Nightspun (#ONC_2020)

Chapter 3 - Amira

Sybil sat on the abandoned benches overlooking the canals, keeping an eye on the Stone Bouy blocking the slowly descending sun. She shivered, grateful for the jumper she had fetched earlier while her Sunspell dimmed down for the evening, its rage finally quelled.

The only surrounding people were the haphazardly placed food stall workers and markets a few minutes walk away. Beside her was Amira, newly dry and clean after they both took turns to have a bath before heading down for some well earned greevy burgers. A talk was surely imminent but the Nightspell had agreed to food and a truce before demanding answers.

Happyroot juice in one hand and greevy burger in the other, the two girls ate quickly before the greevy juices went to waste. Covered in grease and potato starch, they were thankful for the miracle crop. Tasting of meat while still being classed as a vegetable was a rare thing but it was perfect after a hard day's work. That potato-like crop was harder to harvest than mandraroot but the Happyroot juices tang certainly complimented it. Only an Outcropper could know how much work went into a simple and satisfying meal.

"What was the High Nightcaster doing here, anyways? Did you set his cape on fire with a sunbeam or something?"

Sybil almost choked on her drink, snorting at the memory of such an incident. She was still young at the time, barely a teenager when her mother brought her to Bridge's Keep for the first time. The barkeep had shown her a neat coin trick with his Sunspell and all Sybil wanted to do all night was replicate it. Until the High Nightcaster decided to grace her with his presence.

"That was an accident, Mira! I was only twenty!" She reminded her Nightspell friend, trying not to laugh at her amusing expression.

It was on her twentieth birthday and the custom was she had to be introduced to all kinds of elves and officials and the High Nightcaster was one of the last to pay his two cents. Thinking she was nothing more than a child, Rayner made a backhanded comment about her grandmama's passing. Sybil retaliated by reflecting the Sunspell off the coin to burn a hole in his cloak. They had been at odds ever since. The barkeep had thought it the funniest thing in the world.

"Yeah, but we still have those bottles of Gemdrop rum as compensation." Amira said, grinning before she took another drink.

"For us or for Rayner's bruised ego?"

The Nightspell elf chuckled with laughter, setting aside the newly washed Jackalope mask with the dodgy ear. Sybil couldn't even bring herself to look at it, the memory of the scorched wood made her stomach twist in guilt.

"Us, obviously. In a few months, we'll have our fiftieth birthday. Perfect way to celebrate." Amira suggested, trying to perk up the mood 

"Perfect way to get locked in Hellgrind, you mean. The last time you got drunk you stole the city sign and left your hand behind as evidence!" Sybil teased, cackling at the reminder. 

Amira set down her drink and gave a dramatic gasp, picking up her wooden arm with her spare. The connecting hand sat on her lap like a cat. Sybil chuckled but deep down she knew the Nightspell elf was hurting. She was a stickler for rules, wanting to be presentable during work hours since it was custom for every elven but her prosthetic wasn't exactly cutting technology. 

"How dare you-" Amira said, trying to stay serious but stopped to burst into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth in attempt to stop them from overflowing.

Sybil knew the Nightspell mage appreciated the craftsmanship wholeheartedly but lost limbs wasn't exactly a thing for the elves of Neridia. Sunspell elves could heal any injury, even fatalities so regeneration wasn't impossible. But Amira had lost half her arm in a terrible accident, beyond even the High Suncaster's capabilities. Not even Siara, the royal Sunstress could fix it.

"You'd be fine, Amira. They wouldn't lock you up. Me? They've wanted to get rid of my family for decades. May as well start with me."

The Nightspell elf smiled politely, looking down at her drink with a sigh before gathering the sections of wood together. Sybil reached instinctively to help her before stopping herself allowing Amira to grab it and click it into place with ease.

"Sure, Syb. I know what you're like."

 Wincing a little, she placed the indentation over the blackened part of her arm and held her breath. In a few quick, angry movements, the Ironwood arm was safely fastened above her shoulder and down sections of her arm, the fingers moving stiffly thanks to the latent amount of Nightspell helping it to move. After all, only half an arm, only half a Nightspell mage.

"Really now? How so? Sybil said, grinning despite herself while she set her empty bottle aside.

Amira couldn't help but rise to the challenge, folding her arms and giving her an unimpressed look not dissimilar to the one Rayner had given her earlier that day. Sybil shuddered, regretting her decision instantly. Every day, Amira hid away in her workshop and was reminded of what she had lost and was reminded of how it couldn't compare to the real thing. According to her, it was no better than a plant stand. Sybil tried not to frown, gingerly taking a sip of her drink while Amira rescued her own and switched it to her left.

"I know never to piss you off when we go out to the tavern on Bridge's Keep again." Amira said jokingly, reminding her of the coin incident.

Sybil cringed, hiding her awkwardness with her long hair as best she could. That name again. It was the only stop off point between Floodbound and Folktale and acted as a division and meetup point between the two. Everyone went there, from farmers to performers, nobles to beggarmen. But not her. Not anymore. Sybil hated the timing but if she didn't tell Amira now she never would.

"Yeah. About that...I won't be going to Bridge's Keep."

Amira stood up in shock before either of them even noticed, her drink spilling onto the pavement.

"Sybil! You promised to go with me to the Five Moon Dance ages ago-"

"I can't go, OK!" Sybil yelled before she could say anything more, the tears threatening to spill over.

Her head in her hands, Sybil didn't notice her Sunspell forming something a little different than normal. Bit by bit, the light became solid just like it did when she was a child. Her guilt fuelled her Sunspell and amidst the darkness of the night, a shining beacon of light formed from the latent sunlight in her heart. Two ears twitched upwards, four paws and a coarse tail came next until finally the long, thin antlers stretched upwards into a mature, regal creature outshining the broken mask a hundred fold.

Amira gave the first genuine smile that night and offered her hand for the jackalope to sniff before gently sitting beside it. Sybil peered from beneath the cocoon of her arms, her mouth open in silent shock. Rubbing her red rimmed eyes the rabbit now turned jackalope turned to greet her with his big black eyes and snuffled closer, resting his head against her knee for the first time in thirty years. 

"Hello again, Dewdrop."