10 July 2026
The crash came like a titan wielded war hammer, smashing an anvil on a distant mountain. The sudden crack rattled the walls of their otherwise stalwart home. Following this, an angry, avalanche-like crescendo that, even after traveling thousands of miles, still shook the ground beneath them. Then all was quiet, but not silent. Thunder continued its rumbling song from across the sea. His ears strained to listen for more of its melody, but it was far too distant to discern.
His head drooped once more, and the page slipped from his hand mid-turn. Did the strange thunder occur, or had he dreamt it? He battled further, sleep threatening to overtake him. The spacious study felt too warm and too comfortable. He centered himself, eyes roving through the suite’s many alcoves in search of an escape from encroaching boredom. Except for his parents’ master apartment directly overhead, the family library was the house’s sole other octagonal room. Books of various sizes and subjects sat on the solid shelves along the inner walls. Bordered by smaller bookshelves, the outer wall featured large windows offering a beautiful panoramic view of the front yard.
“Focus, Elec.” His father said in their native tongue, “I can almost hear you falling asleep.”
Father stood only a few inches shorter than himself, with long black hair that fell between his long, pointed ears. Though the older Elf looked much, much thinner, his father could easily throw him across their lawn when wrestling. He spoke in the rich, deep, velvety, song-like voice Elec had worked so hard to emulate. A commanding voice that earned respect readily and melted many young ladies’ hearts. Right now, it annoyed him as he fought to keep present. Not that Elec was trying to remain awake, nor slip into the deep sleep his body wanted right now. Rather, he sought the meditative, in-between state known as Sena’ela, the wakeful sleep all Elven parents teach their children once they reach their foundational years. His eyelids felt heavy once more, and his breathing began to slow. Beyond the pleasant crackle of the fireplace and the heavy thrum of rain falling against the roof one floor above him, this night sought to subdue him. And despite his concentration, his head drifted to the right, eyes fluttering.
Father rested peacefully while removing another handful of books from the top shelf to place them on the large writing desk. He, too, was in the midst of sena’ela, his dilated and unblinking, golden-brown eyes caught Elec’s dwindling stare while he wiped the dust from the thick tomes. He took a breath, meaning to comment further, but Elec’s mother, who sat on the couch just below one of the four large windows on the other side of the library, interjected.
“Runand.” Mother said from over the top of the shirt she was mending. “If you’re going to talk to him, then talk. Don’t chide. You know it’s easier for him to remain alert when he’s talking.”
His mother’s voice sounded as silky as ever, but carried a similar huskiness to both Father’s and his. Elec turned his head to see her regarding him with her eyes warm and unblinking. She also slept, working on Elec’s torn shirt from yesterday. The flicker of light from the fireplace reflected on the pair of knitting needles she used to hold her sandy blonde hair in a bun, while a few strands hung down around her pointed ears. Distant green lightning illuminated the great windows. The luminescence almost matched the color of her eyes. A gust of wind sent a curtain of rain against the side of the house.
In the center of their spacious library, his father stood at the large writing desk, bearing several stacks of books next to his unique desk spike. About a foot and a half long, the dark spike is where he pinned documents he needed ready access to. A pen, a miniature blade, and a tiny looking-glass hovered just above the sharp point.
The heavily lacquered furniture and shelves gave off the pleasant aroma of mellow herbs, mulled wine, and charred campfire wood. The well-maintained binding and pages of the book he held gave off an equally cordial scent of their own. His eyelids weighed heavily once more. He took several long breaths and raised his head from the old leather-bound book he had been reading to look up at the ornate chandelier hanging from the center ceiling beam. The many candles aided the cheerful glow of the fireplace in illuminating his father’s library. Cheerful, but a little too comforting.
“Father, can I choose another book? While I enjoy history, this particular one proves rather bland,” Elec said.
“May I…And absolutely,” Father said, “once you can rise and fetch it without coming fully awake. By the way, which one did you select?”
The sharp look reminded Elec not to speak in islander slang at home, something his father disliked. Elec slowly leaned forward, his focus still intact. As he put weight on his feet, he felt the telltale quickening of his heart rate and the dryness of his eyes. With a sigh, he settled back into his seat. Maybe I’ll start trying to begin my sleep on my feet as Father recommended, Elec thought. The wind rose and fell. Rain pelted the windows, and a distant rumble of thunder accompanied every flash of lightning, rattling the large panes of glass in their frames. He soon regained his focus while turning the book over to look at its spine.
“Marsenden Empire, a History,” Elec said. “It would be nicer if it had more maps or illustrations. Why do we even have such books if these places don’t even exist anymore? It keeps referencing townships and colonies I haven’t heard of, nor can I place.”
“Nor would I expect you to. Marsenden has been dead longer than most mortal scholars can remember, and timeless historians care to. I barely recall what the banners looked like in those days. Yet, we keep their memory alive to honor their accomplishments and learn from their mistakes. Personal knowledge prevents their repetition through ignorance. For once, so great a nation, spanning parts of all the continents…now even the maps argue the names of what ruins remain. I can tell…”
The windows flashed bright green. A loud rumble of thunder rolled in from the east of the house, giving the books along the wall a shudder. Typhoons frequented the region and were common out in the bay, but something troubled his father. Elec saw it in the way the older Elf squinted his eyes as he set the stack of books down on his desk and crossed the room. A subsequent flash glowed with a pale purple, nearly pink hue, then green bursts followed, accompanied by a deafening thunderclap originating offshore.
“Muina, Love, come over here. Now there’s a storm.”
Elec’s mother rose, and he could tell by the speed she moved and the blinking of her eyes that she had just come fully awake. Father pointed out across the yard and towards the ocean, just out of Elec’s view. She tucked the loose strands of hair behind her long, pointed ears and followed Father’s gaze out the window. Another flash of purple lightning made her look back at Father and then at himself. Elec remained still, despite his sena’ela threatening interruption by coming awake rather than falling asleep. He tilted his head to get a better view.
“Father, what is going on?”
“It’s just a…”
A sharp explosion of thunder crashed overhead, causing them all to flinch slightly. Several books, odds and ends, and a crystal sphere fell from the shelves. The trio of levitating desk instruments clattered onto the polished hardwood floor as their central spike shuddered over.
“Ilen, salva aen. That was close!” Mother said. “The storm’s moving fast. Exceptionally fast.”
Father came awake, his eyes focusing on Elec’s while his son’s narrowed. Elec almost roused himself at his mother’s use of the ancient Aeliryn language. This concerned him, as his parents were not ones to be startled. Both were centuries old and adventurers of great renown. For them to be made this uneasy, he thought, this storm was something different.
Elec’s parents glanced at him before staring into each other’s eyes silently. They remained there for a long moment without saying a word, and he knew why. The two elves communicated telepathically. An odd sense of gravity flowed between them as they hid the rest of the conversation from him. They’re talking about the things from the past they still want to shield me from, he thought in frustration. He tried to discern as much as he could from their body language and facial expressions. A furrow of the brow. A tilt of the head. A shrug. Both looked at the small painting next to the doorway.
It was a tiny oddity amongst the various others in their collection from adventures past. The picture within the frame resembled nothing clearly; the image was nothing more than swirls and washes of color. While it never moved when viewed, it always changed. No one could truly discern the purpose of its enchantment or the images it produced. The wild swatches of cool colors now had hard lines of purple and green. Like hard slices of a painter’s knife, the narrow and darting hues flit from one side of the small canvas to the other. There was something dangerous underlying this storm, Elec thought as he looked from it to his parents as they continued their silent discussion. They looked out the four large windows, then turned in a slow circle as if imagining their entire lands. The couple stopped when their gaze rested on the back of the house once more.
“…and whose job it was to reinforce the barn like the house in case of such an occurrence.” Mother said aloud, crossing her arms.
“We got caught up in what thing in Rothe…a…that thing, remember.”
Father cast his eyes at Elec as he ran a hand through his hair.
“That was a hundred years ago, Love.”
“True. True, but it can’t be helped at the moment…Besides, who was supposed to go down to the old cove and check the moorings?”
“No, no, no. Don’t you try to change the subject…” She replied with a laugh, the conversation continuing silently.
“Anything I can do?” Elec asked.
The storm outside continued to grow in intensity. At regular intervals, the wind howled and lightning flashed. The thunder that made the house tremble followed at an increasing tempo. The storm is almost upon us, he thought.
“Elec, stay here and continue your meditation. Your mother and I will handle this,” Father said.
The two of them left the library and headed for the double doors at the back of the house. Elec waited for his parents to leave the study before he huffed in disagreement. At his present state, it came out as a slow, discontented sigh. I am forty-three years old now, and they still treat me like a child, he thought to himself. I should be out there helping, too.
The wind rose, not in a gust this time, but with sustained intensity. It was as if the storm had heard his disquieted thought and was now answering. The double doors at the back of the kitchen crashed open, and the sound of glass shattering filled the space between Elec and his parents. He came fully awake, leaped to his feet clumsily, and rushed to the back of the house. Another explosion overhead caused him to jump and stumble on his way through the dining room.
*
Though long distant, another loud clap of thunder exploded, sending a rumble felt even through the ground. The canopy of leaves and branches whipped about in fury as the rain now fell in sheets. Green and purple lightning illuminated the dark surroundings, giving hints and glimpses of the surrounding turmoil. The once hard-packed trail had now become a very shallow, muddy creek as the water ran underneath the wagons before him and between his strategically placed feet. The old sword held the hood of his cloak down over his forehead to keep the lashing wind from whipping the rain into his eyes. He held the hissing lantern close and inspected the knots securing the crates to the wagon he was standing next to. The bindings continued to hold, but he did not like the creaking of the ancient ropes tying the wagons to the trees across the trail. The trees themselves were groaning under the constant assault of the gale screaming around them. Every gust of wind seemed to lift the wagons higher on their feather-light suspension and threatened to uproot the surrounding trees. The wagon wheels rose against their chocks, poised to go careening down the road. He liked the newer wagons, but their flat bottoms and spongy suspension seemed to float when the wind gusted just right.
“Seraphine?” He said.
A figure, huddled under a cloak, shuffled beneath the wagon before him, but gave no response. He thought to shift this wagon so the wind would not lift it, but it was far too late to get one of the frightened animals over to help. Let alone one of the caravan drivers.
“Seraphine, we have to move away from the wagons. We’ve already secured the animals, but if these ropes snap, the wagon will crush you under it.”
The thin, drenched figure shuffled to the side of the wagon close to him.
“You couldn’t wait one more day, could you?” The girl said. “Nice, comfortable room in the inn? Regular sets in the commons? No, no, no! We have a lead. We have to go now!”
“The contract mentioned a growing bandit company, and it wasn’t raining then. This storm is not natural. I’ve never seen green lightning, let alone purple as well.”
The girl pulled the hood of her cloak up just enough to look at him, revealing sharp green eyes over a freckled nose. Her bright red hair was as soaked and matted to her head as the cloak itself. The weight of it rested heavily on her pointed ears, making her look like a sad, wet puppy. Roderick, ever stoic, chuckled inside while his face remained impassive.
“Give me your shield.” She said.
The older man stared at her as she continued to huddle underneath the wagon. He had not thought of it, but the shield now felt cold and heavy from its spot on his back.
“Please give me your shield, Roderick.”
“Why do you need my shield?”
“To shield me from the rain, of course.”
“You’re already soaking wet and half covered in mud now. When the storm dies down, we can set up the shelter…”
The wind shifted, causing the wagon to jump on its suspension. Creaking and moaning, the tree to his immediate left fell, exposing its roots. The rope that was attached to it broke. The lantern fell from his hand as he grabbed the lurching wagon. He tried to press his side down below the wind, but it rose despite his heavy mass. He braced himself against the wagon and could feel the rain-slicked deep blue jacket and chain-mail shirt cling fast to the tight muscles of his upper body. Roderick grunted as he dug his feet further into the mud as the wagon’s mass shifted against the chocks under the wheels. Seraphine scrambled, her feet and knees sliding against the mud she had been sitting in, trying to find purchase.
“Hurry…” He growled.
The wind whipped up, and the wagon lifted on its bouncy suspension. All the wagons bobbed and rocked against creaking ropes in the gale. Roderick could feel himself beginning to slide, the combined wind and weight of the wagon overpowering his footing. Seraphine, still trying to escape from beneath, shrieked as the other rope holding the wagon snapped as well. The wind ripped her cloak from her shoulders as she cleared the moving wheels. When she was out from under, he stepped aside and let the wagon go. It bumped along the road, carried by the drafts like a rudderless boat.
For a while, the Half-elf glowered at the old sword as she shivered, clutching her shoulders in the windy downpour. Roderick stared at her as he hunched against the increasing wind for a moment. Then, grabbing the hem of his fluttering, rain-soaked cloak, he wrapped it over the top of her. Together, they shuffled their way to where the rest of the caravan huddled amongst the packed trees.
“Thanks,” Seraphine said, “I would’ve hated to be remembered for being senselessly crushed by my own stubbornness, despite all we’ve lived through.”
In a dense collection of thick, sturdy trees, the rest of the caravan and their animals huddled. Roderick found the downwind side of the group and pressed themselves against the sodden group. Various sniffles and coughs joined in with the dismal smells of rain-soaked travelers and the excrement from the frightened animals nearby. The rain fell even heavier now, but the girl pressed against his chest provided a bit of warmth. Roderick took one more look around their makeshift camp before pulling down his hood and resolving to wait out the sudden storm. He would not allow himself to sleep until the storm had died down enough to build a shelter. Their quarry should be nearby, and they would regroup with the other mercenaries in the morning to assess their resolve before pushing onward. The rain fell heavily against his cloak, continuing to soak through in its insistent drone that threatened to pull him under into sleep as well.
*
A deep thrumming sound accompanied the soft white glow illuminating the kitchen and dining room space at the back of the house. Elec’s boots crunched on the glass strewn about the spacious kitchen and dining room. A wild display of green and purple lightning flashed through several of the eastern windows as he left the study. Wind wailed through the open frame of their back door as Elec approached. Mother and Father stood just off the edge of the long, covered porch. Beams of powerful magic flowed from their outstretched hands, surrounding the roof and sides of their family barn. Using their centuries-honed magical abilities, they tried to hold the enormous, stylish enclosure together. Sweat mixed with the rain that streamed down their determined faces as they tried to displace a portion of the storm.
“Elec!” Father said, “Stay inside! The house will hold, but the barn is not as structurally safe. We’re trying to petrify the wood…”
Even at that short distance, the older Elf had to holler over the storm. The growing noises of frightened livestock interrupted Elec’s attention to his father’s explanation. The animals brayed and bleated with fear and anxiety.
“Father, I have to get in there! If the animals become further spooked, the calves and kids will be trampled.” Elec said.
He ran across the porch. The wind whipped his jacket into his face.
“Wait!” Father and Mother yelled, transfixed in their spots and focus. “Elec! The wind!”
Elec leapt from the porch, and the gale threw him sideways several yards into the soggy grass. He clawed the ground, trying to find purchase as the force of the storm pushed him even further. Digging his feet into the soft earth, he clambered his way along the soil. The wind and rain buffeted him as he crawled towards the barn, several panels tearing loose and flying past him as he approached.
The door to the barn held fast against the gusting wind and the progressing petrification rising from the base of the building. Elec pressed both his feet against the doorframe to wrench it open. Upon entering, the door closed forcefully on its hardening frame. He took several breaths to regain his composure. Never had he felt such fear moving the short distance across the yard. What normally took a moment seemed to take a lifetime under the tremendous gale. He assessed the situation as the door turned to stone behind him.
Inside, the four ornate rows of wooden pens held many cows, pigs, sheep, oxen, and goats. The foundation of his family’s livelihood stirred nervously in the growing din. He smelled the ferrous scent of their combined fear, overwhelming that of the hay and manure that permeated the interior. Overhead, the many planks of the roof fluttered and creaked as the wind threatened to tear more of them out from under the enchantments holding them in place. Elec moved to the barn’s center and raised his hands to the roof, calling forth the mystical power gifted to him by his birth and honed by years of instruction. He reached out with those energies, feeling the roof, the planks, the beams. He gripped the structure with his magic, adding his energy to aid his parents. Despite his efforts, the howling wind ripped away more planks. Purple and green lightning crisscrossed the skies in the empty spaces as the rain fell through. As physically strong as he was, his magic was like a dim candle compared to that glowing brightly above him. Their magic continued to petrify the structure of the barn. The wooden walls became more and more still as the magic worked its way from the bottom. A shell of magic shielded the roof from as much of the damaging wind and rain of the storm as possible.
The animals became more and more agitated as the typhoon raged on. Elec allowed the spell to dissipate, feeling the momentary strain from without as he released the energy into the ether, leaving it to be replaced by his ever-growing frustration. He turned his focus on the animals, and again he raised his hands skyward. He called forth his powers once more to create an image of the roof, still and unbroken. While only an illusion, it hid the visible movement, the lightning, and any of the growing damage the chaos outside was causing. The deception seemed to help the animals settle a little, though the noise of the wind against the real roof unnerved them. Elec lowered his hands, watching to make sure the image held.
“Easy there, ye all. Shhh… shhh… shhh…Calm down. Everything is going to be all right. It’s just a bit of thunder and rain.”
He moved from pen to pen along the rows, soothing the animals. The wind wailed once more to protest this notion, gaining intensity and screaming through the missing portions of the roof. Elec cupped his hands near his mouth and blew into them, several small balls of light forming within. He lowered his hands to the ground and rolled the small orbs of light out to the various enclosures. The orbs rose and lowered while rotating around the rows of pens, helping to distract and calm the animals further. The work felt tedious, but the animals’ fear appeared to be managed during the constant dance of soothing attention and bobbing orbs of light. Elec moved from pen to pen, reassuring the animals and seeing good progress.
Lightning exploded over the top of the barn, and the thunder shook the still wooden parts of the structure. The bray of Rurjur, their large black bull, answered the crash. While he did not measure anywhere near the size of the giant bull of the Vyrnus family, he was more than enough of a match for Elec once enraged.
“Rurjur! Calm down!” Elec said as gently as he could over the noise. “Calm down now, friend! Yer not going to go out there and fight a typhoon, now.”
Rujur snorted and pawed his hoof in disapproval. The bull rattled the gate with his horns and stamped on the hinge to prepare for his escape. The other animals witnessed this, becoming more and more frightened. Elec continued to talk the massive animal down, but to no avail. The storm seemed to undermine every effort to calm the beast with anecdotes of lightning, thunder, and screaming winds. Sensing an inevitable attack, Elec raised his hand towards the bull and began saying more words to ease it as he called forth more of his magical talents. Elec focused the idea of relaxing, tranquil breathing, and peaceful quiet into a tiny ball of energy, which he released onto the bull. The massive animal quieted down, leaned sideways against its rails, and fell asleep in its pen.
Elec felt the strain growing within him as he cast the spell. The many other enchantments he maintained took their toll on him. His head felt heavy, and his steps were losing their surety. Other animals begin to call and bleat again. Elec moved to each, using his soothing familiarity with them to calm them as much as he could, or magically induced sleep when they proved too frightened. Soon, a good number of the larger animals slept amidst the wailing wind, while the rest stirred within their pens. With his stamina depleted, Elec continued to verbally calm the scared animals, using the rails of the pens to steady his legs as they weakened. Above him, the winds continued to howl, but the illusion of the unmoving roof remained steady, held up by his taxed concentration.
The night waned on, and the storm subsided. Elec lay upon a bench, the growing weariness of maintaining the magic keeping animals calm gnawed at him. He watched in a daze as the petrification drained away from the structure like paint being washed away from a canvas. The beams, planks, and boards of the barn became regular wood once more.
Father burst in through the now-wooden door. His eyes fell upon Elec, the concerned face breaking into a pleased smile. He crossed the barn’s interior, appraising Elec’s work with a look of firm admiration. Several animals snored while the others pawed and scratched at the low, bobbing orbs of light. The ceiling would have seemed unscathed if the image hadn’t started to warble and droop like melting wax. Elec propped himself on an elbow as his father approached. The older Elf placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Elec, this is outstanding! You’ve done real good, son. Now you must release your hold on the magic.” Father said, “Come now. The storm is spent. Let it go and breathe, Son. Otherwise, your body will do it for you and drop you in bed for a fortnight.”
Elec allowed the knot in his mind to loosen and release, the lights snuffing out in twos and threes, the real roof showing through in all its mangled form. Father caught him as he pitched over backwards, his body falling limp along with the mental release. Elec’s head lolled back, bleary eyes witnessing the strange purple and green glow in the clouds seen through the missing slats. His father raised one of his son’s arms and hefted his son’s heavy bulk onto his shoulders with the ease of carrying a lamb. I can’t believe he can still carry me this easily, Elec thought in his delirium. I wonder what he was like when he was battling those fiery undead hundreds of years ago.
“Runand, is he alright?” Mother asked.
Elec reached out and squeezed her hand as his father carried him to the porch. Mother placed a hand to the side of his face, her green eyes meeting his as the hand shifted to rub the back of his ear. He smiled, though he hated her fussing over him so.
“He’s just a little tired, that’s all. More importantly, he kept the animals from wrecking the pens inside while we held everything else together.”
“Looks like you overdid it a little, Son. You get some good sleep then.”
“You’re going to need it. That storm wreaked havoc not only on the barn but on our roof as well. We’ll need you to head into town to get some lumber and supplies to make repairs. We’ll keep an eye on the animals and mend some of the damage tonight. I’ll have the wagon hitched up for you when you wake.”
Elec turned his head from his parents to see the fading storm on the distant sea. The receding clouds revealed a tiny pillar of swirling clouds many leagues out, purple and green flashes of lightning dancing around the column. Once on the porch, Father set him down on wobbly legs. His father’s strength astounded him, despite the difference in their builds. Father laughed, likely hearing the thought, clapped his son on the shoulders, and rubbed his upper arms.
“Your bravery pleases me greatly, Son.” He said, “However, you shouldn’t be discouraged by the fact that your powers aren’t as strong as ours. We both started where you are now. The most important part is using the power you have in creative ways. Sometimes the smallest thing, whether a spell, a word, or even an act of kindness, can have the biggest impact. Now go get yourself some rest. You’ve the look of one who is about to fall over…again.”
Without further protest, Elec turned and entered the shattered double doors. Picking his way past the grand kitchen, he made a rain-soaked and muddy trail all the way to the living room and curled up on the couch near the fireplace. With a wave of his hand, the logs sparked and caught fire. The effort added another pang of exhaustion and a wince of pain. He smiled despite this, teetering on the brink of sleep. His father’s words replayed in his mind. While he could not yet help hold the barn together, he could manage the animals. Even Rurjur complied with his will. The animals remained calm by both skill and spell. It wasn’t as impressive, but it was something noteworthy. Before he could even think of finding his journal to write this musing down, he was fast asleep, the wind’s now gentle noise sounding all around.
*
A strong but no longer forceful wind sent a chill through her body once more. Seraphine awoke, shivering, as she huddled against Roderick. She felt thankful that the storm had washed much of the animal excrement away, leaving the more pleasant woodland smells, but was otherwise as miserable as everyone else. The rain fell calmly now, pelting a gentle rhythm against the makeshift tent they had erected in the cluster of trees where they still huddled. She felt the scene should have inspired her, but her icy, cold, and rain-soaked clothes prevented such positive ideas. At least for the moment. It had taken an hour for her, Roderick, the caravaners, and the handful of mercenaries they traveled with to stretch the canvases between the narrow cluster of trees to form enough of a shelter to keep most of the rain and a bit of the wind off of them. It did nothing to stop the creek that flowed under their rears and soaked through their pants. The rest of the caravan continued to huddle together much as before. Everyone looked like a group of pitiful refugees…Seraphine stopped the thought before reminiscing further. One traveler glanced at her before his sallow, soggy features slunk back under the cloak he had pulled over his head.
The warrior sat stock-still, his blue eyes closed, while beads of water trickled down his shock-white hair and beard. It gave her the impression of an ancient statue of some lost knight hidden amid the forest. Were it not for the steady, slow rise and fall of his breath under his gray-blue heavy coat, no one could tell if he was alive.
Seraphine woke again, not aware of when she had drifted to sleep, but she felt a steady pull from her shoulder. Roderick remained motionless, one hand on the hilt of his longsword, the other tucked under the hem of his jacket. Again, the pull on her shoulder came, insistent this time. She reached up and found it was not a hand, but her shoulder strap that was tugging. As she moved, the tug became a pull. The tiny pocket of warmth between her body and the warrior’s disappeared. Twisting, she could see that one of the caravan members was trying to pull her sling out far enough to cut the strap to her lute. The man lifted Roderick’s cloak from her lower back and continued to yank the slack of her lute’s sling with one hand while holding a knife in the other.
“Continue to touch my friend’s instrument, and you lose that hand,” Roderick said.
His voice came like the growl of a bear, though his eyes remained closed.
“We’ll need dry wood to start a fire…” The hooded person said.
Seraphine attempted to draw her rapier, but found it pinned between Roderick and herself. She reached for her dagger, and Roderick’s eyes flashed open to glare at the person. The caravanner shied away as if he had awakened a fire-breathing dragon. Seraphine shifted and drew her rapier. There was more movement from the other side of the shelter. Roderick turned his head to the sound of a crossbow being readied.
“It will be daylight soon. We’re all cold, but it is spring in this region, and we’re not truly freezing. Be patient, be still, or you won’t get to see it.”
There was still some grumbling, but the other huddlers settled back into their places.
“You get some rest, Sera,” Roderick whispered. “I’ll keep watch.”
Despite her fear, a heavy drowsiness gripped her once more. She shifted her lute to Roderick’s side and rested the hilt of her ornate rapier against his opposite knee. She didn’t let go of the weapon but reckoned that if needed, Roderick could grab it from her and wield it if she were not fast enough. From under the cloak and canvas, she could see the first rays of dawn shining through the trees as her eyes closed again.
*
The sun shone in that pleasant, glowing haze sort of way after a fresh rain early in the morning. Elec rolled over, trying to return to sleep, but a familiar voice hollered from the backyard.
“Those poor hens are probably scattered all the way to the foothills. I’ll let them enjoy their freedom for the morning and worry about building another coop once more of them return.” Father said. “This afternoon I will raise new fences after you’ve gathered some more wood, Love.”
Elec awoke in a stupor to find that not only were his soaked and muddy clothes clean and dry but also the couch he had flopped down on in his complete exhaustion. All traces of his rain-soaked, soiled slumber were gone. He rose and stretched, shaking his head to clear the fog from his consciousness. His mother left a high-piled plate of rolls, cheese, and cold meat on the counter near the newly repaired double doors. He grabbed a few of each and popped the morsels into his mouth. Before he could react, he had eaten the entire plate; the overexpenditure of magic leaving him both tired and ravenously hungry. Grabbing a few boiled eggs from a bowl further down the counter, he opened the door and stood on the porch, leaning against the rail.
Father stood halfway between the house and the barn, writing on a bit of parchment with a coal-tipped stylus, while another lay tucked into his hair behind one of his long, pointed ears. He scribbled down numbers and estimates of what would need to be replaced while Mother carried a very large bundle of loose beams and planks of wood on her shoulders. Elec worked the shells off of the eggs with a fingernail while he watched her march up from several hundred yards away. She did so in a manner and ease that reminded Elec of how his father had just carried him. Elec reckoned she had been wandering their fields, picking up what the storm had cast aside. With a bend and a shrug, she laid the boards upright against the side of their damaged barn.
“The light of my day brightens.” Mother said, “Look who’s finally awakened.”
She took her gloves off and approached the porch. She hugged Elec, lifting his mass an easy couple of feet off the ground despite the noticeable size difference. Mother set him back, then stepped back to observe him. Elec couldn’t help but note how disheveled his clothes were. She gripped the cuff of his shirt and gave it a flick. A tingling wave of magic flowed across his skin and through the clothes, smoothing out the creases and making them much more presentable. She gave him an approving smile before continuing.
“I’m sorry if you felt we were treating you like a child before, Elec. Your father and I have lived on this island for over two and a half centuries. Never during that period did we face a storm such as this. Ever.”
Father rolled up the parchment and handed it to him.
“Not even during our travels, Elec. And we’ve seen a lot of weather-related phenomena, both natural and conjured. I am very proud of you, though. It would have been infinitely more difficult to keep the barn standing with the livestock stampeding within. Your mother and I are powerful, but we are also still quite imperfect, no matter how experienced. Ilen thel es nai ranlina.”
Elec’s parents hugged him for a long moment.
“But I couldn’t help hold the barn together,” Elec said.
“And you performed excellently given your circumstances. Granted, I will tease you about being blown across our fields and into the Vyrnus’s lands,” Father said, Mother slapping him on the chest. “As a reward, you can select something from Brienne’s shop while you are in town. Have her put it towards my account.”
Elec stepped away. The two older elves embraced and kissed, following his withdrawal. He cleared his throat to get their attention when the moment lasted longer than he felt it should.
“Oh, you’re still here? I was of the mind you’d be halfway to the town by now.” Father said with a teasing laugh, the couple disengaging. “Fetch your pack from upstairs. I’ve readied the wagon out front. Grab a few vials of Narehresta from the apothecary cabinet. This storm’s overall impact remains unknown, and neighbors might require aid.”
Next Chapter – Chapter 2 – Retrieved from Without *17 July 2026
James C Gilliam 