Cleo's Game

9. Callback

Exdritch was different, Exdritch was one, Exdritch was safe, the children had fun. There wasn't any conflict, there wasn't disorder, a dozen years ago this changed, and with it brought a border. The humans were fed, still overtaken by hunger, as there were two brothers, both of whom a warmonger. As twelve years ago, to the day and the hour, began the great Exdritch war, a mad scramble for power...

Twelve years ago...

There was a harmonious family that lived on the southern outskirts of Rodridge City, the most influential settlement on the island of Exdritch. Trade with other nations ran through this city, as it neighboured the northern coast. There were enough farmers and fishermen for every family to be fed with some leftover. This family lived off the land, a few miles away from the big city, mostly keeping to themselves. The two adults took care of both a son and a daughter, aged seven and four.

Life on the farm was very calm and unchanging. It was almost boring with how much it stayed the same. The seven-year-old son was well versed in farm work, being able to help tend to the crops and handle the chickens. They had a humble home, built by hand out of wood and stone. It wasn't much, but it kept them dry when it was raining and warm when it was cold outside. 

One day, however, something was much different in the air. It was stale, and something was wrong. The parents took their kids towards the city, which was a rare occurrence, usually reserved for medical emergencies. The people of the city were rushing around, panicked, and even the children could tell something was wrong. There was a rush to get out of the city, a rush towards the northern coast with desperation that the adults of the family shared.

One thing about this island is that there was already division between the humans that came to the island and the humans that were eventually born there. The very soil of the island had something different about it. Humans that were born there could be born very... differently. Born with differences, such as mutations. There were those that were born to two human parents, but came out as a hybrid between an animal and a human. The humans had no idea what to do with these, and were horrified, and a lot of these babies were either killed or abandoned.

There was a second kind of mutation that could go undetected, with no apparent physical changes to the baby's body but an affinity to an element that they could discover later in their life. These were the lucky ones, the ones who could blend in with any human. Among all of these inequalities, tensions arose. Those with hybrid mutations were unable to hide who they were, and they stuck amongst themselves. They accepted those with a more subtle, elemental mutation with open arms.

Both of the groups knew what they had over simple humans, so they never concerned themselves with whether they were stronger than humans. What really mattered was who was the strongest among them—the king of creatures. Although it wasn't absolute, there was underlying tension between the two types of mutations about which was stronger. Over the years leading up to the war, they spiralled out of control, with two brothers who had equally good claims to the throne.

The older brother had a very obvious mutation: a hybrid form with a dragon. He breathed fire, he could fly, and he had crushing strength and slicing claws, making him an easily identifiable contender. However, the lesser-known younger brother, with an affinity to control lightning itself, fancied himself as the stronger brother. What may seem like a petty squabble to most was life or death for them, and their familial bond only drove them further apart.

Overnight, the younger brother, who proclaimed his new name to be Endt, claimed the north of the island to his own, intending to exile his brother and those loyal to him. The older brother, known by his followers as Blewrythe, didn't take this sitting down. While the border legitimised itself, the two brothers clashed in the sky for all to watch. As their week-long battle continued, there was no winner.

The sounds of the clash were loud and were a clear sign of danger for all civilians. Many took it as a sign of the end of the world, and dashed to leave the island. Boats leaving the north and south ports were crammed with people seeking safety. This family, consisting of two parents, their seven-year-old son and their four-year-old daughter—was one of many families that were escaping.

When the time came and it was time to board the boat, it seemed too late for the family. The boat had already sounded its horn, and it was about to set sail. The mother and the father leapt into the boat as it was leaving, cramming themselves into the space that didn't really exist. All that remained at the docks were two children, staring wide-eyed at the boat as it travelled far out of reach.

The four-year-old girl was in tears, with no idea what was happening at this overwhelming and loud time. There were deafening roars and grumbles of thunder that intensified in the sky as they watched even the ocean shake at its intensity. The older brother didn't even have the tears to cry. He turned his back on the faraway boat and started to walk inland.

"Come on, Cleo. Let's find somewhere to go," the older brother said, his lack of displayed emotion not helping in regards to consoling the crying girl. They set off on foot back towards where their house once was, where their home once was, and where their life once was. The boats were able to take around a thousand people off of the island, but the unlucky ones remained. Including the especially unlucky, the recently orphaned siblings Drew and Cleo.