Shattered Magic

Chapter One

Relative to the rest of the year, the sun was rather late to rise on this particular cold winter morning, heaving itself with what seemed like great effort over the mountainous horizon. It shone weakly onto the snow-covered thatched roofs of the sleepy city below, rushed through narrow alleyways, and woke up the stray dogs that huddled just behind the butcher’s shop, hoping for just a morsel, perhaps, of the deer that had been caught by a hunter in the foothills just one night prior.

As it rose higher still, the sun had graciously forced itself through the window of a second floor bedroom in a house not far away from the stray dogs and the dark alleyways. It woke the girl inside, whose intent had indeed been to be woken by the soft golden blankets of light, but now appeared to be regretting it as the sun’s early morning greeting seemed to her still-closed eyes to be more akin to knives than they were to her own thick blankets, which she kept wrapped around herself as she stumbled to her feet to close the drapes and begin to dress.

Akira had never liked waking up early, nor did she enjoy the frigid weather that seemed to have Mylan in its steely grip, but she had forced herself to deny her habits on this day of all days. The foggy remainder of sleep evaporated as the sun continued its journey up the walls of her bedroom, and was replaced with a wavering excitement.

She was just lacing her boots when she heard the door open and close rapidly, and not a moment later when she felt the draft of freezing air rush up the stairs and ruffle the hem of her dress. 

“Exton?” She called, poking her head around the door throwing on her coat before rushing down the stairs, buttoning as she went. “Is that you already?”

It was; the unusually ginger haired boy stood just down the corridor, his pale cheeks flushed red and his hands tucked into his pockets. He flashed her a grin, jostling his right hand in its pocket and reveling in the sound of coins clinking together in their pouch. “Ready to go, m’lady?” He arched an eyebrow playfully, and Akira laughed. 

“Give me a minute. I haven’t had breakfast yet.” She wheeled around, and hurried into the kitchen, fingers already outstretched to grab at just a little of the fresh bread her mother had made yesterday. Not much, or she would risk her mother’s wrath, but enough to last her until lunch. 

Akira was almost to the cupboard when a shadow at the table gave her pause. It was her mother, still in her nightgown, sitting in the dark at one end of the table. She was hunched over a steaming cup of tea, sipping at it daintily, wincing at the heat, then sipping at it again. The cycle went on for a moment as Akira loitered in the doorway, watching.

“You know,” Akira said at last, leaning against the doorframe and then stepping away just as quickly as the splinters pierced her shoulder all the way through her wool coat, “it helps if you let it cool down for a while before you go scalding your tongue.” A wry smile of amusement quirked up the corners of her lips, but it slipped away as her mother lifted her head away from her cup.