FATE’S EDGE

ELMBROOK, AVAREN

NOVEMBER 1347

IT began with the storm.

I hovered at the edge of the mortal realm, the wind bending and howling as my presence disrupted its natural course. Clouds swirled in a violent dance, thick and dark, spilling rain in heavy torrents across the land below. The storm was my messenger, my herald. It swept over forests and fields, through villages that clung desperately to fragile light. Mortals cowered, their eyes cast skyward in awe and fear.

I was not here to be seen. Not yet.

But something stirred, pulling me closer. A strange hum, faint yet persistent, whispered against my senses. It was different from the cries of frightened humans or the prayers they murmured to deities they believed still cared. This was something else—a tether pulling me down. Intriguing. Mortal lands held no place for gods, and yet here I was, standing on the precipice of their world, compelled by… curiosity.

With a single thought, I descended.

The impact of my presence was immediate. The storm redoubled its fury as I took form on the forest floor, wind and rain lashing around me in chaotic reverence. I breathed in deeply, tasting the damp air, letting it settle within me. I could feel the fragile life of the village nearby—a scattering of mortals scurrying for shelter from the elements I controlled without thought.

But amidst the chaos, there was someone who did not run.

I saw her then, standing by a well at the farthest edge of the village, the flickering light of a dying lantern casting faint shadows across her face. She was cloaked in darkness, her soaked dress clinging to her as she pulled at a rope, hoisting a bucket from the depths. What business she had in such weather, I couldn’t yet say, but it piqued my interest. She moved with urgency, her small hands working deftly, though her shoulders betrayed her weariness.

A servant, no doubt—her garments and thin frame spoke of low status. Even from where I stood, I could see the tension in her movements, as if she expected punishment to descend upon her for failing a task.

How fragile these mortals were. How pathetic.

And yet, I could not look away.

The storm raged louder as I approached, but she seemed unbothered, either too consumed by her work or resigned to the tempest. Rain poured from her face as she bent over the well, her hair plastered against her skin, her breath visible in the frigid air.

I stepped closer, my feet silent against the muddy ground. I was not accustomed to moving quietly—my kind did not need to—but something about her stilled my usual approach. I stopped a short distance from her, curious to see if she would sense my presence.

When she finally straightened, clutching the heavy bucket to her chest, her gaze swept over the area, her brows furrowed. She stiffened as her eyes met mine, a mixture of fear and confusion flickering across her face.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling yet steady, an interesting contradiction. Her fingers clutched the rope tighter, as if it were a lifeline.

I studied her, tilting my head slightly. Her boldness surprised me. “You see me,” I said, more a statement than a question.

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Mortals rarely perceived me unless I wanted them to, but this one… she saw everything. It unsettled me. “What is your name?” I asked, ignoring her question.

She hesitated, taking a step back as if she’d realized too late that she was speaking to something far beyond her understanding. “Eira,” she said at last, her voice quieter now.

Eira. The name lingered in the air between us, delicate and unassuming. It didn’t suit her—not entirely. There was something sharper beneath the fragile surface, something she likely kept hidden to survive in her world.

“And why,” I asked, taking a step closer, “are you out here in the rain, Eira?”

Her grip on the bucket tightened. “I needed water,” she replied. “The family I serve… they don’t care about the storm.”

“Mortals are cruel to their own,” I mused aloud, more to myself than to her. “And you allow this?”

She bristled at that, her chin lifting slightly. “What choice do I have?”

Interesting. She wasn’t afraid to speak, even when she knew I wasn’t entirely… human. There was defiance in her, buried beneath the exhaustion and submission she wore like a second skin.

“Why are you here?” she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not from the village. You’re not—” She stopped herself, as if realizing she might have said too much.

I smiled faintly, though I doubted it put her at ease. “You’re perceptive for a mortal.”

“Are you a traveler?” she pressed, though I could tell she didn’t believe it.

“Something like that,” I said. “Though I didn’t come here by choice.”

Eira stared at me, the lantern’s dim light catching the angles of her face. She was still young—perhaps twenty-two, if my guess was correct—but life had worn her down in ways her years shouldn’t have allowed. Her eyes held a hardness that didn’t match her delicate features.

The storm continued its symphony around us, the wind tearing at her cloak as she held my gaze. I could feel the weight of her unspoken questions, but she dared not voice them.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” I said finally. “Not at night.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound loud and humorless. “I’ve been alone most of my life. The night is no different.”

There it was again—that quiet defiance. It was such a strange thing to find in someone so small, so vulnerable. Perhaps that was what drew me to her.

I stepped closer, watching as her breathing quickened. “You intrigue me, Eira.”

Her lips parted, but before she could respond, a shout echoed from the village. “Eira! Where are you?”

Her face tightened, and she glanced toward the sound, gripping the bucket as if it grounded her. “I have to go,” she said quickly, her voice hushed.

But I wasn’t ready to let her leave. “Will I see you again?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Why would you want to?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I stepped back, allowing her to retreat toward the village. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on mine as if trying to discern what I was. Then, with a shaky breath, she turned and disappeared into the storm.

I stood there for a long time after she left, the rain washing over me. Her name repeated in my mind, quiet and persistent.

Eira.

I had come to this mortal realm without purpose. But now, I had found something.

Or perhaps… someone.