The silence that settled after Arwen’s words was suffocating. Alistair sat there with his fists clenched, brows furrowed and a deadly look in his eyes. Willow seemed frightened, she shuddered at the thought, but didn’t seem to fully grasp the gravity of the situation.
“We need to call for reinforcements,” Midhir finally summoned the courage to break the deafening silence. “Beings from beyond the Veil aren’t something we’re equipped to deal with.”
The view of the thirteenth district of An’Larion came to mind. It lay in ruins even now, a decade after those disastrous events. A silver-blue mist always covered the district, even on the warmest, or windiest days. Once the Veil was broken, it was close to impossible to fully heal.
“Agreed,” Alistair stood up. “I will head to the airship. The rest of you should try and get the people ready to leave – it’s likely the village won’t be safe for a few weeks.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “You want us to convince these people to leave their homes behind on the whim of four students?! We don’t even have proof!” she protested in disbelief. “They’ll never believe us.”
Alistair drew a sharp breath, but before he could speak, Midhir spoke up. “At the very least, we should have them get ready to leave with some food, worst case scenario they can camp by the airship until the danger has passed,” he looked at Alistair, whose anger seemed to subside somewhat.
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” the young noble nodded. “I’ll inform the captain.” With that said, he left in a hurry towards the airship outside of Lohssa.
“Let’s split up,” Arwen suggested. “I’ll head to the healer, Midhir goes to the mayor, and you can start gathering the people by the town centre, Willow.”
“On it,” the other girl said with a deflated voice. She also headed outside, though it was clear she didn’t fully agree with their plan.
Arwen and Midhir also headed to their own destinations. Mayor Banain’s house was the third house to the left from the inn. It was one of the smaller houses in Lohssa, with a small vegetable garden next to the entrance.
He could hear raised voices from the other side of the door, but they were too muffled to discern the words. He hesitated a moment. It seemed like his timing was far from good, but if Arwen was right, they truly had no time to lose. He knocked on the door and was surprised when the door creaked open with the force of his knock.
“Please!” a woman was standing in front of a rather pale Mayor Banain. “Please, Domnall, help us,” she let out a heartbreaking cry. “I can’t lose her, I can’t.”
He recognised the woman. It was the mother of that child who was wounded yesterday. He had seen her cry by his bedside before she and her husband took him back home. His heart sank – had something happened to the kid? No, it had to be something else, she was talking about a woman, or a girl.
“Ah, Midhir!” A spark returned to the Mayor’s eyes as soon as he noticed him. “Loretta, maybe he can help-“
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The woman spun around, turning to face Midhir. “You!” she exclaimed, her eyes red from crying. “You helped my son yesterday! And now – now they took my daughter. Lillia, she’s gone!” Tears ran down her face as she took Midhir’s hand in her own. “Please, find her. Please!” She was shaking with fear and panic. Her hands trembled as she squeezed his. “I almost lost my boy yesterday, I don’t want to lose my daughter too!” She staggered, exhausted.
His heart sank as he listened. He couldn’t move for a split second as realisation hit him. They were too late to save everyone. The veil wasn’t just not healed properly – it was torn yet again.
“Mayor, please go to the healer’s home. Arwen is there, and you should listen to what she says.”
“My Lillia-“ The woman cried.
“Please take me to your house.” Midhir forced himself to move. A weak smile that he hoped was reassuring formed on his lips as he gently led her outside. “When did she disappear? Tell me what you know.”
The woman wiped her tears with her hands. “The Old Gods have cursed us,” her voice was weak, and filled with fear. “Her room looked like a whirlwind passed through it. The window was broken when I went to wake her up.” Her grasp on his hand tightened. “We must have offended the Gods,” she whispered.
Her home wasn’t too far, and they soon arrived. Lillia’s room was on the second floor, and it looked like a whirlwind had passed through it, just like Arwen and Willow’s room at the inn. Perhaps they were lucky to have survived the night – luckier than they first thought.
Aside from the rather dilapidated state of the room, the window caught his attention. Pieces of glass covered the floor and the few remaining furniture. The broken glass crunched underneath his boots as he walked closer to the window. He ran his fingers over the windowsill – it was clean.
The view from here was the forest north of Lohssa. Looking down, he could see some trampled grass just beneath the window. Had she jumped down? “How old is she?”
“Fourteen.” The woman hadn’t stepped into the room. “She turned fourteen three weeks ago.” Her voice sounded somewhat more composed, but it was clearly forced. Probably for the benefit of her husband, and wounded son. She was putting up a brave front, but it wasn’t sustainable. Not for long, anyways.
Midhir turned his attention to the room again. Fourteen was the prime age for running away and being rebellious. Had it not been for the state of her room, he would have assumed she was just being a teenage girl. But the state of her room, coupled with everything else going on… She was in danger – if she still lived.
“Take your son and husband and go to the town square,” he told the woman. “Take some food, and some fresh clothes, blankets, and such.”
“But Lillia!” the woman protested. “What if she comes back-“
“I’ll find her,” Midhir promised. His mind caught up to his mouth a split second too late. “I’ll bring her to you, so you worry about the rest of your family, and let me do my job.”
Idiot! That was what he was, a fool. A naïve, soft-hearted fool who talked before he thought. Kneeling beside the trampled grass underneath Lillia’s window, he ran his fingers along the ground.
There wasn’t a single piece of glass, not even a tiny shard. All of it was inside her room.
“So something broke in,” he whispered to himself. It wasn’t the whirlwind that broke the window – glass would be all over the place then. No, something had forced the window to break explosively, inwards.
He felt something at his fingertips. It was cold, yet slightly sticky. He raised his hand towards the rising sun to try and look at it under better light.
Dark red. It was blood. Only a couple of drops of it, but blood, nonetheless. Lillia was wounded – either from the shards of glass that flew inside, or from whatever it was that forced her out.
He stood back up, turning his gaze towards the forest instinctively. Was that silver mist he was seeing? Or was it just a figment of his imagination?
image [https://drive.google.com/thumbnail?id=1AE26oxRJ1VLUwn9TY2qt61ati41Cd6bv&sz=w2400-h400]