Lura Syllana
I walk back into my tent, and suddenly the shadows fade away, and everything becomes solid. What happened? How? Did it run out? I touch myself and feel my body. I walk over and touch my father’s letter. I can touch it. I can’t stay here. Guards are probably on their way to confiscate everything. I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t raided our stuff. I grab a bag and start packing up what I can before I dart out of the tent. I don’t know what to do. Everyone I know is gone.
Happy day of birth, Lura, you’ve lived for thirty cycles and you’re finally not a child anymore. I cry and cry on a day I should be happy. My uncle and his crew… My parents… They’re gone. They’re all gone. They paid for my deeds with their freedom. There’s nothing I can do. Maybe I can still see them if I head up to Low Town. I head to the part of the wall where there are enough indents and the joints are big enough so I can climb up it without any problem. I head to the gap in the wall and climb through.
A thought occurs to me as I drift through Low Town. Maybe if I turn myself in, they’ll at least let my parents go since they were only arrested for “Harboring a Fugitive” which is a load of rat turds. I head to the central guard post. But before I get there, I see a wagon cage carrying several elves who have been sold. My mother is among them. I rush up to it. “Mother!”
Her eyes find mine, and we reach for each other, grasping each other’s hands. “My baby. What are you doing here? You must go.”
“I’ve come to turn myself in so you and father can be freed,” I say.
“No! Don’t ever do that. It is too late for us. We’ve been sold into slavery. They will not set us free. You must be free for both of us. Go, live your life and forget about us. I love you,” my mother says, with tears streaming down her eyes. My gut clenches as the reality of the situation sinks in. My parents are going to end up as slaves because I couldn’t listen to my father. My tears are bitterly painful.
I try to keep up with the caged wagon, but I’m pushed into the dirt by a guard. “Back away from the prisoners.”
I glare at him before I get up and keep pace with my mother. “I’m so sorry, mother. It is all my fault.”
“Don’t be sorry, my love. None of this is your fault. Please, forget about us and live your life,” she says as the wagon is taken past the gates beyond my reach. I fall to my knees and cry.
I wipe the tears away and run. I run far, and as fast as I can through Low Town, and climb up the tower of the church until I reach the bell that looks out of the town. I watch through blurry tears as the wagon slowly disappears in the distance. I stay there and cry until the tears no longer come. I reach into my pocket and find the letter my father wrote.
I open the envelope and pull it out.
Lura,
My beautiful child. If you find this letter, then we are out looking for you. Just please stay. As you wait, I decided to tell you the truth. It’s a hard truth to say, but I find writing it down is far easier than speaking it out loud. My brother, Lethvelion, and I came from a once noble family named Syllana. However, we had a falling out when the noble King abdicated the throne. Our noble house stood for the Royal family; however, we were only one of few. Our family was denounced and our power stripped, along with our nobility and house. Our lands and wealth were forfeited, and we were shunned. Never trust people of authority, and have a healthy skepticism about any organization that claims to know the truth of life and what comes after. For it was those who hoarded the power and wealth, claiming that they know what is best for everyone while stripping our family of everything.
We became poor and broken. Our name was taken from us. My brother and I were so full of anger and hate that we did the only thing we knew we could; we became thieves. We stole from those who took everything from us. However, actions always have consequences. And our actions were no exceptions. We were nearly caught, however, even though we escaped punishment, our parents were not so lucky. They were arrested and enslaved. Our sister killed herself shortly after that. I was so stricken with grief and shame; I walked away. That is when I met your mother, and she saved me from my own despair. I beg you, my dear daughter. Please don’t make the same mistake I did. I don’t want to see you have to pay the same price that I paid.
Sincerely,
Your beloved father
Tanyl
Just when I thought I had no tears left the damn breaks, and my cheeks are flooded. It feels like my heart just shattered into thousands of little pieces. Why couldn’t he have told me this sooner? Now I really have repeated his mistakes. I am my father’s daughter. Because of me, the only friends and family I’ve ever known have been taken. It’s all my fault, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I should just end my life before I make things worse.
Suddenly the trap door opens up, startling me to my feet as a beautiful, golden-haired elven woman in a white robe walks up. “I thought I heard someone. Lura, why are you hiding up here?”
I look up at the beautiful shimmering blue-eyed priestess, Damaris, and wipe my tears away. “I… I lost my family, and it’s all my fault.”
She hesitates, but walks over and takes a seat on the ledge. “Why do you think it is your fault?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you,” I say, wearily.
“Child, I am a priestess of the Light. I am bound by the Light to keep whatever sins you may have committed sealed by the Light. To tell me your sins is to tell our savior, the Light. the Light never punishes honesty, and it is clear that you have already been punished for your sins. There is no reason to punish you twice,” she says. Then she looks down at the empty space beside her and pats it before she looks at me, inviting me to sit down next to her.
I take a deep breath and take the seat beside her. “I stole what I could from the pockets of others and food from the stalls to feed my family. I hung out with my uncle’s gang of thieves even though my father forbade me. And a man tried to… Well, he was kicked out of the crew, but his brother was a part of the city guard, and he brought the guard down upon my uncle. They were all arrested. They then went to my home down in Tent City and my parents… They were sold into slavery because I wasn’t there…” After all the crying I’ve done, I thought I was finally all dried up, but tears water my eyes once more. “They paid the price for my crimes and now I’m all alone. It’s all my fault.”
“Oh, my dear child,” Priestess Damaris says as she takes me in her arms and gently rubs my back. “My dear child. You have been dealt a grievous cost for such a meager sin. For that, I am sorry. I may not be able to free your family, but I can offer you a place for shelter, food, and a bed. You have felt the heavy weight of the consequences our deeds may invoke, but that does not mean it is just or fair. Even so, what is done is done. All that you can do is move forward and choose how you should live your life from now on. You still have freedom, and now it’s your responsibility to use that freedom to live a life your parents could be proud of…”
I look up at her as the tears dry up once again. “What shall I do with my life now? I have no one.”
“You have the Church of the Light. You are always welcome here, child,” she says, gently taking my face in her delicate hand. Her fingers wipe away my tears.
“What if I don’t believe?”
“No one can fault you for your beliefs, child. It is in our nature to be skeptical. No one will blame you for that. Once you see the healing Divine Light for yourself, you’ll see that it is true,” she says, gently stroking my cheek.
I just don’t know if I can join her. Where was this Light as my family and I starved? Why does the Light let so many people suffer?
“Come with me and we’ll get you cleaned up,” she says as she stands up and offers her hand. I take it, but as soon as she starts down the trapdoor, I head out of the balcony, climb down the bell tower, and run. I can’t trust anyone. Especially those of the religious sort. Father said not to trust anyone who claims to know the truths of life. They always preach and preach and preach about peace and prosperity, but how can they let all of us suffer in tents when the wealthy prosper in mansions and castles?
I run away through the streets, searching for a place to hide and rest. I head down a series of dark alleys filled with trash and homeless elves lost in the glimmer spice, trying to find a quiet spot to just sit and think.
As I turn another corner, I run head into a man and nearly fall back on my arse. The tall elven man is with several other men who all look as if they’re up to no good. They smell of strong drink and pipe smoke.
“Well, look at what we have here, a pretty face. I bet she’d be a lot of fun,” the man says with a twisted, rotten tooth smile.
The others slowly circle around me. I can’t find words as my heart races in my chest. What have I gotten myself into?
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