Emalia stared at the flyer with her mouth hanging open. She honestly didn't think the day could have gotten any worse, but it just did.
"Have You Seen Me? Gone from home around three weeks ago, Emalia Haverland still hasn't returned. She is around 5'7" with very long brown hair and is usually dressed in white. She is of a rather pale complexion, slender, and has brown eyes. If seen, please tell her that her mother is seeking her desperately. If this is Emalia, please, come home!"
Now that she focused her eyes, she could see hundreds of the papers on the sides of stalls, buildings, even littering the ground. The calm coming from her now nearly dropped her to her knees with weariness. She didn't really know what was inside her that made her this way, it just was and always was. If she was worried, anxious, angry, fearful, she suddenly found herself calm, and after it subsided, she tried her best to hide the fact that she was just exhausted. There was no one to ask except her father, and she couldn't seek him out. She was just too afraid, and too proud. Now this.
Emalia took a deep breath, collecting herself enough to rip the flyer from the wall. She went along the street, gathering all the flyers she could, hoping no one in her clan had seen them, no one that she knew had seen them, no one had seen them. Her hands were full when she reached a busier part of Market Square. "Hey, you Emalia?"
"Yes?" "Your mom is looking for you." "Ah, yes. Many thanks." "Hey, aren't you that girl?" "Yes... I know. Many thanks." "Oh! You know your mom is looking for you, judging from the pile of papers in your hands." "Yes, Many thanks."
If there was a better way of mortification, Emalia didn't know of it. She had given up reading the tomes of Cyric - luckily Hellstrom had explained to her the danger of the Cyrinishad before she had actually gotten to it. She hated to think that she would have been lost to her entire Guardian family and it shamed her deeply to think of how close she came. Then she ran into some man with a whip who spoke of shadows, slavery, Shar, and high blood - accusing her of being weak and weak minded for choosing not to endure whatever trials he thought testament to strength. Then there was Colin, who not only scared her with his enormity, but scared her more with his casual joking bride comment - which she really didn't see as much of a joke as she saw him quite a bit more frequently.
All this in one day...
Emalia collected all the parchments she could find as she took a last look up and down the streets of Westbridge. She hoped that everything was found and in her possession when she vanished to her room. The parchments rained down as Emalia threw them to the floor. She threw herself on the bed and for the first time she had known herself to - she cried. She at long last fell asleep, hoping this might be the last time she had to feel confusion, and that no one would ever know she had.
Home
Emalia sat in the middle of the herb garden, smelling each of the plants that grew around her. Only days before she had been with no one but herself, the idle chit-chat of strangers, and her books. Today, she was a Crimson Guardian. She took in a deep breath and smiled to herself while she looked over the insignia she wore. It seemed like a dream.
Fizz trotted up to her, nudging her shoulder with a nickering whinny, snapping Emalia from her reverie. "Oh my newest friend, what is it you desire?" A snort tickled Emalia's cheek as she was again nudged. "A carrot. Coming right up." Emalia rose to her feet, chanting a quick line for a quick treat. She smiled deeply as Fizz tossed the carrot into the air, only to chomp down on it and hop away like a colt.
Emalia felt automatically at home, marginally concerned that she had still not heard from her family, save her Uncle Sandorin, who had vanished again from her life. She sat again in the herbs, her mind drifting from her travel to Westbridge, to her journey into the Guardians, then to the events of the day. Immediately, a frown crossed her features.
Emalia knew she was born with abilities different from many. Her mother made sure she knew it - when she wasn't talking to herself - but Emalia wasn't quite sure what they were. She had harmed Elbryan with a simple spell, but couldn't place a finger on why or even how. Holding back a few tears, Emalia bit her lip, her pride stinging as she thought of exactly how she felt like such a failure. She'd harmed someone...
A deep neigh wrested her from her thoughts and a sense of calm flooded her. Fizz stared at her with deep brown eyes - already she could feel a connection with him. "Another?" She stood again, repeating her earlier incantation, and shook her head with a grin as Fizz repeated his.
In the quiet of the gardens, Emalia centered herself deciding that the silence would allow her to read. Certain that Fizz was finally contented, she slipped another violet-bound tome from her pack. By any sense she was a quick reader, it only taking her a day to pour through the thick volumes. She began in again reading through Cyric's past, pushing all her thoughts of home, family, and failure to the side. The texts flowed with detail, almost vividly leaping from the page. Emalia was so mesmerized that even Fizz's insistent nudges did nothing to rouse her.
Fizz trotted up to her, nudging her shoulder with a nickering whinny, snapping Emalia from her reverie. "Oh my newest friend, what is it you desire?" A snort tickled Emalia's cheek as she was again nudged. "A carrot. Coming right up." Emalia rose to her feet, chanting a quick line for a quick treat. She smiled deeply as Fizz tossed the carrot into the air, only to chomp down on it and hop away like a colt.
Emalia felt automatically at home, marginally concerned that she had still not heard from her family, save her Uncle Sandorin, who had vanished again from her life. She sat again in the herbs, her mind drifting from her travel to Westbridge, to her journey into the Guardians, then to the events of the day. Immediately, a frown crossed her features.
Emalia knew she was born with abilities different from many. Her mother made sure she knew it - when she wasn't talking to herself - but Emalia wasn't quite sure what they were. She had harmed Elbryan with a simple spell, but couldn't place a finger on why or even how. Holding back a few tears, Emalia bit her lip, her pride stinging as she thought of exactly how she felt like such a failure. She'd harmed someone...
A deep neigh wrested her from her thoughts and a sense of calm flooded her. Fizz stared at her with deep brown eyes - already she could feel a connection with him. "Another?" She stood again, repeating her earlier incantation, and shook her head with a grin as Fizz repeated his.
In the quiet of the gardens, Emalia centered herself deciding that the silence would allow her to read. Certain that Fizz was finally contented, she slipped another violet-bound tome from her pack. By any sense she was a quick reader, it only taking her a day to pour through the thick volumes. She began in again reading through Cyric's past, pushing all her thoughts of home, family, and failure to the side. The texts flowed with detail, almost vividly leaping from the page. Emalia was so mesmerized that even Fizz's insistent nudges did nothing to rouse her.
Seeking Emalia
Sanria let out a long, deep sigh. She had now been in Westbridge for two days, and no one had seen Emalia. She was sure to leave a small note for Thasmudyan, letting him know where she had gone. There was not going to be a repeat in the disappearing act again. She had begged him, in fact, simply to stay home and let her handle it, to allow her to search for their daughter while he stayed safe in the cavern. It was harder than she imagined it would be.
She had stopped in to get a cup of coffee when she met Koniev. Though she had intended to drink her caffeine while she walked, Sanria ended up sitting and listening to the young man's tale. She couldn't imagine what Koniev had endured, any more than she could imagine all that Sandorin had endured, and toward the end of the conversation, she had discovered exactly how she had made Emalia feel... overlooked and unimportant.
Sanria decided to take Koniev's suggestion and post a bulletin in the middle of Market Square, and to the sides of all the buildings she could. Hastily, she scrawled out a missive and rushed to the paperboy. "I need to see your boss. Where is he?" It shocked her to see the boy recoil from her, clutching the papers to his chest. "Take it easy, lady... I don't have coin." "What?" "Quit begging." "Begging?" "I know your type, you can't have a free paper, and you can't have my money." "No no, I'm looking for my daughter."
The paperboy eyed her for a moment, relaxing only slightly. "Does she look like you?" "A little," Sanria nodded, "yes." "Does she need a change of clothes just as bad?" Sanria stood up, glancing to the ground in shock. "Never mind... t-thank you."
The paperboy merely shrugged, falling right back into his sales pitch, though still clutching the papers to his chest, as Sanria wandered away. Before, she might have asked Catrina for help, but having been so long gone, nothing seemed the same.
It was a quick walk to the pub, the one place she felt none would stare at her for her dingy clothing, and even faster to find an empty table near the corner. Amidst the din of drunkards, Sanria began the task of making flyers-hundreds of them.
She had stopped in to get a cup of coffee when she met Koniev. Though she had intended to drink her caffeine while she walked, Sanria ended up sitting and listening to the young man's tale. She couldn't imagine what Koniev had endured, any more than she could imagine all that Sandorin had endured, and toward the end of the conversation, she had discovered exactly how she had made Emalia feel... overlooked and unimportant.
Sanria decided to take Koniev's suggestion and post a bulletin in the middle of Market Square, and to the sides of all the buildings she could. Hastily, she scrawled out a missive and rushed to the paperboy. "I need to see your boss. Where is he?" It shocked her to see the boy recoil from her, clutching the papers to his chest. "Take it easy, lady... I don't have coin." "What?" "Quit begging." "Begging?" "I know your type, you can't have a free paper, and you can't have my money." "No no, I'm looking for my daughter."
The paperboy eyed her for a moment, relaxing only slightly. "Does she look like you?" "A little," Sanria nodded, "yes." "Does she need a change of clothes just as bad?" Sanria stood up, glancing to the ground in shock. "Never mind... t-thank you."
The paperboy merely shrugged, falling right back into his sales pitch, though still clutching the papers to his chest, as Sanria wandered away. Before, she might have asked Catrina for help, but having been so long gone, nothing seemed the same.
It was a quick walk to the pub, the one place she felt none would stare at her for her dingy clothing, and even faster to find an empty table near the corner. Amidst the din of drunkards, Sanria began the task of making flyers-hundreds of them.
Tones
Emalia had been in Westbridge for about a week. She had sat in Market Square, she had seen the people go by. She had talked to a few of them, and even come to be smitten by one. Still, her mother was not coming for her, nor her father. "They must really be content in order not even to miss me, she thought. Perhaps I'm just being selfish though. Perhaps I really should just go home and check on them and be certain that everything is ok."
Emalia stared at the fountain in Market Square, watching the spray spatter down into the water below. The sun's rays caught each drop, lighting the droplets in a gem-like brilliance. Maybe she would wait, just a few more moments.
Emalia leaned back on the bench, her eyes shifting from the water to her pack. It had grown heavier with the books given her by Sangraal. She slid one of the leather covered, violet books from the pack and ran a hand over the cover. "'Volume One.' This God must really be an egotist if he needs six volumes."
No one warned her of the power of the books. All she knew, is that once she started reading - she couldn't stop.
Emalia stared at the fountain in Market Square, watching the spray spatter down into the water below. The sun's rays caught each drop, lighting the droplets in a gem-like brilliance. Maybe she would wait, just a few more moments.
Emalia leaned back on the bench, her eyes shifting from the water to her pack. It had grown heavier with the books given her by Sangraal. She slid one of the leather covered, violet books from the pack and ran a hand over the cover. "'Volume One.' This God must really be an egotist if he needs six volumes."
No one warned her of the power of the books. All she knew, is that once she started reading - she couldn't stop.
Emalia's Call
Emalia sat down on the bench in Market Square with a huff. What in the hell just happened? It wasn't possible that a man who had been proclaimed dead, who had sent her mother into fits of crazies, suddenly rose from the dead and started walking again, was it?
The man came in the house like he owned it. Well, he said he lived there and was to see Sanria, his wife. Emalia was face to face with a stranger, but eventually, she could feel from him a deep sense of honesty. She knew he was telling the truth.
When her mother saw him... it was confirmed. Rarely had her mother ever come out of her ramblings, and suddenly, like a miracle - Sanria was healed. Suddenly, Emalia - the girl who had cared for her mother for most of her own life – was a ghost against the black night. Nothing.
She should be happy, but knowing her mother didn't need her anymore and knowing her position was usurped by a man she didn't even know (not to mention seeing her mother actually in the arms of any male figure), made her a little jealous.
Her mom talked to her briefly after Thasmudyan had gone to bathe. Isn't it wonderful? she had asked. "Aren't you happy? she had asked. It's your father! You finally get to meet him. I'm so excited!" she had said. But no matter what Sanria asked or said, Emalia had only nodded and put on a happy face. What right had she to place sadness on such an unbelievable, incredible, miraculous event?
Neither of them noticed as she slipped out of the cavern. Dressed in her white robe and cloak, she rather stood out against the black, brown, and green of the forest. She had not been to Westbridge very often and she really didn't believe the stories about it being such a terrible place. Her hope was that she would find someone that would need her as her mother once did. Surely, someone would appreciate a young healer, wouldn't they?
Scanning the bustling square, she let out a sigh and waited.
The man came in the house like he owned it. Well, he said he lived there and was to see Sanria, his wife. Emalia was face to face with a stranger, but eventually, she could feel from him a deep sense of honesty. She knew he was telling the truth.
When her mother saw him... it was confirmed. Rarely had her mother ever come out of her ramblings, and suddenly, like a miracle - Sanria was healed. Suddenly, Emalia - the girl who had cared for her mother for most of her own life – was a ghost against the black night. Nothing.
She should be happy, but knowing her mother didn't need her anymore and knowing her position was usurped by a man she didn't even know (not to mention seeing her mother actually in the arms of any male figure), made her a little jealous.
Her mom talked to her briefly after Thasmudyan had gone to bathe. Isn't it wonderful? she had asked. "Aren't you happy? she had asked. It's your father! You finally get to meet him. I'm so excited!" she had said. But no matter what Sanria asked or said, Emalia had only nodded and put on a happy face. What right had she to place sadness on such an unbelievable, incredible, miraculous event?
Neither of them noticed as she slipped out of the cavern. Dressed in her white robe and cloak, she rather stood out against the black, brown, and green of the forest. She had not been to Westbridge very often and she really didn't believe the stories about it being such a terrible place. Her hope was that she would find someone that would need her as her mother once did. Surely, someone would appreciate a young healer, wouldn't they?
Scanning the bustling square, she let out a sigh and waited.
A Fistful of Memories
17 years.
Truly... 17 years.
Sanria stared at the wood grain of the kitchen table, wondering where time had gone. It had effectively swallowed her up, chewed her into pulp with exquisite masticating movements, spat her onto the ground, and left her with children and a brother... but no husband.
Tarran had grown into a strapping, handsome, and clever young man. She had watched him from boyhood growing into a man that would have made Havok proud. He could swindle a deal (evidenced by the many times he was able to get whatever he wanted from Emalia), and wield a sword. Sanria could see much of Havok in him, and she hung her head.
Sighing she pushed up from the table. It was finally a moment of clarity for her. One of so few that she had anymore. 'Too bad Sandorin isn't here," she thought. She thought of Emalia, who Sanria knew was nearby in the observatory. Sweet Emalia who never knew her father only for what she was, his contribution to her life, and stories that Sanria spilled over and over again. Undoubtedly, Emalia would be sitting in the marble throne, humming in tune with the crystals, and looking out over the land. Truthfully, Sandorin had raised her more than Sanria. Poor child of an unfit mother.
17 years.
“Oh Thasmudyan. My life and soul for yours... my life and soul for yours.” Sanria trailed off and headed to the library. The ancient floor was now showing the beginnings of a groove - a circular track worn by Sanria's feet. She could already feel the other world calling her - the chaos that filled her mind and caused her to go 'crazy'. As she began to step into the room, she heard the voice that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells.
"Mother?" Emalia tapped her shoulder lightly, and when Sanria turned to her, she could see the look of joy on her daughter's face.
"It's you now."
"Yes my little love. It is me, for now."
"I've missed talking to you, you know."
"Sweet dear, I've missed so much. Each time I come out of my stupor, you've turned into more of a woman."
"Oh. Mother. I... well, Tarran said to give his love if you were yourself."
"My little boy... oh tell me if he's well..."
"He is. He misses you, too."
Sanria paused for a moment, staring down at the ground. She had missed so much of her son's life, and truly, she had harbored deep pain for causing him the loss of two "Oh Emalia... if only you knew what it was like. If only you could have seen your father, too. A beautiful man, kind, gentle, and full of such a light... and the energy..."
"Oh mother... please," Emalia pleaded, her hands gripped Sanria's arm a little tighter as her eyes filled up with tears. "Please don't go again..." her voice trailed off into a whisper. "He had so much energy. They never found his head. They never found it." Sanria pulled from her daughter, her eyes glazed over once more. She entered the library, wringing her hands as she walked in her circle, talking to herself again. "If I wouldn't have walked that way, he would have never gone for me. They would never have found him. He would be here with me, protecting me, loving me, loving me. But I don't deserve that. No no no. I don't..."
Emalia hung her head and a single tear slid down her cheek. She then shook her head and sighed, walking to the kitchen to make tea and wait for her uncle to come home.
Truly... 17 years.
Sanria stared at the wood grain of the kitchen table, wondering where time had gone. It had effectively swallowed her up, chewed her into pulp with exquisite masticating movements, spat her onto the ground, and left her with children and a brother... but no husband.
Tarran had grown into a strapping, handsome, and clever young man. She had watched him from boyhood growing into a man that would have made Havok proud. He could swindle a deal (evidenced by the many times he was able to get whatever he wanted from Emalia), and wield a sword. Sanria could see much of Havok in him, and she hung her head.
Sighing she pushed up from the table. It was finally a moment of clarity for her. One of so few that she had anymore. 'Too bad Sandorin isn't here," she thought. She thought of Emalia, who Sanria knew was nearby in the observatory. Sweet Emalia who never knew her father only for what she was, his contribution to her life, and stories that Sanria spilled over and over again. Undoubtedly, Emalia would be sitting in the marble throne, humming in tune with the crystals, and looking out over the land. Truthfully, Sandorin had raised her more than Sanria. Poor child of an unfit mother.
17 years.
“Oh Thasmudyan. My life and soul for yours... my life and soul for yours.” Sanria trailed off and headed to the library. The ancient floor was now showing the beginnings of a groove - a circular track worn by Sanria's feet. She could already feel the other world calling her - the chaos that filled her mind and caused her to go 'crazy'. As she began to step into the room, she heard the voice that sounded like the tinkling of tiny bells.
"Mother?" Emalia tapped her shoulder lightly, and when Sanria turned to her, she could see the look of joy on her daughter's face.
"It's you now."
"Yes my little love. It is me, for now."
"I've missed talking to you, you know."
"Sweet dear, I've missed so much. Each time I come out of my stupor, you've turned into more of a woman."
"Oh. Mother. I... well, Tarran said to give his love if you were yourself."
"My little boy... oh tell me if he's well..."
"He is. He misses you, too."
Sanria paused for a moment, staring down at the ground. She had missed so much of her son's life, and truly, she had harbored deep pain for causing him the loss of two "Oh Emalia... if only you knew what it was like. If only you could have seen your father, too. A beautiful man, kind, gentle, and full of such a light... and the energy..."
"Oh mother... please," Emalia pleaded, her hands gripped Sanria's arm a little tighter as her eyes filled up with tears. "Please don't go again..." her voice trailed off into a whisper. "He had so much energy. They never found his head. They never found it." Sanria pulled from her daughter, her eyes glazed over once more. She entered the library, wringing her hands as she walked in her circle, talking to herself again. "If I wouldn't have walked that way, he would have never gone for me. They would never have found him. He would be here with me, protecting me, loving me, loving me. But I don't deserve that. No no no. I don't..."
Emalia hung her head and a single tear slid down her cheek. She then shook her head and sighed, walking to the kitchen to make tea and wait for her uncle to come home.
. . .
'What's this? ', quoth I. As I reached in my bag, a straw figurine caught my. Looking around to see if anyone saw what I was doing, I brushed the dust off of the doll. Turning the doll over, I could barely make out the letters " E ts". 'I wonder who's doll this is...' I thought to my self. 'Let's find out!', I said aloud.. quite stupidly because people turned to look. Quickly I hid the doll. Sure it was safe again, I uncovered the doll. Unsheathing my sword, I stopped thinking: "I could kill...' Oh well, I had made up my mind, and Sheathed my sword again. My curiosity building constantly, I couldn't contain it anymore. I had to find out who's it was. I found a rather large needle and held it close to the doll. On the count of three I ran the needle through where the heart would be of a person. The next sound I heard made my blood curdle. "AAARRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHhhHHkKKk"It came from a little east of me and I froze. Deciding this was a bad place to be, I prayed for transportation. While inside my hall, I burnt the doll so it wouldn't be touched again.
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