The Warmth of the Hearth

Olin heaves with all of his might as the weight of the metal bars fall on his back. Three tall silver metallic plates that will soon be buried in cement to construct the walls of their makeshift training facility lie heavily on his back as his veins come bulging onto the surface of his reddened skin.

“For an old man, you sure like to lift a lot.” The voice of Essie speaks from behind him as she approaches Olin carrying snacks for him to munch on. Carson and Luke approach her from behind, eyeing the sandwiches that now lie in small packs in the hands of Essie. “Hands off. No eating until you’re both done with your share of the work.”

Carson pouts, his crimson eyes widening in plea. He sees Essie simply offer Olin a sandwich which gets him a pat on the back from Luke who now stands beside him, his unkempt hair dusty from all the construction work.

Claire passes by as she makes her way to her mother’s room, the tonics in her hand glint faintly underneath the artificial sun. In the distance, she sees Carson chasing the agile Luke around the site. “Laisren! Give me back my sandwich!” The young Laisren quickly shoves the food in his mouth as he runs, causing him to choke on the sudden consumption of the food. Olin laughs, his wrinkles evident on his reddened skin. Idiots. Claire thought as a smile breaks on her pale porcelain face; warmth that she missed overwhelms her.

The wooden door leading to Celine stood in front of her, its gold knob shining faintly in the light. Claire breathes before turning the contraption, the familiar click of the door brings her the guilt of not seeing her mother sooner. The door opens with a creak, slowly paving the way into the room. “Mother?”

Celine stirs underneath the covers, her head turning to see her unexpected visitor. “Claire? Is that you?” Her eyes auburn eyes fall on the familiar silhouette of her daughter standing in the doorway. “Child, come in. You have so much to tell me.” She speaks softly as she attempts to sit upright. Her strength dwindles, leaving her no choice but to surrender back into her bed.

“Don’t push yourself, mother.” Claire puts the tonic on the bedside table, proceeding to measure the prescribed dosage for Celine. “How are you feeling?”

Celine smiles, happy to see her daughter once again. “Fine now that I got to see you again, love. I feared that you no longer wanted to see frail old me.” She chuckles, trying to get a laugh out of Claire.

Claire winces at the joke, a surge of guilt hits her upon hearing these words. Why was I avoiding mother? She brushes these thoughts out of her mind and focuses on the present task, now aiding her mother in drinking her medicine. Celine opens her mouth, allowing Claire to press the vial upon her lips. “Make sure you drink all of it, mother.”

The scent of honey hits Celine’s nose as the sandy bitter liquid floods her mouth, causing her tongue to scream at her, begging her to spit it out. She tosses her head back and forces herself to swallow the potion. Claire hands her a glass of water which she gratefully takes, washing away the bitterness of her ailment with each gulp. “Thank you Claire.” She says as she puts down the empty glass on the table. Her eyes meet Claire’s, her smile never leaving her face. “Want to talk to me about how you’ve been? Tell me everything.”

Eron Fir travels on horseback alongside Noah Skye. They make their way through the unfamiliar trees of the Slums, its wildlife scurrying around them. The thick leather cloak lies heavily on his back, sweeping as the soft forest breeze hits him. Noah doesn’t look back, continuing on the path a local guide pointed out. Eron speaks, nervousness getting the best of him. “L-lord Skye, how are we gonna get Carson to cooperate?”

Noah looks at the young Fir, fidgeting on top of his horse. “We speak to him, young Eron. We make him understand our cause, and why our decisions were necessary.” He pauses, taking the journal out of his satchel. “This may be the key to everything Eron, a key to finally set all of our plans in motion.”

“And if he doesn’t comply?” Eron asks, his voice resembling a squeak.

Noah Skye looks at the mountains in front of them, towering over the trees. “We’ll make him.” He disembarks from his mount, tying the lead to a nearby tree. He assists Eron in dismounting and proceeds to do the same to his horse. He focuses, trying to decipher where the hideout could be. A flash of red catches his attention, originating from the side of the mountain. Illusions. “This way.”

Eron follows Noah as he makes his way up the mountainside. There was nothing at the top, which confused him as they continue to climb the mountain. They arrive at a small cliff overlooking the forest where they found a young man standing guard. Guarding what exactly?

“Identify yourselves!” The man brings out a bright orange flame that covers his entire arm. He squints, looking at the familiar faces in front of him. “N-Noah Skye?!”

“Please, we mean no harm.” Noah extends his arms in a gesture of surrender, hoping to assure the watchman that there was nothing to get wary about. “We wish only to speak with Carson Blaise, for we have matters that may align with your best interests.”

“And why should I listen to the words of a traitor?!” The man’s eyes glow a bright violent orange, his flames crackling with a searing heat. “You have turned your backs on our house and you expect us to listen?!”

Noah doesn’t retaliate, and instead continues to speak in an even voice. “The loss of Kayden was unfortunate, which is why we are here.” He pulls the worn out leather journal out of his satchel, its faded cover basking in the midday light. “Kayden was a dear friend, and I wish to do his death justice.”