The morning sunlight seeped into Soraya's room through the cracks of the curtains in the window, bathing everything in yellow and orange hues. The girl awoke the moment light crept onto her closed eyelids. Blinking, Soraya sprung eagerly out of bed, reached for her navy blue curtains and pulled them apart.
The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of light wooden planks with dark brown spots and circles scattered unevenly about. Her bed frame and furniture were made from Redwood Oaks, which grew near the peaks of the Averlore Mountains.
When she was eight, Soraya had read about the two kinds of oak trees that grew in their country; Redwoods and Bloods. They looked similar, both with thick ruby colored trunks towering high and proudly displaying lush leaves resembling fire when dancing in the wind. However, where Redwood Oaks were like any other tree that remained planted firmly in the ground, Blood Oaks were known for eating Etherians and animals.
Anyone who dared come too close would be wrapped around the legs by their thick roots and dragged into the base of the tree. There, the unfortunate victim would be completely encased in roots, thorns embedding themselves into their flesh and sucking them dry of all their blood, giving the tree its color and name.
Soraya shook her head as she remembered how afraid she had been of the furniture in her room after reading about the Blood Oaks. She had been so terrified, in fact, that she insisted on sleeping downstairs near the fireplace in case she needed to burn the furniture should it come to life and try to eat her. Her father, finding her fear humorous, had taken her to the top of their mountain to explain their differences.
"Blood Oaks can't grow or survive in cold climates," Tishva said with an undercurrent of mirth while placing his gloved hand on the bark of a Redwood. "They freeze like our bodies do when exposed to low temperatures for too long. You'll never encounter one in the snow, I promise."
Her father had gone one step further, pointing out something that her book hadn't. "If you're not sure which tree it is, just stand still from a distance and watch the trunk. A Redwood Oak will stay completely still, but a Blood Oak pulsates."
Soraya snapped her thoughts back to the present and shifted her gaze out the window. Trees lined the mountainside straight ahead, and on the ground, two stories below, was her mother's grave. She often found herself talking to it, as if Adonia was actually listening.
Stuffed animals lined the top of Soraya's dresser, her favorite ones being an orange and black striped tiger with black button eyes and a white rabbit with long droopy ears, both of which her mother had sewn for her. She loved them dearly, but was too old to have them sleeping next to her on the bed, or so her father said.
Despite Tishva's wishes, she'd sometimes sneak them under the bed covers when she knew her father would be too busy working to wish her goodnight.
"I'm learning Arcanology today!" Soraya exclaimed while skipping towards her closet and flinging open the sliding door. All of her clothes were hung up and organized by category.
Yabo, her pandacoon, yawned and flashed his pearly white fangs before sitting up and stretching himself out on the bed. He cocked his head, watching Soraya rummage through her closet. Within moments, Soraya's robe and pajamas lay on the floor.
"What do you think?" she asked her pet while posing in front of the large oval shaped mirror in the corner of her bedroom. She spun so her pink dress twirled. Yabo simply flexed his claws and kneaded the thick blankets with them.
"Don't scratch up the bed!" Soraya scolded. After untangling his paws from the comforter, she placed him on her shoulder. Yabo let out a purr, which sounded like the coo of a dove, and rubbed his face into Soraya's cheek.
"You little goofball," Soraya said, kissing her pandacoon's fluffy face. After tugging red tights onto her stick-thin legs, she scampered through the long narrow hallway and flew down the spiral staircase.
Her father stood in the kitchen, chopping green apples into thick rings. The steady thuds from his knife hitting the cutting block filled the air while bacon and eggs sizzled and hissed on the heated stove top in the corner of the room.
"Morning kiddo," said Tishva as he glanced up at his daughter.
"Morning Papa!" Soraya plopped herself down onto a bar stool and scooted closer to the countertop. Yabo hopped down from her shoulder, landed on the table, and waited for his portion of breakfast. He had his own placemat to sit on, which was white with printed patterns of red apples.
"Need help with that?" Soraya asked cheerfully.
Tishva chuckled. "Your mom taught you your manners alright," without skipping a beat, he continued. "Go fetch her for breakfast. She'll love that we're making it for her."
"Papa... she's not here anymore..."
"But she was just here five minutes ago..."
As soon as the words left his lips, Tishva frowned and furrowed his golden eyebrows together. An awkward silence fell over the room as Soraya shifted uncomfortably on her stool. For the past three years, her father would randomly ask Soraya to go fetch her mother. Despite her being dead.
"I need to show you something," Soraya said before sliding off her seat and heading for the back porch. She pointed out the window at the gravestone with her mother's name carved into it. "Mama's out there. Do you remember?"
Her father closed his eyes and placed his calloused hands onto his forehead in sorrow. "You mean... she wasn't in the kitchen just a few seconds ago?" he asked in a quivering voice. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
Tishva slumped to the floor with a haunted look on his face.
Soraya's heart broke every time he did this. She ran over to him, draping her arms around his large shoulders, and squeezed him tightly. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Her father remained on the floor for another minute to calm himself down. "Soraya," he lowered his hands from his face, uncovering tear stains, and glanced at her with bloodshot eyes. "How often do I forget that Adonia is dead?"
Soraya's gaze fell to her feet. Although she knew the truth would upset him, she knew he needed to hear it. "You used to forget once or twice a month, but now..." she hesitated.
"But now?"
Her father's weary eyes looked so worried that it pained Soraya to continue, but she knew she had to tell him.
"Now, you forget at least once a week."
Tishva stared blankly across the room at the roaring fireplace, his golden eyebrows knit tightly together.
"Papa?"
He didn't reply, for he was lost in his own thoughts. It bothered Soraya that she didn't know how to help him. The only thing she could think to do was distract him from his woes.
"I'm going to set the table for us, so we can have breakfast. Does that sound good?"
"Yes..."
Rolling up her sleeves, Soraya got to work. Within minutes, breakfast was on the table and places for three were set out. The bacon and eggs were a little burnt from being left on the stove top too long, but that wouldn't stop them from eating it. She cut up some meat into small pieces before placing them into a small white bowl for Yabo, who was impatiently meowing for his morning meal.
"You're such a brat," she sighed, setting his bowl in front of him at the table. Yabo shoved his furry face into his food and chowed down. Soraya finished cutting the apples and placed them on their plates before checking on her father again.
"Breakfast is ready!" she called. Tishva finally snapped out of his thoughts and shuffled over to the table to join his daughter.
"Thanks kiddo," he said with a sad smile. "Sorry for worrying you so much."
Soraya shook her head. "No, don't apologize for that."
The two tucked in and ate in silence. After a few moments of chewing on the slightly burnt bacon, Tishva got up and walked over to his record player, which sat in the living room. He carefully chose a black vinyl disc and gently placed it onto the turntable. The needle slowly descended, sitting on the spinning record. After a few seconds of listening to hissing and popping static, Soraya could hear a faint female voice singing and growing louder. Her father slid back into his seat as the beautiful voice accompanied by an orchestra filled the still air with a soothing song.
"Nightshade was your mom's favorite band," he said, his eyes wandering towards the grave outside. "She was into music that was hauntingly beautiful. Any song with a cello was automatically her favorite."
"This is my favorite band too," Soraya said. His love for her Mom was beautiful and warmed her heart.
I hope you can see how much he misses you. The girl imagined Adonia could hear their conversation from the Heavens and smiled at the ceiling.
Soraya finished all of her food, but her father had barely eaten half of his portion. He cut up the rest of his meal and placed it into Yabo's bowl before bringing his dishes to the sink. The music made washing and putting away their dinnerware seem a lot more fun than it really was. Soraya tried to scrub the plates and place them on a rack to dry in time with the rhythm of the music.
"Don't drop them," Tishva warned as a plate nearly slipped from his daughter's hand.
"Sorry, Papa," Soraya's cheeks grew red. "I got distracted, is all."
"It's alright, but you can stop now," Tishva already had on his black boots and dark blue winter coat and was tossing on thick wool gloves. "You can finish the dishes when we get back. It's time to teach you how to harvest magic."
"Oh yay! Let's go!"
Within seconds, Soraya ran over to the living room closet and pulled on her black boots, buttoned up her pink coat, tossed her black and white plaid scarf around her neck, and thrown white fuzzy gloves on. "I'm ready!"
Tishva opened up their cabin door and stepped out into the snow. Soraya rushed out after him, but then turned around and called into the house, "be good, Yabo," before closing the door behind her.
The two traveled off into the winter wonderland surrounding their humble abode. Everything the eye could see was covered in a soft pillowy blanket of white. Soraya followed her father, hopping into the large footprints he left behind in the snow.
Tishva whistled an old tune as they trekked deeper into the woods, his sad and beautiful song filling the serene forest air. Soraya listened intently, trying to memorize the song. After her father finished holding out the last note he glanced over his shoulder at Soraya.
"Guess where I learned that from," he asked, his grayish blue eyes twinkling.
"Um..." Soraya scrunched up her face in concentration. "It reminds me of the Rivengale bird's song."
"Yes, you're correct," Tishva placed a hand on Soraya's head to mess up her long strawberry blonde hair.
"It's been a few months since we've heard any birds sing."
Tishva nodded. "Our winters here are long and harsh. The birds should be back in two more months if spring begins on time," he suddenly halted in his tracks. "Look!"
Soraya followed his hand to where he was pointing. Just ahead of them was a small circle of rocks barely peeking out of the snow, each a dull gray with light icy blue etchings spreading across each one like interlaced spiderwebs.
Tishva stooped down to clear away the snow. Soraya watched as he waved his right hand over the rocks. Half of the web-like etchings immediately lifted into the air, circled around his hand, and disappeared into his palm. It happened so fast that Soraya thought she must have imagined it.
"What I did just there was something you need to learn how to do," Tishva said, tucking his hand back into his glove while turning around to face his daughter. His friendly blue eyes turned dark, a fiercely billowing fire behind them. "And you can't tell anyone that you know how to do this."
"Does this have to do with your job?" Soraya's sky-blue eyes widened in excitement. Her father rarely talked about his work, and whenever he did, he always told her that he'd explain more when she was older.
The edges of Tishva's eyes crinkled. "I can only teach you the basics of Arcanology right now, but I'll show you more later on," he beckoned Soraya to come over with a wave of his hand. "I harvested some Ice Magic just now. There's still more left, and I'd like to teach you how to take and use it."
Her father took hold of Soraya's right glove and tugged it off. He then guided her hand, so it barely hovered over the rocks. "I want you to concentrate and imagine the blue etchings peeling off the rocks and attaching themselves to your skin."
Soraya stared hard at the designs that were left on the rocks and tried to do as her father had instructed. Luckily, she had a photographic memory which allowed for her to memorize just about anything she saw in an instant.
After a few seconds of gazing at the elemental magic pattern, Soraya closed her eyes and could see the spiderweb pattern clearly in her mind's eye.
"Just imagine it moving onto my hand?"
"Yes." Tishva nodded.
The girl wished with all her might that the web would move onto her hand and believed it would do so just as it had done for her father. Without warning, the Ice Magic lifted into the air and sank into the palm of her hand. She jumped as a cold kiss of ice planted itself on her skin. To her astonishment, Soraya found faded, light blue etchings had indeed formed the same web-like pattern just below her fingers.
"I actually did it!" Soraya gasped.
"Well, of course you did." Tishva beamed. "I wouldn't expect anything less, especially since you have such a vivid imagination. And that was the easy part."
She looked from her hand to her father in surprise. "The next part is harder?"
"Well, you have to learn the different ways for using the magic you took from the ground."
Tishva held up his pinky, middle, ring and pointer fingers on his right hand and placed them over his left shoulder. In a flash, he turned his torso, flinging his right arm while curving his body. Ice Magic flowed from his fingers and froze a large Red Oak.
Soraya's eyes grew wide when the tree was suddenly covered in icicles all pointing in the same direction, resembling spiked fur blowing in the wind.
Her father shuffled closer, showing Soraya the barely visible light blue etchings on his palm. "When you first absorb Ice Magic, it looks like a light blue tattoo. The more you use the magic you absorb, the more the web design fades from your skin. When the design is completely gone, it means you ran out of Ice Magic and have to find more to harvest."
Tishva pointed to a faded yellow design close to his thumb. "You can harvest and store multiple kinds of magic. There are four kinds that we know of, which are the four elements; air, water, fire, and earth. Blue is water or ice, as you now know, and yellow is air."
Tishva held up his pointer and middle fingers on his right hand, then lifted it high to feel for the wind before jumping off the ground. His feet never came back down. Soraya gaped as her father floated up into the air.
"That's incredible!" Soraya exclaimed. Flying was what she wanted to do more than anything else in the world.
Her father glided back down, landing softly in the snow next to her. The yellow etchings on the palm of his hand looked relatively the same. "I didn't use much magic for that trick," he explained.
"You have Water and Air Magic on your right hand, yet you used them separately," Soraya observed. "How did you do that?"
Tishva held out his right hand. "Remember that tractor you drove to mow Mr. Corbi's lawn down in Rivinsdeep?"
Soraya nodded. Mr. Corbi was an elderly man who owned a farm with his wife. The girl was more than happy to mow their lawn and take care of the horses and other farm animals. In exchange, the elderly neighbors would load up a large basket for her with food, usually eggs, apples, and cheese, as payment.
"That tractor is a manual, meaning you have to switch gears depending on the speed you were going. Your hand is where you release magic, and your fingers operate as different gears for shifting."
Tishva raised his left hand and only raised his pointer finger, "Earth Magic," he then raised his pointer and middle fingers together. "Air Magic," Tishva raised his ring finger with his pointer and middle fingers. "Fire magic," Lastly, he held his pinky up with the other three. "Water Magic."
"What happens if you have all five fingers raised?" asked Soraya.
"Then whatever magic you have stored on your arm would all be used at the same time. It's difficult to control two kinds of magic at once, especially from one hand, so I recommend not doing it."
Tishva took off the glove on his left hand and showed Soraya that there were no markings on his palm. "Even though I stored both Water and Air Magic on my right hand, my left hand can still cast magic, it would just take a split second or two for the magic to transfer over to that hand. It runs through your veins like blood."
"So, you only have two kinds of magic?"
"Yes. It's not as easy to find magic in nature anymore, since most Etherians figured out where to look for it. Many royal families from neighboring kingdoms have taken it all for themselves so that common folk, like you and I, can't find or use it."
"Can we find Air Magic today?" Soraya asked giddily. She wanted more than anything to soar high above the clouds and see what the world looked like from such a high view.
Tishva frowned. "I found a stash of it in a cave around here several years ago and have used it all up since then. What I have absorbed on my skin is all there is left," he saw his daughter's face fall.
"I can show you the cave, but I've already searched everywhere for more."
"Okay..." Soraya was disappointed, but she still wanted to have a look.
Her father led the way to a winding path leading higher into the Averlore mountains. Soraya followed closely behind and took in the surrounding scenery.
They walked by a clearing at the edge of a cliff and could see the town of Rivinsdeep and landscape far below. The towns folk looked as small as insects from their perch, and the buildings looked like miniature models and doll houses.
The second Tishva started his ascent up the steeper slopes of the mountain, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Papa?" Soraya piped up. "Are you alright?"
Tishva stood still and stared off into the distance as though he had not heard her.
"Papa!"
Soraya panicked. Her father wasn't responding to her at all. She ran up and stood in front of him, so he could see her, but her father said nothing and looked past her as if she didn't exist.
"Papa, please! Look at me!" his daughter cried in exasperation. Tishva finally looked down at her, but had a blank look on his face as he studied the girl. Soraya reached out for his hand, but he shuffled awkwardly away.
"Don't you have a family to go home to?" Tishva asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Your parents will be upset if they find out that you followed a stranger into the woods."
He... he forgot who I am?
*3,410 Words