《Wielder of Shadows》


 Chapter One

    ¡°You don¡¯t have the spirit gum in your bag by any chance, do you?¡± I called from the bathroom. This was precisely why I always kept all of my Renaissance faire accessories together¡ªno spirit gum, no elf ears. No elf ears . . . and I¡¯d miss out on the part of the faire that made me feel most, well, like me.


    Surely there are some who don¡¯t understand this, but from that first faire four years ago, when I was fitted for the moon elf ears by the very kind gay man near the champagne booth at the faire¡¯s entrance, it felt weird not to wear them, almost as though my normal ears and their rounded tips were the true costume.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think¡ªactually¡ª¡± My husband appeared at the hotel bathroom door, a tiny nail polish bottle of latex glue in hand.


    My shoulders dropped as I sighed. ¡°Thank you.¡± I¡¯d already pinned my hair back and had only to paint on the glue, wave the ears in the air for the count of three, and¡ªperfect. I grinned at my reflection in the mirror. Elven self, ready for the faire.


    Charles smiled at me as he shrugged on his chain mail. ¡°If my lady is ready?¡±


    ¡°That she is.¡±


    I¡¯d been looking forward to this year¡¯s faire even more than most. It had been a rough year¡ªa rough couple of years, in fact, but something about our personas for the faire, spending the day outside, and yes, a spot of day-drinking perhaps¡ªit helped.


    I latched onto Charles¡¯s elbow as we strode through the parking lot, tugging at the edges of my woven shawl while he told me about the world he was designing for our new D&D characters. Illios, a world of ash and shadow, what had once been a plane of light, marked by a conflict between humans¡ªHume, they were called, and elves, Lifkin in this world, who had once been granted the favor of Ilona, titan of light. The Lifkin had fallen from their position of grace and were now ruled over by the Hume and their religious leaders, the Order of Light.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯d like to play an elf, though I should tell you that magic is quite rare in this world.¡± A crowd of people waited outside the faire gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of a long-dead king and performers before we all made our way inside for a day or merriment and make-believe.


    ¡°A ranger, perhaps, yes,¡± I said, tossing my scarf over my shoulder. She would be young, coming of age among her people, with thick, dark hair shot through with streaks of blue. Coppery eyes that glowed against the shadows of her world. ¡°Draeza, I think. Draeza sai¡¯Lune.¡±


    ¡°She sounds enchanting.¡± I could already see Draeza coming into being as we talked, as Charles told me the story of Illios and the fall of the floating elven cities four-to-five hundred years in the past, how the Hume had stepped into a position of power in that time, lording over the Lifkin. Draeza would need to lay low as she went into new cities lest she risk abuse from strangers who thought the king had been overly merciful in sparing the Lifkin at all. It was a cold world, rather like the chill of our festival day as clouds rolled in overhead, a gray blanket stretched over our morning.


    The drums picked up from behind the false wall, tugging my thoughts from our upcoming game together. It had been months since we¡¯d had time to play¡ªwork was absorbing more of our time than we would have wished, something else that seemed more and more true for others and ourselves. A problem it sounded like Draeza would have readily understood as well.


    King Henry VIII emerged onto the platform, and I imagined how much more fun it would have been for us to have been in an alternate reality where it was Anne who beheaded her husband¡ªI hope to write a novel along those lines one day about a young woman named Charlotte, the witchy heir of Anne¡¯s power in a magical Appalachia¡ªbut there would be time for such things later.


    Charles tugged me forward, our tickets pulled up on his phone.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°And a fine, fair welcome to our elven brethren,¡± the Lord Mayor called from above me as we stepped up to the ticket scanner.


    I curtsied, bowing my head to the mayor and king. The mayor grinned, catching my eye. ¡°Enjoy your day, lass,¡± he said with a wink, just as the clouds thickened overhead.


    I turned my attention back to the ticket person who sported long elven ears as well, her brilliantly purple hair arranged over her shoulders. ¡°Welcome home, miss,¡± she said, gesturing for me to follow after Charles.


    ¡°I¡¯ll grab a map and meet you right over there.¡± I pointed to the far side of the entryway and Charles nodded, leading the way inside.


    I tugged my cloak once more¡ªblasted thing caught in the wind¡ªand stepped through the entry of the faire¡ª


    Straight into another world.


    The music of the faire had fallen away, faded, as though from a dream. Was it an ancient, Lifkin memory I had? The sort of music Aveela, the spirit-speaker, tended to hum as she hobbled about the village? The northern clime after our removal did no favors to her joints, I knew well enough.


    Perception, +4. Luck, 10. 14 total.


    I nearly caught a male voice on the breeze. ¡°You catch sight of the small herd of ibex you¡¯ve been following for three days now¡±¡ªbut that was strange as well. Why would a man¡ªa Hume no less by the accent, narrate my thoughts?


    ¡°Bring back something good, Drae,¡± Mirdal had asked me before I left. Being a year older, I had my proving quest to perform first. He¡¯d attempt his next autumn before the harvest moon. He and my aunt and uncle would grow worried if I didn¡¯t return soon.


    You scan the sparse mountainside above the treeline, quickly spying your prey.


    I shook my head and picked my way down the narrow mountain pass. There was every possibility this was a fallen isla from the Old Ones, but the ibex traversed it as naturally as they did the true mountains. One of the babies would make a fine addition to our herd. I¡¯d prove myself to my people, contribute toward our greater good, and become one with my clan. Draeza Lif-sai¡¯Lune of the Second Circle Clan. It did have a nice ring to it.


    A sharp, cold wind whipped between the mountain crags, catching at stray strands of hair. I tucked the blue-black locks back over the long point of my ear.


    True, sai¡¯Lune wasn¡¯t the name I¡¯d been born to inherit, but my parents had seen to it that I couldn¡¯t carry on their name and live. They hadn¡¯t. Their rebellion left Aunt and Uncle to raise me and Iredella. After the Baron¡¯s soldiers took her and surrendered her to the Order, there was only me. I still have nightmares about that day¡ªbest not to think on it alone in the wilderness. Perhaps I could prove myself for both our sakes and, in this small way, redeem our family for all the death our parents had caused.


    A patch of green caught my eye at the base of the slope the ibex traversed. But that couldn¡¯t be, not this high up.


    It was the green of the fields I dreamt of from before our removal to the north¡ªdreams that ended in screams and blood but, at the beginning, carried so much light. I squatted down and pressed my hand into the shale of the mountainside. The rock bit into my palm, real as anything.


    The ibex bleated to one another, making their way in a merry line to the patch of green. I quickened my pace, not wanting to lose them to the verdant bowl, however impossible it was.


    Squinting did little to change the picture before me¡ªit was not hazy at such a high altitude, and the sun had been obscured since the Fall, at least here in the north. But there they were¡ªimpossibly tall trees stretched out of the green bowl. The ibex began to hop down the branches, disappearing into the depths of the cavern the trees stretched out of.


    I had never seen trees like these before, five different types, if my eyes weren¡¯t deceiving me. The tallest of the set bore leaves with rounded edges, five or six bumps per side, ending in a rounded tip as though they¡¯d been formed by the eddies of the river. Another¡¯s leaves made simple, decisive points, and a third bore delicate, pointed fronds rather like fingers. Something about them hummed in memory¡ªash, oak, and thorn. Maple for another, but the name made little sense. How could they survive in such a climate¡ªour trees bore needles year-round, their squat height allowing them to survive in the harsh north of Braieland. Their sap made our sugars and their logs provided the material of our huts.


    I slung my bow over my shoulder as the last of the ibex disappeared below the green bowl that surrounded the trees. Perhaps the structure would have made sense were I one of the Old Ones¡ªtheir islas bore strange cavities along the sides, cave-like structures and warrens. It was likely in one of these the ibex had made their home. From here, it looked as though they had crawled into the mouth of a cauldron filled with trees.


    If I was successful in my quest, I would ask Aveela about the names I¡¯d remembered and what they meant. How I would carry the ibex out of the tree-filled cauldron, I knew not, but I carried 50 feet of hempen rope within my pack, and I¡¯d also brought calming herbs to feed to one of the baby ibex in case such an opportunity presented itself. I would find a way.

 Chapter Two

    As I neared the side entrance to the isla, the wind howled across the cauldron top as though furious that such strange, verdant life might exist high above the alpine tree-line. So much of our new environment raged¡ªthe snows, the wind, the fog. Yet these strange trees had emerged, bursting out of the cauldron bowl below.


    I crept to the edge of the bowl, trying my best to follow the path the ibex had trod. I tested the rock of the cauldron carefully with each step. Strange trees or no, if the shale split, I could fall to my death, and what sort of addition to the clan would I be then?


    I sized up the five trees and selected the one with the sturdiest branches. It was the one with the river-rounded leaf tips, the first that had caught my eye.


    The initial part of a descent is always the hardest, I reminded myself, selecting which part of the emergent branches to leverage myself onto before climbing down. A strange memory flickered across my thoughts, of a Hume with long hair instructing me in rappelling down a mountainside. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.


    The cauldron¡¯s mouth was wider than I¡¯d realized, peering over from the canyons that led here. I peered over the edge. One hundred feet down at least, I spied a sloped, Lifkin-made floor. It was nothing like our homes now, with their pressed dirt and grass mats.


    These were hulking slabs of marble joined onto natural rock. Only the barest slivers were visible through the intersecting branches of the strange trees. I pressed up from my belly and returned to the wider lip of the cauldron mouth, affixing the rope to a boulder along the edge of the flat rim of the bowl. The tie shortened the length of my rope by at least fifteen feet, but it would allow me to get my hold established in the tree. I was a strong climber, always had been.


    My stomach dropped as I thought again of Iredella. I¡¯d been up in a tree that day, waiting for her to find me.


    The Baron¡¯s soldiers had found her instead. They¡¯d turned her over to the Adjudicators for the Order of Ilona. Holy knights, sworn to the goddess¡¯s service¡ªI shuddered. That was more than ten years ago now.


    I checked the knot at my waist and sized up the tree a final time. One slow, deep breath. On the exhale, I jumped.


    [Dexterity, +3. Luck, 14. 17 total.]


    More easily than I¡¯d expected, I latched my around around the gnarled branch and wriggled across it to the trunk. Overhead, fronds of different, bright shades of green waved against the gray sky. I clung to the trunk and shut my eyes, allowing the light and shadow to cast their dancing impressions across my face. What would it be like to traverse an entire forest of trees like these? I couldn¡¯t help but imagine it would be warm¡ªit would have to be, wouldn¡¯t it? Trees with such wide, bright leaves would need heat of some measure to survive.


    I shook my head again to clear my thoughts. The days alone were making me overly contemplative and there was no Mirdal here to tell me not to get lost.


    [Dexterity, +3. Luck, 11. 14 total.]


    I climbed down the tree with ease, untying myself partway and affixing the rope to the branches lest it get caught in the wind. While it was still cold here in the giant cauldron-shaped hole in the isla, the narrowed bowl at the top kept out the wind. A pricking sense spread across my cheeks as my skin thawed.


    Beyond the howl of the wind overhead I could make out very little within the cavern itself. The walls were too wide. Only at the base of the trees did light filter down from above. Should I risk lighting one of the torches in my pack? I peered through the darkness, giving my eyes a moment to adjust as I neared the base of the tree.


    To my surprise, the trunks didn¡¯t fan out as they should have, casting supporting roots in all directions. Instead, the roots tangled together like a bundle of snakes, twining off into the darkness.


    I leapt the final few feet off the tree and landed quietly on the leather soles of my boots. I crouched there, waiting for some sign that something had heard me. Distantly, I caught the shuffling sound of the ibex. As I¡¯d suspected, they¡¯d made a home in a cave here somewhere. I must have missed it on my way down¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t entrap themselves in darkness.


    With the effort of getting themselves down into the cave, I doubted the ibex would wish to hurry out simply because I¡¯d arrived. I had a little time to explore.


    Shadows stretched in all directions. Hulking shapes littered the darkness. Statues of some kind, perhaps, from the isla? I couldn¡¯t be sure.


    However great my curiosity, I knew better than to trek too far into the dark on my own. One wrong winding path and I risked being lost underground forever¡ªthe opposite of what I wanted.


    But following the roots of the trees, I couldn¡¯t become lost. They would lead me back here after all. The intertwined, vining roots led me toward a cavern off to the side of the main cauldron chamber. I trailed one hand along the roots until I reached the cavern entrance.


    There was a faint odor within the cavern but nothing I wouldn¡¯t expect from a place that had been long neglected underground.


    I left a trail of bioluminescent lichen behind my fingertips as I slunk down the cavern. It was a trick Mother had taught us before¡ª¡®Call upon Spirit, and imagine what it is you wish. The world will order itself to your design.¡¯


    I was one of the few, well, now, the only of my clan who could cast magic such as this. I tried not to as it was upsetting to many of the others. The role of spirit in the islas¡¯ fall from the skies remained unknown. And Uncle had warned me before that many blamed spirit for my parents¡¯ rebellion, some for its failure, others that it had transpired at all.


    It was easy for those who did not wield spirit to blame it for their misfortunes, easy for them to neglect the way it shimmered within all things. It couldn¡¯t have been what caused the Fall, could it? The Fall that saw our people, once the rulers of these lands, removed from our positions of power, that saw the Hume rise and come into their own in our place.


    The Hume¡¯s religious texts offered an explanation of their own, that the goddess of light, Ilona, the one who created us, turned her back at our corruption and removed her favor from us. She bestowed it instead upon the Hume who were loyal and served her. Out of this belief the Order grew. The Order that took my sister.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The light from the lichen shone more brightly than I meant for it too, sparking as it left my fingers, but as it did, it caught upon an echo of light in the cavern ahead of me.


    I quickened my pace without letting my fingers leave the wall. Where the roots had been swirling around one another further back in the cavern as nearly wide around and high as I was tall, here they had narrowed, even more like the body of a great snake than I¡¯d first thought. They swirled tighter and tighter. I followed¡ªahead, the light I¡¯d glimpsed shone more brightly, but its light was dappled. Something covered or obscured it.


    I came around a bend, peering closer. And there, cradled within the roots, no, what the roots emerged from and around, was a glowing, oblong green orb shaped rather like a large egg.


    My mouth fell ajar as I neared the object. The aura of spirit emanated strongly off of it¡ªI didn¡¯t have to focus to sense it at all.


    ¡°You have found the Seed,¡± a voice by my shoulder pronounced.


    I covered my mouth to stifle my scream and startled back¡ªwho might be speaking here besides me?


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the voice said, the sound almost circling me. It came to my other side, hovering above the roots. With the shine of the lichen behind me, I caught the faint outline of what could only be a spirit. His ears were long and pointed like mine, though he wore round eyeglasses at the end of his nose. They somehow reflected back the lichen¡¯s light though they were not actually here¡ªat least I didn¡¯t think so. ¡°You can see me?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes. I believe so.¡± Or I was losing my mind, but that did not seem a helpful possibility. I had not been alone for that long, nor had I eaten any strange mushrooms or breathed in a large quantity of enchanted dust . . . I hoped.


    What was one to say to a spirit? ¡°You said this is called a Seed?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the spirit answered, his voice soft, half-spoken, half-sigh.


    I had never spoken to a spirit before. There was only one in our Clan who¡ª¡°Behind you!¡± the spirit warned.


    I whirled around at the spirit¡¯s urging. Between the deep purple glow in my hands and the shimmer of the lichen upon the wall, a slithering shadow emerged.


    Mournling, level 1.


    I gasped and stumbled back, catching my heel on the roots behind me. A mournling, a spirit-monster, bent on destroying life itself and turning all it encountered into a shadow-wraith like itself. Uncle had faced one before, had taught me how to fight them. But I don¡¯t think either one of us had actually believed I¡¯d need to.


    The shadow-creature took a great breath, pulling the chill of the grave through the air all about it in a horrifying death-rattle. I twisted to the side, instinct finding the blade at my hip more quickly than I could think through my next steps.


    I yanked the dagger up to my chest, blade out along the line of my wrist, facing the mournling before me. I lashed out toward the creature, narrowing its available space rather than sacrificing more of my own.


    [+5 to dagger attack, Luck 3, 8 total.]


    The mournling evaded my strike, hissing. It formed its shape into claws, slicing toward me in turn. I raised my forearm to protect myself and screamed as it made contact through my shirt and shawl, cutting into my arm.


    [Health, 10 - 3. 7 remaining.]


    I clutched my arm to my chest, immediately drenching my off-hand in blood. What specifically had Uncle taught me about fighting them? The spectral ones were weaker than their embodied brethren. Were they sensitive to light? I couldn¡¯t recall. But I might need something faster, less avoidable than my blade. An even darker shadow that might obscure it.


    I focused my concentration as our mother had taught us, imagining my desire coming into fruition. Such spells were always more powerful when the emerged from the environment itself, and so I imagined the shadowy spirits of the trees behind me lashing out toward the mournling and choking it.


    [Spray of shadows, spell attack.


    Opponent saves against Constitution. Fail.]


    The mournling screeched, clawing at the orb where the impression of its head floated as pools of shadow leeched out of my hands and enveloped it, obscuring its form and choking it precisely as I¡¯d imagined.


    Its claws darted toward my again, but this time I was able to evade them.


    [+5 to dagger attack, Luck 10, 15 total.]


    I struck out with my dagger just as it emerged from the billowing cloud of shadow, rending its form in half. The mournling¡¯s spirit whistled like the wind as it dispersed.


    I sank back, catching myself on the roots behind me.


    ¡°You fought well,¡± the spirit said, its voice not betraying whether it was impressed or pleased by such a development, but seeing as he had warned me, I didn¡¯t want to dwell on the spirit¡¯s lack of discernible emotion.


    ¡°Thank you for the warning.¡± My breaths still came rapidly and I found that my hands were shaking. I had never faced such a creature before, especially not on my own.


    ¡°You are welcome¡ª¡± The spirit asked me my name and I learned that he called himself Alapatour.


    I returned my attention to the glowing stone that I had followed the roots to find. The stone that, I believed, held the spirit of Alapatour here.


    ¡°What is the Seed?¡± I whispered to the spirit. Something about the pleasantly warm green glow of the stone inspired a sense of awe, almost as though it settled the latent energy of the world around us. The stone hummed with potential rather like the spirit-energy I sensed with my magic, but it was also unique.


    ¡°Your birthright,¡± the spirit breathed. He gazed at the stone in wonder.


    ¡°What does it do?¡±


    Alapatour gestured to the roots stretching out from the Seed. ¡°See for yourself.¡±


    I squinted from the Seed to the roots of the strange trees. ¡°Can it cause anything to grow?¡±


    Alapatour nodded again.


    My mind was already spinning forward. I had left to find something of use for the entire clan, but to return with the magic of our ancestors in the form of a Seed that would sustain our fledgling gardens, that might allow us some independence from the Hume of Shakerton who were, in turn, dependent upon the Order for the blessing of their crops¡ªI could barely comprehend what it would mean for us.


    I reached out for the Seed but hesitated. The Hume had taken one home from us already. If the Seed truly was our birthright, wouldn¡¯t they feel themselves entitled to take it as well? I turned back to Alapatour who hovered beside me, even less visible than the mournling had been. ¡°I¡¯m scared that if I bring this back to my people, the Hume will take it from us. Perhaps hurt us for having it in the first place.¡±


    Alapatour frowned. ¡°Things have certainly changed since I was alive as you are.¡±


    It was my turn to assent without truly having the words to express how right he was. How to describe to the Old Ones the dominion the Hume now held over us, particularly when it was the reverse of what they had known?


    ¡°You will need to trust,¡± Alapatour told me.


    He was right. I knelt and crawled forward, lifting the Seed from the stone floor of the cavern and wrapping it in one of my spare shawls before tucking it into my bag. Though even my own people feared Spirit and the wielding of spirit-magic, it had led me here, had brought me to the Seed. There had to be a reason.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whispered to Alapatour. Before I could say more, the spirit faded away.


    [Adventurer¡¯s Journal.


    Heritage: Lifkin


    The original rulers of Illios who tumbled from their position of power 473 years ago in a world-altering cataclysm known as the Fall brought about the end of the Bright Age. The name is both metaphorical and literal. Since the Fall, heavy smoke hangs in the atmosphere, choking out light.


    For the Lifkin of Breoland, a failed rebellion on the Night of a Thousand Fires led to the Great Displacement. They were divided from one another and sent to varying outposts such as the Second Circle Clan by the Twisting River.


    +2 Wisdom. +5 feet to base movement speed.


    Background: Outlander, level 3 {Prerequisite achievement for unlocking Ranger class}


    The foresters and foragers of the world, outlanders are experienced navigators of and survivors within their environment. Their skills in trapping, tracking, and reading the signs of their region give them an experience advantage on skill checks that require regional knowledge.


    +2 Navigation, +2 environmental experience {northern mountain climes}.


    Health: 7hp.


    Inventory: the Seed.]

 Chapter Three

    I decided to wait to wrap my arm until after I had successfully climbed out of the cauldron. The blood had clotted and while I feared other creatures being attracted to it, mournlings sensed spirit rather like I did and they were by far the greater danger in ruins such as these.


    In a spat of over-ambition following my survival of the mournling attack, I attempted to lure one of the baby ibex away from its parents and only just escaped the wrath of the bull ibex.


    [Stealth +2, Luck 3, 5 total. Fail.


    Retreat action, Luck 12. Success.]


    It was disappointing¡ªI should have liked to raise a baby ibex, though undoubtedly it would be happier with its family. I cast my gaze back upon the cauldron before making my way through the winding cavern paths. Uncle and several of the others would be curious about where I had found the Seed and wish to learn more for themselves. I erected a cairn at the edge of the cavern and set about locating stones that would allow me to leave similar markers so they might trace my path.


    My hands occupied with such simple diversions, my thoughts raced ahead. Upon my return, I would have not only an object of value but also important news to share. If I chose to share it, but could it be avoided? Aveela, the spirit-speaker, had been waiting for her successor to be revealed. Waiting for the entirety of my life and for decades before it. She¡¯d served for nearly two centuries. There would not be another spirit-speaker born for generations. She had been waiting for me. Did she know?


    I chewed my lower lip, picking my way through the canyons and retracing my former path. Being the spirit-speaker was certainly not what I would have picked. Once appointed, one remained spirit-speaker until death. I hadn¡¯t yet returned from my coming-of-age ritual or been inducted into the Clan. How could the rest of my life already be spoken for after having only just reached the part of it where I might decide what I did with it at all. Not that Uncle and Aunt prevented me from deciding what to do with my time, unless Mirdal and I had recently found ourselves in a spot of trouble.


    The three days¡¯ journey back, I debated. How could I explain my coming upon the Seed and how I¡¯d learned what it did without also revealing the spirit who had spoken to me to tell me about it?


    I picked my way through the northern forest path, the one I had traversed to travel to the ruins, thinking of what Mirdal would say about my news.


    He was the first to greet me of course, when I came back into view of the settlement. ¡°There you are!¡± he exclaimed, bursting out of a hidden bend in the path where the undergrowth was thick.


    I jumped back, surprised but, much to his dismay, I recovered quickly and wrapped him in a tight hug.


    ¡°I was growing worried,¡± Mirdal confessed. ¡°We all were.¡± All in this case likely meant Mirdal and my aunt. Most everyone else would know that such journeys took time.


    ¡°I was barely gone half a fortnight. How did you even have time to be worried?¡±


    ¡°I have very little to do while you are away,¡± he replied with a quick nod, pleased with himself. ¡°Well, don¡¯t delay! Tell me everything.¡±


    And so I did.


    My tale took us through the gates of our settlement and through fond greetings from the guards who called out to me. One teased Mirdal about beginning his vigil the hour after I had left¡ªthey knew what close friends we were. I had just reached the part where I faced off with the mournling as we came to the bathing pool, a rare, flat space by the river where I could wash away the dirt of the road before returning to my aunt and uncle¡¯s house and preparing for the induction ceremony.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I stopped abruptly as I came within sight of the pool, as did Mirdal beside me.


    Flinging his thick, dark curls back as he emerged from the water, Bansaerin, leader of the Nightblades, locked eyes with me. And grinned. At me.


    I¡¯d joined the Nightblades against Aunt and Uncle¡¯s express wishes half because I wished to learn to defend our Clan from outside threats and half because of him. Mirdal had joined expressly for Bansaerin and the, as he called them, ¡®slew of handsome warriors¡¯ who tended to follow Bansaerin around.


    I found myself unable to continue forward.


    Water dripped off of his tattoos, casting shiny rivulets over lean, sculpted muscles. As we were momentarily unable to continue toward him, Bansaerin strode up to us instead.


    During this prolonged, luckily unlucky moment of my life, Mirdal was prodding at me as best he could. He stopped as Bansaerin drew close to us.


    The founder and leader of the Nightblades was not who I had expected nor even hoped to see¡ªat least not in this moment when I was covered in dust and grime from several days of traveling through the wilderness alone.


    ¡°We were nearly preparing to send out search parties for you.¡± His golden eyes gleamed as he stared down at me, a smirk twisting into the corner of his lip. ¡°But here you are, well and returned. Was your mission successful?¡±


    I nodded¡ªit was the most he had spoken to me on my own before. Mirdal elbowed me in the side, reminding me to actually respond. ¡°Yes, it was. Quite, actually.¡±


    His smirk deepened. By the ancients, I sounded as nervous as I felt.


    ¡°I have been most curious about what you would bring back with you. I take a particularly keen interest in the contributions of my Nightblades, as you know.¡±


    Nodding again¡ªI don¡¯t know what I would do without Mirdal here to help me, though the terribly awkward interaction would be a good deal shorter if he were not here to help spur both it and me along, and that would be its own sort of relief. ¡°It was a surprise to me to find but, umm, I think I should like for it to remain that way. Unless you¡¯d like to see it?¡±


    His gaze flickered away from my eyes for a moment, grazing down my person for some sort of clue as to what I might be returning with. ¡°I would like to see it.¡± The glint behind his eyes darkened, and my heart began hammering even louder in my chest. ¡°But some things are worth waiting for. I will be looking forward to your surprise, Draeza.¡±


    He slung his tunic over his shoulder and sauntered off back toward the center of town.


    Beside me, Mirdal was standing with his mouth hanging open, which he didn¡¯t bother to shut as he spun himself toward me, his hand on my shoulder. ¡°Umm, where have you been keeping that a secret?¡±


    I grinned nervously, running back through the conversation in my head. I was fooling myself, right? Bansaerin couldn¡¯t possibly be interested in me, couldn¡¯t be flirting with me, could he? No. He kept too involved a rotation going among the Nightblades already. And I didn¡¯t really want to be squeezed in, though I could have been persuaded . . .


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t know,¡± I insisted to Mirdal when he shoved my shoulder again. We stifled our giggles, and Mirdal began hatching a very involved plan to ¡®uncover the depths of Bansaerin¡¯s affections¡¯ that very night during the celebratory feast in honor of my coming of age.


    I might have already destroyed what little interest there had been by my inept flirting, so I did not hold out great hope.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get through the celebration first and then, perhaps, we can embark upon your plan.¡±


    Mirdal¡¯s plans were always elaborate and nearly always unsuccessful though he would never admit as much. But he agreed that, since I had been gone for such a prolonged time, he would allow me to first finish my story, then have my party, and then he would hatch phase one of his elaborate plot.


    We stripped down to our underthings and plunged into the water, quickly falling back into our old, bantering patterns and leaving my blush-inducing interaction with Bansaerin behind us.


    I savored those few moments of peace¡ªMirdal¡¯s constant conversation was no impediment to my wandering thoughts, but the chaos of the induction ceremony would be.


    I twisted the water out of my hair and let it hang loose over my shoulders, draping myself in my least-soiled shawl besides the one that held the Seed, and we made our way into the Clan proper.


    [Health: 10hp.


    Inventory: the Seed, 50 feet of rope.]

 Chapter Four

    The Second Circle Clan had been set back against the Twisting River, which surrounded us on three sides with the wall to guard us from the forest. I could have walked the familiar streets blindfolded, making my way from Mirdal¡¯s family home to Bansaerin¡¯s post beside the stables to my aunt and uncle¡¯s home near the center of town.


    I had been too young to build most of the structures, though Uncle had allowed me to feel helpful in gathering rocks for a firepit or setting out sticks as an outline for the gardens which we kept at the back of the settlement, near the chief and Aveela¡¯s homes.


    We¡¯d felled most of the trees in the area we¡¯d selected, leaving small clumps to serve as windbreaks during storms as well as perches for the few birds who lived this far to the north. There had been a bright blue bird that lived outside my parents¡¯ house, before the Great Displacement sent us all in different directions, where the Lifkin who had survived the soldiers¡¯ attacks following my parents¡¯ failed rebellion had been divided up into smaller clans and dispersed. Mother had named the bird Daffodil after a yellow feather. Iredella had been quite distressed by the nonsensical nature of this naming¡ªshe¡¯d wanted the bird¡¯s name to reflect its blue coloring. Mama would only laugh¡ª¡°there is more to all our natures than that which meets the eye, little one,¡± she would say.


    Papa would grin at me during these disagreements between the two of them. They were the more outgoing of our family and tended to bicker while Papa and I watched on in peace.


    I didn¡¯t know why thoughts of them would return to me now of all times. I took a deep breath as I approached the house, releasing it slowly and allowing the memories to fade with my exhale. Blue-feathered birds did not even live this far north.


    My attempts at regaining my composure were interrupted by the door bursting forth and my cousins pouring out, squealing in delight at my return. Aunt stood behind them, baby Orabella balanced on her hip.


    I hugged each of my cousins in turn and promised to tell them of my adventure all in good time. Finally, I made it to my aunt¡¯s free side and embraced her before scooping Orabella into my arms and squeezing the plump baby against me. Something about her¡ªwe¡¯d shared a fondness for one another since the beginning.


    My cousins squealed again as Aunt revealed that they would be allowed to help with my hair as soon as my tattoo was finished. She ushered them outside, sending Eletria to find Uncle and alert him to my return.


    Our clan¡¯s tattoo artist had worked with Uncle and me to design my induction mark. I wished for an intricate swirl upon my right shoulder and down to my elbow. Come to think of it, there had been a similar pattern upon the seed, but I wished to tell Uncle and Aunt of my journey together.


    ¡°If we are to be finished before nightfall, we should begin now, Rugan,¡± the artist said to my aunt.


    Hesitantly, I agreed, but my concern was short-lived as Uncle appeared a few minutes later, just as the needles were prepped. I rushed over and embraced him, and Damon scooped me into the air the way he used to when I was small. He cupped my face in his hands. ¡°You have the sense of a story about you, Draeza. Tell me all.¡±


    The fire-cleansed needles began to burn rather like the mournling¡¯s shadow-blade fingers had after a while, but recounting my story to aunt and uncle helped me to take my mind off the discomfort. As we finished with the ink and the artist wrapped my arm to set it, my cousins were allowed back inside to help me finish getting ready for the ceremony. Mirdal, I knew, would already be growing anxious for the celebration to start, though most of the rest of the Clan would still be finishing their work for the day.


    My cousins helped with the braids, beads, and feathers in my hair. Aunt insisted upon adding as many blue and purple accents as possible¡ªblue to accentuate the streaks in my hair and purple, after my story, for the Old Ones.


    ¡°There.¡± Aunt smiled at me and sat back, admiring her handiwork. ¡°You look beautiful, Draeza. Just like¡ªwell¡ª¡± Her eyes were shining, and she turned away from me, pressing her fingers to her lips and allowing my cousins to coo over me instead.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Just like your mother was what she would not allow herself to say, even though I knew it was not true, not entirely. Iredella looked like Mama. I had some of her features and Father¡¯s copper eyes. ¡°You are your own creature,¡± Uncle always found a way to whisper to me when Aunt grew sentimental like this. He preferred as much space between our life now and the sister he had lost as possible.


    The sounds in the street outside grew louder as the Second Circle Clan gathered outside Uncle¡¯s home. I lifted baby Orabella from Aunt Rugan¡¯s arms again, bouncing her chunky weight against my hip and planting a kiss into her plump cheek. She giggled, drooling on herself and catching her drool upon her round belly. Aunt and Uncle had been lucky in their offspring¡ªthey¡¯d carefully put stores aside through the years for the lean times. Many here and in Shakerton both had babies thin as late-winter ibex, gaunt with wide eyes, waiting for the spring.


    I closed my eyes, steadying myself, and turned back to my aunt.


    ¡°You are ready, tir¡¯eaza.¡± Dearest one, she called me¡ªmy mother¡¯s nickname for me, a personalization of the Lifkin word for beloved, the same one by which Mama had devised my name in the first place. She who is beloved of her people.


    With her reassurance, I turned back toward the door and signaled to my cousins that they could open it. With giggles and wide eyes, they did, to a resounding cheer from our gathered clan.


    So many faces, assembled just outside. I took a half-step back, but Aunt was there beside me, her hand on my low back to urge me forward. I checked in the pocket of my over-shawl. The Seed was there. Aunt had already begun to complain of its presence¡ªhalf the dried stores in her pantry cabinet had sprouted leaves and shoots and tripled themselves in size. ¡°We shall soon have a mess!¡±


    A ripple rustled across the front of the crowd and Mirdal appeared, smiling widely. He rushed to our door, seized my hand, and pulled me into the celebration.


    As with all coming of age celebrations, there would music, wine, and dancing. The vintner had taken special care of procuring my favorite¡ªa dry, strawberry wine of which we¡¯d only been able to make a few bottles the year before. He presented one to me at the feast and had one tucked away for the dancing afterward. Aunt prevented Mirdal from filling my cup a second time before my presentation of my gift to the clan, which would come directly after the feasting.


    My stomach churned, and I made distracted conversation with the members of the Nightblades who came by to wish me well. But soon enough, we had eaten our fill. The chief rose, calling all eyes to the center of the circle gathering. After a few words of welcome, he bade me to come forward and present my gift.


    I drew in another slow breath, drawing to myself the speech I had practiced over and again on my journey back home. I stood beside the chief who was as broad around as two of me and over a foot taller as well. He took a half-step back so that I might not be kept in shadow. I raised my gaze and faced my clan. My people. As both my parents had done, and their parents before them, all the way back to the Bright Age and the time of the islas when the tradition began, long before the fall. I lifted my chin. ¡°My name is Draeza sai¡¯Lune. I have returned from the northern wilds with my gift to the Second Circle Clan.¡± I recited how I had traveled high into the mountains and faced down a mournling.


    ¡°A spirit spoke to me from the depths of the caves¡ªthe remains of a fallen isla. He called himself Alapatour, and he explained that the gift I have brought is our birthright.¡± From the pocket of my over-shawl, I withdrew the Seed. A series of gasps echoed about the assembled camp.


    With the Seed held overhead, I turned behind me to the chief¡¯s table and picked up a potato Aunt had left there for me for this purpose. The gasps gave way to a few titters of laughter. I ignored these as best I could though I could not help the color that rose to my face.


    I lowered the Seed to my waist and, slowly, brought it toward the potato. In a flare of green light and the sound of hundreds of rustling leaves falling all at once, vines and sprouts burst out from the potato¡ªit was no longer a single potato but an entire plant, one that would continue producing up until the deepest frosts.


    More gasps echoed. ¡°Again!¡± Someone shouted from the back of the assembly. One of the children hurried forward, potato in hand, and I repeated the gesture. This time, everyone cheered.


    The chief stepped forward again, clapping his hands together. He gestured my aunt and uncle to join us in the center of the crowd. Behind where he stood, Aveela, the spirit-speaker, slowly pulled herself up to her feet and hobbled to stand alongside us.


    The chief spoke loudly, reciting the words I had been waiting for so long to hear, ¡°On behalf of Damon and Rugan, I present to you, your newest member, Draeza Lif-sai¡¯Lune.¡± I grinned as they cheered again, relief returning the feeling to my limbs and my fast-beating heart. Mirdal hurried forward, embracing me as soon as the chief, Aveela, and my aunt and uncle had done the same. I entrusted the Seed to my uncle¡¯s care, and Mirdal dragged me off to where the musicians had gathered for the dancing. He¡¯d tucked the bottle of the vintner¡¯s special wine under his arm, and we shared it as we danced, a celebration that went long into the night.


    [Health: 10hp {status, intoxicated, -5 to Luck}.


    Inventory: 50 feet of rope, half bottle of Lifkin berry wine.]