Fool's Hope

calm lake.

"No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader."

—Robert Frost

  Blinded by disdain, their way of survival was right beneath their noses.

The sun gently dipped itself into the horizon as the moon arose at Filseria. Mountains rounded east of the village, a tranquil lake resting on the other side. A light chirp of the flute sounded in the distance as a tall, fourteen-year-old boy with olive skin strode forward. A stoic feel surrounded him and reflected in his gray, hooded eyes and unchanging frown residing on his face. He glanced over the cobblestone pathways through short, raven-black hair as he wandered the hamlet, adjusting his belt for the fourth time.

They avoided the house burned down to ashes. His steps scuffed the ground as he took on a swifter pace, the suffocating smell of lingering smoke from the charred wood causing him to instinctively move a hand to his nose. The family who lived there, now on the village's outskirts, were working relentlessly to restore what they once had.

"Norman!" someone called. He stopped in front of the blacksmith's shop and faced the direction of where the voice had come. His father beckoned hurriedly at the door of their dwelling a couple of bounds away. Norman squinted as he watched him make his way over to their only Pegasus, brushing its back in quick, circular motions.

Striding ahead, he grabbed the brush his father passed to him and started to brush the stallion in turn.

"Lurios snapped at me earlier when feeding em', only proves he likes you more." his father mused. He was a muscular man, short in stature and you had to look twice, his proportions appearing off at first glance. He went by the name Artis.

"Maybe..." He stood under the shadow of Lurios's outstretched wing, crouching to brush his hind legs. "Because you thought it entertaining to put a croaker in his feed?"

Artis threw his rough hands in the air. "You thought so, too! I saw you laugh." he protested.

"I only laughed when I saw you flinch."

"When did I flinch?"

"When Lurios looked ready to trample you, is when," Norman puffed, backing away from the stallion after he finished. "Serves you right."

Lurios upped his maw, letting out a deep neigh of agreement as Artis crossed his arms.

Lukas dragged a chair to the window, pushing the thin, feathery curtains away as he gazed outside through pale brown eyes. Where he sat in a creaking chair in his bedroom, he tipped forward for a clearer view of the villages' houses purposely built far away from each other. He watched with a frown as people ambling along the dusted pathways never once even looked at one another. Belonging to different families, a standoffish approach between the two who'd passed the other by had never coaxed out a moment of questioning.

"Open the door!" came two small voices from outside his door, breaking his thoughts. He rose from his seat, inching towards the door. His eyebrows knit together as he pulled it open. His two little sisters, Kahris and Hisare, grinned up at him. He'd recognized this scenario instantly. He had no doubt in mind they'd planned to lead him into yet another trick.

He shut the door and pressed his ear against it. He listened to the sound of the two retreating in leisurely steps, likely to have expected such a reaction. The weight of being the only one who'd witnessed what his sisters had done to the house near the square lay heavily on his shoulders as he recalled the sight; The two huddled on the ground near the house, their eyes sharp with concentration as they struck stones together and piled up kindling.

Now, the house only stirred ash and cinder clouds if the wind picked up that day. He couldn't risk the rest of the village finding out and placing his family in a testy position, so he kept his mouth sewn shut. Placing himself back in his chair, a faint hum emanated from his palms as tiny sparks flew around them. Magic was only a tool and no more. With the community's heavy belief that it was only powerful enough to aid in daily life, people who sought to find any more purpose in it were dense, delusional, and unreliable.

One would think it would prove to be less tiresome to spend time doing things other than simply wondering about it, yet to him, it was most captivating.

Gathering day. The ground was littered with leaves of beautiful russet colors, with a gentle breeze sweeping them off the ground and into a crimson whirl. Norman slid out of bed, bracing himself as his feet touched the cold, wooden-tiled floor. He shook his head, blinking away the stubborn sleep from his watering eyes as he stumbled into the center room, scowling at how out of control he was of his own feet.

"Mornin," a voice hummed. Norman met his older brother's, Nox's, eyes and nodded in response. A familiar sense of guilt engulfed him as he walked closer to the table.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! If there's any feedback you would like to share, feel free to do so in the comments!