1. Chapter 1
Ever since I was a girl, the earth spoke to me. Even to this day, the wind whispers in my ears, the rivers wrap themselves around me, and the trees bend towards me as I walk under them.
When I was little, I never knew what these things meant, only that they didn't happen to everyone.
The feel of Yllsora beneath my feet was a constant companion, as if she were a living, breathing thing, no different from you or I.
This made me a sensitive child, causing me to cry when the grass crunched or when the leaves fell as winter set in.
I still feel those things even now, a permanent melancholy for the ever-fluid world around me. But I've since learned to loosen my grip on what I cannot control.
Like on the night everything changed, I stood on the outskirts of my village beneath The Sisters, staring up at the snowy mountain peaks that lined the town.
I watched as a cloud of eir mix with the twinkling of the stars above—their small bug-like wings fluttering with the cold breeze —when I noticed the shift in the roots beneath the surface.
It had been a long while since the eir had graced our skies; their glowing presence often a sign that a Divine was near.
And on that night, I watched them dance in the sky above me in fascination, wondering what, or who, they brought with them.
Years ago, when the eir were more prevalent and the Divine that created our world—the Mother—was a constant companion, it wasn't odd for the roots to move in tandem with them.
But this was different—subtle, but enough to pique my notice.
"Allyra," my mother called. "Come in. It's cold out and the Dures are making their way up."
I tore my eyes from the sky and looked back towards where my mother stood, my heart thumping in my chest at her words. There was much that was abnormal about that night, but the Dures' return was the most unexpected.
It had been ten years since any of us had seen the Dures and their son, Malik, and the news of their return, along with the realization of just how little I knew of them anymore, was a shock. The family that I had once been as close to as my own now strangers to me.
There is something to be said about people who were once so ingrained in our lives that they feel like a part of us, as if our very cells had become one.
And there is something else to be said about when those people leave, when a part of yourself that another was holding is ripped away with their absence.
I shook my head at the thought, willing the surprise of their return away as I continued to look up.
The skies were clearer than the usual mist-obscured, gray world I was used to.
The perpetual winter that had been cast over Yllsora seldom let the Caelium above shine, but on that night, it had warmed just enough to push away the clouds and I took in the beauty of the place I called home.
Wellea is a small island at the edge of the world, but perhaps the most sacred of all the lands on Yllsora, as it is home to Rida, the primordial, looming tree that stands taller than the highest peak of the mountain range that line our coasts.
It was one of the first living things on Yllsora, created by the Mother from the Caelium where the Divine resided.
Not much is known about the Mother, other than that she cannot be described as a woman or a god or any word in our language. She never once walked this earth, but instead granted but a few women with the ability to commune and draw power from the roots that spread beneath all the lands.
Mother Blessed, they called us.
It was supposed to be an honor to be an acolyte of the Mother, to be one of the few she communicated with through the roots and the trees, to be the healers of our planet. And it was, before the Black Shroud.
We had once ruled these lands, pioneers of everything Yllsora had to show us, only for it to be taken as quickly as it was granted.
"Allyra!" my mother insisted. "Come, I know you are excited to see them."
I smiled weakly in response, for she was right, but so very wrong.
Ever since that morning, when the news of the Dures' arrival had come, thoughts of seeing Malik again had plagued my mind, yes, but not because of excitement.
Malik was my oldest friend, and while I had known everyone in the village since I was a child, no one knew me as he did.
We had spent every waking moment together, exploring the world around us and causing a ruckus wherever we went.
He was my best friend, my other half, the person whom I told everything to.
And as much as I did not want to admit it, the thought of seeing Malik once again set me on edge.
We'd been nineteen, just barely starting to get a sense of ourselves and who we were in the world, when he left Sorrel.
Ten long years followed, and while the little girl in me was excited to see him, the woman I had become was angry and fearful, for I knew that both of us had become different people during our time apart.
He, no doubt a leader among his father's men, feared or loved by his people, I did not know; and then me, a wife and a Mother Blessed that Sorrel depended on.
I'd never forget the day he left, the very same day the Black Shroud tipped the world on its head.
It only lasted a few moments, but it changed everything forever.
The sun had winked out of the sky, so dark that I couldn't see my freshly scarred hand in front of my face, so cold that the ground froze beneath me, never to thaw again.
But most of all, I would never forget the night following, as it was the last one Malik and I would have together before the Dures disappeared without a trace.
Their disappearance was a betrayal that I knew my family could never forgive. The Dures had abandoned us to deal with the aftermath of the Shroud alone, our village in near ruins.
And just in time, too, for right after the Shroud, the Mother abandoned Yllsora, her very own creation, the Mother Blessed never hearing from her again. Yllsora became angry, and my work as a Mother Blessed became grueling. It was an apt punishment, one I came to accept that I deserved.
I looked back at The Sisters for just a moment longer before following my mother, the sky so clear one would think hope was on the horizon.
Yet I knew nothing would be the same by the time the night was over, that I was on the precipice of a life altering event.
I could feel it in the way the breeze fluttered over my skin, the way the snow crunched under my feet.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I walked through the thatched buildings that made up our village, back towards the council chamber where my father, mother, and brother all awaited our guests.
I passed other Mother Blessed on my walk, noting the shawls they had wrapped around themselves to guard from the chill in the air, the scars that had only begun to appear on our hands after the Shroud cracking with the cold.
Some were on their way home after a long day's work, while others continued to assist the people of Sorrel, hands shaking before assenting to the limits of their power, disappointing those they were helping.
It never got easy seeing my fellow Mother Blessed struggle, our power once as easy to hone as breathing.
But gone were the days of the rule of the Mother Blessed, our role now lessened to one akin to chambermaids or nurses, our connection with Yllsora at the beck and call of those now in power, using us to their benefit and for what we could do to repair the earth we had once known so well.
It was one of the reasons why I feared the Dures return. What would they think of what their home had become since the Shroud? Would they be angry at my family for what we had to do to survive? What I had to do for Sorrel's survival?
I entered the council chamber, taking in the collective expressions of my family as I thought it over.
If they were as affected by the visit as I was, they didn't show it; each of their faces posed in a mask of stoic assurance I longed to have.
I did my best to mirror them as I took the seat to the right of the one at the head of the table, looking at my brother Calyn as I did so.
"We still don't know why they are visiting?" I asked him.
The candle flame reflected off the wood of the table, bathing the room in a shadowed glow, lighting my brother's chestnut hair in an auburn hue. Though five years my senior, my brother and I shared as many features as a set of twins. His green eyes met mine, tightening at the corners.
"No," he said, his voice strained.
I nodded at his answer, taking in the rest of the chamber.
It was the focal point of our village, the place where we were to receive guests and act as nobles.
But it had been a long time since this part of Sorrel had been used, and even longer since I had set foot in it, the implications of its use setting me on edge.
It was the only structure in the village made of stone other than the temple.
The long table inside was imposing, but ideal for meetings with the other Mother Blessed houses who once often made the journey north to our village.
Evidence of those visits were still displayed in the chamber, the seal of each Mother Blessed house hung in unity on the walls, a symbol of the strength of Wellea, a once undivided land.
But after the Shroud, those houses did not travel Wellea as they once did, and we lost all contact with anyone outside of Sorrel, isolating our village in the far north.
So, when the news of the Dures' visit arrived, rumors about the reason for their return flew as fast as the wind could blow, the townspeople hungry for any sort of gossip they could get their hands on.