Lightblessed

Energy disrupted the void, and with it came strife.This was the foundation of the eternal struggle between darkness and the light. One could classify it as evil versus good, or wrong against right, for those are certainly forms the conflict has taken. It hearkens back to something more simple and fundamental than that. All things fall to chaos and disorder, losing their power and strength, until chaos reclaims it all through entropy. Indeed, there was no scenario at all where energy could triumph over the void.

***

Trynneia’s attention, like every day, focused on those little diversions outside the classroom window. Two butterflies danced nearby, their orange and black mating ritual fluttering in an intricate pattern that Trynneia felt only she could appreciate. There was a fundamental beauty there as one seemed to taunt the other, then flitted away. A lazy pursuit followed, then they both dipped out of view. Trynneia smiled.

Her distraction caused her to overlook the approach of her teacher, and several muffled sniggers by her classmates. Miss Jessmyn did not hold back when she smacked Trynneia’s knuckles, taking great care to catch both hands with a single strike. “You can chase your butterflies tomorrow, Trynneia. Today perhaps you can focus on this class? It is what you’re here for.”

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, it was always going to be tomorrow. Chase the butterflies: Tomorrow. Escape the classroom: Tomorrow. Do chores: Tomorrow. Today, she could not concentrate, and tomorrow was too far away. Trynneia envied her classmates and their ability to pay attention to the important parts of the here and now.

“Sorry, Miss Jessmyn, I’ll try to pay better attention. Tomorrow,” she offered, smirking as Miss Jessmyn rolled her eyes and turned to walk to the front of the class. Trynneia rubbed her knuckles, which had turned red and sore.

“I don’t know why you taunt her like that, Tryn,” her classmate Ditan whispered. The short, thick goblin smiled with his charming grin. “You’re not helping your grade.” He was her best friend.

Trynneia sighed. “I don’t care about the stupid grade. I don’t care about this class. Feeling the Light? Please, it’s my heritage. What does she know?”

“Something you’d like to share, Trynneia?” called Miss Jessmyn. The yellow runes on Trynneia’s pale gray skin began to glow, and she shrank in embarrassment.

“No, Miss Jessmyn.” More chuckles. Class didn’t end soon enough.

When school was dismissed for the day, Trynneia took the long way home. The scents of the fading blossoms mingled with the late spring rain. She didn’t quite feel like going home yet, and wanted to enjoy the afternoon. Warmth from the twin suns bathed the rolling hills surrounding her parent’s home. She couldn’t ask for a more perfect afternoon.

“Wait for me!” Ditan called from behind her, and she heard him shuffling through the tall grass. She chuckled and sprinted forward, her long legs easily putting distance between them. “Dammit Tryn!” he yelled from some distance further away.

She raced down to a small clearing near the pond at the lower end of the field, its murky water flush with reeds and singing insects. She waited there until Ditan huffed his way free of the tall grass and caught sight of her there waiting with her arms hugging her chest and a gentle smile on her face. He laid down on his back, exhaustion forcing him to fight to catch his breath.

“I don’t have your Light-blessed height, Tryn. That’s an unfair advantage!”

Trynneia knelt down, draping her torso over his body, supported by her left arm. She smiled down at him, the left side of her lips curving upward ever so slightly more. “Is that such a bad thing?” she cooed, teasing.

“What’re you...Oh Tryn!” Ditan exclaimed, flustered. He pushed her stomach and she laughed, falling over next to him. They laid side by side, staring up at the sky.

“So, why’d you follow me, Ditan? Must’ve been important to chase me all this way.”

“Chase you? I thought you wanted me to keep up! You started racing!”

“Is everything a competition to you?” she asked.

“Everything is a competition.” Ditan sighed. “But you know, it doesn’t have to be. But my parents are always ‘time is money.’ It gets old.”

“I hear ya,” she replied. They stayed there together in silence, listening to the insects as the afternoon wore on. Clouds drifted by overhead, and a gentle breeze rustled the grass and reeds.

“Hey, Tryn?” Ditan asked after a period of individual reflection. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

“Life. What comes after school. What is this all for, ya know? Existential type stuffy-stuff. Why?”

“Sounds too deep for me. I don’t know.” He looked over at her. “Do you want to see a trick?” he asked carefully.

Trynneia looked back. “Hopefully it’s not one of your stupid pranks again.”

“No, this is, this is something different. Something special.” He paused, considering. “I’ve been hearing them speak to me.”

Intrigued, she sat up. “Okay, what do you mean? Who speaks to you?” It didn’t take long before his meaning became a little more clear. The wind whipped up, bending the grass nearly horizontal. Her runes flared bright yellow, almost white as her skin tingled. “What was that?”

“Just the warm-up act, Tryn. Shhh,” he put his finger to his lips. Closing his eyes in concentration, he cupped his hands in front of him. The wind died completely. A spark formed, blooming into flame that spiraled smokeless in his grasp. Ditan opened his eyes, and smiled. “The elements, Trynneia! They speak to me!”

Delight lit her face. She’d heard of those who could control the wind and rain, even fire or the earth itself. “That’s amazing, Ditan! How did you do it?”

“This is what I do with my free time,” he offered, not really giving an explanation. He allowed the flame to dissipate. “They were whispers,” he said, a solemn look on his face Trynneia hadn’t seen before. “Whispers in my sleep, whispers while I was awake. One of them finally caught my attention, and I realized I’d heard them my whole life. I just had to pay attention, to listen to what was being said.”

Trynneia grasped his hands between her own. She beamed her beautiful smile at him. “This is wonderful, Ditan! You’re a born shaman!”

Ditan pulled his hands away, uncomfortable. “Yeah, that’s the problem.” He sighed. “This is what I want to do, and I know you know that. But...”

“Your parents want you to stay with the business.”

The goblin nodded. “Yeah,” he said meekly.

“Light, Ditan! You haven’t told them!” The slump of his shoulders said it all. Her runes glowed slightly dimmer. She realized then. “I’m the first one you’ve told,” Trynneia whispered. Ditan hesitated, then nodded. “Why me?” She asked.

“I think you know why,” he replied. But she really didn’t.

Ditan’s face grew somber. “I should go.” He stood up to leave, and Trynneia did the same. She leaned down to hug him. He embraced her waist, but there was little conviction in the gesture.

“I’m honored that you shared this with me. Thank you,” she said softly into his ear. He looked away, awkward and ashamed, perhaps a bit embarrassed as well.

“See you later, Tryn,” he muttered before forcing aside the tall grass, trudging back towards the town.

Trynneia left as well, feeling confused about the afternoon. Her best friend had shared something primal with her. She’d been unabashedly happy for him, but the concern in his face had driven Ditan away from her. Where she saw a blessing, he’d seen only a curse.

First sunset had nearly ended by the time she reached home, and the second sunset would soon follow. Her mother sat in the kitchen reading, and the smell of a warm stew filled the small house.

“Hey there, Trynneia. You’re home later than usual. How was your afternoon?” her mother asked, looking up from her book.

“It was...interesting, I guess,” Trynneia replied. “I spent time with Ditan down by the pond. Talking.” She busied herself by filling a bowl with the stew, then tore off a hunk of bread before re-wrapping it.

“Must’ve been some talk. It’s nearly night.” Rendrys looked at the dim runes that marked her daughter’s arms, neck and face. “Is something troubling you?”

“How’d you guess?” she replied around a mouthful of stew.

“I can tell. I was your age once, you know. Boy trouble?”

“He’s a goblin, mom!”

Rendrys laughed. “So how does that matter?” Trynneia glared at her mother.

“Stop it mom, okay? We just shared a moment, that’s all.”

“Ah, I see. Did your ‘moment’ include…”

“Mother! I’m serious.” Trynneia went silent, hunching over her bowl to focus on eating. Her pale yellow hair grazed the table.

Rendrys set her book down and started busying about the kitchen, washing dishes and setting them out to dry. Trynneia felt grateful that her mother dropped the conversation. Did she always have to tease about boys? It must be a motherly thing. She had no male perspective to get, ever since her father…

Something bothered her about what Ditan had said. They were whispers, he’d mentioned. She wondered what that was like, to hear the voices of the elements themselves. Trynneia admitted to herself she was a little bit jealous of her friend, but also concerned.

Did those voices have a mind? Or a conscience? Did they use words or just communicate a feeling that Ditan could understand? She felt there were so many questions she could ask but she didn’t want to overwhelm him next time she saw him. The Light worked in strange ways. Did it work through the elements as well, or was it separate?

Why did the elements choose him, a city boy whose parents worked as bankers and lenders, when she lived her life in the fields, enamored by nature? Her mother was Lightblessed, and devoted herself to teaching their community as a Priestess of the Light. Trynneia struggled to reconcile these two things, the will of the Light, and the voices of the elements themselves.

She believed in the Light above all things of course, and how it gave life and purpose. The town had a local shaman who worked with the farmers to tend the crops and provide favorable weather. Trynneia could not imagine Ditan becoming a farmer. It also entered her thoughts that maybe she’d lose her friend, and this unsettled her.

“Mom?” she asked after slurping down the last bits of her stew. “How well do you know Driver?”

“The shaman? He’s a decent man, not quite right in the head though.”

Trynneia looked up, concerned. “Because he doesn’t follow the Light?”

Rendrys laughed lightly. “What makes you think he doesn’t?”

“You’re not concerned about him?” She asked.

“You know better than to answer a question with a question, Tryn. No, I’m not worried about him. If anything, he does the Light’s work better than anyone around here,” she said, putting away the last of the dishes. “So I’ll ask again, what makes you think he doesn’t follow the Light?”

Trynneia looked out at the darkness setting on the landscape, a deepening purple flecked with stars. “You said he’s not right in the head. The Light heals all things. If he works with the Light, how can that be so?”

“Ah,” Rendrys said, sitting back at the table across from her daughter, clasping hands. “You haven’t truly experienced the Light yet, Tryn. To feel its glow inside you… We are Lightblessed because we are the chosen of the Light. It should be soon for you. You’ll understand then.”

“We’ve had this conversation before, and it doesn’t answer my question,” Trynneia replied, pulling her hand away. Could she be friends if Ditan did not follow the Light? What if he lost his mind?

“Driver is Skytouched,” Rendrys continued. “That’s what he calls it, anyway.” Trynneia tried paying attention, but was getting frustrated that her mother seemed to be rambling. ...Just listen to what is being said… “...therapy sometimes to help keep his thoughts straight,” Rendrys continued.

“Does it help him? To feel less ‘skytouched’?” Trynneia didn’t want to think how Ditan would become, and wondered if being Skytouched was a fate he needed to avoid, or to embrace.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. All he’s ever said is that spending time with me calms him, to know that the Light guides his hands. I hope it calms his mind too.”

“Is he a good man, mother?”

“We’re all mortal,” Rendrys said. “I think I’ve said enough for now.”