Chapter Text
the 3rd of Graidorn, year 944 of the Silver Age.
Thirteen years ago.
Ela was crying. She was just a child, and her world had collapsed. Three days earlier, she had been in her mother's arms, under the large ash tree in their garden. Her mother smiled tenderly at her, telling her that their time had finally come. Soon they would both leave, soon they would return home, they would have enough to eat, and they would never be cold again. For three days, her father had been silent; for three days, her little brother had cried because he wouldn't be going with them.
Now her mother was dead. The one who was supposed to help them "go home" had betrayed them. Her little brother had witnessed her death. Her father had tried to intervene, but he had arrived too late. Ela had seen his revenge.
Her brother wasn't crying anymore. Sitting on the dirt floor of their shack, he stared at the fire. He had changed his clothes since the attack, but blood stains were still visible on his neck. Ela tried to stop her tears, she knew her father expected her to take care of her little brother. But she couldn't bring herself to talk to him, she couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened if he hadn't followed his mother a few hours earlier.
Outside, the sounds of shovels ceased. His father returned to the cabin, his tears had leave clean trace over his face stained by earth and blood.
“Come… We must…” His father’s voice died in his throat. “Say goodbye to him.”
Ela stepped towards him and grabbed his hand; her father squeezed it tightly. Her brother didn't move, still facing the fire.
“Tarann…”
His father called to him in a soft voice, but the child didn't respond. Without letting go of Ela's hand, he slowly approached him. Without a word, he knelt beside him and ran his free hand through his hair. The boy then clung to his father and hid his face in his soiled tunic. Their father put his arm around him, lifting him against his chest. Together, they went outside and walked around their cabin. Ela couldn't hold back her sobs when she saw the mound of earth beneath the large ash tree. They knelt before the grave, Tarann still clinging to their father. Not knowing what to do, Ela stared at the mound of earth, and then, when she saw her father place his hand on the earth and close his eyes, she did the same, without really understanding. After a long moment of silence, her father finally spoke, barely a whisper, not meant for them:
“I hope you will forgive me, Eliyka.”
They remained for a long time under the ash tree, the silence broken only by Ela's cries and the song of migratory birds. Then, when the sky darkened and night was near, her father got up, taking care to keep his son close to him, and placed his hand on Ela's shoulder.
“Let’s go home.”
Ela looked up at her father, but quickly turned away to look back at the grave. She clenched her small fists and said in a trembling voice:
“Mother told me the name of the nobleman who was supposed to help her, the one who betrayed her and who…” She sniffed before continuing, tears streaming freely down her face again. “His name is Sir Ortis! And he’s in the capital! You could find him and—”
She fell silent as she felt her father's hand tighten a little more on her shoulder.
“Ela, that’s impossible,” her father said gently. “And even if it were, it would put you both in danger, and I refuse to do that. Forget it, there’s nothing we can do.”
Ela wanted to answer, but her father's gaze, full of sadness and suppressed anger, dissuaded her. She wasn't eight years old yet, but she understood that, like her, her father burned with a desire for revenge against this man, and like her, he was powerless against a nobleman.
The evening passed in a heavy silence.
The days that followed were a blur, meals meager and irregular. Ela spent hours rummaging through her mother's dresses and jewelry, sometimes falling asleep buried in the fabric still imbued with her mother's scent. Her brother barely left his bed, and their father tried to pull himself out of his own melancholy to care for them, but sometimes without success. After several days of living like this, their supplies ran out, and their father had to go down to the city. Before, he would have left them, but this time, he took them with him, and the three of them climbed onto his enbarr. But as they approached the houses, they saw that the city was swarming with guards, and the peasants they passed gave them strange looks.
“We have to leave… their father said.
- Are we going home already? Ela asked.
- No, we have to get far away from here…”