Behind Frosted Eyes (The Shrouded Elements Duology #1)

Prologue

I opened my eyes, or at least I tried to.

My eyelids felt like they were made of sand, dry and gritty, and with every blink, they stung. Each flicker came in tandem with a throbbing thump that threatened to split my head in two. Yet I kept blinking.

I kept blinking until existence morphed before my eyes in flashes that told me it was not a vivid dream I was living, where there is no beginning and no end, but an unfamiliar reality.

What the f—Where am I?

I found myself lying in bed in a small room that seemed both foreign and dull. Apart from the colourful, frosted stained glass squaring the wooden door, there was no other hue in sight that wasn’t some shade of brown. Even the blotchy and peeling khaki walls wished to be umber.

I painfully swallowed, my parched throat resembling unused sandpaper.

Ignoring my crushing skull, I focused on the tinted glass.

Beneath furrowed brows, I caught the shadows of two figures, one male, the other a female with long hair.

The figures mumbled, allowing me to hear just the bare minimum, and I caught only a few words here and there.

Possibly the words “accident” and “doctor.”

I retaliated against my protesting skull and propped myself up until my back rested against the wooden headboard. The bed frame creaked, and I could tell through the glass that the shadows stiffened before they snapped their heads my way. They then mumbled between themselves some more.

It was not long hair I had glimpsed.

“Hello, sweetheart,” said the woman—eyes brown, kind perhaps, and wearing a veil that covered her head—as she neared the bed in small, careful steps, as if approaching a mistreated stray. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“My head hurts and—who are you? Where am I? And where is my moth—”

A suffocating rush—one made of terror and fear—sprouted deep within me, anchored at my core, and spread its crawling vines, leaving no part of me untouched. It crept along my skin, my bones, my soul, leaving me with nothing more than a naked and trembling body.

“My mother and…and…my father. I—I…can’t remember. I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember!?” My voice started off raspy and broken, then morphed into a desperate plea that would certainly pierce and break hearts if heard.

The woman’s own pleading eyes mirrored mine, and I whispered with a dry and trembling mouth, “What’s happening?” And then I sobbed waterfalls, wept rivers, and cried a million oceans.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled as she wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder.

“What’s happening?” I repeated. “Please.”

The veiled woman cupped my wet face and made me look at her.

“Amfir once said that truth may not always bring light and joy to your neighbour, but it is always better than keeping them locked in deceit and darkness. And as hard as this is, it is the truth that I will offer you.” She swallowed.

“My dear, you and your parents were in a grave accident. I am so sorry, but your parents didn’t make it, and you—you were badly injured.

Thank Amfir a passerby found you and rushed you to the nearest doctor. ”

My body trembled.

I couldn’t remember them. I couldn’t remember their faces.

I was sure I knew before, who they were, what they looked like.

But after a short while, I wasn’t even sure if I ever did.

It somehow hurt more to mourn for the unknown, to long for lost recollections.

It left a gaping hole within me, one deeper than an abyssal and void well.

“I can’t remember anything. Why can’t I—” My next sob did not allow me to finish my sentence.

“My dear, I’m sorry you can’t remember them yet, but your head, it needs time to heal.”

My shaking hand reached for my bandaged skull, and I winced as every part of it pulsed. Then I closed my eyes and covered my face with my palms, forcing my body to wake. Because this was a nightmare—it must be.

But I couldn’t wake up. The veiled woman’s hand found my shoulder with the touch of an embrace. “It’s going to be all right. It will be all right.”

The whole of me shook, and I swayed my head in disbelief, ignoring its hammering protests.

“Look at me,” the woman whispered.

I didn’t.

“Look at me,” she repeated, firm yet soft.

I did. With shuddering and trembling lips, I looked.

Then she asked me, her voice low, “What’s your name?”

What a risky question it must have been, now that I look back and think of it.

“Cor—Cordelia,” I choked in between sobs. “I’m Cordelia Wildheart.” At least I remembered that.

“What a beautiful name. And do you know what Cordelia means?” she asked.

I shook my heavy head.

“It means heart. And you, sweet Delia, have a good and kind and wild heart. A broken heart that will heal in time. Wipe your face. Come, let’s go get you something to eat from the kitchen.”

I shuddered as she held my hand and walked us along the dim corridors and into the kitchen.

“Here you go,” she said, handing me a glass of water. “Don’t waste a drop. I’m afraid it’s desperate times we’re in.” I didn’t understand what she meant by that, but I agreed with her. I did feel desperate.

I struggled to drink while my breath was hitching, and so she sat me down. “You may drink once you calm down, otherwise you will end up swallowing it the wrong way.”

I nodded, soon after managing a small sip.

She went next to the kitchen counter and reached for the knife. Then returned with what looked like a huge piece of cake.

“What is it?” I asked, voice low and head lowered.

“It’s date-and-walnut cake. I’m sure you’ll like it very much.”

I brought the spoon closer to my face, until my forehead and my chin were no longer impossibly elongated in its reflection.

My own image, the big brown eyes that stared back at me, felt odd, and I couldn’t quite place why.

The spoon clunked as it hit the table. I shook my dizzy head, ignoring my gnawing belly.

The veiled woman went to cut a smaller piece for herself and took the chair next to mine. “Mmm,” she hummed, as she took her first bite. It encouraged me to take a small bite of my own. And she was right. I did like it. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate, what I had eaten.

“Delia, I know that what you’re feeling right now is not easy.

I know that you may find it unfair to have lost your parents and lost your memory of them.

And I know that you might not yet understand what happened to you, but I want you to know that I will be right here with you, and I will be here until the day you feel better.

Because I know that it will get better.”

I wasn’t sure what those words meant. I wasn’t aware of the value they held, but for some reason they made my head feel better. Yet I still couldn’t rid myself of those chest-tightening shudders.

I managed to ask her, “What’s…what’s your name?”

“Oh! How rude of me. I’m Sand Priestess Selmira. I am one of the Sand Priestesses here in the Orphanage of Dunes.”

“Orphanage?”

“Yes, an orphanage, in the west of Ramel. In Kalnar. It is home to many bright children, just like yourself. Come, let’s walk for a while.”

I wrapped the beige robe-like dress around my belly and shadowed the Sand Priestess.

I stood on straining toes while I peeked through a window on the top floor. The night held oddly still—it lacked the whispers of wind, its rustling echoes. The lit torches allowed me to glimpse shadows of the structures Sand Priestess Selmira pointed at.

“There, down there, next to those two distant flames, that is the stable. It is where we keep our horses. We have two, one black and one brown. Right up there is the playing field, you’ll see it better in the morning.

And there, on the right, where the long torches are, that’s the arts and crafts area.

” She leaned closer. “Look there, do you see that circle made of many torches? They surround a sandstone hut.”

“Mmhmm,” I replied, watching the circle of flickering fires.

“That is the most important place for us in this orphanage. It is the praying area. We pray to Amfir—to help us prosper, to bless us with many children, and bless us with Sand Wielders. We haven’t had any new Wielders in five years now, but pray we still.

Now I will show you the other most important part of the orphanage. Can you guess which one it is?”

I shrugged.

“It is the teaching wing—the place where dedicated Sand Priestesses share all of their knowledge and education with young boys and girls, and you, my dear, will learn so much. It gets crowded with children during the day as all must attend the teachings. Crafts and playing come later.” It felt strange to think of this place as anything but still as night.

“Come, let’s get you back to bed. Tomorrow morning I will have breakfast with you, and then I’ll show you the rest of the orphanage.

But, young lady, the day after that, you will be attending the teachings. ”

“Can we go see the horses?” I asked.

“You like horses?”

“Yes…I—I mean, I think so.”

“Very well, we’ll visit them tomorrow. I promise.”

“Cannot sleep?” Sand Priestess Selmira asked, poking her head through the door.

“I don’t want to sleep,” I mumbled, staring at the flaking ceiling, its shadows moving in beat with the flickering candlelight.

She came in, hands behind her back, and sat on the edge of the bed. She peered down at me and asked, “Why don’t you want to sleep?”

“I’m afraid to sleep.”

“Why are you afraid of that, my dear?”

“What if my memories go away forever if I sleep? Maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll remember them.”

“Sleeping won’t do that, my dear. In fact, resting will do your head good. And fear not, I have something that will keep you safe through the night. Do you want to see it?”

I nodded.

She revealed an arm, with a stuffed creature in hand—a brown horse.

“This little creature will keep you safe, just as Amfir will. And while you sleep, I will pray to him for your memories to return.”

I hoped Amfir would listen to her prayers. It was my last wish before my eyelids turned impossibly heavy.

Her prayers were not answered, though.

Selmira kept her promise.

She let me touch their faces, and as I placed my hand above their muzzles, it warmed my heart just that little bit.

Then she handed me two apples. I gave one to each, their chin grooves grazing my palm as they reached for the fruit—it tickled.

I wished to stay but Selmira nudged me. “Come now, I’ll show you the praying hall and the dorms. We’ll find a nice bed for you. ”

“Dorms? Will I not be staying in the same bedroom?”

“No, dear, that is the guest room. You will be staying in one of the dorms, with other young ladies.”

My head lowered. “Sand Priestess?”

“Yes, dear.”

“I have this necklace.”

The Sand Priestess gave me a small smile, which I felt was pitiful. “I suspect that was your mother’s. It belongs to you now.”

My heart ached, and I clenched the grey pendant in my fist. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to remember—at least her face.

I didn’t.

Tears welled in my eyes and a sob left my chest.

“Let’s stay here for a few more minutes,” Selmira murmured.

We stayed like that for a while, looking at the horses in silence.

Then I asked, “What are their names?”

“This one,” she said, pointing at the black mare, “is Linda, because she’s very beautiful. And this one is Nutmeg, because he is brown and only slightly sweet.”

I reached for their faces. “Hello Linda, hello Nutmeg. I’m Cordelia.”