Garran laughed from downstairs, and Larkin siphoned his buoyant amusement. Thread rushed back into her palm, a tendril of crimson ribbon spiraling around her fingers.
Tomorrow, Vania would wonder for only a moment why her hair ribbon looked new, and their mother would be too busy to notice.
Larkin looked up as Garran entered the room, the trill of anxiety below growing.
“They’re arguing again.” Garran joined Larkin at the small table. “Father told me to go to bed.”
Their parents’ conversation had grown serious upon Garran leaving the kitchen. Larkin could barely hear them.
“The disappearances in the hills are getting worse,” said her father. “Heard rumors in the mine this morning. Not only that, but more destruction—homes, crops, wagons—all crumbling to dust.”
Larkin met Garran’s eyes as they listened intently.
“This has gone on for far too long,” said her mother. “What if one of us is reassigned to the farms? What then?”
“Melay has sent her army to investigate. Even the city guards have gone. Something about a scarcity of soldiers.”
“A scarcity? Do you know how large the Demuran army is, Jallus? Are they dead?”
“Faie…”
“Missing, like the farmers?”
“You know I don’t know, Faie. No one does.”
“Dead?” whispered Garran.
Larkin knew that Garran was thinking about Adina and Edric. These weren’t just rumors; Edric was missing.
Her eyes darted to Vania, but her sister was asleep. Melay’s soldiers couldn’t be dead. The dynasty had always kept a large army even though Demura rarely faced a real threat. Still, she couldn’t help but entertain the thought. Would it be so terrible if the guards never returned?
“Jallus?” her mother asked. “What if it’s destruction magic?”
“It’s just a rumor, Faie. Who could be powerful enough? Unless the magic is coming from below. From the—”
“Don’t.” Her mother’s voice was sharp. “Myth does not belong entangled in truth.” She paused. “And keep your voice down. The children are listening.”
Her parents’ voices became indecipherable, but the prickle of their anxiety lingered.
“What was Dad going to say before Mum cut him off?” asked Larkin.
“I think he was going to say the Reach.”
Larkin barked a quiet laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
Garran shrugged, his concern a cold, dull chisel grating against her rib cage.
“You heard Mum. It’s a fable.” Larkin kept her voice light and soothing. The last thing she wanted was Garran’s emotion waking up—
“What’s a fable?” Vania said quietly from her bed.
Larkin groaned. “Now you’ve done it.”
Garran lifted his hands in mock surrender.
“What’s a fable?” Vania repeated, sitting up.
“You’ll learn soon enough when you start reading from Mum’s books,” Larkin said, and waved her hand. “Now to bed.”
“I want to know now. What’s a reach?”
Larkin simpered at Garran. “The honor’s all yours.” She knew Vania wouldn’t rest until she got her answer. Better they tell her now than risk her asking Mum about it in the morning.
Garran scratched his head. “The Reach is a big cave.”
“How big?” asked Vania.
“The biggest on the whole isle. And a long time ago, the queen threw very mean people inside of it as punishment. But it’s just a fable, Vania. People tell it to keep naughty children like you from doing anything bad.”
“Then it’s a mean story.” Vania crossed her arms.
“Indeed it is.” Larkin grinned. “A very mean, very short story.”
Garran matched her smile. “I do my best.”
The tale was meant for Empath children: a warning should they ever attempt magic. The bad Empaths in the story were led by the villain Otheil Kyran, who wanted to steal the throne from Queen Leliana Ilona. When Ilona defeated Kyran and his six disciples a thousand years ago, she cast them into the Reach, and magic was forever banned.
The tale’s most thrilling moment was when a captured and bound Kyran told Ilona that, though he had fallen, darkness would rise once more.
And Ilona ever famously responded: Darkness cannot exist where there is Light.
Ilona had since been revered as Demura’s Goddess of Light, Kyran the God of Darkness. Good pitted against evil.
But to Larkin, the story had a much more practical meaning. Ilona and Kyran were two mortals with too much power. Ilona loathed magic, and Kyran abused it. Nothing more.
Of course, Melay continued to uphold the legend as truth, graciously allowing Empaths to exist on the isle. Their inherent darkness was ever doused by the dynasty’s light, after all.
Fortunately, Larkin didn’t have to explain any of this to a satisfied Vania, who had fallen back to sleep. But Garran’s concern remained.
“Do you think it’s Kyran?” Garran whispered as they slid into their beds.
“There’s no such thing as gods,” said Larkin. And she believed it. Demurans chose to believe in stories about goddesses and underworlds. Empaths chose to worship Ilona, even if it wasn’t in their best interest.
Fables, however untrue, were less terrifying than the unknown.
The Reach was not a place of magic ruled by a dark god. There was an explanation for the destruction magic happening now on the farms and the disappearances—there had to be. Larkin knew Queen Melay would find a way to use the rumors of dangerous Empaths to her advantage, so she had to lay the fable’s power to rest.
FOUR
“What exactly do you plan on doing?” Garran stuffed a canteen into his bag as they readied for work the next morning. “Roam around to different miners and tap them on the shoulder? Excuse me, ma’am, have you heard of our dark underlord, Otheil Kyran?”
Larkin watched Vania to make sure she was still asleep. “I was thinking, On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that our fabled dark underlord is not an actual underlord?”
“Good luck with that one.”
“They’ll talk to me.” Larkin shoved her foot into her boot. Miners excelled at stories that could be told within a single whisper, quick enough to share at the tunnel junctions. She knew better than to trust a rumor floating through the darkness, but she trusted Adina, and she trusted her parents’ worry. There was destruction in the hills, and perhaps an Ethera worker knew where it was stemming from.
A knock sounded at the front door, and Larkin’s head snapped up. Their father had already left for work. No one came over unannounced. No one came over at all. Empath congregations were punishable by death.
Larkin sensed a storm, the static before the strike of lightning. She hurried down the stairs, her brother at her heels. Her mother was in shock, her shoulder pressed to the door, a hand over her mouth.
“What is it?” Instinctively, Larkin searched the room for a weapon. She grabbed a fire poker propped against the hearth.
Her mother’s hand fell from her lips. “Guards.”
Larkin tightened her grip on the fire poker until she couldn’t feel her fingers. “No.” The word escaped her mouth, an order to the guards to stay away, but her voice trembled. Blinking back hot tears, she swore.