Csilla

Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone

efore I had been carted off to live in the capital, I had enjoyed a carefree existence. The youngest child born to my father there was little that I had ever been forced to go without. Unlike my brothers, I was treated as if I had been crafted from porcelain. Too fragile and cherished to be allowed the things most children were able to enjoy. While my brothers were shipped off to oversee the productions of the quarries littering our father’s territory, I was kept home. Not a day’s work would threaten to intrude upon my purity. Though I did not understand it at first, I was my father’s final hope to leave behind the desert he’d been cursed to reside. The death of my mother, and his mate, ensured that weight would forever be mine.
 
The slightest of smiles peeked out from behind a guarded exterior. Things had felt so simple then. Regularly I would find joy in teasing my father about finding another mate. There had been many fine mares scattered throughout the territory – many of great beauty. Some would even find their way into our home, sneaking out in the early hours of the morning. Papa never knew that I saw them all. Although countless, none of them proved worthy of becoming permanent fixtures in our lives. Then I had not understood the complexity of the male mind. Now, a mare that had been married, I knew more than I had ever cared to.
 
Father’s guests were never meant for my entertainment. As fleeting as a winter’s wind, I would continue to be forced to find my own fun. Locked away from the outside world, I was a spectator to life – never experiencing it fully. The only other foals I encountered close to my own age were the ones I had never been intended to learn about. Skinny and sickly, they were the beggars that crowded around the servants’ gates – their eyes wide and sad and pleading. Father had no patience for them, but I - I would often sneak them loaves of stale bread not suited for our own table.
 
It was odd how, the moment it was announced that I was to be married and moved to the capital, my first thoughts belonged to them. Without me there, who would care enough to sneak them scraps from the kitchen? My oldest brother named regent. I would be accompanied by my father. All I could do was pray that my siblings were kinder than the man that had raised them.
 
Looking at me now, not a soul would be able to guess the intricacies of my past. Hooves caked in mud and frost gathered on my hide, I hardly gave a clue. Novus was not like the place where I had come. Vast and everchanging, what I had seen of it thus far had been enough to assure me that I was far removed from the life I’d once known. No longer was I Csilla, the Emperor’s newest wife. I was Csilla, the mystery.
 
Somewhere deep in the bog, a frog croaked. Deep and, almost, musical my tail twitched with uncertainty. Not for the first time, I found myself missing the comforts of the Sanctuary. The world created especially for the Emperor’s wives, concubines, and children – it had been a frivolous place not lacking a single luxury. Ironically, it was while I had been hidden away in that kingdom that I had felt my most free. Although there were strict rules to abide, I never once felt imprisoned as I had during my time in my father’s home. Carefully guarded, we were commodities – treated as if we were a treasure to be carefully guarded. Even now, freed from my veils and concealing robes, I felt naked.
 
The loneliness I’d felt growing up was eclipsed by the family I’d become a part of. Constantly surrounded by bodies, it had been the children I’d been closest to. Their vibrancy and joy were able to chase away my greatest pains and loneliness. For hours I could watch them playing in the gardens. Chasing butterflies and splashing in the duck pond. Watching their innocence reminded me that I was not that much older than they were. Yet, I was a bride and I was unfamiliar to the ways of childhood. I was not often given time to grieve the things that were lost to me. Eyes constantly forced to face forward. The reflections of my life thus far haunted me.
 
The mare before me now had an aura of familiarity. That same glimmer of parental exhaustion that often-accompanied new mothers. As the youngest in my harem, it had been my job to tend to those who had only just given birth. It was, at times, a challenging job – but one that I enjoyed. The foals were always their most fragile directly after birth, and I reveled in the innocence that danced within their sleepy eyes. Palomino and kind, I, again, wondered where the mare’s child had gone off to.
 
My voice, timid and afraid, echoed in my ears. There was a moment that I almost didn’t recognize the sound of it, and I silently admonished myself for asking too many questions. Surely this mare did not care for me. No doubt, she was after only what could be gained by my existence. It was what I had grown to expect from strangers, and I struggled to grasp that anyone could be different.
 
When she finally did speak again, my ears flickered to capture her words. By her own admission, she was a citizen of Terrastella. Though the swamp appeared to be the favorite of many, she spoke instead of a cottage by the sea. I’d never seen the sea before. Again, she asked if I needed help and my nostrils twitched. There were many things that I needed, but to put such things in words felt like an impossibility. Elena, she finally supplied. Introductions were easy, I recalled.
 
“My name is Csilla,” I returned with stiff civility. “As for your offer, its very kind of you to ask – but I…”
 
My voice trailed off. Why did it do that? Heart beating faster, I threw my gaze back behind me towards the water’s edge. I did not know this mare, I reminded myself harshly. If I had learned one thing throughout the course of my short life was that every living creature was capable of putting on a show. I could not trust what I was immediately seeing, and my body tensed.
 
“I’m fine,” I finally managed, my voice sounding strained and tired. “I did not mean to disturb you and your…collecting. What was it you were gathering?”
 
For the hate of silence, I found myself inquiring after something that was not my business. Not naturally curious by nature, I almost cringed at how forced my tone and body must seem. Lost was the gentility I had been raised to possess. For a moment, I almost missed the ease of my past life. I always knew what was expected of me then. Now, I was nothing but a lost child desperately grasping at straws.

Elena Daray

S

he remembers when she had thought returning home would be the answer. Though that returning to the place she had been born, had been first loved, would ease the pain. It had not. Because pain does not exist in places, it exists in people, and people show up every where, reminding you of that pain.

Her mother’s death—she sees it in the eyes of her grandmother.
Her father’s murder—it was the snow that fell to the earth.
Leaving Lilli behind—she saw her own guilt painted in the spring tulips.
It is no different now.

She sees Tenebrae leaving her when she looks in the shadows.
Azrael smiles at her in the stars.
Her child sits in the uncertainty of everything.

She knows if she left, it would solve nothing. Some call this growing up, Elena simply says it is accepting her fate. She is not brave for tilting her chin upwards against the blows, merely resilient. The thin aspen bowing and bending against the wild winds. Her heart still breaking a little bit at a time.

The shiver the traveled up her spine, now travels down Elena’s, completing the circle.
And down Elena’s, completing the circle. A frog cries. She lets a smile curl into those delicate cheeks. Even as the empath can feel the girl’s uncertainty, though Elena is no stranger to such emotions. “It is nice to meet you, Csilla.” Her words fall from her lips as easily as rain. She hangs onto whatever words she will offer her, Elena has always been a good listener. “If you are sure.” Her silvery voice chimes clearly into the chill autumn air. There is hesitancy, there are emotions buried beneath her skin and Elena, the healer inside her, wants to find them, to help her, but she cannot be the one to dig them up, that would be Csilla’s responsibility.

“You are far from a disturbance,” Elena reassures her with the truth. “I am just gathering herbs and other plants for the hospital, we like to keep a large batch of medical supplies,” she tells her.  “I am a healer,” she says, forgetting she is a Champion. “Would you like to assist me?” Elena asks, bringing the plants she had found towards her. “You can tell me a story along the way if you wish.”