Chapter II

False Humanity

Elynne I

-I remember the fire. Tightly did it hold me.-

There was a vast, open sea to the north, filled with creatures she had never seen, and covered by waves that splattered against the island shore. She saw this vista from her window. She saw it and knew that this was the only beauty she could see. After all, this island was a prison. She would be released eventually, of course, but what point was freedom if by then she would already be feeble and ill? And if she decided to escape now, while young and strong, she would be hunted down by those who deem her dangerous. Those who believe that her dreams bring ruin to the world.

Elynne wiped off the foggy window. The blur ruined the morning sea. And it just kept coming back. Every time she swiped with her hand, there would be but a few minutes of calm cleanliness before the fog crept up again and stained her window. It was… unnerving. She wanted to burn away the fog. But how can fog burn?

By the twelfth fogging, she had given up. A defeated sigh, and then a tumble on her soft carpet. The silver chandelier stared back at her as she watched the high ceiling from the floor. Still staring at it, she extended her right arm towards a clump of books next to her and pulled one out. This one was a thick book, it had a red leather cover and a golden title. Encyclopaedia of Flora of Tyren by Rancquis dy Ewon.

“Wrong,” she said and threw it back in the bunch. Another one, this one was blue and titled The History of the Kings of Saarast by Geal of Montias. “Wrong,” she repeated. Same thing as before – throw the book in the bunch, pull out another one. This one was green. Wrong. History. Wrong. Yellow. Wrong. A Hundred Cooking Traps – Defeating the Enemy of the People! Wrong.

She continued for a while before a knock interrupted her third cycle of book grabbing and throwing. “Come in,” she said whilst staring at the door upside down.

In came Lorros. “Lady Elynne, I’ve a… are you alright? Why are you on the floor?”

“I am procrastinating. What do you have for me?”

“A letter…” he took out an envelope out of his robe pocket. “I understand your lazing about but… on the floor? Are you sure it’s clean?”

“I’m sure the maids cleaned it thoroughly.”

“Last week, definitely. But they were discharged then, lest you have forgotten?”

“Oh. Explains quite a bit. I assume the guards, as well, as you’re the only person I saw this past week. And Frotho, though he was rarer,” she raised her eyebrows. “Now that I think about it, weren’t the other magi supposed to be back by now? They’ve been gone for a month.”

Lorros walked up to the lady and passed her the envelope. “Hopefully, they’ll be back by the end of the year. If not, at least I hope their deaths were peaceful.”

She flipped herself on her stomach. “Deaths? What?”

“Have I failed to tell you? Ereya made an official declaration of war last month, which is why the magi were sent east,” he held his chin. “Hmm, now that I recall, I really didn’t tell you.”

“We’re at war!?” she jumped to her feet.

“You needn’t worry, the Isle is neutral. And Ereya is quite smaller than the Fatherlands in both size and army. Victory is assured by the new year, if not earlier,” he sighed. “Good thing you’re not there, hm? Would be catastrophic if we sent a highborn lady to the battlefield.”

“And you’re not there why, exactly?”

“Diplomatic expertise,” he backed away from the room. “Now I suggest you read the letter, messenger bore Devyr colours. Oh, and breakfast will be in the usual time,” he said and slammed the door closed. Accidentally, Elynne believed.

She sat back down, legs crossed, and stared at the envelope. It was a yellowish white envelope with a seal in the middle. The wax seal bore the raven carrying a spear in its mouth, the symbol of Devyr. This was then, without a doubt, a letter from home. But who? Her father had died a few months ago, though it was not an event that wounded her deeply. Tears had been shed, briefly, but that man was the reason why she was here. Her mother could not have sent it either, she would have used the seal of her own house. One of her sisters, then? Or perhaps…

She broke the seal and opened the envelope. Reading who sent it was faster than guessing. There was a single piece of paper inside, folded twice. She unfolded it and found a hastily written paragraph. There were ink smears around the edges, blots here and there, and entire words hidden. With a raised eyebrow and slightly gaping mouth, she began to read.

To my Dearest, most Serene Sister Elynne Februa Avenn,

It is with great pride that I write to you concerning the current situation of the most glorious kingdoms of Devyr and Daervynth, the two crowns now liberated and united under me. Yes, you have read correctly. Our home has broken free from the shackles of the High King Ethrios, and we now stand as equals on the continent! Though our ______ dear father would not wish for such a thing, he no longer has the ability to not wish for it. I now, as king, invite you back home to join me and our dear sisters, Avandel and Sarreona, in order to make sure the Avenn family is safe and far from danger. In order to keep you away from danger, I have also taken the liberty of breaking the betrothal between yourself and the Dammrian prince Julius Alneal Ethrios. That is correct. Your betrothal has been B R O K E N. Yes, the letters were written separately, no I am not amused by it I did not want to write them separately but I started and I can’t be bothered to ___________________ In any case, I will not accept any letters. The only letter I am willing to accept is the one that contains you. However, you cannot place yourself in a letter. Or can you? I don’t know what they’re teaching you on that island. Please come back home, the cooks will make your favourite stuffed peppers. If you don’t, we will lay siege to Fiosa. That was a joke. We will not attack Fiosa. With much love and kisses With love and pride lest the Raven dies,

King Elannyr Faras Avenn of Devyr and Daervynth, Count of Golmissa and Etoli, Baron of Imaklio

Elynne put the letter down. She had, for one reason on another, developed a slight headache. Reading this letter made her wonder what happened to her brother who had obviously gone insane. A man of eighteen years writing such nonsense could only be explained by that, insanity. He had also failed to mention their mother, Elanna, and their third sister, Tyrenne. Was there a falling out? Probably. Were her two sisters captives in Devyr? Probably. And the fact that Devyr was now independent was… well, it was the least insane thing here. Though it may sound it. But had there been another war to the west, as well, chances are that the High Kingdom would cease to exist.

Everything aside, this letter made her slightly angry and made her head hurt. She believed that, as an older sister, she had the duty to knock some sense into him. And she would, eventually. When that would be, however, was an unknown.

She then realized that her betrothal was broken. Well, it did not bother her much. Though she was fond of Julius, and though he had visited her numerous times over the past decade, she had no desire for marriage. It would be just another shackle to chain her down.

With a sigh, she collapsed on her back once more and began grabbing at the books. This time, she pulled one with an orange cover and silver letters that said A Collection of Saarast Folklore and Tales by an unknown author. She began to read, silly though the tales might be. Wolves eating and disguising themselves as the elderly? Silly. But a fun read, nonetheless. And she enjoyed the stories. Enjoyed them enough to the point that time flew faster than she had anticipated.

Breakfast had come and gone by the time she had finished her reading session. Lorros was probably angry. After all, he was the one who had to make the breakfast as there were no cooks on Fiosa. There had been people trained in cooking, of course, but they had gone alongside the maids, guards, and gardener.

On the bright side, Lorros was not the worst when it came to cooking. But whatever he had whipped up was bound to be cold by now. Unless it had been cold to begin with. Sandwiches? At least he did not have to cook sandwiches.

Elynne stood up, leaving the book of fables next to the other books, straightened her wrinkled cotton robe so that Lorros did not complain how a cow chewed her up, put on her boots and walked out of her room.

She passed around a few corners before reaching a set of stairs leading to the lower floor. She then looped around that floor to reach another set of stairs that led further downwards, to the bottom floor. Once there, she walked east, producing a rather loud echo with every step. Her boots had no noticeable heel, nor did they appear out of the ordinary, but for one reason or another they were awfully loud on stony ground. Elynne liked it, though. Told herself she was announcing her arrival with each step.

In the easternmost part of the castle was a medium-sized dining room belonging to the higher-ranking officials of Fiosa. Meaning Lorros and Frotho. And Elynne, often. There was a single table, two persons wide and three persons long, with four cushioned chairs. A counter with pots, cutlery and whatnot sat at one end of the room. Lorros was in front of it, heating a pot of tea using his fingers to create a fire. It seemed he started making it just now, as no smell could be smelt.

Elynne sat down by the table. There was unevenly cut rice bread, slices of cooked pork, liver and blood sausages, cheeses both fresh and hard, a variety of vegetables, as well. Carrots, scallions, tomatoes, and cucumbers. The drinks on the table were mostly wine. White wine from the Konnish Gernshlah-by-the-hills, 967 vintage. Red wine from the Valorya’s Carmonay, also 967. One from the Dammrian Grain Weald, this one was 966.

All of it was fresh. Imports came every four days or so, and Lorros had a technique in order to make them stay fresh the entire time. Some form of magic, she wagered. This breakfast was, as her breakfasts usually go, slightly underwhelming. There was more meat, usually. But still a lot to go through, and she would need to eat nearly everything in preparation for her daily exercise.

The smell of chamomile began to spread throughout the room. Seemed like Lorros was done with the tea. Seemed more like it once he walked up to the table with the pot and sat down.

“I was right about you being late again,” he spoke, pouring himself and Elynne a cup of tea. “There’s honey in the cabinet if the tea lacks sweetness. I would also avoid eating the cheese, its one of those smelly Valoryan ones.”

Elynne piled up some meat, cheese and vegetables between two slices of bread, taking a large bite afterwards. “Dsnt fll lk it,” she spoke, her mouth filled with food.

“No talking with a full mouth.”

Elynne gulped the desiccated chunks of the sandwich down. “Doesn’t feel like it,” she cleared her throat and poured herself some white wine to wash it all down.

“Because that was Konnish cheese. If you observe the platter before you more closely, you’ll notice that the extra fragrant, slightly green ones are from Valorya.”

“Cheese isn’t supposed to be green.”

“Some cheeses are. Helps improve the taste and aroma, though it takes a learned tongue and trained nose to appreciate it. Mine are neither trained nor learned.”

“Why did you cut the cheese, then?”

“It was not on purpose. I had already taken it out and cut it without noticing.”

Elynne shrugged her shoulders and munched on her sandwich. She finished it and proceeded to make another one. “Tonight – same routine as usual?”

Lorros sipped on his tea. “Just theory, actually. The biology of familiars. You can train by yourself afterwards. Some twenty laps around the castle should be enough. You could also try digging in the garden, provided everything is back in place once you’re finished. Shame we don’t have a gymnasium here like those in Devyr, hm?”

“Devyrian gymnasiums are restricted to men and very strong women, though. I am neither.”

“Ours would have laxer rules.”

“Regardless, I don’t need to be too strong, no? I doubt I’ll use magic that puts that much pressure on my body.”

“Better safe than sorry. The first thing I taught you were the dangers of overexerting yourself using magic. And the dangers are…” he gestured with his open palm, telling Elynne to complete the list. “And the dangers, my lady, are…!?” he exclaimed. Rather loudly.

“For Sun’s sake, you don’t have to shout at me!” she shouted back with the same intensity. “We went through it enough times. I know the dangers.”

“Yes, so, repeat them, lady Elynne.”

She sighed, put her sandwich down and started to recount them. “Greying of hair, tearing of skin and muscles, fracture of bones, loss of sight both temporary and permanently, haemorrhage both internal and external, necrosis, damage to the brain of varying degrees both temporary and permanently, complete loss of the mind meaning insanity or a coma, and instant death.”

“You forgot exhaustion.”

Elynne exhaled with great force before continuing eating her sandwich. “I never did ask you – did you know anyone that overexerted?”

“Plenty with minor issues. A few lost their limbs. There was one whose mind died. It was a pitiful sight, especially as he was very talented. Man could create weapons out of thin air. Think it was back around the last war between Kyrione and Valorya. The battle of Lordem, if I recall correctly. Got to the palace, killed the High Generals, and would have killed the Emperor, as well. Last two swords he created pushed him over the edge, fell to his knees staring at the sky and drooling. Had that not happened, who knows what the continent would look like now.”

“His name was Gwyn, right? I remember reading about him in a history book. You were there?”

“With the vanguard, yes. Helped tear down the northern wall.”

“Lorros, how old are you? The war was a century ago.”

“Think of me as a hundred years old and add an arbitrary number. You might guess it,” he finished his tea and stood up. “You make sure you fill your stomach up as I don’t plan on making lunch,” he said and left the room, leaving Elynne alone with the food. She would make nine more sandwiches before exhausting all the meat, vegetables, and cheese. Not including the Valoryan cheese, however.

After she had eaten, she remained seated for a while. Mostly due to eating too quickly, which upset her stomach. But the ache was a minor price to pay. It was all in pursuit of strength, after all. She poured herself another cup of wine, gulped it all down in one chug, and left the room.

Elynne stopped by a window in the hallway. The surrounding walls made it hard to see, but she was certain it was noon, and that it would rain later. Grey clouds crept towards her in the horizon. Not that it bothered her. Rain made for a cosy ambience when it knocked on her room’s windows.

But, until the rain did come, and while the outside was still warm and bright, she would take in some fresh air. So, she looped around the bottom floor and reached the southern set of doors, pushed them open and took a step outside.

A paved path led towards a great, closed gate on the other side of the garden. A gate that led to the free beyond. The garden itself, though, was a shade of viridian, with plenty of flowers and trimmed bushels. There were roses, mostly. Red and white ones. Violets and lilacs were in their own little section.

She took a stroll through the garden which went around the entire castle complex. Went under a bridge that connected to a tower on the wall, as well. No flowers grew below it. Elynne sat down on a bench beneath the eastern pavilion. The wall next to it had an embrasure which showed a faint vista of the other side. The deep blue sea. View was prettier from her room, though.

Seagulls cried out. She heard them often, one of the few animals she saw on this island, and every animal was a bird. They were the most frequent ones, but she saw swallows and the like occasionally.

The seagulls’ cry became muffled. The sound of the waves, though faint, became fainter. A pressure was building up in her ears, a shrillness from afar became louder and louder. She put her arm, widely sleeved, above her legs. She stared down at it and pulled the sleeve to reveal her pale arm and hand. An arm marked with a luminescent sand-like colour, stemming from a scar on her palm.

The shrill sound in the distance, though it might have been in her arm, became clearer. Numbers – years, she believed – entered her mind. Incoherent words – names of places and people, most likely – appeared before her eyes.

Then, just as it came, it disappeared. The swirling mark on her arm extinguished itself, though it was still there. This was… something that happened often. A weekly occurrence. Used to be monthly. No memory of why or how it had started came to her, neither did she have any knowledge of that scar. But all of it started this year, in early spring. She was yet to tell Lorros, but… perhaps it was better if she did not.

Steps on the grass. She quickly put her sleeve up. “Ah, my apologies. I had no desire to startle you,” spoke a tall man in grey, with hair and eyes as black as a starless night. “Forgive me, it has been a long time since I visited Fiosa. The castle has… changed. Might you help me reach Vaedrin?”

“I, ah, who?” Elynne asked, startled. “And who are you? I didn’t hear the gate open.”

“You did not hear it, for I did not use it. As for who I am, people call me Einik. Friends call me Darys. You may call me neither, till you introduce yourself, as well.”

“I am Elynne, of the Avenn family. Now, I don’t know anyone by the name of Vaedrin here, but my teacher might. Should I lead you to him, Darys?”

The man smirked and gave off a chuckle. “Does your teacher, per chance, have hair and eyes white as snow?”

“That would be Lorros, yes.”

“Lorros, hm? Very well, take me to this Lorros, lady Elynne of the Avenn family.”

“He is in the castle,” she pointed at the door. “Go ahead, I will follow and guide.”

“Ah, a precaution, I take it? I am happy to oblige,” he walked off towards the castle. Elynne followed him at a small distance.

“Why have you come here, exactly?” she asked as they walked through the castle.

“I am merely visiting a friend. Also bearing a package for him, one he had desired for a while,” he said, not looking back at Elynne. “What about you? You called Vaedrin your teacher, so are you a prodigy of his, or merely a gifted child taken in?”

“I’d like to think of myself as a prodigy, yes. I can proudly say I am better than anyone else here. Except Lorros and Frotho.”

“Frotho?”

“The castle baron? Self-proclaimed Arch-Magus? Does he also have some other name?”

“Hmm… No, I do not believe he has another,” they began to walk up the stairs. “Though this is…” he went quiet for a while. Elynne ignored it, and they soon reached the second floor and then started climbing the stairs to the third floor.

“When was the last time you came here?” Elynne suddenly asked.

“Last time? Ah, forgive me, I am not good with years. I tend to confuse decades with centuries, so I cannot pinpoint the exact time, but… how old are you?”

“Nineteen as of this year.”

“Long before you were born, then. Was Remos Avenn your grandfather?”

“I… don’t remember, really. I think Remos the fourth was either my great grandfather or great uncle.”

“The fourth?” Darys made a gasp, one that sounded like he realized something. “Then it was a very long time ago. Makes sense why no one attempted to rob me as I was coming here. Highwaymen were rampant the last time, but so were the brave knights. I do wonder why, though. Wonder what changed while I had gone away.”

“Ehrm… you’re very old, aren’t you?”

“Not a very nice way to put it, but I am indeed of an advanced age, yes. I do not keep count of the years anymore, however. As I said, I do mix up my decades and centuries, same with years and decades.”

“Why do you look so young, then? No, how are you even still alive!?”

“Well, it is simple, really. I wake up early after a full night’s rest, make myself a fulfilling breakfast, work the field, spend time with friends, drink a cup of fine wine and tuck myself in bed. I do this daily, and days simply turned into years, years turned into…”

“Decades and decades into centuries. Right, right, you don’t want to tell me.”

“Well, I am telling you the truth. Whether it had any impact on the length of my youth and life is another thing entirely.”

“I’ll find out one way or another,” she said and they stopped by the long set of stairs in the middle of the castle. “Lorros’ room is upstairs, to the right. The middle one belongs to Frotho.”

“I see. Are we stopping here? You do not seem eager to walk up the stairs,” he walked up towards Elynne, towering over her. “I do, however, recommend you visit him with me,” he cast a great shadow on Elynne. “You might acquire knowledge otherwise unattainable. Such an opportunity should not be missed for a prodigious magus such as yourself, surely.”

She unknowingly took a small step backwards. And though something felt terribly wrong, she merely clenched her fists and stood straight. “I’ll come along.”

Then, Darys burst into laughter. It was a long and loud laugh. So loud that Lorros might have heard it. But even if he had, he did not come down the stairs to check. Darys stopped, cleared his throat, and looked into Elynne’s two eyes of fiery copper. “The pursuit of knowledge and power. It is what all magi should strive for. Lady Elynne Avenn, do you understand why there are so few magi?”

“Because it’s an anomaly. The rare few are born, connected to the world through their dream.”

“Wrong. It is not any sort of anomaly. In truth, those who cannot impose their dreams on this world are anomalous. Anomalous, because they have the power to do it, but cannot. It was sealed away. Locked out of fear. Every man, every woman, has a right to their dream, no? I aim to unlock that power once more, so that all may be dreamers.”

“Is that the reason you came here?”

“This is but one single stop on the road to victory,” Darys put his foot on the step. “Come. You became a part of my plan the moment you were born, daughter of Avarin.”

Elynne followed the man up the stairs. He entered the middle room, Frotho’s circular library. There, in front of the middlemost pillar, was a circle. A blue circle, with three smaller circles inside, and symbols she could not understand.

Frotho was sat down in the middle. Immobile and with a blank stare. Lorros stood to the side, reading some notes. He seemed to have noticed Darys and Elynne walk in, but did not pay attention.

“You have already begun, Vaedrin?” Darys asked.

“Fiosa is vacant, besides us three. I have drawn the runes and connected the island to Gaiia. This seal breaks today, everything else rests on the others.”

“Aerin and Selenius will hopefully be done in the upcoming months. A straight line across Dammrias, and the Heart will be cut open,” Darys looked back at Elynne, who quietly listened. “She is not your vessel, I take it?”

Lorros looked at Elynne and gave a loving, fatherly smile. “She is my heir,” he walked up to Elynne, placed his notes in some sort of book, and handed it over to her. “Diagrams and incantations are inside. Magic you do not yet know and understand. I had hoped that I would’ve been able to teach you the rest, but it seems you will have to continue the rest of your education by yourself.”

“Lorros? What are you…”

“Darys will instruct you through the ritual. We’ll meet again, sometime in the future,” he interrupted Elynne and went inside the circle. He knelt down and muttered something under his mouth before his body arrested. He was still as a statue, small streams of white energy connected with his finger from the circle.

Then, Darys took out a small box from one of the shelves and unlocked it with a key shaped like a rake. A vile, pungent smell came out, and he grabbed an even smaller bowl of black liquid from inside the box. He placed it on a desk and took out two knives. With one, he cut across his palm and bled into the black solution. The other was handed to Elynne.

“Am I supposed to bleed into it?”

“You are,” he said. “Cut the scar on your palm.”

“What? How did you know about my scar?”

“Because you will make that scar today,” he headed for the room exit. “Spill your blood into the bowl, then let it flow on the conduit. The circle, if you will. It is as simple as that,” he grabbed the doorknob and pushed open the door. “I have done my task. Now, you do yours. We will speak once more, in this room, at another date,” and he left.

Elynne took the silver knife, whose blade and handle were both engraved with intricacies beyond her understanding, and brought it to her palm. She did not understand why she was doing it, nor for what goal. But a voice was telling her, a voice from her now luminescent arm, that everything was for the sake of her own power.

And so she cut across her palm. She cut across the scar and let her blood drop into the bowl. Then she walked up to the pristine white circle, bowl in hand. She raised it high up and showered the circle in the black mixture.

The circle became a bright red.

The smell of ash and the sea overwhelmed her.

The wind. The strong, strong ocean wind blew past her.

As if she had grown wings, she flew above and beyond the castle.

Beyond the sea.

Beyond the sky.

A thousand colours appeared before her. They were endless.

Her feet touched solid ground.

But she was still far above. She stood on a cloud and was surrounded by clouds. In front of her was a great pillar. A pillar that extended both above and below for what seemed eternity. The pillar was a bright white, burning with energy. A throne of magic.

She reached for it. She placed her hand into the pillar. It burned her, but the flames were warm and welcoming. She understood then. The dream ended once the sleeper awoke. And it started when the dreamer fell asleep.

She was still awake.

They were still to fall asleep.

In front of her, on the other side of the pillar, appeared a figure. A slender figure, with long copper hair and eyes. A figure she had created. Yet, the dreams of that created person were not her dreams. The figure had different goals, given by another creator.

She looked into the copper eyes. She had given a part of herself to it, a part that she had just received. A power. A power that would come back to her at the end of her journey. A journey she had to take, for she would never feel free if she merely took the power. No. She was yet to see this world. Yet to meet the people. Yet to make friends and fall in love. And the figure, too, longed for this. They entered the throne but did not sit upon it. For each other’s hands did they reach. And they held them, tightly. She hugged herself, and she hugged back. Then, slowly, meekly, her eyes closed, and the dream would begin.