Nivaleth's Cathedral

ONE: NEW LIVES ARE BOUGHT

The slow drum began the morning and gradually increased until everyone was awake. It pelted out a rhythm of beauty that didn't have a beginning or end, only a pattern that couldn't stop. In a crudely constructed room a girl in her twenties lay asleep. Her limbs were scattered about and the wool blanket that covered her hung off of her and on the pat that separated her body from the floor. For a few seconds her chest moved up and down in tune to the drum, then she stretched her arms upwards and squeezed her eyes tight.

"Time ta awake," she murmured, a yawn breaking the rest of her words. "Cannot it have just been nightfall a few seconds ago?" Hands running through her hair she braided it back and tied it with some string from her wrist. After so long she remembered her tradition. The twine had all but run low on her wrist, but it was still there.

Luistia chuckled to herself and sat up, fresh eyes seeing the world around her. The walls were cracked and moss grew up them in odd places to keep out a draft. Through the patched ceiling she could see bits of sunlight that fell onto the floor to make the cold stone glitter. Her toes popped as she rapped them against the ground one by one, doing the same to her fingers. Outside people were just beginning to stir. She could hear others in rooms similar to hers stretching, yawning, and getting dressed. Luistia had slept in her clothing so she wouldn't have to bother with finding something to wear. Ears listening, she waited for the sharp footsteps that would mean Amelia had come down to retrieve them so the day's work could begin.

In the past month they'd restored fifty four houses. At first it was just houses, but she'd moved on to helping build a wall that would allow their defenses to protect against Cyliaria, should she return. The ante of stakes didn't seem to cease and people grew more anxious each day she remained out in the world. No one wanted to be weaponless or defenseless when she returned. The few Patrall magicians that didn't die were busy training younger magicians to use their magic for protection. Elesen led them.

Luistia smiled. Elesen was one of her closest friends and the two would often go walking late at night to discuss how things were going. He had big shoes to fill since the death of his father, and his once youthful face had became harsher and more dignified. Rohesia and he had a lot to do, and despite how long Elesen spent deceiving it to her she still didn't understand their politics. Partrall's King, Arnold, had taken to helping them.

What will we do today? She stretched again and ran her tongue over her teeth and lips. Chapped as they were it wasn't a bad feeling. Summer was drawing to an end and the season of fall was just along the horizon, tempting with its breeze. The rain had quit for the most part, and the land was filled with greens that held promise to change into oranges and yellows soon enough. Estarii flowers blossomed everywhere with the rain practically gone. One had even sprouted up in her room. They came in every shade of the rainbow, and the one rooted a few feet away from her was a light pink. She reached over and pinched off a flower, leaving behind two of its siblings as she blew.

Each individual little part of it flew off like magic. They filled the air and danced around her until she couldn't even remember what the tiny thing had looked like whole. Satisfied, Luistia left the rest, dropped the stem, and pushed back the flap of a mat that worked as a makeshift door. The drumming continued as she walked outside. Her feet slipped into the boots she left outside without even having to stop. Things came naturally. Repetitive, but in a way she found herself enjoying.

A horse neighed outside--more than likely Elesen taking Suni out for a run. The pretty thing had found shelter in the stables, which was the only thing not destroyed during the attack. Amelia still hadn't came by. She's probably in some meetin', Luistia thought, I'll go visit Mirian.

She had little hope that the girl was awake. Luistia had only spoken to Mirianette twice since the incident. Neither knew how to talk after what happened. Guilt riddled the older sister and she couldn't get it to go away. I stabbed her and she doesn't hate me. It wasn't right in her opinion. Mirianette should despise her for everything. Instead, she was only sad and distant. Their last talk, two weeks ago, lasted twenty minutes...and that was nineteen all too long for the young girl.