Moss rushes into the room where Claire and her father abide with a large handful of soaked towels. Looking over at what Claire's father is looking at, he drops all of the towels onto the floor, creating a puddle of water leaking from them. His right hand grazes his left hip, and in an instant, a long blade is unsheathed from a scabbard hidden to the naked eye. The sword, polished yet cracked and dull, shines off the moonlight in the room.
At the sight of the blade, the two silhouettes vanish like smoke as if they were never there to begin with. The father turns around slowly, with a concerned look, looking up at Moss. His eyes are now dull without light, with a face more serious. Moss doesn't say anything, standing with his sword still drawn. He and Claire watch as he rises slowly up from kneeling, as if a weight had been placed on his back. The further he stood, the darkness of the room crept and covered more of his face. He stands with a face cloaked in darkness, with only his bright orange eyes to be seen. Terrified, Moss puts his blade down and takes a step back, creaking a floorboard from below. A droplet of sweat from his forehead courses down his face, only to stop at his eyebrow.
"Daddy?" Claire says in a soft voice, looking concerned.
"Does that answer your question from before, Moss?" The father says, shrouded by darkness.
In a breath of relief, Moss sighs. "Yes, it looks as if you were followed." He sheaths his blade to his hip, giving a hum before clicking shut just to vanish again. "If I'm correct, those two were prar's, a type of magic only used for reconnaissance. They must be somewhat skillful if they can use it from a distance without us detecting them."
The father is standing in front of the table now, reaching up to the ceiling. His hand touches a metal disc hanging from a wire on the ceiling. His hand ruffles around for a second before stopping, finding a nob on the side, he turns it. The room lights up in a warm glow, turning it more his face now lit, revealing his blank face. He looks over to his left and sees white hair and a pair of crystal wandering eyes that quickly slip away behind the corner of the wall. He picks up Claire, who is sitting on the chair, and holds her up with one arm. She holds her father tightly by his shirt, resting her head on his shoulder. The two walk into the foyer only to see Arani tiptoeing up the stairs and sneaking away upstairs, where there is no light.
"Seems like you couldn't sleep," he assumes. Trying to sneak away, Arani jolts still, clenching the banister side. Turning around slowly, she realizes he has been watching her the entire time.
"It's ok, we're all up and about," he reassures.
Arani plunges herself down the stairs in a hurry, not missing a single step, and runs down to her father's side, hugging his leg. Burying her face into her father's leg, she begins to cry softly, rubbing her snot on the pants.
"Hey now, what's the matter?" He says, kneeling to her with Claire still in his hands.
"It's all my fauwt," she cries. Not wanting to show her face, she covers them with her hands as she cries. "I was the one who wanted to go play in the snow; I didn't want Cwaire to get hurt." She sniffles and cries some more, just as she wants to cry out, her father rests his hand on top of her head.
"Everything is fine now, no need to worry." From the sound of her father's voice, Arani opens up her fingers to peek through them. "And believe me, I don't want you two to be crying on such an important event for you."
Her hands fall to her side while her father rubs the top of her head. Not wanting to cry, she sucks up the snot pouring from her nose, trying to smile. Her father smiles and then kisses her on the forehead.
"Daddy, who were those two at the window?" Claire asks.
"Ah, they were just some...friends who stopped by earlier while you two were out. Now then, Claire, Arani, I want you two to close your eyes for a moment." Without hesitation, they both close their eyes. "Without opening your eyes, I want you two to hum along with me. This is a way my mother used to calm me down when I was your age."
The father begins to hum a tune in a low note, filling the living room with noise to be heard throughout the house. The two girls join in trying to match the tone of their father. With his hand still on Arani's head, he slowly brings it down to her forehead with his palm. He then raises his voice into a higher tone, with the girls following suit. The hum is divine, almost making you seem as if you're flowing down a river with your face towards the sky, looking up at the passing clouds.
Arani's voice begins to lessen, and she begins to tumble down; soon her voice is silent. Catching her before she falls into her sleep, he smiles. He then turns his head to Claire, who still hums along with him. He places his forehead on hers, and she begins to slow down, and soon she falls into a deep sleep.
Don watches the dad as he puts them to rest while leaning on a sofa. His stare is still blank, with eyes cold and restless, waiting for the next event to happen.
The father stands tall again with his daughters in each arm, looking toward the back of the house, he sees the three maids rush toward him.
"My mother taught me this spell; it is very useful and effective, especially in situations like these," he says as he turns to Moss, who is still in the room with light above the table. "She used to do it to me all the time when I was younger. I was vastly afraid of the dark as a child."
"Can I ask you why you did that, sir?" Moss replies.
"I can't have the girls afraid; they will cause more of a scene than needed." Moss nods and turns to the back of the house. "Oh, I have to tell you all to stop what you're doing; we have to run." Moss and the maids turn to him in confusion. "Eira isn't here, isn't she?"
Clenching his fist, he hesitates for a moment before speaking. "After you left for the ceremony preparation, Eira left shortly after. She went to the nearest town to greet the people. When you came back, the girls ran off, and I assumed that your wife would be back once you left for the girls, but as you can tell, she probably won't be back for a while."
"Sounds like her; she always wants to be friendly and bring peace. Did you send a bird at least?"
"Yes, as soon as I could," says one of the maids.
"Good, the more we talk, the less time we'll have to get ready to leave."
"No, just you and your daughters." The father looks at him with an anxious face. "We will pause their intrusion as much as we can, get as far away as you can with your girls. By the look on your face earlier, you recognized those two, didn't you?" The father sulks in his own disappointment, looking down at his feet. "It's ok...It's what we're meant to do. Eira didn't choose us just because she likes our company. We are here to put our lives in the way of you and your family."
"I should be the one holding them off, not you," the father says under his breath.
"Hrafn, you're a great man with a life still ahead of you. Your daughters need a father growing up. Whether to push them on swings, tell them stories of the past, or to carry them when thier hurt, for as long as it will last. Because the past is something we all miss, and we all wish we could go back to it. Do not make your daughters wish they had more time with you." Hrafn looks at his daughters while they rest in his arms. "Those two are your treasures... cherish them with every second," Moss says with a warm smile on his face. The maids all look at him with smiles and bow their heads to him.
"Now! Off with you, we'll take it from here," Moss says, grabbing his back and walking at a fast pace. He rushes him to the back of the hut to a door that leads outside. The three maids gather with Moss at the door. A maid puts Hrafn's coat on him as the other two hold Arani and Clarie for him. With the two girls all bundled up in warm clothing, Hrafn carries them.
"Don't forget these," One of the maids says as she pulls out two stuffed animals.
"Ah, Binky the bunny and Boomer the bear," Hrafn says happily.
The maid rests Binky in Arani's arms and Boomer in Claire's arms as the girls rest quietly, not stirring a sound.
"Oh! How could I forget? Moss, reach into my breast pouch, there is a small glass vial inside."
Moss puts his hand inside and pulls out a small glowing glass vial that lights up the room in a blue hue. On a closer look, the vial has crystal formations that spread all around and shine brighter than the lights around.
"What is it? Moss asks.
"Honestly, I couldn't tell you, but Eira gave it to me for if I was caught in dire need of help. I want you to have it now, it's said to have a piece of Isdjevel inside there." Hrafn says as they all inspect it.
"Thank you, I will use it if I must; in the meantime, you ought to be going now," Moss says as one of the maids opens the door to the snowy, vast land.
"Sure." Hrafn steps out into a clear but abrupt night. The stars above shine and glimmer in his eyes. The moon above is bright, almost having a full picture above. Taking one more look back, he watches as they wave. Stopping, he shouts back to them. "Iki, Wenty, Gisha, and Moss, thank you all for everything that you've done for my family."
Hrafn bows his head, and in surprise, the four bow back to him. He stands tall, looking toward a mountain in the distance. Holding his daughters tight, he begins to run away from the hut into the night.
A stale silence fills the room as Don watches Moss and the maids continue to bow. He looks over at the fireplace and begins to walk over. A rug is flown out in front of it with red and white flowers blooming in the motif. Don sits down on the front of it near the fire and tries to play with the fringe on the outside of the rug. He then stares into the golden glow, reaching out his hand to the fire, slowly sticking his hand in. He waves his hand back and forth inside it and pulls it back out.
"I can't feel it," he says.
The scenery dims around him once more, leaving him sitting in an emptiness. In silence, he stares at what seems to be the floor without any reflection. As he looks around, the darkness leaves, turning a snow field where Moss now stands in front with his sword drawn. Don now sits in the snow. Looking behind himself, he sees that the hut in the distance is still lit up with lights. Looking back at Moss, he realizes two figures dressed fully in thick black cloaks now stand in front of him. With one being much taller than the other, they both stand in silence with their back toward the moon, faces barely visible in the moonlight. The shorter one flips down his hood, revealing his face. Moss quickly jumps back as if he were afraid.
The shorter man is middle-aged and has short, black, slicked-back hair that curls upward near the bottom of his neck. He has fair skin with some wrinkles and dark green eyes that stalk Moss's movements. His eyebrows are thin and well-maintained, with some dark facial hair that covers his chin and upper lip. His eyes wander around the plain a little, taking in his surroundings. Unbuttoning a lower button on his cloak, his hand stretches out to reach his head to scratch it.
"Nice little place you have here. It took forever to find you." The man says, relaxed.
He stops scratching and looks at Moss with a smirk.
"You two are a part of the Dee family, correct? What business do you want with the Naali family?" Moss asks carefully.
The man begins to crack a smile. A gentle smile never faltered. "My name is Twig. It's a pleasure to meet you, so...how should we get started?"
This was no ordinary smile. This smile watched as it killed countless people with no remorse, with no empathy. This smile learned to enjoy the sight of blood and the sight of innocents crawling to safety. This smile learned to love the stench of the diseased and, above all, this smile learned to give hope to its prey. Giving them a sense of comfort and tranquility in a fearful state of mind.
"I know who the two of you are, don't try to fool me. You're here to kill us, aren't you?"
Twigs' smile fades slightly.
"Straight to the point, hmm...I like you already. Usually, the people I'm sent to drag out their diminishing in time. They ramble on and on. Though some run, some hide, but in the end, they all realize they're dead. I've even had a guy just admit defeat. But I will say, you must have some balls on you if you're willing to confront us knowing what may happen."
"Why? Why do you come and ruin our peace?" Moss asks.
Twigs' brow furrows, and he looks at him strangely.
"Isn't it obvious. We're not here for the festivities of the ceremony or the breathtaking scenery. That girl. What was her name again?" While Twig thinks Moss's face begins to go pale, eventually realizing with his eyes wide, bright. "Oh yeah...Arani."
"LEAVE THE GIRLS OUT OF THIS!" Moss shouts.
"Uh oh, it seems like I've struck a nerve. Well, im completely sorry that girl is the only reason why I'm here, hopefully that answers that question. You, on the other hand, are just in the way. If you move, we might just spare you-, wait a minute... girls? What do you mean by girls?" He looks up at the figure next to him. "Eira only has one daughter...right? The tall figure shrugs while it looks down at him. "Great, just great! This might be a longer night than we anticipated. Well, I hope you know that with the passing ceremony, everyone's eyes are on that girl, even nations with no power. We were hired for quite a jittery sum to retrieve her, that's why my family sent us."
"I've never heard of your family working together before. You're Tree, aren't you?" He says, looking up to the tall figure. "I've heard many stories of your rampage in South Solek. Didn't you kill your own uncle?" Waiting for any acknowledgment, he looks back at Twig. "Why work together?"
"Simple... no room for failure."
"Your family has and will always be sick and twisted," Moss says, frustrated.
"If I grew an inch for every time we've heard that, I might be as tall as Tree", Twig remarks.
Tree unbuttons his cloak, pulling out an hourglass, and he flips it upside down with his arm still extended out. Moss looks at Twig as sand starts to spill from the top.
"Seems like Tree has less patience than I. Oh, what's this? A bit bigger than the ones he usually pulls out, I guess he has your respect. Being old in a profession where most end up dying at the age of twenty-two must mean you're somewhat strong...or just lucky."
In an instant, Twig vanishes, leaving only his footprints on the snow. Moss looks around in panic with his sword at the ready while Don backs away, looking toward the sky. Tree stands silently as the sand slowly falls. Still looking around in a panic, he finally looks up at the sky, noticing a small figure standing upside down on the bottom of the cloud directly above him. Twig looks down at him from the clouds with a smirk on his face.
"He jumped to the cloud!?" Moss shouts.
"Hey, down there! I hope you like this next trick. I learned this from fighting an old geezer with a stick up his ass! Big ole stick!"
Twig places his hand on the cloud. The cloud starts to rumble and shake with a screeching sound coming from above. In an instant, two long clouds erupt from the bottom of the cloud. The two stretch across the sky, plunging downward. The moonlight shines through them while they finally take their form. One of a dragon that has horns longer than its face, with teeth as sharp as knives, and whiskers that twist and turn in the wind. Its limbs are short and stubby with a long tail that breaks off into four shorter tails. As it circles the other falling cloud, it finally takes the form of a man with one wing on its back, falling backwards with its body toward the sky; it finally lands on the ground a few yards behind Tree.
Snow flies everywhere from the downward wind, blinding Moss for a moment. The man has no weight, made of white clouds; he's lighter than a feather. Its eyes stare down Moss with ill intent, leaving him immobile. From his chest, a spear starts to form, projecting out. He pulls the spear out, resting it in his hand.
"I didn't realize it takes this much creativity to beat an old man, hmph. Well then," Moss remarks.
In a flash, Moss rushes toward Tree, lunging his sword straight at his chest, making him lean backwards. In an effort to pierce him, his sword is stopped effortlessly by a spear made out of clouds. Tree hops backwards, barely avoiding a fatal wound. Moss backs off the spear, looking at the man of clouds, who is looking down at his feet with a blank face as if he doesn't want to look at his opponent.
"Well, that isn't proper spearmanship. Usually, you're supposed to look at your opponent. Like this!"
Moss thrusts his sword multiple times toward the cloud man. Spinning his spear, he parries every attack. Moss jumps into a downward strike. Just before he hits, the cloud man puts his spear up to block. Backing his sword before it lands, he jumps on the cloud's spear, gaining leverage to push his leg. He bolts to Tree again, who stands still with the hourglass out. In the blink of an eye, the cloud man stands yet again in front of him, blocking his sword from stabbing Tree.
"Well...this is troublesome," Moss mutters calmly.
Yet again, Don notices the sky getting darker, and soon he is surrounded by a dark abyss all around him, slowly creeping toward him. The scenery turns fuzzy, with the last glimpse he can see being of Moss backing off the spear made of clouds with Twig standing on the head of the cloud dragon, circling the occurring battle on the ground. Groping his head, he starts to feel lightheaded. He takes a knee while the next scenery comes in front of him. With dust blinding him, he tries to look around and notices that the same fireplace from before is put out.
Being back inside the house, he comes to find that it is now partially destroyed, with a gaping hole in the front, as if something was shot through it. Wood and debris are scattered all around, with the moonlight reflecting on the broken pieces of glass on the floor around the foyer, with the chandelier fallen down in the middle.
Groaning can be heard through the dust. Investigating the sound, Don walks toward it. With the dust subsiding, a figure can be seen lying down. What used to be a pure white suit is now blood-stained all around, with tears on every inch. Moss lies hopeless, sitting up while battered and mangled, smashed into the stairwell. The crater he left behind made rubble fall on top of him. He tries to move around but is stopped by a screaming pain. While he moves the rumble off of his lower body, Don bites his teeth. The only thing that holds together Moss's right leg to his thigh is a thin strand of flesh. His intestines are spilled out with a piece of wood sticking out of his stomach. Trying to gather his intestines, blood tricles out of his mouth onto his lap.
Two sets of footsteps can be heard walking up to Moss. Don turns around as they stop. Twig and Tree loom over him in the darkness, looking down in almost disappointment. Tree is still cloaked, tilting his head sideways, trying not to hit the ceiling. He stands in silence with a broken hourglass.
"So it was luck," Twig says, breaking the silence.
Moss scoffs and tries to spit blood over toward Twig, but it doesn't reach him.
"I guess old age does ruin a fighter, but it's pretty rare to live a life now. I must give you some credit for being as old as you are. I almost envy you."
Moss coughs and spits blood up. Clenching his breast pocket, a glow starts to gleam out a tiny bit, then subsides. "Thank you, Hrafn...for always being one step ahead."
"I can hear his thoughts?" Don stands next to him, looking at him and listening to his thoughts, and he notices his fingers start to twitch.
"I hope your daughters stay safe. I let the maids go as well to lend you more strength. The older generation must protect those who have just begun their journey. I hope you and Eira can make this world a place where kids don't have to worry and enjoy their youth. Though I wish I had the strength to break this vial with my hands, I guess this should do."
Twig starts to walk away to the back of the house, with Tree following him. Twig stops for a moment and starts to sniff around.
"Do you smell that, Tree? Smells like..."
They both look at Moss' fingers rubbing against and notice a small spark.
"So you're a coder, uh?" Twig says quietly.
"Come on out, I know you've been waiting." In a last strength, Moss snaps his fingers, creating a large spark. The spark travels for a moment before igniting the gas in the air. Moss closes his eyes, smiles as all around him becomes a white flash. In an instant, the house explodes as Twig and Tree stand next to him. The explosion sends a shockwave far, bending and smashing any nearby trees. Debrie starts to fall and scatter all around the pushed-up snow. Two figures reside behind a fire at the crater of the explosion, while black, thick smoke rises past the clouds.
Twig stands unhurt from the fire with clothes barely burnt, pushing the smoke around, trying to see. "Don't try to breathe in the smoke, Tree. He probably poisoned the air as well."
While Tree stands still with his cloak still on, Twig struggles, rubbing his eyes and coughing. In the distance, they see a faint blue glow coming from inside the smoke. Walking closer to investigate, a small necklace sits on the ground, cracked, spilling light. The necklace cracks more as Twig picks it up. It starts to shake and flood more light into the area.
"Now what!" Twig screams at the top of his lungs.
Don watches as the crystal shatters, and blue and white light rushes in, blinding them both.