Chapter 11

It is with great sorrow and regret that I write this account today. I am a survivor of my people that have been brutally massacred, and I have no way of knowing how many of us are left. I am not sure if this will ever be read, but I am writing on behalf of myself, my children, and any other Hecathian survivor that has also made their way to Earth.

It was only a few days ago that we were overrun, driven from our homes by beings that would come from your tales of myth here. We come as refugees, seeking to hide in plain sight among you who are left alone by those you are unaware of. We mean you no harm, as we have no quarrel with any of your governments. Our home is presumably destroyed, millions of our people slaughtered before our eyes while we failed to defend ourselves.

We are a people not easily understood, and as I have been acquainted with a human before now, I have witnessed the tendency to be wary of the unknowns of a new people. I will not lie; we are a race that has a deep history of conflict and pain. We are rooted in what some of you would consider barbaric, with weapons of blades and close combat. The abilities we possess are mystic and untrustworthy, reminiscent of witchcraft from your own history. These, however, are characteristics of our people that do not cover all we find important.

We will not attack you or your peoples because it would be dishonorable to do so. In your allowance of our residing here, assisting knowingly or unknowingly in our ability to survive and persevere through the darkest days of our history, you maintain allyship with our cause. Your presence, your reputation of persevering through the worst times in your own right, as well as your own violence and cruelty to your own people throughout your history, keep many of our enemies away.

Our people are as rich in culture as those spread across your world. We have different beliefs, languages, and traditions, and we may vary in how we view what has happened, and I hope that this tragedy is not the death of our people. I pray that there are more of us out there. Our homeland of Ariya is a world much like your own, with forests, plains, mountains, deserts, and oceans stretching wide. The sky is more violet there than here, and our sister planet, Brakkoam watches over the eastern sky under which was my home territory. I long to return, but I fear what I may find if I do so, and whether our enemies linger is a question I do not want to be answered.

My children are young, the elder understands what has happened and is now broken, and I can only try my best to support him. I am alone. I have lost my family, my found family, my home, my beloved, my outlook, and everything but my two children. They might never see our home and may never know anything about our people and our way of life. We have nowhere to stay, and it has only been my education in this language that has saved me from having no way of communicating with anyone around me. I fear for anyone else who may have made it out.

My plea for you, humans, is for the gift of your continued graciousness and indifference. We are not a people that easily ask for assistance, we take pride in our accomplishments and believe it is shameful to be unable to sustain ourselves, but we have seen the worst and are looking for better. We are not looking for the violence we have just escaped, and we do not intend to interfere with your ways. We only wish to shelter and continue our own traditions among ourselves, and maybe one day we can return to our home.

My thanks, and the gratitude from all Hecathian survivors have been sent the way of anyone who may come across this account. May we rebuild from that which has crippled us, and may we be able to continue finding shelter with your people.

Etesha Roitae

Of the Royal Guard of Caldesaria

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Rachel had composed herself.

Mainly.

Kind of.

She was still freaking out, but she was pretty sure it had gotten to the point of short-circuiting her full freak-out function. Which had never happened before, but that was okay… right?

Now they were seated in a surprisingly normal-looking dining room just off a very average kitchen at the back of a surprisingly grand stone building. From the outside, it looked smaller than it was, but as soon as they walked through the door, the tall atrium and wooden paneling immediately made her feel small and completely out of place.

The room was thick with awkward silence as the four teens took turns glancing around the table. Paper could have sliced the air between the newcomers and their welcome party.

“So…”

Rachel’s eyes shot to Ryan as his drawn-out syllable filled the room. His hands came up to tap on the table, accompanied by a tight smile on his face.

“This isn’t usually how it goes, but welcome to our team home.” He began, his silver eyes glimmering with more energy than Rachel could even imagine right now. “We’re a fun crew and staying with us will be full of adventure and an actually fun learning experience, or… you could sign yourself up to be boring and live in the dorms with the others who were raised as humans and had their parents turn their backs on them.”

Eleanor’s face dropped beside him, her wide green eyes a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. “Not helping,” she blinked at him. She sighed and folded her arms on the table. “We,” she gestured to herself and Ryan. “Are part of the Observance program, along with Cameron, Elaine, and Jacob. We are part of our defense system in case the academy is ever under attack or something similar.”

Rachel was pretty sure that was supposed to surprise them, but it made a shocking amount of sense.

“We also have a lot of fun,” Ryan nodded.

She felt Ben shift beside her, his comforting presence only a slight help. “How are you doing this so young?”

“Good question,” Ryan chirped. “All the adults are dead.”

Silence.

“Not,” Eleanor shot him another look. “All of them.” She gritted her teeth, her face screaming for the boy to shut up. She quickly softened with a heavy sigh, her gaze lowering. “I joined the observance last year, as soon I could,” she started instead. “There aren’t many left, and those that are,” she shook her head, biting her lip. “They have fought for so long, and most came here so they didn’t have to anymore.”

Rachel nodded absentmindedly; her mind only half-focusing on the conversation.

“The only one of us old enough to remember what happened is Cameron, but he won’t talk about it.” Ryan was almost alarmingly nonchalant about everything. “None of us have both parents,” a hint of sorrow appeared. “We don’t know how many people survived the attack, but those who went back to the homeland didn’t return the same if they came back at all.”

She thought of her mom, thoughts leaping to the absence of her biological father. She had always assumed that he had died in an accident or from illness, but now… she didn’t want to picture what could have happened to him. She suddenly understood why her mom might have wanted to forget and move on.

“So, in coming to the academy, you can either study under our wing, or you can be boring,” Ryan looked at them expectantly. “You don’t need to decide right away, but until you’ve decided, you’re going to stay with us anyway.” He broke into a grin. “We have your rooms ready upstairs.”

Rachel exchanged a glance with Ben who looked just as startled as she did.

“House rules: no killing, no maiming, and injuries have to be within my healing capabilities. Most of us are quiet before eleven because Cameron needs his study time, and the training room is open to anyone as long as you don’t kill yourself in the process. Okay?” He grinned and clapped his hands. “Great!”

Rachel raised her eyebrows, suddenly lost.

“Oh, and before I forget,” he braced his hands on the table. “Rachel, you can summon and control fire, and lucky for you, Ben, you can control water. Perfect, right?” He exclaimed. “This is going to be so much fun!”

Ryan left them frozen, sitting at the table, even Eleanor staring blankly ahead.

Rachel couldn’t help the mutter that escaped her lips.

“What the-“

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Elaine stared at the blank gray stone wall of the healing center across from her, the line of stripped cots and empty hall allowing for each sound to echo up to the arched roof high above them. Khalea, the academy’s lead healer, had long moved on to continue Allenesaia’s healing process across the room. Now, Jacob was laying, healed but unconscious, in the cot beside her. He had been changed from his tattered clothes into the plain, clean garments for patients, but the streaks of mud and blood still visible on his arms and face told of his prior injuries. Their father had briefly come, standing at the foot of Jacob’s cot for only a minute before leaving without a word. The room had darkened since then, the sun setting as night slowly overtook the academy.

It wasn’t the first time that Jacob had ended up in the healing center, not even the first for more serious injuries. She remembered vividly how she had cut a deep stripe across his chest and shoulder during a particularly intense practice session, him returning a blow into her thigh in retribution. They had both spent the afternoon glaring at each other from opposite cots, listening to their mom chiding them about the importance of restraint.

Her absence was most glaring now, with Elaine sitting on vigil as her mom had always done instead. She didn’t know why she was still there, but she supposed it was because she didn’t want Jacob to wake up and find an empty chair waiting for him.

When she had seen him fall to the ground earlier, all she could think about was how she couldn’t lose him too. With their mom gone, he was the only one she could count on to be there. Her relationship with their father had been the most distant and dismissive out of the three of them, him never showing any interest in her growth and achievement. Amber would talk to her, but since distancing herself from their family, it was further between and often in ways that made her feel like her sister was ashamed to be seen with her.

Not having Jacob around had felt wrong, as they had been together since birth. It was only a few months after he had joined the observances that she had joined as well. He was back now, but she knew that it wouldn’t be the same as before. Roselle’s death had changed him, she had seen it before he left, and she could see it even in the short time before he had been hurt. With their mom gone too, she feared what it meant.

She opened her hand that had been curled in her lap, revealing the golden rod she had picked up from beside him. It didn’t look significant in any way, just a plain golden stick with only a single red ruby on one end preventing it from being a featureless cylinder.

How something so seemingly insignificant could be the legendary sword of Sarodekor, the blade of their kings and queens since Lietasae’s rule over five hundred years before, she couldn’t imagine. How Jacob had managed to get it into his possession in a human middle school was an even greater question, especially when it was rumored to be lost with the death of their last king, Oravinkas.

Her eyes wandered over to the blonde on the far side of the room, the girl limp and pale under the thin sheet covering her. Then again, with her in the picture of this disaster, it wouldn’t be inconceivable for other bizarre occurrences to coincide with Jacob’s adventure. She pictured the blade it had appeared as in her mind’s eye, the golden blade almost radiating with power. She could almost feel that same power in the small metal object, humming, dormant in her hands.

She looked up as multiple sets of footsteps in the main hall approached the heavy doors, hushed voices echoing around in the large entry of the council building as they stopped directly outside. One of the voices, the low feminine voice, was familiar, and most definitely belonged to her sister. The other was a man, his tone rushed in urgency.

It was only a second more before the door was pulled open, revealing the man in question. He looked inconspicuous at first glance, a typical rugged middle-aged man. As he rushed over to the only other patient present in the center though, Elaine noticed his clear resemblance to Kesritae and especially to her father Jisuph. This was Seniar Ocoltha, the war hero of the homeland and rightful heir to the throne of Ariya.

Elaine felt her heart speed up as Seniar moved to his daughter, brushing past Khalea as the woman moved to allow him room. Amber moved slower but approached Jacob’s cot with a cautious look playing on her face. Her dark brown eyes flicked between Elaine and Jacob, her lips pursing in clear uncertainty.

“He’s going to be okay,” Elaine told her with a slight edge in her tone.

“I wanted to know if you had time to talk soon,” Amber said, not acknowledging what she had said.

“Why?” Elaine stared up at her with a blank expression.

“Because,” Amber looked taken aback. “I… I want to talk to you.” Her gaze moved to Jacob again, a hint of distaste in her expression as her eyebrow curled up. “Please,” she angled back at Elaine, lips tight.

Elaine looked over at their brother, the old, darkened scar on his neck leaping out as a reminder of when he and Amber had last ‘spoken’. It was a mark that spoke of a disagreement that led to Amber turning her back on the family, the contents of which she had never been told and probably would never be.

“Think about it,” Amber’s voice was strained. “Let me know,” she turned to leave.

“Adara,” Elaine called lowly after her, using her true name. “Eyn,” she spoke the word in their mother’s native language. Soon.

Amber nodded and continued out of the healing center. Elaine turned her focus back to Seniar, her fingers brushing over warmed metal. The hero was perched on the edge of the cot, murmuring something quietly to the unconscious girl as he held her hand tightly in his own.

Elaine felt grief twisting in her gut, looking away. She tightened her fingers back around the rod, the sting of the hard material against her skin grounding her to reality. Jacob would wake up soon, but neither of them would have a parent that cared about them like that again.

She didn’t doubt that their father had heard about what happened by now. It was only a matter of when he decided the axe was going to fall. As upset as she was with Jacob, she was worried about what was waiting for him once he was awake. No one had ever said the headmaster was a lenient man, and she knew that this blunder was going to fall back onto Jacob.

Despite being their father’s favorite child, she knew Jacob was far from coddled. Haunting memories of sneaking a peak at their secret, late-night practices had shown her how Jacob may have had it worse than both her and Amber. It was unclear how Jacob had never shown up the next day with any sign of the beatings he received. What it did explain was how Jacob’s style had slowly changed from nimble speed to becoming brutally aggressive as those practices began to influence him.

Truly, Jacob had begun to change then. Losing Roselle was only the last straw. Now, Elaine didn’t know her brother at all, and now she had to decide if she wanted to, or if she needed to move on.

Just like Amber.

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Jol regretted the moment he had agreed for the Hecathian to return the moment he had said it. The man made him dig his claws into the ground, he was everything Jol hated about Hecathians, yet he was waiting for him now as darkness began to fall around him.

There was a very real possibility that the man was going to kill him now that he had what he wanted. He could almost feel the bronze daggers he had threatened him with across his throat. Maybe one would be buried between his eyes.

He was prey waiting to be caught, yet he still stood there.

It wasn’t long before the soft patter of a pebble alerted him to the man’s presence. Jol turned to find him closer than he wanted him to be.

“I have to admit,” the man’s voice held a humorous undercurrent to it. “I wanted to give you the credit for not being stupid enough to meet me alone, but I see I can’t even do that.”

Jol held down his bristle, reminding himself why he was there. “Since you didn’t come here to kill me,” he began. “I want to know why you’ve decided to meet me.”

The man was still for a second before shrugging, crossing his arms. “Call it curiosity,” his dark green eyes sparked. “What would you be wanting from me that you don’t want your precious queen knowing about?”

“Maybe I’m here on her behalf,” Jol defended.

The Hecathian gave him a doubtful look, and though most of his face was covered, Jol felt like there was almost disappointment there. “I know you’re a little dim, but surely you don’t expect me to be that idiotic,” he scoffed, raising his chin. “Now tell me why I’m here, daemon.”

Jol ignored the name, pulling out the large vial he had managed to grab earlier. “You know where the academy is.” He stated.

“Obviously,” the man raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I want you to bring this there,” he held out the vial. Inside, the darkened liquid glinted in what little light still showed over the land.

“What is it?” The man grabbed it cautiously, his eyes not leaving Jol.

“Atonement.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Open it when you go there, it will do the rest by itself.” Jol watched as the man looked at the vial in his hands.

“And what do I gain?” The man’s voice was an edged sword.

“Consider this your payment to me for being the messenger to Rinoas,” Jol told him. “And if that’s not enough, it would be helpful for you to have a place to go if word of your treachery makes it back to the ears of your headmaster.”

“I don’t plan on that,” the man’s eyes flared with something Jol couldn’t identify. “However, I suppose it is an offer I’ll consider. I also have to wonder about the power you seem to think you have.”

“Just take it,” Jol spat, gritting his fangs. The man was getting on his nerves, his claws itching to tear into him where he stood.

“Consider my debt to you paid, daemon,” the man’s eyes were dark, thoughtful. It made the Gisrulat uneasy, but he didn’t speak.

He was left in darkness as his foe leaped away, presumably to never be seen by him again.