༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

The horse tosses her head with a loud snort, her hot breath fogging the air. I dig leather boots into the horse's flanks, urging the beast through the mud and the looming trees, water spraying from leaves as the sheets of rain continue to bombard overhead. I slump lower in the saddle, drawing a sodden cloak over drooping shoulders. Thunder crackles through the sky, causing the horse to huff and stamp its hooves again. I let out a sigh, leather clad, numb hands gripping wet reins.

The horse sloshes through murky puddles, darkness a cold embrace around us. My black eyes settle on the distant glow of a lamp, spotting the squat village through the thick trees. I hurry the horse along, squinting through the dense fog.

The place is not as I remember, not that I remember much. In those dreams—distant echoes, nothing more than fleeting images—the sun is bright and the grass is green. This... This sodden land and the dreary figures in the shadows don't resemble what I can recall.

I blink the rain from my eyes and keep my head lowered. I remember the flames, the ash and soot that clung to my skin. I remember what the Sharlik soldiers did to this village and what my brother did to them.

Yetok was once a bustling part of Rupteran, stretching along the west, filled with farms that fed most of Rupteran and ports that sailed across the Crying Seas to distant lands. But now it cowers under the boot of the Empire, under the boot of Palmira.

We come upon the first trembling home in Usteronte and I slide from horseback, cloak swaying around my ankles, thick rivulets of water streaming from the fabric.

It's taken nearly a month to get here. A month of using the Legion's supply lines, scraping together what supplies I could to make the journey. But now that I'm here... there's only a pit forming in my stomach as I look upon the weary faces around me of those that brave the rain and the cold of the night.

I walk forward, leading the horse through puddles and over uneven roads that haven't been tended to for a while.

A stable boy approaches me, looking up into my shadowed face and something in his features shifts as he looks at me. "You're..." he breathes, but can't seem to finish.

I press a finger to my lips and draw a coin from my saddlebag and hand it to him. "Are there any soldiers about?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

He nods as he takes the coin, brushing his thumbs over it almost reverently. "In the tavern. They don't bother us much, but if they saw you..."

"I won't be here long," I reassure him, trying to offer him a smile but it probably just looks like a grimace. I pass him the reins to my horse and he shuffles away without asking a single question.

Once this place wasn't occupied by the Empire. It was peaceful. Until they found me here over ten years ago. Just another guilt to add to the growing list.

I dig a hand through a pouch on my belt and pull out the slip of paper, using my cloak to shield it from the rain. I run my gloved thumbs over the worn and creased parchment, hoping this will be the last time I have to look at it with only confusion and longing.

I stop before a building and lift my gaze to the sign that creaks with the wind. Jadira's flowers and herbs.

Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I step towards the door, a golden glow coming from within the windows. I grip the door handle, pause, then twist and push it open, a bell jingling.

I wipe the water from my face as I step into the candlelit shop, leaving the rain and the wind behind me as another rumble of thunder assaults the skies.

I've never given much thought to having a family beyond my brother who wasn't really related to me. I never thought of having parents or real siblings. Being surrounded by street rats just drove home that most of us don't get the privilege of having a family.

But now I wonder. Now the questions and curiosities that my brother tried to stifle come clawing up my throat.

"I'll be with you in a moment," comes a light voice from a room behind the long wooden counter. The bench is cluttered with herbs and bottles and bundles of flowers, the colour of it all such a sharp contrast to what I left outside. And the smell is overwhelming, making me wrinkle my nose and swallow.

The shuffling of feet move towards me and then a plump woman appears in the doorway behind the counter, carrying a basket on her hip. My lips part as I study her scarred features, the left side of her golden hair gone and replaced with a patchwork of scars that twist her cheek and cause the skin of her left eye to sag. Burned. She's been burned. It makes bile rise in my throat because I know it happened when the soldiers took me.

"Hello," she greets with a half-smile, dark blue right eye glimmering. She sets the basket on the counter, filled with flowers of pink ruffles. "What can I help you with?"

Gulping in a breath of the sweet air, I pull the soaked hood down to reveal midnight hair and pale skin slick with rain. "I'm looking..." I pause, chewing on my lip, before I shake my head and set the piece of paper down on the counter between us. "I don't know where to start."

The woman picks up the piece of paper, the smile beginning to drift from her face.

"It's all I have left of... of this place. I think I'm from here." I clench my fingers into fists, not knowing what else to say.

The woman lifts her gaze and meets mine. She blinks. Blinks again. Then takes a step back, her fingers crumpling the paper. "Azura?"

That single breathy utterance makes my face twist and I nod, whatever words that had begun to rise now disappearing.

"Gods," the woman says as she sucks in a sharp breath. "I think... I think I'm going to make us some tea." She turns to the back room, but pauses, staring at me again with her right eye wide. "Do you drink tea?"

I nod again, though I have no idea. The only tea I've ever drank was for medicinal purposes and it always tasted like dirt, but I'm too numb to say anything more.

I follow her into the back room, taking in the crackling hearth and worn furniture that's beginning to split at the seams. The place is warm and dry though, and the tension begins to seep from my shoulders.

The woman moves to the hearth where she settles a kettle over the flame to boil, her fingers trembling. "I suppose you have questions."

"I suppose you do too," I murmur around the lump in my throat, stripping the cloak from my shoulders to drape it over the back of a chair at her humble dining arrangement. There's only one chair at the table.

"My name is Jadira," she starts and turns to me as I approach the hearth to dry my clothes. She hands me back the slip of paper that I've clung to for so many years. "And I named you Azura."

Emotions flit through me, too many at once to properly cling to one. My eyes search the flames, my fingers crinkle the paper, my throat bobs as I swallow. Elation is first. Finally—finally—I've found something tangible in my life, something real. But then there's confusion and sorrow.

"Are you..." I take a breath and look her in the eye, needing to ask, needing to know. "Are you my mother?"

Jadira reaches out and presses her fingers to my arm, a gentle touch. "No," she breathes so quietly I nearly miss it over the pop of the wood in the fire.

I look away from her and nod, that feeling of finally having something solid in my life—something to tie me to the world—slipping away as quickly as it had come.

I don't know when I started wishing for roots, but maybe it's always been a wish. Maybe that's why I insisted on calling the man who tortured and raised me my brother.

"Sit," Jadira utters, gesturing to the sofa as she continues to prepare tea. I do as she requests, my knees beginning to feel too shaky to possibly hold my weight any longer.

I slip the piece of paper into my pouch and draw my shoulders back. "I never intended to come here. I'm sorry if it's unexpected."

She smiles again. "It's certainly unexpected. You disappeared and I was too injured to even try and look for you." She pours steaming water over a bundle of leaves that runs through a strainer and into a pair of cups. "I had hoped you were alive, but I also hoped you weren't. I can only imagine the suffering you must have endured at the hands of the Empire." She passes me a mug of tea that I stare into.

"I wasn't in the Empire. I was saved by a man who helped me survive all these years."

Jadira presses her hand to her chest, over her heart, her eyes beginning to water. "Oh, you can't imagine how happy that makes me."

The smile I offer her in return is a mere twist of my lips and I don't voice the things my brother subjected me to. This woman has suffered enough because of me. "Jadira," I begin with a sigh. "I've come because I need some answers."

She nods and sits on an armchair, shifting to face me as she sips at her tea. "I'll tell you everything I can."

My hands tighten around the mug and I worry at my lower lip. The answers I received in the Empire, the answers I received from Palmira, they ended up being things I didn't want to hear. Sometimes I wish I hadn't delved my hands into my curiosities. Things would have been very different if I had just walked away.

Maybe... maybe it's the same now. Maybe I should just walk away, forget everything.

Jadira settles her hand over mine and I meet her reassuring gaze. "You have a right to know, Azura. It's your life, after all."

"How did I come to be here?" I blurt out before I can question myself anymore.

Jadira leans back and inclines her head. "I suppose I should start at the beginning." She glances towards the flames in the hearth and lets out a breath. "A woman came to me a long time ago now. I don't know why she chose me, but I know why she chose Usteronte. Back then, the Empire had no presence here. We were a peaceful village." Jadira meets my eye. "This woman came to me with a baby; with you. She asked me to raise you, keep you safe and away from prying eyes. I understood you were special with your golden markings."

My breath hitches and I lean forward, enraptured by her words. "Who was the woman? Was she my mother?"

"No, I've never met your parents. I have the feeling they were trying to hide you... even from themselves."

I lift my chin, my breathing quickening. "Who was the woman? Can you contact her?"

Jadira shakes her head. "I haven't seen the woman since and I don't know her name. All I know is that she had a single duty to deliver you to safety and then go back into hiding. She was a witch."

My lips part and I glance away from Jadira, letting this information sink in. A witch delivered me here. She must have known who my parents are.

Fingers beginning to twitch, a restlessness settles in my bones.

"I need to find her," I utter.

"I suppose you do," Jadira replies with a frown. "But no one knows where the witches are."

I get to my feet, needing to pace, needing to move as my gaze jumps over the items in the room, focusing on nothing. "I do."

"You do?"

I set the mug of tea down, a grin stretching across my lips as I approach Jadira and kneel before her. "I know where they are," I say, excitement bubbling in my gut. "If I find this witch, she could lead me to my parents."

Jadira sets her mug aside and reaches down to clasp my hands in hers, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Dear child, I have waited so long to see that smile of yours again. You must go, you must find who you are."

My smile begins to falter as she pats my hands. "What about you?"

"What about me? I have a quiet life here, and that's all I need."

I take in her single dining chair and the narrow bed pushed into the corner. I take in her scarred features and sad eyes.

She has a lonely life here. But I can't help her. All I do is drag people into danger.

I pull my hands from hers and step away, taking a deep breath to cool the excitement within me. This all may lead to nothing and I've had my hopes crushed far too many times not to learn.

"I should be going. I've stayed too long already." I grab my cloak and drape it over my shoulders as Jadira stands.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," she says, her voice soft, soothing, so similar to that voice within my head that urges me onward with shaky whispers.

I nod and flip up my hood. "I hope so too."