Chapter 1 - The Child - (Act I)

~ Five cycles of the seasons - 18 Years earlier ~

Winter came quick to the mountains that year, casting a sharp chill over the crests, saddles and peaks. Descending like a cruel sorcerer’s spell over the valleys and rivers, bringing early rains and ruined crops. Snow blanketed the land, smothering the grasses and adorning the trees in white coats. The sun was half set, the fiery light setting the icy peaks aflame. The view from the village set in the lower valley was picturesque and humbling, the might of the old gods reminding the dwellers of the long lost glory of the burning peaks.

The village of Heimlan’s Pass was small and remote, nestled tightly in the top of the valley. The houses and cabins of its people were well-adjusted to the cold and harsh environs that afforded no second chances. Gripped in the shadow of the mountain, dusk was already settled in. Warm lights from lanterns and candles set a glow around the edges of windows with curtains drawn. Chimneys sprouting from the white meadows of settled snow upon rooftops, the smoke from the fires to heat the homes hung thick and low, just above the evergreen pines and crept down the cobblestone main street, mixing with the cold mists of the coming night.

The sharp clink and hammer of the town’s blacksmith still working the forge rang out over the town. The burly man visible, awash with the orange glow of the fire as it spilled out and over the road from the low walls of his shop while he finished his last piece of the day. The young girl walked past, her head just over the low wall, her face lit. The click and clank of the hammer slowed and stopped, a tight smile on the rugged blacksmith’s face as he saw her face and coppery head of hair bobbing above the rail.

“Its getting dark out, Lia. Best get back home quick. Ol’ Ma told me she’s making some duck broth tonight for the two of you.” he said calmly, a sad expression in his eyes as they followed the girl.

She continued to walk without looking. An absent expression on her face, lost in her thoughts while her fingers twitched and moved of their own accord.

“Lia?” the blacksmith called out again, his voice cracking, barely above a whisper.

Lia stopped, silent, her little face turning to him, the flicker of the forge illuminating the wet tracks of quiet tears that ran down her cheeks. She looked at him, her once bright, amber eyes haunted, dull and lifeless. She gave a small nod.

He looked at her, his brows bunching together, the hurt inside trying to tear its way out, “I’m sorry, if I could have, I was, I just,” he said with a hopeless whisper.

Lia watched him, slowly making her way around the wall, her feet shuffling as she came into view and made her way to him. One young hand extended, and closed around one of his fingers and tugged. She looked up at him and he knelt before her, bringing himself down to her level. She met his eyes and the tears that were starting to bead.

“Lia, I couldn’t, they were my, I,” a ghost of a voice coming from his lips.

Lia reached and wiped one away, smearing it into the soot on his cheek, shaking her head. She frowned at him and gave him a quick hug before turning and walking back out into the light of dusk before he could return it. Behind her the big man sobbed, the rage of his grief heard in the strike of his hammer as he brought it down hard at the forge. The sharp sounds of its call ringing out through the silent town as he wept.

The chill air did not affect her or she was already too numb, her breath rising in small clouds of steam while she walked along the street, dusk turning to night. Her feet leading her to what was now a familiar path. Shuffling along and without even thinking, she left the road and turned onto a trail leading though the pines. This path was kept free of snow, though how it was did not concern her. No sound came from her except the quiet puffs of her breath.

As the mountainous peaks lost their crowns of flame and once again became white, Lia walked out from the trees and into a clearing, a low stone wall running the edges nearby the trees. Lia stopped at the gate, her hands resting on the crossbars while she took deep breaths. The faint glow of the moon already in decline from its most majestic, stole among the branches, making the snow coats bright on the trees despite the darkness. She frowned deeply, pushing the gate until there was space enough for her to slip through and then entered.

The cold light of the waning moon lit the clearing in the woods. Shining down on the snow and the child’s footprints that led out from the path under the trees to the carved headstone set against the base of the cliff upon a stone plinth. The fresh snow from the morning had been brushed off by small hands, each carved and bevelled elvish character traced out by little fingers so that the moon’s light could awaken their magic and make the words glow.

The child of the dead interred, knelt in the snow before the headstone. Her face set in concentration, her hands and fingers moving in the air with precise grace, plucking and strumming the invisible strings of an instrument that was not with her. Its silent, yet haunting melody ringing true in her mind as she played her parents’ favourite song. Faint blue flames danced in her eyes while she stared unblinking, silent tears wetting her cheeks, leaving unfelt cold tracks down her face and neck. A frown came to her face, her fingers dancing over the imaginary strings, the notes spilling in her mind like raindrops onto the blades of fresh spring grass.

The first small flakes of snow started to float down, gently landing all around her, the moon’s light still hitting the village cemetery at an angle, clouds laden with snow creeping across the night sky. She did not care for the time, as long as her fingers still had the dexterity to play, she would remain before her Mother and Father, despite the barrier of earth and stone between them.

The moon’s light slowly faded, a gradually thickening veil of cloud slowly crept across it, muting its shine until darkness filled the night. The breath choked in the back of Lia’s throat as she watched the glow from her parents’ names grow dim and expire. She stared at the darkened headstone, now just a deeper shadow in the night. Those faint blue flames started to build, her eyes glowing until the flames themselves licked along her eyelashes and danced on her cheeks. She gritted her teeth, tears running down her face, a small desperate cry escaping her while snowflakes drifted down around her.

Without warning, the lanterns that were set around the perimeter of the darkened cemetery flickered momentarily before flaring to life with azure fire, flooding the area with a soft ghostly hue. Lia stood, tears of blue flame running down her face, her rich amber eyes ringed with azure. She walked to the headstone, her eyes blazing. Lifting a hand to her eye, she dabbed at a tear with a small finger then started to trace the elven characters of her parent’s names, making them glow again.

Finishing, she stood before the glowing names and bowed, sniffling. Slowly backing away and kneeling in the snow, her back straight. She reached her hands out and started to pluck the air, hearing the music in her mind as the snow continued to fall.

“Lia?” Ol’Ma called out, her voice ragged.

She knew where the girl was, but it didn’t stop her from calling her name in case today were any different.

“Lia, you don’t have your sight yet, you are too young.” Ol’Ma said to herself under her breath as she did almost every night.

The events of the evening had been the same since the passing of Lia’s parents. Since they were buried three weeks earlier, tearing the heart and life out of the small mountain village. She frowned, her elven vision easily picking up the girl’s footprints where they left the road and followed the path through the trees. She shook her head, a sorrowful crease to her lips as she turned up the path. She gestured subtly, lanterns flaring to life, spilling light over the path and among the trees. A lock of aged silvery white hair slid from her hood and over her face, her tired and dulled hazel eyes on the path.

“Lia?” she called out, her voice quiet, the action just a token effort to calm her old mind.

She continued to walk along the winding path, finally reaching the gate to the village cemetery. She frowned, looking about, the azure flames flickering in the lanterns taking her by surprise. Ol’Ma tilted her head in concern, her eyes quickly finding the youngling’s small form hunched over before her parents’ grave as the snow began to fall more heavily. She sighed sadly, her eyes misting. She reached up with a lightly wrinkled hand and tucked her hair back into her hood. Pushing the gate open the rest of the way, she stepped out into the cemetery grounds, the headstones of those who came before ringed the perimeter.

“Lia, have you fallen asleep again?” she asked the quiet night, already knowing the answer.

She shuffled through the ankle-deep snow. Fresh flakes settling on her cloak as night closed in around her.

“Lia?” she said, calmly standing beside the girl before crouching.

Ol’Ma reached out and gently touched Lia’s shoulder.

“Lia? I have come to take you home. Lia? Lia, time to wake.”

Lia woke, lashing out with an arm, a shrill scream ringing out as her eyes opened. The flames raged, spilling while she pushed herself back and away at a scuttle.

Ol’Ma held out a hand, her eyes filled with worry, “Lia, its me. Lia?!”

The girl was half crouched, her arm shielding her, whimpering.

“Lia?” Ol’Ma gestured, “It is only I, not the others, the others are gone, you are safe.”

Lia peered over her arm, her eyes on fire as they darted nervously around the cemetery.

“It is only me, Lia. You are safe.” she watched the girl slowly nod, calming in her own way.

She tried her best to not show alarm at the azure blue flames licking from Lia’s eyes or the furiously blazing lanterns set around the clearing. She nodded, gesturing with her arms, offering them to Lia. Waiting, while she crawled to her welcoming embrace. Ol’Ma knelt, holding Lia’s small frame tightly, feeling the girl shaking, her hands balling up, grasping at her clothing, sobbing silently.

“You are safe now, you will stay with me now, remember?”

She felt Lia nod, sobbing quietly.

“We are the last of our kind, Lia. I will be here for you as long as I can be.” Ol’Ma said at a whisper, “We are the only ones left with the thread within us, Lia.”

She looked at the headstone, a bitter anger in her eye, “Lia?”

Lia looked up, wiping her eyes, the flames now reduced to embers and nodded.

“Lia, you must remember this, look at your parents’ headstone, remember what I am about to tell you.”

Lia nodded, her face serious. Ol’Ma gestured at the headstone.

“When you are of age, and your thread is truly yours to control, when that power is screaming inside of you. A treasure awaits you, your parents hold it still, keeping it safe. You come back here, you retrieve it and awaken it.”

She looked into Lia’s eyes, “Remember, do not forget!”

Lia nodded, frowning, hugging her again.

Ol’Ma pulled her cloak around Lia, still kneeling in the snow as it fell around them.

“You and me, Lia. You and me.” she said, hugging Lia again tightly.

She gently kissed Lia’s forehead, nodding, meeting the child’s eyes, ‘I see you used your powers tonight.”

Lia nodded, a small smile lifting the edges of her lips. Ol’Ma smiled back and stood slowly, her knees aching from the cold. Her hand resting on Lia’s shoulder. She turned and deeply bowed to the headstone, Lia mimicking the gesture.

Ol’Ma frowned, her brows creasing, her eyes on the headstone, struggling to smile, “I hope you saw, nephew and wife.” a tear working its way down her face, “Your daughter’s first time bending the thread to her will, bringing it further than a mere flicker. I know you are both proud of her, I can feel it,” she placed a hand over her heart, “in here.” she said, her voice cracking.

She looked down to Lia, “Do you think they saw?” she asked, her chin quivering as another tear fell, a faint gleam in her eye.

Lia nodded, pointing at the grave urgently. Ol’Ma followed Lia’s silent gesture, a bud of golden light rested atop the plinth, before the headstone. Lia pulled her along until they both stood before it. The bud of golden fire slowly unfurled, the petals of a delicate flower showing themselves. Ol’Ma gasped, Lia looking up at her, her eyes wide. Ol’Ma crouched and carefully cupped her hands under it, scooping some of the snow.

“Lia, would you like to take it?”

Lia nodded furiously, her hands out, steady as Ol’Ma placed the snow in the girl’s little hands, the flower of flame blossoming radiantly. She winced, placing a hand over her heart.

“Make a wish, Lia. It may change a little with time, but may it come true with your parents’ blessing.” Ol’Ma said softly.

Lia’s eyes were clear, quickly meeting Ol’Ma’s and nodding. Her eyes on the flower of golden flames in her hand.

“Quick, before its petals drop.”

Lia nodded, her amber eyes catching the light of the golden flower as her wish was made, she took one last look at it before blowing on it gently, the petals falling off and extinguishing in the snow. She looked up to Ol’Ma expectantly then hugged her. The old woman gently tousled Lia’s fiery copper hair, smiling through a wince.

“Lia, have you been playing their favourite song again?”

Lia nodded, rubbing her nose.

“I am sure they love hearing it.”

She looked up with a little smile. Ol’Ma smiled sadly in return, looking away before her eyes betrayed her.

“Ma, you found her?” came the voice of the blacksmith from the gate, a lantern in his hand.

Ol’Ma shared a quick look with Lia, immediately noticing the sheepish expression.

She patted her on the back, leading Lia toward him, “Thank you Orlwen, I have her, get yourself home, before your lady is angered.”

“If I am helping you or searching for Lia…” Orlwen said, holding the gate open for them.

“Go Orlwen, you troublesome boy, I am old, but not that ancient yet. Go.”

“After I give you both company to the road, Ol’Ma.”

She gave him a small glare, “By the old gods, boy! Use my name, I have a young one to take care of, I need to start feeling younger again.”

“Please, forgive me, Odessia.” he said, raising his eyebrows comically, drawing a small smile from Lia.

He crouched down before Lia, bringing out a small item from a pocket and placing it in Lia’s hands, a beautifully carved antler and steel comb for her hair.

“This is for you, Lia. Promise me you will sleep well tonight.”

Lia nodded, her eyes on his, reaching up and giving him a quick hug as the snow started to close in, falling thicker around them.