Days had passed since the death of the baker and the weight of it still hung in the air. They held a wake in his honor, keeping to their customs, to aid his journey into the afterlife. His wife, Daireen had lit the communal hearth, setting ablaze a fire of his transformation into the land of the gods, the land of promise.
The villagers tried to mask their apprehension as they cast wary glances at his body, now laid to rest in the earth. The blackened, bruised veins that marred his skin lingered not only on his corpse but also in the memories of those who buried him, etched deeply into their minds even as the soil concealed him from sight.
Fia herself had a difficult time throwing her handful of dirt upon the mound, as it was a custom for every village member—man, woman, and child—to do so. She had continued to feel that weight in her chest and body, feeling like she could fall into the mound with him.
The following day after the wake, Fia was startled awake by her mother gently shaking her from her sleep. She rubbed her face and, through sleepy eyes, noticed the concern on her mother’s face.
Jolting straight up, she asked, “What is it?”
“I’m not even sure if she knew. I think Sybill decided this last minute,” Morna let out a deep sigh. “My little candle, you better go outside.”
Fia quickly got dressed, fumbling with the laces of her tunic, her mind assumed the worst.
Her brother Silas, who appeared both confused and curious, trailed her footsteps out of the door as she rushed by. “Fia, wait.”
She walked out into the crisp air, the tall oak trees shrouded in the usual morning mist. She turned her attention toward Vayla’s home and watched as the family was loading up a large covered wagon with their belongings.
That weight in her body became heavier. No. Please, no.
For a moment she was stuck in place. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, fighting back the cracking in her chest.
Silas had come up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. His warm strawberry blonde hair was offset by his brown eyes which were on Fia, watching her broken expression. “Maybe they are just going on a long trip.”
Fia's frown turned from a saddened tone to disgust as she watched the villagers just watching. No offers to help, no regret for their words and actions which probably drove them away.
Vayla stepped out of her house with a sack slung over her shoulder, golden-brown face mirroring Fia’s expression. Their eyes locked and the tears that clung to Fia’s lower lashes finally gave way, carving lines down her cheeks.
Vayla dropped the sack and ran to her friend. Fia did the same while memories flooded her vision. Memories of sneaking into the forest, playing knights and princesses, with Fia valiantly saving Vayla from the tower. Late-night laughter filling their bellies, and memories of always being each other's dance partners during celebrations and festivals.
The memories burned Fia. I can't survive this without her - can't survive these people.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Vayla crashed into her, and pulled her into an embrace.
“My grandmother said that it is no longer safe for us here” Vayla blurted with tear-stained cheeks matching Fia’s own. “Every year it becomes more risky for our kind. My grandmother heard of arrests in other villages, she is worried about executions coming next. She didn’t decide this until late last night, I would have told you.”
“Some of our neighbors may speak of hateful things, but nothing like that could ever happen here. You all are careful in your practice, besides, magic is so weak, there is not much you can do.” Vayla nodded her head in agreement but offered no argument. “Where will you even go?”
“There is a -”
Vayla's words faltered, trailing off as Silas approached the two girls. Vayla offered him a quick embrace. “Take care, Silas, I will miss watching Fia kick your ass in swordplay.”
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“It's about time I stop going easy on her anyway.” He smiled, mostly to himself.
They all laughed, the two girls still with tears on their faces. They returned to Vayla’s house where Silas offered to help with the remaining items left inside.
“So, where will you and your family go?” asked Fia.
Vayla dropped her voice low as Silas walked past them carrying the sack that Vayla had dropped to the ground. “There is a sanctuary for our coven near the Trollstind Pass.”
“Trollstind Pass!” Fia exclaimed in question.
Vayla shushed her friend with furrowed brows. “Don't say it too loudly. The sanctuary is hidden and mostly unknown except to Wielders. Many of us are headed there.”
“Sorry.” Fia lowered her voice in a whisper, “…but Trollstind Pass? I heard it's almost impossible to go through with the steep terrain and those jagged cliffs. Only the locals there know how to get through. Do you even know how to get there?" Fia shook her head in worry.
“The terrain is difficult for those who don’t know of the hidden paths. I have no clue where it is exactly, I've never been there. But my grandmother knows the way. She stayed at the sanctuary when she was younger.”
“Was that after the Rose Moon Massacre?” Fia asked gently.
The Rose Moon Massacre was common knowledge among the people of Calemyra. Forty years ago, the former King ordered the massacre of the Havenwood coven. In Calemoor, it was customary for one Druid and one Wielder to sit on the King’s council for divine guidance - to ensure the balance between kingdoms and between the gods and those who governed the land.
The wielder on the council delivered a fateful prophecy to King Aramis who began to conquer other territories, such as Dunrath who used to be its own Kingdom, and denounced the old gods. When the Royal decree was issued that no gods could be worshipped besides Brigid, Lugh, and Helva, the wielder warned that the kingdom would soon bear witness to chaos.
The following year, there was a wildfire which destroyed the food reserves. That winter people of Calemoor starved. There were riots and civil unrest. The King blamed the natural event on the witch, condemning her to death along with the rest of her coven. Magic was weakened that day and most wielders at that time sought sanctuary.
Vayla nodded her head, her hand slackened at her sides.“Yes, she went there with her mother and family after it happened.”
“Why go now? The arrests may be just village rumors.” Fia doubted her statement as it escaped her lips. “I can't lose you,” Fia said shaking her head.
“You will not ever lose me, Fia. You are my truest friend.” Vayla pulled her close. “I love you, my little flame”
“I love you too, you little witch.”
The two friends hugged and wiped away each other's tears and walked toward the wagon, Silas putting the last trunk inside.
With a sharp jerk of her head, Sybill beckoned Fia to her side of the wagon. Her slender hands rested firmly on Fia's shoulders as she studied her freckled face in silence. Then, without a word, she pulled Fia into a warm embrace.
“Remember what I told you the other night. Stay true to your flame and Brigid will protect you. Be wary of those who may be corrupted by the darkness. It, at last, has entered our realm but it will continue to grow.” Sybill looked intently into Fia's eyes. “If you should see that darkness again, please do not go chasing after it until you are ready.”
“What do you mean? How will I know when I am ready- ready for what? Vayla was only able to show me a few things about connecting with my magic. I don’t know what I am doing.” Fia said her voice increased in pitch with panic.
“Your path will be shown to you. Find the ones who are loyal.” Sybill smiled gently and took Fia’s hands into her own. “Our paths will cross again, I am sure of it.”
Fia reluctantly allowed her questions to go unanswered, her curiosity gently adding to that weight in her chest. She knew that much of what Sybill said was veiled in cryptic messages.
Fia turned toward her friend to say more goodbyes and wish for a future reunion. She noticed Sybill talking with Silas, assuming she was giving him his farewell. Sybill leaned closer and whispered something into his ear. Fia watched as her brother's eyes widened, his mouth etched in a tight line. He looked at Sybill with an expression she couldn't quite place and stormed off.
When the family was ready to leave, Fia’s father helped Sybill tie everything down. He checked the bolts and pins on the wheels and ensured that the axles were sturdy. Orla climbed onto the back bench waving goodbye to some of the village children; Sybill sat on the driver's bench, grabbed the reins, and waited for Vayla.
Fia hugged her friend one last time and watched her climb up beside Sybill, who slowly led them down the road out of the village.
That weight pushed down upon Fia, her chest cracked from the force of it.
“I'm sorry, Fia. I know what she meant to you,” said Silas who now stood beside her as they watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
Fia let out a deep sigh that had her shoulders caving in. “It's alright - I will see her again. What did Sybill say to you? You looked upset.”
Silas’ mouth tightened for a moment before he made one of his boyish smiles that didn't quite meet his brown eyes. “Nothing important,” he shrugged. “Come on, let's go get those practice swords and see how much you can kick my ass now that I'm done going easy on you.”
Fia smiled, ready for the challenge. The weight eased just a bit. With an arched brow, she said, “Yes, let's.”
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