Nightspun (#ONC_2020)

Chapter 15 - Tradition

For once in her life, Sybil was happy to be away from the Outcropper district.

Surrounded by good food, friends and a cosy nook inside a wooden cabin was all she needed for a little while. Sliding over a fresh plate of jackalope pancakes, Amira's mother gave her a tired but contented smile while the other two ruffians tried to fork wrestle each other for the biggest one. 

"Oi! That's mine!" Malik protested, attempting to use both hands to wrench it away from the lightning fast Nightspell elf.

Amira grabbed her slice victoriously stuffing it into her mouth as the bunny shaped pancake was gone in a matter of seconds. Sybil didn't mind, already eating her fill of both greevy burgers and her own jackalopes. But Malik was still sulking, not liking the news that The High Nightcaster had pinched the crops and dropped off at the Warren not too long ago.

"How is Dewdrop, Syb?" A much older voice asked, setting her own plate of pancakes away from any thieving buggers who wanted to snatch them.

Sybil smiled, resting a hand against a snoozing Dewdrop who had recently returned twice the size as normal, content to rest in her lap. His antlers were shedding and changing colour which was natural for the amount of Sunspell he had received from her mother's familiar. According to the High Lawmaker's hidden archives it was tradition for every firstborn to produce a familiar ever since her great grandfather Claus Daybreaker created the cabin atop the hill.

"He's OK, Zaria. Just sleeping for now."

Sybil sighed, toying with the sliver of jackalope pancake left on her plate with the stray redderbies. It helped her figure out a little part of why she was the way she was but a niggling feeling kept eating away at her to uncover the full truth of her lost history. It still hurt knowing that her mother had kept so much from her yet she couldn't ask her the things she needed to. Siara was just like her yet had never once admitted to having power like her own. Was she different or was she just the black sheep in the family?

Suddenly the door burst open, a bedraggled group of Combat Mages still covered head to foot in the prickly, purple fruits stumbled in. Rayner was in the front of the entourage, completely embarrassed and his regal High Nightcaster robes looked more stifling than imposing.

"My Lady Sunstress."

All the mages present bowed in unison, Rayner leading the front as Zaria glared at him as if he'd just stepped on her foot, all that was needed was a yowl of protest and she'd be strangling him with her oven gloves. Sybil however did not appreciate the sudden attention and shrunk away from the uncomfortable display of inferiority. 

Amira grabbed her hand gently just as the overwhelming feeling of insignificance caused Dewdrop to blink out of existence, leaving her colder and more alone than ever. The young Nightspell's stony expression didn't match her mother's outright fury at such a daring mockery in her own home but it was bloody close. It wasn't until a brazen Stormspell elf finished his meal and stared at the sudden commotion at the front door did Malik do what he did best.

 "Piss off, Rayner."

His abrupt dismissal of such a high ranking Caster made the trio of women snort with laughter, Zaria almost going as far as to slap the table in hilarity. The Combat Mages immediately went on the defensive and the High Nightcaster's face went from flush to stone grey anger. But the rush of pride for Malik grew inside Sybil's chest, thankful he had spoken up when no one else would.

"How dare you speak to me you insolent-"

"Enough of that. You aren't his High Caster and you certainly aren't mine so quit your unnecessary grovelling and learn to read the damn room." Sybil snapped, standing up to face someone she had wanted to for moons on end.