Page 71 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

70

FINNLEAH

T he small boat glided across the lazy ocean waves, away from the familiar shore. My eyes lingered on the quiet Destroyer camp on the horizon where only a small group of soldiers now stayed behind the rest of them gone off to war.

We were at war. A shiver ran through my body as the cold drops of salty water landed on my skin. I adjusted in my seat, moving a large sack with all my belongings to the side.

War…I didn’t think my mind was fully capable of grasping the entirety of that meaning. What it meant for Esnox, for regular people, for mages. What it meant knowing that Insanaria still had the upper hand…

A continental war.

They were out there, fighting, and I was here.

He was at war. My heart ached and I forced those thoughts away.

Later; I’d deal with it later, I assured myself.

“We will come back and visit your Destroyer friends, princess, you are not a prisoner here, I promise.” Xentar softly nudged me with his elbow noticing my bleak look.

“Nor am I a princess…” I replied, pulling my eyes away from the emptied camp.

“Well, that’s actually up for debate. You are a raw fire wielding Destroyer and that makes you Destroyer Royalty.” I rolled my eyes at his exaggeration, and Xentar chuckled. “Hey, it’s your Destroyer politics, not mine.”

The leader of the Creators motioned with his hands, uniting the air around us in gusts of wind, turning our boat to the east, as we made way to the ‘human island’ as Destroyers called it. I winced as our boat sharply skipped on the waves; my wound still reminded me of its existence at every opportunity.

It would’ve been a lot more convenient to be a Healer, not a Seer.

“So, am I truly the only Seer you have?” I asked to fill the loud silence.

“Yes, you are the only Seer we have,” he confirmed. Then no wonder we were fucked, I wanted to say but kept my mouth shut. “It’s hard to survive when a simple cut can expose your identity,” Xentar continued. “Most Seers nowadays don’t make it past toddlerhood.” A quick flash of hurt ran through his striking face before being replaced by a solemn smile. “But you have.”

“Believe me, not from lack of trying,” I replied, adjusting the seam of my pants so they wouldn’t cut into my stomach. “To be quite honest, I am still very skeptical of this so-called gift. I am a Destroyer. A few nightmares don’t magically make me a Seer.”

“No, but your blue blood does.” Xentar straightened the lapels of his sleeveless jacket. “We tested it for three nights now, Finn. Each night you have a dream, your blood turns blue during it. We can’t deny that.”

“How sure are we that some of you are not just color blind?” I brushed aside the stray strands of my disheveled braid, clearing them from my face. “It's a much more common occurrence than people realize. And maybe, if we looked at it in a better lighting, like actual daylight, my blood might look more purple than blue.” I smirked at him.

“As much as you enjoyed being a Destroyer—”

“I wouldn’t go as far as using the word ‘enjoy’,” I retorted. “But it does have its perks, I suppose.”

“So does being a Seer. As the name portrays, they see things, through visions, mostly. Some see the past, some see different versions of the future, some see glimpses of new worlds and universes. Most Seers can also do trivial things like veil or locate things, whether that be a person on a map or a missing item. More powerful Seers can place prophecies or curses, locking your fate to fruition.”

“They control Fate?” My face reflected a healthy dose of skepticism, nevertheless my ears eagerly picked up the new knowledge, despite my distrustful heart.

“They don’t ‘control’, but Seers are considered to be favored by Lady Fate herself, so she grants to some of them power to impress curses and declare prophecies,” Xentar explained.

I thought about my experience with Lady Fate. Favored, my ass.

“So…what you’re saying is, people should not piss off a Seer?” I quirked my brow at him, sending a dubious smile as he snorted.

“No, what I am saying is it’s best not to piss off a powerful one.” He grinned at me.

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be then?” I laughed as our boat hit a particularly harsh wave, jerking us upright for a moment. “For your information, I am already planning a terrible curse for your demise, Xentar of Vendovia.” I dramatically raised my chin as we propelled further towards the island.

“Seer powers or not, you, princess, are a Destroyer at heart. You'll stab me first before you’d come up with the rhyme for a curse.” Xentar shook his head.

I shrugged, considering. “You aren’t wrong there. But rhymes ? Really?”

“Yes, rhymes are needed to place a curse or a prophecy.”

“What is the difference anyway between curses, prophecies and visions…” I inquired, still trying to organize the information. The more I learned and the busier I stayed untangling the web of mages’ abilities and history, the less opportunity my tumultuous feelings about a certain General had to emerge. Feelings that I had shoved far behind the heavy locks and iron doors.

“Think of it this way; in visions, you observe fate happening in the future or in the past. In prophecy, you seal it. Same thing for curses. The difference between the two is the Seer’s intent. Prophecy is good, curse is bad. Though, people are afraid of both.”

“Why?” I asked, surprised. “I understand curses, but what is wrong about getting a prophecy?”

“Not many people appreciate someone deciding their fate for them, whether good or bad. Curses and prophecies are the same that way; they lack the receiver's choice.”

“I’m getting the feeling Seers weren’t too popular even with the Magic Wielders.” I let out a sigh as our boat approached the island. “There goes my last chance at popularity.”

Xentar couldn't help but release a jovial laugh. “You are a quick learner. But no, most Seers were great historians, writers, scholars, trusted Emperors’ advisers, and overall, well-respected members of our society. Seers always reminded everyone around them to value the present, to care about the now. I guess when you see the past and consider the complexity of the future, the present is all that truly mattered to them.”

With a simple motion of his hand, Xentar calmed the winds around us, bringing the boat to a sandy shore ribboning the tall steep cliffs of the island. We jumped into the shallow waters, pushing the boat to a small strip of pebbled sand until it was safely anchored.

“So, what does the training for a Seer entail? Besides obviously practicing my rhymes.” My nose flared as I fought for breaths, my weakened body protesting, as we climbed up the rocky path leading to the village.

“Most Seers take on an apprentice before their powers fully develop. Usually, they start quite young. Being a Seer is as much of a gift as it is a skill. Although we don’t have a Seer to help you, there are a few things that we can teach you. Petunia’s grandmother—you remember Petunia, right?” He winked at me, and I gave an exasperated eye roll. “Her grandma was a Seer, so she gave some helpful suggestions in the matter.”

I wiped a small drip of sweat off my brow, slowing my pace as we reached the top. But before I could ask what those ‘suggestions’ entailed; a familiar, angel-like figure appeared. Aurelia animatedly waved at us as we strolled down the grassy path leading to the village.

“Finally!” she shouted, making her way to us, barefoot, with a flowy, summer dress on. Her long, white hair peeked out from the large straw hat she wore, the blue ribbons swaying with her rushed steps. “I haven’t seen your face in ages! I have so much to catch you up on now that you’ve missed our walks for a few days. First, the Nightingale nest has three eggs now! Three, Finn! We thought two, but there are three!” she wheezed. “Second, the birchclaw nest has its first hatchling and…” Aurelia’s bright voice echoed in my ears, but my breath caught in my lungs as I saw him.

Viyak.

It took me a minute to register his face, his usual matted beard gone, his hair shorter and somehow blonder. He smiled at me with the widest smile I had ever seen on him. I had never noticed he had dimples before. I had never seen his eyes lit up with such joy either, as he limped towards me.

I pinched myself just to make sure it wasn’t a dream, that I wouldn’t wake up to the harsh reality of him being gone. But before long, his gangly arms wrapped around me and I fully embraced his tight hug, wrapping my own arms around his body, frowning at the feeling of nothing but skin and bones. He was tall and yet, he was less than half my size.

“I am so glad you’re okay, Finn!” His cheerful voice rang in my ears, like a bright ray of sunshine illuminating the dark clouds that were my thoughts.

“Can’t get rid of me so easily.” A wide grin spread across my face, and he held onto me for a second longer not willing to let go.

“Hello, Finn.” Lord De Villiar bowed slightly to me in greeting. My brows rose in surprise at the formal gesture, but I awkwardly returned it. “We are about to have lunch; would you like to join us?” He offered.

“As long as it’s Lady De Villiar’s cooking and not yours.” Xentar jokingly poked, and Lord De Villiar’s face softened as he snorted.

“I think these people suffered enough without having to taste my cooking.”

Viyak’s fingers intertwined with mine as we followed Lord De Villiar towards the small grassy field. He held onto my hand tightly and I squeezed his hand back, reassuring him that though I looked different, I had not forgotten the days we spent chained together. That I would always remember the silent meaning behind the quiet hand squeeze in the dark caves of the Rock Quarry.

That we made it through another day in slavery.

That I was alive.

And so was he.

Lady De Villiar, along with a few of the other human refugees, were lining up to serve food. “Sorry, boring soup today for lunch.” She graciously smiled, handing me a wooden ladle to help pour the golden liquid into the empty bowls. “Their stomachs barely hold more than half a cup of water at this point, but we have to start somewhere.” She lifted a large towel off a big, metal bowl filled with freshly baked rolls. Their warm yeasty smell traveling down to the village on a sudden gust of island breeze.

“Delicious!” Aurelia proclaimed, as she eagerly started handing out the bread to the lined-up survivors waiting for their meal. Abruptly, a woman stopped in front of the line, staring at the steaming bowl of soup and the fresh roll in her hand, with glassy eyes.

I wasn’t sure how old she was; perhaps a bit older than Viyak, perhaps younger. Slavery was merciless to the body, and age meant nothing after the Rock Quarries. Her wrists were two shades lighter than her arms, white lines lingered like scars from the shackles that were there just a week ago.

She stood there, motionless, while quiet tears rolled down her cheeks.

I had cried those same tears before. I had felt that confusing sense of newly found freedom, that uncertainty, that terrifying flicker of hope; all feelings mixed into one and all tainted with fear.

She turned to look at me, her eyes full of haunted shadows, but she found the strength to weakly smile as her mouth moved, whispering a quiet thank you. I searched for the words I could say to her, to comfort her, to reassure her, but my mind drew a blank.

She walked away before I could reply.

“Here you go, dear.” Lady De Villiar sniffled near me as she gave another bowl to a person down the line. I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my own throat, as the line slowly moved.

“We’ve got plenty of food here, so come get seconds or thirds or however many you’d like,” Lord De Villiar hollered at the crowd, passing out the rolls alongside his daughter.

We continued serving each one of them until the line thinned out, leaving just Lady De Villiar and me clearing off the serving table.

“They prefer to eat standing up.” Lady De Villiar broke the silence, noticing my lingering gaze on the liberated slaves in the tree-filled garden in the back of the De Villiars’ home. “We have offered and tried” —she motioned with her eyes to the few unclaimed tables still set outside— “but they prefer standing and eating.”

“We never sat down for food in the Rock Quarries,” I softly explained, memories flashing before my eyes as I, too, stood near the Quarry walls, hungrily gulping the slop, almost choking on the cold, glue-like substance. It was easier to defend yourself standing up; it was better not to risk sitting down at all, knowing that there was a chance of not being able to get back up with the heavy weight of iron chains and shackles dragging you down.

Lady De Villiar's eyes widened as she realized.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, her eyes turning watery. “I am so sorry, Finn, that the world has failed you. That we have failed you. We should’ve never allowed this to happen. We have failed those who needed us the most. And I am so, so sorry.” Her voice filled with deep sorrow. My eyes wrinkled with a gentle smile as I nodded, accepting her kind words.

The world might have failed me before, but I wouldn’t let it now.