Out of Evenfall (BOOK 1)

Chapter 18

YUVEN

Calavia. Gamelan. Verien. Mien... Mezhave and Zoten. Those ones are Naveeran names. He sat in the centre of the quiet grove of their chosen campsite, committing each name to his memory and his listbook. Never to be forgotten as long as the oath necklaces were found and someone remembered. Six names we could get down, and many more left in the citadel.

Fenrer. Maria. Neven. Yuven bit down on his jaw as the names threatened to fade away with the wind and time. Fifty Turns you were left. Fifty Turns it took us to retrieve you and those who left you to your fate got away with it. He slammed the listbook back down with a scowl, trying to ignore the castle's shadow on the hill. He hadn't started setting up their half-covers, and the sun cast a halo over the forest, never to touch him with its gentle light. He raised the book again to look at each name, and imagined those around him. Those he knew. Every name had someone who waited for them, and they never came back. He flipped the paper to the usual camp necessities he wrote down. He put it away, then reached out into the resonating flow.

In the middle of the grove, a glyph of white shone and burst to life. Several points along its icy tips burst into flames, collecting in the centre of the flow's matrix to create a small well of white flames. It breathed life until it spread warmth and turned back into a familiar orange. Yuven knelt down in front of it to poke at it with his magick, and it remained in the contained space. He picked a spot in the grove to set up his half-cover, in the protection of the crystal wards webbed along the trees. Yuven brought up mini pillars of vines, though he struggled to focus on the way the ground breathed with the flow as it stuck up the covers to shield them from the elements. White twine guided the vines along its path, but shuddered in slow movements. Unable to stand the crooked slant of the vine, he tried again until it held up the cover properly before doing the same with Fenrer's on the opposite side. Able to see every angle in case of an attack, he rolled up their travelling cloaks and set them down under their shelter.

One more check of the list and a quick sweep of their grove, he came to a stop in the warmth of the flaming well. Exhaustion rippled down his limbs, and scratched rust inched up his throat with wicked claws of Derelicts. He brought a hand up to cover what he knew was coming. A hard cough escaped him from deep inside his chest. Uncontrolled, he knelt back down to try and release the clawing pressure. It subsided with his sigh, and he retracted his hand from his lips. Crimson dotted his palm, and he glared down at it.

I know you're still there... you never let me forget. He brought out a napkin to wipe away the blood before setting it to the flames to return its essence to the world. He counted his breaths in his chest. Blood continued to swirl in the back of his throat, until he eased his mind out of it and into the warmth of the flames, and the memory of Maria's last touch. Myl'la... He sat there, on his knees, head lowered into the shade of night. Yuven Traye. Yuven Traye. Yuven Traye. I am Yuven Traye. He knew it silly to echo his own name, but everyone forgot, and all he had was Maria's advice of self-assurance. I am a Storm Warden, and I am here. He ruffled out his feathers with another huff while the world dragged down his mind, and he shook out the weight. Cross-legged, he opened his food container to have his night meal, packed to the brim with everything he could eat. Ugh. What a mother hen. Neven has been giving him lessons.

His memories blurred with crimson, but he clung onto them with all his strength. I will never forget. Never. I will be home. Home on the mountain, in a small white-bricked house by the sea. Full of love he never thought he'd gain. Neven and his mother hen tendencies, Kemal, who always indulged in his need to better himself. Fenrer, a young Hanekan boy who held out his hand to a person everyone thought a monster, and saw nothing but the light he couldn't see in himself. The rustic taste never left his tongue as he warmed himself by the flames, waiting for Fenrer to return.