(Sorry that it has taken a few days, I have been working to gather my thoughts for the story!)

Part 3

The wind tugs at my long, dark hair as it does my heart to save that young woman from an unbearable fate. What did the Elite mean by a "different fate"? How did a woman so composed and fearless seconds before trembling at the words of her relative?

I am drawn out of my thoughts as Nathaniel holds his hand out to stop me. "Shhh! Your grandma is-"

"Perder Zentra Stein! Ven aquí!" She cries, spitting furious Spanish, trembling hand pointed straight at me.

My face drops, and I bow my head, submitting. "Yes, grandmother?"

Nathaniel glares at the Elvish woman with frustration, ready to step in.

"You went to that branding. The event was all over the T.V, Zentra. You want to end up dying or being kidnapped, be my guest. I am just here to make sure you succeed as a proper woman, Miss Stein. And you," she says, turning to Nathaniel, unmoving. "You are to keep away from my granddaughter if it means she is to be attending foolish brandings. Understood?"

Upon this rant, Nathaniel gives a sly smile, eyebrows scrunched in his usual manner. Then he lets out four years of frustration upon my grandmother, "Who are you to say what I can and cannot do? I have been Zentra's friend for longer than you have been an adequate grandmother! Because look around, you have done nothing for her. She fends for herself, she raises herself, teaches herself, and grows with only the support of her friends. Kiralla and I give her the world, you give her nothing."

I bite my lip, watching the two pairs of dark, intriguing eyes staring one another down. This is something I will always respect about my grandmother and Nathaniel, both have the heart of lions. They will stand to what they believe, even if it means negative consequences. Just like… Just like mother. She had a heart of fire and would do anything to keep us safe. I push the memory away, seeking shelter in the safe sunlight’s rays.

At last, my grandmother’s eyes break contact, and for a millisecond I catch pain in her expression before it is replaced with frustration.

“She needs a family, and I am all Zentra has,” my grandmother musters before turning away. “You and Kiralla may be her friends, but a friendship will end with darkness. I shall always be there. I-I might not be the best, but I love my granddaughter through the darkness.”
With this, she slips into the house once again, and my ears seem to catch a I love you within her hidden voice. I glance at Nathaniel to see he has caught it too. After the mess, I throw myself on the rocky garden bed, hand resting dead upon my limp, cold hands. Nathaniel begins whistling a tune, knowing now is not the time to interrupt.

“She’s right, you know?”

I shoot my head up, looking around frantically. That voice, I know it well – soft like butter, yet sharpened with wisdom – Kiralla.

Short, white pixie-cut hair, dark gray skin tone, and lavender eyes – a drow, and quite a young one at that. Kiralla is the kind of woman who all boys turn their heads and watch, and yet they cannot figure out why. Her voice itself is captivating and mysterious, drawing you in like a siren’s song. While she is precisely 153 years old – or middle aged for an elf – she is one of my closest friends alongside Nathaniel. We met two years ago during a volunteer mission after an awful tornado hit a Kansas community. We live states away, yet I begged my grandmother to let me help, and at least she agreed, saying it would “build character”. It was during this time I continuously saw a drow hidden among the trees, the shade blending with her toned skin perfectly. Always watching, silent. As the weather peaked 110 degrees that day, I finally had gone over and offered the cat-like girl water. Kiralla, at the time, already knew about my entire family. She’d been watching me since I started the volunteer work in Kansas, and even admitted to reading my journals about home while I slept.

It was this awkward, silent moment that we became best friends. I’ve been warned continuously: do not talk or help anyone who stalks you, yet I knew Kiralla was different. It is at this moment, my hands still propping up my head, that I remember our first meeting.

“How long have you been here?” I croak, tired with fighting my sadness.

“Long enough for time to permit me to hear all,” she whispers, sitting down beside me. “Your grandmother is working to insulate you from the fiery war outside, Zentra. How do you not see this?”

Nathaniel mumbles something about being overprotective, but Kiralla continues on.
“She will be the north star in your darkness, while I and that beast,” she says, nodding to the glaring Nathaniel, “will find it implausible that we will be the moon. Saturn, perhaps, but not the moon.”

I nod slowly, staring deep into the hearts of my two friends. My family. At last, Kiralla stands and pulls me to my feet, biting her lip as she knows what I am thinking.

“You were there, weren’t you?” I whisper. “The branding?”

“In body, in mind, yet not in heart,” she says, walking up to Nathaniel who continues to sulk in silence. “Did I offend you?”

He turns, lifting a hand to the sky and slamming it to his knee with such furry, I fear he’d bruise it. With dark, glowering eyes he stares down Kiralla, over double his height, and sighs.

“I’d best be going. Get rest, Zentra, you have had a long day,” Nathaniel says, turning on his heel and storming off.

“I take that as a yes,” a murmur, stepping beside Kiralla.

I am astonished by her beauty, even with somewhat boyish qualities. For a second, I feel a twang of jealousy. She must have received numerous proposals, being an adult by now. Yet I know Kiralla extremely well – she is not one to get married. Still, with an appearance like that, half the boys in our town cannot help but die. I push the thought away, knowing that I will never be as beautiful as Kiralla. She is a drow, and the mysterious factor adds on to that natural appearance.

I hug my friend, and she responds softly, offering a faint smile. “Rest well, Kiralla. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

And with that she nods, waves politely, and is off, humming an unfamiliar and intriguing tune. Warlike, almost.

I push open the door, finding the house silent, and head to my room. With the branding I missed lunch, but I barely notice the small pang in my stomach. I throw myself across the bedsheets and fall into a daze, the sun still dazzling outside my window. If only I could sleep forever I think, hesitating at the thought. Mother sleeps forever. Metri, oh… if she is still alive, how I wish she could sleep alongside mother again, still childish in her small features, a little giggle slipping out as our mother put her to sleep. And father, his rough cheek brushing against my forehead right below my dark hair, his perfect brown eyes of a majority human staring through my soul. Father, how I miss you.

With these thoughts, I curl up, begging to be let free, and slip into an unrestful slumber, sobbing in my heart, spirit clawing at my lungs and flesh, trying to break free. To be home. 

I think my charrie's age needs to change to maybe 26. Possibly 39. She'll be 26, which is young for an elf, but not a kid.

It astonishes me how well you write Kiralla! Thank you!!

I'm sorry, with my being gone, this kinda slipped down. I'll still be working on it! Just might be a bit slower since I am doing camp nano too… Let's just wait and see!