Blood. Why is there always blood? Plants don’t bleed. It’s why I chose them. I wanted to be in medicine at first. I wanted to help people, cure them. But people bleed. Plants don’t bleed. So many interesting things we learned to do with them. No learning anymore. No no. Now we stitch up the scars and mop up the blood. Torn bodies from those monsters. No, goblins. They’re goblins, not monsters. They were us once. They were poisoned. Now they’re goblins.

The nightmares taunt me while I sleep. If I sleep. The red eyes. The gray faces. The tear stained cheeks of children. The widowed screams of women. Some days my thoughts make sense. Some days, good days, my mind is my own. But on others-

Answers. There must be answers. There are always answers. Answers. I know why this poisoning happened. That’s not the answer I need. I need to fix it. Corella. That could be it. That could be my answer.

My solution to stop the killing. I must stop the killing.

-“Doc” Vorran. Date: 11 years post poisoning, Lune.

TALEA:

My eyes flash open in a panicked daze, I grip the quilted blankets and bolt upright. Looking around I know this isn’t my room, it’s not my bed, not my home. My chest heaves with short terrified breaths and I try to believe through my groggy haze that it was all a dream. I would’ve never been so glad to have a nightmare. Memories come to me in staggered flashes that feel out of order and unreal. What’s happening? Blurred vision takes in my surroundings, the hazy walls shiver with my pulsing perception. I’m in a dark room, tan hardstone walls flicker from a trio of candles on the bedside table.

I squeeze my eyes shut and then force them open to clear my sight, it only helps a little. Pain throbs from my sides and along my back, those are the worst spots, it’s everywhere. My eyes glance back to the walls and I see red, a sinister color that churns my stomach. My clothes are washed and folded in the corner stained with the dark red-brown of blood. Pulling the covers aside and looking down I see I’m wearing a soft golden nightgown. My tentative fingers pull open the neckline and I look down at my body, my entire torso is covered in bandages. One question stands alone in my mind. Where is Lesedi?

An image flashes into my mind. The dark sky and surreal screams press down on me like a crushing weight. Lesedi’s terrified eyes bore into me while a nightstalker brings its claw down into her chest. The thought hits me like a wall and almost knocks me onto my back. I have to know what happened. With desperation I swing my legs over the side of my bed. I push my feet against the dark wood floor. Intense pain shoots up my nerves slamming the breath from my lugs. I collapse into a ball by the bedside.

What happened to her? Where is my sister? My stomach roils with dread and my head pounds with a demand for answers. Fear is raining down on me and it’s building into a flood of full on panic.

My shoulders heave while I cry heated tears, my nails dig into my cheeks where I grip my face in the throes of grief. My lips quiver and water blocks my vision. She can’t be dead. She can’t. My fingers move up into my hair and I scream while I bend forwards touching my forehead to my knees. The movement sends shockwaves of pain through my spine, but it’s far away from me. Tears keep coming as I scream and my body slips forward to the floor. The cold stone presses against my forehead while my warm breath shoots out in ragged gasps.

A thousand feelings of guilt and horror swirl around my mind drowning me in emotions so intense I feel like they’ll crush me, maybe that would be for the better. The maelstrom of inner turmoil comes to an abrupt stop when a gentle hand touches my shoulder. A person slips to the floor and sits by me. Brawny dark fingers lay against my cheek and pull me towards them in a soft kind movement. Pulled into a hug, calloused skin wipes tears from my face. I look up and see my cousin Alaric with a grim forced smile.

A sharp whimper blurts from my lips while I try and fail to pull myself together. Giving into it I bury my face in his linen tunic, he’s never seen me like this but right now I don’t care. I try to blurt out words, a thousand apologies. My words are muffled and broken but somehow, he manages to understand me. Alaric strokes my hair with his gentle touch and shushes me in soft whispers until I calm. The tears slow like my breathing. I pull back with a panic-stricken shove and raise my eyes full of shame to ask him the question haunting me.

“Lesedi, is she alright?” I ask almost inaudible; my voice can’t summon strength above a whisper.

Alaric drops his head and shakes no. I bite my lip to hold back more tears.

My throat tightens and my chest pounds. “Is she…dead?”

“Not quite.” Alaric speaks with a flat calm that sends shivers up my spine.

I clench my fists gathering courage and determination. “I need to see her.”

Alaric tries to refuse but he knows he’ll lose this battle. “Tal I don’t think that’s a…”

“I need to see her!” My voice screams with a power I didn’t think I had left. My fists pound into his chest with my intense feelings billowing up again. I hear my blows thunk, but Alaric is so thick it feels like a firm pat.

The weary man sighs giving in to my demands with a shake of his head indicating his disapproval. He slings my arms around his neck and picks me up with ease. He carries me with care from the dim room into a hallway lit by blue moonlight. I look up. In the ceiling is a small grated window. It’s night and despite everything that’s just happened looking at that moon calls to me with the same power it did before. The hallway turns left into a modest kitchen also lit up with moon rays. I wonder why our home doesn’t have these ceiling windows. They seem safe enough. Though I don’t think I could handle seeing the moon every night and not give in to my weak impulse control.

Alaric’s arms are sturdy as we head towards the eating area. We pass underneath a beautiful archway carved from hardstone to look like two waterfalls pouring from the ceiling. Impressive. Hardstone is difficult to break or chip. It has to be sculpted while it’s wet during the pouring process, there’s a small window of opportunity when it’s solid enough to shape but wet enough to move. The sculptor has to be fast and precise.

I’m carried past a beautiful bench sculpted into the stone that looks like water spilling from the wall. Someone in this household is a master of their craft. A wooden table stands in front of the bench with some polished metal dishes sitting on top. The table is beautiful; similar to the bench but with its own distinct personality. The legs spiral upwards with the same flowing motion as the bench. The legs form into the table top without seam or flaw. I recognize the craftsmanship, my uncle made this.

A stab of guilt hurts my stomach, Trigan and Wren. How would I ever face them again if Lesedi didn’t make it? I’m the one that did this to her. They’ll blame me. I lower my eyes with internal shame, Lesedi is the one in critical condition but I’m making this all about me again. Still, I know if Lesedi dies I’m on my own. I would and could never go back home. This is a mistake I could never atone for.

The tears well up in my eyes and with all the strength I have I swallow them. I’ve never been a weepy person, but this is Lesedi, my sister, my everything. Warm orange light caresses the red wood floors and painted blue walls. The hearth, another beautiful work of art, is sculpted into the pale blue stone wall. It follows the theme of the bench. It’s as if flowing water is stretching outwards to hold a burning flame within.

Alaric pauses. Here I am, my useless feet dangling in the air. All I see is a bundle of bandages and blankets huddled on a cot. He sets me down in a plain wooden chair, it seems so out of place with the flowing beauty of the room. With my lungs frozen still from fear I lean forward and pull the covers down from Lesedi’s chin. If her face is any indication, she’s in bad shape.

Both eyes are swollen and purple. Her perfect lips are split, cracked, and crusted with blood. A bandage wraps from her cheek to her ear crossing over her nose. She’ll be disfigured and scarred from this; they’ll be a constant reminder for the rest of her life.

I pull the blankets down to her waist, she’s naked except for the bandages. But with how many bandages she has wrapped around her I can’t tell. Deep gashes and ripped up wounds cover the length of her body. Bandages wrap around her chest covering countless vicious slashes, not to mention the large puncture in her chest. Her arms are completely wrapped down to the wrist. She’ll never be as beautiful as she once was. I know she’ll turn it into a philosophical lesson. If she makes it. No don’t think like that, she will make it. She has to.

She’s unconscious, her breaths are so slow it’s painful. I freeze waiting for her chest to lift up again then let out a gasp of relief when it does. It’s amazing she’s still alive. I saw a nightstalker impale her, how could she still breathe? How could she recover from this? Skysingers have died from wounds far less severe than hers.

My hands tremble while I tuck the blanket back up to her chin. I make sure there are no gaps to allow a draft under the covers; the least I can do is make sure she’ll be warm. My finger traces the line of her brow and stops short of the purple swollen flesh. Her skin, usually such a beautiful copper, now seems polluted by swollen discolored lesions.

A thought occurs to me while I lean back in the plain chair. My eyes stare at the dancing flames in the hardstone hearth.

I whisper with a weak voice. “Alaric. Why aren’t we dead?”

“We were rescued. The woman who lives here saved us.” Alaric places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I turn my head to the right to see a woman and two children. The children can’t be older than twelve. I guess the woman is in her early forties, so young but her eyes hold the gaze of an old woman who has seen far too much.

I stare at them in a daze with squinting eyes. “No. I mean, why aren’t Lesedi and I dead? What happened to all the nighstalkers?”

Alaric rubs the back of his neck. “I uh, I’m not sure. Another nighstalker killed them. He, I think he, came out of nowhere. He killed all the rest that you or I hadn’t gotten to. Then he just ran off into the woods.”

A faint smile comes to my lips. “He rescued me.”

The woman steps forward with a stern glare. “Nightstalkers don’t rescue anyone. This is likely his territory and he was defending it. The hunters carve up our lands and fight over turf all the time.”

Her loose burgundy braid swishes along her collar bone catching orange light from the fire. She has pale green eyes heavy with pain. Her face shows evidence that it used to be soft, but now it’s toughened from years of hardship. I can see faint white lines marking her face, neck, and arms. She’s covered in scars too.

Two children stand behind her legs, a boy and a girl. The girl has a more pinkish tone than her mother and cropped short to her earlobes. She shares her mother’s pale green eyes. The boy looks at me with dark blue eyes that are filled with sadness, too much for a boy so young. Black hair falls in his eyes and he doesn’t brush it away, if anything he hides under it. The mother stands with her arms around her children in a protective embrace. Their eyes are downcast and shy, what happened to this family?

The woman takes gentle steps forwards, her children refuse to let go of her. “After the grayskins were dead we opened the door and brought you in.” She looked over to Lesedi. “It will take her time to heal. The chest wound was not as damaging as it could have been. It did not puncture any vital organs. Although it broke many of her bones. Thankfully nothing pierced her lungs.”

She detaches from her children shooing them off to their room and leans over Lesedi. She pulls open Lesedi’s eyes, turns her head back and forth, and checks over her bandages. She lets out a heavy sigh and turns to face me. “To be honest, I’m not sure if your sister will live. The chest wound will heal, but with all the injuries she lost a lot of blood. I don’t even know how she is still alive now.” She brushes a calloused fingertip across Lesedi’s forehead. “I’ve done my best; all we can do now is wait.”

My fists clench in my lap and I frown. “That’s it? We wait? Wait until what? Until she dies?!”

Alaric snaps at me. “Talea, hush.”

The woman puts her hand up to silence Alaric. She crouches by the chair to speak with me, her voice is low and stern. “I know what it is to lose those you love. I know the fear steals away your reason and you say things that have no meaning. I wish the grief of death upon no soul. And when I tell you I have done everything, trust me, everything has been done. I will pray for your sister.”

I hear the words and I’m touched by her kindness. But I’m still angry. Angry at myself, but lashing out at anyone I can. “Don’t bother. Praying won’t help. Nothing will.” With that I turn away and stare at the fire.

She shrugs and stands up speaking to Alaric now. “We have food in the kitchen. You need to keep your strength. The suns rise in two hours, I suggest you leave to your family so they may know what has happened to you. It has already been three days. One of yours is awake; they will be fine without you. Get ready, you may return after your parents know what has happened to their family.”

He nods with a teary smile. “Thank you. For everything. I know Talea has no manners, but we owe you everything.”

The woman doesn’t smile in return, but she doesn’t frown either. She nods with a stoic expression that reminds me of Lesedi. Alaric crouches by me and forces me to look in his eyes. “Her name is Erian. She has saved our lives. You will be kind to her, and you will eat. Do you understand?”

I say nothing.

Alaric glares at me with a deadly serious voice. “Curse the darkness Tal. I mean it. You will eat and be polite. Erian is all that is keeping Lesedi alive. Do, you, understand?”

I murmur begrudging cooperation. “I understand.” I hang my head low. “Tell Wren and Trigan I’m sorry, if they’ll accept my apology.”

Alaric sighs and walks into the kitchen to get food. Erian appears with a polished metal bowl filled with a chunky stew, two biscuits float half submerged in a colorful fluid. It looks and smells delicious, but I have no appetite. How can I eat at a time like this? I shake my head rejecting the food.

Alaric pops out from the kitchen to glare at me. I purse my lips and take the bowl. “Thank you.” Alaric nods at me and walks over to sit at the beautifully carved bench and table while he eats. Every now and again he looks over at me to make sure I’m eating. I eat the food, but it’s a struggle to swallow.

After his food is gone and he changes into clean clothes that are not his Alaric leaves. Erian has a team of fand for quick travel, I always liked them, tall but thin creatures. They’re fast if you don’t weigh too much. Alaric is broad and thick with muscle; he has to hook up the team and take the chariot. They’re always beautiful shades of blue with some pattern of silver speckling. They’re also expensive. It’s why we don’t have any on our farm. We only have orbigs; A similar creature, but thicker, stronger, and slower. They’re great for hauling and more practical on a farm but they’re not as swift or romantic.

Time ticks by slow and endless, my fingers tap against the arm of my chair fidgety and nervous. Alaric should be getting close to home, unless there’s trouble. What if there’s trouble? He’s out there alone and our family probably already thinks we’re dead. They won’t be looking for us.

Erian pulls up a chair next to mine. This chair belongs in the room, it’s beautifully carved with a water patterned cushion. Her tough, calloused hands rest on top of mine and give a light pat. We both look at Lesedi. My beautiful sister, despite the scars, lies unconscious and unknowing. I feel an iron grip around my heart stifling my breath. Sometimes while looking at her my lungs refuse to breathe.

I hear Erian’s soft voice beside my ears. “You can’t breathe, can you?”

I look at her and gulp. She pats my hand again and nods. “When you look at her. When you think about it. It makes your heart want to stop doesn’t it?”

I nod, my grim eyes heavy with grief. Erian nods with her eyes half closed. “I know.”

My voice creaks from my throat. “How?”

Her irises flash water to the surface, and then this brave woman pushes it down. She looks at the glimmering fire with those haunting green eyes. I can see the flames flickering in them and the soft orange glow on the wall behind her. So much beauty and pain in one place. I can almost feel the depths of her wounds as if it were my own soul that had been carved up.

Her voice is steady and soft, remorseful and strong. “There used to be six of us in this home. Myself, Ania, Bodan and my husband, Bryt. Then there was our adolescent niece Lua and my sister Rokelli. They moved in after the home was built. They didn’t mind sleeping on cots in the living room. We were just happy to be together. They came from Thraz. We all did. I know, nobody ever makes it from there. But we did.

“Then about five years ago it happened. We were outside doing our daily work, Bryt sang old hyms he learned in temple. Ania wandered off following a twitterwing. She went just past the hills chasing that cursed bug. We went inside but Bryt realized Ania was gone. He rushed outside and ordered us to shut the door. I followed him up and begged him to be careful. He gave me a kiss and promised he would. He promised.”

Erian touches two fingers to her lips as if she can still feel the last kiss. She closes her eyes for a second while one tear escapes her lids and slides down her cheek. She opens them again. “He left, and we shut the door. Bryt was gone for twenty minutes. Then I cracked open the door and looked, Archarus was setting and the blue was coming. Onay.” She speaks of the second sun with quiet contempt. “But in the distance, I saw him through the farsight. He came back on the fand with Ania in his lap. She was unconscious and slouched over. I opened the door. Waiting. But I realized he was being chased. There were five nightstalkers right behind him. I could see blood running down his arms and from his forehead.”

She pauses and gulps before continuing. “He was ten feet from the door. He didn’t even stop the fand. That man was going to plow the animal straight into the door. But a good for nothing grayskin grabbed its legs and toppled the creature. He only had ten feet to run. Just ten feet. While falling to the ground Bryt threw Ania towards the door. She made it and we pulled her in. She was safe.”

Her voice chokes and she holds a fist to her mouth. “They got my Bryt. I ran outside after him with the crossbow. But he yelled at me to stay back. I wouldn’t listen to him, I couldn’t.” She shakes her head in slow motion. Her mind is fully transported back to the horrific memory. “After I ran outside my niece Lua came after me. I told Rokelli to keep the little ones inside. I got to the nightstalkers and shot one, straight in the head. The other four got angry. I shot again, but only nicked an arm. I never was much good with moving targets and wasn’t as quick at reloading as Bryt. They’re so fast, so strong. I barely reloaded the crossbow before they were upon me. I shot again and managed to get a bolt somewhere in the torso. Lua tried to save us. But they got her too.”

“Rokelli grabbed me and ran me to the door. She pushed me in and slammed it shut as they dragged her away. I can still hear them when I try to fall asleep.”

“The suns had just gone down,” Her voice cracks and she takes a breath before continuing. “We lost half our family in five minutes. We came all the way from Thraz and survived only to be slain because of a sunset. Because a child followed a twitter wing. Ever since, we have been on our own.”

Erian wipes at her damp cheeks. The memory is still as fresh in her mind as the day it happened. It’s a scar on her soul that will never heal. She stands up and turns away. “I know the pain. Losing those you love because of a single mistake. I know all too well the guilt that crushes a person. The only advice I give is that you pray to Father Sky that she lives. And accept your cousin’s arms if she does not.”

The room falls silent with a thick cloud of pain. There’s no consolation that can be given. I look up and say the only thing I can think of. “So, do you still miss moving targets?”

Erian turns back to face me, a cloud in her eyes. “Never again.” Her shoulders shrug and she tends to cleaning up the dishes. “After that, I devoted every second not with my children to perfecting my aim. Sometimes, I would leave them in their beds asleep and venture out at night. They like to hunt us, I liked to hunt them.”

My jaw drops. This woman with a small frame and delicate features, a person one would describe as pretty but unassuming. Yes, you can see a hard life in her hands and on her face. But you would never guess such recklessness within her. I like her.

Erian continues to talk while she washes dishes in the kitchen. She’s trying to keep my mind off Lesedi’s condition and the whereabouts of Alaric. “It’s how I kept my children alive. Nightstalkers are like rikue, they’re ugly harmful creatures that love to steal shiny things. A lot of the time a party of grayskins will carry gold, jewelry, clocks, and other luxuries on them. They don’t need them. They take them as trophies. I learned to be an efficient killer; I took everything they had, even their clothing. What little they wore. I sold it, and my children ate.” Her shoulders slump taking in a deep breath as she places a freshly cleaned plate on a rack.

She takes in another breath, using all her strength to stay composed. She grabs a metal cup and resumes her dishes. “After that first dark year I realized my children needed me. I was all they had. So, I traded in my last trinkets for books and studied the ways of herbs and medicine. That is how I feed them now. Once a month we pay a visit to Gerafar, sometimes Evos. I offer my services in trade. Evos is pretty well to do; they have the luxury of doctors and medicines. But Gerefar is a small poor town. It’s been called-“

“The home of the dead. I know. I don’t understand why people stay there. If it’s so dangerous they should leave.” I shake my head.

Erian raises one eyebrow and stares at a plate. “Not everyone has a choice. Those born and raised there have only one option. Mine the hardstone and get paid well enough to build a nice home elsewhere. How do you think your aunt and uncle have their own farm?”

I pause. I had never actually thought about it before. I hadn’t thought of a lot of things. “Trigan never mentioned working in the mines. He just said they lived in Gerafar and after my mother died, we all moved here.”

“I’m not surprised. I assume you were young? Only a year or two?” I nod. She continues. “Most likely this is how it went: Your uncle and aunt worked tirelessly in the mines for a year or two. People say it only takes six months, but that’s hardly the reality. They starved themselves whenever possible to save every coin. Hardstone brings top coin in trade from the bigger cities. You know how we skysingers love our walls.” Erian grins a smile so small I almost miss it. "But you have to sell the hardstone to the caravans for a fraction of the value to trade it to the cities. There's also a mining tax and city tax for Gerafar to stay afloat. It soon becomes clear that earning in Gerafar isn't as easy as it's advertised."

Erian shakes her head. “Then after they had plenty of money saved, they set about their work. Now, land out here is free. Who would buy it? To build a lovely home your uncle most likely traveled out here on his own leaving his family safer in Gerafar. There are numinium wagons which lock down and keep you safe from nightstalkers. Expensive and claustrophobic but it’s the only way. Dig every second of the day. Close down in the wagon at night. When the home was finished and everything was secure, he then transported your family. Now, not only is that a lot of money and work, not everyone survives that hazardous building process. It takes a brave soul to attempt it. There is a lot more involved then you realize and it’s not the escape some might think. Unfortunately, we are all victims of a fate chosen for us long before we were born.”

I mull over this in stunned silence. All these years I’ve criticized that “hole” without realizing why it is Trigan takes so much pride in it. “How did you manage coming all the way from Thraz?”

Erian finishes scrubbing and put the dishes on a rack to dry. “Bryt was an artisan. He made sculptures for the rich and often filled orders from Capital Island. We had enough to buy three numinium wagons. Not everyone has as much. Many can only travel by wood and hope they have enough arrows during the night.”

I shake my head and frown; this doesn’t feel right. People shouldn’t have to choose between different forms of death. I know it’s the way it’s been for countless generations but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it. “If it’s so hard to get out of Gerafar then why do so many go to it in the first place? Lesedi says it has the highest immigration rate.”

Erian nods and comes to sit down by me again. She glances up at the ceiling window to keep an eye on the sky. It’s still blue. “One year in Gerafar gets you the currency you need to be free. So, they say. Most people there left a dilapidated apartment. Rooms full of rikue covered in black blossom making their lungs sick. A life out here in the dangerous wilds is better than the overcrowded slums of Thraz.” We both go silent for a moment. Erian breaks the quiet by continuing the conversation on a previous topic. “So, I trade medical services in Gerafar for the currency I need to buy things we don’t grow here.”

Ania bolts into the Kitchen with small strands of hair sticking to her sweating face. Erian dries her hands and looks to her daughter. “What is it Ania?” Ania points up. “Are Talea’s Aunt and Uncle here?” She nods and Erian sighs with relief. “Thank Father Sky.” She composes herself and dons her emotionless face. I can tell she’s done this many times.

Wren and Trigan are here, I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I’m ready. I almost got half our family wiped out, just like what happened to Erian. After they both tried so hard to warn me and I didn’t listen. I can’t face them, but I have no choice.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Please, Father Sky, let them forgive me for what I’ve done.

✽✽✽

Their footsteps rush down the stairs charging through the house, echoing with urgency. Wren and Trigan plow past Erian grabbing at the walls and charge into the room, they don’t even see her. Trigan crouches down by my chair wrapping his thick arms around me and holds me tight, I can feel his chest heaving up and down in short bursts. His breath is warm on my shoulder as he whispers a prayer of thanks to Father Sky. I feel wet tears against my cheek as he sits back on his knees and stares at me with a mix of awe and sorrow.

Trigan’s eyes are shiny from tears, he smiles and shakes his head with disbelief. “You were gone for three days, we thought you were dead for sure.”

My vision blurs with tears as I nod. My voice tries to sputter out words, but they come out more like gasping wails. “I’m so sorry!” I lean forward and bury my face in my uncle with the full force of my emotions spilling out.

Trigan pats my back. “It’s alright. Everything will be fine now, everybody is ok.”

“Trigan.” Wren’s voice is low and monotone. “Come here.”

My uncle waves her away without looking. “In a minute, Talea needs me.” He rubs his hands in circles on my back. “I love you Talea.”

I open my eyes to see Erian walk into the room. Her face is cold and expressionless, she glances over to that cot in the corner Trigan hasn’t seen yet. I see the back of Wren and she calls out again, this time louder and sterner. “Trigan.”

I pull back from my uncle looking at his teary smile. I cup his cheek and take in this moment. He laughs. “I’m so happy you’re alright my snowflake.”

Wren’s voice snaps. “Trigan!”

He jerks his head to look at her with angry eyes that widen to fear. He stands up and walks across the room to that corner he had been blind to. He approaches the cot in the corner that he thought was a pile of blankets and bandages, it is but it isn’t. He falls to his knees and leans over my broken sister and strokes his right hand over her forehead with a touch so soft it’s like he thought she would shatter.

He speaks with a choking whisper. “Is she?” He can’t finish the sentence.

Erian’s soft but cold voice cuts into the air. “No. She’s alive, so far.”

Wren falls to her knees and leans over the motionless body. I can hear her weeping cry. “Lesedi.”

Trigan turns and gives his wife a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of the shoulders. He then stands up and traverses the room towards Erian, by me, out of ear shot of Wren. Her cries echo in the background. His eyes are bright red and swollen, I can feel the deep pain and sorrow inside him. It’s intense and overwhelming, I feel the urge to cry again from the guilt of what I’ve caused them.

Trigan’s voice is low, calm, and respectful as he speaks to Erian. “I can tell you have seen your share of people in my position. You are a medicine woman, aren’t you?”

Erian nods. “I treat the people in Gerafar.”

He almost winces. “Then you’ve seen situations like these countless times before. I know many good people who have perished to those grayskins. Many in Gerafar. I am a carpenter; my son and I meet at the market there. My wife and I, we used to live there as well.” Erian nods in silence allowing Trigan to continue. “I tell you this, because I want you to know I understand what position we are in. I understand what her chances are. But I want to hear it from you, honest and true.”

Erian relaxes a little. She’s all too often seen people with my reaction to a loved one’s injury, and not that of my uncle’s. Guilt stabs at me again. “Honestly sir, I expected her to pass by now. Your niece is far stronger than anyone I have treated. She lost a lot of blood, broken a lot of bones, and isn’t conscious to eat. It’s only been three days. If she makes it a week, she might live. If she’s awake by tomorrow she has a good chance. But if she’s not awake within the week, you should prepare yourselves.” Trigan closes his eyes and a tear slips out.

He squeezes Erian’s shoulder. “I appreciate your honesty. We will pray she wakes by the morn.”

Trigan returns to my aunt falling back to his knees and holding her in his arms. She cries until his shoulder turns dark. They aren’t outbursts of screams, there’s no pounding or shouting. Just quiet, subtle tears, escaping her eyes in heartbroken silence. He coos and kisses her head while they sit together on the floor gazing at Lesedi’s still body.

I can hear small whispering lamentations escape Wren’s lips. “So smart. So kind. She can’t die. Not her.”

Not her. I can’t help but wonder if Wren would say the same thing were the roles reversed. It’s petty to be jealous at a time like this, I try to push the feelings down. Wren is right. Lesedi will change the world someday, whether she wants to or not. She can’t die now. Not her.

Eventually Wren had cried herself to sleep. They moved from the floor to a sofa in another room within ear shot of Lesedi. Trigan brushed Wren’s hair behind her ears and slid from the sofa lying his wife down in his spot. It’s late and dark, I insist on sitting in the hard chair by the cot. I’m not leaving her, not for a second. My uncle steps through the archway and kneels by me pulling a corner of my blanket up over my shoulder.

His thumb pinches my chin and strokes up my cheek. “You girls have been with us since day one. You know we love you like our own daughters.”

I nod. Trigan smiles looking at me, but the smile falls away. “I know you Talea. You are a ball of ferocity wrapped in a shell of determination. I know, you blame yourself. In all honesty, you might be right. But my snowflake, if she does not wake, you must go on. I cannot lose both of you, you are the last remnants of my beloved sister, and you each are pieces of my heart.”

I stifle a breath and turn my head away from him. “Thank you, uncle.” My eyes go back to dancing between the flames of the fire in the hearth, and the lifelessness in Lesedi. “I’m so stupid. I don’t know why I do these things.”

Trigan pats my knee. “It’s in your blood my dear.”

I frown with confusion. “What do you mean?”

I see words come to him that he chooses not to say and he shrugs. “The wind knocks over the farmer’s fence. Is this bad or good?”

I see which side of the family Lesedi gets it from. I roll my eyes. “I don’t know, bad?”

He purses his lips. “Maybe. But the farmer now rebuilds the fence stronger so the wind won’t knock it over a second time. That’s what you do for us Talea.”

I sigh. “I destroy everything?”

He shakes his head. “You make us stronger. You are as untamable as the wind and though you knock us over, we come back stronger every time.” He looks over at Lesedi. “Lesedi has always been afraid, brilliant but frightened of the world. This is her worst nightmare come to life, it’ll make her stronger in the end. Then maybe she’ll finally go off and accomplish whatever it is she was meant to.”

I cross my arms. “You know, Lesedi hates it when you talk like that.”

He shrugs again. “I know. But that doesn’t make it less true. Father Sky gifted her with that mind so that she will find the way for us.”

I roll my eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

He nods. “I do. Father Sky does not give gifts often. He must have given this to Lesedi for a reason.”

I shrug as he comes up from his knees. “What if she’s just a really smart person?”

He pats me on the head. “Destiny or no, she is unique. You must know that her journey does not end here.”

He walks off to the room where he left Wren sleeping, I doubt he’ll get any real rest. None of us will. I feel hollow inside, the night ebbs away painful and slow. Minutes feel like an eternity as they bleed into hours and still Lesedi sleeps. What if she never wakes up? What if this is it? What if Trigan is right and she is the hope of our people? What if she is the one that supposed to save us, and I killed her?

I stare at the motionless girl on the cot and think. Please wake up. If she dies, we will all be irrevocably broken.

✽✽✽

My finger traces her smooth beautiful forehead. I take a lock of greasy fair hair and twist it around my thumb. I feel myself growing weaker while she does. “Please Lesedi.” My voice is quiet and imploring. “Please wake up. If you don’t who’ll take care of me? You’re my voice of reason. You’re my conscience. If you leave me, what am I going to do?” My warm breath comes out in sputters but my tears are empty. The wispy strays of blonde and green hair whisk into the air. “Lesedi.”

The room is much brighter now, the suns are coming up. Everyone is still asleep; I can’t blame them with how late they were all up. I never fell asleep, I can’t until I know one way or the other. I rest my hands on the blankets draping over her stomach looking at her so still, it’s like she’s dead already.

My hands clench into fists grabbing at the blankets. “Lesedi please.” My face feels hot and flushed, my eyes are swollen from all the crying. Now it feels like a dry heave, my eyes squeeze shut and my chest catches but my eyes are dry. I feel like my soul has cried itself empty.

I feel powerless at her bedside, all I can do is sit, hope, and plead. I’ve never wanted one thing so much in my life as for her to wake up. In all my years of wanting a mother and father and wanting the world to be different. I never yearned for something greater than to see the purple eyes of my sister.

My voice is quiet and desperate as I lay my head down over my fists. “I need you. Lesedi, I need you to wake up.”

“Hush…” A faint strained whisper escapes still lips. My eyes flash open. “Hush…” Again. It’s so quiet, so weak. Not even a whisper, more of a breath barely shaped into words.

“Lesedi?” My fists clutch her blankets tighter; my eyes open wide like a madwoman. In slow motion, eyelids crack open revealing a narrow slit of velvety purple eyes. I can’t contain myself. “LESEDI!” I scream at the top of my lungs and throw myself at my sister pressing my head to her chest and hugging her in any way I can.

“Shhh…” Lesedi breathes once more. “Head…hurts.”

My chest tightens and my breathing is ragged, like I’m crying but from joy. She’s alive and awake. She could make it. The whole world seems brighter, like there’s hope on the horizon. “I have to fetch Erian. Erian!” I jump from my chair and make it a pitiful three steps before my nerves flare up with pain. I don’t care, I keep limping towards the hall. I switch back and forth between screams for Erian and cries of pain. “Erian! Ah! Erian! Ah! Erian!”

I make it to the kitchen archway when I fall into the arms of Trigan. His hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary with panic. His deep voice is higher than normal and filled with fear. “What?! What’s wrong child?!”

I‘m out of breath from my strenuous effort and grip my uncle to stay upright. Between pants I manage to get my message across. “Lesedi…awake.” The panic turns into excitement. He picks me up and swings me over his shoulder. I let out a grunt of pain.

Trigan runs down the hall booming. “Erian! Erian come quickly!” He reaches Erian’s door and pounds on it with furious power, if he breaks it, he’ll fix it later.

The hinges creak. Erian pulls open the door while tying her blue robe around herself. She looks at me slung over my uncle’s brawny shoulder. It’s a funny sight, especially since we’re the same height. She looks into my eyes with a discerning gaze. “You saw her eyes open?”

I nod smiling. “She even spoke.”

Another door creaks open down the hall. Two little heads poke out to look at the commotion. Erian skips over to her groggy children. She glances up and sees a blue sky through the window above. “We must tend to Lesedi, she’s awake. Why don’t you two go pick flowers for her from the garden?” The children smile and nod before ducking back inside.

We hurry down the hall back to my sister. I scrunch my eyebrows. “Wait, shouldn’t we tell Wren?”

Trigan shakes his head. “Erian gave her something to help her sleep. We’ll let her wake up when she’s ready.”

The entire troupe scurries to the living space. Erian brushes her frizzy hair behind her ears while bending over the cot. The cracks in Lesedi’s eyelids are still open as the healer pulls open each eye and holds a candle up next to them. She places her fingers to Lesedi’s throat and wrists. She feels her skin at the back of her neck, on her fore head, and proceeds to all sorts of poking and prodding.

Erian turns to Trigan who’s been looking on with pulsing anxiety. “Fetch her water.”

Trigan bolts off to the kitchen and brings back a cup. Erian takes the cup and lifts Lesedi’s head pressing the cup to her lips. “Drink as much as you can Lesedi. I want you to close your left hand into a fist when you’re done.”

Lesedi squeezes her eyes shut while she struggles to drink the water. I see her throat muscles move while they labor to swallow the water. Half the cup spills out and dribbles all over her. But she keeps trying. Again and again. She gets down three big gulps and closes her left hand.

Erian lowers the cup. “Good. You gave us all quite the scare. You have a family that truly loves you.”

Lesedi nods. “Thank…you.” She breathes.

Trigan shuffles a few steps forward before almost collapsing over and hugs Lesedi. She lifts her arms a handspan from the cot and pats Trigan’s sides. Then, exhausted, they fall back down. Trigan speaks with a croaking pain in his voice. “I’m so glad you’re ok.”

Erian turns to me. “You and Trigan go get something to eat from the larder.”

I shake my head with incredulity. “I can’t walk!”

Erian chuckles. “Yes, you can, you’re strong like your sister. You also have this strapping uncle of yours to help you. I know you haven’t slept so go eat.”

I glare and sigh. “Oh fine. But I’ll be slow about it.”

“So be it.” Erian smiles. I can’t shake the feeling she’s trying to get rid of me.

✽✽✽

LESEDI:

I struggle to push through the thick fog that fills my mind. Everything hurts. My body feels like it’s not my own. I can’t move, I can barely speak, I fight to even breathe. It feels like a massive weight has been thrust upon my chest and I can’t move it. I force myself to stave off the panic threatening to rise within me.

What was the last thing I remember? Nightstalkers. Lots of them. My worst nightmare coming to fruition. If I could move, I would be trembling. I open and close my eyes to move aside the blurry cloud in my vision, it’s helping a little. My vision is clearing, but at a frustrating pace. As my vision clears, I see I’m in a cozy home not my own lying on a cot with surprising comfort. I suppose I look worse than I feel because I see a grim concerned face staring back at me.

“Your wounds are severe my dear.” The woman lets out a saddened breath. “My name is Erian. I have been tending to you.”

I look past Erian to see Talea peeking around a corner. Her long frizzy lavender hair falls in front of her face only allowing one frowning purple eye to be seen. Erian snaps the fingers of her right hand and shouts “GO.” With that Talea growls and hobbles away. I suppress a painful chuckle.

I look up at my healer. “Thank you… She will not…forgive you…for that.”

Erian rolls her eyes. “I don’t need that stubborn creature hovering over me.”

I smile. My facial muscles burn. “Please…truth.”

“I intend to. I don’t make a habit of lying to my patients. You’re awake, this is good. But you were badly injured. Are you having trouble breathing?” I nod. She continues. “As I suspected. The nightstalker impaled your chest, it didn’t puncture anything vital so you’ve lived this far. But it broke your ribs. That will take time to heal. Unfortunately, you have a lot of open wounds. I stitched you up. But you’re already showing signs of widespread infection. If left untended you will die within the week.”

I gulp and regret it at once with a wince of pain. I see why she banished Talea. If she had heard that statement, she would have skinned Erian alive for suggesting such a thing.

My small voice pushes past my throat pain. “What do we…do?”

Erian pulls out a glass vial with some strange green liquid. “You drink this. It will kill the infection in your body. But there are side effects. It’s derived from a dangerous poisonous plant and takes twelve hours to make its way through your system. If you fall asleep before that time you will fall into a coma and die. Also, it will make you unbearably tired. The next twelve hours will be a struggle to say the least. Or, you can take the chance of fighting it off on your own. But if the infection grows stronger even this will not be able to help you. The choice is yours.” Erian’s voice is soft but firm. She reminds me of Aunt Wren.

I groan. “So tired.”

Erian pats my hand. “I know, and you’re going to get worse. You will get so tired you won’t be able to stand keeping those eyelids open. But every hour we wait lets those wounds fester further. Will you take the medicine?”

I nod and with Erian’s help I down the bottle. Erian wipes some green gunk from my lip. “You seem like a strong young woman. You can do this.”

I smile. “With…Talea here. I…can.”

Erian grins and then sighs. “Talea. I know you’re eavesdropping. Come help your sister.”

✽✽✽

TALEA:

The suns are high and we’re somewhere around hour seven, Lesedi is having real trouble staying awake. Her window of danger will end this evening, five hours away, I don’t know how she’ll make it. I’ve already splashes cold water on her face twice.

She’s slipping, her eyelids are getting heavier. I’ve spent all morning doing everything I can think of to keep her awake. Games, funny stories, jokes, I even drew a few pictures for her. She laughed. I’m not very good, Lesedi is the artistic one. She critiqued my work for a half hour which kept her occupied. But she’s now so weak, so tired. I need something, anything, to keep her awake.

“Hey Les.” I lean forward in my chair and nudge her to make sure she’s awake.

She snorts a little bit and blasts open her eyes. “I’m awake!”

I giggle and pat her shoulder. “It’s ok, you’re good.” She relaxes a bit and reaches out to hold my hand. I take it and give her a small squeeze. A question comes to mind, though it never really left me in the first place. “Do you think all nightstalkers are the same?”

Lesedi glares. “Trying…to give…me nightmares?”

I chuckle and pull a knotted violet lock from my eyes. “I’m serious. Do you think all nightstalkers are the same?”

“You never paid attention…during geography.” Lesedi sighs with the same exasperation of uncle Trigan. “We live on the southern side of known world.” She takes another labored breath. “One big continent, right?”

I huff and roll my eyes. “I’m not an idiot. Of course, I know that. Get to your point.”

Lesedi purses her lips, her face is moving more. Good sign. Though I think she’s intentionally focusing on moving and speaking more to keep awake. Her eyes look so sluggish. So heavy. “My point: Gerafar two days away by orbig.”

I sigh. “I know all this Lesedi.”

Lesedi raises her eyebrows. “We live at boundary for Blood Bane tribe. A vast forest with a village somewhere inside.” She takes another shaky breath. “You should pay attention to history.”

I shift in my chair. I was always baffled at how Lesedi could intimidate me when I tower over her by almost a foot. How could she still seem so big and so brilliant even when teetering on death? “History is boring.”

Lesedi closes her eyes and lets out a soft breath. Oh no. I nudge her. “Lesedi?” No response. I nudge her harder. “Lesedi.” Nothing. I shake her by the shoulders. “Lesedi!”

She forces open her eyes and shudders. “Yes.”

I let out a sigh. “You scared me to death that time.” I need a topic to light a fire within her. I have an idea but I hate to do it to her. “I guess nightstalkers aren’t so bad. I mean sure we got attacked, but we kind of had it coming. We were in their territory after dark after all.”

Her eyes intensify with a hateful fury. “Nightstalkers are evil.” I can see a storm brewing in her eyes.

I let out a snort. “Oh, come on. They can’t be evil. You don’t actually believe that religious mumbo jumbo do you?” My voice picks up a mocking tone. “Father Sky, our beloved creator, blew breath into the world. From a tumultuous sea he lifted an oasis for his children. He formed his two daughters into orbs of light to shine light into this new world for life to grow. But Scliras, the void king, pulled all the evil from the darkness and poisoned these new children creating a new creation with a piece of himself. Nightstalkers. You don’t seriously believe that. I thought you were brainy or something.”

Lesedi glares. “No. I don’t. But, nightstalkers have evil in their nature. Like aalamons.”

I raise one eyebrow. “They’re not animals. They’re people. Psychopathic people, sure, but people.”

Lesedi breathes out with a puff of weak rage. “They are not people. They are beasts. A plague upon Zaran.”

I shift in my seat. She certainly looks more awake. “So, you don’t think any of them can be different? None of them can change?”

Lesedi thinks for a moment. “Each tribe has different personalities. The Razorbone are the worst. Purely rabid. Blood Banes are equally violent but seem are chaotic about it. Srexi, we know nothing about them. They are the most secretive. The best in the Sky Legion haven’t even been able to find out anything about them.”

“What’s your point?”

Lesedi takes a deeper breath. Her chest movements are getting easier. “For some reason, the three clans are different from each other. Don’t know why. But, could they change from this hostile mold they’re born in? No. I don’t think they can. I think the different groups of nightstalkers are like the different sub-species of aalomon. Each is a little off from the others, but all them are still deadly.”

I let out a breath of disappointment. Her logic is sound but, I don’t believe her. There’s just something about that nightstalker in the woods. What was that that happened? Something within me needs to see him again. Somehow. Like an itch on the back of my neck that can’t be scratched.

Lesedi takes another breath. Smoother this time. “Why do you ask?”

I shrug. “Just curious, I guess. Alaric said that a nightstalker saved us. Maybe he’s different.”

Lesedi does her best to shake her head. She doesn’t have range of movement in her neck yet. “They’re despicable killers with no value for life. Their culture, if you can call it that, is centered around killing. They’re bred for killing. They’re built for killing. How could one possibly break from that?”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

Lesedi looks into my eyes and can see that naïve dreaminess within. She screws her lips into a frustrated expression. “It’s a possibility though, few things are truly impossible. But Talea, don’t hold out hope for them. A nightstalker would have to fight against inner dark instinct and cultural homicidal behavior. Not to mention the pressure of kill or be killed taken quite literally among the clans. He would have to be some nightstalker to fight against all that.”

I look away into the dancing fire that brings a glow to my pale skin and a flicker of reflection in my eyes. A small, indistinct smile creeps to my cheeks. “Yes, he would be.”