Gold That Appears To Be Silver

Chapter XXX: Interpretations

~Speaking the truth is more valued than thinking it, while the train of thought has a greater destination than the breeze of thought that will flow out of one's mouth
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'Nova, why are you not playing outside with the other kids?'

I look into the face of my mother, contemplating on whether I have to confide in her or not.

'You are good friends with Emerton, right? He hasn't left your side since you saved his sister from falling from the edge of that mountain with your magic.'

I sigh deeply, while I am shaking from the cold.

My mother is taking me in and her face is full of worry.

'Are you cold again?'

I softly nod at her which makes her examine me even more closely.

'Honey, your lips are blue from the cold. How is that even possible? You are a Northling, our magic prevents us from getting cold from the outside. You should be able to endure it.'

The footsteps of my father, having come back from his work, interrupt our conversation.

'Hello to the two of you.'

He kneels in front of me, hugging me with his warm body. I cling to it, wanting every heat that I can get. I usually don't like to show him affection at all.

'She's cold again, Randyll,' my mother says, her voice laced with something I can't decipher.

My father retreats and looks at me, his autumn brown eyes concerned now.

'You are not a Northling, are you? Valyrie, we have been ignoring this for far too long. The magic that she is carrying is not ours. Our hearts are filled with fire, which makes us unable to get cold. Hers is filled with ice, which makes her unable to get warm here.'

'Randyll, how can you say that? She's our daughter. She isn't as affectionate as most kids, but she doesn't have a heart that is made of ice.'

My father shakes his head in disappointment, locking his brown eyes with my mother's brown eyes.

'She's the only one with this eye colour in our Clan. She was born with hazel ones, until her magic began to grow in her. It's so obvious, Valyrie! Her magic is rooted from ice and not from fire like ours. She is no part of the Firefolk.'

My father pauses for a moment, emotions that I can't imagine having to feel flickering through his eyes.

'She's getting colder here every day. Are we going to wait until she has ultimately frozen to death? We need to leave.'

I blink my eyes, the memories already coming back to surface with one look at our surroundings. I feel strangely indifferent about it.

Emerton is walking closely beside me, which others could read as a protective act of a pledged guard. Felon is walking a metre from us, his arms weirdly hanging beside him because of the spell I put him under.

I know that Emerton has other intentions.

'How are you feeling, Luna Striking Sol?' he whispers, only audible for me to hear.

I give him an annoyed look, because he is clearly asking for it.

'I don't feel, Emerton. I am just being reminded of things I can't understand anymore because of that.'

I refuse to look at him after that, because I know that his face is going to be filled with sympathy. After all, he is a Northling, a carrier of a warm heart.