A Moonlit Chase

“Your shackles sundered, freedom from obligation. Bind yourself not to another, for that is your damnation.” 

-Excerpt from “Moonlit Flight”

The gentle sound of rain drops against the windowpane pulled me from fitful sleep. Heavy grey clouds rolled across the sky, chased by howling wind that rattled the house with each gust.

Unease settled in my gut, twisting it into a tight knot. With a yawn, I blinked sleep from my eyes, and rolled over. I expected to hear Elma’s soft breathing, or some snide remark about my snoring, but the bed beside me was empty. The blankets had been folded and stacked in a neat row at the foot of the mattress, something she had insisted on doing every morning.

I sat up, my body still sore from the night on the floor. “Elma?” I asked. Silence answered my question, but that was not unexpected—she had likely gone down for breakfast.

I stumbled from the bedroom and checked the small kitchen, the front porch, even Zygan’s strangely successful garden. Nothing. Her cloak was gone from its hook by the door, and so were her boots. My heart sank.

Zygan was at the hearth, stirring a pot of something that smelled earthy and bland. He didn’t look surprised to see me pacing.

“She left,” he said without looking up.

“What do you mean she left?”

“She decided to go back and confront her father. Thought it was time to stop running.”

I blinked at him, the words processing but not making sense.

“She came all this way just to give up?”

“She didn’t give up,” Zygan said, meeting my eyes now. “She chose to face her problems head-on. You could learn something from her.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how. My stomach twisted into something cold and bitter. I nearly fell back, stopped only by the wall behind me. Eventually, I turned away, returning to our room, woodenly laying back on my makeshift bed as I stared up at the ceiling. The room still held the faint smell of her—lavender and woodsmoke.

Hours passed. I lay there, unmoving. I shouldn't have been surprised. I knew that Elma was running from home, from her father and an unwanted betrothal. I knew that she would leave eventually. I’d been abandoned before—first by my father, who walked out without a word, and then by my mother when sickness took her. I’d learned early not to trust anyone to stay, that I was cursed to live a life of solitude. And yet her absence hollowed me out. When did I allow her to become someone important to me?

Zygan knocked once that evening. “Deryth, it’s time you get up. I don’t care if you mope, but you need to eat.”

I sighed and sat up. “If you insist.”

He’d made stew. It was tasteless, probably on purpose, and I pushed it around in the bowl. I could still see reminders of her. Her cup by the hearth. The book she’d borrowed and forgotten to return to the shelf. The weight of her existence lingered like a ghost.

“I can’t believe she just left,” I muttered.

“She didn’t abandon you,” Zygan said. “She’s protecting you. Her biggest concern was making sure you wouldn’t get into trouble for helping her.”

I looked at him, scowling. “So what? I was ready for that. I knew what I was doing.”

“And she knew what she was doing, too.”

I stabbed at a chunk of carrot. “She’s going to end up married to some tyrant, and everything we did will have been for nothing.”

Zygan shrugged, his patience clearly thinning. “Sometimes doing the right thing doesn’t come with the ending you want. But it’s still the right thing.”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to admit how much that scared me. After dinner, I went outside. The air was cold, tinged with the scent of pine. I didn’t mean to walk toward the hill behind the house, but my feet found the path all the same. The white willow stood there, the same as ever, its branches rustling like whispers in the breeze.

I sat beneath it and looked down at the grave.

"What am I supposed to do, mom?" I asked. The earth didn’t answer. Of course not. But I could almost hear her voice, faint and warm, rising from memory.

“Go to her, Deryth. You’ve always been afraid of being left behind. So stop waiting for it to happen and fight for what matters.”

I leaned back against the willow’s trunk. The stars were out, brilliant in the clear night sky. I found Meannus, twinkling softly in the south. I remembered the story I’d told Elma, how the Demon Queen had made that star in memory of her lover. A star that pulsed with his heartbeat.

Elma had smiled at that. Would she be smiling now? Or crying as the coach rolled toward the capital? My eyes watered, and I clenched my teeth against the feeling, digging my fingers into my thighs. After a moment, I relaxed, and took a deep breath.

“Alright, mother,” I said, and brushed the tree with my fingertips. “I’ll stop waiting.”

I stood, brushing dirt from my trousers. My heart thudded, fast and certain. Maybe she had gone to protect me, but I wasn’t going to let her face everything alone.

I walked back to the house and began packing my things. Zygan was reading by the fire. He glanced up.

“Going after her?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t try to stop me. Just nodded. “There is something you must know, first. Her betrothed, Count Cannáed, is a monster. A beast in human skin, if the rumors are to be believed.”

“And?” I asked, stuffing loose clothing into my bag.

“And, don’t confront him. Promise me.” He said, closing the book with a thud.

“Or?”

“Or I will restrain you, physically if I must.” He shifted in his seat, and I saw the thick ropes of muscle flex just beneath his clothing.

“Fine, I promise. I’m just bringing her back. With any luck, our delicate princess hasn’t even made it home yet—with this weather, I wouldn’t be surprised to find her sulking in some wayward inn.” I said, then hoisted the bag over my shoulder.

“Good. I’ll send a message ahead to someone in the capital. You might have help if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

“Deryth,” he added, closing the book. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking Elma is the only one who needs saving. Take care of yourself, too.”

I didn’t answer, but his words stuck with me as I left Fallon that night, chasing the trail Elma left behind.

Maybe I was hoping to write a better ending than the one we both feared, or perhaps I was simply being selfish. Either way, I would bring her back.