Echoes of Starlight

Rhea took her first full breath of the day as she walked out into the middle of the gardens, surveying the health and beauty of her closest friends and confidants.

The air was thinner and dryer in this cavern, despite the damp soil and the various pools that water had been funneled into throughout the rainy season to water the plants in the upcoming summer. It was also one of the few places that had multiple large shafts high up above, allowing shards of sunlight to pierce through the ground and bathe the soil in warmth and light. The majority of the cave’s inhabitants lived further down in the cave system and were shrouded in perpetual darkness, broken up only by the flickering flame of candles.

Rhea knew she was lucky to live closer to the surface than others, due to the position afforded to her stepfather as the leader of Ered. However, since the death of her father, there had been little light and laughter within the home she now shared with her mother, stepfather, and half-sister, Wren. Rhea’s father had died when she was only 5 years old and her mother had been forced to remarry quickly. Her stepfather always told Rhea she should be grateful to him for marrying her mother when she already had a child with another man and was losing the beauty of youth; without him, they would be living in the darkest recesses of the cave lacking the privileges that had been granted to them.

This mindset, viewing women as the property of men had permeated those in charge of the cave in recent decades affecting the atmosphere of the whole community. Rhea was deeply unsettled when listening to these men talk, but one look at her mother’s pleading eyes had her lowering her eyes and avoiding being in the same room with her stepfather as much as possible. That was how Rhea found herself here on her birthday.

It was almost midday, the light streaming through the openings and warming Rhea to the brisk spring air as she walked up and down the rows of plants tending to the weeds and pruning as she went. Ever since she was a child, Rhea was blessed with a green thumb and had quickly been put into the employ of Edith, Ered’s head healer, to learn how to tend to the gardens that offered the community of several hundred humans their main source of food and medicine.

Rhea continued to the small field of lavender where she paused to enjoy the fragrant scent and feel the sunlight warm her skin. The light caught in her long auburn hair, making the red that was so similar to her father’s hair, shine like a dancing flame. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back towards the unseen sky far above.

Singing under her breath, Rhea picked up the basket she had brought from home and walked to the edge of the cavern where they grew wildflowers to attract insects to help pollinate their crops and as a source of food for the bees that produced wax needed for candles and honey.

She ran her hands through the flowers, selecting a few to add to a small vase for their dinner table that night. She was coming of age today as she turned 18 and her mother would prepare a special meal for her. Thinking of the joy that would be evident on her half-sister’s face when she saw the flowers and food, Rhea smiled to herself but immediately grimaced when the motion reminded her of the lingering pain of her injuries on her face. It had been a week, but the bruising remained in stark contrast on her pale skin.

Rhea was at her worktable near the fire while her mother worked next to her putting the final touches on their dinner when her stepfather returned home.

“Welcome home, father,” Rhea muttered.

To Rhea’s horror, he had forbidden her from calling him ‘stepfather’ and immediately after marrying her mother tried erasing Rhea’s real father from their memories.

Without answering her, he threw his jacket to the table leaving it for Rhea to pick it up, knocking over glass jars and dried lavender in the process, before walking to his study in the back of their living quarters. Rhea rushed to pick up his mess and then continued to fuss with the dried flowers she had picked a few days ago and had set out to dry to later make various salves for healing rashes and small burns and helping those suffering insomnia. She was separating the dried flowers and oil into the jars she had organized when she heard a shout and then a crash from her stepfather’s study.

Dropping the bowl of flowers she had been holding, Rhea ran to the study to see her stepfather towering over her little sister, Wren who was cowering in front of his desk trying to hide her face. Her big blue eyes were round with fear as she looked up at Rhea from behind her hands while her short golden curls stuck up around her face in a mess. She was wearing trousers with rips at the knees and a shirt that used to be white, but now appeared to be yellowish brown with stains around the too-long rolled sleeves and at the collar.

Looking down, Rhea saw that books were scattered on the floor in front of Wren. They were her stepfather’s most prized possessions-relics from the past before humans were forced to hide out in old Forest Fae temples that had been carved within caves formed from ancient volcanoes that now slept dormant. The temples had been abandoned several thousand years ago, and the mountains in which they lay were deemed too inhospitable and treacherous to travel over their steep passes even in the warmer seasons. But the Humans, betrayed by their allies in the Great War were forced to surrender their kingdom and flee to safety in hopes of being forgotten and left alone by the ruthless Fae. Before the Great War, the books would have been acclaimed for their rich detailing of Fae and Human history, culture, and art, but since the betrayal caused their flight to these dreadful caves, the books had since been banned, only to be studied by the cave elders.

Wren, always the curious one, had been constantly getting into trouble since she learned to walk from sneaking into places she wasn’t supposed to be or following and listening in on private conversations. Most recently, she had taken up the habit of sneaking into her father’s study fascinated by the adventures detailed within the stories. Rhea had tried to stop her, but Wren never took no for an answer and was determined to seek out answers to anything that piqued her interest.

“You spoiled little brat! How many times do you need to be warned to stay out of my things?” Her stepfather’s tirade continued and when he lifted his hand to strike Wren, Rhea hurried to throw herself in front of Wren. Rhea couldn’t stand to see her 7-year-old sister hurt, no matter the consequences for herself. The blow came suddenly and violently against her cheek, causing her to fall to the floor with a cry.

“And you. Always stepping in to protect this worthless child. Fine, she’ll watch you receive her punishment,” he spat at Rhea before striking her again, connecting with her mouth, and splitting her lip open.

Wren whimpered behind Rhea, begging, “Please stop! Please I won’t do it again, I promise!”

Rhea sat up slowly shushing Wren and pushing her farther behind her before looking up at her stepfather’s face. She could taste blood pooling in her mouth and she could no longer hold the tears at bay as they streamed down her face, but still, she waited silently for the punishment to end, knowing making any noise would only incite his anger further.

Rhea shook her head to disperse the memories out of her mind. That had been one of the worst beatings she had received in years. It had gone on and on until she could only remember Wren’s screams ringing in her ears as her eyesight darkened and pinpricks of starlight above were the last images she saw before she succumbed to the darkness.

Bending down to pick some forget-me-nots, Rhea refocused on the small bouquet she was making. However, it wasn’t long before Edith, the cave’s head healer, walked up to Rhea. She was an older woman with a kind face and her hair pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her gown was just as torn as Rhea’s and the rest of the women living within the caves and hung off of her frail and stooped frame from working too long in the gardens.

“Rhea, do you mind helping me for a moment?” Edith asked.

“Of course, mistress,” replied Rhea, whipping the dirt off her hands on her stained apron as she rose to stand, noticing a couple standing off by the wall of the garden’s entrance. “What can I do for you?”

“I believe you know Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher? Mr. Fletcher works with your father in the upkeep and safety of those in Ered.”

Rhea stiffened, wanting to correct Edith that he did not have the honor of being called her father, but she quickly glanced at Mr. Fletcher, his scowl connecting with hers before she quickly lowered her gaze and muttered, “Yes, mistress, I am familiar with Mr. and Mrs Fletcher.”

“Good, then you will understand the need to be discreet as you treat Mr. Fletcher,” said Edith before she rattled off the list of ingredients she required from Rhea and then turned around and strolled out of the cavern.

Looking up through her eyelashes, Rhea got one last glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher as the former grabbed his heavily pregnant wife’s arm and dragged her from the room. Rhea frowned as she gazed upon the woman who was only a few older than her and had been friendly with Rhea when they were children. She was already pregnant with her second child, barely one and twenty years herself, her father having had arranged a marriage for her shortly after she came of age. Her husband, on the other hand, Mr. Fletcher, was going on five and sixty and judging by the salve she had been requested to gather ingredients for, was not in the prime of his health.

Everyone was aware that the female populations within Ered and the other human caves were in decline. Childbirth in general was becoming rarer while at the same time more dangerous for the mother, but still, the elders persisted in the call for women to be married off as soon as they came of age to the older men waiting for their bride. It made Rhea sick to her stomach to think about it, but what could she do? Her stepfather ignored her on the best of days, and on the worst was more likely to raise a fist if questioned.

Rhea sighed heavily. She was yet to know what her hopes and dreams for life were. She enjoyed working with plants and helping to heal her friends and family, but was it all she was? She wanted to be able to choose the path her life took for herself, not be subjected to the whim of whichever man in her life held power over her.

Later that evening, Rhea and Wren were placing the silverware on their tiny dinner table that could only accommodate four, while Hamish sat in his chair smoking his pipe watching them scurry around him. The room was really a rounded alcove attached to what they called their kitchen but was no more than a pantry with buckets to wash dishes and a large fire over which her mother, Alice, cooked their meals, and a long work table for Rhea to dry flowers and make salves and ointments for the community.

Finally, their mother brought out the last dish of their meal and set it on the table. “Hurry up and sit down, I’m hungry,” he exclaimed setting down his pipe and picking up the serving spoon.

“Yes, dear,” their mother replied calmly while Rhea and Wren shared a glance before sitting down quietly on either side of their father.

Silently to herself, Rhea said a prayer to the Old Gods in thanks for the food before her. The prayer was something her father had taught her as a child and as a family would say it together when sitting down to a meal before he died. It was just another reminder of the life Rhea had lost when her mother remarried, but also a small act of rebellion, even if it was silent, that she was capable of.

“Are you too good for the food on my table?” her stepfather barked out when he noticed she had yet to add any food to her plate. Rhea’s gaze shot up as she took in her mother wrinkling her brow and Wren worrying her bottom lip, before her face turned crimson as she lowered her eyes and replied, “Sorry, father.”

Quickly, she picked up the serving spoon to bring some peas to her plate, but her hand had begun shaking as frustration and embarrassment coursed through her body causing her to spill some on the table.

“Gods! Are you such an idiot you can’t even bring food to your plate without making a mess?” he shouted. “I don’t know why I let you leave the house when you’re constantly disgracing this family and more importantly me!”

“Dear, it was just an accident,” Rhea’s mom said placatingly as she reached across the table to grab his hand, but he shook her hand off as his face darkened and his scowl deepened.

“Don’t even start. I should’ve ignored you and whipped both of them long ago to teach them how to behave properly in the presence of a man, but now they’re spoiled and useless,” he sneered. “Luckily you’re of age now,” he said as he turned to face Rhea, ignoring how the blood drained from her face and her brown eyes widened in shock. “The men from Cave Coalfell have arrived early for our yearly trade gathering,” he said trailing off at the end as his upper lip curled up into a small smirk.

Rhea sat in shock, she hadn’t been expecting the gathering to take place for another month at least. Every year, usually in summer when the passes between the two caves were less dangerous Cave Coalfell and Cave Ered met to trade goods each cave specialized in. Cave Ered specialized in making medicines and since they were farther south where the weather was slightly warmer, they were able to produce more food that was made into various jams and preserves. Cave Coalfell had more ore deposits and among the people who lived there were a few who had been trained as master craftsmen that used these deposits to make tools needed to hunt, farm, and repair our homes. The trade was beneficial to both groups and was the only way to survive in these harsh mountains. Only the bravest and strongest men were sent on these trade journeys, with most of those living within the caves never once getting the chance to step outside the cave entrance in fear of the harsh elements and animals, not to mention to Fae who lived in the forests blanketing the foothills of the mountains.

However, this was not what had Rhea’s heart racing and her mind whirling. There was another good traded at these gatherings that caused Rhea’s blood to run ice cold.

“The leader of Cave Coalfell was unable to make the journey himself, having suffered recently from apoplexy, but his oldest son has come looking for a wife,” he said, pausing again for his words to sink in. “I have agreed to his request for your hand in marriage. You’ll be wed next week.”

Wren cried out indignantly, but their father ignored her outburst and continued, “And you will return with the group when they make their leave in two weeks’ time.”

“No! You can’t do this!” Wren exclaimed, frowning at her father.

“It is already done,” he replied.

“But-”

“Silence! My decision is final,” he said slamming his fist on the table, making the dishes rattle.

Wren started to speak again, but her mother quickly reached out and squeezed her arm, shaking her head in warning. Looking at her mother in disbelief, tears started streaming down Wren’s devastated face as she bolted out of her chair and sobbed as she ran to her bedroom.

Hearing the door to the bedroom slam, Hamish shook his head before muttering, “Ungrateful child.”

Rhea looked down at her lap, in shock at her stepfather’s proclamation. She listened to him scold her mother for raising such spoiled children but still worked through her thoughts as she fiddled with the fraying edges of her skirt and tried to keep the tears that threatened to fall at bay.

A short time later, Rhea felt a hand fall on her shoulder pulling her from her thoughts. Looking up, she saw her mother’s weak attempt at a smile meant to reassure her and noticed that her stepfather had left the room. “Go check on your sister, I’ll clean the table and do the dishes,” her mother murmured and then left the room without another word.

Entering their bedroom, Rhea took in the small room that she and Wren shared. It was nothing special, big enough to fit a double bed with a chest holding old quilts at the end, a dresser on the far side of the room that was covered in rocks that Wren collected on her adventures, and dried flowers Rhea had given her as presents over the years. Next to the dresser, was a standing mirror and a chair covered in laundry waiting to be washed, and nothing else. If not for the murals Wren had painted on the walls with the paint Rhea had made from crushed flowers, it would be claustrophobic, but it was a space of their own.

In the middle of the bed they had shared for the last four years was a mound of blankets subtly shaking from Wren’s sobs. Quietly Rhea eased herself under the blankets and wrapped her arms around Wren, pulling her into an embrace. “Shhh, it’s going to be okay Wren,” she soothed.

“I don’t want you to go,” Wren sobbed rolling over and burying her face into Rhea’s chest.

“I know, I don’t want to leave you either,” she replied rubbing her little sister’s back. “But we all knew this was going to happen eventually. It’s how things work in the caves.”

“But why? Why does it have to be this way?” Wren croaked, her voice muffled as she cuddled farther into Rhea’s arms.

Not having an answer for Wren, Rhea started to softly sing a lullaby their mother sang to both of them when they couldn’t sleep. Rhea continued to sing and rub Wren’s back until slowly her sobs quieted and she drifted off to sleep in her arms, a warm comfort that quieted Rhea’s sorrows.

Rhea held Wren close and listened to her softly snore for almost an hour before rolling onto her back giving up on sleeping herself. Her thoughts were racing and refused to be silenced.

Looking up into the cavernous roof of their room, she noticed a faint glow from the darkest recesses. Realizing what it was, Rhea blew out the candle that had been sitting on the table next to their bed and laid back down.

The light of the glowworms became more pronounced as the light was distinguished, pinpricks of light glittered across the ceiling glowing brightly in some regions and dimly in others where the worms weren’t congregating. Rhea smiled to herself, remembering the stories her father used to tell her as they lay in this exact spot pretending the ceiling was the night sky and glowworms’ light was the echo of light that had traveled countless lengths from its star to reach their world. They would lay there for hours as her father pointed out shapes made by connecting the lights and the stories they represented. He told her of how the Old Gods traveled down to Eldtrose from the stars blessing the land with life, how they created the original four Fae groups-Forest, Air, Water, and Fire-and continued to look down upon them all.

It was one of Rhea’s most prized memories of her father before he died. As a young girl, Rhea asked her mother to retell the stories after her father passed, but it wasn’t the same. Then after her mother remarried, Rhea wasn’t allowed to ask questions about her father.

But she never forgot him.

Looking up at the ceiling, Rhea recalled her father’s words, “The Old Gods are always listening Rhea, even when you cannot see them; trust they are there, past the rock and soil and sky above us. Whenever you need guidance, seek out their counsel and let them guide you in life.”

Rhea let out a shuttering breath as she peered up, letting the twinkling lights calm her as her thoughts drifted. After a few moments, the spell cast over her was broken when Wren let out a loud snore, rolled over, and flopped an arm over Rhea. Looking down at her sister she smiled to see Wren’s dreams untroubled.

“I wish I could be like you, Wren,” she whispered to the starlight as a tear slid down into her hair before she turned into Wren’s embrace, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.