Chapter 1: A Garden of Eden

 

       Eden frowned at the water bubbling from under the tangled roots of her mother’s favorite tree.  Her mother had spun a great many unbelievable tales throughout her childhood, but the one she thought of now spoke of a cavern beneath the roots of this tree where a shallow pool of water hid a precious cache.  This was where her mother had received the armor Sea Star had left her and the dress, tiara and necklace that Eden’s mother had left behind with her now.  Her mother had been gone for a few months by this time, chasing after Uncle Melchior when he had disappeared before that.  He was the brother of the father she never met and also the man her mother loved, although it had once been the opposite.  She had met him in the Queen’s jail when she was only four years old and had instantly liked him; he was a warm, humorous man that doted on her and her mother and she never missed out on having a father with him around.

       She rose up from her curious crouch, still frowning at the pooling water.  She told herself she was being foolish; did she really believe much of anything her mother had told her when she was a child?  What tales she did tell seemed incomplete, never more so than when her mother would drift off right in the middle and change topic altogether.  Eden had been fairly sheltered growing up, even though they had traveled all over Vieres in her early childhood.  She was 15 now and she had been able to verify much of the history her mother had told, but no one ever seemed to know where the elementals or the old gods had disappeared to.  She wasn’t allowed to tell anyone she could use magic either, because magic supposedly left the world with them.  All the same, even being privy to a magical secret, there were some things that just seemed fantastical to her now.  Uncle Melchior had always been the better storyteller but certainly not more credible.  Like most fantastical tales, the details were never ever spun the same.  The bards were even worse with the exaggerated weave of incredible lies.  As much as she loved Mama and her uncle, she always felt adrift of who they really were.

       Eden’s magic had been a boon to her as a child, a source of practical jokes and pranks and delight, but the disadvantages added up over time.  She knew that she had killed once, but it wasn’t a memory she cared to revisit.  Those men were bad and it was quick and necessary as far as she was concerned.  It was because of that incident that they had gone to the north where the Children of the Old Gods had lived (where Queen Lyria was from but later moved to the Kingdom of Abundance where she lived with her husband and King, Pierait—both friends of Mama’s and Melchior’s).  Because Eden’s powers resembled theirs, they had hoped to find answers but only left with more questions.  They had seemed anxious even then and even sort of relieved when they departed.  Her powers, while controllable in the beginning, became wilder as she grew older.  She could not touch anything without freezing it, just as Lyria’s powers had affected her ability to touch others.  Like Lyria, she could avoid it by wearing gloves, but it still meant she could not kiss boys like normal teenage girls could.  Not that there were any boys to be found around the cottage she grew up in.  For some reason, her powers caused feelings of guilt in her mother and though she tried to assure Eden that the blame was not hers, the strain on her mother hurt her heart.  She was a practical girl so she was able to get along fine without touching people, as Lyria had done, and she met her mother’s pity with annoyance as she grew.  Eden had no use for pity.  She had no use for boys either.

       Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered that she had wandered over to her mother’s favorite blue roses, ignoring the pool around the tree for now.  She removed her glove and caressed the bloom, feeling the life and warmth of the beautiful flower mere moments before the cold stole its life.  It was still beautiful, encased in the crystalline ice, but once melted, the petals would bruise and slough off in wet brown hunks of decay.  Her eyes filled with tears.  She wanted to believe it was for the flower that she had loved to death, but in truth, as strong as she pretended to be, she dearly missed her mother.  She missed ‘Scruffy Guy’ too (the nickname she teased Uncle Melchior with), but it was her mother’s absence that made her loneliest.

       Eden’s mother Rienna had been a strong young girl before becoming a hero and a mother, always so sure that she wanted to be a warrior as her father was.  Eden had inherited her soft grey eyes from her mother and they had little else in common but stubbornness and quick reflexes.  It had not disappointed Rienna that her daughter was more feminine, that Eden liked pretty gowns and jewelry and preferred dancing to swordplay.  Her mother had always been supportive, but nonetheless insisted that her daughter at least know how to fence and wield a knife, lest men are ever foolish enough to mistake kindness (or femininity) for weakness.  She held her tongue that her skin was plenty deterrent enough.  Melchior had been a good teacher as well when her mother had other things to attend to.  They were an odd pair when sparring; he the scarred fiery giant and she the icy petite child, but he was surprisingly quick and strong.  His deadliest weapon was his distracting ability to make her laugh.

       Melchior had been summoned to New Myceum by the new Council there. No friends of theirs were in power there (unless you counted Sylvas who started Myceum’s Council from his own position on the Queen’s Council), but when Lyria got word of their situation, she had referred them to him.  It did not matter that how he came by the knowledge of Myceum was painful, Melchior was one of the few left alive that knew the lay of the city top to bottom.  He had been summoned and enslaved there once when a man named Viper had tried to destroy the world.  Unfortunately, gruesome events from years before had left the city’s sewer systems clogging still with the foul organic sludge of human remains and even now, there were robots that would spring into action and murder unsuspecting visitors.  Eden had teased him about being a plumber but he had taken it good-naturedly as he always had.  Eden had no way of knowing what horrors truly happened there and was mortified that she had been so careless about her comment once Seije had explained it to her.  For all that Eden had heard of his famous temper, he never once turned it on her or Rienna.  She may have called him Uncle, but he was a father to her and worshipped her mother.  They were embarrassingly mushy sometimes, but she supposed that was love.

       When he had left and took far too long to come back, her mother did not hesitate to go look for him.  She was already impatient, not wanting to let him go without her, but Eden had been sick and Melchior would not hear of trying to take a sick girl with them or letting her be without her mother.  Eden once again felt wretched that she was the underlying reason, so before her mother could even argue, she commanded her mother to go after him—that she would be all right with Uncle Seije, Arden and Lily.  She knew what it cost her mother to be apart from Melchior; they had been inseparable for as long as she could remember and she would not be so childish as to cling now.

       Uncle Seije wasn’t her true uncle, but he was the brother of her mother’s dearest friend (Krose) and for her first few years of life, he was the only other constant in her life other than her mother.  Arden and Lily had been around too, but Seije was a sort of foundation, the rock that held them all in place.  She suspected that Arden and her mother had had a thing once, but they had an easy friendship that didn’t make whatever past they had awkward.  Lily would always braid Eden’s hair (carefully, for even her scalp could chill Lily’s fingers if she were careless) and fawn over how white it was.  The snow white of her hair had come from her father Ashe and his mother, both of whom she never got to meet.

 

       It was confusing explaining what fragmented things she knew to others, but to her, it was the only life she knew.  Rienna had told her daughter that some of the stories were protected due to a vow they made when they stopped the old ones from destroying what they made.  In every other way, her mother seemed sane but when she started talking about the past, her mother was suddenly a stranger to her.  Maybe that was true enough.  She had made the mistake of finding one of her mother’s journals once and had blushed at her mother’s love life.  She cringed at the sexual aspect but when it mentioned her father, she couldn’t bring herself to stop looking for more.  Her father had been a brave warrior, like his brother, but he had also been kind.  As much as ice were a part of her though, there was something missing about the past that chilled and disturbed her to the core.  She was looking for a romance and stumbled into a nightmare.  Only a taste because her mother had been careful never to reveal too much.

       Eden’s attention snapped back to the pool of water when she heard a nauseating gurgle as the pool seemed to vomit something onto its surface.  Eden hesitantly edged closer, pulling up the dragging hem of her sky-blue gown as her curiosity urged her to get a better look.  In the water laid a braided plait of hair woven with mother of pearl strands, to the letter of the one her mother claimed to leave there over a decade and a half ago.  The one she could not bear to keep because it reminded her too strongly of the tainted memory of her first love, the boy she only called Belias.  He had been Uncle Melchior’s friend and one of the reasons she never met her father.  Although her mother hadn’t been certain he were Shade or man, it was his face that became tainted with the memory.  Belias could have been her father, if a mad man hadn’t changed the fate of the world.  It still made her head spin.  Through all of their struggles, it was one man’s twisted tale of ennui and love that tipped the scales.

       Eden did not realize her hand had gone to her stomach and her skin was losing its color in her fear. She stepped back, dropping the dress she held up and let her magic swirl around her, freezing the pool. She thought that would be the end of it, but another sick lurch cracked the ice and the fetid water pulsed from the fissure like an infected wound, great belching bubbles of sludge pulsing through.  Being halted seemed to anger the water and the pool grew more quickly.  Eden screamed when she felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Seije, his face more serious than usual, as he took her by the wrist and pulled her away.

       “Uncle Seije, what about the house?” Eden cried out in a panic, but Seije shook his head.

       “We’ll have to let it go, Eden; whatever protection your mother and Melchior gave to this place, it has been revoked. Do not worry, child.  I will not let you come to harm,” Seije told her in the softest way the man could manage. Seije was hard-edged to a fault, but where Rienna and Eden were concerned, he did try. Eden panicked inwardly—did that mean something had happened to her mother?  To Melchior? What was this place being protected from?

       Despite all of the years of travel (after going north, they had gone to visit their friends quite often), Eden and her odd family had kept their base here in the past five years and when Eden cried out again, it was due to her sense of loss. Her heart dropped seeing the swelling pool ravage the edge of the pretty cottage and swallow the garden her mother and Lily had spent so much of their time on.  She barely registered Seije placing her on his horse as she watched her mother’s practice dummy bobbing lazily before disappearing into the intrusive swampy water.

       It seemed like the foul swamp was gaining on them and Eden shrieked when they suddenly lurched forward, a sickening crack signaling the horse’s front legs had snapped as they plunged for the ground.  Seije wrapped himself around her but the impact still jarred her as the edges of his armor bit into her.  The ground was sinking into fetid bubbling pools all around them and he pulled her to her feet and it took her a moment to realize he was screaming at her to move her feet as he tugged on her hand.  She worked her legs mechanically, not daring to look back at the horse that they could not help.  Seije pitched forward and she smacked into his back.  His foot was stuck in a sudden sinkhole and Eden pushed her hands forward to freeze the ground.  He was able to shatter the frozen mud and they ran on.

       “Good thinking, Eden, but we’re not out of this yet!” Seije praised, urgency in his voice warning her to stay vigilant.

         She wasn’t sure how much longer they ran—blackness swallowed her as her lungs struggled to bursting.

       Eden hadn’t been able to talk for hours after the waters came.  Seije had carried her to the south towards Neibelung but Seije seemed indecisive about where to go.  Most of their friends were close to there; Finn and Verity were just northwest of the southernmost port city of Xanias and Krose, Alys, Dinsch and Seles were still running the headquarters of their famous chain of inn/restaurants in Neibelung, the electric city.  They all had children, some around Eden’s age, but Seije seemed hesitant to find them just yet.  None of them knew Eden’s secret and she struggled to keep it one even as isolated as they had been.  They might be the best people to trust, but in Seije’s experience, it was much easier to trust no one first and then add to that number as needed.

       For the time being, Seije decided to head to a place where his brother Krose had been before and where Eden’s own father had lived for years after surviving another of Erised’s attempts to kill him: the town of Guileford.  Seije had been stationed there a few times, enough that he had procured a small farmhouse in a private location.  He wouldn’t keep Eden there longer than necessary but the girl was nervous and they needed a place to stay while they planned where to go next.

       Now that Eden had found her voice and her feet (it had been awkward to wake in her uncle’s arms), the girl was rapid-firing questions: how would her mother and Melchior find her again?  What about Arden and Lily; they hadn’t said goodbye either?  Seije didn’t know the answers but he wouldn’t come right out and say so—she needed to be placated so he told the girl that he was going to take care of that and please don’t get worked up; he didn’t want to end up a human popsicle.  He had meant it to be a joke but Eden looked sad when he said it.

       “I’m sorry, Eden, I didn’t mean anything by that,” Seije somberly interjected.

       Eden shot him a smile and patted his hand.

       “I know, Uncle Seije—I’m just… scared.  I thought I could be brave, but I’m not as strong as my mother,” Eden told him sadly.

       “That’s not true, child; what you did when I got stuck back there, that was not something most girls would do, reacting so quickly like that.  You may be a different brand of strong.  There are stories your mother could never tell you, but she had not thought of herself as strong then either.  Never would have admitted it though, stubborn as she is,” Seije told her in that tone of finality she had learned not to argue with.  Was it true?  Eden’s life always felt fragmented; was that a price her mother paid as well?

       Seije wanted to keep Eden company when they arrived at the farmhouse, but he knew he had to work fast to figure out what steps they had to take next.  He felt guilty but patted her hands again and nodded his head towards the house.

       “Eden, will you be okay seeing to yourself and exploring on your own for a bit?” he asked her, searching her face.  When she nodded quickly, he smiled and touched her cheek with a gloved hand.  “Atta girl…  Don’t go too far.”

       Eden sighed heavily. She hated when Seije still talked to her like she was a small child.  Fifteen-year-old girls could get married these days.  She felt forlorn again, but it was also true that marriage probably wasn’t in the cards for her either.  Lyria had thought so too, but when Pierait had taken on the Wellspring, she had been able to touch him. Later, her powers had dissolved altogether and she was able to let down her guard.  But their story was rarer than even once in a lifetime—that was once in the history of forever.  Eden didn’t believe she’d ever stumble on such a slim chance, told herself it wasn’t even something she wanted.  Once she had heard her mother lament that she would never forgive herself if Eden’s curse was the price she paid for her mistakes.  Eden was tired of hurting her mother, angry with both herself and Mama for not being a normal child.  But what did her mother believe exacted such a price on her own progeny?  With her mother, there were always more questions than answers.

       Eden walked around, touching things around the farmhouse only through the fabric of the gloves that protected them from the cold magic in her hands.  She could make them freeze still if she wanted to, but without the fabric, they would whether she wanted them to or not.  She wished she had had time to grab some of her clothes from the cottage and would love a shower (baths were, of course, another thing she could never enjoy, unless being broken out of a block of ice was her idea of relaxing).  She could run boiling hot water over her skin and it neither had time to burn her nor freeze on her skin.  That much was a comfort at least.

       She tired of wandering around after a while; some part of her hoped there would be a sort of adventure here, but she resigned herself to her boring, unfortunate life.  Be careful what you wish for, her mother would say, a life of adventure is overrated.  Some part of her yearned for the adventure her mother had tasted.  She never would have said as much to her mother, a woman that was both haunted and starry eyed in her revelry when she thought no one was looking.  Those extreme ups and downs were what made a life, but her mother always seemed so deadset on achieving balance.  Eden had always been so careful, she had needed to be, but what would it be like to take on life with all its risks and uncertainties?  She was anxious still, knowing from Seije’s stony face that something was amiss.  Maybe she spoke too soon.  Uncertainties were not foreign to her.  No, for Eden it was the inability to find her answers that agonized her.  The sun was leaving the sky so she decided it was time to go find Seije and see if he had decided what to do next.

       When she found him, he was poring over a book, flipping through the pages hungrily, managing to look both shocked and unhappy.  It was some sort of leather-bound book and when he saw her come closer, he slammed it shut and tucked it away, trying to smile past his disturbed expression.

       “Your mother and Melchior are okay at least, but it may be some time until we see them again.  For now, I think we might need to visit the Diviners again. Not right away, mind you, but if we don’t find answers here, it seems as good a choice as any. You remember the Diviners?” Seije asked her now and she nodded.

       “The Children of the Old Gods, where Queen Lyria is from,” Eden recited obediently.  “Don’t rush ahead—how do you know they’re okay and why are we going the opposite direction?  Mama and Melchior are south of here…”

Even though she argued, she knew somehow that he was right.  When she had been musing on her own, she kept feeling the strange urge to go north.  It went against logic and it bothered her.

       Seije struggled to find the answer, knowing he could not come clean with her just yet.  Even he was not meant to know, but he couldn’t exactly ‘unknow’ it now.

       “Because someone else we need to find thinks there might be an answer there. Also some answers move with the people that have them,” Seije told her cryptically.

       Eden frowned and pouted stubbornly.  She never looked more like Rienna than when she did that and it tugged a smile from Seije’s hard mouth.

       “And is there actually an answer?  I’m so done with more questions.  You know, those things you avoid when you want to treat me like a child?” Eden retorted.  She hated that she did sounds like a child just then, but she held her icy stare with defiance.

       Seije laughed and shook his head.

       “No, but that’s not why we’re going.  Eventually.  If I treat you like a child, it’s because you are one.  Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up,” Seije told her, shrugging as if that were all he could say.

       Eden narrowed her eyes, tired of the games.  She knew she was being foolish to instigate when he was right, but she was her mother’s daughter and she didn’t like losing.

       “You wouldn’t by chance have clothes to change into and a hot shower here?” she finally asked, giving up on the hope of learning more.  Although, it might be a little weird that he has clothes in her size here…

       “If you don’t mind some of your mother’s old clothes, then I can accommodate.  I’ve let her use this house on some of her trips before and she always left things behind.  It’s a bit of a waypoint for a few old friends as a matter of fact.  Lucky for you, I only seem to have two water temperatures here: ice cold and lava,” Seije offered.

       She managed to find a deep blue suede fitted top and pants with laces that could be adjusted to fit her better and she was all too happy to accept ‘lava’ as her temperature of choice.  She knew it was too much to hope her mother might leave a gown, but the ensemble was flattering. It was cut to a woman’s curve but moved without inhibiting her in the least.  Her mother was a warrior first and then a woman. She was surprised to see that she looked more like a woman than she would have thought possible, which was, of course, no comfort to overprotective Uncle Seije, judging by his barely-veiled look of dismay.  If you know anything about teenagers though, they know they’re heading in the right direction when adults don’t approve.

 

 

Chapter 2: Center of the Sun

 

       Abundance was immediately in mourning when news that their second king, Pierait, was now dead.  No one seemed to know what the cause was and if Lyria could help it, they never would.  There was a surge of strange energy under the ground where Pierait had once closed the old Wellspring.  The only thing that was ever placed there was a monument to the old King Oryn; cities too close to that spot had a tendency to be abandoned, with stories that the remnants of wraths and Furies still haunted there and some who went to sleep there never woke up.  The people of Wellspring Valley murmured fearfully—Pierait was still young for a king and this was the second king they had lost in less than two decades.  The Council had tried to persuade Pierait to stay and send scouts, but when he learned of the location, he had been adamant about going himself. Alone.

       There had been no body to recover but Lyria knew the truth—she would never tell.  The surge there had been wild magic.  She had tried to warn Pierait; as one of the Diviners, she had felt the phenomenon before.  It always happened where magic was unstable.  Despite having been told that magic was gone, she could still feel hints of it glitching around the Valley from time to time.  The Goddess they had sworn to never tell anyone about had gone silent over a decade ago, when she learned Rienna’s daughter first held her own power, and Lyria had been uneasy ever since.  Rienna never would have written about it—Lyria did not fault her friend since it would be part of the promise they made, but she was Queen and queens always had spiders.

       Time had made Lyria an even greater beauty and her children had been blessed with that and more.  Shortly before Rienna had given birth to her daughter Eden, Lyria had been blessed with her son, the Prince Solis.  He was a raven-haired boy with the most beautiful dark golden eyes she had ever seen.  When the light stirred in them, they looked like molten gold.  It took nearly four years after that before she bore children again; girl twins that she had named Annalise and Kerisala, calling them Anna and Keri for short.  Their brother Solis was thrilled to be a big brother and he was eager to help his mother care for them.  She wished that Melchior could have stayed to see them since they were born only a few weeks after he left, but he had been impatient to find Rienna and even a few more weeks added to the five years he had been away from her would be an eternity too many.

       Despite Pierait’s title, Lyria was the first to receive the monarchy so her position as Queen trumped her husband’s.  The Kingdom was not in quite the panic as it had been with the loss of the first King because the Queen was the central figure.  It did not make their mourning less, but the people whispered nervously.  Lyria was devastated by Pierait’s death and she was becoming distant and cold, even to her own children.  Still, Solis was determined to keep his sisters’ spirits up as much as possible.  They loved their father dearly and took his death hard.

       Lyria found comfort first in Silas.  She always had a soft spot for the guard that had made sure the nervous girl she had been was comforted on her first trip there.  King Oryn and Pierait had had much to talk about and she had felt like a third wheel.  It was a more adult sort of comfort this time around and where she felt guilty at first, eventually she allowed herself to be happy.  When Silas disappeared one day, her next lover became Sylvas, who had once been a courtesan before he had landed on the kingdom’s Council.  He had felt as guilty as Lyria had at first; he had admired her husband, but he also loved Lyria.  He had thought she was happy so what happened next, no one could have predicted.

       Sylvas had walked in to see her standing beside the Wellspring’s pillar, the Fount of Souls, with a distant look in her eyes.  He had started forward a bit fearful of the shadow on her face and by the time he realized what she intended, it was too late to reach her.  He wouldn’t have been able to if he had been close enough since the area around the Throne was magically inaccessible to all but those meant to sit upon it.  One minute she was there, the next she was gone; she stepped into the Fount and ceased to be.  Sylvas could swear he saw a smile on her face in those last moments, but he had crumbled to his knees, devastated by losing her, mortified as to what he would tell her children.         They were orphans now.

       Solis was fifteen when his father died and was no better prepared to hear the news of his mother now.  Still, he seemed resolute that he would look after his sisters still and he would not deny the Throne.  Except the Throne did not accept the boy so they were forced to take on a regent until it would accept an heir.  The way the succession worked was that even if Solis or his sisters were not accepted, they would retain their suites and positions at the palace.  This, however, opened the throne room to throngs of people eager to be the next King or Queen.

       It was Sylvas that took on the position as Royal Regent, but he was not happy to do so.  With Lyria gone, he had wanted to leave and travel to Ersenais where his brother Arden lived with his wife Lily.  Only he had learned that Arden and his friends virtually disappeared and in the place where his friend Rienna’s cottage had been, a putrid swamp had swallowed the place overnight.  The garden there was still poking up through the water, not all of it destroyed by the intrusion.

       Resigned to his position, he had to admit he would have worried over Lyria’s orphans if he had gone.  It was Solis that seemed to suffer most—a 16-year-old boy now, having lost his parents within the span of a year and trying to fit the new role of protector over his 12-year-old sisters.  Once a week, Solis tried to penetrate the barrier around the Throne, cringing as he did.  Sylvas knew the boy did not want the Throne.  Solis was dutiful and brave, but he was also impulsive and curious.  Sylvas knew the boy had thought he would have had more time to be a boy—that he would have had adventures like his parents had before it would come time to inherit his mother’s throne.  Solis had sulked at first, but over the span of a few months, the sadness turned to unbottled rage and rebellious restlessness.

       On Solis’ 17th birthday, he locked himself in his room and refused to acknowledge the celebration Abundance was throwing in his honor.  Even though his room was lavish and opulent, as one would expect of a royal heir’s room, it started to feel smaller as the hours pushed on and Solis decided to sneak out of his room via a hidden passage and make his way to the Throne room.  Since his mother’s death, that room was always locked in the evenings after the public took turns trying to be given the honor, but he had come in through the window so no one would know he was there.

       The room was kept as pristine and clean as the rest of the castle and Solis felt the sadness tighten around his chest as he looked at the thrones his mother and father once sat upon, seeing them now as if they were still there.  The Fount of Souls hummed behind it, once a thing he had considered warm and comforting but now saw it as a grave—rightly so, for it had been his mother’s.  He was dressed in the silk and velvet ensemble that his mother had selected for his birthday last year, a little tight across the chest and thighs as he grew stronger, but still fitting.  It was gold and purple, his mother’s favorite colors for him.  His dark hair was tousled and short and he ran his hand through it now anxiously, stepping forward to try the barrier.

       Solis had not heard his sisters being let into the room (he forgot that they were also tried for the throne once a month in the evenings) when the barrier pushed him back.  His rage and anguish hit breaking point and in a combination of a scream and a growl he kept charging forward as the barrier insistently pushed him back over and over, Annalise and Kerisala watching in fear as their guards stood in front of them.

       It wasn’t the anger alone that was terrifying, but the heat and light building around him that made the guards and the girls afraid.  Even Solis’s golden eyes seemed to have turned into boiling, molten gold.  He spun around violently, hearing a whimper that escaped Annalise’s lips and the flare exploded from him, the guards using their bodies to shield the girls from the blast.

       “NO!” Solis screamed helplessly, as the power battered the guards, charring them instantly as Solis fought the pain this burst of power was causing him, still attempting to reach his sisters.  His clothes burnt away leaving him covered in soot and fire.

       The flare stopped and the room was cooling as he dug through the crumbling remains of the guards, trying to find his sisters.  When he was able to find them, their hair and dresses were singed and they were sobbing, burnt in some places but still alive.  He was relieved only for a moment before realizing that alive or no, the girls would be scarred, physically and emotionally.  Even now, those glazed pairs of eyes called him stranger.

       He backed away in disbelief as more guards flooded into the room, Sylvas in tow, having been drawn by the shrieks of the dying men.  He was certain that magic was gone; his parents had told him and there was no sign of it. What sort of hell came out of him just now?  His lips quivered in terror as the guards rounded him with hostility, meaning to capture him.  His sisters’ nursemaids came in, gathering the wounded girls up to administer to their wounds elsewhere.  He impulsively reached his hand out, a helpless sound escaping his lips as he tried to call for them, but his throat wouldn’t work.  The nearest guards raised their shields as if he would use the power again.

       “N-no, I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” Solis croaked out, finally finding his voice, but it burned to talk and he clapped his hand to his throat. 

       His eyes found Sylvas’s and the regent who had always been a friend to his parents held sympathy and urgency in his eyes now. 

       Sylvas noticed that where the boy had his back to the window, no guards blocked him in and hoped the boy would take the hint before things got worse.

       “Solis, go!” Sylvas roared uncharacteristically, the man being naturally soft-spoken.

       Solis looked behind him wildly, but hesitated.  The way down wasn’t far but if he screwed up the landing with a sloppy exit, he would be caught anyway.  While he hesitated, a lance sliced the air in front of him and might have fatally wounded him but he turned just in time for it to slice across his right eyebrow.  Blood poured through the gash, but it snapped Solis into action and he dove out of the window, landing without incident and running wildly away from the castle and away from all he knew.  He was far too scared to be bothered by the filth and nudity as he fled down the hill.

 

       Solis had been able to steal a horse from a neighboring farm (although naked bareback riding was not an experience he would ever wish to repeat again).  He rode well into the evening until he had been able to reach a manmade river that flowed off of the river his mother had never liked very much: the Wailing River, it had been called once.  It had since been renamed Serene River but it had still repulsed her. It was surrounded in a thick forest so it felt like a good place to hide.  He had been careful to steer clear of the main roads—being a Prince was one thing, but he was naked and fleeing on a stolen horse, so he stood out quite a bit.

       The manmade part of the river broke off into smaller creeks and the local farmers would use them for irrigation.  He let the horse run off where it would, trying to figure out where he would find clothes and food.  He was ravenous and would kill for a bath right then.  He stepped into the creek, gasping at how cold the water was but wanting to be clean anyway.  Once he washed all the dirt away, he stuck his head under the clean water and drank great gulps of it, nearly drowning himself in his eagerness to sate his thirst.

       When he pulled his head up panting, he noticed a young woman was watching him with a strange expression on her face.  He hurried to cover his groin and stood in the water, not daring to move and scare her off.  Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back under a red bandana and she wore a blue and brown dress that reminded him of a milkmaid.  She was barefoot and she had big blue eyes.  She shifted the empty bucket to her other hand as if it suddenly became too heavy.  After observing him for a moment, she smiled crookedly in amusement.

       “Forget your clothes, handsome?” the girl lilted flirtatiously, laughing when he blushed.  Despite being no stranger to the sun, he had inherited his father’s natural paleness and his blush was all the more vivid for it.

       He tried to smile through his embarrassment, starting to raise a hand to scratch his head nervously then quickly making sure he was still covered.  This earned him another of her high-pitched sweet laughs.

       “I, ah… scared off my horse.  Shouldn’t have left him untethered with my clothes on his back,” Solis lied, knowing the truth was out of the question.

       She laughed again and shook her head.

       “You’re a bad liar, but I won’t tell.  I’ve a brother about your size though, so I don’t think he’ll mind giving something up,” she told him, coming closer.  He stood his ground, not looking to have her poke fun at him again.

       “Here, hold my bucket while I get it,” she asked him teasing.

       He narrowed his eyes at her, not about to fall for the same mistake twice.  Nudity clearly didn’t bother her.  She laughed again.

       “So you’re a smart one at least.  I’ll be back,” she said, running off with the bucket. 

       It only took her a few minutes to come back and she only carried the clothes with her, having left the bucket behind.  She started to hand the clothes to him and was greeted with another one of his icy stares, so she shrugged and set them on a nearby stump.

       “I never caught your name…” Solis started, not daring to move just yet.

       “Melina, but my brothers just call me Mel.  What about you, cutie?” Mel asked him back.

       “Silas,” Solis told her flatly.  He didn’t relish giving her the name of one of his mother’s lovers but it was close enough.

       She nodded, accepting the information easily enough.  She jutted out her hip as she rested her hand on it impatiently.

       “You can get dressed now.  I promise you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” Mel teased.

       The girl had to be younger than him but she was clearly more experienced, both in a worldly sense and an earthier one.  Solis was no stranger to kissing and even a little grabbing but he hadn’t been more intimate.  That sort of thing required privacy and even when entertaining nobility, there were very few allowances.  Privileged children always had servants, guards, or chaperones about.  He observed the girl as she watched what he would do and he gritted his teeth indecisively.

       “I’m not really accustomed to changing in front of anyone,” Solis admitted unhappily.  That was only partly true. He had manservants to dress him, but he wasn’t a prince now and ‘anyone’ was true enough if it were to mean a female. 

       Mel shrugged easily and turned her back to him.

       “I think I’ve teased you enough.  I’ll wait,” Mel shot back with her usual ease.

       Solis inched towards the stack of clothes, keeping his eye on her to see if this weren’t another of her tricks.  She kept her back turned though and he slipped into the clothes quickly.  They were a bit big for him and a dull grey color, but they were soft and clean at least, which was a relief to him.  He inspected the clothes on him and looked up to see Mel grinning at him again.

       “Did you want to join us for dinner? Pa told me it’s almost done if you’re hungry,” Mel offered.

       Solis did not hesitate to accept, his stomach embarrassing him by rumbling its agreement.  Before she had shown up, he thought he was going to be eating nuts and berries tonight so it was a huge step up, even if it were hot porridge. He looked around warily as she pulled his arm, leading him up a steep hill to her house down the way.  He didn’t see any pursuers and hoped maybe they hadn’t come after him.  He was terrified he might hurt someone again.

 

       After dinner, Solis was satiated, so full it smothered the knot of anxiety in the core of his being.  He was glad for the extra room in the borrowed clothes as well.  Mel had been the only female in the bunch; her father, grandfather and slew of four older brothers had filed in on autopilot.  It couldn’t have been more synchronized if a dinner bell had been rung.  They certainly didn’t stand on ceremony with an extra mouth to feed and Mel’s ‘Pa’ had slapped him on the back, handed him a plate and told him to help himself.  He didn’t doubt that it would have been the same reception even if he had announced himself the Prince of the realm.  These were humble, simple people who didn’t waste time. Despite the unfamiliarity of it all, Solis found himself warming up to this mini-adventure.  Sticking his nose up at it was not in his nature.

       For the most part, the family had shoveled food and said little but Mel at least would catch him observing them. He must have been making faces because Mel would elbow him and laugh.  The brothers would watch him when he wasn’t looking at them though and more than once he had caught them peering around their bowls or cups in scrutiny of the newcomer.  He couldn’t help but stick out; he sat up straight, used utensils and chewed his food.  Mel wasn’t quite the mess her family was, but she wouldn’t have passed muster at a royal table either.

       The largest and burliest of the brothers (from whom he was certain he didn’t receive his clothes for the sheer size of the lad) had finished his meal by clapping his bowl to the table loudly and belching heartily, using the sleeve of his sweat-stained shirt as an impromptu napkin.  He glared at Solis openly now, watching his movements unguardedly. Solis ignored him until he had his fill then slouched back in the chair and returned the look.

       “So what would have a scrawny lad like you wandering naked in these woods anyway?” the booming voice of the brother demanded.  He noticed Mel hadn’t wasted any time filling them in.

       “Since when do we go prying into the business of travelers, Garit?” Mel snapped back, surprising Solis.  She had been so laidback up to this point that her quickness to anger caught him off-guard.  He caught her glance and shook his head to signal the brother’s inquiry didn’t bother him.

       “It’s fine.  To be honest, I’m not quite sure how I ended up here either,” Solis admitted, glad that it was a truer statement than any.  He was still scared that the uncontrollable power would come back.  He didn’t want to hurt anyone and he wondered if the magic could consume him as well.  He shuddered to think he might implode like a miniature sun.  Would he feel the sensation of being turned inside out before he died?

       Before he could continue, the grandfather decided to chime in, a strong voice coming from the bent but hearty old man.

       “Something wrong with your memory, lad?” the old man barked gruffly.

       For a moment, he thought that could be a possibility.  Grief had done a number on his head in the past year.  He couldn’t remember what name he had given Mel for a moment…

       “Name’s Silas, sir; I can tell you that much.  I was making my way to Maharyjab and got a bit careless.  Lost my horse and my clothes with it,” Solis repeated, still not liking the taste of the lie.  Any variation of the truth was far too mortifying though.  Hi, I’m the Crown Prince of Abundance, I almost burnt my little sisters in a magical fire that destroyed my clothes and sent me running naked halfway across the valley…

       Solis wasn’t sure why he thought of Maharyjab but he had remembered his mother talking about having grown up there.  It seemed as good a place as any to go to.  He certainly didn’t have any better prospects here.  He wondered himself where these people were from.  Until nearly two decades ago, this place was a wasteland.  No one was really from here on the other side of being a teenager, unless maybe they happened to live in Abundance when it was still called Sorrow.

       “Well, I’m supposing you don’t have a place to sleep tonight neither, but we have a barn round back that would suffice,” Mel’s Pa offered in the same gruff manner that seemed typical of the males.  Mel was by no means demure but she still seemed out of place with her unprecedented grace and soft high voice.  Even with her brash speech, she was still undoubtedly feminine.  He wondered when she had lost her mother.  She had to have known her, but it couldn’t have been too recent either.

       Mel grabbed Solis’s hand and pulled him to his feet excitedly.

       “Come on, I’ll show you where it is!  We just put some fresh sweet-grass in the loft so it ought to be really comfy!” Mel told him, impatiently yanking on his arm to encourage him to speed up

       A combination of overindulgence and hesitation kept his steps stubborn against her insistence.  She wanted to be sure these males weren’t going to rip him apart for going with her.  Despite their nonchalance, he still believed that if he were stupid enough to get on Mel’s bad side, they’d rend him to a bloody pulp. He had never needed to be so protective of his sisters with a royal guard at their disposal.  At this point, he would be lucky if they didn’t grow to hate him. He gave in with a sigh once they were outside of the small home, picking up his pace to match hers.

 

 

       It was summer and there was only the slightest bit of lavender on the horizon before the gradation to navy blue speckled with the dusting of starlight above.  Solis always loved the smells of summer nights and felt a twinge of homesickness as he thought of the idyllic summers when his parents were still alive. The distraction of his own memories was met with an insistent tug of his arm from Mel.  The barn door opened with a loud creak and Mel slipped inside, dropping his hand as she set about grabbing a sturdy wooden ladder that was propped up on the side wall and balancing it in the notches built to steady it, obviously leading up to the loft.  There was a railing built to hold in the sweet-grass up there and a large window with wooden doors, opened to let the moonlight in.  Without saying anything more, Mel sped up the ladder and disappeared into the loft.  After a few moments, she peered down at him frowning impatiently.

       “Get your cute ass up here, Silas.  Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?” Mel ordered, disappearing from view again.

       He scratched his head, not quite sure what to make of it, but shrugged and climbed up the ladder.

       Solis slipped and plunged forward into the mountain of sweet-grass, eliciting a laugh from Mel as he fumbled to right himself.  At least there was no doubting that the grass was comfortable; it didn’t scratch him while he waded through it clumsily.  He felt her hands reach in and grab a handful of his borrowed shirt to rescue him.

       Mel laughed girlishly as she collapsed into his side, nesting under his arm.  Solis was assaulted by a mix of turbulent emotions; confusion, embarrassment, anger and amusement.  He laughed with her for a moment at his clumsiness but when it passed and she stayed lying there, he fought a losing battle not to tense up at the intimacy.  Mel seemed completely unaffected and just stared up at the full pink moon in the sky, the light warm breeze rustling through the open window.  That and her soft breathing was all he heard, for he was certain he had stopped breathing. He gasped in reaction when her hand crept up and lay over his heart.  He was certain she could feel its frantic pace but she didn’t look at him or say anything.

       “Hard to believe this place was a wasteland once, isn’t it?” Mel mused reverently.  Solis couldn’t disagree.  The barn was in a spot where you could peer into a farming valley below them, far off into the distance.  There used to be a wall there that kept in the most terrifying creatures; wraiths, Furies, the nightmares that made you rush to your parents’ bed at night.  The Furies were the product of the Soulless that failed to fulfill their Purpose before death; they became twisted abominations of rage and hatred.  When the Soulless were given souls by Solis’s own father, King Pierait (who had been Soulless himself), the Furies were released from their torment to return to the Wellspring, purified and ready for rebirth.  His father had managed to restore balance to the world in a way the old gods could not and they had taken notice.

       Solis must have thought too long on it because Mel propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him curiously.  At some point, she must have taken off the bandana because her chestnut waves framed her face now.  She looked even more like a girl now.  His eyes found the cleft of shadow between her small, firm breasts and he had difficulty swallowing.  He felt a tightening in his groin and looked down at himself, shooting up into a sitting position, nearly colliding heads trying to hide proof of his interest.

       Mel sat up, frowning at his face.  She nearly asked what his problem was but then she caught him attempting to cover himself better, she stilled his fidgeting by laying her hands on either side of his face to make him look at her.

       “You think that bothers me?  Hell, I’m flattered.  You can pretend all you want that you’re just any old traveler, Silas, but I can tell you’re special.  Can I give you something to remember me by?” Mel spoke softly, like you would to a startled horse, but her voice held a thicker sweeter promise.

       Solis frowned as her small hand easily found his cock and encased it firmly but gently.  He gasped and stifled a groan as her little hand slid over him, increasing his euphoria and need.  He was a teenager, so this wasn’t the first time he experienced this, only her hand was very different from his own. He made to push her away when the sensation jumped through him and made him throb where she held him, but she clutched his shirt and brought his lips to hers roughly.

       Her kiss became gentler as she stroked him slowly.  He groaned involuntarily and she could tell he was thrilling too quickly so she removed her hand and pulled her lips back just enough to speak, but leaving their noses still touching.

       “Go easy, Silas; it feels a lot better if you hold out as long as you can,” Mel coached him breathlessly before kissing him again. This time, she teased his mouth, penetrating it with her tongue and withdrawing.

       She pulled down the bodice of her dress to expose her breasts, but Solis was too entranced by what she was doing with her mouth to notice.  She took his hands and pressed his palms to her breasts.  They both gasped at the feeling, but Silas broke off the kiss to verify what he was feeling.

      She could feel him trying to pull his hands away shyly but she held his hands to her firmly and started to rhythmically sway into his palms in a mimicry of sexual writhing.  Her eyes were shut and her lips were parted as she concentrated on the sensation.  He watched her, his pulse like thunder in his ears.  She opened her eyes and looked at him now.

       “Touch me, Silas; it’s okay, I’ll tell you what I like,” Mel told him sweetly.

       She dropped her hands and he pulled his hands away briefly before running a finger around the nipple of her left breast.  She gasped and he was afraid he had hurt her but she nodded and bit her lip.  He lowered his head to look at her breasts and was inspired enough to lean forward and take one of the pink pearly buds into his mouth.  This time, she whimpered and said yes and he lathed the bud with his tongue, causing her to clutch his head.  He pulled back afraid he was going too far.

       Mel laughed breathlessly.

       “You’re doing great, Silas; pleasure can sound like pain if you’re doing it right,” she told him now.

       “Why do you keep talking like I’ve never done this before?” Solis growled at her, pulling her head back by yanking on her hair so he could nibble on her neck.  She laughed and clutched him tighter.

       “I know a virgin when I see one.  Though how you’ve made it this far without doing so I’ll never understand. You’re simply amazing…” Mel complimented.

       At this point, lust seemed to quicken and fingers fumbled to remove clothes until they lay naked as the day they were born.  Mel pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, slowing down their passions just long enough to lay a kiss on his mouth.  She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at him as he squirmed impatiently at her pause in the action.  She rubbed her slick wet heat against his aching cock and he seemed ready to spend too soon so he stopped her teasing again.

       “You’re going to want to let go when you’re in me.  If you ever want a second go at a girl though, you’re going to want to fight that, okay?” she told him and he nodded, feverish now from need.  She laughed and kissed him again.

She sat up and took him in her hand to guide his length into her body.  She slid him in slowly, lowering herself against him to take the full length of him into her body.  He groaned but he held onto his control as she quickened the pace and bounced into a steady rhythm.

       Looking at the hypnotic bobbing of her breasts nearly set him over the edge so he looked away and concentrated both on the sensation and his control.  He heard her cry out in release but she only slowed, not yet stopping so he held on.  When she moved even faster, he found it much harder to hold on and when she cried out a second time, he lost that control and released himself into her.

       Mel crumpled on top of him, leaving him inside of her still, her head nestled in the curve of his neck and shoulder as their breaths slowed to normal.

       “Sorry, I couldn’t hold out any longer,” Solis apologized to her.

       She laughed tiredly and rolled off of him.

       “You gotta be kidding.  That was pretty stellar, even for me! I wasn’t expecting you to hold out for a second round!” she praised him. 

       Her eyes widened perceptibly, her jaw falling slack as she gazed at him in awe.  Her face seemed to glow from their romp, but as the haze lifted, he realized the light she was bathed in came from his golden eyes.  He started to panic but she laughed and stilled his ineffective struggles and the glowing subsided on its own.

       Mel rolled over and started to dig for her clothes in the grass and he laughed and joined her on the search.  She got dressed rather quickly, but he was happy to stay undressed.  She reached along the wall and pulled out a blanket.

       “These summer nights can get pretty chilly, so you might need this,” she told him, tossing it next to him so she could enjoy his nudity a bit longer.  “I better head back before they send out a search party.”

       Mel headed toward the ladder and started to climb down.

       “Mel?” Solis called out.

       “Yes?”

       “You could come with me, you know…” Solis told her now.  He didn’t want to leave her now, but it was far too dangerous to stay.

       She smiled and shook her head.

       “I could, but I’m happy here.  Traveling is dangerous work.  Bring me a souvenir if you’re ever in the area again, okay?”

 

       When it was time to leave the next morning, Solis found a small pack with a few pieces of fruit, some jerky and hard bread and cheese.  Mel and her family were most likely farming already since the sun had been up for more than an hour.  He thought about looking for her to say goodbye, but he gathered up the small travel offering, smiled and continued on to Maharyjab.