Morning light seeped through the half-open window, thin and tentative at first, then steadily stronger, filtering through curtains. The fabric lessened the sun into a honeyed haze that softened the room's sharp lines that carved edges of the wooden dresser, the joints of the table, the high bedframe. Everything looked gentler bathed in that glow, as if the room itself were reluctant to wake.
Lamberra stirred beneath the silk covers, her eyelids fluttering as the light pressed insistently against them. Her body resisted consciousness on instinct, clinging to the warmth and the stillness, but wakefulness came anyway. The blankets draped over her were absurdly soft, cool and slick against her skin, nothing like the thin, scratchy covering she shared with Amara back home. The mattress dipped beneath her weight, cradling her instead of bruising her hips against unforgiving wood. Even half awake, Lamberra embraced the difference.
Lacey's arm lay slung over her middle, possessive without pressure, her breath slow and even where it brushed Lamberra's shoulder. For a brief, dangerous moment, Lamberra let herself believe she was still dreaming. She allowed herself to linger there. In the warmth that wrapped around her.
The pale dawn swelled into full daylight, and with it came the familiar pull of responsibility for the both of them. Beside her, Lacey shifted, stirred by the growing light. She stretched lazily across the bed, limbs long and unhurried, releasing a quiet and contented sigh. Her copper hair spilled across the pillow in a tangled fan, catching the sunlight in strands that gleamed like molten gold.
Lacey blinked herself awake, the world coming into focus piece by piece and smiled without thinking.
Lamberra sighed, "We should probably get back to our real lives," she murmured, though there was no urgency in her voice. A reluctant smile tugged at Lamberra's lips as she reached for her clothes. A foolish part of her hoped Lacey would say something to keep her here just a little longer.
Lacey rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow, watching Lamberra dress with a lazy smirk that came easily to her. "Oh, I know," she said, her voice thick with sleep and amusement. "The knights are probably grumbling in the hall by now.." She yawned widely as she sat up, silk slipping from her shoulders to reveal sun-kissed skin. "If I stay much longer, my father might send a search party."
"Same for my Mama," Lamberra replied, the words coming out flatter than she meant them to, "if she could muster one up."
Lacey laughed softly. "From what you've told me about her, she definitely could." Her tone was light and affectionate.
But, that comment hurt Lamberra. For all the closeness they had shared last night, for all the whispered laughter and stolen touches, Lacey could slide so easily back into her world of riches. Untouchable. Lamberra felt the distance open again that was quiet and inevitable.
She turned toward the window, needing something solid to look at, and watched Ashvale wake below. Market stalls unfurled their bright awnings. The smell of fresh bread drifted upward on the crisp morning air. Merchants shouted greetings to one another as they set out their wares, voices overlapping in familiar cadence, while children darted between carts, laughing as they chased a mangy dog down the street.
Her chest tightened. Mama would be awake by now: pacing, worrying, counting the minutes. Lamberra would need a story, something plausible. Something ordinary enough not to invite questions. Definitely nothing about what happened last night.
"Be my attendant, Berra."
A small beat.
"You don't belong in the slums forever," Lacey continued, softer now. "There's a place for you. With me."
For a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath. Lamberra didn't move. Didn't breathe. Lacey reached out, fingers trying to brush against her but Lamberra pulled away.
All she could manage was a smile back towards her. Something she had practiced her whole life.
Inside, the words twisted uneasily. Lacey meant well but she couldn't possibly understand what it meant to belong to a place where survival was negotiated daily. The slums were harsh, yes, but they were hers. It was her people. No matter how beautiful last night had been she knew it was not her life. There's another path for her to take.
They descended the inn's stairs together, their footsteps echoing against stone, nearly swallowed by the heavier, armored thuds of the knights escorting them. At the entrance, the morning air rushed in. Lacey turned toward her, her expression briefly unreadable from the awkwardness just shared within the room.
Then, without warning, she stepped forward and pulled Lamberra into a tight embrace. It was long and deliberate. Lamberra's arms hesitated before lifting, before returning the gesture fighting against her instincts.
Then it was over.
Lacey was gone, swept out into the bustling street with her guards flanking her, already absorbed back into her world. Lamberra lingered in the doorway, the warmth of that last touch fading, before she slipped into the crowd and began the walk home alone. She noticed then how fast her heart was beating, how her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
Ashvale's streets pulsed with the rhythm of morning. The creak of shop shutters thrown open, the sharp practiced calls of vendors. The scent of bread lingered, mingling with the damp earthiness of stone and wood. Lamberra wove through the crowd with practiced ease, nodding to familiar faces, keeping her pace brisk. As she neared the edge of town, where the streets thinned and the slums began, something moved at the outskirts. It was quick and precise.
Lamberra stopped midstep.
Between the trees, a dark-cloaked figure slipped through the shadows, movements sharp and deliberate. A prickle of unease traced its way down her spine. The slums were no stranger to oddities, but this felt…off.
Lamberra exhaled and forced herself to move again, shaking off the sensation. It's probably nothing, she told herself
By the time Lamberra reached home, the small hut felt strangely unfamiliar, as though it no longer quite recognized her. The low, sagging roof seemed closer than she remembered, pressing down with a quiet weight. The patch of cloth tacked stubbornly over the leak from last spring still clung to the ceiling, its edges darkened by old rainwater. Nothing had changed and yet everything felt smaller.
She ducked beneath the peeling wooden frame of the doorway, her shoulders brushing against its rough, splintered edges as she stepped inside. The air wrapped around her at once, thick with the familiar scents of smoke and damp wood of boiled roots and ash that never quite left the walls. The shelves were just as cluttered as always. Chipped pottery stacked unevenly, strings of broken beads tangled together, little objects that should have been thrown away long ago but hadn't been. Small treasures holding their ground against time the same way the family always had.
Standing in the center of it all, was Mama.
Her arms were crossed tight against her chest, shoulders rigid. Dark eyes fixed on Lamberra, sharp and unreadable. Though the deep circles beneath them told their own story. It was another night without sleep. Lamberra swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
"Where were you all night, Lamberra?" Mama asked. Her voice was low and steady, but concern weighed heavily beneath it.
Lamberra lifted one shoulder in a shrug, forcing a lightness in the small room. "Stayed over at Belli's," she said, the lie sliding into place with practiced ease. "It got late, and I figured it was safer to stay than to walk home in the dark."
Mama's gaze flicked toward the small window, the thin light leaking through its cracks. Her lips pressed into a narrow line. "I was expecting you to come home," she murmured. Her fingers twisted the edge of her apron, worrying the fabric back and forth. "I was worried sick, not knowing where you were." Her voice faltered, the sharpness softening into something fragile.
"I know, Mama," Lamberra said, her chest tightening. She brushed past her, careful, deliberate, slipping into the small bedroom she shared with Amara. She pulled the nightgown Lacey had given her after the bath from beneath her tunic, folding it quickly and hiding it beneath the mattress before doubt could catch up to her. "It won't happen again," she called out, the promise echoing thinly against the walls.
From the other room came a long sigh. Mama's shoulders sagged as the tension finally left. "I am sorry for yelling at you. I'm just trying to keep you safe," she murmured, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. Her hands fidgeted again with her apron, twisting the fabric as if she were trying to shape her thoughts into something solid.
"One day soon," Mama continued, "I'll explain everything. My reasoning for all of this. I promise." There was a brief pause, heavy with things unsaid. Then, softer, "I shouldn't have snapped at you. But I need you to trust me."
Lamberra stepped back into the main room and met her mother's gaze. "Sure, Mama," she said gently. "You don't need to apologize either." The air felt too heavy forcing Lamberra to change subjects. "Say! Where's Amara? Has school already started?"
Mama's expression changed into a light complexion. "It has," she replied, her voice lifting. "She'll be back soon. It's nearly midday already." She tilted her head, studying Lamberra more closely. "Are you hungry dear?"
Lamberra shook her head quickly. "Actually, no. Belli practically gave me a feast."
"Such a sweet girl," Mama murmured as she lowered herself onto a stool. "Beautiful people," Mama said quietly, her voice taking on a reverent hush. "The elves were lords once. They sat beside kings on the high council." Her gaze fixed on nothing at all. "In a single dark night, the royal army swept through their lands. Killed the ones who lived in the capital in their sleep. Burned their bodies."
She paused, then continued, eyes shining faintly. "But oh, how they fought. They held their ground as fiercely as they could. When peace finally came, it came with a price." Her voice coarse. "Stripped of everything they had. Cast down in poverty and hate. Forced to fight all future conflicts instead of humans."
Silence lingered before she finished softly, "They're lucky to still be here."
"Even now," Lamberra said, stepping carefully into the space between those words, "they carry themselves with such dignity. They've held onto a kindness so many humans have lost. We're lucky to know them."
Mama reached out, brushing her fingers through Lamberra's hair. The touch was gentle and familiar. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Oh! Did Belli let you use her bath?" she added suddenly. "That must be the best part of being the Elven leader in the whole Ravenwood domain."
Lamberra chuckled, leaning into the affection. "It was nice," she admitted. She hesitated, then added, "Actually, she invited me over again for dinner tonight. That'll leave more food for you and Amara."
Mama studied her carefully. "You're sure she doesn't mind?" Her smile faltered, skepticism creeping in. "Multiple nights is a lot to ask, even from Belli."
"You know how she is," Lamberra replied smoothly. "Always charitable." Then, quickly, before doubt could settle, she pressed on. "Besides, do we have any work lined up? How are we on money?"
The question hung in the air. Mama glanced around the small, patched-up home as if the answer might be hiding among the threadbare rugs and rickety furniture. Finally mama sighed.
"None," she admitted. "Since we had a little left over, I paid off a small debt to one of the merchants in town." She spoke as if apologizing. "The garden's kept us fed so far. I know you and Amara must be tired of eating the same things every day." Her voice dipped, sinking into her quiet resignation.
"Maybe I can ask Mister Finch at the apothecary if he needs me to run a delivery to Siburg," Lamberra said quickly, filling the silence. "He pays twenty crowns for each trip. That would last us a while."
Mama stiffened immediately. Her hands clenched the apron tight. "Lamberra, I don't like you taking that job," she said sharply, desperation edging her words. "It's dangerous. Especially alone. It's a full day's walk both ways. You have to stay with Duke overnight. Twice. I don't trust that man. I never have."
"Yes, he's weird," Lamberra said lightly, shrugging. "But it's a sacrifice worth making. He's never hurt me or you when you did this."
Mama's hands trembled as she reached for Lamberra's, gripping them tightly. "My sweet girl," she whispered, emotion thick in her voice. "Me and Amara would be lost without you." Her grip tightened even more. "If you take that job, take the small sword with you. I just want to protect you forever." Mama sighed as the worry in her eyes got more intense.
"Mama," Lamberra said firmly, "I'm old enough now. I'm not a little girl anymore."
Selma lifted her chin gently, tilting her face upward. "You're stronger now," she said softly. A sad smile touched her lips. "It shouldn't have to be this way." She let out a slow breath, her hands falling away.
For a moment, Mama seemed far away lost in thought. Then she straightened suddenly. "I've got to go," she said. "I'm heading into town for a little while. Will you wait here for Amara?"
Lamberra nodded, though something about the abruptness felt off. Still, she let it go. "Of course," she said joyfully. "I'll clean up and prepare the vegetables for your dinner."
Mama smiled faintly as gratitude softened her face and then she slipped out the door, leaving Lamberra alone in the quiet.
For a moment, Lamberra simply stood there. The familiar scents of earth and lingering tomato soup from the night before wrapped around her, grounding her in something steady and known. Their home was small and patched together. It was imperfect but it was home. A place built from love.
She glanced at the scratched uneven wooden table and got to work.
She folded the frayed blankets first, tucking them neatly beneath the table where they belonged. Dust clung stubbornly to the corners. A silent testament to Amara's unfinished chores but she swept it away with practiced ease. Cold drafts slipped through the ceiling's missing tiles and old wooden walls, and every step made the floorboards creak beneath her weight.
When she entered the bedroom again, her gaze drifted to Amara's corner. Drawings spilled across the floor, mismatched toys and bright little trinkets piled together in cheerful chaos. It was a mess but a living one. A smile tugged at Lamberra's lips. Amara had a gift for finding beauty in the smallest things. She shook off the thought and returned to her work, letting the rhythm of familiar tasks quiet her mind.
With sudden force, the front door burst open. A sharp crack against the frame.
"Look what I found!" Amara skidded inside, half-running, half-sliding across the worn floorboards. Her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement, breath coming fast, as though she'd sprinted the whole way home. Clutched in her small hands was a fistful of wildflowers, their reds and yellows startlingly vivid against the muted grays and browns of the hut they called home.
"They were blooming by the river!" she announced, chest puffed with pride, as if she'd unearthed buried treasure rather than weeds growing wild.
Lamberra turned at the sound, a smile tugging at her lips before she could stop it. "Those are beautiful, Amara," she said, stepping closer. She reached out and ruffled her sister's blonde hair, fingers brushing through the tough, sun-lightened strands. Amara giggled, the sound bright and unrestrained.
"Mama will love them!" Amara bounced on her toes, barely able to stand still. "Can we put them in water?"
"Of course. Let's find a jar."
Lamberra led the way to their broken cupboard. Inside were only a handful of chipped dishes and a single clean jar left unclaimed, its glass clouded with age but intact. It would do. Together, they filled it with water, Amara splashing more than necessary as Lamberra carefully trimmed the stems with a dull knife. They arranged the flowers side by side, reds brushing yellows, the earthy scent rising up and briefly masking the musty smell of smoke and damp wood that clung to the house for a brief second.
A bright, fragile splash of life against the drab surroundings.
"Do you think it looks nice?" Amara tilted her head, studying their work with sudden seriousness.
"It looks perfect," Lamberra said with a smirk. Then, casually, "Hmmm. Do you still have that crown from yesterday?
Amara's eyes lit up instantly. Without a word, she spun on her heel and dashed toward their bedroom, bare feet slapping lightly against the creaking floorboards.
Lamberra chuckled under her breath. "Goofy girl."
Seconds later, Amara returned, clutching the flower crown triumphantly. With exaggerated ceremony, she placed it atop her own head and stood as tall as she could manage.
"Look!" she declared. "I'm the King of flowers!"
She spread her arms wide, chin lifted, as if addressing an invisible crowd. Lamberra laughed; an unguarded sound that escaped her lips. Then came the questions, tumbling out all at once.
"Where's Mama? Where were you last night? What's for dinner? When-"
"Whoa, whoa! Slow down!" Lamberra held up a hand, grinning despite herself. "One question at a time, alright?" She counted them off on her fingers. "Mama went to town. I was at Belli's last night, and I'll be there again tonight. And for dinner…" She glanced toward the counter. "Mama left out onions, so I'm guessing onion soup."
Amara scrunched up her nose. "But why were you at Belli's? And why are you going back?"
Lamberra crouched slightly, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell you what. Promise not to make a big fuss, and I'll take you to Belli's with me next weekend."
Amara's face lit up like a struck match. "Deal!"
Without hesitation, she darted toward the bedroom again.
Lamberra barely had time to roll her eyes before calling after her, "Hey! I need you to help clean this room! It's mostly your stuff cluttering the floor!"
A dramatic groan floated back, followed by muttered words she couldn't quite make out. Lamberra smirked, already knowing how this would end.
By the time she finished tidying the main room and kitchen, the house had grown quiet. Too quiet. She peeked into their shared bedroom.
There was Amara, sprawled across her small cot, limbs tangled, the flower crown tilted precariously on her head. Soft snores filled the little space, steady and peaceful. The sound tugged at Lamberra's chest. School must have worn her out. Without fail however, she hadn't cleaned a single thing.
Lamberra crossed the room carefully, each step deliberate. She closed the frayed curtains, muting the daylight until the room glowed softly. Then she laid down beside Amara, wrapping an arm around her small frame. Amara stirred, waking just enough to curl closer, a sleepy murmur escaping her lips.
"Sissy?"
"Shh. Sleep, silly girl," Lamberra whispered, brushing stray hair from her face. "We'll wait for Mama."
She wasn't sure when she drifted off. The warmth of Amara tucked against her chest lulled her under, thoughts unraveling one by one.
Then a soft yet fond voice found Lamberra's ears. "Well, look at these two little doves."
Lamberra's eyes fluttered open. Mama stood in the doorway, watching them, her expression warm and full of affection.
"Mama!" Amara bolted upright with a startled gasp, the flower crown slipping sideways as she launched herself forward. Mama barely had time to brace before Amara collided with her, arms flinging tight around her waist. Laughter burst from Mama's chest as she caught her, steadying them both.
Lamberra pushed herself upright more slowly, rubbing at her eyes as sleep clung stubbornly to her thoughts. The room was dim, the last light of day softened by the frayed curtains, shadows pooling in familiar corners. She blinked, orienting herself, watching the easy affection between her mother and sister.
She stretched upon the old mattress, muscles protesting and let out a long sigh. "I guess it's time for me to go," she said, swinging her legs off the cot and standing. She shook herself lightly, chasing away the last threads of warmth and sleep. "I'll try to be back tonight. But if not, I'll stay with Belli and come home in the morning."
Mama's laughter faded just enough for her expression to tighten just briefly, just enough for Lamberra to catch it. Then she nodded. "Be careful, love," she said, pressing a kiss to Amara's hair before setting her down. She turned her attention to her youngest. "And you can help me with dinner."
"Good luck with her!" Lamberra called, already backing toward the door. "She didn't clean a thing!"
A sharp gasp cut through the room, followed by an indignant, scandalized shout. "Shut up!"
Lamberra laughed, the sound following her as she reached for the patched dress hanging by the door. The fabric was rough beneath her fingers, the stitches frayed and mended more times than she could count as she pulled it on with practiced memory.
Outside, the air greeted her cool and damp. Lamberra lifted a hand in a casual wave before turning toward Belli's home, her steps falling into a familiar rhythm. The slum streets hummed with life, even as evening settled in. Cooking fires crackled, smoke curling low. The scent of damp earth mingled with stews and bread and something sharp and herbal she couldn't quite place.
Faces she knew glanced up as she passed. Nods, half-smiles and quiet greetings. People who had watched her grow, who knew her mother, who would notice if she didn't come home. The closeness in the slums was far more welcoming than anything Lacey could ever show her.
As she veered away from the slum's center, the noise softened. The sharp haggling voices faded. Children's shrill protests dissolved into the distance. The slums had their own kind of beauty. It was a rough enduring beauty stitched together from cracked walls, patched roofs, and stubborn refusal to disappear.
As she approached the elven side of the slums the homes stood sturdier. Stone walls stacked with careful precision, built to withstand bitter winds and long winters. Small gardens peeked out behind low wooden fences, tended with quiet patience. Herbs and flowers bloomed in subdued hues. Greens, purples, muted yellows brushed by the soft gold of the setting sun. Mothers hung fresh linens to dry, their movements steady and unhurried, white fabric catching the light in sharp contrast to the darker tones beyond.
In this pocket of quiet and care, there was no mistaking it. Every soul here was an elf.
Lamberra slowed as Belli's home came into view. It stood apart. It wasn't grand, but deliberate. The cream-colored walls were unblemished, the pale blue shutters freshly painted, framing the windows like something meant to be admired. A curved cobblestone path guided the eye toward the wide wooden door, polished smooth and gleaming faintly from years of careful oiling. Flower boxes overflowed with marigolds and delicate purple blossoms, their scent light and calming in the cooling air.
At the center of the door, a small brass knocker shaped like a bird caught the fading sunlight, gleaming softly. Lamberra lifted her hand to knock but the door swung open before her knuckles could land. Belli stood there, framed by warm golden light spilling from inside the house. Her bright red hair burned like fire against the cream-colored walls, and her blue eyes sparked with surprise that quickly softened into delight as she took Lamberra in.
"Lamberra!" Belli's voice rose warmly, melodic in a way that always seemed to fill a space. "Good evening. I wasn't expecting you to accept my invitation so soon!"
Caught off guard by Belli's effortless brightness, Lamberra offered a small smile. A flicker of self-consciousness followed close behind it however. "Well," she said, shifting her weight, "we haven't seen each other in a few months. I've missed you."
Belli was a little shorter than Lamberra, but she carried herself in a way that made the difference irrelevant. Her long red hair spilled past her waist in thick, untamed waves, catching the firelight like a living flame. Her bright purple eyes were always warm and open. But there was a sharpness beneath them too, a quiet acuity that missed very little. Slender yet undeniably curvy, she stood out without trying, made more striking by the way her fitted clothes traced her form. She was one of the major elven leaders, blending in had never been required of her.
"Get inside goofy. I've missed you." Belli tells her, motioning her hand inside. Warm light pooled across polished wood and woven rugs, softening the walls. Compared to her own hut, it felt like another world entirely. It was richer, quieter, and gentler.
"Have you been busy?" Lamberra asked at last.
"Very," Belli replied with a rueful smile. "Sit down, relax." She urged her, gesturing forward.
The moment Lamberra crossed the threshold, warmth wrapped around her. The rugs beneath her boots were thick, patterned with intricate designs in deep earthen colors. The furniture gleamed faintly, polished by patient hands. Bookshelves lined the walls, heavy with parchment, scrolls, trinkets, and artifacts from places Lamberra never dreamed of visiting.
She slowed without meaning to, fingers brushing the smooth edge of a table as she followed Belli farther inside.
"You do this every time you visit," Belli chuckled, glancing back at her.
"I know, I'm sorry," Lamberra said, smiling despite herself as she lowered onto the couch. "So, where've you been?"
"I just returned from the capital. Stormhaven," Belli said, moving toward a desk cluttered with parchment and scrolls. Her hands moved quickly, confidently, sorting through them with practiced ease. "Me and all the other four elven leaders. There's always so much to do to stay in compliance with King Mone."
Lamberra stood and wandered closer, drawn by the quiet rhythm of Belli's work. She watched the feathered pen glide across the page. "What's that at the bottom?" she asked. "All the curvy lines?"
"Oh!" Belli brightened. "That's my signature." She tapped the parchment lightly with the pen. "This one here is Belli. And this…this is Mira."
Belli Mira.
"Mira," Lamberra repeated before thinking. "Your family name is so pretty." She hesitated, then added honestly, "It's beautiful." She turned back toward the couch, as if the words embarrassed her.
Belli's cheeks warmed, the reaction immediate and unguarded. "Thank you," she said, her voice lifting with genuine pleasure. She let out a short sheepish laugh. "I'm sorry for the mess. You caught me finishing some work. Give me just a moment to tidy this."
"Oh, no, I'm the one intruding," Lamberra said, waving it off. She moved closer to the fireplace, holding her hands out to the heat, letting it seep into her fingers. When she settled back onto the couch, she noticed the cushions were embroidered with fine silver threads, catching the firelight in faint delicate glimmers.
As Belli resumed her work, Lamberra watched her.
She didn't mean to but her gaze lingered on the quick, graceful movements of Belli's hands, the slight furrow of concentration in her brow, the flicker of resolve in her eyes. Lamberra always loved watching Belli work and had for years when she came over. There was something comforting about it.
"Are you interested in this sort of thing?" Belli asked suddenly, without looking up.
Lamberra blinked. "I'd be lying if I said no," she admitted. Then, after a pause, quieter, "But you know I never learned how to read or write."
Belli's hands stopped over the parchment. She looked up, her expression softening. "My father fought hard for education in the slums," she said, her voice tinged with something wistful. "One school. Free for anyone to join. Elf or human." Her lips pressed together briefly. "It was one of the things he believed in most. On top of the education, it was crucial in having a good relationship between the races, not fueling hatred."
Lamberra shrugged, forcing her tone lighter than it felt. "Well, at least Amara can take advantage of what your father worked for. It doesn't really matter for me."
"I disagree." The firmness in Belli's voice cut cleanly through the air. Her ocean colored eyes flashed with conviction. "Every person has a right to education." She held Lamberra's gaze. "If you ever want to learn, I would love to teach you."
Lamberra stared at her. "Maybe someday," she murmured at last. "I just need to find the time." The words felt small as they left her mouth almost like an apology.
Belli turned toward her fully. For a heartbeat, the room seemed to narrow. A light burned behind Belli's gaze. It wasn't loud nor blinding, but sharp enough to pierce straight through every careful wall Lamberra had spent her life building.
"There are always a million reasons to say no," Belli said quietly. Then she smiled, not indulgent, not teasing but certain. "You possess many good qualities, Lamberra. More than you realize."
Lamberra lifted an eyebrow, caught off balance, a defensive reflex flaring before she could stop it.
Before she could respond, Belli tiled her head, "You've heard of the emerald children, yes?"
"Yes, the magical children chosen by the Gods themself to balance the evilness of the world." Lamberra mocked.
"...and if I told you I am one?" The room came still. Scary even, as if a pen could drop.
"Impossible," Lamberra laughed. Assuming she was joking between two childhood friends. But Belli was serious. She stood and approached Lamberra.
"I am." Belli did not raise her voice. She didn't need to.
Lamberra snorted, rolling her eyes as she leaned back against the carved stone balustrade of the Mira estate's upper terrace. "Then show me, Belli." Her tone was honeyed with mockery. "Summon a dragon. Turn the pond into wine. Something dramatic."
She expected a laugh or a light shove. Instead, Belli stepped forward and held out her hand. Lamberra hesitated only a breath before taking it. Belli's palm was warmer than it should have been, almost feverish, and her fingers tightened with an urgency that felt unfamiliar. They moved quickly through the opulent corridors of the Mira home. The house always made Lamberra self-conscious. Even as a child she had felt it. Finally, they passed through the rear doors into the garden.
"My father protected me the night I was born," Belli began, looking deep into the eyes of Lamberra. "Rowena, being the general of Ravenwood, had high connections…admittedly I don't know the full story but he was able to have someone change the colors of my eyes!" Belli told her, walking with the same intense eye contact.
Lamberra baffled, still thinking it's the same ongoing joke. She watched Belli stop walking towards and briskly turn around. Her hands outstretched to the sky, her fingers rotating and in an instant, there was stillness. Belli moved one finger and a drum of thunder shook the homes of the slums as lighting streaked across the sky in the distance.
The transition was abrupt: the faint citrus scent of waxed floors giving way to damp earth and river-cold air. The Mira gardens were well kept even with winter near. The hedges stood trimmed with precision, the trees still thick with leaves. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron hooks with the flames steady.
Beyond the stone path, a narrow river slipped quietly into a round pond, its surface reflecting the pale gray sky like tarnished silver. Belli didn't release her hand until they reached the edge of the water.
"My father protected me the night I was born," she said as there was no teasing in her voice. "Rowena," Belli continued, "the late and great General of Ravenwood" she said the title with careful emphasis, "he had connections. High ones."
Lamberra blinked. She knew Rowena, she remembers him as the fun uncle growing up when she was a child. Confused as to why Belli was speaking about him like he was a myth. "I remember your father, Belli. Everybody loved him. So that does not surprise me," Lamberra offered in a reassuring tone.
"You are right." Belli gave a soft smile to her best friend, "and admittedly, I don't know the full story," Belli said, beginning to walk in a slow circle around her, never breaking eye contact. "My father never told it straight. But someone came that night. Someone who could alter my appearance as an Emerald Child."
The river continued its gentle murmur behind them.
"They changed the color of my eyes."
Lamberra couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her. "You mean dye? Or were you born with…what? Glowing embers instead of pupils?"
Belli kept smiling and finally stopped walking. For a moment nothing happened. The garden remained immaculate. The pond untroubled.
Then Belli turned sharply toward the open sky and stretched her arms upward.
The movement was sudden enough that Lamberra flinched.
Belli's fingers spread wide, then began to rotate slowly with precision.
Everything surrounding them went silent.
The river's whisper vanished. The lantern flames froze, their fire arrested mid-flicker. Even the distant hum of the city. Lamberra's heartbeat thundered in her ears, loud in the absence of everything else.
Belli twitched one finger and the sky answered.
A crack of thunder exploded across the horizon, so violent it seemed to split bone from marrow. The sound did not roll; it struck. It was sharp and immediate. Far in the distance, beyond both the city and slums was a jagged spear of lightning that carved the clouds wide open. The shockwave rattled the iron gates.
Lamberra staggered back, her boots scraping against stone. "That-" she began, but her voice felt small, swallowed by the echo of the strike. "Convenient timing," she muttered.
Belli didn't move as she twitched another finger. This time, the thunder came even closer.
The night sky exploded in light. The clouds, which had been a flat winter gray moments before, now churned in layered spirals. Wind rushed in without warning, tearing at Lamberra's hair and pulling at the branches of the carefully pruned trees. Leaves ripped free, scattering across the path.
A second lightning bolt split the sky, much closer. So bright it burned white across Lamberra's vision. The ground trembled faintly beneath her tattered boots. The knot in her stomach tightened.
"Belli," she said, and her voice cracked.
Belli's hands remained raised, fingers poised in mid-rotation. Strands of her bright red hair whipped across her face, but she didn't blink. There was something different in her expression now, before finally letting her guard down.
"Believe me now?" Belli chuckled devilishly.
Lamberra was trembling. The kind that started in the bones and worked its way outward until her teeth threatened to chatter. A myth stood in the garden with her.
The decree was clear. Magic of that caliber, divine-marked power, was treason to the Crown. They have hunts for people like her. Holidays celebrating the end of the Emerald Children.
Belli should be executed. Her brother Willow. Anyone who knew. Herself. Mama. Amara.
Her thoughts began racing so quickly they blurred into one another. She saw her mother's face dragged through mud. She saw Amara's thin wrists bound in iron. She saw herself kneeling on stone while a blade caught the sun. Her breath shortened as her entire world flipped.
"Sweet baby…" Belli's voice cut through the spiral. She rushed forward, cupping Lamberra's shaking hands in both of hers. Her grip was firm but not crushing. "We are safe. I promise. Here."
The glow came fast. It was seeping through Belli's palms like light beneath a door. Not harsh. Not blinding. It was a deep emerald shimmer, warm and steady.
The trembling eased. It didn't vanish but it dulled.
Lamberra tried to speak. Nothing came. Her throat felt stitched shut.
"As an Emerald Child," Belli continued, her voice low and careful, "as one chosen by the Gods, I can manipulate anything. Weather, water, fire, healing… anything that can be manipulated, I can with enough training."
The garden, still unsettled by the storm, felt too small to contain what she was saying. A few heartbeats passed. Belli lifted her gaze again, studying Lamberra's face measuring her.
"There is a reason for my actions, Lamberra…" Her lips faltered for the first time since the thunder began. "You're an Emerald Child as we-"
Lamberra tore her hands away as if burned.
"Fucking…stop. Belli. Stop."
The curse came out ragged. Tears surged up without permission. Two escaped, hot and humiliating as it cut down her cheeks.
This time Belli didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. The embrace was sudden and tight, grounding in a way nothing else had been. Lamberra melted into her.
Belli's hands were still glowing as they moved slowly over Lamberra's back, rubbing steady circles, warmth soaking through fabric and skin. The glow pulsed in rhythm soothing the frantic beat in Lamberra's chest.
"Don't be afraid," Belli murmured into her hair. "You know I would never harm you. Or your family. Much less myself."
Lamberra clutched her, fingers digging into the fine stitching of Belli's coat.
"I'm not an elf," she choked out against Belli's shoulder. "How can I be one?"
Her legs buckled under the weight of it, and she dropped to her knees in the damp grass, dragging Belli with her and the scent of crushed leaves filled the air. Belli shifted, directly in front of her now, hands moving from her back to her hair, fingers combing gently through tangled strands.
"I can't answer that," she admitted quietly. "Not right now. But I've been studying. My father…he protected you too. We were born the same night. You weren't born in the winter. Instead, a rainy early spring night."
A beat.
"The Gods chose us. To restore balance, Lamberra. Two children in the same night? Where a powerful individual could protect us?"
Her voice rose on the last phrase. It wasn't triumphant but urgent. She needed Lamberra to understand and to accept it. Belli felt Lamberra go still.
"If this was true," she echoed aloud, her voice sharpening as fear calcified into anger, "then why have I never been told?" She looked up, eyes blazing now.
Belli's glow dimmed. Not extinguished, just restrained.
"Your mother never wanted you to know," Belli said softly. "She wanted to protect you. Keep you safe. Keep your sister safe."
Amara's face flashed in Lamberra's mind again.
"But my father?" Belli continued. "He wanted the opposite. He wanted to train you. Prepare you. He tried to speak with Selma for years. "He could never get through to her."
Silence hung between them, thick as the coming storm.
"Prove it," Lamberra said as she stood abruptly, broken leaves clinging to her knees. There were still tears on her face but they had hardened already.
Belli's lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.
Without breaking eye contact, she raised one hand. With the other, she extended a finger and dragged it diagonally across her palm and the cut appeared instantly. Blood welled up, dark and startling against pale skin, then spilled over her hand in thick rivulets.
"Belli!" Lamberra's composure shattered. "You idiot! What are you doi-"
Belli stepped forward and pressed a bloody palm into her hands.
"Close your eyes," she whispered, urgency threading through her calm. "Focus on your stomach. Feel for something. Anything. Energy. Heat. Let it rise. Flow it to your hands."
Lamberra shriveled, feeling the warm blood.
"Think about closing the wound."
The metallic scent hit her nose. Her heart pounded violently again. But beneath the panic… something stirred. Reluctantly, Lamberra shut her eyes and focused inward.
At first there was nothing but fear and noise. Her own pulse hammering. The distant rumble of storm clouds. Suddenly, a flicker. Low in her abdomen. A pressure. Not painful but present. Her breath hitched. She imagined it moving. Up through her chest and then into her arms towards her fingers.
Her hands grew hot. In a sudden flash, emerald light burst from her palms. Brighter than Belli's had been. It was raw and untamed.
Belli sucked in a sharp breath.
The energy surged violently, not smooth and steady like Belli's. It tore upward. It was greedy and overwhelming. Lamberra felt it draining her, ripping through her veins like a flood. Her knees wobbled. Her stomach hollowed out. When she opened her eyes, the garden fractured into patches of black and blurred streaks of green. The pressure in her skull became crushing, as though invisible hands were squeezing from both sides.
Belli's cut was gone. Sealed. Skin smooth and unbroken.
"You did it!" Belli breathed and then laughed in amusement.
Lamberra collapsed into the cold grass, her limbs numb and useless. The last thing she heard before darkness swallowed everything was Belli's voice bright with awe.
"You did it."