Rain of Tears

“Ten copper.”

“Ten? Since when?” Isolde asked, baffled.

“Since we found out the world is going up in flames! Now pay up, or get out of line,” the merchant said roughly. He drummed his fingers on a book impatiently.

She only needed some meat and vegetables. For the amount she wanted, they’d usually only be priced around four copper. Visea, with all their abundance, felt pity for the Weavers in barren Showyth where it was always cold. Frequent “donations” meant they never lacked produce, and as a result, it was inexpensive.

But not then, when Isolde needed it most. She shuffled through her coin bag, and to her disappointment, only found six. Gwendolyn, who stood next to her, pulled out her pockets to signal she had nothing. “Great,” Isolde thought.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is all we have… Can’t you make an exception? Please?”

The merchant’s glare cut straight into her. With a scowl, he said, “What, you think you two are special? If you don’t got enough, then leave—”

“Hold on a minute,” Gwendolyn interrupted.

Around her neck was a pendant with a deep-blue gem. Day and night, that piece never left her. But things were different. Isolde watched with dismay as Gwendolyn slowly removed it, and with regret in her eyes, offered it to the merchant. “This should be more than enough, right?”

“Gwendolyn, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure Olga will understand if we have to eat a little less,” Isolde said as she reached out her hand, but her sister was quicker.

She shook her head. “No, I do…” then lowly she added, “What does it matter now anyway?”

The merchant stroked his chin as he appraised the necklace. A rather dated-looking thing, but nonetheless, the sapphire had obvious value. “This’ll do,” he said. He added some more food to their total, then waved them off with an annoyed huff. “Alright, now scram.”

“We want change, not extra food,” Gwendolyn said firmly.

Isolde tugged her back by the shoulder. Since the revelation less than a week ago, the whole village had been on edge, and the market was no exception. Starting trouble wouldn’t end in anything good – a bunch of angry Weavers? Isolde would pass, especially after the latest “incident.”

“Take it or leave it, girls.”

He picked up the book and read through it, a clear sign of dismissal.

Gwendolyn raised her arm, only to be stopped by Isolde. Knowing her sister, the whole stall was about to be flipped over. Grabbing the bag of meals in one hand and Gwendolyn’s wrist in the other, Isolde said hastily, “Good day, sir!”

“Thief! You thief!” Gwendolyn lashed out as Isolde hauled her away. “Scammer! Cheat!”

“Enough, Gwen! Don’t cause a scene!”

But Gwendolyn wouldn’t listen.

The merchant still clutched the necklace, but no longer the book, which he had turned his back to.

Isolde, however, didn’t notice a thing.

She continued to drag Gwendolyn down the icy cobblestone road surrounded by clutter, the aftermath of the riot that followed shortly after the news. It was the morning after the blizzard. A ripple of shock washed through the Weavers, and naturally, it led to fear. That fear quickly evolved to panic, then by noon, the village was overrun by mayhem.

Senseless fights broke out in the streets as buildings were ruined by the yanking and twisting of threads. Consumed by the innate desire to survive, a few shops were raided until nothing remained, and some residents – well, former ones, anyhow – made a desperate run to “the Middle,” where for some reason, they thought they’d be safe.

Isolde didn’t understand it, why violence of all things was the first solution. As if it’d help. She could only imagine how the other regions reacted – minus Seris, of course. An unruly Guardian was as rare as an anomaly in Showyth.

A sniffle.

The sound almost made Isolde jump. She gazed at Gwendolyn woefully, then tenderly combed her fingers through the messy curls of her blonde hair. “She’s too young,” she thought.

Fourteen years old. Wouldn’t live to see adulthood, or even a mere sixteen. The idea made Isolde shudder.

“Stupid cheat…” Gwendolyn said, wiping away tears.

Isolde sighed. “Why did you do that? I know it wasn’t just for money.”

“I didn’t— didn’t want to hold on anymore. Just wanted to… Forget. About them.”

“So then, I guess that necklace was only a reminder for you…”

“All the time.”

“And yet, you still want it back?”

“No.”

“You do.”

“Fine, yes, okay? But it’s too late now, so whatever.”

Isolde didn’t press it further, and not just for Gwendolyn’s sake. She too had wounds that refused to heal, or perhaps, she didn’t allow them. Even after five years – of waiting, hoping, longing. All for nothing.

She would’ve stayed quiet for the rest of the walk to Olga’s, let Gwendolyn cool off, but she finally noticed it. A book that didn’t belong to them, one she recognized from the market.

“Gwendolyn! Did you steal from him?”

“He stole from us first.”

The girl was fast. A simple pull of the book’s threads was all it took. Isolde cursed herself for not seeing.

“Wonder what’s in here…” Gwendolyn said as she flipped through the pages – but she didn’t get far. “Oh, come on!”

“Don’t ‘oh, come on,’ me!” Isolde said, holding the book out of her reach. It was apparently used for business with the words “Client List” written on the cover. Merchant must’ve traveled a lot, since the page was opened to a High Mender somewhere in Visea – but that was all Isolde discovered before she cursed herself a second time for snooping.

“We’re bringing this back immediately,” Isolde went on, “and you’re going to apologize.”

“Yeah, right!” Gwendolyn crossed her arms and planted her feet on the ground. A defiant gleam was in her eyes, which only fueled Isolde’s frustration. “I’m not gonna!”

Stubborn as a mule, Isolde knew she was. She tried to keep her voice level as she said, “Listen, Gwen… I’m upset too, but do you really think two wrongs make a right? Would Mom and Dad really approve of this?”

“Who cares! They abandoned us!” Gwendolyn screamed, her throat strained. “And besides, we’re all going to die, right? So it shouldn’t matter what we do anymore, right?”

Her arms were wrapped around herself, her body shaking. Isolde’s heart shattered at Gwendolyn’s tear-soaked face, and right away she had her in an embrace. “You don’t think that,” she said softly. “You know they didn’t leave us… And you know that things still count,” her grip tightened, as she fought back tears herself, “Even if the world was ending tomorrow.”

Gwendolyn sobbed bitterly into Isolde’s shoulder, holding on like a newborn to her mother – after all, ever since their parents disappeared, that’s who Isolde became.

“If they didn’t leave,” Gwendolyn croaked, “then where are they? Are they dead, alive? What happened?”

“I don’t know, Gwennie… I don’t know.”

“We’ll be back from Jaswyn’s in just three weeks. Don’t forget to wipe the snow off the roof, now!”

She remembered her father saying. Her mother kissed them both goodbye, before she left behind her sapphire pendant.

When they walked out the door was the last she and Gwendolyn ever saw of them.

Isolde stared at the motionless sky, and somewhere deep down, she wondered if her parents were out there looking at it too. Would she ever know?

“Let’s get home,” she said, keeping an arm around Gwendolyn. “You know how worried Olga gets.”

She didn’t want to think about it, but the thought gnawed at her.

“Can I really die without finding out the truth?”

Taking care of Gwendolyn was her priority. She didn’t have time to solve the mystery of her lost parents – but now that the Nexus was receding, and nothing could be done, could she afford it?

Suddenly, Isolde felt strangely determined.

And in the basement of the Elder’s Hall they walked past, there was a Guardian who would feel the same.