Page 48 of Synodic

“If you don’t enjoy spending time with me, why don’t you just babysit from a distance. I don’t need you hovering.” I plopped a berry in my mouth, and even though my stomach wanted to reject it, I forced it down anyway.

Ven appeared at my elbow, smiling wide with Sabra by his side. The majestic white beast proffered her snout towards me, and I let her lick the berry juices from my fingertips with her rough pink tongue.

“Oh look, people who aren’t forced to endure my presence,” I said pointedly, but Rowen just shot me a seething stare. “Do you have anything in store for us today, Ven?” I asked, hoping it would give me some space from Rowen. My feelings surrounding him were confused and muddied. My body inexplicably burned for him, and at times I swear I could see him burning back. But I saw now it was just part of his oath to Nepta, to watch over me until we knew why I was linked to Luneth.

“I thought I could show you one of my favorite spots?” Ven said with his big toothy grin, so contagious I found myself smiling back.

“I just need to be back in time for Dyani’s lesson,” I said as I stood to let him lead the way.

We took a few steps along the sugar-sand beach when Ven suddenly stopped and looked back to Rowen. To my utter annoyance, everyone seemed well aware of my ordered chaperon, but he sat still, making no move to follow us.

“It looks like you two are in good hands with Sabra,” he said, gesturing to the massive beast at our side, and the white wolf’s tail swayed proudly at the mention of her name.

Ven and I shot a glance to the grand beast who panted with a wide-open smile, exposing her massive, flesh-searing teeth, and we laughed as we realized Rowen was right. At present, Sabra was docile and gentle, but I knew the damage she could inflict with her sharp fangs, strong jaw, and razor claws. I imagined watching her attack her prey would be a beautiful yet terrifying sight to behold.

Leaving Rowen, Ven led me to the far inland side of the village, bustling with the morning rush and early chatter. Sabra trotted happily at our sides as we headed up a tall slope that flattened into a lookout about a quarter of the way up.

We sat surrounded by the native plants that gently swayed in the air like coral in shallow currents. Up this high, the fresh wind caressed my face, the breeze like a delicate lace billowing across my skin.

I could see the whole aerial view of the ocean and village from this vantage point. The conical shapes of the lodgings sprouted from the ground as if they’d been planted last spring and were ripe for the picking.

The Wyn elves moved throughout the village with the grace of a choreographed dance. They knew when to go or be still, when to walk or run, never bumping into each other but perfectly weaving their paths together like the strands of a dream catcher.

From up here you would never be able to tell that Luneth and its people were suffering. Suffering because of what the disappearance of the Alcreon Light meant to this land and all that inhabited it.

“You can see everything from up here,” Ven said, seeming to sense the quiet that settled over me. “Well, almost everything. Sometimes I sit up here and just observe.”

“People watch,” I said, knowing the mindless gratification one can get from watching people be people.

His nose scrunched at that, but he laughed anyway. “I’ve never heard it called that before. I like it.”

“It’s what we call it back home.”

Home. The word caused a swift tug in my chest, and I knew I needed to go back tonight.

Sitting on the plush grass, I contently let the pale sun soak into my skin, but Ven wasn’t one for comfortable silences, and he began regaling me with story after story: memories of him climbing, exploring, skinning his knee, or Sabra catching her lunch. The tales were endless, and I found myself only half listening.

Ven absentmindedly stroked Sabra behind her ear, and she happily leaned into his scratches. “People show their true selves when they think no one is watching. You hear a lot too. I remember a girl crying right over there.” He pointed his finger down below to two trees wrapped so tightly around one another they looked like lovers locked in a growing embrace.

“Why was she crying?” I asked, having fallen into the rhythm of conversation.

“A few years ago, when Rowen joined our village, it seemed every other girl wanted him. Even some of the boys.” At the mention of Rowen’s name, I instantly perked up. “Every week someone new was trying to get his attention, making and offering him woven baskets, necklaces, and crowns made of flowers. One even asked him to meet her by the entwined souls' tree. When he never showed, she cried there all day. He denied every single admirer, and never accepted any of their gifts. They all eventually learned to stay away from him. All day long he worked, doing the chores and tasks no one wanted to do, and then he would disappear at night, only to do it all over again the next day.”

Attempting to sound as uninterested as possible, I asked, “Do you know why?”

“Takoda said he was a broken man with a broken heart.” Ven shrugged, then pulled out a treat from his pocket and fed it to the white beast stretched out beside him. “One day, Takoda found him in the forest covered in blood and near death. He brought him back to the village just in time. Any longer and Rowen would have died.

“Takoda was able to heal all the wounds on his body, but for some reason, he was still dying. Takoda said the wound that plagued him was one we could not see, for it lay on his heart.”

I felt a pang in my chest. What could have happened to Rowen to leave him in the middle of nowhere, bloodied and broken?

Something had shattered him, body and soul.

“I remember Takoda telling him: ‘the woman you loved is gone forever, and you must learn to live on,’ I don’t think he ever really did though, but little by little he got stronger and stronger, and once Rowen was finally well enough to leave, he asked if he could stay. Ever since then he has become a full member of our village and one of our best warriors.”

That explained some of why Rowen was the way he was; one moment caring and warm, the next, cold and distant. Almost as if he could forget whatever horrible thing happened to him, only for it all to come crashing back in an instant.

I remembered sitting by him at the creek after the incident at Weir Falls. How a darkness settled over him as he recalled a memory, one he relived over and over again. Could this be that memory?

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