“Mara…” Elara’s voice wavered, betraying her reluctance to disrupt this peaceful moment, but she needed to know. Her heart rate quickened, and her breathing became slightly uneven.
“What?” Came the muffled reply.
Elara took a deep breath, steeling herself. “The waterhole… Do you remember it?” The words were heavy, laden with fear. Elara’s arms instinctively tightened around her daughter after sensing her body tense, her heartbeat echoing Mara's sudden acceleration.
A pause hung in the air before her daughter’s voice, now tinged with uncertainty, broke the silence. “I-I thought- hoped, it was just a nightmare…”
Tears welled in Elara’s eyes, “I failed you. I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke as tears, heavy with regret, streaked down her face and onto Mara’s back.
She recalled the confusion and helplessness after her parents' demise, the daunting reality of caring for a baby alone. The memory of hiding from that despicable man, the source of their misery, was as clear as if it were yesterday.
The early days of motherhood had been a blur of diaper changes, sleepless nights, and tiring days. She remembered, with a pang of guilt, how a young Mara had once wandered dangerously close to the cliffs while she had been lost in her own struggles. It was the quick action of other parents that had prevented disaster.
Elara had been different then, numb to the risks around her, leaving Mara to fend for herself more often than not. The weight of that guilt pressed heavily on her now.
Mara felt herself drowning in air, the sensation of water filling her lungs resurfacing with stark clarity. She gasped, clawing at the arms that now felt as suffocating as the creature’s tentacles, trying to crush her in their grip.
The world was crushing her from all sides, and despair fueled her limbs as she fought for freedom. The world dimmed around her, black specks that told tales of the abyss filled her visions, telling visions of doom and unending darkness.
Visions of sharp, merciless teeth haunted her — an endless cycle of life and death, where creatures were born only to be consumed in a brutal, unending dance of survival. The ever-present threat of a cruel, gaping maw waited to swallow everything whole in a world where every moment was a fight for existence.
Elara, sensing her daughter's distress, quickly loosened her hold. "Mara, it's okay, you're safe," she whispered, trying to pierce through the veil of Mara's panic. But the words seemed distant, barely reaching Mara as she fought to regain control of her breath, body, and mind.
Hesitating, having never seen her daughter this way, Elara summoned the coils of magic coursing within her, gently weaving them around her hands.
Lord of Memories, collector of forgotten tales, lend your calm to still these turbulent hearts. [Calm Emotions]. She recited the spell, a thing taught long ago that she never expected to use. Her hand lightly caressed Mara's head.
The magic unfurled into fine strands, seamlessly penetrating Mara. These tendrils, soft as silk, wove a veil around Mara’s consciousness, delicately enshrouding her fears in a gossamer shroud.
Gradually, Mara’s breathing steadied, the raw edge of terror softening although the haunting memory cast long shadows in her mind. The fear remained, but it was distant now, like a storm viewed from the safety of a harbor.
“It’s alright,” Elara reassured, her voice a comforting presence amidst the emotional upheaval.
“Yo-You always could do this?” Mara's voice quivered, her eyes still shadowed by lingering fear.
Elara responded with a gentle embrace, wrapping Mara in a cocoon of warmth and safety as if shielding her from the world beyond. “Yes, but it’s not traditional magic,” she explained softly.
Mara’s curiosity peeked through her anxiety. “What’s the difference?”
Elara allowed a small smile to touch her lips, sensing an opportunity to distract Mara from her fears. “It’s psionics or mind magic. It's different from the magic that fortifies the body or enchants weapons,” she explained, hugging her daughter closer, yearning for her heat.
“Then why do you use it that way?” Mara’s voice trembled slightly, but her curiosity slowly gained ground.
Elara's embrace loosened slightly, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. “It’s how my mother taught me. I never had the patience for the more intricate mental manipulations that other psionic practitioners use.” She gently released one arm from around Mara.
Mara instinctively reached out, her hand hesitating in mid-air as she watched Elara's magic coalesce into a violet dagger.
“This,” Elara said, offering the shimmering blade to Mara, “is one of the few tricks I mastered alongside the real wizards.”
The blade felt solid in Mara’s grip, but she saw and felt the dagger slowly unfurling itself like yarn.
“It doesn’t last long, but it’s very sharp,” Elara explained as she gently pressed her finger against the blade, showcasing a thin redline to Mara.
The violet glow reflected off Mara’s gray eyes as she admired the weapon. “Can you teach me?” She asked as the weapon unfurled in her grip.
Elara contemplated the question, it had been so long since she was taught about psionics. Slowly she dug the buried memories of her mother’s teaching, and the rare times she had a chance encounter with a wizard versed in the ways of the mind.
Doubt gnawed at her psyche, Maybe she is ready. While still unsure, she recited the first step ever taught to her. “Take a deep breath,” Elara guided Mara, filling her lungs to the limit as her chest pressed against Mara.
The spell is still affecting her; that may help. Elara thought as she looked at her daughter's imitation. “Close your eyes, and just feel it.”
As the darkness greeted Mara, she felt a tingling in her mind, a soft droning that covered her consciousness in its melody. Slowly a world came to be in her mind, a place of non-colors where imagination reigned and a place with a pitch-black sun that pulsated like a malignant tumor.
“What do you see?”
The voice cut through the shock, Mara felt a lump in her throat as she tried to re-imagine her mind space, which did so reluctantly, morphing to a familiar space, their home at Crimson Commons, a quaint place built to the side of the mountain.
First came her room, a rather small place that housed her unkept bed, wardrobes, and bedside table. Slowly the rest of the house came to be, from the living room to the kitchen, her mother’s room, and finally the front entrance.
Looking out of the window, to what lay beyond the entrance, the black sun still pulsed with its malignant light. “I… I’m at home, and there’s a black sun.” Mara hesitated to say the words, a shiver ran through her with every glimpse at the outside world of her mind world.
Elara stood frozen for a moment, she expected Mara, the impatient child that she was to take longer to get to visualization. She couldn’t help but feel some pride at the accomplishment. Collecting herself, she went over Mara’s response. Home, that is expected. But the black sun…
From her knowledge, one’s mind escape is very dependent on their wants and emotions. Be that conscious or subconscious. That is probably her nightmare.
“Mara, if you can.” She paused for a breath, “Look at the sun, search for the tendrils of magic that are holding your fear at bay.”
"Do I need to?" Mara whispered, gripping her mom's arm tighter.
"Ye-" The words died in Elara's throat. Her first encounter with a boar flashed in her mind, how her mother heckled her for dodging instead of taking the boar's charge head-on. "Scared?"
Mara gripped her arms mother's arms tighter. "No," After a deep breath, she loosened her grip ever so slightly. "Maybe."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"We can do it tomorrow," Elara said slowly, caressing her daughter's head. "I'll have a surprise waiting for you that I'm sure you'll love. Psionics depend a lot on your thoughts, we don't want you summoning any monster because you're a little shaken, do we?" She said, trying to disperse the heavy atmosphere.
I'm not scared, I'm just doing what is right. How many wizards die in the stories because of madness? I'm just being smarter than a wizard. Mara rationalized, easing the heaviest of he fears to the back of her mind, "We don't."
"Everything will be alright, my little Naurgol. I won't let you leave my side again, and I promise, I won't leave yours either."
Both lay on the hard bed, the weight of the day, both physical and mental sending her to the world of dreams in an instant. Mara was not so lucky.
Throughout the night, the city remained a hive of activity. The sounds of haggling merchants, boisterous tavern-goers, and distant street musicians filled the air.
In their room, mother and daughter shared a modest bed. The mother's arms were wrapped protectively around her daughter, their bodies illuminated by the soft glow of flickering candlelight.
Though her eyes were closed, Mara's mind was anything but restful. She tried to drift off, seeking a break from the day's harrowing events, but her thoughts refused to quiet. Flashbacks of the waterhole, the monstrous creature, and her brush with death haunted her each time she closed her eyes.
Eventually, Mara gave up on sleep. Careful not to disturb her mother, she gently extricated herself from the embrace and sat up. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes roamed the room, searching for something—anything—to distract her, but the room offered little in the way of diversion.
Her feet met the cool, creaky wooden floor as she tiptoed toward the door. The subtle creaks of the floorboards were nearly lost amid the lively sounds from the tavern below.
The door groaned softly, making Mara wince with each creak. She glanced back at the bed, half-expecting her mother to stir awake but to her relief, her mother slept like a boulder. With the door barely ajar, Mara slipped out of the room and gently closed it behind her.
"I expected you to emerge much earlier," came a melodic voice, causing Mara to jump and let out a startled squeak.
There stood Elysian, his crimson skin glowing as if kissed by firelight, his silver eyes twinkling with playful mischief.
"Why are you here? Were you eavesdropping on us?" Mara blurted out, her cheeks flushing as she recalled her earlier tears. Please, Lastat, if he heard me crying, erase his memory, she silently prayed.
"I might be considered rude by some, but I'm no swine," Elysian replied, a sly grin forming on his lips. "I've simply been waiting out here since the twins fell asleep." Elysian continued, his tone light but sincere.
Mara glanced around the corridor. Though the noise remained as boisterous as when she'd first descended, there were fewer people about. It seemed that the revelers had simply grown louder due to drunkness made up for the lack of patrons awake.
"Why are you here?" Mara asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and suspicion.
"I just thought it was a bit unfair, you know? You shared your grand tale with me, but I didn't get to share mine with you. Doesn't seem quite right, does it?" Elysian's voice took on a slightly petulant tone as he spoke, his hands hovering over the strings of his lute.
Mara's feet could barely stand still and her eyes sparkled with excitement. Finally, she could get what she'd been yearning for since waking up in the city—tales of adventure. She could barely contain herself.
"Then tell me!" Mara blurted out, forgetting her surroundings. Realizing her volume, she quickly cracked open the door to peek inside. Her mother was still sound asleep.
"This isn't the right setting for such a tale," Elysian said, his tone still tinged with petulance. He glanced around before striding over to a window and flinging it open. A chilly breeze swept in, making his clothes billow as he began climbing out and toward the inn's roof. "Moonlight always makes for the best spotlight," he called back, continuing his ascent.
Mara followed him without hesitation. Her eyes never strayed downward, and the thought of falling never crossed her mind as she swiftly scaled the inn's roof, the remnants of her mother's spell lingering still.
Once atop the inn's roof, the city stretched out before Mara like a living painting. The indigo sky seemed to embrace the city in a loving hug, and the lights below twinkled like stars, filling her with a sense of wonder and warmth.
Then, an intrusive thought shattered the serenity, 'The sky was not an embrace but a suffocating shroud, pressing down on the city. The twinkling lights were not stars but desperate flames, flickering in a futile struggle against the dark.'
She froze, her heart pounding. The thought felt alien, a dark whisper that seemed to crawl into her mind uninvited. Mara was snapped out of her musings by Elysian clearing his throat. Her eyes sparkled as she temporarily pushed those dark thoughts to the back of her mind.
Eager for the tale that awaited her, she took a seat close to him.
"Young Adventurer, many claim that folly is the privilege of youth. I say nay. Folly is a right we all have, the very flame that drives us to seek new wonders," Elysian said.
Elysian's fingers gracefully danced over the strings of his lute. The roof tiles beneath him began to vibrate subtly, resonating in harmony with the music.
Have you ever left this place? Truly explored?" His lute adopted a somber tone as he looked intently at Mara, who shook her head.
"Well, I have—far beyond what anyone within these walls could claim." His fingers quickened their pace on the lute, the tempo rising.
Elysian's touch on the lute strings drew out a tune tinged with sorrow. His silver eyes looked distant as if peering into another world.
"In a city without walls, where trees were our homes,
The Titans stood guard, protectors of all.
But power corrupts, as the wise often say,
They faltered and failed, demanding more pay."
His eyes met Mara's, a flicker of pain crossing his crimson face. The melody of the lute deepened, echoing the weight of his words.
"The outskirts were first, where the suffering unfurled,
Then Titans grew greedy, demanding the world.
Thousands then fled, for death's not always the end,
Just a likely outcome, as they round each bend."
The tempo slowed, each note lingering in the air like a fading memory. Lines of regret etched themselves onto Elysian's features.
"They found lands of wonder, of peril untold,
Where death is not final, just a story resold.
Cities on Titans, caves to worlds below,
Infinite marvels, in the moon's soft glow."
Elysian paused, his fingers hovering above the strings. He took a deep breath, gathering the strength to continue. The tune of the lute became almost a whisper, a fragile echo of what once was.
"Yet of my clan, just one did survive,
With mementos and memories, he tried to revive.
But time is a thief, it steals memories away,
Even the survivor forgets, comes the light of the day."
His fingers stilled, the last note hanging in the air like a ghost. Elysian looked at Mara, his eyes searching hers as if asking for understanding.
"He sang of his clan, a tune pure and free,
And the world listened close, adding notes to his plea.
For Lastat remembers what we forget,
In the tapestry of time, where all stories are set."
Mara's mind teetered between wonder and sorrow. She imagined the exotic landscapes Elysian described—the intoxicating scents, the breathtaking vistas. Her heart swelled with the thrill of potential adventures.
Yet, for every enchanting thought, a dark counterpoint pierced her mind. She envisioned savage beasts tearing flesh from bone, relentless corpses shambling in eternal unrest, and innocent souls being sacrificed on unholy altars.
These grim images seemed to come from nowhere, unbidden and unwelcome. She had never read or seen anything that could have planted such horrifying ideas in her mind.
"WELL!" Elysian exclaimed, his face instantly shedding any traces of sorrow or melancholy. "Now, everything is as it should be. You've heard my tale, and I've heard yours."
As the words left his lips, his form began to dissolve into mist, seeping through the gaps between the roof tiles and vanishing from sight. Mara was left speechless. Where Elysian had stood, the roof tiles had transformed into fine, ashy dust. She stared at the spot, struggling to comprehend what had just occurred.
Remaining seated, her gaze shifted from the city to the Obsidianite walls, which blended seamlessly into the night sky. Slowly, her eyes traveled upwards to the towering heights of Russet Ridge framed by the crystalline skies, then swept across the other horizons.
Her gaze settled on the rolling hills that marked the beginning of Redvine Valley. She squinted, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Podkus Farm, even though she knew it was an impossibility.
Finally, her eyes moved to the jagged peaks of the Rubra Mountains. As she traced their outlines, she felt a burning sensation in her chest, as if something within her was awakening.
Staring at the night sky, Mara felt her eyes grow heavy. Though her mind remained restless, it was tinged with a newfound serenity, filled with images from Elysian's tale. Slowly, her eyes closed, allowing the enveloping darkness to claim her.
—————
The early morning sun bathed Clayridge in a warm glow, casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets. The small city seemed to burst at the seams, barely able to contain the throng of people already out and about.
Elara gripped Mara's hand firmly, guiding her through the labyrinthine alleys and crowded thoroughfares. Mara's eyes were half-lidded, her steps sluggish, clearly struggling to keep up.
"Can't you carry meeee?" Mara whined, dragging out the last word to emphasize her exhaustion.
"It's not my fault you decided to sneak out of the room—which you shouldn't have—and only got an hour of sleep before sunrise," Elara retorted, not breaking stride as she continued to lead Mara toward the outskirts of Clayridge.
The further they were from the city center, the thinner the crowd became, replaced by open-air markets and stalls selling all manner of goods.
A few places caught the eye, a blacksmith's shop with an anvil-shaped sign swinging in the wind, and a herbalist's cottage enveloped in the aroma of dried herbs and flowers. Finally, they reached a peculiar establishment that caught their attention. A sign hanging above the entrance read, "Grimwald's Exotic Carts and Beasts."
Elara and Mara pushed open the door to "Grimwald's Exotic Carts and Beasts," a jingling bell hanging above the door heralding their entrance. The air was filled with the scent of hay and animal musk. The room held a menagerie of cages, stalls, and various cart designs.
"Welcome, welcome!" A stout man with a bushy beard emerged from behind a counter. "I'm Grimwald. What can I do for you fine ladies today?"
"We need a cart and some sturdy creatures to pull it," Elara started. "We're heading into some rough terrain, so it needs to be durable."
Grimwald rubbed his hands together. "Ah, you've come to the right place! Follow me."
He led them past rows of carts and wagons, finally stopping in front of a rugged-looking cart with reinforced wheels. "This here is the Ridgecrawler cart, designed for all sorts of difficult terrains."
"Wow, it's like something out of 'The Chronicles of the Wandering Mage!'" Mara exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.
Grimwald chuckled. "Ah, a young reader! You have good taste."
He then led them to a pen where several unique four-legged creatures grazed. They had the robust build of mountain goats, complete with powerful, muscular legs. Yet, their size and flowing mane resembled that of horses.
What caught the eye, however, were their feet—instead of hooves, they had specialized, retractable claws for enhanced grip and climbing.
"These are Cliffstriders, excellent for climbing and rough paths."
What's the damage?" Elara asked, bracing herself for the answer.
"For the Cliffstriders, 60 gold each, and the Ridgecrawler is 100 gold. for a total of 220 total," Grimwald said, scratching his chin.
Elara winced. "That's a bit steep for us. Would you consider... 150 GP for the lot?"
"You drive a hard bargain. How about 185 GP?"
Elara shook her head. "Can't do it. We really can't go above 150 GP."
Mara, who had been quietly observing, suddenly piped up. "Mister Grimwald, ever heard of Sir Thalion and Moonshadow? Or Lady Elira and Windclaw?"
Grimwald looked down at her, intrigued. "I can't say that I have."
"They're like, super famous heroes with amazing animal companions!" Mara exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "Just imagine if your Cliffstriders and Ridgecrawler became legends like Moonshadow or Windclaw!"
"You make an interesting point, young lady," Grimwald mused.
"So, how about 150 GP? Think of it as an investment in their future legendary status!" Mara said, her hands animatedly waving above her head.
Grimwald glanced at Elara, then back at Mara's hopeful face.
"Alright, 150 gold it is," he conceded. "But you owe me a tale of their legendary deeds when you return."
"Deal!" Mara jumped with joy, and Elara's eyes lit up.
After exchanging the gold, they led their new Cliffstriders out to the cart. As they hitched the creatures up, Mara felt like the start of a new chapter in her own adventure tale was beginning.
"Ready to go?" Elara asked, climbing onto the driver's seat.
"Ready!" Mara exclaimed, hopping up next to her.
With a flick of the reins, they set off, leaving Grimwald's shop behind.
"When did you learn to speak like that?"
Mara tilted her head. "Like what?"
"Like..." Elara struggled to remember the word, it was a cargo exclusive to this sector, "Politician?"
"Gregory's father taught him that, then he used it to steal—" Mara quickly covered her mouth, "I mean, barg— No! Steal candy from the rest of us with a lot of flowery words. But his dad is cool.