Dark Children

She was running, faster than she had ever known. Her inexplicably long stride carried her rapidly across the Kalak-ploughed field, the heavy fall of her large feet paying no heed to the virgin shoots reaching towards the Night’s Lights, leaving them trampled in her wake. Flanking her, others desperately fled, as she did, racing towards the farmstead emerging from the distant gloom. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the Freylarkin to her left, who tripped and fell. She gasped at the sight of their face grinding against the furrows, before the body buckled and bounced. As she focused on the farmstead ahead, ephemeral shapes formed on the dark horizon, blocking the path to her salvation. Without hesitation, she adjusted her bearing, veering left, causing those around her to follow suit. She glanced over her shoulder, briefly witnessing the horrible demise of another, consumed by dark shapes emerging from wisps of smoke that rose up from the ground. They ran, their numbers continuing to dwindle as they tried in vain to evade the invisible attackers who sought to surround them, picking them off one at a time. Yet there were no screams, no moans of pain as the shadows pursuing them preyed on her kin – there was no sound at all. Her mind wanted to call out to the others, eager learn of their plight, but her mouth remained closed, her body instinctively directing her every action. The farmstead became a blur in her periphery, no longer a concern, replaced by the promise of sanctuary amongst the trees rising to meet them. Faster she ran, causing those alongside her to fade from view as she sprinted ahead, through the trees she darting left and right, narrowly avoiding several impacts, oblivious to the foliage slapping against her body. Despite the branches raking her face, she felt nothing. She was a mute spectator, impervious to touch, her actions like a marionette dancing to the whim of another – her other self. The sensation felt strange, as though she was floating. She was an autumnal leaf separated from its host, now carried upon a stream with no control over the current and its direction. The future was preordained, her desires counting for naught. All she could do was experience the silent ride, praying that the one in control would not usher in her release. Reaching a clearing amidst the trees, she came rapidly to a halt. Bending over, she placed her hands on her knees. Was she gasping for air? She could not tell. There was no burning sensation in her lungs, nor the rush of air down her windpipe – she felt nothing. Someone else appeared alongside her, followed by several others. All seemed to be panting heavily, breathless from their ordeal. She straightened, regaining her composure, before issuing a series of rushed commands to the others, accompanied by rapid hand gestures. The group began to disperse, as wisps of grey smoke rose from the ground, hastening their departure. After running a short distance, she slowed her pace, allowing her to steal a glimpse of the ephemeral shapes manifesting at the centre of the recently abandoned clearing, slowly taking shape until each form resembled a large wolf. The silvery lupines sprinted towards them with preternatural speed. Chasing down their prey, the wolves mercilessly pounced on their victims, ripping apart their quarry with fanged jaws revealing blood-soaked gums and stained teeth. What she saw was ghastly to behold; the images of torn flesh and severed tendons would forever plague her thoughts and dreams, denying her future solace. The butchery intensified, and with it, feeling slowly returned to her limbs, along with muffled screams that now rang in her ears. The cacophony of sensation and sound assaulting her increased, but despite the din, two words made themselves known to her. ‘Wake up!’ She had burst into her daughter’s room, almost knocking the wooden door from its hinges. Rarni was screaming loudly, the shrill sound splitting her ears. She had run to her daughter’s side as soon as she heard the screams, desperate to wake her from the nightmare tormenting her. ‘Rarni, wake up!’ she cried again, this time gently shaking her daughter where she slept. ‘Come on, wake up!’ Rarni’s eyes flicked open, but her daughter’s vacant stare suggested that the nightmare still had a hold on her. ‘You have to wake up. Come on, Rarni, damn it, wake up!’ Shaking her daughter again, aggressively this time, Rarni suddenly came to. She scooped up her daughter who immediately clung to her, arms and legs wrapped tightly around her torso. ‘There, there. You are safe – I have you now.’ Slowly, she paced around the room, gently bobbing her daughter up and down, tying hard to comfort her. Rarni sobbed intensely, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was then that she realised how much her daughter had grown, and, more importantly, how heavy she had become. Wandering slowly back to the bed, she gently laid Rarni down before climbing in alongside her distressed daughter, still shaking. The sheets were damp and Rarni’s skin was clammy to the touch. ‘You had a nightmare – the dreams cannot get you now.’ she said, gently stroking her daughter’s dark hair. It was normal for her daughter’s blonde hair to darken a shade during winter. However, Rarni’s had darkened considerably now, becoming more brown than blonde. The curious metamorphosis concerned her, as did the nightmares. ‘It was real.’ ‘They often feel real, but it was just a dream.’ feel‘No, I was there.’ ‘Where?’ ‘In the woods, with the spirit wolves.’ ‘Rarni, you were here, in your bed, tucked up safe and sound. Those creatures are folklore, tall tales meant to scare disobedient children.’ ‘But I was there – it was real!’ ‘It was just another nightmare – like the ones before.’ ‘No, you do not understand. I was there!’ her daughter insisted vehemently, whilst blubbering through an endless stream of tears. ‘They were all released!’ ‘There, there, please do not cry. You are perfectly safe here with me – they cannot harm you.’ ‘I think that they already did.’ She hated feeling so helpless, unable to console her terrified daughter. The nightmares were becoming darker, more violent and increasingly frequent. They had started during the tail end of winter, following her daughter’s violent a*******n. At first, she had believed the turbulent dreams to be a direct result of Rarni’s recent trauma; the vivid images were no doubt a means of processing the k********g. However, throughout spring, they had evolved into something far worse, becoming more sinister in nature. Lacking the necessary skill to diagnose and treat such a condition, all she could do was attempt to console her daughter, but it was clear now that Rarni required specialist help. It took some time for her frightened daughter to settle down and eventually fall asleep, by which time dawn was breaking. The incessant chorus of Sky-Skitters denied her further sleep. Unable to drift off, she slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb Rarni, before quietly making her way downstairs. She grabbed a thick blanket from a small wooden chest and sat on the steps outside their tree, quietly reflecting on the sad events that had brought about her daughter’s condition. Though she was grateful to have Rarni back, the sick ordeal suffered by her daughter had left its mark, perhaps even permanently. Realising her inability to remedy the situation, by undoing the mental damage caused by recent events, the hopelessness she felt intensified before suddenly overwhelming her. Burying her head in her hands, she began to sob quietly. As a parent, she had one job that was paramount above all others: to protect her daughter. Yet knowing one’s purpose was very different to fulfilling it. She lacked the skill to protect her daughter from the encroaching darkness, yet, despite her pride, she was strong enough to recognise and accept the fact. Regardless of her inability, there had to be a way of saving her daughter from further torment – the strength of her conviction would not allow her to believe otherwise. There had to be others whose aid she could call upon. Her thoughts quickly turned to Nathanar, Captain of The Blades. The dogged Paladin had rescued Rarni from the evil force responsible for both abducting and mentally traumatising her daughter. However, Nathanar was a soldier, skilled in combat. Rarni required help of a different sort. Furthermore, she was loath to request the Paladin’s aid for a second time; there were limits to how much of a beating her pride could endure. Even so, as mother, she knew that her own self-esteem was not a priority – her daughter’s wellbeing was the only thing that truly mattered to her. Rarni’s ongoing battle had shifted to one of the mind; her daughter now required the support of a telepath, or perhaps a scrier. Yet, the most powerful scriers in the vale, the sisters Darlia and Kirika, were beyond her social reach – at least directly. Nathanar had been seen with Darlia numerous times in the forest, where the infamous claw-handed scrier had taken up residence. If she could swallow her pride again, perhaps Darlia would be willing to help her daughter for a second time – the renowned scrier had lent aid to the Captain of The Blades during his investigation into Rarni’s a*******n. Then there was Darlia’s sister, Kirika, a former forest dweller, now a well-respected member of the ruling council and resident within the Tri-Spires. Although she had no dealings with Kirika, it was possible that she could ask The Guardian to raise the matter on her behalf. Rayna chose to live amongst the forest dwellers and had become a local hero. The Guardian had no seat on the ruling council, however, despite this fact, the commander of The Blades spent a lot of time with its members and her close relationship with Kirika was well known. Furthermore, Rayna was universally liked by the people and extremely approachable; The Guardian always took the time to listen to the concerns of others and her candid nature was refreshing. Still, the very notion that she could gain access to a member of the ruling council was one bred from pure hubris; would a member of the ruling council even entertain giving her a moment’s notice, she wondered? directlyPulling the blanket tightly around her, she stared into the depths of the gloomy forest, pondering the best course of action. The temperature had increased significantly since the arrival of spring in the vale. Her breath was no longer visible, yet there was still a crispness to the air. She continued to gaze into the forest, lost in thought, barely acknowledging the subtle movements of the surrounding flora as it was disturbed by local fauna. Of the two options available to her, seeking out Nathanar and Darlia directly was clearly the more sensible approach towards helping her daughter. Wrestling with her pride, trying to subdue its stubborn nature, a single thought took root in her mind, rapidly sprouting, eclipsing all others. With the advent of spring, maybe it was time to tread a different path and take a fresh approach. Although eternally indebted to the Paladin for rescuing Rarni, Nathanar had not returned her daughter entirely – but perhaps The Guardian could finish what the Paladin had started. Muffled screams from her tree shattered her reverie. Whichever path she followed, she needed to act quickly, for her daughter’s sake. ‘Do you remember when I first combed your hair?’ asked Kirika softly, gently drawing the wooden comb down the length of her long red hair. ‘Back then, you were plagued by memories of your former life, tormented constantly by impossible decisions.’ ‘I remember. So much has happened since then.’ ‘Yes, your hair has grown longer.’ said Kirika, whose cool smile beamed at her in the mirror.