Page 16 of Emylia

The trees no longer sang; they keened.

The ocean no longer whispered; it howled.

The beauty was still there—wild, stubborn—but it couldn’t reach me anymore.

Not where the fractures ran too deep.

And as I rode farther, as the cliffs fell away behind me and the horizon stretched vast and less familiar ahead, I understood something I hadn’t wanted to admit:

It wasn’t just the world that had changed.

It was me.

I was no longer the girl who ran barefoot through the woods, fearless and whole. No longer the girl who believed in unshakable things. Something inside me had cracked—quietly, permanently—and the pieces would never fit the same way again.

And whatever awaited me at the festival... the girl who left today would not survive it.

Because she was already gone.

Not because the world had changed.

But because grief had carved her into something unrecognizable—and there was no way back to who she used to be.

ChapterEight

Absently, I watched wisps of clouds streak across a perfectly blue sky. The same refreshing breeze blew strands of honey-touched hair across my face.

It was a drastic change from the chill earlier that morning, but not surprising as we had travelled further inland. Ophelia was sheltered from the east by a row of impenetrable cliffs, which meant only Mom and I had to endure the frost-bitten winds regularly.

Why my mother and father had decided to live so far away from the rest of the town was a complete mystery to me.

Okay, not a complete mystery. Even if they never openly admitted it, I suspected it was because of me.

I had an aptitude for what most people deemed reckless behavior. My ‘lack of respect for the laws’ had gotten me in more trouble than I cared to admit. Most people were shocked I hadn’t already been struck down by the Gods.

I was lucky that my uncle was the chief, otherwise, I would’ve been banished and branded more times than I could count. There probably wouldn’t be a spare bit of untouched flesh left on me with all the reckless antics I got into.

The brands were small, a simple circle within a circle, but it showed defiance, and they stung like a bitch.

I knew my parents and uncle agreed that the further away from Ophelia they could keep me, the safer it would be. For everyone.

Not that I could see what the big issue was. It wasn’t like sword fighting with the boys, wanting to hunt, or learning to make weapons was worth banishment. But unfortunately, in Ophelia, and every other town in our realm, it was. At least for a woman.

The laws were archaic and stupid, but no one seemed to question them because they came from the very creation of our Gods. Apparently, humans evolution and growth as a society wasn’t allowed—not according to the self-proclaimed experts in the history of creation.

People feared a reckoning from the mysterious beings of our pasts—those who had brought magik into the world and created order in the chaos.

Before the birth of humankind, an earth-obliterating lightning storm ravaged the world. For endless days and nights, lightning tore across the sky, splitting mountains and boiling seas—until finally, on the millionth lightning strike, the Tree of Life cracked open.

Its roots reached the very core of the Earth, tethering sky to stone and feeding the world with incomprehensible power. And from the splintered wound, its magik bled out—thick and shimmering, the lifeblood of the Earth itself spilling into the wounded ground. Ancient. Alive.

It was from the blood, the Gods were born.

Eight in total.

Each fought to protect the Earth until, at last, the storm burned itself out.

As the centuries passed, nearly all of them found their counterparts, pairing off in balance and bond. All but two: The Goddess Elessandria, and the God Ezekiel. Left to their own devices, their paths spiraled into loneliness—and ultimately, into the creation of humanity.

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