(cw: depiction of blood, mild violence, death)

"It is time for the Naming!" a voice bellows, and a cheer goes up before all of the adults start to sing.

I can't quite catch the words, but it sounds almost like a lullaby. Mom begins walking me towards the person who had rung the bell, and I see the other children wearing the same bright green as me also being led forward.

We reach the front of the crowd and Mom turns before letting me down, which is when I notice a hair color I haven't seen before. Far in the back, almost hiding from the crowd, is a person at least the size and shape of a regular adult, with long, straight hair in a shade to make the cloudy white stones seem drab gray by comparison.

My view of them is blocked before I can make out anything else, and the ceremony begins almost as soon as that happens, so I hold off on asking about the stranger. Mom and Pop would know them, after all, if they live in town.

"Thank you to everyone for another wonderful Day of Beginnings," the bellringer says, arms raised to call for quiet. I recognize him as the egg-shaped man who has the lampincker farm, but I can't remember the name he was introduced with so I label him Egg Man for now. It's not even wrong, since we get our eggs for eating from him.

I'm in the middle of wondering if 'you are what you eat' applies literally when he continues.

"While it's not unusual for our little town to have an empty stage for the Naming, today I am greatly pleased to introduce four new youngsters to our little home in the mountains."

Egg Man turns and pulls the heavy, filthy cloth cover off a small platform I hadn't noticed before. Then again, the cloth is stained and faded from years and years of sun and weather, but it clearly does its job as the polished wood and gleaming metal under it are revealed to be pristine.

The first thing I notice on the platform is an astersum, mounted in an odd bracket that holds the eight corners firmly. Without a visible release, I'm left to assume it stays there year-round. Ulesi's comment about public embarrassment echoes in my mind, and I shiver at the thought of dealing with seeing my results just now, in front of everyone.

The second object, on a slightly taller pedestal, is a silvery metal bowl with letters etched across its exterior surface. I recognize the ones in my name, but they're scattered enough that I can't even pretend to read the text.

The next thing Egg Man does is place his hands on opposite sides of the bowl, thumbs just barely below the lip, and conjure a great big flame out of nothing. He's visibly concentrating, and before the flame drops to a more reasonable height for its base he's sweating profusely.

"All right," he says, voice thin and strained. "First up?"

Mom keeps her hands on my shoulders, and I stay dutifully put. A kid with nearly all the features of a field mouse, wearing his green as a tunic and giving the crowd several nervous glances, steps forward and pushes a fistful of the little flower gifts and his name token into the bowl. The fire laps it up and briefly flares, before a thin band of light pours from it and circles around the kid before fading, and his hair turns to a light brown.

"Parke! So good to meet you," Egg Man says. The crowd repeats the greeting, and Parke shies away from the attention.

Next is a kid who looks like unbaked bread dough, with the kind of expression of a child who either grows up big and mean or gets bullied throughout childhood. His name is Eden and his hair winds up the rich green of clovers, but he doesn't seem to care, elbowing his way past Parke with a pale splotchy arm.

My turn is next, nearly spilling the overwhelming number of little flowers as I try to get them into the bowl, and the crowd's response is much brighter than the first two kids as they welcome me. I look up at Mom, who is beaming brightly, and hope it’s her reputation drawing the attention and not my hair.

Last is a tiny little thing in a dress a bit like mine, named Gayle, whose hair turns to a mottle of wildflower colors in contrast with her dusky skin.

Once we've been named, Egg Man releases the bowl and lets the flames die out. He steps around the pedestals and gestures from Gayle to the astersum.

"Last named, first measured, little Gayle."

She steps forward and puts a hand on the near side of the astersum, earning a small chuckle from the audience. Gayle blushes deeply.

"The edges, dear. You'll need to touch two different ones," Egg Man says, his voice much softer this time. I spare a glance to Parker and Eden, who respectively blanch and grin smugly.

I can't say I know the kid, but I'm starting to not like Eden.

Gayle winds up being an evoker, and she dives into the arms of her parents with glee at the news.

I would be next, but when I show Egg Man the bangle Ulesi locked on my wrist, he looks distressed.

"Moell, really?" he says, sounding genuinely hurt. Mom just shrugs.

"Ulesi made that call, not me."

"I knew I recognized that bag," He grumbles, rubbing his head, but turns to the crowd.

"Sorry folks, looks like our little Kalle here has already been measured. She's even got an Academy bracelet about it."

That sends a murmur of gossipping through the crowd, and I feel a renewed pressure as all of the nearby attention focuses on me.

I know how Parke felt, at least.

Egg Man doesn't let the topic linger, though, calling Eden up instead.

Eden is a fire enhancer, while Parke winds up an air and light caster. The double affinity gains some uproar, and the five-year-old is swiftly hoisted off to be the center of attention.

I feel bad for him, and a little guilty for having foisted the spotlight onto someone else, but Mom gives me a hug while Egg Man wraps things up with another speech and I stop worrying so much.

"As always, folks, after the festivities wind down please help clean up so we can-"

A shrill scream cuts through the air like a bolt of lightning, bringing what jovial mood remained to a grinding halt. The sound of something swishing through the air is followed by a small boom, and a second scream follows that.

Mom is already picking me up and pushing me into Pop's arms before pandemonium breaks out. When it does, the crowd splits its directions with a much calmer attitude than I would have expected. Not that anybody isn't running, either towards the danger or away from it.

Mom disappears in the direction of the screams, just in time for another shriek to let out in chorus with a dozen more. Just then, a swarm of cries that sound more angry and violent than frightened or fearful rises above the terror, and someone shouts words I never thought I would to hear.

"Bandit raid!"

At that point, Pop turns on his heel and runs for the trail, hugging me close. I watch over his shoulder as the scene behind us shakes with every bounding step he makes.

People crowding into buildings, diving into the woods, and fleeing up the path with us are contrasted with those grabbing spears and pitchforks and clubs from various places around town and rushing to fight off the invaders. The screams and shouts continue, but now some cries of pain and hate are mixed with sounds I don't want to think too hard about, and I shut my eyes to the scene.

Only for a moment, though. The thought of someone following us home wrenches my eyes open and focuses my attention onto the path behind us, as well as everyone on it.

There's only a few, really, and as we run I see them split off onto small trails I hadn't noticed on the way into town. Whether they lead to homes, hidey-holes, or animal dens is a complete mystery to me.

It's when the last of them split off the main path that I see the stranger, pale hair almost sparkling in the afternoon sun.

"Pop, hurry," I say, desperately hugging tighter to him. If that person is with the bandits, I don't want them chasing us home. Then again, they were in the crowd before the Naming ceremony, so they might just be looking for a place to hide as well. I can't imagine it would be easy with hair like that.

I start recognizing trees and the bend in the creek too late to tell Pop that we're still being followed, and there's no more splits on the path before we reach the front door of our home.

I'm set down on the ground only once we're inside, and Pop turns to shut the door. He stops dead seeing the stranger.

"Kalle, go hide in the forest," he says, voice a low warning as he stares down the approaching stranger.

"You don't know them?" I ask, now much more worried than before. Pop grunts, waving me off. I barely retreat a step before he starts shouting out the door.

"I ain't friendly, stranger! Go elsewhere!"

I don't hear whatever response Pop gets, but the tension in his stance doesn't slip even a bit. He starts to shut the door, and I can hear the approaching person calling for him to wait.

Once the door is locked, Pop turns around and seems surprised to see me still standing there.

"Kalle, why aren't y-"

A beam of light lances through the door, through the house, and through Pop, cutting him off. We both look at the enormous wound in his chest, almost as big as his fist, before he collapses without a word.

"P-Pop?"

A knock at the door escapes my notice, my heart pounding blood through my ears so hard I can't even hear my own voice. I shout, I kneel next to him shaking his shoulder, I try to use water magic to push the blood back into him, but there's too much and he's already growing colder as red seeps across the floor. 

"Pop? Pop! Papa!?"

Someone is standing next to me, the door to the house left ajar. Their hand nudges my shoulder, but they might as well have tried to nudge the mountain for attention.

"Papa please, please get up!"

The nudge against my arm becomes a firm grip around it, pulling me away from my Pop who needs help, who is dying, and I wheel on the the interruption in a cloud of desperation.

"Ah, finally, I have your attention. Sorry about the mess, and all," the stranger says with a genuine smile and dismissive wave of Pop. It's so out of place that I'm shocked into stillness, enough to be able to focus on the speaker.

"My name is Wilx, you see. I was sent by Kontis to make sure y-"

Their words fade away as soon as Kontis is mentioned. Kontis, the one who sent me here. Who sent them here.

Fury burns in me like molten rock, swirling and bubbling and swelling as I start to connect what happened. Wilx was trying find me. They chased us out of town when the bandits came, and then they used some sort of magic to hurt Pop.

"You," I say, venom in my voice loosening Wilx's grip on my arm. I wrench myself free, and take hold of that swelling rage within. "Get away!"

With everything I have, I push. Really, I just want them to be away from me, from us, so I can focus on trying to save my papa. I don't think about how far away is meant to be, I just push the intruder there. 

A gust of wind follows a loud boom that shakes dust from the rafters and rattles our windows, and it’s accompanied by a hideous crack followed by crumbling stone, but I don't care about any of the sounds that aren't Pop, who has already stopped making any sounds at all.

He’s long been cold under my tear-stained hands by the time Mom finds us, well after the sun has set.