Eirn: a general form of respect, as well as a title denoting noble lineage. If one is uncertain of an individual's precise rank, Eirn is generally the safest honorific to use.

-Etiquette for Children, third edition

'Twas dark and overcast one winter day as I searched the forest for dead wood or live plants. I’d undertaken this task on behalf of my mother, who’d taken ill this last week and, though she tried to insist otherwise, shouldn’t brave the cold to do it herself. That had been an argument and a half, but in the end I prevailed. Mostly by helping myself to her cart and furs and sneaking out before she could stop me.

Even she wouldn’t dare the winter forest without any of her furs, though I could well imagine her ire upon discovering my ploy. The thought did make me smile. Dear old mother, too prideful and stubborn for her own good. I daren’t imagine what might’ve befallen had I not been here to stop her.

Snow dusted the ground, leaving bare patches where the damp had eaten it up, obscuring the leaves and wood beneath but not concealing them completely. The warmer air that for a few days graced us with milder days had been smothered beneath the heavy clouds rolling by. Snowflakes drifted down at a slow but steady rate that would only increase as the storm continued on.

I moved slowly and carefully, searching for anything I could bring back, but with an underlying urgency to my steps. By tomorrow’s morn, I knew, the ground would no longer be as freely accessible. Evening drew on, and I did not turn around toward home. I pressed on, recklessly, desperate to justify my trip. I hesitated when I passed my furthest marker, but I’d found only two days’ worth of wood and less of food. The storm, if experience were any indicator, would last longer than that.

I pulled my snow-covered furs closer against the evening chill, and pressed on. Perhaps by searching virgin ground I could discover unknown bounty.

As, of course, I would. But not in the way I’d hoped.

Some hours later, I’d finally decided to give up the search and turn around. The snow blanketed the ground quite thickly now, and fell heavier than ever. If I didn’t turn around now, I’d be wading in it before I reached home. The cart of my plunder behind me looked more like a mobile snowdrift now than a pile of branches, and the damp chill had soaked through my gloves and slithered down into my boots. It would have to do. Any longer and I risked my life.

I turned to leave, and it was then I saw the light. A circle of gleaming red, away off to the left, deeper in the forest. I picked up the sturdiest of my branches, which was not very sturdy but made me feel a little better, and crept toward the glow.

Two people stood in midair, the glowing red dome surrounding them and casting a sinister light over the world around them. Falling snowflakes gleamed like blood as they fell to join their fellows on the ground.

I held my breath, unsure of what I’d happened upon. Some evil ritual? But these people must be nobles, if they could fly and use magic. For that had to be what this was, I could imagine nothing else that could create a solid dome of light. And what use had nobles for secret evil rituals in the dark of night? They already had all the power a person could ever want.

I wondered for a brief moment if I shouldn’t simply turn and flee, get as far away as possible as fast as could be, but I felt that any movement would only serve to draw attention to me. I remained where I crouched and watched the scene unfold.

“Eirn Fylen,” proclaimed the man on the opposite side of the dome from where I observed. He had a squared face, hair just long enough to tie back, and the typical robes of a noble. The red light washed out any colour, so I couldn’t discern his ranking or house. “I challenge you for the light you bear.” And he raised one hand, clenched into a fist, straight between him and his opponent.

Eirn Fylen, whose back was not quite exactly toward me but very nearly so, reached out his own fist in answer. “Eirn Desten, I accept your challenge and your terms.” And then he sneered. “May you die well, though you have never lived so.”

Eirn Desten nodded once, but made no retort. The redness of the light intensified. It seemed almost as though a curtain were drawn across the dome, turning it from transparent to sheer. A haze, a fogginess, a sense of solidity now permeated it.

Snowflakes that hit the dome slid down it rather than passing through.

And in a flash of blue and yellow, the two attacked.

A scythe of cerulean light splashed against the dome, missing Desten by no more than a finger’s breadth. A lance of golden fire seared through Fylen’s robe, leaving him unharmed but with a scorched patch to show for his near-miss. Fylen dove downward, hands glowing blue. He slammed into the snow, sending up a burst of water in every direction. Before he could finish whatever he was trying to do, Desten blasted another spear of golden flame right where Fylen’s hand braced against the ground.

I winced, but Fylen didn’t scream. Indeed, he seemed almost too intent to even notice, though the blue-glowing droplets of water around him trembled violently. Then the water coalesced together and froze instantly into an ornate shield, taller than Fylen’s entire body, curved to provide greater protection, and it settled in place beside him.

Desten fired a rain of tiny suns into the air, where they swooped up and over the shield to strike at the man behind, but Fylen darted aside from the attack and the shield followed, keeping itself between him and his opponent.

Desten flew forward, striking down at Fylen again with a trio of fiery bolts, but the shield wasn’t limited to rotating around Fylen’s sides, and slid up above him in flawless interception.

Fylen crouched low to the ground, drawing something in the snow. Blue light flared around him, and the shield began to glow. Desten’s next attack did not disappear into it, but bounced off and back toward Desten’s face in a flash of white.

Desten didn’t have time to react. He thrust out a hand, as though to catch the incoming attack, but the flame didn’t stop. It speared straight through his hand and into his chest. He screamed, and yellow light gathered around him. Fire flickered in his eyes, and around his arms, and the snow on the ground within the dome began to sizzle and hiss. Fylen’s shield melted, the water holding its shape for a moment until the growing heat hissed it away into steam. And still Desten’s scream went on and on.

Fylen backed up right to the edge of the dome. For the first time he seemed uncertain. He flashed out two more scythes of light, but Desten didn’t even try to dodge them. They splashed against his face and chest and were extinguished by the growing aura of flames surrounding him.

Fylen dropped back to the ground and began frantically scrabbling in the rapidly-drying ground. I couldn’t tell if he was drawing again or trying to hide, but whatever it was it did not save him.

The dome itself began to shift, its red hue bleeding to a fiery orange, then the brilliant yellow of Desten’s flames. He was so fully obscured by his own glow now that he couldn’t be distinguished from the light of the dome. Like a tiny sun.

Fylen raised one hand and blue light coalesced into a shield, smaller than the icy one from before, but not as prone to evaporation, then fired another volley of blue scythe blades.

Desten’s aura exploded. The dome exploded. Something flared out with a boom like thunder, then crackled back inward centered on Fylen. He didn’t have time to react before all the fire and yellow light converged on him and then he exploded.

I flinched involuntarily as something wet-red and gleaming landed in the snow near me, glinting in the faint light of Desten’s aura. The dome was gone, and Desten’s glow greatly diminished, but he stepped slowly down from the air and approached his vanquished foe.

He laughed, madly, brokenly, one hand clutched protectively against his chest. In his other hand, a brilliant goldflame sword slowly materialized, and still Eirn Desten laughed.

He laughed as he reached Fylen’s broken body, and began to slash at it wildly with his flaming sword, sending pieces of bloody flesh flying in every direction.

I wanted to flee, acid burning my throat as I struggled not to vomit, but fear held me frozen. The madman was far too close, far too powerful, far too dangerous. If he noticed me, I would die. I knew that with cold, terrifying certainty.

I made a terrible mistake coming here. I should have run the other way as fast as I could the moment I saw the light.

My breath sounded too loud, too fast, I was sure he would hear the beating of my heart.

But if he noticed me, he gave no sign. He laughed one final time, reached into his opponent’s destroyed chest, yanked free something that glowed blue, then disappeared in a flash of yellow light.

I didn’t move. I knew nothing about magic. Was this invisibility? Teleportation? It could be anything.

Snow sizzled as it landed on the bare scorched patch of earth that had once been covered by the dome. Eirn Fylen’s remains lay fully visible for far too long, until it finally cooled enough and snow began to conceal the scattered pieces of his torn-apart body.

I shouldn’t have thought about it. This time I did throw up. But at least that broke me from my paralysis. I shakily swallowed some snow to wash away the taste of vomit, carefully not looking at or thinking about the circle burned into the ground or what had taken place there.

As I turned away, something gleamed at me from the corner of my eye. I froze, wondering if Eirn Desten had come back for me, but it wasn’t a deadly yellow flame. A tiny white glow, only visible in the near-complete darkness. I reached for it, hesitated, then picked it up with numb fingers.

A tiny white crystal lay in my gloved hand, like ice, but warm and bright and unmelting. I could feel the beginning of warmth tingling back into my cold hand. When I held it out in front of me it illuminated my way, just a little, but enough. I wasn’t going to question my good fortune. I grabbed the cart and trudged back toward home, the tiny crystal lighting my way.

“What took you so long? Where have you been? I swear, if you’d gotten yourself lost, I would have torn the forest apart. You idiot!”

I deposited the armload of branches beside the fireplace so they could dry out and silently turned to retrieve another.

“Don’t turn your back on me! Do you know how worried I was when you didn’t return?” Her rant was interrupted by a coughing fit, but that didn’t deter her. The moment she caught her breath again, she continued on as though she’d never stopped. “I thought you’d stumbled upon a bear and gotten yourself mauled! What were you thinking, staying out so long?”

I would ordinarily have smiled at Mother’s exaggerations. But after encountering something far worse than a bear, witnessing something far beyond wrong, I had no strength for smiling.

The crystal, I’d slipped down my boot. Not to conceal its existence, but because I needed my hands free and my feet were very cold.

By the third load of wood, my mother had clearly noticed something amiss. Her criticisms ceased and she fell silent, watching me with obvious concern.

I brought in the final pile, then wordlessly began to take off the damp furs. Mother hung them by the fire, watching me with those quiet not-quite-watching glances, but I was too tired to care. I wanted nothing more than to lie down and fall asleep beside the fireplace myself, dignity be damned, but I knew Mother cared more about appearances than I did. What if someone visited in the morning and saw me curled up on the floor like a stray cat? No, she’d have a fit. So I gathered my coat and started doggedly toward the door.

“No you don’t. No child of mine is going to wander off into the storm at midnight! You’ll stay the night in the guest bedroom and no argument.”

I didn’t argue. I stumbled to the designated room, divested myself of my remaining wet clothing, crawled into the bed, and fell asleep with the warm crystal clutched against my chest.

I didn’t wake until afternoon, the smell of soup wafting under the door. My stomach grumbled eagerly; I’d missed dinner the night before in all the excitement, and soup sounded incredibly wonderful right now.

Mother had laid out some of my old clothes on the chair. Some a bit tight, but warm and dry. I smiled as I dressed, then paused as a memory tickled at my mind. Where had I put the crystal? I glanced at my hands, which I’d been using both of to dress. Had I left it in the bed? I tore the blankets off, patting the sheet down for any lumps, but there was no sign of it.

I shook out each blanket, crawled about on the floor, but found no sign of it.

Had I imagined it? Was it just my mind broken under the strain, imagining something bright and comforting to get me home without going crazy?

No, I was sure it had been real. Maybe it was ice after all, and it had melted. It didn’t make sense, but nothing made sense.

My stomach rumbled again, and I abandoned the search in favour of obtaining a bowl or three of soup as quickly as possible.

Five bowls later, I leaned back in my chair and smiled. Mother hadn’t lost her touch. Though I’d occasionally tried to replicate her recipes, no one could truly duplicate her cooking prowess.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“I should be asking you that.”

She waved off the concern. “I’ll be fine. You’re the idiot who stayed out all night. What were you thinking?”

“I needed more wood, and you’d already got all the good stuff nearby. So I had to go farther.” I did not mention the duel I’d witnessed, and tried very hard to put it out of my mind entirely. A comforting warmth pulsed through me, and my agitation disappeared. I pointed to the soup pot. “Mind if I have some more?”

She laughed and ladled it up for me, then started coughing as her laughter subsided. I stood, concerned, but when I reached out to her she shook her head. “I’m—” she coughed twice more, then took a deep breath and straightened. “I’m fine. Really.”

I glanced at the sky. The snow continued to fall, though it had evened off sometime during the night and was once again drifting lazily down rather than the heavier snowfall. I should probably head back to the inn before traveling became any more difficult, but I hesitated to leave my mother alone in her state.

Knowing her, she’d keel over before sending for a doctor.

“I know that look. Don’t even think about delaying your plans for my sake. You have an obligation to your customers as much as anyone else.”

“And they won’t die if I delay work for a few days. Besides, I doubt I could make it back to the city in this weather.”

I glanced over at the fire. It burned low, suffusing the house with warmth. By my guess, we had enough wood left for another three days. Not as much as I’d hoped, but there was little chance of finding more near enough to matter.

“You’ve done enough, dear. Thank you. I do appreciate it. But you really mustn’t think your life needs to revolve around me. You know, there are some nice single people about your age I could introduce—”

“No. Thank you, but no. I am perfectly content on my own. I barely have the time to keep up with my own life, let alone try to fit someone else into it.”

She gave me that same disapproving look she always did when this topic came up. Despite the fact that it was always her own fault for bringing it up in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“Not everything, no. But I am quite confident in my own abilities and what I can, in fact, do on my own. Please, Mother, let it be.”

I knew she did this intentionally, to make me sufficiently annoyed with her to leave, and I won’t deny the thought tempted me. After all, the room I’d paid for in advance, all my papers and tools awaited me. And while the house was fairly comfortable right now, I well knew the tendency of this particular home to be drafty and chilly at unexpected times. The inn had no such drafts, as well as upholstered chairs and a fine desk for working at. It hadn’t been cheap, but I could afford it these days. Business was good.

I absently helped myself to another bowl of soup.

“My, I don’t think I’ve seen you eat this much since you were a teenager,” Mother commented.

I shrugged. “It was very cold last night, and I missed dinner.”

“If you end up hanging around, will you at least start paying for your food?”

I knew she didn’t mean it, she would never actually charge me, but it was a valid point. I stared at my nearly empty bowl and sighed. “If you’re that desperate to be rid of me, I suppose I should be getting back.”

“Finally. I thought I would have to shove you out the door myself.”

I finished off the soup and stood, but hesitated. “You’re absolutely sure you’ll be alright alone?”

She nodded. “I know how these things go. I’ll be perfectly well in another day or two. Not that worrying my head off for your safety helps matters, but what can a mother do.”

I gave her a gentle hug, pecked her cheek once, then collected my damp coat and less damp clothing from beside the fire.

The snow drifted down steadily, probably three or four inches on the ground, but Woodedge wasn’t a long walk. Maybe a half hour. Mother lived on the outskirts of town, true, though there were others who lived further distant.

I arrived safely without encountering any difficulties, handed off yesterday’s dirty clothes to the attendant, and closeted myself in my room to work. As a traveling scribe, I had every type of consignment, from validating contracts to composing poetry and everything in between. Today’s list included much more of the latter than the former, as apparently cold weather made people less eager to gad about conducting business affairs and more inclined to commission epics.

It wasn’t my favourite part of my occupation, stories being notoriously tricky to get ‘right’ and of course what counts as ‘right’ depended as much on the customer as on the execution of the work. I almost wished I could spend another night gathering branches But no. This was what paid my expenses. Mother was right, I did have a reputation to maintain.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on the composition, working late into the evening before I finally relaxed to do another check of the particulars, the bulk of the work completed.

And then it occurred to me that I never lit the lantern.

I glanced out the window. Full darkness, only the occasional snowflake drifting near enough to be illuminated. Then back at my pages. Clearly visible in the dim light.

I jumped to my feet, glaring around my clearly-illuminated room. The light was dim, more like bright moonlight than a fireglow, and I couldn’t see where it was coming from. I moved about the room, and the light followed. I looked above me, behind me; the light shone everywhere, but from nowhere.

Or … from me?

For a moment, I nearly panicked. Then calm insinuated itself forcibly within me, and I relaxed involuntarily.

This was fine. Entirely natural. Of course I could glow in the dark.

What?

I glanced down at my hands, which weren’t really emitting a glow, but which illuminated everything nearby them with that sourceless light. If I looked closely, I could see my veins as though the very blood within them glowed. I shook my hand and shuddered, trying not to think about it.

It was then I realized the fire in the hearth had long since gone out. I hadn’t even noticed. The comfortable warmth I’d felt all day never diminished. I glanced back at my hand, fear and dread seeping back through me, so this time I saw the moment when the emotions were repressed. A pulse of light flowed down my arm like a ripple of a waterfall, and in the same moment my fear subsided.

I had to figure out what was happening to me. I took off my clothes and stared into the mirror, where a pulsing light glowed from my chest, roughly where my heart should be. The glow evened out as it traced my veins down my body, the pulses less obvious, the light steadier the further it traveled.

My breath quickened, and the pulses flicked faster to match my heartbeat.

This was wrong. This was so wrong. I couldn’t be stoned. Only nobility could be stoned. And stones showed themselves at three months of age. There was no way to just become stoned as an adult!

At least, no legal way. Renegade stoned appeared from time to time, accompanied by dark rumors and swift retribution from the nobility if the stories were to be believed. But how could this happen to me? Why!

Calm pulsed through me, white light spreading out through my blood from the traitorous dangerous glow in my chest. I took slow deep breaths to try and relax.

Pieces began to fall into place. The crystal from last night. It had landed near me during the carnage. I’d thought it was just a light. But … what if it had been a powerstone? It was bright, it was warm, and now … it was inside me?

I'd somehow become renegade stoned, without even realizing it.

This is bad, I thought, quite calmly. This is very, very bad.