Prologue

Sierra hoped Bowen wouldn’t notice how sweaty her palms were as she rubbed small circles into the back of his hand. She had been so sure of this place, but now that they had arrived, the nerves set in. 

The long-awaited letter that mysteriously arrived on their doorstep led them to a small tavern on the outskirts of town. It overlooked the abandoned merchant ships in the port, a ghost town now that it was dusk. The tavern was also deserted save for a small woman,who was behind the bar. She had barely looked in their direction as the door opened. When they tried to approach and ask about where to go, she nodded towards the wooden door placed at the back and walked away before even a word was spoken. 

The door opened into a small stone room, damp with the smell of sea and salt. The stones were wet to the touch and two chairs were arranged against the far wall, the upholstery sprouting tiny forests of green mold. 

Hesitantly they sat on the chairs and waited. 

Finally, after what felt like ages, a figure in a white cloak entered the room where the couple sat and beckoned for them to follow. She grasped Bowen’s hand tighter as they stood.  He looked at her and gave a reassuring smile. The nerves in her stomach unclenched slightly as she smiled back. They would get through it together just like everything else. That smile was why she was here— she needed to believe in it, in him, one last time. 

The figure led them down a dark hallway that had smoke stains on the walls. It smelled like soot and death. He opened a door at the end of the hall and pointed inside. All of her nerves had vanished now and she knew there was nothing to be afraid of. They walked into the room together and the door shut with a grim bang behind them. 

As soon as the door had closed, the room filled with blinding white light. Sierra's eyes teared up slightly and she used her other hand to shield her face from the glow. The light drew back after a moment and she could make out a hovering apparition dressed in white. The light, now dulling, was emanating from her chest. Long blond hair billowed out around the figure’s sad and timeless face. Her eyes were distant. The beauty of the woman was hypnotizing, seeming to pull everything into herself. Sierra felt a small pull at her heart towards the woman, like a magnet. Before she could move forward, another cloaked figure, this time dressed in black, stepped in front of her and handed a golden chalice to Bowen. Sierra hadn’t even heard the door open again, she had been so mesmerized by the woman. 

“Drink.” was all the hooded figure said and Bowen obeyed, pulling the cup to his lips. Sierra watched with tears of joy in her eyes. They were really going to do it. He handed her the chalice and she too brought it to her mouth. The liquid had just touched her lips when a deafening screech came from the apparition. Sierra dropped the cup and it crashed to the ground, spilling blue liquid all over the floor. She grabbed her ears in pain as a burst of light protruded violently from the spirit. She could feel herself being ripped from Bowen’s side and then all became quiet. 

1

My darling,

Even though I never see the sunrise, seeing your face is all the sunshine I need. Even amidst the smoke, you are clear in my mind. 

* * *

Music filled the small town’s square. Discordant harmonies pelted against Cecilia’s ears as she strummed her guitar. The notes she played were filled with passion and tension, clashing against the opposing melodies of her competitor. Sweat was dripping down her face. She had never played this fast before in her life. The man beside her was jerking with his violin, mimicking the staccato melody he was playing. His long hair threatened to tangle into his strings as he leaned towards his instrument. People started to gather around the two of them now, their faces filled with excitement and anticipation, wondering who would come out as the better performer. Cecilia played harder and faster with every note, the melodies flowing from her mind onto the strings. 

The young man beside her suddenly started to struggle to keep up with her. Whether it was from the exhaustion of playing or lack of skill, Cecilia didn’t know. He began to misplay notes here and there, giving her the crowd's favor. More money was flying into her case instead of his now, almost as quickly as the music she played. After another sour note, the man stopped playing, declaring her the winner. He threw his violin and bow to the ground and turned away, hiding his face from her. She finished her cadence and took a bow for the cheering crowd. Cecilia reached out her hand for the man to shake, but instead, he spat in her case and stormed off into one of the bars lining the plaza. 

Cecilia gave one last bow and started to pack up her things as the crowd dispersed. A few people lingered to praise her for her performance or to ask her how long she had been playing. She made polite conversation with them, trying not to put too much attention on herself, or as little as she could anyway after making a public spectacle. She hadn’t really meant to play against that man, but after all of his talk about how women couldn’t play as well as men, she had to teach him a lesson. 

A young girl approached her then, holding her mother’s finger with a chubby hand. She couldn’t have been more than five. The girl let go of her mother and shyly came up to her, twisting her fingers in her shirt. Cecilia knelt down to meet her eyes, and smiled. 

“Hi,” she extended her hand. 

“Hello,” the girl replied, looking past her hand to her case. “What’s that?” She pointed in the direction she was looking. 

“That’s my guitar.” Cecilia said, turning to grab it. “Do you want to see it?” 

The girl nodded and Cecilia brought it between them. She plucked a string and motioned for the child to do the same. As she did, a laugh bubbled up from her small body. 

“It’s time to go. Tell the nice lady thank you, Thea.” Her mother called. The girl stumbled back to her mother, yelling a happy thank you to Cecilia as she went. She waved back in reply and watched them disappear down an alley before getting back on her feet. After placing the guitar back in her case, she clicked the latches closed and looked around the square.

  It was her favorite time of day. The sun had just set and the sky looked like a watercolor painting with deep blues and hints of turquoise. It was still too early for the stars, but the moon had claimed its kingdom from the sun, sitting full and bright on its throne in the sky. The cobblestones reflected the hidden battles between the orange cast of the fire-lit lamps and the white light of the moon.  Their combat moved along the stones to the fountain in the center of the plaza. The water seemed to come from everywhere, and the noise it made was its own fierce symphony.

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Not many people were out now; they had all moved on to their homes or the various pubs in the center of town. Cecilia moved closer to the fountain. It was elaborate and well carved, intricate details moved through the stone, creating even the smallest individual scales on the stone fish along the side of it. As she admired it, she noticed a young man also watching the water.  His hair was black and curled against the top of his forehead and the tips of his ears. She noticed how impossibly green his eyes were as well, how they seemed to catch the moon’s light just so, making them shine. He seemed to be lost in thought, allowing the sound of the fountain to carry him off somewhere. Cecilia tore her eyes off of him and watched the fountain for a while as well hoping to also be carried off. Her mind had been full of nothing but constant painful memories and images of her past that made it hard to carry on, hard to breathe. As much as she tried, she couldn’t get away from them. She was exhausted and hopefully tonight her thoughts would let her rest.  But first, she needed a drink. Alcohol would help her more than staring at a fountain. Cecilia allowed herself one more stolen glance at the man before moving on into a nearby pub.

Upon entering, she realized it was actually a small inn. There was a set of stairs to her right with a counter next to it. Behind the counter were rows of brass keys for rooms hanging on the wall. To her left, there was a fully stocked bar and a blazing fireplace. The rest of the room was full of tables and chairs and drunk people. Well, at least this town had one positive thing; she would only have to walk up a few stairs to a bed after a drink. 

Cecilia found an open spot at the bar and ordered a standard ale. When the bartender gave it to her, she downed half of it in under a minute, wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste. Her father had been so excited to show her all the nuances of fine alcohol, How to properly taste wine, judge the color of beer, and so on. Even before she was of age, he would take her down to the wine cellar to show her his favorite vintages . He would be so disappointed in her for not truly thinking about the ale ,how it tasted, and why. But, her thoughts were too clouded with grief to be technical. Her father was dead. She had found out just days ago. Leaving her home had been hard enough but now, without even a hope of ever seeing him again…

She took another swig of ale and tried desperately to reign in her thoughts. She missed her home. Thinking of Aduial Amon and her parents even a little made her sad beyond belief. She left her half -drunk ale and a few pieces of silver to pay for it at the bar and stepped into the pleasant night air to clear her head. 

A few stars were out now, more visible against the blackening sky. She focused on their brightness to keep the tears at bay. A little wind played with her hair and she hoped nobody would be able to see her pointed elven ears in the dark. It didn’t matter if you were an Elf, Ferie, Daemon, or human, going outside of your own borders was risky at best. After the war, lines were drawn and it wasn’t taken lightly if one was crossed. She hoped she would be safe to stay here for one night before being found out. 

She had calmed down enough now to notice the exhaustion coursing through her veins. She needed sleep, and she was willing to take her chances tonight if it meant lying in a bed. After taking a deep breath of night air that smelled slightly of dirt and stale beer, Cecilia returned inside the inn. 

A very plump but not unpleasant looking woman sat behind the counter by the stairs. She smiled at Cecilia as she approached. 

“What’ll it be miss?” she asked. Her accent was more noticeable than some of the other humans she had met. The ‘L’ in her ‘what’ll’ was held slightly longer than the other consonants, and her ‘be’ sounded more like ‘beh’. 

“Just a room for tonight” Cecilia replied quickly. She hoped the lady wouldn’t notice her lack of an accent. When she didn’t react, Cecilia assumed she was in the clear and pulled out her guitar case to grab a few pieces of silver. She dropped the money on the counter to pay for room and grabbed the key the lady held out for her. 

Cecilia heaved her guitar case up two flights of stairs, looking at the portraits lined on the walls as she went. There were pictures of the lady behind the desk with what looked like her family. There was a man about the same age as the woman wrapping his arms around her, and both were smiling. There was also a picture of a little boy playing in the rain. He was wearing red rain boots and a blue striped shirt. She loved that about humans. How sentimental they were. No one had family pictures in Aduial Amon. She wished that they did. Every day felt like she was forgetting something about her parents. She was terrified she would forget what they looked like eventually. There wasn’t even a picture to remind her of them. All she had was her father’s guitar and her mother's dagger. 

She reached the top of the stairs and found her room immediately to her left. After locking the door behind her, she threw herself on to the bed. She had been walking for days through farmland and a real bed felt absolutely wonderful on her aching body. She curled up on top of the covers and was about to fall asleep when there was a knock at her door. She was too tired to answer it. Whoever was there now would be there in the morning too. She rolled over and tried to summon sleep again. 

She bolted upright when she heard someone scratching at the lock. Apparently they weren't going to wait until morning. She reached for her guitar case. Inside were all her personal belongings- including her mother's dagger. Once she had it, she moved to look through the hole in the door. 

It was the boy with the green eyes. Why was he trying to break into her room? She quickly made sure her hair covered her ears and then opened the door. He caught himself right before he face-planted into the floor. He sprung back up almost instantly and shoved her aside so he could lock both of them in the room. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cecilia started, pointing the knife towards him. He held up his hands innocently. 

“Woah there, calm down. I’m trying to help you.” he replied.  

“Help me with what? Who are you?” She asked hostiley. Cecilia moved closer to him, her dagger still pointed at his throat. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how much the blade was shaking in her hands. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she would if she had to. 

“Look,” the stranger said, looking over the dagger to meet her eyes. “The man you competed against earlier is looking for you. I overheard him at the bar asking around for you. I beat him to the housing lady to ask about your room and voila, here I am to save the day.” 

“Why would you want to help me? I can handle myself.” She replied. 

“Obviously.” Despite having a blade to his throat, he smiled at her. “I just thought this would be a win-win situation. I get to feed into my crippling hero complex and you get to meet the man you were staring at at the fountain.” 

Cecilia could feel her face flush. “I wasn’t staring at you.” 

“It’s okay,” he said, flashing another smile. “Not many women can resist my extraordinary good looks.” 

“It’s almost like you want me to stab you.” she replied, holding the dagger tighter. 

“Don’t worry, really. I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes seemed to be pleading with her to trust him. Why?

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on her door. Someone from the other side was calling for her to open it.  Their words were slurred together, and she could tell that they were drunk. 

“Time to go,” the handsome stranger whispered. Cecilia hesitated for a moment. She didn’t want to trust him, but he was her only hope of getting out of here without a fight. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, and she would have a greater chance of being found out. Tucking her dagger into her boot, she slung her case over her back. He nodded towards her and led her to the window. After pushing it open, he swung his legs over the sill. 

“Are you crazy?” Cecilia asked. “We are two stories up, what if I break my guitar?” 

He laughed. “That’s what you’re worried about?” When she gave him a stern look, he sighed. “Just toss it down to me before you jump, I’ll catch it and make sure it’s safe.” With that, he jumped out the window, landing gracefully on the ground. He gave her a little bow and then beckoned for her to drop her case. She did so, and he caught it like he said he would. Once he had, he motioned for her to follow.

 She hesitated. Climbing out of two story high windows with handsome strangers was not a usual thing for her. But, when she heard the doorknob jiggle again, she turned to the window and started to climb out.