The Writer - Chapter 4

The Healer

Clara didn’t ask who the girl on the fireplace was, she didn’t want to seem stupid. That being said, she could already assume who the woman was. Emmeline’s pale face and Newt’s clenched fists told her everything. 

The woman was Baelle.

This was her home in the past. Luca was her father. 

“Now, do you prefer sugar in your tea? Or honey, perhaps?” Luca interrupted from the doorway. He was smiling brightly, eyes gleaming naively. Luca followed Emmeline’s unwavering gaze to the picture on the fireplace, and his grin broke. “I see you’ve found my daughter’s portrait. Her name was Bella.” 

Bella? Clara almost asked. Baelle and Bella certainly did sound similar, or at least they looked like it. 

Clara decided to break the silence. “I’ll have honey, please.” 

“Of course,” Luca murmured, breaking out of his thoughts. His hands shook as he poured the tea, the delicate glassware clinking together. “Here you go, my dear.” 

He handed her the teacup. Clara took it gently, treating the man as if he were a baby bird. She had rescued a baby dove once, healing its wings. She had raised it with extra caution, taking care to not break its wings or anything about it. Luca seemed like the dove in a way, though he was broken on the inside. 

Her friends were watching her, all except Emmeline who was still staring at the painting of Baelle. Clara took a sip, reminding herself that her body would heal if it was poisoned. 

Clara almost spit out the so-called tea. It was simply boiled water. She choked it back, nodding politely as she forced a smile onto her lips. “Delicious, sir,” she managed, earning a thanks from Luca. 

Coral sent her a questioning look, like she was asking if it was safe. Clara nodded her head slightly, not enough to be noticed by Luca who was awaiting answers from the others.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clara caught Newt tugging nervously at Emmeline’s hand. The older girl shivered once before taking a step backwards and clutching Newt’s hand with white knuckles. Something was bothering the Reader, and Clara knew it. 

Clara forced a yawn, pretending to be exhausted as she sat the still full teacup on the table. “I’m tired,” she stated. “Maybe we should go to bed. Luca, you mentioned spare rooms.” 

Luca seemed taken aback by no requests for his tea, but he was polite enough not to show it. “Of course,” he answered again. “The boys can bunk together and the girls can bunk together. Right this way.” 

He led them down the hallway, ignoring his silent visitors. Clara felt a strange presence lurking about, but she decided it was just her imagination. The scent of the house was playing tricks on her, just like it had been doing since they arrived. The sooner she sat down, the better. Luckily, Luca stopped not long after. 

“Here,” he showed them two adjacent doors. “Pick whatever rooms you like. I’ll be in the kitchen, cleaning up from the party if you need me.” 

“Thanks,” Coral said shakily. “We appreciate all the help.” By then Luca, turned and whistled a jolly tune as he strode down the hallway, already forgetting his visitors. Clara wondered if maybe his medical ailment was something she could fix. 

“We’ll take this room,” Beckett decided, pointing to the room on the left. “It’s sending me a good message.” 

“A good message?” Clara asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Beckett nodded, grabbing the doorknob. “I’m calling this the Boy Cave, so all you girls need to leave.” 

Forrest and Coral shared a silent word as always as Newt sent Emmeline a look that begged please kill me now. Clara choked back a laugh, afraid to upset Beckett. He was one of her only friends. 

The group parted, Clara throwing open the wooden door on the right. 

The room was relatively empty with only three cots strewn against a wall and a small table in the other corner. Dead flowers wilted inside a cracked face and dust layered everything in the room like a fine blanket. Clara felt sorry for Luca. 

“We should get some rest,” Coral decided, though she sent a look towards Emmeline. The other girl was abnormally quiet. “Does that sound good, Emmeline?” 

“What?” Emmeline looked up, her eyes wide. “Oh, sure.” 

“Echo, are you okay?” Clara interjected before the girl could shut down entirely. Emmeline’s green eyes met Clara’s. There was a light that was missing from them. 

When Emmeline spoke, her voice was soft and barely audible. “I keep remembering bits and pieces of my… my time in the castle. And then I tell myself I should be stronger and that you all went through things just like I did. I’m too weak to be your leader.” 

Clara snorted. “You think you’re weak because you’re having flashbacks to your time in the castle?” Emmeline gave a confused nod. 

Coral sat on the bed and Emmeline sat beside her, the now Normie wrapping her arms around the Reader’s shoulders. “That doesn’t make you weak, Echo. You died there - it’s perfectly fine to remember bits and pieces of it. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”  

“Thanks,” Emmeline mumbled, turning away. She pulled off her boots and rolled into the bed, pushing Coral off. 

“She needs some alone time,” Clara whispered. Coral nodded once.

Clara wasn’t exactly eager to lie down in the quiet - especially with the overwhelming scent of the earth overpowering her nose. But Coral blew out the candles on the walls and closed the curtains so only a soft beam of moonlight found its way through the window. 

Clara lay down on the cot, the fabric velvety but also harsh underneath of her. She made herself promise that she would bathe tomorrow before they left Luca’s company. 

As the darkness and the shadows fell over her, so did the visions. They had been sneaking into Clara’s thoughts occasionally ever since the battle with Baelle in Viridi. Clara wished she could share them with the others but she always felt pushed aside. 

It was ridiculous, of course. There were six of them - there could be no extra wheel. But Forrest and Coral were in a relationship, as were Newt and Emmeline. But the Reader always made it a point to include Beckett in her plans. Clara expected Forrest and Coral to do the same for her, but the other Sprite Hunters were more content with each other and no longer needed Clara’s company. 

She always felt cast aside, like a useless piece. She was a Healer, and that was all she was good for. 

Clara was beginning to think her Blessing was more of a Curse. 

Of course, she couldn’t share this with anyone. Coral and Forrest might sympathize for a bit, but they would either peg her off on Gwen or Emmeline - neither of which needed the extra stress. Clara and Newt were friends, but Clara didn’t feel comfortable sharing much with the boy. His death magic and her life magic contrasted sharply. Emmeline didn’t need the burden and Beckett would simply laugh. 

Clara longed for Johnny, the only person who had ever understood her. Upon just thinking of his name, fractured pieces of memory began to spiral through Clara’s mind. They took form into the front of her head and Clara was sucked into the vision. 

Clara was barely four now. Her pudgy, toddler hands were only just beginning to lose their baby fat. Not that Clara was anywhere close to fat. Her ribs showed through her skin and her gaunt look caused plenty of pitying looks. Ever since her parents had found out Clara would heal due to her Blessing… 

Her siblings were bitter with jealousy. Elyviella had Blessed her and none of them. What did Clara have that the rest of them didn’t? All of her siblings shared the same hazel eyes and the same fiery red curls. Clara was the youngest of ten total children - more than her mother would ever be able to support. She knew her leaving would be coming soon, but her mother and father were keeping it a secret. Clara loved secrets. 

The tiny house was bustling with activity even in the wee hours of the morning. Three of Clara’s sisters were begging for food, their tiny mouths open wide as wails pierced the air. 

“Erin, please give Liliya her bottle,” Clara’s mother pleaded. The girl called Erin looked to be about ten, but she grabbed a bottle off of the shelf and filled it with milk from the clay pitcher on the table. More children flooded around the table in the center of the room. The oldest was maybe sixteen, though it was hard to tell. 

Clara’s mother and father set the table with as much food as they could afford, though it wasn’t enough. As always, Clara was always the last to be fed. 

A measly slice of buttered bread was sat in front of her by her mother. The younger Clara didn’t understand why her older siblings were fed pieces of cow and lamb and she wasn’t, but she was perfectly happy with the bread. In fact, her stomach had grown accustomed to the small portion sizes. 

“It’s a big day today,” Clara’s mother continued, wiping her hands on her apron. “Jenna is turning seven.” 

“Will we have a party?” the girl named Jenna asked excitedly. Mother and Father shared a look as Clara nibbled happily on her bread. There seemed to be a silent conversation before they broke their gaze, Father sending a pitying glance Clara’s way. 

“We’ll manage,” Mother announced. “And on that happy note, we also have some … unfortunate news.” Her tone of voice suggested otherwise. “As you all know, Mummy and Daddy are running low on money. With Justin and Lola moving out next month, we might be able to pass by - but it’ll be tight. Your father and I have made the decision to, well,... we’re letting Clara go.” 

This made no sense to Clara, of course. Some of her older siblings shared apprehensive looks. The ones surrounding Jenna were too distracted discussing who they would invite to the party and the younger ones were too confused to make any sense of it. 

Surprisingly enough, when breakfast was over, Mother didn’t herd the children outside. She wiped down the table as the kids gathered around and cleaned the dishes. A few of the older kids helped clean the younger children. The girl called Lola stripped Clara of her filthy clothes and replaced them with a yellow sundress that had been handed down for ten years by then. No one would be able to wear the dress anymore. 

When the table was sparkling and the jam was wiped from their faces, the children stepped outside into the bright sunlight. 

Clara squinted, gripping Lola’s hand tightly. She was a bit confused, but maybe this was part of Jenna’s birthday. Lola wiped away a tear, sniffling slightly. Few of the other children shared the same remorse. 

Mother held a woven basket in one hand and a tiny blanket in the other. The solemn group marched to the white river that washed through the land. The water sparkled invitingly and Clara swore she saw waving people in it. “Clara, darling, come over here,” Mother ordered. Clara knew better than to disobey her mother and waddled over. 

“Climb in.” Clara stepped on foot into the basket. And then another. She was tiny for her age - tiny enough to fit in the basket with only a slight squish. Her mother didn’t seem to care. 

“Goodbye,” Clara’s mother whispered, eyes sparkling with an emotion that Clara didn’t recognize. She placed the basket in the river where the cool water lapped at the woven sides. Clara squealed as the water slapped at her. 

What a fun ride it seemed, until Clara couldn’t hear her siblings anymore. Where were they? She began to cry but the river offered her no comfort. Her tears and wails did her no good so Clara sank into the bottom of the basket where the water couldn’t touch her. The ride was long and tedious. Clara’s throat begged for water and her stomach growled for food. Her skin pleaded for relief from the merciless sun. 

A woman’s face appeared over her and Clara’s worries were washed away momentarily. The woman’s face brought her temporary comfort. It was like the mother she never had. 

“Don't worry, my dear Clara. Your journey isn’t over yet. In fact, it’s just beginning.” 

Clara bolted upright, slick with sweat. She felt sick and weak, her memory had made her nauseous. A quick look around the room told her that her friends were still asleep. She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. 

Johnny’s bronze skin popped into her head, his lovely raven colored hair rustling slightly in the wind as he held her close. Johnny was the only person she’d ever spilled to. 

Beckett would never replace Johnny, much to Clara’s dismay. He was too immature, too insensitive about certain issues. Not to mention that he was a prince - literal royalty with a high price on his head. 

Sleep evaded her as Clara attempted to rest. She knew it would be risky to sneak around the house but her eyes wouldn’t close. The darkness brought only fear. 

Strangely enough, Clara’s thoughts drifted to Luca. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. His daughter - Bella as he called Baelle - had done something to him. The more she thought about it, the more confused Clara became. 

Baelle had grown up here, evident in the fact that her picture was on the fireplace. Had her and Luca known about her powers? And had Luca known that he was in love with the Goddess Ibenily? Not to mention the fact that the Goddess of Knowledge had been attracted to this man for a reason, now he was just a babbling mess. 

Clara knew she wouldn’t be following asleep anytime soon. She wondered if maybe she could contact Elyviella and talk to her. 

Clara had only talked with the goddess once before. She was a busy woman, especially with the large population that resided in Elyviel. But when Clara had sunk into a deep sleep after being chased by soldiers, Elyviella had talked with her. 

She climbed out of bed, her feet hitting the ground softly. She crept across the floor, the wood creaking slightly under her weight. 

Clara unlatched the window and pushed the glass open until she was perched on the windowsill. The ground was about ten feet below, maybe more, but Clara didn’t really care. She balanced precariously on the window sill, her feet waving gently in the soft breeze. 

A cold chill rolled down her spine as moonlight filtered through the sky, casting shadows in the empty plaza. 

The scent of smoke filled Clara’s nostrils, which wasn’t uncommon anymore. Baelle burnt villages about once a week, increasing the number of refugees but also the number of her soldiers. 

A different breeze picked up suddenly. A shudder racked through Clara’s body and she knew that surprisingly enough, Elyviella had heard her silent pleas. 

The air in front of her flickered like a mirage. Golden light flashed, momentarily blinding Clara. When her vision returned, the image of a woman hovered shakily in front of her. 

“Elyviella?” Clara’s voice was barely a whisper. 

The woman turned towards Clara, her appearance reminding the girl that goddesses weren’t normal people. Elyviella’s golden curls and fair skin seemed normal enough. Yet her eyes were filled with an unnatural blue color and she seemed to radiate life. Just sitting near the mere vision of her, Clara felt empowered. 

“Hello?” The goddess seemed as though she couldn’t see Clara. She waved in front of the vision a few times, Clara waiting patiently on the receiving end. There was a soft buzz and Elyviella’s picture became cleared. “Oh, are you… don’t tell me… Clara?” 

“Of course, your ladyship,” Clara answered, bowing her head respectfully. She didn’t know how Elyviella wanted to be addressed, so she played it safe. 

“Clara,” Elyviella repeated, like her mind was a fuzzy blur. “Oh, yes, that Clara.” She frowned thoughtfully. “Ibenily and I have had many discussions about you.” That statement sent shivers down Clara’s spine. Being the subject of two goddess’s conversations couldn’t be a good thing. 

“I, um, have some questions for you,” Clara interrupted before they could talk about her fate. It was harsh to ask a goddess questions point blank, and Clara ran the risk of being turned into a frog. 

Elyviella’s eyes cleared momentarily, giving her a surreal look of ethereal beauty. “Of course, darling, ask away. I cannot promise answers or insight.” 

“Uh, great,” Clara continued, wringing her hands. How exactly was she supposed to ask Elyviella about Baelle’s past? “So, Baelle grew up here?” She decided to start simple, just to see if the goddess was even able to help her. 

Elyviella thought for a moment, or maybe she was distracted. “You want to know how Luca attracted Ibenily’s attention.” 

Clara’s eyes widened and goosebumps formed on her arms. “I mean, yes, among other things… how did you know?” 

Elyviella waved it away. “I knew because I looked into your heart,” the goddess replied dreamily. “Also because Ibenily told me. But that’s not the point. Do you truly wish to see what happened in this very house?”

Clara didn’t trust her voice. She nodded once and Elyviella closed her eyes. Clara’s vision swam and she very nearly toppled out of the window but a warmth wrapped around her like a comforting arm and held her tight. Then the darkness took over and Clara plunged into dreams.

Author's Note

This is my first POV from Clara, so I don't know how well it was done. Also, how many flashbacks is too many too close together? In similar fashion, how much action should be in each chapter versus dialogue?