Private Tales For King and Country

[Yvaine]

Yvaine's brow dipped at Cyrian's words. The request was simple, but it carried a weight that made her stomach tighten. She didn’t want to be apart from Faulkin—not when they were both so caught in the aftermath of the chaos that had followed them here. But she wouldn't leave the child here, knowing the fear she'd feel if she woke here alone.

Her gaze flickered to Faulkin. She could see the unease in his eyes, the same worry she felt mirrored in him. But they both knew the child needed her attention now.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Yvaine forced herself to nod, her voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in her chest. “I’ll be fine,” she said softly, though she wasn’t sure if she was convincing herself or him. She reached out, her fingers brushing his hand for a moment.

"Be careful on your way back."

With a deep breath, she moved to the side, sitting on a nearby chair, her eyes never leaving the child. She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, her fingers trembling as she forced herself to stay still. "Please... do what you can," she whispered to Cyrian, her voice barely above a breath.

 

[Faulkin]

There was a stern look in his eye. He was not exactly impeded, but his instinct to lay claim presented itself plainly upon his features. Claim upon the child. Claim upon Yvaine. But then again, it was only instinct, and his stern eye studied the man before them, questioning the authority in his tone without so much as an audible breath.

"I'll be fine,"

His hand reached to hers just so as her fingers brushed against his.

He knew. Yes of course. This man was trusted by the others. But after everything that had happened, to be parted from Yvaine now, so soon after they'd found some solace... it felt like the tearing of his own soul in two.

I'll be fine.

Her words echoed in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her with a smile.

"Be careful on your way back."

"I'll begin getting the others ready... we'll be leaving soon," he smiled at her, affording only a quick glance to Cyrian before he departed, but as he left his eyes fell to Yvaine one last time.

---

Cyrian only returned the Captain's stalwart gaze as he presented it. He could sense the tension in him, he could sense the tension in all of them - such was the state of this city. It had always been this way, ever since he'd arrived. He was used to it. But he did not challenge him.

Tall and wide as he was, he was no fighter... not anymore.

He gave him a nod as he offered his final glance, and as he left he turned his attention only for a moment to Yvaine, and said, "what you see here, you must not speak of."

There had been a consistently harsh expression upon him, up until he turned his attention to the sickly girl laid before him. Again, he looked at her passively, but in his eyes there was a gentleness, and he said, "it is no natural ailment that afflicts her. What I must do may startle her... I will need you - she will need you, if she becomes afraid... but what I do is only to help her."

He turned away then, and fetched a tome from a tabletop nearby. As he flipped the pages, little sparks of light seemed to ignite, and then disappear as quickly as they had come.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine's gaze lingered on Faulkin as he left, her chest tightening with every step he took away from her. She knew he worried as much for her as she did for him. When his eyes met hers one last time before he disappeared into the rain, she gave him the smallest of nods, a silent promise that she would stay safe.

She turned her attention back to Cyrian, her brow knitting as his words registered.

'What you see here, you must not speak of.'

Her expression shifted to confusion. Yvaine nodded sharply in agreement but couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest.

As Cyrian turned to the girl, Yvaine noted a flicker of tenderness breaking through his otherwise stern exterior. She pulled a stool to sit beside the child, her hand moving instinctively to stroke through her damp hair, murmuring soothing words even as her mind raced.

"What do you mean? What is it?" she asked, her voice strained, laced with the worry that had been clawing at her since the fever had taken hold. The sickness had felt unnatural, something dark and sinister, as if it had been plucked from the same shadows that had been chasing them.

Her golden eyes followed the man as he retrieved the tome, widening as sparks of light danced into existence and fizzled away with each turn of the aged pages, the faint glow illuminating his weathered face.

Yvaine’s breath caught as she felt the thrum of energy in the room, a strange vibration that seemed to resonate in her very blood. It was subtle yet undeniable, and her fingers paused mid-stroke through the child’s hair.

“You…” she began, her voice trembling slightly before dropping to a whisper. “You're a mage?”

The words felt strange on her tongue, almost forbidden. Her mind churned with questions, but her chest tightened with a new worry. "Will it hurt her?" she asked quickly.

Her eyes darted to the child’s pale face, her small chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Whatever doubts or fears she held, she swallowed them down.

 

[Faulkin]

He turned to her as a cloud of smoke enveloped his face and the glow inside his pipe faded. A pair of spectacles had somehow found their way onto his face, unseen before just now. He gave a look over them at her, an approving look, having hoped she would need little explanation.

"Yes, I am familiar with the arcane arts..." his eyes dipped between the pages again, "a thing seldom tolerated in this city it seems. The guards have long been under orders to capture any sorcerers in the city."

His search through the tome came to a halt and he set his hand gently upon the page.

"And some years ago, something happened in the south, soon after that this illness began, and its gotten worse in recent months... as though fueled by something. Its stronger, and now..." He set the tome down on the table near the girl, and set two fingers upon her forehead, "and now it comes for our children."

"This will not hurt... but it might be frightening."

Setting his fingers upon her forehead unveiled an unsettling truth. Now visible were dark, wispy tendrils that reached out from some unseen nether and wrapped themselves around the girl in various places, like the binds of a prisoner. They were not seemingly tangible, as when Cyrian removed his hand and turned to gather something up, he passed through one without any bother. Upon the girl's forehead, a small, luminous rune in the shape of a slowly spinning seal persisted after his touch.

"Left to its devices, this curse would..." he paused, his back straightening some, and his awareness of who his patient was quickly rebound in his thoughts, stifling his words, "... not be good."

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine’s heart twisted at the sight of the child, now visibly ensnared by the dark tendrils that writhed across her small body. She froze, her hand still resting protectively on the girl’s head, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The luminous rune glowing faintly against the child’s fevered brow only deepened her dread. It was one thing to suspect something unnatural was at play—another entirely to see it with her own eyes.

Yvaine leaned closer to the girl, as she stirred, her breaths quick. She hushed softly, brushing her fingers through her damp hair as if her touch could shield her from whatever darkness sought to consume her.

Her voice softened, cracking slightly under the weight of her concern. “Illness, or curse?” she asked. He'd said both, but those were very different things. Her golden eyes shifted to look up at him. "More children have suffered as she does because of it?.. What.." she frowns, glancing down at the girl to check that she remained in her state of unconsciousness before she whispered. "What happens?.."

Her gaze flickered back to the tendrils, her throat tightening at their sinister, shifting forms. She had never felt so powerless, so utterly at the mercy of forces she didn’t understand. “And tell me what I can do to help,” she added, her voice trembling but resolute. “She’s just a child. She doesn’t deserve this.”

 

[Faulkin]

Faulkin stepped into the refuge's manor, shaking some of the wetness off him and shedding himself of the cloak he'd thrown over himself. And though many had spoke well of the healer who dwelt across the street, he could not help his apprehension. This man was no more than a stranger to him, and though he trusted those he dwelt with now in this place, there was no changing the uncertainty that clung to him.

He'd had time to know these people, and he'd come to learn they were not necessarily as shrewd as he when it came to understanding one's motivations. But at the same time, he was not one who was so sure of his own assertions. Perhaps he, too, was not as shrewd.

Amidst his thoughts, he hardly realized how much he'd been pacing.

---

Cyrian went to a workstation nearby with his back turned to Yvaine and the girl.

"I honestly cannot say, as anyone who has been brought to me has been spared of the plight... thankfully."

There were many workstations about them, all of some kind of alchemical design or another. He worked with some kind of dust it seemed, and a potion, and in the end whatever it was he was working with erupted into a purple plume of smoke before him.

"But from all that I understand, all that is known is that those who go untreated eventually turn up missing. Beyond that..."

He turned, and in his hand he held a vial whose contents seemed to glow with a rising and falling luminescence.

"...I can only wonder... and fear. But... as for your little friend here," he approached, "she will be just fine. Now... this will not taste good, but she will feel much better in about an hour."

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine tightened her arms around the child as the girl whimpered softly, her small body trembling with feverish dreams. Her palm rested against the child’s forehead, stroking gently, and she began to hum before the words found her lips—a song her mother had once sung, soft as sunlight filtering through leaves.

"Sleep, little star, rest in the sky,
Close your weary eyes as the moon drifts by.
Dream, little one, where the rivers run free,
Where shadows fear the light and never will be."
​

Her voice was barely a whisper, meant only for the child’s ears. Her heart ached as she felt the unnatural heat beneath her touch, and anger simmered beneath her gentle exterior. She hated the darkness that had dared to harm this innocent soul, the helplessness of holding the girl while another worked to save her. But she pressed the tears burning her eyes deep down.

When Cyrian turned, the glow of the vial reflected in Yvaine’s wet lashes, and she gazed at it with a mixture of hope and trepidation. As he stepped closer, his assurance steadied her. With a small nod, as though the child were her own, she silently gave him permission to proceed.

The child stirred as the bitter medicine touched her lips, her face contorting with distaste. Her eyes flew open, wide with panic, but Yvaine was already there, smiling warmly.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe now, brave little star..”

She offered the girl a drink of water, helping her sip carefully before holding her close once more. The child clung tightly to her, her small arms wrapping around Yvaine’s neck as though she were her lifeline. Yvaine rocked her gently, humming again until the girl’s breathing slowed and her body relaxed in sleep.

Yvaine looked up at Cyrian, her voice quiet but firm. “Thank you is not enough,” she said, her fingers brushing lightly over the child’s hair. “But thank you. Truly.”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the small form nestled against her before turning her gaze back to him. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “Tell me… if there were a curse on me, could you see it as you did with her?”

 

[Faulkin]

"My thanks is for you," Cyrian said, watching the little girl cling to Yvaine as though there was nothing else that could anchor her so safely. "This... is why I asked that you remain here," he gestured toward the display, "I could offer no such comfort," he breathed, lamenting... something.

He turned away, and set the now empty vial on the workstation just there.

"But you are welcome. I am happy to help."

“Tell me… if there were a curse on me, could you see it as you did with her?”
​

He lingered there for a moment, not turning away from the bench where his hand rested upon, "that... would depend," he admitted, "what is it that troubles you?"

All the while, the dark tendrils that had once clung so tightly to the youth in their midst all began to wisp away into nothingness. Once they were gone, the rune upon her head, too, faded away.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine hesitated, watching him carefully. She had not meant to speak—not truly—but the words pressed against her ribs like a caged thing begging to be freed. And for some reason, she let them. Perhaps it was because he had trusted her with his secrets, and so she felt she could trust him with hers.

“I’m not entirely sure I…” Her gaze flickered toward the door, wary, before returning to him. Her voice was quieter now, almost as if she feared being overheard. “There are voices in my mind that are not my own. I’ve seen things—people I have never known, places I have never been, I've seen…” Her throat tightened. “Horrors. And they have seen me, too.”

“This darkness,” she whispered, “it presses down on me, and I don’t know why it affects me so terribly. I fear it.” She swallowed, feeling her own heartbeat against her ribs. “I fear that it is part of me.”

The weight of her confession made her chest feel hollow. She clung tighter to the child in her arms, grounding herself in the warmth of the small body pressed against her.

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, softer still, she admitted the thought that haunted her most.

“I fear that I’m leading those I love to their deaths. I need to know that I can trust whatever it is that I feel pulling at me."

The words left her trembling, but she did not look away. Instead, she watched him, waiting—waiting to see if he, too, would fear her.

 

[Faulkin]

Cyrian, for a while, did not move. He simply stood there, still as a statue, listening intently to the tale that Yvaine so quietly shared with him. And though with his back turned to her, she could likely only ponder what expression he wore, it was not one of fear or dismay. Instead, as she spoke to him, his eyes tracked from one side to the other, up and down, sifting through thoughts and ideas.

"It is natural for us to fear what we don't understand," he said, finally breaking his stillness and walking over to a bookcase nearby.

"Voices... a presence? Or perhaps many?"

He reached to a tome, flipping it open only to promptly close it again and set it back in its place. Searching for another, he continued. One or two more tomes later, a tinge of frustration washed over him. He knew it was here somewhere.

A puff of smoke enveloped him after yet another tome was set gently back in its place.

"Leading them? Pulling you? So it urges you along a path..." one tome, just slightly pulled having been hooked by his finger, was slowly pushed back and his search continued, "...for very long?" Likely, even if she did not know it.

Finally, confidently, a tome was pulled from its place. With its pages opened, an inaudible aha! wrote itself upon him. He lifted his hand and a single finger somewhat lazily, muttered something about this right here, and then gently waved her over, sensing that the child was soon to fall deeply asleep, and he did not wish to wake her.

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine hesitated, glancing down at the sleeping child nestled against her before carefully shifting to rise. She approached Cyrian with quiet steps, her arms folding loosely over herself as though warding off a lingering chill.

"Many…" she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not just one presence. Not just one voice. Sometimes they murmur, sometimes they whisper, and sometimes they are so loud that I can't think.."

Her gaze flickered toward the tomes as if they might hold the answers she so desperately sought, then back to him.

"Almost two years" she recalled, her brow furrowing. "Only since I left my home. Since I stepped beyond the walls." She exhaled, shaking her head slightly, as though uncertain whether speaking the words aloud made them more real. "My uncle warned me against the forest, kept me from it my whole life. And yet, it seemed that the moment I left… I heard them."

She swallowed, searching Cyrian’s expression for something—reassurance, perhaps, or understanding before she looked to the page he'd settled upon.

 

[Faulkin]

There would not be reassurance found on his face. At least not exactly. But an understanding, and a seemingly solid one at that, was there. He glanced up at her from the pages, and then his hand settled there upon it.

There, in the midst of many texts that were intricate and ancient, there were various images too.

Wordlessly, he guided her eyes across the pages, showing first the images of what looked like elves, and then a place with many tall towers. Then a crystal, set in some great place. Then, upon the next few pages, many crystals, and something... binding them.

The next pages were all the more confusing, with many of the images from before being made into one, and some of the text describes things very... confusing.

He shared a look to her, saying, "I do not fully understand these texts, they are very old and difficult to read. But some of what I have discerned... I wonder what your uncle understood. But... if I'm not mistaken, if what I believe is true and this is somehow a part of what you're dealing with, then I should be able... to..."

He reached out, and placed two fingers upon her forehead, and there upon, the spinning rune took shape...

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine’s gaze followed his guidance, her eyes tracing the images across the ancient pages. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognised the crystal. She leaned in closer, her fingers twitching as if to touch it, but she held herself back.

“The Shorai…” she murmured under her breath, the words slipping out before she could fully grasp their weight. Her golden eyes widened, a spark of recognition lighting up her features. “I’ve seen this. I saw it break. And what broke it.”

Her mind reeled as fragments of memories rushed forward, hazy images of destruction, of monstrous things and shrill screams. But the more she studied the pages, the more a sense of dread filled her chest. She could not remember the details, but the sensation, the enormity of it, remained.

Her frown deepened as she continued to scan the images, her pulse quickening.

Then, Cyrian’s fingers brushed gently against her forehead, and a sudden stillness seized her body.

The air around them seemed to thicken, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at him, uncertainty and fear washing over her. “What do you see?” she whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

 

[Faulkin]

The Shorai.

Was that what this text here said? But... broken. No that was not here in the texts... not that he could see.

Regardless of what interesting revelations she had to share with him, he proceeded to do what he believed would unveil in much the same way it had for the little girl. As the spinning rune began to glow, his hand withdrew.

And his countenance nearly fell. He stepped back. He was inclined to shield his face, but... he did not.

“What do you see?” she whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

"Light. I see light."
​

Her face, and all of her, was radiance, as golden as the light of the sun. And though at first it had seemed as so, it was not blinding. No, instead it easy and fair to look upon. Inviting rather than burning. And as the momentary flash of brilliance subsided, it appeared to him as though they had strayed out of the very world itself, and the distant lights of the night sky listed about them. And about her, tendrils of light reached forth - but not from some distant place unto her, instead they stretched forth from her, and out into the nethers around them.

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine couldn’t see what Cyrian saw, but she felt something—something stirring deep within her, like warmth unfurling in her chest, flowing outward, reaching. It wasn’t suffocating, nor was it painful. It was light?

Her breath hitched as her eyes burned with unexpected tears. She had feared his answer, feared that what lurked within her was the same darkness that clawed at the land, that plagued the child now resting behind her. But it wasn’t. Not darkness.

"Light."

Like Tinúviel? She had seen what he was, what his kind could do, but this felt different. Tinúviel had been born of his gifts, trained in them, shaped by them. This—this—felt as though it had been waiting, buried beneath her skin, pressed down for so long that she hadn’t even known it was there.

She took a slow step forward, her breath uneven, her heart pounding.

“Cyrian,” she whispered, searching his face, trying to read the expression in his eyes. Carefully, hesitantly, she reached for his hand, and if he allowed it, her fingers curled around his own, grounding them both. “Would… Would you come with us?”

She swallowed, blinking past the remnants of her unshed tears. “A few of us—we’re taking the children. We’re getting them out of here, somewhere safe. And, this place is not safe for you either."

Her fingers tightened around his, not in desperation, but in quiet insistence. “Come with us.”

Her golden eyes searched his face, waiting, hoping.

 

[Faulkin]

Cyrian looked at her for a moment, a mix of amazement and wonder and frightful uncertainty. But, despite the shock of what he saw before him as plainly as the morning sun, or the stars in the sky, despite the fear it urged in him, he was not afraid. Startled yes, but he did not fear this.

Even still, as she approached, he became hesitant, intimidated even. But then when she took his hand, this resistance faded, and he understood now - at least a little more - where this reverence of her he had seen in that man's eyes came from. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and then kindly withdrew it from her grasp before waving it before her head and removing the sigil from where he'd placed it.

And the light about her, slowly, faded away once again.

He stepped away from her, looking about his abode in a somewhat dour way. Despite all the hardships that were faced here, he'd grown fond of this place. But more than that, he'd grown fond of the people. He was saddened to be faced with the loss of so many of his effects, much of them of great use! But if they were to be taking children with them...

"...then I will need a little time to gather some things," he said with his eyes cast down, "but I will make myself ready."

---

Yvaine ​

 

[Yvaine]

Yvaine exhaled softly, relief washing over her at his answer. She hadn't been sure what he would say—whether his attachment to this place would keep him bound, whether the weight of what he'd just seen would push him away from her instead of drawing him closer.

She offered him a small, grateful smile, though there was understanding in her eyes as well. "Thank you, Cyrian." she said gently, sensing the loss in his voice as he glanced around the space he had called home. She knew what it meant to leave behind the familiar, even in the face of necessity, but they would find the people of this city a safer home along the way.

Her gaze flickered to the sleeping child, still curled up peacefully, her fever finally broken. Yvaine swallowed, feeling the gravity of what lay ahead settle deep in her bones. "I’ll help however I can," she added, looking back to him. "But we don’t have much time. Tomorrow night, we leave this place."

A pause. Then, softer, she asked, "Will you be alright?" It wasn’t just about the supplies or the journey ahead—she meant this, what had just happened. What he had seen in her. What it might mean.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to know. But for now, there were children to save, and that was something she could hold onto.

 

[Faulkin]

"Yes, of course," he replied, "everything will be quite alright... I am quite alright. Please if you would, just allow me some time to sort out what is best to bring," he offered her a smile, and then a nod to the child, "the most I could ask of you is to tend to her while for now, and when the rain parts we should escort the two of you home."

---

The sky was still dreary and grey when Yvaine had finally returned. The rain had reduced to a light mist, and the thunder was now far off in the distance. Upon their return, Faulkin and Cyrian exchanged a brief interaction, and whatever tension had been present earlier seemed to have been assuaged. A nod and a handshake between the two, and Faulkin's thanks for helping the girl, and then they were parted once again for the man to go gather his effects.

It had been several hours that Yvaine and lingered over there with the child and Cyrian, but the storm had picked up so heavily that there was little other course. All the while, the stirrings in their refuge had only accelerated. Many things had been gathered and packed, and several of the leading members stood gathered around a table in the dim candlelight, debating how best to take action.

That all changed when the alarm bells rang.

Faulkin looked to Yvaine, a clear concern marked upon his features... but then it dawned on him, and a wry smile crept across his lips.

"I think we might be leaving a little sooner than expected."

---

Yvaine ​