[Note: I promised a friend of mine that I would write another d&d based story, so here it is. This is with the same characters as my entry for last month's Heavy, but it should stand on its own without too much trouble.]

***

I lay on my back and watch the first fingers of dawn start to creep along the ceiling. The dormitory is quiet, Ivnit still fast asleep. Yesterday's training was hard, as all days have been since I arrived here, and we were up late into the night swapping stories and rumors. But I have always been an early riser.

When I was a child, morning was my father's time. A dedicated follower of Pelor, my father greeted the sun every day, long before my mother thought to wake. "The sun is life, little Ailith," he used to tell me. "You need never fear the night, banished as it is by dawn. Simply be patient, and even the darkest shadow will be burned away."

My father. Already 100 years old when I was born, he had seen more sun rises than I could imagine at a mere five years of age. How he had come to meet my human mother, why he chose to court and wed her, I still don't know. I never thought to ask him. Sitting as we did together, every morning, we very rarely spoke. We simply watched the sun rise then went our separate ways for the day.

One night, shortly after my sixth birthday, I woke to a crash of thunder, and the rushing sound of rain. I lay in my bed, trembling, and wondered if the sky was being torn in two. I squeezed my eyes shut at the brilliant flashes of lightning, spots dancing in my vision. But the sheer power of it called to me, drew me out of my bed to watch, to witness, just as I had watched the dawn so many times before.

I went out into the yard, shivering in the rain, and watched the storm rage across the sky. Breathless I shouted into the thunder and leapt with every white-blue fork of lightning. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I hadn't even realized that I was walking towards the lightning until my father appeared to drag me back into the house.

He was furious. That I would go out into the dark on my own, and risk the fury of the storm. "Kord is a dangerous god, child. You could have been lost in the dark, and how then should I ever find you?"

"But it wasn't dark," I tried to explain. "There was so much light, there were no shadows to fear."

My father simply shook his head, and extracted a promise that I would never wander so far from the house on my own again.

Things changed between us after that. We still watched the dawn together, but I began to long for late night storms, so I could glory in their power on my own. I remembered my promise and stayed close to the house, no matter how longed to chase after the lightning to see where it led.

Then came a morning, only a few months later, that I rose to watch the sun rise alone.

For almost 20 years the elves had been drifting away. We'd hear stories of entire families vanishing into the night; the once welcoming forests of Meergard all but abandoned. And my father had gone to join his people, leaving his half-breed daughter behind.

But I was an adaptable child – most half-elves are. When my sister was born not quite nine months later, I was overjoyed at the prospect of someone new to share the dawn with. Certainly, her eyes were a strange flat shade of brown, far unlike my father's violet eyes or my own lightning-shot blue. And, yes, her hair seemed a rather plain blonde compared to my father's gold or my own shimmering black with hints of green. But she was my sister, my dear companion. And if she lacked the telltale ears of a half-elf, then so be it.

We were close for many years, my sister and I. Waking together to watch the sun, reciting our lessons, taunting the boys up the road, making up wild adventures of where we would go once we were grown. The only time we spent apart was during a storm. While I went to watch, she would huddle under our quilt in fear.

It never seemed odd to me that I felt more comfortable with my sister, six years my junior, than with the girls my own age. Until my sister turned 12, and decided she was tired of waking up to watch the sun rise with me. "It's too early, Ailith. Leave me alone. I want to go back to bed."

My sister was out-growing me. My younger sister was suddenly giggling at the boys up the road. She was tired of our adventures, she was tired of our games.

A year passed. Just after my nineteenth birthday, I woke to watch the dawn alone. But the sky was still dark. Menacing black clouds gathered on the horizon. The air was heavy, stirring strangely with a cold wind that rose goosebumps on my arms. A storm was coming, and I could feel it in me like a glowing, surging force. A true storm. Perhaps the truest storm I had ever seen. And I knew, I knew, that I had to follow it.

I looked back at my mother, her face pinched and lined even in sleep. I looked at my sister, 13 years old and already more worried about growing up than I had ever been. I looked at the small shrine to Pelor, the only sign that my father had ever lived in this house. There was nothing for me here.

Thunder. Rain. Wind. Lightning.

Lightning.

I followed it, as I had always longed to do. Stumbling in the dark, completely lost, I staggered after the storm, desperate to keep pace. All around me was light. Brilliant flashes of light, guiding me onwards, blinding me to the shadows, until I blundered into a caravan train in the middle of the road.

I can only imagine what sort of sight I made – dressed only in a light tunic, deafened by thunder, hair matted to my scalp and shoulders, staggering like a drunk. But the storm had guided me safely. I'd happened across a caravan headed to the training house of Kord's paladins, and I was not the first to arrive in such a manner.

It was in that caravan that I met Morgan, my mentor. It was there that I met Ivnit, my fellow novice. And when we came to the training house, in the midst of another fantastic storm, it was there that I came to realize why my father left me behind.

"Up!" Morgan's voice breaks into my thoughts as he crashes through the door. I blink, the room is now full of light, dawn has broken. "Enough sleep!"

I smile at the sound of Ivnit grumbling her way awake, and bounce up to my feet. "I'm ready."

Tags: brigits_flame, d&d, writing
Current Location: home
Shadow: hopeful
Noise: Hancock Soundtrack