Elia

The night was cold. Autumn would be over soon. Villages and hamlets will soon harvest for winter. Perfect time to travel. Food will be plenty. As long as she can steal crops without notice.

Elia began rationalizing her journey ahead as she marched the field to the Willowood. Her sledge sat looped on her back tied to her pack. She would wince and grab her side every several minutes. Her freshly broken ribs stung and dug. But she had to continue on. Her life no longer concerned her with going back to the village she once called home.

On her belt was tied a wooden log the width of her fist. The log had a small recess in the top where a glowing coal rest. It barely gave off light. But it did not let up in her march.

She need not a torch in the night. Atop her head lay a new crown. It flickered white, yellow, and orange. Her new crown of flame emanated light about her person making it easy to see where she stepped. Even with the flame being so close it did not singe her hair or clothes.

It did however draw much attention. So she made quick to the woods to not be spotted. From there she could slow her pace.

In the Willowood she was calmed by the sound of the gently swaying trees. The nights had come windier of late. She breathed in the fresh autumn air; it was slightly sweet.

She took another deep breath and— whomp! A sudden pain shot through the back of her head, and she was out cold.

Brute 1: “She be a scout?”.

Brute 2: “No you daft cunt. She a priestess. No scout be touched”.

Brute 5: “Some kind of sun priestess I bet, with all em flames and such”.

Elia came too. Her surroundings, illuminated by firelight, showed a mass of figures looming over her. They wore armor of all sorts, clearly pillaged. They however all had a common marking, a black puffy cloud symbol was marked on all their clothes.

Brute 8: “Ain’t no sun worshipers no more idiot. Them’s Moonfolk hunted em all”.

Brute 2: “Can we take her then. She be a beauty”.

The soldiers started to creep closer and closer to her. The dark forest tightened around her.

She struggled but found herself tied to a tree trunk. The course hempen rope rubbed and prickled at her arms as she pulled.

Elia: “Stay back or ill burn ye alive!” she roared pulling the rope taught.

The figures stopped their advances.

Hagar: “Enough men, we just pillage and burn. There is no honor in rape”.

A man, shorter than most in the semi-circle, emerged from the group. He wore a bare chest tattooed with the symbol of the black cloud. He had no weapons, unlike his fellow men. His skin was a neutral flesh tone. But his arms were much different. They were chalk white and covered in ash. They had cracks all over that gave off a faint orange glow. Small streaks of smoke trickled from some of the deeper cracks.

Hagar: “Untie her men. She is no enemy. Her purpose is no different from our own.” The circle of men obeyed without question. They seemed to be under his heel, completely subservient. H

Elia: “Your Hagar the Haze. My village is waitin’ for your strike. They have no wealth to plunder,” she said pushing the men away from her after her restraints were gone.

Hagar: “Hahaha. We wish not for wealth my lady,” he approached her and held out his ashy smoldering hand. “Let us speak, Touched to Touched”.

Elia looked at his glowing arm and her face winced.

Hagar: “Trust me, my lady”.

She paused, then grabbed his hand. It was warm. But did not burn.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

They sat in a patch of the Willowood that was bare of trees. Nothing but the stars illuminated the two. Except of course for Elia’s crown of flame. Being only hours of having it, the crown was still new to her.

Elia: “What ya mean by having the same purpose?” Elia said staring up at the stars. Her hands firmly grasped the log and coal sat between her crossed legs.

Hagar: “Your god gifted you flame. My god gifted me smoke. They are the same, no?” Hagar said while peeling a small gourd with a knife.

Elia: “I guess. Did you meet them? The Black Cloud?”. She looked at Hagar with youthful intrigue.

Hagar: “Ha, You are new to this it seems”. He adjusted his sitting position to talk more directly with Elia. “We are Touched. It is a literal meaning my lady”.

Elia: “Ah, I only met my god recently. What is the Black Cloud like?”.

Hagar: “He be a swirling mass of darkness. His eyes flicker like your crown. His arms are smoldering trunks”. Hagar, with knife and gourd in hand, gestured to the sky while describing.

Elia: “And his crown?”.

Hagar: “No crown a bandoleer my lady. Of swirling embers”.

Elia: “Do all gods not have crowns?”

Hagar: “Yes and no my lady. You are truly new to being touched”. He smirked as he looked down at his food.

Elia: “I am still new”. She looked down at the ember sitting on her lap.

Hagar: “What is yours of? Embers and coals?”. He pointed to the log with the knife.

Elia: “The forge. I had to leave mine own forge. This is all I could bring”. She rubbed the log feeling the textured bark rub her palm.

Hagar: “Very well. You will get stronger when you find a real forge for your god”. He looked about the dark woods around them. “Our god grows with each village and forest we raze”.

Elia laughed.

Elia: “They will be quick to conquer. They couldn’t even spot me leaving the town with my new crown”.

Hagar: “Elia. You are new. You will learn. I know of a teacher. He will guide you in your search for devotion”. He took a bite from the gourd.

Elia: “You would do that? I am grateful Hagar”. Her ember flickered with her reply. Which made Hagar smirk.

Hagar: “You just need to help us with one thing my lady”.

The blaze contested the light of the sun. The bonfire reached the treetops.

Hagar: “Do you feel the heat!” he yelled over the roaring fire.

Elia: “Yes! It’s right there”. She wanted to reach out and touch the flame. It would surely burn her. But she felt invincible this night. There was no feat she couldn’t concur.

They both stood before the fire. It was fed from several logs stacked to make a box as tall as a person. The other members of the Black Cloud chanted around the fire. Their weapons were drawn.

Elia saw that not all members were warriors. The woman wore intricate woven gowns, as well as some of the older men. They were priests and priestesses. Included as well were young children and babes. The Black Clouds had created their own family.

Hagar: “Not your skin! Feel the warmth with your crown!”. He continued to yell over the roaring blaze and chant.

Elia stood close to the flame. Her eyes were dried out. The smoke was slightly sweet and would have paired well with a suckling boar.

She took deep breaths aided by Hagar pressing his hands on her back and stomach. He held a serious stare at her. His warm hands aided in her breathing. The warmth of his palms was indescribable. She wished to feel it on her bare skin.

Elia had killed her mother, met a god, and now aided in the destruction of her home. She felt more alive than had ever in her life.

Her breath deepened; beads of sweat dripped from her brow. She could taste the salt as it dripped down her face. She clutched onto the feeling of first meeting the forge spirit. Her breath was linked with its glow.

The memory was fresh. She drew on it immediately. Hagar’s warm touch made her feel strong. It made her feel wanted. She could handle the heat.

With a deep exhale the bonfire shrunk several feet. With an inhale, the fire grew even taller than the trees.

Hagar: “The blaze is yours Elia!”, he said jumping and pumping his fists. He was so serious during the entire process the outburst was surprising to her.

She looked at Hagar. He was a good man. He lived for his god. He wished only for the spread of smoke. Nothing more.

She took a shooting breath and looked to the closest tree. The bonfire, like a split log, cut in half and covered the tree. It immediately took ablaze.

She laughed. Hagar laughed with her. They hugged. Elia felt a flutter of emotion as they embraced.

Hagar: “Your crown is amazing! The power…”.

Elia could see only the reflection of flame in his eyes. He stared in amazement.

With another breath, the two blazes split again. Two more trees were sacrificed to the gods.

Soon the Black cloud had to evacuate the wood. Elia had extended the flame to every tree.

The group of roughly a hundred Black Cloud members stood in the field. They winched their catapult and prepped its oil coated ammunition.

Elia stood in the back with Hagar.

Hagar: “You are truly marvelous Elia”. His eyes shone with respect.

Elia: “You guided me Hagar. You have true devotion”. She wrapped an arm around his. The cracked recesses in his skin was surreal to touch. So unimaginable yet real.

Hagar: “A week’s travel east. You’ll find the Flume River. You must drown yourself in the river. Then you’ll meet my teacher”.

Elia’s eyes widened.

Elia: “Hagar you can’t be serious”. Her grip on his arm tightened.

Hagar seemed distracted from her. He stared at Willowood village.

Hagar: “Trust me,” he said. They stared at each other. He pressed his lips to hers. They were soft and very warm. Her crown fluttered.

And then he left.

He called for the catapult to fire. The soldiers began to rush the town. Hagar’s arms became shrouded in smoke. They were gone.

Elia was left with the women and children that held behind with their few horses and catapult.

She was alone again.