Return to Oeua: Book Three of the Omordion Trilogy

By Nande Orcel

It started with a dark vision.

When Brulok disappeared, releasing the evil grip he had on Omordion, the five members of Omordion’s Hope had gone their separate ways to fulfill their destinies, and the people of Omordion had finally found peace.

Horrifying visions of what was to come shattered their peace like glass.

Brulok wasn’t finished.

In a darkly woven tale of tragedy and uncertainty, the disbanded group must reunite in an effort to stop Brulok’s devious plan to finish what he started in a battle so deadly, their very lives could be left hanging on the brink of death and destruction.

Will they be able to stop Brulok before it’s too late?

In the final installment of The Omordion Trilogy, author Nande Orcel reveals the devastating secret behind who Brulok is, and the lies that were told to cover up a cursed past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Oct 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662900549

Book preview

Orcel

ATAKOS.

He heard his name like a sigh in the breeze. He looked around, confused, not knowing where it had come from or if it was his imagination.

He was alone.

The sun felt warm on his skin as he stood in a tall meadow of grass. The sky was blue, without a single cloud blocking out the sun. In the distance, a lone willow tree stood, it’s long leaves, swaying in the wind. Beyond that, Atakos’ castle could be seen in the distance, a majestic reminder of his life away from all he knew on Omordion.

Atakos.

He heard his name again. A calm caress as the wind blew through the grass.

Cristaden? he asked aloud, knowing she couldn’t possibly be on Jmugea, but wishing it was her voice. He turned around again. Nothing there but grass and the wind. Tears stung his eyes. It had been four years. How could the thought of her still affect him so much?

Turning back again to look out at the willow tree, Atakos noticed a dark shadow standing in the tall grass. It was as tall as a man but without a face. Just completely black. But Atakos knew it was staring at him.

What is that? Atakos said, his voice like an echo in the meadow, his heart beginning to pound with fear.

Lightning suddenly struck overhead.

Atakos cringed and looked up the sky. What was once a blue, cloudless sky had abruptly turned dark with an impending storm looming overhead. There was something sinister about the sudden darkness, just as sinister as…

Where had the shadow gone? It was no longer there.

Atakos squeezed his eyes shut. What is happening to me? he wondered.

When he opened his eyes, his heart nearly leapt to his throat and his stomach turned. There was death all around him. The once beautiful meadow was full of people, cut up and dead, lying all around the bloodstained ground. There were others, who were still alive, crying–screaming–out for help and reaching towards Atakos in anguish. And then the shadow was right in front of him. It grabbed his neck with a deathly grip, threatening to break it in half.

NO! Atakos shouted. NO, PLEASE! DON’T!

Atakos thrashed about, fighting for his life. No matter what he did, nothing worked. The entity he was fighting was strangely unaffected and his powers failed him. And then he couldn’t breathe. His lack of oxygen was steadily making his head spin. Atakos thought for sure his heart would stop beating at any moment.

And then it happened.

He opened his eyes.

It took Atakos a moment to realize he had been dreaming again and his whole body was drenched with sweat. Shakily, he sat up in bed, gasping for air, and threw his blanket aside. He was hyperventilating, so he removed his white shirt, raised his knees, and then put his head between them. After a few deep breaths in and out, Atakos realized his efforts to calm down were in vain.

The sheer panic was still there.

The nightmare was, by far, the worst he had experienced since his arrival on Jmugea, four years ago. Sure, there had been terrible ones before, but this one–this one was horrifying. It felt so real, like he was experiencing it all firsthand. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t true, that none of what he had seen really happened. But he couldn’t.

It all just seemed so real.

Atakos glanced at the double doors of his chamber and wondered how he was going to get to them in his weakened state. Sliding one leg off his bed and then the other, he tried to stand up but ended up crumpled on the white, tiled floor, hurting his elbow when he fell. Ow, he said, grumbling at the searing pain as he sat up on his knees. How can a dream affect his whole body?

It was just a dream…wasn’t it?

Atakos tried to recall the details of the nightmare, but it was too much to take in. So. Much. Death. No, no, no, he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. He changed his mind. I don’t want to see it, he thought. I can’t!

When Atakos opened his eyes again, he noticed something moving across the floor, snaking its way towards him. He squinted at the substance, not sure what it was. And then it hit him.

It was blood.

Dark-red blood, spreading across the floor, a stark contrast to the white tiles. It was coming closer with each shallow breath Atakos took, using the lines of the tiles as channels to travel towards its destination.

This can’t be real, Atakos thought. I must still be dreaming! He watched as the blood made its way towards him, but, when he tried to stand up, he was suddenly frozen in place, unable to move. If Atakos wasn’t in full panic mode before, he was definitely panicking as he watched the blood creep closer and closer.

Then it reached him.

It started to soak through his white pants.

He felt it touch his skin.

‘This is the blood of many.’

Atakos heard the voice in his head then. It was clear and distinctly masculine. He didn’t recognize the voice at all. But one thing was certain—

It was a warning.

So many people are going to die, Atakos thought. And I can’t do anything to stop it!

No, he cried. No! He tried to break free of his frozen state, tried so hard to stand up again, to get back on his bed. When he managed to move again, Atakos found himself placing his hands on the bloody floor to stand up. The blood was suddenly all over his body. It coated his hands, his arms, even rolled down his face. It was everywhere.

And it started to burn.

Unable to get off the floor, Atakos started screaming. He screamed and screamed until he felt hands on his shoulders.

Someone was shaking him.

Someone was shouting his name.

Your Grace! Atakos! Wake up!

Atakos opened his eyes.

He was on the floor, far from his bed, crouching in the corner by a large, floor to ceiling window, shaking in absolute terror. His shirt was off, indicating he had removed it, possibly in his sleep. His advisor, Seroba, an older man with graying, black hair, was standing over him. Atakos looked around. He checked his hands, his face, his pants, and even crawled over to his bed to examine the floor. The blood was gone. But he still felt the burn. Still felt the pain.

Atakos looked up at Seroba, who was following him around the room, and the advisor relaxed a little, backing up to give him some space. Another bad dream? he asked.

Atakos nodded. This one was worse than the others… he said. And then a thought dawned on him. I have to go back.

May I ask you where, Your Grace?

Omordion. I have to go back as soon as possible.

NINETY-EIGHT. NINETY-NINE. ONE. Hundred.

Fajha Bayaht dropped to the floor, releasing the pull-up bar he was using to keep his arms toned. He shook his arms out and then flexed his muscles. In all his scrawny teenage years, Fajha never imagined he would become so strong. He remembered being jealous of the older boys who attended Lochenby just four years prior. Now, as he rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension in his muscles, he felt like he would have been a rival to those boys if they were still at his school.

Hey, Rhokh, Fajha said, throwing a pillow at his roommate’s head. Get up. It’s our last day. You haven’t even packed yet.

Rhokh Grouseli yawned and rolled onto his back. He scratched his head, pulled some of his unkempt, sandy-blonde hair over his eyes, and groaned. I really don’t feel like packing right now, he said again and yawned. Just one more day?

Nope. We have to leave today.

Fajha looked around their room and sighed, reflecting on his years at Lochenby. Fourteen years. Ten of which were spent with his friends, training to battle King Tholenod from the East, until their former teacher, Hamilda, disappeared and they went on a journey to save her. After the war in Udnaruk, Fajha had returned to Lochenby to finish his studies without his friends and spent the past four years doing just that. He was sad to be leaving the school, and his past, behind.

This is it, Fajha said, sighing.

Rhokh sat up and stretched. Yeah, he said and yawned, while looking at Fajha with one eye open. It is. Did you decide what you’re going to do after you leave?

Fajha shook his head. Ever since my grandfather died last year, my parents have been pressuring me even more to take his place.

Rhokh threw his head back and laughed. They really want you to be Emperor of Saiyut, hunh? Bahahahahaaa!!

Yeah… Fajha said sadly, while placing his graduation cap and gown on his bed.

Rhokh noticed the sadness in Fajha’s voice and shrugged. Oh, come on. It was a joke. Wouldn’t it be great to be an emperor?

Sure, Fajha said sarcastically.

"Am I missing something here? You would be the emperor of an entire country. How often are you going to get an offer like that? Only once in your lifetime. Never in mine."

Fajha gave his friend a half-smile. I used to think it would be so amazing to rule an entire country. But over the years, it just…lost its charm.

Rhokh nodded. He knew what Fajha was referring to. It was because he had lost his friends years ago. Their absence still affected him. Rhokh thought about them often as well. Especially his good friend, Atakos. For a long time, he was devastated. He was never given the opportunity to say goodbye to any of them. Fajha only said they went back home but never went into detail about why they made the decision so abruptly. Rhokh eventually stopped asking and accepted the inevitable. He would never see them again. Who knows? It may be your destiny.

"Your destiny is to pack up," Fajha said, laughing to hide how miserable he really was. He then reached for his glasses and paused. Most of his life he had needed to wear them, but the stronger his location ability became, the more he didn’t need them anymore. Fajha was still struggling with breaking the habit of putting them on. He silently laughed at himself. It was going to take some more getting used to.

Fajha smoothed back his now short, black hair and placed his black and green cap on his head. He then threw on his black gown and dragged his suitcases out into the hall. Most of the students on their floor had their suitcases in the hall already, ready to be picked up and brought outside by the school staff. He turned back to see Rhokh finally standing up and stretching again. I’ll see you at graduation, Rhokh. You have two hours.

Yes, mother.

Fajha looked up at the blue sky and opened his gown to stick his hands in the pockets of his black pants. It was unseasonably hot, too hot to be walking around with a uniform and gown. He smiled to himself when he thought of his friend, Zadeia, who, whenever she was sad, would bring on a fierce thunderstorm complete with torrential, monsoon-like rains. He suddenly wished she was there. He would welcome the rain, and her company, with open arms. He would gladly accept the company of any of his friends right about then.

As Fajha walked by the lake behind the school and into the woods, he could not help but picture them, walking in pairs, telling jokes, or even embarrassing each other as they so often did. Especially Zadeia’s twin brother, Zimi. He always had a knack for sarcasm, which everyone detested. But to hear Zimi crack a joke about him would be music to Fajha’s ears. To hear any of them speak to him would be an absolute joy.

Fajha steadily approached his destination. A hidden gate leading to a century-old ranch the students of Lochenby had used for horseback riding lessons decades ago before it was abandoned. It was boarded up with the faded words ‘NO TRESPASSING’ written across it to keep people out. When they were younger, Hamilda had been given permission to use the abandoned ranch as a place for them to practice the use of their powers without being seen. He could tell the gate had not been touched in years. Spider webs spread across the many vines, which had grown all around it. Years ago, Fajha would have unlocked the gate with his mind and Atakos would then lift it with his power for everyone to enter the ranch. This time, Fajha didn’t need to unlock the gate. He effortlessly lifted himself off the ground and glided over it, did a flip just for the fun of it, over the patch of overgrown bushes behind the gate, and softly landed in the grassy field.

Fajha looked around the rundown ranch, remembering the details of it, as if he had been there every day for the past four years. But the truth was, this was the first time he was visiting the ranch since the day he and his friends ran through it to find Hamilda and escape the corrupt General Komuh, who wanted to use their powers for his own benefits. Fajha could never bring himself to go back. Too many memories. When he glanced at the faded red stable, he couldn’t help seeing himself going inside to meditate and sometimes working on his location ability to find a friend who was hiding. When he glanced at the old tractor, rusting in the middle of the tall field of grass, he couldn’t help but see Atakos, attempting to lift it off the ground without touching it, with Hamilda by his side, encouraging him to keep trying. When he glanced at the small pond in the middle of the field, he couldn’t help but see Zimi and Zadeia, raising the water with their minds and attempting to sprinkle Cristaden’s flower beds, which seemed like such a trial for them at the time. And Cristaden. He couldn’t help but see her entering the shed by the pond to care for her plants and animals, before she even knew she could do so much more with her powers.

Fajha allowed his eyes to settle on the forest beyond the ranch. Sheidem Forest. He wondered if Cristaden was still there, living in Queen Lhainna’s protected forest. Perhaps they weren’t even there anymore. Perhaps they had moved on since Brulok was no longer a threat.

Brulok.

Fajha shuddered at the thought of the evil man. Brulok had arrived on Omordion over five hundred years prior and began a campaign to rid the world of all its magical creatures. The fairies of Omordion were almost eliminated and, according to Queen Lhainna, the flitnies, small beings who possessed magic, were wiped out. The ceanaves, water creatures who resembled humans, and the chlysems, large, blue birds with multicolored wings, went into hiding, never to be seen or heard from for centuries. That was until Fajha and his friends encountered them while on their journey to rescue Hamilda. A chlysem had suddenly appeared, saving him and his friends from General Komuh, using fire to destroy all their equipment, and then disappearing once again. Ceanaves also saved Fajha and his friends from certain death when they fell into the Hejdian Sea. Brulok knew they were still alive and left his minions all over Omordion to kill them if they ever came out of hiding.

The humans who came to Omordion after Brulok ended his war were unaware of the magical creatures or the Dokami clan, who landed on Omordion two hundred years later. They lived their lives in peace, blending in with the people of Omordion for three hundred years, until King Tholenod, from the Eastern country of Mituwa, turned all the commoners of the East into slaves and declared war against the West. His goal was to rule the world. Tholenod enlisted the help of Brulok who, from his hiding place, had possessed the leaders of the world and their armies to destroy each other, so he would not have to. Brulok was also the reason Hamilda had turned evil and tried to kill her students until Cristaden healed her. With the death of King Tholenod, the evil was lifted and Brulok and his monsters simply disappeared, allowing the fairies to finally come out of hiding. Brulok had given up. No one understood why. He was just simply…gone.

It had been four years since their lives changed. Four years since Cristaden healed Hamilda. Four years since Hamilda ran away to further her healing, to protect the child she was carrying. Four years since Cristaden left with her long-lost mother, Queen Lhainna, to live her new life with the fairies. Four years since Zimi and Zadeia returned to their country, Udnaruk, to finish their schooling there. Four years since Atakos left for Jmugea to take his place as the rightful heir to the Dokami throne. Four years since Fajha went back to Lochenby without them. It had been the longest four years of his life. And now he was graduating.

Fajha looked around the ranch one last time. He knew he had to visit it before he left. After years of staying away, he finally came to say goodbye. He was about to start a new chapter in his life, and it was time to leave the past behind him.

Letting out the breath he had been holding, Fajha sadly turned to leave.

It was as he had said to Rhokh.

This was it.

No more looking back.

IT STARTED OFF as a normal day.

The sun was shining and the trees, bare during the snow season, were finally beginning to sprout. Aillios had taken it as a sign to walk among them, to visit the Stream of Asmis as he so often did during the seasons of warmth. The stream was clear and rushing wildly from the Saimino Ocean, full of life from the recent rains.

As he walked, Aillios found himself reflecting on the life he had led before he became the Great King of the East. He thought of his mother, Meriahne, and how his father, the late King Tholenod, had killed her when Aillios was a young boy, using her death to instill hate for the commoners into Aillios’ heart. It had caused him to take many lives in battle when the commoners had rebelled against slavery, an act he thought of constantly with deep sorrow and regret.

The people of Mituwa had forgiven him.

The dead fairy, Asmis, who the stream had been named after, had told him once in a dream to forgive himself and yet, he could not.

Aillios had also lost his sister when his mother was killed, but he grew up not knowing he ever had one. And then he met her in Udnaruk. Ilahne, his aunt, had run away to the West, taking his baby sister, Kireina, with her and leaving him behind, a decision she regretted making for fourteen years. Kireina and Ilahne resided in Udnaruk all those years, thousands of miles away. Despite discovering the awful truth about Ilahne leaving him behind, Aillios was grateful to have them both back in his life. They were what held him together when he experienced inexplicable grief for the horrible things he had done under his father’s command. They were constant reminders that he was not to blame for his father’s actions.

Aillios studied the rushing water of the stream for a while, allowing it to relax him as it so often did. Asmis’ spirit was no longer attached to the physical plane. She had said her final goodbye to Aillios when Brulok had disappeared, taking his monsters with him. Four years had passed, and the East had never been so peaceful.

After the battle, Aillios had discovered a secret in the mines of Mituwa. There were airships and vehicles, used by his ancestors over a century ago, secretly stored in the mines. Hiding them was an act of cruelty, done solely for the purpose of making the Easterners think the West needed to be conquered to have what they had. Aillios chose not to resurrect the old machinery but, instead, used his resources to ensure all the villages of Mituwa, destroyed when his people were forced into slavery, were beautifully rebuilt–better than they had been before–so all the newly freed people would have a place to call home. His loyal servants were offered a place to live outside the castle as well, but several of them requested to stay. The castle was all they knew, so Aillios agreed to pay them wages to accommodate their living expenses. Their workload had also been significantly lessened.

Steady there, boy, Aillios said when he returned to his horse, Thashmar, who whinnied and shook his head. It’s time to go home. He was happy to have Thashmar back. The Dokami Council’s hired hand wanted the horse to be with Aillios, his master, so he sent him onboard an airship bringing runaways back to Mituwa.

As Aillios rode back to the castle on Thashmar, he gazed over the land of his ancestors. From the green, rolling hills, and the expansive forests surrounding them, Mituwa was a magical place. A place full of wonder. A few Mituwans, walking along the road, excitedly greeted him as he rode by. Just four years ago they were in chains, sickly, and starving. But now, they were free. Aillios finally felt free as well. It seemed like nothing would take the feeling away from him again.

Aillios rode through a field of green grass in front of his castle and made his way to the stables beyond it. He then dismounted Thashmar and pulled him towards a chorale behind the stables before removing his saddle and reins, allowing him to run free with the other horses.

All done for the day, sir?

Aillios turned to see Omlit, the hired stableman, walking towards him with a white horse by his side. All his life, from the day he could tend to animals, Omlit had been a stable boy. He was a small, frail teenager when Aillios first saw him. Now he was a strong man, whom Aillios had hired to care for the horses, no longer the frightened boy who had given Thashmar to him and helped him escape the watchful eyes of his father’s soldiers years ago.

I believe so, Aillios said. I’m famished. Haven’t eaten since morning.

Ah, Omlit said. The cook made a delicious meal today. Just had some. There’s plenty left if you go now.

Is that so? Well, I think I might head to the kitchens then. Who’s the beauty?

Omlit observed the white horse he was pulling along. This is Arayador, he said with a smile. She’s a young horse. A villager from the north gave her to me as a gift for the princess. I’m just helping her get acquainted to her new home.

Lovely. I’m sure Kireina is happy.

Omlit grinned, his cheeks suddenly turning a deep shade of pink. She is, he said, nodding. If–if you’ll excuse me. Omlit gave a slight bow and briskly walked away.

Until next time, Aillios said as he turned towards the castle. He pretended not to notice Omlit’s sudden change in demeanor at the mention of Kireina’s name. It happened often. The people were enamored by her. By her charm, her kindness, and her beauty. Especially the boys and the younger men. They thought she was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. And since she turned eighteen, they were struggling with the idea of her impending marriage. But Aillios insisted she take her time. There was no rushing these things. And besides, he wasn’t married himself at twenty-eight years old, how could he demand it of her at eighteen?

Upon entering the castle, Aillios was almost run over by none other than Kireina herself, who was bulldozing down the hall towards the door in a mad dash.

Whoa! Aillios shouted. Slow down!

Did you see the horse out there? Kireina asked, her green eyes sparkling. The white one?

Yes, I did. Arayador.

She’s mine. Kireina giggled, slightly bouncing up and down. My own horse.

Kireina! Aillios’ former chambermaid, Trisalan, was chasing after her with a pair of riding boots in her hands. I implore you princess! Please wear your boots. You mustn’t ride a horse without them.

Kireina grumbled and gave Aillios an aggravated look before turning to Trisalan. Okay, okay. I’ll wear them.

She’s right you know, Aillios said. You shouldn’t be riding a horse with bare feet.

Trisalan caught up to them and tried catching her breath. That’s what I was telling her, she said in a high-pitched voice. She wouldn’t listen.

Kireina…

Yes, yes, I know, Kireina said with a sigh.

Aillios shook his head and laughed. Kireina would forever be the same wild child he met in Udnaruk. The one who wanted to fight in a battle she was not ready for. She thought she could wield a sword against trained, ruthless soldiers and almost lost her life trying. Aillios was glad she made it out alive. Ever since then, he had dedicated much of his time teaching her how to fight the right way.

Don’t laugh at me, Kireina said with a scowl.

Aillios cleared his throat. Wouldn’t you know, he said with a grin. I ran into the young lad, Omlit. On my way in.

Kireina rolled her eyes. If I get one more marriage proposal from him…

Not today.

Oh, good.

When I was younger, Trisalan said. Before the terrible time, the girls would have been throwing themselves at the feet of a young man like him.

Times have changed, Kireina said.

Trisalan sighed. It’s too bad. He is handsome.

Kireina rolled her eyes again and sat down on the floor to put on her boots. "Then you marry him."

Trisalan laughed and then suddenly gasped. Oh! Your Majesty! Ilahne told me to remind you about the castle tour if I saw you.

Aillios’ shoulders dropped. Is that today? he asked–just as his stomach rumbled. Once a month, a group of villagers were invited to tour the castle, since they had never been allowed to see the inside of it before as slaves. It was necessary to make them feel welcomed in a place they had feared for so long.

Yes, Trisalan said. You’d better hurry! They are waiting for you in the throne room.

I will see you later, sister, Aillios told Kireina and gave a slight bow.

Later, brother, Kireina said before hopping up and running out, her boots creating an echoing, banging sound in the otherwise silent hallway.

Aillios shook his head at his sister and proceeded to follow Trisalan to the throne room where Ilahne was waiting–rather impatiently–with her arms folded across her chest.

"You’re late," Ilahne said with an angry scowl.

Frolemin was there as well, frowning just as nastily as Ilahne was. Her hair had begun to turn white over the past few years, and she was known to all who resided in the castle as the ‘house mother’, always putting herself in charge of all the tasks and scolding anyone who wasn’t doing the job right. It was her duty when she was Tholenod’s chambermaid, so it was a bad habit she couldn’t break. Aillios loved her for it though. He couldn’t imagine his life without Frolemin telling him what to do.

I was out by the stream, Aillios said. Got carried away with the time. He dared not say he had forgotten about their guests. Ilahne had reminded him about the tour every day for the past seven days.

Hm, Frolemin said and then left in a huff.

Aillios sighed at Ilahne. Sorry, he said. How many do we have this time?

There’s forty of them with ten children, all between the ages of three and five, waiting to hear you tell the story of the ‘Famous Five’. Ilahne gave him a wink. Their story has become a legend, you know.

I know, Aillios said with a shrug. Alright. He stepped into the throne room and was immediately greeted with excited whispers as his guests, villagers from the north, welcomed his arrival. Now standing to greet him, the adults had been sitting patiently in rows of chairs, brought in for the occasion. The children were seated on the floor, silently waiting for Aillios to come in and tell them the most popular story of their time. He enjoyed telling it, it helped him cope with the past in more ways than they knew.

Please be seated, Aillios said, returning the greeting with a slight bow. There’s no need for formalities. Although I am your king, I would like you to also consider me…a friend. The villagers sat down, nodding and smiling, even more captivated by their king than before. Aillios walked past the children, greeting them with smiles and giving a few of them pats on the head. He then sat on the throne, trying hard to ignore the empty feeling in his stomach as it growled, and regarded the children staring back at him in awe. Children meant the world to him and he hoped to one day have children of his own if he could be so lucky. The adults stared back at him as well, just as eager as the children were.

The story of Omordion’s Hope begins when they were about your age, Aillios began telling the children, at a time when the world was at war. They were the chosen five. Three boys and two girls. Their kind, the Dokami clan, had existed on Omordion for three hundred years, although no one knew of their existence until right before the children were given their mission. They were meant to train for thirteen years to fight the evil king from the East…which just so happened to be my…father. Aillios cleared his throat before continuing. Well, when they were fifteen years old, they believed their teacher was kidnapped, so they went on a journey to rescue her. Their journey led them to Paimonu, an island off the coast of Sheidem Island. That’s where I met them, the five teenagers, and I continued with them on their journey to end the war. Their names, of course, were Atakos, Fajha, Zimi, Zadeia, and Cristaden. They were incredible. And they had special abilities—

Aillios frowned. Some of his audience had begun to stand up in shock, interrupting his story, and looking frightfully towards the chamber doors. They were murmuring to each other so Aillios stood up as well and was shocked himself to see what they had seen.

Kireina had walked into the throne room, her riding clothes stained with blood. She was in tears and visibly shaken. Ilahne rushed to her side in a panic. Aillios’ heart skipped a beat as he leapt off the stairs, fearing his sister had been seriously injured while riding Arayador. As he quickly approached her, he realized the problem was greater than an accident on horseback when, following closely behind Kireina entered a soldier, holding a man up by the waist. It wasn’t Kireina at all who had been hurt. The man was cut up and bleeding, his right arm limp by his side as if his shoulder was broken. Frolemin came in after them with tears in her eyes, her hands over her mouth in disbelief.

What happened? Aillios asked as he approached the soldier, the curious group of villagers gathering behind him. Some of them tried their best to shield the eyes of the young children, who had been fortunate enough to never witness violence and death during their young lives.

We wanted to help him, the soldier said, trying his best to hold the man up. He insisted on seeing you as soon as possible. To explain what happened himself.

Aillios grabbed the man, to assist the soldier, and looked him over, horrified of his refusal for help. In his condition, he could—

He doesn’t have much time, Your Grace, the soldier said, as if reading Aillios’ mind.

What has befallen you? Aillios asked the man.

Th–they came…in the night, the man said weakly. Our village…Issa…was destroyed. They killed…

Who attacked you?

"It was…please…save them…"

And then the man’s head slumped to the side, his eyes still open, blood steadily dripping from his mouth.

He died right before everyone’s eyes.

Aillios was shaken to the core. Kireina was still crying and Ilahne looked like she was about to faint along with everyone else in the room. A few villagers ushered the children out, so they wouldn’t keep staring at the dead man.

Gather as many soldiers as you can, Aillios told the soldier as he helped lay the man down on the floor. Issa is north of here, is it not?

Yes, the soldier said.

"We must go there. Immediately."

CRISTADEN FERIAU SAT up on her hammock and stretched. She combed her fingers through her long, blonde hair, which had tangled together while she slept. She then tucked her legs under her white, silk nightgown and sighed.

A small, red bird suddenly flew up to her hammock and landed on the white cloth, chirping at Cristaden as if throwing a boisterous ‘good morning’ her way. She smiled and bowed her head to the bird, returning the greeting with her mind so she could talk to the bird directly. The bird became excited, hopping from side to side, chirping with happiness until it flew off just as fast as it had come, off into the greenery of Sheidem Forest.

Cristaden took a deep breath in. So free, she thought and then allowed her shoulders to drop with a long, winded sigh.

What’s wrong?

Cristaden looked up to see her twin sister, Keirak, staring down at her from her own hammock, hung with a rope between two tall trees. The twins shared similar traits, from their long, blonde hair, to their pale, blue eyes and pale skin, the same as their mother, Queen Lhainna. But they were not identical. Cristaden looked more like their father, Kheiron, a member of the Dokami clan, and Keirak resembled Queen Lhainna more than Cristaden did. Keirak was born with fairy wings, but Cristaden was not. Keirak could also turn small like the other fairies, but Cristaden could not. It was a gift, enabling Keirak to escape the attack from Brulok’s monsters–oblots–when they were two years old. Cristaden had been left helpless. So helpless, Kheiron felt the need to take her away, to leave Sheidem Forest and bring her back home to his parents’ house in Laspitu, where he felt Cristaden might be safer.

Unfortunately, their father did not return to his family home safely. He had succumbed to the injuries he sustained while running away from the oblots chasing him and Cristaden. Before he died, Kheiron left Cristaden in the care of his sister and her husband, who raised her as their own until she found out the truth at the age of fifteen–the day Cristaden brought Hamilda to the spirit realm to heal her. Kheiron had found her there and explained everything, opening her eyes to a life she knew nothing about. She was also given a pair of wings from a chlysem, which appeared out of nowhere on the shores of the Hejdian Sea. The wings she was given were unlike typical fairy wings–they were white, bird-like wings appearing whenever Cristaden needed to fly.

Cristaden sighed despairingly again. It’s nothing, she told Keirak. She didn’t feel like explaining her frustrations again. Keirak knew it was her ultimate wish to leave the forest. It was always a thought on her mind. But nothing would ever change. She felt trapped.

Don’t be so downhearted, Keirak said in her mind and smiled. You’ll always have me.

Cristaden smiled back and nodded. Ever since she returned to Sheidem Forest, she and Keirak had become the best of friends. Keirak refused to leave her side and rarely turned to fairy size anymore to be fair to Cristaden, even though Cristaden insisted she didn’t mind. At first, it felt strange to be around her sister. Over time, the notion of Keirak being her twin, Kapimia being her half-sister, and Queen Lhainna being her mother, grew on her. This was her family, as much as her aunt, uncle, and cousin–who she had referred to as her little brother–had been all her life. As much as her friends had been…

Cristaden’s heart sank as it did every time she thought of the other members of her disbanded group, Omordion’s Hope. Fajha, Zimi, Zadeia, and…Atakos. It hurt her when she thought of how she left them, knowing she would never see them again. She had never intended to be so cruel. If it wasn’t for Queen Lhainna’s persuasion to leave, maybe things would have been different…

You can’t change the past, Keirak said. If we could, our lives would have been much different. We wouldn’t be in a protected forest. We would be free to roam around Omordion as the fairies did hundreds of years ago.

Cristaden nodded. I suppose you’re right. But I do miss them. All of them. She avoided thinking of Atakos right then because it had taken her a long time to stop crying every time he came to mind and she was not about to start all over again. Besides, she knew he was in a better place. He was the King of Jmugea. He also had so much to look forward to with his new life.

It was his fate, Keirak said.

I know, Cristaden said. She was certain Atakos had forgotten all about her after she made him terribly angry by the way she acted before leaving with Lhainna. She had loved him–she still loved him–and she regretted not going to his house to say a final