The Broken Song

Chapter Five

— City of Velloch, Basan, Medyulana —

Hours later, and still, Idelle could not shake the dream from her mind. Though, if she was being honest with herself, she knew, deep in her heart, that it hadn't been a dream at all. With a steadied breath, she tried to concentrate on the steps of the gauntlet beneath her. Blindfolded, she needed her wits about her as she danced across the raised wooden pillars as her mother's magic whirled around her, conjured foes trying to force her to the ground.

She felt her father's presence though she was unable to see him through the cloth. He stood away from the gauntlet, watching her with an assessing gaze. Though Idelle abhorred violence, she understood that knowing how to defend one's self was essential. The worlds were full of dangerous people that would not hesitate to harm her and Lulu. Idelle couldn't cower behind Lulu and expect her friend to protect her. She had trained with her father and others in order to understand self-defense and the essentials of armed combat.

For her magic, however, there was no one for her to hone her skill. Her mother had taught her when she was little, but now, her skills surpassed anything her mother knew. Save for Ori, Idelle didn't know anyone with her level of power. She missed talking to Ori. Her cousin was the only one who understood, who knew how to make her feel normal. She was the only one who could teach her how to hone her abilities, but Ori wasn't there. Her own troubles kept her far from home.

"Mistake."

The single word from her father was uttered a half second before one of the conjurations slammed into her side, sending her spiraling to the ground. She hit with a hard thud, the wind knocked from her lungs. Slowly peeling away the blindfold, she winced at her father's piercing gaze. It was a simple mistake, one she shouldn't have made.

Her father stepped toward her, his tall, willowy frame more toned than the average male elf. His years spent as the right hand of the Draagan king, Rostgarr, had shaped him into a deadly weapon. Though he wielded a massive greatsword, he didn't need a physical weapon to kill. The Draaga had trained him to be a powerful, unstoppable force that could contend with the deadliest of foes. Ishara had feared him when the empire was whole, referring to him as 'Rhakarr,' the dark elf.

Her father resembled Aunt Teryn in a lot of ways. They both had raven hair, his cut short in the draagan custom, warm honey-colored eyes that marked a pureblood Light Elf, and soft, unblemished alabaster skin. His pointed ears stuck out a little further than her aunt's, and his way of movement was far clunkier, his elven grace discarded in favor of Draagan power. But his training with the Draaga, his years of diligence, he had passed to her. More than once, it was what kept her alive.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" her father shook his head as he reached down to help her to her feet. "Don't tackle the gauntlet when your mind is elsewhere."

"I know... I just...needed the distraction."

"Tell me."

He didn't warn her before a well-aimed jab sailed toward her face. Idelle was quick enough to avoid his strike, but not fast enough to avoid the second blow to her stomach. She groaned, staggering back.

"Dead." Was his only assessment.

Idelle took a breath, trying to balance her words with her movements. "I Walked again last night." She barely avoided his next attack.

"Tell me about it."

She recounted it all. She had heard the whispers call to her as she readied herself for bed the night before. The whispers always came before she Walked. Some nights, when she knew the whispers would take her away, she would keep herself busy until they quieted. But the journey through the veils had taken its toll on her. She had been unable to resist their gentle lull as they guided her to sleep.