An Inheritance of Fire

The crowd parted in front of Nalos as he walked through the busy street market. He felt their eyes linger on him as he passed them. Well, not quite on him. Rather, their eyes fixed on one of two things; either his Court robes or the blackened flesh of his hands. The first was a symbol of both status and power. The second was a sign of recklessness or stupidity. Not a good combination– especially in a mage.

Nalos felt their anxiety seep into him. With a grimace, he pushed essence out of his Sigil, sighing in relief at the emotional void that followed. For all the damage and pain the rupture had caused, it had forced his veins wider. Once he healed, he would be stronger than before. Until then, though, he would be terribly sore.

Where did she go?

He wasn’t worried about Saris. This was one of the safest neighborhoods in the city– and word of his presence had no doubt already spread through the whole street. No one would dare try to commit a crime.

Finally, the crowd parted to reveal Saris sitting on a bench. Her long-platinum blonde hair fluttered as she kicked her short legs. She held a small cup in her hand, which in turn housed a bright blue substance.

Ice cream? Nalos wondered incredulously. It was still cold out. “Saris!”

His daughter’s head whipped around at the sound of her name. Saris’ scanned the crowd, and when her eyes landed on Nalos, a wide smile broke onto her face.

“Dad!”

Saris jumped off the bench. The crowd made way as she scurried through, throwing her arms wide for a hug.

Laughing, Nalos grabbed her armpits and lifted her into the air. “I keep telling you not to run with food,” he chastised gently as he cradled her with both arms. “You know what happened last time.”

Saris’ smile widened. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Nalos gestured to her ice cream. “Where’d you get that from? Don’t tell me you’re stealing again…”

Saris’ squealed, then giggled as he tickled her. “No! No!” She gasped in between laughs. “Someone bought it for me. From him!”

Nalos followed the direction of her arm. The stall owner– a tall, blonde-haired man– stiffened under the weight of Nalos’ gaze and looked away. “Who bought it for you?”

Saris shrugged and took another bite. “Some weird girl. She’s gone, now, though. I wanted to ask about her eyes! They were blue!”

The comment, delivered with her usual brand of childish innocence, made Nalos’ blood run cold. “Blue?” He forced his voice to remain steady.

“Mhm!” They were really pretty!”

Nalos swept his eyes across the crowd, looking for the slightest hint of danger; a pair of eyes that lingered for too long, or someone’s hand too close to their weapon. But no matter how closely he looked, there was nothing. “Did you see which way she went?”

Saris shook her head. “No. She said she had to go with her mother.”

Nalos relaxed at that– but only slightly. Placing Saris on the ground, he gripped both of her shoulders lightly. “Be careful around people with blue eyes, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just promise me.”

Saris looked confused, but she nodded enthusiastically all the same. “Okay!”

Nalos grasped her free hand as he stood. “Let’s go, then. Your brother is waiting for us.”

Gwyn’s jaw dropped at the sight of the house– if it could even be called that. It was at least three time larger than Corvus’ dwelling, and while his was built from wood, this one was formed entirely from stone. There were three distinct “buildings.” One in the center, and another on each side. They were cut from the same dull grey stone, and all bore brilliant green gilding.

Varus noticed her surprise. “I suppose this is your first time seeing this,” he said calmly. “Our use of magic makes erecting buildings and structures an easy task. Expensive, still, but rather simple in the grand scheme of things.

Gwyn tilted her head. “The wall around the city. Was that also…?”

“Built with magic,” the doctor confirmed. “Although its proximity to the edge of Umbra made it a much more dangerous endeavor.”

“What do you need all the space for?” Linua asked.

“Many of my patients are seriously injured– or terminally ill. It’s better for both of us if I’m nearby whenever possible. This was the most pragmatic solution.”

“Terminally ill?” Linua asked, alarmed. “Do you keep them separate from the others?”

Varus shook his head. “Their illnesses are not contagious. You have my word– your daughter will be perfectly safe. If it would ease your mind, however, I am happy to place her in a more secluded room.”

Linua looked relieved at that. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.” She looked back. “I’m still more than happy to pay you for this…” She trailed off as the doctor waved one hand.

“Your people play an important role in the city. I’m just repaying the favor.” Varus paused. “Besides, I understand the rigors of a life lived in the dark. I think this is the right thing to do.” The doctor gestured with one hand, and the metal gate swung open. “Please, after you.” It swung shut after Gwyn and her mother stepped past.

“The gate will remain open during daytime. After that, someone will need to let you in.” He paused. “There are only a handful of workers at any given time. I’ll make sure you’re introduced to them after settling in.” Varus continued speaking as they stepped into the central building. It looked sterile– the white floors hadn’t even a speck of dust, never mind proof that anyone lived there. “This is the central building. I’ll give you a room near the top. My office and dwelling are both on the lower floors; please don’t hesitate to drop by if you need anything at all.”

He turned back to face them. “The other patients are mostly located within either side building. While none of them pose any danger, they are individuals who value their privacy– I ask you to respect that.”

Gwyn nodded.

“I’ll show you to your room, then.’

They followed Varus up several flights of stairs; he pointed out his dwelling and office as they passed them. A number of doors lined each side of the top floor’s hallway. They were made of wood rather than stone, and intricate metal designs had been set into each one. Varus stopped in front of one at the corner of the floor. “Here.” He pushed the door open. “It may look heavy, but it’s magic-assisted. Try closing it.”

Gwyn did as instructed. She braced herself, expecting the door to be heavy, but as the doctor said, it glided shut effortlessly. She gasped at the size of the room. She’d expected something the size of her room back in Cress, but this was easily twice as large– if not more. A large bed stood in the corner, while an ornate desk and chair had been placed at its foot.

The room had a single window, facing the closest part of the city wall. Gwyn could still see the sun shining over the horizon. The marbled white floor reflected the orange light, splashing warm-colored light onto the walls. It was blinding.

“I’ll arrange for some decor to keep the reflections to a minimum,” Varus said, noticing both hollow’s discomfort. “Patients normally bring their own belongings, but.” He glanced down at Gwyn’s small bag. “I can see you don’t have much. For now, make yourself at home.”

Gwyn placed her bag on the desk and lay down on the bed. It was larger and softer than her own; almost too soft.

“My workers will deliver a meal in the morning, and again in the evening. If you’d like them to prepare a midday meal as well, please inform them when you receive the first meal; otherwise, you’re free to bring back whatever food you prefer. The surrounding streets are quite safe, but I recommend staying within a few blocks. If you fail to return by nightfall, my employees will retrieve you– regardless of what may cause your absence.”

Linua’s expression changed. “Do people go missing often?”

Varus shook his head. “Not often. And normally it’s because they simply lost track of time, not due to some outside plot.” He held one hand to his heart. “The well-being of my patients is my top priority: your daughter included. No harm will befall her during your absence; you have my word.”

Linua considered his words before lowering her head with a sigh. “I suppose we don’t really have much of a choice,” she admitted wryly.

“If you’d prefer to spend the night with your daughter, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Are you sure? We’ve already received so much from you.”

“It would be remiss of me to separate a mother and her child earlier than absolutely necessary.”

Linua nodded hesitantly. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course. I’ll ask the kitchen workers to make a meal for you.”

Before either hollow could speak further, he opened the door and stepped through. It shut behind him without a sound.

Linua looked down at her daughter, then at the bed in the corner. She grinned mischievously. “Looks like we’ll be sharing a bed tonight.” She laughed as Gwyn groaned and held her face in both hands.

Linua hugged her daughter close. The room was dark now, but the shadows did nothing to impede her vision. She could see Gwyn’s hair flutter in her breath, see her chest rise and fall rhythmically. “Are you awake?” She asked softly.

“...”

Just as Linua was about to close her eyes, Gwyn stirred.

“How am I supposed to sleep when you’re trying to crush me?” She complained sleepily.

Linua laughed quietly. “Sorry.”

“Nnn…” Gwyn yawned. “What is it?”

“... I hope you don’t hate me,” Linua whispered.

Gwyn shifted in her arms. “Why would you think that?” She asked, her sleepiness replaced by indignation.

Linua tightened her embrace, resting her chin on Gwyn’s shoulder. “I don’t,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t, but… I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me. It feels like I’ve just made one mistake after another.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Even this, now… with the convoy. It feels like it’s all my fault, somehow. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so eager to leave Cress for good. But after your father…” Her voice cracked.

Gwyn shifted in her arms, turning to face her. “Mom.” Though quiet, her voice was serious. “Stop.” She reached out and returned the embrace, burying her face in Linua’s chest. “I love you. We love you. Both of us. I told you, didn’t I? We know you’re trying your best.”

Linua’s eyes watered.

“Are you crying?” Gwyn’s voice was teasing. Linua tightened her embrace even more.

“... Mom. I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sorry.” She loosened her arms.

Gwyn shifted into a more comfortable position. “Stay safe. I need you to come back to me.” Her voice was ridden with emotion.

Linua laughed and stroked her daughter’s hair. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” She hesitated. “Can I ask you something selfish?” She felt Gwyn tense.

“What is it?”

“... I want you to stay inside while I’m gone.”

Gwyn sighed expectantly. “I knew you were going to ask me that.”

“It’s selfish. I know. But the people here…” Linua bit her lip. “It’s not like back in Cress.” It was true enough– in the village, everyone looked out for one another. There was no concept of money, and no real strife. The city was nice enough, but also… different. She didn’t trust it in the same way– not with her child.

“... I know.” Gwyn sighed again. “Fine. I’ll stay inside.”

Relief washed over Linua.

“I’m going to be so bored!”

Linua laughed. “I know. Thank you.” She stayed there well into the night. Gwyn’s soft, gentle breathing tickler her collarbone. “Did you fall back asleep?” Linua asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Gwyn stirred, but no more.

Linua squeezed her daughter one last time, careful not to wake her, before slipping out from under the covers. She ran a hand through Gwyn’s hair before slipping off the bed’s side. The stone floor was cold against her feet.

With a sigh, she grabbed her boots, tying them tightly before opening her pack to check its contents. It housed mostly rations; not really food, just sustenance to sate her during the journey to Cress– and the return, if need be.

Carefully, Linua shifted some of the wrapped parcels to the side. A small, leather-wrapped cylinder poked out. She pulled it free. It was the handle of a knife. It wasn’t made from the same blue material as other weapons from Cress, but plain steel. With a grimace, she pulled it halfway from its cover.

It would be little help against even small Reavers, but it was better than nothing. And with Eros– and a little luck– she wouldn’t need it. Linua slammed it back into its sheath and reburied it under the wrapped rations.

She pulled a thick jacket over her shoulders before draping her cloak over it. Sewn from a Reaver pelt, it would protect her from the worst of the winter cold. Just imagining it made her shiver. With one last look at Gwyn, she pushed through the door and out of the gigantic building.

The gate was no real obstacle to her; she tossed her pack over it before vaulting to the outside. She collected her supplies and then raced to the gate. Varus’ home was further from it than the inn, but it only took a few minutes to reach it. One of the guards was half-asleep; he jerked upright as Linua’s steps echoed through the empty courtyard.

“What is it?” His partner asked, clearly annoyed with the other man’s lax nature.

“I need to go out.” Linua pulled her hood down as she spoke. Both of the guards stiffened at the sight of her eyes.

“You’re a hollow,” the first said gruffly. “Where’s your convoy?”

Linua forced herself to remain calm. “I stayed behind to look around the city.” It was true enough.

The formerly-sleeping guard scratched his chin. “We aren’t supposed to let people out, but…” His partner elbowed him in the stomach, making him groan.

“Are you sure you want to leave now? It’s still dark out. In a few hours–”

Linua cut him off. “I’m sure. The darker, the better.”

The exasperated guard shrugged. “If you say so. Open up the gate!” He called up above, much to the other’s chagrin.

“What are you doing? We’re not supposed to–”

“Shut up! She’s a hollow. They can come and go as they please.”

“But–”

The gate swung open. A wave of cold air washed over Linua. Even with her thick jacket and cloak, and even from so far away, it chilled her to the core. She took a deep breath and stepped past both guards, replacing her hood. The darkness swelled as she stepped through the gate, settling over her like a nearly physical thing.

Once satisfied she was far enough, Linua held out her hands and whistled. Eros descended immediately. The darkness fell away from his figure as he trembled. Linua held him close. “Home,” she whispered. “Take me home.”

“Haaagh.” Gwyn groaned as she stared out the window. Three days had already passed since her mother’s departure– which meant it would still be many more before her return.

While large, Gwyn’s room was already starting to feel more like a prison than a lodging– but she’d promised to stay inside. That left her with very little to do. At least the food tastes good.

With another exasperated sigh, Gwyn leaned her head out of the window. People rushed by in every direction below; some ran, while others hobbled along. Some were dressed colorfully; others wore dull, ragged clothing. It was markedly different than anything in Cress– and from so far away, significantly more boring. I’ll have to ask the workers to bring me something.

“Hey!”

Just as Gwyn was about to pull her head back in, a high-pitched, vaguely familiar voice called out. Looking back down, she saw a small figure standing in the yard below, beckoning for her to come down. She shook her head. Even from so high up, she swore she could see the other person shrug. They reached for the tree by Gwyn’s window, and within moments, were just outside.

“Hi!”

Gwyn recognized them immediately. It was the girl from the day before– bright hair and crimson eyes. Her face was red with exertion, but it did nothing to detract from her cheer– or her dazzling smile.

She leaned over, right in front of Gwyn’s face. “You said your name was Gwyn, right? Your eyes are pretty! Why are they blue?”

Gwyn found herself growing flustered in the face of such unbridled enthusiasm. “Um…” The other girl pouted. “Did you forget my name already?” She stuck out one hand. “I’m Saris! Nice to meet you.”