Samu doesn't wake up.
Not after the healer examines him.
Not after she feeds him medicine.
Not after she inspects his heart.
Not after I fall asleep at his side, tears staining his bedsheets.
She's still there when I wake up in the morning, tending to invisible wounds. Her gentle hands brush around the curve of his head as if she can conjure his mind from its slumber.
Unlike her daughter Lei, the healer's black hair is pin straight down her back, reaching all the way to her waist. They have the same flat nose and there's a likeness to their mannerism. But Lei's mother has the gentle touch only a healer possesses.
"I'm sorry," she says as she gathers her belongings. "Your brother is well. I don't know why he is not waking."
"There's nothing else you can try?"
"It appeared he had some sort of infection in his lungs. The medicine should heal his wounds, but I'll have to continue adminstering it over the next few weeks."
"Could that be it? The lungs? Keeping him unconscious?"
"It's not impossible. But unlikely." She shakes her head. "I'll continue to check on him but..."
"But?"
"His body is healthy. There's no telling how long he has been in this state for, and yet, he's not malnourished nor dehydrated." She furrows her brows. "This is something else. Something... something my herbs and medicines can't heal."
I don't say anything as she leaves the tent.
Magic.
Its existence plagues my nightmares. A week ago, magic was something from a fairytale. But as the days go on, it becomes more difficult to deny.
On one hand, her words ease my anxities. He's not suffering from lack of nutrition, which means he could potentially survive in this state a very long time without wasting away, provided I stay long enough for the healer to finish with the medicine to help his lungs. But the knowledge that whatever keeps him unconscious is something not even a healer can sense pricks at my nerves.
And so, thinking of Cadence once again, I tell Samu stories. I hear his laugh in the whistle of the wind as I recount memories of Casimir, see his smile in the stillness of the room.
There's one kind of magic my father always encouraged me to believe in–the kind stored in our memories.
***
Trainings with Casimir were always in the dead of night. I'd sneak through the back window of his cabin, my father's old cape draped over my frame and a dagger hidden in my boot.
I was fond of our scheduled trainings. They helped me to regain the power I lost the night I hid in the wardrobe. And when my attempts at finding the deserters in the forge consistently failed, I still had trainings--something to make me feel like I was working towards finding him.
But most of all, it was time alone with Casimir, time I never expected to miss so greatly. I can't help but think of him when Lei retrieves me from Samu's tent a few hours later. I want nothing more than to decline her invitation. But I have a part to play, trust to gain. Things that will make it easier to leave.
She takes me back through the campground, away from the forest and down the bank towards the beach. We mostly avoid the glistening, black sand as we climb the rocks leading towards the cliff. The mouth of a cave comes into view as we round the corner.
I hesitate as Lei enters, the darkness swallowing her whole. Alone on the rocks, the wind swirling around me, I take a step into the cave. The crashing of the waves echoes inside. My eyes adjust to the dim light as I round the corner of a large rock.
Sanaa waits for me inside the shallow cave. A lantern sits atop the rocks, casting her shadow ominously against the wall. Killian leans lazily against the wall, and somebody else too--a man I don't recognise.
"Thanks for coming," Sanaa says.
"If you want me to try and trust you, bringing me into a dark cave far away from camp probably wasn't the best choice of location."
"I told you she'd freak out," Lei snorts from behind me. "Then she'll be no help at all."
"I'd be more concerned about that weapon in her hand," Killian says. "Who the hell gave her that?"
They all glance to my hand which I'd thought was mostly concealed. I'd swiped it from one of the shifters belts after dinner last night and kept it tucked in my clothes.
Lei waves a hand. "It's a two inch dagger. What's she going to do? Cut vegetables?"
"Don't let those pretty eyes fool you, Lei." Killian shifts his gaze to me. "She's wounded people with less. Haven't you, Freya?"
I tighten my grip on the hilt, meeting his gaze. "I'm not giving it back."
"So long as you don't plan to stab me."
"I'll make no such promises."
He grins.
"Enough about weapons," Sanaa says. "Freya, there's someone here I'd like you to meet."
My gaze shifts to the man as he hobbles further from the shadows, a wooden staff supporting him. He straights his back, but its still significantly arched, revealing the top of his balding head.
"It is a great pleasure to meet you, child," he says. "My name is Josul."
"He knew your mother," Sanaa adds.
Head tilted, a warm smile tugs at his lips as his eyes drift to the distance. "Nala was a wonderful woman. Kind and generous."
I eye him warily. "What kind and generous person abandons their child?"
"A selfless one. If you knew all she sacrificed you would not speak such defamatory words."
I glance to the rocks at my feet. I don't want to think about her, Nala, a woman who, until now, didn't even exist in my mind. I don't want to know if she was cruel or kind or selfless. I want the security of my father's story, the one I believed all my life of a kind woman he met at school. The one who sung to me while I was in her womb, the one who died giving birth to me.
But the truth, no matter how destabilising, won't stay in the shadows.
"Josul will help you connect with parts of your mind you may not have been aware of before," Sanaa says.
I look back at him. "And what makes you think you can do that?"
He glances at Sanaa, stepping forward when she nods. Closing his fingers into a fist, he stretches it towards me. When his trembling fingers flatten and reveal his palm, a single flame dances from his pointer finger.
I jolt backwards as he delicately twists his finger in front of his face, the flame an extension from him. "You're... you're one of—"
"I am Kinjri, yes."
He closes his palm, extinguishing the fire.
"Still think magic is a sham?" Killian says.
I ignore him. The last few days I've spent denying the existence of such magic. There are no tricks in the darkness of the cave. What I witnessed with my eyes cannot be denied. When Josul raises his gaze to mine once more, I fight the urge to step backwards, a lick of fear seeping through me. Killian said they were rare, that King Ereon had hunted them to near extinction many years ago.
"I don't understand," I say, looking to Sanaa. "If he's Kinjri, why do you need me?"
"I cannot stop the cloud," Josul says.
"How do you know?"
"I have tried, as did hundreds of Kinjri before they perished in Torinne. Expeditions were led into the Torinnian mountains where the storms came from. None of us succeeded. Very few returned alive."
A shudder crawls down my spine.
"You're telling me that hundreds of people, people with magical abilities, have failed to stop the cloud, and you somehow think that I'll be able to do it?"
"None of those hundreds of people were the ones who created it."
"Neither am I."
"Perhaps not," Josul says. "But you are the closest thing we have to Nala."
Outside, the waves roll, echoing through the cave as they crash against the sand. I feel the weight of their gazes, measuring my reaction as if I'm about to turn on my heel and retreat from the cave.
"My brother," I say after a few moments. "He's not waking up. The healer said there's something going on that she can't heal, something... something like magic. Can you help him?"
His brows furrow. "I have already seen your brother."
"What?"
"Killian brought me to him the moment you arrived here," Josul says. I dart my gaze to Killian. He never said anything to me of the sort. "I couldn't be sure until the healer confirmed it, but you are right. Ereon did something to him to render him in that state. I tried to reach his mind but it is... somewhere else."
My guard thickens. "You can read minds?"
"Not exactly." He shifts from foot to foot. "I was hoping you would let me show you."
Tension builds in my shoulders. "You want me to... to let you in my head?"
"We all have parts of our mind that we cannot access. Kinjri can break through the restraints, but you have never been shown how. If you have Kinjri gifts like your mother, I may be able to see it."
I take a small step backwards.
"Freya," Killian says, "if whatever's wrong with Samu is linked to the cloud, you might be able to help him."
I clench my teeth. "Okay," I say. "I'll do it."
Josul takes slow steps towards me, stretching out a shaky hand. Tentatively, I place my fingers in his. His touch is warm, skin leathery against mine. He steps closer until he's only a few feet away, other hand raising slowly to touch my temple.
"Close your eyes."
I do.
***
My father is a trader by day, a baker by night.
A new smell seeps through the windows and out into the street each evening I return home. Tonight, the sweet cinnamon scent of apple pie welcomes Casimir and I as we step through the door.
He stands at the kitchen bench, a towel wrapped around his hands as he places the pie on the counter, greeting me with a warm smile.
"Hey you two," Pa greets, his eyes wrinkling at the sides. "Have you had anything to eat?"
"I had dinner at Cadence's," I say.
"This smells amazing." Casimir immediately snatches a plate from the bench. "I'm starving."
I shoot him a look of disgust as he slumps across from me, shovelling the food in his face. He still wears his work clothes, the white tinged beige from dirt.
"Disgusting," I say.
He flicks a rogue apple skin at me.
"Hey—"
A high-pitched squeal cuts me off. "Cas!"
Midmouthful, a force hits him from the side. His chair tips as he accommodates for Samu's weight, the crumble from the pie crust on his lips. "Hey little man." He chuckles as Samu wraps his arms around Casimir's neck.
"I have to show you what I made today!" Samu starts, leaping off his lap and tugging on his arm. "Pa said it's the first thing he's ever seen of its kind and that maybe if I-if I perfect I can sell it at the Sunday market and how cool would that be I could be selling stuff next to the harvest that you—"
I reach over to pinch his cheek. "You're going to choke if you speak so fast."
He pauses to take a deep breath, turning back to Casimir. "Can I show you?"
Casimir glances at the pie, then back up at me. I raise my brow.
"Sure, bud." He ruffles Samu's hair. "Just let me finish this pie, alright?"
Samu nods obediently and then slithers down to the floor, skipping back down the hall. I laugh as Casimir shovels the food even faster.
"Sometimes it sucks being his favourite," I say with a pointed look. "Maybe I will have some pie afterall, thanks Pa."
Casimir glares. "If I come back and it's all gone, we're going to have problems." I laugh as Pa slides a plate in front of me with a chuckle. "You should sell this at the Moon festival tomorrow night," Cas says. "It's so good."
Pa raises a brow. "You think?"
"My favourite so far."
"Well that's high praise," I say, "considering you'll eat anything." I take a bite. "But he's right, Pa, it's heavenly as usual."
"I won't stay long tomorrow night," Pa says, "not enough time to sell anything. We'll need to prepare for the Red Moon."
The mention of it puts a damper on my good mood. Casimir too, I notice frowns down at the pie. The Red Moon crept up on us this year, too fast to feel real. At the last Red Moon, our neighbours house got ransacked. Like usual, nobody was hurt, but the shifters were careless as they tore through the house. Everybody is scared they'll be next.
"You going to stay here for the Red Moon?" I ask Casimir.
"I--"
"It'd probably be best to stay at your own place this year, Cas," Pa says.
"What do you mean? Cas always stays--"
A knock at the door interrupts me. Pushing to my feet, Pa ushers me back down with a pat on the shoulder, sliding another plate of pie in front of me.
"Eat," he says. "I'll get it."
He comes back only a few moments later, his skin ghostly pale. "Are you alright, Pa?" I ask.
"Yes. Finish your pie, Frey."
"Who was it?"
He waves a hand, faffing about in the kitchen. "Just the neighbour asking about work." Cas and I exchange suspicious glances. "I just remembered I need to get some bread for breakfast tomorrow."
"Won't the bakery be closed?"
"Anton will be fine with a late visit, I'm sure." He turns to look at me. "Mind helping me?"
"Uh, sure. I'll get Samu--"
"No need. I'm sure Casimir doesn't mind watching him for a little while."
Casimir raises a brow with a shrug, mouth half-full. "Sure."
I follow Pa outside, wrapping my cape around me. A chill hangs in the air as he leads me behind the cabin to a half-concealed path leading into the forest.
"This is the wrong way," I say. He continues forward, shoving aside a branch for me. "Pa?"
"Just follow me, Freya," he says with a reassuring smile.
Inside the dense forest, the moon can't pierce through the thick canopy of leaves. Darkness clothes us. The bitter air bites at the exposed skin at my ankles. But even in the dark I know this forest and its surrounding like the back of my hand. If we continue down this path, we'll reach the lake. But Pa takes a sharp turn off the path.
I hesitate, glancing over my shoulder at the distant glow of our cabin on the edge of the forest.
Pa's hand rests on my shoulder. "We're almost there."
I turn to look at him, unease flooding my stomach. He's always been the one to warn me from wandering the forest at night. Deserters roam these lands, shifters probably too. But his soft eyes coax the hesitation from me. I trust him with my life.
We walk for several more minutes before the path clears, opening to reveal a rundown workshop settled amongst two large pine trees. I swallow as Pa pulls me towards the door, my mind flashing with alarm. I've never been here before, but the rumours have surrounded this place and its occupant ever since I started school.
Pa raises a fist to knock on the door. I shuffle closer to him, glancing over my shoulder at the shapes lingering in the treeline, shadows cast by the warm glow emanating from the wooden workshop.
The door creaks open. Despite the light that seemed to glow from the windows, beyond the door a dark abyss awaits. With a reassuring look from Pa, I take a step inside.
That's when the earth falls out from beneath me.