After The End: Part 1

When Letari woke, they couldn’t hear the stars. No matter how far their mind reached, that celestial music wouldn’t come back. The space behind their eyes was as dark and silent as an empty tomb. Letari’s chest ached with the feeling of loss, dragging them reluctantly back to their body. 

They huffed out a long sighing breath. It would be prudent to open their eyes, they knew. The last thing they remembered was the Day of Dying Suns, the bloody battle that had raged on top of the Great Ziggurat. A battle ending in the loss of their powers. Nearly the loss of their life, too. Letari knew any number of people could have scooped their broken body off of the Ziggurat’s steps, for any number of reasons. They weren’t in any immediate pain, but that was no guarantee of continued safety. They needed to find out where they were and how long it had been. 

Letari opened one eye, then the next, blinking as soft yellow light flooded their vision. They were staring up at a ceiling of swooped, draping fabric in gaudy shades of red and blue. The inside of a tent. A large one too, judging by the arrangement of the wooden poles visible through gaps in the fabric. Turning their head against the pillow, Letari surveyed the tent. They’d been tucked into a small cot near one wall. The light they’d noticed had come from a massive pierced-metal lantern hung on the center tent pole, along with some smaller ones set on little low tables around the space. The floor was covered in layers of furs and woven rugs. The rugs were just as garish as the hangings draping most of the tent, but looked well-made. Whoever lived here, they certainly weren’t poor.

Letari sat up slowly, wary of the pain moving might cause. None came. They looked down at their body, pulling the blanket back to check themself over. They were wearing only underthings, thankfully the same ones they’d had on before. Their skin was its normal shade of olive-brown. The patches that had been burnt away during the battle had healed cleanly, it seemed. Only a thin webbing of lighter brown scars across those areas betrayed that they’d ever been injured. 

Taken with the general lack of pain, that either meant it had been several weeks or there was a skilled healer around. Similar scars formed twisting, puckered patches across the backs of Letari’s hands. Their palms were mostly intact. They closed their eyes again, running their fingers over the scars. The scarred skin felt only a light pressure, but their fingertips could sense texture as well as ever. Thank the stars for small mercies. 

Letari reached a hand up to feel their face. Their breath hitched as their fingers met more scars, stretching in wide uneven patches across both cheekbones and up along the side of one eye socket. Judging by how far the scarring went on that side, they were lucky to still have the use of both eyes. Letari heaved another sigh. 

“Today must be a day for blessings.” They muttered sarcastically. 

It wasn’t that they were ungrateful to have their senses still functioning. Letari knew how vitally important those senses were, having a blind mother had taught them that much. But their looks had always been one of their good points. Being thought handsome, pretty or both had been useful to Letari on more than one occasion. Now it was one fewer tool in their bag of tricks. A piece of armor gone. They would have to face the world without it. 

They shook their head sharply. “Mourn losses later, get to work while you can.” 

The phrase was one their mother and Aunt Kreela, both former soldiers, had drummed into them from the time they could walk. Letari spared one more sigh for their old life, then swung their legs down from the cot. First they needed a bit more clothing, and then they needed to find some answers. 

Letari stood, scanning the tent until they spotted a wooden chest. On closer inspection, it was unlocked. They heaved it open and found a pair of wide cream-colored trousers without much trouble. An under-tunic, blue with a few worn shell buttons down the front and cuffs, and a long vest in wine-colored fabric followed after. 

In the back of their mind, Letari’s conscience griped that they shouldn’t be stealing from people who had healed them. Luckily they had plenty of practice ignoring that little voice. It had caused them nothing but trouble at this point anyhow. If it weren’t for their conscience, they never would have agreed to save the world. They wouldn’t be here now, lost and wary with their face scarred and their stars-given powers gone. Letari gave their conscience a stern mental smack, then found a pair of boots to complete their outfit. 

As they closed the chest, they heard the tent's leather door-flap open behind them. Letari whirled, fists up in a fighting stance, only to see that the intruder was a child. About eight, by the looks of their face and height. Letari lowered their hands and relaxed, giving what they hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“Hello there. What’s your name, little one?” 

The child shot them a supremely unimpressed glance. 

“I’m Aava. I’m a girl.” She said flatly after a moment. “And I’m not a baby, so quit treating me like one. Just because my big brother saved you doesn’t mean I need to like you.” 

Letari winced. They’d always liked children, but children rarely returned the sentiment. At least, not any they’d met so far. 

“I’m sorry.” They told Aava. “I wasn’t intending to treat you like a baby. Could I meet your brother?” 

Aava brushed her mop of dark ringlets away from her brown almond eyes, then gave Letari a thorough look up and down. “You can later.” She said, with all the finality of a judge sentencing a convict. “He’s not here right now.” 

“Are there any adults here right now?” Letari asked. 

“Hmm.” Aava pouted in thought, then shook her head. “Not unless the wolves count. They’re pretty much full-grown now.” 

“Wolves?” 

“Uh-huh. Are you Southern? Anur said you were. I’m betting he’s right, since that’s where we found you. I heard Southerners don’t even have wolves to ride on, cause they’re wimps.” 

Letari nodded absently, taking a moment to pick any useful information out of the little girl’s jumbled statement. Their rescuers were Wolf Nomads, and they were somewhere up north. Probably on or near the Keshva Foothills, where the Wolf Nomads tended to go after trading season was over to ride out winter under the lee of the Northeastern mountains. This little family must be alone. If they were traveling with a larger group, there would be other adults around to watch Aava while her older brother was gone who-knows-where. 

“Aava!!” A new voice yelled plaintively.

Letari startled again as two much younger children chased each other into the tent. 

“Aava, Bennu took my rattle drum!” The slightly smaller one announced, mittened hands waving frantically for attention. 

“Bennu!” Aava scolded, hands on the sash of her coat. “Give Pree’s rattle drum back, I told you not to take it!” 

The middle child of the three pouted. “Nuh-uh.” 

Aava scowled down at both her younger companions. On closer inspection, they shared her dark curly hair and heavy-lidded almond eyes, along with her button nose. Probably her younger siblings, then. Letari sat down on the cot again, rubbing their temples to fight their blooming headache as the three children began to squabble. Clearly, no more answers would be gotten from any of them. They could only hope this older brother Anur returned soon. 

Photo by Elina Sazonova on Pexels.com