal grunts.


    A yelp of pain, and then a beast¡¯s body falls onto the bank, partly in the river. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I stare at it: Fur black, short and spiky, long snout, narrowed eyes; pupils black, outlined in yellow, long limbs ending in wide sharp claws.


    Dirt cascades down from above me,


    I hear a grunt, then a scream.


    Kyne¡¯s arm, sword still in hand falls not four feet from where I hide,


    His body follows, the beasts tackling him, ripping his flesh from his body with small, sharp teeth.


    I whimper, my knees curled up to my chest, but the roar of the water washes the sound away.


    Why am I here?


    What am I doing?


    I close my eyes and bite hard onto my thumb to stop from screaming. The horror is close enough that I can hear the awful sounds of their biting and chewing, crunching of bone, flesh and everything in between.


    I taste blood in my mouth but keep my mouth clamped, tears coursing down my cheeks.


    The beasts leave after a time.


    I refuse to open my eyes, sobbing until I can¡¯t muster any more tears. Still, I don¡¯t move. Instead, I focus on the sound of the river, hoping to drown out the sounds of the beasts, stuck in my head. I feel numb.


    Head North. Find Gwynn. Knowing I have no other choice, I open my eyes and see the bloody mess of Kyne¡¯s body. I fall forward onto my hands and knees to vomit. After a few minutes, I stand up, wiping my mouth clean with my shirt. I clamp a hand over my nose to stop from smelling the death lingering in the air. My eyes roam everywhere, except where Kyne lays. They end up on the body of a beast. I stare into its lifeless eyes.


    What are these monsters? Moving back to the alcove, I gather up the tent and Kyne¡¯s bag. I glance at the sky. The sun is just rising, and thick storm clouds are in the distance. Before leaving, I force myself to search for Kyne¡¯s sword and scabbard. I vomit again in the process, nothing but bile this time, but soon have the sword strapped to my back underneath the tent. The sword is light, but combined with everything else I carry, is still an impediment. Still, I owe him this much. I need something to remember the man who gave his life for a stranger he just met.


    I forego stretching, instead wanting to put as much distance between me and here as quickly as possible. I start out at a light jog, and accelerate into a run which I maintain all day. I slow down to a walk whenever I feel I might collapse, but speed up when I¡¯m capable. Daylight fades and I decide to stop for the night. I lay down my packs and pull out a small portion of dried meat and bread, eating slowly and mechanically. I sip from the canteen and rest my head on my pack, clutching Kyne¡¯s sword in my hand. I attempt to sleep, but whenever I get close to unconsciousness, I hear the beastly howl in my head and startle awake. My paranoia and exhaustion remain at odds for hours until, inevitably, my exhaustion prevails and I fall into a fitful slumber.


    I wake with the dawn light, and am up and ready to move in less than a minute. My thoughts are simple: Head North. Find Gwynn. I cling to the task at hand, not wasting energy on other thoughts.

 Stumbling

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t they be here by now?¡± I ask Maven. We¡¯re the only ones still awake. The fire has burned down to embers, and neither of us attempt to revive the flames.


    ¡°It depends on how fast the kid learns.¡± There¡¯s silence, and we both stare at the coals.


    ¡°Cerc plans on moving camp again tomorrow.¡± I say.


    ¡°Yeah. We have to keep moving towards the settlement.¡±


    ¡°I know, but what are they going to do if they get here and we¡¯re gone?¡±


    ¡°Kyne will know where to go.¡±


    ¡°But what if something happened?¡± My voice rises slightly. Maven smiles sadly into the coals. I frown.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to stay here tomorrow, just in case.¡± I leave no room for negotiation in my voice. Maven hesitates, probably realizing that I already understand the conflict it¡¯s going to create with Cerc.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay too.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that. If you do, Cerc will be angry with you too.¡± Maven grins.


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about her. People still give me enough respect that she won¡¯t act rashly.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I relent.


    ¡°Don¡¯t act like you won¡¯t enjoy having me around.¡± Maven moves to my side and puts an arm around me. I pretend to push her away, but let her arm stay. I grin, and lean into her.


    ¡°You¡¯re annoying.¡±


    ¡°I know, but you still love me.¡± I don¡¯t say anything for a while. Maven pulls me closer.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡± I finally say. If it were anyone else, I wouldn¡¯t voice my concerns, but with Maven I feel comfortable enough to share anything.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Can we really win a war with the church? They have so many cities under their control.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that. Just because the people accept their presence doesn¡¯t mean they want to be a part of the church. Those people know the evils of the church far too well. They just need a push to spark them into action.¡± Maven¡¯s eyes take on a faraway look.


    Is that true? Why won¡¯t they do anything on their own? I don¡¯t say anything though. Maven sees the best in people, and wouldn¡¯t care for my criticism. We sit silently for a while, just enjoying each other¡¯s presence, before heading to bed.


    The next day, I wake early, and decide to get the conversation over with. I head out and see everyone else packing up their tents, except Maven. I wave and smile in her direction, and she makes her way over to me.


    ¡°Want to talk with her now?¡± She asks, as she gets closer.


    ¡°That was my plan. I¡¯d rather get it over with.¡± We make our way towards Cerc, who is watching over the clearing from the far side. She frowns like usual, and when she sees me approaching her, it only deepens.


    ¡°What is it, Gwynn?¡± She says sternly.


    ¡°We¡¯re staying here an extra day in case Kyne and Diqan show up.¡± Cerc looks between me and Maven, then looks away.


    ¡°Fine. Do as you wish. Don¡¯t waste too much time waiting though.¡± Her response gives me pause, due to how easily she gave in.  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be sure to make haste, after we meet up with them.¡± I say. Cerc nods, but doesn¡¯t look at us again. We walk away and once we¡¯re out of earshot, I turn to Maven.


    ¡°She gave in a bit too easily.¡± I comment.


    ¡°She did. Let¡¯s just take it and move on for now.¡± Maven says. I hesitate.


    ¡°You know as well as I do that she always has a plan.¡±


    ¡°True enough, but there¡¯s nothing we can do about it right now.¡± I clench my jaw, knowing she¡¯s right.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to be on alert when we catch up.¡±


    ¡°That we will. Though, there¡¯s little damage she could make in just a day or two.¡± I sneak glances at Cerc as we help others gather their supplies. Cerc maintains the same unpleasant look on her face. Does she really even care about us? I refuse to trust her words, when her expressions are so insincere.


    ¡°Gwynn. Gwynn.¡± I¡¯m startled out of my thoughts by Maven calling to me.


    ¡°Sorry, I was zoning out a bit.¡± She smiles.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so worried. Everything¡¯s going to be fine.¡± I smile. I appreciate her kindness, but her optimism borders on naivety.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡± I go back to work, helping pack up a tent.


    Once everyone has their equipment packed up, except me and Maven, we gather around for quick goodbyes. While Maven speaks with Nan, I say farewell and give hugs to Byron and Bolon. Maven and Nan are far enough away that I can¡¯t hear what they say, but Nan is animated. She looks angry, which I can only assume has to do with Maven staying behind. Finally, she stomps away, and Maven rubs a hand across her face in exasperation. I catch her eye, and give her a sympathetic smile, which she returns.


    Goodbyes are said and the others exit the barrier around the camp, leaving it intact for us. The sun has barely risen, but we use the daylight to gather firewood, edible berries, and lay out a few traps for squirrels. We finish by mid-afternoon and so I set about sharpening my sword. It¡¯s nothing fancy, just a steel blade and leather grip. Maven hums while preparing poultices and fabricating bandages out of old cloth.


    We hear it at the same time. Footsteps pounding into the ground. It makes a lot of noise, and I stand up with my sword ready. The sound gets louder, and it hits the barrier. Three high pitched bird chirps are set off. Maven is standing as well, a dagger in hand. Suddenly, Diqan bursts into the clearing. His shirt is soaked through, and his hair sticks to his forehead. He carries two bags and a sword on his back. I bite my cheek, already assuming the worst.


    ¡°Diqan, are you alright?¡± I exclaim, rushing forward. He looks at me, his eyes wild around the edges. It takes a moment before I think he recognizes me.


    ¡°gwynn.¡± It¡¯s not a question. He states it quietly, almost reverently. A grin stretches across his face as he stumbles a step towards me. Then, he collapses onto his hands and knees. He vomits a clear fluid.


    My god, what happened to him?


    ¡°Diqan, are you alright?¡± I go to his side, grabbing him on the shoulder. He looks at me and grins again. A vacant, despairing expression. He rolls over onto his back and stares at the sky, his grin fading. Maven is on his other side, checking his heartbeat. She places a hand on his head, and closes her eyes for a few moments, before grimacing.


    ¡°He¡¯s depleted. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll die, but he overexerted himself.¡± Diqan doesn¡¯t seem to register anything we say or do. Maven smiles at him, and cups his cheek with her hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be alright, dear. Just sleep now.¡± She takes a pouch of herbs and places it over his mouth and nose for a minute. Diqan passes out, and she pulls it away.


    ¡°We need to move him into a tent.¡± I obey her order, and help carry him to Maven¡¯s tent. Once inside, she sends me out to strip him and check for wounds or infections. Once done, she lets me back inside. He sleeps peacefully, covered in a blanket up to his neck.


    ¡°Is there anything we can do for him?¡± I ask Maven.


    ¡°He mainly needs rest.¡± She says, and pulls back the cover to his waist. Then, she places one hand on his forehead, and another hand on his chest.


    ¡°What are you doing now?¡± I ask, curious.


    ¡°You can channel vitality into someone else if you know how. The main reason for his illness is exhausting his vitality. If I give him some of mine, then he should recover faster.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even know that was possible. I watch as Maven¡¯s arms light up with vitality, and it travels down to her hands. Then it passes into Diqan¡¯s head and chest, lighting along his veins. After a couple minutes, Maven stops. She smiles at me and replaces the cover.


    ¡°We should leave him alone now. He¡¯ll be asleep for a while still.¡± I nod and head out. Maven follows behind me, and when we¡¯re in the clearing again, we can¡¯t help but take notice of the sword and two bags Diqan was carrying.


    ¡°That¡¯s Kyne¡¯s sword.¡± I comment.


    ¡°That it is.¡± Maven says. Neither of ust want to be the first to admit the obvious; Kyne is dead. I bite my cheek.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to place another barrier and check the traps.¡± I say, leaving the clearing.

 Brief Grief and Moving On

    Shadows mold and refold


    Creating shapes half-formed


    Rushing water washing the silence away.


    The darkness spreads, tightening around me


    Holding me down, they coalesce


    An alcove, a howl, an arm.


    Kyne falls onto the bank, and Tef follows behind. His body lands facing me. His eyes are empty, a maniacal grin plastered on his face. Laughter chills my spine.


    I can¡¯t move


    I can¡¯t speak


    I can¡¯t avert my eyes. My heart slams against my chest. Even now I¡¯m scared¡­ and not for those lying dead in front of me. My fear is reserved for my own safety, my tears borne of the same. The shadows hold me fast, as the river widens. It engulfs Kyne and Tef quickly. I can only watch, terror absolute as it washes over me, consuming me. I hold my breath and strain against the binds to no avail. I pull harder, but still nothing budges.


    I suppose it¡¯s only fair. I expel my held breath. When I inhale, rather than a lungful of water, I draw a breath of air. Opening my eyes, I see nothing.


    A humming fills my ears as I come into consciousness. Fingers run through my hair gently, and though I don¡¯t know who it is, I¡¯m set with ease. Eventually, I decide to open my eyes. Maven is above me, her eyes closed. I wait patiently for her song to end, not wanting to disturb her. The last note sounds and she opens her eyes, meeting mine. She flashes a warm smile that serves to calm me further.


    ¡°Was my humming so poor that it woke you?¡±


    ¡°On the contrary, it made me want to rest longer.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, so it bored you then.¡± She says, still wearing a pleasant grin.


    ¡°It would be more accurate to say it relaxed me.¡± I respond, a slight smile touching my lips. It surprises me how easy the conversation flows. Most of the time I¡¯m tense and awkward when I speak with people; however, this is different. Her smile, her tone of voice, even her presence is tender and kind.


    Is this what having a mother would be like? I stare at Maven in silence. She arches an eyebrow and smirks.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Am I so beautiful that you need to stare?¡±


    I blush furiously.¡°No, no.¡± I stammer. ¡°It¡¯s just that I was thinking¡­¡± I trail off, unsure how to finish the thought. Maven laughs heartily.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m far too old for you.¡± Then, she looks at me seriously, ¡°Don¡¯t hesitate to speak your mind though. I¡¯m here to listen.¡± I swallow the lump in my throat and look away from her.


    ¡°I was just wondering¡­¡± my blush, if possible, deepens, ¡°if this is what it would be like to have a mother...¡± I trail off, but she laughs lightly.


    ¡°In some ways it is.¡± I relax and compose my thoughts for several seconds before speaking again.


    ¡°Thank you for taking care of me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. It¡¯s what I¡¯m here for.¡± It¡¯s strange being treated so kindly after everything that happened.


    ¡°Think you can stand?¡± Maven asks. I sit up, and feel surprisingly good. I stand up slowly, feeling my muscles ache with the stress.


    ¡°How long have I been unconscious?¡±


    ¡°About a day. You stumbled into the clearing sometime yesterday afternoon.¡± I put a hand to my head as a wave of nausea hits me, but I¡¯m able to shake it off.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember much, not after¡­¡± I trail off. Maven looks at me, concerned, but doesn¡¯t mention it. Instead, she places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.


    ¡®Come on. Some fresh air should do you some good.¡± I nod and allow myself to be lead from the tent. The sun blinds me for a few seconds, but eventually I¡¯m able to see. A firepit is between two tents, a few logs placed around it for seating. Gwynn sits on one of them and watches me. I raise my hand in greeting and smile shyly. She doesn¡¯t return the greeting, instead glancing between me and the sword in her hands. Kyne¡¯s sword. I realize. I drop my hand and my smile breaks. I half walk, half limp over to where she sits, my muscles hurting everytime they flex. Maven follows close to my side, I¡¯m sure in case I need support. I make it without fault and take a seat across from Gwynn. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± She asks after I¡¯m seated.


    ¡°Better. It still hurts a bit to move is all.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good. I feared the worst. You looked near death when you arrived.¡±


    ¡°So I heard.¡± My responses seem terse, even to me, but I can¡¯t help it. My thoughts are distracted, my eyes locked on Kyne¡¯s sword. Gwynn seems to notice where I¡¯m looking. She puts the sword back in the scabbard and places it beside her and I avert my eyes to the firepit of ashes.


    ¡°Diqan, if you¡¯re able to, would you mind sharing what happened out there?¡± Gwynn asks, leaning forward. Her eyes hold mine.


    ¡°Gwynn, I told you not to push him.¡± I see Maven glaring at her out of the corner of my eye, but I don¡¯t look away from Gwynn.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± I say, then take a deep breath. Slowly, I tell them about the attack on the riverside. Gwynn¡¯s eyes show nothing as she listens, and I¡¯m glad because if she pitied me, I don¡¯t know if I could keep my composure. I finish and wait for a response.


    ¡°You did well, making it here by yourself.¡± Maven says.


    ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± Gwynn says. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t imagine the horror you must have went through.¡± I look away from Gwynn, swallowing a lump in my throat.


    ¡°Did..did he have a family?¡± I ask hesitantly. Maven and Gwynn glance at each other.


    ¡°No. At least, not as of recently.¡± Maven says. ¡°It¡¯s horrible what happened, but take some solace in knowing that he¡¯s reunited with them in heaven now.¡± I stare at the ashes again.


    He died protecting me. I allowed him to die without even trying to help him. I don¡¯t deserve any consoling. He was the one who suffered for my faults. I feel no tears welling, and no true sadness. Instead, guilt washes over me, and a deep-seated anger.


    Damn my fear. Damn the church. Damn Saint Loriana, if she even exists.


    ¡°Diqan, are you alright?¡± Maven asks. I realize that my fists are balled and I¡¯m clenching my jaw tightly. My heart is beating powerfully and glancing down, I see my veins are lit up from the inside. Slowly, I calm myself down.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I got worked up is all.¡± Silences washes over the three of us then, each thinking our own private thoughts.


    ¡°Here.¡± Gwynn says finally, holding out Kyne¡¯s sword. I reach out for it, then stop.


    ¡°Are you sure? Why give it to me when I can¡¯t use it?¡± Gwynn stretches out to place it into my palm.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s only fitting. You were the last person he was training. Also, I don¡¯t doubt that you¡¯ll learn how to use it quick enough.¡± I accept it, laying it across my lap. It¡¯s a simple two-handed sword, with a leather wrapped hilt and long blade, too light to be steel. There is nothing adorning it, but still, it¡¯s significance weighs on me.


    The sun has lowered in the sky now, and Gwynn goes about checking traps and the barrier, while Maven gathers more berries and medical supplies. I sit by the ashes, cradling the sword, as there isn¡¯t anything else for me to do.


    The next day, I wake early. When I stand up, I notice the soreness from yesterday has diminished. I barely feel any pain now. I help gather up the tents, and once everything¡¯s packed, we head out.


    We only move at a brisk walk, whether that¡¯s for me or Maven, I¡¯m uncertain. We move through the woods single file with Gwynn in the lead, Maven following her, and me in the back. I have questions, but I hold onto them. Instead, I listen to the forest. Its tranquility infects me, despite all my uncertainties. The day passes uneventfully and I revert into a mindless trance, thinking no significant thoughts.


    ¡°Diqan, I¡¯m sure you have questions. Feel free to ask away.¡± Maven looks back at me as we walk. I slowly rouse myself from my reverie.


    ¡°What?¡± I say stupidly. Maven smiles- it''s only now that I realize how haggard she looks. ¡°Are you alright?¡± I ask.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She responds, her brow furrowed in confusion.


    ¡°You look tired today.¡± I say simply. Gwynn interjects from the front before Maven can respond.


    ¡°That¡¯s because Maven neglects her own health in favor of others.¡± Her voice is even, but the words are just sharp enough to reflect irritation. Maven¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t falter.


    ¡°It is my choice dear, and I hope you¡¯ll respect that.¡± There¡¯s a finality to her words that Gwynn seems to accept.


    ¡°Do as you wish...I just wish you would be more mindful of your health. You¡¯re valuable to our community,¡± she says after a few moments of silence. We walk quietly for a few minutes before Maven steers the conversation back.


    ¡°Do you have any questions? At this pace, we may reach our destination by nightfall.¡± I have many, but start out with the most obvious.


    ¡°Where is our destination?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s our main camp for now, set into a series of caves.¡± Maven smiles wistfully. ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful place.¡±


    ¡°Beautiful or not, it¡¯s still a prison.¡± Gwynn calls out from ahead. I see Maven¡¯s shoulders slump slightly, but her voice stays steady.


    ¡°Prison or not, it¡¯s the only reason we¡¯ve survived for so long.¡± Gwynn grunts indiscernibly, and nature¡¯s quiet permeates our conversation for several long minutes. With time, the tension fades and I feel comfortable enough to break the silence.


    ¡°How many people are at the camp?¡± Maven looks thoughtful, and slows down to walk beside me.


    ¡°If I had to estimate, I¡¯d say maybe four hundred. We¡¯re split between two groups. One led by Cerc and the other led by Joff. The caves are connected underground and we rotate camp between various sites every couple weeks.¡±


    ¡°How do you know which site to move to and when?¡±


    ¡°We have a rotation set up in advance, but if anything changes, we have people who volunteer to be couriers. They transport supplies and information through the tunnels.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s actually safe there?¡± Maven hesitates.


    ¡°Yes. I would say it¡¯s the safest place we can be.¡± Gwynn stops abruptly and turns sharply to face us, startling me. She fixes Maven with a hard glare.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to him. Stop making our way of life sound easy.¡± Gwynn turns to me, holding me fast with her stare. ¡°We struggle each day to survive. We go out to hunt, we make dangerous runs to take supplies from the church, and each day people get injured, people die. Then, the next day we have to go back out, regardless of what happened the day before. There isn¡¯t much time to grieve and even less for hesitation. I say this so you know: you have to be resilient if you want to keep living.¡± Her words are sharp, but I accept them easily, as they speak to a truth I¡¯ve come to realize myself. I brazenly meet her eyes.


    ¡°I understand.¡± I say firmly. We remain frozen for several seconds before Gwynn nods her head and begins walking again. Maven and I follow silently.

 The Hideout

    ¡°Another half hour and we¡¯ll be there.¡± Gwynn says. I take her word for it, although to me, the forest all looks the same.  The sun is low enough in the sky that the trees block almost all its light, casting long shadows around us. Gwynn and Maven gather vitality into the veins of their hands, emanating soft blue light in small half-circles in front of them. I follow as they lead me towards a large dead tree, slightly separated from the others. In the low light, I see moss crawling halfway up the trunk, and clusters of mushrooms crowding around its base. We stop about five feet from it and Gwynn crouches down to feel along the ground. It takes a few seconds before she seems to find something, digging into the dirt. She grips and pulls, lifting a section of the ground, dirt and all up, revealing a hole just large enough for one person to fit through.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go first to light the way.¡± Maven says, stepping forward. ¡°It¡¯s only a three foot drop if you hang from the lip.¡± She does as she says, dangling into the black hole for a moment before dropping. I hear her land and see the blue light from her hand illuminate the surprisingly short drop.  I follow her lead, and when I reach the bottom, turn until I find Maven¡¯s light coming from behind me.


    ¡°Watch your head,¡± Maven says as she illuminates the way the stone ceiling curves downward sharply. I duck down and follow her into the tunnel. I hear Gwynn land behind me, and her light makes it easier to see. We travel through the narrow tunnel, crouched down until my leg muscles begin to shake with fatigue. Luckily, the tunnel opens up large enough for us to stand up and stretch our weary legs.


    ¡°It¡¯s not much farther.¡± Maven says when we start moving again.  Even with the light all I can see is solid grey rock. We cling to the right wall, with the left wall lost to the darkness. Looking up, the ceiling slopes upward until it also vanishes into the gloom.


    Several minutes later, a soft blue light identical to Maven¡¯s and Gwynn¡¯s, comes from around a corner ahead of us. We stick to the right wall still, and turn into the source of the light. I cover my eyes, blinded by it¡¯s brightness. Once I adapt, I pull my hand from my face, and on seeing the cavern, let if fall limply to my side.


    How could a place like this exist? The cave opens up into an enormous subterranean valley. Boulders are strewn about like apples fallen from a tree, random shapes and sizes, and  centered around a waterfall that comes down from a hole in the ceiling just in front of us. It forms a pool where it lands, and then creates a river which runs through the middle of the valley. Stalactites hang from the ceiling to dip into the water, with stalagmites rising from its depth, occasionally meeting in the middle, like fingertips touching. A luminescent blue moss covers everything in sight, even extending onto the rocks in water, bathing the entirety of the massive chamber in light. I stand still, staring. Maven¡¯s laugh startles me.


    ¡°I told you it was beautiful.¡± She says, gazing fondly at the view. I turn to find Gwynn and see a small upturn of her mouth. Not an actual smile, but the closest to one I¡¯ve seen her have since I¡¯ve met her. It lasts for just a moment, then she reassumes her passive expression again. She leads us along the river, past the large boulders laying around. I watch them as we pass, marveling at their size and the way they reflect the light of the moss. I reach a hand out and feel the surface of one. The moss feels normal, but the boulder itself is smooth to the touch.


    More like glass than stone. I muse, as I turn to look at the water. It¡¯s surprisingly clear, and with some of the moss creeping under its surface, I can see almost to the bottom. A movement catches my eye and I watch as a fish swims up from the darkness, soon followed by a few more of its kind. They¡¯re all identical gray and swim so quickly that soon I lose track of the original fish.


    ¡°You¡¯re acting the same as Gwynn had when she first saw it.¡± Maven¡¯s observation breaks my concentration and I turn to her ever-smiling face.


    ¡°Really?¡± I ask, actually surprised, considering Gwynn¡¯s typically reserved personality.


    ¡°I can still remember how her face was lit with wonder as she took everything in. Isn¡¯t that right, dear?¡± Maven turns her fond smile to Gwynn, who walks just ahead of us.


    ¡°That was several years ago, when my thoughts were simpler and I was just happy to be alive.¡± Gwynn answers curtly. I frown slightly.


    Why does she insist on being so short with Maven? From what I can gather, Maven is a kind person, and someone Gwynn cares about.


    So, why does she act so irritated with her? We continue in silence then, walking quickly, yet taking long to cover the deceptively far distance to the camp. I tamp down my awe as we draw near, instead assuming a neutral expression. I notice no wards surrounding the encampment, though a few watchmen are posted on its perimeter.


    One of them, a short and stout man with a thick beard, intercepts us. His spear doesn¡¯t move until he notices me. Instantly, he levels the tip to my chest, and drops to a half-crouch several feet away from me. His bushy eyebrows come together in anger and confusion.


    ¡°Gwynn, Maven, who is this outsider,¡± he spits the word out, ¡°and why did you lead him here?¡± His gaze flickers between the two and then settles back onto me. His eyes are hard, but more so another emotion flits inside them. It¡¯s well hidden, however,  it becomes apparent when I see the slight tremor in his hands.


    Have they all experienced such trauma that they would fear a single stranger? The gloomy thought is made all the darker knowing that Gwynn expects these same people to fight against the church.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Gerred. He is a newly acquired ally of ours, who has no sympathy for the church.¡± Gwynn says, taking a step to stand between me and the spear tip. Slowly, Gerred drops the point of his weapon, but doesn¡¯t quit glaring at me.


    ¡°If you vouch for him, then I¡¯ll believe you. However, I¡¯m not so sure the others will be as easy to persuade. Cerc¡¯s got them riled up something fierce-like.¡± Gwynn fixes Maven with a sidelong glance before looking back to Gerred. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°What¡¯s she saying?¡± Gwynn demands.


    ¡°That a stranger is coming, with unknown motives.¡± Gerred says, and I see his eyes drift to Kyne¡¯s sword poking out over my left shoulder. Upon seeing the weapon, his lip pulls back in a soundless snarl.


    ¡°Stop that.¡± Maven commands, her voice giving no room for negotiation. Gerred looks at her now. ¡°Are you drunk?¡± Maven asks sincerely, ¡°Cause you must be if you believe this boy could kill Kyne.¡± Gerred¡¯s face turns red, and I see him mentally weigh his response.


    ¡°You know she¡¯s right.¡± Gwynn interjects. ¡°It would take eight trained men to take down Kyne...or one pack of nighthounds.¡± She says, her voice trailing off. Gerred looks between the two of them, then back to me, before finally his shoulders relax, and a hefty sigh leaves him deflated.


    ¡°I hear ya. I suppose I¡¯m letting my emotions get out of hand. But, is it really true? He¡¯s dead?¡± He asks quietly.


    ¡°It is.¡± Gwynn says, then extends her left arm and the two lock forearms for a moment. As Gerred lets go, he glances back towards the camp.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d best get moving again, before Lyntin gets on my case.¡± He gives us a nod and continues his slow walk around the perimeter, scanning the length of the cavern. Gwynn leads us towards the center of the camp at a brisk pace. Although it was evening when we went underground, the camp bustles with activity as though it were midday. People on the edges of the camp are stooped low to the ground, picking gray mushrooms and clumps of the iridescent moss, which they pile into canvas bags. Several stand from their work as we draw near, waving to Gwynn and Maven and greeting them heartily, though as soon as they notice me following close behind, their expressions drop. They eye me warily as we pass by, not saying a word. I attempt to make myself as non-threatening as possible, keeping my head down and slouching, hoping to set them at ease. Maven flashes me a reassuring smile before returning her attention to the front. Inside the first ring of tents are scattered campfires, made from the moss, and burning a bright blue. People steadily stream back and forth across the camp, carrying bags and pots and pans. I only see men and women with grim faces and hard eyes, who glare at me. Over everything is a constant thwip thwip thwip that I can¡¯t identify at first, though once we head further into the camp, I realize what it is. A large group of people sit huddled around a slightly bigger fire within several tents, holding their bare swords and running whetstones down their lengths. They glare at me, as they continue their work, and I quickly look away. While the animosity towards me is clear, no one attempts to stop us, which I can only assume is because of the respect Gwynn and Maven command.


    A tent large enough to stand in sits in the center of the camp, and standing by its entrance is Cerc, wearing leather armor, and a hand on the sword on her hip. I notice Gwynn casually moving her hand to the grip of her sword as she gets close. Maven falls back to my side and leans over to me.


    ¡°Ready for a show?¡± She asks me quietly, then winks. I say nothing, my attention focusing on the inevitable clash in front of me.


    ¡°We were able to recover and safely bring the recruit, Diqan, with us. However, I regret to inform you that Kyne was killed by a pack of nighthounds while on his way to us.¡± Gwynn states candidly. Cerc says nothing for several moments, instead examining me bottom to top, her eyes lingering on Kyne¡¯s sword.


    ¡°Were you with him when he died?¡± Cerc finally asks.


    ¡°No, he died before reaching us. We would have recovered his body, but it was too risky to stay any longer.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Cerc says, deliberately waiting as the people that heard Gwynn¡¯s statements begin gathering around us. ¡°So, you mean to tell me that Kyne died, yet this boy survived the ordeal? And now you let him, an outsider, carry Kyne¡¯s sword around. You dishonor his memories by your actions.¡± Cerc¡¯s voice is loud enough to carry to the grouped people, and clearly intended to heighten outrage against me. Gwynn doesn¡¯t spare the others any attention, reserving all her focus for Cerc alone.


    ¡°How dare you insinuate such things?¡± Gwynn starts, her voice low and threatening. ¡°You know as well as I do how dangerous night hounds are, and we both know Kyne. He would do anything in his power to protect others, even someone he just met. That¡¯s the type of person he always was.¡± Gwynn looks back at me. ¡°You didn¡¯t see the way Diqan entered our camp. He was broken and scared by what he had seen, and I know that he feels the same pain we do in remembering Kyne. He gave me Kyne¡¯s sword, but I gave it back. Why?¡± Gwynn looks out to the crowd, pulling them in with her words. ¡°Because as we well know, when one life ends, another begins. With Kyne¡¯s passing to the void, I have all the faith that Diqan will take his place as a strong fighter, and more importantly, a powerful friend.¡± Silence reigns as Gwynn and Cerc stare at each other, both unyielding. Those gathered watch uneasily, myself included, as I realize that my fate is about to be decided.


    If they reject me, they can¡¯t simply let me go. Not now, since I know where they¡¯re hiding. Knowing that, I take a step forward, dropping my packs and pulling Kyne¡¯s sword off my back. I hold it with my palms upward, and stop between Gwynn and Cerc. Feeling the heat of multiple eyes on me, I look at the sword in my hands while I speak.


    ¡°I know that I¡¯m a stranger, and you have every right to be suspicious of me, but I urge you to truly believe me. Some of you have heard my story already, but I¡¯ll tell it again so everyone knows.¡± I hesitate, then speak quickly. ¡°A man I loved as a father was tortured by the church, and they attempted to steal my memories of him, so I wouldn¡¯t know of their atrocious act. They failed, and on learning the truth, I left with as much haste as I could manage. I met up with a smaller group of yours and the next day I was left to train with Kyne.¡± I pause, gathering myself for the rest of the story. When I speak, my voice is weak. ¡°I didn¡¯t know him very long, but Kyne was equal portions stringent and considerate. Ensuring that I¡¯m in good health, and pushing me to improve. So when we ended up on that riverbank, those beasts on our heels, and I could do nothing to protect myself, it was Kyne who pushed me into hiding and fought them himself. I saw him die for me, because I was incapable of protecting myself. I have no sympathy for the church and all the desire in the world to improve.¡± I stand completely still, afraid to look up, or to even breathe. When I finally gather my courage, I notice that of those gathered, most wear softer expressions than moments before. I let out a long breath, then an idea strikes me. I turn to Gwynn.


    ¡°I would love to carry Kyne¡¯s sword into battle in the future, but I know that I¡¯m not deserving of that honor. So, I offer you his sword instead.¡± I say, holding the sword out towards her. She meets my eyes momentarily, then directs her attention to the onlookers.


    ¡°As you can see, this stranger doesn¡¯t seek to profit off the grief of others. He only wishes to aid us in our struggle. I know his intentions are pure, and I reject his offer.¡± Gwynn takes my hands and curls them against the sword. ¡°Keep the weapon, and carry Kyne¡¯s memory and spirit into future battles.¡± All is silent. Then, one exclamation follows another and another, until the group is welcoming me with unrestrained vigor. I grin widely, and Gwynn smiles lightly back at me.

 Into the Darkness

    Gwynn takes my arm and pulls me towards the throng of people, where she introduces me to many of them. I try my hardest in remembering their names, but there¡¯s too many and soon the faces begin to blend together. Thankfully, the meetings come to an end, and I find myself alone with Gwynn, Maven having slipped away sometime during the commotions. We say nothing at first, both looking out at the camp, still bustling with activity, as people set about taking down tents and gathering supplies together.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Gwynn says. I look at her, my confusion clear on my face. She laughs. ¡°Truly. You may not realize what you¡¯ve done, but turning to me with that offer, gave me an appearance of greater power, and the illusion of power can translate into reality with ease.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I ask, simply glad that I was able to help her in some way.


    ¡°It is. Soon, Cerc won¡¯t have any strength left to speak of. Then, hopefully, we can take an actual stand against the church, rather than the hit-and-run tactics we¡¯ve been employing.¡± I hesitate before speaking.


    ¡°That would be nice. My only concern is that these people may be too scared to openly fight.¡± I say slowly.


    ¡°It may appear that way, but, when blades meet, they¡¯re stronger than you think. I know that when the opportunity arrives, they¡¯ll be ready to strike.¡± Gwynn says resolutely. I nod, inclined to believe her when she speaks so decisively. We stand around for a few more minutes, before Gwynn gestures for me to follow her.


    ¡°Come on. We need to get you equipped with some armor.¡± She says, leading me towards the circle of men and women sharpening swords. When we get close, a man raises a hand in greeting.


    ¡°How goes it, Gwynn? Come to retrieve your armor? We just finished repairing it.¡± He says, sheathing the sword in his hands and rising from his seat.


    ¡°Aye, glad to hear. But, that¡¯s not the only reason I came.¡± Gwynn gestures to me. ¡°Here¡¯s our newest recruit, Diqan. Diqan, this is our main armourer, Ric.¡± I step forward and extend my hand, which the man takes gruffly,


    ¡°I heard your story, and all I can say is welcome. It¡¯s always good to have more allies.¡± He says, squeezing tightly. I match his grip.


    ¡°Good to meet you, Ric.¡± I say quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. He lets go of my hand, then turns to several canvas bags resting on the ground next to the fire. He grabs one and hands it to Gwynn.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± She says, slinging it over her shoulder. The man nods, then eyes me for a moment before picking up a different bag and handing it to me.


    ¡°Try this on.¡± He says. I open the bag and pull out the contents, a thick leather chest piece, bracers, and even a pair of boots, all a uniform dark brown. The boots I pull on first, then Ric and Gwynn teach me how to put on the armor.


    ¡°A perfect fit.¡± The man says once it¡¯s all on, seeming pleased that he sized me up correctly. It does fit well, I can barely feel the straps holding it in place, although wearing it makes me feel like a child playing soldier, especially when I know nothing of fighting.


    ¡°A great job as usual, Ric.¡± Gwynn says. Ric grunts at the compliment. He hands me a bottle of oil and a whetstone and teaches me to care for Kyne¡¯s sword, then we say our goodbyes, and I follow Gwynn as she leads us to an open section of the camp.


    ¡°We can set our tents up here.¡± She says, already pulling her bag off her back. I follow her lead, and we work in silence for a bit.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan now?¡± I ask.


    ¡°We have to keep traveling to reach the settlement.¡± Gwynn replies.


    ¡°You mean, this is still only a portion of the group?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yes. This is only our scouting group. We needed enough people to spread out and cover multiple towns, to keep track of all the church¡¯s actions.¡±


    ¡°The church has influence across multiple towns?¡±


    ¡°Of course. They have power over every town and city in this country. You didn¡¯t think it was only in your city, did you?¡± The news is hard to digest at first, because it means that their power is much greater than I originally anticipated.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know, and it¡¯s certainly a discomforting thing to know.¡± I say, reserved in my reaction.


    ¡®That it is.¡± Gwynn says quietly. Once our tents are set up, we wordlessly gather some of the blue moss and build a small fire next to some low sitting rocks. I sit heavily next to the dim blue flames.


    ¡°Are you doing well?¡± Gwynn asks, watching me closely.


    ¡°I¡¯m alright. I just need more time to recover from my run through the forest.¡± I say, massaging the muscles in my right thigh. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Come on.¡± Gwynn says, standing. I look at her in confusion. ¡°Kyne taught you the stretches, right?¡± At the mention of his name, my throat tightens somewhat, but I nod. ¡°Good. You should make it a habit to do them any morning or night you can. Most fall out of the practice, and it¡¯s the reason they suffer muscle strains.¡± I nod, and follow along as she leads me through the routine. I feel limber afterwards, though my muscles are still in pain. We sit back down next to the fire and share some bread and cheese.


    ¡°You should know that it¡¯s not entirely safe down here.¡± Gwynn says through a mouthful of bread. ¡°Safer than the surface for sure, but not completely free of danger.¡± She swallows, then passes a piece of cheese between her fingers not saying anything for a while. I bite into the bread, chewing it slowly, waiting for her to elaborate.


    ¡°There are certain...creatures that live in the caves. Not many, especially since we¡¯ve hunted their populations down, but..there is the possibility that we run into some of them on our way to the settlement. I mention it not to scare you, but to prepare you. Should we run into them, it¡¯s best if you don''t try to fight them, unless there isn¡¯t another choice.¡± Gwynn says. She¡¯s right. Though, I hate knowing that I¡¯m still a liability.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to stay out of danger.¡± I say.


    ¡°Good.¡± Gwynn says, standing and brushing bread crumbs from her pants. ¡°I¡¯m heading to bed now. You should try to get some rest as well. We¡¯ll be leaving in a few hours.¡± I stand, feeling the weariness in my body. I head to my tent and lay down, not bothering to take my armor off. I cradle the sword while I sleep, and pass into a fitful slumber.


    It feels like minutes later, when Gwynn shakes me awake. I hear the clamor of voices all around me, and once I exit the tent, I see what the commotion is. People hurry about, taking down tents, packing equipment, and pulling on armor and cleaning weapons. I say nothing while I take down my tent, and pack it away. I go through my morning stretches, then combine the contents of mine and Kyne¡¯s bag and bundle it with the tent. I put it on my back by the straps of the tent where it sits over Kyne¡¯s sheathed sword. I look around, lost as to what I should be doing, when I spot Gwynn striding through the throng of people, stopping to help people pack things, or to talk to them. Instead of going to see her, I wander aimlessly through the camp. Most of the people don¡¯t notice me as they¡¯re too wrapped up in preparations, but those that do simply nod and return to their work. Eventually, I spot Maven, standing by her daughter Nan. They already have their packs on, and are having a quiet discussion. Cautiously, I approach the two head on. Maven notices me first, meeting me with a tired smile as I draw near. I give her a quick half-smile in return.


    ¡°How goes it? Sorry I left so suddenly yesterday. I wanted to find my daughter right away.¡± Maven says. Nan looks on in silence, a neutral expression betraying nothing.


    ¡°It¡¯s going well, I think. Though, I don¡¯t quite know what to do now.¡± I say. Maven gathers her gray-black hair and ties it back with a piece of twine.


    ¡°For now, we wait until everyone is ready. Then, we¡¯ll send a scouting party ahead about a mile or so, before the rest of us follow.¡± Maven says.


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t have to do anything. However, I must be going, mother. Cerc will want us to go ahead soon.¡± Nan says curtly, and shoulders past me. Maven glares angrily at her back, but doesn¡¯t say anything until she¡¯s out of hearing.


    ¡°I apologize. She¡¯s part of the scouting party, and harbors an unhealthy apprehension for strangers, even ones who have clear loyalties.¡± Maven sighs, then continues, ¡°I fear it may be a long while before I¡¯ll convince her that you can be trusted.¡± It seems less like apprehension, and more like hatred. I keep the opinion to myself, instead choosing to ask: ¡°Is it a sentiment that many others share?¡± Maven looks thoughtful for a moment.


    ¡°No. Not to that degree in the least. The others are going to be kind enough, they just won¡¯t treat you like family until either enough time passes or you garner their respect in another way.¡± She says.


    ¡°And why are you different?¡± I ask, genuinely curious. Gwynn knew me from before, which I can accept as reason enough, but Maven has no connection to me, yet she treats me kindly.


    ¡°I would rather trust someone whole-heartedly and be betrayed, then to live loving no one¡­¡± Maven says seriously, then smiles. ¡°..also Gwynn believes in you, and I truly share that belief.¡± I smile, flushing slightly at the thought of the confidence that her and Gwynn confide in me. At the same time, my stomach somersaults once as I allow a thread of fear enter my mind. Let¡¯s hope their confidence isn¡¯t misplaced.


    ¡°Well thank you,¡± I manage to say. I hear the steady stream of conversation carried by a large group, pass behind me. I turn and see that almost everyone is packed, and is heading towards where Cerc stands, on the far edge of the camp, leading deeper into the cavern.


    ¡°We should go as well.¡± Maven says, and we follow the group. People mill about, as everyone gathers together. They form thin columns in front of Cerc. Gwynn spots the two of us, and Maven waves her over.


    ¡°Hello, how are you feeling today Maven?¡± Gwynn asks, eyeing her critically.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. All it took was some food and a good night¡¯s rest to recover most of my vitality.¡± Gwynn stares at her for a few more moments before seemingly believing her. She turns to me.


    ¡°And how about you?¡± She asks. I shake my legs out, and feel minimal pain from the exertions the last few days. I shrug.


    ¡°Well enough.¡± I say simply.


    ¡°Good. I want both of you to stay in the middle of the columns.¡± Gwynn says. Though her face doesn¡¯t betray anything, the tone of her voice makes me think something is wrong.


    ¡°How come? Did the scouting party find anything?¡± Maven asks seriously.


    ¡°Not... really. Nothing that should pose a threat.¡± Gwynn says. When she doesn¡¯t elaborate any further, it only adds to my unease, however Maven lets it go.


    ¡°Alright, I trust your judgement.¡± She says.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Gwynn says.


    ¡°Always.¡± I relax somewhat with the knowledge that Maven isn¡¯t overly concerned with things.


    ¡°Attention!¡± Cerc¡¯s voice yells from the front. Everyone quits speaking and settles into their positions. Maven and I take up spots in the center of the group, while Gwynn heads towards the front. Cerc scans the crowd once we¡¯re in position.


    ¡°Alright, move out.¡± Cerc calls. The front of the group heads out and we follow, leaving several steps between us and the people in front. We head towards the far end of the cave, where the moss ends it¡¯s creep partway down a tunnel, ending in darkness.

 Burrows

    I concentrate on matching my pace to Maven¡¯s. After a while it becomes automatic and frees up my mind to think about other things. As oftentimes lately when I have nothing to focus on, my thoughts stray to Tef and Kyne, both embittering and sombering my mood.


    ¡°Diqan, are you alright?¡± Maven asks, pulling me out of my mind. She looks at me curiously.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine.¡± I say, giving her a small smile.


    ¡°Okay. Don¡¯t worry too much. Trust that Gwynn will get us through the caves safely.¡± Maven says, incorrectly assuming my mental struggle. I nod once.


    ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± I say and the conversation dies out. I pay more attention as we get closer to the edge of the darkness. We stop by it¡¯s edge and wait, while those on the outer columns pull out lamps, covered with small scraps of thick cloth. As they pull off the coverings, it reveals short cylindrical shaped metal, with glass in the middle, emanating a dark green light.


    Once all the lamps are unveiled, we move forward into the shadows. The featureless grey rock stretches out in front and behind us and soon I retreat back into myself. Maven leaves me be, seeming content to walk in silence.


    Time passes quickly, yet when I rouse myself from my melancholy, the landscape is much the same. The only change is that the ground rises or lowers, as if on hilly plains, rather than deep underground. I glance all around me, and something catches my eye on the ceiling: a hole about knee height where the rock curves down towards the floor. I stare at it as we get closer. It isn¡¯t until it¡¯s almost overhead that I can see deep grooves by it¡¯s entrance, and at the same time a jet black, sinuous mass shoots out of it, aiming for a man in front of me. I rush forward, pushing the man to the ground and barely turn in time, for the beast to slam into my back, driving me to my hands and knees.


    ¡°Hey!¡± The man says, turning to face me, then freezes.


    ¡°Burrows!¡± I hear Maven yell. The burrow on my back digs in and I can feel the pressure of its claws, even through my canvas bag and leather armor. I throw myself onto my back, pulling my arms from the straps on my bag and pull Kyne¡¯s sword free of its sheath. The beast is lit enough that I can see most of its body. It has four thick claws, a couple inches long on its forelegs. It¡¯s body is short, but bundled with compact muscles, and not a single hair grows on it¡¯s obsidian skin. Razor sharp teeth line its long snout and the most surprising feature to me is its complete lack of eyes. Where most animals would have them is simply smooth skin.


    I brandish my sword in front of me, and I notice others grouped around the creature, their swords at the ready. We wait, afraid to make the first move, while the beast moves its head around in small, sharp bursts of unnatural speed. It opens its mouth and lets out a high pitched screech.


    ¡°Kill it!¡± A commanding voice yells from the front of the line. I take a step forward and slice downwards, but I¡¯m far too slow and it dodges my strike easily, then darts toward a person to my right. It leaps and takes the man in the chest, its claws gripping into the armor, its teeth following close after, tearing into the exposed flesh on his neck. The sight of blood holds me in place, as others rush forward to help him.


    I feel a hand grab the back of my armor and yank me backwards.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± A voice asks firmly.


    I despondently glance at the source of the voice. Maven stands alert, a short sword in her hand, black with the burrows¡¯ blood. I stare at her face, searching for some sign of comfort.


    ¡°Stay steady Diqan. We need to keep moving.¡± Maven says, gripping my shoulder firmly. The warmth of her hand, and of her gaze thaws me from my frozen state.


    I clutch my sword tightly in both hands and turn away from Maven. A surprising number of burrows prowl around, darting in for attacks and mostly being knocked back, though a few people sport wounds from their relentless assault. Both beast and human begin grouping, finding strength in numbers. I take a place beside a tall woman with short brown hair. She spares me a glance and a nod, then we watch the creatures closely. Their heads move in unnatural rapid motions. Maven takes my side. As one, the burrows open their mouths and I see black. I recover quickly, luckily just in time to intercept one of the beasts. I swing Kyne¡¯s sword down diagonally, catching it in the shoulder and easily rending it in two. The sight of blood still makes me uneasy, but I¡¯m able to push it from my mind. I turn to Maven and see her pull her sword from the dead body of another beast. Turning back, I¡¯m horrified to see more than half the group on the ground in pools of blood. Constant screams fill the cavern, echoing in endless horror, and grinding on my ears. I swallow bile back as I step towards another of the burrows. This one, distractedly feeding on the same woman who had just stood by my side. I slice its head off with a downwards cut, but accidently slice into the woman¡¯s dead body with the force of my swing. I yank the blade out, and this time I can¡¯t stop myself from vomiting. After a moment, I spit the acid from my mouth and wipe my face. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Loriana, my patron Saint of Protection, watch over us in life and lead us in death. Loriana, my patron Saint of Protection¡­ I repeat the phrase, again and again, not as a cry to any god, as I find my belief wavering in the face of the terror in front of me, but as a way to distract my mind from reality. Blood and entrails paint the ground, as if a demon¡¯s art piece, with humanity at the mercy of its pleasures.


    The half of the group that survived the beasts initial attack are able to slay the beasts as they feed on the deceased. Gwynn walks to my side and grips my shoulder, her mouth a thin line and her eyes a cloudy green. I barely acknowledge her, watching as Maven moves swiftly to each body, checking for vitals, a carefully blank expression hiding what I can only assume matches the dread that hangs heavy around us.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you survived.¡± Gwynn says softly. It takes a long time to find my voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you lived as well.¡± I say tightly, my mind lost in disbelief.


    In the end, Maven deems all those on the floor dead. For several minutes, a heavy silence falls over us, and we hang our heads under the great weight of it. Eventually, it¡¯s broken as people move to pull tents out from their packs. They weave them together into a massive stretcher with a level of competence that chills me, for what it reveals. I watch detachedly as they gently move the deceased onto the stretcher, and it takes a few moments for me to move to help. My body acts on it¡¯s own, and I take care not to stare at the bodies I carry. Soon, all the dead are stacked on in a pile of limbs, blood, and empty stares. I look away, and take my place on one of the edges. Together, we lift the stretcher up with a heave and begin the slow walk through the tunnel. Nobody dares complain about our progress being slowed to a crawl.


    Simply being able to do this is reason enough not to. Any of us could have swapped places with the dead...and even while thinking this, I can¡¯t help but be grateful that I¡¯m alive. Doesn¡¯t that make me an evil person? What would Tef think of these dark thoughts?


    A strong, but quiet humming fills the air. I look around, startled out of my thoughts. I realize it¡¯s Maven, who stands across from me. She stares ahead of her, her eyes dim, but not empty. The sound echoes slightly on the walls, only adding to it¡¯s despairing tone. Before long, others join her, until even I attempt to match the haunting melody. A voice strikes out from the group, powerful, and rich in sorrow. Gwynn.


    ¡°Over the valley, Far on high


    Embers in a blaze, Lost for good


    You came and went, You came and went


    Sparkle in the night, Dead and gone


    Ripple on the stream, Silenced on


    You came and went, You came and went.¡±


    I listen as her voice fills the tunnel, slight pauses in between each line, which amplifies the echoes of her voice. Moments after the reverb from the last line dies out, I hear muffled sobs and the rustling of cloth as people use their free hand to wipe tears from their face. I put a hand to my own face, and wipe the wetness from my eyes, refusing to cry in full. I¡¯ve shed more tears than anyone has a right to. And even now, amidst all this sorrow, I¡¯m selfish. I can only think of my safety...and of Kyne and Tef.


    A brooding silence settles over us once again, and miles glide from under my feet rapidly and without notice, as my thoughts are turned inward. The ground shifts from hard rock to hard soil, and at the same time, the tunnel opens up. A pinprick of light is visible, like a candle in the unending darkness. With its presence I feel my spirits rise somewhat, and am able to break from my morose thoughts. A pang of guilt hits me. I steal a glance at the dead. How can I feel such relief in the face of such grief? The light brightens steadily as we walk, until I¡¯m able to see through the tunnel exit. Abruptly, the tunnel widens into a cavern impossibly large. A sky of stone overlooks fields of wheat and beans. More people than I would ever have imagined mill about, tending to the crops. Everything is tinged with an incandescent cerulean from the moss that hangs as clouds in the sky. I can¡¯t temper the awe I feel in taking in the view, and I glance excitedly at Gwynn and Maven, but they don¡¯t share my attitude. Both stare intently ahead of them, their backs slightly stooped and their eyes weary. It reminds me of the weight we bear. I blink. Looking closer, I see the way the farmers move with the lethargy of gruesome and dissatisfying labor. For the plants, despite their novelty in existing underground, are sickly and decrepit and barely grip into the rocky soil.