Between Shadows & Stars

CHAPTER 1

DeargDoom

Reyna

Trekking through the forests at midnight was the most dangerous game to play in Festeria. The forest stretched on across the whole continent, spreading thickly around the province like untamable weeds. Getting lost within it would be a death sentence.

Reyna would know.

When she had been more reckless in her youth, her dumb arrogance had gotten her in peril.

She was lost amongst wolves, owls, chirping crickets and light-bulb flies thrumming, only to become the daughter of the forest, leaves strewn in between matted strands of black hair framing her face; her eyes were dark-stained wooden spheres, sockets sunken and scored with exhaustion the darkest shade of deadnettle weeds.

She slept under tree canopies for three days, surviving off wild berries, acorns and skinning squirrels until she was found, bitten raw from the cold with an infectious scratch on her knee which had sent her into delirium.

However, it was not the father she admired that had found her, nor her stern mother, nor her two older brothers, Silas and Nikolaus, whom she loved dearly, but rather an elder female druid.

Brought to a small yurt in the middle of the forest, she had been tended to, fed and brought back to life. Her revenant state made her shudder when she had caught her reflection in the metal pans hanging with dried sage, drying leather and bundles of upside-down wildflowers.

Her mother had been utterly disappointed with her, making her clean the house day and night for a whole week without any help. Reyna remembered her punishment. Her mother’s steely hand and iron fist discipline had maybe made her sharp, but it could never equate to the loving mother Reyna used to seek in her.

Even when her mother was not around, Reyna was reminded of her in the landscape around her.

The forest was her mother.

The sequoias towered to the sky, the deciduous branches bend in the wind. Summer was fast approaching, and the winds of spring were but the softest embrace on her cheeks. With narrow eyes and a headstrong gait, Reyna headed back to her family’s woodland cottage.

As Reyna ran from war camp to another, gathering intel for her king, she slowed into a stop as one of the signs nailed to a tree was a rough sketch of her face with the red writing in bold: DeargDoom.

While she normally did her job, from time to time, she slipped information for her personal reasons, building a mapwork of politics for eventual leverage. Sleepless nights, she had endured multiple in order to gain enough clout, so no one dared cross her.

Since she started working for the king, she honed herself like steel. Festerians called her the DeargDoom for her excruciatingly lethal kills, from beheading a man outright, to feeding him his own genitalia. She would pry on the forces of evil much like the Dearg Due, the Faymoorian creature who sucked the blood of men in vengeance. The title was silly, but it still managed to make her lips perk up every time she heard the two syllables, rolling off the tongues of Festerian natives, high and low born, alongside travelers, like honeyed tea.

Reyna was not only the DeargDoom of Festeria—feared by many but not all—she was also known as one of the most notorious spies of the Coedwig rulers.

She was twelve years old, the normal enlisting age for Festerian soldiers and squires, when she had been chosen to become part of the Festerian legions. Typically, there was no lad or lass younger than that joining, even in the last hundred years with the war. Festerians might be old and cruel and reckless when it comes to battle, but even they had their own limits about sending children to the front lines.

Living in war camps, on the other hand, was something most Festerian children experienced at one point in time in their youth. Training with the other trainees instead of weaving baskets or washing clothing had shaped her significantly. From knuckle bones, to throwing stones and stick combat, playing tag or hide n’ seek, Reyna’s most fond memories had happened in the war camps.

It was no longer a question of abandoning her family.

The war camps became her home.

Each soldier was a member of her family. No matter what, she could count on them. Albeit gruesome and callous, she could always count on her comrades. Joining her older brothers, who were now generals of their own units, was an honor, despite having to leave her father’s side at the family carpentry. She aspired to be just as good as them, if not better someday.

King Conan Coedwig’s castle was located a little out of reach from the war camp she was stationed at. She had received an order to meet with the king after she had gathered information from the border. The details she was privy to would awaken Tirmarwol, the human realm.

The rustling of the leaves alarmed her, freezing her in her tracks. Pressing her back against the trunk of a sequoia, she listened intently, though her ears could only hear so much. She allowed a soft cloud of mist to escape her lips as she exhaled, before continuing with her expedition.

The low rumbling of a wolf’s gnarl did not startle her, even as it leaped six feet in front of her, its fur a steely silver.  Quickly, she drew her sword into her steady hands, the weight of the blade perfectly balanced. She placed her right foot forward, unfastening the pins in her knees to crouch into an on-guard position.

The animal locked eyes with her, and in silent acquiescence, Reyna dropped the blade, the metallic tip ringing against stones. She knew by the sharp golden glow of the wolf’s gaze that it was getting ready to strike.

Then, it lunged.

It lunged not towards her, but away from her.

Reyna tilted her head at first, overridden with confusion, as the canine’s animalistic whimpering faded with the night’s moonshine only to morph moments later into a howl.

The pack was close.

And she needed to run.

Why the wolf had feared her, fleeing from her rather than leap for her, was not a thought which lingered in her mind for long. Sure, she assumed, haughtily, if Festerians feared the blood on her hands, even the wolves would sense she was the oh-so proclaimed DeargDoom.

Most of the time, Festeria’s forests were creeping with creatures of folklore, especially at the border of Faymoor. Her parents would tell her tales of blood-thirsty hounds and tricksters to keep her from venturing too closely, but Reyna did not waste her time believing in those tales. She never feared them. If they had wanted to harm her, she would have been dead long ago.

Reyna had spent enough time in the forests, day, and night, to believe the Fae’s abominations remained on their territory, for crossing into the human realms was an act of war.

Acts, no doubt, she would partake in.

If she were ordered by her king to either dismember, drown or any other wicked torture method, she would, until she was soaked in her enemies’ blood.

Numerous hours and days hunting, exploring, scouting, and spying in the forest established Reyna’s expertise. In doing so, she found comfort and familiarity without forgetting the dangers lurking amongst her.

Huffing, she skidded to a stop where dirt turned to stone, looking over her shoulder only once before turning back to the village's main gate.

The village and forest surrounded the Coedwig palace; the alabaster towers spiraled above the tree line, towering amongst the sequoias. The battlements’ merlons were shaped like inverted T’s, the embrasures lined with archery posts and defensive mechanisms from small catapults to bombards. Slowing down her pacing, she started to walk towards the path, nearing the outside guard posts, gaze lifted to the defensive walls, where guards could be seen only by the torchlights they held.

She had just learned crucial information regarding the war between the fae and the humans when eavesdropping a conversation amongst ex-generals, one who led a band of bandits within the heart of the forest.

When she was perched on a sturdy tree branch, her cloak a myriad of green leaves, moss, and pine needles, she had overheard claims about peace being on the horizon. Her cloak, one of many, was her favorite because it had been gifted to her by her father. The dark fabric had been sewn with fabric shaped into elements of the forest, so she could easily camouflage should the need arise.

The village at the mouth of the fortress’ gates was alive for the midnight hour: the market holders had begun to close their stalls, and a few drunkards staggered out of the tavern, chanting old hymns and legends, set alight by the bonfires still burning.

She kept her hood over her head, glad the cape hid the curves of her female body.

In a world of cruel monsters, her father had warned her, we must not be prey, but the hunters who chase out the darkness.

He had raised her as a predator, not a fawn.

A wolf.

Now more than ever, Reyna’s bravery dimmed; her cowardice surfaced, and yet it was possibly the smartest move because it cloaked her in shadows away from hoodlums, molesters, and scumbags.

When she reached the gate of the royal family’s dwelling, her pace finally gained some momentum. The gate guards raised their brow at her arrival. Showing the access card with the Coedwig emblem, Reyna was quickly let in. They didn’t question her presence, despite her renown title, for she was under the king’s jurisdiction.

Festeria’s coat of arms was a square top with a heater bottom. A pine was sketched out in the center with three layers in the deepest shade of evergreen against a backdrop of rust. The border was a decorative bronze carving, representing runes from the olden days. Having such an access card could grant her entrance almost anywhere in Festeria.

When she slipped between the shadows of the castle grounds, morphing with the greenspace of the alcoves within, she went unnoticed, up until she reached the study of the King of Festeria.

Odd for the covetous and unrelenting king, his study was quaint: four walls of wood, two of which were fully covered in bookshelves, the other two swallowed by a large log-filled hearth and a window veiled by thick evergreen curtains.

Reyna plucked a red leather-bound book from one of the shelves. She knew very little of the King’s schedule, but something told her he would be awake, as the evernight of stars and moonglow taunted them from the stained glass window to her right.

Who wasn’t burning the midnight oil over the troops, the war and all of the other ongoing pressures of everyday life?

DeargDoom, an old groggy voice reverberated through the bookshelves behind her, my little spy.

Reyna brought her hand down, the book slipping back into its rightful place.

What brings you here at this hour? The King still wore his day dress, a glass of wine in his hand. Though, it seemed like he had fallen asleep against the wooden desk moments before he emerged from his den in the nook in the wall, his hair disheveled, his ringlet crown tilted, his eyes more sunken than ever.

Word from the war, Your Majesty, Reyna cleared her throat, voice cold and didactic, I believe you will need to sit for this one.

King Coedwig complied, though he eyed her with a tinge of suspicion as his eyes narrowed into wrinkled slits. He sat back in the chair of his study, overlooking the stacks of papers and books upon his red wood desk.

The generals of both parties have come to a certain agreement, Reyna’s voice was collected–each tone and word carefully calculated. Each kingdom must send two females to fight for the Fae king’s heart and form an alliance to end the war. She held back from adding, Including your daughter, for now.

He watched her carefully, a malicious grin sprawled across his cheeks, though his dark eyes spoke differently.

"Thank you, Reyna. The way he hissed her name made her want to reel. You never cease to impress me, and I owe you greatly. She stayed by the bookcase, watching him with precision as he stood from his desk and made his way around it. You will go, he ordered, and you will spy on the Faefolk."

She balked, her nose wrinkling and her lips parting. Boldly, she raised her finger in opposition.

He grumbled from his place in front of his desk, standing in front of her almost to appear dominant, You better rethink your odds, Miss Oceanus. I own you, and in case you have forgotten, I will decide what your tasks are.

Going into the Fae Realms to spy was a death sentence. Going there without spying was possibly worse. Her king was mad. She felt the room compress around her, a notion of nausea and claustrophobia overwhelming her. Things were spinning and blurred.

I’ll see what I can do, Your Majesty.

A lie.

It was something she was trained to do, a skill even the King could never truly control even when he believed he held a tight grip on the odds.

Spies were professional liars, but DeargDoom, blood staining her hands, the spy who dug as many graves as she sowed seeds in the spring, was made into one.

***

Every step was taken with rocks sinking in her boots, like the weight of it was dawning on her as she watched the small woodland cottage go from the size of a pebble to a full monolith. Her home was quaint but still large enough to fit the entire family.

It was a two-story lodge that was the perfect refuge for a family and their friends in the winter months when provisions were scarce, when hunting trips and their festivities were organized, hunters gathered in the front lawn. Father was a carpenter, but he loved to hunt in his youth, and he taught all of them the basics. This was his refuge, his fortress. He had built it with his hands, with the wood of these forests, and he had turned this house into a home for a fierce mother bear and her three cubs.

Nikolaus and Silas were already sitting against large wood-carved chairs in the yard. One of them was half sitting on the arm, one leg propped up on the seat.

Nikolaus hollered as he saw her marching towards them, her knapsack thrown over her shoulder like it was fresh game. Look alive, would ya, Rey?

She scoffed at him, tossing the bag aside, aimlessly before slumping down on the chopped log next to the unlit fire pit, What are you losers doing out here? Did Ma kick you out for walking through the kitchen floor with ya dirty boots?

No, we’re getting ready to leave for border patrol in the North.

Reyna’s gaze lowered. Ah, right… Much like she had been called West to Faymoor, they had the war to manage. Hopefully her role would make it end sooner and they’d be home by the end of the summer so they could enjoy their autumnal festivities.

You? Silas crooned.

I got a new posting as well.

Both brothers seemed to tense, leaning in to inquire further details but she brushed it aside, like it was a measly fly. You know I cannot talk about my business. Being a spy meant keeping secrets even from her family, even if it hurt them.

But they were most understanding.

She had been doing this for nearly a decade now. It was customary. Their mother was a healer, they were both generals in their own legions, and she was a spy. They came home for dad’s homemade bread and for a good day of hunting, before being off on their merry way and seeing each other again during the festivals and yearly cycles.

And you didn’t come to see me first?

His voice was as cool as the sea breeze, and there was no doubt why he was formerly Paralian, from the coastal kingdom. How he managed to score her mother, she didn’t know but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaping to her feet in a moment of seconds, Reyna ran to her father, who was still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a carpenter's smile carved upon his lips. Father, she sighed as she embraced him, her arms still small against the man’s frame. Your two sons intervened, unfortunately.

Those two sons are your brothers, Reyna… A deep chuckle echoed against her ear as it was pressed against his chest. Can you blame them? Most days you are out and about doing gods know what. They worry for you, as I do. As your mother does.

Reyna could hear her brothers mumbling behind her but she was too focused on her father to bother turning around and sticking her tongue out at them. Instead, she rolled her eyes, albeit in a loving annoying little sister fashion.

I am working, as we all are. I have been for as long as I remember. Just because I recently turned twenty-one doesn’t still make me a baby. Let alone, a child. I must make my name known...

We all know you’re the DeargDoom… Silas pointed out casually.

Yeah, cause you smell like it, Nik retorted, making no effort to be polite.

Without a second thought, Reyna moved towards Nikolaus and shoved him hard. He toppled over into the chair and groaned annoyingly. Silas only watched and laughed from his seat, bringing a hand up to rub the stubble on his chin in contemplation.

That was their friendship though, a lot of teasing and a whole lot of love.

You three will forever act like children, I reckon.

Her father’s laughter was contagious. He was always quieter in crowds, usually with a soft smile and tired eyes, scored by the winter season, their piercing blues a tale of another city. And yet, he was everyone’s father in the way that he helped out in the nearby village, how all the ages seemed to be drawn to him. He made small carvings of animals like wolves and foxes for the little kids, and he helped with making tables, too, for families to share meals together. He even made the large banquet tables in the royal palace. But he deserved more recognition than he received.

Of course, growing up sucks, Nikolaus quipped before glaring at his sister.

Reyna leaned over onto the chair, squeezing Nikolaus effortlessly, and laughing while doing so. Silas watched over his two younger siblings like a calm snowy owl, and Nikolaus was desperately trying to shove Reyna off, tickling her even if she proved to be quite invincible in that department.

They were a good family. Had always been. No matter the distance or the war, they found the simple pleasures in their dysfunctional tact, and even their mother watched over them from her study that overlooked the lawn. Someone might even have said she was smiling at their shenanigans, others said she disapproved. Reyna’s mother was a mystery, but she loved her. Even if they grew distant. She was a constant, like the stars, the sun and the moon.

There was never going to be perfection in her family, that far she knew. But it was her family nonetheless, and she wouldn’t have it differently.

The struggle remained that Reyna had to go to Faymoor, had to spy for the king to protect her family, but she knew there had to be another way.

After a moment, the daughter pushed herself up from her seat and grimaced to her brothers before turning on her heels and making her way towards the log cabin, wanting only to gather a few more belongings from her room before heading towards the camps to prepare for her journey to Faymoor.

Splashes of water and the ting sound of metal pans could be heard to the right where the kitchen was. The small kitchen was homey– there was a chest for the cold reserves, two large basins for cleaning, two long rectangle counters for working, along with hanging herbs, flowers, and other knick-knacks. The window to the yard was cracked open, the wind carrying in the scent of firewood from where her brothers were still lounging.

She found her mother washing the dishes frantically, as if she was avoiding conversation with the rest of them.

Reyna approached quietly, eyes still on her restless mother. Hi…

The grey-haired woman lifted her sunken eyes to her daughter and nodded without releasing a sound before hastily scrubbing a saucepan.

I am leaving again, Reyna sighed, shifting on her feet nervously. Talking to her mother always proved to be a challenge these days. She hadn’t ever been a big conversationalist, mostly being like an owl, silently observant.

Silas was like her that way, even though he tried to be warmer. It wasn’t that she was the coldest, only that she struggled trusting most, even her children. Most would say the only one she spares words for was Reyna’s father.

Once the weight of the silence became unbearable, Reyna left the room and headed up the straight to the room she kept, currently occupied by dust bunnies and other beasts. 

Then, after taking out the box of letters from her father, she sighed and wondered if she should burn them or bring some with her in between her leather-bound journal.

It had been a few weeks since they exchanged letters, but Reyna intended on starting again. They always kept in touch while she was away, and letters moved much faster anyways with the highly trained messengers running from camp to camp and trading in the villages.

A knock made her jump out of her skin only to find her father in the doorway. He wore his age like fine wine, looking chipper than Silas on a good day. His smile was like a crescent moon you wanted to look at and admire.

You’ll try to write to me while you’re gone, right? His fatherly voice felt like warm tea.

She hadn’t even told him where she was going yet. It didn’t matter, and she wasn’t exactly allowed to tell him either. Whether it was the Northern Kingdom of Snaedis or the Southern Kingdom of Slandor or Sidhenhall, the Capital of Faymoor, Reyna was ultimately doomed. Mortal enemies were one thing, but to face off immortal and magical beings was another. The war had proven that.

I know I am sworn not to tell you anything, but–

Nuh-uh… Her father shook his head before adding, you don’t need to tell me anything, sweetheart. I know that wherever you are going, you will face impossible challenges. I have come to terms with that since you joined the forces, heck, since your brothers joined the forces. Fact remains that if something happens, it will be beyond my control.

Reyna looked at her father from where she sat on the edge of her bed, the trove of letters sitting on her lap still, her fingers fidgeting and creasing the corners. I know. I am just more worried this time than usual.

Reyna, you’ve always done what you must to survive. We will take care of ourselves. I admire you for your altruism, but sometimes, you need to look out for yourself, too. We will be fine, and if we aren’t, the forest will be there for you. It always has been. I never once lost faith in you, Rey. Don’t lose faith in yourself now, no matter how costly this challenge may be, this opportunity.

Her father pulled her in for a tight embrace, and she tried desperately to keep the tears from forming in her eyes. She was known to be some lethal killer and spy for the Festerian king by the mortals. But what of the Fae? Would they have spies, too, that suck the life out of her? Would her efforts be all for nothing?

I love you, Papa.

"I know, Rey. I love you, too.

CHAPTER 2

Heart’s Requiem

Reyna

Reyna wrote letters like a religion. She was nowhere near pious, though she tried to be virtuous as much as possible, despite, of course, the slicing of arteries and occasional tortures. Especially in her promise to keep communicating with her father. Even after so long, she was still daddy’s little girl.

It was days now before the treaty would be drafted, so she feared she would soon leave and never return. Her lips were coated in lies, and her hands covered in blood, but she always tried to be better, to advocate for the greater good of things no matter the cost. Despite the everlasting war, her parents had been keen Fae sympathizers. She couldn’t exactly say the same for herself, but she always gave her opponents a chance to prove themselves worthy of mercy.

The letter she sealed with the cheap bronze wax had never been retrieved, the crevasse in the tree empty. That was where her father tended to leave her gifts and his replies. She had gone on their usual schedule to pick up whatever he might have brought for her, only to find her own parchment weathered despite the shelter provided by the bark.

Reyna’s heart sank.

Her father never missed a pick up rendezvous, never missed delivering her freshly curated meats from the market, iron or feathers for arrows, new clothing if he was feeling generous. She knew the winter