Burning the Past
It was time for a celebration for the success of the raid. Ale and food were being passed around. Piled upon plates of the villagers as the smell of cooking meat upon the fire wafted through drunken noses. Songs were being sung in a loud and boisterous volume that even the birds had to cover their ears. There was much laughter coming from potbellied men who waged against each other in a drinking contest. Whomever lost would have to run to the river naked and swim from one end to the other.
Eivor and Sigurd were drinking their weight in ale. Flushed faces with boyish grins; one arm around the other as they sang along to a song in their language. It was a time to let one's guard down, yet it was hard after being trained to always be vigilant.
Kaya was at the corner, sitting at the furthest table of the longhouse as she watched the villagers enjoy their feast. Celebration was something of a joyous occasion, though for Kaya, it was nothing. This was life now and as much as she did not want to admit to it, she would have to adapt to this life. To train Evior in their ways, she will have to push aside those biases she has against his kind. The raid itself is one of many to come to gain footing in England.
She picked at the plate that contained little amounts of meat. She had guessed it was a deer since it was the only animal that was roaming the tree lines. Why she had decided to come to the celebration was beyond her own understanding, but maybe she missed the days of laughter and being surrounded by merriment.
Her tribe seemed like a memory now after the raids. Before the bloodshed, there was storytelling by the elders near the fire. They would look to the stars and follow them. Celebration for every young child getting their markings. Kaya was only a child, yet she felt that joyous life in the embrace of her parents.
"It has been a long time since I have seen you picking at your food. I remember a little girl refusing every meal because she was like a viper ready to strike unless it was Mentor Ishmael telling her that it was okay to eat." Basim sat beside Kaya, slightly startling her. She turned her head to see Basim place his arms on the table. Looking at the dancing figures and laughing villagers in their drunken stupor.
"Maybe I am thinking of old times before I met Mentor Ishmael, Mentor Basim." Kaya said, putting the fork on the plate still with food on it. Some of it partially eaten due to Kaya not being one to eat a big fill.
"Has Hytham fallen asleep with the medicine I made for him?" Kaya asked, shifting the conversation. Her face, lined with exhaustion, betrayed her sleepless nights.
Basim studied her closely, his eyes lingering on the scar marking her neck. He knew more than he let on. The news of her impending marriage loomed over her future; a decision made without her consent. He understood the storm this revelation would unleash, but timing was everything.
"Hytham is resting well," Basim replied. "You've done much for him since his injury. However, he must learn to regain his independence. Your responsibilities as a mentor can't be neglected."
Kaya's gaze hardened, her fingers brushing the maps on the table. "I've tried to be both healer and teacher, but the weight is immense. Peace eludes me, even when I accomplish what is required."
Basim's expression softened, yet his words remained firm. "Our paths are rarely peaceful, Kaya. Your dreams, your scars—they're part of this life. Focus on Eivor's training. Hytham will find his way."
Kaya turned away, her mind racing with thoughts of her dreams and the raven's ominous presence. "And what of my dreams? The wolves, the raven—they're more than just visions. They haunt me."
Basim nodded, acknowledging her struggle. "Dreams are often puzzles, their meanings elusive. Seek clarity in the records of the Hidden Ones. Answers may lie there."
Kaya sighed, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her thoughts. "If only it were that simple. The books and maps only provide so much. I need guidance, not just knowledge."
Basim stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Guidance will come in time. For now, focus on what you can control. Eivor's training, your duties—they are your immediate concerns."
Kaya's eyes flickered with frustration. "And what of my own fate? Do I have no say in my future?"
Basim hesitated, the unspoken truth hanging heavily between them. "There are decisions made that are beyond our control. Trust that your path, though difficult, is necessary."
Kaya's jaw tightened, a mixture of anger and resignation in her gaze. "Necessary for whom? I've given everything to the Hidden Ones. I deserve to choose my destiny."
Basim placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm yet compassionate. "In time, you will understand. For now, trust in the process. You are stronger than you realize."
Kaya almost scoffed but held her tongue. The weight of his words pressed down on her, but defiance would do her no good now. "I appreciate your confidence, Mentor," she said, her voice steady, masking the turmoil within.
Basim's eyes softened slightly, but the intensity remained. "Strength is not just in battle, Kaya. It's in resilience, in enduring what others cannot."
Kaya nodded, though her mind wandered to the dreams that haunted her nights and the scars that marred her body. "I'll do my best to remember that."
As Basim turned away, Kaya let out a slow breath, tension easing from her shoulders. She would not join the others in their revelry. The ale and laughter might offer temporary solace, but it wasn't what she needed. Instead, she slipped into the shadows, her steps silent, her presence unnoticed.
"Kaya! Basim! Join us for a drink and speak about the raid! You are much a part of us since our first meeting!" Sigurd shouted in a drunken slur, clinging to Eivor, who sported a boyish grin. Next to them, Randvi smiled, shaking her head in amusement.
"Now, husband, do you think they will drink until they are like you?" she said playfully. Randvi always cheered on Kaya, who often looked too serious, rarely putting her guard down. Tales of Kaya's fighting style had spread among the warriors, painting her as a vengeful ghost striking fear into her enemies.
Kaya agreed to a drinking game, and the villagers around cheered. Basim warned her, "Do not be rash about your actions. You need a clear head, Kaya. You'll regret it tomorrow if you lose yourself tonight."
Basim had scolded her for drunkenness before and seemed ready to do so again. Dag, ever the instigator, challenged Kaya, scoffing, "I doubt someone of your stature can drink her weight in ale."
Kaya's eyes narrowed, her snarl-like twitch showing her disdain. "Care to test that, Dag?"
The challenge accepted, they moved to a table laden with mugs of ale. The room buzzed with anticipation. Kaya and Dag faced off, each gripping their first mug tightly.
"To the victor!" Dag roared, downing his drink with reckless abandon.
Kaya matched his pace, her eyes never leaving his. The bitter ale burned down her throat, but she ignored it. The second mug followed, then the third, the crowd around them growing louder with each drink.
"Is that all you've got?" Dag taunted, slamming down his fourth mug.
Kaya's vision blurred slightly, but she maintained her composure. "I could do this all night," she replied, lifting her fifth mug.
Basim stood nearby, his face a mix of concern and resignation. "Enough, Kaya. Proving yourself to Dag is not worth it."
But Kaya was past listening. The sixth mug came and went, then the seventh. Dag's bravado began to waver, his smirk faltering. Kaya's resolve hardened. She wouldn't be bested, especially not by Dag.
On the ninth mug, Dag stumbled, spilling ale down his chest. The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers. Kaya finished her ninth with a steady hand, glaring at Dag as he collapsed onto the bench.
"And that's how it's done," she said, the words slurring slightly.
The warriors cheered, raising their mugs in her honor. Sigurd clapped her on the back, nearly knocking her over. "Impressive, Kaya! I knew you had it in you!"
Randvi approached, her smile warm but her eyes concerned. "Maybe now you can relax, even if just a little."
Kaya nodded, though her head felt heavy. She glanced at Basim, who shook his head in exasperation. "We will talk in the morning," he said.
As the celebration continued, Kaya allowed herself a rare moment of release, sinking into the camaraderie of the longhouse. The burdens of leadership and the haunting dreams could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, she was among friends, and for a brief moment, she felt the peace she had long sought.
Kaya awoke drenched in a cold sweat, gasping for air as her heart pounded in her chest. The memory of the nightmare gripped her tightly – the searing heat of burning tents, the cacophony of screams echoing around her, and the ominous black raven descending upon her, its talons tearing into her flesh.
Her hand instinctively went to her scarred neck, fingers tracing the rough, jagged edges of the wound. A faint burn lingered beneath her touch, a cruel reminder of the horrors that plagued her dreams. Her head pounding from the images that flooded into her mind. Events of the past, events of the present; all seem to conjoin into one being.
Struggling to steady her ragged breaths, Kaya scanned the dimly lit room she shared with both Hytham and Mentor Basim. Noticing the absence of the older man from his usual spot, she knew he had already risen before the sun, engaged in his clandestine discussions with Sigurd, a routine that never faltered.
"Kaya?" Hytham's voice, raspy from being abruptly awakened, cut through the silence. His concern palpable as he turned towards her, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
"Just… another nightmare," Kaya's words came out in short, strained breaths, her voice tinged with exhaustion. Hytham could barely make out her silhouette in the shadows, but he could sense the unease radiating from her. Nightmares had become a regular occurrence for Kaya, but tonight seemed different.
Kaya's mind swirled with the unsettling visions that plagued her, each detail etched with ominous foreboding. The black wolf, its icy blue eyes piercing the horizon, sprinted towards the sun with a predatory hunger. Its white brother, pursued in frantic desperation to prevent the impending cataclysm. The brown wolves followed in their wake, their snarls echoing the impending doom.
Yet, amidst the chaos, a new threat emerged—a black raven descended upon the she-wolf, tearing at her fur with ruthless ferocity. The scene shifted, a snowstorm engulfing the landscape, as a woman's voice, laden with anger and sorrow, whispered hauntingly through the tempest.
Kaya's senses recoiled at the overwhelming darkness that enveloped the vision. The black wolf, relentless in its pursuit, devoured the sun with a voracious hunger, plunging the world into a suffocating abyss of eternal night.
Kaya fought to quell the storm raging within her mind, steeling herself against the encroaching panic threatening to consume her. In the quiet solitude of the room, she braced for the next battle, knowing it would be waged against her own relentless thoughts.
Hytham stirred from his resting place, his body bearing the lingering strains of his injury. Though the bruises were fading, the ache remained a constant companion.
"Don't move, Hytham. I'm alright. Just need a moment," Kaya's voice cut through the darkness, her plea tinged with urgency as she struggled to steady her breath.
Hytham exhaled heavily, his movements hesitant as he approached Kaya's side, abandoning his own bed for the comfort of her proximity.
As Kaya writhed in the grip of her visions, Hytham's voice cut through the darkness like a blade. "Your visions have never been this violent, Kaya. I can hear you struggle for breath and though I cannot see in the dark, your body shakes," he remarked, his tone laced with concern as he carefully navigated the space around her.
Gritting her teeth against the onslaught of pain and confusion, Kaya tried to articulate the chaos unraveling within her mind. "The darkness lingers. The black wolf, Eivor, grows hungry for the sun. He chases it relentlessly and tries to consume the sun, but the white wolf could only chase," she gasped, her words fragmented by the intensity of her agony.
Hytham's hands moved with purpose as he sought to provide some measure of comfort amidst the turmoil. He held her close, a silent anchor in the storm of her visions, his touch a reassuring presence against the clamor of her thoughts.
With each passing moment, the weight of Kaya's affliction bore down upon her like a relentless tide. The scar at her neck throbbed with a vicious intensity, a cruel reminder of the raven's talons and the darkness they unleashed within her.
As she lay in Hytham's embrace, grappling with her inner demons, Kaya knew that the battle against the darkness was far from over. Each night brought forth new terrors, threatening to consume her sanity and resolve. But she refused to succumb, steeling herself against the relentless onslaught of fear and despair.