14. Thaola #3
“He’s stronger than you know, Flora,” Elia whispered, smiling a proud, bittersweet grin past the frame of her hair. “He’s journeyed straight through hell, and he’s come out stronger each time.”
Flora grinned numbly and replied, “I know.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Elia said, and she said it like a promise she could keep.
Flora swallowed. She furrowed her brow, but she couldn’t respond without breaking. She felt Elia’s thoughtful eyes upon her, wondering deeply at something for a moment.
“Does he tell you about his parents?”
“No. Never.” Flora paused, still looking off. “Noec keeps all the sad things for himself.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Elia huffed quietly, and gently, she took Flora’s hand in hers. Flora finally met her gaze, immediately caught up in the sorrow that reflected back at her. “Do you want to know what happened to them?” she asked.
Flora squeezed her hand and nodded.
Elia sighed deeply. As the villagers murmured around them, preparing for darkness as twilight enveloped the hills, she began to recount the story. Her eyes seemed far away, locked in the painful memory that her nephew carried in his heart.
“One night, when Noec was just six years old,” she said, “his family was settling in for the evening, when they were interrupted by a piercing scream—a woman’s voice, echoing against the walls of their home…”
Noec’s father, Geno, had played an instrumental role in the unification of the Asilan Realm, and legends of his prowess, both in combat and delegation, had spread far and wide.
But, with his days of fighting behind him, he sat on the rocking chair and watched his son pick at the black eyes of his little wooden dog, a handmade gift from his uncle, Heron.
At the startling sound outside, Geno stood, his hand instinctively brushing the ivory hilt of the dagger at his side—an ornate family heirloom of mysterious descent, studded with emeralds and rubies.
The spirit of the dagger, he believed, had saved his life time and time again.
“I’ll go have a look,” Geno said.
“Can I come? I wanna go with Papa!” Noec, his ever eager son, had piped up. Maliera, Noec’s mother, gently told him to stay put.
Maliera’s presence was, as Elia recounted, a marvel beyond words.
She was the sort of woman who carried grace in everything she did, whether tending to her son’s scuffed knee or steadying her husband’s war-torn hands.
She was the antidote to Geno’s poison—soft where he was coarse, sweet where he was sour.
She loved animals, Elia said, and she cared for strangers as much as friends.
Noec took after his father in appearance only, because at heart, he was Maliera’s gentle child.
That night, Maliera’s cascading hair caught the lantern’s glow as she reassured Noec that his father was soon to return.
But time passed, and Geno didn’t return.
Maliera began to peer anxiously out the window into the dark.
Noec sensed his mother’s worry, and though she tried to soothe him, her calm countenance slowly began to crack.
At last, unable to bear the waiting, she grabbed her fur cloak and the copper lantern.
Noec begged to go with her, but she refused, promising she’d return soon with his father by her side.
Yet as she stepped into the night, Noec’s curiosity overruled his obedience, mingled with the fear of being left alone.
He huddled himself into his father’s green canvas jacket—far too large for him at the time—and followed her into the forest, careful to keep a safe distance.
Glowing flowers lit the dark woods with an otherworldly light.
But, beneath that beauty, they warned of danger.
“Night Sky Forest,” Elia paused, looking off toward the looming silhouette of the Forest. “It was once a sacred place; not the place of horror it is today.”
Noec followed his mother deeper into the forest, marveling at the glowing blooms even as dread began to gnaw at him.
Then, they heard Geno’s voice. Maliera rushed toward the sound of her name, lantern swinging as she pressed through the undergrowth.
When she found him, Geno stood by one of the massive trees, its bark blackened as though it were charred by fire.
Relief washed over Maliera’s face as she embraced him, tears of gratitude in her eyes.
But something wasn’t as it seemed. Noec, hiding nearby, saw it first. His father’s eyes—blank, unnatural—fixed on Noec silently, even as he returned Maliera’s embrace.
And then, it all happened.
Noec watched in horror as his father’s form twisted and changed.
In a fiery haze, his hands morphed into iron claws, his form seeming to char and burn until it was as black and jagged as the towering trees.
Before Maliera could react, it lashed its tail like a chain whip, leaving her crumpled on the forest floor.
Noec wanted to scream, but fear paralyzed him.
He saw the monster fully now—a horrific, winged beast. It moved with a terrible grace, its feathers shimmering as though made of oil and ash.
Frozen in his terror, Noec’s eyes caught the glistening ruby of the dagger on the forest floor as it lay just beyond his mother’s body.
“Mama!” he cried.
The creature’s neck snapped toward the boy, a low hiss rumbling from behind already bloodied teeth. It lowered its head and stalked closer, step by step, over his mother’s body.
Suddenly, Maliera’s unmoving body jolted to life, plunging the dagger into the creature’s chest above her.
Over and over, she pierced through fur and feathers, careless to the wounds of its resistance that left her bleeding.
Finally, it roared with a deafening wail, and its slashing claws seemed to falter.
Noec cried for his mother, tears streaming down his face as he did.
The demon was stumbling now, a dizziness clouding its movements as bloodied paws failed to find their foothold.
“But the scythe”—Elia spat the word like venom—“was not done.”
“Leave him. Leave him,” Maliera kept repeating, but the gargle of blood muffled her voice, and it was all she could do just to turn her head to catch a glimpse of her son.
But the creature did not know reason, and it certainly did not know mercy. Hurt and furious, it lunged for Maliera one final time with jagged jaws, and Noec could do nothing but watch as it tore the life from her eyes.
The monster heaved and spat, oozing from the wounds that had pierced its very heart. It collapsed, dead, beside the body of Maliera Eldon.
Silence fell over the peaceful sanctuary of Night Sky Forest, broken only by the sobs of a young boy as he knelt beside his mother’s body.
As night drowned out the colors of the sky, Elia’s voice faded, though the images remained vividly in Flora’s mind.
Elia sighed. “He was only six years old,” she said.
“He lost both of his parents that night. Noec never speaks of it, not to me, not to anyone. But I see it in his eyes when he holds that dagger, as if he holds his parents there beside him. He carries their memory in his heart, in the silence of his grief, and in the strength he’s built from their sacrifice.
He has only ever let his suffering make him stronger. "
Flora turned Noec’s blade in her hand, the glow of rubies accented by the subtle sparkle of emerald.
“That, Flora, is why I know he’ll be okay.”