Annoyed, Daerji, Salmu's mother, put down the spoon. “Got quite the smart mouth on you.”
The Deepfolk bowed theatrically, and they moved very dramatically and excessively. “I'll take that as a compliment. I pride myself in my knowledge.” They winked.
Salmu could see her mother's face distort into disgust and almost crumble away before her.
The Deepfolk sat down cross-legged on a chair and sipped from a porcelain cup.
“That - where did you get that? Where did that chair come from? And the tea?” Salmu's mother stammered in awe.
The Deepfolk tapped the ground with their foot.
“Not sure if I can disclose that information ma’am.”
“I don't particularly care. You have your methods I suppose.” Salmu's mother stood, arms crossed, looking at the Deepfolk from across the room, her cross face masking her curiosity.
“Indeed I do ma’am.” The chair disappeared and the Deepfolk walked back outside, cup in hand. “Want to come with?” They said to Salmu.
“May I?” Salmu asked her mother warily.
Her mother nodded, a cold expression remaining on her face.
Salmu followed the Deepfolk through the low doorway, both of them ducking, although the Deepfolk, being rather tall, had more of a struggle.
Salmu's brother, Sendrin, sat amidst the tall, wild grass, and the gentle breeze that made his long hair sway.
Seeing Salmu approach, he closed the book he was holding and beckoned her to sit.
He gazed up at the Deepfolk warily as they sat down next to him.
“How are you feeling?” He asked stiffly.
“Fit as a fiddle!” She smiled, flexing her slender arms.
Sendrin's eyes narrowed. “Mother hit you again, didn't she?”
Salmu's smile twitched and wavered.
“You've still got blood on your face. Quick, wipe it off, before the others see.” He bent his head slightly towards their younger brothers direction.
Salmu raised her arm and wiped the blood off with her dirty sleeve.
“All good?” She asked, lowering her arm.
“There's still some left.” Sendrin replied.
Salmu spat on her sleeve and wiped vigorously.
“Better?” She asked again.
“Perfect.” Sendrin said with a frown.
“What's wrong?” She said, raising her knees and hugging them with her arms.
“It's just… I don't like it when she hits you. I don't know why she dotes on us and seems so set on crushing your self esteem.”
Salmu's smile fell.
“I won't let her crush my spirit. I'm the only one keeping you guys alive!”
Sendrin's frown deepened.
“And that's the problem. Should something happen to you, we'll need to adjust. If you ever leave, we'll have to learn how to fill the space you left behind.”
Salmu looked down. How would they survive without her?
“But you don't deserve to be trapped here just because we rely on you. Know that. We'll cope, don't you worry.”
Salmu let out a sigh of relief. Looking into her brothers eyes, she said,”Thank you.”
In a world swarming with creatures known as "Arisers," belonging to a bygone era, gods felled and ancient rulers overthrown, "Fate" has begun weaving a series of events...
Igniting smoldering conflict around the continent, "Fate" points their finger at the Seirnolean crown - the "villain" of the story.
Numerous pieces of the puzzle - people and Arisers, old and new - have yet to fall into place.
Caught up in the midst of "Fate's" plan is Salmu, living in an impoverished village ruled by Seirnol. Driven by the same flame as her rebellious ancestors, she sets off on her own path and encounters Ezri, an escaped prisoner of Seirnol. Ezri's story is incredibly different from hers, from the scales growing on his arms to the blood on his hands, yet their tales become inexplicably interwoven as they dodge arrest and bounties.
Little does Salmu know, "Fate" has planned a dramatic ending for her.
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