Sora nodded. She could see that. Most people either scoffed at magic or whispered about it worriedly, as though it were bad luck. Her eyes fell to the rapier hilt again and she studied the old leather wrappings. She had often wondered about the rapier in the last year. The handle looked ancient, worn, like a relic from a forgotten time.
But a sacred weapon? Something of legend? Truly?
“The Cat's Eye,” she said, putting a hand to the necklace again. “The vision. That's what it was telling me.”
“What did you see?” her mother asked.
At first, Sora didn’t want to relate what she had seen—in truth, she couldn’t make her voice work—but she knew she had to confess, especially if the curse was real.
But when she thought back to the dream, all she could focus on was the sight of Dorian's body. Dear gods, Dorian.... The loss of her friend was still a fresh wound. It had been a shattering experience, seeing him fall in battle, his blood spraying the fields. The sight of his body occasionally rose up in dreams, usually in the background, in a closet or a corner, or behind some cracked door.... She would catch his shadow under a tree, his voice from beyond a river. But never had she been this close, standing right next to him, as though he had just fallen at her feet. Never had it felt so... personal.
Suddenly, she found it impossible to keep the words inside. Half-choked, she began her narration, describing Dorian's dead body in the fields, the stranger near the woods, the acres upon acres of rotted farmland, the diseased city, the distant islands and Crash's terrifying transformation. And the words, over and over, circling in her head. “Who hast the nerve....”
Lorianne bowed her head in thought. Sora finished, describing the sound of the Cat's Eye, its thundering, urgent presence in her head, like the clambering of horses' hooves. She waited for a response, thinking back on the dream. Part of her was hopeful—maybe it meant nothing—maybe her mother had read too many horror books. But Lori's silence stretched on, and Sora's hands became clammy.
A minute more passed; finally her mother spoke. “This is very serious.”
Sora swallowed hard. “Do you think the Cat's Eye is warning me about Volcrian?”
“More than that,” Lorianne said. “I think the Cat's Eye was trying to tell you how to stop him.”
Her mother opened the book and began flipping through pages of text. Sora hadn't read this specific volume before, though she recognized it from one of the shelves about magic. “The Cat's Eye hasn't had magic in some time,” her mother said thoughtfully. “It must have come into contact with Volcrian's residue when it absorbed the curse. It knows him, certainly... and knows that he follows you.”
“That's all just in theory,” Sora said.
“Well, your vision was certainly specific. This isn't the first time the necklace has tasted his magic.” Lorianne paused, her finger landing at the top of a column of text. “Here it is,” she continued. “There are only certain places that the weapons can be destroyed and returned to the underworld. This might be one of them. The Lost Isles.”
“The Lost Isles?” Sora asked, with an arch of her eyebrow.
“Yes, the island you described in your dream. The Harpies still live there, I believe, and they are the race of Light, natural guardians against the Dark God. They have a sacred stone structure there that could be useful.”
Sora turned to look out the window, taking in a slow breath of air. “I don't understand. What about the rest of it? Why Dorian? Why dream about his body?”
“Because your friends are in danger,” her mother replied. “Isn't it obvious? Volcrian is on the hunt to kill them, and his hatred is bringing something terrible into the world. The Cat’s Eye is trying to warn you. You said you lost him, right? That he couldn't follow you through the swamp?” Her mother bit her lip.
Sora nodded.
“What if he's picked up the trail again?” Lorianne stared at her intensely, her hands tight on the armrests.
Sora paled. Volcrian? “Then... then he is coming here....” It was the only logical place he would go. She had never met him face to face, but it was a name she had learned to fear. She felt as though he might appear next to her if she spoke it aloud. He was on a hunt for vengeance, bent on killing Crash and anyone else who got in his way.
He was the reason they had risked life and limb to pass through the swamp; the reason Crash and Burn had left her here at her mother's cabin. They wanted her safe, out of the way—or at least, that's what they had said. Sora knew the truth: she would have just slowed them down, another burden. She had caused Dorian's death and she might cause theirs as well. What good was a rich, spoiled noblewoman, anyway?
But I'm not like that anymore, she thought, her hand clenching in her lap. Was she?
“On his way here?” she repeated quietly, thinking.
Her mother nodded. “To be honest, I've suspected it for some time since they left. It would have taken Volcrian many months to cross through the mountains, because he couldn't enter the swamp. But now seems to be the right time for him to arrive. He is hunting Crash. He will follow him wherever he goes, including to this doorstep. I think this curse precedes him. He is much closer than we realize. In the vision, you saw him at the border of the swamp, correct?”
Sora nodded.
“Then he must be on his way.” Lorianne gave her a pointed look.
Sora stared at her mother, horrified. In the dim light of her bedroom, she could barely make out the woman’s troubled face, so much like her own. She frowned slightly. “Great, just great,” she muttered. “Well, what am I supposed to do? Go off and find these lost Isles? Seems a bit much.”
Her mother gripped the pages of the book, folding the corners in her hands; she seemed frustrated and didn't readily have an answer. This was a side to Lorianne that Sora hadn’t seen yet. “I don’t know,” she said tensely. “But you need answers, and fast. This plague is unnatural and evil, and we might be the only people who know about it. You must find Crash and warn him. You must also travel to the city of Barcella, to the Temple of the Goddess. It is almost a hundred miles to the west, toward the coast. Speak to the High Priestess. Visions are not so uncommon in their order. She can advise you.”
Sora nodded slowly. The Temple of the Goddess... she had never visited one before. There had been a shrine on her father's land, fairly close to their house, where they had gone to pray and light incense on certain days of the year. But that was the extent of her knowledge of the Goddess and Her disciples. “So... so what? Is that what I'm supposed to do?” she asked incredulously.
“Well, you must do something!” Lori demanded. “You're the one with the necklace. The dream could mean many things, but you will need to consult someone more experienced than I—and you need to find your friends. The Cat's Eye is concerned with more than just a plague. The Cat's Eye is always, first and foremost, in tune with your heart. You must find your friends and warn them. Then you must find some solid answers about how to cure this plague.”
Answers. Cure the plague. Despite all her longings, the thought of hunting down Crash and begging him for help made her gut twist with anxiety. He had left her behind for good reason and she doubted he wanted to see her again. He was not the kind to stick out his neck for others. “I'm sure they're just fine without me....”
“Obviously not, if you are receiving visions. Volcrian is on his way, I'm certain of it. Your friends probably don't even know he has found their trail.”
Sora nodded. That much, she could understand. She remembered her last encounter with Volcrian's magic. The wraith, a ghost-like apparition smothered in black rags. Its magic had been powerful, terrifying, its very presence like a demon from the underworld. It had killed Dorian effortlessly... and had almost killed her, as well. She still carried the scar on her ribs where its blade had pierced her through. The blade had been destroyed by the Cat's Eye shortly afterward, but the hilt remained.
She hadn't been able to save Dorian... but perhaps she could save Crash a
nd Burn.
“Okay,” Sora said. “Okay, I'll do it.”
At this, a tension settled on the room. I’m going to do this. I'm going to find Crash... although how, I have no idea! And what would she say when she found him? Would he believe her? Or would he dismiss her as crazy? No matter what scenario she envisioned, she felt pathetic. Weapons of the Dark God? A plague? Why would he buy into that? Crash was an assassin with a shady, secretive past. She knew hardly anything about him—only that he wasn't a hero.
Come now, her inner voice chided, no use getting a stomachache over it! Trying to warn them of Volcrian's pursuit was noble enough. It was something she could do. And the plague was real, she could vouch for that. Her Cat's Eye was proof. Crash would listen to the necklace; he was the one who had first told her about it, after all.
When her mind turned to the thought of traveling again, she felt a sudden thrill of excitement. Sora flexed her hands, full of anticipation. Her year in the cabin had been far too long. Her bones itched for more adventure, a horse beneath her and a new breeze on her face. She wanted to wander like a vagabond, no ties and no true destination—following the wind.
They’ve been gone for a year, she thought. How am I going to find them? I don’t even know where they were headed. Yet it was a fleeting worry, easily answered. The solution came to her as she looked at her mother. She hadn't found this woman by chance alone. No, the Cat's Eye had led her straight through the dangers of the swamp to her mother's doorstep. It had focused on the hidden yearnings in her heart and made them a reality. She knew the necklace could lead her to someone else important, someone buried deep inside of her—like her lost friends. Perhaps she only had to ask. When she touched the stone subconsciously and heard a soft chiming in response, she knew that would work.
So this is it. In a single day, everything had changed. It struck her again that she would truly be leaving soon. To find Crash and Burn? Admit it, Sora, you’ve been longing for this all along!
“Mom,” she said quietly. “I—well—I guess I have to go.”
Lorianne nodded slowly. Sora’s eyes narrowed in the dark; were those tears on her face? She didn't truly want to know. If she’s crying, then I might not be able to leave.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, for lack of anything better to say.
Her mother sniffled loudly, confirming Sora's suspicions, then said in a shaky voice, “It's safer for you to go. If Volcrian found you here...."
They sat in silence for another moment. Sora was worried. What if Volcrian arrived and attacked her mother? The mage was evil, insane, destroying anyone who helped Crash or Burn. She wanted to tell Lorianne to leave, or to come with her, but she knew her mother was stubborn. I just wish... she thought, watching as her mother thumbed the pages of the book. I just wish I could tell her these things. But they were still new to one another. Awkward strangers, despite the powerful bond of blood.
Sora pulled her mother into a startlingly tight embrace. There was nothing to say, no way to explain how she felt. She thought she might understand what was in her mother's heart, but they had been apart for so many years. We've spent no time together, really.
Her mother left her on the doorstep of a rich Lord, allowing her to grow up in another household, in a different way of life. She couldn't hang around with Lorianne for the next sixteen years, trying to make up for lost time. She had to move forward.
“When shall I leave?” she asked. “This is all moving so quickly; it seems like just yesterday....” Just yesterday I awoke to find myself wounded, and in this strange bed.
"As soon as you can,” her mother said steadily. “There's no time to lose!” Her tone was unexpected. She pulled back from the embrace and looked Sora in the eye. “It’s dangerous to ignore the warnings of a Cat’s Eye. We can't afford to wait. It's almost dawn anyhow—did you know that you were asleep all night? Here, I'll make you a good breakfast and have Cameron pack your saddlebags.”
Cameron was her mother's stablehand and general hired help. A simpleton. He had received a bad head wound from a horse several years ago, robbing him of his ability to do complex reasoning. Her mother had kept him on as an assistant.
Despite her words, Lorianne seemed reluctant to stand up. She held Sora's hands for a long moment, then finally sighed. “You need to get dressed and I need to start cooking.” Slowly, she got up on her feet.
Sora sat for a moment in silence. She knew her words were true, that the vision had been urgent. But she still felt bereft, as though she had swallowed a pocket of air. Leaving home already? She yearned for adventure, yes, but she didn't truly want to leave her mother quite yet....
No use trying to puzzle through it. She dressed quickly and made her way downstairs in her new black riding pants and boots. When she reached the bottom, her mother was standing there with her weapons in hand: a staff and a pair of daggers.
“Oh,” Sora said, taken aback. Her mother wordlessly pressed the weapons into her hands. She could feel the familiar weight of the staff. It was made out of dense blue wood—witch wood, the salesman had called it, so many months ago. It, too, was said to have magical properties, though she hadn't been able to find anything about it in her mother's library. She ran her hand over the staff's length, feeling its firm weight. Her fingers went to the top end, where the initials K.W. were carved, the mark of some previous owner. It was impossible to tell how old the weapon was; the wood was nigh indestructible, and wouldn't even chip under a sword blow.
Sora took the daggers; she slipped one into her boot and one up her sleeve. Then Lorianne handed her one last artifact. The rapier hilt, once again wrapped in cloth. Sora held it carefully, staring at it, suddenly aware of its importance.
“A sacred weapon,” she murmured. Somehow, she had expected it to be more impressive. She waited for it to do something extraordinary—but of course, that didn't happen.
“Make sure no one sees that you have the rapier,” her mother said. “In the time of the races, there were many sects trying to get these weapons, secret societies, cults and other hidden orders. Those groups might still be around today.”
"This decision to leave really is quite sudden, isn’t it?” Sora asked quietly.
“I suppose,” her mother answered brusquely. “But I want you gone from here as soon as possible. If Volcrian were to find you....” She abruptly turned back to the kitchen and made herself busy, taking down a pan and lighting the stove.
Sora didn't want to speak of it, either. She was suddenly, painfully aware that she might not come back from this journey alive. The possibility crawled around in the back of her mind, poking her like a big, black beetle.
But she couldn't think of failure, not now. Who was to say that anything bad would happen? She tried to be positive. With any luck, she would find Crash and Burn safe and well, living somewhere far from Volcrian's reach. Knowing those two, though, I doubt it.
Sora continued packing her bags as her mother cooked. Lorianne had a way of humming to herself, no matter what she was doing. The sound pervaded the room, tickling at Sora's ears, drawing a small smile to her face. I'm going to miss this. Sometimes, she imagined that her mother's voice made the food taste better.
She lingered in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her mother, awkwardly running her fingers over the door frame. She wanted to speak... to offer some sort of comfort... but Lorianne seemed somehow unreachable at that moment. More like a distant friend than the woman who had birthed her.
Thunk. An onion appeared on the sideboard, near Sora's hands. Lorianne put a knife next to it. “Want to help?” she said. She caught her daughter's eye and smiled.
Sora smiled in return. Then she cut the onion, without crying.
They ate breakfast together—eggs, onions and toast—and wrapped some leftovers for Sora to take on the road. They walked outside together. Cameron was already waiting there with her horse. It was a dappled mare with short, stout legs and a fluid trot. She had ridden the steed several times before; it w
as one of her favorites.
Cameron tinkered with the saddlebags, securing ropes, adjusting the stirrups and saddle blanket. He was short and stooped, with a bald, blunt head and big ears.
“Well... I suppose you're going to be gone for a while,” Lorianne said from her position in the doorway. “Write to me in a few months, will you? Let me know you're safe.”
Sora nodded. They both stood awkwardly for a moment, looking at each other helplessly. Finally, Sora put her arms around her mother. “I love you,” she whispered. She had never said those words before—she never thought it would be so hard....
Lorianne looked as if she would cry again. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”
The two held onto each other, then broke apart. Her mother seemed to be drinking in every part of Sora, her eyes roving over her face, jumping from feature to feature.
Finally Sora nodded, turned, and walked briskly to the horse.
The beast stamped his foot impatiently as she checked the stirrups and mounted. Cameron stood to one side, giving them plenty of room. She waved to him and, with one final look at her mother, turned her horse toward the dirt road.
* * *
The path was long and winding, wide enough for a wagon to fit on, the sides crowded with bushes and ferns. Tall fir trees lined the road, their branches heavy with needles and pine cones, the air rich with their scent. Sora's eyes traveled to the end of the distant road and she imagined what lay beyond the dense woods. Through the trees, past the nearby town, and then... nothing but horizon. Miles and miles of open plains. The sun was just peeking over the hills, a new day. It seemed full of promise.
She nudged the mare forward and they started off down the trail. Excitement filled her, growing with each clip-clop of the horse's hooves. Her heart sang with the knowledge that she could go wherever she chose, wherever the Cat's Eye led her. Her adventure was beginning again—this time she wouldn't stop until it was truly over.