‘And I sought for a man among them that should make up the hedge and stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it; but I found none.’
Hadassah stared blankly at the writing inscribed on the damp wall—words in her mother tongue Emerian. The girl couldn’t help but wonder how such clear words were engraved in gold. The cave was seemingly abandoned when she found it, yet hidden behind a shroud of vines was a cramped, musty room. She grabbed the baldric across her chest as anxiety simmered in the depths of her belly, finding it difficult to tear her gaze from the letters on the wall.
Only upon remembering she needed to return home did she manage to turn away, having yet to find anything that made sneaking into the cave worth it. Her father had warned her time and again to stay away from such dubious places, but she had gone anyway, clinging to the hope that finding something valuable might soften the sting of the scolding to come. She never intended to get away with any of this; after all, the Fae watched her every move, he would know about her little adventure before she even left.
“Shit,” Hadassah muttered as her feet sank into a small puddle. Lifting them out with a groan, she cursed her luck and walked with caution across the muddy floors. Along the stone shelves were what looked like remnants of books that had long rotted and withered away, large chests were placed at the corners of the space, most of which just contained more tattered books. Spiders dashed from one previously dark area to another as the torch in her hand lit up her view. In the hopes of discovering gold or, better yet—shells, she opened chest after chest, but she remained empty-handed.
Her heart groaned as her frustration grew; her soft face showed dissatisfaction, and to top it all off, she was coated in webs, walking in wet shoes, and would later get a reprimand, all for a few books that fell apart with a single touch.
‘I should have just stayed home today,’ she thought to herself, the disappointment of finding absolutely nothing of value had ruined her day completely. Readjusting the pouch at her hips, Hadassah made the decision to return, but out the corner of her eye, something glinted on one of the bare walls. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to get a better look; moving her torch a little, and sure enough, there was an object reflecting the warm light from a hole through the wall, too small for her to normally notice. Rushing to the hole, she pressed her palm against the cave wall, the dirt was loose enough for her to dig her fingers in and reveal a box that should have remained hidden. It was a modest size, made of metal, simple and unassuming, but it excited her just to know that someone had at least tried to hide it.
People only concealed treasure, and her favourite kind of treasure she had yet to discover, was gold. With great effort, she tried to pry open the box but it was firmly locked, so propping up her torch to lean against the cave wall, she took a rock to the hinges and smashed it. The horrendous, sharp sound it made echoed through the cave repeatedly until the metal gave away, opening from behind. Giddy and expectant, she lifted the lid to reveal a piece of stunning gold jewellery—a hand piece made with small, spherical, iridescent stones that caught the torchlight in a way that seemed almost magical.
Quickly, she lifted it from the box, holding it carefully in her calloused hands, she had never seen anything quite so beautiful before. She wondered how many years it took to forge such delicate detailing, it seemed like the flowers and vines that wrapped around the wristband would come to life in an instant. Slipping it on, the feeling of cold gold against her skin made her extremely happy. It took some fiddling to get each finger guard in place but once it was on, her hand stretched out as she awed in admiration. Hadassah liked the feeling of having pretty things; unfortunately she had mostly found jade and silver, so this—to her—was beautifully spectacular.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw the wisps of a small person fluttering by her, glowing a low pink. Hadassah could barely make out their figure—only their limbs, but never their faces. Fae were unable to interact fully with the mortal world so she could only ever vaguely see them, but she didn’t need to see this one’s expression to know why they were there. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” she said with a huff as she slipped off the hand piece and tucked it away in her pouch. Reclaiming her torch, she made her way back out the cavern to the forest. The sun was only just setting by the time she crawled back out; Valdemar Forest was her home, always was and always would be. Her father had explained that they were granted special permission to live there; the king of Fae did not take well to humans in his territory otherwise.
Climbing down the cliff side, she made her way back through the forest, accompanied by the buzzing creatures she could only try and fail to ignore. Sometimes she wondered if other humans were still alive beyond the forest borders; her father had warned her about leaving. “Humans were a species that were not welcomed to this continent,” were his words to her whenever she asked. “If you step out of my protection, you should be aware that you might very well die prematurely.”
“Is he quite furious?” Hadassah asked with a weak tone, but they could hear her well enough. The wisp buzzed in her ear and she laughed nervously.
Trouble had yet to elude her.
“What came over you? Have you lost your mind!?”
As expected, her father was mad; his usual docile smile had been replaced by a stern expression, furrowed brows drawn low. His long black hair was held up in a ponytail by a simple jade pin—the same one he always used. Strangely, her simple father, who normally liked to wear white, was wearing purple.
It stood out to her, since he looked quite striking in such a royal shade, almost like the Generals of old.
‘Could he be expecting guests?’
As soon as the thought came, she swiftly slapped it away, how could he be expecting guests? Instead of entertaining such silly ideas she instead tried to focus on the lecture she was receiving, as a good student would. ‘Perhaps the Fae King is coming to visit again,’ was her conclusion, opting to ignore the fact that her father had never dressed so colourfully before, even to see the Fae King.
She had been kneeling on the wooden floors of their old home for half an inscense stick and couldn’t feel her knees anymore.
“You know better than this. You are way too old to be doing stupid things like that. Look at your hair. It’s a mess!” He slapped his ivory jade flute against his left hand, over and over. He never let her touch that flute—he loved it—but now he was hitting it so fiercely she thought it might break. He smacked it one last time, loud enough to make her flinch and meet his eyes.
“Are you even paying attention!?”
“Ah!? Yes!” she said quickly in a high-pitched squeaky voice.
Her father glared at her for a prolonged moment before letting out a deep sigh, before pinching the bridge of his nose. The silence that followed made her anxious. What was he thinking?
He dropped his hand, palm facing up, fingers stretched out. “Give it to me.”
“What—”
“What did you steal? Give it to me.”
Her cheeks warmed at his correct assessment. She bit her lip and drew the gold hand piece from her pouch. His eyes widened slightly as he saw it. He lifted it from her palm slowly, carefully, as though it were fragile. She assumed he was just as astonished as she had been by how expensive it looked.
“Where did you find this?” his voice shook.
Her heart dropped. Did he really find her actions intolerable?
“I found a new cave just off the west—”
”—the west ravine.“ he finished her sentence before she could. She blinked at him in confusion, but before she could speak again, he asked, “Did anyone follow you back?”
“What?”
“Think for a second, Hadassah! Did anyone follow you back?” his voice rose sharply; desperate, even afraid. She leaned back, taken off guard by the urgency in his tone.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think? For heaven’s sake!”
She frowned.
Wasn’t he overreacting? No one was allowed into Valdemar. Who could have followed her?
“Calm down; no one followed me. If they did, I would have known,” she said with confidence, straightening her back. She may not have been the best fighter, but she wasn’t an amateur. And if something had gone wrong, the Fae would have warned her anyway.
“You don’t know that, you should be more careful. The ravine—”
“It’s too close to Veres, I know!” she cut in. He’d told her time and time again. But how long was she expected to stay caged in Valdemar, hidden with beings she could barely see? How long did she have to be content?
“How long must you keep me here? How long until I’m safe? Were you planning to let me remain here for the rest of my life?” her voice wavered. It was hard to stand up to him without her emotions spilling over. She hated how easily her eyes stung whenever she pushed back at his instructions.
He was silent.
She had accompanied him for nineteen years. Maybe he finally realised he couldn’t keep her caged forever. A bitter smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Go to your room,” he said at last, turning to walk away.
Hadassah winced as she rose, brushing off her knees. “That could’ve been worse,” she muttered to herself as she made her way to her room.
She knew that eventually, he would forgive her. He always did. She’d just lie low until he forgot.
Her room was spacious and plain, with a few dazzling accessories on crooked, wooden shelves. She dropped her baldric to the floor before leaving barefoot as she had left her muddy shoes outside. She fetched water from the rain basin to bathe before getting started on dinner, it was an opportunity to butter him up. If she played it right, maybe he’d give the hand piece back, and she could study the runes on it. Her hair was still damp by the time she finished cooking, but the sun had long set leaving the dark to creep into the unlit rooms and corners. Braised pork. That was his favourite. After putting out the firewood, she set the pork on the table with a few side dishes before she left to change her clothes. When Hadassah returned, her father was already seated, face scarily impassive.
She gulped and sat down across from him in silence.
He picked up his fork and started eating.
She waited.
He ate one, and then two bowls of rice before he finally said anything.
“Your braised pork was exceptionally good today. If you poisoned this, I’d have died quite satisfied.”
Her eye twitched. ‘Maybe I should have poisoned you,’ she remarked in her head.
“About the hand piece…” she began.
“No.”
So curt. How irritating.
She slammed her fork down. “At least think about it!”
He didn’t even flinch, rather he picked up a cloth and dabbed the corners of his mouth. “No means no.”
“Fine. But explain yourself.”
“Thanks for the food.”
“You’re welcome,” she snapped.
He looked up at her. Her arms were crossed in stubborn defiance, it seemed to amuse him somewhat.
“It’s a human artefact,” he said.
She frowned. What did it matter? She’d found plenty of those before.
“What about it? I found the pink bracelet the other day, and you let me keep it.”
“This is different.”
“How? Because it’s gold!?”
“Hadassah!”
His sharp voice silenced her. She bit her tongue, scrunched her nose and turned away.
“Sorry,” she muttered, ashamed. Why had she raised her voice? It felt illogical.
“If you’d let me finish—this is not an ordinary artefact. It’s different.”
‘Different?’
She clenched her fists, trying not to interrupt.
He started clearing the dishes, the ceramic scrapping across old wood alerted her to followed his lead. “You know better than to be so impulsive,” he said calmly. “You’re getting older. I won’t always be here to remind you, Hadassah.”
She hated when he talked like that. The idea of death and loss made her want to plug her ears, but his tone always demanded he be taken seriously and her hands were full with plates.
“I hope I’ve prepared you for this world. Nothing should be too great for you to overcome.”
She said nothing in return, only biting her tongue as she followed in his impossibly great footsteps. They walked together through familiar corridors, the night breeze calming her youthful exuberance.
He looked back at her with a kind of tired fondness. “I know I was selfish, wanting you to exist in this world. But you know I and your mother love you very much.”
Love, not loved.
“You keep saying that like mother’s going to come back.”
At first, she had believed that. But as seasons changed, as her mind matured, she’d accepted the truth, the woman who had birthed her was long gone.
He smiled but didn’t argue. “I do hope one day you’ll meet her.”
She scoffed. “How does one meet a dead person?”
A small laugh left his throat. “Under the heavens, there are numerous principalities and powers. Not everything in this life can be explained, and so anything is possible.”
That seemed to silence her for the rest of the walk, they eventually finished the cleaning together, and she returned to her room.
Valdemar was protected—humans and beastmen couldn’t trespass. As long as they remained under the Fae King’s protection, they were safe. Her father was the only human Hadassah had ever known. Everything she understood of the world came from his tuition.
Every night before bed, she studied her notes, sharpened her daggers, and shaped new arrowheads. She planned to hunt a boar come daylight. They were running low on lard, and she needed to find more herbs too.
The mental list of chores began to overwhelm her, so she sighed and forced herself to simply stop thinking. Sitting under the dim glow of an oil lamp, she heard the soft melody of the jade flute, drifting from her father’s room. That was how she always knew when to sleep.
It was routine.
She had read of many instruments and styles of music. She had seen old paintings of people dancing in what looked like the grand balls of a fallen dynasty. She had imaged, numerous times, of what it might be like to experience such spectacle with her very eyes. To wear fine gowns, to hold the hands of a prince, to spin herself silly. But the more she pondered, the more she thought it was not too bad to only listen to her father’s Jade flute until his eventual passing. With that consolidation, she laid back on the low bed and closed her eyes.
‘I sought for a man among them that should make up the hedge and stand in the gap before Me for the land, that I should not destroy it; but I found none.’
The writing on the wall had become an image which had burned into her mind, one she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. She tossed and turned, unable to make peace with the words. A strange cloud of doom had settled over her heart, heavy and suffocating.
‘How unsettling.’
Buzz.
Closed eyelids twitched as Hadassah was brought back from the depths of sleep.
Buzz.
Buzz!
Her eyes snapped open. She jolted upright, heart pounding, head whipping from side to side as she scanned the room in alarm. Out of the corner of her eye, the Fae glowed erratically. They tugged at her hair and buzzed furiously. “Alright, alright! I’m up!” She said in a crescendo, trying not to overreact due to the adrenaline that had been released into her veins. Forced into fight or flight, the hairs on her back stood on their ends and her pupils dilated, letting her take in her dark surroundings, looking for any signs of danger.
She got out of bed, grabbing her baldric and one of the artefacts at random, the pink bracelete, before slipping it on her wrist. “What’s wrong?” She asked in a whisper but she got no answer—only strands of her hair being tugged repeatedly dragging her towards the door. She hurried out of her chambers. The outside corridor was pitch black, and the forest beyond seemed to have lost all sound. On instinct, she towards the direction of her father’s office, thinking maybe something had happened to him.
“Ouch!” she yelped.
Her hair was pulled so painfully that she was forced to stop in her tracks. She whipped around to glare at the wisps she knew were there, only to be met with nothing. Hadassah couldn’t understand why they were so insistent. What could possibly instil them of all beings with fear? “The other way?” she asked, and the air around her buzzed with agitation, their invisible presence urging her in a different direction. “But he’s still here!” came her protest, she wasn’t going to simply leave without him.
Ignoring their incessant buzzing, she sprinted for her father’s office. The wisps followed her, the noise growing louder and more jarring to her ears, but she paid them no heed. She burst into his room, the door slammed against the wooden walls. There he was—standing by the window, staring out into the mass of darkness that seemed to surround a singular blue orb in the distance.
‘What is that?’ she tried to have a closer look, but his reaction to her intrusion her snapped her out of it.
“What are you doing here? You know the drill Hadassah!”
“Father, I—”
“You need to leave this place immediately,” he interrupted, striding over to her. He grabbed her arms, his voice urgent. “Go to the colossus like I told you. read the words on the statue, you will find sustenance.”
“But what about you? You can’t stay here. If we need to leave, let’s leave together!”
His grip tightened as his features softened. She didn’t know who he saw when he looked into her eyes, but whoever it was hurt him to recall, for she saw the sorrow that overflowed from the depths of his heart.
“Hadassah, listen to me,” his voice was steadier, back to it’s usual calm tone. “You are your mother’s daughter. That is your birthright, do you understand?”
“Father?” she whispered, confusion and fear mingling in her heart. This was not what she wanted to hear, at least not now. It sounded too much like a goodbye.
He smiled—a sad, bitter smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I love you; it was an honour to raise you as my own. Just wait for me; I will join you shortly.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as if it might be the last time. “You are one of the smartest women I know, you will be fine. Don’t be afraid, alright?”
“Alright,” she whispered back, her voice unwilling. She was holding on to his brilliant purple robes; she didn’t get to tell him how handsome he looked in purple; she wished he wore colours more often, instead of white.
“Now go.”
She took one last look at his face, committing every detail to memory. He hadn’t changed in her nineteen years of life—not a wrinkle, not a grey hair.
“I love you.” He said again.
Hadassah didn’t want to say goodbye; she especially didn’t want this to be goodbye. So she held back, and told herself she would tell him once it was all over, just how much she loved him. So with a heavy heart, she left her father behind.
No matter how quietly she attempted to run, it felt impossible—the loudness of her heartbeat and the echoing sound of her footsteps throughout the hallways was deafening. Her eyes were wide as she was led to the store room at the back of the house. Dust and grime had accumulated over the years, but she still remembered their drills. She moved a large barrel at the back that had been filled with oil. She huffed, kneeling as she pushed against the wooden walls behind it. A small hatch opened and she crawled in backwards. The back of the barrel had a small handle that she pulled with all her might until the barrel blocked her path again.
As she crawled through the hole, she tried to keep calm; she just needed to get away. Once she was safe, he would come and find her. She repeated the thought to herself over and over again, a lie she insisted on telling herself.
By the time she reached the end of the tunnel her throat was beginning to tighten due to the filth she inhaled. Climbing up a series of old tree roots, she came to a closed off ceiling. Pushing against it, a layer of moss and dirt moved, letting her through to a small dead tree trunk. Light trickled in from an opening ahead of her, so she crawled some more until she was out. She breathed in the fresh air and wiped away the cobwebs on her face as she stood up to face the direction of her home. The tunnel had lead up-hill, giving her a good view of her small home almost hidden by the trees.
‘I just have to wait for him, I just have to wait—’
Her line of thought died as an ear-splitting bang followed a bright, destructive explosion.
Hadassah’s eyes widened as she beheld the sight of her home.
Flames engulfed the modest wooden estate, and just like that, everything she had ever known was destroyed before her eyes. The thatched roof collapsed, sending sparks and embers fluttering into the night sky. The garden where she had played as a child was nothing but scorched earth, the vegetables and herbs reduced to nothing.
“Father…” she began to whisper. “No, maybe he escaped.” she told herself.
But such lies brought no reassurance. Her eyes stung and her heart was torn to shreds. Something told her that he hadn’t escaped, he never planned to escape. No, she knew all along, she chose to ignore it. Her father had been ready to die; he had been ready for a long time.
A scream tore from her throat, but she couldn’t hear any of it as it was swallowed by the sounds of her home collapsing.
“No! No!” she cried, stumbling forward, her legs weak beneath her. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face, mixing with the dirt that stained her cheeks. She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—she just ran, her feet moving of their own accord towards her home.
A sharp pain shot through her scalp. She was yanked backward. Her head snapped up as the force of the pull dragged her off her feet to her butt. She clawed at the ground, desperate to get back on her feet, but the grip on her hair only tightened.
“Let me go!” she screamed, her voice hoarse with desperation. She twisted and turned, trying to break free, but their hold was relentless. They yanked her hair again and again, dragging her away from the fire, away from the last remnants of her old life.
Hadassah fought with everything she had, kicking and thrashing, her nails digging into the earth as she tried to pull herself free. The smoke rising eventually caught up to her, choking her. “Please!” she sobbed, her voice breaking as she coughed violently. “Let me go! I have to go back! I have to—”
But they didn’t listen. They dragged her to the other side of the hill, refusing to let her go.
She screamed and fought with all her might. Why did they stop her? Fae could not interfere with mortal affairs and yet they were insistent on forcing her away. Her tears clouded her vision.
She struggled to keep her footing.
One misstep was all it took and suddenly she was tumbling down.
The world became a blur of spinning darkness, her arms flailing as she tried to catch hold of something—anything—to stop her fall down the other side of the hill.
Rocks and branches tore at her skin, and she cried out as pain lanced through her body, and then, with a sickening jolt, she hit water.
The cold was a shock to her system, the current pulled her under as soon as she hit the surface. She gasped, inhaling water instead of air; her chest burned as she struggled to find her bearings. In her fight for release, she had fallen into the wild and untamed river below, which consumed her viciously, dragging her to its belly.
‘Why am I fighting?’
That thought came to her mind in that moment.
In the eye of a hurricane, there is quiet.
Her body went still and the river carried her down its path.
Her consciousness trickled away, but before she could lose herself as she wished, she felt a pair of hands grab her, and pull.
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