Shadow of Dusk

Departure

An aching in her heart startled her out of her sleep. She had vividly seen the green sparks in a beautiful face: a face she loved unconditionally, a face that would haunt her forever, a face that never allowed her sleep because it was always hidden just underneath her eyelids, where no one else could see but her. Where no one would look but her…where no one loved and no one sacrificed the precious hours of sleep in the dead of the night to look.

But love and sacrifice were entwined, the ancient veredians had said, just like the heart and the mind were entwined. Magic must be governed by the heart and by the mind. Every piece must be in its proper place. The veredians had learned this already. The humans were young to this world, vibrant and ready to rain out with every drop of blood their willingness to live, to follow their natural abilities. The veredians had learned the magic of pulling it from their pores without a drop—for magic was inherent in them.

But she was not fully veredian, nor was she fully human. Nor was she whole, and her pieces were scattered all across Endoria. They were waiting for her to find them.

Cailin looked toward the horizon as the dusk fell softly, her green eyes pulling in the last rays of the golden sun. She hoped to see her father coming home, but she saw no sign of him. She turned away, focusing again on brushing off a few early fall leaves from her sister’s grave. Cailin spent most of her evenings like this, waiting for her father, watching as the sun settled itself to retire behind the Alte Mountains to the west as the moon rose above the Volont Mountains in the east. When they were younger, Cailin and her sister Liaden had watched together as the day grayed into dusk and then inked into the blackness of night, sharing in the apprehension of awaiting their father’s return from his political duties.

But Cailin would never share anything with her sister again; she now watched alone, and Cailin didn’t feel the romance of day giving in to night anymore, not since Liaden had been buried underneath the ground and blinded by death.  

Her mother approached and closed her arms around Cailin from behind, resting her chin on Cailin’s head. Her dark hair unfolded onto Cailin’s auburn, and Cailin glanced down and saw how the bits of gold in her hair mingled with her mother’s, which now had bits of silver. Argenbel—Belle to her family—smiled as she also saw how the gold and silver created an alchemy. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. Choosing not to comment on Cailin’s habit of spending more time with a grave than with her living family, she said, “Your father will be safe, and hopefully home soon.”

            Cailin sighed audibly. Her father, Linden, was at the council of Queen Roselin of Veredore. For the past few months, Roselin had been having trouble with her cousin Avilane of Maldoran, the country directly east of Veredore, and the most eastward of all the countries in Endoria. Linden, as one of Roselin’s generals, was at the council to hear Avilane’s “request for peace,” as if it were Veredore causing the tension between the two countries. Belle had been requested to go as well, but had opted to stay behind with Cailin, who was not yet in the service of the queen, although at eighteen, she was old enough to be.

            Cailin stood up and looked around hopefully one more time. As she was about to follow her mother inside their home, her eyes caught a dark shape riding toward them.

            “Mum,” she whispered quietly.

Belle turned quickly and, seeing the shape, grabbed her sword and stowed it in her left hand behind her back. She moved back out into the yard and motioned for Cailin to stand behind her. She stepped back quickly, which startled Cailin, and then she said, “Oh, Tristen!"

Cailin breathed deep sigh of relief as Tristen, their friend and next-door-neighbor, dismounted and bowed slightly, breathing heavily. He was a tall man, with wavy brown hair and friendly brown eyes, but tonight they were filled with uneasiness. Cailin was surprised to see him there, because he had rarely come around in the past two years.