7. Chapter 7
The village was a cacophony of blades clashing and men shouting as I left the temple.
All around me, bodies fell and shields broke and I did not know where to look; the blank stares of men freezing me in place, my eyes stuck on theirs, face to face with the reminder of death I so often tried to forget.
Death was something that was still new to Yllsora, as our oldest were just under a century old.
And while the healers did what they could for the sick, the injured, and the elderly, they had one cardinal rule that could not be broken—we could not interfere with the fate of death, no matter how much we wished to save someone.
So, looking at the bodies that lay before me, that loss of life weighing heavy, I found the strength to pull myself away, pushing the shock of death away to somewhere deep inside me, taking stock of what had happened in the village while I was in the temple.
The scene was overwhelming, movement and action and death everywhere I looked.
Sorrel had always been a peaceful place—my father liked to say our location in the true north of Wellea was our greatest defense, but now I felt hollow at his words.
Our village had never seen violence, and while I had seen death ever since the Shroud, it was always because of natural causes when it came to the common men, or one of the Mother Blessed succumbing to pulling too hard from the roots.
But this, men killing one another, was new.
I never thought my father's men were capable of the death and destruction they were displaying, yet the Sorrel I had called home was now covered in pools of blood, men who I had grown up beside lying next to them, unmoving, their swords bent and armor strewn from their bodies.
Panic coursed through me as I watched the village my people and I had worked so hard to rebuild after the Shroud crumbling before my eyes. All so easily, too. Were my father's men not stronger than this?
I was thankful to not see any Mother Blessed among the fighting, to know that they had taken my word seriously and had found safety within their homes.
"Come," I heard behind me, the feel of a hand on my back causing me to spin around and find Malik at my heels. Before I could reply, he began ushering me away from the scene, guarding me from the men who fought around us.
I didn't resist him, as my mind was still reeling from seeing him and Therian fight.
Seeing them right next to each other was a collision of my past and future that I never thought would happen, something that I wasn't prepared for. The woman I was with Therian was nothing compared to the girl I had been with Malik, and now, those two versions of myself converged, fighting within me. I did not know who to be, how to act. I tried to make sense of how they could ever coexist with one another as I made my way through the village, and instead, pushed them both down and did my best to focus on the true issue at hand—more mainland men were coming, Rida and the Mother Blessed were at stake, and fighting had broken out between Malik’s family and mine, our one true ally now gone.
I pulled away from Malik at that thought, my panic returning at the notion that now that our families were at odds, Malik's loyalty would lie with them first.
"Allyra, wait!" Malik called from behind me. "Where are you going?"
I whirled as he caught my wrist, pulling me back from marching headfirst into the fighting.
"You heard Therian. Our families are fighting. How can I trust you?" I exclaimed.
Hurt painted Malik's face more thoroughly than I had ever seen before. "Did you miss the part where he also said our fathers are fighting because of some old argument from before the Shroud? That is between them, Allyra, not us."
I was silent, my mind swimming with everything that had happened in just the last few hours. I wanted nothing more than for it all to stop, to give me a moment to catch my breath, to try and make sense of everything. Yet I knew I would not be granted that.
"We are no longer children," Malik continued. "We don't have to follow the ways of our parents. You and I are different, you know this."
I knew he was right. I did know we were different. We always had been, always going against the grain together, always standing at one another's side, even when no one else would.
"I didn't know that they had been fighting," Malik continued. "When I suggested we return to Sorrel, my father said nothing of it. But their rift does not concern me, only you do."
It had been a long time since someone other than my brother had stood at my side as Malik was in that moment, and I found myself taken aback, unsure of how to react.
"You can trust me, Lyra," he said, holding out his hand towards me, no doubt reading the hesitation on my face.
I wavered for only a moment, all the pain and hurt I had felt over the last ten years resurfacing, but it was the small twinge of hope that made me grab his hand, a small crack in those walls I had built, forming slowly but surely.
Malik's face relaxed as I placed my hand in his, gripping it as he led me through the fray, careful to shield me, his sword always at the ready.
I tried to not let the scene playing out before me affect me, yet I could not help but ache at the sight of buildings I once spent so much time in, now in splinters. The library where we stored our compendiums, now up in flames. All of my life's work, now gone.
"This way," I said, my voice scratching from the despair that ran through my body, pulling Malik in the opposite direction, towards my home.
I yanked the door to my home open and hurried across the threshold, my focus splintered between the fighting, the roots, and the now lost compendiums. It would take years to recoup the knowledge that those pages held, to rewrite and restore all that we had discovered.
It would have to wait, because if the mainland men got to Rida, there would be no purpose for such information anymore, as the world would become something entirely new with her destruction.
I grabbed a bag from the kitchen before heading to my room, stuffing my pack full of whatever I could get my hands on.
I had never left Sorrel before, but I knew what I needed to survive the Alesi—an extra light dress, a pat of soap, a small blanket—small things that would keep me comfortable and remind me of home.
"Allyra!" I heard, the sound of my brother entering my home. I pivoted towards the front of the house again, finding Calyn covered in ashes, panting, with his own sword drawn from his belt.
"Calyn," I breathed, running into his arms. He held me tight, his strength steadying the pounding of my heart.
It wasn't long before he pulled back, giving me a once-over.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. But Calyn, what has happened?" I asked my brother, my voice trembling, my body alongside it.
"Right after you left, Father and Roswell began to fight. Their men following suit. Something about how Father never wanted you to marry Malik, how he always wanted ties to the mainland…”
Calyn drifted off, his eyes shooting to Malik standing behind me, before coming back to mine, a silent question in his gaze.
I turned to look at Malik, his earnest eyes watching the pair of us, engrossed in our conversation.
"We can trust him," I told Calyn, looking back at him. "He's already proved that."
"If you are sure," Calyn said, still looking at Malik with an untrusting expression.
"I am. He wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure. But Calyn, I'm afraid Therian has gotten to Father."
Calyn nodded. "I think so, too. I have been suspicious of it for some time.
And after you left the council room, Father was saying that the Dures were ruining his chance to keep us in the mainland king's good graces.
That by coming here, they were damning Sorrel just like they did all those years ago with your betrothal. "
"This doesn't make sense," I shook my head. "Where did this come from?"
Before Therian, my father was dedicated to Sorrel and Wellea through and through, every decision he made in the village's best interest. He had always supported me and the other Mother Blessed, working to ensure that we had everything we needed to make Sorrel thrive and be prosperous.
But one day, without reason, that changed.
The ground beneath our feet trembled once more, warning me that there was no time to spare, that the longer I waited, the worse it would be.
"Calyn, I have to leave. I have to go to Rida," I told my brother, gripping his hands.
He looked at me with shock in his eyes, before fear took over.
"Lyra, no. You heard Roswell, that is exactly where the mainland men are headed."
"I heard the Mother," I told him, gripping his hands tighter. "After all of this time, I heard her again."
He squeezed my hands back. "Are you certain?"
I swallowed and nodded. "Yes. She has returned and told me to go to Rida. And that when I'm there, I can bring Yllsora back to how it was before the Shroud."
I dropped his hands and began to flit around the room once more, stuffing my pack with fruits and dried meats, knowing that the meager amount of food would not last long, but was better than nothing.
"But what about the Mother Blessed's connection with Ylsora?" my brother asked. "Is it safe for you to travel all that way with your struggles in connecting with the roots? To Yllsora?"
I could see the confusion on Malik's face at Calyn's question but ignored it. There would be time to explain later.
"I'm willing to take the risk," I said, heading back to my room, ignoring the indignant huff that came from Calyn.
"You're struggling to connect to the roots?" Malik asked, walking behind me through the halls until I reached the room I shared with Therian.
"The Mother Blessed are, yes," I answered, not wanting to engage in the details with him just yet.