An Inheritance of Fire

“Are your eyes okay?”

Selerim turned towards Gwyn’s voice. The sunlight cascaded around her head, glinting off of her bone-white hair. It was blinding. He was seated near the bottom of a set of stairs. It was one of many that led down to the marketplace below; cut into the walls that surrounded it.

He still found the frenetic movement of the city disorienting. There were too many people, too much movement, and too many colors. It was like watching a living tapestry.

“I just need a few more minutes,” he answered, accepting the food that she offered him. It was just a sandwich, but he found it strange all the same. A variety of ingredients, ranging from meat to fruits and vegetables had been squashed between two slices of bread. It was more than he was used to seeing.

“That’s… a lot of stuff.”

“I know,” she said, handing Selerim a second one before taking a seat at his side. “Why is it taking your eyes so long?”

“I don’t know. It took me a long time with the elves, too,” he said before biting into the first. It was different from the ones he’d eaten so many times back home. There were more flavors, though each was less intense. He was certain he’d still be hungry after the second.

Gwyn waited for him to swallow before continuing. “It’s still hard to believe that you were there,” she said quietly, placing her sandwich to the side. It was completely untouched. “And away from us for so long.”

Suddenly, Selerim’s food tasted like ash.

“I’m sorry,” he said, setting his own sandwich down to the side. “I came back as soon as I could. I promise.”

“I believe you,” she said, though her voice was still sullen. “And you… you did the right thing. That doesn’t mean it was any easier.”

Selerim opened his arms. Gwyn glared at him for a moment, then threw her arms around his shoulders. “I was so worried!”

The passing humans looked at them as she cried out, but neither sibling paid them any mind. Selerim held Gwyn as she cried. This was a long time coming. He and his mother already vented their frustrations… Unlike his sister.

He felt the discontent brewing in her since their reunion; and he knew that she’d shelved those emotions, waiting for their emotional resolution. Just as she’d done so many times in the past. They all came tumbling free, now that they had a moment together.

Months of built up anxiety, fear, and something one step removed grief- though she’d been spared that by uncertainty. Selerim remembered the carving Gwyn kept. It was the barest proof that he lived, yet she’d clung to it. But there was more to it, he knew, now that he’d shared the details of their separation.

“I’m sorry.” Her fear and anguish gave way to pity, horror, and guilt. Pity and horror at what he’d witnessed, at the events that transpired– and guilt that she’d been absent for it all. Their relationship was one built on tacit support, after all.

“It’s okay,” Selerim whispered as he pulled his sister close. He took just as much comfort in her presence as she did in his, if not more. Gwyn had been a constant thought during his time in Vasoria, the elven kingdom.

Her arms looped around his neck as she buried her head in his shoulder. Selerim could feel her tears, wet and warm, against his skin. He stayed quiet as she cried, content to support her in silence. Every so often, a passing human peered at them curiously, only to look away upon seeing the color of their hair.

By the time his sister pulled away, Selerim’s right shoulder was soaked, and her eyes were puffy. “You should’ve come back sooner,” she muttered. “I know you couldn’t, but you should have.”

He laughed and reached out to wipe away her tears. “I wanted to, believe me.”

Gwyn nodded. “I know. But…” she batted his hand away. “Why didn’t you send a message with Nyx? And– and the carving. Why not a real message?”

“It’s complicated,” Selerim said slowly, taking a moment to think. “But I needed her. The elf and human kingdoms are too far apart.” He grimaced, remembering how Veile convinced him to leave Nyx in his room. “But you’re right. I could have sent a message sooner. Should have. But I wanted to get back to you as soon as I could.” His voice dropped. “Can you forgive me for that?”

Gwyn wiped away the last of her tears. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’re back now. That’s all that matters.” She paused. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Selerim smiled. “Me too.” He looked back out towards the crowd. His sister had cried for some time. It wasn’t yet dark, but the early hints of twilight were already scattered across the sky. They were supposed to be home before day’s end, but…

He looked back down at Gwyn. She’d spent the day with him without question, but Selerim knew her heart wasn’t really in it. “Do you want to stay out for a while longer?”

Her head snapped up at that, and a smile spread moments later. “Sure!”

Linua looked down at the sheet of paper on the desk. Her own handwriting, scrawled in crude charcoal strokes, stared back up at her. Outside, the sun was already setting. Selerim and Gwyn had yet to return, but in this moment, that worked in her favor.

She read her own words again for what must have been the dozenth time, poring over each and every one of them. I promised, Linua thought, throwing herself back in the chair and staring up at the ceiling.

How did Selerim handle the pressure? She sighed. The answer was obvious. Her son always struggled to express himself– so he’d just ignored it.

The letter in front of her was not the first of its kind. She’d written no less than eight before it. Each was the product of careful consideration. Her words here could decide the fate of a nation. To pen even one carelessly was unthinkable.

Before Linua could lose her nerve, she whistled once. Eros responded instantly, appearing on her shoulder in a rush of shadow. She coaxed him onto one hand, holding him aloft.

“I need you to remember,” she said gently. “Can you do that for me?” The Reaver quirked his head to the side. Linua clicked her tongue twice, and he ruffled his feathers, shuffling his feet to present a small leather pouch. She rolled the letter up, drawing it shut as tightly as she could.

“Remember.” Linua clicked her tongue again. The words were meaningless to Eros, but helped convey her feelings. Not that it mattered. She’d taken him to another village, just once, to help another breeder. That was all the duskwing needed. Their kind never forgot.

Her Wyrd tilted his head, clearly aware of her uncertainty. Linua stifled it. Some things were more important than her personal misgivings. “Go,” she said, and whistled again.

Eros disappeared in a flicker of darkness.

Linua collapsed back into her seat, staring up at the ceiling yet again. Still, her trepidation refused to quiet. Am I ever going to forget this? She wondered, looking down at her trembling hands. The answer came unbidden, answered by some instinct beyond the conscious.

No.

Remember why you did it.

She chose to bear the burden in Selerim’s place. For his own wellbeing.

And that meant it was a small one to bear.

Even if Linua carried it for the rest of her life.

“”Whoa.” Gwyn wobbled unsteadily as she stepped up to… she knew not what it was called, but the narrow stone platform meant to keep children from falling over the edge. The marketplace below them was mostly empty now, though the bright lights of various stores and workshops still danced through the plaza.

“Careful,” Selerim said, concern in his voice and worry in his eyes. His body was tense, ready to jump after her at the slightest hint of danger.

She puffed her chest up in mock pride. “I’ve been sitting on the tree outside my window.”

“That’s…” Her brother trailed off, clearly torn between concern and a desire to avoid being overprotective. “Just be careful.”

Gwyn giggled. “I know.” She raised her arms and took one tentative step forward. Selerim grabbed her left hand in one of his own with an audible sigh. He matched her stride as she took another, and then another.

The nighttime air was cool against her skin. Some traces of embarrassment still remained, but those stemmed from the public nature of their reconciliation, not the emotions either had displayed.

Gwyn eyed him out of the corner of her eye. Though her brother had not uttered a single word of complaint, she knew he hated the city. But he’d comforted her, validated her feelings, and apologized for taking so long to return– despite everything he’d been through.

And, unlike her, he’d gone through it all alone.

“... I’m sorry,” she said softly, finally giving form to another form of guilt she’d carried since their reunion.

“For what?”

“That I wasn’t there for you, and… that we’re living in the city now. I know that–”

“Don’t apologize,” Selerim cut her off. “There’s nothing you can do about it. And…” he trailed off, but Gwyn knew what came next.

She and her mother were still alive because of it.

“I know,” Gwyn whispered. “But still.” They walked in silence for some time. Selerim’s paces were long and steady, while hers were short and disjointed, interrupted by her frequent stumbles. But no matter how she tripped, his hands steadied her.

Just like he’d steadied Gwyn all her life.

“What are you going to do now?” She asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“... What do you mean?”

“I’ve known you all my life,” Gwyn teased. “Even if mom and I are okay living in the city all the time, I know you won’t be.”

“I will be,” he protested.

“But I don’t want you to be,” she said firmly.

“Huh?”

“I don’t want you to just be okay. I want you to be happy. Do you really think that you’d be okay staying in a house all the time? Be honest.”

“... No,” Selerim admitted after a long silence. “But,” he protested. “It’s not just that. We need money here.”

“You said you might have a solution,” Gwyn pointed out.

“I don’t know if the doctor will agree to help,” he admitted. “And… I want to see if he can help me with my Feast.”

“You’re still thinking about what that elf told you. Veile.”

He nodded silently.

“She also told you not to trust him.”

“Not that, exactly, but…”

“You don’t trust her.”

Another silent nod.

“Then why are you asking?”

“Because we need help. And we don’t know anyone else in the city.”

It was hard to argue with that. Gwyn came to a halt, turning her eyes towards the nighttime sky. Unlike in Umbra, the stars here were whole; points of silver light that bled through the surrounding darkness.

That elf– Veile– had trapped Selerim perfectly. Even if it wasn’t true, she’d given just enough information to tempt him into taking action. It was manipulative– but for now, their goals aligned. Slightly.

Gwyn hopped back down and pulled her brother into a hug. “We’re together again,” she said softly. “And that’s the most important thing. But your happiness is important, too. I don’t want you to give up your happiness for me. For us. And I know that mom is the same, even if she doesn’t say it.”

Selerim’s arms wrapped around her. “I promised dad I’d look after you.”

“Who cares?” Gwyn felt him stiffen at that, but she pushed forward, refusing him the change to interject. “He’s dead. Nothing he said or did matters anymore. He can’t make any more changes. And besides,” she let years worth of frustration creep into her voice. “You have protected me. You’ve protected me ever since I was little. I love you for that, but I also want you to think about yourself now. Okay?”

Silence settled between them.

“Okay.” Selerim’s body relaxed as he agreed.

She pulled away after a few more minutes. “So. What do you want?”

His lavender eyes drifted towards the city wall. “I want to go back into Umbra,” he said softly.

Gwyn expected as much, but his answer still made her stomach clench. “Alright. You still have to convince mom,” she said with a laugh, “but… I don’t think you’ll have much trouble.”

Linua perked her head up as the door opened. Gwyn and Selerim stepped into the room a moment later. Gwyn had obviously been crying; her eyes were puffy, and one side of Selerim’s shirt was still damp.

“There you are,” she said. “Normally I’d chastise you for being a bad influence, but I’ll let you off this time.” Selerim’s eyes flicked to the bedframe, where Nyx was perched, and she knew he noticed Eros’ absence. “Next time, make sure you’re back before dark.”

Her children nodded in unison.

“Are you tired?”

“I…” Selerim started, and then trailed off.

“Sel has something he wants to tell you,” Gwyn interrupted.

“What is it?” Linua asked, alarmed. She’d only just sent the letter. If there was a problem…

“I want to go back to Umbra. Not right now,” Selerim added hurriedly, seeing the look on her face. “Obviously. And not permanently. I promised dad I would look after you and Gwyn, and I will, but–”

She raised a hand to stop him. “Okay.”

“I know, but–” he stopped. “Wait. Okay?”

Linua nodded. “Okay.”

“I…” Selerim trailed off, confused.

“I told you!” Gwyn laughed before throwing herself down onto the mattress, which still lay on the floor.

“Come here,” Linua said gently, pulling her son into a hug. “I know that I tried to keep you from being a hunter– and we both know that I never agreed with it. But I know it’s how you honor your father’s memory.” She tightened her grip before continuing. “I won’t keep you from that. After all, you have more people to remember now, don’t you?” There was more to it, she knew. Selerim had an affinity for the darkness that she and Gwyn lacked. She'd known from the first moment that staying in the city would drive him mad.

He stiffened in her embrace; she squeezed him even tighter in response.

“... Yeah,” Selerim answered after a long while. “I do.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Linua pulled away. “There’s plenty more for us to talk about,” she said gently. “But the important stuff is out of the way. Let’s save the rest for later. Alright?”

"Alright."