Over the first few weeks that the Albehsons and the Brighthearts began to settle into their new homes, Lissa became increasingly irritable. It wasn't the typical stubborn contrariness of a child under stress either. No, it took a lot of questions and convincing Lissa to focus inward before Tecka and Drust were able to coax their daughter into some measure of self-awareness. After many days of asking Lissa what was upsetting her, they finally had a vague picture of why she was angry.
The experience Lissa had of watching Falton's coming-of-magic created an outright sense of jealous frustration. Why should she, or anyone for that matter, need to wait for her baby ageteeth to fall out before she could use magic too? Why did it have to be like growing taller? Couldn't she do magic now if she really, really tried really, really hard? Both Drust and Tecka were relieved that it wasn't the move, but when Lissa finally was able to articulate what was vexing her so, their reasonable response was to introduce her to the idea that life holds real disappointments. She would have to learn some time, and at least this was something that she would eventually be able to do. Lissa, according to the nature of disappointment, found that answer incredibly unsatisfying.
By this time, the city's deciduous arboreal residents were beginning to show the first of their autumnal colors, just tiny bits of yellow on sunnier branches. Bup, with his giant eagle friend, Artaxes, had begun spending his days with Drust and the sheep. Tecka and her sister, Igmi, were busy most days establishing their adjacent shops: Tecka set up clothing boutique, and Igmi prepared to sell yarn, thread, and fabric next door. Together, they would strengthen each other's businesses. Lissa very often accompanied her mother to the shop, and caught glimpses of Falton whose body was quickly being transformed by the knight's tutelage. He had taken the [knight's squire] profession, and had already unlocked his basic combat skill.
Lissa burned with jealousy, but she was also quickly learning—learning that her jealousy wouldn't change anything. It didn't make her less jealous, but it did make her think. Her interest-driven nervous system caused an unhealthy obsession to form, her desire to do magic and make magic merging with her obsession with the Lost Treasures she'd had since her mother first told her about them. When she wasn't helping her mother in the shop, she was stewing: staring at her unremarkable grey bracelet, she scrounged through her young mind for uninformed ideas about how it could be activated; when she helped her mother stock the shop, she imagined that she would make clothing that could make a person fly or invisible or impervious to harm; she pictured all the ways that she would be better and cooler than Falton if she'd had magic right then too.
It was a child's ambition, a child's dream, full of things that weren't accurate to reality. She didn't know that imbuing fiber with magic it hadn't been grown with wasn't possible. She didn't know that mundane things couldn't be made into magical things. She didn't know for certain that her mom and dad were right in saying that she couldn't use magic now. Well, that last one she knew for certain, but she strained and bucked and resisted believing them. This was her dream after all—what she wanted more than anything.
But the leaves changed, and the world began to prepare for winter, and Lissa still had no magic. She had no more answers about her bracelet, and she slowly began to accept that her ambition to use magic early maybe, just maybe wasn't actually possible.
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It was nearly winter in the crisp, wee hours of the morning. Both moons—big sister Anella and little brother Nohm—shone the light of their full faces on the bare trees of Zhareem's capital city, Etoleem. They were so bright in the night sky that very few of the stars were visible, upstaged by the closer spheres. There was no breeze, and the forest was full of scintillating frosty stillness.
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The inside of the Brightglenn's sandstone home, however, was filled with the warmth of a fire in the hearth. The sheep and Spot were tucked together into the barn to keep warm, and the three human residents were similarly kept warm by thick woolen blankets. Drust and Tecka slept soundly in their room, but Lissa, cozily warm under the covers, stared up at the ceiling in frustration.
For her sixth birthday, over a month ago, she had wished to be able to use magic early. Nothing had happened. Maybe it was like wishing to go to the moon. It wasn't possible. She rolled over in her bed, facing the south window with moonlight peaking through. She supposedly had the [favor of Anella], but other than the sudden appearance of her (completely! useless!) bracelet, the larger of the two moons had done nothing. What did having Anella's favor even mean? The more she thought about it, the more her tummy hurt, her mind interpreting her emotions through sensations in her physical body.
After tossing for another hour, unable to sleep now because of her tummy ache, she got up and went to the shuttered southern window, wrapped in her bed's heavy blankets. She undid the small metal latch that held the shutters in place, and opened them just enough that she could see the moon that supposedly favored her. She frowned up at the large full moons sending their dazzling light down onto the frosty meadow.
"You're mean," she said to the moon, as if it could hear her. "You make me want things and then you don't say anything. You're mean."
It wasn't true—Lissa's desires were entirely her own—, but she expressed her frustration just the same. At least in that moment, the silent moon seemed haughty and dismissive, in the same way Lissa saw her private cousin who wouldn't tell her almost anything about being a [knight's squire]. Lissa's tummy squeezed again, but she had said what she wanted to say, placed blame where she thought it belonged, and that helped at least for the moment. She suddenly felt how tired she was, and she yawned, closing her eyes and stretching both arms above her head.
If only she hadn't closed her eyes, she would have seen the way her unremarkable grey bracelet suddenly sparkled with pure white light for the brief moment that the full moonlight fell directly on it. But then she moved to reshutter the window, her bracelet falling in the shutter's shadow. Before she fully closed the shutters again, she took another moment to appreciate the glittering frost on the dry meadow grasses. She noticed with some surprise that a solitary flower stalk had managed to grow in the extra warmth right up next to the window's opening. The tiny purple blossoms peeked up from just outside the sill. Distracted by and drawn to their beauty, she did what all children do and attempted to look with her hands.
She released her hold on the shutters and stretched both hands toward the flower in the moonlight. She froze, forgetting the flower completely as she finally saw the moonlight on her bracelet. It glistened with a pure cool-white light, like it was braided from more than just drab grey wool. She gaped, leaning closer to it to get her eyes as close as she could. She could just make out something else actually in the wool. Only because she had so much exposure to fiber, spinning, and textiles was she able to see it. There, blended into the soft grey wool were what looked like gossamer fine fibers, much finer even than lamb's wool, almost like single strands of spider silk. They were what was glowing in the moonlight, and Lissa could see them.
It was glorious. It was something new. After months of wondering and nothing happening, it was something! Maybe she should complain more often—no, momma wouldn't like that. She felt a renewed burst of energy that almost immediately subsided. She felt tears coming to the corners of her eyes. Her mother, had she been awake, would say she was just tired. Sure, Lissa felt tired—and frustrated and joyful and nervous and excited and a little bit sick to her stomach. It was probably time to go back to bed.
She looked up at the two bright moons, still frustrated, but feeling a little more charitable. "Thank you," she said simply.
Without any further excitement, and the stalk of purple flowers completely forgotten, Lissa shuttered her window and returned to bed. She had barely enough time to arrange the covers before sleep took her. Her subsequent dreams were full of Lost Treasures and woven moonlight.