Monastery of the Seven Forms, Lamashan 21, 4592 AR (part IV)

After Sëdara left, a heavy silence fell between them. It was very rare for anyone to adopt a child. Five, all at once, must have been unheard of even for Headmistress Drane. The woman took a deep breath and looked at the crestfallen orphaned.

“Children, eat your cake in the kitchen.” Despite the soft tone, it was an order that no one would disobey.

The children formed a crooked queue that walked, somewhat dourly, down the corridor. Lysa pulled Ayalal by the hand to follow at the tail of the group, but the Headmistress turned her attention to them.

“I want to talk to both of you. Come in and close the door,” she said, disappearing into her office.

Lysa took a deep breath, running her free hand over her face. Her cheeks were warm from the tension she had been through as she had faced the celestial being. Lysa observed Ayalal. He was still frightened, as if he had just seen a ghost.

“Ay,” she murmured, bringing both knees to the floor and getting a little lower than him. “I don’t know what you saw, but do not mention it to Mrs. Drane. We talk later about that and you can tell me everything, alright?

The little one listened to her, absorbing her words. Lysa's voice soothed the fear that tightened his chest like a mother's lullaby.

“They are evil. I know they're bad,” he muttered after a few seconds. “We can’t let them take the others. They are going to hurt them.”

She was not sure where Ayalal had gotten such an idea, but the child's expression was beyond worried and conveyed conviction.

“Ay, nothing bad will happen to them. Those people weren’t bad, just a little different from what we're used to here. That's what made you feel that way.”

He wanted to believe her. After all the woman had been an angel, and angels were always good, everyone said so. But still…

“I’m sorry,” Ayalal murmured. He had no logical explanation, but he was simply unable to believe in the good intentions of the people who had just visited the orphanage.

Lysa smiled at him in the tender and understanding way she always reserved for him. She grabbed Ay’s face with both hands and laid a kiss on his forehead.

“Let’s go talk with Mrs. Drane?”

Ay nodded and the young woman straightened. She turned to Ay and pushed him carefully ahead of her.

The office was a small cubicle. From one side a square window allowed the artificial light of the city to enter timidly; on the opposite side stood a shelf, somewhat crooked and with more dust than books. Seated behind her desk, the headmistress did not look impatient. In fact, her expression was thoughtful as her fingers drummed on the wood.

“Sit down,” she said, indicating two chairs before her. She watched the tension of one and the other as they followed the indication. The old wood creaked even under the weight of the child. “What you did moments ago was imprudent and disrespectful. But…” She paused and smiled. “I admit that I was amazed and pleased.”

Ayalal and Lysa looked at each other. Neither of them expected what appeared to be approval, even if reluctant.

“Lady Drane…” Lysa began, but the headmistress raised a hand that silenced her.

“The person who left you here,” she said, facing Ayalal “asked us to take care of you. If you wanted to go with Miss Sëdara, no one would stop you. However, if you feel that you are happier in the orphanage, with your family,” her look turned to Lysa “then your place is here, until you decide to leave. And nothing can make you go. Do you understand?”

Ay's head moved almost autonomously in a nod. He had imagined that the headmistress would be the first to want to send him away. It would be one less mouth to feed. But he realized that he had been mistaken. He could stay in the orphanage with Lysa, until he was grown up and start working, at least.

“Go to the others,” she dismissed them, leaning back in her chair.

Lysa rose, with obvious relief, but Ayalal did not. The hand that had not held the cake grabbed the side of his seat, forcing him to stay there. He bit his lower lip lightly, until he had the courage to ask the question.

“Who left me here?”

The headmaster raised her eyebrows a little, then let out a sigh.

“I do not know, Ayalal. It was Lysa who found you here at the door. With you came a note and some money.”

The boy's shoulders slumped and his head leaned forward, discouraged. It was not a subject he thought about much compared to other children. However, as he listened to Mrs. Drane speak of such an anonymous presence, the interest he usually hid away had surfaced.

“I still have the note here,” the headmistress said, opening the table's drawer and taking out a worn notebook from the inside. She flipped through it for a while, until she pulled a small piece of parchment from between two pages and handed it to Ayalal.

He looked at it with fear, as if it might bite him. Hesitantly, he release the chair and reached out to grab it. Only after leaving the office did he dare to see what was written. The handwriting was shaky, some letters were smeared and others were faint, as if the hand of the writer had not found the necessary firmness.

He took a deep breath and put the note in his pocket. One day he would be able to read it.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Lamashan 21, 4592 AR (part III)

“No.” The word slipped between his lips, without even thinking.

The angel raised her thin eyebrows.

“Don’t be shy, my dear.” She held out her hand. Its ebony complexion seemed almost ethereal, yet not as pale as Ayalal's.

The little boy shook his head in denial and hid his hands behind his back. Sëdara's smile wavered for a moment.

“Why not, little boy?” She asked, still holding her hand, palm up. “I’d take good care of you, you’d have what you desired, you’d be happy. You would have a family.”

“You're scaring him, my lady.”

Ayalal took a deep breath and looked away to the side of the corridor, where Lysa was approaching from the top floor. When she reached him, Ay reached out to grasp her hand, anchoring himself to Lysa’s presence and protection.

The angel stared at the newcomer and slowly straightened. She was about a hand taller, and all her divine countenance cast a heavy shadow over Lysa’s simplicity. But the young woman stared at her firmly, not allowing anything in the stranger to intimidate her.

“Am I? I did not mean to,” she remarked. As she spoke her blue eyes measured Lysa, paying particular attention to the scar on her face. “It’s a pity that such a special child does not want to come with me. He would be welcomed and no one would look twice at his... provenance.”

Ay’s small hand tightened even more firmly.

“He doesn’t want to go,” Lysa said, being direct.

The angel heaved a sigh and shrugged, resigned.

“If so... but you still have time to change your mind, little one. Time to choose having a family.”

Other than Lysa, no one seemed willing to dissuade Sëdara. Some of the children even threw glances of envy at such insistence.

Ay took a deep breath, finding some courage.

“Lysa is my family.”

For an instant, Sëdara’s eyes froze. The little boy shuddered and moved closer to Lysa’s skirt, trying to protect himself. Before the angel could respond to that statement, a male voice from the entrance called her. The cold disappeared and she turned around, watching the approaching man.

Ay also looked at him. Inside a well-cut suit, he was tall, elegant and handsome; but the little boy saw none of it. He took a deep, audible breath, his eyes widening. There was something wrong, something bad around that man. He shook his head, frightened by what he felt and was unable to comprehend.

“My lady, we can’t delay any longer,” the man said. He looked at Ay for a fleeting moment, only because he realized that it was with him that Sëdara had been speaking. He was going to look away with disinterest, but noticed how the child looked at him and frowned.

“You’re right. I was just finishing,” she remarked. “I can take my children right now, right, Headmistress?”

“As we agreed,” said Drane, looking at the five chosen.

Myria leapt into place.

“I'll get my doll!”

And she was about to start running, when the newcomer stopped her, bending down and grabbing her arm.

“It is not necessary. We have lots of dolls,” he said with a kind smile. “Pretty like you.”

The little girl hesitated, her enthusiasm fading a little.

“But Mimi will be sad if I leave her here... I can’t really go? Please sir?”

It was Sëdara who answered, approaching and placing a hand on her head in a caress.

“We'll come back for Mimi later” she said.

The words convinced Myria and she let herself follow the man who had come to call the angel, along with the other children. The man did not look back again, but Sëdara did so, staring at Ayalal. His attention wavered between the man who was already disappearing in the corridor, and the angel.

“I wish you to be happy with your family.” Sëdara glanced at Lysa, before moving away.

The words transmitted nothing more than sincerity, just like her angelic smile. However, Ayalal was unable to believe either of them.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Lamashan 21, 4592 AR (part II)

“Children” Headmistress Drane caught their attention in an unpleasant tone. Even so, some took only a quick glance at her, so they could look back at the angel. “Lady Sëdara has come here to share her generosity with a gift to each one of you.”

Ayalal looked at the angel with more attention and noticed that she carried in her hand a bag full of something. She took a step forward and leaned a little, to be at the children’s height. On her back, the wings fluttered slightly.

“Hello, everyone,” she said nicely. “I'm very happy to meet you. The lady headmistress told me that you are all very good children, so I brought you these...”

She opened the bag and took out a cake the size of a closed fist. She held it out to the nearest child, Myria, who was looking at her in fascination. The little girl's eyes widened and she shyly stretched her arms, taking the offering as carefully as she could with her little hands.

“Thank you!” Her voice, thinner than usual, betrayed her near-hysteria.

The angel laughed and caressed her head, which left the little girl in the clouds, before distributing the rest of the cakes among the other children. Some smiled at her in thanks, two dared to hug her. By reflex, the headmistress opened her mouth to scold them, but she thought better and held back her words.

Ay, the last to get a cake, took the one that was offered to him. He had never had a piece of cake so large in his possession. He would keep it to share with Lysa and he would ask to visit Yudarh, so the master could also eat a little.

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking up at the angel. She watched him with a smile that was more than nice. There was some amusement there, and the expression held a disguised interest. For some reason he could not explain, he leaned closer to the wall in an attempt to widen the distance between them. He looked at the cake again, uncertain. Could it be poisoned?

“There are some left,” said the angel, glancing at the headmistress. “Maybe they can be divided among all the children, later.”

Drane agreed with a serious nod, before glancing at the satisfaction of the children. Her expression relaxed a little.

“Lady Sëdara also wants to adopt some of you,” she announced. And suddenly the cakes were forgotten, the whispered comments were hushed. The ragged bunch of children now focused completely on the angelic young woman.

“It is true. I would like to be a mother to five of you. For now. If that would be alright.”

And after the silence, there was a sudden turbulence of hands shooting up and children surrounding the young woman who raised her eyebrows, stunned with so much commotion.

“Oh, so much enthusiasm! Let's calm down, let's calm down...“ she said softly. “Come on, I'm not leaving yet...”

Ay stood where he was, while the children chattered all at the same time, trying to make themselves heard and claim a place in the angel’s family.

“Children!” The Headmistress' voice was heard above everyone's, harsh, sharp. It was not an instant effect, but the orphans calmed down. “To your places, immediately. If you do that again, you will be grounded until you are adults.”

The angel took a deep breath and straightened out the simple yet good quality dress to which some of the children had clung.

“I” Sëdara emphasized the first word “will choose you.”

With difficulty, the small children restrained themselves. The angel went to the opposite end of the hallway to where Ayalal was. She walked slowly in front of them, studying them and indicating with one finger each of her chosen ones. The fifth person, a 10-year-old boy, located three places away from Ay, smiled with pure contentment as a finger fell on him. Behind them, Myria was already jumping in place, laughing and crying at the same time.

The woman stopped, bringing a finger to her lips, pensive. She took two more passes and stopped in front of Ayalal. The boy tensed and swallowed as he saw the angel bend over, resting her hands on her knees.

“Actually, six is ​​a perfect number. Come with me, little boy.”

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Lamashan 21, 4592 AR (part I) (one year and one month later)

“It’s an angel! Come everyone!”

With his hands still inside the basin where he was washing everybody’s clothes, Ayalal straightened his neck and glanced at Myria. She was a 4-years-old girl who rarely stood still, fueled by an energy that no one knew quite where it came from. This time she was panting, as if she had run from one end of town to the other.

“An angel?” One of the orphans, with whom Ay shared the task, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make things up...”

“It’s true!” The little girl’s eyes sparkled with pure enthusiasm. “She's in the Headmistress' office. I watched them walk by”.

The other boy scratched his head with a wet hand.

“I'll go check it out. If it's a lie... you eat less bread at dinner,” he said, with the satisfied smile of someone who knows he’s right.

“But it's not a lie,” the little girl sniffed, she then looked at Ay. “You should come too!”

He hesitated, his lips parted. Although he was a bit curious about what Myria had said, he still preferred to finish his task first.

“You can go. I'll be there later.”

She did not insist, and without further delay she started to run down the hall. The other orphan followed her, not running but still unable to hide his curiosity in the hurried pace of his footsteps. Ay looked out the window, thoughtfully. He had never really believed that the angels existed, or perhaps he believed they existed, but that they were not as nice as people wanted them to be. He shrugged and wiped the clothes more vigorously in the water that had been heated in the fireplace.

Minutes passed without any of the children returning. At last, one of the older girls who looked after them stopped at the door and asked him to follow her to the Headmistress' office. A strange apprehension sprouted in his chest as he linked the arrival of the supposed angel with the need of his presence. Had he done something wrong? Had an angel come from heaven to punish him? Would it be better to run away? Maybe Master Yudarh could help him, after all, he was kind of a good demon... Ay took a deep breath and shook his head. He wiped his hands on his patched trousers and followed the older girl without a word.

As he approached the office, he found the remaining orphans lined up in front of the door, the nearest of them trying to peek through a gap as they whispered between them. Ayalal leaned against the wall next to a girl a little taller than him and he waited in silence.

At last the door opened, and Headmistress Drane stepped out, casting a severe glance over on everyone before giving way to the person with whom she had been talking.

Ay blinked, almost dazed. She was the most beautiful lady he had ever seen. The wavy hair, which fell to her waist, resembled a river of gold, and her pale face had a strange perfection that he did not understand. However, there was something even more surprising about her, the thing that made Myria run rampant to them – two wings with feathers of a pure white that spread from her back.

The angel glanced at them with eyes that reminded Ay of the sky above the mountains, and she smiled.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Rova 14, 4591 AR (part II)

The altar candles diminished in size over time. When the little one looked calmer, Lysa took a stiff piece of bread from her pocket.

“That's what I got,” she murmured, holding it in front of Ayalal's face. “But it will help a little during the night, I hope.”

He took the bread with both hands, after a thank-you, and nibbled on the crust. He was silent, staring at the food as he chewed.

“Lysa, are you leaving too?” He asked, not looking at her.

She blinked at the unexpected question.

“Leaving? No…”

“Even if you get married?”

“Marry? Me?” She chuckled, but then she shook her head in denial. “No one would want to marry me. I'm not really pretty or interesting.” She put a hand to her face, touching the scar that the burn had left. “Not at all.”

“I would marry you,” Ay said, looking up at her, very serious, and even slightly offended by her lack of self-confidence. “If I were grown up. You're my friend, and I like you. And you're beautiful, yes! I'm sure Master Yu agrees with me. But I'll ask him the next time I see him.”

Lysa covered her mouth with one hand, stifling a chuckle as she imagined Yudarh's face if he heard a question like that. She hoped that the demigoddess Andoletta would not be bothered by such a commotion near her altar.

Puffing his cheeks, Ayalal gave a more vigorous bite of bread.

“I'll ask, yes. And it’s not funny!” He protested, with a blush tinting the pale skin of his face. “For me you are the most beautiful person in the world.”

“Oh, Ay, I'm sorry,” she murmured, putting a hand to her face and wiping away a tear that had formed in one corner of her eyes. “It's just... you're adorable.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, turning away, embarrassed.

Lysa laughed more quietly and wrapped her arms around Ay, pulling him into her lap.

“If I ever leave this place, I'll take you with me,” she said, pressing him to her chest. “How would I live without my Ay to protect me from evil monsters?”

The child looked at her suspiciously, and still with puffed cheeks, reminding her of a squirrel storing food.

“Master Yu has not taught me anything to protect you, yet,” he said, after swallowing the bread he had actually stored in his cheeks. “I still do not know magic...”

“One day you'll know,” she said, running a hand through his black hair and pulling a lock behind his ear. “And you will be a powerful and gentle wizard, who will protect us from evil things. What do you think?”

With some shyness, Ay stretched the bread so that Lysa also gave a bite, that she accepted.

“I will be that,” said the little boy, though not very confident. “A wizard.”

They talked for a few more minutes until it was time for Ayalal to go to bed. Lysa took him to his bedroom and, on bidding farewell, she offered him a good-night kiss on his forehead. She waited for him to get inside and closed the door before she left.

Most of the children were asleep, lying down after dinner. If he did not have the ability to see in the dark, Ay would have had difficulty reaching his cot. He walked carefully, trying not to make any noise, and, upon arriving at the destination, squatted down, bringing a hand to the pillow, intending to take his sleeping clothes off under it. However, as he touched the cloth, an icy dampness touched his fingers. The pillow was soaked. He touched the clothes, the blanket, the sheet... it was all wet.

The bit of joy that Lysa had planted within him a few minutes ago evaporated. He stood still, staring at the cot without really seeing it, thinking of his friend Lysa and how disillusioned she would be if he was bad for whowever did that. He took a deep breath and took all the clothes off the bed, dragging them out of the room, to the fire that was still burning in the kitchen. He stretched them on the floor, waiting for the heat to dry everything and he lay there, hunched over, waiting for fatigue to lull him to sleep.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Rova 14, 4591 AR (part I) (one year and seven months later)

A sudden shove made him lose his balance and tremble. The tin bowl slipped from his hands, falling to the floor and spreading the contents over his feet. Ayalal pressed his lips and swallowed.

“Oh, you must be more careful...” The boy behind him let out a mocking laugh. A hand taller than him, he was one of the group members who, day after day, messed with him, causing him all sorts of problems. “Looks like you're not having dinner today.”

Ayalal did not answer him. He kept his face as closed as he could, pretending not to hear, and bent down to pick up his bowl. Lysa had taught him not to react, not to show weakness and not to take revenge. She said that revenge would only make him bad. Ay walked away, followed by the eyes of other orphans, and after washing his bowl and trying to clean his shoes, he went to fetch a grimy cloth, squatting by the pool of soup. The rules of the orphanage were strict: in case of such accidents, to learn not to waste food, they would not serve a new dish – a night of hunger would teach him to be more careful.

“Ay, what are you doing?”

The boy looked up at Lysa, who had just arrived in the kitchen.

“I spilled the soup,” he muttered, after hesitating, then turned back to the floor. It was not really a lie. She already cared too much, he was not going to tell her how his dinner had disappeared. “I’m cleaning it.”

Lysa was silent, the silence of someone who expected a more elaborate answer. Ay continued to clean, gripping the cloth more strongly. One hand rested lightly on the boy's head, making him press his lips more as the tightness in his chest increased.

I'm not a baby, I'm not going to cry, he thought to himself.

“You know I'm here to help you, you can trust me,” she said softly.

And he knew. Lysa had always been there, since he remembered, to give him her hand, to support him.

Ayalal made a silent nod, without stopping what he was doing, and Lysa eventually withdrew with a sigh to help with other tasks.

Discreetly, the little boy looked up, watching her. Last week, one of the older girls had married a carpenter in town and left the orphanage. He had seen her bid farewell to the others, and had listened to Headmistress Drane congratulating her on finding a husband, as if it were the best thing in the world. He did not think it was.

When he finished, he put the cloth down beside the sink and left the kitchen stealthily. He walked slowly down the dimly lit corridor to a small room where two candles, the only illumination, were burning on a granite altar flanking a willow cane. All the orphans, early in the morning, went there and prayed to the demigod Andoletta, known as Grandmother Crow, guardian of the innocent. It was an obligation to which they could not escape. After that, they left as soon as possible. He, on the contrary, took refuge there, when he could not be with Lysa. It was a strangely reassuring solitude, as if there was really an invisible being protecting him.

He knelt in a corner and hugged his knees to his chest. Then he murmured a prayer to the venerable demigod, as a request to be allowed to stay until he had to go to bed. He didn’t get any response and, as always, he took it as a consent.

The minutes passed slowly. They always passed like that. From the corridor came the sound of footsteps and the rustle of a skirt that stopped at the door, before entering and approaching. Their owner sat beside him in silence. Ay hesitated a half-dozen seconds, before leaning his body against Lysa's arm, almost as if he was trying to be discreet, and not brave enough to face her.

“Little fool,” Lysa murmured, surrounding him with the warmth he sought. “Do not hide from me, please”.

Monastery of the Seven Forms, Calistril 27, 4590 AR (part V)

Wrapped in a slight magic shadow, Ayalal held his breath for seconds as he absorbed the whole new world. He looked at Lysa, then looked at the horizon, and looked back at Lysa, wordlessly.

She laughed a little.

“It's a pretty sight, is it not? The rest of the world,” she noted.

“Yes,” Ayalal murmured, taking three steps back along the rocky footpath that went down.

Lysa's eyes widened in alarm, and she reached for him, but Yudarh crossed the staff before her, stopping her.

Fascinated, the little boy contemplated the distance, the blue of the sky, its clouds of a peculiar shape and, with half-closed eyes, the Sun itself. He heard again the hawk's high call and this time he saw it, soaring off in a slow flight. The flapping of its wings transmitted pure freedom to him. Then he took a few more steps along the track, noticing another thing. He skidded once, but curiosity gave him extra confidence, helping him balance himself. He squatted by a rock and stood very still watching a solitary flower. The wind shook it, but the plant's resilience surpassed its apparent fragility. He stretched out a finger and gently touched the red petals. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“It's a poppy. You can take it with you,” Lysa said, carefully picking up what had caught his eye.

“No.” Ayalal shook his head. “This is it house, it lives here. I can’t take it away. It would be bad for her.”

Lysa did not insist, actually enjoying that show of concern.

A few feet away, Yudarh sat down at the entrance of the tunnel, giving them a serene glance, before losing his thoughts on the vast horizon.

The hours passed. The sun rose higher in the sky until it reached its zenith, while Ayalal asked several questions about what they could see from there, what lived in the forests... and when could they see the sea up close.

Lysa opened her mouth, hesitating at the last answer.

“Well... when you're older.”

Ay blew his cheeks.

“I'm older by tomorrow,” he said.

“Oh, I'm the one who decides how old you must be,” Lysa laughed. “And now we have to go home.”

“Already...?”

“Yes. Master Yudarh has used this spell on you twice, we must not abuse the goodwill of others. We'll come back another day,” she said.

The little boy pouted, but eventually nodded. Shortly afterwards they made their way back through the tunnel, leaving the light of day behind.

When they reached the crossroads, Yudarh motioned with the staff to the road that would take them to the city.

“You can return to the orphanage.” The tone was indifferent and dry, nothing to which they were not accustomed.

Lysa smiled and bowed slightly.

“Thank you for everything, Master. Ay?”

Ayalal looked at Yudarh, clearly hesitant, before approaching, not quite as subtly as he would have liked, and he offered a sudden hug to the tiefling, arms around his legs.

“Thank you, Master Yu,” he murmured, before letting go as quickly as he had grabbed him, going to give Lysa his hand, very embarrassed.

The tiefling did not answer. He stood still, watching them go away for a moment before he returned to his business. Ayalal still looked back in time to see him disappear through the path on the crossroads that led into darkness.

*