“Naloud is an Ancient descendant. It runs in her blood.”
“Yes, but I thought it only happened to few, and very far in between,” I said.
“My mother was the only one that didn’t have a heart song. She’s the only one it skipped. And even then, none of us are sure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Serid cannot hurt Naloud if they share a heart song. It’s not possible. When it happens—when people who share a heart song find each other—there’s no separating them. Each one depends on the other for survival.”
“Marren, I already know this. What does this have to do with Serid?”
With defeat clear in his words, he said, “Because Serid took Naloud to Jiren.”
***
I managed to talk Marren out of blaming himself for not seeing what I saw or at least listening to my worries. We packed what we could carry on our backs: a few daggers, a couple sets of clothes, and some food—all stuffed into large leather bags. We changed into our black hooded robes.
Taking the woods, we walked near the road, keeping alert to any movement that didn’t belong. The first city we came to was Hafton. I knew there wouldn’t be a way Naloud would be there, and I didn’t want to go back. Instead, we moved forward, traveling along the major trade route that acted as the most direct way between cities.
By the time we reached Verora, I felt worn and in need of a place to stay. Marren agreed to stop for some rest and see if anyone had seen our daughter recently. Our plans would prove unrealized.
We were greeted with wide eyes, full of alarm and fear. Many of the people stopped what they were in the middle of doing to stare at us. Many of the people we approached in question of our daughter shook their heads wildly and ran as fast as their legs would carry them.
“What is wrong with these people?” I asked.
“The man said that Jiren deceived them all. He crossed over after the fight that claimed so many lives and started to warn people of creatures he saw in the woods. Creatures that appear human during the day but like beasts at night. Jiren told them they had eyes blacker than the abyss and would use mind tricks to lure humans into their trap to be eaten.”
“Gross,” I replied and struggled to keep the bile from rising into my mouth.
“He also said that the king believed Jiren so completely that anyone caught speaking to these creatures would be killed along with them.”
“Enid! We haven’t had word from him! What if he’s dead?”
“Let’s not worry about that until something can prove his death.” Marren tried to speak as calmly as possible, but his words were still tinged with worry.
“We better leave before we both get killed.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” came a voice from within the crowd, exuberantly deep and full of warning.
We turned to face a man, as stout as he was tall, and skin the color of burnt toast. He held a large sword in his hand and stared at us with a crowd gathering behind him. Each person held some sort of weapon, even the children.
It made my heart clench.
“We want no trouble. We’re just passing through. Our daughter was taken from us. Perhaps you have seen her?” Marren said.
“We don’t appreciate the likes of your kind here. Now leave or suffer painful deaths worse than that you bring upon your prey.”
***
Every town reacted like this. Especially Ashelm, where we were chased out by the crowd mad with fear. Their faces contorted into bloodthirsty creatures out for the kill. We were forced to make camp each night, only neither of us could sleep, too afraid a band of hunters would come across us and make good on the bounty announced on posters tacked to the trees we passed with crudely drawn faces meant to depict the immortal races with the reward of ten thousand copper for each head.
“Is this what it was like when the immortal realm was created?” I asked as we neared Yerr.
“This and so much worse in places,” Marren replied.
“How so?”
“If it were worse, we wouldn’t have our heads right now.”
“Oh.” I tried to ignore the large lump that appeared in my throat, making it difficult to swallow back and forced my eyes to tear. The one thought I tried hard to not acknowledge during this entire journey loomed even closer, whispering louder and voiced my feelings that the likelihood of us actually finding my daughter alive grew slimmer.
That fear became a weight on my shoulders. A burden only I could bear. Not even Marren experienced the absence of our daughter like I did. The fear of her not returning. The pain of loss and death is a human experience. And though I’m no longer a human, I still share the feelings I had. Just as strong, and just as powerful.