Jun 8 (edited) • Writemares
Daughter of the Shadow Prince Low Fantasy Medieval Story.
This is the beginning of my story of Celine, an illegitimate child possessing “the hum” which gives her empathic abilities. Could you please read the first part of the chapter and let me know what you think? Do you want more? Why or why not? Thank you.
Chapter One
The Severing Power
Gallantide — Where the Rivers Meet the Sea in Melavaire
Celine had always known the hum.
It had lived beneath her thoughts for as long as she could remember—a soft, steady presence, like a second heartbeat that did not belong entirely to her. When she was small, she thought everyone felt it.
They did not.
Celine, just ten-years old, sat cross-legged on a worn wolfskin in the library, Amma—her grandmother—opposite her. The chamber was warm with firelight and memory. The little girl’s small wooden tarot cards lay spread carefully before her, each one turned with quiet attention, while Amma’s voice drifted through the final lines of a story from the Children’s Book of Illusions. In soft finality for the evening, Amma closed the book before Celine could ask for another story.
Candlelight flickered across Amma’s face. The fire answered with a soft crack.
Around them, the books watched in silence—stories of the gifted, written in a time before such gifts—knacks, as they were called among the enslaved—were named a poison by the Sentinels and marked for eradication among noble houses like the Ashwyns.
The hum shifted.
It became urgent. A warning—and for the first time, frightening.
Amma stilled.
As her grandmother closed the leather book of children’s stories, Celine tried to delay her bedtime while continuing to flip over her miniature wooden cards. She ensured her voice was as pleading as possible.
“Please read another tale, Amma,” the child begged as the candles flickered in their sconces. In the massive fireplace in front of them, a log burned, eliciting the sound of sparks and sputters while glowing flames warmed the room with heat and wood smoke. Books climbed from floor to ceiling on the other three walls, all bound in leather, a signal of Melavaire’s wealth. Scribes wrote this book, telling stories of noble children as gifted as Celine and Amma, published before the Sentinels declared them illegal for the “poison” magic they contained.
“Celine,” Amma laughed. “Greedy child. Time has passed so quickly tonight. You must get some sleep before your mother arrives tomorrow.” Her voice exuded warmth, mixed with her ethereal tranquility, which her little granddaughter assumed most grandmothers possessed. Still, Celine shivered at the thought of her mother and stepfather returning from his estate in the desert.
She looked down at her miniature wooden cards, all intricately painted, meant for a curious child’s examination. The little girl, clutching the three cards she had drawn tonight, climbed into Amma’s lap and snuggled close, enveloped by the comforting hum that grandmother and granddaughter used to communicate. She handed the last card to Amma, curiosity clear in her expression.
“Please, Amma, I found a new card. I do not know where it came from. Who put it there? Can you explain what it means besides hope?”
“Little Moon, you know all your cards. What is this? Where did you get the Hope card?”
“I do not know,” Celine answered. “I have not seen it before.”
Amma fingered the card, appearing to appraise a nymph-like woman pouring light into darkness. Lines appeared about Amma’s eyes, and her oval face suddenly showed worry. Empathetic grey-green eyes, contrasting with pale features, moved from the card to Celine and back again before she answered Little Moon’s questions.
“For those of us who possess empathic gifts, sometimes our spirits leave cards behind when we do not see them. This is explained in our folklore in the Book of Illumination. Now see this card? The spirits want us to know there is hope after the rain. See all the colors in the rainbow behind the dark clouds?”
Celine nodded.
“First the dark, then the light? What about the rainbow?”
“Light being poured from the maiden’s hands into the river lightens the black surrounding us. The rainbow’s bright colors are seeds for the future, so you always know there is hope, no matter what happens.”
Feeling as if she were floating with Amma’s reassurance, Celine might have fallen asleep, except for the sudden strain on their hum. Amma sat up straight. Celine’s heart suddenly beat fast as warning signals caught her off guard. She stood, turning to take her grandmother’s hands in hers as the fire crackled and the chamber seemed to shudder.
“Amma,” she exclaimed, “you appear troubled. What has the Hope Nymph told you?”
Amma shook her head. “Nothing, Celine. Perhaps seeing her tonight has caught me off guard. Now, let us see what else you have, and then off to bed.”
Amma took the next card from her granddaughter, her hum already calming as she fingered the inscription “Strength” on top of a woman with dark black hair the same shade as Celine’s and Amma’s, though Amma’s was now streaked with silver. Strength portrayed a nymph kneeling in a heavenly garden, gently closing a lion’s mouth with inspiring serenity.
“Strength,” Amma intoned. “Ah. What does strength mean, Celine?”
Celine smiled, easily providing an answer, as this was one of her favorite cards.
“Inner fortitude. Confronting our fears with gentle, unwavering courage. True strength is the muted power of a calm heart and a resilient spirit. You have strength, Amma.”
“As do you, Celine, inherited from generations of women who have changed the world for the good. You will do the same one day.”
“Mother does not,” Celine objected, realizing at once she had spoiled the moment.
Tension rolled from her to Amma; she was sure. Kneeling before Celine, who could not help her stormy expression, Amma placed a kiss on her forehead.
“You know your mother, my child. We cannot change her until she admits the errors of her ways. She is my greatest sorrow. I cannot help my daughter see the world’s beauty instead of the dark road she travels with Davron.”
Celine made another face, for Davron was no better than her mother — mayhap even worse.
“No matter what happens, Celine” Amma intoned, “you may find yourself in a sudden, fearful circumstance, but the light will guide you through. Do you believe me?”
Celine’s answer was automatic.
“Yes. When I am in the donjon, it is so cold and dark, I think of strength, and she gives me courage because the cell is so frightening.”
Celine felt her grandmother’s discomfort at not being able to keep the child safe from this punishment inflicted upon her by her mother at her whim. Amma changed the subject so quickly, Celine barely had time to blink.
“Now tell me. Do you remember the shepherd’s hut on the hill?”
“Yea, Amma. You showed me the hut. Ampa was there repairing the roof. He did not say why.”
Amma nodded.
“Yes, we worked together. I decorated the interior with a comfortable bed, a trundle, a table, chairs, food for a week, and a green settee, just the color you like. There is even a commode you can use. One of our favorite books will be yours. It is on your pillow. You must let no one in unless the hum tells you it is safe. Someone you love will find you and take you home.”
Truly concerned now, Celine could not ask the question she wanted, for suddenly she heard the hooves of many horses entering the bailey as if they were riding hard. Starfall’s slaves screamed, and then male voices blended into a confusing crescendo. Amma stood in all her dignity, her alarm straining the hum once more. Amma placed her hands on Celine’s shoulders once more, harder this time.
“Listen to me, Little Moon. Repeat these four expressions after me.”
Celine furrowed her forehead in confusion.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to remember them. When you doubt or are afraid, they will comfort you, as the Hope card will. Now, first: My gift is Dominus’ blessing to use wisely.”
Celine’s throat was suddenly dry. She heard the men running in the echoing hall below. The hum confirmed danger was seconds away.
“Say it,” Amma bid the child, squeezing her fingers hard for a few seconds before lightening her hold.
Celine moved her fingers to the Seeker cross at her chest, gathering the strength she needed to inhale. As she exhaled, she spoke with all the solemnity she could muster.
“My gift is Dominus’s blessing to use wisely.” On she went repeating each word with confusion.
“Amma loves me.”
“Dominus loves me.”
“I will never be alone.”
With that final phrase, Celine felt as if Dominus was glowing within her Seeker cross. Warmth suffused her entire being, deepening when Amma’s arm pulled her close. Celine shivered even so as she huddled against the older lady as thundering bootsteps crashed up the stone stairs. Amma’s hold was tight, protective, Celine determined. Still she trembled.
“Stand by me. Dominus will be our strength. His courage and our bond will guide you through this night.”
Celine caught how Amma used you, and not us. With more fear than she had ever known she vowed to be brave against an unknown enemy. On impulse, the little girl slipped her free hand into the pocket of her dress to stroke the doubly pocketed blue pouch containing her tarot cards and her seven seeker stones. Among them was the clear quartz, called the Master Healer, which amplified her energy and intentions, and the labradorite, meant for magic, transformation, and psychic knowledge. Her comfort against rot, she assured herself as her mother, Cerise Ashwyn open and closed the door behind her. Celine gapped. Amma’s hand squeezed her’s, her message clear. Stay brave…
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Daughter of the Shadow Prince Low Fantasy Medieval Story.
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