True North [True North series book 1/3]

The first thing I saw was the forest. I saw trees — beautiful, brown bark, and branches that grew up and out of the trunk, carrying lush, green leaves. I saw the mossy forest floor, the mushrooms, the stone boulders lining the creek. A creek — I was in a creek.

I lifted myself out of the water, and sat down on one of the boulders for a moment, breathing in the air around me. Could it be? Could I actually have made it home? Home. Home!

I got up and began running, leaving a trail of wet footsteps in my wake. I was soaking wet, but I wasn’t cold. There was no snow here — no ice, no winter. There were no deadly beasts after me. I picked up speed as I approached the mountain side. I passed the tree line, cut through the knee-high grass on the mountain side, and my heart leapt into my throat as my village came into view. My village.

Tears clouded my vision as I ran down the mountain side, and I didn’t stop running until I had reached my house. My house. The tiny, drafty, moss-covered cabin, that had housed my family all of our lives.

I ran up to the door, and knocked. I knocked as if my life depended on it — because it did. Mostly Tophyn’s life, though. I reached for the handle, but the door was locked. I rattled it, pounding on the wooden door again.

“Nys!” I yelled. “Nys! Toph! I’m home!”

I began sobbing — sobbing with desperation, and relief.

“I’m here,” I yelled again, and then held my breath as I heard heavy footsteps approaching.

The door was pulled open, and my breath hitched in my throat as the person on the other side came into view.

It was a man. A man with half-long, light brown hair and blue eyes was staring back at me.

“Oh,” I said, stumbling back a few steps. I looked around, but determined this was definitely my house.

“I am looking for my brothers,” I explained. “We… they— I think this is our house?”

The man stared back at me, and then looked over his shoulder, into the house.

“This is my house,” he said, “I have lived here all my life.”

For a second, I was terrified I had ended up in an alternate reality, but then I saw the marks on the doorpost.

“Here,” I said, pointing to them, “this is where I marked their height. These are Nysander’s and those are Tophyn’s. They are my brothers.”

The man creased his forehead as he looked me up and down.

“They’re mine,” he said, “and my brother’s, indeed. We have no sister, though.”

I swallowed, and looked at the man.

“Nys?!” I asked breathlessly, as my heart skipped two beats.

“My name is Nysander, yes,” he said, “who are you?”

I felt as though the floor caved in below me, sucking me into a pit of darkness.

“I am Serin,” I squeaked, “Serin Eloweth. I’m your sister.”

Nysander opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he was looking for something to say.

“I know no Serin,” he said eventually, “and like I said, I have no sister. You must be mistaken.”

My heart began breaking, crumbling into tiny pieces deep within my chest.

“How’s Tophyn?” I asked, my voice cracking as I spoke, “is he here?”

Nysander stared at me for a long moment. Then, a small statue appeared beside him.

“Who’s that?” their little voice asked. Nysander reached down and put a hand on the little boy’s head, pushing him back inside.

“Go to your mama,” he said, “stay inside.”

“Why is that lady asking about me?” the little boy protested as he struggled against Nysander’s hand.

My breathing sped up as I looked at the little boy. For a second, I could’ve sworn it was Tophyn — but he was too young. Too small — too healthy.

“Go, Toph,” Nysander pressed, leaving no room for discussion. The little boy sighed displeasedly but did as he was told.

“Where’s Tophyn?” I asked, trying to ignore the bile rising in my oesophagus. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, and I braced myself for Nysander’s response.

“My brother died when he was eight,” Nysander said stiffly, draining the color from the sky with his words.

I couldn’t breathe. I felt myself begin to shake, and I fell to my knees. I gasped for air as my world caved in. The place that once had housed my heart in my chest became a void — a black hole of emptiness. I was too late. I was too late.

Nysander remained standing uncomfortably in the door opening, but suddenly, there were hands on my shoulders. Soft, kind hands.

“Come here,” a gentle voice said, “come here, girl. Get inside. You’re drenched! I’ll get you something dry and make you some tea.”

The hands pulled me to my feet, and took me inside. I followed on sheer muscle memory — blinded by my tears. The person led me into the kitchen, and sat me down on a wooden chair by the table. I felt everything, and nothing, simultaneously. I felt numb, but also felt the worlds heaviest agony somehow. The sharp, yet dull aching inside my chest — it was all consuming.

Soft arms wrapped a blanket around my shoulders as I came undone at my old dinner table — so familiar, and so strange at the same time. I cried out all of the sadness I had felt since leaving that day, which felt like just days ago — but I now realized was years in the past in this world.

When I finally was able to look around again, I found the kind face of a blonde woman, who was rubbing my back in soothing circles, the way I once had rubbed Tophyn’s.

“You knew Tophyn, then?” she asked, a kind smile on her face.

I nodded, unable to speak.

“It seems like you knew him well,” she said, her voice a gentle caress to my aching soul.

I nodded, wiping my tears with my hands.

“Tell me,” the woman coaxed, “tell me about him. Tell me how you knew him.”

I swallowed, my eyes scanning around the cottage, and halting when they found Nysander.

“I— he was…” I began, but didn’t know how to continue. “Your brother,” the woman finished my sentence. “It’s okay, love, go on.”

I suppressed a few silent sobs before continuing.