"The Dawn that Rose from Fire"

Day 28 of Novel November- In which Alenyah begins to rebuild

Chapter 15

Sera coughed, feeling the whole lot of them were ridiculous, and they separated. Whilst Alenyah hoped some deeper bond could grow between them all, she knew much planning still needed to be done. A caravan was due to arrive before the week’s end, and Seth intended to negotiate as much of the goods as possible for the journey through Ashfall Pass.

In the days that followed, Sera did not believe in rest. “Still breathing, still useful,” she declared on the second morning, shoving a basket of tangled wool toward Alenyah. “You’re not touching stairs, lifting anything heavier than a spoon, or walking more than ten steps, but you can sit and work.”

The others only laughed when Alenyah shot them a look of quiet betrayal; each of them had already been claimed by the innkeeper’s tyranny. Berin was chopping wood, Seth hauling water, Foxran repairing a shutter with the permanent scowl of a man who hadn’t been given nails, and Kaelen was somewhere outside digging a trench for drainage like a disgraced noble exiled from his kingdom.

Althea plopped beside Alenyah with two weaving frames and a pile of half-spun yarn. “Ignore her. She scares us all. Here, let’s start simple. We’re going to make something that at least resembles a scarf.”

Alenyah watched the Rhea’s fingers, graceful and sure even in mundane tasks. Sitting there, absorbing the warmth of the hearth and the familiar scent of drying herbs, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease just a fraction.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Althea murmured as Alenyah made a mess of her first row. “Just present.”

Present.

A strange word for someone who had lived so much of her life in memories and fear.

By midday, Tavren appeared with an avalanche of jars, flowers, dried roots, and string. They dumped them onto the table with dramatic flair.

“Inventory day,” they declared. “I need help suffering. Sera had these supplies she was willing to part with for the journey ahead.”

Althea rolled her eyes. “Tavren, she’s injured.”

“Not deaf,” Tavren countered, leaning on the table. “Besides, I need her opinion. Fey’ri senses and all.”

Alenyah blinked. “My… opinion?”

Tavren’s smile softened. “You understand Songs. I don’t. I can’t hear the Stone’s voice like other Stoneborn.” They tapped their ear. “But I learned herbs, tonics, tinctures, anything that people would trade for. It kept me alive after the Fall.”

There was no bitterness in the words, only the flat truth of survival. But the admission still made something tighten in her chest.

“You cannot hear the Stone?” she asked quietly.

“Some Stoneborn feel the Stone’s Song from birth. The hum in the bones. The quiet guidance. But for me? Nothing. Silence,” Tavren said, arranging jars with a surprisingly deft touch. “I’m defective, if you ask the old clans. Outcasts unless I prove myself useful.”

“Useful,” Alenyah echoed, her hands stilling on the loom. Her eyes flicked up to Tavren’s. “Would you change it, if you could?”

Tavren’s gaze flicked to her bandaged ribs, her trembling fingers in the wool. “It is a lonely thing,” they continued, voice dropping. “To be born of a people and still stand outside their melody.”

The three of them worked until shadows stretched long across the floor. Tavren taught her the scent of feverfew, the use of marigold poultices. Althea helped her fix her disastrous weaving, guiding her fingers with patient warmth.

She found herself laughing, quiet, then louder. At some point, her shoulders stopped creeping toward her ears. At some point, she forgot to listen for danger.

When she finally glanced toward the window, she caught sight of movement outside, Kaelen pausing mid-shovel, head tilted slightly toward the inn as though listening to something inside. To her laughter. Heat rushed to her face, and she looked quickly down at the loom. Althea’s smirk was merciless.

“I’ve never known you to flush over anyone,” she teased. Alenyah refused to meet her eyes, and she mumbled a curse as she messed up the next row.

“I’ve always been too busy for anyone,” she replied. “And I still am now, or haven’t you noticed we are on a suicide mission?”

“A suicide mission should drive you towards loved ones, now away.”

At this, Alenyah laughed bitterly. “Who said anything about love?”

Tavren looked up from where they were packaging small sachets of clove. Their ginger eyebrows rose in interest, and Alenyah levelled a stare at the Stoneborn.

“You won’t repeat this,” she threatened. Tavren just raised both hands and shrugged.

“It’s not my place. But I do know Kaelen carries the weight of everyone on his shoulders. And while they may be broad, they cannot hold all our burdens. Be careful you do not add more.”

A rush of guilt flooded her, sharp and unbidden. “I wouldn’t,” she said quietly. “But I can’t stop him from trying.”

Tavren nodded. “No. And I don’t think he wants you to stop him. That’s his choice to make.”

Althea nudged her knee against Alenyah’s. “You don’t owe him feelings,” she said softly. “But you also don’t have to run from kindness.”

To ease the moment, Alenyah said, “I feel like if I tried to run from any of you, all of you would hunt me down and drag me kicking and screaming over Ashfall Pass.”

“Berin would,” Althea added. “This is too damn important to him to finish. I would hope it would be the same for you.”

“It was,” Alenyah muttered. “I mean, it is, but…I was proud of what we built. Eirethan has become everything I hoped it would be.”

“But you never really healed,” Tavren gently prodded. “You or your people. You have bandaged the wound, but it may turn into a scar.”

“It’s too late for that,” The Fey’ri’s lips twitched ruefully. “At least, for me. But you’re right, I owe this to them. To everyone. To try.”

That night after dinner, Alenyah walked herself out on the porch. If she squinted, she could see the faintest glimmer of the lake, the reflection of the swelling moon above. She rubbed her chest as she sat down on the edge of the porch, booted feet dangling inches over the rising snow.

She would always be trying to have one last look at what she had left behind, as the tiniest flame burned inside her, whispering that if she just waited long enough, Valka would return, shaking the water from her fur into frozen diamonds in the air. Seth had started up a card game inside, and this time Althea and Sera had joined them. She could hear the cursing from here. Her lips twitched. Alenyah did not know when she would be ready for card games, but the brightness of others in her darkest moments, she had learned, had the ability to either soothe or enrage her. On nights like tonight, when the wind was calm, she was glad it was the former.

Heavy steps followed her outside, and she felt the weight of those every watchful eyes. Kaelen walked to the edge of the porch beside her, gazing up at the stars, before settling ungracefully, grunting as his boots sank into the snow. Alenyah blinked at his shoes.

“You should sit in the chair,” she said, pointing behind them. “It’ll keep your feet dry better than sitting here with me.” He leaned back on his hands and glared at the spindly rocking chair in the corner of the porch and snorted.

“Not a chance.”

Maybe he thought he’d break it. She smirked at that, and he peered at her from the corner of his eye.

“Something funny?”

“No, no. Just wondering what it’s like to have stone in your skin. Useful, but what’s the point if you can’t enjoy a good…rock every now and then.”

“Rock? What are you-” His eyes drifted to the rocking chair, and he groaned rolling his eyes. “You did NOT just say that.”

And Alenyah laughed, truly laughing for the first time since Valka’s death. Kaelen chuckled, and they fell into an easy silence as the snow silenced the world. It felt…intimate, and Alenyah wasn’t sure she liked it. Not when so many aspects of their journey, their lives, were so unclear.

“Kaelen?”

He jumped and turned to face her. The steps were not wide, and his face loomed above, wide cheekbones, deep set eyes, and a strong brow. The Stoneborn saw a question in her eyes, and he reached upwards, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her pointed ear.



“Why don’t you hate me?” She questioned.

He pulled back, narrowing his eyes. She turned away. Maybe that had been too strong a question to ask, but she continued.

“Since we met, I have almost attacked you twice, and wanted even more than that. I have insulted you, questioned your leadership,” her breath sighed out of her. “And even your own bloodline.”

He rippled with tension, leaning forward to brace his weight on his knees. He looked at his weathered hands, and she almost wanted to trace the silver on his skin, pull him to turn and face her. Instead, she cleared her throat and went on.

“I did not save either of our people. I wasn’t even there to try, but maybe I could have sought out the Stoneborn after. We could have tried to rebuild together, like the past.”

The silence stretched between them, and she felt his unease like a note out of tune on an old piano.

“I did hate you,” He murmured, pained. “For a while.”

Alenyah blinked, and as she recoiled, he leaned inwards, not letting her run away.

“I was young myself, and that day…that day my father took his council and headed for the High Seat above the Crags. My brothers were in place to manage in his absence. He could be gone a day- a week. Our home had not been…stable, for a while.”

Alenyah relaxed, and his hand dwarfed her own as he reached out and threaded their fingers.

“He had hoped that, perhaps having a Singer inside the Crags would help.”

She tilted her head, confused. “My mother?”

His hand pulled her to his chest, to his heart. “No, not your mother.”

She flushed, “So that’s what the meeting was about?”

Kaelen could only shake his head. “That I do not know. My father did not share his plans with me, only my brothers. I was the little runt running around, playing at becoming half the warrior my brothers were at a quarter of the size. But from that time, I do remember you.”

His gaze grew far away. “The gates were open that day, and Fey’ri and Stoneborn trickled back and forth between the Reach and the Ironwoods. I was deep inside, training on the proving grounds. Joreth was meeting the merchants guild and Silas was with me, making sure I didn’t break my neck.”

The picture was serene, peaceful, and Alenyah almost didn’t want him to continue, didn’t want to lose the softness in his voice. But he hardened like the stone that wrought him.