Everything She Lost

It had turned afternoon.

I was still at your house. Your mother had cooked lunch, and they had asked me to stay. The kitchen was warm, filled with the smell of fresh bread and spiced vegetables. It was the kind of meal that made a man forget his own empty house waiting for him back in town.

You and your mother were sitting across from me. Your father sat at the head of the table, his chair slightly tilted back, the way he always sat when he was thinking. Joss was sitting next to me, her golden hair tied back from her face.

It was silent for most of the meal. The kind of comfortable silence that settles over people who know each other well enough not to need words.

But then Joss broke the silence. "So what happened at the gate? Why was there a crowd?"

Your father replied without looking up from his plate. "It was nothing. They were just here to inspect the southern forest."

He didn't tell them the full story. He didn't want to worry them. I could see it in the careful way he held his shoulders, the measured tone of his voice. The Hollow Choir. The rumours. The fear in his eyes when he'd spoken to the official. None of it reached his family. That was his way.

He changed the topic. "By the way, how is your Cant practice going?"

Joss brightened. "It's going well. My speed has improved, and I can make a lot of light blades now."

"Good."

She said it the way a child does when she's been working hard at something and wants her father to be proud. There was an eagerness in her voice, a hunger for approval that made me smile despite myself.

Just as your father was about to say something more, there were knocks on the front door.

Many of them. Desperate knocks. Hammering. The kind of pounding that came from someone who had no time to wait, who was about to break the door down if no one answered in the next breath.

Your father got up to open the door.

It was Rowan.

He stood in the doorway, his face flushed, his breathing slightly uneven. But his voice was steady, almost too calm for the words he was speaking. "Hey. You were there earlier. You know the southern forest, right? We need you to take some people and come with me. The officials went for inspection, and they haven't come back, we need to look for them."

He said it like it was an inconvenience. Like it was a cart that had lost a wheel on the road. But the weight of it pressed into the room behind him.

Your father's face changed. I saw it happen. The shift in his expression as the pieces clicked together in his mind. The rumours of the Hollow Choir. The officials heading south. And now this boy at the door, asking for guides into the forest.

"Yes. I know the forest," your father said.

"Then let's go."

I got up from my seat and moved to the front door. The warmth of the meal was already fading, replaced by something cold and restless in my chest.

Joss followed behind me. "I'm coming too."

Your father turned to her. "No. You stay here at the house."

"No. I'm coming too." Her voice was firm, her chin lifted. "What's the point of my Cant training if I can't even help when it matters?"

A smile appeared on your father's face. It was small, tired, but proud. "Then let's go."

Joss turned to close the door behind us. She looked back into the house, her voice softer now. "Wren, stay with Mom. We'll be back."

But you were already asleep on your mother's leg. Your face was peaceful, your breathing slow and even. You had no idea what was happening. You had no idea what was coming.

And you slept there, without a care in the world.

We headed out. Your father gathered some people who were good Cant users, men from the town who could hold their own in a fight. Within the hour, we were all ready to go to the forest. The light through the trees had turned the colour of old gold.

We reached the town gate.

There was a silhouette coming toward us from the road ahead. We looked closer. It was a Crown official. He was limping, dragging one leg behind him, his coat torn and dark with blood. He came closer, his breath ragged, his eyes wide with something that had already broken inside him.

Rowan shouted, "What happened? Where are the others?"

The official looked behind him, his head twisting as if he could still feel whatever was chasing him. "Th... they're all dead. Retreat. Evacuate the town—"

His head was cut from his body.

It happened so fast that for a single, horrible moment, his body kept standing there. Then it fell, and the head followed, tumbling across the dirt road. The townspeople behind us screamed. One of them staggered back, his leg suddenly gone below the knee, and he went down with a shriek.

It was a thin glass sheet. It had come out of nowhere, slicing through the air with terrible precision. It turned, curved back, and then vanished into the sky again. It was not visible. It could be headed for anyone.

Joss moved. She was fast. She pushed your father out of the way, and the glass sheet struck the ground where he had been standing, shattering into small shards that glittered in the dying light.

Your father caught his breath, his voice raw. "What was that?" He forced himself upright. "Everybody go back! Take a stance!"

Everybody retreated. The townspeople stumbled backward, their weapons raised, their faces pale. Then my eyes fell on the official. His head. The townsman with the missing leg. He was dead in a second, the blood pooling dark beneath him.

But Rowan was still standing there. He drew his sword, and an ice blade materialized in his other hand, the cold mist curling off it like breath in winter. "Who are you? Come out! What kind of coward attacks from hiding?"

A figure dropped from the sky.

It was Tessa. But she was young then. She looked around eighteen, her aqua hair bright against the darkening sky. When I looked up, there was a black glass hovering where she had fallen from. Some black-coloured glass appeared under the bodies, and they sank into it, vanishing one by one.

"You, golden hair." Tessa's eyes fixed on Joss. "You saw my glass. You're a good fighter. So, Let's fight."

Rowan attacked her. "I said, who are you?"

His sword arced toward Tessa's throat. It hit something. Glass. An glass wall between them. He could not get close.

"Shut up." Tessa turned her head to him, her voice flat. Then it changed, sharpening into something almost playful. "I'm talking to that girl over there. So why are you interrupting?"

The shards from the broken glass sheet moved. Tessa flicked her hands, and all of them rushed toward Rowan. He couldn't see them. They were too fast, too thin, invisible in the fading light.

Your sister moved.

One moment she was beside me. The next, she was across the road, shoving Rowan out of the path of the shards. They flew past him, straight toward Tessa. Tessa barely dodged, tilting back and arching her spine as the shards whistled past her face.

Your father pulled himself up from the ground. He raised his hand, and his voice came doubled, heavy and desperate.

"I petition the Chorus who hears me. Bind her body in place."

"Get her!" he shouted.

Joss moved. She was behind Tessa in an instant, a light blade blazing in her hand, ready to strike. Rowan came in from the other side, both his swords raised, ready to take the head.

A smile appeared on Tessa's face. "This is kind of fun."

A big fire arrow came from the side.

It struck Rowan square in the chest, lifting him off his feet and hurling him into the stone wall of a nearby building. He crashed against it and slumped, his hands burning, smoke rising from his coat.

Meanwhile, behind Tessa, Joss's hand entered a black glass. Another black glass was beside her. The light blade came out of it, reversed, and drove into her shoulder. She got her own attack back.

She staggered back, blood pouring from the wound, her face twisted in pain.

Tessa looked angry. She turned to her side, but the anger was not directed at Joss or Rowan. It was aimed at someone else.

"Dorian! Why are you interfering? These are my prey."

The man stood at the edge of the treeline. The same man who would one day attack our village. Dorian. He lowered his hands, the remnants of the fire arrow still crackling at his fingertips.

"I'm sorry, Lady Tessa. I thought you needed help."

Your father came up to me. His voice was low, urgent. "Joss, take Uncle Pryce and go. I'll hold her off. Keep your mother and Wren safe."

Joss grabbed my arm. We ran. We ran without looking back, our feet pounding against the dirt road, the sounds of the townspeople falling away behind us.

But we heard it. Tessa's voice, sharp with fury.

"Because of you, my prey got away."

We reached your house and threw the door open. Sofia was there, sitting with you at the table. Your mother was just behind her, her hands still damp from the kitchen.

All of their eyes widened when they saw the blood on Joss's shoulder. "What happened? Where did this blood come from?"

Sofia got up from her seat. Her face was calm, but her hands moved quickly. She placed one hand over Joss's wound and closed her eyes. Her voice came doubled, soft but certain.

"I petition the Chorus who hears me. Close this wound and return what was lost."

The light gathered around her fingers, and Joss's bleeding slowed. The wound began to knit itself closed, the skin pulling together until only a pale scar remained. Joss let out a slow breath and rolled her shoulder.

"Thank you." She turned to me. "Old Man Pryce, take Mother and Wren and hide somewhere. Now."

"And you?"

"We're going back. We need to help Father."

Your mother took you in her arms. We left through the door, the three of us moving quickly and quietly through the narrow streets. We hid in a barn just four houses away, crouched behind stacks of hay. From there, we could see the road clearly. We could see everything.

A black glass appeared in the middle of the road. Tessa stepped out of it. And with her came a woman with greyish-white hair, her face pale and calm. It was Ysolde. Even then, before I knew her name, I felt something cold looking at her.

Joss and Sofia came out of the house. Sofia froze when she saw Ysolde.

"You? What are you doing here?"

Joss glanced at her. "You know her?"

"Yes. She approached me once. Asked me to join her club." Sofia's voice was tight. "I refused."

Ysolde spoke, her voice smooth as still water. "Well, it's too bad we couldn't work together."

Joss's eyes fell on Tessa. "You're here. Then where's my father?"

Tessa replied with a shrug. "Dorian is looking after him. I don't want to waste my energy. I want to fight you."

Ysolde stepped back, making space for Tessa.

Rowan appeared from the side street, his coat burned, his hands wrapped in strips of torn cloth. He was limping, but his eyes were hard. He moved to stand near Sofia, his sword drawn, an ice blade forming in his other hand.

Tessa smiled. "Oh good. The boy came back for more."

The fight began.

Joss moved first. She was fast, a blur of golden hair and blazing light. She summoned a dozen light blades in the air around her and launched them at Tessa in a single breath. Tessa bent and twisted, the blades whistling past her, and where one came too close, a sheet of glass appeared to shatter it.

Rowan came in from the left. His ice blade struck toward Tessa's side, but she slid back, her feet barely touching the ground. A wall of glass rose between them, and Rowan's sword cracked against it. He dropped low and swept his blade under the barrier, forcing her to jump.

Joss was already in the air. She came down with a light blade in each hand, slashing in a wide arc. Tessa raised a glass shield, and the impact sent shards scattering across the road. Tessa laughed, spinning away, sending a wave of glass shards toward them.

Rowan moved in front of Sofia and raised a wall of ice. The shards hammered into it, embedding themselves in the frozen surface. Behind him, Sofia was already speaking.

"I petition the Chorus who hears me. Strengthen their bodies against harm."

Her voice rolled out, doubled and calm, and I saw the faint glow settle over Joss and Rowan like a second skin.

Joss pressed the attack. She threw light blade after light blade, forcing Tessa back step by step. Rowan circled wide, his ice sword flashing, cutting off her retreat. They were good together. Not polished, not practiced, but fierce. Tessa was still smiling, still playing, but the smile was thinner now, the play more dangerous.

Then the fire arrows came again.

They shot from the treeline, three of them, trailing smoke and flame. But this time Rowan and Joss were ready. Rowan dropped and rolled, the arrow passing over his head. Joss swatted one aside with a blade of light, and the third struck the ground between them, kicking up a spray of dirt and embers.

Dorian was here.

I looked through the hay toward the town gate. The road was littered with bodies. The townspeople who had gone with us. The Crown official. They lay scattered across the stones, still and silent.

I closed your eyes, not letting you see. Your mother held back her tears, her hand pressed over her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

Your father fell in battle.

I didn't see it happen. I only knew it in the way Joss's face changed, in the way she stumbled mid-swing, her light blades flickering. Something inside her knew before the news could reach her. But I didn't know for certain until later. Not until the fighting was over.

Rowan turned his attention to Dorian. His eyes were burning, his hands tight around his swords. He started moving toward him, cutting through the chaos. But I felt something was wrong. Earlier, Tessa had been angry at Dorian for interfering. Now, seeing Rowan focused on him, she wasn't angry at all. It was like she wanted it to happen. The realization sat in my throat, but I couldn't call out. I couldn't give away our position.

"No, Rowan! They're trying to separate us!" It was Sofia. She saw through it.

But Rowan pushed her hand aside when she tried to stop him. "Don't interfere."

He ran toward Dorian.

At the back, Ysolde moved behind Sofia. She leaned in close to her ear, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "I can't have you speaking and helping now, can I?"

A dagger entered Sofia's throat.

It was fast. Faster than anything I had seen that day. It pierced through before she could even react. There was no time to scream, no time to raise her hands, no time to even understand what was happening to her.

The blade went in clean, and when it came out, Sofia Haul's voice was gone. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. Only blood. Red and bright, spilling down the front of her dress, staining the pale fabric the colour of the evening sky.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against the wound as if she could hold herself together. Her lips moved, trying to form words. A petition. A prayer. Something. But the Chorus cannot hear a voice that has been silenced. Her eyes found Rowan across the road, still running toward Dorian, still not knowing. And then her legs gave way.

She fell.

Rowan turned at the sound behind him. The world slowed. I watched it happen, watched his face as he saw her body on the ground, the blood pooling beneath her, the light already gone from her eyes.

He screamed.

It was not a battle cry. It was not rage. It was the sound of something tearing inside. The scream ripped through the square, raw and broken, and he was already running back toward her when the fire arrow hit him.

It took him in the side, spinning him around. Before he could hit the ground, a glass box formed around him, sealing him inside. Smoke began to fill it, thick and grey. He clawed at the walls, his fists pounding, his mouth open in a soundless shout. And then his eyes rolled back, and he slumped against the glass, unconscious from the smoke.

Then came sounds from behind us.

Your mother turned to look. She was met with a dagger in her stomach.

It happened so fast I didn't even see the man move. He was just there, and the blade was in her, and she was falling. I was frozen. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

He picked you up and ran out into the road.

"This is this woman's sister!" he shouted, holding you up. He faced Joss. "Put your weapons down!"

You were screaming on top of your lungs. "Leave me! Joss, help me! I don't like it! Help!"

The man passed you to Ysolde. She took you in her arms, and a dagger appeared at your throat. The blade pressed against your skin, cold and sharp.

I rushed out from the barn, tripping over my own feet, falling at Ysolde's feet. I grabbed at your legs, at the hem of your dress, anything. "Please, leave her. She's just a child."

Joss got on her knees, her hands raised, her light blades dissolving into nothing. "Please. Don't hurt her."

And that was the moment I realized your father was right. You were indeed a fatebinder.

You opened your mouth.

The words came out of you, small and desperate, but there was something behind them. Something heavy. Something that made the air itself stop moving.

"I want to be saved. I don't want to be here. Save me."

I didn't know what happened.

One moment, we were there. You were in Ysolde's arms. The next, we were out in the forest. Just you and me. The trees were dark around us, and the sounds of the village were gone.

You were in my arms, unconscious. Your face was pale, your breathing shallow. And there was a white streak in your hair that hadn't been there before.

A single, stark fork of white against the dark brown.