Chapter Eleven

Gwanwyn had always been very observant.

She knew from the moment she saw the centaur that Talion could be trusted. She noticed that Istelle didn't seem to trust him so much and saw her frown slightly when Nayana told him where they were going and what their mission was.

As they continued walking, Gwanwyn caught Nayana who was walking behind and to the right of the centaur, casting Talion glances, looking only as long as she dared before diverting her gaze. And Gwanwyn also knew by watching him that Talion knew Nayana was looking at him. He didn't seem to mind.

The wolf ashy had never been attracted to anyone, and she hadn't met many people either, as she'd been hidden in her father's house or living in the woods at Greene's Cabin all her life.

Her thoughts now drifted to her father, as they so often did.

From her younger years, her memories were blurry. Moments.

Her favorite game in which she would hide somewhere while he searched high and low for her.

Sitting by the fireplace while he told her stories about the world outside.

How he would tuck her into bed and she would ask him questions, stalling, not wanting him to blow out the candle and leave her alone in the dark. Eventually, of course, he would kiss her goodnight and blow out the light, leave the room and close the curtain that acted as a door.

Then there would be silence.

She remembered the silence that came after he had left. How the silence and the darkness would wrap around her and she would cozy up in her blankets so that even her little grey wolf ears were covered, hiding.

Her father would always warn her never to go outside, never even to draw the curtains and look out a window without him checking that there was no one outside first. Over and over again he warned her of the harsh cruelty of the villagers. That they all looked like him, that if they saw a girl who was half wolf they would kill her.

Sometimes at night, when it was all dark, he would put on his big cloak and she would hide under it with him and they would go outside and walk out of the village. They would go away to the hills and the fields and she would run around and play there in the dark.

Gwanwyn never asked why she was half-wolf, why she was different. She never wondered where her mother was, she didn't know that mothers existed, never having seen a family, being stuck in her home all day.

Her father was the only one she'd known for sixteen years. And she loved him so much.

She had always obeyed him...and then one day she didn't.

Gwanwyn pushed the thoughts away. This wasn't something she wanted to be thinking about.

She looked up to see that Talion's jacket was now on Nayana's shoulders, showing Talion's muscled arms that Nayana was now looking at from behind.

Gwanwyn shook her head and looked away, somewhat disgusted.

She turned to Istelle, who she saw was frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about my friends back at the cabin," she answered, her frown disappearing.

"Yes," agreed Gwanwyn, thinking of Arin, "I do hope they are doing all right…" And suddenly she was sad again because she remembered how she and Arin would play her childhood favorite hiding game and how she would tickle Arin when she caught her until Arin would wiggle out and run away to hide again...Gwanwyn pushed the thoughts away, Jude and Liz and Lina will play with her. Don't worry. She thought, and this time called over to Talion in the front, relieved to see that though Nayana was now walking a little closer beside him, she wasn't staring at his arms anymore. "Where is it you are leading us?"

"I was planning on taking you to see some other young friends like myself."

"What else lives in these forests?"

"Very many creatures...you can recognize the entrance to a pixie village by a little hole, often by the base of a stump or dead try from which little creatures are flying in and out. Nymphs hide in the trees, shrubs, rocks, and all kinds of other places. Elves, like humans, live sometimes in little villages in trees or underground, or on their own in little burrows they make. Fairies live in mini kingdoms in all kinds of places and usually nearby other kinds of magical life...Sprites are fairies who live outside of kingdoms, on their own, though like the others they prefer to be nearby other creatures. Unicorns can often be found on grassy hills, centaurs will live anywhere around the forest where they find a suitable home, like humans they are usually in pairs or on their own. Dwarfs and goblins like to stick to caves, almost any cave around here has plenty of dwarfs living in it, gnomes and trolls live underground. Ashies live similarly to centaurs, though they like to stay near each other, especially depending on the kind of ashy they are."

"Got it," said Istelle, "anything else?"

Gwanwyn and Nayana stared at Istelle in amazement "you mean you were able to process all that?" asked Gwanwyn, a smile beginning to form on her face.

"And I will remember it," nodded Istelle, "I already knew much of it so it won't be so difficult. Thank you for sharing Talion."

"Well maybe…" started Nayana, as everyone turned to look at her, "We should split up and search for creatures?"

"Yes," Gwanwyn agreed quickly, "why don't we? Nayana can stay with Talion, and Istelle and I can go together."

Istelle opened her mouth, probably to protest, but Gwanwyn gave her a confident smile and put a hand on her shoulder so she gave a little shrug instead.

The centaur nodded, "meet back here by that fallen tree before sunset."

Gwanwyn smiled as Talion put his hand on Nayana's back and guided her away, then nudged Istelle and they headed in the other direction.

The mages knew they could scout the entire land and still not find Istelle.

Instead, they decided to depend on magic.

After some thought, the best spell they could come up with was Niemital, the spell to locate the hidden.

Because this was a nonverbal spell, Jake told Alekzavier it was his turn to do the magic.

He then climbed up a tree and hung from the branches by his arms, swinging his legs around below.

Zavier walked around below the tree until he found a spot where the dirt was a little softer.

There, the mage squatted down and began the spell the same way he had with Servadem: by running the fingertips of his right hand along his left arm, and making his right hand into a fist when he reached his left fingertips.

He traced a large circle in the dirt and wrote the word Niemital in the center of it with his right pointer finger.

He then completely released his fist and spread out his palm, making his fingers as straight and far apart as he could.

He raised his hand, then slammed it hard into the soil, right in the middle of the circle.

The mage kept his hand firmly planted in the dirt as a line began forming on it's own and traveling away from the circle, growing longer and longer, like a magical inch-thick trail.

After a bit, Alekzavier pulled his hand out of the circle and jumped up, wiping the dirt off his palm on the grass.

Jake dropped from his tree onto the ground, and the two ran after the streaking line. They barely had to run before the line stopped at and continued up a tree. The two looked at each other, then Jake started climbing up.

Suddenly, Zavier jumped back as his friend fell out of the tree, just barely catching himself.

The two boys looked up to see a girl with long black hair and blue eyes peeking out at them from the branches of the tree. She looked about ten years old.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Jeez, there was no good reason for kicking!"

"Who are you?"

"Jake. And this is Zavier. Who are you, and why are you hiding in that tree?"

The girl studied him.

"I'm Angelica. Sorry for kicking you," she finally said, "I'm hiding from my siblings, we're playing a game."

"...okay. Goodluck then."

Jake and Zavier left Angelica with her tree and walked along the side of a hill until they reached the creek that flowed through Atzigul, upstream from the town.

Jake sighed, sitting down. "I don't think this is going to work. We could be doing this spell forever without finding Istelle, who knows how many hiding kids there are around here?"

Zavier nodded in agreement and sat down as well, wishing he could speak.

"So…we don't really know what happened to her. What are the possibilities?" Jake counted on his fingers, "she could be dead, captured, hiding, lost…" he trailed off. "If you were going to hide around here, where would you go?"

The mages looked at each other, and as if their minds were connected, the answer hit them both at the same time. "The caves."

Far into the dark depths of one of the Aquent Caves, there sat a figure, leaning against the cold rock wall.

His skin had paled, it hadn't seen the sun so long, and wrapped in his jacket, he shivered slightly from cold and hunger.

He sat motionless, eyes closed.

If anyone were to journey this far into the cave and see him there, they might think him dead.

But he lived.

He had come there days ago, though it was hardly himself who brought him there.

His legs carried him along the unfamiliar route but it felt like he had walked it a hundred times before.

He had arrived at the Aquent Caves and wandered among them, dragging his feet, his head drooping, staring at the ground.

Eventually he had found the right cave, though he hadn't really found it, since he'd known it was there all along. His legs had simply chosen a different path, wandering around the place before coming to the mouth of the cave he would be staying in for the next few days.

Then he had dragged himself back up to his feet and traveled into the dark of the cave, further and further until he could no longer see the light from the mouth of the cave, then further still until he had reached a little spot where there was a hole in the ceiling of the cave, far up, that let in a spot of light in the shape of a lopsided star.

He had known it would be there, of course. He knew everything now.

So he had sat down there on the cold floor, and hadn't moved an inch since, growing slowly weaker. Hungrier. Paler.

But he was not worried for his life. He knew he would survive, just like he knew everything else

Because Cyan had told him everything.

The water spirit had warned him of what would happen if he said the second line, the cursed line on that cursed white marble, but in his state of grief at Istelle's death, he had not cared.

And so Soren had become a slave to fate.

The only thing that Cyan hadn't predicted were the thoughts that circled in the young man's head.

So his thoughts ran wild, dancing and prancing around in his head, pushing each other around, wrestling back and forth, somersaulting then disappearing from view.

He thought of Cyan and the fate she had predicted, of the people he was bound to meet in the near future, of the battles that would come. Of the way he was to die.

And he also thought about the past.

Of his parents the last time he had seen them, many years ago.

Their warm, tight, embraces.

How he had wiped the tears from his mother's eyes, and how his father had put his hand on his shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes for the last time. Someday, the sun will rise again. It always does. But until then, be a star. Fight the darkness. Never give up.

But mostly, the thought about Istelle.

He could see her clearly in his head.

He saw her running through forests.

He saw her drawing her bow, letting the arrow fly...she never missed.

He saw her clashing swords with other warriors during training.

He saw her tending to others' wounds by their beds.

He saw her standing in a clearing at night, letting the wind blow her long, black dress and her wild red hair.

He remembered walking into that field, he had known she would be there. He remembered how she had turned around to look at him, the moon illuminating her face.

How she had smiled.

How her grey eyes had twinkled like stars.

And now he remembered the Lette warrior taking their leap away from the others...watching her fall to the ground...he had been too late to save her.

There was no chance she had lived.

Because the Mark of Fire had faded from her hand.

Soren shivered suddenly. The Mark of Fire marked the next in line Akeefa leader. The only way to obtain it from the rightful wearer is to kill them.

That meant that some random Lette cretin was the heir to Akeefa.

But no.

Because Soren had killed every one of the warriors that had been chasing after Istelle.

Which meant the true heir to Akeefa...was him.