Chapter Text
Peeking from behind the tree, Alvar and Gethen watched the girl. She was sitting on the steps in front of her house, reading a fairly large book. She was only four or five years old. By all aspects, she seemed like a normal, human girl—except that the book was likely an encyclopedia. It was unusual, but they’d seen it before. Alvar glanced over at Gethen, who shook his head.
They were about to leave when Gethen spotted the next-door neighbor. He was an old man, smelled of feet, and covered in wrinkles; just how one would look after eating ruckleberries. Gethen slipped into his mind, finding it was mostly occupied with his gnomes, but something felt off. It had been harder than usual to penetrate his thoughts than it had other humans.
Alvar elbowed Gethen(although Alvar said that it was a mere nudge) and he turned. The girl had spotted them. They light-leaped away, just in time to watch her run up the stairs and trip.
꧁Seven Years Later꧂
Sophie was bored. Not the kind of boredom that comes from having nothing to do, but the quiet ache after hours of telepathy training. She lay back on her soft crystal bed in her room, staring at the ceiling, feeling the silence press down on her like the bottom of the ocean.
Her fingers twitched, craving movement, but her mind was exhausted. The cave around her was still, but inside her mind was a twister of thoughts and skills, each one whipping by, impossible to catch. Some learned from others and some of her own invention. She reached to grab one, but failed.
Sophie sat up and grabbed her dagger off her night stand. Slipping it into its holster on her belt, she left her room and walked through the cold, stone walls of the damp smelling, stale aired cave she calls home. The sound of her boots against the floor was soothing for her overworked mind. Her feet, naturally, brought her to the weapons room that doubled as a training area.
The walls on her left and right were lined with shelves of weapons. In front of her were straw, sand filled dummies. She took a goblin throwing star from a crate of them on the floor. Tracing her thumb along the etches and swirls of the cold star in her right hand, she eyed up the dummy in front of her. It was the smallest, and at the other end of the room.
Sophie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and threw the star. It nailed the dummy right between the eyes. She grabbed another star and threw it at a different dummy. Letting her body get the movement it craved, she did it over and over again. There was just something about repetition, about muscle memory, that she enjoyed. No lies. No mistakes. Just the clean arc of movement and impact. Sophie walked to each dummy, pulling out the stars and checking how deep it went in. Her pulse was pounding, but slowing down.
“Wow,” a voice said at the door as Sophie was pulling out a star stuck in the throat of the dummy. “You sure do know how to throw stars.”
“And if I do?” Sophie replied coldly. She didn’t want to talk to Keefe right now.
“Well, it’s better than I can do,” Keefe said, walking up to her.
“Then practice more,” she flatly suggested, ignoring Keefe and moving to the final dummy.
Keefe placed a hand over his heart in feigned pain. “Ouch. My lady sure does know how to deliver a wound.”
“And let’s hope you know how to fix one.” She pulled the star out of the dummy’s head. “Because I won’t be doing it for you.”
Keefe whistled. “Harsh.”
“Thanks.” Sophie responded as she dumped the stars back into their crate.
She left the room. She didn’t look back, yet still felt his gaze on her back.
Later that night, she didn’t see Keefe. He must’ve gone home after their chat. Hunger gnawed at her, but she pushed it down. It had been almost two days since anyone had eaten. Part of the exercise. Part of the point. Sophie sat still, calm, focusing on the telepathy book she was reading. Across the room, one of the others swayed slightly—just a second too long. They caught themselves. No one noticed. But Sophie did.
That’s the first crack, she thought, the words faint in her mind. They won’t last much longer. Cracks spread, ya know.
She didn’t judge them. Not exactly. But she made a note of it, just like she always did, storing weakness away like ammo for later.
Her eyes flicked back to the page. She continued to read, even though she’d read it many times before. She would’ve chosen something else, but Gisela wouldn’t let her have any other books. She’d rather read than let her mind swirl up a storm again.
In the middle of the room, a fire was crackling. Some of her comrades sat around it. They were happily talking and laughing, telling stories and cracking jokes. Sophie didn’t want to join. She never did. She leaned back in her chair, looking around the room, her eyes not quite meeting those of the laughing faces of her comrades.This was all a test, anyway. And she was going to win.
A few hours later, after the merry atmosphere had evaporated, Sophie retired to bed. She showered, changed, and sat on her bed. In the dim light, she brushed her hair, imagining each pesky thought coming loose with every stroke. It was a habit that had slowly replaced her old one, which was tugging out her eyelashes. Yea, she wasn’t too proud of that. But the brushing brought her relief.
Getting cozy under the covers, she clapped her hands and plunged the room into darkness. She reached into her pillow cover and pulled out Ella, her stuffed bright blue elephant with a Hawaiian shirt, the fabric worn with time and use. Sophie couldn’t get a good night’s sleep without her. She let her heavy eyelids close as she slipped into dreamless oblivion.
It’d been four days since they started their skill exercise, and someone had finally cracked. She didn’t know their name, but she knew their face. She kept that in mind as, one by one, the rest of the Neverseen helped themselves to food along with the recruit that cracked. She was one of the last to get some food—which was always disgusting, by the way.
Sophie swore, every single meal was rotten or overcooked. She never liked it. And it never smelled great, either. Hell, she’d keep up this skill exercise for the rest of her life if she could, but everyone has a breaking point, even her. This meal looked like a black, shriveled opossum. Of course, it wasn’t an opossum. Just a really, badly cooked plant.
She slowly ate it, reluctantly swallowing every bite she took like it was poison. From the looks of everyone else, they didn’t like it either. The only things that actually tasted good were the snacks Glimmer would bring once in a while.
Sophie silently set the plate down, not wanting anymore of it. She pulled her dagger from one of the many pockets in her outfit and, using the sharpener on the table next to her, ran the blade along the sharpener, stroke by stroke. Nobody ever finished all their food, just like today. Someone walked around, took all the plates, and put them in the sink to be washed later, after dumping the food, of course.
Other than the soft shhhh of her dagger against the sharpener, it was dead silent. People slowly left the room, going back to whatever they were doing before the meal, which might as well be called dinner, given how late it was. After Sophie had sharpened her dagger, she pulled out the couple of throwing stars she kept on her and started sharpening those as well.
She worked for hours sharpening all she had on her. When she finished, Sophie sat back and admired her work. She traced her finger along the edge of a large, wavy dagger she kept in a pocket on her right boot. It had white lines following the curves of the silver blade. The handle was a pearly white crystal with three, small diamonds on the front that shimmered faintly with the light. It was a favorite of hers(named Mercyfall), always reminding her of what she strived to be in this world—a deadly hope to those who need it. She smiled a small, rare smile of hers and put all the weapons back in their pockets.
Sophie got up and started washing the dishes—it was her chore that night, and it was definitely not her favorite. Getting her hands soggy and disgusting was not fun in the slightest. She finished it as fast as she could, put the dishes up, and wiped up any spilled water with a towel. Then she drained the sink and went to her room.
The silence of the cave was suffocating, yet comforting at the same time. She liked it. The silence helped her focus. Sophie walked slower, savoring it. She ran her hand along the smooth stone wall next to her. It was cold, yet just as soothing as the silence. She enjoyed it.
Eventually, she reached her bedroom. Sophie went in and, turning on the lights with the clap of her hands, went to her desk and sat down. She pulled her notebook out and grabbed a pen. She always tried to write at least once a week. What she wrote about, however, she kept to herself.
Sophie scribbled, scratched, doodled, and wrote for about an hour before she was finished. She put her pen back, tucked her notebook in its safe spot, and started getting ready for bed. Pulling each weapon from her many pockets, she polished them with care. Even if they hadn’t been used, they were still dirty.
After one was polished, she put them back where they went. Whether it was a display mount or a crystal case, each weapon had a home. Some took longer than others, but eventually they were all polished and home.
She showered after that. Tonight, she showered with burning hot water instead of the freezing cold water she normally showers with. Both keep her grounded. One is a reward, the other, a punishment. She got out, put on her pjs, and brushed her teeth. Then, grabbing her hairbrush, she went and sat on her bed.
Just like all the nights before, she brushed her hair with soft, gentle strokes. Sometimes she can remember a different hand holding that brush. Someone else singing the lullabies she whispers to herself on occasion.
Tonight was one of those nights. But, it seemed clearer tonight. It was almost as if that voice—that person—was in the room with her. Sitting on her bed right behind Sophie. Not in a scary way, but in a motherly, loving way. And although Sophie would love to feel tender love again, she pushes it away. It never helped to dredge up history that doesn’t need to be repeated.
She finished brushing her hair with a yank. Breathing deep, slow breaths to calm her longing heart, Sophie put the brush back. She got under the covers of her bed and clapped her hands to turn the lights off. Then, cuddling Ella, she let herself fall asleep. And this time, her dreams held the faint promise of the family she can no longer remember.