"Will it be cold?" Hurgen asked, watching Thornen remove his boots with careful eyes.
He threw his boots to the side and began removing his steel gauntlets Father had made him. "Oh yes," he informed her, "it is always very cold."
"It's alright, I'm use to it." She told him a little sadly. A few of the passing villagers looked up at us curiously. Hurgen took down her messy bun to reveal long, thick strands of golden hair. It wasn't too tangled, but it definitely was unclean. Thornen didn't seem to notice that last part, because for a moment he gazed at her with adoring eyes. I finished untying my boot laces and quickly kicked them off.
Thankfully, they broke their gaze and looked at me, ready to go in. I smiled as if I hadn't noticed their staring at one another.
"Who will go first?" Thornen asked mysteriously. I refrained from chuckling as an idea entered my mind.
"Good question!" I shouted, already shoving him into the water. As soon as he was in, Hurgen jumped in after him. I laughed so hard it became a challenge to breath.
"Not funny, Carabelle," Thornen said with gritted teeth. Hurgen giggled and punched him playfully on the shoulder.
"Not funny? It was hilarious!" She told him with a splash.
"Is it really that cold?" I asked.
Thornen scowled, but it was clearly jokingly. "You'll have to see for yourself," he growled. Without further hesitation, I tucked my knees into my chest and plunged into the icy liquid.
Freezing water was the most efficient thief of warmth I knew. A shock leapt through my body, like a lightning strike. I could've sworn my blood was frozen in my veins. My lungs already begging for something other than the water, I swam up too the surface, my body shaking violently. I expected it to be cold, but not this cold. But the thing was, I loved the exhilarating feeling.
Taking deep breaths, I took a look at my two companions. Hurgen was in a heated splash war with my grinning brother. I gave my head a little shake before returning below.
For a while, I swam and swam. I forgot all about my brother, and everyone else for that matter. My mind was at peace beneath the surface, in the water. I had become numb from the cold, but I took little notice. Then I kicked my way back up for breath.
"Look," Thornen said once I had reached above. He pointed his finger behind me. I turned to find my sister Marada sprinting over to us, her red curls flying with the wind. And without uttering a word, jumped into the water, creating a large splash. I rolled my eyes; always one for an entrance.
Hergen looked a little taken aback. "Is that another one of your siblings?" She asked. Thornen and I nodded in unison.
"Yes," Thornen replied. "Marada is her name. A very wild spirit, that one is."
And he was correct, of course. Marada was the fiercest, wildest, yet kindest person I had ever met. But yet, out of all my siblings, her and I were always the closest for some unknown reason.
Marada rose up, her soaking hair covering her face. She used both hands to throw it out of her face.
"Damn," she said, "this is cold."
"Marada, Mother told you to stop cursing, remember?" I reminded her.
"Eh," she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sixteen now, right?"
"So?"
"Whatever," she muttered. She went back under before I could answer.
I swam as far away from everyone as I could, trying to allow my mind some peace once more. Soon I gave up on that endeavour and went back up for breath. I rested my arms on the moist surface ground as my legs kicked underwater. The largest silver rock I had ever seen rested in front of my left hand. It looked almost like an oddly shaped boulder. Not taking much notice, I laid my head on my arms and gazed up at the morning sky.
Not even a minute had passed before I felt a sharp pincer clasp my four left fingers. I quickly realized what I had mistaken for a rock was really a mudcrab. The pincer crushed down, creating loud crunching noises. I screamed like I had never before, praying to the gods someone would cease this agony. Blood poured out from my fingers, seeping into the green grass and the brown mud. I cried out for help again, and this time I heard splashing coming nearer to me.
Using all the strength I could muster, I pulled back my limp and bleeding fingers from the mudcrab's firm grasp. I threw myself back into the water for fear of another attack.
My other hand gripped the bleeding one as I remained under the water. I had never experienced such terrible pain, ever. I treaded as far aaway from the animal as I could. Once out of breath, I went back up, blinking the water drops out of my eyes.
"Carabelle!" Marada shouted with a concerned voice. She was on land, soaking wet. She stared at me with her clear, wide blue eyes.
"Thornen killed it with a rock," she informed me. She gestured to Thornen, who was swimming over to me, Hurgen closely following. Then she pointed to the bloodied mudcrab laying dead on the floor.
"A rock?" I asked with little breath, a little skeptically. She nodded, her eyes growing more frantic.
"A rock, yes. A large one, at that. Are you alright?"
I couldn't conceal the pain any longer. "No," I winced, showing my hand partly. She gasped at the sight of the blood.
"C'mon, Mother will know what to do."
I crawled out of the pond, as did Thornen and Hurgen. Thornen put his arm around my shoulder, trying to help me, though it did close to nothing.
"You need to learn to defend yourself, Carabelle. You can't flee from real battle, you know. I think I ought to bring out the lessons we did when you were younger, remember?" He told me quietly.
I remembered those lessons. They mostly consisted of him attempting to show me how to use an axe, or a sword. But every time I was absolutely atrocious at it. An axe just never felt right in my hands. Not even a bow felt right in my hands. A mystery that couldn't be solved, it seemed. I didn't tell anyone about this strange feeling of mine, since I knew no one would approve.
The only other option would be something everyone in my village, and especially my family, deeply disapproved of: magic. But the thing was, I loved magic, though I had never used it before. Deep down, I knew magic was my real weapon, despite everyone telling me otherwise. No one knew my secret desire, and I was determined to keep it that way. Loving magic would never be good for me. Unfortunately, that just wasn't my life and I had to accept that.
Mother gasped at the sight of my hand, but then wrapped it up with some old cloth, announcing I had broken all four fingers. The bleeding stopped after she applied a simple healing potion, sealing the wounds almost completely. Mother, though she detested magic, was a skilled alchemist. I gritted my death the entire time, because I didn't want everyone to be so concerned. Soon everyone in the house was crowding around me, much to my dismay.
"Carabelle, does it hurt?" Lirena asked, her brow furrowed in worry. I nodded and smiled weakly.
"Yes of course it hurts, child! Don't be so stupid!" Hissed Joratte, pulling the young girl back.
Tears welled up in the milk chocolate eyes of Lirena, and she ran to her room.
"You know she's only a little girl," Marada said with a disheartened look. She never approved of anyone being unkind to one another.
"And so are you." Joratte said sharply before marching away.
"Something is troubling her, it seems," I told Marada in an undertone.
"Who knows anymore about her?" She whispered back, now gazing at the potions on the table. Her blue eyes had a strange gleam to them as she looked at the potions, which I found very peculiar.
I hurried off to my room, eager to escape my prying family. Fortunately no one else who shared the room was in there, so I had it all to myself. I collapsed onto my aged bedroll, my arms and legs sprawled out. I rested my throbbing hand cautiously on my stomach.
My wet hair dripped all over the top of my bedroll, so I pulled the tangled mess above my resting head.
And soon, my eyelids fell shut, and I drifted off into the unconsious land of dreams. But this time, I had dreamt of two memories. The two most haunting memory I had always seemed to cloud my soul, no matter how hard I tried to prevent that.
My birthday had been the day prior; I was now ten years of age in the memory. My aunt had arrived at her brother's house to stay, looking ill and pale. The thing was, she was a mage. A mage who had attended the College of Winterhold. And Father, who was her brother, didn't particularly like that. But nevertheless, he still took care of her with the assistance of his wife. They didn't know what to do about her 'sickness'.
Bordican, who was much older than me, informed my curious young self that Aunt Mertga had been cursed. And one morning, while I was picking flowers alone, Aunt Mertga came over to me.
"Sweet girl," she whispered softly, her face paler than ever, with a gray tint. "The visions have told me of your powers. I am to die very soon, you know. Here, take this, love. It will assist you in your endeavours, later on." Aunt Mertga crackled lips formed a fragile smile as she handed me a sealed letter. I stared at her in shock for a moment, her words hard to process.
"The visions? You're going to die, Aunt Mertga?" I asked with a panicked voice. She nodded gravely, her head slightly bowed.
"I have been blessed with the Sight from the gods above, sweet one. I see visions of the future, and of the past. You will understand once you read the letter. But please, dearest, hush about what the letter reads. You mustn't let anyone know." And she wrapped her arms about me, her dry lips pressing against my head. I didn't understand.
"Talented, you will be," she said in such a soft voice I barely heard it. Then she turned on her heel and bustled away as if nothing had happened.
The scene dissolved and another memory erupted.
A day after she had given me the letter, I was sitting outside as dusk approached, picking flowers yet again. I heard yelling coming from inside the local inn, so I stood up to get a better look. The door swung open and out came my aunt, surrounded by three drunken villagers. A man threw a punch at her face so hard she almost fell to the floor. The other two villagers jeered threateningly at this. I took a few steps closer, my aunt's words running clear in my head. I am to die soon, she had said.
The man threw an even hard punch at her face. This time, she made contact with the floor. Blood smeared on her face, she steadied herself quickly. Her hands were open and before I knew it, they were flaming with fire magic.
Fire magic.
I had never seen such a thing. I blinked over and over to make sure I wasn't imagining this.
"Meet Sovengarde, you filthy mage!" Shouted the man as his friend handed him his large, steel waraxe.
But it was too late. Just as she was creating a fireball, the axe came crushing down on her head. The wasted man laughed with victory, continuing to hit his bloody axe against her lifeless body, though she was clearly dead.
Tears flooding uncontrollably and icy sweat pouring down my face, I awoke with a start. I tried to catch my breath, but that felt impossible. Images of my dead aunt refused to depart my mind. My shaking right hand gripped the bedroll tightly as I attempted to regain my sanity. I quickly glanced around the room to find it was still desolate, besides myself.
I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, but in half a second I was on my feet and exploring the wardrobe. Hidden inside a book was the letter she had given me seven years ago. The hands of mine trembled like never before as I picked up the leather book, and slipped my index finger into the last page. The ruffled, old parchment flew, like a weightless feather, onto the ground.
I desperately bended over to pick it up. Once in my hand, it sat there for a moment. I hadn't read this letter for at least two years. I had tried to forget all about it, because I knew she had to be mistaken. It never made any sense, the words she had given me.
I slowly unfolded the yellowing page and began reading the curly hand written words she had given me so long ago.
Dear Carabelle,
Oh, just writing your name brings back so many memories. I'm happy your father named you after that wonderful Breton that saved his life in the Great War. She was such a great warrior, from what he told me. Such a shame she had to pass away so young. He will forever be in her debt.
Now, love, I know we haven't had much time to get to know one another. But, though you may not know me, I know you. Your parents love you very, very much, and so do I. You have a real future ahead, Carabelle. A future some may not respect or agree with, but that's alright. It may be hard and challenging, but I believe in you, love.
Your future has much love but much evil too. Something I believe will help you greatly in your endeavors is located in Springclear Cave not far west from Wolfwater.
You have a choice, Carabelle. If you don't want this all, then you can just as easily remain with your loving parents in Wolfwater, and have a perfectly good life there. Be wise and cautious about your decision, my sweet.
I must bring this letter to an end. I am to die soon, which is why you were given this in the first place. Whatever path you may choose, just know I'll be always be with you, dearest.
Love,
Aunt Mertga.