The Dawn that Rose from Fire

Novel November Day Two- Alenyah encounters the aftermath of her Rising

(Please see day one before reading)



Dismembering the corpse of the wyrm took some time and doing, and the Fey’ri burned the remains on the great wastes outside its lair. The acrid smell was terrible, and Alenyah found herself wandering away. She felt she had done enough by killing the thing singlehandedly. Her witnesses could do the rest of the dirty work. And boy, was everyone dirty at this point. Her tunic and clothes stunk with slime and pus, and she mournfully looked at her ruined boots. After her struggle, the sudden silence left in the wake of death was disconcerting.



The next morning, Alenyah and the others began to return to The Reach. She rode her Fylgja, a canid mount she called Felki. The size of horses, but wolf-life, her people had ridden these beasts for ages. While she could see the merit of horses, she preferred her companions to have claws, teeth, and be just as predatory as herself. Felka padded along with the rest of the pack, and Alenyah absently scratched her grey ears, which flicked back and forth in response to their surroundings.



In the Waste- the lesser wyrms spawned and thrived.Their corruption seeped into the surrounding landscape. What wildlife did not flee, was changed and twisted. Until all that remained was the faintest shape and memory of what it had been. But now the wyrm had been slain in this part. While others would always return, for now life rushed in. In absence, life rushed to fill the silence she had made, too quickly, too greedily, as though the world itself feared the quiet.



Alenyah drifted to the back of the group, her palm absently rubbing the bloody circle flaking on her chest. She was disquieted. Even as the Song became balanced and harmonious. The creature was gone, but its silence had learned the shape of her heart. Everything felt faint and off key. Vesper, on her black Fylgja, slowed till she drew beside Alenyah. Quietly, she offered her a full waterskin, which she drank from gratefully.



“Are you alright?” She questioned as Alenyah swallowed and wiped her mouth.



“I don’t know,” Alenyah said tightly. “I’ve achieved what I’ve been training for for so long. I feel like everything should feel put to rights after getting rid of such ugliness. But-”

She hesitated. Even after victory, she didn’t want Vesper to think less of her.

“I feel this disquiet in my heart.”



Vesper nodded knowingly, waving her wrists to reveal a swirl of blue woad snaking up her arms.

“Look, majesty,” she said holding out her wrists. Alenyah could see the woad covered the pale lines of claw and teeth marks on her forearms. She glanced up at the elder, brow furrowed.

“I thought you weren’t a Singer.”



Vesper shook her head. “I’m not. Only you and your mother still bear that gift. But,” she raised a finger. “That doesn’t mean that killing doesn’t leave its mark, Singer or no. Endings are change, even more so when we are its catalyst.”



She shook her sleeves back down. Alenyah felt a surge of irritation, and she grimaced.

“Why?”



“Why?” Vesper raised her eyebrow.



“That doesn’t make any sense. I destroyed evil, sickness, a twisted thing. Why would I be punished for doing something good? It shouldn’t change me.” Her hands twisted in Felki’s reins.



“You still ended an existence. You still ended a life- a song, no matter how disharmonious. The Maker gave us the Song, child, not so we could erase others—but so we could listen. Even the wrong notes have their place, if you know where to set them.”



“That’s not fair,” Alenyah said bitterly. “I HAD to do this.”



Vesper nodded. “We all have to stamp out Menerith’s stench, yes. But don’t expect to do so without consequences. Don’t expect to be untouched.”



Alenyah snorted. “Well, Maker willing I’ll end up with some good battle scars like you.”

Vesper laughed. “You may!”



Over the next few days- the stony wastes gave way to rolling hills. The gray clouds lessened, and sunbeams shot through the openings in dazzling display to dapple the greening hills with gold. Out of the wyrm’s nesting places, their pace quickened, and all too soon, they were drawing near to the edge of The Reach- Kingdom of the Fey’ri.



An immense extinct volcano, covered in forest arose sharply before the cliffs bordering a stony sea. Even at distance, Alenyah marvelled at the great Ironwoods towering upwards. The Ironwood tree was unique to her people, and they sculpted the wood- as strong as steel into buildings, streets, a city seamlessly blended into the surrounding forest. They crested the ridge, and Alenyah could see the softly swaying tops of the great trees. Her gaze drifted upwards, to the Great Hall, still miles away and only a faint shadow on the horizon. There, her mother was the Singer Queen who ruled the Fey’ri. Their home was five massive Ironwood trees, twisted into a palace overlooking the city and sea. She was eager to arrive.



They paused on the ridge, taking in the sight, and her gaze drifted to the left- to the Crags. The crags were a series of cliffs that rose abruptly from the green plains to the left of the Ironwood Forest. There lived the Stoneborn. They were a proud people, tall and as stubborn as the rocks from which they claimed to have sprung.



Their call to the Maker’s Song was hammers, bells, peals of thunder in the deep. Alenyah rarely entered the Crags. Within, they delved, building tunnels deep within the Earth, a labyrinthine maze, but also a testament to wonder. The walls were veined with gold, and the darkness was lit by great furnaces that vented smoke to the surface, and light fixtures filled with the pale blue of glow worms. While beautiful, Alenyah preferred a strong breeze on her face, the hush and smell of petrichor before rain.



Having mused long enough, Alenyah nudged Felki, who began the laborious descent downwards to the plains before the Crags and the Ironwoods.



The warrior, Merath, pulled his spotted Fylgja alongside her own. One of his pointed ears was missing the tip- torn off when he slew his own wyrm in his coming of age ceremony. While he was her senior, he showed deference now, bowing his head as the wind caught his dark curly hair.



“Singer,” he addressed her, quirking his lips. She rolled her eyes at him but smiled all the same. “Why are you lingering back here? You should be leading us, triumphantly into our lands!”

“I doubt Mother would even have noticed our return. She has been…occupied.”



Merath glanced at her. “Occupied? I would have thought it would be the utmost importance to see her daughter’s place cemented with our people.”



“It’s not MY place to comment on my mother’s dealings.” She said firmly, eyes drifting up to the faint peak of Ironwoods, blue in the distance. “She is Queen.”



“My apologies,” this time, his bow was deeper, and his Fylgja canted to the left to counter his shift in weight. “I was not trying to overstep.”



Alenyah hesitated to tell him, but she wanted to lift what weighed on her mind before they reached the city. “As far as I know, there was a Stoneborn delegation arriving. My presence was not needed.”



“Not needed?” Merath looked stunned.



“Not needed.” Alenyah repeated. “Or…maybe she didn’t want to delay my Rising any longer.”

It had hurt when her mother had sent her North to the wastes. Not necessarily a pain of her coming of age, but perhaps the pain of having to do so alone. She had hoped, even as ruling Singer, their queen, her mother could afford to take the two week journey there and back to witness her daughter’s slaying. She must have had her reasons. Alenyah would learn them soon enough.The sighing of a breeze suddenly hushed, and Felki vibrated beneath her thighs.