Page 50 of Synodic

What was happening to me? Back home I could sprint for hours without feeling this winded. How long would it take for my body to adjust to being here? Would it ever?

My heart was beating way too fast, and I swayed as a dizzy spell took over me.

Someone was suddenly at my elbow, helping to keep me steady. The hands were foreign yet strong, and I looked up at a face similar to Dyani’s but softer and with lighter eyes. It was Demil, Dyani’s twin brother.

He was clad in a taupe shirt that hung taut over one shoulder, revealing half of his massive chest. His dark brown pants draped down to his knees, and knives of varying lengths glinted from his waistband. His white hair was half pulled up into a bun atop his head, and circlets wrapped around his thick upper forearms.

He was a warrior, just like his sister.

“Don’t worry. She’s just embarrassed,” he said, his eyes showing love for his sister but no remorse. “She hasn’t been taken down like that in a while and has forgotten the feeling. It’s about time someone reminded her. I suppose that’s what she gets for underestimating you. I’ll be sure not to make the same mistake.”

My dizzy spell slowly cleared. “Thanks, but I don’t think she’ll be forgiving me any time soon.”

He playfully rubbed his smooth chin. “You’re probably right. She’ll never forgive you.”

At least he was honest, and his candid response elicited a small chuckle from me.

“It seems you’re in search of a new teacher. You’re quick. I can work with that.”

“Oh, and what qualities do you possess that I can work with?” I asked with a wry smile.

He laughed and motioned to where his hands were still on me, “Aside from a steadying grip, you’ll have to find out.”

A dark shadow pulled my gaze, and my breath caught in my throat as Rowen’s penetrating gaze scorched my skin. “What happened?” he asked, and for the first time, I understood the harsh set of his face.Loss.

“Keira here just took down Dyani,” Demil said with pride.

Rowen’s eyes crinkled in skeptical surprise. “Really?”

I scoffed. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Actually, yes. I would like to have seen it.” He sounded impressed, and that appeased me, even though I'd lost my instructor in the process.

Rowen glanced down to see Demil’s hands on my arm and the small of my back, and I could have sworn his expression twitched just before returning to indifference. Demil dropped his hands from me and said, “Remember my offer, Keira. I will see you around.” His muscled body walked away, leaving me alone with my tempered guardian.

Having decided it was time, I pivoted to Rowen. “You should know I’m going home tonight. I’ll think of your award-winning company when I’m ready to come back. Though that might take a while.”

“Just imagine my sheets if you start having trouble, Copeland,” he suggested arrogantly. “Though I’m sure Demil wouldn’t mind if you imagined yourself in his instead.”

“I’d sooner try Dyani’s,” I replied with a saccharine smile, challenging him with my eyes. I reached for my silver tether, ready to leave him alone and speechless on the field of the training grounds. But the bridge between our worlds had vanished.

I explored my inner consciousness for the thread of light, searching again and again.

I searched all day and night, but I was left adrift. Lost in an endless sea of stars. My pathway home nowhere in sight.

20

Since I was no longer training with Dyani, I attempted to make myself useful throughout the village, taking every spare moment to find my way home. Neither proved very successful: the Wyn people were still wary of my presence, and the beautiful thread of consciousness I’d pulled to get here was gone.

Thankfully two sisters, Quiya and Nyvari, had taken me under their wing. They quickly had me learning the names and uses of local herbs and spices, how to tell time using the stars, and even how to honor and manage our feminine cycles.

I was immensely grateful for them, because aside from Ven, they were the first to truly welcome and integrate me into the village.

Today, the silver-haired women began teaching me the craft of weaving objects from natural grasses. They carefully explained that the night-blooming plants, when respectfully borrowed from the earth, offered decorative threads of reeded moonlight to any creation.

“The moonblooms are rare to light. It is a great luck to have found them this day,” Quiya said with a bright smile. “It will be a wonderful addition to your work.”

The baskets I’d seen around the village not only served a specific function but were also astounding pieces of art that glinted with starlit ripples. The complex patterns evoked the natural designs of land and sky as they undulated with a touch of swirling energy.

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