The high iron gate separated the Palace Grounds from the rest of Calemoor. The gate extended to the Military District and separated it from the Guild’s section of the Merchant Quarters. It was a representation of how the citizens of the capital remained detached from the wealth and prestige of the Kingdom of Calemyra.
Fia walked up to the gate with a basket of freshly cured meats, assorted fruits, and cheeses that her mother had prepared. The guard stationed there was one she was somewhat familiar with. She had been to visit the Royal Smithery that lay inside the District a handful of times.
The guard looked her up and down and noticed the basket she carried. “That brother of yours is quite spoiled. Good thing he can forge a hell of a weapon or I might feel entitled to make fun of him for it.”
“Oh, please, do make fun of him for it - for me,” Fia said with a sly smile. She added, “But, I would be careful, he just doesn’t know how to forge, he is good at wielding a sword as well.”
“Really? Well, now I definitely need to give him a little fun.” The guard gave Fia a wink. “You can head over, miss. Just don’t stay too long.”
She bowed her head in gratitude and walked between the training grounds and the infirmary. She was hesitant as she passed the grounds, hoping she would not further embarrass herself by running into that Kings Guard.
She made her way to the Royal Smith shop and was welcomed by the familiar scents of burning metal, smokey charcoal, and linseed oil for polishing finished blades. She inhaled deeply feeling oddly grounded in the sensations warming her lungs.
Immediately she noticed Silas, his warm strawberry blonde hair drenched in sweat. A hissing sound filled the room when he plunged the red-hot metal into the quenching barrel. Her brows furrowed when she realized how much older he looked and the muscular shape that now took form on his body.
In the last few months, she had seen little of her brother due to the increase in command of weapons and armor - for what reason the Kingdom needed to double their amount, she had no idea. Only that Silas would come home, eat his fill, and fall into his bed.
She cleared her throat, giving him the attention that someone else was in the room. He glanced up and pure concentration turned into a deep sigh, did he just roll his eyes at me?
“Fia, what are you doing here?” Silas asked as he set the wet blade no longer hissing down on the worktable. “I’m swamped right now, I can’t talk.”
“I’m not here to talk. I do know how busy you are, that is why I brought you some sustenance,” Fia said while raising the basket.
Silas rolled his neck while he let out a long sigh. “Thank you, I appreciate that. But you know I have access to the mess hall, right?” Silas questioned as he set down his leather gloves near the forge and took the basket from her.
“Yes, I know that. But look, now you don’t have to wait in line with those rowdy guards.”
“They are nice men, Fia. I get along with them quite well, some have even been training with me on the grounds,” he said as he pulled out a stem of grapes, popping one into his mouth. “I think you just like to come here and feel bad for yourself.”
A sting of jealousy flared in Fia’s chest, fueling her anger that Silas lately seemed to enjoy provoking. Honestly, she didn’t know why she kept finding excuses to come here. Maybe it was because she envisioned herself in her brother’s place - crafting something meaningful, feeling strong and alive, creating something as if it was her destiny to do so.
Perhaps she came here to further punish herself for staying silent, for not voicing her desires before moving to Calemoor. She would fight to the death for what she believed in, for her friends and family. Yet, for some reason, she never granted herself the same grace.
Regret weighed heavy. Regret for not believing her feelings mattered —her willingness to be washed away like driftwood on the shore.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, pulling herself out of the abyss that often felt like drowning. Fia shut her eyes and inhaled a deep breath, exhaling the regret churning in her stomach and the familiar thought: I am nothing.
“Perhaps I do come here for that reason. Or maybe just to make sure you don’t ruin your gloves — which, by the way, are catching on fire,” Fia said, pointing behind Silas.
“Shit!” He spun around and snatched the gloves from the coals, throwing them to the floor. He stomped on them, but the embers continued to cling to the fabric as if they refused to go out.
“Fia, stop it. I know what you are doing,” he growled.
“I swear I am not doing anything.” She quickly glanced around the room to ensure they were alone and lowered her voice. “I haven’t done magic in so long Silas, I don’t know if I can anymore.”
He continued stomping on the gloves, the embers finally gave way and extinguished. “Thank you for the basket, but from now on don't come back here. I dont need you ruining any chance of me getting promoted.” Silas grabbed the sword blank from the table, setting onto the anvil.
“Silas, did I do something to upset you?”
“Not everything is about you, Fia. There are bigger things to worry about besides people being mad at you. For instance, I have to finish five more blades by the end of this week.” He began grinding the blade on stone, shaping it.
“I know you want that promotion. I would never think to jeopardize that. I don’t understand, i have given up a lot for this family.” Fia ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the tension rising and for some odd reason, not being able to cope with it. “I will see you later. Perhaps, we can go out to the tavern together when you are free— to laugh again. I miss that.”
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Before Silas was able to respond, even though he appeared to be set on ignoring her, she turned on her heel and out of the smithy.
Fia left the Military District feeling bitter and well, unappreciated. She already uncovered why she felt compelled to go to the Royal Smithy — but does not a single person in my family understand what I have sacrificed?
The heat of bitterness turned cold when she questioned if she could even find it in herself to do the things she once loved, even if given the opportunity.
Cold. She felt it most of the time lately. Lacking the warmth she used to carry, perhaps even the warmth she used to radiate.
I wonder if I lost my ability to even use my magic, she wondered to herself. She had not dared to use it upon entering Calemoor.
There was a moment when she battled the urge -- almost gave in. She had been laying in bed, the full moon shone through the window, casting a faint glow upon the floor. She held her hand in the light, cupping the blue light in her palm.
Energy that bight thrummed in the air, radiating from Danah's fullness. The moon godess’ presence sang to Fia, a silent song beckoning her to connect — to reach for the power she once embraced.
Fia so badly wanted to summon fire. Prior to the move to Calemoor, that had been her goal. To master her spark and wield flame as she desired.
Her body had ached for it. She had looked out the window, drawing energy, embracing the song from the threads of magic, just as Vayla had taught her. When she opened her eyes to begin drawing that fire - magic, outside of herself, she caught a glimpse of the palace, that beacon of destruction.
How could she possibly put herself or her family in danger for something so miniscule? She cast out the energy she had collected into the night and gave up a little bit more of herself in the process.
If given the opportunity, Fia wondered if she would even have the will to forge and create something; to grasp the hilt of a sword and lacerate all that stood in her way; to feel that vibration, humming in her head down to the soles of her feet, that connection to the earth around her and the magic that rested in her soul.
A strange feeling to lose yourself.
To remember, vividly, the person who you once were and feeling utterly lost and bewildered at the person you may have changed into. Especially to have that identity ripped from you and not of your own doing. It feels odd to be a stranger in your own body.
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Later that evening, Fia and her mother sat down at the table before the hearth fire, eating their meal together. With Gowan spending longer days at the market and Silas keeping up with the demand of supply for the King, it was common for Fia and her mother to eat their meal just the two of them.
Fia had appreciated the time spent with her mother. Although, she had expected that these quality moments would bring a feeling of resolution to some of Fia’s questions about the changes in her mother over the years. Fia often wondered what had happened that abruptly altered her mother’s views on the gods, when she had been a devout believer most of her life. After all, it was her plea for a child that was answered by the goddess Brigid. She must have had some connection with the gods at one point.
Fia stared at her bowl filled with vegetables and smoked meat attempting to push down the need for answers to some of these questions.
What is with me today? She felt as if she was no longer able to suppress anymore of the regret, bitterness, or curiosity that had been haunting her these last several months. As if time itself was feeding these feelings, birthing them into creatures desperate for respite from their cage that Fia kept them in.
Fia inhaled a deep breath while gripping her spoon tight in her hand and let the creatures of feelings out.
“Mother, I need to ask you something— something that has been bothering me.”
“What is it Fia?” Morna asked as she looked up from her bowl, curiosity filling her dark green eyes.
“I need to know what happened. I know you used to believe in the old faith and the old gods--” Fia glanced at her mother whose brows rose in apparent shock at the sudden turn of topic but motioned for her to continue.
“I know the laws have something to do with it. It's frightening and risky to pray to the old gods, let alone speak of magic. But I remember…” Fia inhaled sharply giving way to the burning thoughts “ I remember you telling stories of old legends and myths when I was young. I remember you used to marvel at the way I could warm us up in the winter with my magic. And then--” Fia swallowed hard. “It all just stopped. Why?”
She caught her breath, the weight of years worth of questions that had been locked away coming to the surface and met with substantial silence that filled the room.
Morna let out a deep sigh and pushed her bowl forward. She stared at her daughter, the beautiful young girl that was now becoming a woman.
“Fia, I -” she shook her head, the deep emotions coming to surface in her eyes that normally were held deep in her chest. “I don't know where to even start. Yes, it's dangerous to honor the gods. I pray to them still, but silently in my heart. As you should if you wish to.”
“I understand that, mother. I just don't understand why you don't accept me.”
“Fia, how could you say that? Of course, I accept you.” Morna furrowed her brows and set her palms on the table. “I accept you and love you for all that you are. It is that I am afraid for you, Fia. I know that you hide your true self from the world, unfortunately you have to.”
Morna stood up and crouched next to Fia, and grapsed her hands. “We are women, Fia. There are many parts of ourselves that we must hide. Your desires to match the actions of men will go noticed and be reprimanded. Your magic will target you. It could kill you, Fia.” Tears brimmed on Morna's lashes, threatening to spill over. “I am -- I am afraid for you,” she choked.
Fia gripped her mother's hands tighter. “There is no reason to be afraid for me mother. I have given up everything.” Fia's voice cracked and the beasts of feelings ran wild under her skin. A far cry from the numbness she had grown used to these past few months. “I will not put myself or the family at risk. I swore this to you before we moved here. I dont forge or create anything that's meaningful to me, I stopped learning to defend myself, that strength I yearned for, I feel like I have lost my magic. Mother, I feel like I have lost myself.” I am nothing.
“You are my daughter.” Morna pulled her into an embrace, her chin resting on Fias shoulder. “You are a wild, free soul who has courage I wish I could have for just one moment.” She pulled away and cupped Fia’s face into her hands. “I'm sorry that you were born into this world and not another. It is cruel and unforgiving. I wish you could unleash yourself, Fia. But you can't. As I said, I'm afraid for you.”
Fia tried to understand the words of her mother. The restraints that she seemed to come to accept in life. Is this really my fate? She couldn't come to terms with it. To accept this as her life, this emptiness.
Fia dropped her mother's hands from her face, standing up from the table. “You may accept your place, mother. But I'm not sure if I can.” Fia noticed the concern etched on Morna's face as she stayed crouched near the chair. “Don't worry, that doesn't mean I'll put myself in danger. But I'm not ready to accept this numbness as my life.” Fia turned away, heading to her bedroom without a glance back, ignoring her mother's call, beckoning her to stay.