A Friend, A Sister
Catanya closed her eyes, waiting for the sense of calm that her surroundings usually gave her. She loved this secluded beach. She loved the smell of salt water and the sound of waves breaking against the rocks. It was her favourite escape—somewhere she could retreat to be alone with her thoughts, somewhere she felt safe.
But today it wasn’t working.
She opened her eyes and stared down at the sketchboard on her lap. How many times had she drawn this beach, trying to capture its raw beauty?
It was a narrow coastal inlet, hidden at the north edge of the forest where the earth tilted away from the tree line. The beach was a blend of rocks and sand, strewn with an assortment of driftwood and seashells that gave it a wild, untameable quality. It was this quality especially that appealed to Catanya. She’d spent years trying to capture that sense of freedom on the page, never really succeeding.
But this latest effort was the closest she’d ever come. Perhaps because she finally understood how trapped she was, she could appreciate its defiant wilderness.
Just stay here, Catanya. Keep your head down and everything will be alright.
Catanya rubbed her forehead, wishing she could forget everything.
She had been sitting on this beach for hours, trying to sort out her emotions. Her mind was reeling. She was having trouble processing everything that had happened these last few days. It was too surreal. No matter how many times she replayed her conversation with Genna and Grante, a part of her still didn’t believe it. Or couldn’t believe it.
She needed to keep herself distracted.
Catanya shuffled the sheaves of parchment on her lap, searching for one with a square of clear space, then she laid it on the sketchboard and snatched up a fresh pencil.
She traced the pencil across the sheet, outlining the shape of a man’s face with round, weary features and worry lines on his forehead. She’d met Grante for the first time a few days ago, but she never forgot a face, and that meeting had been particularly memorable.
Catanya’s hand trembled, causing her next pencil line to jut out at an odd angle, slicing through the image.
Grumbling under her breath, she rubbed the page with her thumb, trying to blot out the line, but it just smudged into a grey and black blotch on the page.
Frustrated, Catanya tore the corner off the page and crumpled it into a ball, tossing it away so it landed in the sand nearby. Then she started rifling through the sheaves again. She lingered on a page with a series of images she’d drawn the day before. Images of things she’d rather not remember.
The shining chalice and the old man in the shadows.
And him.
Catanya snapped the sketchboard closed and laid it down in the sand. She ran her hands through her hair, hugged her knees to her chest, and felt her pulse quicken yet again.
She longed to forget, to go back and pretend none of it had happened, but she couldn’t.
Catanya shuddered involuntarily as the memories of that fateful night came rushing back. The dizziness and pain had been excruciating, and then that strange, blinding light…
She tried to push the memory away, not wanting to remember what had happened next. She didn’t want any of this.
Catanya groaned and rested her chin on her knees, gazing out at the ocean. The water shimmered like a sheet of textured glass, giving the impression it stretched on forever. She wondered, not for the first time, what lay beyond the horizon.
Hesitantly, Catanya reached down and opened her sketchboard again, flipping through the pages to one at the back.
It was a busy page, filled with drawings that flowed together, pouring out from the centre: faces, horses, birds, trees, and more, all surrounding a long cedar lodge with several carved columns supporting its roof, and a series of dormer windows overhanging a lush garden.
Camlee Lodge, a home for orphaned girls in the small village of Faltir.
Orphaned girls. Right.
Catanya gazed at the image of the home that had never truly been hers. Her resolve began to strengthen. She climbed to her feet, ignoring the slight tremor of her muscles, and stepped across the damp sand towards the ocean. The waves rushed at her feet, drenching her bare toes and the hemline of her dress, and tugging at the sand beneath her.
One by one, she lifted her sketches off the board and laid them in the water, watching as the pencil lines bled together, and the thick parchment wilted and drowned, bearing her past into the depths of the ocean.
When the last page had succumbed to the undercurrent, she returned to her spot on the beach, pulled on her shoes, and sat down to watch the sun set.
After a while, she heard a rustling noise coming from behind her. She turned to see a familiar young woman emerging from the forest, her long brown kirtle catching on the brambles and branches as she moved.
“Here you are,” said Diyah, relief in her voice as she yanked her dress free from the thorns. “I’ve been searching for you for ages.” She reached the edge of the trees and began to descend the steep, rocky slope towards the beach. “What are you doing?” She stumbled to a halt at the base of the incline.
“I’m just… thinking.” Catanya squinted towards the setting sun. Diyah sat down in the sand beside her. She was observing Catanya closely, and Catanya knew what was coming next. “I’m fine,” she said before her friend could ask the question. “Really, I am.”
Diyah snorted. “Well, that’s not true,” she said, turning her gaze out towards the water. “But we can pretend it is, if that’s what you want.” She flashed a warm smile.
Catanya laughed and felt a burst of affection for her. “Thank you.”
Diyah nodded, and they settled into a comfortable silence.
Catanya and Diyah had known each other their entire lives. They’d grown up together at Camlee Lodge, and from the moment they’d met as children, they had been inseparable.
Catanya could hardly remember the years before Diyah arrived at the lodge. It was as if those years belonged to someone else’s life. She and Diyah had been together forever. Catanya couldn’t imagine her life without her.
She glanced over at her friend. Diyah’s wavy blond hair was shining in the sunlight and her silhouette was unusually vibrant, set against the beach like a perfect sculpture.
Any other time, Catanya would have started a new sketch. She’d spent hours of her life drawing her friend’s face.
Diyah was widely regarded as the most beautiful woman within miles of Faltir. Her hair fell in perfect curls that framed her face, and her wide brown eyes had a permanent shine in them that seemed to convey an enticing charm. But what most people saw as flirtation, Catanya recognized as a sign of her friend’s fiery temperament and impatience. Capturing that on the page was always a satisfying challenge.
Catanya smiled to herself and turned her attention back out towards the water.
“What is it?” Diyah eyed her curiously.
Catanya shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, I was just remembering a few years ago… the celebration when you officially came of age.” Catanya wrestled back a laugh. “What did the villagers say about you again? What did they call it, the Murina Passion?”
“Yes, that’s it.” Diyah rolled her eyes. “People born in Murina are strange, volatile creatures. Didn’t you know that?” She sniffed and tugged at the leather strap wrapped around her shoulders, holding her work satchel in place. “Apparently, refusing to be paraded around the village in a ridiculous dress is unthinkable.”
Catanya laughed at the scowl on her friend’s face. “Oh, of course it is. Ladies of Faltir should be proper and polite.” She sniggered.
“Oh, right. Because that’s how you behaved when you had to do it?”
Catanya pulled an expression of mock offense. “What? Doesn’t every lady show up to her celebration two hours late, unkempt and covered in pencil smudges?”
They grinned at each other and laughed.
“Oh, sometimes I wonder about this place, you know?” grumbled Diyah, running her hand through her hair. “I’ve never understood how they can be so small-minded.”
Catanya sighed and looked around at her surroundings.
Faltir was located at the furthest reach of the kingdom, nestled in the foothills of the Tirnifel Mountains. A thick forest blanketed the rolling highlands, and the many peaks and valleys gave way abruptly to the border of the northern sea.
“It is beautiful here though,” she breathed. “It’s a peaceful place, full of simple people who aspire to lead quiet lives.” Catanya shrugged. “It’s not what I would want either, but it seems to make them happy… I suppose you and I have just never truly belonged.”
“Definitely not.”
Catanya couldn’t help but smile at the defiance in her friend’s voice. Diyah had always been driven, determined to effect change in the world. But Catanya was more artistic and imaginative, spending hours drawing, painting, and crafting, and trading her works at market.
Catanya often dreamed of setting out on her own, selling her works to pay her way. The romance of it spoke to her—living as a wanderer, travelling the world and seeing the countless wonders from her childhood stories.
She wanted to watch the tides of Brigmun Bay vanish, and to visit the Ruins of Bratia where the famous battles were fought. The great cities of Caerlon, Sidina, and Awnell called to her to walk their winding streets. She yearned to trek across the Tirnifel Mountains and discover what lay beyond them and she wanted to swim in the warm waters off the coast of the Tirimsi Desert. She longed to explore the far reaches of the kingdom, to learn its secrets.
Catanya had been thinking about this a lot lately. She’d spent her entire life dreaming of distant places and imagining grand adventures. Now that she knew the truth, she finally understood why Faltir never felt like home to her.
But it was one thing to fantasize about leaving, it was an entirely different matter to actually do it.
This wouldn’t be easy.
“So”—she cleared her throat—“did Lady Genna send you to find me?” She grabbed a handful of sand and felt the coarse grains slip through her fingers.
Diyah exhaled heavily. “She’s worried about you. We both are.”
Lady Genna managed the lodge where Catanya and Diyah grew up. She was a strict, demanding guardian who opened her heart to every girl in her care. She loved them all like she was their mother.
Until recently, Catanya had never realized how much she owed Genna for taking her in and giving her shelter all this time. She had never known how dangerous her presence was for everyone around her.
Catanya turned to study her friend, a twinge of guilt nagging at the edges of her affection. She couldn’t bear to imagine what would happen to the people she loved if anyone discovered the truth about her.
She grabbed another handful of sand, letting the grains slip away to reveal a small pink seashell in her palm. With a sudden wave of sadness, she flipped the shell over in her fingers, running her thumb across its ridges.
“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” asked Diyah, without taking her eyes off the setting sun.
For a moment, Catanya was taken aback, but then she shook her head and snorted. Diyah could always tell what she was thinking without her having to say it.
“I have to,” Catanya said as she tossed the shell back onto the sand. “I know Genna and Grante think I should stay, but I can’t. Now that I know… I’m sorry.” Catanya fought to keep her voice level. As much as she loved Genna and the other girls at the lodge, there was only one person she’d really miss in Faltir.
Diyah didn’t respond.
They sat in silence, watching the sun inch closer to the horizon. It reflected off the rippling surface of the ocean in a sparkling, watercolour imitation of the sky. The pinkish hues of the clouds brushed the vivid blue canvas as it melted into a blur of orange and red. The sunset was exquisite, and the brilliance of the colours reminded Catanya of the necklace she used to wear.
She frowned and rubbed her neck, wishing she still had it, as if, somehow, it might have given her the answers she needed.
“Well.” Diyah climbed to her feet and shook the sand off her dress. “If we’re going to leave, we’d better do it sooner rather than later.” She held out her hand to Catanya, who stared at it in disbelief.
“We?”
“I’m coming with you.” Diyah’s tone was matter-of-fact, a steely glint in her eye.
Catanya opened her mouth to protest, but Diyah cut her off. “There’s no point in arguing with me. I’m coming with you.”
“But Diyah—”
“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care where you came from or who your parents are. It’s you and me together, we’re family. And I’m not going to lose my family again. I can’t—I won’t.”
Catanya wanted to protest, but once Diyah had her mind set, there was no winning an argument with her. And Catanya couldn’t help feeling a surge of relief. She reached out and took Diyah’s hand, pulling herself up to her feet. “Are you sure?”
Diyah shrugged. “We’re in this together, Catanya. We always have been. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but whatever it is, we’ll face it together. Besides,” she continued with a thoughtful frown, “it could be rather exciting. Think about it. We can go anywhere. Faltir was never big enough for us, anyway.”
“True.” Catanya grinned and bent down to collect her sketchboard and pencils. Something akin to excitement bubbled beneath her fear and anxiety. “And together, you and I are capable of anything.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Diyah’s face was alight with enthusiasm. She had the familiar air of confident determination she wore whenever she was facing a new challenge. “So, where do you want to go? Somewhere we can find work? I was thinking Sidina, although maybe that’s not far enough. Hmm… Awnell City? We can ask Genna. She might have connections…”
Diyah chattered on happily about leaving, without requiring much response. Catanya suspected her friend was trying to keep her distracted, and she loved her all the more for it.
They climbed back up the slope and into the forest towards Camlee Lodge, where Lady Genna would be waiting for them. It wouldn’t be easy to convince Genna to let them go, but they owed her an explanation after everything she had done for them.
The sun had set behind them and shadows engulfed the forest, making it much colder than the open air of the beach had been. Catanya was looking forward to regaining the comfort and warmth of the lodge. By now, the younger girls should be finishing their chores and winding down for the evening, and if they hurried, she and Diyah could join them for one last cup of tea before bed. After that, they would be free to talk with Genna undisturbed.
Over the years as Lady Genna aged, she’d started relying on Catanya and Diyah more. The eldest girls at the lodge had always been expected to help educate and guide the younger ones, but recently Catanya and Diyah had taken on this role almost completely.
Including themselves, there were currently twelve girls living at the lodge. When Catanya was young, there was half that number. It seemed like a sign of the difficult times how many girls needed shelter nowadays.
Catanya was the oldest—her twentieth birthday had come and gone earlier that year—followed closely by Diyah, but the other ten girls had not yet reached adolescence. They would be a handful for Genna to manage on her own.
But it was better this way. It was time for Catanya to leave. She didn’t belong in Faltir anymore. She wasn’t sure she belonged anywhere.
“Do you hear that?” Diyah broke through Catanya’s reverie.
Catanya stopped to listen. Somewhere nearby, she could hear the low thunderous pounding of hooves against the earth.
“Horses?” She raised her eyebrows.
Then another sound sent a chill down her spine. Somewhere ahead of them, people were screaming.
“That’s coming from the lodge!”
They broke into a run, careening through the forest towards their home.
As the lodge came into view, they saw people running in every direction as a deep, angry voice shouted, “Round everyone up! Kill anyone who resists! She’s here somewhere, so find her!”
Catanya saw one horseman chasing a tiny figure that was running as fast as its little feet would allow.
“No, Alli!” she cried, dropping her sketchboard and launching forward to protect the girl. But before she had taken two steps, it was too late. The rider’s sword sliced through Alli’s fragile frame, and she crumpled to the ground, motionless. The rider barely slowed his pace.
“Catanya!” Diyah grabbed her friend and pulled her back into the trees. “They’re here for you. You have to leave, now!” Diyah’s face had drained of colour. She was shaking with anger and grief as she tried to restrain her friend.
“No, let go of me. We have to help!” Catanya struggled against Diyah’s grip.
“If they catch you, then we’re all dead! Look at them, Catanya. Look at their uniforms.”
Reluctantly, Catanya turned to look at them.
The men were dressed in brilliant purple surcoats that stretched down to their knees above their glistening hauberks. Their sleeves and hemlines were bordered with gold embroidery, and their billowing capes were fastened at the side with a circular brooch. Across their fronts, they bore the clear image of the royal crest and royal insignia, which depicted a large bell-shaped chalice encircled by a wide, ornate crown.
Catanya recognized the violet and gold colours of Caerlon and understood what her friend was trying to tell her.
“Fírkon,” she breathed in a low, terrified voice.
The fírkon were the elite soldiers of Caerlon. They were the kingdom’s most highly trained and ruthless warriors, and if they were here in Faltir, it could only mean one thing.
“He knows… Cadyan knows.” Catanya thought she might be sick. She retreated a short distance into the trees, feeling helpless.
“You have to go,” whispered Diyah. “Go now before they find you. I’ll help Genna and the others. Maybe I can distract the fírkon long enough for you—”
“What?” Catanya snapped back into focus. “No!” She grabbed her friend’s arm to stop her.
“Yes!” Diyah wrenched her arm out of Catanya’s grip. “I’m sorry, but this is bigger than us, Catanya. Don’t you understand? You could actually change things in Caerlon—tear everything down and rebuild. Think about it. You can fight. You’re the only one who has a chance against him. But you have to go now.”
“I… I… no…” Catanya’s heart raced and she stammered, unable to speak.
“We can’t let them find you. Not here, not now. I’m sorry.”
Before Catanya could say anything, one of the fírkon spotted them. “Over there!” he shouted, pointing at them.
“Go now!” said Diyah, sounding panicked as she pushed Catanya forward. Then she turned to run out of the trees towards the rider. “GO!” she called, as she disappeared into the chaos.
Catanya’s head was reeling, unable to accept what had just happened. She needed to run after her friend, to bring her back. But when she stared at the scene, she spotted a pair of riders heading towards her. Diyah was right.
Catanya turned and took off into the trees.
Panic set in while she ran as fast as she could. Behind her, the sound of horses grew louder. A painful stitch pierced her side, but Catanya willed herself to keep running, to keep going. She owed it to everyone at Camlee Lodge. She owed it to Diyah.
The sound of horses resounded everywhere, and suddenly she realized it wasn’t only coming from behind her. Someone was racing towards her from the side. She glanced back and lost her footing, tumbling to the ground just as the huge horse burst through the trees. She rolled over to see the rider towering over her in the patchy moonlight, triumph written on his face as he pulled on the reins to stop his horse. But the beast reared, and with its feet about to descend on top of her, Catanya raised her hands reflexively to shield herself. As she did so, she felt a strange prickling in her arms.
A fleeting but eerie moment of silence blanketed them in stillness before a powerful gust wailed through the trees and a sudden and loud creak rent the air. Then came the ominous groan of roots being wrenched from the ground as an enormous fir tree teetered and crashed down between Catanya and the rider, sending a wave of debris billowing in every direction. The rider jerked his reins to avoid the impact, but the effort unseated him. He fell to the ground, while his horse bolted away in the opposite direction.
Catanya scrambled to her feet, coughing as she inhaled the dusty air. Torn between fear and astonishment, she surveyed the damage. The fallen tree completely blocked the path and the rider was nowhere to be seen. She could hear the angry voices of other soldiers nearby, but she didn’t wait to find out what they were saying.
She started running again.
Catanya ran without stopping for what seemed like hours. Her lungs burned and she had sharp pains in her sides, but she urged herself to continue onward. The trees thrashed at her as she flew past, tearing her clothes and cutting her skin. But she didn’t care. Her eyes watered and her legs shook, but she kept running until she was deep in the forest, leaving Faltir far behind.
