Weaving Threads in the Dark
The lord trusted me to blind the sight of others, but it does not stop a letter that has now traveled beyond my reach. With limited knowledge, I try to weave a narrative that will keep them in the dark.
Yet I fear that despite my desire, I lack any means to control anything beyond my voice, and I fear things spiral beyond me.
—Distressing thoughts from seer Nora, trying to control the narrative
"Move, you're already late!" She awoke to the familiar voice of her mother—it was time for another day of work. She wished her lord had built his kingdom so she could flee there and escape this life. She had his blessing within her, but the suffocating nature magic all around her kept what little power she had suppressed. The few times the lord did reach out and talk to her, it was muddled at best.
Both her mother and she were wearing grey robes that marked them as slightly less than second-class citizens. The true second-class could wear any dark colors, as long as they did not outshine anything a light elf wore. The colors still tended to be muted to be safe, lest the light elves see it as a slight and we forget our place.
She gathered a few pieces of fruit from the kitchen, only to be met with her mother's scowl. She wanted to argue—it was her pay from the night before's work that bought it—but it would be a losing fight. Instead, she tried offering some to her mother in appeasement.
"Work harder if you want to earn my respect," her mother said, grabbing one of the offered fruits before leaving for the day. She didn't even say anything else, but she didn't need to. Just existing kept upsetting her.
She wanted a daughter who would be chosen and blessed—taken by the light elves to give her family citizenship. She was envious of every new birth that was chosen, giving those mothers a better life they claimed came from their child's blessing.
It was rare for drow to be blessed with magic, rarer still for magic that light elves even took notice of. Yet when they did, it meant when you had a blessed child, you were welcomed into their arms—at least that was the story told. She wasn't so sure, and having such low mana, would never know.
Her mother did try to arrange matches, but most suitors were not interested in her mother. A few had tried choosing her instead, which she refused, having no interest in forcing a child into this world. Her mother said she was selfish, and it added to her disdain—not helping give them a better life through the chance of a blessed child. Even if the child was lesser-born, it was still another chance at being chosen, and another hand to help feed them if not.
The walk to the section where jobs were given out was slow as she moved forward in the line. It was a sobering day, like always. The second-class always got first right to stable, real work and steady jobs. Everyone else—from those few favored close to being second-class citizens and other non-second-class—got whatever they were given and were usually paid in food, not coin. This ensured you'd always be working versus being able to save and barter for cheaper food to work less.
She wasn't sure what Abaddon's goal was. The last time they spoke was when he named her—a name she could never speak. Not that anyone bothered to try and call her a name worth repeating.
A warm feeling entered her soul, recalling the day she saw her lord. It was while experimenting after she learned she even had a gift. Her mana was weak, so she could not do much, but when she learned she could see things, she could not stop herself from trying repeatedly to see more.
It was then she learned about the others who watched for those using forbidden gifts. It was a fluke of sight that allowed her to see she was being hunted, and a greater fluke and blessing that a drow scout found her and feigned ignorance.
His name was Row. His mother had just seen him as another child in a row of them, so she called him as such. But he never resented her and embraced the name, rising in power to second-class and earning respect.
"Shit duty—best I can offer something like you." She glanced up, surprised to see a sneer from a fellow drow—a second-class drow. She took a moment to realize she had lost her mother among the line—not that they tended to work together even in this.
But now she knew she only had literal shit to look forward to. Everyone knew what that meant: door-to-door seeking chamber pots, dumping them into hollow roots to be renewed to help nature magic grow, and the endless stink clinging to skin no matter how hard you scrubbed—and that was when you got to bathe. So once you got that work, you tended to get labeled as smelling like shit.
She waited for a bit to see if she could find her mother, who was nowhere to be seen to sneer. She tended to beg for better work and sell favors to avoid this job. She did not. Yet it seemed she had somehow avoided this work, or she would be here complaining about having to do it.
She missed Row and wondered how he was doing. He didn't visit often, busy hunting goblins and other beasts in the forest. They were rare now, but he stayed vigilant to prove his worth.
The day passed slowly. It was now the third trip dumping the pots near the roots. It seemed the elves had had a recent celebration—it wasn't normal to have this many pots, or maybe fewer people were being forced to do this work, which meant more work for those who did it overall. Either way, it was still the same crap for her to deal with.
"You smell really bad, you know that." A deep voice startled her into a smile when she saw the tall, slender drow looking back at her with a grin. It was Row, surprising her, and she could not help but run up and hug him.
"You're not listening, stinky. I said you smell." He kept mocking her, but she didn't care. She didn't want to let him go—his touch and warmth were something she had long since missed. "You're usually not so clingy. What's got you down?"
She stiffened a bit in his arms but reluctantly let go, returning to finishing washing the empty pots she had just dumped. She knew he was just teasing her like always, but right now she really needed support, not more hate, even if joking. "Sorry, Ash. That was mean—I did miss you."
She hated that name. Her name was Nora now, but she never told him that. She turned to face him, tears long since lost from all the crying, but the hurt never left. It always stayed the same, even when she could no longer complain.
She saw him smelling his skin and frowning, and her cheeks flushed in shame. Joking or not, she had marked him with the scent of shit, and he would be labeled the same. He saw her look and tried to wave it off. "It doesn't bother me, but I've got a scout mission coming up tomorrow, and you know how light elves get pissy if they think I didn't bathe. They'll think I did it to shame them, is all."
She was unsure what he meant. "You're always scouting. How is this one any different?"
He shrugged and still sat beside her, helping clean a pot and surprising her. "Some secret mission—really hush-hush. They said they'd cut my tongue out for even saying this much, but I trust you."
She was worried. They had never acted secretly in the past—they were always direct. What could make them want to be secret? She panicked a bit. Did they know where her lord was? Did they plan to kill him? Would Row die if he tried?
She spoke carefully. "Are you hunting to kill something?" She watched him carefully as he scrubbed beside her.
"Don't know. Just told it's a secret hunt for an unknown dark threat—nothing beyond that. I assumed it might be a new rot beast since they want me to go to the rot lands."
The rot lands—where her lord was born and where he was trying to heal and grow in power. There would be nothing beyond that they could desire to hunt.
"Row," she said carefully.
"Hmm?" He was still distracted, washing his pot.
"If you find the threat and it does turn out to be darkness, say my name."
He laughed at that. "You want me to shout 'In the name of Ash, I strike you down'? You're funny today." He shook his head, happy she was no longer upset, though if he had looked closely, he would have seen the concern and fear never left her eyes.
"Nora."
"Uh? Who?"
"My name is Nora."
He looked over, confused. "Since when?"
"I can't tell you everything, but if you face an unknown darkness, tell him you know Nora. Please."
He watched her, unsure what had changed. He wanted to be closer, to be with her, but she wasn't second-class, and it was taboo to even be friends. So he did the only thing he could. "Okay... Nora."
"I have to go. I... did miss you." And he quickly left.
She was left with the sounds of the forest and a slight breeze. She wondered how things could have been different if they were both second-class citizens, or even if they were both born light elves and not drow.
She really wanted to use her gift to see—to look beyond this, to see a happy ending, any ending that would justify this life. But in all the old visions she had seen, Row was not there. She had been too lost in the rapture of serving a new god to notice his absence. Now that he had found her and she had met him in this life, beyond serving a god, she wondered what his fate was with hers—lost to those unknown timelines that she would not risk looking into. She had already pushed her luck connecting with her lord once before when he called out to her. She could not keep pushing her luck when she had nothing to gain but memories of a time that hadn't even come to be.
Later, she got her pay—some bread and fruit, enough to eat for the day but not to last for more than two. She was on her way home when she overheard excited drows talking, so she got closer to hear the gossip.
"It's a hundred times better than shit duty—loading carts! They're finally ordering again." She wondered what they meant—trade had been stable and slow for a while—but was afraid to ask as the talk went on.
"It's a rush order. Something happened, so they're paying well to get it done faster and in large supply. It's why they're even taking non-second-class to help do the job. It's the first time I've seen real coin in years—it's amazing!"
The excited drows kept talking about finally being able to buy a dress or new shoes, maybe even a drink beyond just water. Maybe that's what happened with her mother—everyone rushed to get that job, and it's why the drow threw the shit job at her first chance since nobody else wanted it.
Luck of the draw, she supposed. But how was she supposed to help her lord when everything happening around her was beyond her control?
She had some free time and went to a secret spot she knew well. It was a small cave near where the less-than-second-class tended to bathe. It was close to the compost sites, so the smell tended to keep people away—since what was the point of washing when the air would still make you smell like shit? Ironically, it was how she found the cave—its angle blocked the smell and gave her a small sanctuary.
It was also the first place she learned she had the power of clairvoyance, and a place she still sought for a moment of peace away from it all. The cave was simple and not very deep. Brushing the floor, she could still find flakes of her blood, long since dried and forgotten, from when she had her greatest vision and was pushed to the brink of madness—unable to separate what was real from just a vision that made her forget she was meek, impossible truths that she longed for more.
She sat and leaned on the wall of the cave, the cool stone and soft smell of earth a nice change from the endless filth she endured all day. As she settled, she was finally free to remember the memories of visions and dreams she longed to be true and not just visions of what could be.
She closed her eyes, hoping to dream. There was no guarantee what she would remember or see in those dreams, but they were the closest to being free, and she grasped them whenever she could.26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmdDEmk8Kiq
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