Unspoken Farewell

6 Months Before Arrival in Arcadia, 5 years Ago - Mizar

Shalia could see her younger self now. A skinny, tall girl with a mess of curls, sweaty palms and a racing heart as she crept into her parents’ bedroom. They were sound asleep and the only noises to be had were the wind whistling outside, the pattering of rain, and the occasional rumbling thunder. Each and every one of them put her closer to losing her composure and running out of the room crying, jumping back into her warm bed, forgetting it all. But she had to keep moving forward with it. She just needed one last look at them to know they were real. There, alive, breathing and fast asleep. One last glimpse of her parents before she threw herself to the wolves.
A girl, hardly seventeen, fleeing with nowhere to go, little coin, a fancy spear, and her mother’s ribbon keeping her company. Fearing any and every man who looked her way. Wandering from town to city with her chin down, hair sometimes tucked back into a hat she had stolen, having to pick-pocket here and there and avoid guards like the plague. Staying in no place longer than a day as eyes were drawn to the pale figure with the glaringly obvious weapon in hand, posed as a walking stick most days.
Until she found the Wardens, or more, they found her. Disheveled and hungry in a tavern alley one eve, curled against a wall. A drunkard rambling on and reaching out for her curly raven locks in the freezing downpour as winter crawled nearer. In their kindness, they shooed the man off and offered shelter, and Shalia was too cold and delirious to say no. Too desperate. One thing led to another. Joining them, being trained, proving the skills she had learned from her father with his own stolen spear that she one day would never see again, meeting Jiyn…living.

She knew it could never be forever with the way her heart and soul were being tugged on, drawing her spirit out and away from Mizar and into who knew where. Deep down she knew it was the curios new world, but of course she ignored it. A silly dream. Witches weren’t supposed to have hope. They were supposed to burn.

And now here she stood at the foot of the bed again, looking upon her sleeping husband. Why had she been like this? Why couldn’t she just suppress the feeling and move on with it, create the life she always wanted? The one they both deserved? Was this selfish and cruel to him, to her family? Maybe the Pillars were all just sick and twisted, allowing someone like her to exist in their world only to laugh as she suffered, eventually torn down by the mission they gave to their followers. Wishing the same agony for any sorry witch who had the misfortune of being Helian-born, allowed to make it past infancy at the will of the gods. 'Sadistic bastards, the lot of you! All fucking pathetic…'
She was an angry speck of nothingness to them like this. By the hells, she always was.

If their egos were so easily bruised, they’d smite her down right there for such fighitng words. Zin slithering his shadowy form over the land with a clean snip to her heartstrings. But nothing happened. Nothing ever did with them in regard to Shalia. That was the problem from the start, where the seeds of disdain had been sown.

Jiyn was asleep peacefully in bed, the moonlight from their pulled curtain peering in over him and the room. Painting him like a picture. They had not been married more than a few years, but Shalia would note that those were the best moments of her life so far. Knowing she had her soulmate at arm’s reach and a home to sleep in and people around her who had her back when it got tough. She felt wild and free…but it still wasn't enough. It wasn't the true wild and true freedom she had been craving for half a decade. The pesky little thing that made her turn and flee at the prospect of something new, uninhibited, completely unbound by the ties of holy men and superstitious midwives. Something like that didn't feel like it could exist for long, but she had to try. Had to leave it all behind again. Leave him.

She leaned down to press her lips onto his forehead, but stopped an inch short. Her breath poured onto his skin, lungs giving it a tremble. If she kissed him, he may wake, and if he were to wake he would ask her where she was going, and if she had to lie to him like this--with a full pack, shaking voice, tears welling up--she knew it was over. But if she didn’t kiss him here, she may never recall the feeling of his skin again or what it was to kiss a lover. Her lover. This could be it. It could be the last time they saw one another.

“If I don’t come back from this,” Shalia whispered so quietly it was almost mouthed instead, “Just know that I love you…and I’m so sorry.”

The black-haired woman kissed his head gently, pulling away when a tear started to roll down her cheek. She choked back a sob as she stood, turning for the door. Her lips curled downward, nose wrinkled, and her eyes became heavy with tears. Her heart felt like it was falling straight to the floor, plowing itself through the earth until it landed in a pit with a thud. Beating, beating, slowly drowning out until silence.

So this was really it. She was really doing this with no real plan for the future. Running until her legs couldn't carry her anymore. Leaving him so heartlessly. Maybe the tales were all true. Maybe all witches were deeply corrupted and left a trail of pain in their wake...

No. This was what she had to do. The right thing, under some bizarre light. This was bigger than just loved ones or scary stories. Shalia had to keep telling herself that this feeling, this aching pull away from her homeland, meant something bigger than she could fathom. If she stuck around too long, Jiyn might have been hurt by her magik, growing unstable the more uneased she became. The same thing she told herself before turning from her parents forever.
Maybe he would die from heartbreak and perhaps her parents already had. He deserved some kind of closure, a note or something telling him that she made this choice on her own. She wasn’t kidnapped or lifted away in a cloud of dust by some spirit, devoured by a monster.

And yet, she left him nothing like that. Nothing but the kiss that he would never recall. Was it better that way? The mystery of the vanishing woman filled with so much promise and joy, with a loving family and husband?

The woman left the house quickly with her most useful belongings. A spear strapped on her back, hood over her head, pack carrying two sets of clothes with a pouch of coin, dagger, and other small things. What she needed most--or at least what would fit on her person for traveling as light as possible. If she could, she would take him too, take him far away and live happily together. But that wasn't possible. They were from two different worlds. In another life they could have had peace. No secrets. The child they talked lovingly of having one day.
Once more like a taunting sense of deja-vu, it was storming when she took one last look at their home that housed her unknowing husband and all their precious memories. The life they created so happily together and sought refuge in.

Shalia Nix walked on into the night, singing a lullaby softly to herself to quell the streaming tears.