The Unkindness of Fire

Chapter 8

"We cannot imagine ourselves in the future, because they do not acknowledge us here, in the present. I fear what it means for our people, for our language, and for our lands, if the invaders settle here with their greed dominating their interactions with all of our relatives." - From Leaders of the Forgotten, in the second edition of The Anthology of Diladian Rulers

***

The night before Vencia was to start school, and I was to start basic training, our parents came to me in a dream. I stood, in the middle of a river, wearing a long blue dress, the hem just barely dragging in the water. On one side of the river bank was my father, looking directly at me. On the other side, my mother, staring at my father.

I tried to call out to them, started running upstream against the current, but the closer I got to them, the more out of reach they seemed.

My father's mouth moved as if to speak something, but my mother stood resolute, her gaze never breaking away from the love of her life. Even as I called out to her, even as the water rose around me, her gaze never shifted, and she never looked my way.

As the water rose around me, before it covered me completely, my mom finally looked at me, her face looking gaunt and hollow, her voice, the opposite of the honey smooth I remembered it being, uttered in a gravely, deep tone: "Go."

***

I wake up, gasping for air. The cool breeze from my open window the only thing to ground me, to remind me that I was very much alive and in a place forgein to me in every sense of the word. I rub a hand across my forehead, trying to remember the glimpse of my parents' faces, despite the aching uneasy feeling the dream had left me with.

It hadn't yet occurred to me that my memory was the only place my parents would remain. My memory. And Vencia's. And the few pictures I had managed to grab. All of these things would begin to fade, eventually. This fact aches.

I force myself out of bed and into the kitchen. As long as I kept moving, I could keep breathing, keep pushing forward.

It was a big day, with a lot of little tasks that needed to be tackled before it could even begin.

But, for the first time, there was a solid plan. A schedule. A sense of normalcy. We could stick to it. I could stick to it.

"Are you making me breakfast?" Vencia asks, stumbling sleepily from her room, but at least dressed for the day already. Vencia has, of course, added a layer of forest green trim along the collar of her shirt, adding what flare she can to the mundane clothing that has been provided for us.

"I'm making myself breakfast," I tease, cutting up an apple. "But you can have a bite."

"Hmph," Vencia frowns. "And lunch?"

"Already packed," I reply. "For you and me both."

Vencia gives me a soft smile. "You're good at this Val."

I clench my teeth, not wanting to be good at this. Not wanting to have to be good at this. My mother's face has not stopped haunting me from the moment I woke up, leaving me with an ill feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I need to get dressed," I say, taking my coffee to my room with me, blinking back tears so Vencia won't notice. "Big day ahead."

I take twenty minutes to pull myself together, focusing on the buttons of my pants and shirt as a distraction from dread that has settled over me.

"Someone's at the door!" Vencia shouts.

I stick my head out of my room, "It's probably Indigo, can you let her in?" Vencia sighs, but goes to answer the door as I pull on my boots and tie my hair back.