The Valley of Lies
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Chapter One: Liss
Everyone knew lying was the gravest sin a Darkbane elf could commit. But Liss wasn’t a liar, not really. She was a collector and a dreamer.
The night before her sixteenth birthday, she stayed up late sketching runes she’d found years ago in an old tome from Before—a time when her clan still lived free, before their goddess punished them for their sins. Before the isolation of Cradelow Valley became all they knew.
Before the storms…
“What’s that one for?” her friend Dev asked, leaning across his cot beside hers in the Juniors Cottage, the communal housing barracks the older clan kids shared.
Liss glanced around the room, sturdy timber-and-stone construction built to withstand the valley’s volatile weather. The other juniors in their cots were asleep or seemed to be. Even better, the carer assigned to monitor them had their back turned and their head buried in their own book.
“This one,” she whispered, adding a final touch to the rune, “alters appearances.”
Dev leaned closer, his brown eyes winking in the dimness like the stars they rarely saw shining over the valley. “Like a changeling’s magic?”
“No,” she said. “Like ours.”
She blew the loose layer of charcoal off the rune, then studied her handiwork. The sketchbook paper was curled and stained with age, as any decent treasure should be. She’d found it years ago among the old storybooks in the Children’s Cottage, shortly after finding the tome of runes. No one had stolen either book or made her share them—probably because no one else had wanted them, with their musty smell and brittle pages. But Liss had grown fond of things from Before.
“Well?” Dev nudged. “What do you mean, it’s like our magic?”
She heard the words he didn’t say: Our magic doesn’t exist. Not anymore.
“This is more subtle than changeling magic,” she said, pushing her long white hair behind her shoulders. Lightning crashed in the distance, punctuating her words. “It might turn your dark hair blond or your eyes blue. It might give you a perky nose or sharpen your jaw. It might even give you some facial hair.” She grinned at his resulting scowl. “Who knows? With enough minor changes, one could create a remarkable difference.”
“Remarkable, huh?” Dev tilted his chin, running a hand along his jaw.
“Oh, don’t be such a boy.”
“Then don’t be such a girl,” he grumbled.
What did that mean?
He’d been so touchy lately. She supposed it was because he was becoming a man. There was no stubble yet, but he was already one of the tallest in the clan. Pretty soon, the Council would require him to pair off and become a Seed. She wouldn’t become a Bearer for a few years yet, but the thought turned her stomach.
The so-called sacred blessing sounded more like a curse to her. She didn’t want to carry a baby inside her or bear anyone’s child, and she didn’t want Dev becoming anyone’s Seed.
It was a bleak future she hated to think about, even as it crept closer day after day.
The glow of a lantern swept across the walls, pulling her from her thoughts. She tensed, slipping her sketchbook under her pillow as the light fell on her and the carer marched toward them.
“What were you two chatting about?” Though shadows hid the woman’s face, there was no mistaking her tone. She would have the truth, or they’d face the Council in the morning. “Come on, out with it.”
Dev shifted. His cot creaked beneath his weight. “Oh, just the usual, you know?”
“Silly things,” Liss agreed. It wasn’t a lie—exactly.
“Our apologies, ma’am.”
The lanternlight flashed between them, hot and assessing. “I saw you writing something. Hand it over.”
Liss forced a quiet chuckle and reached under her pillow, withdrawing her sketchbook. But not the one filled with runes.
The carer snatched it from her hands and riffled through the pages. “What are these scribbles supposed to be?”
Liss shrugged, casual as anything. “That one there is a hogwi. But I can never get their snouts right. It looks more like a fat rodent. Don’t you think?”
The sketchbook snapped shut and landed on her cot.
“Tomorrow’s your Sixteenth, girl. This behavior ends tonight. Do you understand?” The carer pointed at each of them with the lantern, a thinly veiled threat. Don’t let me catch you again. “Go to sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dev nodded, dragging his blanket over his legs.
Liss said nothing, just watched the woman direct her flame elsewhere and walk away. She tried to recall the carer’s name—Kita, or was it Kina? It didn’t matter. Carers were all the same.
After another minute, she lay down with a sigh. The faint mineral aroma of rain hung in the air, a familiar balm on her nerves. “Now, remember, Dev, try not to talk in your sleep. It’s against the law.”
“Shh,” he muttered. “I don’t.”
“I beg to differ. And according to the Council, we’re damned if I lie, so...”
“Stop, Liss. Please. You’re getting too bold with all your trinkets and comments. I’ll do my best to protect you, but think of the future. We’re not kids anymore. Soon enough—”
“I don’t need your protection,” she hissed, then lowered her voice. “Soon enough, everything changes. I know, and I hate it. I wish it was like Before.”
“Well, it’s not. Your runes are pretty, but they can’t help you. You’ll never change your face and walk out of here. Before is gone, and so is magic.”
She snorted. “Says who?”
Dev twisted onto his side to face her. “You know exactly who. Goddess, just listen to yourself. The carer was right; we should sleep. Tomorrow is—”
“I know what it is. And if you’d read the old stories, you wouldn’t care so much about it either. Haven’t you ever wondered if the Council is right? About what’s beyond the mountains?”
The persistent thunder muffled their voices, but it was dangerous to voice such thoughts, especially with the carer across the room. Probably still eyeballing them.
“There’s nothing out there,” he said softly. “Only desolation and storms.”
It was the same story the Council had fed the clan since they’d gotten stuck in the valley, over three hundred years ago. But Liss wasn’t convinced.
“We can talk about this tomorrow.” Dev tugged his blanket up to his shoulders. “Meet me by the stream after your Sixteenth.”
She didn’t want to go to her Sixteenth ceremony, to stand there as Elder Fex claimed any act or utterance of deceit would rain down destruction on the clan—that their goddess, Hona, had decreed it so at the end of Before to punish their ancestors’ pride and arrogance.
It made no sense, this narrative of a tyrannical, vengeful goddess who supposedly loved them.
“Dev?” she whispered.
His answering yawn was fuzzy with sleep. “What?”
“Will you walk with me to the ceremony? Rana said Elder Fex has an announcement.”
“Rana is a gossip.” He was right, of course. But what if Rana was right, too?
She ran a hand across the smooth surfaces of her sketchbooks, an old, comforting habit. “Please?”
“I thought you didn’t need my protection,” he grumbled.
“I don’t. I’m asking for your support. It’s different.”
“All right.” He reached out an arm, tapping the beam of lumber below her feather mattress. “And for the record, I planned on walking with you. I was just giving you a hard time.”
“I know.” She wanted to smile like she usually did when he teased her, but it seemed impossible.
It was true—after tonight, everything would change. And she feared that the narrow path laid out for her would prove nothing more than a dark dead end.
But that wouldn’t stop her from trying to find a little light.