The World Soul

[An Enemy Spy]

Here's some writing I've done. I hope you enjoy and leave a comment.

Spoiler: Chapter 1

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The Mountain raged against the night sky. From its open crater rivers of lava rushed out and cascaded down its slopes in bright orange streams. Acrid smoke filled the sky, illuminated by the fire below and the thunderbolts that cracked within, blacking out the stars above.

The Mountain is angry tonight. Thought the Adept of Fire as he watched the spectacle of light and darkness from his high tower. And why should it not be? He reasoned, The death of the King draws near.

“The stars are veiled.” The acolyte Animah said. “They will send us no omen tonight.” The younger salamander was hale and strong, and his bright orange scales still retained their youthful sheen unlike the Adept’s, which had faded to the color of red clay. Aminah was a devoted follower, and welcome in the Adept of Fire’s advanced age, but he had the impatience of youth.

“We must see this night through. The King’s time grows short and the star spirits will send their message soon, and we cannot be unaware when that message comes.” The old salamander had given up his own name years ago when he had taken the role of the Adept of Fire. His purpose was to lead the Fire Priests and to serve the Kingdom of the Mountain. His old identity was burned away so that he could fulfill his purpose without the weight of former attachments. When Animah took his place as the Adept’s successor, his own name would be cast aside as well. “Our vigil cannot end until the sign comes or the Sun blesses us with its light for another day.”

The observatory was the highest chamber in the Temple of Light, and the only one whose ceiling was nothing but open sky. Arrayed on a table of black stone were scrolls and books and clay tablets, filled with star charts and histories and prophecies written in ancient tongues that only the Fire Priests still remembered. For generations stretching back into the unlit past when the world was young, the Fire Priests of the Temple of Light had overseen the succession of Kings, ensuring that the strength and wisdom of each ruler carried on into the next one. When the Kings were near death the Adepts would sequester themselves at the top of the Temple’s high tower and watch for a sign from the spirits of starlight to tell them that the next King would be the last, the one whose arrival the Salamanders had prepared for since the days when the star spirits walked upon the earth.

In all that time no sign had ever been sent, but still… the Kings’ lives had grown shorter, the essence of Fire in their spirits burned hotter and fiercer than other salamanders but that fire consumed them all the quicker. The last King in the Mountain had wasted away so quickly that they said the Adept at the time had barely made it to him in time to ensure the succession, and now the current King’s life fires were killing him before even his fortieth year. If the time for the prophesied final King of the Mountain was to come, it could not be long now.

“I am sorry, Adept.” Animah said, lowering his eyes in contrition. “I allowed my impatience to get the better of me.”

“Patience will be a necessary trait when you are the Fire Adept. We have watched the stars and waited for a thousand lifetimes or more. It is more than likely that neither you or I will ever see the promised sign, but we must watch the stars regardless.”

“Yes Adept. I will remember that.”

“Good. Let that be the end of this.” There was no need to reprimand Animah any further for his mistake. He turned to the scrolls to peruse a chart showing the positions of the stars in this time of year. “Even without an omen, preparation for the King’s rebirth must soon be underway. The Keeper of the Young has presented me-”

“Look!” Animah pointed to the sky, his eyes had gone wide.

The Adept looked upward. A patch of sky was still visible beyond the the Mountain’s ash and there a white comet blazed across the stars. The Adept had no words. All his life he had waited for this moment, the moment his people had waited for since the world’s dawn. The comet was beautiful, it’s white light pierced the blackness around it, a harbinger of wonders and terrors to come. All of the Adept’s years and wisdom abandoned him, he was as entranced in his awe as a child glimpsing the glory of the night sky for the very first time. He was enraptured by it, and he was also afraid.

“Is this the sign we have waited for?” Animah said breathlessly.

“Have my palanquin readied.” The Adept said. “The King will die tonight.”

“Yes, Adept.” Animah turned and left down the stairs.

The Adept went to the table and gathered up the scrolls and tablets, painstaKingly placing them back onto the shelves to which they belonged. On one shelf a box sat alone. Of ebony it was made, with golden filigree in the shape of dancing flames. Never in his life had the Adept opened this box, although he carried its key with him at all times. Only upon the King’s imminent death was the box to be opened, and the Adept must be ready at all times. He took the brass key from his robe, put into the lock and turned it. Inside the box was dagger wrought of bronze so brightly polished that it shone like a mirror. The blade was curved in the shape of a long tongue of fire and the handled was carved of the same black wood as the box that housed it and set with a stone of orange tourmaline.

This was the Adept’s purpose, it was the reason he was born, but it was still with a sense of trepidation that he picked up the knife. The salamander he saw reflected in the blade was so old, so weary. He had lived to see the time of prophecy begin, but he would not live to see its culmination. Was that that a cruelty or a mercy, he wondered? What he set in motion tonight others would suffer the consequences of.

The Adept looked back at the sky for the comet, but it was no longer visible behind the smoke, it’s heavenly light swallowed by darkness. That was the price of hesitation. There could be no room for second guessing, not at this point, not with the weight of all his people’s history upon his shoulders. The time for awe was over. Now his work had to begin.

He slid the dagger into his belt and closed the box shut. He descended the steps down through the floors of the temple. The going was slow. His old joints protested with each step and his tail slapped upon the stone stairs as he went. It was strange to think that he had once bounded up and down these very stairs as a young initiate, but that time had long passed. To be young again, if only for one night… but those thoughts were foolish. Time and aged stopped for no one, and the King’s time had nearly run out. What vanity it was to dwell on his lost youth when another’s death was so near.

At the bottom floor of the temple the fire priests waited, the black garbed Confessors, the red Lightbearers, the Guardians in yellow. The heads of the orders were all there, accompanied by their acolytes. Behind them stood temple initiates dressed in white.

The Prime Confessor stepped forward, her scales mottled grey and her blind eyes milky white. “Adept, Animah has told us that the day we have waited for has arrived, that the star spirits have sent their herald to us at long last.”

“It is true.” The Adept said, loudly enough for all in the room to hear. “A comet burns across the sky, a blazing sword of white flame to cleanse our King and make him anew, as he shall make anew this dying world!”

A hush fell over the listeners. Some looked excited, even elated. The Lightbearer Prime fell to his knees and praised the star spirits’ gift, as did his red robed followers. Others were more apprehensive, however. A nervous glance passed between two Confessors, and more than a few of the Initiates looked mortified. The Adept understood their concerns. It was one thing to wait for the time of prophecy, and another thing entirely to see it actually come to pass. There would be much rejoicing when the word of this night reached the people, but in private there would be dread as well.

“The word must be spread to the people.” The Adept said. “Many will seek guidance at the temple. We must be ready to receive them. Wake all who are asleep and open the temple’s doors. Lightbearers, go into the city and let it be known that the reign of the last King in the Mountain has begun. Where is the Keeper of the Young?”

“He has gone to fetch the child, Adept.” The Guardian Prime answered. “He should return soon.”

It was not long before the door on the far end of the chamber swung open and in marched the Keeper of the Young, followed by a train of blue robed acolytes. The last one in was a young female carrying a child in her arms. It was a male baby, black with yellow spots running the length of his body and tail. Newborn babes were always being brought to the temple to be raised as Initiates. The temple encouraged the parents of unwanted or inconvenient children to bring them to the temple rather than leaving them to the elements like the degenerate and faithless faeries of the south were known to do. When it became known that the King was dying, the number of babies brought to the temple had multiplied, doubtless by parents hoping that their blood would sit the throne.

“The child is ready, Adept.” The Keeper of the Young stated.

“Excellent. Allow me to see him.”

The Keeper of the Young motioned to the young acolyte with the babe in arms. “Come, present the child to the Adept.”

Her eyes downcast, the acolyte stepped forward. The child was still clutched tightly to her chest. Doubtless the girl had grown attached to the babe. It was not uncommon among the younger Keepers, nor was a sense of nervousness when speaKing to the Adept for the first time.

The Adept laid a hand upon her shoulder. “There is nothing to fear, child. Nothing bad will happen to the baby.” That was not strictly speaKing the whole truth, but the girl did not need to be burdened with that knowledge. The Adept took the child’s hand in his and let it grab hold of his finger. “He is strong. He will be a great and powerful King.” That was no lie, the baby was in perfect health as the Adept had made sure of when he chose him for the succession. Had its life been allowed to continue, the child would likely have made for a fine Guardian or even a Fire Warrior.

“It is an honor to have cared for the King.” The acolyte said. She held the child up and the Adept took it from her. The baby curled up into his arm, its tail in its mouth. It had thankfully not begun to cry when taken from its carers arms as many newborns were wont to do. That would not have been a Kingly display.

“It is time I left for the palace.” The Adept said. “Guardian, attend me.”

“Attend the Adept!” The Guardian Prime shouted. Four guardians stepped forth, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. They accompanied the Adept as he left through the temple door, two on each side of him.

Animah waited outside with the Adept’s palanquin. It was a carrier fit for a priest of his station, with plush red seats and red drapes, and decorated with golden flames. Four muscled salamanders were its bearers, each with bear chests upon which the image of dancing flames had been tattooed. Many nobles preferred dwarf slaves to carry their palanquins, but the Adept’s servants were the blood of Fire. It would not do to be carried by the lower races.

“Take the child.” The Adept instructed Animah. “This is to be your King, it is well that you should carry him.” He handed the baby off and stepped into the palanquin. Animah climbed in after him and sat on the opposite side. The porters lifted the palanquin and began the journey out the gates of the great black citadel of the temple and into the city.

Black buildings against a black sky, the city was silent. In the absence of the stars, the only light to see by were the torches that lined the streets and the lava that ran down the Mountain’s slopes. It was here on the Mountain, the heart of Fire, the giver of heat and the destroyer of life, that the salamanders made their home. From its black stone was the city built, and by its heat were the city’s people sustained.

The city was a tangled nest of dark alleyways and shadowy corners, unwelcoming to those who stumbled in without knowing the way, unwary of the sharp eyes and sharp knives that followed behind. The road between the Temple of Light and the palace was straight and wide however, and even without the Guardians flanKing the palanquin, there was not a soul in the city who would dare raise a hand against the Adept of Fire.

Animah looked down at the little salamander in his arms. “It is strange to think that one so small could carry such burden. You say this is the one who will make the world anew, but I see nothing but a baby.”

“As he is, that is true.” The Adept said, “As he will be though, that is another thing altogether. He will need guidance. He will need a strong Adept.”

“You will do the job admirably.” Animah said.

“I am talKing about you, Animah.”

Animah turned his gaze away and looked out at the dark city. “That is years away from being true.”

“I will not live to see the King into his maturity. That is your burden to bear. You and this child are bonded. I was the Adept for the old King, and you must the Adept for the new one. I want his training to be done by you.”

Animah looked taken aback. “I-I am not yet Adept. I have not a tenth of your wisdom! How am I to be entrusted with such a task?”

“As the new King grows into his role, so shall you. I shall dedicate myself to your training, and you shall do the same for him. The bond must be strong. I cannot give the King what he needs. He will be the last King in the Mountain and you will be the last Adept of Fire. There is no one else I would entrust with this.”

Animah bowed his head. “I am honored, Adept. When you are gone, I will remember your trust in me.”

Unlike the grandiose pyramids favored by the dwarfs, the salamander’s palace was not a massive building above the ground, but instead was sheltered inside the Mountain itself. The only part visible to the outside was the black curtain wall whose gate was flanked by a pair of thick guard towers whose top were lined with snarling grotesques. Archers peered down upon the palanquin as the iron portcullis was lifted to grant the Adept access.

The palanquin was brought into the courtyard and set down by the Adept’s carriers. Cut into the dark rock of the Mountain was a stairway leading the palace’s front doors, a towering monstrosity of bronze and gold, emblazoned with the image of the Phoenix, that greatest of birds whose body and spirit were the purest essence of Fire who each day lived and died only to be born again. A more fitting symbol could not have been chosen for this night, The Adept reflected as he stepped out of the palanquin.

A great metal groan sounded over the courtyard and slowly, the palace doors opened outward, revealing the orange light within. A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway and descended the stairs. It was one of the Archons, the King’s highest advisors. As he drew nearer, the Adept recognized him through his fading vision as the Archon of Purity, in charge of maintaining the salamanders’ traditions and rooting out those who would question them.

“Well met, Adept.” The Archon said as he approached them.

“And to you as well.” The Adept said. He motioned to Animah. “This is my acolyte Animah, who I have chosen as my successor.”

The Archon of Purity inclined his head to Animah. “It is an honor to meet the future Adept. Is that the child?”

“It is.” Animah said.

The Archon looked the child over. “You have chosen well, Adept. This child is strong. It is well you should bring him to the palace. I fear the King’s time has nearly run out.”

“The King will die tonight.” The Adept said. “A great white comet appeared in the heavens tonight, a sign from the stars that the reign of the last King in the Mountain is about to begin.”

“This is… this is the last King?” The Archon asked, unable to hide his shock.

“It is.” The Adept said.

“I never thought I would live to see this day.” The Archon said, “Now that I have… come, if what you say is true then we must see the King immediately. If you will follow me.”

“Of course.” The Adept said.

Up the stairs they went, slowly to allow for the Adept’s old knees, and into the Great Hall, a huge chamber whose arched ceiling was made from obsidian and set with thousands of diamonds that glittered like stars in the flickering firelight. They went through a stone passageway and then down a stairwell that went deeper and deeper into the Mountain’s fiery heart. The stone was warm down here, blessed by the Mountain’s heat.

At last they reached the King’s sanctum and went into his bedchamber. There, surrounded by a throng of healers, servants, and the other Archons, lay the King in the Mountain, the Fire Soul, Lord of the Salamanders, and the Adept’s friend of over twenty years. A mere thirty four years of age, he looked more than twice that. His skin hung over his bones, his hands were like gnarled tree branches, the luster of his scales was like faded stone. His eyes though, his eyes shone like wildfire, bright and orange.

The King raised his head when the Adept entered the room. “Adept, is that you?”

“It is, my King.” The Adept stepped forward, through the other salamanders that stepped aside to let him past, and took the King’s hand. “I am here.” The King’s flesh was hot to the touch, like roast meat straight off the spit. His friend had a strength of spirit stronger than any other, and it was killing him.

“Good... that is... good.” The words came slowly and with effort. “The rest of you… leave us. I wish… to speak… to the Adept alone.” The others bowed their heads and left, first the Archons and then the servants and healers after them, all but Animah who remained holding the baby in his arms. “I would… hate to… have such an audience…to see me die. That is… why you are here… is it not?”

The Adept had known the King since he was no taller than his thigh. He had watched him grow into a fierce and wise King, full of vigor and life. His swift deterioration was inevitable, the flame that burned brightest also burned shortest, but to see him like this…

“We are both at the end of our journeys.” The Adept said. “You simply rushed along faster than I did. I did always tell you you were impatient.”

The King gave a laugh which soon turned into a hacKing cough. “Tell me, Adept, are you afraid... of the journey’s end?”

“Death gives way to new life.” The Adept replied. “A fire cannot burn forever. To ask for more than we are given would be selfish.”

“Spoken like… a true priest. Help me sit up.” The Adept took the King by the shoulders, and with much groaning, they managed to get the King to sit upright in bed. “Is that... the new King? Come, let me… see him.”

“Yes, my King.” Animah brought the child forward and placed him gently into the King’s arms.

The King looked fondly down on the child, who looked back with bright blue eyes. “Look at you.” He said. The child opened its mouth and cooed back at him, the first sound it had made all night. “You are at the beginning of your road, young one, and I am afraid that I must be stepping off now.” The child reached its tiny hands up and grasped at the King’s nostrils. “Guide him well, Adept.”

“It will be Animah who guides him, not I.” The Adept said.

The King looked Animah over and said “Good, that is as it should be. They will be as close as you and I were.” His voice had grown stronger as he held the baby, the Adept had noticed. He was glad for that small comfort at least.

“It is time.” The Adept said.

“Time to die, you mean?” The King said. “Yes, I suppose there is no point in putting it off any longer. The spirit is strong, but the flesh is weak and selfish. It wants to remain even after its use has been spent. Do it then,before I can ask you not to.”

“Animah, bring me a torch.” Animah fetched a torch from its sconce and handed it to the Adept. The Adept ran his fingers through the flame, feeling the heat enter him, commanding the fire to bend to his will. He pulled his hand away from the torch and a tongue of flame followed on his fingertips. “I unbind your spirit from this mortal flesh.” He placed his finger on the King’s chest and slid it down toward his belly, leaving a line of burnt flesh. As he did, the baby began to wail, as if it feel the pain. The Adept pushed it away with one hand as he traced another line perpendicular to the first. “Your essence shall join with the child, your strength will empower him, your wisdom will light him through the darkness, your flames will be one.” The King’s skin cracked and blistered, and the infant’s wails turned into screams. The Adept drew the knife from his belt and placed the point above the spot where the burnt lines met.

“Goodbye, old friend.” the King said. The baby’s screams were intolerable.

“I take from you this mortal form.” The Adept drove the knife into the King’s chest, and all became pain. The King’s Fire essence rushed through the blade, into his hand and up his arm, burning him. This was the true Fire, no mere wisp of flame but the very essence of Fire itself. It was agony beyond comprehension, and it was bliss. It was consume the Adept’s weak and feeble spirit, and he would gladly let it, so exquisite was the pain and the ecstasy, but some small part of him remembered his duty, and in some small corner of his awareness, he raised the knife above the screaming infant, and plunged it into its flesh.

At once the Fire left him as the life essence of the old king and all the kings before him rushed down the blade and into the child. He pulled the knife from the baby’s body, leaving no wound save for a thin line that glowed orange with heat and then disappeared. The new King’s screams stopped immediately, his deep blue eyes stared intently at the Adept. Was there an intelligence in the child’s eyes? The Adept was not sure.

“Adept, your arm!” Animah gasped. The Adept looked down. His arm was a blackened, charred horror of burnt flesh. The knife fell from his dead fingers and clattered on the stone floor. It should have been agonizing, but as he touched the skin with his other hand, he felt nothing at all.

“It will need to be cut off.” The Adept said calmly. “But first the King must be shown to his subjects, and the old King’s body must be given to the Mountain.”

Animah gathered up the King in his arms. “We should take you to a healer, perhaps your arm can be saved if we hurry.”

“No.” The Adept said. “These mortal forms are of no concern.” He lifted his ruined arm. “This is the price of salvation, Animah. When the King completes his great work, all the world be burned away, the forests will turn to ash and the sea will boil, and all who live in this tainted world will be washed away in purifying flame. Only once this world is cleansed in fire and death will the new world spring anew from the scorched earth and the blackened bones. This arm is my sacrifice, but yours will be so much greater. You must be resolute, Animah, and never waver from what must be done. Do you understand?”

Animah nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” The Adept said. “Then let us crown the new King.”

Spoiler: Chapter 2

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The sky was growing dark. The sun had nearly sunk below the horizon, its fading light painted the sky with a purple brush. Above the opposite horizon the moon had risen as if to challenge the sun, basking in its dying rays. Bathed in gold was the forest below, towered over by the World Soul, the great Tree of Life, and far in the distance loomed the Mountain, purple slopes against a purple sky.

Lyra paused to take in the view as she crested the top of the hill, but her brother was already racing down it, his wings buzzing with impatience. “Hurry up, Lyra.” He called back at her, “We’re wasting daylight.” Lyra struggled to keep up with him, her feet ached from a long day of walking.

Her brother Orph was indomitable as always, a tall man by the standard of faeriekind, lean and wiry with broad shoulders and strong arms. Twice Lyra’s age and possessed of a raw physicality, Orph cut an impressive figure as he strode down the hill and knocked aside any blade of grass that dared to impede him with the long carved stick of ash wood he carried.

“Can’t you slow down?” Lyra was fourteen years old and had none of Orph’s swagger or physical presence. She was small and slight, and her head barely came up to Orph’s shoulders. While his form was broad and muscled, hers was skinny. Her limbs were soft and her shoulders were narrow. While Orph strode through the world with an easy confidence, Lyra often found herself looking down at her feet.

The most glaring contrast of all though was their wings. Orph had a pair of long gossamer wings like those of a dragonfly that shimmered in the evening light, but Lyra had no wings at all. She was an Earthbound, a dirt faerie, malformed and inferior, the lowest form of faerie there was.

“We can’t slow down, now.” Orph said. “Light’s running out. Any slower than this and it’ll be a whole other spring when we get to the World Soul.” It was because of Lyra’s affliction that the two of them were force to slowly trudge along the ground like crawling insects rather than fly the way faeries were supposed to.

“If we keep going like this, all I’m going to have are two stumps where my feet used to be.” Lyra said, with perhaps a bit more peevishness than she intended.

“Your poor feet. Shall I build a palanquin for you and carry you around on my back like a queen?” Orph teased her.

“You can’t build a palanquin.” Lyra said. “That’s a bird.”

Orph laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. “Say what now?”

“Palanquins. They’re birds that live far away where it gets so cold that the ground turns into ice and they live on the ice. I heard about them from a storyteller.”

“Those are penguins, Moonbeam.” Orph said, using the name he’d always called her when she was a little girl. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you hear from a storyteller. They’re liars by trade.

Lyra had caught up with him and gave him a punch on his arm. “And you know more than he does?”

“Of course I do. I know everything there is to know about anything.” Without warning, Orph swooped down and grabbed Lyra around the knees, and she was hoisted over his shoulder.

“Hey! Stop!” She cried, kicking and giggling. “Put me down!”

“Nope.” Orph said. “You didn’t want to walk so now you don’t have to. I guess I’m your penguin now.” His wings whirred and the ground fell away from Lyra as he took to the air.

In truth, Orph wasn’t actually Lyra’s brother at all, not by blood at least. He’d found her on the forest floor, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight the way he told it, as if she had descended from the stars for him to find. Lyra had her doubts about that embellishment, but it wasn’t hard to believe that she had been left to die in the wilds. It was common for Earthbound babies like her to be abandoned like that, as few faeries wanted the stigma that came with having birthed one. Orph was different though. Male faeries rarely raised even their own children, let alone someone else’s, but Orph had taken her as his own, shown her the love and care her mother had not. Orph wasn’t her blood, but he was all the family she needed or wanted.

They stopped for the night on the sandy shore of a lake whose crystal water gleamed in the fading sunlight. Lyra shrugged her bag from her shoulders and flopped down next to it on the soft sand. It would be a few days yet before winter truly came to an end, but the air was warm even at this hour. Winter had been mild this year, and it would likely be a warm spring and a very hot summer. For now it just felt good to lie back and rest her weary feet.

She stared up at the clear purple sky felt a pang of alarm when she saw a winged shape circling above. “There’s a bird.” She said. Predatory birds were an ever present danger when traveling under open sky.
Orph looked up. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Ospreys prefer fish over faeries, and he’s got a whole lake to eat from.”

The osprey drifted lazily across the darkening sky, as peaceful as the moon that hung above it. “It must be incredible to fly that high. The freedom of it, all alone in the sky. The world must feel so small from up there, so far away.”

“The higher you get, the colder it gets.” Orph said. “Everything that matters is down here where we are. The sky is nice to look at but it’s no place to live.”

“I’d give anything to go that high.” Lyra said wistfully. “The whole world spreading out below me, able to go anywhere I wanted. Even for one day.”

Orph sat down beside her. “You’d give anything for that? Even me?”

“I said anything, not anyone.”

“Oh, well that’s a big relief. Because I’d sell you away for far less than that.” Lyra gave him a smack on the shoulder and he laughed. “Maybe if you asked him nicely, he’d give you a ride. That or gobble you up.”

“You said they don’t eat faeries.”

“He would if you went right up to him.”

“What if he didn’t, though? What if he let me ride on his back? I’d be the first faerie to ever ride on a bird, and then nobody could call me a dirt faerie or I’d tell the bird to eat them.”

Orph laughed. “I can hear the legend already. Lyra, Queen of the Birds. That would be a short story. She rode a bird way up into the sky, and then fell off and went splat.” He put a hand on her head and mussed her hair up.

Lyra batted his hand away and got up. She stomped off away from him and toward the water.

“Lyra, i was just making fun! You don’t need to be angry!” He called back at her, but Lyra ignored him. She went to the water’s edge and stripped off her brown leggings and the cloth that covered her chest, then walked into the water’s cold embrace.

Swimming was a kind of flying, in a way. Lyra loved the water. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have wings, since she could move in any direction. She wasn’t worse than any other faerie in the water. It was freedom, from both confines of gravity and her inferior body’s inability to defy it. There were some who said that an Earthbound’s lack of wings were a sign that they had no Air Spirit and thus no soul. Maybe they were right, Lyra reflected as she floated facedown on the lake’s surface, looking down into its murky depths. Maybe she had a Water Spirit instead.

A shape came up through the shimmering light. It was a fish with scales like a rainbow that danced in the sunlight. One eye turned up to look at her. The fish was so close that Lyra could reach out and touch it, so she did. The skin was slick and slippery. Lyra tried to hold on to it, but the fish moved away, and with a single flick of its tail it was gone into the murky depths.

Orph had told her stories of submerged kingdoms underneath the Big Water where the nixies ruled long ago when the world was still young. They lived in huge cities of stone and rode in chariots pulled by seahorses, he said, and battled sea monsters like eight armed krakens and eels with teeth like swords, and great white sharks with their terrible jaws and sleek bodies that cut through the water like knives. Who knew what creatures waited at the bottom of the deep waters? Lyra imagined sunken cities on the lake’s floor, filled with ancient treasure and guarded by terrible creatures no land dweller’s eyes had ever seen.

A shape moved under her and Lyra suddenly regretted her active imagination. Images of horrific creatures filled her mind’s eye, and then the shape raced up toward her. The surface of the water erupted as a fish leapt into the air and soared over her head. She turned to follow with her gaze, and the sun was eclipsed as its body passed over. Drops water caught the sun in a brilliant display of sparkling colors and refracted the light coming off the fish’s rainbow scales. The fish landed with splash that washed over Lyra and pulled her under the surface. She oriented herself downward and tried to swim down after it, but with a single flick of its tail the fish sped away and disappeared into the dark water.

The sun was gone and only it’s last fleeting rays remained when Lyra went back to the shore. Orph had a campfire set up within a ring of pebbles and was warming his hands over it.

“You stay on the other side.” he said when she came near. “The last thing I need is for you to get cold water all over me after I worked so hard to get this fire started..” Lyra ran her hands through her long brown hair to wring the water out of it and shook the droplets from her fingers at him. “You’re a horrible child.” Orph said as he wiped his face with his hand.

Lyra pulled on her clothes and sat down next to him. “The World Soul looks beautiful.” she said. That it did. Lyra had always known the World Soul was massive, but there was nothing like actually seeing it. The forest ahead was taller and thicker than than anything that grew near the coast of the Big Water where Lyra had spent all of her life. Any one of its trees would have been impressive, but the World Soul towered above them all. The shadow of its leaves spread over the forest, sheltering countless trees below. It was astonishing enough to look at in the light of day, but now that the sun was down it shown with its own light, thousands of tiny pinpricks that illuminated the tree’s leaves like a mountain of sparkling emeralds.

“How many faeries live there?” she asked.

“Oh, thousands.” Orph replied, “Millions. More faeries than you can even imagine. And many more will be coming for the Equinox.”

The World Soul was far more than just a tree. It was the great Spirit of Life, the place where the spirit of every person came from when they were born, and the place their spirit returned to when they died. Every year, the coming of the new spring brought travelers from all around, and this year would be Lyra’s first visit. The sight of the World Soul was exhilarating, but the thought of all those other faeries…

Lyra warmed her hands over the fire. “What if they don’t want me there?”

“Then they’ll just have to suffer you.” Orph said. “The World Soul is for everyone, it’s your right as much as theirs. You can’t let fear stop you from living your life.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Lyra replied. “You’re not the one who has to be afraid of them.”

“I’m the one they’ll have to answer to if they want to mess with you, though.” He flexed his muscles. “And then they’ll be the ones who’ll have to be scared.”

“I wish I was like you.” Lyra rested her head on Orph’s shoulder.

“What, tall, handsome, and incredibly smart?”

“Normal.” Lyra said. “I wish I wasn’t born wrong, then nobody would have to hate me.”

“You aren’t made wrong, Lyra. Don’t say that ever again. It’s not your fault that other people are too blind and stupid to see you for who you really are. You’re better than they are, and that has nothing to do with the way you look.”
It wasn’t the first conversation they had had like this. Orph loved her, and he may have even meant what he said, but words wouldn’t give her wings, and they wouldn’t take away the envy she felt every time she looked at him. Orph may have been sympathetic, but he wasn’t like her. He didn’t know how it was to feel like he wasn’t a real faerie.

Lyra looked out across the lake. Below the glittering World Soul a shape floated on the moonlit water. Lyra got up and went to the water’s edge to get a closer look. It was a boat, a small canoe with two figures inside. One of the figures held a spear above his head, watching the water intently. He drove into the water, and a fish floated up with the spear sticking out of its side. The fishers both reached into the water and lifted their kill into the boat.

They took out paddles and the boat moved toward where Lyra stood on the shore. She could see them now. The men had dark blue skin, and green hair like seaweed. Their eyes were big and round like those of a fish. They were nixies. Small communities of them lived along the Big Water, but Lyra had never had met any of them. These two were coming right for her, and they each had a spear.

Lyra retreated back to the fire and knelt next to her brother. “There’s two nixies coming.”

“I saw them.” Orph said, “When they get here let me do the talking.”

“They have spears.”

“Then be ready to run if things get ugly.”

The nixies landed their boat on the sand and pulled it up away from the water. One of them lifted the dead fish over his shoulders and the other held both their spears at his sides. They both came walking toward the fire.

Orph sat crouched on the balls of his feet, his knobby stick of ash across his knees. The pose looked casual, but Lyra knew his muscles were tense and ready to spring at a moment’s notice. “Is there something we can do for you?”

The nixie with the spear said, “You have a fire and we have a fish. Much easier to use your fire than to make a new one.”

“You’re welcome to share it then. There’s room for all of us here.” Orph said.

The nixie nodded, and both of them came and sat by the fire. The one carrying the fish dropped it on the ground with a plop. After the other nixie had laid down his spears, Orph put his stick down as well, though still within easy reach.

“My name is Orph and this is Lyra.”

“I am Aul.” the nixie who had carried the spears said. He was the older and leaner of the two, while his companion was younger and more muscular.

“And I am Aul.” said the other one. He was looking at Lyra intently. “You are faeries?”

“We are.” Orph said.

“You are.” Ro said said to Orph. He pointed at Lyra. “What is she? Faeries have wings like dragonflies, that is known.”

“I am a faerie.” Lyra said defensively. “I was born without them.”

“The girl is touched by the Aether.” Aul said.

Lyra had never heard that word before. “I’m touched by what?”

“Mystical mumbo jumbo.” Orph said.

“Not mumbo jumbo.” Aul pointed up at the sky, dark and full of stars. “The world is made out of Air, Water, Earth and Fire, and so those who are made on the world. You are Air and we are Water. But Aether is not of this world. In the long long ago the Aether spirits walked with us. Beings of Star and Void.”

“Elves.” Orph said dismissively. “They lived in castles woven out of starlight and taught the faeries how to spin glamers out of the air. Stories for children.”

“Aul is very much liking stories.” Ro said. He pulled a stone knife from his belt and began the process of gutting the fish.

“Elves some call them.” Aul said, “They were the Star people. They walked this world, but they were not of it. They live above us now, watching from the stars. They leave us their gifts, but they are not given freely. Something must be taken in return. To us they give eyes that see the future, and so they must take the eyes that see the present. When a child is born with no eyes, we celebrate the gift the Star spirits have given us. There is no greater gift to a village than a Seer. To take your wings the Star spirits must have given you something very special in return.”

“I can’t see the future.” Lyra said.

“You are not a nixie.” Aul said. “You are an Air spirit. You will have a different gift, but no less important. Did your mother not tell you these things?”

“My mother threw me away.” Lyra said. She hugged her knees together and watched the fire dance.

“Our people aren’t as accepting of children who are born different as yours are.“ Orph said solemnly. “There’s a mistaken belief that since faeries like Lyra don’t have wings, then they must not have Air spirits and are cursed.”

“Well I wish they’d kept their gift.” Lyra said. “How good could it be if my mother didn’t want me?”
Aul sighed. “It is not for us to ask such things. We must live the best we can with the gifts we are given, and trust that they were given wisely. You were given this gift for a reason. You must find what that reason is.”

“Aul’s gift is to talk and talk until your ears fall off.” Ro said. “I am hungry, and talking will not cook this fish.”
Before long the nixies had the fish roasting on a makeshift spit over the fire. The skin crackled and hissed from the heat, and the smell of cooked meat filled Lyra’s nose. She was unused to to eating the flesh of animals, and she was curious enough to try some when Ro offered her a slab of fish meat. The meat tasted strange on her tongue, smoky and savory and unlike anything she’d ever eaten before, but the warm, juicy meat was satisfying after a long day of walking.

“You are going to the Tree of Life?” Ro asked.

“We are.” Orph said.

“We see many faeries coming this time of year, and we see the light and hear the music from the Tree. We dance along with it in the village.”

“Have you ever been there?” Lyra asked.

Ro laughed. “The Tree is tall and we do not like such heights. Nixies go deep underwater, not high in the air. That is the faeries’ domain. Still, we celebrate the spring in our own way, and a spring that comes warm and early like this one is one to celebrate. It will be a good summer.”

“Perhaps not so.” Aul said. “Summer is the time of fire, and the Mountain has been smoking. Long ago a long summer came and the Mountain spilled its fire across the whole world. Beware of a long summer.

“Aul believes in children’s tales.” Ro said. “The Mountain smokes every year. It smoked last year, and next year it will also smoke. The world does not end. An early spring means more food, and the Mountain can spew all the smoke it wants. It has a heart of Fire, and fire makes smoke. That is all.”

“You do not believe in stories enough.” Aul said. “When the Mountain awakes and we are both burning, I will remember to say I told you so.” He laughed.

“What kind of music do you dance to?” Lyra asked.

“There are no instruments to play here.” Ro said. “Dancing is for the village to do, not out in the wild.”

Lyra opened up her bag, rummaged past the nuts and berries and the pretty rocks she liked to keep, and pulled out a wooden flute. “I can play music for you.” She said.

“You do not know any of our songs and I do not have the skill to teach you.” Ro said, “Play a faerie song for us.”

Lyra puts the flute to her lips and closed her eyes. She may not have been good for much else, but she could make music better than almost anyone. She played a song of spring, and when she was finished Aul was looking intently at her.

“You are a beautiful player.” he said. “Perhaps that is the gift the Star spirits have given you.”

“It hardly compares to seeing the future.” Lyra said bitterly.

“Do not underestimate the worth of song, child. Song lifts the spirit, it brings the village together. It does not keep us alive, but it gives us something to live for. The gift of song is not one to shrug off.”

“Play us another one.” Ro said.

She did, and then another, and another, on and on into the night until she was the only one left awake. She lay on her back looking up at the stars and wondering if they looked back at her.

In the morning the nixies thanked them for the fire and the music, and they returned to their boat. Lyra sat on the lakeshore and watched them row away.

Orph put a hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s time we left as well.”

“Orph, do you think the Star spirits gave me a gift?” The boat was just a dot, lost in the bright blue lake under a bright blue sky.

“I don’t think anyone is watching over us down here, and they wouldn’t help us even if they were.” He shouldered his bag and tossed Lyra’s on the sand next to her. “Now come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

[Elanasaurus]

Spoiler: More than "a comment".

Show

“The stars are veiled.” The acolyte Animah said.

I'd have written: "The stars are veiled," the acolyte Animah said.

Sounds more... posh, in my opinion.

The comet was beautiful, it’s white light pierced the blackness around it,

Or "it's white light that pierced the blackness around it".

All of the Adept’s years and wisdom abandoned him, he was as entranced in his awe as a child glimpsing the glory of the night sky for the very first time.

Oh! Oh! I haven't introduced myself!

Hi! I'm the Elanasaurus, and I'm a sentence addict. I cannot get enough sentences.

Alright, so I think you can afford having a"All of the Adept's years and wisdom abandoned him" as one sentence. Or, you know, put a semicolon there.

The Adept went to the table and gathered up the scrolls and tablets, painstaKingly placing

Oo! Found a typo!

Inside the box was dagger wrought of bronze

Me think this is mistake.

Was that that a cruelty or a mercy

I see it! I must be in the top 1% of the population! yay

The Adept looked back at the sky for the comet, but it was no longer visible behind the smoke, it’s heavenly light swallowed by darkness.

Nice conversational tone here.

Time and aged stopped for no one

Hmm. This could be a typo.

At the bottom floor of the temple the fire priests waited, the black garbed Confessors, the red Lightbearers, the Guardians in yellow.

For clarity, you could move "waited" to the end and put the word "and" before "the Guardians, or you could put a colon after "waited".

speaKing to the Adept for the first time.

Wait a minute...

King. Ohh!

That was not strictly speaKing the whole truth,

King! I get it!

He will be a great and powerful King.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOEKu8L5UqQ[/url]Powerful and Great!

That was no lie, the baby was in perfect health as the Adept had made sure of when he chose him for the succession.

I think this sentence's a little confusing. Not sure.

“It is an honor to have cared for the King.” The acolyte said.

Is the capitalization here correct?

The baby curled up into his arm, its tail in its mouth.

Oh my! That's SO CUTE!

It had thankfully not begun to cry when taken from its carers arms

Carer's? Carers'?

“Attend the Adept!”

Isn't it The Adept?

Four muscled salamanders were its bearers, each with bear chests

Nice imagery!

Black buildings against a black sky, the city was silent.

Opportunity for two sentences instead of one.

and even without the Guardians flanKing the palanquin

Yes! I'm starting to love that little detail.

“I am talKing about you, Animah.”

Okay, I'm going to stop.

“I was the Adept for the old King, and you must the Adept for the new one.

Typo?

Unlike the grandiose pyramids favored by the dwarfs,

Oh, non-Tolkien spelling!

Cut into the dark rock of the Mountain was a stairway leading the palace’s front doors,

Um.. what does that mean?

“This is my acolyte Animah, who I have chosen as my successor.”

Not to disrespect The Adept, but he means to say "whom".

A mere thirty four years of age

Where I come from, we would write "thirty-four".

“Good, that is as it should be. They will be as close as you and I were.”

"As you and I ARE", dammit! Don't make me cry, King!

The spirit is strong, but the flesh is weak and selfish.

Oo! A Bible quote! Sort of.[quoteAs he did, the baby began to wail, as if it feel the pain.[/quote]I'm sure this one's a typo.

It was consume

And this one.

It should have been agonizing,

Why would he think so?

Wow.

That's SO COOL! Oo, bad choice of wording there.

The salamanders are really interesting, and readers already know a bit about faeries and dwarfs just from those few lines. It seems the salamanders really like strong kings, but isn't it obvious to them that the more fiery the king is, the shorter he'll live? Maybe they just accept the shortening lifespans as inevitable. Are they really, though? Well, that's irrelevant now.

The scene with the old King was great. From now on, I'm going to capitalize "King" in all my posts here. I have to.

Hope to get more chapters soon!

[An Enemy Spy]

It seems the salamanders really like strong kings, but isn't it obvious to them that the more fiery the king is, the shorter he'll live? Maybe they just accept the shortening lifespans as inevitable. Are they really, though?

I'm about to bore you with the made up metaphysics of my made up world, but basically everyone's soul is made of two parts, the Life Spirit that comes comes from the great spirit tree called the World Soul and then the elemental essence that gives them physical form in the world. So the soul of a salamander is the Life Spirit combined with Fire Essence, creating a Fire Spirit. Upon death your Life Spirit returns to the World Soul and you Essence returns to the world. What the Adept has done here is preserve the King's Fire Spirit and merged it with that of the baby salamander, which has been done time and time again over the generations. The salamanders are attempting to set off an apocalyptic eruption in the Mountain for reasons that would be too big of a spoiler to explain here, and for that they need a being with an incredibly powerful Fire Spirit, far more powerful than any salamander could be naturally. So through the generations they've passed the Fire Spirit down from king to king and the last one will be the sacrificial spirit that will ignite the Mountain and wipe away the old world. The side effect of that is of course that the kings' spirits are too powerful for their bodies to sustain, and they deteriorate quickly.

Anyway, here's the next chapter where we meet the main character, Lyra.

Spoiler

Show

The sky was growing dark. The sun had nearly sunk below the horizon, its fading light painted the sky with a purple brush. Above the opposite horizon the moon had risen as if to challenge the sun, basking in its dying rays. Bathed in gold was the forest below, towered over by the World Soul, the great Tree of Life, and far in the distance loomed the Mountain, purple slopes against a purple sky.

Lyra paused to take in the view as she crested the top of the hill, but her brother was already racing down it, his wings buzzing with impatience. “Hurry up, Lyra.” He called back at her, “We’re wasting daylight.” Lyra struggled to keep up with him, her feet ached from a long day of walking.

Her brother Orph was indomitable as always, a tall man by the standard of faeriekind, lean and wiry with broad shoulders and strong arms. Twice Lyra’s age and possessed of a raw physicality, Orph cut an impressive figure as he strode down the hill and knocked aside any blade of grass that dared to impede him with the long carved stick of ash wood he carried.

“Can’t you slow down?” Lyra was fourteen years old and had none of Orph’s swagger or physical presence. She was small and slight, and her head barely came up to Orph’s shoulders. While his form was broad and muscled, hers was skinny. Her limbs were soft and her shoulders were narrow. While Orph strode through the world with an easy confidence, Lyra often found herself looking down at her feet.

The most glaring contrast of all though was their wings. Orph had a pair of long gossamer wings like those of a dragonfly that shimmered in the evening light, but Lyra had no wings at all. She was an Earthbound, a dirt faerie, malformed and inferior, the lowest form of faerie there was.

“We can’t slow down, now.” Orph said. “Light’s running out. Any slower than this and it’ll be a whole other spring when we get to the World Soul.” It was because of Lyra’s affliction that the two of them were force to slowly trudge along the ground like crawling insects rather than fly the way faeries were supposed to.

“If we keep going like this, all I’m going to have are two stumps where my feet used to be.” Lyra said, with perhaps a bit more peevishness than she intended.

“Your poor feet. Shall I build a palanquin for you and carry you around on my back like a queen?” Orph teased her.

“You can’t build a palanquin.” Lyra said. “That’s a bird.”

Orph laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. “Say what now?”

“Palanquins. They’re birds that live far away where it gets so cold that the ground turns into ice and they live on the ice. I heard about them from a storyteller.”

“Those are penguins, Moonbeam.” Orph said, using the name he’d always called her when she was a little girl. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you hear from a storyteller. They’re liars by trade.

Lyra had caught up with him and gave him a punch on his arm. “And you know more than he does?”

“Of course I do. I know everything there is to know about anything.” Without warning, Orph swooped down and grabbed Lyra around the knees, and she was hoisted over his shoulder.

“Hey! Stop!” She cried, kicking and giggling. “Put me down!”

“Nope.” Orph said. “You didn’t want to walk so now you don’t have to. I guess I’m your penguin now.” His wings whirred and the ground fell away from Lyra as he took to the air.

In truth, Orph wasn’t actually Lyra’s brother at all, not by blood at least. He’d found her on the forest floor, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight the way he told it, as if she had descended from the stars for him to find. Lyra had her doubts about that embellishment, but it wasn’t hard to believe that she had been left to die in the wilds. It was common for Earthbound babies like her to be abandoned like that, as few faeries wanted the stigma that came with having birthed one. Orph was different though. Male faeries rarely raised even their own children, let alone someone else’s, but Orph had taken her as his own, shown her the love and care her mother had not. Orph wasn’t her blood, but he was all the family she needed or wanted.

They stopped for the night on the sandy shore of a lake whose crystal water gleamed in the fading sunlight. Lyra shrugged her bag from her shoulders and flopped down next to it on the soft sand. It would be a few days yet before winter truly came to an end, but the air was warm even at this hour. Winter had been mild this year, and it would likely be a warm spring and a very hot summer. For now it just felt good to lie back and rest her weary feet.

She stared up at the clear purple sky felt a pang of alarm when she saw a winged shape circling above. “There’s a bird.” She said. Predatory birds were an ever present danger when traveling under open sky.
Orph looked up. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Ospreys prefer fish over faeries, and he’s got a whole lake to eat from.”

The osprey drifted lazily across the darkening sky, as peaceful as the moon that hung above it. “It must be incredible to fly that high. The freedom of it, all alone in the sky. The world must feel so small from up there, so far away.”

“The higher you get, the colder it gets.” Orph said. “Everything that matters is down here where we are. The sky is nice to look at but it’s no place to live.”

“I’d give anything to go that high.” Lyra said wistfully. “The whole world spreading out below me, able to go anywhere I wanted. Even for one day.”

Orph sat down beside her. “You’d give anything for that? Even me?”

“I said anything, not anyone.”

“Oh, well that’s a big relief. Because I’d sell you away for far less than that.” Lyra gave him a smack on the shoulder and he laughed. “Maybe if you asked him nicely, he’d give you a ride. That or gobble you up.”

“You said they don’t eat faeries.”

“He would if you went right up to him.”

“What if he didn’t, though? What if he let me ride on his back? I’d be the first faerie to ever ride on a bird, and then nobody could call me a dirt faerie or I’d tell the bird to eat them.”

Orph laughed. “I can hear the legend already. Lyra, Queen of the Birds. That would be a short story. She rode a bird way up into the sky, and then fell off and went splat.” He put a hand on her head and mussed her hair up.

Lyra batted his hand away and got up. She stomped off away from him and toward the water.

“Lyra, i was just making fun! You don’t need to be angry!” He called back at her, but Lyra ignored him. She went to the water’s edge and stripped off her brown leggings and the cloth that covered her chest, then walked into the water’s cold embrace.

Swimming was a kind of flying, in a way. Lyra loved the water. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have wings, since she could move in any direction. She wasn’t worse than any other faerie in the water. It was freedom, from both confines of gravity and her inferior body’s inability to defy it. There were some who said that an Earthbound’s lack of wings were a sign that they had no Air Spirit and thus no soul. Maybe they were right, Lyra reflected as she floated facedown on the lake’s surface, looking down into its murky depths. Maybe she had a Water Spirit instead.

A shape came up through the shimmering light. It was a fish with scales like a rainbow that danced in the sunlight. One eye turned up to look at her. The fish was so close that Lyra could reach out and touch it, so she did. The skin was slick and slippery. Lyra tried to hold on to it, but the fish moved away, and with a single flick of its tail it was gone into the murky depths.

Orph had told her stories of submerged kingdoms underneath the Big Water where the nixies ruled long ago when the world was still young. They lived in huge cities of stone and rode in chariots pulled by seahorses, he said, and battled sea monsters like eight armed krakens and eels with teeth like swords, and great white sharks with their terrible jaws and sleek bodies that cut through the water like knives. Who knew what creatures waited at the bottom of the deep waters? Lyra imagined sunken cities on the lake’s floor, filled with ancient treasure and guarded by terrible creatures no land dweller’s eyes had ever seen.

A shape moved under her and Lyra suddenly regretted her active imagination. Images of horrific creatures filled her mind’s eye, and then the shape raced up toward her. The surface of the water erupted as a fish leapt into the air and soared over her head. She turned to follow with her gaze, and the sun was eclipsed as its body passed over. Drops water caught the sun in a brilliant display of sparkling colors and refracted the light coming off the fish’s rainbow scales. The fish landed with splash that washed over Lyra and pulled her under the surface. She oriented herself downward and tried to swim down after it, but with a single flick of its tail the fish sped away and disappeared into the dark water.

The sun was gone and only it’s last fleeting rays remained when Lyra went back to the shore. Orph had a campfire set up within a ring of pebbles and was warming his hands over it.

“You stay on the other side.” he said when she came near. “The last thing I need is for you to get cold water all over me after I worked so hard to get this fire started..” Lyra ran her hands through her long brown hair to wring the water out of it and shook the droplets from her fingers at him. “You’re a horrible child.” Orph said as he wiped his face with his hand.

Lyra pulled on her clothes and sat down next to him. “The World Soul looks beautiful.” she said. That it did. Lyra had always known the World Soul was massive, but there was nothing like actually seeing it. The forest ahead was taller and thicker than than anything that grew near the coast of the Big Water where Lyra had spent all of her life. Any one of its trees would have been impressive, but the World Soul towered above them all. The shadow of its leaves spread over the forest, sheltering countless trees below. It was astonishing enough to look at in the light of day, but now that the sun was down it shown with its own light, thousands of tiny pinpricks that illuminated the tree’s leaves like a mountain of sparkling emeralds.

“How many faeries live there?” she asked.

“Oh, thousands.” Orph replied, “Millions. More faeries than you can even imagine. And many more will be coming for the Equinox.”

The World Soul was far more than just a tree. It was the great Spirit of Life, the place where the spirit of every person came from when they were born, and the place their spirit returned to when they died. Every year, the coming of the new spring brought travelers from all around, and this year would be Lyra’s first visit. The sight of the World Soul was exhilarating, but the thought of all those other faeries…

Lyra warmed her hands over the fire. “What if they don’t want me there?”

“Then they’ll just have to suffer you.” Orph said. “The World Soul is for everyone, it’s your right as much as theirs. You can’t let fear stop you from living your life.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Lyra replied. “You’re not the one who has to be afraid of them.”

“I’m the one they’ll have to answer to if they want to mess with you, though.” He flexed his muscles. “And then they’ll be the ones who’ll have to be scared.”

“I wish I was like you.” Lyra rested her head on Orph’s shoulder.

“What, tall, handsome, and incredibly smart?”

“Normal.” Lyra said. “I wish I wasn’t born wrong, then nobody would have to hate me.”

“You aren’t made wrong, Lyra. Don’t say that ever again. It’s not your fault that other people are too blind and stupid to see you for who you really are. You’re better than they are, and that has nothing to do with the way you look.”
It wasn’t the first conversation they had had like this. Orph loved her, and he may have even meant what he said, but words wouldn’t give her wings, and they wouldn’t take away the envy she felt every time she looked at him. Orph may have been sympathetic, but he wasn’t like her. He didn’t know how it was to feel like he wasn’t a real faerie.

Lyra looked out across the lake. Below the glittering World Soul a shape floated on the moonlit water. Lyra got up and went to the water’s edge to get a closer look. It was a boat, a small canoe with two figures inside. One of the figures held a spear above his head, watching the water intently. He drove into the water, and a fish floated up with the spear sticking out of its side. The fishers both reached into the water and lifted their kill into the boat.

They took out paddles and the boat moved toward where Lyra stood on the shore. She could see them now. The men had dark blue skin, and green hair like seaweed. Their eyes were big and round like those of a fish. They were nixies. Small communities of them lived along the Big Water, but Lyra had never had met any of them. These two were coming right for her, and they each had a spear.

Lyra retreated back to the fire and knelt next to her brother. “There’s two nixies coming.”

“I saw them.” Orph said, “When they get here let me do the talking.”

“They have spears.”

“Then be ready to run if things get ugly.”

The nixies landed their boat on the sand and pulled it up away from the water. One of them lifted the dead fish over his shoulders and the other held both their spears at his sides. They both came walking toward the fire.

Orph sat crouched on the balls of his feet, his knobby stick of ash across his knees. The pose looked casual, but Lyra knew his muscles were tense and ready to spring at a moment’s notice. “Is there something we can do for you?”

The nixie with the spear said, “You have a fire and we have a fish. Much easier to use your fire than to make a new one.”

“You’re welcome to share it then. There’s room for all of us here.” Orph said.

The nixie nodded, and both of them came and sat by the fire. The one carrying the fish dropped it on the ground with a plop. After the other nixie had laid down his spears, Orph put his stick down as well, though still within easy reach.

“My name is Orph and this is Lyra.”

“I am Aul.” the nixie who had carried the spears said. He was the older and leaner of the two, while his companion was younger and more muscular.

“And I am Aul.” said the other one. He was looking at Lyra intently. “You are faeries?”

“We are.” Orph said.

“You are.” Ro said said to Orph. He pointed at Lyra. “What is she? Faeries have wings like dragonflies, that is known.”

“I am a faerie.” Lyra said defensively. “I was born without them.”

“The girl is touched by the Aether.” Aul said.

Lyra had never heard that word before. “I’m touched by what?”

“Mystical mumbo jumbo.” Orph said.

“Not mumbo jumbo.” Aul pointed up at the sky, dark and full of stars. “The world is made out of Air, Water, Earth and Fire, and so those who are made on the world. You are Air and we are Water. But Aether is not of this world. In the long long ago the Aether spirits walked with us. Beings of Star and Void.”

“Elves.” Orph said dismissively. “They lived in castles woven out of starlight and taught the faeries how to spin glamers out of the air. Stories for children.”

“Aul is very much liking stories.” Ro said. He pulled a stone knife from his belt and began the process of gutting the fish.

“Elves some call them.” Aul said, “They were the Star people. They walked this world, but they were not of it. They live above us now, watching from the stars. They leave us their gifts, but they are not given freely. Something must be taken in return. To us they give eyes that see the future, and so they must take the eyes that see the present. When a child is born with no eyes, we celebrate the gift the Star spirits have given us. There is no greater gift to a village than a Seer. To take your wings the Star spirits must have given you something very special in return.”

“I can’t see the future.” Lyra said.

“You are not a nixie.” Aul said. “You are an Air spirit. You will have a different gift, but no less important. Did your mother not tell you these things?”

“My mother threw me away.” Lyra said. She hugged her knees together and watched the fire dance.

“Our people aren’t as accepting of children who are born different as yours are.“ Orph said solemnly. “There’s a mistaken belief that since faeries like Lyra don’t have wings, then they must not have Air spirits and are cursed.”

“Well I wish they’d kept their gift.” Lyra said. “How good could it be if my mother didn’t want me?”
Aul sighed. “It is not for us to ask such things. We must live the best we can with the gifts we are given, and trust that they were given wisely. You were given this gift for a reason. You must find what that reason is.”

“Aul’s gift is to talk and talk until your ears fall off.” Ro said. “I am hungry, and talking will not cook this fish.”
Before long the nixies had the fish roasting on a makeshift spit over the fire. The skin crackled and hissed from the heat, and the smell of cooked meat filled Lyra’s nose. She was unused to to eating the flesh of animals, and she was curious enough to try some when Ro offered her a slab of fish meat. The meat tasted strange on her tongue, smoky and savory and unlike anything she’d ever eaten before, but the warm, juicy meat was satisfying after a long day of walking.

“You are going to the Tree of Life?” Ro asked.

“We are.” Orph said.

“We see many faeries coming this time of year, and we see the light and hear the music from the Tree. We dance along with it in the village.”

“Have you ever been there?” Lyra asked.

Ro laughed. “The Tree is tall and we do not like such heights. Nixies go deep underwater, not high in the air. That is the faeries’ domain. Still, we celebrate the spring in our own way, and a spring that comes warm and early like this one is one to celebrate. It will be a good summer.”

“Perhaps not so.” Aul said. “Summer is the time of fire, and the Mountain has been smoking. Long ago a long summer came and the Mountain spilled its fire across the whole world. Beware of a long summer.

“Aul believes in children’s tales.” Ro said. “The Mountain smokes every year. It smoked last year, and next year it will also smoke. The world does not end. An early spring means more food, and the Mountain can spew all the smoke it wants. It has a heart of Fire, and fire makes smoke. That is all.”

“You do not believe in stories enough.” Aul said. “When the Mountain awakes and we are both burning, I will remember to say I told you so.” He laughed.

“What kind of music do you dance to?” Lyra asked.

“There are no instruments to play here.” Ro said. “Dancing is for the village to do, not out in the wild.”

Lyra opened up her bag, rummaged past the nuts and berries and the pretty rocks she liked to keep, and pulled out a wooden flute. “I can play music for you.” She said.

“You do not know any of our songs and I do not have the skill to teach you.” Ro said, “Play a faerie song for us.”

Lyra puts the flute to her lips and closed her eyes. She may not have been good for much else, but she could make music better than almost anyone. She played a song of spring, and when she was finished Aul was looking intently at her.

“You are a beautiful player.” he said. “Perhaps that is the gift the Star spirits have given you.”

“It hardly compares to seeing the future.” Lyra said bitterly.

“Do not underestimate the worth of song, child. Song lifts the spirit, it brings the village together. It does not keep us alive, but it gives us something to live for. The gift of song is not one to shrug off.”

“Play us another one.” Ro said.

She did, and then another, and another, on and on into the night until she was the only one left awake. She lay on her back looking up at the stars and wondering if they looked back at her.

In the morning the nixies thanked them for the fire and the music, and they returned to their boat. Lyra sat on the lakeshore and watched them row away.

Orph put a hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s time we left as well.”

“Orph, do you think the Star spirits gave me a gift?” The boat was just a dot, lost in the bright blue lake under a bright blue sky.

“I don’t think anyone is watching over us down here, and they wouldn’t help us even if they were.” He shouldered his bag and tossed Lyra’s on the sand next to her. “Now come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

[Shoreward]

I've read a chapter of this story before, albeit far into the future of what's written here. I offered some criticism then. If I recall, it was mostly complaints about passivity and exposition, with some praise of the more active ending of the chapter.

Just read your chapter one, and many of my old criticisms still stand. I'm... going to have to begin this with a warning that my experience might sound a bit harsh again. Apologies in advance, but these are my honest opinions.

Spoiler

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The Characters
I'm going to start with characters, since it's what I consider the most important for reader engagement.

My biggest initial barrier was the lack of name for the viewpoint character. While it's justified in the text, it made the Adept feel a little too impersonal for me to engage with easily. Combined with the fact that he's one of those 'live to serve' types, I didn't get a lot out of him as far as action, personality, or conflict. His apprentice felt a lot more "human", and seemed to have more difficulties with the situation. Alas, like many of the others he was only an observer.

Much like your other chapter I read, your characters felt very passive most of the chapter, doing things only because it's ordered by someone else. There seemed to be very little initiative or personal goals and involvement except near the end when the Adept stabbed the king, and that only happened because a prophesy said it needed to. The characters felt as though they were simply going through the motions the plot needed of them, with little agency.

The king is one of the few characters who felt fully realised and conflicted, and that scene was the strongest of the story.

It's a pity, because there are some good ideas here. I just felt like many lacked that extra spark of life - strong internal and external conflict, drives, goals beyond the plot, etc. to make them really shine.

The Technicals:
There were a few more errors in your technical writing this time than the last. Most notable of these was every instance of "king" being capitalised, even those occurring within other words like "talKing" or "flanKing". This is particularly egregious, since "king" is only capitalised when part of a proper name, not when used as a profession. For example, one would say, "Great King Xerxes is the king". I have a feeling this one came about as a "find-replace" error.

Another small thing is an occasional slip into archaic grammar, such as "Of ebony it was made". This isn't incorrect, just very dated construction. It's unusual to see newer fantasy written in such a way.

Beyond that, I found your writing quite passive. I felt as though thought and emotion were reported to me rather than shown as part of action and dialogue. The phrase “he was also afraid” stood out to me as an example, as there was no sign of that in the text itself - no shaking, no nervous ticks, no sinking feelings despite all the excitement.

All combined, it made the writing feel rather dry and technical to my experience.

The Story
You could have started from a modified version of the paragraph “The Adept looked upward” and I don't feel like I would have missed much. The preceding 700 words or so, which would be the first two-and-a-bit pages of a standard A5 paperback, is mostly worldbuilding without much event. Were I not critiquing, I might have tapped out by then - or at least skipped the prologue - seeing as what precedes that sentence is summed as "two people I don't know stand there talking and thinking about politics and culture I don't understand yet".

However, after that the action begins in earnest, and characters begin to move. While I was a bit lost in all the world details, titles, and race details, and cultural points, the actual drama of a man having to mercy-kill his king to make way for the final, prophesied heir is an interesting point - but it's buried under a lot of worldbuilding I didn't feel like I needed in the end.

Final Thoughts:
In general, I feel like you have a lot of good ideas, but I just don't vibe with the execution so far. Part of the difficulty seems to me that you have a LOT of worldbuilding and you want us to know about all of it, but there just isn't enough space to tell a story and display character around all of that, as the action seems to halt to make way for exposition on a number of occasions.

You do have good concepts in here, don't get me wrong, but this still feels like a first draft you could stand to edit and trim. Keep at it, though! The last thing I want to be is discouraging.

[An Enemy Spy]

I don't really see what you mean when you talk about the lack of agency. The Adept isn't just being carted around and told what to do, he is purposefully fulfilling the duties of his role and instructing others on what they are to do. Why is the fact that he is killing the king because of prophecy a problem? Otherwise he's just putting a knife through the king's heart with no reason. The agency comes from the Adept being torn between his friendship with the King and his duty as the Adept, and putting his duty first.

As for the King vs king thing, I was trying to only capitalize when referring the King as his actual name rather than =just the word king, but I see how that causes confusion and I probably messed up at certain points. The capital Ks showing up in the middle of words, I'll have to look for them but I definitely didn't type that on purpose. Might have been the computer's fault there, weird stuff happens sometimes when you transfer words over.

[Shoreward]

I don't really see what you mean when you talk about the lack of agency. The Adept isn't just being carted around and told what to do, he is purposefully fulfilling the duties of his role and instructing others on what they are to do. Why is the fact that he is killing the king because of prophecy a problem? Otherwise he's just putting a knife through the king's heart with no reason. The agency comes from the Adept being torn between his friendship with the King and his duty as the Adept, and putting his duty first.

I'm not suggesting he stab the king for no reason, I'm suggesting that he's being forced to do it by outside forces. It's a sort of personal opinion here, but doing things because they're part of your prophesied and appointed role seems like the opposite of choosing to do them? Heck, he even waits for a sign before doing anything. At least to me, he felt more like an agent of fate than his own person making his own choices. He has to put duty before friendship, sure, but I never felt like he wasn't going to do it. He didn't really seem to have the choice of not doing it, and all that combined made him feel more like a pawn of prophecy than an active agent. (Which as I understood it was much the point of that last scene, which is why I felt as I did about it).

Again, though, this was just my feeling when reading it. I appreciate that not everyone will feel the same way. Heck, it's possible I'm the only person who does feel that way (or even that I misread some passages, I was in a bit of a rush near the end), but it's still something to think about on the next editing pass.

Edit: All these edits! I just came back from the movies and I'm a bit wired, so apologies if I don't make much sense. In the end, it might just be that I'm trying to diagnose a problem I'm feeling but don't know how to articulate, and doing so incorrectly.

[Elanasaurus]

Well, I like worldbuilding, and characters feel that they don't have a choice. It's not like the Adept was happy about it. And the old Adept seems to be a minor character anyway.

The capital Ks showing up in the middle of words, I'll have to look for them but I definitely didn't type that on purpose.

Awww!

EDIT: So this is an old story? Does that mean that it's useless to point out typos? I'm going to do it anyway. Maybe these were the computer's fault and weren't in the original, but here they are anyway.

Spoiler: Typos and stuff

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The most glaring contrast of all though was their wings.

You could say: "The most glaring contrast of all, though, was their wings."

the two of them were force to slowly trudge along the ground

Typo. Forced.

“And you shouldn’t believe everything you hear from a storyteller. They’re liars by trade.

Lyra had caught up

"Typo".

She stared up at the clear purple sky felt a pang of alarm

And typo.

"There's a bird." She said.

You could write it as "There's a bird," she said.

“Lyra, i was just making fun! You don’t need to be angry!”

typo

battled sea monsters like eight armed krakens and eels with teeth like swords, and great white sharks with their terrible jaws and sleek bodies that cut through the water like knives.

Maybe remove the "and" before the word "eels"? For clarity.

The fish landed with splash

Looks like typo.

The sun was gone and only it’s last fleeting rays remained

Its a typo.

taller and thicker than than anything

Typo typo.

it shown with its own light,

Taipo.

He didn’t know how it was to feel like he wasn’t a real faerie.

I don't know if that's the correct usage of "like". But, like, whatevs. Totes cool with me.

“And I am Aul.” said the other one.

Typo. I'm sure this guy's Ro.

“Perhaps not so.” Aul said. “Summer is the time of fire, and the Mountain has been smoking. Long ago a long summer came and the Mountain spilled its fire across the whole world. Beware of a long summer.

Typo. Missing quotes.

“Do not underestimate the worth of song, child. Song lifts the spirit, it brings the village together. It does not keep us alive, but it gives us something to live for. The gift of song is not one to shrug off.”

No typo, I think, but...

YES! He appreciates bards!

Hey, Orph adopted Lyra, but he's more brotherly than fatherly. That's fine, but he seems weird somehow.

Orph himself saw that the stars were caring for Lyra.

What's up with the rainbow fish?

And I have an important question:

You don't use hyphens much, do you?

[An Enemy Spy]

So this is an old story? Does that mean that it's useless to point out typos? I'm going to do it anyway. Maybe these were the computer's fault and weren't in the original, but here they are anyway.

Not old, but I write them on Google Docs and then copy paste them here, which always messes with the formatting.

Hey, Orph adopted Lyra, but he's more brotherly than fatherly. That's fine, but he seems weird somehow.

Orph should feel a little off.

Orph himself saw that the stars were caring for Lyra.

The bit about the moonbeam was a bit of whimsy Orph made up to make Lyra feel special when she was little. The true circumstances of her adoption were very different.

What's up with the rainbow fish?

On top of me just wanting to write a pretty bit about a pretty fish, it's an early example of what Lyra initially thinks about something being different from the reality. Maybe that dark shape in the water is actually a pretty fish, maybe the kind man who raised you isn't all that he seems, maybe the hated mother who threw you away isn't who you think she was, maybe the apocalyptic lizard cult isn't what it initially appears to be. It also continues the imagery of the sky's light being blocked out, just as the stars were blocked by the Mountain's smoke in the previous chapter. If something big is going to happen in your book, show that theme right at the beginning in seemingly innocuous places.

And I have an important question:

You don't use hyphens much, do you?

A hyphen killed my dog. I don't like to talk about hyphens.

[Elanasaurus]

Orph should feel a little off.

Yay! Puns!

It seems that most of my questions would have been answered in later chapters. I think I'll save questions until later, then.

A hyphen killed my dog. I don't like to talk about hyphens.

[Arabella12]

Here's some writing I've done. I hope you enjoy and leave a comment.

Spoiler: Chapter 1

Show

The Mountain raged against the night sky. From its open crater rivers of lava rushed out and cascaded down its slopes in bright orange streams. Acrid smoke filled the sky, illuminated by the fire below and the thunderbolts that cracked within, blacking out the stars above.

The Mountain is angry tonight. Thought the Adept of Fire as he watched the spectacle of light and darkness from his high tower. And why should it not be? He reasoned, The death of the King draws near.

“The stars are veiled.” The acolyte Animah said. “They will send us no omen tonight.” The younger salamander was hale and strong, and his bright orange scales still retained their youthful sheen unlike the Adept’s, which had faded to the color of red clay. Aminah was a devoted follower, and welcome in the Adept of Fire’s advanced age, but he had the impatience of youth.

“We must see this night through. The King’s time grows short and the star spirits will send their message soon, and we cannot be unaware when that message comes.” The old salamander had given up his own name years ago when he had taken the role of the Adept of Fire. His purpose was to lead the Fire Priests and to serve the Kingdom of the Mountain. His old identity was burned away so that he could fulfill his purpose without the weight of former attachments. When Animah took his place as the Adept’s successor, his own name would be cast aside as well. “Our vigil cannot end until the sign comes or the Sun blesses us with its light for another day.”

The observatory was the highest chamber in the Temple of Light, and the only one whose ceiling was nothing but open sky. Arrayed on a table of black stone were scrolls and books and clay tablets, filled with star charts and histories and prophecies written in ancient tongues that only the Fire Priests still remembered. For generations stretching back into the unlit past when the world was young, the Fire Priests of the Temple of Light had overseen the succession of Kings, ensuring that the strength and wisdom of each ruler carried on into the next one. When the Kings were near death the Adepts would sequester themselves at the top of the Temple’s high tower and watch for a sign from the spirits of starlight to tell them that the next King would be the last, the one whose arrival the Salamanders had prepared for since the days when the star spirits walked upon the earth.

In all that time no sign had ever been sent, but still… the Kings’ lives had grown shorter, the essence of Fire in their spirits burned hotter and fiercer than other salamanders but that fire consumed them all the quicker. The last King in the Mountain had wasted away so quickly that they said the Adept at the time had barely made it to him in time to ensure the succession, and now the current King’s life fires were killing him before even his fortieth year. If the time for the prophesied final King of the Mountain was to come, it could not be long now.

“I am sorry, Adept.” Animah said, lowering his eyes in contrition. “I allowed my impatience to get the better of me.”

“Patience will be a necessary trait when you are the Fire Adept. We have watched the stars and waited for a thousand lifetimes or more. It is more than likely that neither you or I will ever see the promised sign, but we must watch the stars regardless.”

“Yes Adept. I will remember that.”

“Good. Let that be the end of this.” There was no need to reprimand Animah any further for his mistake. He turned to the scrolls to peruse a chart showing the positions of the stars in this time of year. “Even without an omen, preparation for the King’s rebirth must soon be underway. The Keeper of the Young has presented me-”

“Look!” Animah pointed to the sky, his eyes had gone wide.

The Adept looked upward. A patch of sky was still visible beyond the the Mountain’s ash and there a white comet blazed across the stars. The Adept had no words. All his life he had waited for this moment, the moment his people had waited for since the world’s dawn. The comet was beautiful, it’s white light pierced the blackness around it, a harbinger of wonders and terrors to come. All of the Adept’s years and wisdom abandoned him, he was as entranced in his awe as a child glimpsing the glory of the night sky for the very first time. He was enraptured by it, and he was also afraid.

“Is this the sign we have waited for?” Animah said breathlessly.

“Have my palanquin readied.” The Adept said. “The King will die tonight.”

“Yes, Adept.” Animah turned and left down the stairs.

The Adept went to the table and gathered up the scrolls and tablets, painstaKingly placing them back onto the shelves to which they belonged. On one shelf a box sat alone. Of ebony it was made, with golden filigree in the shape of dancing flames. Never in his life had the Adept opened this box, although he carried its key with him at all times. Only upon the King’s imminent death was the box to be opened, and the Adept must be ready at all times. He took the brass key from his robe, put into the lock and turned it. Inside the box was dagger wrought of bronze so brightly polished that it shone like a mirror. The blade was curved in the shape of a long tongue of fire and the handled was carved of the same black wood as the box that housed it and set with a stone of orange tourmaline.

This was the Adept’s purpose, it was the reason he was born, but it was still with a sense of trepidation that he picked up the knife. The salamander he saw reflected in the blade was so old, so weary. He had lived to see the time of prophecy begin, but he would not live to see its culmination. Was that that a cruelty or a mercy, he wondered? What he set in motion tonight others would suffer the consequences of.

The Adept looked back at the sky for the comet, but it was no longer visible behind the smoke, it’s heavenly light swallowed by darkness. That was the price of hesitation. There could be no room for second guessing, not at this point, not with the weight of all his people’s history upon his shoulders. The time for awe was over. Now his work had to begin.

He slid the dagger into his belt and closed the box shut. He descended the steps down through the floors of the temple. The going was slow. His old joints protested with each step and his tail slapped upon the stone stairs as he went. It was strange to think that he had once bounded up and down these very stairs as a young initiate, but that time had long passed. To be young again, if only for one night… but those thoughts were foolish. Time and aged stopped for no one, and the King’s time had nearly run out. What vanity it was to dwell on his lost youth when another’s death was so near.

At the bottom floor of the temple the fire priests waited, the black garbed Confessors, the red Lightbearers, the Guardians in yellow. The heads of the orders were all there, accompanied by their acolytes. Behind them stood temple initiates dressed in white.

The Prime Confessor stepped forward, her scales mottled grey and her blind eyes milky white. “Adept, Animah has told us that the day we have waited for has arrived, that the star spirits have sent their herald to us at long last.”

“It is true.” The Adept said, loudly enough for all in the room to hear. “A comet burns across the sky, a blazing sword of white flame to cleanse our King and make him anew, as he shall make anew this dying world!”

A hush fell over the listeners. Some looked excited, even elated. The Lightbearer Prime fell to his knees and praised the star spirits’ gift, as did his red robed followers. Others were more apprehensive, however. A nervous glance passed between two Confessors, and more than a few of the Initiates looked mortified. The Adept understood their concerns. It was one thing to wait for the time of prophecy, and another thing entirely to see it actually come to pass. There would be much rejoicing when the word of this night reached the people, but in private there would be dread as well.

“The word must be spread to the people.” The Adept said. “Many will seek guidance at the temple. We must be ready to receive them. Wake all who are asleep and open the temple’s doors. Lightbearers, go into the city and let it be known that the reign of the last King in the Mountain has begun. Where is the Keeper of the Young?”

“He has gone to fetch the child, Adept.” The Guardian Prime answered. “He should return soon.”

It was not long before the door on the far end of the chamber swung open and in marched the Keeper of the Young, followed by a train of blue robed acolytes. The last one in was a young female carrying a child in her arms. It was a male baby, black with yellow spots running the length of his body and tail. Newborn babes were always being brought to the temple to be raised as Initiates. The temple encouraged the parents of unwanted or inconvenient children to bring them to the temple rather than leaving them to the elements like the degenerate and faithless faeries of the south were known to do. When it became known that the King was dying, the number of babies brought to the temple had multiplied, doubtless by parents hoping that their blood would sit the throne.

“The child is ready, Adept.” The Keeper of the Young stated.

“Excellent. Allow me to see him.”

The Keeper of the Young motioned to the young acolyte with the babe in arms. “Come, present the child to the Adept.”

Her eyes downcast, the acolyte stepped forward. The child was still clutched tightly to her chest. Doubtless the girl had grown attached to the babe. It was not uncommon among the younger Keepers, nor was a sense of nervousness when speaKing to the Adept for the first time.

The Adept laid a hand upon her shoulder. “There is nothing to fear, child. Nothing bad will happen to the baby.” That was not strictly speaKing the whole truth, but the girl did not need to be burdened with that knowledge. The Adept took the child’s hand in his and let it grab hold of his finger. “He is strong. He will be a great and powerful King.” That was no lie, the baby was in perfect health as the Adept had made sure of when he chose him for the succession. Had its life been allowed to continue, the child would likely have made for a fine Guardian or even a Fire Warrior.

“It is an honor to have cared for the King.” The acolyte said. She held the child up and the Adept took it from her. The baby curled up into his arm, its tail in its mouth. It had thankfully not begun to cry when taken from its carers arms as many newborns were wont to do. That would not have been a Kingly display.

“It is time I left for the palace.” The Adept said. “Guardian, attend me.”

“Attend the Adept!” The Guardian Prime shouted. Four guardians stepped forth, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. They accompanied the Adept as he left through the temple door, two on each side of him.

Animah waited outside with the Adept’s palanquin. It was a carrier fit for a priest of his station, with plush red seats and red drapes, and decorated with golden flames. Four muscled salamanders were its bearers, each with bear chests upon which the image of dancing flames had been tattooed. Many nobles preferred dwarf slaves to carry their palanquins, but the Adept’s servants were the blood of Fire. It would not do to be carried by the lower races.

“Take the child.” The Adept instructed Animah. “This is to be your King, it is well that you should carry him.” He handed the baby off and stepped into the palanquin. Animah climbed in after him and sat on the opposite side. The porters lifted the palanquin and began the journey out the gates of the great black citadel of the temple and into the city.

Black buildings against a black sky, the city was silent. In the absence of the stars, the only light to see by were the torches that lined the streets and the lava that ran down the Mountain’s slopes. It was here on the Mountain, the heart of Fire, the giver of heat and the destroyer of life, that the salamanders made their home. From its black stone was the city built, and by its heat were the city’s people sustained.

The city was a tangled nest of dark alleyways and shadowy corners, unwelcoming to those who stumbled in without knowing the way, unwary of the sharp eyes and sharp knives that followed behind. The road between the Temple of Light and the palace was straight and wide however, and even without the Guardians flanKing the palanquin, there was not a soul in the city who would dare raise a hand against the Adept of Fire.

Animah looked down at the little salamander in his arms. “It is strange to think that one so small could carry such burden. You say this is the one who will make the world anew, but I see nothing but a baby.”

“As he is, that is true.” The Adept said, “As he will be though, that is another thing altogether. He will need guidance. He will need a strong Adept.”

“You will do the job admirably.” Animah said.

“I am talKing about you, Animah.”

Animah turned his gaze away and looked out at the dark city. “That is years away from being true.”

“I will not live to see the King into his maturity. That is your burden to bear. You and this child are bonded. I was the Adept for the old King, and you must the Adept for the new one. I want his training to be done by you.”

Animah looked taken aback. “I-I am not yet Adept. I have not a tenth of your wisdom! How am I to be entrusted with such a task?”

“As the new King grows into his role, so shall you. I shall dedicate myself to your training, and you shall do the same for him. The bond must be strong. I cannot give the King what he needs. He will be the last King in the Mountain and you will be the last Adept of Fire. There is no one else I would entrust with this.”

Animah bowed his head. “I am honored, Adept. When you are gone, I will remember your trust in me.”

Unlike the grandiose pyramids favored by the dwarfs, the salamander’s palace was not a massive building above the ground, but instead was sheltered inside the Mountain itself. The only part visible to the outside was the black curtain wall whose gate was flanked by a pair of thick guard towers whose top were lined with snarling grotesques. Archers peered down upon the palanquin as the iron portcullis was lifted to grant the Adept access.

The palanquin was brought into the courtyard and set down by the Adept’s carriers. Cut into the dark rock of the Mountain was a stairway leading the palace’s front doors, a towering monstrosity of bronze and gold, emblazoned with the image of the Phoenix, that greatest of birds whose body and spirit were the purest essence of Fire who each day lived and died only to be born again. A more fitting symbol could not have been chosen for this night, The Adept reflected as he stepped out of the palanquin.

A great metal groan sounded over the courtyard and slowly, the palace doors opened outward, revealing the orange light within. A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway and descended the stairs. It was one of the Archons, the King’s highest advisors. As he drew nearer, the Adept recognized him through his fading vision as the Archon of Purity, in charge of maintaining the salamanders’ traditions and rooting out those who would question them.

“Well met, Adept.” The Archon said as he approached them.

“And to you as well.” The Adept said. He motioned to Animah. “This is my acolyte Animah, who I have chosen as my successor.”

The Archon of Purity inclined his head to Animah. “It is an honor to meet the future Adept. Is that the child?”

“It is.” Animah said.

The Archon looked the child over. “You have chosen well, Adept. This child is strong. It is well you should bring him to the palace. I fear the King’s time has nearly run out.”

“The King will die tonight.” The Adept said. “A great white comet appeared in the heavens tonight, a sign from the stars that the reign of the last King in the Mountain is about to begin.”

“This is… this is the last King?” The Archon asked, unable to hide his shock.

“It is.” The Adept said.

“I never thought I would live to see this day.” The Archon said, “Now that I have… come, if what you say is true then we must see the King immediately. If you will follow me.”

“Of course.” The Adept said.

Up the stairs they went, slowly to allow for the Adept’s old knees, and into the Great Hall, a huge chamber whose arched ceiling was made from obsidian and set with thousands of diamonds that glittered like stars in the flickering firelight. They went through a stone passageway and then down a stairwell that went deeper and deeper into the Mountain’s fiery heart. The stone was warm down here, blessed by the Mountain’s heat.

At last they reached the King’s sanctum and went into his bedchamber. There, surrounded by a throng of healers, servants, and the other Archons, lay the King in the Mountain, the Fire Soul, Lord of the Salamanders, and the Adept’s friend of over twenty years. A mere thirty four years of age, he looked more than twice that. His skin hung over his bones, his hands were like gnarled tree branches, the luster of his scales was like faded stone. His eyes though, his eyes shone like wildfire, bright and orange.

The King raised his head when the Adept entered the room. “Adept, is that you?”

“It is, my King.” The Adept stepped forward, through the other salamanders that stepped aside to let him past, and took the King’s hand. “I am here.” The King’s flesh was hot to the touch, like roast meat straight off the spit. His friend had a strength of spirit stronger than any other, and it was killing him.

“Good... that is... good.” The words came slowly and with effort. “The rest of you… leave us. I wish… to speak… to the Adept alone.” The others bowed their heads and left, first the Archons and then the servants and healers after them, all but Animah who remained holding the baby in his arms. “I would… hate to… have such an audience…to see me die. That is… why you are here… is it not?”

The Adept had known the King since he was no taller than his thigh. He had watched him grow into a fierce and wise King, full of vigor and life. His swift deterioration was inevitable, the flame that burned brightest also burned shortest, but to see him like this…

“We are both at the end of our journeys.” The Adept said. “You simply rushed along faster than I did. I did always tell you you were impatient.”

The King gave a laugh which soon turned into a hacKing cough. “Tell me, Adept, are you afraid... of the journey’s end?”

“Death gives way to new life.” The Adept replied. “A fire cannot burn forever. To ask for more than we are given would be selfish.”

“Spoken like… a true priest. Help me sit up.” The Adept took the King by the shoulders, and with much groaning, they managed to get the King to sit upright in bed. “Is that... the new King? Come, let me… see him.”

“Yes, my King.” Animah brought the child forward and placed him gently into the King’s arms.

The King looked fondly down on the child, who looked back with bright blue eyes. “Look at you.” He said. The child opened its mouth and cooed back at him, the first sound it had made all night. “You are at the beginning of your road, young one, and I am afraid that I must be stepping off now.” The child reached its tiny hands up and grasped at the King’s nostrils. “Guide him well, Adept.”

“It will be Animah who guides him, not I.” The Adept said.

The King looked Animah over and said “Good, that is as it should be. They will be as close as you and I were.” His voice had grown stronger as he held the baby, the Adept had noticed. He was glad for that small comfort at least.

“It is time.” The Adept said.

“Time to die, you mean?” The King said. “Yes, I suppose there is no point in putting it off any longer. The spirit is strong, but the flesh is weak and selfish. It wants to remain even after its use has been spent. Do it then,before I can ask you not to.”

“Animah, bring me a torch.” Animah fetched a torch from its sconce and handed it to the Adept. The Adept ran his fingers through the flame, feeling the heat enter him, commanding the fire to bend to his will. He pulled his hand away from the torch and a tongue of flame followed on his fingertips. “I unbind your spirit from this mortal flesh.” He placed his finger on the King’s chest and slid it down toward his belly, leaving a line of burnt flesh. As he did, the baby began to wail, as if it feel the pain. The Adept pushed it away with one hand as he traced another line perpendicular to the first. “Your essence shall join with the child, your strength will empower him, your wisdom will light him through the darkness, your flames will be one.” The King’s skin cracked and blistered, and the infant’s wails turned into screams. The Adept drew the knife from his belt and placed the point above the spot where the burnt lines met.

“Goodbye, old friend.” the King said. The baby’s screams were intolerable.

“I take from you this mortal form.” The Adept drove the knife into the King’s chest, and all became pain. The King’s Fire essence rushed through the blade, into his hand and up his arm, burning him. This was the true Fire, no mere wisp of flame but the very essence of Fire itself. It was agony beyond comprehension, and it was bliss. It was consume the Adept’s weak and feeble spirit, and he would gladly let it, so exquisite was the pain and the ecstasy, but some small part of him remembered his duty, and in some small corner of his awareness, he raised the knife above the screaming infant, and plunged it into its flesh.

At once the Fire left him as the life essence of the old king and all the kings before him rushed down the blade and into the child. He pulled the knife from the baby’s body, leaving no wound save for a thin line that glowed orange with heat and then disappeared. The new King’s screams stopped immediately, his deep blue eyes stared intently at the Adept. Was there an intelligence in the child’s eyes? The Adept was not sure.

“Adept, your arm!” Animah gasped. The Adept looked down. His arm was a blackened, charred horror of burnt flesh. The knife fell from his dead fingers and clattered on the stone floor. It should have been agonizing, but as he touched the skin with his other hand, he felt nothing at all.

“It will need to be cut off.” The Adept said calmly. “But first the King must be shown to his subjects, and the old King’s body must be given to the Mountain.”

Animah gathered up the King in his arms. “We should take you to a healer, perhaps your arm can be saved if we hurry.”

“No.” The Adept said. “These mortal forms are of no concern.” He lifted his ruined arm. “This is the price of salvation, Animah. When the King completes his great work, all the world be burned away, the forests will turn to ash and the sea will boil, and all who live in this tainted world will be washed away in purifying flame. Only once this world is cleansed in fire and death will the new world spring anew from the scorched earth and the blackened bones. This arm is my sacrifice, but yours will be so much greater. You must be resolute, Animah, and never waver from what must be done. Do you understand?”

Animah nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” The Adept said. “Then let us crown the new King.”

Spoiler: Chapter 2

Show

The sky was growing dark. The sun had nearly sunk below the horizon, its fading light painted the sky with a purple brush. Above the opposite horizon the moon had risen as if to challenge the sun, basking in its dying rays. Bathed in gold was the forest below, towered over by the World Soul, the great Tree of Life, and far in the distance loomed the Mountain, purple slopes against a purple sky.

Lyra paused to take in the view as she crested the top of the hill, but her brother was already racing down it, his wings buzzing with impatience. “Hurry up, Lyra.” He called back at her, “We’re wasting daylight.” Lyra struggled to keep up with him, her feet ached from a long day of walking.

Her brother Orph was indomitable as always, a tall man by the standard of faeriekind, lean and wiry with broad shoulders and strong arms. Twice Lyra’s age and possessed of a raw physicality, Orph cut an impressive figure as he strode down the hill and knocked aside any blade of grass that dared to impede him with the long carved stick of ash wood he carried.

“Can’t you slow down?” Lyra was fourteen years old and had none of Orph’s swagger or physical presence. She was small and slight, and her head barely came up to Orph’s shoulders. While his form was broad and muscled, hers was skinny. Her limbs were soft and her shoulders were narrow. While Orph strode through the world with an easy confidence, Lyra often found herself looking down at her feet.

The most glaring contrast of all though was their wings. Orph had a pair of long gossamer wings like those of a dragonfly that shimmered in the evening light, but Lyra had no wings at all. She was an Earthbound, a dirt faerie, malformed and inferior, the lowest form of faerie there was.

“We can’t slow down, now.” Orph said. “Light’s running out. Any slower than this and it’ll be a whole other spring when we get to the World Soul.” It was because of Lyra’s affliction that the two of them were force to slowly trudge along the ground like crawling insects rather than fly the way faeries were supposed to.

“If we keep going like this, all I’m going to have are two stumps where my feet used to be.” Lyra said, with perhaps a bit more peevishness than she intended.

“Your poor feet. Shall I build a palanquin for you and carry you around on my back like a queen?” Orph teased her.

“You can’t build a palanquin.” Lyra said. “That’s a bird.”

Orph laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. “Say what now?”

“Palanquins. They’re birds that live far away where it gets so cold that the ground turns into ice and they live on the ice. I heard about them from a storyteller.”

“Those are penguins, Moonbeam.” Orph said, using the name he’d always called her when she was a little girl. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you hear from a storyteller. They’re liars by trade.

Lyra had caught up with him and gave him a punch on his arm. “And you know more than he does?”

“Of course I do. I know everything there is to know about anything.” Without warning, Orph swooped down and grabbed Lyra around the knees, and she was hoisted over his shoulder.

“Hey! Stop!” She cried, kicking and giggling. “Put me down!”

“Nope.” Orph said. “You didn’t want to walk so now you don’t have to. I guess I’m your penguin now.” His wings whirred and the ground fell away from Lyra as he took to the air.

In truth, Orph wasn’t actually Lyra’s brother at all, not by blood at least. He’d found her on the forest floor, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight the way he told it, as if she had descended from the stars for him to find. Lyra had her doubts about that embellishment, but it wasn’t hard to believe that she had been left to die in the wilds. It was common for Earthbound babies like her to be abandoned like that, as few faeries wanted the stigma that came with having birthed one. Orph was different though. Male faeries rarely raised even their own children, let alone someone else’s, but Orph had taken her as his own, shown her the love and care her mother had not. Orph wasn’t her blood, but he was all the family she needed or wanted.

They stopped for the night on the sandy shore of a lake whose crystal water gleamed in the fading sunlight. Lyra shrugged her bag from her shoulders and flopped down next to it on the soft sand. It would be a few days yet before winter truly came to an end, but the air was warm even at this hour. Winter had been mild this year, and it would likely be a warm spring and a very hot summer. For now it just felt good to lie back and rest her weary feet.

She stared up at the clear purple sky felt a pang of alarm when she saw a winged shape circling above. “There’s a bird.” She said. Predatory birds were an ever present danger when traveling under open sky.
Orph looked up. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Ospreys prefer fish over faeries, and he’s got a whole lake to eat from.”

The osprey drifted lazily across the darkening sky, as peaceful as the moon that hung above it. “It must be incredible to fly that high. The freedom of it, all alone in the sky. The world must feel so small from up there, so far away.”

“The higher you get, the colder it gets.” Orph said. “Everything that matters is down here where we are. The sky is nice to look at but it’s no place to live.”

“I’d give anything to go that high.” Lyra said wistfully. “The whole world spreading out below me, able to go anywhere I wanted. Even for one day.”

Orph sat down beside her. “You’d give anything for that? Even me?”

“I said anything, not anyone.”

“Oh, well that’s a big relief. Because I’d sell you away for far less than that.” Lyra gave him a smack on the shoulder and he laughed. “Maybe if you asked him nicely, he’d give you a ride. That or gobble you up.”

“You said they don’t eat faeries.”

“He would if you went right up to him.”

“What if he didn’t, though? What if he let me ride on his back? I’d be the first faerie to ever ride on a bird, and then nobody could call me a dirt faerie or I’d tell the bird to eat them.”

Orph laughed. “I can hear the legend already. Lyra, Queen of the Birds. That would be a short story. She rode a bird way up into the sky, and then fell off and went splat.” He put a hand on her head and mussed her hair up.

Lyra batted his hand away and got up. She stomped off away from him and toward the water.

“Lyra, i was just making fun! You don’t need to be angry!” He called back at her, but Lyra ignored him. She went to the water’s edge and stripped off her brown leggings and the cloth that covered her chest, then walked into the water’s cold embrace.

Swimming was a kind of flying, in a way. Lyra loved the water. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have wings, since she could move in any direction. She wasn’t worse than any other faerie in the water. It was freedom, from both confines of gravity and her inferior body’s inability to defy it. There were some who said that an Earthbound’s lack of wings were a sign that they had no Air Spirit and thus no soul. Maybe they were right, Lyra reflected as she floated facedown on the lake’s surface, looking down into its murky depths. Maybe she had a Water Spirit instead.

A shape came up through the shimmering light. It was a fish with scales like a rainbow that danced in the sunlight. One eye turned up to look at her. The fish was so close that Lyra could reach out and touch it, so she did. The skin was slick and slippery. Lyra tried to hold on to it, but the fish moved away, and with a single flick of its tail it was gone into the murky depths.

Orph had told her stories of submerged kingdoms underneath the Big Water where the nixies ruled long ago when the world was still young. They lived in huge cities of stone and rode in chariots pulled by seahorses, he said, and battled sea monsters like eight armed krakens and eels with teeth like swords, and great white sharks with their terrible jaws and sleek bodies that cut through the water like knives. Who knew what creatures waited at the bottom of the deep waters? Lyra imagined sunken cities on the lake’s floor, filled with ancient treasure and guarded by terrible creatures no land dweller’s eyes had ever seen.

A shape moved under her and Lyra suddenly regretted her active imagination. Images of horrific creatures filled her mind’s eye, and then the shape raced up toward her. The surface of the water erupted as a fish leapt into the air and soared over her head. She turned to follow with her gaze, and the sun was eclipsed as its body passed over. Drops water caught the sun in a brilliant display of sparkling colors and refracted the light coming off the fish’s rainbow scales. The fish landed with splash that washed over Lyra and pulled her under the surface. She oriented herself downward and tried to swim down after it, but with a single flick of its tail the fish sped away and disappeared into the dark water.

The sun was gone and only it’s last fleeting rays remained when Lyra went back to the shore. Orph had a campfire set up within a ring of pebbles and was warming his hands over it.

“You stay on the other side.” he said when she came near. “The last thing I need is for you to get cold water all over me after I worked so hard to get this fire started..” Lyra ran her hands through her long brown hair to wring the water out of it and shook the droplets from her fingers at him. “You’re a horrible child.” Orph said as he wiped his face with his hand.

Lyra pulled on her clothes and sat down next to him. “The World Soul looks beautiful.” she said. That it did. Lyra had always known the World Soul was massive, but there was nothing like actually seeing it. The forest ahead was taller and thicker than than anything that grew near the coast of the Big Water where Lyra had spent all of her life. Any one of its trees would have been impressive, but the World Soul towered above them all. The shadow of its leaves spread over the forest, sheltering countless trees below. It was astonishing enough to look at in the light of day, but now that the sun was down it shown with its own light, thousands of tiny pinpricks that illuminated the tree’s leaves like a mountain of sparkling emeralds.

“How many faeries live there?” she asked.

“Oh, thousands.” Orph replied, “Millions. More faeries than you can even imagine. And many more will be coming for the Equinox.”

The World Soul was far more than just a tree. It was the great Spirit of Life, the place where the spirit of every person came from when they were born, and the place their spirit returned to when they died. Every year, the coming of the new spring brought travelers from all around, and this year would be Lyra’s first visit. The sight of the World Soul was exhilarating, but the thought of all those other faeries…

Lyra warmed her hands over the fire. “What if they don’t want me there?”

“Then they’ll just have to suffer you.” Orph said. “The World Soul is for everyone, it’s your right as much as theirs. You can’t let fear stop you from living your life.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Lyra replied. “You’re not the one who has to be afraid of them.”

“I’m the one they’ll have to answer to if they want to mess with you, though.” He flexed his muscles. “And then they’ll be the ones who’ll have to be scared.”

“I wish I was like you.” Lyra rested her head on Orph’s shoulder.

“What, tall, handsome, and incredibly smart?”

“Normal.” Lyra said. “I wish I wasn’t born wrong, then nobody would have to hate me.”

“You aren’t made wrong, Lyra. Don’t say that ever again. It’s not your fault that other people are too blind and stupid to see you for who you really are. You’re better than they are, and that has nothing to do with the way you look.”
It wasn’t the first conversation they had had like this. Orph loved her, and he may have even meant what he said, but words wouldn’t give her wings, and they wouldn’t take away the envy she felt every time she looked at him. Orph may have been sympathetic, but he wasn’t like her. He didn’t know how it was to feel like he wasn’t a real faerie.

Lyra looked out across the lake. Below the glittering World Soul a shape floated on the moonlit water. Lyra got up and went to the water’s edge to get a closer look. It was a boat, a small canoe with two figures inside. One of the figures held a spear above his head, watching the water intently. He drove into the water, and a fish floated up with the spear sticking out of its side. The fishers both reached into the water and lifted their kill into the boat.

They took out paddles and the boat moved toward where Lyra stood on the shore. She could see them now. The men had dark blue skin, and green hair like seaweed. Their eyes were big and round like those of a fish. They were nixies. Small communities of them lived along the Big Water, but Lyra had never had met any of them. These two were coming right for her, and they each had a spear.

Lyra retreated back to the fire and knelt next to her brother. “There’s two nixies coming.”

“I saw them.” Orph said, “When they get here let me do the talking.”

“They have spears.”

“Then be ready to run if things get ugly.”

The nixies landed their boat on the sand and pulled it up away from the water. One of them lifted the dead fish over his shoulders and the other held both their spears at his sides. They both came walking toward the fire.

Orph sat crouched on the balls of his feet, his knobby stick of ash across his knees. The pose looked casual, but Lyra knew his muscles were tense and ready to spring at a moment’s notice. “Is there something we can do for you?”

The nixie with the spear said, “You have a fire and we have a fish. Much easier to use your fire than to make a new one.”

“You’re welcome to share it then. There’s room for all of us here.” Orph said.

The nixie nodded, and both of them came and sat by the fire. The one carrying the fish dropped it on the ground with a plop. After the other nixie had laid down his spears, Orph put his stick down as well, though still within easy reach.

“My name is Orph and this is Lyra.”

“I am Aul.” the nixie who had carried the spears said. He was the older and leaner of the two, while his companion was younger and more muscular.

“And I am Aul.” said the other one. He was looking at Lyra intently. “You are faeries?”

“We are.” Orph said.

“You are.” Ro said said to Orph. He pointed at Lyra. “What is she? Faeries have wings like dragonflies, that is known.”

“I am a faerie.” Lyra said defensively. “I was born without them.”

“The girl is touched by the Aether.” Aul said.

Lyra had never heard that word before. “I’m touched by what?”

“Mystical mumbo jumbo.” Orph said.

“Not mumbo jumbo.” Aul pointed up at the sky, dark and full of stars. “The world is made out of Air, Water, Earth and Fire, and so those who are made on the world. You are Air and we are Water. But Aether is not of this world. In the long long ago the Aether spirits walked with us. Beings of Star and Void.”

“Elves.” Orph said dismissively. “They lived in castles woven out of starlight and taught the faeries how to spin glamers out of the air. Stories for children.”

“Aul is very much liking stories.” Ro said. He pulled a stone knife from his belt and began the process of gutting the fish.

“Elves some call them.” Aul said, “They were the Star people. They walked this world, but they were not of it. They live above us now, watching from the stars. They leave us their gifts, but they are not given freely. Something must be taken in return. To us they give eyes that see the future, and so they must take the eyes that see the present. When a child is born with no eyes, we celebrate the gift the Star spirits have given us. There is no greater gift to a village than a Seer. To take your wings the Star spirits must have given you something very special in return.”

“I can’t see the future.” Lyra said.

“You are not a nixie.” Aul said. “You are an Air spirit. You will have a different gift, but no less important. Did your mother not tell you these things?”

“My mother threw me away.” Lyra said. She hugged her knees together and watched the fire dance.

“Our people aren’t as accepting of children who are born different as yours are.“ Orph said solemnly. “There’s a mistaken belief that since faeries like Lyra don’t have wings, then they must not have Air spirits and are cursed.”

“Well I wish they’d kept their gift.” Lyra said. “How good could it be if my mother didn’t want me?”
Aul sighed. “It is not for us to ask such things. We must live the best we can with the gifts we are given, and trust that they were given wisely. You were given this gift for a reason. You must find what that reason is.”

“Aul’s gift is to talk and talk until your ears fall off.” Ro said. “I am hungry, and talking will not cook this fish.”
Before long the nixies had the fish roasting on a makeshift spit over the fire. The skin crackled and hissed from the heat, and the smell of cooked meat filled Lyra’s nose. She was unused to to eating the flesh of animals, and she was curious enough to try some when Ro offered her a slab of fish meat. The meat tasted strange on her tongue, smoky and savory and unlike anything she’d ever eaten before, but the warm, juicy meat was satisfying after a long day of walking.

“You are going to the Tree of Life?” Ro asked.

“We are.” Orph said.

“We see many faeries coming this time of year, and we see the light and hear the music from the Tree. We dance along with it in the village.”

“Have you ever been there?” Lyra asked.

Ro laughed. “The Tree is tall and we do not like such heights. Nixies go deep underwater, not high in the air. That is the faeries’ domain. Still, we celebrate the spring in our own way, and a spring that comes warm and early like this one is one to celebrate. It will be a good summer.”

“Perhaps not so.” Aul said. “Summer is the time of fire, and the Mountain has been smoking. Long ago a long summer came and the Mountain spilled its fire across the whole world. Beware of a long summer.

“Aul believes in children’s tales.” Ro said. “The Mountain smokes every year. It smoked last year, and next year it will also smoke. The world does not end. An early spring means more food, and the Mountain can spew all the smoke it wants. It has a heart of Fire, and fire makes smoke. That is all.”

“You do not believe in stories enough.” Aul said. “When the Mountain awakes and we are both burning, I will remember to say I told you so.” He laughed.

“What kind of music do you dance to?” Lyra asked.

“There are no instruments to play here.” Ro said. “Dancing is for the village to do, not out in the wild.”

Lyra opened up her bag, rummaged past the nuts and berries and the pretty rocks she liked to keep, and pulled out a wooden flute. “I can play music for you.” She said.

“You do not know any of our songs and I do not have the skill to teach you.” Ro said, “Play a faerie song for us.”

Lyra puts the flute to her lips and closed her eyes. She may not have been good for much else, but she could make music better than almost anyone. She played a song of spring, and when she was finished Aul was looking intently at her.

“You are a beautiful player.” he said. “Perhaps that is the gift the Star spirits have given you.”

“It hardly compares to seeing the future.” Lyra said bitterly.

“Do not underestimate the worth of song, child. Song lifts the spirit, it brings the village together. It does not keep us alive, but it gives us something to live for. The gift of song is not one to shrug off.”

“Play us another one.” Ro said.

She did, and then another, and another, on and on into the night until she was the only one left awake. She lay on her back looking up at the stars and wondering if they looked back at her.

In the morning the nixies thanked them for the fire and the music, and they returned to their boat. Lyra sat on the lakeshore and watched them row away.

Orph put a hand on her shoulder and said, “It’s time we left as well.”

“Orph, do you think the Star spirits gave me a gift?” The boat was just a dot, lost in the bright blue lake under a bright blue sky.

“I don’t think anyone is watching over us down here, and they wouldn’t help us even if they were.” He shouldered his bag and tossed Lyra’s on the sand next to her. “Now come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Thats nice really interested information thanks

[An Enemy Spy]

Thats nice really interested information thanks

Thank you, person I can only assume is a bot.

[Elanasaurus]

So... could I see the rest of the story? Not going to comment about typos this time.

[An Enemy Spy]

Posting these on the forum is a pain so here's a link to Wattpad.

[Elanasaurus]

Sweet! Thanks!

[An Enemy Spy]

Sweet! Thanks!

If you like it, consider leaving a vote or a comment. Or even if you don't like it.

[An Enemy Spy]

Chapter 4 is up.

[An Enemy Spy]

Wrote another chapter. https://www.wattpad.com/666146675-the-world-soul