Taya sat on her cot, a warm blanket wrapped around her, staring at the aged leather book in her lap. Unopened, but stirring her thoughts to what stories may lie within.

  She combed her fingers through her hair, colored like autumn leaves, sun-kissed by the blessing of Ushil. She effortlessly carried beauty. Her piercing green eyes often caught the attention of others who walked by, along with the light cast from the sun that would be trapped, as if they were deep caverns filled with gems. Her skin held the warmth of the day, and her posture embodied confidence, but she didn’t see herself that way. She was just a girl, living through the adventures of the authors she’d read, envious of their experiences and legacies. Though content with her easy life, she dreamed she’d have a story others would read of one day.

  Her brother, Randal, leaned outside the window, admiring how the city slept at night. His thick, auburn hair, though darker than her own, still shone in the glow of the moon. He shared in her blessed features and structure, as most twins did, but they seemed to fit on him better.

  He brought himself in and sat on his cot across the room. “Another book.” Randal sighed. “Is this one for you or him?”

  “A request of his, but I’ve been excited to read this one, ‘The Exploration Of Barlos: A Land Close But Out Of Reach’,” Taya replied, ignoring the reason he asked.

  “Anyone can go to Barlos with enough coin? How is it out of reach?”

  “It was written over a hundred years ago about the first explorer welcomed into their land. It’s considered antiquarian; I would never normally be able to get my hands on something this rare, not without the Master Historian granting permission for me to use The Grand Library,” Taya said defensively, on behalf of the book. “He has interest in things he doesn’t have time to learn himself.”

  “So he makes you do it.” Randal mocked.

  Not willing to argue against truth, she rolled her eyes in response. “It is the reason he took us in and provided us stay in the castle.”

  “He didn't take us in; he kept us, Taya. He didn’t give us aid to ease an ache in his heart.”

  “What difference does that make, Randal?” Taya snapped. “We have a room to ourselves, two cots with blankets and pillows, food provided and brought for us, and you’re upset that the man who gave us these luxuries asks something in return? All that's required from me is to read, learn, and recite, so that he may gain the knowledge from these stories, but you believe this to be an unfair arrangement?”

  Randal let her words berate him. He knew his anger was unfounded. “Taya, I’m sorry. You know I’m grateful that you work hard for us, and I’m even grateful that he gave us so much since arriving in the city. I just don’t trust him, I feel uneasy when he’s around, like there’s a knife at my back.”

  “I know what you mean, but he’s treated us well these long four years. I don’t mind that he decided I was to be his personal historian, it’s something I already had passion for, and I can always carve my own path later.”

  “And I’m happy for you, but I will never let someone choose which road I take, now or later,” Randal said with more gravity in his expression. “I’ve decided. Now that we turned sixteen a few weeks back, I can start my training as a hunter.”

  “No, Randal.”

  “It’s not your choice.”

  Taya felt her eyes begin to well up. “Father and mother wouldn’t want that life for you!” She said angrily.

  “And it’s not their choice either.”

  “Randal, please reconsider,” she pleaded, a tear rolling down her face.

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  Knock, knock, knock.

  The door opened, torchlight from the hall engulfed their quarters, drawing an end to their argument. A clean-shaven man in armor stood in the archway, Damian’s personal guard. “Lord Damian requests his assistant, Lady Taya.” He said warmly.

  She stood, wiping her tears. “Understood, Jarard. But as I said before, please don’t address me as ‘Lady’, the title isn’t befitting for a commoner”. Leaving the room, she kept her back to Randal, avoiding his determination.

  Act Two

  She walked in, her footsteps echoing against the walls, and curtsied to her master. “Good evening, Lord Damian. You called for me?” Taya asked.

  Damian revelled in his bath, his eyes closed. “Tell me a story.”

  She thought for a moment. “Shall I tell you of how the three kings betrayed, murdered, and seized the kingdom from their friend, King Thios?”

  “No, I am familiar with the history.”

  “What of the construction of the castle in which we stand, Thios Stronghold?”

  “I think not, maybe another night. What else is stored in that sharp mind of yours?”

  “I recently read a book titled ‘The Demons That Live Among Us’. A story that describes encounters people have lived through, and theories on their origin, in regards to the secret vayrels.”

  Damian’s eyes shot open. He turned his neck and admired her with an astonished gaze. “Now, how did you get your hands on a book like that?” He asked curiously.

  She smiled back at him, proud to have piqued his interest. “The Master Historian and Religious Consult both permitted me to read this book, and for me to inform you on it.”

  He lay his head back and closed his eyes again. “A job well done. Let me hear some key notes of this book.”

  “It starts with a description of vayrels, and how they vary in size and other matters.” She began, skimming across her organized mind. “It states that a vayrel can be anywhere from five to nine feet tall, and the traits they develop differ. Most are demonic-looking monsters, having appendages and a head, like we humans do, but their skin appears and smells of rot. Some, however, have been seen with antler-like protrusions on their heads, where some have had spines that spike out through their skin.”

  She continued and told tales of possible survivors, but more often, encounters from afar, the more believable of the two. She tried to keep her voice from cracking under the weight she felt hanging above her words.

  After a while, Damian waved his hand, signalling for her to pause. “It dawned on me that these stories may be hard for you to recite back to me. We can finish with the possibly false claims from the book.”

  Her teeth clenched, feeling she failed to hide the waver in her voice while narrating. She never tried to forget the night her parents were slaughtered, nor has she tried to forget the puddles of blood she found the next morning, but she did believe she had made her peace with it, putting it behind her. Tragedy will always haunt those who lived, she thought to herself.

  “One more point you’ll surely find of interest is on their origins.” She said, moving on as professionally as she could.

  “You mean to tell me we’ve known of the origin of these demons all this time?” He said derisively, not believing it to be true.

  “Well, at one point in time, I believe we did.” She said excitedly. “The book hints at the theories of where they spawned from or how they were born later in the pages, but as I neared the end of the book, at least a hundred pages were torn out.”

  “That is indeed most interesting.” He said slowly, picking apart the implications of what that could mean. “It seems someone made the arrogant decision that the truth isn’t for us to know just yet. Was there anything else after those missing passages?”

  “There was one page left at the end. It spoke of the ancient language of the gods, Azhen, and implied the name, vayrel, derives from it. ‘Vayr’ translates to ‘Endless’ as ‘el’ translates to ‘Hunger’. His last note, if the author was correct, was that the term we use in our language, ‘Feral’, is a semantic shift that came from the Azhen word, ‘Vayrel’.” She finished.

  “Well done, Taya,” Damian said, sitting up. “This goes to show exactly why your job is essential to me. However, you must be careful now. You hold confidential knowledge only available to the Court of All and priests high on the ladder. If you gossip of what you’ve learned, I won’t be able to protect you from the punishment that comes.”

  “Thank you for your warning and concern, Lord Damian. I am fully aware of the consequences and intend to keep it between us.” She said wholeheartedly.

  He nodded in understanding. “You best be off to bed. It’s getting late, and my bath water has grown cold.” He chuckled.

  “Have a good night, my Lord.” She curtsied and exited the room.

  Upon arriving back at her quarters, she climbed silently into bed, hoping not to wake her brother, not ready to face him.