*Kethryl*
High in the sky, there was a transparent box. It was so high and so close to the sun that no one noticed. Inside the box were three people: two elves and a half-elven boy who was clinging to his mother as he fearfully stared through the transparent box that was the only thing separating him from falling to his death.
“Stop being such a pansy. I could keep this thing in the air all day if needed.”
Despite my exceptionally kind words, he stayed curled up on the floor, stubborn as a frightened pup. At least he’d stopped staring down and clinging to his mother’s skirts, but the tremble in his shoulders lingered, refusing to let go.
“I-I’m not scared… It’s just my first time.”
But the clattering of his teeth betrayed his attempt at bravery.
“Sigh. Do you have to be so mean to him?”
“We are on a mission; can we do this later?”
“You say this all the time. The issue won’t just solve itself by ignoring it.”
I thought to myself that since half-elves weren’t immortal like true elves, the problem would indeed solve itself with time. But after giving Miriael a furtive glance, I chose not to state the obvious.
“You would feel the same if I had brought a kid back out of nowhere.”
“Really? What makes you so sure? And it wasn’t out of nowhere. I’ve told you many times that I wanted a kid; you just never listened to me.”
No, I did listen. I looked all over the world for a way that the two of us could have a baby. Decades of searching through old ruins, ancient books that fell through my hands, and the torturing of scattered blood mages, and nothing to show for it. Was I supposed to rob the hope from her eyes and crush her dreams? What was so easy to do to anyone else was impossible when it came to her. Millions could die, and it wouldn’t cost me a second of sleep, but one slight against her and months of guilt would follow.
Sometimes I hated how much I loved her, how much I needed her, how empty the world felt when she was gone. It was almost laughable, how weak I became for her. The idea that she’d found her happiness with someone else twisted something sharp inside me. If that boy had stood before me the day I learned the truth, I don’t know what I might have done. Maybe it’s a mercy that I never had to find out.
“And again you just retreat into your own world. I hate it when you do that. It’s like you are keeping things from me. Ten Millennia and you still have secrets from me? Hey, I asked you something?”
Miriael nudged me with her foot, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me she was still there. The boy watched us, wide-eyed and anxious, but this was nothing compared to our worst fight. She’s always been bold, never afraid to speak her mind, while I get tangled up in worries and what-ifs. I used to envy how easily she shrugged things off. Whenever I tried to do the same, I only seemed to make a mess of it—like that time with Joel.
She was winding up to kick me again, probably to snap me out of my thoughts, when something below caught my eye and spared me.
“Look, they’ve got it.”
I passed Miriael the spyglass, still warm from my hands. She took it with a huff, but her annoyance faded as she spotted two small figures darting from the wildflowers into the tangled forest. That wild grin of hers crept back, hungry for the bloodshed about to unfold. For now, her sharp questions and sharper looks were forgotten.
*Ruby*
Today already felt like it would drag on forever. I almost wished for another round of endless tea parties, just to have something gentle to fill the hours.
Instead, we were off to a hunt. I let out a sigh, wishing I could be anywhere else.
While Hildegard entertained her guests with tea and polite conversation, the southern duke decided that the best way to kick off the season was with a fox hunt. So much for sensibility and civility.
I have no problem with hunting animals to stabilize an ecosystem or kill diseased or injured animals, as my father did. But this was different; in fact, the fox they were hunting was an endangered, fox-like monster, Reineke. It wasn’t dangerous to humans or its ecosystem, but it could lead people astray by mimicking human speech and other noises it picked up. There have been reports about Reineke saying entire phrases like “Please help me!” which, as you can imagine, is quite scary in a dark forest to hear.
It’s identifiable by its multiple tails, which grow with age and are the only way to tell it apart from regular foxes. Many experts even wonder if all foxes can become Reineke if they just live long enough. But although they can have up to nine tails in total, most have only two or three because of the illegal pet trade and nobles hunting them for sport and prestige. It was said that whoever managed to hunt down a Reineke without being tricked by its voice was seen as an extremely capable hunter in the eyes of others.
The carriage ride started as soon as the sun came out since the only forest where Reineke could be found was quite far from the capital’s walls. So I did well and took a nap on our way there.
Janus was a bit different from me. Instead of sleeping, he was wide awake and was actively looking forward to sneaking through tick-infested forest ground for some fox poop or paw prints or whatever. At least Janus was more than capable of being a hunter; most noblemen solely rely on others to guide the prey in front of them or are just paying others to do it for them, and whoever couldn’t afford either would crash with their horse through the undergrowth, making a hell of a noise and scaring away all animals around.
It goes without saying that many of these targeted hunts go without even catching the prey in question and instead become like a contest in who can kill the most animals in general.
If my father could see this—always rooting for the prey in every nature documentary—he’d probably cry. Maybe I would too, if I let myself think about it for too long.