If he expected awe, he got it. If he searched for terror, he wouldn’t find it.
Everything was magic and unknown and new. I didn’t know if his clan were like me or something so much better. I was just a creature who was so frail the elements made me shiver and sweat, so feeble I needed constant food and water, so weak that whatever I’d lost and forgotten was enough to drive me into a grave.
To me, the Nhil people were already magic. They were vibrant and prosperous and happy...
“You are a complexing thing,” the man murmured. “Your eyes are wide with wonder, just like a babe’s, yet your body is that of a woman.” His gaze dropped to my bare chest. “A woman who came from nowhere with scars on her young form and a mouth empty of words.”
Shaking off his wondering comment, he continued with his tale, “My people come to me for visions that the flames provide. Only I have the gift of interpretation. Even our chief and chiefess listen to my council.” His eyes glittered. “A vision will come—just as it did when you were first found—and I’ll know who you are soon enough.” He smiled and bowed his head. “I told you my name when you first woke but allow me to repeat the greeting, so you may know how to do the same. I am Solin. I’m descended from a lineage of Spirit Masters and Fire Readers and am honoured to rank second within my people. You will meet our chief and chiefess, Tral and Tiptu, when you are strong enough to join the others. When you’re—”
“Solin, I’ve brought what you requested.” A girl appeared at the entrance, startling me. Not because of her sudden arrival but because of how opposite she was to the man sitting before me.
Opposite.
That word triggered a gasping pain deep in my heart.
A pain that slithered into my belly and sank teeth into my spirit.
A flash of a male wrapped in shadow.
But then it was gone, and I drank in the new girl.
Her skin wasn’t dark like Solin’s but so pearly transparent the blue and red strings of her lifeforce in her throat and wrists were clearly visible. Her shoulder-length hair gleamed like the seedheads outside, ready for harvest, and her eyes blazed a startling green.
“Perfect timing, Hyath.” Solin beckoned her forward. “I was just about to tell...” His gaze caught mine. “It’s your turn, girl. You know my name. Now, give me yours.”
The girl hovered with her arms full of furs. Her lips twitched into an encouraging smile, and I found myself wanting to speak.
Skin prickles darted down my back as I swallowed, coughed, and said faintly, “I-I would give you a name...i-if I remembered one.”
Solin tensed as if he hadn’t been expecting my voice. It sounded so frail compared to his. Husky and worn as if I’d been alive far longer than I recalled.
Studying me closely, he said, “Memories can sometimes be lost if we spend too much time in elsewhere.”
“El-Elsewhere?”
“Yes.” He smiled, wary but kind. “The in-between realm where our minds can go but our bodies cannot. Slumber allows us to visit, along with visions, sickness, and death.”
Death.
I stiffened again.
Solin noticed, his shoulders softening. “You react strongly to certain words. Are memories linked to them?” He didn’t give me a chance to reply before asking, “Where were you traveling to? Who do you belong to? Is what Kivva says true? That you were cast from your clan and banished?”
His questions crowded in my skull, chipping away at the emptiness inside me. The girl standing behind him didn’t move, waiting as eagerly as Solin for me to speak.
With a slightly trembling hand, I rubbed my throat and spoke as much truth as I could. “I-I...don’t know. I don’t remember anything. How...how do you remember? Perhaps I’ve forgotten how, and I merely need to remember how to remember...and I’ll...know...” I looked up, my voice trailing into nothing.
Solin shot a worried look at Hyath, who stood frozen with her bundle. With a curt stare that kept me firmly as a stranger, even though he’d just welcomed me into his home, he said, “If you don’t remember anything about yourself, surely you recall the singular first memory that we all share. A memory that has been passed down for generations?”
I searched my mind.
I shook my head when only darkness and nothingness replied.
His braids made a comforting jingling as he shifted closer, peering deep into my eyes. “The memory of our creation. We took our first breath when the ground parted for our birth. As one, we stepped out of earth and became air, fire, and water. We carry every element within us, but some were blessed with stronger gifts from each. Despite our differences, we are all birthed in the image of Source itself.”