A page from the Past

THIRTEEN YEARS GO

Scarimor Village

The eerie howl of a wolf echoed through the quiet village of Scarimor, stirring a chorus of whines from the village dogs in response. The night had settled over the small Village, a place tucked right at the edge of the veil between the Fae realm and the human world. Scarimor was no ordinary village. It was home to seers and hunters, with the seers using their magic to cloak the village from intruders, while the hunters stood as its fierce protectors.

A few years ago, Scarimor had been part of the fallen kingdom of Nyxvelyn, a prosperous land until the day it crumbled. The royal family had been slaughtered, the princess abducted, and in the aftermath, the seers of Scarimor veiled the village, concealing it from the prying eyes of the world beyond.

A hunter sat on the porch of his small, worn-down house, sharpening his sword in the stillness of the night. The rhythmic rasp of the blade against the whetstone was the only sound breaking the silence. His eyes occasionally flicked toward the small window of his house, his instincts telling him that the little girl inside was still restless.

Inside, the little girl lay in bed, too scared to fall asleep. Shadows cast by rustling branches outside painted eerie shapes on the walls, each movement making her flinch. Every creak and whisper of the night seemed unnatural, unsettling her more. But then, the steady noise of the blade being sharpened reached her ears. Recognizing the familiar sound, her tense shoulders eased, and she let out a small sigh of relief. The sound was comforting in its own way, a reminder that she wasn't alone. Slowly, she closed her eyes, the fear fading away as she drifted toward sleep.

"Come on, Star, time to wake up. Breakfast is on the table. I'm going out to gather some supplies," a male voice called gently from the doorway of eleven-year-old Alarielle's bedroom. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted to the soft morning light filtering through the window of her small room.

Looking toward the door, she saw Raener standing there, hands on his hips, giving off the look of a protective mother hen. His disheveled dirty blond hair fell over his eyes—eyes that were the deepest shade of blue. Stubble dusted his face, making him appear older than he probably was, though Alarielle never really knew how old Raener was. She only knew that he was a skilled hunter and lived alone with his dog, before he had taken her in.

"Why do you need supplies? Are you going on a hunt?" Alarielle asked, her voice still thick with sleep. "Yes, but not far. I'll go in the afternoon and be back before dinner," Raener replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You can stay with Marilyn while I'm away. I'm sure she'd love that." Alarielle blinked up at him, a faint smile of her own forming. She liked Marilyn, though she preferred Raener's company.

"But you need to get out of bed, have breakfast, and then when I come back, we're going to train before I leave," Raener added, his voice warm but firm, before turning to leave the doorway.

As Alarielle swung her legs out of bed, a streak of golden fur shot into the room with an energetic woof. Raener's golden retriever, Max, bounded in, his tail wagging wildly as he circled around her. His joyful energy was contagious, pulling a soft giggle from Alarielle despite her grogginess.

"Morning, Max," she mumbled, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. Max let out another happy bark, his tail thumping against the floor, clearly thrilled to see her up and about.

Raener, halfway down the hallway, called back, "Looks like someone's more awake than you are, Star!" His teasing voice echoed through the hall way.

It had been almost a year since Raener had saved Alarielle from the windling in the Shadow Forest. They had traveled for a week before reaching this small village, but Alarielle couldn't remember much of the journey. Her injuries had left her unconscious for half of it, drifting in and out of a fevered sleep.

Since their arrival in the village, life had settled into a new routine. Every day, Raener trained her, teaching her to wield weapons and how to survive in the wild. Sometimes, he took her along on hunts, and she loved those days. When he didn't, she stayed with Marilyn, a close friend of Raener's who ran a small bakery in the village.

Marilyn made the most delicious chocolate cakes, and Alarielle had quickly grown fond of her. She seemed to be about the same age as Raener, though Alarielle couldn't be sure. The one time she had asked, Marilyn had scolded her gently, saying it was rude to ask a lady her age. Alarielle had mumbled in return that Raener wasn't a lady, and he wouldn't tell her his age either. They had both laughed after that.

It was easy to be around Marilyn. She never pried into Alarielle's past, though sometimes the girl caught her staring, as if she wanted to ask but thought better of it. But Marilyn never did, and Alarielle appreciated that unspoken understanding.

On the other hand, Alarielle had asked Marilyn just about every question that popped into her head. She had even asked about Raener once, curious about the man who had taken her in. Marilyn had revealed something that Alarielle had not expected: Raener once had a daughter, just like her, though with blonde hair and fewer questions. His daughter and wife had both died from sickness a few years ago, and after that, Raener had changed. He had started taking longer hunts, disappearing from the village for months, sometimes years. When Raener returned with Alarielle that cold winter night, it had been four years since anyone had seen him.

Marilyn had made Alarielle promise never to mention it to Raener, and she had kept that promise.

After washing up and changing into a tunic and pants, Alarielle grabbed her shoes and shuffled to the kitchen table. Sitting down, she attempted to tie the laces, her brow furrowed in concentration. Just as she was about to give up, Raener sat down across from her, a smirk on his face. Without a word, he gently lifted her legs into his lap, brushing aside her clumsy attempts.

"I've taught you how to tie shoes so many times, and yet you always look at them like they're the most complex thing in the living world," he said, laughter creeping into his voice as his hands deftly worked at the laces.

Alarielle huffed in frustration. "It is very difficult!" she insisted, crossing her arms and pouting slightly.

Raener chuckled, his fingers moving with ease as he tied the knots. "Well, maybe one day you'll conquer the great mystery of shoe-tying, Star," he teased.

"Can you also braid my hair?" Alarielle asked, hopeful.

"Absolutely," Raener replied with mock confidence, standing up and walking behind her chair. "There isn't a skill I don't know," he boasted as he began working on her hair, his fingers fumbling a bit more than he let on.

After a few moments of concentrated effort, Raener handed her a small mirror to admire his work. Alarielle stared at her reflection, seeing a crooked braid with loose strands sticking out at odd angles.

"You suck at it," she deadpanned, unable to hide her amusement.

Raener chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I think it's an artistic interpretation," he said, leaning over her chair. "You know, it gives you that wild Fae look."

Alarielle shook her head, laughing. "You're definitely better at tying shoes than braiding hair."

Raener shrugged. "Can't win 'em all, Star."

After finishing her breakfast, Alarielle rinsed her plate and set it aside, her stomach pleasantly full. She felt a sense of excitement building as she made her way outside, where the sunlight danced across the small yard in front of Raener's house. The crisp morning air was refreshing, and the scent of dew-kissed grass filled her lungs.

Raener stood by a wooden target he had set up, adjusting his grip on a dagger. When Alarielle approached, he turned and smiled, his expression one of pride and encouragement. "Ready for some training, Star?"

She nodded eagerly, her heart racing with anticipation. Raener reached down and handed her a dagger, its hilt cool against her palm. It was smaller than his but perfectly suited for her size. "Remember, this is not just a weapon; it's an extension of you. Feel it in your hand."

Alarielle gripped the dagger tightly, focusing on its balance. She could feel Raener's watchful eyes on her as she took a few steps back, ready to practice her stance. He demonstrated a few basic movements—how to hold the dagger, how to strike accurately, and the importance of footwork. Alarielle mimicked his movements, trying her best to mirror his grace and precision.

"Good! Now let's try a few thrusts and slices," Raener encouraged, his voice steady and supportive.

With each swing of the dagger, Alarielle could feel her confidence growing, though her strikes were still rough around the edges. Raener guided her, correcting her posture and movements with gentle reminders. "Keep your elbow in, Star! And remember to pivot your foot."

They practiced for what felt like hours, the sun climbing higher in the sky. Alarielle's muscles began to ache, but with each movement, she felt a little stronger, a little more capable. Raener's praise echoed in her ears, pushing her to keep going.

Finally, after a particularly good round of thrusts, Raener called for a break. He stepped back, hands on his hips, and looked at her with an approving nod. "You're improving, Alarielle. But you still can't land a strike on me. The day you do, I'll get you a sword."

Alarielle grinned, determination sparking in her eyes. "Just you wait! I'll get you one of these days!"

Raener chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm looking forward to it. But for now, let's work on your footwork a bit more. Remember, a good strike comes from a strong foundation."

Alarielle nodded. She wasn't going to stop until she proved him wrong.

After their training session, Raener left for hunting, reminding Alarielle to be careful and to stay close to Marilyn's bakery. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the village, Alarielle spent the afternoon helping Marilyn in the bakery, enjoying the sweet smells and warmth of freshly baked bread and cakes.

However, as night fell, worry began to creep into her mind. Raener had promised to be back before dinner, but with each passing hour, he still hadn't returned. She paced anxiously outside the bakery, glancing down the darkened path that led into the woods, her heart racing with unease.

By midnight, Alarielle was on the verge of panic. The village was quiet, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Just as she was about to head inside to find Marilyn, she heard a familiar sound—the crunch of footsteps on gravel.

But as the figure emerged from the shadows, her heart dropped. It was Raener, barely able to stand, bloodied and bruised. His clothes were torn, and his normally bright blue eyes looked dull and unfocused.

"Raener!" she cried, rushing toward him.

He stumbled but managed to catch himself, grimacing in pain. "Alarielle… I'm—" His voice was hoarse, and he struggled to keep his balance.

"Stay here!" she shouted, her voice trembling with urgency. "I'll get help!" Without waiting for a response, she sprinted back toward the bakery, calling for Marilyn.

Marilyn appeared in the doorway, her expression shifting from confusion to alarm as Alarielle rushed up to her. "Marilyn! It's Raener! He's hurt! We need to help him!"

Without hesitation, Marilyn grabbed a lantern and rushed outside, following Alarielle back to where Raener stood, leaning heavily against a tree.

"Raener!" Marilyn exclaimed, her eyes widening at the sight of him. She quickly assessed his injuries. "What happened?"

"Ambush… wolves," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I fought them off, but…"

"Okay, let's get you inside," Marilyn said, her voice steady as she took charge. Alarielle watched anxiously as Marilyn helped support Raener, guiding him back to the bakery.

"Stay with me, Raener," Alarielle urged, her heart racing as she walked beside them, fear gnawing at her. "You're going to be okay."

"Just… a scratch," Raener murmured, though the pallor of his skin told a different story.

Once inside, Marilyn led them to a small room in the back where she kept supplies for her baking. "Sit him down," she instructed, and Alarielle quickly helped him into a chair, her hands shaking.

Marilyn moved swiftly, gathering bandages and herbs as she worked. "Alarielle, fetch me some water!" she called, and Alarielle dashed to the nearby well, her heart pounding with urgency.

As she filled a pitcher, her mind raced with worry for Raener. She couldn't lose him. He had saved her, and now it was her turn to help him. Returning to the bakery, she handed the water to Marilyn, who immediately began tending to Raener's wounds.

"Just keep breathing, Raener," Marilyn instructed as she cleaned the cuts and applied the bandages. Alarielle held his hand tightly, hoping her presence would give him strength.

"Stay with us," she whispered, fear bubbling in her chest. Raener looked at her, his eyes struggling to stay focused, but he managed a faint smile.

"I'm here, Star," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not going anywhere."

But as Alarielle watched Marilyn work, she couldn't shake the feeling that time was slipping away, and she prayed with all her heart that Raener would pull through.

Alarielle sat on the front porch of the bakery, her heart heavy with worry as she waited for Marilyn to emerge. The cool night air wrapped around her, but she hardly noticed; her thoughts were consumed with Raener's condition.

When Marilyn finally came out, her face was drawn, a sad look clouding her features. She sat down next to Alarielle, wrapping her arms around the girl in a comforting embrace. "You need to go see him," she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. "He needs you."

Alarielle nodded, feeling the weight of that responsibility settle on her shoulders as Marilyn stood up and walked away, leaving Alarielle to gather her courage.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way back inside, finding Raener lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked so far away, lost in his thoughts. Alarielle approached cautiously, her heart racing. "Raener?" she asked softly, unsure if he even heard her.

He didn't respond, and a knot tightened in her stomach. She moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you okay?"

After a moment, he turned his gaze toward her, though it seemed unfocused. "Alarielle… can you do something for me?" His voice was weak, and there was an edge of urgency beneath his exhaustion.

"Of course! Anything!" she replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think I've caught something… a disease," he said, his voice trailing off. "I didn't know until now. Losing so much blood has made it worse. I can feel it… changing me."

Her heart sank at his words. "What do you mean?" she asked, panic rising in her chest

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers as if trying to convey the gravity of what he was about to say. "Soon, I might not be myself anymore. If… if I ever lose my mind completely…" His voice broke, and he struggled to finish, "You promise me, Alarielle. You will take that dagger and end it. The way I taught you."

"No!" she gasped, shaking her head vehemently. "I can't do that! You're going to be okay! You have to be!"

He reached out, taking her hand in his, his grip weak but steady. "Promise me," he insisted, his voice firm yet laced with sorrow. "You're strong, Star. Stronger than you realize. If it comes to that, I need you to do it. For me."

Tears stung her eyes as she looked into his, seeing the pain and fear reflected in her. "I… I promise," she whispered, though every fiber of her rebelled against the thought. She couldn't imagine a world without him, He can't leave her like Mama.

Raener managed a small, sad smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Good," he said softly. "But let's not think about that now. Just… stay with me."

Alarielle nodded, her heart heavy but resolute. She would stay by his side, no matter what, and pray that they could fight whatever this disease was together.

In the weeks that followed, Raener had retreated into himself, the vibrant man Alarielle had known fading away like a distant memory. He rarely smiled or laughed anymore, and there were days when he wouldn't even get out of bed. Alarielle felt helpless, listening to the groans of pain that seeped through the walls at night, her heart aching with each sound.

Marilyn did her best to keep Alarielle's spirits up, but the truth weighed heavy on them both. "There isn't a cure for it," she had told Alarielle gently one evening, her eyes filled with sadness. "We can only keep him comfortable."

As a month passed, Raener's condition worsened. He began having episodes where he would not recognize Alarielle at all, his eyes clouded with fear and confusion. She tried to hold onto hope, to remind him of who she was, but the distance between them only grew.

Then, one fateful night, everything changed. Alarielle was sitting quietly in the small living area of their house, the flickering light of a candle illuminating her worried face, Marilyn sitting across her reading a book. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the bedroom, and her heart dropped.

"Raener!" she called out, rushing toward the sound, but before she could reach him, he burst out of the room, frantic and wild, his eyes devoid of recognition.

"Get away from me!" he yelled, his voice raw with panic as he ran past her, heading for the front door.

Marilyn was there, trying to calm him, but in his frenzied state, he couldn't see her, and he lashed out. "Raener, stop!" she pleaded, her voice shaking as she tried to hold him back.

But it was no use. With a sudden surge of strength, he pushed her aside, and Alarielle felt her heart race as he turned toward her, the fear in his eyes twisting into something darker. "Stay away!" he shouted, raising his dagger, the very weapon she had once wielded in practice.

"Raener, please! It's me! It's Alarielle!" she cried out, desperation flooding her voice. She took a step forward, hoping to reach him, to remind him of their bond, of the love that had once united them.

But in his chaotic state, he lunged at her, a look of sheer terror in his eyes. Instinctively, she grabbed her dagger, the same one he had taught her to use, and they fought. Alarielle's heart raced as she dodged his strikes, desperately trying to break through the fog that had consumed him.

"Raener! Look at me!" she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's Alarielle! Please!"

For a brief moment, his expression flickered, confusion crossing his features. But it was too late. In a flash of instinct, she thrust the dagger forward, piercing his chest. The world slowed as she watched his eyes widen in shock, recognition dawning just as his body crumpled to the floor.

"No! No, no, no!" Alarielle cried, dropping to her knees beside him. His breath came in shallow gasps, but slowly, the chaos in his eyes began to clear.

"Star…" he whispered, a faint smile forming on his lips despite the pain. "I'm so sorry…"

"Raener, please don't leave me," she begged, her heart breaking as she cradled his head in her lap, tears falling onto his face.

"I… I wish I could get you that sword…" he murmured, his voice growing weaker.

"Don't talk like that! You're going to be okay!" she insisted, her voice choked with emotion.

But he just smiled softly, the light fading from his eyes. "You're my daughter, returned to me," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "When the day meets the night, you are my little twilight star"

"Raener, please!" Alarielle pleaded, her heart shattering as she felt his life slipping away.

It was raining when they laid Raener to rest, the sky weeping for the man who had fought so hard, who had protected and cared for her. Alarielle stood by the freshly turned earth, her heart heavy as she watched the rain mingle with the dirt, creating a muddy grave for the friend and father she had lost.

When she returned to the empty house that had once been filled with laughter and warmth, the air was thick with the scent of him—wood smoke, earth, and the faint trace of leather. It felt suffocating, the reminder of everything she had lost. She wandered into the small living area, her mind swirling with memories that seemed too painful to bear.

As she sat down on the floor, staring blankly at the space where he used to sit, she noticed her shoelaces were undone. Instinctively, she bent down to tie them, but her hands trembled, and she couldn't focus. Frantically, she tugged at the laces, but they seemed to tangle further, her fingers fumbling as panic clawed at her chest.

"I can't… I can't breathe," she gasped, each breath coming in sharp, painful gasps. The realization that Raener was gone hit her like a wave, crashing over her and dragging her under. Every breath reminded her of his absence, of how he wouldn't be there to help her with her shoes or braid her hair or train her in the yard.

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled with the laces, her sobs mingling with the sound of the rain tapping against the roof. "Raener!" she cried out, her voice breaking. "Why did you leave me? Why did you have to go?"

The emptiness in the house echoed her despair, amplifying the loneliness that settled in her heart. She dropped her hands into her lap, the shoelaces forgotten as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her shattered world.

Alarielle couldn't stay in the house any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, suffocating her with memories of Raener that twisted like knives in her heart. She had nobody left; the villagers had never accepted her, viewing her as an outsider since the day she arrived. It had always been Raener and Marilyn—the two people who had made her feel safe.

But now, with Raener gone and Marilyn recovering from her injuries in the care of her grandmother, Alarielle felt completely alone. She thought of the way Marilyn had fought to protect her and the way Raener had looked after her with such love and patience. But those moments felt like echoes of a time that no longer existed.

Sinking down to the floor, Alarielle buried her face in her hands and let the tears flow freely. The emptiness in the house was overwhelming. But then, with a gentle nudge, Max, Raener's golden retriever, lay down beside her, resting his head against her leg. His warm presence brought a flicker of comfort amidst her despair, and she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his fur.

As the rain pattered against the roof, Max remained by her side, his soft whines resonating with her grief. He seemed to understand her sorrow, sharing in her pain as they sat together in the quiet house. For a moment, she felt less alone, the dog's loyalty grounding her in a way she desperately needed.

But soon, the weight of her loss felt suffocating, and she knew she couldn't stay. Raener had told her that if he was to leave her, she had to run—run and ensure that no one who wouldn't want to find her ever did. With his memory still fresh in her mind, she gathered her things and stood up, wiping her tear-streaked face.

Max immediately stood, his tail wagging, sensing her movement and ready to follow her. "No, Max," she said softly, kneeling down to look into his warm, expressive eyes. "You need to stay here. Go to Marilyn and help her. She'll need you while she's healing."

The dog tilted his head, his eyes pleading, as if he didn't understand why she had to leave. She felt a pang of guilt, but she knew she had to go. "Please, Max. I'll be okay. You need to take care of her for me."

With one last gentle nuzzle, Max seemed to understand, and he lay back down, watching her with sad eyes as she turned to leave. She forced herself to walk away, tears spilling down her cheeks as she stepped into the rain-soaked world outside.