Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 19

Shattered Hopes

Notes:

Time for more really sad things 🥺

*****

I don't get it, Ilana cried inwardly as the little boat her mother rowed came closer to the heart of the Phoob Islands, black as death against the red and gold of sunset. What does she expect me to do?

They had had as little conversation as possible, first during the weeks sailing across the Dark Sea of Darkness. Many might have been terrified, but Ilana was not. She had made the trip with her mother many times, going to and from the Phoob Islands and Throg. Normally they had more conversation, more playtime, more harmony during the sail. 

It had not been so this time. Bitter Fangs had watched over her closely, guarding her, yet every time her mother had walked into her line of sight, a honeyed smile like those so normal had accompanied her.

It was a relief, really, seeing that smile even after what she had done. Ilana had been sure something dreadful was in store, but the kindness in her mother's face had been a comfort. It was like the Fangs held her captive while her mother looked on…though she wasn't sure why. That last bit didn't make much sense, she supposed, but nothing really did.

Just Mother and her had left the ship, though. Somehow the Fangs disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace. Ilana had halfway expected there to be some form of conversation when they were finally “reunited,” but other than instructions on how to get into the little boat safely, none occurred.

Ilana’s most recent question, what does she expect me to do? came from her mother's clipped, out-of-the-blue statement: “I know you'll do as I expect you to.” 

What in Aerwiar did that mean? She hadn't the foggiest idea—there were endless possibilities! Sing the song like so many other children? Find a child, rescue him, fall in love? Wait in a cage like some people? Befriend a starving boy in a cage and run away with him? Tend to the captured animals? Find an adorable kitten and love it until the day she died? Keep the semi-sanitary living quarters clean? Become a maid for a rich family and fall in love with another one of their lowly servants?

Who knew what was asked of her!? All concerns aside, the possibilities were fascinating and wonderful. Or they were terrible. Some were just average, and there was a good chance others were well-deserved. She had let all the prisoners loose with the trolls’ help, and as of that moment, she had not received any severe punishment for it, other than the day or so in the cell three weeks earlier. Well, being guarded by Fangs on the sail over to Skree may have also been a form of punishment, since they had scared her. She was used to fear, though, so even if she didn’t like it, it didn’t feel like something out of the ordinary.

“Come on,” her mother snapped unexpectedly, and when Ilana looked, she saw the boat had finally docked and she was the only one in it. “You're taking too long. Hurry.”

Scrambling out of the small, wooden craft, Ilana held tighter to the bag dangling from her shoulder and down her side. It didn't hold food or anything, just her doll, book, journal, and pencil. Maybe that had been a mistake. Perhaps more useful things would have served her better. It wasn’t as though she had any way of really knowing what her mother planned on walking her into.

“What are we doing here?” she finally risked asking when they slipped into the Phoobs’ fortress through the back entrance. Squinting in the darkness of the tunnel that would eventually open to the drafty cavern, Ilana held her breath, just waiting for an answer from her mother, an answer in the form of a lantern flare or quiet words that would hopefully be honeyed and not chilling.

The sound of a match strike filled her ears, then golden, shadowy light as the flame caught the lantern oil ablaze. Smiling a little, Ilana turned to look at her mother, only to be greeted by serious eyes and a pinched mouth.

“What is it?” her mother hissed in frustration or anger, her eyes hard. The flame sputtered a bit, as if flinching away from the words and hateful tone.

Wincing, Ilana shook her head. “Nothing,” she murmured, tightening her left hand around the strap of her satchel and beginning to twirl a loose strand of hair with her right. 

The fluttery motion against her cheek lasted only a few moments before her hand was grabbed and she was pulled along. With no time to wonder why her mother suddenly began racing her along, then practically dragged her up the roughly hewn steps cut into the stone of the cavern’s wall, Ilana only followed silently, questions screaming inside her mind. 

When they finally reached the top of the enormous flight of stairs, she gasped for breath, not used to ascending them so quickly and all at once. After hours or during lulls in the melding, Ilana had run up and down the stairs as carefully as possible, but she had always taken at least two breaks on the way. That was how many steps there were.

She had no break this time, though, and continued trotting behind her mother, sighing (gasping) in relief when they came to the living quarters they stayed in while in the Phoobs. Here they finally slowed, placed the key in the door’s lock, and slipped inside, almost stealthily. Ilana wanted to know why they were sneaking around and what good it did them, but her mother had always told her to speak after being spoken to, so she was silent.

Instead of speaking, she stood and watched as her mother fluttered around the room, muttering to herself and throwing the lantern light haphazardly. After all, what was she supposed to do? If she interfered and asked if she could help, she would be silenced immediately or sent to bed or completely ignored, at the very least.

Once her mother had looked around the quarters more than five times, she finally turned towards Ilana, smiling but in a worried sort of way. 

“Ilana, dear,” she said quietly, sitting down in an armchair and beckoning her close. 

Ilana came and sat at her mother's feet. “Yes, mother?” she asked sweetly, thrilled to finally be hearing the mostly normal, not angry voice.

“Have I ever told you about your father?” She asked after a pause.

Eyes widening with eagerness, Ilana shook her head vigorously. “No, Mother, you haven't.”

A smile crossed her mother's face. “Well, then,” came the honeyed words. “I suppose it's time, isn't it?”

Ilana held her breath as the truth about her father was revealed. Her heart beat faster, racing with excitement and expectation. He was wonderful, she was sure. Courage and ferocity flowed through his veins along with kindness and gentleness. It seemed like a contradiction, a contradiction so wonderful that it couldn’t be, but for him she knew it was the truth.

“He cared nothing for you.”

Those first words stopped her heart, her breath, her mind. Hair twirling began.

The rest of the words came from afar cold, devoid of emotions other than hatred. “When he saw you in what he thought to be a near death state, he did nothing. He let you lay there, let you get taken away by Fangs that wanted to hurt and kill you.” 

No, Ilana begged silently, feeling tears spring into her eyes. No, it can’t be true. He wouldn’t do that, I know he wouldn’t! It’s just not possible! I know him! It just isn’t true.

“Then when he did have the chance to rescue you,” her mother continued, now trembling with passionate anger. “He didn't take it. He ran without even considering the possibility of taking you to safety because he is a coward who cares for himself and no one else.”

Staring at her, Ilana blinked, a tear rolling down her cheek. “A coward?” she whispered, her heart breaking. 

“Yes, and I’ve never seen him as anything else.” Her mother’s eyes were dark, bitter, and angry, and through her pain Ilana could not help but wonder what her father had done to her to make her that way. “And he’s a hateful beast of a man.”

Taking in a shuddering breath, Ilana tried to calm her heart and mind that raced with grief and uncertainty now instead of anticipation and joy. “He’s not kind and caring and—”

“No!” her mother roared, jumping up and taking her by the shoulders. “He’s a heartless coward who thinks about himself, himself only and he doesn’t care about you and he never has. He left you and he hasn’t come back. Why do you think he hasn’t come back?” Ilana did not have time to answer. “Well, I’ll tell you why! It’s because he does not want you and he does not love you and he never will.”

Ilana felt her face twisting into sorrow and grief and she rushed into her mother’s arms, clinging to her with all she had. “Couldn’t you have told me sooner?” she sobbed as the image of her father crumbled to bits and pieces in her mind’s eye, washed away by the torrent streaming down her cheeks. “I loved him f-for all this time, and now, and now—”

“Shh,” her mother said soothingly, the anger dissolving in an instant, a soft hand now rubbing concentric circles into her back. “It’s alright. I’m here. I love you. You can forget about him.”

Ilana nodded into here mother’s shoulder, shuddering, agreeing, but somehow, she didn’t think she would be able to forget.

*****

Notes:

I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭😭😭

It's horrible that I'm doing this, I know. BUT IN THE END IT WILL BE BEAUTIFUL. I hope.