Between Two Suns (The Ashven Kingdom Trilogy #1)

Prologue

Elia - Eleven Years Ago

The trajectory of my entire future was changed on another seemingly ordinary day.

There were no fireworks or explosions, no waving red flags.

No big sign from the universe or the Ancients themselves telling me that today in particular would be anything other than the usual monotonous day in my life.

But I’ve since learned that fate has a funny way of showing itself.

The day started off as all others did for me back then - with the sound of the rooster crowing.

It was my daily morning greeting, pulling me from the comfort of my dreams and forcing me awake to face reality.

The rooster call was the everyday reminder of where I lived.

Owning a farm meant work and chores in the morning, and then more work and more chores in the afternoon and evening.

Somehow, though, the rooster never woke my parents up with his cry, so instead I tended to the animals and the crops until my parents rose around midday, the morning work mostly, if not fully, completed by then.

“Aurelia!” My mother called me from inside the house. I was in the chicken coop, collecting the eggs that had been laid the previous day.

“Coming!” I yelled back.

I grabbed the last egg, thanked each of our chickens for their contributions, and headed back to our farmhouse. We called it a farmhouse, but realistically, it was more of a cramped cabin that my parents had tried to convert into a farmhouse with little success.

“Six eggs today,” I declared, placing the basket near the stove where my mother was manning a sizzling pan. “Bacon smells good.”

She placed a quick kiss on my forehead. “Thank you, dear. Go wash up and tell your father that breakfast is almost ready.”

I hurried to wash as I was starving. I’d stolen the few remaining pieces of cornbread from dinner yesterday as a snack for the morning, but I finished up the last of it hours ago. I’d already been up for about six hours, so this meal was going to be more lunch than breakfast to me.

“Aurelia, there you are,” My dad commented as I joined him at the table. “I was wondering where you’d scampered off to.”

“I was doing my chores, as I have to do every morning.” I tried not to let my irritation show but had little luck.

“The wheat is almost ready to be harvested; I’ll need help when it’s ready.

Oh - and I think Maisie has another infection in her eye, we should probably have someone come and take a look. ”

Maisie was our largest brown cow and biggest milk producer and was also my closest friend. Only friend, really, if I was being honest with myself.

My dad waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Sure, fine. Whatever you need.”

I knew I’d have to find someone else to help or figure it out on my own, as usual.

My parents were very outspoken about the fact that they weren’t farmers, and never wanted to be, despite them owning a farm.

They claimed they bought this farm for me, as a way to put roots down and settle, to have something for me to grow into.

However, when they bought the cabin and surrounding land, four-year-old me hadn’t known then that all the farm work would turn into my responsibility as a result.

My parents hated farm work, or any work in general, and their disdain showed everyday, always reminding me of the life they’d had before I’d been born.

As if it was my fault I was conceived.

“Breakfast is ready!” My mom carried the steaming pan over to the table as she served my father first, then me.

The scraping of silverware on the plates filled the cramped space as we enjoyed breakfast. The table only seated two comfortably, and my elbow brushed my mom every time I moved my fork.

I couldn’t help but notice that everything on the plate - the scrambled eggs, the bacon, even the cheese scattered on top of the eggs - were all sourced from my labor on the farm.

Another reminder that they’d starve without me.

When my plate was clean, I started to stand to place it in the sink, but my mom stopped me, one hand on my shoulder, pushing me back into my chair.

“Aurelia, dear, your father and I have something we need to talk to you about.”

I sat back down tentatively. In all my fourteen years, I could never predict what words would tumble out of their mouths next.

Their desperation for adventure had recently been becoming crazier and crazier, isolating themselves from the rest of the townsfolk.

Was there another shooting star we needed to follow?

Another pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

They were the type of people that believed everything anyone said, no matter how outlandish it was.

I chose not to speak, waiting instead for them to drop whatever eccentric idea they had devised.

“When your father went to town yesterday for supplies, everyone was talking about the news from King Corvin. He announced a kingdom-wide treasure hunt - the Golden Hunt!”

I was still stuck on the first part of her sentence, replacing ‘supplies’ with ‘fraudulent elixirs made to scam people’ in my head. Then I realized I missed the part where she had mentioned the Ashven King and – did she say a treasure hunt?

“Sorry, can you repeat that last part again?”

It was my father now who interjected. “The King is searching for a treasure chest full of relics!” His eyes were as wide as saucers, his remaining breakfast long since forgotten on his plate. “And whoever finds it keeps a percentage of whatever else is inside.”

I glanced at my mother, but she too had this dreamy expression on her face, her head already lost in the clouds.

I figured I should start with the basics. “Okay…uh…where is the chest, exactly?” My parents often told me that my negative energy had ruined some of their wild goose hunts in the past, so I always tried to lace my voice with positivity instead of the skepticism that usually came through.

“Well that’s the mystery of it all, no one knows! It could be anywhere in Ashven. Maybe anywhere in all of Erithia! That’s why The King asked all of us to help.”

I paused for a second to make sure my mom wasn’t joking. The sparkle in her eyes and the way she leaned forward on the table towards me told me she wasn’t.

“You don’t know where it is?” I asked slowly.

“So… how do you know where to start? Ashven is a huge kingdom itself, nevermind the whole continent of Erithia. A search that size could take months… probably years, decades even. And what did you mean by ‘whatever else is inside’? Shouldn’t the King know the chest’s contents? ”

“Aurelia,” my dad reprimanded sternly, slamming a fist down so hard on the table that the dishware rattled. “Stop with your constant negativity and attitude. This is the adventure of a lifetime. An opportunity your mother and I have been wanting for a very long time.”

Since I was born, presumably, but I kept that thought to myself.

I knew that once my parents set their minds on something, no matter what it was, there was no talking them out of it. That was a lesson I had learned many years ago.

I sighed dejectedly. “When are we leaving?”

My mom and dad shared a knowing look as my question lingered unanswered in the air. The windchime hanging on our porch rang in the wind, the sound seeping in through the open windows.

“What? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Aurelia, dear.” My mother reached over and grabbed my hand.

“We thought it might be better if you stayed here.” I opened my mouth to protest but she pressed on.

“We both know how much you love the farm, and we wouldn’t want all of your hard work to go to waste.

And besides, if you came with us, your father and I would be too worried about taking care of you, and our focus wouldn’t be fully on the Hunt. ”

I hated the farm as much as they did, if not more.

The only difference was that I tended to the farm because the animals deserved someone to take care of them.

They didn’t ask to be purchased by wanderlusts with no farm experience.

And if I didn’t plant seeds and harvest them, we’d have no food or income.

I understood at least that much at a young age.

The farm was our only source of living. If I didn’t take care of it, no one would.

But when I grew up, I never wanted to milk another cow or harvest another crop or clean out another chicken coop ever again.

I wanted to move far away from farm life and start over somewhere new. Maybe enjoy life for once.

I turned to my father to see if he would contradict my mother’s words, but instead he was practically giddy in his seat with the prospect of this treasure hunt.

“You’re seriously going to leave me here to run the farm by myself? For how long?”

Another shared look.

“We’ll write as often as we can and make sure some neighbors check in on you, too.”

I choked down a laugh. We’d burned any bridge we had with our neighbors when my parents dug up some of their land a few years back, insisting that a relic was buried beneath. That response also didn’t answer my question, and I had a sinking feeling it would be a while until I saw them again.

“When are you leaving, then?”

My mother gave my hand a tight squeeze. “Right after breakfast.”

And breakfast was already over.

I turned around towards the front door, and I noticed bags packed, ready to go. Those weren’t there last night when I went to bed after my evening chores, so while I was doing the morning work, they must have collected their belongings.

“You’ll come back to me, right?” My voice wavered, tears lodged in my throat.

My parents and I were never particularly close, but they were my parents, the only family and life I knew.

Up until that point, I still held hope that they would grow out of their fantastical dreams, and I’d get to live a normal life as a teenager. Maybe even go back to school.

“Oh, dear, of course we will.”

One second led to another, and then we were at the front door, my mother gathering me into a tight hug.

“We won’t leave you for long. You’ll be alright. And imagine the riches we’ll have when we come back! You’ll be able to do anything you want to do, go anywhere you want to go.”

I nodded into her shoulder as I dissolved into tears.

“We’re doing this for you, Aurelia.” Now it was my father who pulled me into his embrace. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

I hoped I did, because I sure wasn’t understanding it now.

I cried heavily as I watched my parents ride away from our farm, taking our only two horses with them. I tried my best to memorize their faces and their features, imprinting them into my brain until the next time I saw them.

I stayed like that for a while. They had long since disappeared into the morning, but yet I was still standing on the porch. Waiting. Hoping that this was all a mistake and that they would turn back around and I’d see them riding back.

That never happened.

Instead, I was now on my own at fourteen.

I’m sure to some kids my age that sounded like a dream - no parents to discipline you and no rules to follow.

But to me, life continued on as it had, with me singlehandedly maintaining our farm and self-disciplining myself.

The only difference was that our house was now missing my mother’s jokes and her terrible cooking and my father’s off-key singing and loud snoring I used to hear through the walls at night.

The only conversations I had were with the animals, and no matter how much I willed it, they were always one-sided.

I’d hear giggling and yelling from the other kids passing our farm, but I never had the time nor energy left in the day to join them.

Unsurprisingly, no neighbors ever showed up to check on me.

Nights were always the worst for me, though, when the chores were done and the sounds of the animals and neighbors quieted.

It was as if I was in a soundproof cell, void of all senses.

I’d lay alone in my bed, seeking solace in the distant echoes of the windchime and the chirping insects.

Sometimes, on the worst nights, I climbed into my parents’ bed, hoping that would help me ease my loneliness. If anything, it made it worse.

The silence was deafening.

And in that silence, my life was forever changed.