Remembrance of Vita

By A. L. Morgan

A dark forest is no place for a young girl. Fate disposed her there with no memories, and it's the kind hands of an elderly couple that bring her out. Though she doesn't know who she is, Lithiana is content to live her life in the impoverished city of Guvoin, considering herself fortunate that she didn't perish in those woods. She labors relentlessly every day to provide a better life, until her life is suddenly thrust into someone else's hands; a strange man that claims to have known her.

Stolen from the village she considers home and tossed into an outlandish world where time waits for no one, Lithiana is forced to acknowledge the dark shadows that greet her tainted mind; learning she is more than what she seems. Paranoia rises as danger lurks behind every corner. Creatures commit vile deeds, realms rage on the brink of war and sinister intentions hide beneath the pure rays of sunlight. Every word spoken could be another lie told, and any smile could be the one hiding the dagger poised at her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887316758

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

About the Author

cover.jpg

Remembrance of Vita

A. L. Morgan

Copyright © 2023 A. L. Morgan

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2023

ISBN 979-8-88731-674-1 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88731-675-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To my mom. Every memory is a treasure.

Acknowledgments

When I was younger, I never dreamed I'd be writing my own book. I saw it as a passion that I should leave to the great authors we already have. It's terrifying, chasing what you really want. It's taking a chance and investing time and money into yourself and hoping it all works out. It's having the courage to be imperfect and hoping that even with its imperfections, it becomes something that people love and enjoy. I decided that if whatever I chose to write didn't become a big success, I would still cherish what I completed and be proud of the world and people I imagined. I created a story I thought I would never have the courage to make known, though I can say in confidence that none of it would have been possible without my family and friends supporting and cheering me on through it all.

To the friends that encouraged and believed in me, you know who you are, and I cannot thank you enough. Your confidence in my abilities and your constructive criticism gave me so much excitement and determination to see it through. To my grandparents, it wouldn't have been possible without you. They have been a constant support in my life, and words cannot express how much I cherish them. To my aunt and uncle, your support, love, advice, and interest in this large project gave me the confidence to keep writing. Along with the rest of my family, they gave me so much comfort in knowing that I would not be in this alone and that I would have help in every corner. A huge thank-you is owed to my astonishing friend, Francesca Anne, for not only doing the artwork for my cover and map but being so eager to help and making sure this project is presented in its best form. Lastly, my biggest thank-you goes to my mom. Since the day I told you I was going to chase my dreams and finally write, you have been my biggest supporter and confidant. Your belief in me is a power in its own and encouraged me more than I can express. I'm proud to call you my mom and even more proud to call you my best friend. I know I wouldn't be the person I am today without you. One dream down, many more to go.

Prologue

Cool stone pressed against my arms as I leaned on a balcony high above the ground, watching a city bustle with activity below. Fires ignited as night drew near, and overlapping voices could be heard over the chirping of bugs and the rustling of a vibrant forest that surrounded the city. Being so far up, I couldn't make out any faces, just the movement of people and the dirt paths that meandered through the city. I felt as though they were a part of me, like the darkness from the night sky seemed to caress my skin and dance with my soul to the very music that drifted below. It was as if this moment had recognized me and wrapped me in its folds to enjoy it, but good things never last forever, and curiosity has always been my downfall.

I turned around, the warm summer breeze caressing my back as I stepped away from the balcony. I was in a bedroom. Soft-green walls and white marble floors cradled a large bed made of deep-green covers; a washroom was nestled in the wall across it. Next to the washroom was an unlit hearth, deep enough to hold two full-size pigs. I tip-toed across the room, standing before a tall door with a grand tree engraved on its wooden surface, thorns drifting around its border. I twisted its brass knob, easing the door open silently. No one stood in the immense gray-brick halls lined with cascading vines. I followed the flickering crystal glass lights to the left. I didn't know where I was, but it seemed this place did as more lights sputtered to life and led me further away from the room. When I turned the next corner, the lights illuminated that hallway as well. But I stopped, as I was no longer alone.

A dark figure stood at the end of the hallway silently watching me, appearing as if it was made entirely from shadows that even the flickering lights refused to touch. For a moment, we stared at one another. Then the breath I had been holding rushed from me as those shadows moved closer. Darkness suffocated the lights along the halls, snuffing them out as it passed and threatened to consume me. This darkness was different from the star-kissed one that held me in silk folds. I yanked against my body, pulling it from its trance and fumbling back the way I had come. A hissing laugh rang out behind me, and I could practically feel the malevolent shadows nipping at my heels.

I found the room I had come from, its engraved surface calling out like a beacon. I shoved my way into the room and closed its barrier with shaking hands. The click of the door rang through the hall entirely too loud, and I ran for the large bed, wiggling under the frame to hide. For a moment, everything was suspended as I held my breath and the room fell silent.

Then the door slammed open, and the shadowed figure prowled into my room. I could almost feel the amusement drifting from it as it searched the room, and I clamped my hand over my mouth as it made its way to the bed, searching under the covers.

Come out, child, I won't hurt you… I just want to talk, its raspy voice called, making my skin crawl.

I pressed my hands to my ears and watched as the black shadows of its feet stepped away from the frame. I released a slow breath, attempting to slow the beating against my chest. But the shadows did not leave, only stepped back to place its knees on the floor.

I watched in horror as its hands braced on the floor, time seeming to slow as it bent lower and lower until the black shadows of its face were staring right at me. Though I couldn't make out a face, I could tell a smile widened on its dark lips, and without warning, it lunged its hand out and grabbed my arm. I screamed as its sharp claws dug into my skin and dragged me out from under the bed. I kicked at the figure frantically, but it hissed and grabbed my other arm, hoisting me upright. Within the next second, a band of rough rope was formed around my mouth, muffling my screams. Hot tears streamed down my face as the shadowed figure dragged me out of the room and into the hallway, the once-vibrant vines rotting and falling from the walls. Stinging darkness poured from the bedroom, engulfing the furniture, and wrapping around me and the figure. I couldn't see anything, only feel the iron grip on my arms and the band of rope around my mouth. The figure continued to drag me despite the darkness that blinded us, the cool marble floor turning into rough ground and plants that snagged on my clothes. The air suddenly chilled and became biting, as the shadows retreated and the moon's minimal light revealed the tall cliff we had appeared on, crashing waves raging below.

I was pushed to the ground then, another set of bands placed around my wrists and feet, before the figure walked away into the shadows of a tree that rested on the edge of the cliff. I struggled against the bands and searched for a sharp rock, my eyes straining against the dim light. But the figure returned a moment later with a thick strand of rope, tying it around my waist. Then it removed the ties from around my feet and hauled me up to stand. Once I regained my balance, it spoke again.

Walk, it rasped and gestured to the edge of the cliff.

I didn't move.

The figure snarled, darting its claws into my hair and twisting with a painful grip. Tears sprang in my eyes, and it spoke again, You either walk, or I'll throw you over the cliff myself and be done with it.

I glanced once more at the straight drop of the cliff, then hesitantly moved my shaking legs forward. It kept its harsh grip on my hair and used its other hand to grasp the rope tied to my waist as we stopped below the tree, the cliff's edge only a step away on my other side. The branches were bare and withered, and I watched as the figure took the long rope attached to my waist and tied the other end around the base of the tree.

Who are you? What are you going to do? I asked, my voice trembling.

Sit, it ordered, gesturing to the edge of the cliff.

I ignored the violent tug in my stomach and carefully sat on the edge of the cliff with my feet dangling over the angry water. I wanted to fight back, use anything to my advantage, but my body wouldn't allow it. As if I was trapped, watching everything from far away. I watched the creature take up another strand of thick rope, tying it around its own waist and then to the base of the tree. The figure tugged on its own rope, making sure it was secure before it walked toward me. Then it lifted the strand connected to my waist and said, Jump.

My heart thundered in my chest as I looked below my feet and back at the shadows of the figure.

Jump? I asked.

Yes.

How do I know you won't let me fall into the water below?

Have some faith. A ghost of smile seemed to seep into its words again.

Why are you doing this? I cried.

Its annoyed hiss was all the warning I had before the figure lifted its foot and slammed it into my back, my stomach lurching as I plunged down the side of the cliff and braced for my imminent death.

Though instead of hitting jagged rocks, I jolted awake on the cold wooden floor of my bedroom, soaked in sweat, and breathing hard as the dream played through my head over and over.

Chapter 1

I sat on the floor for a while, leaning against my worn bed frame until the shaking in my body receded. It wasn't the first time I had had this dream, and I knew it wouldn't be the last.

My eyes roamed, assuring myself that I was in my small bedroom and not the elegant one I had been dragged from. My eyes rested on the dagger from my grandfather, Arnold, that sat upon my small dresser. It was slightly longer, with a green jewel upon its pommel and black leather strapping around its grip. I only wished I could bring the weapon into my dreams. The same nightmare had plagued my sleep since I was young, and it rarely changed. Sometimes if I was lucky enough, I would wake up before the shadows could drag me under; other times I couldn't pull myself out until I was thrown from that cliff. My fingers grazed the small stone beads that I wore around my ankle, never in my dream but always there when I woke. Touching them was like a way of assuring my racing heart that I was no longer sleeping. My grandmother had made me the string of gray and blue stones a long time ago, a hobby she still carried on today, not knowing how precious they were to me now.

I stood slowly, my body sore from falling out of bed. I still wore my clothes from last night, the smell of beer and liquor floating from my skirt. I cringed and pulled out a different skirt from my worn dresser, a heavy black one that I tied over the dark-blue corset and black blouse I wore, securing a heavy green cloak around my shoulders to block the biting wind outside. It was probably late afternoon, but waking at this time had become normal for me. The tavern I worked at held late hours, and by the time I was done, I would barely make it to my bed before passing out from exhaustion, and the nightmares didn't help.

I opened my bedroom door and walked down the creaky wooden hallway to our washroom. We didn't have a full one, and if we wanted a bath, it meant using a sponge or going down to the town's local pond with a bar of soap.

Our cracked mirror reflected my long cinnamon-brown wavy hair that framed my hallow cheeks in its disarray. Dark circles framed my tired green eyes, and I sighed as I turned on the icy water from the sink, splashing it on my lightly freckled face and smoothing down my hair.

Returning to my room, I grabbed the dagger from my dresser and bent down to strap it to my leg, glancing at the box that sat under my bed. I stashed in that box my charcoal drawings mostly depicting different scenes from my nightmares. At one time, I thought sketching what I saw might help me piece together why I was getting the dreams. Though it was calming, it didn't seem to help me understand them; it was as if every time I tried to make sense of it, I ran into a brick wall and none of it made sense. It didn't help that my art was far from satisfactory, though I kept them. In case they started to make sense one day.

With the dagger secured under my skirt, I left my room and walked down the short hallway to the sitting area where I found my grandmother Judith relaxing in her chair. Her fingers worked quickly as she focused on another beading project beside the tiny hearth.

Morning, I mumbled.

You mean afternoon, dear, she said as she glanced up with a delicate smile on her wrinkled face. Even with her age, my grandmother was still beautiful. Her long white hair that normally hung to her hips was twirled into a neat bun on the top of her head, and she had her favorite blue knit shawl around her shoulders.

Long night at the tavern again, I said.

I had guessed as much. Those drunks are insufferable, she said, rolling her honey-brown eyes.

I'll probably be there late tonight.

Will Raven be there? she asked.

I'm assuming so. She is most nights, I replied. Raven was a good friend of mine. I met her when I started working there, and we had been close since. She tended to make the long nights more bearable.

Judith looked back down at the project in her hands. That's good. Your grandfather will probably be home in a couple of hours. I left lunch on the table for you if you want to eat before you go.

Thank you, I said, walking over to kiss her head before heading to the makeshift kitchen where a small wooden plate of bread and eggs sat on the table. I left the plate for my grandfather and grabbed an apple instead; food was scarce for us. Whatever I managed to obtain, I gave to them, accepting whatever was left over.

Shoving my feet into my worn leather boots, I opened the creaky and chipped wooden door, brisk air sweeping into the room. I stepped out quickly, shutting the door behind me and pulling my cloak tighter around my slim frame. There was no snowfall yet, but my boots crunched on the frozen dead grass and overgrown weeds as I left our cabin, looking back once at the withered and cracked wooden sides. The only sign of life was the faint smokestack rising from the chimney and the dim light coming from the hearth beyond the clouded windows. We lived on a small plot of land that was surrounded by a thick sprawl of trees, away from the crowded and dismal streets where most businesses and homes were located in the city of Guvoin. I munched on my apple and threw the core into the thick grass on the side of the gravel road as the merchant-lined streets came into view. No one shared fortune in this town; it was kill or be killed, and my grandparents had to work hard for what little they had. They had owned a blacksmith when I was younger, but it was later burned down in a mysterious fire during the night. They lost everything, and their so-called friends turned a blind eye at their misfortune.

Since then, my grandfather began work under a different owner at a new smith and brought home what little the man paid him. The Malvinas family was the worst, though. Ever since I could remember, they have been well-endowed with money and had little problem showing it off. Their mansion sat at the top of the hill, past the market and the hungry eyes that suffocated the streets. They rarely came to town, but when they did, they would send their pretentious sons to fetch things for them, and almost every time they would stop at the tavern to cause trouble. More often than not, it would result in Morley, the owner, kicking them out. Last time they had caused a fight, they broke some furniture and were told to not come back unless they were ready to pay for it—they hadn't bothered us since. Though Raven seemed to thrive on the drama they would cause, naturally high-strung and dying to fight them.

I was almost to the blacksmith when I noticed a commotion further down the road. Several people stood and watched something in the center of the crowd, and I pushed past them to see Melly, a middle-aged woman, holding a piece of crumpled paper in her hand. She had tears running down her face that was tinted red from the cold and was going from person to person, hysterically asking if they had seen her daughter. Her blond hair was in a loose knot atop her head and strands hung loosely as if she had just rolled out of bed. Her dark gray eyes were wide and frantic as she begged everyone in the square for help. Everyone stood and watched, saying nothing and offering no help. Typical of them, really. I rolled my eyes at their coarse attitude and walked to her, gently grasping her shoulder.

Melly? What happened to Sophie? I asked.

Thia! Heavens, Thia, she's gone! I woke up this morning, and she wasn't in her bed. I've looked everywhere, and I have asked everyone. No one has seen my little girl. She cried as she held up a hand-drawn picture of her daughter. Melly had always been good at drawing; her small shop is where my grandfather had gotten the charcoal for my birthday. I had only seen Sophia a few times, helping Melly in the shop. She was a cute little girl, probably only six, with tight blond curls and big brown eyes.

I'm so sorry, Melly. I haven't seen her anywhere. I just came from home, I said, rubbing a soothing hand on her shoulder.

I fear the worst has happened, she hiccuped.

What do you mean? I asked. People continued to stare, and I resisted the temptation to throw a vulgar gesture their way.

She said she had been seeing things…dark things. I thought it was just her imagination. You know kids, they think they see things all the time, but she was so sure, and so scared.

A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered my own fear of the shadowed figure, but they were just dreams, and I hoped that was all they would be.

Melly, I'm sure her imagination just got the best of her. Kids love telling scary stories, but that's all they are. I'm sure she just heard one that frightened her.

She nodded and looked to the ground sullenly, tears still sliding down her face.

Have you tried knocking on anyone's doors? Maybe she saw a friend and decided to go to their house? I suggested.

No, I suppose that's a good idea, she sniffled.

Why not start there? She has to be somewhere close. It's a small town, I said.

Alright, but if you see her, let me know? she insisted, her gray eyes earnestly holding mine.

Of course, I'll be at the tavern tonight. If I see or hear anything, I'll let you know, I assured.

She folded the picture of Sophia and stuffed it in the pockets of her dress as she walked down the road where more houses were lined. The crowd dissipated now that the scene was over, and I scoffed at them as I walked away, wondering if Sophia had been having nightmares as well.

I arrived at the blacksmith a moment later, rushing beyond the heavy wooden door to let the heat of the working flames thaw my icy skin.

Pa? I called out. I glanced around and saw all the machinery and the deep hearth that was lit in the corner. Racks of swords hung on the walls with shields and small daggers, and two worktables were in the center of the room, scattered with tools and supplies.

Pa? I called again.

Thia? Is that you? I'm over here, he called back finally.

I turned a corner and saw him sitting at a small desk, bent over papers containing drawings of more weapons.

Hey, I just wanted to stop by and see how you're doing before I head to the tavern, I said as I rested my arm around his shoulder. I could tell through his damp white shirt that he was practically melting in here.

Hot, but good. Working on some new weapons the boss wants, he said lightly, holding up his most recent sketch for me to see.

He should pay you more. I don't see him slaving over the fires. It's cold outside. You should cool down, I pressed.

He nodded his head and continued to critique his drawing of a long-curved blade. His short white hair was slightly matted to his forehead, and he had taken off a few layers to cool down. It was a relief to see that he still had a decent weight on him. His rough hands were smudged with black marks, and his tired, wrinkled face had small beads of sweat that he wiped away with his old handkerchief that I had given him a long time ago, his name sewn into the fabric.

You know Melly's daughter went missing? I asked, leaning against the wall.

Shock and sadness filled his face as he set down his drawing, turning to me as he said, No, how long she been gone for?

Since this morning, I suppose. Melly said she had been seeing things. I think her imagination got the best of her, I replied.

Well, that's kids for you. They think they see a flying pony and run off lookin' for it. He rolled his eyes.

Just keep an eye out for her, will you? Melly is in hysterics, I said.

I would be too, if I lost my best helper, he said with a wink.

I smiled and shook my head. I'm heading to work. Try to stay out of trouble.

Oh dear, what fun would that be? he laughed.

I rolled my eyes and lightly patted him on the back.

How you feeling today? he asked before I could turn around to leave.

Fine, I suppose. Nothing new.

He nodded his head. Don't push yourself too hard now. Don't wanna get sick again. No shame in taking some time off, he said with a lopsided grin.

My health had been declining for the past few years, and though it wasn't constant, my grandparents had made sure I didn't push myself too hard and that I acquired enough rest. Though they probably didn't know that the nightmares prevented any type of restful sleep.

If I took a day off, then you wouldn't have your best helper, I said with a wink.

I could manage to behave for a day or two while you rest, he said with a huff as I walked back to the front, laughing and saying goodbye before I opened the door and stepped out.

The cool breeze hit my face, and I inhaled deeply before taking off for the long night that awaited me.

Chapter 2

As I neared the tavern, I saw that a warm light already glinted against the murky windows. The wooden sign that read Morley's Pub swung gently back and forth on its chains above the door. Unlike my home with its cracked and withered boards, this building had smooth dark wood that wrapped around its exterior. It could hold a fair number of people and liquor, and we normally remained busy most nights.

I walked briskly to the back of the building and knocked loudly on the door, shifting back and forth as the cold ate at my hands.

Morley, it's me! I'm here to set up! I shouted. I waited a few chilling moments, then the door finally opened. Morley stood beyond the threshold with a bowl in his hand and a towel over his shoulder as I rushed inside, letting the heat inside thaw me once again.

It's getting colder out there, I said as I shuddered and hung my cloak on the rack by the door.

Damn winter is on its way, he grunted as he shut the door behind me. I nodded in agreement and pushed past the kitchen door to the front, taking the chairs down from the tables and lighting the lamps on the walls.

How's your grandpa doin'? he shouted from the kitchen.

Boiling, as usual. You hear about Sophia? I shouted back.

He left the kitchen and came to the front, wiping his hands on his towel.

I heard about it. Never ceases to amaze me what those damn kids come up with in those tiny brains, he said, shaking his head.

It's not like this is the first time a kid has run off because they thought they saw something interesting, I said with a grimace.

No, and it won't be the last. I'm surprised, though, he said with raised eyebrows.

About what?

When your grandparents found ya, I thought for sure you were gonna be like them other kids. Always running off to explore. I'm surprised you ain't more curious as to what really happened before they found ya, he said, leaning against the bar.

I don't remember anything from before they found me, and I'm not entirely sure I want to know who left me in those woods anyway, I said.

I figured whoever left me there didn't want me anyway, and it was hard to miss them when I had no memories of them. I love my grandparents dearly, but I am not related to them by blood. They adopted me after Arnold had been out hunting one morning and found me in the woods trembling and alone. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there or who I was related to. They had taken me to the doctor and a few orphanages to see if anyone recognized me or if I had an injury that could have caused my memory loss. When they couldn't find