The sun shone over all the lands in the west. The wind whistled over the mountain top. There stood Alderis' house, basking under the sun and on the top of the terraced mountain.

Other houses that surrounded the mountain were all basking in its shade. Its top was wide enough, and well levelled to accommodate a house as big as Aldéris’ house.

There were six rooms in all. The living room was small. There were a few armchairs that stood, with no table to cling to. It was the least useful part of the house, as it was used to receive visitors. And for those who had fewer guests, like Aldéris' family, it hardly came into use. Part of what made the house seem large was the four bedrooms and dining room it had.

Isher pulled aside the curtain and stepped outside. The sun shone, blinding him. He stroked his eyelids as he walked to the backyard. The sound of a blade driving through thick wood reached his ears, and he sighed.

He knew Castar went out so early to fetch more wood. He wondered why he passed through all that stress when there was already enough at home. His brows drew together as he approached his brother.

Castar split the wood and threw it on the pile to his left. He had a stern look on his face, as though he was slaughtering an enemy. It seemed there was already enough firewood in the house, for he had not even touched what he had gathered at dawn. Isher again wondered why Castar went out so early to get more.

He watched Castar, exhausting himself over nothing, and he could no longer bear it. He had hoped to speak to him about it and put an end to it. 

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and even on his bare back. He was enjoying it to the fullest, taking out his frustration on the log as if it was the cause of what was bothering him. He could try to hide, but the ferocity with which he gripped the axe proved Isher right. Isher could tell what was going on in Castar’s mind. He knew his brother too well to know that he would not just dedicate his entire time splitting wood. This was something Castar hated to do. Splitting wood was his worse nightmare, but he didn't mind as long as he was taking his anger out on something.

 

"Brother, you need to take a break. It's noon and you still have not stopped," Isher told Castar. Castar had no words for Isher. He just felt like being alone. He wanted freedom and that was one of the reasons he decided to spend his day in the backyard, splitting wood.

 

“Castar, I'm talking to you. H-have I done anything wrong? Did you find fault in anything?” Isher said. He wanted to be sure he wasn't the cause of what his brother was going through. He felt Castar’s pain, and he knew his heart was broken. They spent their childhood together as brothers, and he knew Castar so well to know that he was angry. 

Castar swung his axe and rested it on his shoulder, and turned to face Isher. His black hair fell in his face, making him tuck it behind his left ear. His hair was long and tied into a shiny chignon at the back of his head, with a few strands hanging down from it. He pulled on a pair of brown wool trousers, tucking them into a pair of black boots he was wearing.

He did not want to talk, but he did not want Isher to think he was angry at him. Isher was innocent of it. He had no hand in what was happening, and he thought he should clarify things a bit.

“No Isher, you did nothing wrong. It's fine. You do not have to worry about me. I just need to focus and get this done quickly,” Castar said to Isher, and he sighed. Isher found it strange because Castar had already gathered enough, and he thought what they had was more than enough.

“Brother,” Isher called out, and Castar’s head fell to the ground. 

"Isher, I am fine. If you are worried about the noise, I can take them to Brosoré's yard. I am sure he will not mind," he said. He held the log with his left foot while the axe went through again.

 

"Castar, I am not worried about the noise. I am just worried about you, brother. I know you have not seen how much firewood you have amassed because you only take your anger out on the logs," Isher said, and Castar stopped.

He took the time to glance at the pile of firewood to his left and the look on his face showed he did not know what he was doing. He was smart enough not to voice his shock after seeing how much firewood he had at his side. He turned his back to Isher and his biceps tensed in anticipation of slamming the axe down on the wood again. He knew the firewood he had amassed could sustain them for a long time, but could not just bring himself to stop. 

 

"Tell me brother, why this? I can not remember the last time you split wood for dinner. Why did you choose to do what you hate the most?" said Isher. Isher had been the one splitting for the past 23 days, and Castar had never offered to help. He was kind enough to offer his help, but he was too busy treating his patients, and he found no time to engage himself with house chores. 

 

"It's about Cresva, is not it?" Isher asked. The name he called was indeed strange to the ears of castar. Castar had no idea what Cresva was, and he could not even tell if it was a name of a person or place. 

 

"I do not know what it is," said Castar, his brows drew together. Isher noticed how confused Castar was, and he sighed. Isher realised his mistake. No one at the age of 24 would know Cresva unless an adult-at least one 30-told him about the land where the brutal creatures of Northland once existed. Anyone 24 or younger would not know Cresva by the name it was once known by 25 years earlier. They would only know it as METRÁ.

Metrá was the new land formed in place of Cresva after the Kranìans mysteriously disappeared into nothingness. People left their homes in Cresva and Migrated because they could no longer share boundaries with the monsters of the tribe of kranìa, but once they heard about their sudden disappearance, they migrated from all other lands and reclaimed their home.

 

"Forgive my forgetfulness. I meant to say Metrá. Tell me why you are angry at Mother," he said. Earlier, Castar had asked for his mother's permission to travel to Northland on holiday. He had worked tirelessly for the better half of the year and he had saved up a lot of money to sustain himself while he was away, but his mother completely disagreed. She made herself clear and asked Castar to let go of any future plans that involved him travelling to Northland. 

She swore never to let any of her sons travel north. The tribe of Kranìa was no more. They had vanished completely from the surface of the earth, leaving no trace, but she still didn't feel comfortable with the idea. Castar, on the other hand, had no idea about the tribe of Kranìa, and he simply thought his mother was punishing him for nothing. 

“You are indeed angry at mother, and I can tell that it is about Metrá. You two always get along, and this has been the only thing that brings disagreement between you two,” Isher said, and Castar could no longer lie about it.

"I am not. I am not angry at her. I am just..." said Castar. He looked down at his feet and scratched his hair in frustration. Isher had been silent for so long because he had nothing to say to his brother. He knew Castar had been longing for the day he would enter the land of Cresva.

 

"Why Cresva?" it bubbled out of Isher. "There are so many beautiful lands out there. Why does it have to be Cresva in the north?" He said to Castar. He made a gesture to show how far away Northland was. 

Castar retreated.

"Brother, you know I have always loved Northland," Castar said, gasping out his words as he sat down on the rocking chair that used to belong to their father, but was moved to the backyard after his death. The chair held a special place in Castar’s heart, and he always chose to spend his resting hours in the backyard. He'd sit and watch the houses far off the mountains. From that spot, he could also watch the traders that bring goods into Ritorà from the East.

 

“Yes, yes, I know, but—”

The conversation was interrupted the moment they heard footsteps approaching the back yard. Castar stood to his feet, and they both turned in the direction. 

They saw a girl dressed in black leather barging into their field of vision and walking towards them. They averted their gazes from her and looked into each other's eyes to make sure they both saw correctly. Their eyes met the rabbit's, and they wondered. Did a girl chase and kill a rabbit? That's what they thought. It was creepy to them.

 

"I am looking for a healer. One who has green light in his eyes," she said.

 

"Who are you, and why do you think it's right to barge into someone else's backyard without a proper introduction?" Isher said.

 

"I mean no harm," she said. While Isher spoke to her, all Castar pondered about was what she said about the green lights.

 

He would rather wish for death than have Isher or his mother learn what he had hidden all his life. He tried as best he could to breathe normally so as not to draw Isher's attention while he thought about how to escape the girl's demand. No one knew he possessed magic. How about Isher finding out from the mouth of another person?

 

"What she said must be magic, brother. We all know there's no trace of it anywhere in the lands," Castar said to Isher, looking him straight in the eye. His heartbeat quickened at the moment he uttered those words, trying to suppress any emotion that would give him away. He felt a stab of guilt, making the girl look stupid before his brother.

 

"Then she had come for something else. Tell us what you really want here," Isher said.

 

"You must think me a fool. Would I have travelled so far for something I was not sure of?" she asked, taking off her hood and standing just an arm's length from Isher.

 

Castar noticed how often she blinked, and thought it a sign of vertigo. He knew she was just trying to wear a hard shell, but the real woman standing before them was in so much pain.

 

Castar stepped forward and placed a hand on Isher's chest to push him back. "Brother, that's enough! Let me handle this," Castar told him. Isher's beardless chin tightened as he stepped back.

 

"What is the name of the person you seek?" asked Castar. His gaze was fixed everywhere but in the girl's eyes. He wished she would give the name of someone else.

 

The girl was silent. She dropped the rabbit she had been holding. Castar's attention was drawn to the dead white rabbit, and his eyes circled the puncture mark on the animal's neck.

 

She pulled off her left glove and dropped it. Her gaze was fixed on Castar, and she did not blink. Castar swallowed as he waited for a response.

 

Isher grabbed him by the arm from behind and forced him to turn.

 

"She's not right in the head! She did not give you an answer because she does not have one. She does not even know the name of the healer she claims to have sought," Isher whispered in Castar's ear.

 

She pulled off her right glove and Castar's eyes widened. Isher was also as horrified as Castar.

 

Her right hand was pale, and it better revealed what was going on under her skin. The veins under her skin were visibly black.

 

"I was told to find a healer, someone whose abilities were confirmed by a woman who I believe will not lie to me. I was told to find Castar, the son of Aldéris," she said, and Castar swallowed.

 

Isher's eyes widened in disbelief. "I told you she was not right in the head. You should have listened to me," he said mockingly to Castar. "Now you listen to me. My brother has no magic," he said to the girl.

 

Her eyelids contracted as she stroked her temple with her thumb. She had a headache. Perhaps it was the long journey or the effect of the poison.

 

Neither Castar nor Isher had ever seen anything like it. They'd dealt with poisons before, some strange diseases too, but they had seen nothing like what was in the girls' vein.

 

"I am Castar, son of Aldéris, but the flashes in both eyes, as you were told, were just an exaggeration of my abilities. Healers do not use magic, and we all know magic does not exist," he told her.

 

The girl had not been feeling well since her last word. The headache was unbearable, and she was on the verge of losing her balance and falling to the ground.

 

Castar stepped up to her to get a closer look at the hand that held the poison, and his eyebrows drew together again.

 

"How did you get this and where?" he asked her, and before she could say a word, she slumped into his arms.

 

"Isher! Clear the table, quick!" cried Castar as he took her in his arms.

 

The table in the middle of the guest room had been cleared. Castar lay her down on it. He was sweating, losing so much sweat in such a short period due to anxiousness.

 

"I... I... I need a... ah... you need to...", Castar stuttered, not knowing what to say.

 

Isher placed two fingertips on her neck to feel her pulse and reported to Castar, "She's still alive. I think the poison is spreading. You must save her."

 

Isher stood beside her unconscious body, wondering where to begin. Castar had not stopped pacing.

 

"Castar! She's dying. Can you do anything other than watch her die?" said Isher to Castar.

 

Castar knew that if he wanted to save her, there was only one thing he could do: use his magic. He knew he could not do that with Isher present, so he thought of something he could say to get him to leave the room.

 

"I need you to find Mother. This is beyond anything we have encountered before," Castar suggested and Isher rushed out the moment he realised Castar might be right.

 

Isher was gone and Castar had the room all to himself. He moved closer to her and rolled up her sleeve. He saw she was unconscious, and it made things a lot easier for him.

 

"No, no, no, no," he muttered as he continued to roll it up. The thought running through his mind was not positive. He saw the poison spreading through her arm, and he knew it would end up in her chest next. He believed that if it spread to this point, she would lose her life.

 

He closed his eyes and clenched his eyelids, trying to summon his magic. He placed his right hand on the spot with the greatest concentration of the poison, but he felt empty. The magic was not there.

 

He took a deep breath to calm himself, believing it failed because he was restless inside. He tried again, placing his hand on that spot of her hand once more, but it led nowhere.

 

"I've done this countless times, okay?" said Castar. He spoke to no one but himself.

 

He stared at his hand as he spoke.

 

"Please, wherever you are, I need you now more than ever," he said, whispering. He closed his eyes again with fear of the guilt he would bring upon himself for letting the girl die.

 

There it was, what he had been waiting for. He felt his magic making its way from his heart to his fingertips. It was a feeling that always came over him before healing. He felt it, he felt his magic sizzle in his fingertips even though he could not physically see anything.

 

He took her hand again. His eyes were torn open by the power that surrounded him. He groaned through clenched teeth as the traces of the poison left her body and merged into his. His eyes glowed green as he continued to suck in the poison.

 

When he was done, the light in his eyes went out. He was still moaning as the burning of the poison had not stopped. He watched as every trace of the poison in his vein disappeared. It seemed as if he had consumed the poison and his blood had neutralised it. He had never seen anything like it.

He had healed so many people of poison, using his magic, but there was never a transfer from patient to healer.

 

He had lost so much energy in the process. He felt dizzy, everything blurred in front of his eyes, and he felt like his legs could not carry him the next moment. He was just leaning on the table, and that was not even enough.

 

He glanced at the girl and saw that she was breathing normally again, and then he fell on his back and lost consciousness.

 

Isher walked in, and his eyes widened.

 

"Castar!" he called out.