Kai ran again, her breath coming short and fast as she shouted. “Yes, she does,” Her words rushed together in one breath.
“If you had a wish”—Citrine slowed down as they reached a hill and walked up it, trailing their fingers through the long blades of yellow-green grass—“what would you wish for?”
Kai paused, her chest heaving up and down as she wiped wisps of hair from her shiny forehead. “I’d wish to go on an adventure. A real one. Like Triften the Storyteller.” Her eyes lit up as the word adventure left her tongue. Her eyes sparkled with intense animation as she tilted her head to catch Citrine’s gaze. “Don’t you want to go on an adventure?”
“Aye,” Citrine muttered, unwilling to spoil the child’s joy.
Kai grabbed her hand, her soft fingers wrapping around Citrine’s callused ones. “That’s why I want to show you the secret,” she beamed.
The mill perched before them, a beast humming with a life of its own. The rush of water crashed through the air like the crescendo of an orchestra while crickets chirped in the meadow. A cool breeze floated past, turning the mills on the round white stones. The smell of wheat and grass drifted through the air and a sense of longing gripped Citrine. She squeezed Kai’s hand as she headed toward the dark coolness of the building.
“No, not in there.” Kai tugged Citrine’s arm, leading her to the river that curved through the land, rushing over rocks and stones.
Citrine followed the sparkling river, watching the mist leap off the bank and twirl on the shore. Blue flies buzzed around their heads and the song of the river could almost be deciphered. Every living being and creature in the land seemed to sing, plants and animals alike. A cadence whispered through the air at all times in a song of worship and respect. Deep down inside, she knew what it was: a song for their Healer, Protector, Friend, Guide, and All-Knowing Being. They sang of Novor Tur-Woodberry and his benevolence, generosity, and kindness. Citrine understood the ache deep in her heart, and she longed for a land such as his. A Paradise for her beasts. It was why she wanted to be around him, soaking in his knowledge and asking about his power. How did he create such a haven and how could she create one for her beasts? She hummed under her breath:
“A spell of protection. A spell of disguise.
A spell to hide from prying eyes.
A spell of deflection. A spell of desire.
A spell to hide from seeking eyes.”
A stone wall ran across the river. When it narrowed, Kai led Citrine, splashing through water, to the yawning mouth of a cave perched at the base of the hill. “In here.” Kai laughed, flinging drops of water off her legs.
Kai held a finger to her lips, eyes sparkling as they entered the cave. Citrine stepped inside, sniffing the wet mud and flavors of water life. Somewhere, a frog croaked and the dragonflies droned on outside, moving away from the damp darkness of the cave. Motes of white light floated past the opening, disappearing into the radiant light of day.
“What is this place?” Citrine lifted her face to the cave ceiling that stretched into blackness, hiding the strength of its size from her.
“I found it playing hide-and-seek with the woodworker’s sons, Aydin and Evyn. But they don’t know the secret. If you listen, you can hear it.”
Citrine closed her eyes, allowing her ears to take over and listen to the new sensations around her. In the distance, she could hear the wheel of the mill, moving water on down the river so it could grind and crush the wheat into flour. The quacking of ducks fighting over fish burst through the air like ruffled feathers. Closer there was a new sensation. It glided across the hair on her arms, making goosebumps rise on her skin. A deep vibration emitted through the air, like the purr of a multitude of cats basking in satisfaction.
Kai crept through the cave with an air of mystery surrounding her. Her cheeks glowed with pride as she led Citrine around a corner and a light lit up their path.
Citrine’s hands flew to her cheeks as she gazed in awe. A white orb hung suspended in midair, touching none of the walls of the cavern, as if it hung from an invisible thread. Bubbles of white light made up the orb, and it pulsed like a heartbeat as the light threaded its way through the cave walls. Citrine gaped in shock at the brilliance and beauty it contained, and a thousand questions flew to her lips. Glancing down at the child, she asked, “Who else knows about this?”
“No one.” Kai eyed the ball of energy and put a finger to her lips. “It’s our secret. Isn’t it amazing?”
“I wonder,” Citrine murmured to herself, “if Novor Tur-Woodberry knows about this . . .” She trailed off as she stepped closer, for it seemed the light called to her.
“I call it the Silver-White Heart,” Kai went on, the white light of the orb dancing in her eyes as she stared, spellbound.
Citrine listened to the voice calling out to her from within the light. Reaching out a hand, she moved it up to caress the round body of the orb. As her fingers wove across the pattern of light, a profound sensation of peace gripped her, like arms holding her firm. It pulled her toward the source, imbuing her with the sense of warmth, yet there was also something solid immersed within and full of love.
A pulse shot through her veins, encouraging her to stretch her roots like a plant and grow. It was time for her to take her place in the unending cycle of life, death, and rebirth. The power within compelled her to give back to the heart of the land and use her gifts to bring great blessings upon it. Entranced, she let the light draw her in while voices whispered in her ear.
Pictures flashed before her, visions of either things past or things to come. A voice thrummed deep within her, coursing through her veins as it spoke. A voice mixed with doom and hope rose in a singsong voice.
Behold. A future will come when the mortals must flee and run to the caves and canyons to hide from the domain for the immortals. For those without death will rise, and the Creators will have free will to enact their reign of chaos. Even now, changes are taking place in the universe that will have fatal effects for the Four Worlds. It all began with the liberation of the Green Stone instead of its destruction. The release of uncanny power will be the ultimate downfall of the mortals.
The words floated around her head as unreal as the experience. They dropped from her memory, forgotten as soon as they appeared. Yet the Silver-White Heart pulsed with need, a strong desire, and the power of Novor Tur-Woodberry protected it. Yet as Citrine drew farther in, she saw the tiniest blemish among the purity of the light. A drop of blackness pierced the middle of the heart, like a bad seed in a perfect fruit. A strange feeling of fate came over Citrine and she pulled back, reaching out for Kai.
“Kai.” Her voice sounded old and far away when she spoke. “I don’t know what this is, but I have to go.”
Kai said nothing, only reached out a hand, stroking Citrine’s arm for a moment before clasping her hands in front of her and staring into the silver light.
Citrine turned from the enchanting place, her feet unwilling to leave, yet knowing she would be late to the meeting in the Boundary Line Forest. As she fled into the sunshine, the memory of doom echoed in her mind.
7
Dark and Cold
A pounding headache woke Tor Lir. He turned over and retched into the ground. He opened his eyes as best as he could, the stream of filth pouring from his mouth. He realized, with some grim relief, he was still alive. When the last of the bile left his quaking stomach, he stood to see where he was, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and rubbing the rest on his jerkin.
Great pine trees rose above him, thick and old as if they had countless stories to tell—only they were asleep. He could almost see their spirits with his naked eyes, long faces with old bodies and dark moss from age, their eyes closed with sleep, for it was too late for them. He turned without making a sound, for his days in the forest of Shimla had taught him to move with stealth. As he eyed his surroundings, he saw a wall of trees rising on all sides with a carpet of pine needles beneath his feet. There was no
sign of the beast who had chased and wounded him.
He lifted a hand to his forehead and came away with muddied dry blood. His cuts had closed, although his ankle gave off an old sensation of pain. He hobbled on it, but it was nothing too intense so he decided he could travel on with it. Yet as he glanced around, he could not decide which way to go. The forest closed in on all sides and there was no signal or signs that pointed where to go. Although he wondered, where did he hope to arrive? The sensation of danger that had dragged him from the safety of home in Shimla had faded, leaving him with a vague suspicion that something was wrong. Since leaving the forest, he traveled south, hoping he might discover what was next for him, while the ominous word, Daygone, rang in his mind.
Shaking it off, he took a step in a random direction and a flash of white caught his vision. He froze, looking around the forest floor for a kind of weapon. Suddenly, he felt unprepared and naïve in the realm of mortals. He wished he’d studied the ways of the mortals and understood their weapons before he left. He needed help now, and a fear sunk into him, a feeling he had not known for a while. He knew he was immortal, yet it did not mean he was impervious to death. It seemed too soon to die, for his life had just begun and he knew, with certainty, his days held a great purpose. He needed to stay alive.
The flash of white appeared again and, as noisily as a panther stalking its prey, a bone creature appeared beside a pine tree, staring at him. It was a spirit—he could tell that much from his days among the Iaens—and suddenly he wished he knew more lore of the world. Knowledge was lacking among the Iaens. The green giantess who had raised him made it clear: if he wished to know the depths of knowledge, he’d have to search for it. A curiosity awoke within him as he examined the creature.
It was a female made of cold white bone. Her limbs were skeletal and slender. Silver hair, as thin as the gossamer of a spider’s web, trailed down her back. Her face looked as if someone carved it out of ivory with deep-set eyes, thin lips, and a chiseled nose that stuck out far too much.
She stared at him out of somber eyes, the color so rich he could not tell whether they were black or brown. Her cheeks were shallow, but he could see a flicker of pain in the sharp features of her wasted face. She took a step toward him, wearing nothing but moss that seemed to grow and twine around her bone body, holding on to the last lingering taste of life.
“Oh,” she whispered, her voice high and breathy as if she were trying to keep from crying out in distress.
As she moved toward him, he sensed her aura and saw shades of it flicker around her like a cloak. She did not come to harm him.
“Where am I? Who are you?” he asked, tilting his head, trying to ignore the eerie bone whiteness of her body.
She stared at him, blinking as she moved closer. “You are in the realm of the Master now. Who I am is inconsequential.”
Chewing his sore lip, he tried a different method. “Who is the Master? Why am I here?”
“You know why you are here.” Her eyes moved to his feet as if she searched for an anchor to reality.
Understanding her meaning, Tor Lir plunged on, hoping at some point he would ask the right question to unlock the answers he sought. “On some level, yes, a beast chased me here, but I suspect for some bigger reason.”
“So you will not interfere with the Master’s wishes, but I sense you are strong.” The creature glanced at his face ever so quickly before dropping her gaze once again.
Tor Lir shrugged. He did not feel very strong, especially after being beaten by the beast. “I’m sorry, but your answers are vague. Will you speak plainly?”
“I may not say.” The creature lifted her face and a flash of anger rippled over her eyes.
“Can you tell me which way to go?” Tor Lir huffed with minor impatience.
“It depends on where you want to arrive.”
“I would like to seek the Master.” He scratched his head, wondering what he was getting himself into.
“He does not want to see you.”
“How do you know?” Tor Lir stepped toward her, showing his aggression.
“I do his biding. I know his wishes.” The creature fixed him with a look he could not decipher, although her aura vibrated and a keen fear pierced the air.
“I wonder,” he murmured. “Why do you obey the wishes of the Master?”
She gave no answer, only watched him until he spoke again.
“I would like to leave this place.”
“Then leave. There is no one stopping you.”
“We are talking in circles. This is my first time in the realm of mortals. I am not sure where to go,” he admitted.
“Once you discover what you seek, you will know where to go.” Bending her head, the bone creature took a step back, displacing the pine needles around her feet.
“Are you a spirit then? You speak with a tact and wisdom beyond your years.”
Startled, the creature stared at him, although her face hid her surprise. “I used to be once, before they extorted me. I may not speak of this.”
“What can you speak of?” Tor Lir asked, his curiosity piquing around the mysterious circumstances. “What was the beast that attacked me? What forest am I in? How will I know what to seek? What is your name?”
The creature tilted her head down and to the side, a white finger coming up to stroke her chin as if considering what risk she would take.
Suddenly, she reached out, her cold fingers locking around his wrist as her face contorted. “Never tell a name,” she hissed. “To give a name is to give power. I’ve already made that mistake and paid dearly for it.” Just as quickly, the hostility in her face faded away and letting go of him, she placed a finger to her lips. “Stay here. I must complete a task for the Master. When I return, I will lead you out of this restless maze.”
A shudder passed through Tor Lir as her touch vanished from his arm. He watched as she backed away and off in the distance, he thought he heard a piercing cry. Anxiety settled deep in his bones and a strong premonition gripped him. The balance was off, swinging the wrong way, and he needed to fix it.
8
Home
Novor Tur-Woodberry lifted the jug of sparkling liquid and refilled his mug, watching the bubbles pop as they fizzled in the bottom of his cup. Around him the Fúlishités pulled their chairs up in a circle, the roaring fire crackling in the background although it was summer. The warm circle of the hut was often cool in the evenings and the fire provided warmth as they eased their muscles from a glorious day spent tramping through the land. Some lit pipes of tobacco, the musky flavors floating through the air, while others poured their mugs full of ale or wine, relishing in the fruit of the labor of their hands. A somber air rested over the home—not one of fear, only of the understanding of a challenge.
Novor Tur-Woodberry took a long sip, watering his throat before he spoke. “A change is coming over the land, a problem we haven’t had before,” he told his Singing Men.
They nodded, their eyes sharp and intelligent, although they often hid their words behind songs of praise and lore.
“This morning, I was made aware of a darkness creeping into the land. As far as I know, it began in the marshes and has not spread farther. I inspected the borders but need your assistance with it. If there is anything or anyone out of the ordinary, they must be brought to our attention. We will deal with them as we do best. There is something new in the land, a favorable presence, but it has not made itself known. I will look into it tomorrow. Are there any other reports?”
“The Storyteller returned.” Ash, one of the Singing Men, blew a cloud of smoke out of his mouth as he spoke. His eyes were black like berries and sharp as they shifted back and forth. He was stout with thick muscles on his arms and legs. Wiry brown hair—which was thinning—stuck out of his head and he often scratched it.
“Ah, he is harmless enough,” Teak, another one of the Singing Men, chimed in. “Although methinks he has an agenda, showing up here so often.”
�
�Aye, he should move into the village with the others.” Balsa nodded into his mug of ale. His eyelashes were long and light while his face had somewhat of a sleepy look to it.
“Inhabitants of the land are free to come and go as they please,” Novor Tur-Woodberry remarked. “It’s not his presence I mention but one of another species, a sort of spirit. Tomorrow, I must go seek the wisdom of the land, with the sudden darkness I am curious about the fulfillment of an old prophecy.”
“What prophecy?” snapped Jatoba. He bristled on the outside, yet he was one of the more softhearted Singing Men. His hair was a copper color, and he kept his beard in two braids that almost reached his waist. “I thought we were done with prophets and visions after the rise of the One . . .” He trailed off, muttering into his ale.
“Nothing is certain in life.” Novor Tur-Woodberry grunted. “The land has rested well after the Great Conqueror, but there is always mischief and mayhem that follows. It is our job to rise to the challenge and not let it defeat our spirits. Nothing is certain yet, but we must prepare for what comes. Let us eat and drink and discuss as we do and make no certain claims until we have more information on the morrow. I sense something is happening in the world that will affect us all—what it is, I can’t be sure—but something went wrong during the days of the war between the mortals and immortals. Something went wrong, and we will reap the repercussions of that mistake.”
“Every action invokes another action.” Ash nodded his wise head. “Do you think it has anything to do with Citrine? She is hiding something.”
Novor Tur-Woodberry chuckled. Citrine was spunky and full of spirit, yet he doubted if the changes of his land were due to her presence. “She is not powerful enough.” He shook his head, glancing into his mug. “Unless I’ve missed something.”
“And you miss nothing,” Ash said.
“Aye, what’s that?” Jatoba spoke up again as a banging sounded at the door.
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