"I can't believe Father is taking this long to get home."

I huffed, kicking my feet off the side of my bed. He was always late, with lame excuses like 'being a Cearte is a very demanding job' and 'it was a long walk home', but this was even worse than usual. He didn't even come home at all last night, and now he was missing reading me my bedtime story again.

"Fine. I guess I'll read it by myself." I tossed my long, brown hair over my shoulders, scooching off the mattress until my bare feet touched the hardwood floor. It was cold with Elder's Season having just begun, and I shivered, reaching for my magik.

Like any other year, it was easy to feel my magik during Elder's Season. It was the time that it was the most powerful, so long as someone didn't try to use too much. I just wanted a little light though, and- taking a deep breath in- I dug into the furls of flame within my Will, then exhaled, pushing it into my hand. Violet flames burst between my fingers, lighting my dark skin aglow, but it didn't burn any more than quickly passing a hand through a candle. Then again, no fire could burn me. I'd learned that when I was very small. It was just another thing Father said was strange about me, and that I could never show anyone.

But home was so boring, especially when he was never ever here. All there was to do was read stories, and now he wasn't even doing that for me. I made my way over to my bookshelf, holding up the fire to try and look at what books might have the most pictures in the low, lavender light. It was lonely.

"Father should just make me a sister already," I muttered, running my fingers along one book spine, then another. "He doesn't need a wife. I'm old enough to do all the mother things. He wouldn't even have to make her a baby. He could make her nine. That's fine."

The more I thought about it, nine was a perfect age for someone, and I would know. Nine was old enough to not get into trouble and take care of yourself, which meant that the only reason I didn't have a sister already was because Father was too lazy to get me one.

A grumble left me as I flipped through all the books. None of them were good ones, and if I was truly old enough to have a sister, then shouldn't I be old enough for other things?

My head turned to the other end of the room. Father's side. He kept his things there, like a desk with his other Cearte robe draped over it, a sword on the wall I was never supposed to touch except for when I secretly touched it, and his own, personal shelf.

"Aha!" I shouted, running to the other side. That was where he kept the book of legends that all the Cearte were meant to read. Sometimes he'd put me in his lap to read while his weird, squarish eyes ran over the words behind thin glasses, but he never got to the end of it, always snapping the book shut and giving me a gross kiss on the head before telling me to sleep.

But tonight, he wasn't here to stop me from pulling the books off the lowest shelves, stacking them higher and higher until I could reach the thick, brown tomb that sat balanced on the very top. He couldn't stop me from jumping back on my feather-filled mattress and flipping through the pages to read by the light of the fires I let dance around my head.

There were lots of stories in the book, but I knew most of them by heart. I passed a page showing the Air god, Eór, sewing feathery clothes for the Eunsis to give them their wings, another story about The Lochulan creating storms to stop a drought... I yawned, swinging my feet behind me as I lay on my stomach, continuing to flip. These were super old legends. The pictures didn't even draw all the Dust in the sky, making it look an odd, bright blue. No, I wanted the ones that Father hadn't let me read before, and as my fingers made their way to the last two chapters, my eyes caught a picture I hadn't seen before.

It almost looked like a large, pitch black creature, with two yellow stripes down their back like stardust, holding the world tight. Or maybe it was swirls of black drawn to look fancy. It was hard to tell where the empty background ended and the curled up darkness began. Eventually, I gave up on the picture and focused on the words instead, labelling the story as: When the World Began.

'Once, in a time before the Dust, the Universe slept.'

'No one knows how long it sat there, doing nothing, being Nothing. Only that one day, in the midst of its sleep, a single spark of Chaos ignited from within, and from that burst came everything.

"All these words are so big." I frowned, turning the page. A lot of them I didn't recognize, but there was still something so exciting about reading a secret story from a secret book. I kept going.

'It was the Chaos that created the stars, as well as the emptiness that lays beyond the sky, but more important than all of those, that burst of Chaos created gods.

'It was dark, with only starlight to be had, but even without being able to see, they could sense each other, all five of them. The first to speak was Eór, filling the Nothing with a soft, airy laugh. "What a shame it is to be surrounded by company I can't even see. I feel rather silly speaking into the dark."

'A gruff voice answered him in turn. "I believe that can be fixed."

'It was then that the sun was born, a glorious orb of light that radiated from Belháin's hand. He brought it forward, orange flickering off his broad, bare chest and braided bread as he moved to inspect his brethren.

'They each were vastly different, he noticed as they moved closer to inspect his creation. The Lochulan watched with large, fish-like eyes, reaching to cup it in his blue, webbed fingers before quickly learning that it burned. Always the wary one, Uldyŋ stood farther back, barely able to be made out save for the light glinting off his dark brown skin and thin antlers. Eór gave Belháin a thankful smile as he crossed legs of tapered flesh and air alone to sit, but despite each of them being so unique, the one that caught his eye the most was the Goddess Akasha.

'Claden in a light, yellow dress, with beige robes hemmed in green, she stood, admiring his work with glittery, blue eyes. And yet, that was only one face, kind, caring, and full of love. To her right lay another, full of youth and innocence, and to her left, one fixed with wrinkles and wisdom. They orbited around her in a circle of light, as bright as the smile spreading across her countenance.

"You made that?" she asked, and it seemed to Belháin that her voice was warmer than the flames within his hand.

'His throat cleared loudly, eyes falling to his boots. "I did."

"How amazing!" Her hands clasped in front of her, a face orbiting until it replaced her own, and suddenly her body was that of a young girl, one spinning and dancing on the tips of her toes to turn to the others. "Do you think I could ever do something like that? What else can we make?"

'Together, the gods worked, using their Wills to form their own creations: Uldyŋ pulling at the Universe's rocks to form Esternia, The Lochulan giving it its rivers and seas, and Eór draping over it the sky. They stood back, admiring their work, but even as it spun around Belháin's sun beautifully, it seemed to the Goddess that it was empty.

'She looked at what they had made and first gave it the three moons, one for each of her shifting faces. Next, she gave it life, animals to feed on Uldyŋ's plants, and her favourite, the Humans, who received her gift of wisdom and creation. The gods watched the Humans create their homes and families, their ploughs and societies, when it occurred to Eór that the Humans were more detached from the elements than they. And so he came forward, asking Akasha if she could change this. But she shook her head.

"It is too late to change the Humans. It would only bring Chaos to their way of life. But," she paused, the older face of the Mother coming to replace the Child as she considered another option, placing her hand on his. "Perhaps together, we can create something new."

'In nine month's time, Akasha bore him a child of Air. They were Humans with wings, living high in the clouds that Eór put there for them.

"Eunsis," I whispered, staring at the picture. They looked so pretty to me, with their feathery hair and wings. For some reason, it was hard for me to look away from them flying about as a strange, empty longing filling my chest. My fingers traced the art, my eyes suddenly feeling wet before I managed to turn the page.

'Soon, the others wished to work with Akasha as well. In time, she bore Uldyŋ Demons able to shift into animal spirits, The Lochulan the Merpeople. But as Esternia began to teem with life, so did Belháin with jealousy. He strode up the palace steps of the celestial world, snatching the Goddess' wrist. "Where is my child? Everyone else got their race, after all? Where is my child of Fire?

'However, the Goddess only shook her head, a solemn look filling her old, worn face. "I'm sorry Bel, but I cannot, for I have seen the future, and our child would only destroy the world we all worked so hard to create. To make a Child of Fire means to create the End. I'm sorry," she repeated.

'But Belháin refused to take no for an answer. He was no lesser than the other gods, and he believed he deserved a race of his own. So he forced himself upon her, making her give birth to the Dragons.

'Perhaps it was because they were born of hatred and evil that the beasts were so straught with violence, but the Children of Fire were as savage as the Crone foretold. They tore through the lands, ravaging and taking as they pleased. Towns burned under their breath, the other races torn to shreds from their claws, and in vengeance of her dignity, Akasha formed the Cearte: Dragon-Slayers to take them down.

'It was a long and vicious fight, but when the last Dragon disappeared from Esternia, so too did Belháin. The other gods searched the temple, but he was nowhere to be found. Uldyŋ only scoffed, saying that he prayed the man dead, while The Lochulan wondered if he'd become one with the closest he'd come to having a child: the sun. Eór only shrugged, saying that maybe it was the eternal Nothing of the universe that claimed him. Whatever the reason was, they all agreed that the god of Fire was gone, and perhaps that was for the better. Now their world could heal.

'Yet, it couldn't. The peace within Esternia had been broken, once simple lifestyles exchanged for swords and battle, their people left wondering what would be the next to claim them. Even with the Dragons slain, the children no longer trusted quietness. Scars held deeper than skin, fights constantly breaking out at the slightest disagreement. It seemed for a goddess of Balance, Chaos reigned as war spread across her land, as it did for centuries.

'As a final effort, Akasha called the remaining gods to her aid, begging them to share their power with her to fight against the Chaos plaguing their world. Combining their Wills, a sword formed in their conjoined hands, which they broke into pieces to be shared between the races. This was the gods' Will, a sign that magik would come from their discretion, and their discretion alone. No longer would the people fear enemies, for so long as Akasha's trusted Cearte kept the Relics safe, they could be brought together to ask for a single wish. The Cearte were Akasha's Will enforced upon the mortal realm. To trust them was to trust magik itself, and with this trust, Balance was restored in Esternia forevermore.'

"Huh. That's a whole lot of babies for one mom," I said as I reached the story's end, the only other a few words scrawled on the very last page. "Maybe I should pray to Akasha for a sister. She'd do a lot better than Father."

Curious, I glanced at the final story, though it was just two lines under a faded illustration of a person with stitched lips, black, clawed legs and spiked tail poised as they pinned a fiddle to their shoulder:

"Living within the Chaos star, Nðx dances with smiling lips sewn shut. And yet, when shadow streaks across sky, one can hear their fiddle playing, their music far more meaningful than any word doth spoken."

The sound of a heavy door being flung open echoed across the house, followed by the pounding of heavy rain. "Aoife!"

Slamming the book shut, I jumped off my bed, immediately trying to race the book back to the shelf. I only managed to get two steps in though before my head turned, catching him in the doorway of the room over. His back was hunched, spectacles knocked askew, and his white robes were stained with blood. But the thing that I couldn't stop staring at was the small, limp body he clasped to his chest: a pale boy with clawed fingers as dark as the night.

My father's eyes darted to the book with a frown, but I guessed he would save the reprimanding for later because he only shook his head, not even removing his boots as he strode into the bedroom. The sheets of his bed were shoved aside, and he frantically placed the redheaded boy down before turning to dig into a chest at the bed's side.

I moved closer, standing on tiptoes to look at him. He was so weird, with his spiky feet and arm twisted in a bent direction as it leaked a thick, dark liquid. I poked at it, and only then did his eyes shoot open, one a bright blue while the other was all black with only a ring of white.

"Ow!" he yelled. "What was that for?"

"Why are you covered in ink?" I asked, moving to poke him again. Instantly, my hand was grabbed by my father's, and I glanced up to see him giving me a stern, disapproving look.

"It's blood, Aoife." He tugged out a roll of bandages, sitting down and grabbing the boy's hand at one angle, and his upper arm at another.

"W-what are you doing?" the boy asked, but my father was already placing three fingers on his forehead.

"Don't worry about it. Go to sleep."

The boy seemed like he was about to protest, but his eyes were already closing, his body growing limp again.

"You can make people go to sleep?" I asked incredulously, watching as my father yanked at the boy's arm until I heard a snap, and it lay in a straight line.

He wrapped the bandages around it, biting off the end with his teeth. "Everyone but you, it seems. Why are you still awake?" His eyes landed on the book again, and he sighed. "Never mind. I need you to go and grab anything you care about and everything you need. We're leaving."

"Leaving? Why?"

"Because... I was caught." His voice sounded tight as he placed the boy back on the pillow, surveying the room before him as if he wasn't even sure what to do next. I thought that was rather silly though, since he just said we were leaving. "We were sent on a mission because we heard a Shar Drak'na was living in a Human town, but..." His gaze trailed to the boy's figure, almost seeming to blend more and more with the shadows of the wall behind him with each shallow breath. "They took his family, Aoife, and they tried to take him too until I—" He shook his head, brown curls falling in messy strands around his horns. "They're coming. Just grab whatever you can and be fast, all right? I need you to do that."

"All right Father." I nodded before looking at my bed. I would absolutely be taking my doll, and my blanket and... I frowned. I didn't really have much else.

"Aoife don't— You can't call me that anymore. It's Róhain." He leaned over to grab his sword from off the wall, along with a brown coat. The white robe, stained with black and red, was tossed on the bed, and after grabbing at the single pouch of coins on his desk, he picked up the sleeping boy again.

"Why not? That's your name. You can't just change your name. That's dumb." I put my hands on his hips. So the Cearte were coming and we were taking a trip. I didn't see why he needed to act so strange about it.

"Because I'm not your father, and I am changing it. That's my name from now on, understand? I'm Róhain, he's Talus, and we can't pretend to be a family anymore because he just looks so... different." His voice became choked up. "The only thing we can do is hide."

He turned to me, and the seriousness on his tired face made me freeze. "A lot of things are going to be changing now, and I don't know if they're ever going back." Tears welled up in his eyes as he pulled open the door into the night, all to head wherever we were going.

"I'm sorry."

~~~~~~~~~~