An Inheritance of Fire

“Oi.” A gravelly voice woke Viria. Opening her eyes, she saw Valandor standing over her. She blinked, and his face came into focus. The old elf grinned. “Up and at ‘em. If all goes well, we’ll reach the Elder Glades before sundown.” He straightened as she sat up.

“Looks like one of you is alright with mornings.”

Viria looked to the side. Selerim was already awake and sitting upright. “You’re lucky Nyx didn’t attack you,” he said flatly.

Valandor raised an eyebrow. “So you say.”

Viria cut in before either could continue further. “Is that true?” She asked. “We’re almost there?” She’d expected as much; little by little, their surroundings were becoming more familiar. Nothing she immediately recognized, but proof of their proximity all the same.

The grizzled elf nodded. “Assuming we keep pace, we’ll reach the Elder Glades before nightfall. But,” he paused. “There’s a problem.”

Viria’s blood ran cold. “What is it?” She asked, fearing the answer.

Valandor pointed to both of them with one hand. “You smell bad. When was the last time either of you actually washed yourselves?”

Taken aback, Viria looked to Selerim– and started laughing uncontrollably. Though unsure of what she’d expected, the look on his face was a combination of exasperation and incredulity. It looked so out of place that, no matter how Viria tried, she couldn’t wrest control back. By the time her laughter subsided, Valandor’s look was one of amusement. Selerim, for his part, looked concerned.

“I believe you,” Viria said– while suppressing another giggle. “It’s been… a while. We boiled water to wipe ourselves out, but that’s it.” She paused. “If you’re bringing it up, I assume you have a solution.”

The old elf grinned. “Lucky for you– and our noses– I do.”

“... Is this all melted snow?”

“Almost. There’s probably some rainwater mixed in, too.”

“Did…” Selerim’s brow furrowed. “Did your people do this?”

Viria grinned. “Nope.” She swept an arm out. “Did you notice the ground here is uneven?” Selerim nodded. “When the snow melts, it all runs down the nearest slope. Eventually, though, most of it gathers like this. The trees don’t need much water. This is more than enough to keep them alive.”

They stood at the water’s edge; the surface was mirror-like in its stillness. There was hardly enough to be called a lake, but it was the largest body of water they’d seen since leaving Cress. There was a tranquility to the sight that was difficult to explain.

“And you’re going to… bathe in it?”

Viria nodded.

“Alright,” Selerim said, somewhat hesitantly. “You first. I’ll keep watch. Call out when you’re done.” And he strode away.

She watched him for a few paces before turning back to the water. Pulling off her boots, Viria braced herself– and dipped her feet in. She anticipated the cold– it was melted snow, after all– but not the severity. What remained of winter’s bite sank its teeth into her flesh, snaking its way through her veins and chilling her to the core.

Viria pulled her feet out immediately, but the promise of cleanliness was too tempting. Bracing herself again, she dipped her feet back in. It was easier this time, but still too much to bear. Little by little, she tempered herself against the water’s chill, until it no longer bothered her.

Sighing in relief, she pushed off the small shore; the water reached just above her hips. Despite its chilling bite, Viria was grateful for the opportunity to bathe. Cupping the frigid water in her hands, she poured it over her arms and shoulders, shivering as its cold fingers ran across her skin.

She cupped a second handful, intending to pour it over her torso– then stopped. The water’s tranquil surface rippled as it fell back down, breaking her reflection. Viria gripped the hem of her tunic. She’d intended to bathe completely, but…

I don’t want to see them.

The elf cupped a third handful and poured it down over her front. She groaned as it traveled over her burns. Though healed, they’d been agitated too many times; the new skin was still fragile and raw.

Not to mention scarred.

Viria took a deep breath and plunged her head below. It was almost perfectly clear. Sunlight streamed down from below, scattered and diffused by the water, but after just a few moments the cold made her lungs burn.

Light scattered as her head broke the surface. Pulling her hair over one shoulder, Viria ran her fingers through it. Stop thinking about everything. It won’t change anything. Banishing her worries as best she could, the elf scrubbed away months worth of dirt, grime, and sweat. By the time she finished, she felt refreshed. She pulled herself onto shore, sitting with her feet in the water while drying.

For the first time since their hurried departure, Viria felt at peace. She was back home. There was light. Warmth. And Vane… Purely on instinct, she reached out for him– and found nothing.

It all came crashing back down.

Vane– her uncle– the one who raised her– was dead. He would never laugh again, never walk through the forest with her again– never hold her again. All the warmth he’d given her seemed fleeting in the face of death’s permanence; choked and suffocated by the cold of his corpse.

Tears welled in Viria’s eyes.

Vane was dead.

She knew that.

She’d known that ever since she took his sword and buried his corpse.

And yet, for some reason, it wasn’t until this moment of calm and tranquility that she truly realized the gravity of his death. Viria’s tears spilled forth unbidden, fueled by grief and anger. Each sob wracked her body, erratically interrupting her flurry of thoughts.

Vane was gone.

Gone.

Gonegonegone.

GO–

Something pressed up against her back. “Just cry.” Selerim’s voice lent her a moment of clarity– but just one. In the next, her grief and anger took back over. Time stretched and blurred as Viria cried, and when she came to, Selerim was still there, sitting silently with his back pressed to hers. The realization brought embarrassment with it, but Viria found herself too tired to care.

“Are you going to say anything?” She asked in a low, hoarse voice. The hollow shifted slightly against her back.

“Do you want me to?” His voice was quiet, calm, and completely devoid of mocking.

Viria considered his question for a moment. “No.”

“Then I won’t.”

“... Thank you.”

They sat there in silence for a few more minutes. Finally, Viria raised her head and dried her tears. “You should bathe, too.” She said tightly. “I don’t know how much the Elder Glades have changed since my last visit. You may not get another chance for a while.”

Selerim said nothing, but she felt him stand.

“Do you mind if I stay here?”

Selerim looked down at that. Viria refused to look at him, though whether from embarrassment or something else, he had no clue. Her face was hidden behind her hair.

“It doesn’t matter.” With that, he pulled the tunic up over his head, removing his boots and setting Verad’s sword down before taking a seat at the waterline and plunging his feet in. It was an odd sensation. Selerim could feel the cold– just not how cold it was. Careful not to mistake the water’s depth, he stepped away from solid ground.

His reflection rippled and undulated, then calmed as the water’s surface filled again. Selerim raised one arm to his chest. He’d expected the bladetails to leave scars, but there was no sign of the fatal wounds he’d received from them– or from Viria. “How do you handle it?”

Her voice made him jump.

“What do you mean?” Selerim asked, watching her closely. Her eyes refused to meet his–some lingering embarrassment from her outburst, perhaps. “Handle what?” In truth, it was a pointless question.

“Death.”

Selerim grimaced. He’d expected it, but that didn’t make the question any more enjoyable. A slight breeze rustled over the hollow as he closed his eyes. It carried Cress’ voices with it.

“I don’t know.” He finally answered.

“Liar. you seem fine.”

Selerim laughed bitterly at that. “I’m not.” Viria’s face crumpled with guilt as he dragged one hand across the water, distorting his reflection. “I can still hear them. Calling me. Blaming me.”

“For what?”

“Living. I…” Selerim faltered. “I know how you feel. That feeling. That knowledge, that– that no matter how hard you look, you’ll never find him. That you could search every inch of the world and never find him. That… That feeling never goes away.” He sighed. “You just learn to live with it.”

“...” Viria fell silent for a moment. “And how do you live with it?” She finally asked. “I don’t know,” the hollow answered honestly. “Some days it’s easier. Others it’s all I can think about.” He closed his eyes. “For now, there are more important things. Seeing you home. Finding out why…” Selerim’s voice cracked. “Why they all died. And who did it. For now, grieving is… an afterthought.”

“...” Viria fell silent again. “So… what?” She asked slowly. “You’re just… ignoring it?”

Selerim hoisted himself back onto land. Seating himself beside Viria, he sat in the same position as her, with his feet in the water.

“For now,” he said softly. “I’ll have to think about it eventually.” Reaching for Verad’s sword, the hollow balanced it across his knees, running his fingers up and down the length. “I have to return this, after all.”

“I see,” Viria said quietly. “You’re going to go back to Cress after…” She trailed off. “All this?”

“I have to,” Selerim answered. “This sword isn’t mine. It belongs with Verad.”

“How will you cross Umbra without a weapon?”

“I’ll be fine.” He raised a hand and whistled. Nyx appeared in his hand an instant later. “And it’s his. Not mine. It should go with him.” Selerim cupped his hands back under, letting Nyx drink before vanishing again.

Silence settled over them, only to be broken by Viria. “Alright.”

Selerim hesitated, a question on the tip of his tongue. “I need to know…” he started, then trailed off. “I need to know what all of this is for. Sorry,” he added, seeing Viria's confusion. “Let me think for a moment.”

“Will the elves really seek justice?” He finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

Selerim paused to think again. “I haven't met many of you,” he said slowly. “But I'm not stupid. Valandor seems to pity you. Like you're some… tragic character. I guess what I'm asking…” he hesitated. “I guess I'm asking whether the elves will really punish whoever tried to kill you.” And destroyed Cress

He left that part unsaid.

“They will,” Viria said quietly.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Then it's fine. Forget I asked.”

“No; if you have questions, I’ll answer them.” The elf paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “They will. It's just…” she sighed. “The value of our lives is different.” Her voice was hardly a whisper.

“What does that mean?”

“If I were dead, justice would have no meaning,” Viria said flatly. “They would find some way to wrest control from my sister. Or worse. But if they killed Vane, and left me…”

“Then they've gained nothing,” Selerim realized.”

The elf nodded once. “My uncle planned for many different scenarios. I'd hesitate to say that this was of them, but there's bound to be something. From what I understand, he remained close to my father's advisors. They'll help.” Her voice was certain.

“Is that why we're heading to the… Elder Glades?” It took Selerim to recall the name.

Viria nodded again. “It's where my uncle and I lived before my exile,” she whispered. “He had entire plans written out. I need to find them.”

Selerim nodded. “So the Elder Glades are… what? A village? A city?”

The elf looked up, surprised. “Of course not. It's…” she trailed off. “Oh. Right. You've never been before. I guess you wouldn't know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Know what?”

Viria offered him a slight smile. Despite the anguish she'd shown, there was a playful light in her eyes. “You'll find out soon enough.”