The Void maintains its presence through the spread of impermanence. Sickness, corruption, and dissolution are all part of the arsenal of Darkness utilized by the Void. Where there is strength, there is also weakness. Plants wither, bodies fail, and the spirit diminishes.

Chapter 7

Trynneia waited for several bitter hours. Alone with her thoughts, her mood deteriorated. In her mind, her mother was at home, distraught that her daughter was late. She constructed this fantasy with minute detail to distract her from the thrush of reeds and the biting of insects. Rendrys dithered over a pot of tea, waiting for it to steep properly, its familiar aroma filling the small home. She smiled at seeing her daughter come in through the door, full of relief and concern.

Had she really tortured her mother so much with her own comings and goings? Perhaps she’d never been taught how to use the Light because she rarely stayed home, preferring to be outdoors, observing nature, feeling alive. In the Light. This vision seemed to be more than real, as she could hear her own footsteps on the wooden floor, and the splash of tea into a cup as mother poured enough for the both of them.

The tea had a faint halo around the pot, as well as the cups. Trynneia carefully slurped hers down, while her mother wrapped her hands around her own cup to feel the warmth. It was a smooth flavor, comforting and sweet, tasting of cinnamon and herbs. Was Rendrys paying special attention to her drinking? No, she was talking, saying something about her day at the Chapel of Light. Trynneia tuned it out, it didn’t matter.

It hadn’t mattered in the moment, at least. The vision felt so real, like a memory she’d tried to suppress. Trynneia sighed. Both the first and second sunsets had occurred, and Ditan hadn’t come. She needed a distraction from these thoughts, the regret of memory and how she’d brushed off her mother time and again. Time with Rendrys she could never get back.

Something thumped into the clearing, startling her. She’d been so deep in her thoughts she’d ignored everything else. The totem she’d forgotten about lay but a few inches from her. Trynneia had last seen it when they’d met Driver, and they’d left it behind upon their departure. Her runes began to cast a pale light in the clearing in response to her wariness.

She bent to pick up the totem, and felt the familiar thrumming warmth as she grasped it. Trynneia looked around to see who had thrown it, and called out “Who’s there?” Instead of a reply the glow of her runes intensified. Her attention was drawn to her right, where she could make out breathing, and slow footsteps walking away.

Knowing stealth was impossible the way she was all lit up, she made no pretenses and just followed. With surprising clarity, even in the darkness lit only by her runes, she could make out footprints leading away. Rather, she could make out several trails, but somehow knew this was the most recent, and it intrigued her.

A singular shadowy shape remained ahead of her, and at least for the moment felt reassured, as she could sense no one else nearby. The murderers were a pair, and this was only one person. In the back of her mind, something whispered “this could be a lure to an ambush,” but she kept it there. Acknowledging the thought without acting on it, she proceeded without caution. All thoughts of Ditan’s return were forgotten, as she tried to follow her curiosity.

Even in the dimly lit countryside, she recognized these areas as close to her home. Former home. Lost home.

“You don’t even recognize your house when you stumble upon it in the dark,” came a woman’s voice. “Why did you follow me?”

Trynneia jerked around, the voice coming from behind her, not in front. Her runes flashed even brighter, but illuminated only her immediate surroundings, revealing no one.

“You don’t know, do you, Trynneia?” The woman sounded amused.

“How do you know my name?” Trynneia asked.

“I wasn’t entirely certain until now. Thank you for confirming it,” came the reply. It had circled around, keeping her off guard. Trynneia silently berated herself.

Gripping the totem, she thought of Ditan, hoping the elemental connection might somehow communicate her growing fear and unease. This woman was clearly trying to get under her skin, and succeeding. It seemed like hundreds of thoughts flooded into her head at the same time.

Find the woman. Is the other murderer here? She’s one of them. Listen to the footsteps. No, listen to the breath! Hatchets reflect light. How do they remain hidden? What are they here for? They’ve kept you alive for a reason. What if they kill you? Why are you Lightblessed? Where is Ditan? Where is Driver? Where is Rendrys? Where is the Light? Darkness, darkness comes to consume all! The darkness is no place for a woman like you. Spirit and wind, listen to the flow. Take a breath but do not breathe. No, you must breathe for your salvation.

Too much, it took her out of the present, a distraction unlike any other distractions she’d had throughout her life. Rocks crunched just behind her, and she ducked, rolling to her right. A hatchet swung through where her neck had just been. Runes flared to life, granting her enhanced balance and speed. A person lunged out of the darkness at her, and she didn’t stop to think whether it was the same person or some other.

“Light save me!” She yelled, and a feeling of warmth swelled in her chest. A beam of light arced out, tearing apart the man who was closest to her. He dropped in a bloody heap, a gaping wound in his chest. Trynneia caught sight of the woman now, lurking at the edges of her glow, as if a wild animal testing the boundaries of a cage.

“So, you do have the Light,” the woman taunted. “It’s too late to save you. Before I kill you, I’ll let you say goodbye to mummy dearest.”

Trynneia watched in horror as her mother’s head rolled into her dome of light, followed by the woman sprinting straight at her with two hatchets. She perceived the woman’s motions as both future and present, and knew where the strikes would fall. Enhanced as she was, she dodged effortlessly even as she filled with hatred at what this woman had done.

Her attacker reset herself even as Trynneia’s dome began to shrink. “You are no true follower of the Light.” Again, she remained just outside the edges. Trynneia tried to comprehend what was going on with herself as the woman rushed in expecting to make a conclusive strike. The totem raged with heat in her hand, and she managed to twist around the incoming attack and smash the woman right in the temple, knocking her to the ground. Flames sputtered to life, licking with fury as they incinerated the woman from head to toe. Trynneia fell to the ground near her mother’s head, crying as the glow faded from her body, forcing her to confront reality once more.

Hours later, after second sunrise passed into midmorning, Ditan found her there, asleep amidst the carnage of the attack. He took the remnants of the dead man’s shirt and wrapped up Rendrys’ head before waking Trynneia. That was not something she needed to see again when she woke. Trynneia jumped, startled, afraid she might be under attack again, and her runes glowed once more.

“Tryn, it’s me! It’s me,” Ditan quickly said, seeing her wild yellow eyes flitting about fearfully. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back in time. Looks like you handled things though,” he said, impressed.

She grabbed him and hugged him. He tried to push away from her, but knew she needed it. “Oh Light, Ditan! They came for me, they came for me. I followed them like an idiot. And they had her head. Her head, mom’s head and they threw it at me…” she babbled while he tried to comfort her.

Ditan held her for several minutes, trying to also calm the air and make the temperature pleasant. About them a gentle cylinder of wind counteracted the breeze to maintain the stillness, while creating a soft amount of background susurration. It was all he could think to do at the moment.

Trynneia surveyed the site, and took in the body-shaped pile of ash where the woman had fallen. No ordinary flames could have consumed a body so thoroughly without aid. The totem lay where she’d dropped it, untouched. She couldn’t even remember how the fire had started. A man lay nearby in a pool of his own blood, shirtless.

“I can’t believe I did that. I thought it was all a dream.” She looked around, remembering what she’d been focused on just moments before. “Where’d her head go? Did I dream that too?”

“It was real, Tryn. I’m so, so sorry,” he squeezed her tight, and she returned the gesture.

“Why didn’t you show up? I waited and waited, then got so distracted…” she trailed off. “Part of me thought it was my mom, you know? I didn’t feel concerned when I followed. I wanted it to be her.”

“That’s its own story to tell, to be honest. I don’t think either of us should stay here much longer, they’ll come looking for us. I’m surprised they haven’t already.”

“Well we need to tell them what’s happened, that the murderers have been taken care of,” she reasoned.

The goblin looked at her sadly. “I think you’re still in danger.”

“Then the village is the best place for us to go. We can go back and explain-” she saw the look in his eyes and stopped. “What is it?”

“By the time I got back, half the village had been killed. It was indiscriminate. The magistrate had tripled his patrols as well as he could, and a curfew had been set.”

“Your parents…?”

“As far as I could tell, they were fine. Oh yeah, here,” he said, pushing a bag of coins into her hand. “I kinda took something, for my time.” He winked.

“Then why are you afraid to go back? The murderers are dead.”

“Stop and just think for a second. Why are you Lightblessed? Why was your mother?”

“You know why. We were anointed by the Light to be healers and spiritual guides for matters of the heart and mind. Mom served that role as therapist.”

Ditan took a deep breath. “I really, really hope you can answer this question for me then. When was the last time you witnessed your mother use the power of Light to heal someone?”

“Just the other day, she healed me, took away some soreness.”

“Okay, maybe I wasn’t specific enough. Other than you?” His eyes darted around seeing things she could not.

“She would have done that at the rectory. I rarely went there when she was at work. Why? What’s going on?” This line of questioning worried her.

“I’ve been...hearing things.”

“Your elements? The spirits?”

“You could say that, yes. Oh, that’s a good one. When was the last time you drank your mother’s tea?”

“Her tea?” She tried to think. “Three or four days now, I think. What’s that got to do with anything?” The wind picked up, and she could almost make out murmurings amongst the breeze.

“I think there’s only one person who can answer that for us.”