Peak of Autumn, Week 5, Day 2

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong,” A woman with a blurred face cooed gently, brushing a hand across my forehead in an attempt to soothe me.

She looked just like me, despite her definition lost to the fog. I could still make out her bright blonde hair and her amber eyes. She’s the reason I have brown eyes at all. I know her, the way her laugh rings like a bell, the way she would shuttle me wherever I needed whenever I was young. I know her, not just for all her love and tenderness. I know her flaws just as deeply –her dramatics, her tendency to blame, I know her flaws because they are my own. Taken into my heart as a daughter is oft to do.

“Mom,” I feel myself begin to cry, “He took it! I worked on that study for weeks. I pulled the data, polled the subjects, I did everything. And he just–” I couldn’t breathe.

But then I was surrounded by warmth. I had two arms bringing me closer. My face burrowed into her chest.

“Oh, sweetie,” she sighed, “I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head through my tears –the details were foggy as to what had been taken, what the study was on, but I remember this. The comfort I found in my mother’s arms. I had only been working for a short time, and I was still unsure. Still easily taken for a fool.

My mother pulled away from me, and everything about her felt soft as she looked down at me, “But, you know, who are we?”

“We’re ______.” The name was lost to me now. Not everything was. No, I still knew my mother’s name was Magda, after all. But anything relating to me, that was gone.

“Yes. We are. And that means what? Tell me.” She ran her hand along the side of my face, catching a tear.

I wiped the rest of the tears from my eyes, “We steel our spine.”

“Yes. And then what?” She prompted, giving me a gentle nudge.

“We– I don’t know. Get over it?” I bit, tears welling up all over again.

My mother tsked. Then I watched as her image became clear –just for a moment, and a small smile spread across her face. The sweet tone of her voice never wavered.

“Honey, we get even –no. We get revenge.”

Ah, yes. That was it. Her softness was only for me.

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I took another bite of my sandwich as the pain of the memory of elsewhere left me. No longer was the very thought of my true mother an ache so deep I became immobile. No, this was progress. It didn’t even shake my focus now –as I could still feel my control over the knife I had tucked into my bag. I had released the second one before leaving the carriage –I wasn’t sure I could split my mind like that. Not yet.

I closed my eyes, turning my thoughts instead to the welling knot growing inside me. Whose anxiety was this? Or was it anger? A mix of both? Yes. That was it. It was everything all at once. It was the thought of Eunora in my head, chiming in on whatever suited her fancy. It was the thought of Scylla’s new curse.

I caught myself hunched forward, caving in on myself, and I straightened my back –my mind flashing back to my mother’s words. I had been so worried about losing her, about losing Em– my fiancé, about losing my father. I was so consumed with grief that even thinking of them hurt, so I shoved them aside. I let my memories fall behind a wall –only to find that my wall wasn’t the only one they were trapped behind. Something was blurring their faces, some of their names, and much of my work.

I made quick work of the rest of my food –a sandwich made up of some kind of grey meat, purple veg, and tomato on white bread, another sliced crocodile peach, and a lemonade-like green juice called manja. When I was done, I popped up. I had only taken a few minutes to eat, it wasn’t as ‘dignified’ as a noble was supposed to be, but Eve wasn’t there to criticize.

Tsk, Eve doesn’t matter anyway. Why’d I think of her?

>Eve is our sister. She matters.<

I fought back a groan at the voice, turning on my heel and looking around the makeshift camp. There were only two tables –the small one I had been sitting at and the one that held the knight’s food. There was a firepit that was heating a stew with bread and fruit set on their table. The one I had eaten at was made of dark wood, with the legs carved to look like leaves and silver place settings –there was even a lavender tablecloth. Most of the knights were in leather such a dark purple it looked black, and none of them were in the heavy armor that they had been in during my Affirmation. Others were in lighter shades –and the captain, Sir Rellar, was in burnt orange leathers that clearly meant something. Arlen and Klein were in brown armor. I ran through the memories of Lina –of her history lessons, but came up with nothing except the obvious. Their colors matched their ranks.

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We were at the edge of the forest that surrounded Adeline, the wall still visible on the horizon. The knights were sitting up by the tree line. Half were facing the road and half the forest. I wanted to explore, to test my Skills, I wanted to be away from their sight. Now, without the sounds of the city drowning out my voice, I didn’t feel safe using my weaker Skills. But those were the Skills I most desperately needed to improve. [Shadow Manipulation] and [Shadow Conjuration] were elsewhere. They were strength. They were my heart and soul.

I needed to get them to Level 5 desperately.

I watched the knights for another moment, hesitating. Dame Arella had said she would help me, and it had only been a few hours since then. I pulled Noir out of my bag and brought him to my stomach, wrapping my arms around him. For a brief moment, I felt guilt –I had caught a glimpse of Haze as well. Still, I used Noir to bolster my resolve and began making my way to the knights, the carriage at my back.

I zoned in on Sir Limrick, who was chatting with Dame Arella. The familiar man helped to ease me. The knot in my stomach lessened with every step, and I kept my head up –if my hands were clenched, that was no one’s business but mine.

Steel your spine, my mother’s gentle voice filled me, and I was sure this was right. That for all the anxiety that was brought on by Eunora’s disposition, I could overcome it.

As I approached, the knight’s conversation quieted. That did not help. I bit my cheek, looking from Sir Limrick to Dame Arella, before plopping down in front of them.

“Lady Eunora?” Sir Limrick tilted his head to the side, eyes boring into me.

“Um,” I sniffed as I looked for the right words, “I have a question?”

It seemed like something a child would say, and I saw Dame Arella’s mouth twitch. Since I couldn’t do what I wanted, and I had spent half the day yesterday reading, I at least wanted some answers.

“How can I help?” Sir Limrick’s expression was unreadable, but that only helped to calm me. The man always had that face.

“What’re you all eating?”

Sir Limrick glanced at Dame Arella, who lightly shook her head, before answering, “Stew.”

I blinked.

“What kind of stew? Actually –” I turned my head, looking back at the table behind me, my brow furrowing at the thought, “What was my lunch?”

I snapped back when I heard a muffled sound, my eyes landing on both the knights sitting before me. My eyes darted between them.

“What?”

“Well–” Sir Limrick started, only to be cut off when Dame Arella practically launched her elbow into his stomach.

“It’s boar, my Lady. Boar.” She said, a flat look on her face.

I narrowed my eyes, running through the past two days in my mind. Recognition lit up my eyes, “Boar! Like the one you all killed yesterday.”

“The very one,” Sir Limrick nodded sagely.

I scrunched my nose as I looked at Dame Arella, now settled just a smidge closer to Sir Limrick, “What’s so bad about that boar?”

Dame Arella blinked at me before breaking out into a grin, “Nothing at all, Lady Eunora. Nothing that matters, anyway.”

I swallowed, wondering if pushing too much was annoying. If I was wasting Dame Arella’s goodwill.

Believe in her attitude, Nora. Actions over words. Words over thoughts. She’s said she’s willing to help. To be there. Now is the time to take the plunge.

My stomach turned, but not at the thought of lunch. I feigned calm as I leaned back onto my palms.

I chose not to speak, and it was only a moment later I heard conversations picking back up with the knights. A shiver ran up my spine at the thought they all had been listening in. Some went back to talking about the road. Some were pointing out birds in the distance, and two were in what seemed to be an argument –they were on the far side of the camp. Their voices were low and expressions fierce.

I sat there, listening for the remainder of lunch. I watched as Klein and Arlen were set to cleaning up. Then my eyes landed on Sir Neil as he tracked the treeline, hand on the hilt of his sword. He stood, eyes never leaving the forest, and two other knights followed his lead.

In the mid-day light, Sir Neil’s scar was prominent on his jaw and neck, and all at once I was reminded of how one got scars. I shuffled to my feet, Noir held in a single hand, and backed up a step toward the carriage.

The camp was silent except for the footsteps of the three knights approaching the treeline. Silent, except for the sound of the trees rustling past the edge of the forest. Silent, except for the now all too noticeable sound of bark breaking. Silent, and then it became loud.

Before I could fully process it, there was a creature made up of dead vines and branches leaping out of the forest. It was humanoid in the worst way –with long limbs that dragged across the dirt, and a torso of interconnected branches wrapped around a dull grey orb. It was taller than Sir Rellar –though not even a quarter tall as the forest it sprung from. It was some kind of tree monster.

No. It’s a blight, I thought, my mind filling with useless information from the field guide. I didn’t have time to think anything else because the blight screamed a splintered roar and went for Sir Neil.

Sir Neil drew his weapon. He stood still, the edge of his sword glowing a deep blue. The light continued to grow until I blinked. When I opened my eyes, Sir Neil was suspended in the air, his sword separating the monster’s head from its body.

I watched, stunned, as its head rolled to the ground with an unimpressive thump.

“Clear!” Sir Neil shouted, landing smoothly. I stared as another knight appeared from the forest, an irritated expression on her face.

“Clear.” She ground out.

“Siobhan,” I turned at the deep voice of Sir Rellar, peering up at his scowling face, “Report.”

Dame Siobhan fell to one knee, a fist over her heart, “I located a bramble. There were twenty-seven total blights, one thistle variant, four vine variants, ten twig variants, and eleven saplings. While I was dispatching the bramble, this one must have been scouting. I heard it running towards the treeline but was unable to catch up prior to its breach.”

I stared at the lifeless body of the blight, so easily killed by Sir Neil. Sir Neil alone. I looked at the unbothered faces of the other knights and made my way back to the carriage to lie down.

I was feeling lightheaded.