Blood and Elixir - Curse of the Old Gods

Dinhari

The dishes clattered noisily to the floor. For the umpteenth time that day. Even the sodden inanimate objects revolted against her presence. Her mother had a nonchalant mask on. As if a whole shelf of dishes clattering to the floor was a daily occurrence. But some of the weariness and fatigue slipped through. And Dinhari could not blame her. Her mother was human after all.

First, the oven had refused to heat up. Then the makeshift stove had started spitting burning logs out on to the kitchen floor and then the vegetables burnt themselves to a crisp. Despite the fact that they were on the stove for a maximum of two minutes. Her mother had smiled gracefully through it all but there was a limit to her magnanimity.

She saw her mother bend down to pick up the remains of an earthen pot that had shattered on contact with the floor. She turned it over and made a show of running her fingers over the bottom of the pot. "The dishes have an uneven bottom. No wonder they keep clashing to the floor", her mother said with a contemplative sigh. " Maybe its time we craft some new ones." She added with a smile towards her.

Dinhari fidgeted impatiently where she sat on the floor and refrained from screaming out loud. She hated when her mother did this. It very well was not the dishes and her mother knew that.

It was her. Dinhari. The personification of catastrophe. For some reason, from the moment she was born, the universe decided to make her its enemy. She seemed to bring chaos in her wake. Utter unmitigated chaos. It was as if the universe itself revolted to her presence. "Maybe I should leave." she interjected softly knowing her mother would have none of it. As anticipated, she waved a dismissive hand.

"Leave. Why would you leave? Just sit tight while I complete dinner. It should be ready anytime now."

Her mother, Ashia liked to do this at times. Pretend that there was nothing wrong with Dinhari. And trying to point it out would serve nothing except make her mother angry. And if she was particularly unlucky, her mother would start sobbing.

"I mean I want to leave. I want to collect fruits to have after dinner." There. That was a completely plausible excuse to leave and it was a not a lie either. She saw her mother turn from the stove to look at her, trying to make out if she was telling the truth. Dinhari kept a straight face and stared back defiantly.

Finally she nodded, "Fine. Just don't stray too far."

She laughed as she left her home. She was twenty four summers for Estheria's sake. It was not like she would be lost in the woods. She knew the woods better than the back of her own hand. Their home after all was situated at the very edge of it and for as long as she could remember she had played in them. The home in question was little more than a shack. Two single cabins, perched securely one on top of the other, made with simple red boldur stones.

Most common folk in Estheria used the variety for building their homes. It illuminated with the onset of darkness; was cheap and readily found everywhere in Estheria. The house was surrounded by a sturdy picket fence to keep away the wayward animals that roamed into the clearing. And they were plenty here at the edge of the woods. Her home was a good distance away from the rest of the village. And that was good. Very good indeed.

Her mother had told her stories of a time when they lived in a city near the very capital of Estheria. There were real life millennia old daemons in the city. They protected the strongholds and were fierce warriors with magic in their blood. Her mother had probably even seen the Daemon King a couple of times during her stay. She never explained why they left their home in the city but Dinhari knew it must have had something to do with her. She probably caused an earthquake or a war or something as bad. Her very presence seemed to send things into disorder, she knew not why and keeping a healthy distance from the village was best for the lot of them.