Jherog’s weary eyes scoured the fireside for Devra. He was more concerned about her than ever before. The last several weeks had been strange. There were days he’d felt her pulling away from him. When she was intently focused, she all but ignored him and spent most of her time with Gahllagh and the rest of the Riggans. She’d even spent a few nights at Gahllagh’s side, rather than his. Thankfully, it was in a shared space with the other Riggans, so he knew nothing was going on between them, but still, it upset him just the same. When she had excitedly informed him of their ‘new family’, Jherog had hoped he and Devra could act as their caretakers together, a sort of mother and father. But Devra made it abundantly clear, that the Riggans were hers and hers alone. And they accepted it without question, it seemed. They were practically hanging on her every word, doing her every bidding. It was odd and made Jherog very uncomfortable. Why was he suddenly the odd one out? Especially with regard to Gahllagh. He certainly seemed infatuated with her, and Jherog couldn’t deny the gnawing sense of jealousy he felt in his heart, an emotion he’d long forgotten and was now grappling with daily. But then there would be nights when it all faded away, as easily as the sun slipping behind the mountains at their backs. Not every night, but sporadically, and without reason, his darling Derina would return. And they’d have magical intimate nights filled with love and talk of their past, how they’d hid their love from Grodan and the rest of the village. How they’d always had to sneak away to be together. It was magical, but none of it made sense. And it had been six days since their last time together. It was the longest Jherog had gone without being with his Derina. He was growing impatient. His anger and jealousy amplified as each night passed. He wished he knew how to bring her back, but it was so random and mysterious. He couldn’t even talk to Devra about it. He’d tried to approach it a couple of times, but each time she acted as though he wasn’t making sense and knew nothing of it. And when he’d tried to push it further, she’d grown angry with him, the red and orange flames forming in her eyes as she yelled at him. It scared him and he vowed never to mention it again. Alone, he obsessed over it and her. It was all he could think about. He was determined to find a reason for the insanity of it all, and he finally came up with two possible rationalities. One, his love for Derina was so strong it knew no bounds and therefore some sort of power of the universe was working to give them more time together. Or two, Devra was truly in love with him but unsure how to navigate it, perhaps even concerned he couldn’t love her in return. So, she assumed the role of her mother to make her desire a reality. Perhaps because he was old enough to be her father. Or perhaps because she missed her mother so desperately. It made sense to him. Devra was fragile and misunderstood. Jherog had seen ample evidence of that in their time together. She was dealing with so many things. She had a lot on her mind. She often spoke of visions she was having, in which she is meant to bring ‘the light’ to all in Serenia. He’d overheard her discussing them with Gahllagh. He hated that she was confiding in the youngling instead of him, but feared divulging his eavesdropping. Perhaps there was a reason she was keeping things from him, keeping him at arm's length. His eyes finally fell on her, off to the side of the fire, almost covered in darkness, whispering with Gahllagh. She looked upset. Were her shoulders shaking? Was she crying? He tried to continue watching her without being too obvious, but it was difficult. He could see a few of the younglings staring at him. He wished they would mind their own business. Gahllagh suddenly wrapped his arms around Devra and she fell into him. Jherog couldn’t refuse the burst of anger that threw him to his feet and her side. He grabbed her by the elbow and forced her to walk with him.
“Jherog! What…?”
“Come with me,” he ordered, surprised by the tone in his voice. He marched her far enough away so as not to be heard by everyone else. He pulled her to stand in front of him and was pleased to see Gahllagh hadn’t followed. No one had. They were alone.
“What is the meaning of this?” She asked, attempting to sound severe and angry, but her voice betrayed her. He could hear something else. Was it fear?
“You need to tell me what’s going on,” he yelled in a whisper. “Enough of this…this…this inappropriate relationship with the boy.” Devra scoffed and moved away from him. Her face was immersed in darkness as she turned away from what little firelight reached them. “I’m the one who’s been here since the beginning. You told me to be with you, and I have been. In every way I can. Why isn’t that enough for you?” He hadn’t even known what he was going to say. The words simply poured out of him. He was shocked but also pleased. And scared. His stomach felt twisted, his legs weak, but he held himself up. He could hear Devra breathing, as though it was somewhat labored. He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her toward him again, but she resisted and pulled her arm away.
“Leave me be!” She shouted. Jherog quickly looked to ensure no one was coming to her rescue. He wouldn’t allow any interruption. He couldn’t. He needed answers.
“I will not,” he growled. “You’ve been pushing me out for too long now, while tormenting me…” he hesitated. Could he say it? He didn’t want to anger her, but he needed to know. Did she love him? Did she, Devra, daughter of Derina, his lost love, now love him and want to be with him? “Showing affection to that…boy. I will not have it.” She huffed a sort of laugh.
“Tormenting you?” She laughed. “You think you’re the one being tormented? That’s a laugh.”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” She tried to walk away and he pulled her back to him again. “Don’t you walk away from me,” he demanded. She almost fell back, but he caught her. The firelight finally fell across her face and he was shocked to see her eyes brimming with tears and a fear behind them. He immediately realized his grip, loosened it, and brought her in for a hug. “What is it?” He felt panicked. Had he hurt her? “Please tell me,” he begged. It took a moment, but she finally gave in to his embrace. She took a deep breath and the tears began to flow. He squeezed her and then took her by the arm, leading her even further away from the fire. She continued crying so voraciously, that she could barely catch her breath. Once far enough, he turned toward her, a gentle smile on his face as he softly wiped her tears from her cheeks. “What is it?” She shook her head, no.
“I can’t tell you,” she blurted. He felt a spurt of anger in his belly but pushed it down.
“Of course you can. Devra, it’s me! I’ve known you your whole life. You can tell me anything. Come on,” he took a deep breath, encouraging her to do the same. He wiped more tears from her face and kissed her forehead.
“I can’t explain it,” she finally whispered.
“But you can explain it to Gahllagh?” The words came out before he even knew he was speaking. And his tone was harsh. She looked up at him, a hurt and confused look on her face. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. He pulled her into an embrace and she finally seemed to relax. “There’s just so much I know you’re not telling me,” he explained.
“I’m not trying to hurt you or be secretive. I just have a lot to sort out in my mind before I can explain,” she confided. “But,” she pulled away from him and kept her eyes downcast. “There is one thing I want to show you.” He smiled at her.
“What is it?” She brought her hand up in between them, her palm facing the sky. At first, nothing happened. He was about to question her when he saw a strange flicker on or in her palm. He wasn’t sure which. It came and went so fast. “Devra…” he started but then stopped when the flicker grew. It was like a dark light, which didn’t make any sense. But it was the only way to describe what he was seeing. A strange ball of dark flames, giving off a faint light, suddenly formed in her hand. “Devra… what…” The ball grew to the size of his head and began to rise until it remained still, only a few inches from his face. It was beautiful and scary. He wanted to reach out and touch it but was afraid to. It was hypnotizing. He couldn’t stop staring at it. He wanted it to do more. He wanted to see it grow, shrink, explode…something. His temptation to touch it was beginning to strengthen when it suddenly vanished. He felt a sudden loss and had to shake it off in order to get back to the present. He looked down at Devra, but couldn’t read her expression. He smiled at her. “What was that?” He asked, a small laugh escaping. Devra shrugged.
“I discovered it only a few days ago,” she confided. He couldn’t deny he was hurt that she’d waited to tell him. “I just felt strange that day. I thought perhaps I was falling ill. I felt this unending itch and discomfort in my right hand. All day I’d been miserable. Do you remember?” Jherog searched his mind and nodded. That day, she had indeed been miserable. So much so, that she’d begged him to care for her that night, and that was the last night he’d been with his Derina. “When I woke the next morning, I felt different, as though something had changed within me.” Jherog hid a small smile to himself, certain he must have had something to with it, even if Devra didn’t know.
“When I woke up that morning, you were already gone. You’d left the bed, left our site. Even Gahllagh didn’t know where you’d gone.” Devra nodded.
“I’d hidden out in the forest somewhere.” Jherog’s face twisted with concern. “Not far,” she assured him. “I can never be too far from you,” she whispered and smiled. There it was, that cheeky smile, the alluring eyes that pulled him in each time. Though they were green, unlike her mother’s blue, somehow, they still pulled him in each time she gave him that look. “I thought I was going to be sick,” her smile faded. “And I didn’t want you to see.”
“Devra, you know that I don’t care about such things,” he assured her. “I…”
“I know, but I didn’t want you to see me like that. Thankfully, I wasn’t that ill. But the sensation in my hand had changed from itching to burning. It honestly felt like my hand was going to melt off my wrist. I didn’t know what to do. I tried cooling it with water and dirt, but nothing helped. Finally, I grew angry. My anger seemed to take over every inch of my body and then the flames just came.”
“What do you mean?”
“They just appeared. From my hand. As though my anger had willed it.”
“And now you can just conjure it at will?” Devra nodded, an excited smile spread across her face. Jherog returned the smile but felt a strange fear within him also. “What do you think it means?”
“I’m not certain. Yet.” She turned away from him. “Gahllagh has told me stories from his tribe, a sort of prophecy, he claims - where a being of great power is foretold to appear and save the Riggans.”
“Save them? From what? Each other?” He didn’t mean to laugh, but a small one escaped him. Throughout his life, he’d only heard stories about the Riggans being violent and dangerous creatures, always at war with one another. There was even a small part of him that wondered if the village where they’d first met Gahllagh and the others hadn’t simply been raided and destroyed by another Riggan tribe. He’d even mentioned it to Devra once, the very night they’d welcomed them. But she’d tossed the idea aside like spoiled mudberries.
“Their accomplishments and practices are much greater than you know,” she explained. “Their history is passed down from elder to youngling through stories.” Jherog nodded though he wasn’t as impressed as she seemed to be. “The most enduring and consistent one being about the being of power.”
“Is that so?” Devra nodded.
“They were told, hundreds of turns ago, that the end would come and the only way for it to be stopped was by the being of power. They were to come and bring the light to all,” she continued. Jherog remained silent. He didn’t know what to say. “The light, Jherog. Don’t you see?” He raised his eyebrows in question and she sighed. She raised her palm and conjured the ball of dark flames again. “The light,” she motioned to it with her eyes. “I am to bring the light.” Jherog almost wanted to laugh but thought against it. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it was all nonsense. He looked at the ball of flames and then back at her. Her eyes were filled with excitement. There was no way he could tell her that her ball of light appeared more like one of darkness. How could he? He smiled at her and brought a hand to her face.
“I always knew you were special,” he told her. “As did your mother, I’m sure.” Her eyes lit up even more as she closed her hand, extinguishing the ball of flames, and leaned into him. She suddenly stood on her tiptoes, kissed him on the lips, and pulled away with the biggest smile he’d seen on her face in ages. He wanted to pull her back in for another kiss, to feel her tongue against his, and their bodies connect, but he held himself back. “So, what next?” He asked.
“I will bring the light to all,” she answered. A small burst of flames appeared in her eyes and then was gone just as quickly. She turned to walk back to the fire. “And destroy any who refuse to revel in it.” Jherog couldn’t be sure he’d heard her correctly and wanted to ask her to clarify, but was afraid to. Besides, watching her walk away was too distracting, as was the lingering taste of her on his lips.
That night, Derina didn’t come to him, and Jherog couldn’t deny his devastation. He couldn’t avoid or ignore the tears that needed to fall so sobbed after Devra had fallen asleep. All he wanted was to be with his love. When he’d finally calmed down and felt sleep approaching, he’d hoped to dream of Derina. And he had, but they were haunting and disturbing, not comforting or pleasant in any way. Visions of Derina in fear and in pain flashed before him. She was yelling his and Grodan’s names out, convulsing and shaking. When he’d finally woken, he surmised it must have been an amalgamation of memories of her. Perhaps when he’d witnessed her being beaten and yelled at by Grodan, and calling for him. Or perhaps a memory of one of the few nights they’d been able to spend together in its entirety, wherein she’d fallen asleep and cried out Grodan’s name in fear from the nightmares. Grodan, growled internally. How he loathed the man. If he could see his death again, he’d pay handsomely for it. He’d always hated the smug and vile fool but found his hate was continuing to grow, even so long after his death. Jherog lay still in the bed with Devra, picturing himself torturing Grodan, twisting and breaking his limbs while Derina watched with nothing but love and admiration for him on her face. If only he’d done so in real life. If only he’d been able to protect her. Perhaps things would’ve turned out differently and he wouldn’t be lying next to her beautiful daughter he feared but also seemed to love. Perhaps if he’d been able to save Derina, as she’d begged him to so many times, he’d have actually been Devra’s father, and everything would be different. Better. Perhaps…
“Jherog?” Devra’s young voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts and jolted him back to reality. He quickly changed the gears of his mind and turned to smile at her, but she had a strange look on her face. “What are you doing?” He moved to turn toward her and felt his hand on himself. Embarrassed, he quickly pulled it away and stammered for an excuse.
“I… I’m sorry. I…” He couldn’t find any appropriate words. How could he explain without telling her too much? “I…” The fear and confusion on her face softened to kindness and understanding, though she didn’t move closer to him.
“It’s ok,” she told him.
“No, I…” he stammered and rose from the bed, dressing himself as quickly as possible.
“Jherog, you don’t have to leave,” she told him. He stopped and looked at her, hoping to see desire, affection, lust, love, anything. But found nothing but pity. “It’s ok,” she assured him. “I’m not angry. I just…” He sighed uncomfortably and waited for her to continue. She rose from under the sheets, dressed only in her almost transparent undergarment. He felt the desire in him grow stronger, almost unbearably so. She moved toward him on her knees. Were her lips puckered? Was she going to kiss him? “I know what you want,” she said, and then she swung her legs from underneath her to sit and covered herself back up with the sheets. “And I’m sorry, I…” He didn’t even let her finish. He turned and stormed out of the room. “Jherog!” She yelled after him but he ignored her. As soon as he made it out into the sun, he ran. Surely she was doing it on purpose. Teasing him. Tormenting him. But why? He couldn’t make any sense of it. Was he losing his mind? Why was it all he could think about? He finally stopped to catch his breath.
“Jherog?” He turned, hoping to see Devra, but found Gahllagh. “Are you alright?” Jherog could see what appeared to be genuine concern in his eyes and it simply made him angrier. How dare this boy try and console him when he was a part of the complications that lay between him and his true love? How dare he! “Did something happen?” Jherog found himself shaking his head, no. Gahllagh looked confused. “Is Derina okay?” Jherog felt his breath leave him. What did he just ask? He wanted to strangle him. He felt his eyes scouring the ground at his feet, though he didn’t know what he was searching for. How else could he know that name unless he’d lain with her as he had?
“Who?” He asked and Gahllagh looked even more confused.
“Devra. Is she okay?” Jherog could’ve sworn that wasn’t what he’d said.
“Devra?” he repeated and he saw Gahllagh nod out of the corner of his eye. His eyes fell on a bundle of thick sticks on the ground. He walked over to it and Gahllagh watched him.
“I’m fine. She’s fine,” he promised, as he knelt down and rifled through the bunch to find what he was looking for.
“Alright then,” Gahllagh sounded relieved. “Glad to hear it. You just… you ran out of there so fast, I thought…”
Jherog wasn’t even listening to him anymore. Gahllagh rambled on as Jherog continued searching. Finally, he found it. It was the perfect length, the perfect width, and the end was just sharp enough that it would really hurt. He smiled, stood, and turned to face Gahllagh and Gahllagh stopped talking. He looked at Jherog and then the stick. Jherog realized he would have to be quick about it. He moved to run toward him and all went red.
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Ⓒ June 2023. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.