Our clash ended more quickly than I’d expected. Maybe Arivor had gotten as weary of our struggle as me, but I doubted it. Once he lost his fight with IT, he enjoyed our games too much for that to be true.

As he slumped over my sword, he laughed with blood bubbling on his lips.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he gasped. “We’ll only return, given time.”

“I know,” I said, “but maybe next time will be different. I’ll see you soon.”

I kicked him off of my blade, and his crazed laughter faded into a gurgle while the light died in his eyes. Tossing my sword to the blood-soaked ground, I trudged toward my once-friend’s throne.

Outside, the sounds of battle drew closer. When the rebel commander found her overlord dead and me gone, she’d no doubt claim the kill as her own, but that was fine by me. I wouldn’t be here to care.

Settling in my seat, I mimed raising a glass.

“To the coming years of peace,” I said. “May our return be long delayed.”

Bumping my head against the chair’s back, I let my hand fall as the backlash cane. Flames engulfed me, and I collapsed into ashes.

 

Chapter One: A Discovery

Raimie

 

Life in this corner of the woods had never ceased to bore me, but what else should one expect when living so far from any form of civilization? I didn’t mind my slow-paced life or its consistency. It was soothing to know that everything in my life could be predicted.

As I got dressed, rain drummed on the roof, as always. Its calming cadence set the tempo to my distracted hum, a buzz I kept soft so I wouldn’t wake my father on the other side of our cottage.

Once I was ready, I returned to a recently stoked fire, coaxing it to grow, and all the while, I eyed the contents of the cauldron hanging over it. Did I dare eat from last night’s mush, or should I find my breakfast elsewhere?

Rustling drew me out of my thoughts, and poking the fire again, I made a face.

“Good morning, dad,” I said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t,” my father said. “I’ve been up for a while. Didn’t you notice?”

Shrugging, I reached for a ladle, deciding to risk the mush. I scarfed down my spoonful, barely tasting it, before heading for the door.

“Can I borrow mama’s bow this morning?” I asked.

“I don’t see why not,” my father said. “You… want to go hunting today?”

Stopping short, I shot a glare over my shoulder. My father was lying in bed, perched on his elbows, but at the look directed his way, he shifted his gaze away from me.

“You know I do,” I said.

Throwing a heavy, woolen cloak over my shoulders, I retrieved my mother’s metal bow. Hanging a quiver over the cloak, I shoved another of my mother’s otherworldly possessions in a pocket before laying a hand on the door.

“I should be home before dark,” I said.

“All right. Good hunt, son.”

I doubted it would be. When I stepped outside, rain doused me, enough so that water seeped to my skin. This morning had brought worse than usual weather with it.

But that was just another aspect of life here. I didn’t mind getting wet so long as I kept warm in spite of it.

Pulling my cloak closed, I hurried to Eledis’ nearby hut in leaping strides. My grandfather had always enjoyed his privacy, rarely leaving his tiny abode, but I had no problem with coming to the old man. The room behind this door was one filled with magic, after all.

As I waited for Eledis to answer my knock, crackling energy zapped under my skin. My grandfather had recently come home from his monthly trip to Fissid, the town closest to my family’s homestead, and something that I most loved in the world usually came with his return.

The door was flung open with a wrinkled, scowling face behind it. If I didn’t know better, the sharp glare directed my way might have made me retreat into the safety of the nearby forest. As it was, I grinned at the old man.

“Good morning,” I said. “Did I drag you out of bed?”

Judging from Eledis’ disheveled hair and nightshirt, I’d guess I had.

“What do you want, kid?” Eledis grumbled.

“Do you have anything for me?” I asked, widening my grin.

Crossing his arms, Eledis said, “That’s the first thing you say to me? Really?”

Shaking his head, he frowned.

“What is it with you and your incessant thirst for knowledge?”

He examined me, raking his gaze up and down my body, before sighing.

“Do you have your mother’s bag?” he asked.

I pulled the requested item out of a pocket, and after accepting it, Eledis scanned my soaked-through state once more.

“Stay here,” he said.

Thankfully, he left the door open when he returned to the depths of his cottage. I edged as close to its threshold as I could, taking advantage of the warmth emanating from the fire inside. At the sight of the books and journals haphazardly stacked on the cottage’s table and floor, I badly wanted to keep going, surrounding myself with this glorious refuge that I’d enjoyed since I was small. I might have listened to those desires, defying my grandfather, if a recent scolding hadn’t been fresh on my mind. The produced image of Eledis’ reddened face made me cringe.

Said grandfather stomped to me, offering me a book wrapped in my mother’s clear bag. Before I could accept the gift, however, Eledis retracted it.

“You bring it back as it is now,” he said. “No food or water stains. No dog-eared pages.”

Rolling my eyes, I made a failed swipe at the book.

“I did that one time,” I said.

“And I haven’t forgotten it,” Eledis said. “So?”

Sighing, I said, “I’ll return it in pristine condition.”

“Good.”

I snatched the book from him when he offered it, ready to leave, but Eledis wasn’t quite finished with me yet.

“Is that it? You’ll go into the woods as usual?” he said. “Don’t you have better things to do today?”

Thank Alouin I’d managed to turn away before Eledis had asked that. It let me hide my wince, even if my drawn together shoulders weren’t so easy to conceal.

With a cheery grin in place, I twisted toward Eledis as I resumed my trek, waving a wrapped book overhead.

“I have something new to learn,” I said. “What’s better than that?”

Eledis looked as if he might say more, so I hurried away, loping to get between the trees as quickly as I could.

Beneath the forest’s canopy, the rain fell less heavily. Instead, it came in bursts of dumped water from the leaves above. Dodging between these, I followed a well-worn path, resetting traps as I went, until I reached my family’s crude hunting blind.

Scrambling up a ladder, I rolled onto a platform, held between the tree’s branches. After scooting into a nearby hollow, I rested my mother’s ‘compound bow’ outside and retrieved the book from where I’d stashed it.

Because of the weather, I seriously doubted I’d bring home anything today, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying, no matter how half-heartedly. It was my turn to scour the forest with a bow in hand, and any other day, I might have looked for deer tracks or actually put forth an effort to hunt.

But today wasn’t a typical day. My family knew this, as they knew how much I disliked this chore. They wouldn’t expect me to make any kills.

Still, as I withdrew the book from its ‘plastic’ bag, I pricked my ears for strange sounds. I opened the book with care, wary of creaking leather, and turned each page as silently as possible. I’d be a ghost in this tree.

Eledis’ latest acquisition recounted the recent history of Ada’ir—my home kingdom—in the driest manner possible, but despite that, I devoured its contents. Most of what I read I’d already known, but scattered throughout the book’s pages were gems of the unknown.

A brief discussion on the Robzul city states’ waning power. An analysis of the Southern Kingdoms’ threat to Ada’ir. A passing mention about who might once have inhabited the abandoned northern reaches.

But I found the most interesting tidbit in a lengthy passage about our world’s current maritime practices.

Since Alouin’s arrival here, the point of his entrance—the Accession Tear—has caused the kingdoms around the Narrow Sea undue trouble. Shipping lanes shift near daily because the storms generated by the Tear never follow a set pattern.

In recent years, crossing the sea to Ada’ir’s old trading partner in the east has posed such danger and hardship that not many have braved the pass, despite the riches to be made there. To make matters worse, those attempting to cross the Narrow Sea began disappearing with the rise of Doldimar in the year 3225 A.C.E. Soon after this, anyone with a shred of sense learned to avoid Auden on their trading routes.

Frowning, I lowered the book.

Auden. The name had sounded so familiar, and yet, I’d never run across it before, not in my reading at least. It echoed to the back of my mind, and as it did, something responded, or that was what it felt like.

Strange.

Many have speculated about the fate of those who once dared the trip to Auden. Some believe there is no mystery, that all of them have fallen to the Accession Tear’s storms. Others say we should give more credence to the tales of Audish refugees, but almost all in the scholarly community reject this hypothesis. How can the cruelties shared by those people exist in our world?

No. It’s much more likely that the refugees have exaggerated their troubles to gain more sympathy here. The question of what to do with them might be the defining moment of King Belqarim’s reign.

King Belqarim? Queen Kaedesa’s late husband? This spread of refugees, or the latest rash of them, must have taken place recently. Had I met one, explaining where I’d heard the word Auden before?

That was unlikely. My family and I rarely left our home.

As I continued reading, I looked for further mention of Auden, but the book’s back cover soon snapped closed, and I’d found nothing. Storing the book, I made a face.

I hated leaving mysteries unsolved, but how could I solve this one without sounding crazy? At least, that was what I thought my strange recognition of a previously unknown word sounded like.

Maybe I could ask my father about it tonight, no matter how much I might hate worrying him. Save for certain subjects, he was fairly accepting when it comes to the strange and unusual.

Peeking outside the hollow, I noticed a brief splash of sunlight near the horizon before water got dumped in my face. Sputtering, I retreated into my shelter, wrapping my damp cloak around me.

It was late enough in the day that I could go home if I wanted, but I knew what was waiting for me there. I’d rather sit here, bored and in uncomfortably drying clothes, than face it.

Resting against the hollow’s back wall, I listened to the diminished misting of the rain, and soon enough, my eyelids drooped. With another nightmare waking me in sweat-soaked sheets last night, I hadn’t gotten much rest, but I didn’t want to take a nap so close to sundown. If I wasn’t home by dark, my father would panic.

Still, there was something incredibly soothing about solitude found in a familiar place. Shaking my head, I braved the rain, lying belly down beside my mother’s bow. I drummed my fingers on the platform, determined to keep… my… eyes…

Black surrounded me, but this wasn’t the typical darkness found at night or in a room without light. It shifted and swirled with color peeking through it, much like the homemade inks my family used. It was unnerving, uncomfortable, but not nearly as bad as my inability to move.

Something was keeping me paralyzed. What, I couldn’t say. No rope was restraining me, and even if that had had me immobilized, I should be able to flex my fingers or twitch my eyelids closed. Instead, the only sign of life I was allowed was the drawn-out scream that I flung into this skin-crawling black.

It was the same nightmare I’d had since I was a child, one whose details were wiped away when I woke up, but whenever I found myself here, I remembered every instance of it. After so many years spent experiencing the same terror almost every night, one would think I’d have gotten used to it by now.

One would think.

So, when something changed in my perpetual nightmare, it chilled me more than anything. A flicker of motion caught my eye, and my scream faded to nothing.

“Hello?” I rasped. “Is someone there?”

Breathlessly, I waited, wondering if I’d lost my mind. Surprised that it had taken this long if I had.

Right as the distraction lost its hold on my voice, settling me into the nightmare’s rhythm once more, something was hung over my head. A face, hooded and shadowed, looked down on me, and my eyes widened while my mouth went dry. Someone lived in this nightmare with me?

“Please,” I croaked. “Help me.”

The hood cocked, lowering toward me. It stopped before I can discern the features within it, but even so, I could swear I knew-

Straightening, the hooded figure shook their head before pulling themselves out of view. I screamed after them, pleas and curses and-

The platform beneath me changed places with open air, and as I fell, something scraped against my leg, shifting down until it was flung away. Sleep clung to me, but it lost its hold when the ground halted my fall.

Groaning, I took small sips of air until I could roll onto my back, splaying my limbs.

What had happened? Despite my best efforts, I’d fallen asleep, obviously. Had another nightmare plagued me while I’d been napping? It must have. I never otherwise moved in my sleep.

Slowly, I climbed to my feet, and when nothing in my body shrieked of damage done to it, I strode for the ladder. The sky was bruising purple, and if I didn’t hurry, I wouldn’t make it home before dark.

When I poked my head above the platform, however, I froze. Eledis’ book was on me, bouncing in its pocket, but I saw no sign of my mother’s bow on the platform.

After sliding down the ladder, I rubbed at my burning hands while hurrying in the direction I’d fallen. I wasn’t afraid of how my father might react to losing the bow like I would be if I’d lost my grandfather’s book. He certainly wouldn’t be happy that I’d misplaced it, but he’d never let that anger turn violent.

No. I was searching the forest for my own reasons.

“Come on. Come on,” I muttered.

I disregarded the setting sun and gathering dusk. If I’d lost something that had belonged to my mother because of a stupid mistake, I’d be repeating a day, exactly nine years ago, that had been much like this one, and I couldn’t let it happen again, couldn’t-

I tear down Fissid’s streets, chasing my friend. The village’s square looms ahead of us, and I skid to a stop beside its well.

Mama shouts something behind me, but I’m not ready to listen yet. My friend is climbing on top of the well's roof, sticking his tongue out at me. Does he think he can escape up there? Oo, I’ll prove him wrong.

I balance on the well’s lip, reach for the roof’s edge, and start pulling myself onto it. As I dangle, a hand grabs my leg, and that knocks me off balance. I lose my grip, and the hold on my ankle lasts long enough for my chin to hit the well’s wall. Stars accompany me into its depths.

Shaking my head, I shoved that memory aside. What good would it do me now?

Besides, the last of the day’s light was reflecting off of something ahead, and as I approached it, I sharply let out a breath, much as if I’d been punched. Mother’s bow was tangled in a nearby bush’s branches, and I rushed to retrieve it.

As I finagled it clear of clinging leaves and branches, I cocked my head. When I’d begun working the bow free, a noise—initially soft—had started, but with every second I’d spent here, it had increased in volume, a gong reverberating in my head until its resonance became painful. It shivered and vibrated, resounding along every bone in my body, and I didn’t… I couldn’t…

What was that ringing?

Absently ripping my prize free from the bush, I wandered toward the noise, barely noticing the forest growing dark around me.

What was that? An echo bounced in my head, setting my teeth buzzing. A hum dug into my essence, refusing to retreat.

A part of me realized that I should avoid this anomaly. Anything strange or out of the ordinary usually held grave portents for whoever stumbled upon it, but I couldn’t stop my feet. A compulsion pulled me along like a fish on a line, but I couldn’t thrash against it. It held me too firmly.

When I stepped into a clearing much like any other, I made a face as the ringing noise stuck needles through my eyes. Still, I scanned this place, one that was so loud and yet silent, motionless and yet chaotic.

For light jittered across the clearing, illuminating the bushes and trees with sporadic rays. I squinted, trying to pierce this miasma, and to my surprise, it dimmed, present but not as blinding. Through it, I found what could only be the light’s source.

A sword was lying on the forest floor. If not for the mind-numbing display around it, I might have discounted it as a soldier’s weapon, if more well-crafted. As they did with the surrounding clearing, glowing tendrils shot down the blade, forking like lightning, and beneath them, I might have seen engravings of some sort, but with what was blazing against my eyes, I couldn’t say for sure.

The compulsion that had dragged me to this clearing tugged at me once more, but I dug my heels in. This light show? That sword? My mind screamed at the sight of them, and I always listened to my instincts.

“Nope,” I breathed.

With difficulty, I spun, marching in the opposite direction, and when an invisible and impossible force stopped pulling me backward, I oriented to where I was.

What the hell had that been? As I jogged home in starlight, I tried to piece the phenomenon that I’d witnessed into my limited understanding of the world, and it fit nowhere. Light spawned from nothing and a sword in the middle of a forest? Those sounded like story elements pulled from a fairy tale.

Magic. It had reminded me of magic, but that was impossible in modern times. The Esela, Alouin’s chosen, had vanished long ago, and any other magical phenomena—the legendary primeancers included—were a myth. They had to be.

So, what had that been?

Without more information, I was at a loss, and I did not like mysteries. Maybe Eledis’ store of books would hold an answer, both for this puzzle and my earlier Auden conundrum. I’d look into it and solve this puzzle because that was what I did. I couldn’t let it lie.

I couldn’t decide whether having two anomalies visit me in one day was a blessing or a curse. I welcomed their distraction from what today represented, but at the same time, dealing with these irritations alongside what was waiting for me at home seemed… irksome.

At least the rain had stopped.

As I approached home, a cracking twig froze me solid. Had I run across one of the predators that stalked these woods? One of Queen Kaedesa’s rare patrols?

The sight of torchlight lowered my bow if not my focus. If this was a patrol, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about, but it paid to be prepared. As I trod forward on silent feet, however, I recognized the voice muttering ahead of me.

“Eledis,” I called.

Firelight flickered across foliage while I stepped into my grandfather’s field of view, and seeing me, Eledis slumped before shaking his head.

“There you are,” he said. “We’ve been worried sick.”

Of course they had been. Staying out in these woods past sunset could be hazardous for one’s health.

“Sorry. I lost track of time,” I said. “Where’s dad?”

“Waiting for us back home. Someone had to stay put in case you showed your face,” Eledis said. “Alouin, Raimie. You can’t scare us like that.”

Wincing, I patted at the air.

“Again, I’m sorry. If it helps, it won’t happen again. I meant to head home before the sun set. Fell asleep instead.”

Again, Eledis shook his head at me.

“I suppose it couldn’t have been helped. You’ve always been fiercely independent,” he said. “Well? Let’s get back before you father keels over.”

He turned to lead the way, but I paused. Wouldn’t it be better, if possible, to keep my father out of my quest for answers?

“Here. Before I forget,” I said.

Extending my borrowed book toward him, I waited for Eledis to take it before saying.

“I found something interesting while reading it. Mentions of a place I’ve never heard of before. Auden, is what the author called it. Do you have any other books about it?”

Eledis wordlessly stared at me as if judging how serious I was. I wasn’t sure why he’d gone so intense over a single, seemingly innocent question, but I withstood his silence regardless.

Once his decision was made, he said, “I have one. I’ll get it for you on our way back.”

That had gone more easily than I’d expected. Usually, my grandfather held secrets—which based on his behavior, this apparently was—close to heart.

“Thanks,” I said.

Nodding, Eledis once more moved to lead us out of the forest, but I didn’t stop him this time. In silence, we hiked through the wood’s confines until light beckoned us from its embrace.

The small homestead that I called home opened before us: cottage, hut, smoking house, and a garden plot. Rather than the release of tension that the sight usually wrought, however, a clenching hand took hold of my throat, closing it.

I trudged behind Eledis to where he kept his store of knowledge, waiting while he ducked inside. When he returned, the old man withheld his retrieved book.

“You can’t tell your father about this,” he said.

An easy enough promise to make. When I nodded, Eledis handed the book over, and the two of us made for the homestead’s second house. My grandfather threw its door open, but I didn’t follow. I didn’t want what was waiting in there.

But today marked the day that my mother had died because of me. No matter what else it might be, I owed my father a show of gratitude for whatever he’d provided this year. It was the smallest gesture I could offer to make up for what I’d done.

Plastering a smile in place, I walked into warmth and light and love.

“Happy name day!” my father and Eledis exclaimed as I came inside.

Unclasping my sodden cloak, I glanced over the contents of the cottage’s table. Fresh meat, a nice change of pace from the dried strips we typically ate. A jug of my father’s favorite brandy, hidden except for at the best and worst of times.

And a cake.

Spreading my cloak to dry, I said, “I’m guessing that came from Fissid. Who should I thank the next time we visit?”

“Mistress Ytrella. She told me to say hello,” Eledis said. “Sit down, Raimie. We have that wretched song to sing.”

“Hey!” my father snapped. “Samantha loved that…”

I hid my smile as those two bickered, letting that bit of normalcy offset the sickness roiling in my guts, but when I sat at the table, my family fell silent. Soon enough, though, they launched into my mother’s traditional name day song.

“Happy birthday to you…”

Listening to their discordant noise, I struggled to maintain my smile. This melody seemed wrong without my mother’s voice to balance their toneless droning.

Once it was finished, my father set a candle in front of me.

“Make a wish,” he said.

I’d never understood this tradition. Why should I wish for something when magic could no longer fulfill it?

My mother, however, had insisted on the practice every year, and after what had happened in the woods, I didn’t know whether I could dismiss the superstition behind it as easily as I had before. So, as I gazed into the flickering flame’s depths, I considered what I wanted.

What did I desire above all else?

Once I'd posed the question to myself, the answer came easily. Leaning forward, I blew out the candle, and my family clapped.

“What did you wish for?” my father asked.

With a smile, I said, “I can’t share, not if I want it to come true. Remember?”

Making a face, my father waved at the meal arranged in front of us.

“Fine. Keep your secrets,” he says. “Now, let’s celebrate!”

As the evening progressed, my efforts to maintain a pleasant demeanor became easier. The room’s focus shifted away from me, and as we shared this meal, I could almost dismiss an underlying conviction that this commemoration of me dishonored the memory of my murdered mother.

As the meal drew to a close, leaving my father and Eledis impaired by the brandy they’d drunk, I asked a question that had been rattling in me since the woods.

“I have a puzzle for you,” I said.

After spending so long in self-imposed silence, my break from it snapped my family’s attention back to me.

“Say you stumbled on something amazing,” I continued. “Something that you both wanted and feared. Something that could change your life for good or ill but that called to you so fiercely you couldn’t deny it.”

I could still hear that damn ringing.

“Would you take the chance offered to you?”

Eledis and my father exchanged glances, and even drunk as they were, I could see a silent conversation taking place between them.

“That’s a good question. Let me think on it,” Eledis eventually said “Meanwhile, it’s past time I got some rest.”

After rising from the table, he stopped beside me, bending to clasp my shoulder.

“Read what I gave you,” he whispered.

He was out the door before I could stop him. What did the book he’d given me have to do with my question?

Left alone with my father, I faced his inscrutable gaze, internally wincing. That expression usually meant I’d done something wrong.

“In this proposed scenario, are you unhappy before getting this offer?” my father asked.

What a good question. Most of the time, I had no complaints about my life. I liked the solitude found so far from civilization, broken only by familial communion. I liked the day in, day out routine I’d found here. I liked its lack of surprises.

But that did nothing to negate the deeply engrained sense of wrong that had ever hovered over me. Something was missing from my life, but I didn’t know what it was. Something essential to me.

I couldn’t, however, tell my father about that, not again.

“I’m satisfied with my life,” I said.

“Then, why would you change it?” my father asked.

He gathered several dirty dishes from the table before inclining his head toward the rest.

“Help me clean up?”

As I washed dishes beside my father, my thoughts never stopped turning to a miraculous sword in the forest or to the book in my pocket, and once we’d finished cleaning up, my father pulled me to his chest.

“Thank you for putting up with us. I know how much you hate your name day,” he said into my hair. “Your mother would be proud.”

My father released me, and I watched him prepare for bed with a grimace barely held in check. After what he’d said, I’d never avoid nightmares tonight.