Chapter 1: An Inner Light

Lila Doyle wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she hauled a full bucket of water up from the depths of the well in the middle of the small farmyard. Gathering her skirts with her free hand, she carried the bucket to the large barn to water the animals inside.

Lila set the bucket down for a moment while she heaved the heavy barn doors open, then scurried inside before they could close on her. Even once her eyes became used to the darkness, Lila could barely make out the form of the two large draft horses in front of her. Reflexively, she glanced to the wall where the lantern hung, unlit for the last seven years. Swallowing slightly, Lila tore her eyes away from the dark shape. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block the images that shape always conjured.

Suddenly a light permeated her eyelids, and she opened them in surprise. Looking down, she realized the bright bluish-white light was coming from her own hands. She dropped the bucket she had been clutching; although water sloshed over the top it managed to land upright, but Lila hardly noticed. Two small spheres of light were emanating from the palms of her hands, illuminating the entire barn.

Lila stared in wonderment and shock at the light. Where had it come from? Was it coming from her? How had she made it? What did it mean? All those questions raced through her mind as she stared at the spheres, transfixed.

Then another question occurred to her: how would she make them go away?

She tried to steady her breathing as she plunged her hands into the waiting bucket of water, but instead of quenching the light, it magnified it, reaching out to every corner of the barn.

Lila lifted her shaking hands out of the water and the light subsided slightly. Gingerly, she touched one of the glowing spheres with a fingertip, but it simply laced through the light, offering nothing but a slight coolness at her touch.

She steadied her breathing again and clenched her hands into fists as she squeezed her eyes shut. The light did not seep through her eyelids, but she did not dare open her fists for fear it would still be there. She tried to imagine the spheres growing smaller and smaller, until finally winking out, but she did not quite believe it would work.

Finally, Lila opened her eyes and pried a finger away from the palm of her hand. They were back to normal. There was nothing wrong with her.

She wanted to believe that she had imagined the lights, but in her heart she knew they were real. She knew she was abnormal. And she knew what that meant for her and her family.

Trying to wipe away those thoughts with the water dripping from her hands, Lila hastily rubbed her palms on her skirt and finished feeding and watering the animals, spending some extra time with her own horse, Astacus, the large ebony draft that her father had given her. His brother beside him, Cheiron, belonged to Lila’s brother Thomas.

Thomas would not think her abnormal. But her younger brother would never think ill of her. To him, his sister was an angel. If only he knew the truth.

Lila made her way back out to the intolerable heat of the farmyard. Glancing up at the cloudless sky, she vainly wished for rain. The crops were all suffering, and even the animals’ water was running thin. If it did not rain soon, it would bode ill for them and all the farmers around them.

As though in response to Lila’s musings, clouds suddenly began to form, almost directly above her, spiraling out nearly to the horizon. She watched in shock as they grew darker, heavy with rain.

“Just a coincidence,” She murmured after a fat raindrop fell from the sky onto her face, shaking her out of her reverie. Lila dropped the empty bucket and made a dash for the house just before the sky opened up. Fighting against the growing wind, she pushed the door shut and leaned against it, trying to catch her breath.

“Could I have done that?” She breathed, squeezing her eyes shut against the growing nausea in her gut.

“Do what?” A female voice asked from across the room, making Lila jump.

Her mother was staring at her quizzically from her place near the fireplace, rocking chair stilled and knitting forgotten in her lap. Sandra Doyle looked older than her years, but Lila still remembered her mother as a relatively young woman, with flowing golden locks and deep brown eyes. Her hair was now streaked with silver and there were fine lines around those eyes, but time had ravaged her temperament more than her looks. She had been jaded by the loss of her happiness, and she took it out on her eldest daughter. Sandra’s eyes narrowed and she began puffing herself up like a bird.

“What did you do now, Lila?” Suddenly her mouth went slack with shock. “And what—what is wrong with your eyes?”

Lila suddenly became aware that she could feel that her eyes, usually sky blue, were now brown. She had no idea how she knew, but despite this knowledge, she ran over to the mirror hanging over the fireplace, a gift from her late grandmother for her only son’s marriage.

Eyes darker than her mother’s stared out at Lila from her face, but those eyes were not hers.

My eyes are blue. Blue! Not brown!

Lila began blinking furiously, vainly hoping that would be enough to dispel the oddity, and she sensed her mother take a cautious step toward her. Lila opened her eyes again only to find they were even darker than before. She began shaking despite herself. She looked into the mirror at the reflection of her mother, her features twisted with fright, just like Lila’s own.

“What did you do?” Sandra whispered furiously as she stared in horror at her daughter.

“I didn’t--I don't know! I didn't do anything!” Lila wailed as tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. She struggled in vain to keep her composure in front of her mother.

Why is this happening to me? What is going on? What am I?

Lila turned and pleaded silently with her mother, who was still standing there immobile, staring at her. Suddenly Sandra raised her arm and struck Lila across the face, hard, bringing her unshed tears to the surface. Lila rubbed at her cheek as she glared incredulously at her mother. She suddenly realized that her eyes were back to their normal blue, but knowing that could not overcome her shock at her mother’s actions.

“What are you—”

“Witch,” Her mother hissed sharply as she began to back away. “You’re a witch. That is the only explanation.”

Lila flinched more at her mother’s words than her strike. She had always dreaded hearing that word. If someone publicly accused her of practicing witchcraft, Lila, and anyone associated with her, would burn at the stake to purify them. Anyone could accuse her. Even her own mother. But unfortunately, the accusation would not necessarily save her mother from the stake either.

“Mother, I am not—”

“Just like her. You’re just like that witch Rose!”

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“Mother, Grandmother was not—”

They both jumped as the door banged open, admitting her two younger sisters, Faith and Hope, both soaking wet from the storm outside. The twins smiled up at their sister and mother, but those smiles soon slipped as they realized the tension in the room.

“What’s wrong?” Faith asked.

“Did something happen?” Hope inquired right on top of her twin sister.

“Did someone get hurt?” Faith gasped.

“Is it Thomas? Is Thomas okay?” Hope cried.

“Everything is fine!” Sandra nearly shouted once she could get a word in. She glared slightly at Lila, but swept past her and hurried over to the two young girls.

“Both of you need to get out of these wet things, or you’ll catch your death. Go on, go, change into something dry and be quick about it. Supper will be ready soon.”

“But Mama, we—” Hope began petulantly.

“I won’t hear it. Now go,” Sandra said with a tone of mild annoyance, which was more than enough to send the girls on their way.

Once the twins had disappeared up the stairs, Sandra returned to her chair. Lila couldn’t seem to move, so she settled on staring into the fire even though it made her want to cringe. She let the silence stretch until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Mother, you know if you accuse me you will only be condemning your—”

“I know, Lila,” Her mother interrupted. “I’m not simple.”

Sandra returned to her knitting and for a while there was silence again save for the clicking of the needles. After a long silence her mother suddenly spoke; though softly, there was no mistaking the venom in her voice.

“I think it’s time you found yourself a husband and moved on, Lila.”

Lila’s head whipped toward her mother with surprise. “But I’m only sixteen years old!”

“And that’s plenty old enough to find a husband. You know I was your age when I married Deryc.”

“F-father?” Lila whispered.

Sandra looked up from her knitting, and her expression was one of bewilderment. Had she not meant to say anything about Lila’s father?

“Father?” Faith chimed as she bounded down the stairs.

“Oh Lila, you haven’t spoken of Father in such a long time. Do you have another story for us?” Hope added, right on her sister’s heels.

Lila and her mother exchanged glances—Lila’s abashed, her mother’s heated. But then Lila’s shame suddenly melted away, as all the shocks of the day had seemed to embolden her. Or numb her. She smiled softly at her sisters.

“I’ve told you what he was like. Brave, strong, caring. Much like Thomas; I suspect he will be just like him as he gets older. But Mother, you haven’t spoken of Father in years. Do you not remember him fondly?”

Sandra was the picture of barely controlled rage, her hands balled into fists and twisted in the knitting on her lap. She glared vehemently at her eldest daughter.

“How dare you speak of my Deryc in such a way! Have you no respect?”

“Of course I do! You’re not the only one who is still mourning him, Mother!”

“His murderer should not be allowed to mourn him!”

Her mother’s words hit Lila in the gut like a blacksmith’s hammer. Murderer. It was worse than witch. Faith and Hope were staring at the two of them, their mouths open in shock at the sudden heated exchange. After a moment that seemed an eternity, Lila was finally able to move again, and grabbed her cloak from the hook on the back of the door.

“I have to—I have to go,” She said, and then swept out the door without another word, leaving her mother glaring at nothing.

***

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