Lilac

Chapter One [remastered]

Seventeen winters.

That was how long she spent knowing about everything about the realm she was born in. Learning things, knowing what others didn't know. While other children played outside and bathed in the warmth of the sun, she spent her childhood surrounded by books older than her and her mentors.

"Lilac," a male voice called. Instantly, she turned her head. It was Stan Blakely.

Lilac. That was what they called her. It was the only name she'd known and one of the very few things she knew about herself.

She didn't have a last name. Not that she knew of, atleast. She grew up being taught to be curious about everything except her identity.

"People like us, child, are born to possess knowledge. Even if it meant to forget who we are," Sir Vaugnhart has said to her when she was at the tender age of eight, after she asked where her parents were.

"Stan," she answered, her pale lilac eyes zeroing into a pair of grey ones. "Is something amiss?"

"The Sage is looking for you," he said.

Stan was roughly her age. He was brought to them when he was about ten summers, unlike Lilac who had been at the Great Hall since she was an infant.

She nodded, and without a question, spun on her heels clad in a thick material the same color shade as her loose clothing- pastel brown. They never had to own pairs of shoes. Prodigies never had to leave the Great Hall unless they were summoned to advise an entire town, or pack, or however the terminologies worked in their area.

She knocked gingerly twice on the tall, wooden door. It opened silently which was a slight surprise, considering its age.

"Sir," she called softly, her tone in its usual polite lilt.

The Sage looked up from the paper he was writing, before he nodded at her and motioned for her to sit on the wooden chair beside the table.

Lilac sat, wondering why she was in the presence of her superior. "You've called for me, Sir?" she asked quietly.

The Sage regarded her with unreadable eyes, the skin around the blue pearls of knowledge seemingly withered with the numerous seasons that have passed.

She never knew his name, either. All she knew was that he'd been the head of the Great Hall even before she was alive.

"Do you know what day it is, Lilac?" the old man asked, returning his eyes to what he was doing.

"April 4th, sir," Lilac answered.

"And what takes place every 4th day of the 4th month?" he continued, not looking up.

Lilac was getting confused.

Not because she didn't know the answer, because Lilac, ofcourse, knew it. She knew all the important dates, the important events, who ruled over which and who died at this certain point in time- she spent her entire life studying them, afterall.

No, Lilac was getting confused, just as she always did on the rare occasions that she had to talk to the Sage.
The questions he would ask were always unexpected, as if he was pulling them out of thin air. But then, like always, everything would always come in full circle.

"There's a feast on the Southern part of Ireland to celebrate the birth of Freya, the queen of the continent who ended all wars on land," Lilac answered smoothly, as if there wasn't a myriad of thoughts going on inside her head. The Sage was quiet, silently urging her to go on.

Lilac felt nervous all of a sudden, her mouth feeling dry and her throat parched.

"Every 4th hour of the 4th day of the 4th month," Lilac started, "A wolf dies and an angel is born on Earth. The pack of the deceased wolf grieves, and after a while, it falls apart. It happens every eighteen centuries."