The Land We Do Not Know

K

Kitti

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Growing up with the expectations of a kingdom upon one's shoulders was no easy task for any boy, especially the elder of two brothers who could not understand why he was not granted the same freedom in life as his younger brother. For much of his life, he looked jealously out windows down to courtyards where he could see his brother riding horses while he himself was stuck poring over tomes of military strategy and economic theory. Twice a week, he was forced into learning how to dance and he spent hours every day learning the languages of the surrounding regions. He envied his brother the relative ease of his life. While it was true that they both had intensive studying to complete, the lessons of the older boy always carried on nearly into the night and made him struggle while his sibling was able to spend time playing with some of the other children.

Unbeknownst to him, the younger envied his brother in turn. Everyone doted on the child, taking every care not to disturb him. He was the constant topic of conversation and the darling of all the servants. He was admired for how diligent he was in his studies and pampered to keep up his health. Everything revolved around him and when the younger child wished to play games with his brother, he was always scolded for being inconsiderate and to keep quiet so he did not disturb the other while he was trying to concentrate.

Thus, the two brothers grew through childhood and matured through their adolescent years, each wanting what the other had. The younger child, Lucas, spent his spare energies and times on becoming a boisterous young man with a particular talent in riding and caring for horses. He was popular with many around him for his outgoing personality and jovial nature. He was opposite from his brother, taking the looks of his father, blond of hair with brown eyes so light that they looked like amber in the sun. The older boy, Nicholas, was a quieter one, with a courteous demeanor and a polite way of speaking. He was treated well for his gentle and thoughtful personality that impressed all who met him and gave the almost unsettling feeling of speaking to someone who was playing a game of sorts in his head.

The mother of the boys passed from this life into the next, leaving as a remembrance only her two sons. Of the two, Nicholas bore a striking resemblance to her, with his fine dark hair and eyes that shone vibrant green. Lucas did not well remember his mother, who had been sickly when he was very young and died before his fourth year but the tutors could always guilt Nicholas, who was two years older, into doing his work by reminding him that his mother wanted him to have the finest education.

When Nicholas was twenty and four years of age, a darkness reached its hands through the land from the south, claiming the lives of many and withering crops that had been flourishing. The people spoke of it only in hushed tones, but it did not seem content in staying in the farmland. It wound its way up through the kingdom like a smoke snake until, at the capital where the royal family presided, it seemed to vanish.

It was that very week that a woman appeared, claiming to be from a noble family on the outskirts of the kingdom. She was pale as porcelain with deep blue eyes and ruby lips. Her hair was blacker than ink and seemed to flow like it down her shoulders. Her soft sweet voice convinced the king to let her remain in one of the wings of the castle and both boys were instantly enamored with her innocent disposition and loveliness. Much to the disappointment of the older, and delight of the younger, she seemed to gravitate at once to Lucas.

A fortnight passed quickly with Lucas taking the woman, who called herself Lillium, nearly everywhere with him. The pair seemed inseparable and in his company, she grew bolder, mentioning things that she did not like or people who had said something unkind about her. Eager to please, Lucas often demanded their apologies to appease her. This did not, however, stop the men and women of the castle from whispering behind their backs that the woman bore the touch of evil.

And then, it happened so suddenly, no one expected it. The king was found dead in his chambers and every evidence pointed to the culprit being the elder prince. The only person that any could remember going near the chamber of the king was Nicholas, who came to tell his father good morning before immersing himself in his studies. It came as a shock to everyone and no one could believe that such a thing had happened. So many argued against his guilt, however, that the penalty was not the boy's death, merely exile. Curious to all, the one who argued most strongly against him was his own grief-stricken brother, with Lillium at his side.

Across the sea, in a neighboring kingdom, the old huntsmaster and a few warriors took the young prince to his exile. They tried to avoid his eye and all were silent, feeling shame in what they must do. For his part, despite how he had railed and cried before, the prince was now quiet. He knew that they merely did what they must, stranding him in the wilderness with nothing and telling him that he was no longer welcome in the home of his father. It was there that he drew his legs up to his chest and sat beneath the trees, not yet come to terms with the drastic change his life had suddenly taken.
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The convent had been stifling for a young girl whose natural inclination was adventure and play. Myrashona, for that was what the Ladies of the Divine Celebate had named her, spent her youth trying to master piety and humility. She'd been given over to a convent by a family who had no way to afford yet another girl child at the age of five when her mother'd had a new baby boy. The girl spent much of her young years in penance for causing trouble in the gardens or coming to dinner dirty, neglecting her studies or, most often, adapting hymns to sing about imaginary adventures. The nuns, horrified by this sacrilege, often locked the young girl in her room or struck her across the backs of the hands with a green switch. Still, nothing deterred the girl's mischief.

On her thirteenth year, the young girl snuck out of the convent grounds and make it almost into town before she was found by a group of thieves. Terrified, she ran for her life but was soon surrounded. Only the timely intervention of the Reverend Mother and her allies and holy magic saved the girl's life. After that point, the girl found a new passion for her studies and a new thankfulness for the holy magic that had prevented trouble. However, she never gave up her love for music. Though she ceased to adapt songs, she instead started to learn instruments, having a natural talent for harp, pipes, and drums. Along with her voice, she was truly gifted.

One day, a simple thing happened. It is often the simple things that have a way of changing one's life. One of the sisters, carrying in a pot of a simple stew for the others, let it slip from her hands. In reaction, Myra stood, reaching out her hands though she was across the room and had no way of catching it. Amazingly, the pot floated gently to the ground. The sisters, seeing the lines of power leading back to Myra, turned to her. It seemed that her power had come to her at last, but it was not what had been expected. This was no holy power in the girl, not at all. This power was something else entirely. Arcane magic.

A hasty meeting was called and it was determined that the young Myrashona was no longer meant to stay in the convent. Given a dress, a pair of trousers, tunic, and vest, a worn but sturdy pair of boots, some food, and a drum, she was sent into the world. Wholly unprepared for it.

***

Myrashona looked back at the convent for some time. Tears threatened to fill deep brown eyes and overwhelm the girl. She'd lived there so long and, within the span of an evening, she'd been cast out, turned over to a world that she didn't know, a world that terrified her. She had begged to stay, even for a fortnight, but none had listened. It was the will of the Divine One that she go. With a heavy sigh, she turned and started down the path in the growing gloom of evening. She wondered why the sisters would send her out so late, but no one answered her questions, simply asking if she had enough food and wrapping her in a thick travel cloak.

Now she was alone. Alone and, she found, unsure of where the path was. Surely she'd just been on it, but her musings coupled with the relative lack of undergrowth in the surrounding forest had caused her to stray. Her heart sped and she looked around, desperately seeking her way back to the path! Where was it? She turned, trying to retrace her steps, glancing around constantly.

Woomf! Her feel tangled over something and she fell to the ground with a crash, tripping over the young man she had not seen. "Gah. Ow." Pushing herself to her feet, she began to dust herself over and check that her drum was undamaged in its fur wrappings.
 

Suddenly alone in the world, cast out from the life that he had always known and without any means to care for himself, Nicholas had been contemplating throwing himself into the sea instead of carrying the weight of his misery. He'd had some time, though not much, to come to terms with all that had happened and he still did not, in truth, understand all of what had happened. His father had been well enough as an old man could be when Nicholas had gone into his chambers to bid him a good morning and assist him in getting out of bed. The strict old man had stood, given his usual nod of thanks, and begun his way over to the washbasin for his hands.

The older the king got, the more insistent he was on dressing himself and doing things that the servants would have done for him if he hadn't caused a fuss over it. There were guards stationed outside of the king's chamber and Nicholas had even had a short discussion with one before departing to the library to be tutored as ever in affairs of state. Nicholas knew full well that his father had been stubbornly alive when he left and yet, according to the guards, no one else had entered the room of the king. That left Nicholas the only suspect, as he had come and gone with no servants in with him and alone with the king. Still, in their hearts, everyone was certain that it had not been him.

Broken from his deep thoughts abruptly, Nicholas did not hear the girl coming and was not aware of her presence until he'd felt a kick from one not-so-dainty foot clad in a leather boot. She tumbled onto the ground gracelessly, half landing on him and partially in the dirt. Nicholas winced a bit in pain and pulled himself up as soon as she was once again standing. He had been fully expecting the isolation of the location they left him and was not prepared to come into contact with another person at all, let alone another woman.

Before she'd even apologized to him, she began to check on the safety of her drum first, leaving Nicholas to scowl. He couldn't even have any peace in his miserable, semi-suicidal thoughts. Brushing off the dust from his breeches, Nicholas examined her for a moment, trying to figure out who on earth she could possibly be. After a moment's thought, he edged away from her a little, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you a thief or a madwoman, living alone in the forest and waiting to snare unsuspecting travelers and stranded merchants?" he asked, without a shred of tact, his tone that of one reading a passage in a book rather than having a conversation. He was clearly ill-versed in the art of talking to strangers and he saw absolutely nothing wrong with his question, instead trying to think if he had anything on him worth taking. The answer was no, he realized, remembering that he was exiled.

"I don't have anything to steal, and I'm thinking of going to go jump into the sea, so there's no point in trying to steal from me or take me captive."
​
 
In truth, she had been so concerned with her drum that she hadn't even realized she had fallen over another person. Thus, his sudden voice elicited a startled shriek from the girl. She turned to face him, looking on with wide eyed confusion. Her trousers and vest were still covered in dust and she clutched the drum as though for dear life. As he talked, she tried to keep up, but his words were so strange compared to her way of life that the mere implication that she might be some brigand overwhelmed her. She began to speak over him, trying to stop the flow of accusations and questions.

"What? Wait. What? Huh? You. What? Who?! Wait. Please. Slow down." Confused, she stepped a few paces away. It would have been clear by now to most that the girl was not even armed in any visible way, that she was obviously terrified, and that she was dressed incredibly simply, even for a peasant, in creams and tans and browns and no bright color whatsoever. Her long, brown hair was unadorned and slightly tangled from her tumble and hung around her face like a dark curtain, obscuring much of her features. She rocked from foot to foot, then spun suddenly.

"This isn't a trick, is it?" She turned to face him again. "Where are the rest of you? No one travels alone out here. Well, some do, and the sisters take them in half dead and feed them and send them on their way, but you don't look half dead and--" Abruptly, she ran out of steam, tears prickling at her eyes again. She thought back on his words, trying to make sense of them.

"I'm not a thief. I don't hurt people. That would be against the teachings of the Herself," she finally managed. "You aren't going to harm me, are you?" Now her grip on the drum was protective.
 

Frowning as he listened to the stream of confused words issuing from the girl, Nicholas did conclude that she certainly was in no way dangerous. She seemed, to be honest, more confused than he was in fact. He supposed that he was also suspicious, to be alone here in the wild, and he couldn't blame her for her distrust of him. Rather, he figured it was probably for the best knowing that she was also suspicious. Were suspicious people suspicious of other people? He didn't know.

Either way, Nicholas did not feel like bantering much with a girl who looked so wild and still, he thought, potentially unbalanced. The way that she clutched that drum, for instance, as if it were all she had, was unsettling to him until he realized that even if it was all she had, it was more than he. The girl was going on a bit of a tangent, then, about not hurting people and it being against some woman or other's teachings. If she were religious, that might well explain her actions and seclusion - she was perhaps on some sort of pilgrimage or self-imposed seclusion.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone. I don't want to be here and I am half-dead, I just don't look it." His words came out with a darker tone that he intended and he turned his head from herm the feathery brown strands catching in the breeze as he did so. He didn't want to be so morose sounding, but he had hardly two days to come to terms with the death of his father and that they were trying to pin the crime on him. Still, if he wanted to survive, he needed to be stronger. And if he didn't, then he might as well not bother this girl anymore and just get to tossing himself into the sea, if he could find it.

"Do you know the way to the sea from here?"
​
 
She looked at him for a moment. At his words about being half dead, she sketched a holy symbol in the air. As usual, nothing happened, but it was the thought and the superstition that mattered. Only then did she focus in on how sad he sounded. Something was definitely wrong. The sisters had always taught compassion, but they'd also been adamant about never letting herself get too close to a man. Surely they didn't mean she couldn't approach, though, and so she did, edging closer and putting her hand upon his forearm, finally letting her drum hang in its sling without her help.

"I'm sorry," she spoke. "I don't know where the sea is from here. I've rarely been outside the convent. But I will stay with you until you find it. You look as lost as I am and they say that lost people should stick together. Of course, they also say they shouldn't leave til help comes, but then... Well, I'm pretty much on my own. Are you going to be alright?" As she spoke, her hands went to the waterskin that had been included with the food she'd been given. She offered this to him, hoping that the simple act of sipping water might help steady him.

Her eyes swept over him in the forest's dimness. Something about this act caused her cheeks to warm slightly. Perhaps this had been why the sisters had warned against going near men. She shook off the feeling, trying to allow compassion to guide her actions.

"Why do you want to go to the sea, anyway? Is there someone there waiting for you?"
 

The forest was darkening slightly as the time stretched by, though with how dense the foliage was, it had no been terribly bright before this. The girl before him seemed, above all things, innocent. A truly gentle and warm soul whose only flaw seemed to be in just how much she talked. For now, though, the speaking did not annoy him. His whole life had been turned inside out and it was consoling at least to have a friendly face speaking innocent words to him.

Nicholas took the proffered water and took a drink, managing just barely to not scrunch his face up at the taste of the water. If he were to have to live outside the castle, it was better that he get used to not being pampered. He knew, with a hollow resignation, that he could not actually throw himself into the sea. He had far more to live for and had never been one to think of the worst. Besides, he thought darkly, someone had actually slain his father. There was someone unpunished for this crime while Nicholas was sitting in the dirt.

"The sea... I need to get there to find my way back home, to my br-" he didn't want to say the word, it stung in his mouth, thinking back to Lucas as he pointed a finger at Nicholas and accused him of murdering their father. Instead, Nicholas shook his head and did not finish his statement. He didn't even know why she would be offering to come with him, as he was just a stranger, anyway. Then he realized that he hadn't even taken a proper look at the young woman beside him.

Finally seeing the girl for the first time, truly, he blinked at her simple clothing and the drum she carried. Even a prince knew well enough that he ought to help her, especially since she was offering to do so for him. She mentioned that there would be no one looking for her and he wondered if she had escaped somewhere, looking as she did. Or maybe he'd been right about the religious pilgrimage from the start? But then, why would she offer to accompany him in his journey?

"What are you looking for, alone in the woods?"
​
 
"Looking for?" The words were confusing, and she tilted her head to one side in contemplation. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question." She took the bottle back, tying it to her belt before turning to look off in the distance. There was nothing for her back the way she'd come and even the path was hidden in the evening. Somewhere back there was what she should be looking for, a way back home, but she knew it would never work. She'd never be allowed back as anything more than a visitor.

"Nothing," she mumbled, then spoke louder. "I look for nothing. There is nothing left to look for." Her family had abandoned her and it had been the night she'd realized her mother was never coming back for her that she'd felt her heart break the first time. Now, it broke again. The sisters were-- had been-- her family for years. Until this moment, she'd been trying desperately to figure out where she would sleep, then trying to discover why the man was here and protect herself. Now, reality crashed down and sent her to her knees, the rocks and sticks of the forest floor sending sharp pain through her knees.

"I'd pray, but... I'm not even sure the Divine Lady can hear me." Her hands went to the soil before her, digging down through the loam. She could feel the trickle of particulates and the scurry of tiny creatures on her skin and closed her eyes. It was like working in the garden, an action that had always given her peace. Breathing deeply, she let the soil calm her. Still, she couldn't hold back the tears that pressed their way up and then trickled over her cheeks.

"You wish to return home. I've no home to go to. Not anymore." Suddenly, she rose to her feet, chin stubbornly upraised. "So if you really are a thief or up to no good, I suppose I have to rely on myself to stay alive. But if you are just a kind traveler needing to go home, then at least I know which berries are edible and how to harvest fruit. I mean no offense, but your hands say you might not know these things."
 

Glancing down at his hands, Nicholas fought the urge to huff over the implication that he could not fend for himself in the wild. It was true, but he examined the smooth lines and soft skin, wondering if they could truly be used for such things as they had never been tested before. Glancing up, he realized that she'd implied that he might be a thief once more and he scowled darkly, but his expression did not hold long. She had looked so helpless there in the dirt that he couldn't stay annoyed at her and instead, he sighed. She was at least back on her feet.

"You are alive, and you are well" Nicholas answered, returning to scrutinizing his hands. He didn't know what precisely he wanted to say, unsure of how to go about consoling some crisis of faith and tried to think back to his mother, who he recalled had been religious herself. His words might lose a little in half-forgotten memories, but they were more than he felt he could offer on his own.

"Each day is a gift granted, every sunset and sunrise. You are not forsaken as long as you have your fellow man, because each carries the whisper of the divine." He felt silly for his words and he did not believe in these things, having been raised primarily by his father, who had not been terribly besotted with the idea of a greater purpose. Clearing his throat after his out of character reassurance, Nicholas tried to choose which direction he had come from and follow it back. Even if he was not welcome, he needed to know who had truly killed his father and perhaps even prove to those that believed in him that he had not committed so terrible a crime.

"You can come with me, then, to help me. I am headed back to my home, and so we are not right now so different." It was hard for him to admit that he did not know which plants to eat and how to protect himself, that her presence could be useful if she was able to do these things instead. "I am Nico. Come along, then."
​
 
Myra blinked for a moment, then followed obediently. She was used to being told what to do, for the sisters had instructed her in obedience. But to be told by a man was a new thing and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Still, his words had held comfort. He was being there for her, she realized, when he obviously was in his own pain. She shoved her hair out of her face and walked along, a few steps behind him.

"I'm Myrashona. It would have been sister Myrashona..." she trailed off, wiping at her face and leaving dirt streaks. "Nico, you say you are going home. And you seem lost. So you can't be from around here. Are you a merchant, then, from town?" She had to distract herself from her sorrows. Perhaps talking would be a decent way to do so. Quickening her pace, she caught up to his side. She tried not to think of the fact that he might still lead her into danger of the body or heart.

The deepening darkness was a mixed blessing. She had no lantern to light their way, but at least she could not longer see his face clearly and the shadows hid her blush and her tears. Too much had happened, the evening had lasted what seemed like an eternity after a life caught in the blink of an eye.

"If you are a merchant, then that would explain your hands. And your demeanor."
 

More than a little surprised that the girl was willingly following along behind him, Nico did not question it for fear that she might cease to do so. He was in his own thoughts, not used to being around someone else for much time, and trying to think of how to get through this situation. He knew, first and foremost, that he needed to find his way back. As such, he was surprised to realize that she had been talking to him, about being a sister and making guesses as to what he might be.

"A sister, hmm? Religious, then. Why won't you?" he was not insomuch lying to her, he thought, if he did not answer. He wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know how he had fallen, especially since they would likely wonder what had happened to get him stranded alone so far from the castle and he truly did not wish to explain that he was accused of murdering his own father.

Looking around at the trees, he wished very much to be back in his cozy library reading some book or other, perhaps finally getting around to one on faerietales that he'd been wanting to read... This thought pushed him to walk a bit faster, but he knew it was hopeless. They would need to first find somewhere to sleep for the night. He didn't fancy the idea of huddling up on the ground, however, and instead chose to turn his focus on reaching a town. He doubted, though, that she would know where one was.
​
 
As much as it seemed he didn't wish to talk about his past, she was also in no mood to talk of her own. For the longest time, she walked along in silence. She wasn't supposed to lie and so she remained quiet, picking at her sleeves. It was getting too dark, and Myra knew from sneaking around the grounds as a child that, sooner or later, one of them would trip. A sigh escaped her lips and she clamped them shut, instead beginning to hum softly. The song was melancholy, dark, and as she hummed it, the darkness around them seemed to grow thicker. Which was annoying, seeing as the thing she wanted more than anything was a light source.

Considering how she'd floated the stew that night, she extended her hands, still humming and trying to focus on bringing light into being. It wasn't working. In fact, the night still darkened. Frowning, she tried again, but though her thoughts were centered upon brightness, nothing manifested. Slowly, though, the imaginings of light began to cheer her. Her song brightened and, as it did, the air around them followed suit. She barely realized that her hands were glowing softly, the source of the faint illumination. However, when it became clear that this was really happening, she couldn't resist smiling. Lifting a hand, she turned it this way and that, casting light and shadow before and behind them.

She peered at her hands. It seemed each was covered with tiny luminous beads, each about the size of the eye of a needle. Carefully, she brought her hands together, rolling them about until the beads came together to form a small ball. Why, it was lighter than a feather and much brighter this way! If she wasn't careful, it might blow away! Loathe to let her new found treasure vanish with the next strong breeze, Myra looked for something to store it in, but to no avail.

"Excuse me, Nico. Do you have a bottle?"
 

When the girl remained silent, Nico figured that it would be best not to push her for any more, lest he be questioned himself. He knew what it was to not want to talk of himself and his past and would afford her the same luxury. As it was, he didn't even know if she would hang about for the entire trip back to the sea and certainly he wasn't going to tell just anyone information that might lead to him getting kidnapped or abused, and for no reason since he was exiled anyway.

Opening his mouth the make a comment about the darkness, which seemed to be pressing in on them steadily while the girl whistled, he had yet to even turn around. However, in the middle of forming a word, one that he would not be able to recall after interrupted, he caught a sudden brightness coming from behind him and turned to look, fearing more for the worst than hoping for the best. What he saw, however, was the girl's hands glowing in the dark. It was all he could do not to jump back, looking at the light emanating from them.

"By the goddess, you're touched!" Nico exclaimed, his eyes wide and expression unreadable. There had been one, when Nico was young, a man who they said had been touched. The rumors that flew about him were that he was a man of utmost holiness and that he could do things no other could, for his gift was strong. At the time, he had been summoned by the queen, who believed in him, to care for Lucas. Little more than an infant at the time, Lucas had been ill and the household had feared for his life. The man was rumored to be able to cure sickness and heal scrapes and as such, was believed to be able to help. Whether it had been the man or Lucas's indomitable spirit, Nico never knew, but he had never seen such a gift with his own eyes before.

"I - No, I don't have a bottle. Can't you just... summon it?" his eyes were glued on the light and he sounded both confused and in awe of her now, the confusion mainly centered in why ever she would need a bottle for her magic. It was convenient, though, he had to admit. With this light, they could continue walking and not have to stop at a town! He was excited for a moment, thinking that they could just keep going through the night, but his enthusiasm was dampened when he saw how sad and tired she looked.

"Maybe, if you know where there is a town around here, they will have one for you?"
​
 
All at once, the light went out and there was the sound of sobbing. It took a moment for anyone's eyes to adjust. Myrashona couldn't handle it. It was the very fact that she wasn't touched or blessed that had led to her being cast out. If only his words were true, but they weren't. Slowly, it would become clear that the light had not actually gone, was just clutched tight in one hand, its influence seeping through the cracks between her fingers and painting fingertips a vivid scarlet.

"No." That was all she managed when she was once again able to speak. Then, after a moment, "I can't. I just found out I can do things. And it's the wrong way. I'm not touched, or blessed, or even lucky. They said it was arcane magic." Her words were punctuated with sniffles and she tried to get herself under control. After all, Her Divinity did not abide by selfish tears. Slowly, she loosened her fingers enough to shed beams of light without letting the wisp go.

"They said I was something called a bard... but I don't know what that is and they..." She mumbled the rest. The sisters had looked worried, almost frightened, by the realization that their charge was whatever a bard was. Perhaps that was the hardest thing to cope with. Somehow, with a single action, she'd revealed herself to be something terrifying. She could not have known that their fear was for the life she might encounter as a bard, for the debauchery those few bardic souls that were left were known to leave in their wakes.
 

It was a bit of a task to try and hide his obvious admiration, and jealousy, from the girl but Nicholas swallowed his envy for her special talents. He had never had any tendencies toward magic, as much as he had desired to be like that man who was touched. Truly, he saw no distinction between the different types of magic, despite her assertion that she was not touched and instead arcane. He was naive on that there were even different types of magic, only that he had admired the holy man when he was a child and had wanted a gift such as that. That she seemed to dislike hers was something he could hardly fathom.

"Does it matter? I couldn't... make light. Who cares whether it's arcane or not? It's incredible! Now you can light the way!" Nico was rather excited by the prospect of her being able to guide them through the dark. He could not deny that she was looking tired, but he almost didn't want to stop on their progress. The faster that he got back, the faster he would be able to clear his name and find who killed his father.

"If you're a bard, then bards are useful. But you still seem rather worn out. Did you want to try to find a place to sleep for the night? Your light will hopefully keep us from tripping over anything, as long as you can keep it lit. Otherwise, we'll just have to stumble to a town through the dark. I'm assuming you don't know where a town is, do you?" he was toeing the line between being icy and trying to act caring, the unfriendliness in his tone being only a result of his situation and inability to constructively interact.
​
 
Myra seemed to calm slowly as he spoke. His excitement made her question if her talents were truly as terrible as she had thought. They were useful, after all, but they had still lead to her exile and this made her wary of utilizing them. Still, they were alone, she hadn't been told not to use her skills, and he needed her help. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand, opening her fingers just enough to let the streamers of light guide their way without releasing the wisp.

"A town. I haven't been to a town, but I'm sure we can find one. The sisters have supplies brought in sometimes and send some of our excess to the orphanages. We just have to find the. The road." She looked around as though expecting it to manifest before them, but nothing happened. Still, they had light, and that was enough to give them sight and keep the wild creatures at bay. Myra began searching, trying not to leave Nico behind. Eventually, she found a small incline accompanied by the sound of running water. Frowning, she followed the incline, splashing up to her calves in the creek before she realized just what she was doing. She let out a soft shriek, backing up, the light nearly sputtering out. Thankfully, her attention remained just enough on it for it to continue.

"I think I found us a water source. But I'm not sure it will be that useful." But there, beyond the creek, was an old, winding dirt road, loosely following the path the stream carved through the woods. It seemed Myra had yet to notice this.
 
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