I ought to thank Kletasuah for making me rest, and for treating my hands. I fell asleep the moment I allowed myself to recline in my blankets. Still, I dragged my feet the entire next day, both from residual exhaustion (one quality night's rest doesn't make up for the deficit) and the knowledge that I missed out on the tribe's gathering. Based on the children's play acting during mealtimes, Ellna told the story of the Mountain Koros, ancient beasts that used to dwell in the mountain peaks.

My moping ends by nighttime, though, when I have enough capacity to stay up for the Earthwatcher. After the shuffling along the mountain path wanes, I sneak to the forest. Cloth bundles around me, and I take clumsy steps over fallen debris. I wore two robes today, my bag in between to place a barrier between the icy moonlight and my thinner tunic. Leaves crunch extra loudly underfoot. It sets me on edge. My heart lives in my throat as I anticipate someone jumping from the shadows, catching me in the act.

This time, I expect the faint blue light that emanates from the trees. It's as if the butterflies are a normal part of the forest, an element I'm drawn toward like fairygold flowers. The single, blue point starts to move in a concentric circle, then multiple circles. Individual wings flutter from the center, surrounding me in a glow. They speed between dense trunks in a funnel. Not one falters in its course.

Shrouds of low hanging branches part. The blue butterflies swarm around a gap in the trees, around a figure covered in a black robe. I pause many paces away. We're close enough to talk, but there's a sizable space separating us.

"Truly, Celisae, you have wisdom beyond your years." A breeze brushes past, and to my relief, the figure's cloak rustles in it. Chills creep up my spine, culminating in a shiver. "Once again, you have made the right choice. Unless, of course, you have dared to meet me without the required item."

The figure's silky voice implies a question. I pull my pack from between my robes.

"It's in here." Blinding light spews from my bag the moment I open the top. I pour the moonlight gown onto the ground. Its icy burn seared my hands while shoving it into the bag. I don't want any more exposure to it.

"Very good." The figure doesn't stir, doesn't sway, even when the wind doubles back stronger than before. Hair flies into my face, and my efforts to pull it from my mouth are in vain.

"Is this the last meeting?" I ask. It had better be. I would say it to her face, except I hold no sticks in this game. I am at the Earthwatcher's mercy.

The figure laughs, though it makes no sign of it. "Come now, Celisae. Where's the fun in telling you?"

"It would help prevent a missed meeting," I say, jutting my chin into the air.

"You haven't missed one yet. That record is proof enough that I will reach you if the time comes. For now, our bargain stands satisfied."

I stay rooted to my spot. That's not a good enough answer for me. I want to be prepared for any future tasks that might arise. Then again, what else could she want? I already gave her the sun and moon.

"Our bargain stands," the figure repeats with that same, silvery tone. I'm being dismissed. After a long moment, I turn.

"Some advanced warning would be nice next time," I say. "And some more time."

The figure laughs again. I have no reason to turn around; I already know what I'll see. Yet my head betrays me, shifting toward the high-pitched chimes.

"Have more confidence in your skills, Celisae," the Earthwatcher says. "After all, you haven't failed me yet."

Yet. I squeeze my eyes shut. Though the Earthwatcher won't admit it, I know she has another task for me. What it is, I will have to wait to find out.

***

The sun glimmers on the outskirts of my cave when I wake the next morning. I quickly dress myself, then head to the fractured cliff. People have already dispersed to various tasks — women weaving or sewing their final orders, groups of gatherers traveling into the forest. Three people remain in line for food. I duck behind the last person, squinting at the ground. The morning light is too bright, fighting against my urge to sleep.

I don't glance up until I reach the stone food tables. My eyebrows shoot upward, and I step backward on instinct. Ulane m'ke looms over me, bowl in hand. She ladles corn grits into the stone, followed by some berries.

"Here." I almost don't hear her, her voice is so low. But she holds the bowl toward me, an apple in her other hand. I hesitate a moment, and her lips press into the briefest smile. "I... hope you enjoy it."

I take the food. Shock stiffens my movements, my arms at right angles to my sides. Ulane m'ke rarely serves my meals. And I can't remember the last time she smiled at me. I turn numbly and walk to my seat across the clearing. I try to process what could've caused the change. But my brain is sluggish and unable to supply answers.

No sooner have I sat down when Ellna hobbles toward me. Her cane clicks on the gravel, a third footstep.

"The children have been asking about you," the old storyteller says. "They never got to hear you at the tribe's gathering. They were wondering if you would play something right now." She lowers her voice to a murmur. "You know how it is these days. With the adults busy preparing for the upcoming tribal trade and winter, it's best to keep the children preoccupied, out of the way."

I nod. No matter how well-meaning I was as a kid, I always felt like I was disturbing the others, creating more work instead of lessening the load. It only got worse after Mother left, and didn't abate until I received my trade as a weaver.

"Will you accompany me as I tell a story?" she asks. Her sunken maroon eyes shift from my face to my hands. "That is, if it won't place too much strain on you. I don't want to compromise your recovery."

"Really, I'm alright," I insist. As much as I appreciate their concern, I don't want to be a burden. Recently, it feels like they've had to go out of their way to care for me. "I would love to play for the kids."

"Wonderful. Come this way." Ellna does a quarter turn, then faces me again. "After you've eaten, that is. Please enjoy your first meal."

I eat quickly, stashing the apple in my robe for later. The kids form a circle at the edge of the fractured cliff, overlooking the descending mountainside. I join them after I retrieve my laivo.

"Celisae, you came!" a little boy exclaims. Two girls run up to me, hugging me at the knees. I laugh, stuck in place.

"Thank you for saving Saeppa," one with two small braids says. "I don't want to lose my other half."

"Your other half?" I glance between the girls and Ellna.

"We're twins." Saeppa, the girl hugging my left leg, looks up with the shining brown eyes.

"I'm Sella," the first says. I can see the resemblance when they face me. Both have rounded faces, high cheekbones, narrow noses, and thin lips. The only difference is that one of Sella's wide eyes is slightly more tapered than the other.

"Alright, let Celisae sit down," Ellna says. The girls release my legs, but their tiny hands grab my wrists, leading me to a seat beside them.

"Why didn't you play at the gathering?" a boy sitting near me asks.

"Yeah!" Several others chorus. Warmth flutters in my chest. If nothing else, the children like me. They're the most sincere of the tribe, able to see past the barriers others can't. One could argue their approval matters more than the stiff adults' opinions.

"Celisae needed to rest," Ellna says in that no-nonsense tone of hers.

"But she saved Saeppa's life!"

"Yeah!"

"Why else do you think she needed to rest?" Ellna asks. Behind her exterior toughness, I catch a glint of amusement in her eyes.

"We want more Celisae!" a girl cries.

"She's my hero!" says another.

"Our hero," a boy corrects.

"Well, she's here now," Ellna huffs. "Now, which story do you want to hear?"

My mind circles back to Ulane m'ke. Is it possible that the fire incident has softened her opinion of me?

"Sisters!" Saeppa and Sella exclaim together.

Ellna rubs the edge of her cane on her jaw. "There aren't very many. Perhaps the Hidden Twins?"

"No, we've heard that one," a kid says. "Tell us a new one."

Ellna's face scrunches in concentration. "I'm not sure there is... at least, none you'd want to hear."

"Tell us!" The kids start a miniature chant that Ellna silences with a wave of her hand.

"If you insist. But I must warn you, it isn't a happy one."

"That's alright," Saeppa says.

"Huh," Ellna grunts. "You say that now." She nods to me. "Celisae, mood, please."

I strum a few chords on the laivo.

"Once, two sisters lived in the mountains with their tribe. On the outside, both appeared to be normal, functioning members. They performed their duties as weavers, presenting beautiful cloth for the tribe to trade. They were high quality, too, very durable against the fierce winter nights."

Happy notes pour from the laivo's strings.

"The sisters always seemed to have fun at the tribe's gatherings. Sometimes, they even played together. What a beautiful team they made." A wistful fills Ellna's eyes. She stares into the distance, far beyond the mountain peaks. "They always were in perfect harmony, shared the same smiles or frowns. When they were lost in the music, it was like the song whisked them away to the same universe far from ours."

I pluck a series of short notes from the laivo, emulating an airy dance sequence.

"But the sisters shared more than the same emotions and talents. They shared the same discontent."

A single dissonant chord rings through the clearing. Ellna waits for it to fade.

"Neither liked their subordinate positions within the tribe. They had aspirations for something greater, for total control over the tribe."

I layer the harmonies, plucking a new sequence of notes before the others have had a chance to dissolve. Eerie tones ripple over each other. The mood darkens.

"The sisters had skills far greater than that of an average weaver. You see, these sisters knew how to manipulate nature with their music."

My thumb falters on the string. Abstract pitches tumble out by mistake. No one notices the error, though, since it slots right into Ellna's narrative.

Ellna gives a slight approving nod. "One could control animals with her instrument, while the other, the other learned a skill far, far greater." Ellna pauses for effect. My fingers freeze on the laivo's strings, suspended in anticipation. Ellna stares the children down with an eagle eye. "She could weave sunlight into cloth."

Silence reigns around us. No dramatic chord concludes her revelation. I'm too stunned to react.

There was another like me?

"She tried to use her power against the tribe," Ellna continues. "Both did. One summoned reinforcements with messenger wings, while the other crafted a dress of sunlight, the ultimate weapon. One blast, and its fire could consume our warriors in one gulp. But the wise Head Matriarch discovered their plot before they could finish. You see, the sisters made one, fatal error."

Ellna gives me the side-eye, and I suddenly realize that I haven't been playing. I strum a few quick notes to make up for it.

"The sunlight dress grew too hot to be contained by the wooden chest it was stored in. One day, it set the whole thing ablaze. Everything inside burned, except the dress. The Head Matriarch had it destroyed the moment she discovered it. As for the sisters, they were exiled from the tribe."

A few more sorrowful notes sing from the laivo. I barely think about what I'm playing. My head is spinning too fast.

Is this why the raeriel is banned? In ancient times, two sisters tried to overthrow the clans?

Something roils in my gut. Bile inches up my throat, though I can't figure out why I feel so sick.

A hand squeezes mine. "Celisae? Are you alright?" Saeppa stares up at me with wide, concerned eyes.

"Yes," I choke out. I tighten my hold of the laivo to ground myself. "I'm fine." I offer a tight smile to Ellna. "Continue."

"That's the end," Ellna says. "The sisters were exiled for their selfish plots. Power is never as attractive, or easy to obtain, as it seems."

"Of course," I say. I pluck a stream of ascending notes with a flourish, and the children cheer. Either they weren't listening to the darkness embedded in the tale or they really like stories.

"Another!" they cry.

Ellna turns to me, an eyebrow raised. "Celisae?"

"Sure." I paint on my most convincing smile. "Let's do another." Hopefully, it will take my mind off the disturbing truth I just uncovered.

***

My covers envelop me as I settle down for the night. Exhaustion floods me, makes my limbs heavy, my muscles melt into the ground. Footsteps patter outside my cave, accompanied by waning chatter. The other tribe members must be settling down for the night, just like me.

The last crunching of gravel fades into the distance. I feel myself inching into repose. Silence is such a comfort after a long day. Except it doesn't stay silent for long. I hear a distinct ping in the distance, rock hitting rock. I ignore it, allowing darkness to consume me.

I don't know how much time goes by — minutes get distorted when you're tired — but seemingly moments later, I'm shaken awake.

"Celisae."

I've come to recognize Ixek's voice. Just when I think I'm done with my "bonus" weaving projects, a new one crops up. With a groan, I roll over to face him. He crouches beside me, hand outstretched with another square of cloth bunched in his fingers.

"I'll return tomorrow night," he says. Ixek presses the cloth into my hands before slipping away as quickly as he came.

The timetable doesn't click until after he's gone. One day? That's by far the shortest timespan I've been given.

My fingers curl around the cloth, like I'm checking its pulse, trying to determine what kind of message it bleeds. What are these parcels? And why does he need one so quickly?

Fist tight around the cotton, I drop it inside the wooden chest. There. Out of sight, out of mind.

The cloth spins in my thoughts long after I close my eyes. It doesn't matter how tired I am. Questions make me toss and turn, keeping me awake. Why are these parcels so important? Why do they need to be waterproof? Is that the only reason I was chosen for this job?

Are the messages becoming more urgent?