Of Two Suns

viii

Ryla remained crouched in place, staring at the teacup while she continued to turn it in her hands. She had set the mostly golden dragon on the charred floor while she held the cup, her hands trembling with the weight of everything around her. She stayed that way, her gaze unwavering, until her legs began to go numb. Awkwardly, she finally stood, her knees buckling with the renewed rush of blood flow. She knew she had to leave, that she no longer had the freedom to stay. This is no longer my home, she told herself, only the skeleton.

The white dragon chirped softly next to her ear, as if for reassurance. From the ground, the mostly golden dragon began to scale her leg, climbing until it reached the front of her thigh. For once, she hardly felt its claws against her skin.

She felt as though the haze had returned to her mind as she exited the small building; as if the smoke had made its way inside of her to shroud all of her senses. Yet at the same time, it was as if the smoke in the air barely touched her nose, her tongue. How strange grief was to ebb and flow, in and out of her mind like water.

She felt as though her body moved on its own, her thoughts no longer connected to it. She had been split in two, but it wasn't sudden. No, she had been tearing since Myr had appeared at her door in tears, steadily ripping like parchment. But, as with parchment, it wasn't a clean fissure. The edges were jagged, weaving mountains and valleys on either side.

She paused only a few steps out of the doorway, a small thought traveling across the last connection both halves had with each other. Her father. If he was safe, and returned to Perneah now burned to cinders, he would have no way of knowing his daughter was alive. Ryla dropped her eyes to the teacup still carefully cradled in her hands. She needed it; it was the only thing she had from her home. But Rheon would need it more.

She turned to step back up to the house, and gently sat the teacup on the floor just inside the doorway. She hoped that if her father returned to their village, to their home, that he would find it and understand. She was alive, and they would find each other again.

Deciding it was long past time for her to leave, Ryla made her way back between houses to the trees that stood behind them. She had nowhere to go, but she couldn't stay in Perneah any longer. Even through the haze in her mind, she knew this.

She had barely stepped into the treeline when a slight whistle made her pause, followed quickly by a muted thunk into the tree just to her left. The breath caught in her throat as her senses rushed back to her, the taste of ash suddenly once again present on her tongue. She held back a gag as she spun in the direction the arrow had come from.

A number of feet away stood a man dressed in dark leathers. This time, it wasn't the Elf who had captured her previously. Instead, it was another Half-Elf. When their eyes met, he lowered his bow to his side and took a few steps toward her. She instinctively jumped back, her back colliding with the tree behind her. Panic welled up in her throat as, for a split second, her mind told her she was trapped.

The man took that second to speak, "Sorry to startle you. That wasn't meant to hit you, though. I was actually aiming for the tree." Ryla could hear the humour in his voice, and it made her stomach turn.

She had been so caught up in her own problems that she had neglected her surroundings. She should have noticed him far sooner; his scent was now so obvious, even through the smoke. He smelled of pine and Whitewater blossoms, found only in the far North-West of Minthe. Rheon had once brought a single blossom home from Riverfell for his wife's birthday; it had lived for over a month in a bowl of cool water, and filled the entire house with a scent Ryla would never forget.

She knew that if she were to dart into the trees she would likely lose him. She knew the woods far better than he did, she was confident that she could escape him without much trouble. Yet her legs wouldn't move. She had never felt so akin to a doe.