Secrets amid Vengeful Skies

The atmosphere of the table was thick. Neither of them had said a word, the only noise being an occasional snore from Madigan in the bedroom. Isolde was a disaster of distress and befuddlement, but somewhere in between, there was a slither of hope – the person she needed sat right in front of her. Yet strangely, it was kept secret.

“Why didn’t you say you were Jaswyn?” she finally asked.

“I’m sorry – really. If this was any other situation, I would have. But since you wanted to know about your mother and father…”

“I don’t get it. Why is that such a bad thing? They’re my parents!”

“Because they told me, no matter the circumstance, to never reveal anything to you.”

Isolde’s heart dropped to her gut as hands curled into balls on her lap. Questions rushed through her brain – many of which it seemed, she wouldn’t get an answer to. Nonetheless, she tried to know something.

“C-Can you at least say where they last were? What they were doing?”

“I cannot.”

Isolde stood up, placing her hand over her chest. “Jaswyn, I know you’re just trying to honor them, but—”

“You don’t understand. This goes far beyond just honor,” she took a deep breath and averted her gaze to the starry sky out the window, “I can at least tell you this… It is a matter of life and death. A secret that not a soul is meant to uncover… That is, unless you’re chosen.”

“Chosen? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s—” Jaswyn stopped, pressing her lips into a thin line. Shaking her head, she said, “No. Even now, I’ve already said too much.”

“So, what I’m getting out of this is… My parents were involved in something dangerous. They couldn’t have been perpetrators – I won’t believe that.”

Isolde paced the floor, her heart beating hard and fast. It suddenly felt chilled, despite the night being warm. She thought she’d be prepared to know what happened – an accident, they got lost somewhere, maybe even they fell sick… But some type of conspiracy? She would never have guessed. Not in a million years.

“Nothing? You really can’t tell me a thing?”

“To put it this way – your parents wanted to protect you so much, that they never even told me you or your sister’s names. So, no, I can’t…”

“Does that mean you’re part of whatever this is, too? Or I guess, you can’t tell me that either…”

“You’d be right about that, I’m afraid.”

Isolde slumped back in the chair, defeated. As a final plead, she begged, “Please, Jaswyn… I came all this way. Left the only family I have during the end of the world, even went through hell! All just to find out the truth… Please, Jaswyn, please! Don’t tell me this was all… Pointless.”

Her eyes dimmed as she stared at Isolde woefully. She laid her fingers over hers, squeezing them ever so gently. When she spoke, her words were firm, yet her voice still carried its usual kindness.

“Listen, I know this hurts… I can’t imagine how lost you must feel right now. But believe me when I tell you, it’s for the best you don’t know. If you caught even an inkling of it… The stakes are just too high.”

She only knew Jaswyn briefly. Even so, she could tell she was a sincere person. But was it possible to be sincere and unreliable at once? She thought there had to be a reason her parents didn’t trust her with their names – and just like everything else about the matter, she hadn’t the slightest idea how to wrap her mind about it.

In spite of exhaustion, her lonely night in the spare room was restless as she looked blankly at nothing in particular. If she knew this would be the cruel result of her efforts, she would’ve stayed in her village. But she didn’t, and journeyed for weeks – so she couldn’t settle. Not when she already got so far.

“Why did you guys always come here, to Arenard?” she said to herself – or rather, her mother and father, just in case they could hear. “There’s nothing here that seems… Ominous.”

She struggled to connect the dots, because there were none, it seemed. Recalling zero indication of any “strange” affairs related to their frequent trips to the region, she felt crazy to believe otherwise. Yet, since Jaswyn played some unknown part, there had to be something she was missing.

That’s when it hit her.

They only started their travels to Arenard… After that unknown Reaper knocked on their door. The day they “changed.”

Isolde jerked up into a sitting position, any weariness had loosened its hold on her. She thought long and hard, trying to send herself to that night, right to herself eavesdropping from the stairs – but it was mostly a blur, the faded sound of soft murmurs of which the majority were unintelligible. However, in the fog’s midst, she remembered three words from the Reaper’s lips —

“The … family.”

Or just two. The glimmer of hope was short-lived as her head returned to the pillows with a frustrated plop. The family, the family – what family? It wasn’t her own, she knew that at least. Whoever they were, they were key, as the name was brought up often.

“Come on, dummy! Think, think!”

But there was nothing.

“Darn it, why can’t I do anything right—!”

Her moment of self-deprecation was cut off by a stirring in her chest. Skin cold to the touch, beads of sweat forming on her forehead… She sensed something wrong, and likely, so did any other nearby Weaver. But she had not the experience to know what that “something” was.

It pulled her to her feet, to the room’s balcony. Few were out except for some delinquents attempting to burglarize a shop, their scheming forms illuminated by the lanterns dangling from branches. Isolde would’ve snitched, if not for the ominous feeling that took her captive and led her astray.

That’s when it happened.

A crack in the sky, as if glass.

Rare in Showyth, Isolde had never seen one – but even she knew it wasn’t normal. A bolt of lightning, resembling the longest blade known to man. It emerged straight through the crack, its blinding thorns raiding the night's depths. Then came the thunder that shook the earth, knocking Isolde to the ground. Even the thieves scattered.

Smoke afar. A burning scent attached itself to the air. All the while, the lightning continued, striking the tallest trees and setting them aflame, tinting the skies in ember. The city wasn’t quiet anymore, Fliers alerted and panicked – but retreat they could not, for above was hazardous.

Wide-eyed Isolde slowly stood again, an unwilling witness to the Nexus’s pains. This was the beginning of death. The distance, where the bolts hit, had become one mass of spreading fire – and as if to purposefully torment them, the storm poured down no rain.