Starfall's Wish - Chapter 4 - First Draft (Patreon)

The main door creaked open, bathing Yuka and Mabyaku in a dim amber glow as they entered the hall. A cacophony of laughter and conversations filled the air, momentarily muted by the sight of Rōshi's limp form.

"Make way!" Mabyaku's voice boomed, silencing the chatter. He strode to a nearby table, laying Rōshi down gently on a seat. His face was pale, beads of sweat glistening on his brow.

Chief Gendo, Yuka's father, rose from his chair, his portly frame casting a shadow over the table. "What happened to my son?" he asked, concern etched across his features.

"Later," Mabyaku dismissed, waving a hand dismissively. "Gather your men, Chief. We must investigate where the star fell."

Yuka could see her father hesitate, torn between tending to his son and following Mabyaku's command. Finally, he nodded. "Very well," he said, striding towards the side door. "Warriors, with me!"

As Gendo, Mabyaku, and the warriors departed, Yuka clenched her fists, taking a deep breath to quell the storm brewing inside her. She wanted answers, yet she understood that now was not the time for questions.

As Yuka's thoughts swirled like a stormy sea, she couldn't help but wonder what she could do to protect her family and her people—how she could challenge the traditions that bound them all. The answer remained elusive, hidden in the shadows.

But as Mabyaku, Gendo, and the warriors ventured into the unknown, Yuka knew one thing for certain: change was coming.

Yuka's gaze drifted toward the window, her green eyes reflecting the eerie glow of the night sky. Wisps of fog clung to the darkened village beyond, like fingers of some long-forgotten spirit. She couldn't shake the feeling that the falling star was a harbinger of something... something important.

"Perhaps it's an omen," she mused aloud.

"Omens, dear Yuka? You sound like old Eme." A woman's voice interrupted Yuka's reverie, jolting her from her thoughts. She turned to see a group of women of various ages gathered around a large table laden with food. Their laughter and chatter filled the air, their faces alight with excitement about the upcoming wedding.

"Come, join us," said one of the women, beckoning to Yuka with a warm smile. "We were just discussing the beautiful silk you'll wear on your big day."

"Thank you, but I'm not sure I can discuss such things right now," Yuka replied, reluctantly stepping away from the window and moving towards the table. The scent of steaming rice, savory meats, and sweet confections did little to lift her spirits, as she struggled to keep her unwelcome betrothal from her mind.

"Is something troubling you, child?" asked another woman, concern furrowing her brow. "You seem so distant."

"Nothing I wish to burden you with," Yuka answered, forcing a smile. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed the edge of the tablecloth, her thoughts still consumed by the mysteries of the fallen star and her brother's condition.

"Perhaps it is simply pre-wedding jitters!" exclaimed a third woman, her voice high-pitched and bubbly. "I remember being so nervous before my own ceremony. But once it was over, everything was perfect."

"Perfect, indeed," Yuka murmured, her gaze drifting back towards the window. How could she focus on a wedding when there was so much at stake? Surely, these women would understand if they knew the truth.

"Yuka, dear," said the first woman gently, placing a hand on her arm. "We know that your betrothal is not what you had hoped for, but remember, it is an important alliance for our people. You are making a great sacrifice for us all."

"Is it truly a sacrifice if I have no choice?" Yuka pondered, her voice barely audible above the laughter and chatter of the hall.

"Ah, but of course you have a choice!" the third woman piped up. "You can choose to be happy, Yuka! After all, your husband is a powerful Elven lord. That's not an easy honor to come by."

The other women nodded in agreement, their eyes bright with anticipation for what was to come. It only served to make Yuka's heart feel even heavier. She'd been trained as a healer since she was a child—a vocation that did not typically allow for marriage. Most of the village girls dreamed of becoming wives and mothers one day, while Yuka had dreamed of using her gifts to help others in need.

Her dreams were met with jeers and laughter from the other women at the table. "A healer? You? But you're the Chief's daughter!" one woman said incredulously, shaking her head in disbelief. "Surely you should be preparing for your wedding and not wasting your time on such foolishness."

Yuka felt her cheeks flush as she looked away, her gaze settling once more on the night sky outside. Perhaps it was all just a dream—her hope of being a healer—and soon enough she would wake up and accept her fate as the future wife of the Elflord.

"Try to enjoy this time," the second woman urged her with a smile. "It will pass quickly, and soon you will be settled into your new life as a wife."

"Perhaps," Yuka agreed, unwilling to share her fears and doubts with these well-meaning women. "Thank you for your kind words."

With a heavy heart, she turned her attention back to the night beyond the window, her soul yearning for answers that were just out of reach. The falling star, the fate of her brother, and the future of her people—all weighed heavily upon her shoulders, threatening to crush her beneath their collective burden.

But as the laughter and gossip swirled around her, Yuka steeled herself against the coming storm. She would face whatever lay ahead with courage and determination, even if it meant defying the very traditions that bound her.

After some time, the door to the hall burst open, and a gust of cold wind swept through the room, extinguishing several candles. Yuka shivered as she watched Gendo and his men enter, their faces grim and determined. They carried with them two unconscious figures—young men, barely even teenagers, their naked bodies bruised and battered—and an odd pair of weapons.

"Make way!" Gendo bellowed, his voice booming above the sudden silence. The townsfolk scrambled to clear a path, curiosity and concern etched on their faces. As the chief and his warriors approached, Yuka couldn't help but stare at the strangers' feverish faces, wondering who they were and what had brought them to Fēričo.

"Bring them to the back room," Gendo ordered, gesturing toward a curtained area on the left side of the hall. His men obediently carried the strangers behind the curtain, and Yuka could hear the rustle of fabric as they set up a makeshift bed for their unexpected guests.

"Those weapons," Mabyaku said, his eyes locked on the strange objects in Gendo's hands. "They must be presented to Lord Yukyo at once."

"Very well," Gendo agreed, handing them over without hesitation. "Take them to him in his castle, and may your journey be swift."

As Mabyaku prepared to leave, Yuka found herself drawn to his stoic face, sensing the weight of responsibility that pressed down upon him. In that moment, she understood that he too was making sacrifices for the good of their people, and a part of her longed to reach out and offer comfort.

But instead, she turned her attention to the back room, her thoughts now consumed by the mystery of the strangers and the secrets they might hold. *Who are they?* she wondered, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Yuka," Gendo called, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. "I know you have many questions, but we must be patient. Time will reveal all."

"Of course, Father," she replied, bowing her head in deference. But within her, a spark of defiance had been ignited—a determination to seize control of her own destiny and to protect those she loved, no matter the cost.

As Mabyaku departed and the townsfolk returned to their revelry, Yuka stood at the edge of the room, her gaze fixed on the curtain that concealed the strangers. Their arrival had brought with it a sense of anticipation, a feeling that the world was about to change in ways she could not yet imagine.

The whispers began almost immediately, slithering through the hall like serpents on a hunt. The townsfolks' eyes darted towards the back room, their gazes curious and fearful as they clung to the curtain that separated them from the unknown. Yuka felt her own curiosity grow heavy within her, weighing down her heart with an unquenchable desire for answers.

"Yuka," Eme's voice was gentle but firm, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Come, we must tend to the strangers."

"Of course, Eme," Yuka replied, tearing her gaze away from the curtain and following the elderly healer. As they approached the back room, the whispers grew louder, reaching a cacophonous crescendo before subsiding into a hushed silence.

"Stay strong, Yuka," Eme whispered as they pushed past the curtain, entering the dimly lit chamber. "Remember, our duty is to heal, not to judge."

Inside the room, the two feverish strangers lay on a makeshift bed, their bodies slick with sweat and marred by cuts and bruises. Their faces were contorted in pain, their unconscious minds lost in a terrifying world of their own creation.

"Eme, how can we help them?" Yuka asked, her voice wavering slightly as she studied the strangers' wounds.

"First, we must clean their injuries and assess the damage," Eme replied, her eyes never leaving the strangers as she set to work beside Yuka. The air in the room was thick with tension, each breath a laborious struggle against the oppressive atmosphere.

"Who do you think they are?" Yuka whispered, her fingers brushing against a particularly deep cut on one of the stranger's arms. She winced at the thought of the pain he must have endured.

"Only time will tell," Eme murmured, her voice carrying a note of sadness. "For now, we must focus on healing them."

As they worked, the room seemed to close in around them, the shadows lurking in the corners growing more ominous with each passing moment. The strangers' labored breaths filled the air, their chests rising and falling in a slow, agonizing rhythm.

"Eme," Yuka said, her voice barely audible. "I can't help but feel that something... dark is at play here."

"Yuka," Eme began, her voice gentle but firm. "We cannot allow fear to cloud our judgment. We must remain strong and focused, for their sake and our own."

"Of course," Yuka replied, swallowing the uneasiness that threatened to choke her. She looked into Eme's eyes, finding solace in the warmth and wisdom that shone like stars in the darkness.

"Good," Eme smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Yuka's shoulder. "Now, let us finish our task and pray that these strangers find peace and healing within our care."

With renewed determination, Yuka and Eme continued their work, tending to the strangers' wounds as the whispers of the villagers echoed through the hall.

Yuka's eyes traced the contours of the strangers who lay on the woven mats, their unconscious forms still and peaceful. The taller one was an enigma, his shoulder-length hair a bright golden blonde that seemed almost ethereal against his sun-kissed skin. Even in repose, his muscular yet lean body bespoke a hidden strength, and Yuka couldn't help but be drawn to the novelty of his appearance.

A knucklebone shorter, the other stranger was no less intriguing. His hair was likewise golden blonde, but cropped close to his head, revealing the chiseled angles of his face. There was a raw power in the breadth of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps, that had Yuka pondering what he might be capable of.

"Eme," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she glanced at the elderly healer, "have you ever seen anyone like them?"

"Never in all my years, child," Eme admitted, her wrinkled hands deftly preparing a poultice for the strangers' wounds. "But we must not let our curiosity distract us from our duty. They need our care."

For several days, Yuka and Eme tended to the unconscious strangers, changing their bandages and administering healing herbs. Yuka found herself using the occasion to ponder about the two boys as a distraction from her impending betrothal – a union that she did not desire, but tradition dictated. She wondered where these strangers had come from, what stories they could tell, and whether they too were bound by the constraints of customs they did not agree with.

"Yuka?" Eme's gentle voice broke into her thoughts, causing her to startle.

"Sorry, Eme," Yuka responded sheepishly, tucking a strand of her reddish auburn hair behind her ear. "I can't help but wonder about them."

"Your heart is kind, child," Eme said softly, her eyes filled with understanding. "But remember that your own path must be tended to as well."

Yuka nodded, knowing that Eme was right. Yet, as she gazed upon the strangers' peaceful faces, she couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. Perhaps these men, who seemed so out of place in her world, were destined to bring change – not just for her, but for all of Fērizith.

"Thank you, Eme," Yuka murmured, determination shining in her green eyes. "I won't forget my duties, but I won't give up on my dreams either."

"Good," Eme smiled warmly. "Now, let's get back to work. We have much to do before they awaken."

Days turned into a haze of tending to the strangers and trying to keep her mind off her betrothal. The scent of medicinal herbs filled the room as Yuka prepared another round of poultices, her hands stained with crushed leaves and roots.

"Yuka, be mindful of your thoughts," Eme reminded her gently.

"Of course, Eme." Yuka nodded, focusing on the task at hand. Still, she couldn't help but steal glances at the unconscious men, their golden hair shimmering like sunlight against the drab backdrop of the room.

One day, as Yuka replaced the taller one's poultice, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes of an indescribable hue. She gasped, taken aback by their beauty. Was it blue? Some sort of grey?

"Hello there," she greeted hesitantly. "Can you understand me?" His gaze met hers, curiosity swimming in those strange eyes. But he did not speak.

"Who are you?" she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. Yet, still, he remained silent – his lips pressed together as if bound by an invisible thread.

"Can you... talk?" Yuka asked cautiously, concern etching her features. He blinked slowly, acknowledging her question but offering no answer.

Frustration bubbled within her, but she tamped it down, reminding herself that this man had only just awakened from a deep slumber. Perhaps he needed time to find his voice.

As if on cue, the second stranger stirred, his shorter golden hair mussed from sleep. He too locked eyes with Yuka, mirroring the same curious expression as his companion.

"Hello," Yuka greeted him, her heart pounding in her chest. "My name is Yuka. Can you tell me who you are?"

Like the taller one, he remained silent, his eyes darting between her and his friend. She furrowed her brow in confusion, watching as the two exchanged glances that seemed to speak volumes.

"Can neither of you talk?" she asked, a touch of desperation seeping into her voice. But no words came from the strangers, only those enigmatic gazes that held secrets Yuka couldn't begin to fathom.

"Eme!" Yuka called out, hoping for guidance. "I think they're both mute."

"Give them time, Yuka," Eme's voice floated back to her. "They may simply be frightened or disoriented."

"Who are you?" Yuka asked again, her voice soft and reassuring. "Please, we mean you no harm."

But the strangers remained silent, their eyes speaking a language Yuka couldn't understand. And though it frustrated her, she knew she must be patient – for the bond between them was fragile, and any sudden movement could send it shattering to the ground.

The room seemed to pulse with unspoken tension, the air filled with questions left unanswered. Yuka's breath hitched as she watched the strangers' silent exchange, her curiosity piqued but her patience wearing thin. It was then that the taller one finally broke the quiet, his voice a low rumble that echoed throughout the small hut.

"Yuka," he said, pointing at her with a long, slender finger. A flicker of surprise crossed through her emerald eyes, yet she remained stoic, waiting for him to continue.

"Theng," he uttered, tapping his own chest before gesturing towards his companion, whose gaze never wavered from Yuka's face. "Dīl."

"Theng and Dīl," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. A strange sense of relief washed over her as she committed their names to memory, though it did little to quench her thirst for understanding. But there would be time for that later, she told herself. For now, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

As if on cue, Eme shuffled into the room, her wrinkled hands clutching a small clay bowl filled with an earthy-smelling medicine. Her eyes, filled with warmth and wisdom, flicked between the two strangers and Yuka.

"Here," Yuka said, taking the bowl from Eme and offering it to Dīl. "It'll help you recover faster."

Dīl eyed the concoction suspiciously, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled its scent. He hesitated for a moment before lifting it to his lips, taking a tentative sip. Almost immediately, he spat it out, disgust twisting his handsome features.

"Ungrateful child," Eme chided, her usually gentle tone laced with irritation. "Do you not realize we're trying to help you?"

Theng watched the exchange with a solemn expression, his eyes flicking between Dīl and Yuka. With a sigh, he took the bowl from Dīl's hands, raising it to his lips without hesitation. He swallowed the medicine in one swift gulp, his face betraying no signs of displeasure. Then, with a nod towards Dīl, he encouraged him to do the same.

"Fine," Yuka thought, trying to suppress her annoyance. "Don't make this easy for us."

Dīl hesitated once more, but seeing Theng's unflinching gaze, he relented, swallowing the concoction with a grimace. The room seemed to exhale all at once, the previous tension dissipating into a fragile truce.

"Thank you," Yuka said softly, bowing her head in gratitude. "We will continue to care for you until you regain your strength."

Theng and Dīl locked eyes again, their silent conversation continuing as Yuka and Eme exchanged glances of their own – because while they had taken the first steps towards understanding these enigmatic strangers, there were still many miles left to tread.

"Yuka, could you bring them something to eat?" Eme asked, her hands busied with cleaning the now-empty bowl of medicine.

"Of course," Yuka replied, eager to be of help. As she exited the small hut, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of curiosity and frustration. Who were these strangers? And why wouldn't they talk?

The sun was setting as Yuka approached the town market. The warm glow bathed the bustling stalls in a golden light, casting long shadows on the ground. She took a deep breath, inhaling the rich scents of spices, roasted meats, and freshly baked bread that filled the air. After careful consideration, she purchased a variety of dishes that she hoped would be to the strangers' liking.

Upon returning to the hall, Yuka carefully arranged the food on a simple wooden tray. Theng and Dīl watched her cautiously, their eyes lingering on each dish as if trying to decipher its contents.

"Here," Yuka said gently, holding out the tray for them. "Please, eat."

The two men hesitated, exchanging glances before slowly reaching for the food. They nibbled tentatively at first, as if expecting it to be tainted or harmful. But as they continued to eat, their caution seemed to dissipate, replaced by an appreciation for the flavors and textures.

"Kunpa gashohyō kiteta ka?" Yuka asked softly in High Elven, hoping to coax some information from them, instead of her native tongue. Her question was met only with silence, save for the sound of their chewing.

Theng and Dīl remained silent, continuing to eat without acknowledging her questions. Yuka sighed, biting her lip in disappointment. She wondered what secrets they held, what stories were locked behind their mute facades.

"Yuka," said Eme softly, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps it is best to let them rest for now. They have been through much, and we must be patient."

Nodding reluctantly, Yuka took a step back from the strangers. As she watched them eat in silence, she couldn't help but wonder – would they ever reveal the truth of who they were and where they came from? Or would their secrets remain forever hidden, like whispers lost in the wind?