Chapter One Fracture

Chapter One Fracture

Olilly Emmylian

Eastern Realm Sublands

Olilly jolts to attention as a regiment of dour-looking Vu Trin soldiers march into the city-size Eastern Subland cavern.

Their boots thud martially against the stone of the broad, elevated ledge before her. Wide-eyed, she looks on, along with

thousands of other Western Realm refugees and Smaragdalfar as well as smatterings of Noi citizens who have taken shelter here

since the Magedom’s attack on Voloi.

Their surrounding tents and rough-hewn dwellings form a threadbare underground metropolis, everything lit by the green glow

of countless Varg runes marked on the cavern’s stone. Large roots wind around huge, black-opal stalactites hanging from high

above like a sea of spears. Olilly’s boyfriend, Kirin, and her friends Nym’ellia and Effrey stand beside her, along with Sagellyn

Za’Nor’s teenage sisters, Clover and Retta, and Nym’ellia’s little sister, Tibryl.

Olilly reaches for Kirin’s hand at the same moment he reaches for hers, the young teens’ fingers protectively interlacing

as Olilly’s heart patters, hummingbird fast. She meets Kirin’s dark gaze in a shared look of unspoken alarm, the sharp planes

of his face illuminated by their underground world’s emerald light.

The Vu Trin halt in neat rows on the huge ledge, the only sound the constant chorus of coughing from those with the Red Grippe,

scattered all around. A commanding soldier strides forward, the woman’s dark hair bound in ropy coils, two curved runic swords

sheathed at her sides, a row of silver runic battle stars strapped across her chest. She lifts a rune-marked palm, and a sapphire

voice-amplification rune blinks to life before her, suspended just beneath her chin.

“We are here to facilitate the immediate evacuation of all Noi citizens to the Noi Sunlands,” she booms, her military-stern voice echoing off the purple-veined black opal stone. “By order of the Noilaan’s newly re-formed and named Vo Conclave,” she continues, “we extend an offer of Noi citizenship to all Smaragdalfar Elves who pledge fealty to the Vo Conclave and the Goddess Vo on High.” She scans the sea of people, her expression unforgiving. “All others who immigrated here from the West are ordered to immediately return to your Western Realm countries.”

Distressed murmuring breaks out, then angered shouting as Olilly’s stomach drops through the floor. Kirin’s grip firms around

hers as the hostile tension gains steam.

The newly appointed leader of the Smaragdalfar, Fyon Hawkkyn, strides past Olilly, Kirin, Nym’ellia, and Effrey, making his

way toward the Vu Trin soldiers at a fast clip, anger radiating off of him in palpable waves. He halts just before the ledge,

draws his emerald-glowing stylus, and swiftly conjures an amplification rune of his own.

“What is the meaning of this?” Fyon challenges, tone incensed. He jabs his emerald-patterned finger at the ground beneath

his feet. “This is sovereign Smaragdalfar territory. And our monarch, Ra’Ven Za’Nor, has opened the Sublands to those fleeing the Western Realm’s atrocities.”

“Your ‘monarch,’ ? ” the soldier bites back, “has proved to be a traitor to this Realm.”

A sea of shocked murmuring goes up as Fyon’s stance tenses, and dread ripples through Olilly’s core.

“Ra’Ven Za’Nor and his Crow consort, Sagellyn Gaffney,” the Vu Trin soldier continues, “have allied with the Magedom’s Black

Witch, Elloren Gardner Grey.”

Another wave of audible shock flashes through the entire cavern.

“Your people,” the Vu Trin soldier levels at Fyon, “were most graciously granted temporary jurisdiction over Noilaan’s Sublands. Our Vo Conclave has deemed Noilaan is for the Noi , both the Sunlands above and the Sublands below. Which means you are standing on sovereign Noi territory . As Noilaan’s ruling force, we insist on the immediate expulsion of Western Realm refugees, the creation of a Subland runic barrier to wall off the ongoing invasion

of Westerners, and a pledge of fealty to Vo’s Blessed Vo Conclave and the Goddess Vo on High. Or the Smaragdalfar, too, will

be expelled from Noilaan.”

“This is the Goddess Oo’na’s sacred ground!” an enraged-looking Smaragdalfar woman near Olilly snarls. The woman levels a

finger up at the thick masses of roots winding around the sea of gleaming black-opal stalactites. “These are Oo’na’s roots!

Not your dragon goddess’s!”

Shouts of agreement boom out.

“The Smaragdalfar have one day to comply if they wish to be granted Noilaan’s most generous offer of citizenship,” the soldier

stresses to Fyon, ignoring the woman’s outburst and the rise of livid voices. “Defy us, and we will take military action to

reclaim our sovereign land.”

Fyon and the Smaragdalfar soldiers draw Varg swords as one, and the Vu Trin respond in kind, a screech rending the air as

they unsheathe countless curved swords in a flash of sapphire. Olilly’s alarm threatens to tilt into panic as sounds of anger

surge, and she and Effrey exchange a dire glance.

Mora’lee unexpectedly leaps forward toward the Vu Trin, Ra’Ven and Sagellyn’s purple-hued Icaral toddler, Fyn’ir, hugged close

to her chest. She swiftly raises a stylus and conjures an amplification rune before her.

“We can’t go to war with each other!” Mora’lee cries out.

Two of the Urisk children she’s caring for—Sage and Ra’Ven’s adopted daughter, pink-hued Fern, and Mora’s recently adopted

daughter, little blue-hued Ghor’li—rush forward to clutch hold of Mora’s tunic’s edge, stark fear on the young children’s

faces. “We need to stand together ,” Mora’lee insists, looking pointedly at the toddler in her arms and the two children at her sides, “and with all those fleeing

the Magedom’s madness!” Mora gestures all around. “Many here have fallen ill with the Grippe. They need medicine , not expulsion from the Realm!”

“All Noi citizens who wish to remain citizens,” the Vu Trin Commander booms out, paying no heed to Mora’lee, “are hereby ordered to come with us. Now. ”

Olilly watches, stunned, as most of the Noi citizens who were sheltering in the Sublands after Vogel’s siege on Voloi surge

forward, many dragging their fearful, crying children. Olilly is overcome by a sense of the whole world coming undone, everything

spinning into dangerous chaos.

“Kirin...” Olilly stammers, her hand trembling in his.

Kirin pivots to face her, electrifying energy in his eyes that Olilly feels jolting straight down her spine, the spark of

rebellion there stronger than anything she’s yet seen in him. “I won’t leave you ,” he states. “And I won’t let them drive you back West.”

“Kirin, get over here. Now! ” Kirin’s belligerent father growls.

Olilly’s and Kirin’s attention snaps to Kirin’s father, Zosh Lyyo, the Noi man’s eyes set on Olilly with an eviscerating level

of hate.

Kirin makes no move to let go of Olilly’s hand, his face a mask of fury. “No,” he growls back at his father. “This is wrong . They have nowhere else to go . Wasn’t it you who taught me about Vo’s compassion for those without shelter?”

“Vo’s compassion is for Her Vo’lon followers!” his father snarls. “Not for Western filth !”

“Vo’s compassion is for everyone ,” Kirin counters before turning to Olilly once more. “I will not leave you,” he vows, his voice shaking with passion as boots sound and Vu Trin soldiers begin to stream down from the ledge,

surrounding the cavern on all sides, other Vu Trin ushering the Noi citizens toward a tunnel leading to the Sunlands. Kirin

is undaunted. “I will stay and fight with you against the Magedom’s Shadow forces and the Vu Trin if I have to!”

“Take hold of my son,” Zosh Lyyo spits out to the nearest Vu Trin, gesturing sharply toward Kirin. “He’s too young to know

what’s at stake here.”

One of the soldiers angles her sword at Kirin, and sapphire ropes fly from its runes, instantly binding him, his hand wrested

from Olilly’s as he’s reeled in.

“Kirin!” Olilly cries as she lunges for him only to be held back by both Nym’ellia and Effrey as Kirin kicks and wrestles against

his bindings.

“Olilly!” Kirin frantically yells.

“Silence yourself!” Kirin’s father slashes back at him. “Noilaan is for the Noi !”

“Noilaan is for all !” Kirin defiantly levels back at him, eyes wild. He wrenches his gaze to Olilly’s. “I will find you!” he vehemently promises.

“And I will fight with you! NOILAAN FOR ALL! ”

A sob shudders through Olilly’s throat as soldiers close in around Kirin and he continues to cry out, “Noilaan for all!” His screams are soon muffled as he’s dragged onto the ledge, then through a stony corridor, his voice becoming barely audible,

then gone, along with most of the soldiers and almost all the Noi citizens.

Devastation clenching her heart, Olilly is barely aware of Effrey’s and Nym’ellia’s grips growing gentler around her arms

as they try to convey the danger here.

Fern erupts into hysterical sobbing, the child’s pain like a blade, twisting in Olilly’s chest.

“I want Mamma Sage!” Fern chokes out to Mora’lee as the child grips her threadbare cloth doll, which has Fern’s same pink

braids and hue. “And Papa Ra’Ven! Where are they ?”

“We’ll do everything we can to get you back to them,” Mora’lee croons, a forced calmness to her features as she comes down

to one knee and embraces Fern while both Fyn’ir and Ghor’li break into terrified wails, as well.

Feeling like she’s coming apart at the seams, Olilly shrugs off Nym’ellia and Effrey and stumbles away from her friends toward a small outcropping of onyx stalagmites rising from the floor, her gaze hooking on an outgrowth of purple crystal affixed to one of the conical formations, something deep inside her straining toward it. She shambles over and breaks it off from the stalagmite.

A tingle kicks up over Olilly’s skin as she runs her thumb over it, something trapped inside her sparking to life, as it always

does when she handles purple stones.

Her friends close in beside her, and Olilly catches the looks of concern in Effrey’s and Nym’ellia’s purple and green gazes,

as well as in the eyes of gentle Retta and ferocious Clover. A trembling Tibryl hugs Nym’ellia’s side, and the child’s vulnerability

sparks the rise of courage inside Olilly.

“I’m done crying,” Olilly tells them all, her gaze fixed on the crystalline rock. “Powerless or not, they won’t send me or

anyone we care about back to the West without a fight. Are you with me?” She glances pointedly at Tibryl, then looks at Nym’ellia,

Effrey, Clover, and Retta full on, noticing the amethyst already gripped in Effrey’s hand.

“We’re with you,” Effrey vows, a subtle aura of violet crackling to life around the young Strafeling geomancer, Effrey’s resolve

mirrored in Nym’ellia’s, Clover’s, and even timid Retta’s expressions.

Hundreds of huge Varg runes suddenly blast to life, suspended just below the huge cavern’s ceiling, yanking Olilly and her

friends’ attention upward as shocked gasps resound. Ropes of glowing emerald blink into existence to connect the suspended

runes, forming a huge net above them, the smaller Varg runes marked all over the cavern’s expanse and on every Varg weapon

blinking out of existence.

“What is this?” Mora calls out to Fyon as she hugs the crying children close. “And why have our weapons lost their charge?”

Fyon curses as he scans the netted ceiling. “It would appear Noilaan has taken hold of the Varg power-siphoning runes we fabricated

for their defense,” he grits out. He lowers his gaze, giving Mora a grim look. “They’re using our own power to trap us here.

To turn the entire Sublands into a prison.”