Tsia pushed at the food on her plate, keeping her eyes studiously trained on the table as she tried to ignore Rā’imu’s plaintive stare.

“Please, stay with me.”

The slight tremble in his voice broke her resolve, and reluctantly she raised her eyes to meet his. Her brother reached out his hand, grabbing hers with a tight grip.

“You can share the estate. Everything I have will be yours, too. If you want to live in Dūr-Yarha instead, I’m sure the elders of the House will grant me a position in the city. Just stay. We’re family - isn’t that what you always wanted?”

Hope clashed with the pain in his eyes and despite herself, Tsia very nearly said yes. It was what she wanted - what she had always wanted since she was a child. The long lonely nights when she had hidden away from the servants, playing house with her dolls - a make-believe world where the father paid attention to her and the mother was always there, a house where her siblings did not torment her - came rushing back to her. The same yearning shone in his eyes, and thus she hesitated, not wanting to crush his hope.

A long silence prevailed between the two. Then he released her hand, retreating to his seat. “I’m sorry for asking. It wasn’t fair.” His voice was gruff, the pain bleeding through his words. Tsia simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The awkwardness abated, but never entirely fled as the night came to a close.

The next morning, she and Nēs̆u left at the first glimmers of dawn. The sun peaked its head above the frozen mountains, the world bathed in glorious purple and pink as they rode out of the gates of the Moon-kissed’s estate.

Rā’imu had not gotten up to see her off.

As they skirted around the city, a few silent tears trickled down her cheeks. She promised herself that she’d be back, that she’d come to see him again, but the words rang hollow to her. If she truly found her mother again - if her path took her into the West - Tsia doubted there’d be any coming back. Few crossed the River, and even fewer returned.

They rode far and fast through the day, not even stopping when the sun slipped back into its slumber beneath the mountain roots. No longer slowed down by Jasper’s little pony, they made good time, the miles stretching behind them silently.

It was not until they finally stopped for a brief rest, pausing by the side of an icy mountain brook, that Tsia spoke. “Did I make the right decision, Nēs̆u?”

Her retainer stirred the fire, tumbling the coals, before he responded. “What does Lady Vāya tell you?”

Tsia shook her head, her long, brunette curls falling loose around her face from the motion. “Vāya and Selene are silent. I wanted to stay, so much, but…”

Nēs̆u stood up, tossing more kindling onto the flames, stoking the fire until its heat drove the chill mountain night away. She shuddered gratefully as the warmth washed over her. Tsia despised the cold; she could not wait until Jasper was ready to leave this accursed province and return to the warmth of her jungles.

“Vāya is never silent, Tsia; you must simply learn to hear her. The wind howls across the scorched plains of Stryn, whistles through the mountain peaks of the Djinn. Vāya blows on Elf and Fey alike, her wings stretch from north to south and back again - wherever life may dwell, there she is, her voice always whispering in your ear. You simply must learn to listen.”

As if responding to his words, a stiff breeze picked up, gusts of wind racing through the treetops above them, the mighty trees bowing beneath the presence of their sovereign.

Tsia stared into the fire, trying to hear the goddess whose magic she wielded. But all she was left with was the aching in her heart. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't hear Vāya.

Nēs̆u must have sensed her failure. Patting her on the arm, he gently lifted her up and led her over to the tent he had pitched for her. “Get some rest, Lady Tsia. Things always feel brighter in the morning.”

Things did not feel brighter in the morning, nor the morning after that, but as the week turned into the next, the ache eased. For better or worse, her decision was made.

As they traveled south, the heat rose quickly, and with the rise in temperature, the land blossomed. The great province of Harei Miqlat was really divided into two sections. To the north, was a high plateau, colder but also much wetter than the southern portion. As the crow flew south, the elevation dropped rapidly, the land morphing into the dry, hot plains that were the home of the southern Djinn. And in the middle, between the two portions, lay Lake Yarhab, on which the capital rested.

Tsia had never seen the sea - most of Corsythia’s coast having fallen into the hands of the Zalancthian invaders long before she was even born - and only once had she visited the great lake of Ikkarim in the south of her father’s land. She was unprepared, therefore, for the sheer size and beauty of the water. Great cliffs towered above the lake on its northern shore, awe-inspiring waterfalls tumbling down the steep cliffs filled with the icy waters of the mountains, while thousands of cattle and sheep grazed along the plains to the south.

When they reached Qarānu, Nēs̆u was disappointed to learn that the merchant fleets had already moved on, the former Sicyan looking forward to a voyage upon the waters, but Tsia was more than happy. It suited her plans perfectly, after all.

“Let’s go to Kibrāti. We can still catch a boat from there to the capital and be there on time. Plus,” she pointed out, “Jasper has a deadline. The royal family doesn’t give a flip about us. If we’re a little late, no one will care. Let’s go to Kibrāti,” she begged.

She stared up at her retainer, who regarded her cooly, no doubt sensing that she had an ulterior motive. “And why not just take the road from Qarānu to S̆addānu - the distance is only slightly longer than the trip to Kibrāti, with no second trip needed. Is there some reason you want to go to Kibrāti?” he questioned.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Tsia’s cheeks flushed as she looked away, biting her lip. “Fine,” she relented. “I just want to see the Tsussî.” She looked up at him, excitement shining in her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be fun? To fly from the cliffs, soaring across the sea.”

“But we couldn’t take our horses with us. Surely you don’t want to leave your favorite mount behind.” Nēs̆u pointed out.

“No-oo,” she admitted reluctantly. “But come on, Nēs̆u, how often do you get the chance to ride a flying horse? We could always pay one of the merchants to ferry our own horses across.”

The smile he’d been fighting back won the battle as he chuckled. “Somehow, I had a feeling you'd find an excuse to see the Tsussî. Very well, we can go to Kibrāti.”

The road between Qarānu and Kibrāti, although maintained by the royal family, received far less traffic than the one from Dūr-Yarha. Most merchants preferred to travel via the lake, the boats offering a quicker and easier method of transporting large amounts of cargo than the roads. But Tsia felt certain that she had taken the most scenic route, the view from the top of the cliffs providing an absolutely stunning vista.

The haze of heat coming off the southern plains obscured most distant objects, but at night the air cleared, allowing her to see for miles in all directions. Most nights, she was able to see a great light shining in the middle of the lake, which Nēs̆u told her was coming from the temple of Tzah-Nūr, one of the most famous landmarks of the Djinn. But the lack of traffic on the road had its downsides, too.

Her horse ambled down the path at a respectable trot, a pillar of dust trailing off behind her, as Tsia rounded a sharp corner in the path. Suddenly, Nēs̆u’s hand shot out. Grabbing her horse's bridle, he forcefully yanked it to the side. The horse reared up as its head was suddenly ripped backward and, with a shriek, she tumbled out of the saddle.

Tsia landed hard on the dirt, a constellation of stars flooding her vision as the back of her head smacked into the ramshackle stone. “What the hell?” Tsia struggled to stand up, only dimly conscious of her surroundings as Nēs̆u leapt off his horse and stood over her. With an ominous whoosh, his sword slid free of the scabbard and flickered across her field of vision.

A metallic ping echoed through the silent forest, followed a second later by a thin, metal strand that fluttered to the ground beside her. Nēs̆u moved quickly, positioning himself between the horses as his eyes scanned the forest. “Are you okay, my lady?”

Her head still swimming, she accepted his hand, grasping the metal strand in confusion. “What-? Why?” She struggled to speak, and he shushed her, talking quietly. “A metal wire was strung up between the trees. Someone - probably bandits - set up an ambush along the road.”

She leaned against her horse, struggling to pull herself up into the saddle to run, but he grabbed her arm. “Wait, Tsia I barely noticed the wire in time. There could be more traps strung across the road.”

A twig snapped in the forest behind him, and Nēs̆u whirled around. His sword flickered out as fast as a serpent's tongue, another ping echoing through the forest as he turned the arrow from its flight.

“Stay between the horses,” he whispered, and then Nēs̆u sprung into motion.

With a howl, he charged in the direction the arrow had come from, his sword flicking aside another one of the projectiles, another from the side narrowly missing his head, and then he disappeared behind a tree. A shrill scream echoed in the woods, painting a vivid image in Tsia’s mind, and a second later her guard remerged, charging along the side of the path toward the source of the second arrow. Blood trailed from his blade, the thick, rusty drops congealing in the dust.

But despite Nēs̆u's attack, the bandits were not simply ignoring her. An arrow whistled toward her, bouncing harmlessly off the armored flank of her horse, but a second followed hot in its heels, its aim true. Time seemed to slow as Tsia reached for her magic, her head still pounding from being smacked into the pavement. The wind answered her call, blossoming in her palm. She released it immediately, an unaimed burst of essence erupting skyward as the arrow raced toward her heart. At the last moment, its flight was diverted upward, the tip of the arrowhead carving a thin, bloody trail up her cheek as it was flung into the air.

Tsia cried out in pain, her concentration slipping as she tried to take a shot at the hidden archer. She flooded essence into the spell, far more than she had intended, and a veritable column of wind erupted from her hands. The wind smashed into the nearby trees, whose trunks snapped like kindling beneath the force of the blow, but the muffled shriek told her that despite her lack of control, she had gotten her man. Reluctantly, Tsia edged out from between the horse, feeling the need to make sure that the archer was truly down and not merely injured.

But the minute she stepped out from between the horses, another arrow buried itself between her shoulders.

The pain was excruciating, a guttural howl tearing through her throat as she collapsed on her knees. Another arrow zipped over her head as she fell, burying itself harmlessly in the road a few feet beyond her. Somehow she managed to cast her prized spell. She could feel the strain on her essence as a whirlwind sprang to life around her, following her as she dragged herself back between the horses. Several arrows disappeared into the spell, only to be spat out harmlessly by the whirlwind, as Tsia struggled to pull a potion out of her pouch.

A hand latched onto her wrist, jerking it violently away, and the potion tumbled out onto the road. A Djinn stood above her, a sword clutched in his hand. A scarf covered his mouth, but his eyes were young, with no sign of the wrinkles that came with age or care. Tsia didn’t know what the bandit wanted. She also didn’t care.

His sword arced down toward her, but her spell was faster. A thin blade of wind erupted from her fingers, effortlessly slicing through flesh and bone. His hand faltered, his eyes glazing over as he stared down at his would-be victim. And then the bandit's head slid off his neck, a trail of blood and guts splattering across the ground.

Tsia renewed her wind barrier, ignoring the furious pounding of her head as mana exhaustion neared, and crouched between the two horses. Keeping one eye cocked for any further attackers, she reached for the healing draft again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The voice was rough and gruff, but Tsia could have cried in relief as Nēs̆u appeared before her.

“But Nēs̆u, it hurts,” she whined.

Her guardian was covered in blood from a small wound in his side that was ripped open, but he ignored it for the moment, focusing his attention on his ward. “I know, my lady, but healing the wound with the arrow still inside you will only make things worse. Give me a moment.”

He bent down over her, grabbing the shaft of the arrow. He gently tugged at it, but it resisted. “Damn, the arrow must be barbed.” He patted Tsia’s hand. “I’m sorry, Tsia, but this is going to hurt. One. Two.”

He ripped the arrow out of her shoulder in one smooth motion, her screams echoing through the forest as her flesh was shredded. A second later, a potion was being held to her lips, the sickly sweet taste flowing down her throat. It did the trick, closing the wound up, but she was pale and wan when she finally managed to stand up. The more a healing potion had to heal, the worse the aftereffects.

She met her retainer’s worried eyes, offering him a shaky smile. “I guess this wasn’t my best idea after all.”

He snorted, helping her climb back up into the saddle. “Sadly, it's definitely not your worst.”

Somehow, she managed a weak laugh. “Yeah, but we don’t talk about that day.”

Nēs̆u relaxed, the lines of stress on his face easing as he saw she was, relatively speaking, okay. “My lips are sealed, my lady,” he bantered back.

“Plus,” she pointed out. “Any decision that lets me ride flying horses is automatically a pretty good decision.”