Entanglement of the Dark

One

Julian sat silently by the river, listening to the current babble by her. She tried to stick her toes in, but the water was too cold to enjoy and the air around her was not yet warm enough to offset the iciness of the river. She slipped her feet back into her tan shoes and shut her eyes. It was moments like these when she was alone that she swore she could hear a soft voice whispering in her ear telling her to follow the breeze. Or was it a bridge? Julian did not know, nor would she listen. Her parents told her not to listen to what she could not see as the truth can be vastly different from the images conjured within her head.

It was almost time to head home as the sun was starting to rise and her family would miss her soon. Part of her wished she could stay outside with nature every day and every night and ignore the stress of the cottage and their small number of animals. Most of all, Julian wanted to pretend that her brother was not sick. That he was not unconscious and dying.

She could not. She had to get back.

With a sigh, she stood up and walked through the woods across the leaves and sticks that had fallen from the trees above. The light was barely reaching her from the branches as she moved along. Birds were chirping cheery tunes as if they did not know that her life was falling apart but was, in fact, a wonderful spring morning. Any other week she would have whistled back to them.

She could smell wood burning before she could see the house. She knew there would be a kettle brewing tea and the fireplace would have hot red coals and a small pan cooking eggs. She knew her mother would be up and worrying about her only son and her father would be sitting solemnly in the corner of the room. Her little sister Edyleise would remain silent, probably petting the cat. Julian's brother, Roane would be where he had been for days, laying on a makeshift bed that was once their dining table, only he would not be opening his eyes and cracking wise jokes with a smile. He would be in a fitful sleep with sweat dripping from his face and down his neck. His cheeks would be puffing and red. He was only five years younger than her twenty years, only the age of fifteen, but battling for his life. Sometimes she wished it were her.

Julian did not think she was ready to face the room as she approached the wooden door. Could she hold herself together? That seemed to be the only question she asked herself for the past three suns and moons but came no closer to an answer. Without another moment of hesitation, she allowed the old door to open slowly, the hinges squeaking in protest to a room of people who were already in mourning for someone not yet dead. Julian's only brother, Roane, laid like a stone at the bottom of a river grey, cold, and still. It seemed that he was barely breathing. 

Many had fallen in a single wave, like usual, to the Grey Death, and illness that could not be passed on to the healthy and the sick but solely picked a soul to take. It appeared that this was the only magic left in the entire land of Baya containing the three ruined kingdoms and it was not like the magic that once healed and fed the people of the land. It was a curse or the worst kind, the curse of death and destruction. The curse had found a weakness in her brother's soul and latched on like a leach and draining him dry of his life force. 

 There had been a total of five this time. Julian noted that five was more than the usual one or two a year. Whispers were everywhere that it was getting worse and rapidly with no cure to combat it. There were five people in her village and the surrounding villages this month. The thought of that across all of Baya in every town and city was more people than she could bare to think about. 

Within the small front room, her mother sat in a chair pressing a washcloth to Roane's forehead and cheeks as if she could wash his illness away. She would hear her Mother mumbling prayers to herself, Roane, and to the Gods for help, specifically to Dyelus The God of Health and Prosperity. Her younger sister Edyleise cooked eggs quietly in a pan above the fire and the tea had already been poured as Julian had been later than she intended but the tea was left untouched in old green mugs. Julian's father sat in the corner of the room, his arms resting on his thighs, hands bald into fists with his eyes staring at them as if he could not unclench them or else lose all control. His only son was on the verge of perishing, looking through the veil of death into the land beyond before him and there was nothing he could do. Julian's father was not one to worry about a lack of control, but he was a kind soul always ready to offer help. His help would mean nothing for his son, and he had nothing left to offer but silence. Julian was on the brink of feeling nothing but emptiness, void of hope, grabbed one of the green cups filled with tea, and sat in a chair far enough away from all the others in the room. Edyleise eventually offered eggs to which everyone in the room accepted but barely touched.