“And that’s my story.” Fauna paused. “The beginning of it, anyway. There probably isn’t… too much I can tell you that you don’t already know after that.”
She honestly hadn’t considered it anything too special. It… wasn’t mundane, she knew, but she was sure Natheniel would’ve heard plenty of more exciting stories.
But he hadn’t stopped listening, hadn’t lost that fascinated look in his eyes. “Is all of that what you meant when you said that Eldrianna wanted you for something?”
“Mhm. I’ve… thought a lot more about what Daekai said to me back then. Maybe all of that has to do with whoever she thought I was. But that kind of thinking—when I’ve been here all this time—wouldn’t have changed anything. I would’ve just gone in circles until I drove myself insane trying to make sense of it.” She shrugged, as if to make it seem less terrible. She didn’t want him to lose hope, or dwell too long on what her time was like without the company…
Lekra let out a nervous hum. “All of it just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. I’ll be happy when we’re all safe and out of here.”
“Do you know anything about who that person is?” Natheniel prompted.
The very thought made them much more distressed. “No, but I’ve gathered enough to know it’s not good news.” They hesitated. “Besides, I… can feel her presence, somewhere around here. And I’m very much not interested in learning if the two are related.”
“I trust what Daekai said about it being something left unsaid,” Fauna mumbled. “I don’t think it’s something we should worry about now…”
“You’re right about that part…” Lekra muttered, their frown growing deeper.
“Alright, then back to your story,” Natheniel said, turning his attention back to Fauna. “I have a random question. What was it like to be there with the Minotaur? I mean, according to Lydia, they were all part of the Keys and there were only five prophecy things. Was that it or did they forget about it?”
Fauna gave a half-hearted chuckle at the memory. “No, there were only ever five Keys, and only five prophecies. It was a little terrifying, honestly. But Imre said that maybe I was like Haris—not a Key, but someone who brought them all together. Then he tried to convince me that the prophecies were only meant for the Keys. I… don’t think either of us would’ve admitted to ever actually believing it, though.”
“Do you have any more stories? We… might be walking for a little while. I don’t want us to be in silence…”
“I was actually wondering what kind of stories you might have to tell.”
Natheniel froze then and there, before shaking his head and continuing to follow her. He turned away from her when he whispered, “I don’t have anything to say.”
“Well, you said yourself that you had a brother, and Lekra had mentioned your cousin. You didn’t do anything with them?”
“I think they both hated me.”
“They’re your family. Why would they hate you?” She said it cautiously—she acknowledged she was treading on a sensitive subject but, at the same time… she couldn’t grasp the idea.
“They just did. Tavin and I never liked each other. It’s like just being in the same room made us both act like assholes to each other no matter why we were there. I bet he’s living happily carefree without me annoying him. He’s probably glad I’m gone. He’d probably rather I don’t come back at all…”
“He’s your brother,” she tried gently. “No matter what happened, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
Natheniel mumbled something that was most definitely a disagreement.
Lekra sighed. “It was never you, you know. There was… a lot more in play than that.”
“What, that he was the one that was actually going to grow up into something? That, from the beginning, he had so much more than I did?” Natheniel shot back.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“I might have been in the feather necklace all this time, Nathen, but I was never ignorant. I knew what was going on. I still sensed the differences. Most of it you should probably hear from them, but… I can tell you something. Do you remember what I told you about Izzy?”
“How they’re a Fos..?” he asked hesitantly. Quite frankly the quick changes between anger and confusion or remorse was a little worrying…
Lekra nodded. “Simply put, Tavin’s a bit like that. It was never something personal between the two of you—at least, not in the beginning. Dreamers emit the aura of Skiá and his powers make him sensitive to it. A part of it might’ve been a part of one terrible example of a fight or flight reflex.”
Natheniel fell into silence. Then, back to a mix of frustration and regret, he mumbled, “Why did they ever think it was okay not to tell me that? Why did they let me believe it was all because of me? Or is it really my fault that everything got ruined in the end?”
Fauna’s first instinct, drawing on memories of her old friends, was to tell him they didn’t mean to—that they never meant it that way. But she knew that wouldn’t have helped anyone. So instead, she said something that might not have been better, but she could say for certain was true. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Apparently, just being around my brother probably made his life hell. If—if I’m related to Skiá, then I was probably the one responsible for what happened to Lydia. I was the one that the Skiá were after on that mission, I was the reason we had to distract them with my feather necklace. I was the one who almost killed Qizar’s princess, my cousin—I was that close to reversing everything that’s been in the works for longer than my parents have been alive.” He wrapped his arms around himself and let out a hollow laugh. “I was the dumbass who thought it was a good idea to run away and probably screw over the entire kingdom.”
“You didn’t do anything, because we’re going to go back, and we’re going to fix things.” He didn’t seem swayed by her words, however, so she continued with the possibly more sensitive remark, “If Imre knew you were hurting like this… you never would’ve had to feel this alone.”
“I didn’t just sit by and let it all happen, you know. I tried. It didn’t matter what I did or said. It was all just broken promises. And I believed their lies, because I thought that, eventually, they’d be true. That it wasn’t just whatever the hell they needed to say to get me to stop bothering them.”
“I know you were never just the ‘solution’ to them. You were a part of their family.”
“Funny, because I was actually there the whole time, and it didn’t seem like it.”
“Tell me one good thing you did together.”
“What?”
“You’re saying that they hate you—that they’ve never loved you. But I think we both know, somewhere, that that’s not true. Tell me one good thing that happened. Anything, doesn’t matter when. We… tend to get wrapped up in the negatives. I can’t say why, exactly, you ultimately felt this way. But I can help you remember there are people who care about you. People who’d be grateful to see you again—because you’re their family, and not because you’re related to the Skiá. So, just one thing. That’s all I’m asking.”
Natheniel seemed to only half understand the message she was trying to get across. “When… we were both younger, the five of us—Imre, Dimas, Lydia, Tavin, and I—would walk around Lelishara, but… those were just distant memories even before Lydia died. Eventually having everyone around for dinner was something that felt like it only happened once or twice a year…”
“There’s more than that,” Lekra said. “More than just what you remember because it turned bittersweet. I’ve always been with you, so let me help you remember.”
“Remember what..?”
“You and your brother were not always enemies. You realized when the other was in an uncomfortable situation and willingly came to fix it. When someone would bother him—about his status, about his mother, about his spirits—you would stand up for him. You’ve gotten into fights before, not because of a violent nature, but because you had someone to protect. Your natures may have naturally pulled you apart… but your role as brothers can and will overcome it.”
Natheniel had gone quiet again.
“And think carefully about your father’s actions. He didn’t avoid you—I don’t think he truly meant to avoid anyone. He spent no more time with your brother, not really. Imagine the kinds of things his office must be littered with. A stack of grim reports, schedules full of meetings… pictures of those he wants to protect, a timer set for when dinner was ready. Do… you remember what he did, that night you ran away?”
“He… followed me up to my room. I locked him out with magic. He kept knocking—you tried talking to me too, didn’t you? After I… went into the forest, he’d tried following me… he and Kiah both. They were trying to stop me—you were too. I’d… already gone here when I stopped hearing them, didn’t I?”
“To them it must’ve been like you just disappeared.”
Natheniel nodded slowly. “I… I think I want to go home. Hear their side of the story…”
“We’re going to bring you back,” Fauna said confidently. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “You’re going to see your family again. And they’re going to be happy to see you.”