Soren looked down at the letter, tears pooling in her eyes as she brushed her long hair out of her face. The blue hair dye had begun to fade, and the natural brown was starting to show through. Her father had always been disappointed when she dyed it. Virgin Vikarian hair was well sought after for those who had less fortunate genealogy.
She stared at the parchment, her teardrops causing the paper to swell and pucker. He left this for me. Her arms prickled. How did he know I would find it? Her heart hammered in her chest. It felt like it was collapsing in on itself.
The autopsy report had said that the death had been ruled an accident. According to them, it had been caused by an unfortunate animal attack. Soren wondered if he had ever seen it coming. The details weren’t adding up, though, and her mind spiraled. Her pupils dilated as the chemicals in her brain thrust her into fight or flight mode.
“Earth to Soren!” Baz flailed his arms in front of her face. “Are you in shock? Is this what shock looks like? I’m not sure what to do here.” He shook her shoulders, a look of concern in his eyes. “Soren, dammit, snap out of it!”
At that, Soren shook her head to clear the haze, looked up into his hooded eyes, and started mumbling through her confusion. “It’s a letter from my father … It’s for me. I know it. But … he … His death was an accident.” She sucked in a breath. “I don’t understand. I … I don’t … I …” Her breaths coming quicker now, she sunk to the floor, her panic dragging her down like an anchor at sea.
“Enara, I could use your help in here!” Baz shouted as he kneeled in front of Soren.
“I can’t… I can’t …” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. She was hyperventilating now and would pass out soon if she didn’t get her breathing in check.
“What the hell is taking so—” Enara stopped in the doorway. When she noticed Soren on the ground, she rushed to her side. “What happened?” she asked, fear-stricken.
“I think she’s having a panic attack.”
“Soren? Soren? Hon, I need you to breathe for me. Soren, look into my eyes, okay? It’s all going to be okay. We’re here,” Enara coaxed, kneeling in front of her.
Soren had been diagnosed with a panic disorder when she was a child, but it had been years since she’d had an episode this bad.
“Baz, get some water and grab her meds from her bedside table. Quickly! Go!”
Baz exited the room in a hurry.
Soren rocked back and forth, shallow breaths dragging from her throat. Her eyes were fixed on the piece of parchment in her hands, the paper creasing under the pressure of her fingertips.
Enara moved to her side and rubbed her back gently. “Breathe with me,” she whispered. “In …” She breathed in. “Out …”
Soren exhaled slowly.
“Good,” she praised as Soren took a shuddering breath. “That’s it.”
It took another twenty minutes for her erratic heart to finally settle. When she was able to speak in full sentences again, she said, “I’m too scared to open it.” She sat across the dining room table from Enara and Baz, tracing the edges of the letter with her fingers.
“Well, you have two choices,” Enara offered. “You can stash it away in a box somewhere and forget it ever existed, or you buck up, put on your big girl trousers, and see what your father had to say.”
Soren knew she was right but was terrified. She loved her father, had looked up to him. Whatever scrawl was on that paper had the potential to change everything she knew about him.
Baz reached a hand across the table. He usually resorted to bad humor, but he had read the room and had decided against it.
Soren squeezed his fingers and gave him a small smile. Then she looked back and forth between the two and steadied herself. Her hands shook as she reached forward and broke the wax seal before slipping the parchment from its paper jacket.
“My dearest Soren,” she started reading aloud, her voice ragged from crying.
“I am writing this letter as a fail-safe in the event of my death. I hope you will never need to read what I am about to say, but I must say it.
I’m sure you have so many questions. I will try my best to answer as many as I can. I am writing under the assumption that my death was sudden. I am sorry that you are having to read this through your grief, but I know that Enara will take good care of you. It eases my heart greatly to know that she will be by your side. She is a good friend. Please, tell her I will miss her dearly.”
Enara’s eye’s misted as she whispered, “I miss you, too.”
Baz rubbed her back, and she nodded for Soren to continue.
Soren coughed to clear her throat, finding the point where she had left off.
“In my early years, I discovered an artifact that held great value to a powerful being formally known as the King of Ravens. I hid it away so that its power could never be used. My death means they are getting close to finding it.”
Soren choked back a sob.
“Do not underestimate him. He is not of our world and will not hesitate to send his unkindness after you.
My sweet, smart girl, I know this is too much to ask, but I must ask it of you. You need to retrace my steps and find a way to destroy it before it falls into his possession. He is cunning and cruel; you must be on your guard at all times. I should have removed the threat long ago, and I will be sorry into the next life that I let this burden fall upon you.
I have enclosed a map. Let it be your guide, and don’t forget when you are lost, you can find the answers you seek amongst the stars. Death is not goodbye. It simply means I’ll miss you until we meet again.
Love you tons,
Dad.”
Soren blinked the tears from her eyes, letting out a strained breath.
“No pressure,” Baz quipped as he gawked at the letter.
Soren released his hand, and Enara shifted in her seat, the gears in her head turning.
Unexpectedly, Soren started laughing hysterically. She doubled over, holding her belly.
“I think she’s finally lost it.” Baz furrowed his brows, sharing a look of confusion with Enara.
Soren’s giggling continued as she blurted out, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She got up, using a cloth handkerchief to wipe the snot from her face. “My dad was murdered … and wants me to go on a quest … for some artifact that some guy called the King of Ravens is after?” She waved her arms up in defeat. “To what? Save the world?” Her howling subsided as she straightened herself. “This is a joke, right?” she asked, looking up at her friends.
They felt sorry for her but knew she wouldn’t want their pity.
Enara shook her head and wiped a tear from Soren’s flushed cheek. “Well, hon, we were due for an adventure.”
“I call the front bench of the carriage!” Baz said excitedly, pushing up from his seat and sprinting for the door.
The girls’ mouths dropped open as they looked after him.
“Last one out pays for the first night’s lodging,” he yelled from the front lawn.
“Should we tell him?” Enara asked.
“Nope,” Soren replied, her mood lightening just a little.
“Look, lady, I know this is crazy … but we owe it to your father to at least find the truth in all this. You know he wouldn’t have written that letter if he didn’t mean every word.”
“I know. I’m just in shock. I barely have myself together, and now I’m supposed to go into all this blind? Nothing makes sense to me right now.” She picked at a hangnail, hissing when it drew blood.
“You know I stand by what I said before—you can put it in a box and pretend it never existed, or we can deal with it and move on. That choice hasn’t changed.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Soren sighed, biting her lip.
“I know.”
“Well then, saddle up, bitch. I have a feeling we’re in for a hell of a ride.”
* * *
The girls went out front to drag Baz back inside. He was practically vibrating with excitement but deflated when they reminded him that they had yet to know their destination.
The trio worked together to make some semblance of dinner, the map splayed open on the table. The parchment was inconsequential, showing the same islands and territories that they had all learned about in school. Everything was as they remembered. They were stumped.
“I got it!” Baz screeched, running in from the kitchen, causing Soren to choke on a grape as Enara coughed, inhaling her wine.
“The coffee stain!”
They raised their eyebrows in confusion.
“Look,” Baz said, ecstatic. He flipped the map around and pointed to a brown smudge on the bottom left corner of Stelonbriar. “It’s clearly marking a location,” he finished, standing proudly.
Soren snorted, covering her mouth. “Sorry to break it to you, Baz, but I spilled coffee on that a few months back.”
He looked at her, dropping his shoulders, and sat down with a humph. “Clearly, I need to work on my investigative skills.”
Enara patted him on the back, knowing he was trying his best to help.
“Anyone else got any bright ideas?” Soren asked, wandering over to the front window and soaking in the last few bits of warmth from the day.
The sun was just starting to fall as the moon sang it a lullaby. The shadows from the trees stretched and moaned, rubbing their tired eyes. It will be dark soon.
She looked at the tree line, something clicking into place. “The stars!” she proclaimed, practically bursting. “Dad said something about the stars! Look!” she enthused, pointing to the letter. “Find your answers amongst the stars. That’s it! That’s the first clue! Dad would bring me out at night all the time to study the stars. He used to say they held secrets. If you listened hard enough, he said they would whisper them to you.” She bounced up and down.
Enara smacked herself on the forehead. “I should have thought of that! I remember you mentioning it to me.” She stood up, her chair sliding angrily across the floor. “There was an astronomy book on your father’s shelf that I packed up earlier. Let me go grab it.” She was halfway out the door before they could respond.
“I thought my idea was cooler,” Baz huffed.
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Soren chuckled as she ruffled his wavy hair. “I appreciate the effort.”
Enara ran back in. “I got it!” She waved the book around triumphantly.
Soren snatched it out of her hands and rifled through the pages before coming to an abrupt stop.
Baz peeked over her shoulder and read out the chapter title. “Avaris. What’s that?”
“Yeah.” An affectionate smile spread across Soren’s face. “It’s my favorite constellation. Dad’s favorite, as well.” She flicked away a tear that had escaped its cage. “Avaris correlates with the old Vikarian saying of ‘The Moment of the Universe,’” she explained. “There is a specific time of day, between four and five in the morning, that makes one feel closer to the heavens. It’s also a good time to meditate, if you’re into that sort of thing.” She shrugged. “I always liked it because its tail is one of the brightest stars in the sky.”
“Sounds cool,” Baz mentioned.
“That’s beautiful, Soren.” Enara touched her shoulder as Soren pulled out a slip of paper that had been tucked between the pages and began reading aloud.
“Looking inward, you will find,
The hidden eye of your mind,
A secret story buried deep,
Whispered to you in your sleep.
The spoils will be found below,
By the blazing torchlight’s glow.
This ancient power holds a price,
Multiply the sacrifice.
A pool of tears holds the key,
The answer to the prophecy.
Practice caution in all things,
As evil follows on gilded wings.
Before the darkness can take flight,
Bathe in the oracle’s light.
To find where you must begin,
Go to where the roots dig in.”
As the last line tumbled out of her mouth, Soren knitted her brows. Her face was a mask of fierce determination. “I know where he wants us to go,” she stated, sliding the map across the table. With a smug smile, she pointed to a city on the map that was littered with pictures of little trees.
“Eldrin?” Enara queried. “What’s so special about Eldrin? I mean, other than the fact that it’s the capital of Estelar.”
Soren smirked. “I see your geography skills haven’t faded much since the academy.”
“My mother orders bandages for her shop from there. They have some of the best hemp weavers on this side of Entheas,” Baz chimed in.
“Look at the surrounding waterways,” Soren said, tracing the ink that wound down the parchment. “They look like the roots of a tree, and they all meet at the lake surrounding Eldrin. My dad once told me they call the city The Tree of Life. All the waterways are trade routes.”
“Ah …” Baz nodded. “Routes, not roots.”
“Of course,” Enara said, “I heard they trade in more than just physical items. There is talk that they trade in information, too. I think he means for us to consult with an oracle there, maybe someone he knew before he died.”
“That’s my guess, too …” Soren picked at her nails. “So, what do you guys think?”
“What do you mean, what do we think?” Enara narrowed her eyes.
“You know you guys don’t have to come. The burden was left to me by my father, and it will be dangerous. We have no idea what this Raven guy is capable of.”
“Soren?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Soren smiled up at her best friend, a knowing look on her face. “You’re not going to sit this one out, are you?”
“Not a chance in hell. Besides, one of us has to look after your sorry ass.”
Soren laughed at that, plucking away at the food on her plate that had gone cold.
Baz started to speak with his mouth filled to the brim. “Hwey ugmm … Cwan I come twoo?” He suppressed a cough and chugged the remainder of Enara’s drink.
“What about your moms, Baz? This isn’t just a day trip to Estelar.”
“We have been talking about me leaving the nest for a couple of months now.” He shrugged. “You know, sow my oats and all that.”
“You mean, spread your wings?”
“Yeah, that.”
“And if we have to fight?”
“I’m not just all good looks, you know,” he said seriously. “Unless you two forgot,” he said haughtily, “I aced my hand-to-hand combat courses as well as melee weapons training.” He stood tall and puffed out his chest to prove his point further.
He was only an inch or two taller than Enara, but they had to admit he had filled out nicely in the last year or so. Soren was the smallest of the three, standing at a whopping five-foot-three and weighing a little over a hundred and thirty pounds. She had often been the victim of short jokes, her petite frame earning her nicknames like “Pixie” or “Little One.” It wasn’t until after graduation that her curves had decided to present themselves, earning her attention from many of her previous classmates.
Enara was the only one of the three who never had any issues in school. She was top of the class in every academic course and was, without question, the best fighter. Male and female alike, she bested them all. In the first year, she’d sent the combat master’s son to the medic’s office after their first sparring match.
Soren’s fighting skills, on the other hand, were a bit lackluster. She could manage, but she would consider herself slightly below average in comparison to her classmates. She did, however, excel in archery, and her knife skills were a force to be reckoned with. She attributed this to the many hours she’d spent in The Crow’s Nest, playing bullseye with the throwing knives her father had gifted her for her nineteenth birthday. Her bow skills, she had gained from hands-on experience while hunting with her father. They had only gone out when supplies were running low and had been careful to use every bit of the animal they could. They were not trophy hunters and had had their fair share of run-ins with poachers over the last few years.
Enara had offered to tutor her in combat outside school hours, but Soren firmly believed four p.m. to bedtime was reserved for relaxation. Enara would shake her head as Soren stuffed her face in a book on the porch and sprint away to train on her own. Soren would often watch her, though, looking up from the pages in awe of the talent she possessed. She was ruthless.
Soren’s father had kept trying to design a sparring dummy that could withstand more than a week of Enara’s abuse, to no avail. Soren knew that a large part of Enara’s skill came from her father drilling it into her since she had been old enough to swing her fists. She would often show up at Soren’s house, bruised and hungry. She wouldn’t be allowed to eat if she lost a skirmish which, until the later years, was more often than not. Soren would always pack a little extra in her lunch to share with her at school. Enara had refused the offerings for weeks until she lost three fights in a row. The poor girl had been wasting away, her skin stretched over her protruding bones like an animal hide laying out to dry.
They had tried to get her help, but Altair Montgrove was well-loved in Vreburn and was part of the council, making him near untouchable. He was a charmer and would brush it off as “kids being kids.” Enara would sneak away at night to sleep in the woods behind her house when he drank so she wouldn’t run the risk of him coming into her room to pick a fight. Her skin had grown tough over the years, and she could take most of the abuse with a straight face, but that only seemed to anger him more.
The worst part was he treated her brothers like gods. Rayden and Hawke had never felt his wrath or tasted the tang of blood on their lips. They had never had to hear their own bones crack or had to lie about where a black eye had come from. Enara never understood what she had done to deserve to be treated the way that she was by her father. She knew that her mother had given birth to a son before her, but he had died shortly after conception, and her father had never gotten over the loss.
Her mother loved her, but not enough to try to get between her and her father. When he drank, she would sneak away to her room, ignoring the screams that escaped Enara’s lips. She felt sorry for her mother in a way. She knew she would never leave him, and after years and years of torture, Enara had finally had enough.
She’d arrived on Soren’s doorstep one night, covered in blood. Her eyebrow had been split, and her arm had been bent in an unnatural position.
“Please don’t make me go back,” she’d begged, and Soren’s father had not asked what had happened. He had simply taken her in, cleaned her up, creating a splint for her arm, and tucked her into Soren’s bed while Soren had cozied up on the floor.
“You will never go back there again. If he steps foot on my property, I will not hesitate to kill him, and no one will find his body,” he’d said, his voice like ice. “I am a professional, after all.” Being an archeologist did come with extensive knowledge of where to hide a body.
Soren’s father had never known the extent of Enara’s treatment until that day. Honestly, neither had she. He would have done something sooner if he had and had scolded himself for not seeing the signs, considering his childhood had been much the same.
In his anger, he had gone to The Crow’s Nest one night and had beaten her father within an inch of his life. Tarak had not been a violent man, but he hadn’t been a small one, either. The scars from his past had strengthened his resolve.
The next day, Enara’s brothers had dropped off her belongings in silence. Everyone in town had pretty much steered clear from them after that, apart from Baz, his moms, and a few others who had seen Altair’s charismatic façade slip.
Soren didn’t mind, though. She liked their secluded little corner of the earth. It was quiet here. Peaceful. She only wished that Enara hadn’t had to suffer to make it happen.
She didn’t talk about it much, and when she did, she would shut down for days, going for runs in the middle of the night to blow off steam and annihilating the newest practice dummy. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Soren was constantly amazed by her.
She looked back and forth between her friends in appreciation. “I would be lucky to have you both by my side. I love you guys.”
“We love you, too, Sor,” they said in unison.
With that, the trio cleaned up the rest of their spoiled dinner and got to packing. They savored those last few mundane moments together, joking in the dimly lit kitchen. They snacked on potato crisps and indulged in a few too many beverages before wobbling up the stairs to Enara’s bedroom. They snuggled into her king-sized bed, giggling from the drink.
Enara and Baz dozed off in minutes, while Soren lay awake, begging sleep to come. All she received in return was a little voice warning her from the back of her mind.
Tomorrow, everything is going to change.