Aleida

Chapter 2

~ earlier that morning ~

Ciela was not well.

Aleida was increasingly aware that she had not allowed herself to acknowledge the extent of her sister's illness. Not even to herself. She wanted her to be well.

When Ciela was born with her wings crumpled as they were, the village shuddered. Some said it was a bad omen. Others muttered about family sins and tainted bloodlines. Between the cracks in the caverns they whispered doom upon the family. And now, a nagging fear fumbled about Aleida's mind. It foretold a future she could not accept.

Aleida wrung her hands in her lap. Her grandfather had sent for medicine a month ago, but it had yet to arrive. Despite their best efforts they'd run their emergency supply dry. Even the most prudent rations could not prevent the inevitable.

The medicine wasn't coming.

Now that winter was setting in, no one would dare brave the open air between their village and the river far below. Any day now the fierce eastern wind would come barrelling its way between their mountain and the next, dragging snowstorms along with it. The usually calm air would turn deadly. Anyone caught in the way of the wind would be flung back against the cliffs.

Aleida's mouth went dry; she hadn't been able to eat very much recently. She was sitting on edge of the cliff which marked the boundary of her home. Her village sprawled across a little plateau nestled between the great golden cliffs of the Aurian mountain range. They loomed above her now, their peaks aflame in the morning light.

Aleida stretched out her hand, feeling the rhythm of the wind beneath her fingertips. The wind had gotten colder. As it rushed between her fingers it seemed disconcerted, as if to echo Aleida's own uneasiness.

Ciela's medicine was made from crushed firegrass which grew along the banks of the Thunderbolt, a river which carved its way through the rock of the mountains down towards the lowlands. The area where it grew became inaccessible during winter due to the wind and the wraiths which roamed the area.

A heaviness had settled in the pits of Aleida's stomach earlier that day. It now rolled over, like a dreadful dragon stirring in the depths. It cast a lazy eye in her direction; mocking her.

The river wasn't a great distance away at all. Aleida might have even convinced her grandfather to allow her to retrieve the firegrass herself. Unfortunately, however, the sudden onset of winter that year did away with any such hopes.

Aleida had made the journey to the river once before with her parents during the summer. They accompanied friends down to the banks of the Thunderbolt to cool themselves in the shallows beneath the weeping willows which sighed in the breeze. She was only a child at the time but the trip had left a deep impression on her. This was partially because it was the furthest south she had ever been allowed to travel. More importantly than that, however, the memory was encased in a deeply wistful sense of nostalgia.

In Aleida's experience, Fate ardently refused to take heed of the seasons. In the dead of the following winter Ciela was born. Aleida, only twelve at the time, marvelled at the newest addition to their little nest. It seemed a truly mysterious thing how such a little bundle could so perfectly answer so many prayers. Alas, Fate's generosity came at a terrible price. As the snow melted the following spring, the world came back to life and Aleida's parents, in turn, soon passed out of it.

Aleida let out a sigh as if to shrug off the heaviness in her chest. It appeared that Fate had harmonized herself with the seasons for once. Winter was quickly approaching and Ciela was getting sicker. Could it be that her sister would pass out of this world just as she had entered it? Little, silent, and in the dead of a winter's night.