Fire and Ice

Chapter 13: Things Heat Up

Day 12

Willow’s pale porcelain hand was draped lovingly over the crisp parchment of a history book. How long since she has done that, she didn’t know. All she knew was that before her parents died she loved reading books. After their deaths try as she might she couldn’t read books again. Now that she discovered that they were adamant about discovering the history of the races of elves, she felt like it was her duty to further their work.

            The warm parchment was soothing beneath her grasp. The words spoke out to her again to transform and mold her into a more refined self. She felt a pull to this book and an extension. These were her roots. She was this book’s legacy. This could be the answer to her past, present, and future all molded into the framework of the history that lay between the lines. Her father always said that the past can teach and prepare someone for their future. Now she knew that he had meant for her to further his work.

            She was swept into a whirlpool of repressed memories that were stimulated to take over her mind since she set foot in the Moordom Library. She could feel the waves crash against her brittle walls that attempted to guard her from the flood of bittersweet memories. She felt like she was drowning in them again.

            Her head crashed down beside the arm that was draped over the pages. When she opened her eyes, she was 12 again. She was clothed in a silver velvet gown and she could feel the two long dark auburn braids brush her back. Her small delicate timid hand was clasped in her father’s strong rough protective hand.

            She let him guide her as if he was a beacon of light. He had always made her feel secure. He also taught her to be strong. Willow could see the chords flare in his strong arms as he pressed his palms against the oak doors that led to the library. He took her hand again and they plodded across the cobblestone floors. She had traveled across these floors for at least a thousand times. This time it was different.

            Her father’s hand trembled slightly. In all her life, she had never seen her father waver. He swept her across the floor and lifted her in the air effortlessly. He then deliberately set her down on the stone check out table. He studied her with his changeling hazel eyes, the eyes she inherited from him.

            “I hope that you will remember the words I will say here,” he whispered. Clarity and desperation flickered across his eyes. “You are young, but I am running out of time. You probably won’t understand this, but you will in time. I exhort you to search out the past. I have said these words to you a thousand times, but now I repeat them again: the past can teach and prepare you for the future. I will not be around forever, Will. I will not always be around to supply the answer. Promise me that you will seek out the truth for yourself.” He cupped her baby skin cheeks and fixed a serious stare. His eyes were solid and blue.

            “I promise, father,” Willow murmured in a serious tone that was still laced with the seams of childhood.

            “Good,” Keith said in relief. He took his rough hands off her smooth cheeks and swept her into a fatherly embrace. He held her tightly for a few minutes and then he had to let her go so he could get to work.

            The scene shifted one sunrise later in time; Willow was playing and singing in Clover Wellspring’s gardens. Clover and Willow were inseparable. They were of the same leaf and they always had adventures. A whole world of imagination was stretched across their horizons. Clover had curly black hair and verdant green eyes. Her eyes spoke of the forest and its mysteries.

            They were mixing a “potion” in a wooden birdbath when Willow saw the smoke and soot. It was coming from the direction of her beloved tree home. She looked around wildly and in confusion as Clover screamed. Willow instinctively grabbed her hand and together they rushed off to the direction of the Ravenmark estate.