Heartless

Chapter 3: In Plain Sight

By the time Eret had finished packing, he swung his warmest traveler's cloak around his shoulders. Forgetting a cloak in a nation where warm at this time of year often meant you could just barely feel your nose and fingers was one thing; forgetting it in a situation precarious as this could mean the difference between life and death.

Any personal items had to be left behind, only what was necessary to travel light as possible. Still, Eret found himself holding the book he'd taken from the library the other day, debating whether or not to take it with him. He ran his hand over the blue leather cover, old and worn with age, webs of cracks and tears scattered across, and the words engraved on it in silver runes, the language long forgotten by humans. Inside, as he flipped it open, was the same language, runes and symbols written in black ink along the pages. Some had been ripped or torn out in a way that suggested whatever had been held in those pages was meant to stay forgotten, those remaining dry, brittle and yellow with age.

Eyes dancing over the familiar words and pictures, he flipped through the several stories and legends he knew by heart. Reading it often made him feel closest to his father, one of many reasons why he was drawn to it despite his sister's previous warning. Most of the time he believed it a sheer miracle he'd found it. It'd been stuffed somewhere in the back of the library, hidden away in a box on top of one of many shelves; if he didn't know better he'd say someone went through an awful length to ensure nobody else could find it easy. As far as he knew, this was the only copy that survived all these years since the Divide centuries ago. It was both odd and sad that such a vicious war could last so long, then again, Otherworlders had extremely longer lifespans than humans, and possibly were still fighting from then while generations of humans fought in the place of their fallen ancestors.

Spreads of illustrations alive and rich with color despite the time passed decorated the page he stopped at, his fingers tracing the symbols and runes on the page side by it describing the legend depicted. Or maybe it was history. Sometimes he couldn't tell. What this book fed were hundreds of stories, legends, and tidbits of history from an eternity ago when the land had been one. It told of important figures, the powers the Otherworlders wielded, their empires, their cultures, the spells and magic rich within the land.

As he admired the painting, he remembered the inscription on the other page in the written language his father had taught him. It showed the lost Princess Lorcán standing between two armies, arms extended towards the both of them, palms up. Smoke and dust choked the air above, and weapons were raised but went no further as she stood in each's way and refused to move. Even in paint on paper, she held a regal air that radiated power and strength.

A Draki princess who according to stories was a warrior Eret had aspired to be since the day he read about her. Unlike Eret's father, the only Otherworlder Eret had seen, the girl had obsidian black skin and sharp features, although they had the same silver-white hair. Her eyes stood out most. While Eret's were a dark brown, she held the same eyes of any born full-blooded Draki royal. Bright, clear eyes of gold, the pupils thin slits with enough ferocity that if a soldier came across her in battle, they'd run the other way.

Over the years since he first found the book, he'd spent them scouring these illustrations and stories. Myth or history, Eret couldn't tell about the legend of Princess Lorcán, but so far it seemed to point most to history centuries old. It was said that when tensions had run high after greed was discovered and humans hunted down Otherworlders to use for their magic, she was among the only ones maintaining the peace. Then one day she went over to the human lands for reasons unknown, maybe to negotiate, maybe to meet with the human discussed in the poems taken from her writings, but whatever it had been had died with her. She never returned.

With the tensions already high, they assumed the worst, and combined with her presence no longer able to douse the flames, they grew out of control and war was declared. Her disappearance had become the breaking point. That part was possibly history, but the end...that was where the legend began.